Oct 16, 2024

Participants of the Parataxe Symposium at the Kulturbrauerei in Berlin. Photo: © Graham Hains / stadtsprachen.de
The History of Yiddish and Hebrew in Berlin
While events such a Yiddish summer program or a Yiddish poetry reading in Berlin might elicit some surprise by those unaware of Berlin’s Yiddish history, Hebrew and Yiddish literature have, in fact, been central to Berlin’s cultural life for centuries. The city became a hub for Hebrew book printing during the Haskalah, the Jewish Enlightenment, which flourished in the eighteenth century. This intellectual movement was led by figures such as Moses Mendelssohn and other Jewish scholars. Their work, alongside prominent literary salons hosted by Jewish authors like Rahel Varnhagen and Henriette Herz, turned Berlin into a significant center of European intellectual and cultural exchange.
In the early twentieth century, Berlin saw another flourishing of Jewish literature, especially after World War I, when it became a destination for Jewish migrants from Eastern Europe. In the 1920s, Hebrew and Yiddish newspapers, magazines, and books were widely published in the city, with Jewish-owned publishing houses playing a key role in this cultural blossoming. Yiddish culture thrived in the city, which offered a certain creative and personal freedom. Despite the economic hardships and political struggles following World War I, Berlin was a playground for artists, writers, and visionaries. Low living and printing costs, combined with a spirit of political utopia and openness to marginalized voices, created an environment where Yiddish culture could flourish. And the bars and varietés that knew no last call surely added to the city’s allure for night owls. Two key progressive communities contributed to this flourishing: the intellectual-artistic circle around the Romanisches Café not far from legendary Zoologischer Garten station and the German labor movement. Together, these milieus engaged in a lively exchange with Yiddish cultural figures, cross-pollinating ideas, and creating new art and literature. The Nazis’ rise to power in 1933 and the subsequent persecution of Jews in Germany seemingly put an end to this rich tradition of literary diversity.
Contemporary Yiddish Revival in Berlin
Fast forward to today, and we find a vibrant Yiddish cultural scene once again taking root in Berlin. Since the turn of the millennium, a new generation of Jewish immigrants, primarily from Israel and the United States, has been reviving Berlin’s past connection to Yiddish and Hebrew. Today, Berlin is home to a thriving contemporary literary scene, with authors once again writing, publishing and performing in both languages.
Although Berlin may not be the only city experiencing a Yiddish cultural revival—similar grassroots movements are emerging in cities such as New York, Paris, London, and Tel Aviv—Berlin’s violent past makes its role in this resurgence particularly surprising. But then again, it is precisely its conflicted history that has made the city an attractive and fertile ground for Yiddishists to create art, literature, and scholarship.
Like other cultures and subcultures Berlin’s new breed of Jewish artists and activists benefits from the city’s decades-long division that left vast parts east and west of the Wall in a state of neglect. While in the West, in Kreuzberg, Wedding, and Neukölln immigrants from Turkey and elsewhere settled in often decrepit housing, in the East whole parts of Prenzlauer Berg, Mitte, and Friedrichshain were scheduled for demolition and replacement with new highrise “Plattenbau” blocks when the Iron Curtain fell. Already before the official end of the GDR, artists, dissidents, punks, and anarchists had begun large scale squatting, a trend that only accelerated once their Western counterparts joined the game.
Today, much of this is gone and what is left has been mostly gentrified. But still there remain pockets of alternative art and culture here and there. Although rents may be rising, they are still cheap compared to other metropoles. No wonder that many poets and writers, especially those who write in less prominent languages, find the city a refuge where they can hone their craft.
From the early Neukölln Klezmer Sessions to Shtetl Berlin, and from the grassroots network of Yiddish Berlin to the Yiddish summer school and the bi-weekly Yiddish social club “Shmues & Vayn”, Yiddish culture is experiencing a steady revival in the city. Although Berlin may still be on the periphery of Yiddishland, its importance is undeniable, and it has been steadily growing over the past decade. In a way, Berlin is returning to its role as a meeting place for Yiddish writers, journalists, kultur-tuer, political activists, and intellectuals, that it once held during the Weimar Republic.
