Freedom of the press is under severe threat in Germany – one case in particular is setting off alarm bells. At the same time, this case represents a human tragedy.
Hüseyin Dogru, a German-Turkish journalist living in Berlin, has only 506 euros at his disposal each month. And that is only because the Deutsche Bundesbank, which is responsible for enforcing financial sanctions, has generously allowed him to use this amount for so-called “basic needs.” To put this in context: In Germany, the social assistance rate for an unemployed person is considered the recognized subsistence level: 563 euros in basic income plus rent—so Dogru lives far below that. Now he even faces the threat of homelessness. He and his family: his wife and three children.
On May 20, 2025, the Council of the European Union announced that Dogru had been added to the anti-Russian sanctions list effective immediately. This effectively barred him from working. Dogru’s accounts were frozen, and he was prohibited from reporting—anyone offering him assistance would be liable to prosecution. The daily newspaper Junge Welt wanted to offer Dogru a job shortly after the sanctions were announced, but doing so would have violated EU sanctions and could have resulted in severe penalties. For this reason, an employment relationship was not established.
Collective Punishment
In an act of preemptive obedience, the bank account of his wife—who was heavily pregnant at the time—was also frozen. The German authorities, however, always refer to “seizing” accounts. That sounds less severe. However, they quickly changed their minds and unfroze the account—until a few days ago, when the German customs authority, which reports to German Vice Chancellor and Minister of Economics Lars Klingbeil, a Social Democrat, seized the wife’s account once again.
Reason for the renewed account freeze: “As spouses, it is generally assumed that a close relationship exists. That this relationship actually exists is particularly evident from the fact that the two live together and have three children in common.” Four years ago, when he was not yet in a position of government responsibility, Klingbeil called for Germany to finally play a role in the world again after 80 years. Eighty years ago, however, the Nazi regime still played a role—Klingbeil now has at his disposal a tool that was particularly popular back then: collective punishment, the punishment of a delinquent along with his entire family.
The evidence remains scant—if not nonexistent. At the urging of the German government, the Council of the European Union sanctioned Dogru solely because his reporting on his platform Red placed a strong emphasis on pro-Palestinian actions in Germany. His offense, as the EU succinctly states: Through his journalistic work, he allegedly stoked “ethnic, political, and religious discord” and supported “Russia’s destabilizing activities.” If such an approach prevails—and it clearly is doing so right now—then that would effectively be a free pass for political leaders to stifle any form of troublesome reporting.
Punishment Without Evidence
There is still no concrete evidence—such as his work being funded by Russian channels or the Kremlin itself—not even circumstantial evidence. Nevertheless, Dogru is now facing the full brunt of the punishment—to such an extent that one must speak of a human tragedy. The Dogru family is on the brink of homelessness; he also told the Berliner Zeitung that he can no longer provide for his children. If they become homeless, German authorities would likely take the children into custody—and this in a country where the practices of the GDR authorities regarding child removal are often rightly treated as a scandal.
The Berliner Zeitung is one of the few daily newspapers covering this case. Aside from Junge Welt, a socialist daily, virtually no mainstream media outlets are reporting on the matter—while Der Spiegel did report last year on the sanctions imposed on Dogru and others, the magazine shows no interest in how the sanctioned individuals are faring today. However, some larger alternative media outlets, such as NachDenkSeiten or Overton Magazin, have taken up the case and report on it regularly.
Dogru and his family—like all others sanctioned on European soil—are being removed from social life. Anyone who has contact with him is, in a sense, under general suspicion of providing support: This is made possible by the law passed in Germany on January 15, 2026, regarding the adaptation of criminal offenses and sanctions for violations of the European Union’s restrictive measures, which implements EU Directive 2024/1226. Any financial contribution from third parties is considered a “provision of economic resources” and is subject to criminal prosecution. Even treating someone to lunch is considered support.
