Anlässlich der Kranzniederlegung durch Bundestagsvizepräsident Bodo Ramelow zum Gedenken an die Opfer des rassistischen Brandanschlags 1996 in Lübeck bleibt die Forderung nach einer umfassenden juristischen Aufklärung der Tat weiterhin aktuell. 30 Jahre nach dem Anschlag darf die Erinnerung nicht ohne Konsequenzen bleiben.
Am 18. Januar 1996 starben beim Brandanschlag auf eine Unterkunft für Geflüchtete in der Lübecker Hafenstraße zehn Menschen, 38 weitere wurden verletzt. Bis heute ist die Tat juristisch nicht aufgeklärt.
Die Kranzniederlegung durch Bundestagsvizepräsident Bodo Ramelow am 16.09.2026 ist ein wichtiges Zeichen des Erinnerns. Doch Gedenken allein reicht nicht. Wer der Opfer gedenkt, muss sich auch der Frage nach Aufklärung und Verantwortung stellen.
Jana Schneider von der Initiative Hafenstraße 96 fordert: „Es braucht endlich eine ernsthafte Neubewertung der bisherigen Ermittlungen. Der Staat darf sich nicht mit dem ehrenamtlich organisierten Gedenken an die Opfer zufriedengeben, während zeitgleich die strafrechtliche Verantwortung für die Tat ungeklärt bleibt. Wir fordern deshalb, die Möglichkeiten einer Übernahme der Ermittlungen durch den Generalbundesanwalt zu prüfen“
Mit dem Brandanschlag von Lübeck endete das Leid nicht. Für Überlebende, Angehörige und weitere Betroffene wirken die Folgen der Tat bis heute fort. Dies zeigt sich eindrucksvoll in einem Brief, den die Überlebende Kate Davidson anlässlich der Kranzniederlegung formuliert hat:
„We survived the fire, but we did not walk away from it.
A part of us remains there.
Every day, we wake up with the consequences.
Every day, we are reminded of what happened.
Every day, our bodies remind us.
Every day, our minds remind us.
Every day, our families remind us.
This is a lifelong sentence for us, the survivors.“
Die fehlende juristische Aufarbeitung der Tat und die damit einhergehende Straflosigkeit für die Täter machen wütend. Madó Dreher, Berater*in bei ZEBRA, erklärt dazu: „Wir sehen in unserer Beratungsarbeit von Betroffenen rechter, rassistischer und antisemitischer Gewalt immer wieder, dass eine fehlende oder unzureichende juristische Aufklärung eine Verarbeitung verhindert. Dass wir heute, 30 Jahre nach dem rassistischen Brandanschlag, überhaupt über diese Missstände sprechen, ist der Erinnerungsarbeit der Initiative Hafenstraße 96 zu verdanken“.
Der Brandanschlag von Lübeck darf nicht auf eine Gedenkveranstaltung und eine Kranzniederlegung reduziert werden. Die Opfer brauchen nicht nur Erinnerung, sondern ganz konkrete Anerkennung in Form von Strafverfolgung, Entschädigung und Unterstützungsleistungen. Eine demokratische Gesellschaft braucht die Gewissheit, dass rassistische Gewalt konsequent aufgeklärt und verfolgt wird.
Für Rückfragen zu dieser Pressemitteilung wenden Sie sich bitte an:
Felix Fischer (ZEBRA e.V.) 0176 559 41 481 oder fischer@zebraev.de
Die Pressemitteilung stellt keine Meinungsäußerung des BMBFSFJ bzw. des BAFzA sowie des Ministeriums für Inneres, Kommunales, Wohnen und Sport des Landes Schleswig-Holstein und des Landesdemokratiezentrums dar. Für inhaltliche Aussagen trägt der oder die Autor*in bzw. tragen die Autor*innen die Verantwortung.
ZEBRA wird von dem Bundesprogramm „Demokratie Leben!“ und dem Landesprogramm zur Demokratieförderung und Rechtsextremismusbekämpfung über das Landesdemokratiezentrum beim Landespräventionsrat Schleswig-Holstein gefördert.
„To Herr Jan Lindenau and Herr Bodo Ramelow, Vice President of the German Bundestag
Subject: Hafenstraße 52 – We survived the fire, but we have never escaped its consequences
Dear Herr Lindenau,
Dear Herr Ramelow,
I am writing this letter because I need you to understand what the fire at Hafenstraße 52 has truly meant for those of us who survived it.
