Zeitgeist - More Wokeness - More Hate

(De) Our teacher in the English Conversation course at the Senior Citizens’ Centre is undoubtedly a phenomenal character. He’s not only a musician but also a children's book author – yet none of that prevents him from striking exactly the right tone when engaging with older adults in the course. His appearance, however, has not been tailored to the standard tastes of the participants, aged between 65 and 92. The young man, likely in his 40s, has been wearing dreadlocks since the age of 18.

And lo and behold – it works brilliantly. It’s not just that all course participants like him; no, he also commands the kind of authority many teachers in mainstream schools could only dream of.

So who would still want to ramble on about generational conflicts!? – Certainly not us, the older student body!

He, this almost young man, a member of the next generation after ours, has indeed uncovered some contentious issues in his senior courses – and likely in his family environment as well.

“Woke” – Awake, Awoken

As is the case for many of his generation, being “woke” is important to him.

The English term “woke” means being awake or awakened. So, wokeness is about being alert to discrimination and social injustice. That’s why he has long been trying to raise awareness among those around him to be more mindful in their choice of language. But it seems he often encountered resistance – even stubborn insistence on problematic expressions – especially among the older generation.

For this reason, he took the first step by giving talks under the title “Surely you are still allowed to say that!” and, in 2025, went on to publish a book bearing the same title.( Literature reference at the end of the article)

Photo/Title: Quentin Strohmeier; Used with permission from the author and publisher Andy Kuhn

What is this little book about? What is the author’s aim?

On the surface, it’s about identifying inappropriate terms for ethnic groups, explaining why they are unacceptable and offensive to those affected. However, it also presents alternative ways of expressing oneself.

What strikes me as particularly important and commendable is the author's recurring desire to contribute to better communication. He firmly rejects any moralistic lecturing as well as stubborn insistence on using old-fashioned terms.

The final sentence of the foreword is striking because it deviates from the often heated debate about correct terminology and the changes to wording in literary works that are frequently branded as censorship:

“I hope this book gives you some interesting insights and new perspectives – not to demonise the past, but to work together on respectful language for the future.” (p. 9)

He appeals to advocates of wokeness and consistent gender-inclusive language not to act morally superior towards those who still find terms like "Gypsy", "Eskimo", "Indian" or "Black" perfectly acceptable, and who don’t wish to replace the generic masculine form with constructions like “...innen” or “...:innen”.

(Note by the translator LL: This article refers here to a controversial issue within the German language, which usually uses the generic male form and subsumes female ones; whereas the English language usually uses a neutral form of language that includes both female and male forms. There is much criticism and efforts to change the use of the language to using the female version and subsuming the male one.)

At the same time, he wants to point out to those who view linguistic changes with suspicion – and who feel patronised and censored when terms they don’t mean offensively are suddenly banned – that language evolves anyway. Whether we like it or not is irrelevant.

Thus, in the chapter titled “Looking Ahead” at the end of the book, we read:

“…instead of thinking in extremes – either ‘everything stays as it was’ or ‘everything must change’ – we should seek common ground, through open conversations, which are best conducted verbally, not anonymously posted in some social media columns.” (p. 74)

I wholeheartedly agree with the author, and I wish more people think like him and engage in controversial discussions with such openness, self-reflection, deep humanity, and tolerance.

That’s why I also believe he would be open to my criticisms and doubts regarding the high expectations placed on wokeness, as well as my questions about how it’s being implemented in our times, all of which are discussed in reference to his book.

One thing that struck me as odd in places is the assumption that the acceptance or rejection of wokeness is primarily a generational issue. Contemporary history contradicts that view.

Woke – A New Word for Old Ideas

Already in the 1970s and 80s, when today’s woke generation hadn’t yet been born – or at most were in nappies – left-wing groups in the United States began paying increasing attention to political correctness. The aim was to prevent hurtful and discriminatory language.

In the 1990s, when I was the age of today’s woke generation, this approach was also discussed and promoted in Germany under the label of "politically correct" language.

The academic basis for this was the thesis that a change in language would be followed by a change in thinking, attitude, and ultimately, behaviour. Language – a tool of social control?

