Holocaust survivor warns of 'dangerous situation' after AfD's Saxony-Anhalt victory

Jewish community members considering emigration from Germany; Knobloch received death threats linked to AfD's election victory.
We successfully tried to rebuild. Now there are great fears again.
Knobloch reflects on seven decades of Jewish community restoration in Germany, now threatened by the AfD's rise.
Mark

Why does Knobloch's warning carry so much weight? She's one person, even if she's a prominent one.

Mimi

She's not just one person—she's a living witness to what happens when a far-right party gains state power in Germany. She survived by hiding. Her grandmother didn't. That's not rhetorical weight; it's earned authority.

Luke

But we should be precise about what she's warning against. The AfD won 44 percent, not a majority. Siegmund has a "good chance" of becoming premier, but that's not certain. It depends on coalition negotiations.

Mimi

True, but the principle is what matters to her. She's saying: don't let this happen at all. Don't normalize it by negotiating with it.

Mark

And the death threats—are those connected to her specifically, or are they part of a broader pattern?

Luke

The source says they were "directly linked to the AfD's election victory," according to a police spokeswoman. So the timing and the message are connected, but we don't know who wrote them or whether there's a coordinated campaign.

Mimi

What strikes me is that she's not just afraid for herself. She's afraid for the entire community. People are considering leaving Germany again.

Mark

After seventy years of rebuilding.

Mimi

Exactly. That's the rupture she's describing. The work of a lifetime, undone in one election night.

Luke

Though we should note: she says "a number of Jewish people" are considering leaving. The source doesn't give us a number. We don't know if that's dozens or thousands.

Mark

What does she think will actually stop this?

Mimi

She thinks the other parties have to unite against the AfD and refuse to work with them. And they have to talk to young people—really talk, not just lecture.

Luke

She's asking for something difficult: courage from politicians, and a willingness from young people to engage in a conversation they might fear will expose them. That's a lot to ask.

  • The AfD's 44% victory in Saxony-Anhalt — from a party the state classifies as confirmed right-wing extremist — has opened a realistic path to the first far-right state premiership in postwar German history.
  • Death threats scrawled on park benches in Munich, directly linked to the AfD's win, forced Knobloch to cancel a public appearance — transforming an electoral result into a personal and communal threat.
  • Jewish community members across Germany are quietly reconsidering emigration, placing decades of post-Holocaust community rebuilding in sudden jeopardy.
  • Knobloch is calling on established parties to stand together rather than negotiate separately with the AfD, and to urgently engage young people before the far-right consolidates its hold on that generation.
  • The window for course correction, in her assessment, is narrow and closing — and she speaks with the authority of someone who has already lived through what happens when it shuts.

In the long arc of Germany's reckoning with its past, Charlotte Knobloch — a 94-year-old Holocaust survivor who once survived by erasing her own identity — now watches as the Alternative for Germany party claims nearly 44 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt, positioning itself to lead the first far-right state government since World War II. The decades of painstaking trust she helped rebuild between German Jews and their homeland feel, to her, suddenly precarious. Her warning is not merely political; it is the testimony of someone who knows, from the inside of history, how quickly the ground can give way.

Charlotte Knobloch was born in 1932 into a Jewish family in Germany. She survived the Nazi era only by disappearing into a false identity, hidden on a farm by a family acquaintance while her grandmother was deported to Theresienstadt and died there. Now 94 and president of the Jewish Community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, she has spent her adult life rebuilding what was destroyed — not just institutions, but the fragile sense that Germany could be a home for Jewish people again.

That work felt, until recently, like it had taken hold. Then on September 6, the Alternative for Germany party — officially classified as right-wing extremist by the state's constitutional protection office — won nearly 44 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt. Its lead candidate now has a credible path to becoming the first far-right state premier in Germany since World War II. For Knobloch, the result felt like a fracture in ground she had believed was solid.

The threat is not abstract to her. Last week, death threats were found scrawled on a bench and a rubbish bin in Munich's English Garden, confirmed by police to be connected to the AfD's victory. Knobloch canceled a scheduled public appearance. She now wakes and goes to sleep thinking about the Holocaust — a distance she had worked to create between that era and the present has, she says, collapsed.

She is calling on Germany's established parties to act with urgency and unity: to refuse any path that leads to an AfD premier, and to speak directly to young people whose fears and grievances the far-right has been skillfully exploiting. What alarms her most is not that extremism persists — it always has — but that it has achieved a scale and political legitimacy that did not exist a decade ago. She believes there is still a narrow window to pull back, but she speaks with the weight of someone who knows, from lived experience, what it looks like when that window closes.

Charlotte Knobloch was born in 1932 into a Jewish family in Germany. When the Nazi state began deporting Jews to concentration camps, a family acquaintance hid her on a farm in Middle Franconia, passing her off as her own daughter. Her grandmother was not so fortunate—deported to Theresienstadt in 1942, she died there. Knobloch survived by becoming someone else.

Now 94 years old and president of the Jewish Community of Munich and Upper Bavaria, Knobloch has spent decades rebuilding what the Holocaust destroyed: trust between German Jews and the country they call home. That work, she believed, had succeeded. But on September 6, the Alternative for Germany party—classified by the state's Office for the Protection of the Constitution as "confirmed right-wing extremist"—won nearly 44 percent of the vote in Saxony-Anhalt's state election. The party's lead candidate, Ulrich Siegmund, now has a realistic path to becoming the first far-right extremist state premier in Germany since World War II. For Knobloch, the news felt like a rupture in the ground she thought had solidified.

She told Deutsche Welle that Jewish people in Germany are once again considering whether to leave. The decades of work to restore a sense of belonging, to give the Jewish community a home after centuries of displacement and persecution, suddenly feels fragile. "We successfully tried to rebuild the Jewish communities after 1945, to give the Jewish people a home again, which they hadn't had for a long time," she said. "That is, in sum, the biggest problem for me."

Knobloch's alarm is not abstract. Last week, someone scrawled death threats on a park bench and rubbish bin in Munich's English Garden. Police discovered them and informed her. She canceled a scheduled appearance. A spokeswoman confirmed the threats were directly connected to the AfD's election victory. This is what the political moment feels like to her: not a debate about policy, but a return to danger.

She issued a direct warning to Germany's established political parties: "We can't allow any of those people to become state premier. It is a very dangerous situation at the moment, in my view. I hope the other parties realize that and stand up against it. They can do it. It requires some courage of course." She has called on them to unite against the AfD rather than negotiate separately, and to speak more directly to young people about their fears and grievances—the very people the far-right has been recruiting.

What troubles Knobloch most is not that extremism exists in Germany. Nazis and antisemites have always been present. But the scale and the political legitimacy are new. "There's a danger looming that did not exist in this form ten years ago," she said. She wakes thinking about the Holocaust now. She goes to bed thinking about it. The distance she had managed to create between that era and the present has collapsed.

She sees a narrow window. If the established parties speak decisively and together, if they engage young people in real dialogue rather than talking past them, there is still a chance to pull back from the edge. But that window is closing. The question now is whether Germany's political leadership will move with the urgency that Knobloch, who lived through the last time this happened, believes the moment demands.

We can't allow any of those people to become state premier. It is a very dangerous situation at the moment.
— Charlotte Knobloch
There's a danger looming that did not exist in this form ten years ago. There have always been Nazis, there have always been Jew haters, but not in the way as it's the case today.
— Charlotte Knobloch
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