Two days after Monday's deadly terrorist attack at the Christmas market in Berlin, the signs of destruction were still visible around the market compound. Cranes were removing cement blocks, which had arrived too little, too late; police tape still cordoned off the area; and extraordinarily large contingents of police and military forces were making their presence felt. Inside, however, like wrestlers refusing to give up, giant Christmas trees still stood, the thousands of lights that decorate them darkened. Wednesday was officially the first day of winter, and for the locals, who are used to harsh winters, this is normally the perfect time to go Christmas shopping. Berlin's typically gray buildings are festively attired, and the streets bustle with visitors, locals and tourists alike, who have been awaiting the Christmas markets. They are easy prey for anyone planning a murderous attack. This week, the market at Breitscheidplatz, under the shadow of the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church, turned into a mass-casualty terrorist zone. Amid the mayhem and devastation, pastoral wooden cabins still stood on both sides of the wide street, lining the pathway intended for visitors who will no longer be coming. Next to the booths where food and alcohol were sold, produce remained packed in boxes. Flower wreaths laid down by locals, memorial candles that froze in the chilly night air, and large forces of armed police in uniform -- all bore witness to what took place here. A few curious onlookers insisted on coming to see the place, but the German public's interest in this terrorist attack is unprecedented. For the past year, this type of attack has been the nightmare scenario for German security agencies, and it was the prophecy of doom many had warned against. The terrorist was identified by authorities Thursday as Anis Amri, 24, of Tunisian origin. He shot and stabbed a truck driver to death, and then drove his truck straight into the crowd of revelers, leaving in his wake a trail of destruction, death and fear. Amri was shot and killed Friday morning in a suburb of Milan, Italy, after police officers asked to see his identification papers. He opened fire, wounding two officers before he was shot dead by one of them. The media has awoken- Seventy-two hours after the attack, Berliners -- and perhaps all Germans -- understood that their reality had changed. With the official death toll at 12, and another 14 critically wounded, this tragedy also has a somber Israeli angle: Three days after the attack, the body of Dalia Elyakim of Herzliya was identified. Her husband, Rami, was severely wounded, underwent two surgeries, and as of Thursday was in stable condition. Amri had been roaming free since the attack, armed and dangerous, and Islamic State's claim of responsibility only enhanced the sense of anxiety on the German street. The Berlin attack was the third large terrorist attack in Germany over the past year, and Islamic State has claimed responsibility for each one. Five people were wounded by an ax-wielding terrorist in the city of Wurzburg; 15 were wounded in a suicide attack outside a music festival in the city of Ansbach. The German thought process had begun changing even before the Berlin attack. This trend has been reflected in public opinion polls and in recently held regional elections, which showed a significant rise in support for right-wing parties, even those considered extremist. Even after the circumstances of Monday night's attack became clear, the German media did not rush to declare the incident an act of terrorism. Chancellor Angela Merkel spoke cautiously as well, saying it was "apparently a terrorist attack, although it is not completely certain yet." It was a moment many Berliners asked themselves: Is Germany aware of its situation- But the large number of casualties, the fact that the attack was the manifestation of precise warnings, the symbolic place and time, and the pressure applied by right-wing political elements all did their part. The change in German thinking was quickly evident in the local newspaper headlines, which normally apply a cautious, conservative approach. "Catastrophe in Berlin," read the headline in Der Spiegel. "Will we have to get used to life under the threat of terror-" asked Bild. Just before the start of the new year, reality has knocked on the front door of the strongest country in Europe. More than ever, it appears the perception of the situation is changing and that Germany is being forced to acclimate itself to the new reality of living with this threat. Sasha Hazenkin, an Israeli immigrant from the former Soviet Union and current manager of the private security firm Matkal, which provides security and training for local institutions in Germany, doubts German security forces are prepared to fight terror or to be on constant, long-term high alert. According to Hazenkin, "A year ago there was already talk in Berlin of terror warnings in those same exact markets, and then, too, it was around Christmas time and New Year's Eve. Even then they said a change had to be made regarding security arrangements." Hazenkin said that a year ago, "the attack hadn't ripened yet, maybe because terrorist elements were concerned their access routes into the continent would be blocked, and they wanted to bring in as many refugees and infiltrators as possible. But this year, too, I went to the Christmas market and barely saw a police presence there, and even if they had been there, those policemen wouldn't have had the training to prevent an attack like that." Germany, he stressed, is far from changing its perception about the threat of terrorism. "I speak with a lot of security personnel