In Germany during the 1990s and later, the idea was that language could be used to steer society in a positive direction – towards respect, mindfulness, acceptance, and tolerance.

I still clearly remember how the word Gipsy was replaced by Sinti and Roma, just as Eskimos came to be referred to as Inuit, and how it became common practice to use both feminine and masculine forms wherever possible in official texts.

It was a running joke among speakers to exaggerate this for the audience’s amusement – people would speak of leaves and leafesses, or forests and forestesses, and so on.

Now in 2025, after more than 30 years of efforts to achieve political correctness in Germany, the discussion is still ongoing – and that’s quite telling. Have these well-intentioned changes in language perhaps failed to move from the head to the heart, so to speak? Could it be that actual linguistic change requires multiple generations and a host of reasons to occur naturally, and cannot be artificially accelerated or imposed? That remains to be seen.

Another question is even more interesting – and can certainly be explored in our present time:

Is the thesis that a change in people’s sense of justice will take place when negatively connoted terms are replaced with “innocent” terms, not as accurate as hoped?

Do new terms truly lead to new attitudes?

At this point, I’d like to share a few experiences and reflections that give pause for thought.

In the early 2020s, I volunteered to teach German to asylum seekers in a small multi-purpose room in their accommodation facility. When I talked about it with my family and friends, I colloquially referred to this accommodation as an Asylantenheim (asylum seekers’ home) and to the people as Asylanten (asylum seekers).

Friends kindly but firmly pointed out to me that this terminology was no longer acceptable. Indeed, these facilities had long been officially referred to as collective accommodation, and the people living in them were referred to as migrants or asylum applicants.

However, the living conditions in these accommodations were still unpleasant, and the new term “community accommodation” had nothing to do with living in a community. Changing the terminology did nothing to change the reality.

Attitudes towards migrants and asylum seekers have deteriorated even further over the years and culminated in 2025 in an outright anti-migrant sentiment.

The abandonment of the negatively connoted terms Asylanten and Asylantenheim had absolutely no effect on the attitudes of many Germans towards refugees and immigrants.

There’s another example that also proves, at least at first glance, the lack of influence language may have.

For instance, does someone who now says Sinti or Roma instead of Gypsy no longer automatically hold on to their wallet when encountering a person from that ethnic group on a busy street? Would that person rent their flat to a Roma family, or at least not eye them nervously if they became neighbours? Would that person allow their children to befriend Roma children without hesitation?

The answer to all these questions is clearly no.

Even in 2025, although the term Gypsy has been taboo for decades, the negative prejudices have not disappeared – in fact, they haven’t even weakened. The traditional mindset of “Bring in the laundry – the Gypsies are here!” still applies, more or less unchanged, even if the word Gypsy is replaced with Sinti or Roma.

The new terms, which were accepted by those affected, have hardly, if at all, led to new attitudes or behaviours. I can’t shake off the suspicion that the “good people” simply grew weary of fighting prejudice and turned instead to focusing on linguistic reform.

And that fight against prejudice may be one of the most frustrating of all – not only because those who are supposed to unlearn their biases often dig in their heels, but also because those who are the targets of prejudice sometimes fall into the self-fulfilling prophecy trap, thus reinforcing the very stereotypes they wish to see dismantled—a vicious cycle.

“Black” and “White”

The skin colour of a person, especially if it is darker, is an ancient and still highly sensitive topic. Behind this discussion lie centuries of history, centuries of oppression and subjugation, and the development of racist theories for economic and political purposes.

The politically correct woke term for people with dark skin is, therefore, also complex and unclear. Even in the book “Surely you are still allowed to say that”, the supposedly inoffensive suggestions that are widely accepted aren’t particularly catchy.

At this point, I would like to quote from Andy Kuhn’s book:

“... the preferred alternative used by the community itself is ‘person of colour’ or ‘people of colour’ (POC). This term emphasises diversity and dignity while avoiding the degrading and historically burdened terms like ‘Negro’ and similar.” (p. 24)

As a rule of thumb, the author Andy Kuhn states that the adjective “”black is only acceptable in its capitalised, noun form when referring to a movement, but not as a regular adjective. Otherwise, the English terms are more contemporary – i.e., more woke. (p. 21 ff)

I must say, in my view, this expression doesn’t fit smoothly into the German language. It certainly wouldn’t come to me spontaneously to ask, for instance, when searching for a lost child in a park, for a “little person of colour”. Yet those are the classic situations in which one must describe someone: when searching for a person, reporting someone, or giving a description to the police. Of course, I would also never dream of saying “Negro” or “Moor” – no one who isn’t a racist would think of saying that.

