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I can’t forget what the Nazis did to my family, but I can be grateful to a repentant Germany
(JTA) — Picture a cute-looking, 6 1/2-year-old girl with curly braided hair. She is standing on a sidewalk, on a cold, dreary day in Leipzig, Germany, together with her parents and my wife and me. My granddaughter Vivi is staring intently at a 75-year-old worker, kneeling on the ground. He is digging a hole through the pavers to install several 4” x 4” brass plaques mounted on cement cubes — memorials to relatives who perished at the hands of the Nazis more than 80 years ago.
In February, we traveled 9,500 miles round-trip to dedicate 12 Stolpersteine plaques in memory of relatives I never knew, or even knew I had. (All 16 of my family members would have stood with us that day, but Germany’s airport worker strike canceled the others’ flights.) They were just some of my late father’s aunts, uncles and cousins who were murdered in the Holocaust, and we regarded the ceremony as a pseudo-levaya, a quasi-funeral that would be the final act of respect and farewell Hitler had denied my relatives.
I couldn’t have imagined, 60 years earlier when I first visited Germany, that I would ever return in a spirit approaching forgiveness, or that I’d feel a deep connection to a country that was once synonymous with brutality, pain, humiliation and suffering.
Stolpersteine, a German word meaning “stumbling block,” refers to a design brilliantly conceived by the non-Jewish German artist Gunter Demnig in the early 1990s. Installed in front of the homes where innocent Jewish victims last freely lived, the brass plaques simply and artistically memorialize, honor and personalize those brutally persecuted. On each plaque are engraved the victim’s name, dates of birth and death. As Demnig once said, “A person is only forgotten when his or her name is forgotten.” Hence, 100,000 of his plaques throughout Europe remind us that Jews are part of a shared history, and a common memory.
Whether consciously or not, the “stumbling pedestrian” instantly recalls the extraordinary evil unleashed by ordinary people, on once vibrant Jewish communities, and the terrorized Jewish neighbors who lived within them. This evil was driven by a blind loyalty to a gratuitous hatred of “the other,” meaning non-Aryans.
Who were these relatives I recently memorialized? Recently uncovered documents suggest my relatives were all decent, law-abiding citizens who contributed to Leipzig’s economy, enriched its cultural life and strengthened its social fabric. Sadly, being model citizens did not spare them from torturous fates.
One of those relatives, Elfriede Meyerstein, my paternal grandfather’s sister, was born Feb. 27, 1871 in Breslau. At 20, she came to Leipzig where her husband Menny ran a textile trading company with his family. They lived at the same address for many years. By 1931, after Menny’s death, she lived with her daughter Käthe Huth.
The Nazis, once in power, immediately expropriated Elfriede’s assets, comprising foreign stocks meticulously accumulated by Menny. The Nazi “Ordinance on the Registration of Jewish Assets” of April 26, 1938, forced her to surrender those securities to the state. In 1939, shortly after Kristallnacht on Nov. 9-10, 1938, the Nazis collected a “reimbursement tax” as “atonement,” from Elfriede and the rest of Germany’s Jewish community, for the damage Nazis did that night.
Just prior to her Sept. 19, 1942 deportation to Theresienstadt at age 71, Elfriede was forced to sign a “home purchase agreement,” the Nazis’ final act of expropriation. The document falsely and cynically promised her a “retirement home,” with free lifetime accommodation, food and medical care, but paid for by her, in advance. The Reich Security Main office confiscated 65,000 Reichsmarks ($300,000 in today’s currency). Her “retirement home” was in a ghetto with disastrous hygienic conditions, starvation, and no medical care. Elfriede died one month later.
After considerable soul-searching and three visits to Germany, spaced over 60 years, my attitudes and feelings today, vis a vis Germany and its citizens, are dramatically different from when I first visited in 1966.
Then, I came with unprocessed emotional baggage. In 1939, my father, Ralph Meyerstein, fled Dusseldorf and my mother, Cecily Geyer, fled Dresden, both for England. My paternal grandparents, Alfred and Meta Meyerstein, were deported from Dusseldorf on Nov. 8, 1941, to Minsk, where they were killed. My maternal grandmother, Salcia, was deported to Riga in January 1942; in November 1943 she was sent to Auschwitz and murdered.
