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Relearning the ABC DEs

The Academic Boycott Campaign Germany


01/04/2026

Across Europe, university campuses remain key battlegrounds in the struggle for Palestinian liberation. This is particularly true of German universities, where a new movement is emerging from the growing wave of solidarity with Palestine to reshape the political landscape of academic responsibility. The Academic Boycott Campaign Deutschland (ABC DE) brings together students, researchers, academics, workers and staff to redefine accountability and solidarity in higher education, and forms a nationwide coalition for a long-term academic boycott of Israeli academia and institutional complicity at German universities and institutions.

Exposing academic complicity

Israeli universities are embedded in the Israeli state’s military-industrial complex and actively contribute to the occupation of Palestinian land and the apartheid and genocide of Palestinian life. German universities and academic institutions serve as strategic partners in the Israeli colonial apparatus. Through access to research, funding, infrastructure, and scientific and political legitimacy—including programs such as the German-Israeli Project Cooperation of the DFG (Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft or German Research Foundation, a publicly funded organization with an annual budget of over 3.3 billion Euros, which offers significant support to research in science, engineering, and the humanities) —hundreds of collaborations link German academia to Israeli institutions. 

German higher education is thus directly embedded into the political economy of growing militarisation and the material reproduction of Israeli apartheid. Beyond simply buttressing Israeli research initiatives, these partnerships normalise the ongoing occupation and genocide of Palestinians. Advocating for Palestine and challenging institutional complicity within German academia is not a simple matter of “freedom of expression” but of moral and ethical responsibility. As state-funded institutions, German universities are not neutral: they are instruments of state policy that require close scrutiny, especially amid genocide.

Why academic boycott? 

The Academic Boycott Campaign targets the intellectual infrastructure that sustains Israeli apartheid and occupation. ABC DE’s objective is to confront these institutions’ complicity directly and to raise political questions universities can no longer ignore: how is public money being used? Which research agendas does it serve? What moral responsibility accompanies academic freedom? 

Aligned with PACBI (Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel), ABC DE acts on Palestinian civil society’s call to boycott, sanction, and divest from entities enabling the apartheid state of Israel. 

In particular, ABC DE calls on universities to: 

  • Disclose, review, and terminate complicit cooperation agreements with Israeli state institutions embedded in the military‑industrial complex.
  • Acknowledge the genocide of Palestinians and uphold international law.
  • Adopt boycott measures through democratic structures led by students and academics.
  • Build real and lasting partnerships with Palestinian scholars and universities.
  • Guarantee free discussion about Palestine without police repression on campus.
  • Cease all forms of military research.

Universities must be spaces of critical research and learning, not partners in genocidal warfare or militarised violence. Academic boycott is an act of material solidarity with Palestinian self-determination and a direct challenge to the ways public and research funds enable war crimes.

The Academic Boycott Now Conference in Berlin, January 23-25, 2026

The campaign was launched at the Academic Boycott Now Conference in Berlin, which was held between January 23-25, 2026. The conference featured three days of lectures, workshops, and other collaborative events which analysed the role of Israeli and German academia in maintaining the ongoing occupation, apartheid, and genocide. Outside of these events, representatives from collectives at 35 universities and institutions around Germany met to develop and ratify a framework for a coordinated, nationwide academic boycott campaign.

Over the course of the weekend, seven speaker panels probed the realities of academic complicity; the growing militarisation of universities in Germany and abroad; the imbrication of academia with settler-colonial modes of extraction and exploitation; and the possibilities for solidarity and coalition-building in the struggle for Palestinian liberation. Collectives also participated in workshops hosted by the Palestinian Campaign for the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel (PACBI), as well as in skill-sharing sessions. These events allowed organisers from across Germany to exchange experiences and strategies for fighting academic repression, conducting research into academic complicity, and developing media campaigns. 

Of particular note was the conference’s keynote lecture by Dr. Maya Wind, author of Towers of Ivory and Steel: How Israeli Universities Deny Palestinian Freedom and postdoctoral researcher at the University of California-Riverside; and Dr. Mezna Qato, director of the Margaret Anstee Centre for Global Studies at Cambridge University.  Drs. Wind and Qato outlined the continued urgency of a boycott of Israeli academia, emphasising the ways in which Israeli universities remain integral to the settler-colonial project of the Israeli apartheid state. Through specialised training programmes, weapons development, and various forms of knowledge production, Israeli institutions are not only complicit in state violence—they actively enable and sustain the ongoing genocide of Palestinians. 

The necessity for a nationwide academic boycott

In July 2025, UN Special Rapporteur Francesa Albanese published her report “From economy of occupation to economy of genocide” (A/HRC/59/23), detailing how corporations and public institutions—including German universities—profit off of the genocide in Gaza. Germany’s highest-ranked university, the Technical University of Munich (TUM), was explicitly named as a direct collaborator with Israeli weapons technology development.

