In the small northern German city of Flensburg, a handwritten sign recently appeared in the window of a secondhand bookshop, igniting a firestorm of outrage that has reverberated far beyond the city’s borders. The sign, blunt in its message, read: “Jews are banned from entering here! Nothing personal, not even antisemitism, I just can’t stand you.” Within hours, images of the sign were circulating widely on social media, drawing condemnation from Jewish leaders, politicians, and the general public across Germany and internationally.
The shop’s owner, 60-year-old Hans Velten Reisch, admitted to local media that he had posted the sign himself, claiming it was an act of protest against the ongoing war in Gaza. According to JTA and Metro, Reisch insisted he was not an extremist, describing himself as “a little to the left, a little to the right – but not radical.” He told reporters, “I don’t need people like that here – neither in business nor in private,” referring to those who support Israel’s actions in Gaza. However, he added that Jews who distance themselves from the war would be welcome in his shop, and that he had “nothing against them.”
Despite Reisch’s attempts to distance himself from extremist labels, the sign’s message struck a deep and painful chord in Germany, a country still grappling with the legacy of the Holocaust. Flensburg’s mayor, Fabian Geyer, was unequivocal in his condemnation: “This is a reminder of the darkest chapters of Germany’s history and has absolutely no place in this city.” State parliament member Kianusch Stender echoed this sentiment, emphasizing Flensburg’s “duty, based on its historical responsibility alone, to take a stand against antisemitism everywhere and at all times.”
Police were alerted shortly after the sign went up, and officers ordered Reisch to remove it from his shop’s front door. He complied, but local media reported that the sign remained visible on a wall inside the store as of September 20, 2025. Protesters, incensed by the display, defaced the shop’s facade. Several residents filed formal complaints, prompting state prosecutors to open an investigation into whether the sign constituted public incitement to hatred or a disturbance of the public peace, as reported by Euronews and The Times of Israel.
The incident quickly became a flashpoint in Germany’s ongoing struggle with antisemitism, especially as tensions over the Israel-Hamas conflict have led to a spike in both antisemitic incidents and anti-Israel protests across the country. According to German officials, the number of such incidents has risen sharply in 2025, mirroring a broader trend seen across Europe.
Felix Klein, Germany’s federal government commissioner for combating antisemitism, did not mince words in his response, calling the act “antisemitism in its purest form.” He added on national television, “This is a clear case of antisemitism, and intervention is necessary.” Israel’s ambassador to Germany, Ron Prosor, took to social media to warn, “The 1930s are back,” urging vigilance and swift action to prevent rhetoric from escalating into violence. The board of the Orthodox Rabbinical Conference of Germany issued a statement lamenting that German Jews were becoming “collateral damage” in a conflict 1,500 miles away, and insisted, “The war in Gaza must never be used as a pretext for outright hatred against Jews in Germany. Yet that is precisely what is happening: people who have nothing to do with this war are becoming collateral damage. We make it clear: Jews in Germany are not responsible for Gaza.”
Jewish community groups and advocacy organizations were quick to highlight the chilling historical echoes of the sign. One spokesperson, quoted by JNS, remarked, “A public sign prohibiting Jews from entering a business is a direct echo of the exclusionary measures normalized in the 1930s, and it must be met with firm legal and civic response.” The sign’s wording and intent, critics argued, crossed a line from political protest into outright bigotry, blurring the distinction between criticism of a state and sweeping denunciations of a people.
The case has also spurred broader conversations in Germany about the need for education and vigilance. Social media, which amplified the incident and its condemnation, became a platform for renewed calls to teach the history of the Holocaust and the consequences of dehumanizing language. Some commentators urged that the episode serve as a catalyst for renewed efforts to protect minority communities and prevent such exclusionary acts from becoming normalized again.
As the investigation proceeds, prosecutors have indicated they are assessing whether to pursue charges or administrative measures against Reisch. German law provides for criminal and administrative remedies for public expressions likely to incite hatred or disturb public peace. Authorities have underscored that robust enforcement and public education are essential bulwarks against the kind of exclusionary acts represented by the Flensburg sign.
The incident has also galvanized activism across Germany. On September 17, 2025, a new initiative called “DACH Against Hate” was launched in Munich by Guy Katz, an Israeli academic who has lived in Germany for over two decades. Supported by the German-Israeli Society, Jewish communities, and over 200 organizations from Germany, Austria, and Switzerland, the group aims to collect at least 100,000 signatures on a petition calling for stricter laws, better education, and more protection for Jewish institutions. A demonstration is planned in Munich on October 5, just two days before the second anniversary of the Hamas attack that ignited the current war in Gaza.
The reverberations of the Flensburg shop incident have even reached beyond Germany. In London, a string of antisemitic vandalism incidents—including attacks on synagogues and a Jewish nursery—have heightened fears among British Jews, especially as the crisis in Gaza escalates. London Mayor Sadiq Khan has condemned the attacks and promised a crackdown on racially aggravated crime.
Meanwhile, Reisch remains defiant, continuing to defend his actions as a political statement rather than an expression of hatred. Yet, as prosecutors continue their inquiry and public debate intensifies, the episode stands as a stark reminder of how quickly old prejudices can resurface—and how vital it is for societies to respond swiftly and decisively.
For many in Germany and beyond, the Flensburg sign is more than a local scandal; it’s a wake-up call. As one Jewish communal group put it, “This is not criticism of Israel. This is a direct echo of history that must never be allowed to repeat.”