A home destroyed in Kibbutz Nir Oz in southern Israel during Hamas’s Oct. 7 terrorist attack that is featured in the film Kibbutz Nir Oz by “Uvda.” Photo: Screenshot

At a time when Israel is increasingly isolated, there is a story that is not being told loudly enough. It is not trending, because it does not come with hashtags or curated images of gala dinners.

But it matters.

There are ordinary Germans, who are traveling to Israel not to merely speak about solidarity — but to live it through action, labor, and presence. And perhaps the most important detail is this: most of them are not even Jewish.

This is what allyship looks like when it moves beyond identity, and becomes responsibility. And coming from Germany, it is never just present-day solidarity; it is always read through the lens of history.

I recently had the privilege of speaking with Petra Hemming, an inspiring woman from my region in Germany. What struck me most about our conversation was not only her personal commitment, but what she represents: a small but growing number of people who are choosing action over words.

After October 7, 2023, Petra and a small network of people supporting Israel, began organizing volunteer groups to support Kibbutz Nir Oz, one of the communities brutally devastated in the Hamas attacks. Since then, she has traveled repeatedly with groups of volunteers — most recently returning from her seventh trip.

What these volunteers do is simple, and precisely because of that, profoundly powerful.

They buy a ticket.
They join the group.
And they work.

There is no performance here.

They are not there to build a following, virtue signal, or turn solidarity into visibility. They are not attending conferences or curated events. They are in the fields.

They repair irrigation systems. They work in kitchens. They clear land, plant, carry, and rebuild — often in temperatures that exceed 30°C (86°F) by early morning.

It is hard, physical labor.

And they do it because, as Petra told me, “it is simply the right thing to do.”

Who are these people? They are a mixed group, who all care about helping those in need. The youngest volunteer to join was 16; the oldest was over 70. They come from all walks of life. They are students, professionals, and retirees.

“In my experience,” Petra said, “eight out of ten come purely out of solidarity.”

They understand that what happened on October 7 was not only an attack on a country, but a rupture in the sense of security and dignity that underpins democratic societies more broadly.

In an age of performative activism, where solidarity is often measured in visibility, Petra and her volunteers represent something different. They remind us that real solidarity is not what is said, but what is done, especially when no one is watching.

Their courage is quiet but unmistakable: it is found in showing up when it is difficult, and staying when it is uncomfortable.

They also represent something else, something especially significant in the German context.

For decades, Germany’s relationship with Israel has been framed in political, historical, and institutional terms. And rightly so.

But what Petra embodies is something more personal: a lived sense of responsibility that is not imposed from above, but chosen from within.

She spoke to me about her motivation to help out. She spoke to me about growing up with a deep awareness of Israel’s goodness, about witnessing antisemitism re-emerge openly in German society today, and about her refusal to remain passive in the face of it.

“I cannot just sit at home and do nothing,” she said.

For Petra and the other volunteers, this is not only about Israel. It is also about Germany.

The visible return of antisemitism in German society, and the conviction that ignoring it is not neutrality but a threat to the democratic values they believe their children and grandchildren must inherit, has shaped their continued engagement. Together with Jewish communities and organizations across the state of North Rhine-Westphalia, Petra and her team continue to organize demonstrations and awareness efforts, insisting that silence is not an option.

What the Kibbutz Nir Oz Support Group demonstrates is that there is another Germany, and another kind of Israel advocacy. It does not announce itself loudly, seek recognition, or measure commitment in visibility or applause, but instead understands that real solidarity is expressed through presence, labor, and responsibility.

These are the kinds of stories that deserve far more space in mainstream media — not attention-driven gestures like Flotilla activism, but sustained rebuilding by ordinary people who simply show up.

Paushali Lass is an Indian-German intercultural and geopolitical consultant, who focuses on building bridges between Israel, India, and Germany.