My parents met in Ware, a small town north of London, where some German Jews took refuge. They moved to London where they married during the Blitz and we came to the United States in December 1947.
The German-issued ID card of Max Israel Meyerstein, the author’s great-uncle, who was murdered by the Nazis in 1942 at the age of 80. (Courtesy Michael Meyerstein)
As an only child, I shouldered much of my parents’ guilt over abandoning their parents, even though it was their parents who, thankfully, had urged them to flee Germany. When retelling their survival story, my eyes still well up with tears, revealing a lifetime of trauma I’ve absorbed on their behalf. That first visit felt almost adversarial in tone. It was I, representing my parents’ personal losses and those of the Jewish people, versus Germany and Germans. I reacted viscerally to hearing guttural Deutsch being spoken. I eyeballed Germans on the street and asked myself: How old are they? Did they commit heinous crimes against my family and my people?
By 2018, when I dedicated a Stolpersteine in my maternal grandmother’s memory, my judgmental attitudes and harsh feelings had softened. Maybe I realized that 75 years later, the ordinary citizen on the street could not be held responsible for the carnage of the Holocaust. Also, working with non-Jewish German volunteers in planning the ceremony showed me their humanity, sensitivity and outright remorse for Nazism’s impact on my family and their German state. Their kindness was an atonement for a past not of their making.
My visit in February shed further light on my evolving relationship with Germany and Germans. Today’s Germany is doing teshuva, or repentance, by strengthening democracy, creating an inclusionary society, responding resolutely to far-right extremism, educating its young about the Holocaust, offering sanctuary to Jews fleeing Russia and Ukraine and being a true friend to the State of Israel. It also is supporting Jewish communal institutions, paying reparations to Israel, to individual victims and their descendants.
My relationship became much more nuanced upon learning that Germany was once home to five generations of my family, as far back as 1760, in the small town of Grobzig where Matthias Nathan Meyerstein was born. On our visit to its mid-17th-century Jewish cemetery, I gazed incredulously at the graves of Meyersteins. I saw schutzbriefen, documents issued by the reigning duke, that assured my ancestors protection, commercial privileges and religious rights. In the old Leipzig Jewish cemetery, I visited 12 relatives’ graves from the 1800s and 1900s, which reflected much about their secure socio-economic status.
Before my retirement, I never knew that Grobzig or Leipzig or other towns were in my family’s history. This discovery led to one conclusion: Unquestionably, 1933 to 1945 was a tragic anomaly in human history, and especially Jewish history. However, I must also gratefully acknowledge the Germany that sustained my family for over 300 years, and Jewish communal life for 1,700 years.
Nazi Germany’s ill-treatment and intolerance of “the Other” still affects me today as I mourn my relatives’ death. On the other hand, I feel heartened by this sentiment written by a non-Jewish German who funded research about my family: “For me, as I am part of this country and its history, it will be a never-ending task to find ways to deal with this horrible past and most importantly, never to forget,” she wrote.
Navigating this complex relationship with Germany and Germans is intellectually and emotionally messy for Jews. My engagement with “the Other,” however, has been profoundly satisfying.
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Bondi Gunmen Acted Alone, No Evidence They Were Part of Terrorist Cell, Australian Police Say
A CCTV footage shows Naveed Akram and his father, Sajid Akram, both suspects in the shooting attack during a Jewish Hanukkah celebration at Bondi Beach on Dec. 14, carrying items wrapped in blankets, while exiting 103 Brighton Avenue, Campsie, New South Wales, Australia, in this still image taken from a court document released on Dec. 22, 2025. Photo: NSW Police/Handout via REUTERS
Two gunmen who allegedly opened fire on a Jewish celebration on Sydney’s Bondi Beach earlier this month acted alone and there was “no evidence” they were part of a terrorist cell, police said on Tuesday.
Naveed Akram and his father Sajid Akram are alleged to have killed 15 people at a Hanukkah event on Dec. 14, Australia’s worst mass shooting in almost three decades that shocked the nation and led to immediate reforms of already strict gun laws.