According to the report, TUM and Israel Aerospace Industries (IAI) received more than $868,000 to co-develop green hydrogen aerial refuelling technology, which is directly relevant to IAI military drones used in Gaza. Beyond this specific partnership, countless similar collaborations have been detailed in thoroughly researched reports and investigations by the collective Academics for Justice Munich. 

Similar patterns can be seen at numerous other German institutions: A report by the collective Not In Our Name TU exposed how the Technical University in Berlin coordinated the MedWater project between 2017 and 2021, under Germany’s Federal Ministry of Education and Research. Calling the project “Water as a Global Resource,”  TU Berlin partnered with Israel’s state water company, Mekorot, the backbone of what Al Haq and other groups have called  “water apartheid.” The project materially supported Israel’s apartheid water regime and violated international and German law, using 1.8 million € of public funds.  

Beyond the campus

Universities have always been political spaces. During apartheid rule in South Africa, students led the boycott movement in Germany and in other states in the so-called Global North, which in turn put significant economic and material pressure on governments to disavow the Apartheid government. ABC DE continues this legacy of student activism in its current campaign. Today, the struggle unfolds in a context where basic conditions for dissent are under attack. Irene Khan, the UN Special Rapporteur on freedom of Expression and Opinion, warned during her visit to Germany in late January and early February that freedom of expression in the country is clearly threatened. This is especially true in the context of pro-Palestine organising in academic, cultural, and artistic spaces, through criminalization and surveillance.  

Yet the amplified repression of pro-Palestinian voices on university campuses must be understood alongside other affronts to German civil society. In Bavaria, a planned amendment to the Higher Education Innovation Act would introduce uniform expulsion and ban re-enrolment for students found to be repeatedly “disrupting university peace” through protests and other forms of activism. The same amendment sets provision for similarly penalising students who violate the Bavarian state’s ban on “gender-inclusive language,” such as using an asterisk, colon, or other grammatical forms to indicate gender neutrality. In this way, attacks on pro-Palestinian activism must be understood as a litmus test for the repression of all marginalised groups in Germany. By reasserting German universities as sites of struggle, the academic boycott seeks not only to expose institutional complicity in the ongoing genocide and apartheid, but also to redefine academic labour as collective struggle. 

What’s next?

The signatories of ABC DE’s campaign resolution represent student, faculty, and academic staff collectives from over 40 groups at universities and institutions around Germany. Since the formal initiation of the campaign in late January, ABC DE has continued to cultivate networks and working groups which allow these collectives to coordinate nationally, and has developed relationships with organisations working to end academic and institutional complicity abroad. 

One major initiative of ABC DE is to support the PACBI-led campaign to exclude Israel and complicit universities from Horizon Europe, the European Union’s “key funding programme for research and innovation.” Between 2021 and 2024, Israeli universities and academics received over €1.1 billion in funding through Horizon Europe. These funds have directly supported the development of weapons technologies used in the ongoing genocide: for example, €50 million in Horizon Europe funding underwrote the development of the Skylord drone system, which has been deployed by the IDF in Gaza.

On average, Israel has received more funds through this programme than any European country. However, since 2025, Horizon support to Israel has dropped by nearly 70%—a strong indication that targeted organising and activism against institutional complicity is effective. While ending the Horizon Europe programme would require unanimous support from all 27 EU member states, a simple majority vote could suspend the funding programme in order to encourage a formal review of Israeli academia’s role in the ongoing genocide. ABC DE assists PACBI’s mobilisation in multiple ways, including developing thorough research reports of complicit Horizon Europe partnerships on German university campuses, and assisting collectives in communicating with faculty and university administrators. 

Between April 20 and 26, 2026, ABC DE will coordinate the first-ever Israeli Apartheid Week (IAW) at institutions across Germany. First held at the University of Toronto in 2005, IAW is an annual week-long initiative on university campuses which seeks to highlight the Israeli apartheid regime’s human rights violations while celebrating Palestinian culture and resistance. Universities across Germany will host events including lectures, panels, workshops, film screenings, info stands, teach-ins, poetry readings, research sessions, and more. Information about publicly accessible events will be shared on ABC DE’s Instagram account (@academicboycottnow).

Conclusion

At a time of deep repression on German university campuses, as Palestinian voices are systematically silenced, an intellectual and institutional boycott campaign is not merely a symbolic gesture. It is a deliberate, organised strategy grounded in the fundamental principle that no institution can claim moral legitimacy while enabling genocide and apartheid. 

Hell is Light

Learning German at 40


I am German by nationality but I had spoken no German before I turned 40. I moved to Germany almost four years ago, turned 41 a few months ago, and I have just passed my B1 level in German.   

