Another New Year, Same Nightmare: Germany’s Women Betrayed by Failed Policies

Paul Riverbank, 1/2/2026Cologne’s New Year’s Eve revives urgent debate about women’s safety, migration, and government accountability.

She carried with her a digital audience, hundreds of thousands strong, tuned in from living rooms and phones, ready for reassurance. For a while, all seemed ordinary. Her laughter punctuated the sound of distant firecrackers. But then, a jolt — caught not just by her, but streamed live to countless watchers. Something struck her head. She winced, startled, and struggled to make sense of it on camera. Not long after, it happened again, only now it was a firecracker hurled her way. “If I were as tall as a bouncer, maybe they wouldn’t,” Kunshikitty remarked, the words landing with unmistakable frustration.

She later spoke of her intention to file a complaint. It was, she pointed out, hardly the first time women felt exposed or targeted on these streets, especially when moving among groups described as largely foreign-origin men. Her viewers noticed too. The incident — brief as it was — cut straight to an old wound.

Memories here are rarely clear-cut, though. Cologne’s New Year’s Eve has been marked by violence before — seared into the city’s, and indeed Germany’s, collective memory back in 2015, when mass sexual assaults and robberies swept across major cities. Thousands of women endured assaults that night, facing crowds police struggled to control. For weeks afterward, public anger swelled, setting off political shockwaves that still ripple today. People demanded answers: about policing, about migration policy, about just who was being protected — and at what cost.

And yet, concrete justice proved elusive. Only 39 convictions ever arose from those 2015 attacks — just two on sexual assault charges. For a nation that prides itself on process and accountability, the gap between public outrage and actual outcome gnawed at faith in institutions.

There’s no clear agreement about the roots of such violence. Rafael Behr, a police researcher based in Hamburg, contends ethnicity is beside the point; from his vantage, the threat grows from a kind of displaced masculinity, not an “Arab or North African factor.” Others, including activist collectives like the Women’s Heroines, call that too generous, too abstract. Their stance is plain: the state has failed to keep women safe, and the blame lies with botched integration and migration policies. They’ve demanded stiffer penalties — including the stripping away of citizenship for offenders — and have criticized any group perceived to downplay or excuse recurring violence. The language is pointed, verging on dire: “If the government doesn’t protect women, it forfeits its legitimacy.”

Not that violence on New Year’s Eve was restricted to Cologne — or women alone. Across Germany this year, dozens of attacks targeted emergency crews and police. In the Netherlands, Utrecht’s officers described the night as “massively and almost continuously” threatening. The collateral toll: an elderly German woman, lost to a rooftop fire, and two teenagers, fatally injured by homemade explosives. None of it easily dismissed as random bad luck.

Predictably, social media’s echo chamber spun the Kunshikitty incident in all directions. Some minimized the episode, arguing the 2015 attacks were far graver; others insisted that such thinking overlooks the steady drip of fear women carry each time they cross a dark square alone. Notably, Kunshikitty herself discouraged her fans from fixating on the attack, snubbing the idea that her moment should serve as a political parable. Yet the incident, streamed in real time, revived every unresolved argument. And for many, it felt like a page turning back rather than forward.

Ten years on, the hard questions are still on the table. Have things changed since 2015, or have lessons simply faded with time and political convenience? Police strategies have been overhauled in some places, but skepticism lingers — especially after official reports suggested authorities downplayed the initial assaults. Meanwhile, calls for honest reckoning — about migration, public security, and women’s rights — only sharpen as the years pass.

There’s no neat wrap to this. Every New Year’s Eve, reminders surface about who feels safe, who doesn’t, and what that says about the promises made by government and society. Whether this pattern breaks or simply blurs into routine, only time — and perhaps a franker, more courageous public dialogue — will tell.

A cold glimmer set over Cologne as the first fireworks of New Year’s Eve shot skyward, crisp and bright against the cathedral’s silhouette. On the bustling streets, a familiar anxiety flickered — one that’s haunted the city every December 31st for a decade now. Among those weaving through the crowds this year: a German Twitch streamer, Kunshikitty, unmistakable in neon pink, hoping to broadcast a new narrative about safety for women in public spaces.She carried with her a digital audience, hundreds of thousands strong, tuned in from living rooms and phones, ready for reassurance. For a while, all seemed ordinary. Her laughter punctuated the sound of distant firecrackers. But then, a jolt — caught not just by her, but streamed live to countless watchers. Something struck her head. She winced, startled, and struggled to make sense of it on camera. Not long after, it happened again, only now it was a firecracker hurled her way. “If I were as tall as a bouncer, maybe they wouldn’t,” Kunshikitty remarked, the words landing with unmistakable frustration.She later spoke of her intention to file a complaint. It was, she pointed out, hardly the first time women felt exposed or targeted on these streets, especially when moving among groups described as largely foreign-origin men. Her viewers noticed too. The incident — brief as it was — cut straight to an old wound.Memories here are rarely clear-cut, though. Cologne’s New Year’s Eve has been marked by violence before — seared into the city’s, and indeed Germany’s, collective memory back in 2015, when mass sexual assaults and robberies swept across major cities. Thousands of women endured assaults that night, facing crowds police struggled to control. For weeks afterward, public anger swelled, setting off political shockwaves that still ripple today. People demanded answers: about policing, about migration policy, about just who was being protected — and at what cost.And yet, concrete justice proved elusive. Only 39 convictions ever arose from those 2015 attacks — just two on sexual assault charges. For a nation that prides itself on process and accountability, the gap between public outrage and actual outcome gnawed at faith in institutions.There’s no clear agreement about the roots of such violence. Rafael Behr, a police researcher based in Hamburg, contends ethnicity is beside the point; from his vantage, the threat grows from a kind of displaced masculinity, not an “Arab or North African factor.” Others, including activist collectives like the Women’s Heroines, call that too generous, too abstract. Their stance is plain: the state has failed to keep women safe, and the blame lies with botched integration and migration policies. They’ve demanded stiffer penalties — including the stripping away of citizenship for offenders — and have criticized any group perceived to downplay or excuse recurring violence. The language is pointed, verging on dire: “If the government doesn’t protect women, it forfeits its legitimacy.”Not that violence on New Year’s Eve was restricted to Cologne — or women alone. Across Germany this year, dozens of attacks targeted emergency crews and police. In the Netherlands, Utrecht’s officers described the night as “massively and almost continuously” threatening. The collateral toll: an elderly German woman, lost to a rooftop fire, and two teenagers, fatally injured by homemade explosives. None of it easily dismissed as random bad luck.Predictably, social media’s echo chamber spun the Kunshikitty incident in all directions. Some minimized the episode, arguing the 2015 attacks were far graver; others insisted that such thinking overlooks the steady drip of fear women carry each time they cross a dark square alone. Notably, Kunshikitty herself discouraged her fans from fixating on the attack, snubbing the idea that her moment should serve as a political parable. Yet the incident, streamed in real time, revived every unresolved argument. And for many, it felt like a page turning back rather than forward.Ten years on, the hard questions are still on the table. Have things changed since 2015, or have lessons simply faded with time and political convenience? Police strategies have been overhauled in some places, but skepticism lingers — especially after official reports suggested authorities downplayed the initial assaults. Meanwhile, calls for honest reckoning — about migration, public security, and women’s rights — only sharpen as the years pass.There’s no neat wrap to this. Every New Year’s Eve, reminders surface about who feels safe, who doesn’t, and what that says about the promises made by government and society. Whether this pattern breaks or simply blurs into routine, only time — and perhaps a franker, more courageous public dialogue — will tell.