Police have previously said the men were inspired by Islamic State, with homemade flags of the terrorist group found in their car after the attack, and a month-long trip by the pair to a Philippines island previously plagued by militancy a major focus of investigation.
But on Tuesday, Australian Federal Police Commissioner Krissy Barrett said there was no indication the men had received formal training on the November trip to Mindanao in the Philippines.
“There is no evidence to suggest these alleged offenders were part of a broader terrorist cell, or were directed by others to carry out an attack,” Barrett told a news conference.
She added the findings were an initial assessment, and authorities in Australia and the Philippines were continuing their investigation.
“I am not suggesting that they were there for tourism,” she said, referring to the Philippines trip.
Sajid Akram was shot dead by police during the attack, while his son Naveed, who was also shot by police, was charged with 59 offenses after waking from a days-long coma earlier this month. Naveed Akram faces charges ranging from 15 counts of murder to terror and explosives offenses.
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The ‘Zombie’ Caliphate: While the World Celebrates the Muslim Brotherhood’s Demise, Its Billion-Dollar Empire Thrives in Plain Sight
Supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood in the Jordanian capital, Amman, chanting pro-Palestinian slogans in April 2018. Photo: Reuters / Muhammad Hamed.
In Washington and Arab capitals, a comforting narrative has taken hold: The Muslim Brotherhood is finished. We are told that the Sisi regime in Egypt has crushed them, that Jordan has shuttered their offices, and that the “Islamist Winter” is finally over. The recent executive order by President Trump to review the group for terror designation is seen as the final nail in the coffin.
But if you look away from the empty political offices and follow the money, you will find a terrifying reality. The Muslim Brotherhood hasn’t gone bankrupt; it has simply gone corporate.
While Western intelligence agencies applaud the closure of dusty headquarters in Amman, they are ignoring the €27 million mega-complexes rising in France, the €4 million real estate fortresses in Berlin, and the terror-linked holding companies trading openly on the Istanbul Stock Exchange. The Brotherhood has transformed from a mass movement into a transnational financial conglomerate — a “Zombie Caliphate” that is legally bulletproof and wealthier than ever.
The Egyptian “Catch-and-Release”
The myth of the Brotherhood’s destruction starts in Egypt. The regime’s “Inventory Committee” boasts of seizing assets worth a staggering 300 billion EGP (approx. $16.7 billion), and liquidating the schools, hospitals, and businesses that formed the movement’s spine.
But the crackdown is porous. In July 2023, an Egyptian court quietly ordered the unfreezing of assets for 146 alleged Brotherhood figures, ruling that the state failed to prove the funds were illicit. This legal “oops” likely allowed millions in liquid capital to flee the country, funneling straight into the offshore networks now appearing in Istanbul and London.
Then there is the case of Safwan Thabet, the tycoon behind Juhayna Food Industries. Arrested for refusing to hand over his empire to the state, he was released in 2023. His survival teaches a harsh lesson: the Brotherhood’s money is so deeply integrated into the legitimate economy that the state cannot tear it out without killing the patient. The “deep state” of Brotherhood finance remains alive, hiding behind the facade of legitimate dairy giants and retail chains.
Turkey: The NATO Safe Haven for Terror Finance
If Egypt is the extraction point, Turkey is the laundromat. Despite President Erdogan’s desperate diplomatic pivot toward Cairo, Istanbul remains the operational heartbeat of this financial insurgency.
Western policymakers need to look closely at the Borsa Istanbul. There, trading openly under the ticker TDGYO, is Trend GYO — a real estate investment trust designated by the US Treasury Department for being 75% owned by Hamas. In a rational world, a NATO member would not host a publicly traded company that funds a designated terror group. In Erdogan’s Turkey, however, Trend GYO continues to develop luxury apartments, such as the recent project in Istanbul’s Alibeyköy district, subcontracting construction to obscure local firms to wash the proceeds.