Even A Murderer is Treated in Accordance with the Rule of Law
Dogru recently filed an urgent motion with the Frankfurt am Main Local Court. The journalist had hoped for a ruling in his favor so that his bank would resume processing his transfers. However, the court dismissed the motion, ruling that Dogru had no right to have his account reactivated or to have his bank process transactions on his behalf. The bank is acting lawfully under the updated Foreign Trade Act. Even drastic consequences would not justify deviating from EU sanctions law. Dogru must also bear the costs of the proceedings. How is he supposed to pay them, how is he supposed to transfer the funds?
Criminalizing potential supporters and donors is something that is almost inconceivable within the framework of the rule of law—a principle to which the EU and its member states like to claim adherence. Even if there were evidence of Dogru’s business ties to Russia—which there isn’t; the justifications are far-fetched—a state governed by the rule of law would respond appropriately and not allow those affected to be reduced to poverty. Every murderer in Germany is treated better and in a more constitutional manner than Hüseyin Dogru and his family. Another person sanctioned is the Brussels-based former Swiss colonel Jacques Baud—he used to appear frequently in many alternative media outlets and offered his expertise on the war in Ukraine. On December 15, 2025, he, too, ended up on the sanctions list. The charge: pro-Russian propaganda. Baud is generally a very composed man—the author knows him personally—but recently, on a panel, he wept with emotion because some audience members brought him food. How this form of social exclusion can wear a person down: you could see it in Baud’s face. The Baud case would be worth a separate discussion, but it goes beyond the scope of this article. Baud is stuck in Brussels; he is banned from traveling, as is Hüseyin Dogru, for that matter.
One has to go back a long way to find such a punitive practice. A little over two centuries ago, the so-called Reichsacht, also known as the Reichsbann, still existed. This was a form of excommunication that could be pronounced by the king or the emperor against individuals and cities. This ban constituted a so-called declaration of being without peace and rights. This meant that the secular head of state could designate discredited individuals as subjects without rights—with all the consequences that entailed. Who fell into disfavor was, of course, decided by the ruler himself, since a separation of powers in the modern sense was not yet known.
The Return of Imperial Excommunication
Once pronounced, imperial excommunication applied throughout the Holy Roman Empire. With the end of the Empire in 1806, this form of excommunication ceased to exist. Even before that, however, rulers had ceased to make use of this measure, although it would still have been possible in practice. Since the early 16th century, it was no longer within the emperor’s power to pronounce such an excommunication without a prior review through a legal proceeding. After the Thirty Years’ War, imperial excommunication was replaced by so-called imperial decrees, which were no longer subject to the sovereign’s sole will. The modern states that emerged in the course of the 19th century no longer recognized such an outlawing. Courts now determined a sentence that had to be proportionate and could not completely exclude the citizen—at least in theory, for the history of the rule of law is, like so much in a complex world, a history full of misunderstandings.
Imperial outlawry had serious legal and social consequences for those who were outlawed. Once imposed, they lost all legal protection within the territory of the Holy Roman Empire: they were consequently considered outlaws and could be injured, robbed, or even killed with impunity. They were no longer able to file lawsuits. Their property could be confiscated or destroyed, all existing contracts were null and void—and no one was allowed to provide them with shelter, food, or assistance. Anyone who did so was liable to prosecution. One was not permitted to have any business dealings whatsoever with an outlaw. Supporters were often punished—it was possible to be outlawed oneself for helping an outlaw. In many other cases, however, such assistance was tolerated rather generously.
Freedom of the press is thus in grave danger in Germany. And this threat is set against the backdrop of a personal and family tragedy. Anyone willing to help has their hands tied—that is particularly diabolical. The courts see EU law as having been upheld. So what can be done? The European Union and its member states, above all the Federal Republic of Germany, like to boast about their human dimension. They claim it is the very foundation of Europe’s “shared values,” which distinguish the continent from the autocracies of this world. But to cut off a man—a husband and father—from all resources in this way, to leave him facing nothingness, homelessness, perhaps even the loss of his family—one can only pray that at least that does not happen—to ostracize and stigmatize him, to turn him into a leper: This shows just how rotten this Europe, which is burning Ukraine in the war, has become. This last sentence alone is a source of great concern to the author, who also lives in Germany. For who knows, perhaps they will soon silence him as well and accept his social death.
