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Many Who Came to Germany as Migrants Will Vote for the First Time Sunday 

A reflection in a water puddle shows a pedestrian and Berlin TV Tower in central Berlin, Germany, 20 February 2025. Germany will hold early federal elections on 23 February 2025, to elect a new Bundestag (parliament). (EPA)
A reflection in a water puddle shows a pedestrian and Berlin TV Tower in central Berlin, Germany, 20 February 2025. Germany will hold early federal elections on 23 February 2025, to elect a new Bundestag (parliament). (EPA)
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Many Who Came to Germany as Migrants Will Vote for the First Time Sunday 

A reflection in a water puddle shows a pedestrian and Berlin TV Tower in central Berlin, Germany, 20 February 2025. Germany will hold early federal elections on 23 February 2025, to elect a new Bundestag (parliament). (EPA)
A reflection in a water puddle shows a pedestrian and Berlin TV Tower in central Berlin, Germany, 20 February 2025. Germany will hold early federal elections on 23 February 2025, to elect a new Bundestag (parliament). (EPA)

More than half a million newly naturalized citizens will have the opportunity to vote in a German national election for the first time this weekend.

Almost a third of the new Germans are originally from Syria. Most of them left their home countries in the last decade, fleeing war, political instability and economic hardship. In 2015-2016 alone, more than 1 million migrants came to Germany, most from Syria, but also from Afghanistan and Iraq.

Since the last national election in 2021, the number of naturalizations in Germany has risen sharply: More than 500,000 people were naturalized between 2021 and 2023, according to the country's Federal Statistical Office.

While the numbers for 2024 are not yet available, experts estimate that more than 250,000 people were naturalized in Germany last year.

Many of the new citizens who will vote for the first time in Germany on Sunday have expressed a mix of excitement, hope for change, and a feeling of empowerment about their voting rights. Some worry about the rise of the far-right, anti-immigrant Alternative for Germany, or AfD, party.

For the new Germans originally from Syria, the election is weighted with extra significance. Many of them fled their country because of the civil war that followed former President Bashar al-Assad's crackdown on protests calling for greater democratic freedom. He was toppled in November, but whether Syria will now become a democracy remains unclear. In the meantime, they are able to vote in multi-party elections in their new home.

Here's what five of the newcomers say about voting in Germany:

Logeen Faour Shahna, 24, wants to give other migrants a voice

Originally from Idlib in Syria, Faour Shahna arrived in 2015 and is now studying mathematics at Berlin’s Technical University. She says her new German passport gives her a sense of security as she is now no longer afraid of being deported. She wants to go vote on Sunday, “because every vote counts.”

“It may be that others still see me as a foreigner, but I also want to pass on the voices of foreigners (and show) that not everyone is the same. You should not see us as foreigners, but as human beings, and you should see what we will do for the German state in the future.

“I am clearly against AfD. ... I think there are also many others who are against AfD, whether they were born as foreigners or whether they are German. I don't think they'll ever rule Germany. Otherwise, we would be back in the 1930s.”

Syamend Al-Othman, 31, hopes the next government will boost the economy

Al-Othman, a Syrian Kurd, came to Germany in 2014. He currently works in online marketing but dreams of opening his own coffee place in Berlin. He says he and his wife are just like other Germans, working, paying their taxes, not committing any crimes, and visiting family on weekends. He hopes that the next government can make sure that “Germany's economy will get better again.”

“This is my first national election after becoming a German. Of course, it has a lot of meaning for me that my wife and I have an influence on German elections, that we also decide who governs us.

“I talked to my father (in Syria) the other day. My father has never voted. And that’s why we think it’s so important. It’s nice that we can vote and that we also have democracy here in Germany. There is still not much real democracy in Syria and no elections yet, because Assad has only been gone for a few weeks and we still need time to get democracy in Syria.”

