The Global Sumud Flotilla Exposed Western Hypocrisy
- Oscar Davies
Judith Scheytt joined the Global Sumud Flotilla to break Israel’s siege on Gaza. In her first interview since her release, she told Jacobin about how the mission succeeded in shaming Western governments for their complicity in genocide.
Vessels from the Global Sumud Flotilla, seized in Israeli military operations, being brought to the port of Ashdod, Israel, on October 2, 2025. (Saeed Qaq / Anadolu via Getty Images)
- Interview by
- Hanno Hauenstein
At eighteen years of age, Judith Scheytt was the youngest activist aboard the Global Sumud Flotilla, which attempted to break the Israeli siege on Gaza. After it was raided by Israeli forces on the night of October 1–2, she was taken to a high-security prison and held for several days before being deported along with other Sumud Flotilla activists.
Now back in Germany, in her first interview since her release she told Jacobin’s Hanno Hauenstein about intimidation in Israeli captivity, German double standards, and why she says that, despite everything, “the flotilla was a success.”
What motivated you to join the Global Sumud Flotilla?
After two years of genocide in Gaza, I simply felt that more had to happen. People demonstrated, posted online, wrote petitions — classic forms of democratic influence. Somehow it was always clear to me that with those sorts of things, you don’t get very far against a genocidal ideology. Just “speaking your mind” isn’t enough. It was also clear that you couldn’t rely on the German government. Trying to break the Israeli-imposed famine in Gaza was, in a way, the most direct thing you could do.
You were the youngest among hundreds of people involved in the flotilla — and one of the few Germans. What role did that play in your eyes?
I think the fact that I’m so young irritated many people. Many of the typical attacks spread by pro-Israel lobby groups simply don’t apply to me. People think, “OK, an eighteen-year-old high school graduate — and she’s supposed to be a terrorist?” Of course, my privilege plays a role: I’m white, and I have a German passport. If I were Palestinian, things would all look very different.
You’re not only an activist — you’re also an incisive critic of the media. How did you personally perceive the German coverage of the flotilla?
In the beginning, there wasn’t much to look at critically in the media because there was hardly any reporting at all. In the international media, it was different. Now when it’s all in the past, requests from major German media outlets are suddenly coming in, which is interesting to observe. When it was still an open question whether Israel’s “Hamas flotilla” narrative would prevail, interest in our cause was quite low. Now that it’s clear Israeli propaganda has not caught on, interest has suddenly picked up.
Did you expect anything different?
It’s a classic case of German media once again failing in its duty to critically question power. They should have examined whether the German government was fulfilling its obligations — that is, to do everything possible to prevent German citizens from being kidnapped by the Israeli military. It completely failed to fulfill that monitoring role. The German media didn’t ask, “Why is the German government allowing Israel to kidnap German citizens in international waters?” or “Why is the German government supporting an illegal blockade?” It just waited until the story could be sold.
Were you surprised that Israel’s “Hamas flotilla” narrative didn’t catch on?
To be honest, in the beginning it worried us quite a bit. Israel’s use of that narrative was a warning signal, intended to legitimize potential violence in advance. We didn’t know if it would attack us again or if it was just a strategy to cover its back in case of escalation. But the closer we got to Gaza, the clearer it became to me that the narrative wouldn’t work.
Why?
There were just so many people in the flotilla from different countries, with diverse identities and histories. When I posted on social media about our daily life on the boat — me as a high school graduate, a sixty-six-year-old nurse from Ireland, and Carsie Blanton, a musician from the United States — everyone could immediately see that these are ordinary people. The image Israel wanted to convey just wasn’t tenable.
Like the others involved in the flotilla, you were imprisoned for several days in Ketziot — an Israeli maximum-security prison that usually houses Palestinian prisoners. What did you experience there?
Intimidation, targeted humiliation, essentially psychological warfare. For example, there was a large photograph hanging outside our cells: a destroyed neighborhood in Gaza, with rubble everywhere. It had the caption: “The New Gaza.” And there were televisions on the walls continuously showing images of October 7 with dramatic music at full volume. Things like that are more demoralizing than beatings.
Like the others involved in the flotilla, you were imprisoned for several days in Ketziot — an Israeli maximum-security prison that usually houses Palestinian prisoners. What did you experience there?
Intimidation, targeted humiliation, essentially psychological warfare. For example, there was a large photograph hanging outside our cells: a destroyed neighborhood in Gaza, with rubble everywhere. It had the caption: “The New Gaza.” And there were televisions on the walls continuously showing images of October 7 with dramatic music at full volume. Things like that are more demoralizing than beatings.
But was there physical violence?
Yes, but for me, the psychological violence was much more impactful: We were locked in small cages, handcuffed, blindfolded, left alone for hours. They also threatened us with “long-term imprisonment.” It was clear to me that they couldn’t hold us forever. At the same time, I realized what it must be like for Palestinians who don’t have that privilege. Many of them simply disappear into Israeli prisons. They can be tortured to death there — and no one finds out about it.
