I Risked My Life to Oppose Extremism. Now Germany Wants to Deport Me.

After fleeing Hamas torture and surviving assaults in Greece, I now face deportation from the country I thought would finally offer me safety

I never thought I’d find myself begging for protection from a country that claims to stand for freedom. Now I find myself in an impossible situation, caught between the violent extremists I fled and the democratic system I believed would protect me.

My name is Hamza Howidy, and I was imprisoned and tortured by Hamas in Gaza for speaking out against their authoritarianism. I was later attacked by Hamas supporters in Greece simply for criticizing their spokesperson in a public video. And now, in Germany—a country I believed would recognize the value of my work and offer protection—I have received a deportation order.

It is difficult to articulate the sense of disorientation that comes with such a decision. I did not arrive in Germany in search of comfort or economic opportunity. I came here because I had exhausted all other options, because I was targeted, displaced, and silenced by the very forces the German government publicly claims to oppose.

In 2023, I fled Gaza after being arrested twice by Hamas for my activism. My crime was not violence or incitement—it was dissent. I participated in public protests against corruption, wrote critically about Hamas’s repression, and spoke openly about how they exploit humanitarian aid and brutalize anyone who deviates from their political line. That was enough to make me a target. I fled, leaving behind my home, my family, my language, and the only life I had ever known. I became a refugee.

I arrived in Greece thinking I was finally safe. I wasn’t.

In the Samos refugee camp, another man from Gaza was angered by a video I had published criticizing Hamas’s spokesman Abu Obaidah. He entered my room and threatened to slit my throat. The video had gained visibility after being reshared by numerous Israeli embassies, and once again, I found myself a marked man among radicalized individuals in the camp. I reported the threat and the man was quietly relocated to another facility. But the underlying danger remained.

Later, in Thessaloniki, the threat materialized physically. I was assaulted by a man who accused me of being a "Zionist collaborator." I escaped the scene with nothing—no resources, no institutional protection, and nowhere to turn. That was the moment I realized I couldn’t stay in Greece. The state couldn’t—or wouldn’t—protect someone like me from the very forces I had fled.

I came to Germany because I believed it was a country that took its values seriously. A place that honored those who stood up to extremism. A society that understands what happens when silence meets authoritarianism. And since my arrival, I have done everything in my capacity to contribute. I have spoken in German schools, universities, and libraries about the dangers of antisemitism, Islamism, and political extremism—dangers I understand not as an academic but as someone who lived through them. I have collaborated with more than ten Jewish and Israeli organizations, including JuFo (the Youth Forum of the German-Israeli Society). I have participated in events held in synagogues and Holocaust remembrance institutions, and I was honored to attend the Holocaust Remembrance Day commemoration at the German Parliament.

This work is not performative. It is personal. I come from a society in which antisemitic ideology is normalized, where children are taught to hate before they are taught to think. I rejected that indoctrination, and I’ve dedicated years to confronting it—publicly and persistently—despite knowing the risks involved.

That is why the deportation order I received is so profoundly disheartening. It suggests that the German state sees only a file number, not a life; a bureaucratic category, not a record of sacrifice and civic contribution. It ignores the very real threat I face if returned to Greece, where pro-Hamas networks remain active and unchecked, and where my presence as a dissident could again place me in danger.

Germany, like much of Europe, often speaks of the need to empower moderate voices from within immigrant communities to support those who reject extremism and advocate for dialogue, accountability, and peaceful coexistence. But what credibility does that promise hold if someone like me, who has paid a heavy personal price for embracing those principles, is deemed expendable?

I am not seeking charity. I am demanding consistency. If Germany truly stands against antisemitism and political radicalization, then the logical response to someone who has dedicated his life to countering both is not deportation—it is protection.

I have never hidden who I am or what I believe. I stood up in Gaza, in Greece, and now in Germany. I have refused to be silent in the face of repression, because I believed that somewhere in the democratic world, that courage would count for something.

Now I’m not so sure.

If you believe that dissidents targeted by authoritarian regimes should be protected—not expelled—please consider signing this petition. Your support could help ensure that my case is reviewed with the seriousness it deserves.

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