In response, the Berliner Literarische Aktion, a network founded by international writers in Berlin in 2005, collaborated with writer and poet Mati Shemoelof and translator and poet Jake Schneider to host a literary salon in Berlin in April 2024. Both Shmuelhof and Schneider are part of the latest wave of Jewish artists and writers who migrated to Berlin over the past two decades. Shmuelhof arrived from Israel roughly ten years ago, while Schneider moved from the U.S. to the German capital. Their goal is to integrate Hebrew and Yiddish into Germany’s contemporary literary and cultural scene. Fully aware of the city’s complex relationship with these languages, they sought to explore the continuities and disruptions between past and present Hebrew and Yiddish writers. They posed critical questions such as: What has endured? What was lost? Where are the ruptures, and what remains continuous? What is new, and what does the future hold for Hebrew and Yiddish writers and cultural activists in Berlin? In addition to addressing these topics, the hosts aimed to showcase Hebrew and Yiddish literature currently being written and published in Berlin, making it more visible to a wider Berlin audience.
So on a surprisingly warm April day in 2024, a gathering took place at one of Berlin’s most famous event locations—the Kulturbrauerei, a former brewery in Prenzlauer Berg that in the early 1990s had been surrounded by squats and alternative culture. The brewery itself had been shut down already in 1967 and left to its own devices ever since. But all this seems like a distant past now. The neighboring streets are filled with pricy boutiques and organic cafés. Prenzlauer Berg was the first East Berlin district to be hit with full force by gentrification and a real estate market in overdrive. The streets are flush with tourists and shoppers, only few of which find their way into Kulturbrauerei’s yard, giving it the air of an island of tranquility within the bustling city.
Despite the beautiful weather outside, the room was packed with attendees speaking a mix of Hebrew, Yiddish, German, and English. The one-day event, titled ”Hebrew? Yiddish? Berlin? ... Berlin’s Hebrew and Yiddish Writers”, featured three panel discussions, an evening event, and several artistic performances, including poetry readings and musical acts. The symposium sought to present the contemporary voices and perspectives of Berlin’s Yiddish and Hebrew literary scenes through discussions, performances, and translations.
Goles, Doikayt & Diaspora – Yiddish in Berlin
While the symposium primarily focused on Hebrew and its role in Berlin’s past and present, Yiddish had a strong presence, too. The Yiddish panel, curated by Schneider, included five participants: Yiddish literary scholar Marc Caplan, Berlin-based Yiddish activist and singer Rosamond van Wingarden, Yiddish scholar and curator at the Jewish Museum Berlin Ane Kleine-Engel, Jake Schneider, and finally myself. The panel was framed by Yiddish poems performed by writer and musician Jordan Lee Schnee and a keynote address delivered by Schneider.
In his keynote, Schneider reflected on Berlin’s past role in Yiddishland, attempting to define its significance. Was Berlin ever truly a central hub in the Yiddish-speaking diaspora, or was it more of a small yet vital cultural and literary outpost on the margins of Yiddishland? And who were the individuals who transformed it into a beacon of Yiddish culture?
Schneider distinguished between two groups that maintained Yiddish after the Shoah: the religious and the academic communities. However, he also identified a third, often overlooked group—the Yiddish cultural activists. These activists, according to Schneider, are at the forefront of fostering the next generation of Yiddish speakers and enthusiasts worldwide. He argued that many Yiddish cultural activists emerged from the first two groups, becoming key figures in building bridges and cultivating communities. These communities, as Schneider described, are not just spaces for learning Yiddish, but for speaking it; not just for reading and studying it, but for singing, writing and finally, for living in it too.