For my generation, born in the 1950s, these outdated terms for real people with dark skin were never truly neutral – let alone positive.

We used them thoughtlessly for sweets like “Mohrenkopf” or “Negerkuss” and for nursery rhymes like “Zehn Kleine Negerlein” (Ten Little N*****s”). That much is true. But in the playground game “Hast du Angst vorm Schwarzen Mann?” (Are You Afraid of the Black Man?) I never associated the figure with a dark-skinned person, but rather with a frightening character in dark clothes.

We read Uncle Tom’s Cabin and empathised with the victims – the black slaves – whom we would have liked to protect and save. But of course, such reading didn’t teach us that all humans are fundamentally equal.

Naturally, the concept of race was conveyed through this literature, along with the notions of otherness and foreignness.

As we know from scientific research, the feelings of “otherness” and “strangeness” can trigger deeply rooted, primitive instincts of distrust and defensiveness.

So, does it help when I use the term “people of colour”, as recommended in the book, when I talk about dark-skinned individuals? Do I then see only the person and not a member of an ethnic group or – worse still – a race, which, according to science, doesn’t even exist?

During a talk on this topic, where a dark-skinned woman – or to put it in up-to-date, woke terms, a person of colour – was present, she was asked her opinion on the correct form of address.

She replied that “black” wasn’t appropriate, as she was no more black than the rest of us were white. Which, of course, is true – and I must admit, I no longer like to be referred to as white either. I had never thought about this before, but her response made me realise that the term “white”, too, is negatively connoted and often far from desirable for fair-skinned Europeans.

Just think how desperately many white people try to hide what they perceive as unattractive skin colour in summer – not to mention the fact that “white people” are so often described throughout history as arrogant, self-righteous, cruel, violent, and ignorant.

So then I suggested “coloured”, because her argument made sense to me.

That wasn’t acceptable either, she said – after all, she wasn’t colourful. Coloured means multicoloured.

Ah – but to me, multicoloured implies many colours, while coloured simply means non-white. And after all, the English term “people of colour” literally translates to “farbige Menschen” in German. So, I wonder, why is the English version less offensive than the German? And why does the power to define the appropriateness of a term like coloured rest solely with her – and not equally with both of us?

I consider the terms "dark-skinned" and "light-skinned" to be unproblematic – comparable, for example, to the entirely neutral terms "dark-haired" and "light-haired."

As a white person who no longer wishes to be described as such because I feel historically tainted by the label, I feel comfortable with such adjectives.

Is it woke to feel and think this way? Is it fair? Respectful? Mindful?

Have I taken a step that now puts persons of colour under pressure to position themselves on the matter too? Or is that intrusive?

Given all this uncertainty, it’s no surprise that many people flip the switch and go into defence mode. They no longer want to hear about it and begin to view the entire debate as exaggerated or even unnecessary. Cries of “language censorship!” emerge, and the phrase “Surely one should still be allowed to say that!” regularly comes up in discussions, stifling any genuine engagement.

“The Recipient, Not the Sender, Decides!”

How do we solve such a problem in an era that emphasises respectful interaction?

There is, after all, a long-established rule:

The recipient of a message—whether an individual or an ethnic group—decides what is offensive or inappropriate, not the sender!

That, in turn, considerably complicates matters. After all, if I need or wish to describe someone, I cannot ask them for their preferred term for their skin colour or ethnicity. Moreover, rules for “woke” terminology differ around the world.

The book lists modern self-chosen terms for Native Americans as: “Indigenous peoples, American Indigenous Peoples, Native Americans or Natives (USA), First Nations (Canada), tribal names such as Lakota, Apache, Sioux, etc.” (p. 30)

Given the abundance of all these self-determined, non-pejorative terms for ethnic groups, I’m left wondering how any consensus was reached.