Ketevan Asatiani-Hermann, 35, says voting is more important than ever

Asatiani-Hermann came to Germany from Georgia, in the Caucasus, in 2011 and was naturalized in October. She is married to a German and lives in Magdeburg, where she has a job as a social worker helping migrant teenagers integrate in society. She voiced concern that discrimination of migrants may further grow after a deadly attack by a physician on a Christmas market in Magdeburg that killed six and injured more than 200.

“I have never felt before that democracy is under such threat. This is a very good time for me to perhaps contribute with my vote to ensure that people vote for democracy and that hate and racism are not promoted. ... It also gives me a sense of affirmation and that I’m allowed to have a say ... I’m very pleased that I’ll have that opportunity this year.

“I very much hope that the next government will ensure that there is more cohesion in our society again. That it's not so much about them and us anymore and that people who are different for whatever reasons won't get excluded.”

Sedra Hanina, 23, wants Germany to provide more security especially for women wearing hijab

Hanina came from Damascus in 2016, when she was 15 years old. She’s married, has one daughter, and studies chemistry in Berlin. The young woman hopes that the next government will provide more security, especially for women like herself who wear the hijab, as she often feels badly treated. But most of all she is excited to vote for the first time in her life.

“It’s a big challenge that you have to find out which party, which advantages, which disadvantages, what the goals of the respective party are. And I’m actually really looking forward to seeing what happens after the elections and which party wins.

“I hope there will be more of a focus on social justice, integration, and freedom of people ... that everyone is treated the same as everyone else, no matter where you come from, how you look, and how you act. The main thing is that everyone is treated equally.”

Hassan Salameh, 40, says right to vote is a reward

The pharmacist and father of two small children is originally from Aleppo. Since his arrival in Germany in 2014, he studied German until he was fluent, worked to get his pharmacy degree recognized, found a job and waited for more than three years until his application for German citizenship was approved.

“I see the German passport as a reward after such a long time of efforts, difficulties, hope and stress — we’ve put so much effort into making sure that we make a future for ourselves as a small family.

“For me, the moment when I go to vote for the first time is very, very special. ... It is a responsibility for us and for society to make the right decision this time to ensure our future, security and wellbeing, and that Germany continues to lead in Europe.”

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To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
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To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)

Cash is the lifeblood of the Gaza Strip’s shattered economy, and like all other necessities in this war-torn territory — food, fuel, medicine — it is in extremely short supply.

With nearly every bank branch and ATM inoperable, people have become reliant on an unrestrained network of powerful cash brokers to get money for daily expenses and commissions on those transactions have soared to about 40%.

"The people are crying blood because of this," said Ayman al-Dahdouh, a school director living in Gaza City. "It’s suffocating us, starving us."

At a time of surging inflation, high unemployment and dwindling savings, the scarcity of cash has magnified the financial squeeze on families — some of whom have begun to sell their possessions to buy essential goods.

The cash that is available has even lost some of its luster. Palestinians use the Israeli currency, the shekel, for most transactions. Yet with Israel no longer resupplying the territory with newly printed bank notes, merchants are increasingly reluctant to accept frayed bills.

Gaza’s punishing cash crunch has several root causes, experts say.

To curtail Hamas’ ability to purchase weapons and pay its fighters, Israel stopped allowing cash to enter Gaza at the start of the war. Around the same time, many wealthy families in Gaza withdrew their money from banks and then fled the territory. And rising fears about Gaza’s financial system prompted foreign businesses selling goods into the territory to demand cash payments.

As Gaza’s money supply dwindled and civilians’ desperation mounted, cash brokers' commissions — around 5% at the start of the war — skyrocketed.

Someone needing cash transfers money electronically to a broker and moments later is handed a fraction of that amount in bills. Many brokers openly advertise their services, while others are more secretive. Some grocers and retailers have also begun exchanging cash for their customers.

"If I need $60, I need to transfer $100," said Mohammed Basheer al-Farra, who lives in southern Gaza after being displaced from Khan Younis. "This is the only way we can buy essentials, like flour and sugar. We lose nearly half of our money just to be able to spend it."