I have been German by nationality since the age of 6, and since then I have had a paradoxical relationship with my German passport. On the one hand, I have been privileged to have a passport that allows me mobility; on the other hand, I have lived my whole life burdened by it. I have been stopped, interrogated and held at checkpoints, borders, roads and airports around the world: Palestine, Israel, Jordan, Lebanon, Greece, Romania, Hungary, Germany—ou name it. It was always this hollow and empty question that tries to box people in tiny notebooks and tracking devices called passports: Where are you from? How do you hold a German passport but speak no German? You are Palestinian but you were born in Jordan? It is like these border security officers have never heard of globalisation or Israeli-settler colonialism before. 

My family comes from a small village in The Colonised Territories of the West Bank in Palestine, called Kafr Al Deek (the village of roosters). A rural village of almost 6 thousand people. Most family names in Palestine tend to take after animals and professions, like Smith or Fisher in English, and Müller or Hahn in German. My father (born before The Nakba/The Catastrophe of 1948) came to Germany during the 1960s as a guestworker from Palestine, studied mechanical engineering, married and had kids with a German lady and worked in Germany for over 20 years before he got divorced with two kids and returned alone to The Levant in the early 1980s as a project manager. My mother had then been exiled from Palestine to Jordan subsequent to the 1967 Arab-Israeli war (The Naksa/The Setback). I was then born in Jordan, and we spent my childhood travelling between Palestine, Jordan and Germany. Aged 16, I could travel by myself with a green German document/passport. So, during spring and summer vacations, my family came to Germany, and I went to Palestine alone. This continued till I moved permanently to the United Kingdom in 2005, aged 20. By then, I had solely spoken Arabic and English, even though we always had Germans and Arab-Germans at our house. During these gatherings, my father spoke German, my mother communicated in Arabic, and I in English. Between 2005 and 2021, I finished a Master’s in World Literatures, a PhD in Postcolonial Literature and Cultural Studies, published two books and numerous articles, and English technically became my first language. I rarely spoke or wrote anything in Arabic, and the only things I could say in German were: 

ich verstehe kein Deutsch (“I do not understand German”), Eckball (“corner kick”), Scheiße (“shit”), Schnitzel and Rouladen and Wurst (all food dishes and recipes), and probably counting from one to ten. 

I am a Palestinian with a German passport: the worst nightmare for an Israeli. Allegedly, I am an extension of both Hitler and Arafat. How lucky! Germans might not find this funny. I have realised that Germans are not big fans of sarcasm. I however have found many sarcastic and funny linguistic contrasts between German and English. For example, Hell is German for light in English. Träume is German for dreams. Gift is German for poison. Wo (sounds like “who”) means where, and Wer (sounds like “where”) means who. Tief (sounds like “thief”) means deep, and Dieb (sounds like “deep”) means thief. Fast is German for “almost”. Chef means “boss/manager”. Kind means “child”. Rock means “skirt”. Bald means “soon”. Brand means “fire”. And Wand means “wall”. I have an endless list of these translations that creates a wall of synonyms that are in fact antonyms hitting you severely with mind games every time you try to shuttle between languages and answer to a question on the spot. Stating numbers in German, furthermore, resembles that in Arabic, but opposes English. Numbers in German are gigantic in writing, nonetheless, and you are not allowed spaces to breathe in-between tens and hundreds and so on. For example, 9999 writes as follows: neuntausendneunhundertneunundneunzig. I indeed have 9999 problems in German, but numbers are not even one of them. 

German is not that bad though. It is one of the most philosophical languages in the world. German has significantly contributed to existential philosophy and metaphysics. Namely and famously, for example, Martin Heidegger’s philosophy of Dasein (sein means “being” and da means “there”), which he adopted for the meaning of existence. Also, Johann Goethe’s concept of Weltliteratur (“world literature”), as he envisioned a world where national literature is less important compared to a transnational and intracultural exchange of global ideas and letters. Other examples can be found in compound German words such as Weltschmerz, which is a German word that means “world pain”. Weltflucht is German for “escaping the world”. Schadenfreude is a German word that expresses joy derived from the misfortunes of others. Zweisamkeit expressesa state of feeling lonely together with someone else. German can also be, surprise surprise, very compassionate and cute. Schatz means treasure and is often used to call someone’s beloved, like “baby” or “darling”. Ciao Kakao is used to say goodbyes and literally translates to “ciao cocoa”. Frühjahrsmüdigkeit expresses a state of fatigue generated by change of seasons and weather. How empathetic, considerate and vulnerable! There is more: Heimscheisser means someone who can only poop at home. Eier Schaukeln literally means “swinging my balls”, which implies doing nothing or relaxing. German can also be fun, like Legos, where you get to mix-and-match different words and come up with whole new meanings. Examples of such compound words are: Handschuhe (hand + shoes) means “gloves”, Flugzeug (flying + thing) means “airplane”, Streicheleinheit (to stroke + a unit + of cuddles) is used to suggest a session of cuddles. 