This is the new model: “Terrorism Inc.” Yemeni billionaire Hamid al-Ahmar, operating freely from Istanbul, chairs Investrade Portfoy, an investment firm that commingles legitimate business with funds allegedly destined for Hamas. Meanwhile, the Brotherhood’s elite send their children to Al-Nahda International Schools in Istanbul — private institutions run by exiled cadres that ensure the next generation is indoctrinated in the ideology of the “Group” while generating tuition revenue.
Europe: The “Concrete” Fortress
As the environment in the Middle East becomes hostile, the Brotherhood has executed a strategic pivot to Europe, replacing “liquid” assets (cash) with “fixed” assets (real estate) protected by Western property laws.
In Austria, the failure of “Operation Luxor” serves as a cautionary tale. In 2020, police raided 60 Brotherhood-linked sites. The result? Zero terrorism convictions. Courts declared the raids unlawful. The Brotherhood didn’t just survive; they lawyered up and won, proving that without a specific designation, European criminal law cannot work against them.
In Germany, the UK-based Europe Trust purchased a massive property in Berlin’s Wedding district for €4 million. This isn’t just a building; it is a command center for the Deutsche Muslimische Gemeinschaft (DMG), insulated from German intelligence by British corporate deeds.
In France, the situation is even more brazen. The Al-Noor Center in Mulhouse — a massive complex featuring a mosque, school, and swimming pool — was built at a cost of €27 million. Intelligence links it to Qatar Charity’s “Ghaith Initiative,” which has poured over €120 million into 140 such projects across Europe. These are not community centers; they are forward operating bases for a parallel society, subsidized by Doha and protected by European property rights.
The West is fighting a 21st-century financial empire with 20th-century police tactics. We raid homes in Vienna while they move crypto in Istanbul. We seize crumbling offices in Jordan while they buy prime real estate in Berlin.
The Muslim Brotherhood is not dead. It is alive, well, and trading on the Istanbul Stock Exchange. Until the US and its allies target the enablers — the Turkish banks clearing Trend GYO transactions, the Qatari transfers to Mulhouse, and the shell companies in London — we are merely cutting the grass while the roots grow deeper.
Amine Ayoub, a fellow at the Middle East Forum, is a policy analyst and writer based in Morocco. Follow him on X: @amineayoubx
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The US Coast Guard Keeps Trying to Loosen Restrictions on Swastikas — Have We Passed a Point of No Return?
People waving Nazi swastika flags argue with conservatives during a protest outside the Tampa Convention Center, where Turning Point USA’s (TPUSA) Student Action Summit (SAS) was being held, in Tampa, Florida, US July 23, 2022. Photo: REUTERS/Marco Bello
It is hard to describe the insanity of what the US Coast Guard just did — or nearly did — without sounding alarmist. But alarm is warranted.
In a quiet, internal policy change, the Coast Guard downgraded swastikas and nooses from explicit hate symbols to what it blandly called “potentially divisive” imagery. Not in a press release. Not after consultation with Jewish or civil-rights groups. Quietly. Bureaucratically. Almost accidentally — until reporters noticed.
Only after Jewish organizations, veterans’ groups, and US senators demanded answers did the Coast Guard scramble to reverse course, insisting all along that nothing had really changed.
Then the Coast Guard tried to do this a second time. Once again, the plan was exposed, and the Coast Guard reversed course. But no one in the administration condemned it.
It seems clear that something has fundamentally changed.
A swastika is not “potentially divisive.”
A noose is not “context dependent.”
They are not ambiguous. They are not debatable. They are among the clearest symbols of hatred in human history — shorthand for genocide, terror, and racial violence. The fact that a uniformed US service sought to allow these symbols on government property in some contexts should disturb every American.
Semantic Cowardice Disguised as Neutrality
The Coast Guard’s revised guidance did not outright permit swastikas in all cases — but it said there should be nuance in deciding when one could be displayed. And it did something extremely corrosive: it reframed them.
By categorizing swastikas and nooses as “potentially divisive imagery,” the policy stripped them of their categorical moral status. Under the new language, commanding officers might intervene. Or they might not. Everything depended on context, interpretation, discretion.
That is not how institutions fight hatred. That is how they avoid responsibility.
