This spring I came to a point in my writing career at which my own thoughts on the subject of integration began to bore me. Because I was caught up in a mental loop, my main priority had become reformulating what I’d already said in a way that no one would notice that I was just telling the same old story. Namely, that participation in society for one is always dependent on the consent of another. Add a little linguistic sophistication, a few striking examples of failed integration, a little polemics and you can make yourself snug in your world view and quietly take a nap. As a journalist I can’t change the world and certainly not influence politics. The world can only change me. And this spring I was in a corner of the world that totally changed my ideas. A journey to Israel well and truly mellowed my previously intractable view on the lack of integration policy.
The largest group in Germany with an immigrant background – after the Aussiedler or ethnic German resettlers – are the Turks, who were once recruited as guestworkers and, unlike many Portuguese, Spanish and Greek economic migrants, did not return to their native country. These people of Turkish origin have now lived in this country for half a century. That would be a success story in itself if the following problem did not exist: many of them are not culturally, religiously, economically, socially or politically integrated. That creates an atmosphere of mutual critical scrutiny. Many issues have been debated in Germany – from the smell of garlic that allegedly wafts from housing blocks where the majority of tenants are from the Orient and how to tie a headscarf so that it doesn’t allow ambiguous assumptions about someone’s loyalty to the constitution and democracy to ethical controversies about specific slaughtering methods that are traditional in some cultures. Nevertheless, there is no subject that people argue about more passionately than Islam. All in all, you could say that although these debates have been vigorously and tirelessly conducted, people still haven’t really got to know one another even after 50 years. That applies to both sides. We stand on the threshold of the others’ home, as it were, but know nothing about them apart from their name. You may consider that good, you may consider that bad; there are equally good arguments for ignorance as there are for interest.
In any event, I was in Israel and had learnt before my arrival that this country is known for its excellent integration of people from the most diverse countries. It has so and so many ethnic groups in all shades and nuances, all differentiated by political and religious attitudes, dress, eating habits, not to mention socioeconomic differences. I heard many opinions there. Scandalous, left, right, liberal, conservative, indifferent, radical, distrustful – in fact, everything you could think of. I met politicians, historians, scientists, artists, journalists and many, many taxi drivers. But I never saw exemplary integration. Next to a very real wall, I was confrontd by a large number of less visible walls.
A thought suddenly came to me while I was at the bazaar in the Old Town of Jerusalem. Although I had heard a cacophony of enraged opinions about the respective “other group”, there was one phrase I hadn’t heard that I constantly hear in Germany: namely, the concept of “parallel societies”, used with negative connotations. Israel is a multiparallel-structured society in which people create their own protective spaces. Of course, a separate space or niche has a negative impact on outsiders’ trust. Nevertheless, I didn’t hear a word of complaint about the fact that the people in these self-created protective spaces look different, speak a different language, use a different alphabet and so on. Why do we do that in Germany? And where in the world is there a place where different social strata with different religions and cultures actually live together and inspire one another to greater things? I have thought about it and come to the conclusion that the term “parallel society” always automatically triggered the response of switching into solution-finding mode – I had never really considered what was so disgraceful about it in the first place. Perhaps it is only the fact that these spaces must not appear to be set in concrete. Anyone who feels the urge for advancement, which can also simultaneously be seen as a wish to leave your present social environment, must have realistic options for achieving it – for example, as a result of education policy measures. At that point, however, things start to get boring again, because I then have to cheat and present my old story in new clothes. What do I do now that the article is already entitled “Thinking Anew”?
What do you think of Mely Kiyak’s point of view? Write to us at redaktion.deutschland@fsd.de (heading: “Integration”)
Mely Kiyak
was born in 1976 and lives in Berlin. She contributes to major dailies and magazines as a free-lance writer. The daughter of Kurdish immigrants from Turkey is a member of the German Islamic Conference.