II

Our classroom started with 15 students mainly from Iran, Ukraine, Russia, and Nigeria. The beginning was very relaxed and slow-paced. On our first day, we were taught how to write an E-mail in case of absence. I raised my hand and asked if we could start with the alphabet instead. We were then asked to introduce ourselves: name, country of origin, and age. The teacher pointed out each of the students’ countries on a map of the world behind her, but not Palestine. I did not make much of it. Perhaps she forgot. Perhaps she wanted to be “politically correct”. I could have raised my hand and said something, but we were not allowed to speak in English. Plus, I had already created enough tension with my first request to start with the alphabet. You could cut the tension in the classroom with a knife. All of the students in the classroom were refugees and asylum-seekers except for two: one of whom was from Türkiye and the other from Serbia, and they had paid for the classes from their own money. The rest had either temporarily lived in hotels or were still awaiting decisions on their asylum-seeking applications and lived in camps. What am I? Technically, I am not a refugee. I did leave England because of all the complications in the aftermath of Brexit, but I quit my job and still came here willingly to visit my family and stay. An immigrant? Why are we labeled a billion branches of being migrants when we are abroad, but Americans and Germans are called “expats”? “First World” privileges extend, apparently, from veto to language. Wait! Germany is not even one of the five permanent members (The USA, China, France, Russia, and The UK) to have an absolute veto over Security Council resolutions in The United Nations. 

We had two teachers who rotated certain weekly days between them, and they were two of the sweetest and most helpful instructors who did everything they could to make German as tolerable as possible. I am also indebted to the German government for paying for my German language courses. I had to apply to the German immigration and refugee office to be granted funding. The application form required a mandatory section to fill in the applicant’s country of origin. It had neither Palestine nor Germany amongst its options. Palestine is not recognised by Germany as an independent state, and you cannot be granted a German nationality without passing an official B1 (Level 3) German test in the first place. What am I? Who am I? I attached an extra piece of paper and explained my situation to the Refugee and Immigration Office. 

Once upon a time, I woke up, like Frantz Kafka’s claustrophobic and insomniac Gregor Samsa, to find myself a Palestinian exile. Human by nature, German by nationality, Jordanian by birth, Palestinian by descent and origin, and writing in English, I have problems answering the question “where are you from?” Such question boxes one within boundaries and asks you to name geographies and places on the geopolitical map of the world whereby it inhales you to be associated with the whereabouts of an accident called Birth, or an absent presence that is called History. On the one hand, having to state singular places surely glorifies the triumphalism of geography and cultural borderlines; on the other, it marginalises the celebration of multiple cultural experiences. No singular or brief answer will ever suffice to answer such a question. It is rather the transitory metamorphoses throughout various and diverse cultural experiences that should count. 

III

The classroom became bigger. Syrians, more Ukrainians, more Russians, Indians, and more Iranians joined in. Instead of 15 students, we became over 25. The classroom was equipped enough, but from my experience in teaching, language classes should not normally exceed 15 students per class. Germany however was still receiving refugees in abundance. Its involvement in the Russian-Ukrainian conflict has cost its economy dearly. Uncalculated bonding with everything American has also cost Germany dearly. And I am not only talking about politics and economy here. Even national German radio stations play American music 24/7. German socialist culture risks being diminished by American Pepsi-Colaisation and McDonaldisation (the process where fast-food principles—efficiency, calculability, predictability, and control—dominate American society, driven by capitalist expansion). Even German Schlager music (German pop music) is being replaced by American hip-hop in German Christmas markets. Last year, 50 Cent’s Candy Shop echoed in Hamburg’s city centre, the second largest city in Germany, through loud speakers for 3 months in a row. Hamburg is certainly no American ghetto, but it is slowly turning into one. DHL is American, German politics are becoming more and more American, German Christmas markets and play fairs are turning into American fun parks. Germans, however, frown and are upset if you spoke to them, god forbid, in English. Some will even claim they do not understand English when in fact they do. 

“I’ll take you to the candy shop, I’ll let you lick the lollipop, go ahead, girl, don’t you stop, keep goin’ til you hit the spot.” At its core, 50 Cent’s song serves as a metaphorical exploration of desire and attraction through the playful imagery of sweets where a girl is being seduced by candies to eventually become the provider’s bitch. This imagery very much sounds like a fitting metaphor to the American-German relationship on so many levels: politically, economically, culturally.  Did you know that German students are learning about current American propaganda in their German schools this very day? My friend’s son has just come back from an exchange school programme in America. The first cultural event on the tour: a visit to the Coca Cola factory. How fascinating! 

