Bono just showed celebrities how to criticise Israel without crossing the line

Compare that to what’s been coming from some other corners of the music world. At Glastonbury this year, the punk-rap duo Bob Vylan led the crowd in a chant of “Death to the IDF” that for Jews sounded like trying to make our existence in our homeland and our last line of defense, impossible. The Irish rap group Kneecap went further, supporting Hezbollah and calling “up Hamas!” and encouraged their fans to ‘shoot your local Member of Parliament.’

Both groups will insist they are “only” being critical of Israel and the war in Gaza. But intent matters less than impact. When your rallying cry mirrors the slogans of those who slaughtered civilians in their beds, you are not amplifying peace— you are laundering violence through art.

This is why Bono’s intervention feels so different. He demonstrated that you can speak out against the actions of the Israeli government, even in the strongest terms, without collapsing into rhetoric that targets all Jews or excuses terrorism. As he put it: “The Government of Israel is not the nation of Israel, but the Government of Israel led by Benjamin Netanyahu today deserves our categorical and unequivocal condemnation.”

As an Israeli who has never voted for Netanyahu and has opposed his policies loudly, I could not agree more. I want my government held accountable. But accountability doesn’t come from chants that deny my people’s right to live in our homeland, or from pop stars calling for the death of my country and its line of defense. It comes from challenging policy, not identity; from pressuring leaders, not scapegoating civilians an ocean away.

This is where so much celebrity activism falls short. 

And here’s the irony: the pro-Palestine movement could find far more allies among Israelis and Jews if it acknowledged that our humanity is not a bargaining chip. Many of us support Palestinian rights. Many of us oppose our own government’s policies. But too often, we are met not with solidarity, but with hate that casts us as colonial invaders, genocidal by nature, and therefore undeserving of the rights everyone else takes for granted.

Bono showed another way. He was specific, sincere, and rooted in empathy for everyone caught in this nightmare. He didn’t hide his politics, but he refused to let them flatten his moral vision. He showed that you can criticise Israel’s government without feeding antisemitism. You can voice your discomfort with the war in Gaza without holding the entire Jewish nation accountable. That you can call for Palestinian dignity without sanitising Hamas. That you can use a stage not as a weapon, but as a bridge.

In an age when too many artists mistake provocation for principle, that’s a radical act.

Bono’s blueprint is available to anyone who is willing to do the work. It starts with knowing what you’re talking about, resisting the pull of easy slogans, and remembering that words can either build us up or burn us down.

If more public figures spoke like Bono, the conversation would be about justice for both peoples, not a competition over who deserves to live.