Poverty goes viral

Autumn 2025: around Hamburg Central Train Station, people are walking along the streets, shopping, and standing together in groups. In the middle of it all, an excited young man in a black raincoat and sunglasses is filming himself. He is traveling with a companion whom he introduces as “Bodyguard Fred”. He describes the area in English. He says that it’s “rough”; all the “bad stuff” goes on here.

After a tour via Steindamm and Hansaplatz, he makes his way to the drug consumption space Drob Inn. He films the service users outside the building, speaks disparagingly about them, and does not lower his camera even when some ask him to turn it off. Finally, it comes to a calculated escalation: some service users who do not want to be filmed become aggressive and confront the YouTuber and his companion. They flee. The “bodyguard” sprays pepper spray in the faces of several men.

For Kurt Caz, as the man in the sunglasses is called, it was a successful day. He has sensational images for his YouTube channel. The video, “Attacked by ZOMBIES in Hamburg!” accrues more than three million views after four months.

Incidents like this are familiar at the Drob Inn. About once per month, people appear outside the building and film, says facility manager Lisa Duvinage. “Years ago, we were already repeatedly encountering small interview scenarios that were published on YouTube,” she says. “By now, things are clearly moving in a right-wing direction in some ways, where people are being dehumanised. It starts with the choice of words used to describe them.” Just like with Kurt Caz.

The South African once made a name for himself as a travel influencer; today he travels the world to document the alleged decline of Western liberal societies. He has made similar videos to the one from Hamburg in Frankfurt’s Bahnhofsviertel district, in Spain, and in British cities. Everywhere, he points the camera at people who repeatedly make it clear that they do not want to be filmed. And with his videos about people in precarious living situations, he is just one of many.

Anyone searching on platforms like YouTube or TikTok will find countless videos of homeless, drunk, or mentally ill people. Their faces are almost always recognisable, and their sleeping or living locations are often shown.

The type of recordings varies. There are shaky clips in which those filming mock drug users. In others, people experiencing homelessness are given a “makeover” including a visit to the hairdresser and a suit from H&M, or intimate interviews are conducted with mentally ill people – sometimes for small sums of money. In others, people surviving by begging are asked in street interviews what they do for a living and how much money they earn. It’s not just the interviewer who grins at the answers. The people who watch these videos also make fun of them in the comment sections.

Benjamin Schuler makes videos in the latter category. He often travels to Hamburg for his interviews. He stands in places like Altona or Mönckebergstraße and randomly approaches passersby with the same questions – including drunk people, mentally ill people, or people who do not speak German and obviously do not understand his questions. Schuler has also filmed some vendors of the street paper Hinz&Kunzt, such as Achim, whom he questioned in detail about his unemployment benefit and how long he has been receiving assistance.

Viewers rile each other up in the TikTok comment section. “If I had any say in the matter, he would get nothing,” someone wrote. “Halve unemployment benefits and Germany will be back on the upswing,” someone else said.

When Achim saw the video and the comments months later, the 63-year-old still remembered the situation that caught him off guard. “I just walked past. I didn’t really want to be filmed – but by then I was already in the middle of it,” he says. But he refuses to let either the video or the comments spoil his mood. “It’s not worth getting upset about something like that,” he says, shrugging his shoulders.

Oliver Zöllner knows that the fact that many those filmed do not get upset – or do not have the means to take action against the videos – is deliberately exploited by the filmmakers. The professor of media research has been studying digital ethics for years. “Homeless or poor people in public spaces are an easy target because they are visible and often cannot defend themselves,” he says. “Furthermore, every viewer can relate to it because they have seen something like this in their own city before. This personal level works exceptionally well on social media.”

Meanwhile, he adds, the legal situation is perfectly clear – and not only regarding the fundamental right to one’s own image. “People under the influence of drugs or alcohol and mentally impaired people are under special protection in our legal system. They have limited capacity to give consent, or none at all,” says Zöllner.

With the Digital Services Act, the European Union has also required platforms since 2024 to implement simple reporting procedures and to delete illegal content that is reported. Neither Kurt Caz nor Benjamin Schuler responded to Hinz&Kunzt’s inquiries on the topic by the time of publication. A YouTube spokesperson wrote: “We have strict guidelines that define what is not allowed on YouTube. If we find content that violates these guidelines, we take action.”

Of five videos that Hinz&Kunzt submitted to YouTube for review – including the video by Kurt Caz and an intimate interview with a mentally ill drug user – the company had only removed one by the time of publication: an interview by Benjamin Schuler with someone begging who did not speak German and did not understand the questions.

YouTube added that if anyone finds videos or comments that violate their privacy or sense of security, they can file a complaint online. TikTok also pointed to its strict guidelines, saying that users are also encouraged to report inappropriate content. However, the criteria used to delete posts on the platforms are hardly transparent to outsiders. The video, which was blocked by YouTube, is still available on TikTok at the time of publication, despite a request for review. On the other hand, TikTok has deleted a clip from Kurt Caz's video in front of the Drob Inn, which is still available on YouTube.

Inquiries were made to the Hamburg Social Welfare Authority: can it exert influence? “Since these are private legal positions, the Free and Hanseatic City of Hamburg generally has only limited options for taking action against any potential legal violations,” a spokesperson wrote. As a rule, those affected would have to enforce their own claims for deletion or injunction.

The Hamburg Data Protection Commissioner takes a similar view. When asked about the video in front of the Drob Inn, a spokesperson wrote: “In the scenario depicted, filming people who clearly indicate that they do not consent to it is, in our view, impermissible.” However, those affected would have to report the violation to the platform themselves – or take direct action against the creators.

Lisa Duvinage from the Drob Inn knows that this rarely happens. Although she says that the drug assistance facility offers legal advice, but many of the visitors are in poor health and lack the resources to deal with deleting videos. “That’s why I find it all the more reprehensible that someone would single out such a target group and point a camera at them,” she says.

The case worker is therefore trying to intervene earlier. The team has posted a notice in the facility explaining the videos and what happens to the recordings. If the team sees people with cameras in front of the Drob Inn, they approach them. “We try to raise awareness that while this is a public place, it is also a special one – and sometimes we call the police.” But beyond such measures, her hands are tied: “We can’t ban filming.”

The issue is also present in other cities, such as Essen. After the local railway mission repeatedly had to deal with similar incidents, staff members developed a campaign: “My face belongs to me” appears in large letters on flyers and stickers. The potential consequences of online videos are also explained. People experiencing homelessness can stick the stickers on their backpacks or sleeping bags. “If they are filmed against their will, it is clearly visible that they object. This also presents an opportunity for action,” explains an employee.

Media ethicist Oliver Zöllner thinks that this makes sense. “Education is the first step,” he says. “Such stickers, and above all, reaching out and talking to those affected are the right way forward.”

The researcher also hopes that reporting on people experiencing homelessness and addiction will fundamentally change – and not just with regard to sometimes dubious influencers. “You have to treat these people the way you would treat others, incorporate their perspective into the reporting, and take them seriously. Many journalists also have difficulties with this because they have so little contact with these population groups. That’s also part of the problem.”