and police officers, and the situation for them hasn't changed a bit -- not as far as training the officers to think that terror is already here. Instead of preparing the right way, they try denying the option exists," he said. "As a citizen it is maybe possible to notice the security changes at the airport, or the central train station, where reinforcements can be seen -- but these places are always busy and have always required heavy security." Blame, Hazenkin said, can also be pinned on the German mentality. "Increased police presence, roadblocks and inspections -- seeing these things is not accepted here. It makes Germans anxious to see an armed policeman. The result of this culture, however, is being exposed to dangers," he said. He warned that Germany's Jewish communities are also exposed. "In many cases, the Jewish communities in Germany don't have the financial resources to fund round-the-clock security. Even in cases where there is a German police presence, there isn't always coordination between the police and the private personnel on the tactical level," he said. Still not Brussels Hazenkin's assessments were echoed by Eliezer Noy, director of the German Jewish communities' Morasha ("Heritage") program, who said the Berlin attack is a benchmark as far as Germany's Jewish communities and institutions are concerned, after which a new way of thinking is required. "The Jewish community takes the matter of its members' personal security very seriously and tries preparing routinely in the best way possible at kindergartens, synagogues and schools, which are naturally under threat," Noy said. "In light of the new situation there is more pressure regarding security, and preparations are already underway to deploy in a smarter manner, which it's best not to go into detail about." Noy also pointed a finger of concern at the German security agencies. "The new perception of threats is sinking in very slowly, maybe too slow," he said. "It's too long a process, almost a year and a half, at the end of which the establishment is just starting to grasp the reality. At the beginning there was repression." With that, even after the terrible ramming attack, Berlin is still not a dangerous place for Jews, he said: "In most neighborhoods in Berlin, you can even walk around with a kippah on your head, also in ultra-Orthodox attire. In Brussels or France, where I often travel for work, I wouldn't dare it. I feel more comfortable in Gaza in an IDF uniform than in Brussels with a kippah. In Berlin there isn't that type of unease in the vast majority of the city." The threat of Islamist terror, however, is not the only danger on the public agenda in Berlin, where, as in all of Europe, there has been a sharp rise in support for violent, extreme right-wing groups. One such example can be seen in a list recently published online on behalf of a far-right group named "Jews Under Us," which shows a map of Berlin set against a bright red backdrop showing businesses, restaurants, synagogues and preschools affiliated with the Jewish community or with a large Jewish patronage. The Facebook page operated by local neo-Nazis, where the list originally appeared, has since been closed, but similar lists are occasionally published on social media sites and include tacit calls for acts of violence inspired by Nazi ideology. Thus, less than two weeks ago, a cafe and bookstore in the Berlin borough of Neukolln were attacked by an extremist group that calls itself "The Free Forces of Neukolln." Many Israelis live in the borough, and there are a considerable number of Israeli-owned businesses that have opened in recent years. The Topics bookstore, adjacent to the cafe that was attacked, is owned by Doron Hamburger. "The assumption is that right-wing organizations are behind the attacks," Hamburger said, noting that was "less concerned because my business is still not identified as a Jewish store, and we didn't show up on the famous 'Jews Under Us' list, which marked the Jewish businesses in the city. I am not making any special preparations, but if something happens and turns all the tables for me and from the perspective of my businesses -- I won't be surprised." Under Merkel's leadership, Germany has managed to tiptoe between the raindrops of the massive refugee crisis washing over Europe, but there is no guarantee that the terrorist attacks won't persist. The attack this week intensified, and will certainly continue to intensify, the dialogue taking place in Germany, which is also reverberating across Europe and beyond about the immediate danger of terrorism posed by the wave of refugees. Merkel was quick to admit she may have gone too far, and hardened the country's immigration policies. It's possible, however, that this awakening is too late. The results of the regional elections, along with the polls, indicate a shift in public opinion and a significant decrease in the number of people who support taking in a large number of refugees. One of these asylum seekers is M., a young woman who fled Syria about a year and a half ago, who asked to remain anonymous. Despite the lack of stability across the continent, she said Germany was still a safe place. "Here, in Kreuzberg, I feel much more comfortable than I felt in Syria. There it was 10 times worse, and with all due sadness and empathy, it was still scarier than what's happening in Berlin," she said.
According to M., life in Germany with a temporary visa, with only a Syrian passport in her possession, is complicated: "I hope the people in Berlin will be open enough to receive us. But in any case, I don't see myself going back to Syria. Maybe for a short visit. Germany is my home, and it's good for me to stay here."