This brings to mind a population group that is located all over the world and is called by the same name everywhere, and would have every reason to reject its label as negatively connoted and to change it: the Jews!

Over the centuries, Jews were insulted, persecuted, discriminated against, and brutally murdered. The term “Jew” was often used as a swear word. Yet Jews have held on to this expression of identity. Why? Because the term wasn’t imposed externally? Because they are proud of their identity and refuse to let it be destroyed from the outside? Because there simply are no alternative terms that are unburdened?

Even today, with antisemitism on the rise again, no one is attempting to shield Jews from insults through changes in terminology. Nor are Jews demanding such changes, even as they defend themselves.

In this case, “the recipient” has decided to pay attention not to what the sender says, but to their mindset. That could be a way of dealing with each other. A little openness to the inner attitude of others—beyond mere words—would go a long way towards peaceful and positive interaction.

This leads to the next open question:

Do 30 to 50 years of mindful language have any real impact?

Are we seeing even a slight reduction in prejudice and racism, and in return an increase in mindfulness and respect in 2020s society?

It depends. It depends on the circles in which one moves, the bubbles in which we live and communicate.

The fact is, Germany in 2025 is characterised by deep divides between various social groups and regions.

As much as some people treat each other with mindfulness, others hate each other in a ferocity I have not encountered in my adult life. My generation believed such hatred of foreigners, of those who think differently, and of minorities had died out.

Farmers ambush a Green Party politician, threatening him with violence. Stones are prepared for throwing at election rallies—allegedly as symbolic gestures.

Local politicians resign, out of fear for their families, because they have been subjected to hate-filled emails and threats on Facebook and other social media because of their pro-refugee stances. In Nuremberg, the mayoral candidate—the German-born child of Syrian immigrants and therefore darker-skinned than a typical Franconian—has been bombarded with thousands of hate mails and online posts simply because he is a person of colour.

How can this be? Why haven’t decades of teaching values like tolerance, mindfulness, respect and human dignity in schools, cultural institutions, films, and literature reached these people?

While on the one hand, there is a struggle for politically correct language, gender inclusion in language and mindfulness, on the other hand, attitudes and prejudices that were long believed to have been overcome are reappearing, and it is clear that these reactionary chords can be successfully played by political parties such as the Union and AfD (The ultra-right wing political party Alternative für Deutschland). Taboos were probably only taboos by declaration, but they did not find their way into the hearts and minds of many people.
Perhaps we, and I indeed count myself among those who respect the dignity of every human being, have tried to pass on this value throughout our lives. However, we seem to have stopped too soon to truly engage with the reluctant, to face doubts and questions openly, to explain our positions repeatedly.

How did we react instead? With disgust at these unwilling people and their statements. We created taboos. We boxed people in.

We should probably have entered the “ring” from the beginning, without fear of contact, engaging on equal terms instead of rising above the “stupid oafs” and turning away in disgust.

Now these “undead of the intellectual realm”—racism, antisemitism, xenophobia, hatred and violence towards dissenters—are re-emerging, because some politicians have realised they still exist, dormant and viable. And that they can be awakened.

The questions of why these people weren’t reached, why their inner core wasn’t touched, why they perceived what we considered as societal consensus as a moralising condescension were not asked.

The resurgence of antisemitism is hard to explain.

Since the end of the war, antisemitism has been officially fought on many fronts in Germany, through education and legal bans.

Yet attacks on visibly Jewish people — identified by kippah or other characteristics — are clearly on the rise again in statistics.

How is this possible?

In a world where mindfulness and respect are so strongly reflected in language, ancient prejudices and violence are resurging to levels once thought unimaginable.

When you move among the “politically correct”, the “woke crowd”, you might feel you live in a highly sensitive, respectful society. But when you leave that circle, you often find yourself entering a world of old-fashioned mindsets, defiance, and aggression.

The societal divide is undeniable. Whilst some turn away from the so-called “stupid people” with disdain and shaking heads, others react with anger, aggression, even violence to anyone who is different or thinks differently.

In 2025, communication and exchange between these groups are virtually non-existent.