Words matter in bureaucracies. Classification determines enforcement. Once something moves from “prohibited hate symbol” to “potentially divisive,” the burden shifts — from the institution to the offended party, from clarity to contestation, from principle to process.
For Jews, the swastika is not merely offensive; it is existential. It is the emblem under which six million Jews were murdered — grandparents, children, entire communities erased. It is not reclaimed. It is not misunderstood. It is not ambiguous.
Calling it “potentially divisive” is not neutral language. It is moral minimization.
The Gaslighting That Followed
What made this episode worse was not just the policy change — but the response to criticism.
Jewish leaders were told, repeatedly, that no downgrade had occurred. That the Coast Guard maintained a zero-tolerance stance. That reports suggesting otherwise were mistaken.
And yet the language was there, in black and white.
When Jewish organizations pointed this out, the reaction was not contrition but deflection. When senators demanded answers, the response was confusion. Only once political pressure became unavoidable did the Coast Guard and the Department of Homeland Security quietly remove the offending language — while still insisting there had never been a problem. And then they tried to do the same thing again!
This is institutional gaslighting.
If nothing changed, why was the language altered?
If the policy was always clear, why did it need “clarification”?
If leadership opposed the downgrade, how did it happen on their watch?
Institutions erode trust not only through bad decisions, but through evasive ones.
Why This Keeps Happening
It would be comforting to chalk this up to ideology — to blame wokeness, antisemitism, or a rogue staffer. But that explanation is too simple, and therefore too comforting.
What actually happened here is more unsettling.
This is what happens when institutions treat offense as a liability to be managed rather than evil as something to be condemned.
In modern bureaucracies, the overriding imperative is not truth or justice but risk mitigation. The goal is to avoid complaints, minimize exposure, and keep controversies from escalating. When everything is framed as “potentially divisive,” nothing is clearly wrong.
Accountability Matters — and Someone Approved This
Policies do not downgrade themselves.
Someone wrote that language. Someone reviewed it. Someone approved it. And someone allowed Jewish groups to be told one thing while the written policy said another.
This is not about vengeance or scapegoating. It is about governance.
Public trust depends on knowing that decisions with moral consequences are made deliberately, transparently, and honestly. When leadership cannot explain how such a change occurred — or insists it never occurred at all — confidence erodes further.
If Federal agencies want credibility when confronting antisemitism, they must show that internal processes match public assurances. Anything less invites suspicion that moral clarity exists only when politically convenient.
Why Jews Are Right to Be Alarmed
Some will say this controversy is overblown — that the policy was technical, that no harm was intended, that the reversal proves the system works.
That response misunderstands the moment.
American Jews are living through a historic surge in antisemitism — on campuses, in cities, online, and increasingly in physical space. Swastikas are not abstractions. They appear on synagogues, playgrounds, dormitories, and subway cars. They are not rare provocations; they are routine intimidation.
In that environment, government institutions do not get the luxury of ambiguity.
When a uniformed service wavers on whether a swastika is unequivocally a hate symbol, Jews hear a message — even if unintended: your history is negotiable; your fear is contextual; your dignity depends on discretion.
For Jews, this is not symbolic politics. It is the language of survival.
This episode does not stand alone. It fits a pattern Jews now recognize with grim familiarity — from college campuses to the streets of major American cities.
History’s lesson is not that hatred begins with shouting. It begins with hedging that is tolerated quietly, normalized bureaucratically, and explained away procedurally until institutions discover they no longer know how to draw lines at all.
And when that happens, Jews are never the only ones at risk — just the first to notice.
Every Federal agency should be required — explicitly and publicly — to designate genocidal and terror symbols as categorically prohibited, without modifiers, caveats, or discretion. No euphemisms. No contextual hedging. No bureaucratic laundering of moral truth.
Moral clarity is not extremism. It is the minimum requirement of authority.
A swastika is not a misunderstanding. It is not “potentially divisive.” It is a warning.
And any institution that hesitates to say so is warning us, too.
Samuel J. Abrams is a professor of politics at Sarah Lawrence College and a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute.