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Peace is not silence: Part 2

Continuing our conversation with voices from the Hiroshima Palestine Vigil and Nagasaki for Palestine

TG Durutti
24/08/2025

A group of 17 people stand in front of the Hiroshima Atomic Bomb memorial holding various signs. There are candles and signs on the ground as well.

In the first part of our conversation, members of the Hiroshima Palestine Vigil reflected on the origins of their nightly gatherings, the reception they’ve received in the city, and their belief that peace must be redefined, not as the absence of war, but as a refusal to look away, wherever violence is taking place.

In this second part, the discussion turns to the deeper historical layers beneath Hiroshima’s “peace” narrative—layers formed not only by the memory of the atomic bombings, but also by Japan’s own history of imperialism and colonialism. Much of this history remains unspoken in official remembrance: Japan’s occupation of Korea, Taiwan, and much of Asia; its use of forced labor and sex slavery from across the region; and the discrimination that continued long after the Asia-Pacific War ended.

In Nagasaki, for example, tens of thousands of Koreans and Chinese were brought under colonial rule and forced to work in arms factories, mines, and shipyards. Many were killed in the atomic bombing, yet their stories remain marginal in national memory. Survivors were denied Japanese citizenship after the war, excluded from equal compensation, and often faced language barriers and bureaucratic hurdles that prevented them from receiving support. This selective remembrance—the centering of some victims while erasing others—shapes how Japan understands its past, and in turn, how it responds to violence in the present, most starkly the genocide in Gaza.

Here, the Vigil’s members—Rebecca Maria Goldschmidt, a Jewish and Filipino anti-Zionist artist and Sailor Kannako, an artist and clothing store clerk from Hiroshima; are joined by Lisa and another member of Nagasaki for Palestine (NFP). Together they draw parallels between the forgotten victims of Nagasaki and the silenced voices in Gaza, reflecting on how histories of both victimhood and perpetration must shape solidarity today.

Do you see similarities between what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki and what’s happening in Gaza, not only in the destruction, but also in how the victims are spoken about or potentially even forgotten?

Rebecca: There are many parallels simply in the everyday, desperate reality of the situation of Gaza and the aftermath of the bombs: the mass death, the lack of food, thousands of orphaned children, contamination, cultural and societal collapse, psychological and physical illness and disease, no work, the terrorization of civilian communities and the crushing of morale to force defeat.

Additionally, even though they were used during wartime, the atomic bombs were part of the US weapons development and testing program and part of the 2,000+ nuclear weapons tests that were done worldwide. The US and Japanese governments also relentlessly studied the hibakusha up until this day. The data they gleaned from the effects of the bomb on the human body (and still do, as the studies continue) provides them with priceless data that continues to inform technological “progress”.

Palestine, as we know, is also a laboratory to develop and improve “battle-ready” weapons on a human population and document their impacts. What connects Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Gaza is not the fact that they are all “locations of bombings”, but the context of their destruction as part of a legacy of weapons technology development and testing, and the ideology of white supremacy that necessitates, designs, and enacts these horrors.

Japan’s own imperialism and settler-colonial endeavors during the war also parallel the occupation of Palestine. Japan has more in common with Israel than it wants to admit—the overt massacre of babies and children, intentional starvation, sexual violence, prisoner torture, etc. I don’t see the Hiroshima-Nagasaki victims as being forgotten at all, I see them as being deified and their stories utilized to justify re-militarization, despite struggling for decades to be seen and heard. I see the millions of victims of Japanese imperialism—1 million Filipinos, 2 million Vietnamese, 10–20 million Chinese, etc.— also being eclipsed by the stories of Hiroshima-Nagasaki victims. Even the Korean and Chinese hibakusha are erased by the Japanese victimhood narrative.

Most people in Japan don’t know the details of their own family’s participation in imperial war crimes, and the government actively advances historical revisionism. This is just one reason why we have seen such a rapid rise in anti-foreigner hatred and open xenophobia during Japan’s recent elections.

Do you think confronting these erased histories could change how Japan responds to the genocide in Gaza or other struggles for justice today?

Rebecca: Japan has cultivated both a self and public image of pacifism, but with the 80th anniversary of the bombs, a lot of hidden stories are coming to light that are challenging this “nation of peace”.

I came to Japan to better understand the Japanese military occupation of the Philippines that I had heard about from my grandmother. Why was it that no one talked about it even if it was the most violent period in Filipino history? Most Japanese people I talked to had no idea there even was an occupation in the Philippines. That was shocking to me, so when the Gaza genocide started, it made sense that people ignored it. Of course within the anti-war movement there are many Japanese people who are confronting these issues head-on, whether around Okinawa or the sex slavery issue. I have a lot of respect for them as I also take responsibility for the shameful actions in my own zionist family history. I can see the overlap between people who acknowledge Japanese historical atrocity and can draw parallels to what is happening again in Gaza and in other colonial contexts.

