For weeks now—it is the end of February 2026—large parts of the world have been in something like a state of constant horror. A new tranche of the “Epstein Files” has been posted online by the US Department of Justice, partially redacted, but still containing an overwhelming amount of material.

Since then, there has been widespread horror. The horror is completely understandable, and I feel the same way. The files are about children being sold, orgies, complete contempt for human life. Representatives of the global elite involved in acts that can't possibly be true.

Nevertheless, it falls short.

On the one hand, I'm glad about the publication, because from now on, no one can say they didn't know anything. When reports by victims were published, such as Fiona Barnett's “Eyes Wide Open,” I still had a small residue of doubt: can this really be true? The Epstein Files, on the other hand, contain email traffic, flight data, and notes. Content of this kind was never intended for publication, so it lacks the intention to orient itself toward the reader, which is always part of the game when writing a future publication. In the language of historical theory: “remnants” (in the sense of unintentional evidence) versus “tradition” (in the sense of interpretive representation).

The fact that the publication by the Department of Justice then imposes its own interpretation in the form of presentation, selection, and redaction is another matter. And, of course, the content of the emails also leaves considerable room for interpretation (from “do they really mean that literally?” to the opposite: “what does this code word stand for?”). Thirdly, there are likely to be considerable amounts of fakes circulating on social media.

The bottom line, however, is that the files—at least those on the Ministry of Justice's website—must be taken absolutely seriously.

As I said, horror is a completely natural reaction to the content of these files, and I feel exactly the same way. In fact, horror is almost too weak a word. These are unimaginable abysses that are opening up.

But on the other hand, this is precisely where the danger lies, especially from a European and German perspective. The danger is that people believe that everything revolves around a single central figure who is, first of all, dead and, secondly, far away.

The horror that is currently preoccupying many people is the horror of what is out there somewhere, not what is all around us. Comments such as “if that happened to my daughter...” imply somewhere in the background that it won't happen to the daughter because she is here and not out there.

Lars Koehne, a shaman whom I greatly admire, posted a hashtag under a related post a few days after the files were released: “nichtmeinstamm” (not my tribe). I definitely don't assume that he meant it that way, but the hashtag can again be misunderstood as too simplistic: I have nothing to do with it, I don't want anything to do with it.

Or those who, for example, commented on an interview with trauma therapist Michaela Huber that was published a few days ago and is well worth listening to, saying that they stopped listening because it was so terrible. Yes, it is. But the terrible things don't go away when you turn away.

And somewhere there is always an “I here” and “the terribly poor victims there.” A distancing. But as long as we remain stuck in horror, we ultimately see those affected just as little as before. What is completely lacking in society is the realization that these victims are among us. They have to be. Because the perpetrators are also among us; it's not just the global elite who are involved. And I have sometimes wondered how many of those who are now commenting with such utter horror are themselves victims without knowing it, because the memory is completely dissociated.

The only ones who really address the extent and significance of this issue are, on the one hand, the survivors themselves who remember (which, as I said, is by no means all of them!) and who have healed enough to be able to raise their voices (which is also likely to be a small minority), as was the case at a demonstration by survivors in Berlin last week. And on the other hand, there are those who, as therapists or healers, are confronted with the issue, repeatedly forced to expand their own frame of reference, their own perception, to include what is actually un-thinkable, un-imaginable.

Of course, it is crucially important to ensure with all means possible that these things do not happen. But at least from my personal perspective, something else is more important. First and foremost, we need people who allow themselves to be touched instead of going on the defensive. Those who hold space for the victims. Those who see them, who believe them, who bear witness to what needs to be told—bearing witness again and again. Those who stand in a circle and hold all that is actually un-holdable. Those who fight for life. Again and again. Those who care for fragmented souls.