For years, Palestine activists in Germany have looked to Britain with a sense of astonishment. The state that promised Palestine to Zionist settler colonialism in the 1917 Balfour Declaration is scarcely less pro-Israel than the Federal Republic of Germany, with its so-called Staatsr\u00e4son (\u2018reason of state\u2018) that proclaims unconditional solidarity with Israel \u2013 albeit without ever having been codified into law. And yet, solidarity in Britain appears \u2013 at least from this vantage point \u2013 to be more vibrant, broader, and above all more effective.<\/p>\n
This perception is partly shaped by the mass demonstrations that repeatedly brought hundreds of thousands of people to the streets of London between October 2023 and October 2025. In Germany, by contrast \u2013 despite its many large cities but lack of true megacities \u2013 numerous decentralized actions have taken place every week since the start of the Gaza genocide. However, truly large demonstrations breaking the 50,000 or even 100,000 mark did not occur until last summer.<\/p>\n
A model: \u2018Palestine Action\u2019<\/b><\/p>\n
For many, this positive view of the British Palestine solidarity movement has also been decisively shaped by the group Palestine Action (PA), which succeeded in combining \u2018direct action with media work and political struggle, including legal battles in court. Quite a few activists in Germany felt \u2013 and continue to feel \u2013 that the time had come to strike directly at the infrastructure of the genocide industry here as well.<\/p>\n
That moment arrived only this fall. On September 8, five activists entered a factory belonging to the Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems in the southern German city of Ulm. They filmed themselves, unmasked, damaging equipment and holding documents up to the camera. They then allowed themselves to be arrested without resistance.<\/p>\n
READ:\u00a0UN experts urge UK to protect lives of pro-Palestine hunger strikers<\/a><\/strong><\/p>\n \u2018Terrorists\u2018 there, \u2018criminals\u2018 here<\/b><\/p>\n While in Britain thousands have taken to the streets since PA was designated a \u2018terrorist organisation this summer \u2013 despite the risk of long prison sentences \u2013 the situation surrounding the so-called \u2018Ulm Five\u2018<\/a> has so far remained strikingly quiet. The reasons are obvious: the group had no years-long history of actions through which to establish itself; the Palestine solidarity movement in Germany remains highly fragmented; even many activists only marginally noticed the action. Finally, the repression faced by the \u2018Ulm Five\u2019 \u2013 at least so far \u2013 has not reached the same extreme levels seen in Britain.<\/p>\n Unlike their British counterparts, the German authorities don\u2019t accuse the activists of belonging to a \u2018terrorist organisation\u00a0 a charge made possible by Section 129a of the Criminal Code, introduced in 1976. Instead, they are accused of forming a \u2018criminal organisation\u2018 under Section 129, which carries a potential sentence of up to five years in prison. This alleged offense would be added to the charges of property damage already leveled against them.<\/p>\n Section 129, originally intended to combat organized crime, is increasingly being deployed against political groups. Most recently, it has been used against young climate activists<\/a> and militant anti-fascists<\/a>. In practice, this amounts to a kind of \u2018light\u2018 version of a terrorist designation \u2013 while simultaneously denying the political nature of the accused and treating them as ordinary criminals.<\/p>\n Harassment and struggle behind bars<\/b><\/p>\n