Schneider emphasized the inclusive nature of these communities, which welcome people who were previously marginalized—women, queer and trans people, heretics, and activists. These communities engage with their heritage and history on their own terms, fostering environments where members feel comfortable experimenting, making mistakes, and drawing mutual inspiration from one another. This, in turn, leads to the creation of more and better art that is relevant to contemporary life.

Jake Schneider. Photo: © Graham Hains / stadtsprachen.de
The Discussion
During the panel discussion, several key themes emerged, especially regarding the evolution of language use among Jewish writers in Berlin, particularly the relationship between Hebrew and Yiddish. Historically, Hebrew writers of the past century often were writing in a language other than their first language, while Yiddish writers typically were writing in their first language. Today, however, the situation is reversed. Hebrew has become a daily spoken language in Berlin, with Hebrew writers now often writing in their first language. In contrast, Yiddish writers and speakers face a more complex landscape. Writing in Yiddish today presents unique challenges, as the language is rarely used in everyday contexts outside Hasidic communities.
The panelists discussed the difficulties and advantages of writing in a language that is not one’s native tongue, including the question of when Yiddish can still be considered Yiddish. Schneider shared his personal experience of writing and speaking in Yiddish. For him, the process is both liberating and daunting. The lack of complete fluency can be a relief, allowing for more creative freedom without fear of immediate judgment. Yet, this comes with the inevitable reality of facing criticism and correction. Van Wingarden introduced the concept of a “double diaspora” for modern Yiddish writers and cultural activists. She compared her experience to that of earlier writers in the Weimar Republic, who also grappled with the complexities of writing in a non-primary language. This “double diaspora” refers to both the physical and cultural dislocations faced by contemporary Yiddish writers.
The discussion also explored the historical context of Yiddish before, during, and after the Nazi era, when the author of this text described that many Yiddish writers were forced to flee their homes in occupied Europe. Yet, this led to the establishment of global Yiddish cultural aid networks. These networks later also played a critical role in preserving the Yiddish literary and cultural world after the Shoah, despite significant disruptions.

Anne-Christin Klotz and Rosamond van Wingarden. Photo: © Graham Hains / stadtsprachen.de
Yiddish and Berlin: Just a Fling or a Committed Relationship?
Yiddish, influenced by many languages over time—including Hebrew, Polish, German, and English—has often been dismissed and devalued as a “mixed language”, a creole, a dialect. However, many panelists emphasized that day that this linguistic diversity enriches Yiddish rather than diminishes it. This perspective aligns with the broader understanding that languages naturally evolve through interaction and influence, reflecting diverse cultural experiences and distancing Yiddish from any notion of linguistic purity.
Moreover, Yiddish hasn’t just absorbed elements from other languages; it has also influenced local languages, including Berlinerisch, the German dialect spoken in Berlin and Brandenburg. 1 1 Nachama, Andreas (2018). Jiddisch im Berliner Jargon. Jaron Verlag, Berlin. The dialect has been heavily influenced by its former Yiddish-speaking inhabitants, even if most German speakers are unaware of the Yiddish heritage embedded within their own language. When they work, they are at their maloche, when they drink too much they are angeschickert. They buy tinnef and they speak tacheles. Their family is their mischpoke and their girlfriend is their ische. If you talk to older Berliners you will rarely get through a whole conversation without stumbling upon at least some Yiddish.
The discussion concluded with a reflection on the political concept of doyikayt—the Jewish Bundist idea of being “here”—and the political dimension of speaking Yiddish in today’s Berlin. Much like during the interwar period, speaking Yiddish in Berlin can be seen as a political act, especially given Germany’s history as the perpetrator of the Holocaust. In a post-genocidal society, where antisemitism and right-wing extremism are once again on the rise, every Yiddish sentence spoken in Berlin feels like a defiant stand against both the Nazis of the past and the neo-Nazis of today. This continuing relevance highlights Yiddish not only as a means of communication but as a symbol of cultural and political resistance.