In 1932, Berlin-born writer Gabriele Tergit embarked on a mission to capture the essence of a vanishing world: the lives and destinies of the city’s Jewish community. By 1945, after escaping the Nazis by fleeing to Czechoslovakia, Palestine, and finally Britain, Tergit completed her novel. However, it wasn’t until 1951 that The Effingers was published, only to be met with reluctance from German booksellers. The novel was perceived as too peculiar for a German audience that had either witnessed or participated in the Holocaust.
Despite its initial obscurity, The Effingers has been rediscovered as a classic in Germany and has recently been published in English for the first time. The novel chronicles the lives of three affluent Jewish families in Berlin from 1878 to 1942, concluding with an epilogue set in 1948, based on Tergit’s return to her devastated city. Tergit’s acute awareness of the Nazi threat stemmed from her experiences as a court reporter covering the trials of Adolf Hitler and Joseph Goebbels in the 1920s. This exposure made her a target, prompting her to flee Berlin after narrowly escaping a raid by the SA, or “Brownshirts,” in March 1933.
The Historical Parallel: Fascism’s Subtle Rise
Reading The Effingers in 2025, it is unsettling to note how the rise of the Nazis unfolds largely on the periphery of the protagonists’ lives. While they acknowledge the Nazis as malevolent, they mistakenly believe themselves insulated from danger within their opulent Tiergarten villas, surrounded by luxury and influential connections.
This atmosphere of impending political peril is similarly depicted in the 1972 film Cabaret, based on Christopher Isherwood’s Berlin novels. The Weimar Republic is portrayed as a period of hedonism, with the Nazis gradually emerging from the background. A character in the film remarks, “The Nazis are just a gang of stupid hooligans – but they do serve a purpose: let them get rid of the communists and later we’ll be able to control them.” This sense of looming yet underappreciated danger resonates with contemporary audiences.
Fascism in Today’s Discourse
Currently, discussions about fascism are pervasive. In Germany, the topic is being debated through articles, books, exhibitions, and public lectures. There is an ongoing argument about whether the politics of the Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) can be classified as fascism or if this 21st-century form of right-wing authoritarianism is qualitatively different.
To gain a deeper understanding of these historical precedents and our current times, I attended an evening seminar on fascism titled “Monsters of Fascism Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow” at the left-wing Berthold Brecht Literary Forum in Berlin. The lecturer emphasized that defining fascism is the first step in building resilience against it. Despite challenges in establishing a definition, the seminar identified several markers: attempts to create an ethnically “pure” nation, engagement of a paramilitary force with excessive violence, anti-liberal and anti-democratic sentiments, and support from wealthy economic elites.
AfD’s Position in Modern Germany
When the discussion shifted to the AfD and its place on the spectrum, a somber mood enveloped the seminar room. We transitioned from theoretical discussions to the political reality of Germany in 2025. While the AfD lacks a paramilitary force or excessive violence, concerns remain about other criteria. In February’s federal elections, over 30% of blue-collar workers and unemployed Germans voted for the AfD, which came in second nationally with 20.8% of the vote, trailing the CDU’s 28.5%. Recent polls show the AfD leading with 26% compared to the CDU’s 24%.
The AfD is a party that has been deemed “right-wing extremist” by our own Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution.
One historical delusion that Germany’s establishment risks repeating is the belief that old elites can control emerging extreme right powers. Prior to the 2025 election, CDU Chancellor Friedrich Merz broke the “firewall” agreement among democratic parties not to partner with the AfD in parliamentary votes. Merz secured a proposal to curb illegal migration with AfD support, prompting some CDU members to call for ending the firewall entirely.
The Call for Vigilance and Solidarity
During the commemoration of the Nazi pogroms of November 1938, Frank-Walter Steinmeier, Germany’s symbolic head of state, delivered a speech implicitly warning about the AfD. He urged Merz’s government to uphold the firewall and consider legal options to ban anti-democratic parties. Although the prospect of banning the AfD has been debated, it seems unlikely and sidesteps addressing the roots of its support.
For those opposing right-wing extremism, a primary goal is to show solidarity with those under threat. In Germany in 2025, this primarily means asylum seekers, particularly Syrians, Afghans, and Ukrainians, often young men with migration backgrounds. There have been public displays of such solidarity.
In January 2024, millions protested across Germany against the secret “remigration” conference in Potsdam, attended by neo-Nazis and AfD members, and exposed by the investigative platform Correctiv. However, neither this outrage nor concerns about the weakening parliamentary firewall have significantly impacted Merz’s government.
The poignant moral lesson of Tergit’s novel is encapsulated in the final letter from the elder Effinger en route to a concentration camp: “I believed in the good in people – that was the gravest error of my misguided life.” While we should continue to believe in the good in people, we must also heed historical warnings. The Effingers teaches us not to underestimate the fascist threat and to combat it on all fronts before it becomes insurmountable.