Recently in Japan, politicians or famous people have been making revisionist comments, like the Battle of Okinawa “wasn’t that bad”, or that the rape of Nanking never happened. I think in order for any society—Israel, Japan or Germany—the first step toward “atonement” is acknowledging that these crimes are real. In the case of Gaza, however, denial continues, despite this being the most documented genocide in history.

Clearly both “Peace education” and “Holocaust education” systems have failed miserably. Even if people do know what happened, no one was taught what to do when it starts happening again—just look at the ICE kidnappings in the US or the poor treatment of migrant workers in Japanese detention.

In all these contexts, political education around state power, the roots of racism and ethno-supremacy, how “victimhood” is weaponized, necrocapitalism, the list goes on—all of this must be exposed alongside the images we see, otherwise we really are just on a carousel of repeated atrocities with more efficient technology every time. Just “knowing” is not enough for people to take action. There has to also be a sense of political agency and a culture of caring for other people who might not look or act like you, but whose lives are still inherently valuable.

Nagasaki’s victims included many Korean and Chinese forced laborers whose suffering is rarely centered in the city’s memorials. What do you think this says about whose suffering is recognized, and whose is left out, in Japan’s culture of remembrance?

Lisa from NFP: In Nagasaki, it is believed that around 20,000 Koreans and about 650 Chinese laborers were exposed to the atomic bomb. My grandmother recalled that Korean laborers also worked outside the weapons factory she was in, but she had no idea what became of them after the bombing.

At the same time, the hypocenter of the atomic bombing in Nagasaki, Urakami, was located about 3km from the center of Nagasaki city. It was home to many Kakure Kirisitan, hidden Christians, who had preserved their faith in secret through over 250 years of persecution. However, as reconstruction efforts prioritized the city center, many of them were left behind, unable to receive adequate medical care or compensation due to poverty, social discrimination, and isolation.

In Nagasaki, there are relatively few testimonies from Christians in Urakami who survived the atomic bombing. Testimony collection and oral history projects have often focused on survivors living in the city center or those who were more socially visible, leaving many marginalized voices unheard. I believe this represents a significant difference in the culture of memory between Hiroshima, where the city center was the hypocenter, and Nagasaki.

Anonymous from NFP: Many Chinese and Korean people who were forced to work in Mitsubishi’s arms factories and related facilities in Nagasaki had been kidnapped by the Japanese army during the occupation. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for their families to find out about their situation after the bombing.

There are separate memorials for Chinese and Korean victims in the corners of the Peace Memorial Park, and ceremonies for them are held separately. There is also a separate museum that exhibits not only information about the bombing victims but also the crimes of the Japanese army in the Asia-Pacific region before and during the war.

As a Japanese person who grew up in downtown Tokyo in the 1980s, I did not learn these facts in school. I hope that the standard Japanese education curriculum will teach them, so that we can truly regret what must be regretted, instead of trying to forget.

In light of this selective remembrance, how do you think we can build genuine solidarity today? Not just symbolically, but in material or political terms? For example, how should solidarity with Palestinians be demonstrated beyond words or gestures?

Sailor Kannako: To me, solidarity means to empathize with others and to keep acting in ways that complement each other’s shortcomings. To do this, I think it’s necessary to face our own experiences and continue to speak in our own words, with our own feelings, so that emotions such as regret and anger—the triggers of empathy—don’t fade away. I have seen the suffering of the Palestinian people ignored and misunderstood by the international community for many years.

In Japan, when women experience sexual violence, their complaints are often not believed, and it’s often said the victim was at fault. I’ve had a similar experience, and I imagined that Palestinians have felt a similar deep regret and anger. That feeling made it impossible for me not to take action. If the world that once hurt me is now hurting someone else, my wounds will never heal.

People in Gaza are now asking, “What crime have we committed?” I think those who were burned by the atomic bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki must have been filled with that same regret and anger. My experience may be insignificant compared to their pain, but it’s connected. I believe that only by trusting our own feelings and summoning the courage to speak about Gaza in our own words can we build strong bonds of empathy and create lasting, enormous solidarity.

What do you wish people outside Japan understood about Japan’s relationship to Palestine, or about protest in Japan in general?

R: Protest in Japan is usually considered a nuisance, laughable, something done by irrational people. The Japanese public is also generally unaware of the reality of what is happening in Palestine and Gaza. Therefore, the people who are taking the risk to speak up, often against the wishes of their families, workplaces, and communities, are actually pushing up against massive societal and cultural pressure.

No one is a hero, the genocide is still ongoing, and I still think we could do much more from Japan—but the people who have fought bravely for Palestine in Japan against their own set of constraints do work very hard. Everyone tells us about the one guy in Tokyo who stands alone every day on the street yelling about the genocide. Yes, he’s awesome, but the story is misleading because he’s not alone! In Tokyo, there is a strong solidarity movement led by Palestinians, and there is an extensive network throughout Japan, even in very rural areas, that is cross-cultural, intergenerational, and interfaith, trying its best to be intersectional and inclusive.