Did you have any contact with Palestinian prisoners on-site there?
We didn’t see anyone else. But we were in cells that had previously held Palestinian prisoners. In my cell, someone had written a note on the wall — his name and the village he came from. And that he and the other prisoners were going to be transferred, without knowing where. They were probably trying to make room for us. We still don’t know what happened to those people.
Were you treated differently than other prisoners in the flotilla?
Absolutely. Women who wore hijabs, for example, had their headscarves taken away, or they had to fight to be allowed to wear them — typical racist discrimination. In general, guards treated us very differently. They often targeted our identities — age, origin, appearance. I was constantly asked, “What will your parents say about all this?” They tried to unsettle me.
Were you also interrogated?
Yes: about Hamas, the question of who commissioned us, where the money for the flotilla came from. They said things like, “You won’t see your parents again for a very long time” or “You’ll be in prison for many years.” At some point, I found those tactics quite transparent.
How long were you in prison?
We were released on October 6. The interception was the night of October 1–2. I didn’t arrive in prison until October 3 because, for whatever reason, they held me handcuffed in a prison bus the first night.
How did the interception work?
It’s inherently a violent operation: a boat is stopped using military means. Specifically, Israel deployed several vessels: two large military vessels, smaller boats, and RIBs [rigid inflatable boats]. The whole thing dragged on for hours. They circled us and used water cannons — some boats were fired at for several minutes. Several times, they passed so close to us in their boats that they almost rammed ours. Then finally, one of the speedboats came right up to us. They ordered us over loudspeakers to turn off the engines, which we refused to do. Finally five soldiers climbed on board, took control, and stayed there until we arrived in Ashdod.
During the journey on the flotilla, you called on Germany to protect you and ensure that you could break through the blockade. Germany didn’t do that. What are your thoughts on that?
It didn’t surprise me. A state that has supported a blockade and the genocide of another state for years, and which continues to do so despite being on trial for it, won’t suddenly say, “They want to break the illegal blockade; of course we’ll help.” I found the public narrative more revealing. To claim that we were undertaking the journey “at our own risk” — and that there’s nothing that can be done if the Israeli army attacks us — is absurd. It exposes how unconditional German loyalty to Israel is. Our mere presence there called the German narrative into question.
It was often said of the Sumud Flotilla — as it was with the Madleen — that the operation was purely symbolic, because the aid will never reach Gaza anyway.
It’s not actually true that it was clear we wouldn’t make it through. Israel had major logistical problems with the many boats they deployed. The last ship was just under eighteen nautical miles off Gaza. And even if our aid did not arrive, the operation was successful. Fishermen in Gaza were able to go out to sea for the first time in a long time. That was a direct effect. I thought that was very nice to see: our aid did not arrive, but Palestinians were finally able to use resources themselves again, on their own land, in their sea.
And how do you respond to the criticism that your actions were just symbolic?
It was clear that we were going up against an overwhelming power structure. If people said, “But you couldn’t get there anyway,” I would say, “You could have helped us build up pressure.” In general, symbolic actions also have power. They can expose states and authorities and debunk narratives.
But the flotilla was more than that. It was also practical and concrete. It was the most direct form of action: simply setting out and trying to get through.
Are there any plans to develop the flotilla into a permanent movement against apartheid and genocide?
There have been flotillas since the beginning of the blockade, and they will continue until it ends. Through the Sumud Flotilla, an incredible number of people met and networked. Many came to understand how important collective organization is. The general strike in Italy — where workers forced the Italian government to take action — showed what it means in practice when everyone joins together. I’m sure something will come out of all this. The networks will grow.
What do you think the flotilla achieved? What was most important for you?
Many people realized that we can act independently of our governments. Of course, we asked our governments to protect us. But when that didn’t happen, we continued anyway. It was a great feeling — that a few random people on sailboats could become a massive problem for a large number of states and reverse the balance of power for a moment. I see this as the result of the last two years. Many people have begun to fundamentally distrust authorities, states, and representatives. The awareness that arises from this is: then we have to act ourselves. For me, that was the most important insight of the flotilla.
Shortly after your return to Germany, a ceasefire was agreed to in Gaza. How do you view that?
Of course, I’m relieved that bombs are no longer falling every day. But it’s obvious that this “peace plan” is a result of colonial interests. No one in Washington or Tel Aviv suddenly decided to end the genocide. And the occupation and apartheid system will remain. Once you’ve been in Israeli custody, you can no longer take this “both sides” and “peace for all” talk seriously. It’s not just about bombs. It’s about an entire system of oppression and segregation: apartheid, military occupation, prisons. The decades-long resistance of the Palestinian people makes that very clear.