Ülkümen-Sarfati Society Turkish-Jewish Society

Turkish-Jewish friendship association · founded in 2004 in Cologne

Two Names That Stand for a Long Shared History

We are an association of Jewish people and people of Turkish heritage in Germany. Our work draws on a relationship much older than the Federal Republic: on Jewish life in the Ottoman Empire, on a consulate on Rhodes in the summer of 1944, and on neighborhoods that exist today in Cologne, Berlin and Hanover.

Rhodes · July 1944

Selahattin Ülkümen

The Turkish consul general issued passports that nobody was really entitled to and thereby pulled around forty people out of a transport to Auschwitz. His wife Mihrinissa did not survive the consequences.

Edirne · 15th century

Yitzhak Sarfati

The chief rabbi of the Ottoman capital wrote to the persecuted communities of Central Europe and invited them to come to an empire where Jews were allowed to build synagogues and trade.

About Us

An Association That Brings Two Minorities in Germany Together

The Ülkümen-Sarfati Society was founded in Cologne in 2004 by German Jews and Germans of Turkish heritage. The occasion was both mundane and important: two large minorities had lived in the same neighborhoods for decades, sent their children to the same schools and still hardly talked to each other. What each knew about the other came from the newspapers, and it was rarely flattering. We wanted to turn that into something practical, not Sunday speeches. Since November 2023 we have been a member association of the Turkish Community in Germany, which makes our work easier to connect with in many places. Anyone who sees us at an event soon notices that this is not two institutions negotiating but people who know each other.

Our starting point is historical, but our mission is in the present. The Turkish-Jewish relationship has chapters that hardly anyone knows: Sephardic communities in Salonica, Izmir and Istanbul, Ladino as an everyday language for centuries, rabbis who advised Ottoman sultans. There are dark chapters too, and we do not skip them, such as the 1942 wealth tax known as Varlık Vergisi or the Istanbul pogrom of 1955. The two belong together, and we tell both. Remembrance that keeps only the pleasant parts will not survive serious questioning. That is exactly why we work with sources, eyewitness accounts and historians instead of moods.

Day to day, that means we organize discussion evenings, accompany school classes, invite people to memorial hours and answer a great many requests from teachers, journalists and congregations. We are volunteers and so not always fast, but we do answer. If you would like to work with us, write to us. If you would rather read first, start with our two namesakes. After that, the rest of our work makes more sense on its own.

Fields of Work

What We Work On in Practice

Remembrance

We keep the story of the rescue on Rhodes and of the destroyed Sephardic communities present, in memorial hours on January 27, in exhibitions and in contributions to congregation newsletters and school materials.

Dialogue

We bring Jewish congregations, mosque communities, Alevi associations and city initiatives to one table. Not as a symbolic act, but in small circles where disagreement can also be tolerated.

Education

We work with schools, youth centers and teachers on a subject many shy away from: antisemitism in immigrant communities and racism against Muslims, factually and without general suspicion.

Topics on This Site

Where You Can Dig Deeper

Further Reading

Why Germany Needs a Turkish-Jewish Association

Now and then someone asks us what the point of this association is. The answer comes more easily when you look at what happens if nobody keeps the connection alive. Jewish congregations in Germany have faced growing threats for years, and part of the worry is directed at communities with a Muslim background. At the same time, people with Turkish names meet rejection on the housing market, in job applications and in comment sections. Both groups sit in the same city and mostly read headlines about each other. Without places where people meet, it stays that way, and mistrust grows faster than trust.

Our experience after twenty years is rather unspectacular: it works when people do something together, and it works poorly when they only talk about each other. A panel of four officials changes little. A school class that visits a synagogue in the morning and a mosque in the afternoon, and then spends two hours discussing what it saw, changes more. We have learned that the good conversations rarely happen where the cameras are. They happen while setting up chairs, over the meal afterward, on the ride home. That is why we prefer to build our formats small and repeatable rather than big and one-off.

The second point concerns history. When people discuss antisemitism in Germany, they usually talk about German perpetrators, and rightly so. What gets lost is the experience of people whose families come from Anatolia, the Balkans or the Aegean. For them, the Shoah is something that happened to others. This is exactly where the story of Selahattin Ülkümen helps. It shows a Turkish teenager that someone with his name and his language appears in this history, and on the side of those who acted. That is no consolation prize but an approach that opens doors where lecturing only produces resistance.

The same holds in the other direction. Many members of Jewish congregations in Germany come from the former Soviet Union and have little contact with Ottoman Sephardic history. When they hear that a rabbi from Edirne invited the persecuted from German cities in the fifteenth century, things fall into a new order. It does not turn into kitsch, and we do not claim that everything was harmonious. What emerges is a larger frame in which today's conflicts can be discussed differently.

That leaves the uncomfortable question of what happens if this work is not done. Then others take over the interpretation, usually the loudest ones. Then every Middle East conflict immediately becomes a conflict between neighbors in Duisburg or Berlin. Then the phone numbers are missing at the decisive moment, when a synagogue is defaced or a mosque is attacked. Such connections are not built in a crisis, they have to exist beforehand. That is why we carry on, even in years when the mood is difficult and invitations become rarer. You can find more about our formats under Dialogue and Education, and the historical background under Rhodes 1944.

Partners

The sites below deal with subjects beyond our own work and are listed here as further destinations for curious readers.