There’s a strange kind of silence that follows a crowd of thousands shouting “F*** Israel” under desert lights. It’s not the silence of peace after protest. It’s the silence of something deeper, something uglier, simmering beneath the surface of performative activism.
This weekend at Coachella, the Irish rap group Kneecap projected the phrase “F*** Israel, Free Palestine” behind them and led the crowd in chanting it. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t subtext. It was spectacle – a deliberate, inflammatory act on one of the most visible stages in global pop culture.
But this moment wasn’t about courage – it was about clout. This wasn’t radical resistance, it was crowd-pleasing populism. The kind that masquerades as moral clarity while functioning more like a social trend. At Coachella, this chant didn’t emerge from conviction, it came from calculation. A read of the room. A bet that joining in wouldn’t just be safe—it would be rewarded.
And it was. No backlash outside of the Jewish community. No cost. Just applause.
Last week, I spoke with the director of a new anti-Israel film. We were having a heated conversation for an article at another magazine, when I brought up the fact that one of the film’s producers was Macklemore – the same artist who once took the stage wearing a long prosthetic nose, a Chasidic-style wig, and a stereotypically Jewish costume (he apologised afterwards, but the damage was done). I asked the director why he would work with someone who has engaged so openly in antisemitism. He told me he hadn’t known about Macklemore’s history – and added, “even if that happened, people can grow and evolve.”
(Macklemore has evolved, of course. Only a few weeks ago he was accusing Israel of “white supremacy” and “colonialism”).
So I asked: would you say the same if this artist had done that to another community? If he had donned racist caricatured makeup and mocked the black community on stage, would you still accept his apology and call it growth?
He looked at me and said, “Of course not.”
There it is. That double standard. That quiet exception. You can get cancelled as an artist for any form of hatred – except one that causes pain to Jews. And if a direct assault is too rich, it certainly seems as though attacking Israel is another way for celebrities to reboot their relevance and gain popularity.
Lizzo, under fire for serious sexual allegations, loudly aligned herself with the “right” side – saying she stands with Palestine against “the genocide,” as if that alone absolves her of everything else. Jennifer Lopez cancelled her tour in 2024 amid reports of low ticket sales, but more recently made headlines by donating $2 million to an unnamed Gaza charity.
Was that pure compassion? A cynical onlooker might wonder if there was also a desire to boost their careers.
Jewish grief is treated like a disruption. Jewish hostages? Too complicated. A yellow ribbon? Too controversial. The dead of October 7? Already forgotten.
But what about the Jews in the crowd at Coachella? What about the Nova festival survivors who were there, seeking joy, only to be surrounded by chants that cheered the same slogans used to justify their trauma? What message does that send – not just to them, but to every young Jew watching this unfold, being told once again that their pain is not trendy enough to matter?
We are living through a cultural moment where being Jewish: openly, visibly, vocally – is enough to make you suspicious. Where calls for your survival are called political. Where silence around your trauma is seen as neutrality. And where those who mock you, erase you, or profit from your pain get book deals, sponsorships, standing ovations.
This isn’t activism. It’s performance. And if it doesn’t cost you anything, if it wins you fans and headlines and applause, then it’s not brave – it’s branding.
We don’t need every celebrity to be a political analyst. But we do need them to ask hard questions: Who am I erasing with my silence? Who am I hurting with my slogans? And if I’m only ever speaking up when it’s popular – am I really standing for justice, or just standing with the crowd?
Because justice without Jews isn’t justice. And if your fight for freedom excludes the only Jewish state – home to half of the world’s Jewish population, if your version of liberation comes at our expense, then it’s not liberation at all. It’s oppression.