Every movement has its internal struggles, but we are proud to be part of a truly unique moment in history. The movement for Palestine in Japan did not start on Oct. 7, there have been decades of researchers, artists, students, and activists who have supported and engaged with Palestinians and I feel grateful to be part of this lineage. We are standing with the Palestinian people and the entire world against domination, fascism, and up against a lot of our own ghosts. But we continue to fight in the tradition of many of our ancestors, from the anti-war and anti-nuclear movements, the student, women’s, queer, and environmental movements, and other decolonial peoples’ struggles for dignity, equality, justice and liberation.

Finally, are there any ways people can support your groups?

Buy the zines written by young people in Gaza that we have translated into Japanese:
Gazagazagaza.base.shop

Make a donation to one of the projects we have been supporting:
@GazaSoupKitchen
Challenge Classes
Eman Al-haj Ali GoFundMe

Never stop talking about Palestine!

“People are praying for the IDF in synagogues”

Interview with Wieland Hoban about his new book “Germany’s Jewish Problem”

Phil Butland

Hi Wieland. Thanks for talking to us. Could you briefly explain who you are and what you do?

I’m a composer, translator and author, and chair of the ‘Jüdische Stimme’. A book of mine is coming out soon. It’s the paperback version of a book that came out at the end of last year in eBook format, with a different publisher, and a different title.

The book was originally published by Battleground books and was called “German Apartheid Politics”. The paperback edition is called “Germany’s Jewish Problem: Genocides Past and Present” and will be published by OR Books.

Which of the titles do you prefer?

I suppose they have a slightly different angle. The original title is maybe slightly more insider-directed. It touches on a lot of things, but doesn’t spell out exactly what we’re talking about. The word apartheid is about support for the apartheid state of Israel, but there is also apartheid in the unequal treatment of the Palestinians in Germany and their supporters.

I guess the paperback publisher felt that the title needed to be more obvious, to grab the reader. They’re a bigger publisher, so they think a bit more in this way.

“Germany’s Jewish Problem” is quite provocative, and is a formulation that could be used by someone with antisemitic intent. But this is a left wing publisher that has also brought out several books by Norman Finkelstein. So it’s clear that it’s about what’s problematic about the way Germany deals with Jews and Jewish history.

What slightly concerned me at first was that the Palestine connection is more hidden, but the subtitle of “Genocides Past and Present” touches on that. I think it’s a well chosen title. It’s a different flavour, different angle, but I think it works.

It is most definitely more provocative, for better or worse. Could you explain what you think Germany’s Jewish problem is?

Well, I wrote a whole book about it! But it’s a collection of articles written over more than four years. They all circle around the issue of Palestine-Israel, but also German perceptions of Jews, German perceptions of the whole Palestine issue, memory culture, and the ways this is connected with general racism. Experiences from my activist context also flow into that.

The book’s perspective is clearly located in Germany. That’s where I live and what I’m mainly commenting on. There are two articles focused purely on Palestine, because they’re about a trip I took there in 2022. But the rest are about German perceptions – the aftermath of the Holocaust and the near annihilation or exile of Germany’s Jewish population.

This created a huge gap in society that people may not immediately think about when they consider this huge mass murder. Of course, there was killing, there was violence, but there’s also this erasure, this very big gap, this lacuna that was left over.

Practically every synagogue you walk past is now a former synagogue. Some of them have been turned into museums, or maybe you can get a tour of them once a week. But Jewishness was erased as a presence that’s not just physical, but forms a part of the country’s culture and discourse.

Even with a government-initiated influx of Jews from post-Soviet countries. It’s been very difficult to establish any sense of normality in relations between Jews and non-Jews in Germany. There’s often a kind of over-compensation, a philosemitic approach to Jews.

The majority of people in Germany have rarely met Jews, unless they’ve been to the US. There are an estimated 225,000 Jews in Germany, so it’s very difficult to have a general sense of Jews as ordinary people who are part of the country’s population. Many people have an image frozen in time of Jews as the victims of the Nazis, who were the parents or grandparents of many Germans.

In some cases, this leads to an over-compensation which means that people want to have a particularly favourable idea of Jews. They make a point of doing what they think is supporting Jews. Including supporting Israel, going on holiday in Israel, or cultivating connections to Israel thinking this somehow revives Jewishness.

But Germany contains at least as many Palestinians as it does Jews. And Palestinian people are an unwanted and disturbing presence in the equation, because the very existence of these Palestinians is an indictment of Israel. Why are they in Germany in the first place? It’s because they’re exiled. They’re refugees or migrants.

The presence of so many Palestinians here is down to the injustice of the Nakba and then the occupation. This confronts those Germans who support Israel because they want to support Jews.

