They tried to ban this camp. They tried to silence us. They tried to criminalize our resistance. They told us our presence, our voices, our refusal to accept militarism are dangerous.
But what is truly dangerous?
Weapons factories that supply wars across the globe.
Politicians who wrap themselves in nationalism and fundamentalism.
Governments that profit from death while calling it security.
But here we are.
And our presence here — our bodies, our voices, our refusal to be erased — is proof that when we rise when we resist together.
For almost two years, Gaza has been bombed, starved, and erased.
Tens of thousands of lives have already been taken. Civilians, who want only to live, are erased in seconds by weapons built in factories like those of Rheinmetall. Therefore, German government is not an innocent bystander in this genocidal war. It is complicit with the bombs sent so far, knowing where they would land.
Just days ago, another hospital was reduced to rubble — patients, doctors, families seeking shelter killed in a place that should have been safe. Journalists who risk their lives to show the world what is happening are being deliberately targeted and murdered. To kill those who tell the truth is to try to kill truth itself. And yet here in Germany, the government and most of the mainstream media remain silent. No outrage, no breaking news, no accountability. Only silence. Silence that makes them complicit too.
At the same time, occupation looms further. Settlements expand. They are planning to occupy Gaza City
permanently. And beneath that silence, deep underground, there are still hostages. Held in tunnels and tortured by Hamas. Cut off from the world. Used as bargaining chips.
Germany, which never stops proclaiming itself a voice for peace and human rights, even as it ships weapons, signs export contracts, and counts the profits while people bleed.Let’s speak plainly: there is no neutrality when you are making money o of war. Every bomb that falls on Gaza, every bullet in a refugee camp, every tank rolling across occupied land — Germany’s hands are in it. Rheinmetall’s hands are in it. This country’s political class is in it.
Among all these destruction, we also see courage and hope. There is a growing number of people in Israel who refuse to serve in the military. Conscientious objectors who say “no” to the occupation, “no” to war, “no” to killing in their name. Their numbers are increasing, despite repression, despite punishment. Protesters are blocking roads, joining strikes, demanding an end to the killing and su ering in Gaza, and calling for the hostages to come home alive. These voices show us that resistance to war exists everywhere — even at the heart of militarism.
And we must not forget the voices of courage inside Gaza itself — people who, despite unimaginable risk, dare to protest not only against the bombs raining from the sky but also against Hamas’s authoritarian rule. They demand freedom from all forms of oppression: from occupation, from siege, from patriarchy, from militarism, from religious fundamentalism.
These protests remind us: war is not inevitable. Occupation is not inevitable. Militarism is not inevitable. These are choices. Political choices. Profitable choices. And every choice can be undone.
And our struggle is not far away — it is here, too. Militarism lives in our everyday lives. In the police who repress protest. In the surveillance of migrants. In the glorification of the Bundeswehr at schools and job fairs. In the billions spent on weapons while hospitals and kindergartens here in Germany crumble. If we want to fight war, we must also fight the militarization of our own society. As feminists we say: war is patriarchal violence madeglobal. The same logic that tells women to stay silent tells nations to obey militarism. As anti-nationalists we say: no flag is worth a child’s life. As antimilitarists we say: no army, no weapon, no Rheinmetall contract can ever bring safety. And as anti-fundamentalists we say: neither religious nor nationalist extremism will liberate anyone — they only reproduce oppression and death.
Therefore, we need to speak clearly about all realities: the atrocities in Gaza and the West Bank — and the hostages still held. We know that some avoid mentioning the hostages because they fear sounding like Netanyahu, who instrumentalizes their su ering. And some avoid mentioning the genocide in Gaza because they fear sounding like Hamas, who instrumentalizes the su ering of Gazans. But let us be clear: these are not “opinions.” One can agree or disagree with opinions. But the killing of civilians in Gaza is a fact. The displacement and repression in the West Bank is a fact. The ongoing captivity of hostages is a fact. Facts demand recognition — and justice — no matter who tries to twist them for their own power.
We must break the binaries. We must speak in the language of radical empathy. The kind that demands justice, not silence. The kind that holds grief without turning it into hate. We must cultivate spaces for dialogue, not as a performance of civility, but as a practice of accountability. We must reject the narratives that justify oppression, whether it be through state power, military force, or ideological dogma. We must stand against the systems that perpetuate su ering—against settlements, against siege, against collective punishment, against terror in all forms.
This is not a call for neutrality; it is a call for moral clarity. A call for those who truly believe in peace to recognize that peace requires justice. A call to refuse the language of dehumanization, to resist propaganda that erases complexity, and to insist on seeing the full, irreducible humanity of Palestinians and Israelis.
We stand here with demands.
A permanent ceasefire.
The release of all hostages.
An end to occupation and the expansion of settlements.
An end to Germany’s complicity in militarism — from Rheinmetall to every single profiteer in the death economy.
An investment in life, in care, in liberation — instead of bombs and borders.
And we stand here with a promise.
A promise that this camp — this space of resistance, of solidarity, of queer joy and rage — will not be silenced.
A promise that we will keep building connections, from Köln to Tel Aviv to Gaza, until those in power understand that we will not back down.
A promise that we will dismantle every system that profits from death, every border built on blood, every machine of war — until all of us can live.
Our voices are stronger than their bans. Our solidarity is stronger than their weapons. And our will for peace is stronger than their endless war.