In 2024, inflation in Gaza surged by 230%, according to the World Bank. It dropped slightly during the ceasefire that began in January, only to shoot up again after Israel backed out of the truce in March.

Cash touches every aspect of life in Gaza

About 80% of people in Gaza were unemployed at the end of 2024, according to the World Bank, and the figure is likely higher now. Those with jobs are mostly paid by direct deposits into their bank accounts.

But "when you want to buy vegetables, food, water, medication -- if you want to take transportation, or you need a blanket, or anything — you must use cash," al-Dahdouh said.

Shahid Ajjour’s family has been living off of savings for two years after the pharmacy and another business they owned were ruined by the war.

"We had to sell everything just to get cash," said Ajjour, who sold her gold to buy flour and canned beans. The family of eight spends the equivalent of $12 every two days on flour; before the war, that cost less than $4.

Sugar is very expensive, costing the equivalent of $80-$100 per kilogram (2.2 pounds), multiple people said; before the war, that cost less than $2.

Gasoline is about $25 a liter, or roughly $95 a gallon, when paying the lower, cash price.

Bills are worn and unusable

The bills in Gaza are tattered after 21 months of war.

Money is so fragile, it feels as if it is going to melt in your hands, said Mohammed al-Awini, who lives in a tent camp in southern Gaza.

Small business owners said they were under pressure to ask customers for undamaged cash because their suppliers demand pristine bills from them.

Thaeir Suhwayl, a flour merchant in Deir al-Balah, said his suppliers recently demanded he pay them only with brand new 200-shekel ($60) bank notes, which he said are rare. Most civilians pay him with 20-shekel ($6) notes that are often in poor condition.

On a recent visit to the market, Ajjour transferred the shekel equivalent of around $100 to a cash broker and received around $50 in return. But when she tried to buy some household supplies from a merchant, she was turned away because the bills weren’t in good condition.

"So the worth of your $50 is zero in the end," she said.

This problem has given rise to a new business in Gaza: money repair. It costs between 3 and 10 shekels ($1-$3) to mend old bank notes. But even cash repaired with tape or other means is sometimes rejected.

People are at the mercy of cash brokers

After most of the banks closed in the early days of the war, those with large reserves of cash suddenly had immense power.

"People are at their mercy," said Mahmoud Aqel, who has been displaced from his home in southern Gaza. "No one can stop them."

The war makes it impossible to regulate market prices and exchange rates, said Dalia Alazzeh, an expert in finance and accounting at the University of the West of Scotland. "Nobody can physically monitor what’s happening," Alazzeh said.

A year ago, the Palestine Monetary Authority, the equivalent of a central bank for Gaza and the West Bank, sought to ease the crisis by introducing a digital payment system known as Iburaq. It attracted half a million users, or a quarter of the population, according to the World Bank, but was ultimately undermined by merchants insisting on cash.

Israel sought to ramp up financial pressure on Hamas earlier this year by tightening the distribution of humanitarian aid, which it said was routinely siphoned off by militants and then resold.

Experts said it is unclear if the cash brokers’ activities benefit Hamas, as some Israeli analysts claim.

The war has made it more difficult to determine who is behind all sorts of economic activity in the territory, said Omar Shabaan, director of Palthink for Strategic Studies, a Gaza-based think tank.

"It's a dark place now. You don't know who is bringing cigarettes into Gaza," he said, giving just one example. "It's like a mafia."

These same deep-pocketed traders are likely the ones running cash brokerages, and selling basic foodstuffs, he said. "They benefit by imposing these commissions," he said.

Once families run out of cash, they are forced to turn to humanitarian aid.

Al-Farra said that is what prompted him to begin seeking food at an aid distribution center, where it is common for Palestinians to jostle over one other for sacks of flour and boxes of pasta.

"This is the only way I can feed my family," he said.