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Berlin's pixelated Justitia statue sparks fight against digital sexual violence

A bold new statue near the Bundestag exposes the raw reality of digital abuse. Activists and politicians unite to demand justice for survivors—and accountability from tech giants.

The image shows a poster with the words "scic/women justice" written in bold black lettering...
The image shows a poster with the words "scic/women justice" written in bold black lettering against a white background. The poster is framed in a black border, emphasizing the importance of the message. The text is centered in the middle of the poster, conveying a sense of solidarity and strength.

Berlin's pixelated Justitia statue sparks fight against digital sexual violence

A Detour to Justice: The Fight Against Image-Based Sexual Violence

Anyone hoping to witness the unveiling of Justitia this Thursday will have to navigate a maze of roadblocks. A parallel pro-Iran demonstration has sealed off direct access, forcing the statue's location to be moved. To reach it, you must circle the entire Bundestag building before finally finding it on the far side of the Marshall Bridge.

Here, on the roadside with the Reichstag in view, the organization HateAid is set to hand over its petition, "Our Nude Images Are None of Your Business," to policymakers—accompanied by a striking statue of Justitia. The figure is lead-white, armed with a sword at her belt and her right arm raised, scales in hand. Everything appears as expected—until you notice the large, flesh-colored pixels obscuring her chest and groin. The arduous journey to this spot mirrors the far greater ordeal faced by countless women: image-based sexual violence, a lifelong gauntlet of humiliation rather than a mere detour.

Activist Kristina Lunz pulls no punches in her speech: "AI is making this mainstream, and the rule of law is standing by." She shares her own harrowing experience with online harassment, recounting how her abuser evaded justice simply by deregistering his residence in Germany. Lunz demands a national strategy to combat this "male violence." The crowd—predominantly women—erupts in applause. Most of the men present are photographers or journalists. Every cheer is female.

The Business of Humiliation

Josephine Ballon, HateAid's managing director, underscores the urgency with stark figures: over 50,000 signatures on the petition. Today, all it takes is a LinkedIn profile picture or a dating app photo to generate hyper-realistic videos—videos of women in lingerie, fully nude, posed explicitly, or engaged in fabricated sexual acts.

"The apps that make this possible are freely available, for free, in app stores and online," Ballon adds. The problem is systemic: an entire ecosystem of apps and search engines profits from violence—violence overwhelmingly directed at women. And the victims aren't just celebrities like Collien Fernandes. "Maybe it's an ex-partner seeking revenge, a scorned coworker, or an online acquaintance furious over a rejected date."

Last year alone, HateAid counseled 300 survivors in this area. In Germany, creating such deepfakes isn't even a crime. Yet a survey commissioned by the organization reveals a striking consensus: 89% of the public opposes platforms profiting from this content.

"Justice Is Fragile"

High-profile women, including activist Theresia Crone and TV host Ruth Moschner, are also in attendance to show their support. Crone briefly shares her own experience before stepping back into the crowd.

Three Bundestag members—Armand Zorn (SPD), Till Steffen (Greens), and Clara Bünger (The Left)—each accept the petition alongside a miniature version of the pixelated Justitia. One by one, they pledge before cameras and microphones to treat it as a call to action.

As Steffen takes the statue, one of its scales breaks off. Ballon presses it into his hand and laughs toward the crowd: "Justice is fragile."

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