There’s a big tangle of things here, connected to a general racism, especially towards Palestinians. This reveals racism in areas where one maybe didn’t think that it was present.

To add to the entanglement: you’ve talked about the German government in the 90s encouraging Jewish migration from Eastern Europe. But another major case of Jewish migration to Germany is of Israelis. They are largely coming because they don’t want to live in Israel anymore. How do they fit in with the general experience?

That’s an interesting case because there’s something quite contradictory about it. In this idealization of Israel, the “only democracy in the Middle East”, Israel is meant to be a “protective space” for Jews, which is a phrase that makes me think of a nature reserve for Jews.

Or a safari park?

Yes. And you still find Germans talking about how Israel is necessary for the safety of Jews, which, of course, means that they’re not safe here. According to this view, we can only be safe by going to Israel. But Israel is clearly not a safe environment for anyone.

So people are coming from Israel, this supposed protective space, to Germany, which is supposedly unprotected, what does that say about this idea that Israel is protecting Jews? Because clearly they don’t want to be there anymore.

In some cases, that’s not for explicit political reasons. It’s easy for Israelis with German ancestors to get German citizenship, which then makes them EU citizens, and offers various advantages. And in urban Israel Tel Aviv or Jerusalem, the cost of living has got higher and higher. So in some cases, it’s more of a pragmatic, economically motivated decision than an escape from the political surroundings.

But of course, there are those of a more Leftist persuasion, including many members of Jüdische Stimme. They leave because they’re in conflict with that society, or because they see no future. Depending on how much Germans think about it, this could unsettle their narrative.

Then, when Israelis come to Germany, they realise fairly soon that Germans have this unnatural way of dealing with them, both as Jews and as Israelis. There are things that can be rather troubling, uncomfortable or just downright bizarre.

If they are in any way politically active or just move in political circles, they find Germans who are generally liberal, or even left of liberal, but who use language about Israel echoing the Israeli right wing and the way they talk about Palestinians. So many Israelis coming to Germany realize quite soon that they’re in a place that doesn’t deal with them in a normal way.

I moved to Berlin 20 years ago from Stuttgart, where there weren’t many Israelis at all. At the time, most Israelis who I met were musicians who said that they’d come to Berlin so they could play music. Some of them had wanted to play with Palestinian musicians in Israel. But few wanted to talk about Palestine, because that was “politics” and they’d left Israel to get away from politics. More recently, Israelis in Germany – at least in my circles – have been engaging more with Palestine. Is this just a subjective thing, or do you have a feeling that this is something which is happening in broader society?

That’s difficult to say. I guess I would have a similar kind of experience to you in terms of which Israelis I deal with. But certainly you still find Israelis in the culture scene who are critical of their government, and don’t want to live in Israel, but they also don’t want to deal with this in their art, or to talk about it all the time. I guess they don’t want to be reduced to that.

There’s also that expectation by people here that if they meet an Israeli, then immediately this Israeli should give their position on the so-called conflict. Sometimes one does encounter some resistance to and resentment of that. Among those who define themselves less overtly in political terms, there may be some discomfort, and a wish that they could just exist outside of this.

Let’s go back to Germany’s attitude towards Israelis and Jews. Do you think this is something that’s immutable, or can it change? Is it changing?

I think it can change. It’s difficult to say how long that will take and to what extent the change is occurring now. Because most of society isn’t really aware that there are Israeli or ex Israeli Jews who are opposed to their state at a fundamental level. Not just against the excesses of the Netanyahu government, but the whole ethnocratic Zionist project. To be fair, it is a relatively small proportion of the Israelis here who go that far in their analysis. Plenty have a more liberal view – the classic two-state mentality.

The dominant discourse in the media and politics is that to oppose the very nature of the Zionist project is at best an unjustified hatred of Israel and at worst antisemitism. This is put in the context of an irrational world view. It is viewed as completely different from, say, being against segregation in South Africa or the USA.

It’s common in politics to see religion as somewhat off limits, something that you’re not going to criticize politically. Because religion is based on a whole different belief system. It’s not about the kind of rational analysis we would apply with geopolitics. For most people, there’s a taboo on demonstrating outside a place of worship.

But the sad fact is that almost all Jewish institutions and organizations worldwide, including Germany, propagate Zionist politics. Some are more explicit and vehement in a very crude nationalist way. Others may be more liberal, subtle, and moderate, but are still ultimately contributing to this.

It’s hard to find a Jewish museum or an exhibition about some form of Jewish culture that doesn’t have sponsorship from the Israeli embassy, or the Israeli ministry for diaspora affairs. Or that doesn’t serve supposedly Israeli food in the interval (by which they generally mean Palestinian or Arab food like falafel and hummus).

It’s very difficult to find mainstream Jewish spaces that don’t have an implicit pro-Israel bias. Meaning something which excludes anti-Zionist, or even non-Zionist Jews. If you’re someone who goes to synagogues, there are prayers for Israel and its defenders, which means the IDF. So you’re sitting there praying for an army that’s committing genocide. What kind of politics is that? Is that a situation where we can say that religious institutions are off limits politically?

