Germany’s migrant helpers face threats and abuse amid far-right rise

The bus driver simply drives off, refusing to take immigrant children waiting at a bus stop.

“You can pack your bags,” a third-grader tells a classmate whose family migrated to Germany. The far-right Alternative for Germany (AfD) “is now the strongest party here.”

Incidents like these are becoming more common in Meissen near Dresden in Germany’s former communist east, a region that has emerged as a stronghold for the anti-immigrant AfD party.

Children from refugee families often face bullying, while physical altercations aren’t rare.

Staff from the church-based social welfare provider Diakonie say the overall atmosphere has become more tense. It’s not only migrants that are facing threats, but also those who help them.

The far-right’s rise has contributed to a more polarized political climate, particularly around issues of immigration and integration.

States that were formerly part of East Germany have faced unique challenges since German reunification in 1990, and have remained distinctly poorer than western German states.

Experts suggest that these issues have fostered feelings of marginalization, creating a breeding ground for far-right ideologies and anti-establishment sentiments.

“The threat has intensified. There’s always been a level of danger for migrants, but they usually stayed silent about it. Now, they’re speaking up,” says migrant counsellor Kerstin Böttger.

People are less scared of sharing their anti-migrant opinions now, she says. “Some think they can say anything now.”

Advisers often need counselling themselves

Aggression towards refugees is only one side of the story. People trying to help them are also exposed to hostility.

“Some employees have the impression that they have to constantly justify their work. They no longer even tell their acquaintances where they work. They avoid the topic,” said Diakonie spokeswoman Nora Köhler.

The threats are not limited to verbal abuse; they also come in the form of threatening letters and even dog faeces left on doorsteps.

“You can tell it’s getting more unpleasant,” she says. The employees often need counselling themselves.

During training days at her agency, the program includes workshops focused on how to effectively manage the increasing pressure.

This year, a state-funded initiative will provide support for those working full-time or volunteering with refugees, offering a range of professional development opportunities.

It’s not just the increasingly brutal attitude seen in society that makes migration counselling tough. Many organizations also have financial woes.

“The gruelling thing is that we have to lobby for our work every year. People have to fight for their jobs every year, even though it’s not really their responsibility says Böttger, describing another form of unnecessary justification.

Financial uncertainty and high demand

In the state of Saxony, where Böttger’s branch of Diakonie operates, budget constraints are creating significant challenges, as the regional government is working with a provisional budget.

Despite the growing demand for services, staffing levels remain unchanged. “There are more and more cases per adviser, and it’s nearly impossible to keep up. We’ve had to implement an appointment system and work with waiting lists,” Böttger says.

The key issues are employment and language skills. “Everyone who comes to us wants to get involved in some way. Young people often inquire about training opportunities.”

“We need a financial boost, but our allocations have been stagnating for years and we also have to compensate for pay rises,” said Böttger.

“The providers have to co-finance the programmes with their own funds. We can no longer cope with this. For migrants, we’re the first point of contact and their reliable source of support. But we, too, need that same reliability.”