Back to the classroom. The German language has two main types of articles—definite (der, die, das / “the”) and indefinite (ein, eine / “a/an”). These definite and indefinite articles change based on gender, number, and cases. While there are only 3 nominative singular forms, there are roughly 11-12 total variations (der, die, das, den, dem, des, ein, eine, einen, einem, eines) which extend across nominative, accusative, dative, and genitive cases. I promise you, this is not black magic or some sort of Voodoo curse. This is basic 101 German grammar. What I do not understand, however, is the following: why is a skirt (Der Rock) masculine and a pair of trousers (Die Hose) is feminine in German? And why is a fork feminine (Die Gabel), a spoon (Der Löffel) masculine, and a knife (Das Messer) neutral? Well, this is Germany; you do not get to ask the questions. You only do as you are told—unless you are American. Or alternatively, you learn how to be independent, or an orphan, from this children’s German song: 

The child: Wo? Wo? Wo? (Where? Where? Where?)

Wo ist meine Mama? (Where is mother?)

Wer hat sie gesehen? (Who has seen her?) 

Bist du meine Mama? (Are you my mother?) 

An adult female: Nein, du musst weitergehen! (No, you must move on!) 

Towards the end of the course, our teacher tried to motivate us by asking us to study hard for the national German language test. She made sure to remind us that passing this test will make sure we do not waste any more money of the German taxpayers. What about the taxpayer’s money, I thought, that goes to Israel and its ammunition overseas? The taxpayers work, taxes are deducted from their salaries, the German government sponsors Israel, Israel kills, bombards and destroys Palestinian homes and land, then Palestinians end up studying German in Hamburg. I am here because THEY kicked us out from THERE. I am HERE because tax money HERE sponsors killers THERE. My being here is the result of German guilt from killing Jewish people who have been replicating what had been done to them by Germans in the past to the Palestinians now. Antisemitic? Well, antisemitism is a European concept created when Jewish people were kicked out of Europe by white people. In fact, Jewish people lived and prospered happily in Iraq, Palestine and other parts of the Levant and West Asia till the establishment of the Zionist movement in the late 19th century. Most importantly, you cannot accuse me of antisemitism every time I am angry. You are trying to dehumanise me, and I am trying to revoke that. It is called resistance to imperialism. 

Back to the classroom. I wanted to pass my national German language test, nonetheless. I am very goal-oriented. I also speak Arabic: a language with over 10-million-word variations and overly complicated grammar; whereas English and German put together barely add up to a million. I wanted to challenge myself to learn something new after 40, add a further cultural identity to my existence, and experience what it feels like to be a student again after 20 years of being a teacher. I also wanted to narrow the cultural distance between myself and German society. After all, language is identity. It is a cultural entity, not only a linguistic means of communication. This, however, turned out to be very naïve. I passed the test. Yet, I am now just an Ausländer (German for “foreigner”, and literally translates to outsider) with a B1 language certificate. Nothing has changed. Normalisation of repression and oppression in Germany will still go on, whether I know that a spoon is masculine or not. I just wish Germans were as free and liberating in their politics and attitude as they are with their bodies and nudity, i.e. their free body culture (Freikörperkultur / FKK). 

And so, I am forced to be in rainy Germany instead of sunny Palestine, never sure who I am or where I belong—but hopefully not for too long. Because, as Germans say: “Alles hat ein Ende, nur die Wurst hat zwei” (Everything has an end, only the sausage has two). 

Love & sexuality

A Marxist analysis


“I don’t need paradise Leo, nor eternal love.

I want a world so reasonable that one can live in it as a human being.”

– Rosa Luxemburg, 1899

It’s one of humanity’s oldest illusions that love exists outside of history and regardless of the relations of production. We like to believe the heart “follows no rules” as if it floated above the material world. But the heart beats in a body that works, eats, suffers, and survives within social relations. And that means love, even in its most tender form, is shaped by the world in which it lives.

We don’t love in a vacuum. Our tenderness, jealousy, and sense of “home” are not timeless emotions. They are historical products, changing with the way we produce and reproduce life. As Marx wrote, even our most intimate feelings are “social relations expressed in persons.”

When Engels argued in “The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State” that the monogamous family arose from the man’s need to pass on his property, he wasn’t saying love is a lie. He was saying it is formed by property, labour, and power. Therefore, it can be changed by changing the material conditions.

From sharing to inheritance

Early hunter-gatherer societies shared resources, childcare, and responsibility. There was no concept of “mine and yours,” and no family unit in the modern sense. Love and care were part of collective life. Engels called this stage “primitive communism” a time before class domination, when production and reproduction were shared.

Humans lived as nomadic peoples back then. Accordingly, the accumulation of possessions would have been disadvantageous. They tended to live more from hand to mouth. The idea of private property did not exist back then.

That changed with the rise of agriculture and herding. People began to settle, cultivate, and accumulate.

The invention of the plough in particular enabled humans, for the first time, to produce surpluses. Operating the plough was physically demanding work that was hardly possible during pregnancy and breastfeeding. Before that, women had been able to gather and hunt even while pregnant. With the invention of the plough, the division of labour changed fundamentally. Friedrich Engels described this development as “The world-historic defeat of the female sex.” 