We know how in Western societies, people talk about mosques where they claim that radical and militant ideas are being preached by imams. But how should one politically or morally assess the fact that people are praying for the IDF in synagogues?

This is something that has to change in the long term. It is a long project, and not everyone is interested in it. Not all Jews are religious, and the ones who come here tend to be secular Israelis who are not really interested in religion. But I think for anyone who cares about Judaism or Jewishness in a broader sense, this is something that has to change.

We’re doing this interview with theleftberlin.com. Most, but not all, of our readers are neither German nor Jewish. What’s the role of our readers in this discussion?

I think they have the advantage of not having this German view on things. They haven’t grown up with mainstream indoctrination. So it’s often easier for them just to relate to Jews as normal people, and in many cases as migrants.

There’s a sense of migrant identity that comes in here. You have a mobile identity that makes it more natural for you to connect both personally and politically with other groups of people. This is something that you can see in Berlin. Without wanting to overly generalize, there’s a natural kinship or alliance.

In the left wing area of society, which is your readership, communities from migrant backgrounds are far better suited to really having normal and fruitful relationships with Jews than Germans are. Because they don’t have this baggage and they’ll often have similar insights as Jews about German society,

Most Jews you’ll meet here are white, Ashkenazi Jews. White Germans will feel able to speak to them about non-white people in the way they would speak to other whites. Some of them will assume that there is natural enmity between Jews and Muslims. They may feel free to make anti-Muslim comments in front of Jews, because they assume that there is agreement.

While those Jews aren’t on the receiving end of that racism, they will get quite a clear view of it. That will make them natural allies of those migrants who really are on the receiving end of that racism.

Where can people get hold of your new book?

It’s up for pre-order on the OR books website, and copies will start shipping in October. It won’t be available on the wider book market until April, because this is the way OR books do things. They sell directly for a while before handing it over to Amazon and all the other other retailers.

If you want to read the eBook version, that can be ordered and downloaded at most online stores. There’s a brief pause at the moment, and it’s currently only available at the Google Play Store because there’s a change of distributor, but from mid-September, it will be back in all mainstream online stores.

And you’ll let people know about that from your blog?

Sure.

What are you doing next? You just announced that you’ve got another book coming out. What’s that about?

This book is not about Germany. It’s called “After Zionism: Towards a New Jewish Left”, and will be published by Verso. When I chose that title, I was aware that this is a pretty bold claim to make. So I feel that I’m putting a certain pressure on myself to deliver some kind of vision.

It starts by taking a look at Zionism, not just in the sense of its political manifestation in Israel. But also in the ways of thinking sometimes even even among Jewish people who don’t really support the project. The critique is sharpened by insights from Palestinian thinkers like Ghassan Kanafani, Steven Salaita and Mohammed El-Kurd. It’s thinking about ways to overcome Zionism, not in the sense of just leaving it behind and moving on, but in defeating it. The same way as we fight against racism and fascism.

This is connected to various left Jewish traditions and histories, one famous example being Bundism. And uncovering things like the buried Arab-Jewish (Mizrahi) identity. Through fighting against Zionism, and drawing inspiration from various traditions, we can move forward to a left Jewish culture and politics. I’m not suggesting a sort of separatist movement. I’m suggesting something that’s very much part of a wider politics, part of the overall leftist struggle, but drawing on a particular kind of Jewish thought and practice.

I said before that Jewish institutions need to be overthrown, or at least eroded bit by bit. That’s something that’s also part of this vision. Maybe some would call this utopian, but it’s trying to push through the ruins of Zionism, and to bring together the wealth of progressive and diasporist thinking as an antidote to nationalism, reinforcing solidarity across all groups in society.

I think that’s the place to end this interview. I’m sure we’ll talk again about the new book when it’s nearer to publication. But thanks for talking to us, and good luck in all you’re doing.

Groundbreaking People’s Tribunal at Berlin Biennale Highlights Art for Resisting Oppression in the Philippines

KULTURFABRIK Moabit, 24 August 2025, from 4PM,

The Left Berlin
23/08/2025

On Sunday August 24 the Berlin Biennale will convene a groundbreaking People’s Tribunal on Art for Resisting Oppression—Philippine Cases. In a departure from traditional tribunals, this event will not only feature oral and written testimonies but also live performances by the artists themselves—each an act of resistance in the face of state-sponsored repression.

The People’s Tribunal brings attention to the power of art as a form of resistance against state repression through compelling testimonies from three brave witnesses— Mercedita Centeno de Jesus, Father Chris Ablon, and Reya Morgado—who have faced persecution for their art and activism in the Philippines. Some of these witnesses sought political asylum in Europe due to the severe political repression, including red-tagging they endured in the Philippines. Red tagging is the act of
labeling individuals or groups as communists or terrorists to discredit them, putting them at risk of harassment, violence, or even death.