For many people, the fire may be something that happened years ago. Perhaps it is now a chapter in a report, a case file, or a memory from the past.
For me, it is not the past.
I still live with it every single day.
I still have flashbacks of the fire. I remember the fear, the chaos, the pain and everything that happened. There are memories that I would give anything to be able to forget, but I cannot. They come back to me, sometimes when I least expect them.
The trauma has never left me.
I was in a coma for three days. My leg was shattered. My body was broken, and in many ways, the life I knew was broken with it.
I did not choose any of this.
None of us did.
We did not choose the fire. We did not choose to be injured. We did not choose to wake up with our lives changed forever. We did not choose the pain, the fear, the nightmares, the medication or the dependence on other people.
And yet we have had to live with all of it.
What hurts even more is that, apart from Herr Bouteiller, the Fluechtlingsforum, the organisation ZEBRA and other charity organisations nobody cared about us or helped us in the way we needed.
Another painful part is that Herr Bouteiller lost is position because he cared about
what happened to us.
When our lives had been destroyed, where was the help?
When we were frightened and suffering, where was the support?
When we needed someone to stand beside us, who was there?
We were left to carry something that was far too heavy for any person to carry alone. Even today, I still need help with ordinary things that most people take for granted. I need help with cleaning. I need help with shopping. I cannot stand for a long time. I live with pain every day. I have to take a lot of medication every day just to manage my life.
These things may sound like small inconveniences to someone who has never experienced them.
They are not.
When you lose the ability to do simple things independently, you lose pieces of your freedom. You lose pieces of the life you once had.
And my children have felt the consequences too.
I could never run with them.
I could never run after them.
There are memories that a parent should be able to make with their children — running together, playing, chasing them, being physically present without thinking about pain or what your body can no longer do.
Those moments were taken from me.
My children did not cause the fire, but they had to live with its consequences too.
That is one of the hardest things for me to accept.
The fire did not only injure our bodies. It changed our families. It changed our futures. It changed who we are.
People sometimes speak about survivors as though surviving means that everything is okay.
But surviving is not the same as living.
We survived the fire, but we did not walk away from it.
A part of us remains there.
Every day, we wake up with the consequences.
Every day, we are reminded of what happened.
Every day, our bodies remind us.
Every day, our minds remind us.
Every day, our families remind us.
This is a lifelong sentence for us, the survivors.
And this is what I struggle to understand most.
The people who did this were able to carry on with their lives.
They could continue.
They could make plans.
They could wake up each morning and live without carrying the physical and psychological consequences that we carry.
We could never do that.
Our lives stopped being what they were supposed to be.
We were forced onto a different path — one of pain, trauma, medication, limitations and dependence.
So I have to ask you, from the deepest place in my heart:
Where is the justice in this?
Where is the justice for the person who wakes up every morning in pain?
Where is the justice for the survivor who still has flashbacks years later?
Where is the justice for the person who cannot stand for long, who needs help with
shopping and cleaning, who cannot live independently in the way they once could?
Where is the justice for the parent who could not run after their own children?
Where is the justice for the families who had to watch someone they love suffer?
And where is the justice for survivors who were left feeling as though nobody cared?
We cannot undo what happened at Hafenstraße 52.
No amount of words can give me back the life I had before the fire.
No apology can give me back the years I lost.
No compensation can completely repair the damage to my body or erase the memories from my mind.
But recognition matters.
Being heard matters.
Justice matters.
We need those in positions of responsibility to understand that this tragedy did not end when the flames went out. For us, it continues every day.
I am asking you not to look at us simply as victims of something that happened in
the past.
Look at us as human beings who are still suffering because of what happened.
Please do not forget us.
Please do not allow the passage of time to make our suffering less important.
We did not choose this.
We did not ask for this life.
We simply survived what happened to us — and then we were expected to carry on.
But how do you carry on when your body is permanently damaged?
How do you carry on when your mind is still trapped in the moment of the fire?
How do you carry on when ordinary things have become difficult?
How do you carry on when you watch your children grow up knowing there were
things you could never do with them?
We survived, but we have been paying the price ever since.
I am asking you to hear our voices.
I am asking you to acknowledge our suffering.
I am asking you to remember the survivors.
And, above all, I am asking you to answer the question that has remained with me for all these years:
Where is the justice for us?
Yours sincerely,
Kate Davidson“