This was the birth of private property, and with it, the first great divide: production became men’s domain, reproduction women’s. The family emerged as the basic unit of ownership. The woman, once a co-producer, became responsible for the reproduction. And love became a function of inheritance.

This new concept of property demanded heirs. In order to determine the line of inheritance, it had to be clear who the two progenitors were. This resulted in the regulation of female sexuality.

Surplus created storage; storage created ownership and new roles within the society. Some produced the surplus others coordinated it. This new role of administration was the very first start of classes. Some started to gain control over the surplus while others produced it. 

What had once been a communal relation became a private institution. The family taught obedience, possession, and moral duty preparing people for a world organised by domination. The so-called “natural” roles of man and woman were anything but natural. They were historical tools for stabilising property and hierarchy.

The moral economy of marriage

Ancient societies built entire states on this logic. In Greece, the citizen was “free” only because others were not. Men debated in public; women were confined to the house, their bodies part of the machinery of reproduction. Rome perfected this system: the pater familias owned not just land and slaves, but his wife and children. Marriage was a legal contract, not a romantic choice.

When feudalism replaced the empires this logic stayed, only now, God was its guarantor. The Church sanctified property through marriage. What had been a contract became a „sacrament“. Behind the holiness of the family stood the same economics: inheritance, land, and lineage.

The troubadours of the Middle Ages invented “courtly love,” that great European myth of passion and virtue. But it was never a real emancipation, just a poetic mask. Knights sang of love to ennoble themselves, not to challenge the system. The lady was muse, not equal.

In this world, the woman’s chastity secured property; her silence kept peace. Feudal morality turned economic dependence into moral duty. The poorer you were, the more “virtuous” you were expected to be.

Industrial love and bourgeois rebranding

With capitalism came the factory and a new family form. The industrial revolution separated what had long been connected: home from labour.

The bourgeois family became the smallest cell of capitalist reproduction. The man went out to work for wages; the woman worked inside, unpaid. 

At the same time marriage was no longer just an economic arrangement; it was supposed to be about “choice,” “feeling,” “the heart.” But this freedom mirrored the market itself. The free love of the bourgeoisie was simply the free competition of capitalism, dressed up as romance.

Love became the emotional compensation for alienated work. The home was a small oasis in a world of profit and exhaustion. But the price of that illusion was high. Women’s unpaid labour childcare, cooking, cleaning, care work became a hidden foundation of industrial wealth.

The idea of “romantic love” was, in truth, a rebranding of the idea of a family functioning for the production. The product was the same as before gendered division of labour but now it came with a prettier label. He earns, she cares, both perform. The marketing campaign was so successful that we still believe it.

The idea of family and gender roles changes with the change of the ‘Relations of Production’. 

Swiping left – a new era of intimacy?

Today, the old structures wear new masks. The factory walls have fallen for many, but the work hasn’t disappeared –  it’s just moved into our homes, our devices, and even our emotions. The flexible worker must also be a flexible lover.

The contemporary self is a brand. We curate, optimise, sell ourselves. Dating apps promise endless choice and algorithmic destiny, yet what they deliver is a new kind of conformity. Desire is endless, but connection is rare.

We are no longer bound by law or religion but by comparison by the constant demand to be desirable, independent, self-sufficient. Relationships become joint ventures; breakups resemble business dissolutions. Care work is sometimes outsourced, underpaid, and still feminised. The promise of equality has not abolished dependence, it has privatised it.

New forms of relationships

In Germany, alternative relationship structures such as polyamory, open relationships, and co-parenting arrangements have gained increasing visibility in recent years. While reliable prevalence data remain limited, surveys indicate a growing openness toward non-monogamous relationship models. For example, a 2022 YouGov survey found that about 10–15% of respondents in Germany reported that they could imagine being in a non-monogamous relationship, while younger respondents were significantly more open to such arrangements. At the same time, Germany has experienced substantial increases in housing costs and general living expenses over the past decade, particularly in large urban areas. 

Within changing material conditions, new relationship forms such as polyamory are neither a coincidence nor an escape from the system. As rents rise and the cost of living becomes unaffordable for many, it is increasingly impossible for people to plan for children or to establish families in the traditional sense. Out of these material contradictions, new ideas emerge. It is understandable that concepts such as polyamory and co-parenting are gaining traction precisely in these crisis stages of capitalism. For many, this may even appear to be a progressive way out of the constraints of capitalism. Yet they too are a consequence of material conditions. The idea of creating an island in the sea of capitalism may seem like an acceptable solution for individuals; however, within a system based on exploitation and oppression, we can neither live freely nor love freely, because we continue to move within its predetermined structures. Regardless of whether these conditions lead people to choose more progressive relationship models. 