Mercedita de Jesus is the mother of the forcibly disappeared activist Bazoo who has been missing since April 28, 2023. She describes that in the evolution of her artistic process, she “turned to art not just to cope with anxiety and depression, but to resist”.

Father Chris Ablon is a priest, advocate, and musician who was forced into exile under the Duterte Regime due to harassment and death threats. Now living as a political refugee in Germany, he continues to fight for migrants’ rights and the rights of all oppressed people.

For Reya Morgado, a cultural performer from the Manobo tribe and victim of red-tagging, “artistic expression is my resistance. Each performance is a political act—a call for freedom, human rights,
and justice. I want people to know: I exist. I am living proof of the harassment that continues.”

Alongside the personal testimonies, the Tribunal will include an expert witness statement from Catherine Abon shedding light on the broader context of political repression faced by artists and activists in the country. Ms. Abon is a volunteer coordinator of the International Coalition for Human Rights in the Philippines (ICHRP-DE) and member of Alpas Pilpinas and Gabriela Germany.

This event aims to amplify the voices of those who have experienced firsthand the intersection of art and political struggle, while calling for global attention to the ongoing crisis of human rights in the Philippines.

Following the Tribunal is an open forum with activists from the convening organizations who are also calling on all Filipinos and allies to join the Duterte Panagutin Network and mobilize to The Hague in September for former President Rodrigo Duterte’s first International Criminal Court (ICC) hearing.

The event is part of the 13th Berlin Biennale production organized by ALPAS Pilipinas, Gabriela Germany, the International Coalition for Human Rights Germany Chapter (ICHRP-DE) and Berlin Philippines Solidarity Organization.

Contact: ichrp.germany@gmail.com; gabriela.alemanya@gmail.com
People’s Tribunal on Art Resisting Oppression: Philippines Case
When: 24 August 2025, from 4PM, doors open at 3PM
Where: KULTURFABRIK Moabit
Lehrter Str. 35, 10557 Berlin

Big Trumper is watching you: Republican doublethink and the Colbert cancellation

Trump-era censorship and Colbert’s cancellation expose Republican hypocrisy on free speech and satire

Ellen McBride
22/08/2025

Stephen Colbert Late Show Telephone Booth

Visit any far-right, Trump-glorifying online publication (which holds the same grim fascination as a shoestring-budget true-crime documentary on cannibalism), and it won’t take five seconds before the article bashes “the woke” and claims that liberals are infringing on free speech. It’s the same tactics employed by alt-right online influencing grifters for well over a decade: insist the left as a monolith are shrieking, hysterical, and unreasonable. Then, any quote-unquote woke takes that are rolled out are treated as attempts to police, gaslight, and enforce a particular and threatening manner of thinking that will undoubtedly wind up brainwashing you. Trump et al. have weaponized The Left’s supposed hunger for indoctrination and cancellation to deflect any well-earned criticisms: it’s slippery and defies common sense, but has proven wildly effective.

Years ago, when Trump had first been elected—it’s funny to think about now, since at the time it felt like the world had gone mad, and we hadn’t yet reached peak bizarro nightmare—a friend and I, during summer holidays from university, were heading to the club and struck up a conversation with our taxi driver. The conversation turned to American politics, as it is wont to do when you are nineteen, three glasses of vino deep, and covered in streaky fake tan. Our driver, much to our surprise, pledged his allegiance to Trump. We enquired (cautiously) why he felt supportive of a crass billionaire with a long history of racism and misogyny (not in those exact words, it was more of a barely-breathed, courteous cluster of syllables that sounded like a question). His response was that Trump was honest, because Trump told the truth: that, as a savvy businessman and a paragon of authenticity, he could lead America to a brighter future than any Democrats, who our driver insisted were worse than Trump, and also liars.

I dutifully reposted Kamala Harris TikToks, bathed in BRAT green and hailing her as a diva during last year’s bleak election run—not because I was blind to Harris’s (or her administration’s) deep flaws and moral failings, but because 1) the devastation that could be wreaked by the Trump administration was (and has proven to be) terrifying, 2) the return of Trump to the White House would fan the flames of ever-rising conservatism, and 3) the TikToks were funny. But it’s fascinating to me that the Trump administration has amassed a following (from American Republicans to Irish taxi drivers) partially via piquing fear that The Left will smother free speech—especially considering it engages in that kind of policing itself.

Recently, CBS Paramount announced the cancellation of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, a typical late-night talk show that has been trucking along successfully for almost a decade. The production company cited financial reasons for the cancellation—despite the fact that it topped the channel’s ratings. Indeed, insiders have suggested that the show was losing an estimated $40 million annually, but Colbert’s late-night peer Jimmy Kimmel has already called that figure out as “bullshit”.

