Never Again
Coming Soon…
The connection between the Jewish people's experience during the Holocaust and the plight of the Myanmar people living under a brutal military regime today holds haunting parallels for Patrick Hoffmann. A Board member of German Solidarity Myanmar, Hoffmann grew up in Berlin in the early 1990s on the stories of his father’s traumatic childhood living under Nazi Germany during World War II. His father's family, Jewish by heritage, lived a semi-hidden existence, enduring relentless air raids and bombings—a grim reality strikingly similar to what Myanmar's civilians face today under the regime. The tragic loss of his grandmother in one of the war's final Soviet air raids, along with his father's account of meeting his great-grandparents—who survived the Theresienstadt ghetto/concentration camp as, he describes, “shells of their former selves”—created in him a visceral understanding of fragility, resilience, and the devastating impact of atrocity.
Like many Jewish families under Nazi rule, Hoffmann’s relatives endured persecution, fear, and immense personal loss. His grandfather, a non-Jewish German lawyer deemed Aryan by the regime, used his status to bribe officials and forge documents in a desperate attempt to shield his Jewish wife and children. These actions reveal the harrowing moral choices some were forced to make to protect their loved ones in the face of genocidal violence. Though just a child, his father's vivid memories of constant displacement, being shipped through 15 different towns and villages, and prolonged separation from his parents can mirror the daily experiences of Myanmar’s civilian population, and the arbitrary and brutal nature of conflict.
Inheriting this legacy, Hoffmann feels his past inspires a deep empathy for victims of genocide and cultivates a strong sense of responsibility as a German to prevent future atrocities. He finds this historical duty particularly important in contemporary Germany, where he observes younger generations' diminishing connection to World War II and its crucial lessons. For Patrick, this erosion of memory risks complacency.
This conviction isn't just an abstract idea; it directly animates his activism. The powerful “never again” ethos transcends a mere historical slogan for him; it's a living force. He understands that the very terminology of genocide and crimes against humanity, largely coined by Jewish jurists after WWII, reinforces his belief that, for the German people, “we, more than any other people, should stand for preventing genocide anywhere.” This deeply personal and historical conviction inspires his consistent advocacy for Myanmar.
Hoffmann’s understanding of democracy's fragility in Germany under Hitler further links him to Myanmar's struggle today. He has observed the embattled democracy there struggling to survive military oppression, seeing firsthand how the Burmese people see the need to fight in order to preserve it. Myanmar's ongoing plight, coupled with the global resurgence of authoritarianism and the rise of far-right parties even in Germany, demonstrates to him that democracy is indeed under threat worldwide, a reminder of our collective vulnerability.
Hoffmann’s early engagement with Myanmar began in 2012, long before the coup, when he volunteered for a think tank affiliated with the National League for Democracy. This initial exposure, fresh out of high school and university, allowed him to learn about Aung San Suu Kyi, an icon and role model at the time. Working with activists, many of whom were veterans of the Saffron Revolution, provided an invaluable, if humbling, learning experience. He admits to carrying an “unhealthy dose of white saviourism” initially, but quickly realized that, at best, foreign actors could only play an “enabling, supporting role,” and that “the real protagonists were not just the famous figures like Aung San Suu Kyi, but really all of these young activists.”
His early assumptions about democratic models, rooted in Western political theory and the German model of federalism, were quickly challenged by these activists. He found that Myanmar activists were more interested in the Asian developmental states such as South Korea and Taiwan, prompting him to expand his understanding beyond a Eurocentric framework. Soon, he came to believe that democracy is not merely about elections occurring every few years, but about the full empowerment and participation of everybody through continuous political processes. He also saw the need for political education and mechanisms that genuinely enable everyone's participation.
In 2015, Hoffmann returned to Myanmar to intern with the Yangon Heritage Trust (YHT), where he worked on monitoring, evaluation, and exploring sustainable models for heritage preservation. He was drawn to the organization’s ambitious but pragmatic vision of transforming Yangon into one of Southeast Asia’s most livable cities—one that celebrated its cultural identity through the preservation of colonial architecture and inclusive urban planning. Unlike the concrete jungles of many other regional capitals, Yangon still felt cohesive, and YHT’s efforts gave him hope that thoughtful, locally grounded development was possible. Hoffmann saw this work as a valuable early example of civil society pushing for progress within a constrained political environment—a vision that, for a moment, felt within reach.
This evolving understanding took on a new life following the 2021 coup. It began with the immediate shock and personal distress of being unable to contact friends in Myanmar in the hours after the internet blackout solidified his commitment. He soon became involved with German Solidarity Myanmar, recognizing the absence of a dedicated lobby for the Myanmar democracy movement in Germany. The organization rapidly transitioned from spontaneous protests to a structured political advocacy group. Their work involves annual briefings for German decision-makers, lobbying for increased development aid, and highlighting the unacceptable legitimization of the junta. While some progress has been made in discrediting the junta, Hoffmann laments the lack of tangible support for the National Unity Government (NUG) and other resistance actors. He believes the fight for democracy in Myanmar is not an isolated event but deeply connected to the global struggle against rising authoritarianism.
