On a world-famous stage at Glastonbury, artist Bob Vylan didn’t just accuse Israel of genocide-he led a crowd of 50,000 people in a chant of “Death to the IDF.”
The cheers were loud. The message was clearly heard.
It wasn’t satire. It wasn’t political nuance. It was a direct call for violence against Israeli citizens – and it was echoed across social media with proud defiance.
This wasn’t an isolated outburst. It’s what happens when antisemitism thrives unchecked in the digital age. Online hate doesn’t stay online. It builds a culture, normalizes threats, and ultimately encourages action. What begins as a meme ends in a chant. What sounds like a slogan becomes a smashed window, a student harassed on campus, a synagogue on alert.
Social media platforms are flooded with antisemitic tropes – blood libels rebranded, Holocaust denial packaged as edgy commentary, and conspiracy theories dressed up as political activism. Algorithms don’t ignore these posts. They’re rewarded. Hate gets clicks, clicks get promoted, and users are fed more of the same. It’s a digital pressure cooker, radicalizing users post by post, until the unthinkable becomes crowd-pleasing entertainment.
And yet, this month offered another story. One the cameras nearly missed.
At Tomorrowland in Belgium, a man draped in an Israeli flag was approached by another man in a keffiyeh. For a moment, tension filled the space between them. Then, softly:
“I’m Palestinian. Can I hug you?”
No chant. No confrontation. Just a choice – to see each other as people.
That hug was more than a gesture. It was a rejection of the script written by online hate. It was a reminder that we don’t have to follow an algorithm. We can choose empathy, even when it’s not trending.
At FOA, we aim to dismantle the cycle that fuels it. We monitor online antisemitism. We train thousands to recognize and report it. We push for platform accountability and legal safeguards. We know what happens when hate spreads unchecked – and we’re fighting to stop it before it reaches the real world.
Between a chant for death and an embrace of peace, this summer showed us two futures.
We’re fighting for the one where a hug is louder than hate.
Stand with us. Share the message. Speak out.