Nowadays, shows—even wildly successful ones—are being canceled left, right, and center, so this may seem like a non-issue, and Kimmel’s reaction a tad overwrought. This particular cancellation, though? There’s a strong whiff of dubiousness, one so pungent you don’t even need to put on a tinfoil hat to acknowledge.

Colbert has described himself as a Democrat since as far back as 2004, and has frequently cited his faith as a committed, practicing Catholic as a guiding light and moral benchmark. For eleven years, he hosted The Colbert Report, a satirical skit revolving around a right-wing, bumbling, blustering, “well-intentioned idiot”, transitioning in order to succeed David Letterman as The Late Show host. Colbert invited and whole-heartedly embraced nuance: he crafted a character that was satirical, but not hollow. Within the multitudes of his mockery, he unspooled hypocrisy and hidden meanings from combustive slogans and conservative standings. He poked fun at his subjects, but also created a space in which humor could be extracted from unease and terror, and where he encouraged a certain agility in thinking, an impulse to navigate a brutal political landscape with poise instead of powerlessness.

Unsurprisingly, Colbert’s political leanings have not endeared him to the Republican crowd, and he has been unabashed in his criticism of Donald Trump. Not that that is an anomaly—Presidents, government officials, and celebrities are well-trodden fodder for the late-night talk show hosts. Actually, they’re the bulk of what those shows consist of. They pick at and satirize current affairs and pop culture, generally striving nowadays for an array of snippets to go viral as shorts online. Personally, I think if you’re involved in politics or Hollywood, you should probably expect a spoonful of mockery on these shows, by virtue of the profession you’ve literally chosen. A host makes you look a bit daft, or critiques your shady moves? Maybe public sphere dwellers should just accept the condemnation and try to rise above.

That’s too much to ask of Donald Trump, though, a man who is so incapable of rising above that he may as well take up permanent residence at the earth’s core. In mid-July, Colbert called out his own production company, CBS Paramount, on-air, describing its $16 million settlement with the Trump administration as a “big fat bribe”. The settlement followed Trump’s lawsuit protesting CBS’s use of two clips from Harris’s response to a question about the Middle East. The company saw the show’s executive producer refuse to apologize and stand down, followed by the departure of its CEO shortly afterwards. A range of scholars and constitutional experts advised that the lawsuit was frivolous, a misapplication of the law, and a violation of the First Amendment principles. Senators Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Ron Wyden wrote a letter to CBS Paramount’s chairwoman expressing their concerns that reaching a settlement with President Trump would essentially amount to bribery. “Paramount’s scheme to curry favor with the Trump Administration has compromised journalistic independence and raises serious concerns of corruption and improper conduct,” the letter reads.

On July 17th, Colbert announced to his audience on air that The Late Show was canceled, emphasizing that this wasn’t even a case of replacement—the show itself had been unceremoniously slashed and would not be revived with a new host. The next twist in the tale came through Paramount merging with Skydance Media—a studio that requires approval from Trump’s Federal Communications Commission in order to take over from Paramount. Skydance has committed itself to rooting out CBS’s “bias”—which will be undertaken by steadily eroding the company’s diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) practices. Deeply ironic, considering the Trump administration’s allergy to diversity and inclusion of differing opinions and lack of censorship.

Did Trump himself cast down the order that Colbert be axed? Maybe. Even if he didn’t issue the explicit decree, the pressure surely came under his administration’s unrelenting, tyrannic weight. And it’s totally at odds with what they have said they are for. Trump entered the arena back in the 2010s vowing to restore America’s greatness, presenting himself both as a straight-talking Everyman and as a messiah-like tycoon, ready to save the children from liberal “brainrot” and keep the country free and strong.

Whether or not he gave the word for Colbert to go, he reacted on Truth Social with predictable glee: “I absolutely love that Colbert got fired. His talent was even less than his ratings. I hear Jimmy Kimmel is next. Has even less talent than Colbert. Greg Gutfeld is better than all of them combined, including the Moron on NBC who ruined the once great Tonight Show.” (To digress momentarily, why does the President of one of the leading global powers write like the mean-girl parody Chanel Oberlin from Scream Queens?)

On the July 21st episode of The Late Show, Colbert was joined by John Oliver, Jon Stewart, Jimmy Fallon, and Seth Meyers, his late-night comrades. Their succession of cameos underscored their unwavering loyalty, not just to Colbert, but to the right to satirize, the crucial importance comedy has in culture and the danger that may be posed if it’s stripped away.

To be deeply predictable and quote George Orwell’s 1984, “Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one’s mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them”. Rather unfortunately, this book continues to be relevant, and seems to illustrate the conundrum of a number of Trump supporters currently. “The Left wants to cancel us and brainwash us” seems to coexist with “Trump’s administration can and should dictate the contents of our media and roll back inclusion and equity”. Not all of his supporters think this, of course—I wouldn’t dream to say I understood the beliefs of such a sprawling group, all of whom have unique experiences—but there’s a definite chunk that can be found on the aforementioned alt-right websites.