At the same time, a reactionary movement can be observed regarding the expression of family life and gender roles. On social media in particular, there has been a growing visibility of so-called “tradwives” and “alpha male” influencers who promote a return to traditional relationship models and gender hierarchies. These conservative family structures and role expectations can also be interpreted in connection with broader processes of militarization and rearmament. A society that prepares for military conflict often relies on and reproduces more rigid and conservative gender roles. More broadly, periods of crisis within capitalism tend to produce social polarization, which is also reflected in the organization and imagination of intimate relationships.

Every historical era produces the forms of relationships it economically requires.

How to liberate Love

To love freely, we must live freely. That doesn’t mean moral liberation; it means transforming the material basis of life. When work is no longer coercion, love no longer needs to be compensation.

Love, in this sense, is not a sentimental issue. It’s a question of the material conditions and the production relations. 

If, as Marx wrote,  ‘being’ determines consciousness, then a different kind of being –  collective provision, time, and security will produce a different kind of love. This isn’t romantic idealism; it’s political realism.

The bourgeois world sold us love as a brand for work and hierarchy. To change the branding we must change the system itself. Otherwise we only create islands to escape without realizing that there is no way to escape. When property and exploitation recede, love changes, too. It stops being the branding of a system and becomes the practice of solidarity.

Only then can Luxemburg’s dream become reality, not an eternal love, but a world so rational, so just, that we can finally live, and love, in it as human beings.

Half a million united against racism

Two reports and two photo galleries from the Together Alliance demonstration in London, 28 March 2026

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Report #1 from Dave Gilchrist

Anti-racist activists in the UK used to look to France and Italy—at the rise of the Rassemblement National and various Italian far-right parties—and argue that Britain had already defeated its own equivalents: the National Front, then the British National Party, and later the English Defence League. It was true: we had.

For readers in Germany, this trajectory may feel familiar. The period in which far-right forces appeared marginal has given way to a renewed and more complex threat, combining electoral advance with street-level mobilisation. As in Germany—with the rise of the Alternative for Germany alongside networks of extra-parliamentary activism—Britain now faces a similar dual dynamic.

In the UK, this takes the form of the growing far-right populist party Reform UK, led by Nigel Farage, alongside a street movement organised by Stephen Yaxley-Lennon, better known as Tommy Robinson. Robinson mobilised 100,000 people on the streets of London last year, and Reform UK looks set to perform strongly in the local elections in May, with some already speculating about its longer-term electoral prospects.

This year has seen hundreds of far-right mobilisations in towns across the country, most often protests outside hotels housing asylum seekers. These echo the localised protests and agitation seen in parts of eastern Germany, where refugee accommodation has become a focal point for far-right organising. In Britain, the vast majority of these actions have been countered by Stand Up To Racism and other local anti-racist groups. SUTR held over 450 counter protests from February 2025 to February this year.

It was the shock of Robinson’s large demonstration—during which the Stand Up To Racism counter-protest was physically threatened—that galvanised activists into further action. In response, the Together Alliance was formed, bringing together a broad coalition from civil society opposed to the far right. Its aim was singular: to mobilise the largest possible numbers against them.

The date was set for 28 March, timed to fall close to International Day for the Elimination of Racial Discrimination and to coincide with the “No Kings” protests in the United States.

The mobilisation proved a major success, with around 500,000 people protesting on the day—an intervention that may be of interest in Germany, where debates continue about how to translate widespread opposition to the AfD into sustained mass mobilisation. Trade unions played a central role, particularly the National Education Union and the University and College Union, with the NEU’s leadership proving especially important. Other unions also brought substantial numbers, including Unison and Unite the Union.

Another notable presence was the leftward-moving Green Party of England and Wales, and its charismatic leader Zack Polanski, which mobilised a significant contingent. This broad alignment—from trade unions to environmentalists, faith groups, and grassroots organisations—offers a contrast to the more fragmented landscape often discussed in Germany.

Many others joined, ranging from the Woodcraft Folk to activists in the fashion world and numerous public figures. The demonstration included LGBT+, environmental, and Christian blocs—significant given the far right’s attempts, in both Britain and Germany, to instrumentalise cultural and religious identities.

The Palestine solidarity movement, including many Muslim organisations, also played an important role, organising a feeder march of around 50,000 people that joined the main demonstration and was met with enthusiasm and a strong sense of unity.

At the core of all this was Stand Up To Racism, which played a vital organising role throughout.

What happens next for the Together Alliance remains open. There is a danger that it could be drawn too heavily into electoral organising. The role of socialists will therefore be crucial in maintaining a focus on mass mobilising—on the streets and in the workplace.

However, speaking to many activists, it is clear that much of the gloom and fear surrounding the rise of the right has lifted. As Weyman Bennett of Stand Up To Racism has often said: we beat them before, and we will do so again.

