On the evening of October 7, 2025, the city of Nuremberg, Germany, became a microcosm of Europe’s shifting attitudes toward the Israel-Hamas conflict. In front of the iconic St. Lorenz church, roughly 150 people gathered on a chilly autumn night to commemorate the second anniversary of the October 7, 2023 massacre, when Hamas terrorists launched a brutal attack in Israel. The event, organized by the German-Israeli society and two local Jewish congregations, was intended as a solemn vigil—a “Mahnwache”—for the victims, but it quickly became a stage for the continent’s deepening divisions and growing indifference.
The pro-Israel crowd was, by all accounts, modest in both size and spirit. Most participants were elderly, hailing from local Jewish communities and Evangelical congregations. A handful of young, far-left activists—those few who haven’t, as the article from ALL ISRAEL NEWS put it, “given in to most of the Left’s hatred of Israel”—rounded out the group. Their presence, marked by Israeli flags and posters of hostages, was quiet, almost timid. The mood was reflective, with the air thick with memory and loss.
Yet, as is so often the case in contemporary Europe, the event did not go unchallenged. On the other side of the square, a counter-demonstration began with just a few voices but quickly swelled. The group, described as young, loud, mostly male, and overwhelmingly Arab—including recent immigrants and asylum seekers—grew in number and volume. They waved Palestinian flags, chanted “Free Palestine,” and accused Israel and its supporters of heinous crimes. The slogans escalated: “murderers of women,” “murderers of children,” “blood, blood on your hands,” and finally, accusations that the German government was complicit in “genocide” in Gaza.
According to ALL ISRAEL NEWS, the counter-protesters’ chants easily drowned out the pro-Israel vigil, despite the police’s efforts to push them farther away. The demographic contrast was striking: on one side, elderly Germans and a few left-wing activists; on the other, energetic young men, many of whom had left cities in the Middle East behind. The symbolism of this confrontation, set against Nuremberg’s medieval church, was not lost on observers. One elderly Palestinian man, apparently a recent immigrant, stood out among the counter-protesters, but most were part of a new wave of migration reshaping Germany’s social fabric.
The scene was further complicated by the reactions—or rather, the lack thereof—of ordinary passersby. Most people, the article notes, tried to ignore the demonstration entirely. Some shot confused glances at the Israeli flags; others muttered disapproving remarks about “Apartheid” before moving on. The overwhelming response was indifference, with many more concerned about their daily routines than the geopolitical drama unfolding in their midst. Even the local vegetable vendor, whose stall was caught in the demonstration’s crossfire, seemed more preoccupied with selling sauerkraut than with choosing a side.
This apathy, according to the reporting, is emblematic of a broader European trend. While anti-Israel sentiment is certainly present—fueled by organized political parties, student groups, and NGOs—it is not, the article argues, a mass movement. Instead, most Europeans simply do not care deeply about the conflict. Their sympathies, if any, are vague and shaped by left-leaning media narratives that cast the Palestinians as the “weaker side.” For the majority, life’s more immediate concerns—such as the ongoing war in Ukraine, job insecurity, and inflation—take precedence.
The events in Nuremberg were not unique. Across Germany, similar vigils and memorials took place on October 7, 2025. In Berlin, the Brandenburg Gate was illuminated in Israeli colors, a powerful gesture of solidarity. In Mannheim and Frankfurt, crowds at commemorative events reached into the high hundreds. Yet, even in these larger gatherings, the core demographic remained the same: aging members of Jewish and Evangelical communities, a smattering of left-wing activists, and a general sense of loneliness in the face of indifference.
In Berlin, the authorities banned a planned anti-Israel demonstration, a move that led to violent clashes between police and hundreds of demonstrators. The tension was palpable, but again, the majority of the population watched from a distance, if they watched at all. The article from ALL ISRAEL NEWS suggests that this disengagement leaves the public arena open to those with the strongest feelings—often, those consumed by hatred of Israel and Jews. These groups, primarily young, Arab and Muslim men, as well as elements of the radical left and right, are filling the vacuum left by a disengaged mainstream.
The pro-Israel factions in Europe, meanwhile, are shrinking. The article notes that they are “small parts of the population,” mostly belonging to Jewish, Evangelical, or splinter left-wing groups. These communities are literally dying out, as their core members age and pass on. Occasionally, old-school Christian Democrats join in support, but they too are aging. For Israelis and Jews, these dwindling pockets of solidarity are precious, but they are increasingly isolated.
German political leaders, for their part, issued the expected statements on October 7, 2025. They condemned the massacre in Israel with “perfectly nice, often surely heartfelt, words,” but these sentiments were quickly overshadowed by policy decisions: another arms embargo on Israel, expressions of “concern,” and calls for restraint. These moves, the article argues, are designed to placate the loudest voices on the street, rather than to reflect the will of the broader public.
All of this raises uncomfortable questions about the future of solidarity with Israel in Europe. As the continent’s demographics shift and its attention turns inward, the space for meaningful engagement with the Israel-Hamas conflict appears to be shrinking. The streets, once arenas for robust debate and activism, are increasingly ceded to those with the most extreme views—while the majority looks away.
The events in Nuremberg, with their small, aging crowd and boisterous counter-demonstration, may be a glimpse of what’s to come. As the memory of October 7 fades from the headlines, the forces of indifference and hostility threaten to shape Europe’s response to one of the world’s most enduring conflicts. For now, the voices of solidarity are still there, but they are growing quieter—and lonelier—by the day.