Politically, propagandists and right-wing to far-right parties are gaining ground, not only in Germany.

I see historic failures on both sides.

The self-righteous Left and Green, who indulge in their moral superiority, completely overlook how they devalue and exclude others.

Meanwhile, sympathisers of the Right, convinced they’re “facing reality”, fail to see how their tendency for simple solutions is being exploited, which means they are lied to and used.

Talking to one another, genuinely listening, being open to argument and respecting each other would be a new way forward into the future.

Anonymity – An Accelerant for Hatred and Indifference

Andy Kuhn’s call for direct conversation, beyond the anonymity of social media, is fundamental, as it is often this very anonymity that unleashes inhibitions.

On social media, where people can give free rein to their most appalling and repulsive instincts under the cover of anonymity, you can see what lurks in many minds and souls.

But it’s not only hateful messages that people spew out from behind a veil of anonymity. Increasingly, we also see seemingly harmless displays of everyday inconsideration. Indifference hides well in anonymity.

Every car driver can be identified by their number plate if they behave recklessly or like a road bully. This is not the same for cyclists and e-scooter riders. They hardly need to fear being held accountable.

Is that why their behaviour in traffic is often so reckless and inconsiderate that an elderly lady like me no longer dares to cycle on the road?

What were those who parked the e-scooter thinking? – Nothing at all!

E-scooters and fancy cargo bikes are frequently parked in a way that forces pedestrians to take dangerous detours over roadways and cycle paths. The culprits remain untraceable. A bicycle or e-scooter has no number plate!

Cyclists motivated by climate protection are not necessarily motivated by the protection of human beings.

And even nature lovers who go hiking in the mountains are increasingly abusing the anonymity of winter shelters by leaving rubbish behind, burning furniture, or deliberately vandalising property, according to the Alpine Club,

Mindfulness, it seems, is swiftly followed by indifference – even a certain moral decay.

(Current note: In June 2025, the German Chancellor Friedrich Merz claimed to be grateful for Israel’s attack on Iran – a violation of international law. Israel, he said, was “doing the dirty work” for us, by which he presumably meant the Western states, including Germany. That a chancellor dares to speak and possibly even think like this! This statement would be worthy of a mafia boss. And all this happens in a society where large parts strive for mindful language!)

In five, ten, or fifteen years, we will see where this Zeitgeist has led society.(TA)

Note on Terminology: The use of specific terms in this context is necessary because the discussion revolves around language. Naturally – and this is clearly expressed in the text – no offence is intended, and it has never occurred to me to describe people in such a way.

Literature Reference

Andy Kuhn: “Das wird man doch noch sagen dürfen. Ein Buch über die Achtsamkeit der Sprache.” (Surely you are still allowed to say that! A Book About Mindfulness in Language) First Edition 2025) Those wishing to obtain the book may contact: andy_kuhn@gmx.net)

In nine chapters, the author systematically examines problematic terms for various ethnic groups, explains the historical development of outdated and offensive labels, and offers alternatives.

It is an honest, non-dogmatic book about wokeness, and a shining example of openness and tolerance, especially when the author reflects on his own unsatisfying attempts at gender-inclusive language.

I was also genuinely impressed by his personal account of wrestling with the issue of “cultural appropriation” concerning his hairstyle – dreadlocks, which he now simply refers to as “locks” as a result of his research.

He devotes an entire chapter to the topic, explaining that matted locks are particularly associated with the Rastafarian movement in Jamaica, where this hairstyle is a profound expression of reverence for God. As such, it is not really appropriate for a European to adopt this external feature of a belief and culture, risking distortion and stripping it of its original meaning.

Had his research revealed that matted locks existed exclusively in that culture, he would have cut his hair – a highly consistent stance.

I won’t spoil the conclusion, but I will say this much: he still wears his locks, and for good reason.

This in-depth discussion also clarifies for readers what cultural appropriation is and why it is problematic.

The contents of this book may serve as the beginning of interesting – even controversial – conversations, which seems to be something Andy Kuhn cares deeply about.

“Let’s talk to one another about mindfulness – without prejudice or pre-conception.” That’s how I would summarise his message. (TA)