Report #2 by Anna (old enough) and Lyra (aged 10)

Billed by odious far right commentator Charlotte Gill as a “hate march”, and far right crank “journalist” Melanie Phillips as a “terrorist march” (in a now-deleted post on Twitter) the Together Alliance march was really a march of love. Along with many others across the country, we attended the march, travelling down to London from West Yorkshire. 

500,000 people (or thereabouts, we couldn’t count them all) marched in London this Saturday against the racism, hate and division spread by the far right. Enthusiastic delegations from every trade union were present. Greens marched with revolutionaries and Labour Party members. There were LGBTQ+ demonstrators, Muslim demonstrators and LGBTQ+ Muslim demonstrators. Refugees and school kids felt safe to attend, and were embraced by the march. Firefighters marched holding pride progress flags. Health union members proclaimed solidarity with migrant workers. A key theme of the march was solidarity with refugees. Educators marched with a sound system playing The Clash and chanted anti-Farage chants (Lyra’s favourite contingent to march with). Brass bands played as well as samba bands. Morris dancers were there morris dancing. A big Palestine Solidarity contingent joined the march and many demonstrators wore keffiyehs and chanted “free Palestine”. Disabled activists led the march. This was the diverse working class at its very best. 

In terms of opposition, there was a pitiful far right gathering that we didn’t see, and  at one point we encountered a solitary woman running back and forth through the demo shouting “long live Israel!” and being ignored by the marchers. We assume she was trying to provoke a reaction. 

Lyra says: “the march was so massive, I was stressed by how many people were there until we started moving. There were lots of dogs on the march, and people from lots of different groups. It was so big that we couldn’t find our union branch. It’s good that there are lots of anti racists, even if it was stressful and my mum made me carry a flag”. 

The march gave us hope and confidence, it was a relief to outnumber the far right. It has sometimes felt that their rise is unstoppable. In September last year, fascist Tommy Robinson’s ‘Unite the Kingdom’ event drew 100,000 people onto the streets. We outnumbered them this weekend and we need to keep outnumbering them. It helps to see that there are a lot of good people who care enough to stand up and be counted. We now need to build on that sense of renewed confidence and organise in our workplaces and communities. Big marches are uplifting (perhaps not if you’re Lyra), but we’ll need to do more to defeat the far right and drive them out of public life. Next socialists in Britain need to drive the far right dregs of UKIP out of Leeds on 25th April, oppose Tommy Robinson’s next planned hate march in London on 16th May, and also work to stop the rise of the racist, anti-worker Reform party in the May elections and beyond. There’s work to be done. We’re ready.

Photo Gallery 1: Guy Smallman www.guysmallman.com

Photo Gallery 2: Dave Gilchrist

6 April 2008 – Textile workers strike in Mahalla, Egypt

This week in working class history


On Sunday, 6th April 2008, textile workers in Mahalla el-Kubra in the Nile Delta struck against rising inflation, food prices and low wages. This led to a heated battle with riot police and security forces. President Hosni Mubarak responded by sending in thousands of troops to crush the so-called “Mahalla Intifada”. The inhabitants of Mahalla responded by two days of rioting. After police attacked a demonstration with rubber bullets, 40,000 demonstrated in a city with 500,000 inhabitants.

The Mahalla uprising had its roots in the Egyptian solidarity movement with the Palestinian Intifada in 2000, which saw the biggest demonstrations in Egypt in a generation. One of the slogans of those demonstrations was: “The road to Jerusalem passes through Cairo”. Demonstrators, many of whom were too frightened of repression to fight for themselves, asked why the Mubarak government was doing nothing to help the Palestinians. At the time, Egypt was Israel’s main supplier of gas.

In 2006, the mainly female workers in Mahalla went on strike for three days after the Egyptian government failed to deliver promised pay rises for public sector workers. One year later, there was another garment workers’ strike across the Nile Delta. Workplace action both, hit Egyptian capitalism in the pocket and was able to protect people protesting against Mubarak’s dictatorship. Before 1990 strikes were unthinkable. They were now a central part of the resistance’s armoury.

Mahalla was a catalyst. Interviewed by The Left Berlin about Mahalla, Egyptian journalist Hossam el-Hamalawy said: “The news and images of the riots got out to everyone, who saw people from Mahalla stamping their feet on Mubarak posters. And this signaled the beginning of the end of the Mubarak dictatorship. Strikes were now happening everywhere, to the extent that newspapers were full of business experts who complained about the “plague of strikes” that had engulfed Egypt.”

The 2008 Mahalla strike was not fully successful, but it was an inspiration. The police were able to suppress the strike, but were powerless against the uprising which followed. A “facebook strike” in solidarity with the Mahalla textile workers helped unite the strikers with radical students. Less than three years later, a mass wave of action overthrew Mubarak. We know that the Egyptian revolution is unfinished, but Mahalla helps to show how it could be completed.