I spent a pathetic amount of time as a teenager on Tumblr—scrolling through fandom edits and aesthetic shoots, gorging on bite-sized social justice posts that gave me a dopamine hit and inflated my sense of superiority (mostly quashed now; nothing like adulthood to make you realize you’re an idiot). The waves of online discourse can absolutely be draining and over-complicatedly politically correct to the point that they sometimes loop all the way back around to being a touch offensive. Identity politics could be fraught, and accusations of “problematic” behavior were fired with all the force of an arrow from Katniss Everdeen’s bow. I also think that the tendency for people to weaponize therapy-speak after reading a singular Psychology Today article may have either been born on, or at least was popularized by, Tumblr.

And yet, as trigger happy as we 2014 Tumblrinas could be, censorship wasn’t what was wanted. Maybe, due to being a blogging site mostly composed of hipster teenagers, the conversations weren’t exactly cultural resets, but they were discourse; it was an encouragement of debate and reflection and even, yes, conflict. The Tumblr girls could go toe-to-toe with a dissenter. Meanwhile, Trump and his cohorts have all the debating backbone of a cooked strand of spaghetti. Deflect, demonize, derail, and, when all else fails, cancel. Push people who challenge your words and actions from their platforms and establish a culture scared into bending the knee.

The positive slant to take is that, now Colbert has been dropped, he’s going down swinging. After all, what does he have to lose? He has from now until next May to finish up his duties as host, and he has wasted no time whatsoever in telling Trump to go fuck himself. And since the cancellation, he’s seen a surge in ratings, as people who may never have watched an episode of a late-night show in their life tune in to signal support and see Colbert mock with renewed vigor. The gloves are resoundingly off, and no topic seems to be too treacherous for Colbert to tread. What will they do, fire him?

And despite everything, I allow myself a small—an incredibly small, but still very real—bit of cheer. Trump and his cronies are shameless, but you don’t shut somebody up unless you care about what they’re saying; the whole point is for people to feel powerless, so they don’t keep talking. It’s not a victory, but it doesn’t have to be a defeat. Ironically, the controversy around Colbert’s cancellation has drawn more viewers to his still-airing show, which will spend the next year undermining Trump. As Colbert himself said in a monologue on 2016’s election night, “the devil cannot stand mockery”. Trump has a staggering amount of power. But he doesn’t have the same power his satirizers have, and his need to silence them proves it.

Legal Victory

German Federal Constitutional Court Ends Separation of Baby and Parents Over Palestine Solidarity

The Left Berlin
20/08/2025

A one-year-old child separated from parents over Palestine solidarity is finally allowed to re-enter Germany, according to the German Federal Constitutional Court ruling on 5^th of August 2025, after a successful urgent appeal by the European Legal Support Center (ELSC).

The court ruling means the German authorities are now obliged to allow the re-entry of the one-year-old child to Germany, after being separated for months from his Palestinian-Jordanian mother – a skilled worker in Germany with a valid visa permit – and forced to stay with his grandparents in Jordan.

The case dates back to August 2024 when the baby was denied re-entry to Germany after he was initially deemed as a “security threat” in a letter from the German Embassy in Amman. Later, the German foreign ministry argued this was because of the mother’s alleged involvement with Palestine solidarity groups and an ongoing investigation by notorious German domestic intelligence service “Verfassungsschutz” (Office for the Protection of the Constitution). The ministry said while the child does not constitute a security threat to Germany, allowing the child to re-enter Germany could possibly constitute a “security risk”. This reasoning was accepted in two previous decisions by the Higher Administrative Court Berlin-Brandenburg and the Administrative Court Berlin.

Three judges at the Constitutional Court have now decided unanimously that “..the continued refusal to allow entry exposes the complainant [the child], given his age of not even two years, to significant, irreparable harm” and ordered the Federal Republic of Germany to allow the child to enter the country. Furthermore, the court acknowledged that the previous decisions at administrative courts might constitute a breach of constitutional rights, namely the fundamental right to protection of the family (Article 6(1) and (2) sentence 1 of the German constitution).

With this decision the family can now finally reunite after months of inhumane treatment and barely legal exploitation of migration laws.

However, this is just a preliminary decision on the urgent appeal. The final ruling on the constitutional complaint will decide whether such separations of child and parents with unclear residency status constitutes a breach of constitutional rights, namely the fundamental right to protection of the family (Article 6(1) and (2) sentence 1 of the German constitution) or not. The decision on the parents’ residency status is also still pending at the administrative courts due to the secret services procrastination to conclude the “security investigation”.

ELSC spokesperson Karim Bohnhoff comments: “This is an important ruling because we managed to end the family’s separation —something no one should ever have to endure. We hope this ruling will deter the German state from abusing migration laws to punish marginalised communities for their involvement in the Palestine solidarity movement and we will continue to push for a systematic change.”