Hoffmann’s work with German Solidarity Myanmar is illustrative of a flexible and adaptive approach to foreign aid and activism. He recognizes that traditional lobbying efforts are difficult for a mostly volunteer-led organization. To gain traction with German policymakers, he suggests framing Myanmar's crisis within broader global trends that resonate with Germany's strategic interests. He highlights Myanmar's frontline position in the Indo-Pacific, crucial for counterbalancing China and strengthening democracy in the region. He also connects Myanmar to global climate politics, noting its vulnerability to climate change and the threat to its biodiversity under the junta. Furthermore, he emphasizes shared concerns about global transnational crime and the regulation of social media, aiming to demonstrate to decision-makers that “they actually can't afford to ignore Myanmar.” While this resonates to a degree, he acknowledges the need for consistent, full-time capacity to translate this resonance into concrete policy shifts.
At the same time, the organization faces a constant tension between political advocacy and acute humanitarian needs. Hoffmann admits, “Should we just be focused on fundraising because the humanitarian needs are so acute? Or advocacy?” He describes how their humanitarian fundraising work in the wake of the recent earthquake temporarily paused their political work to address the immediate urgency of those vulnerable populations. However, his vision for the future balances both: a small core team dedicated to political work, supplemented by support for the growing Myanmar community in Germany. This includes assisting refugees and exiles with integration and political education, with the dream of taking activists into German schools to convey the message that “democracy is worth fighting for. We cannot take it for granted!”
To meet these ends, he speaks of leveraging “the capacity and resources that we have in the German nonprofit sector to support real needs on the ground.” Hoffmann acknowledges the immense emotional and psychological toll of feeling that there’s always so much left to do that is not being done, but he finds solace in the acceptance that they can’t do everything, emphasizing the need and potential for a larger ecosystem of organizations in the European Union to share the work for greater impact.
Effective advocacy and sustained solidarity hinge on compelling narrative building and genuine inclusivity. He observes that narratives surrounding Myanmar's struggle often center on the “spontaneous uprising of the spring revolution or a far-flung long-term vision of a federal democratic state.” What's often missing, he argues, is the “in-between; what are the stepping stones?” In addition, he notes there needs to be a clear articulation to international policymakers that the liberated areas away from SAC control are much larger than many would commonly assume. He emphasizes the need for more nuanced storytelling about the resistance's achievements and the urgent need for humanitarian support channeled directly through civil society, not just large UN agencies.
Beyond policy, Hoffmann advocates for the power of art as a tool for narrative building. He recounts organizing a successful exhibition of 17 Myanmar artists in exile in Berlin, showcasing everything from installations to performance art. Many of those who attended had a strong reaction, with some moved to tears, indicating for Hoffmann how art offers “a much more approachable and human portrayal of people fighting for democracy on the ground.” This artistic expression can add more subtly and humility to the heroic resistance narrative, inspiring a deeper, more human connection with audiences. He views Berlin as a vital hub for diverse artists in exile, creating potential for new forms of international solidarity across diverse political art movements.
This focus on inclusive narratives aligns with a significant shift Hoffmann has observed within Myanmar's democracy movement itself. He starkly contrasts his experiences in 2012, when, despite discussions on federalism and ethnic inclusion, “you could sense how the debate shifted, and it was about Rohingya, and even though some of your counterparts were political prisoners for decades and steeped in political science and theory framework of democracy and human rights, it was quite scary to hear them talk about Rohingya, because then the mood and attitude shifted, and that was sort of an early warning sign of things that were to come later.” Today, however, he sees “a greater solidarity, and a more genuine vision for a more inclusive system that can incorporate different stakeholders in an equitable way,” something he sees as essential for the movement's long-term success.
Hoffman’s dedication to this cause stems from not just his family’s story but a deep personal connection to his friends in Myanmar and the resilience of the movement. He views his own efforts as a small contribution compared to the immense sacrifices made by activists. “I think the toll of doing dedicated work even as we grow older is so small compared to that of so many brave Myanmar activists,” he reflects. “I can support the cause even though indirectly and in a small part, but I can choose not to confront myself with the full reality of what’s going on in the ground. That’s a choice that Myanmar people by and large don’t have and so that’s how I carry on doing the work I do.” He's acutely aware that this particular movement, in contrast to other global struggles currently being waged, stands out in that the resistance has a real chance to upseat their dicatators. “To be on the verge of success, it’s this amazing thing! I mean, this is a democratic revolution with practically no concrete foreign support and to still have come this far, and to be this close to dismantling a system of oppression that has lasted 50-60 years? We cannot give up now.”