Hello, friends. I'm Gerd Dani, and today I need to talk with you about something that's been weighing heavily on my mind. It's about the horrific situation in Gaza, the Venice Film Festival controversy, and why I believe we're making a dangerous mistake when we confuse moral clarity with cultural censorship.
Let me start with three uncomfortable truths that might challenge your thinking. First, that boycotting Israeli artists actually strengthens the very nationalism we claim to oppose. Second, that cultural censorship has historically been the tool of oppressors, not liberators. And third, that our desire to "do something" about Gaza might be leading us down a path that undermines the very values we're trying to protect.
Now, before you close this tab in frustration, hear me out. I'm not defending Israel's actions in Gaza—quite the opposite. But I am defending something equally important: the principle that art and culture should remain bridges between peoples, not weapons in political warfare.
The Venice Controversy: What's Really Happening
The facts are stark and emotionally charged. Venice4Palestine, a group of over 1,500 artists including Marco Bellocchio, Ken Loach, and Carlo Verdone, has demanded that the Venice Film Festival withdraw invitations to Israeli actress Gal Gadot and Gerard Butler . Their reasoning? These actors "publicly and actively support genocide" .
Instead, they want Palestinian artists to walk the red carpet with the Palestinian flag . It's a powerful symbolic gesture born from genuine anguish over the suffering in Gaza.
The Biennale's response was measured but firm. They reminded everyone that the Festival has "always been in its history a place of open confrontation, sensitive to all the most urgent issues of society and the world" . As evidence, they pointed to "The Voice of Hind Rajab," a film about a five-year-old Palestinian girl killed in Gaza while pleading for help over the phone .
My Position: Against Genocide, Against Censorship
Let me be absolutely clear about where I stand. What's happening in Gaza is a humanitarian catastrophe that demands our attention, our outrage, and our action. The images of suffering civilians, the stories of families torn apart, the systematic destruction of infrastructure—these are wounds on the conscience of humanity.
But I cannot and will not support cultural boycotts as the answer. This isn't moral relativism or political cowardice. It's a principled stand based on what I believe are fundamental truths about how we create lasting change in this world.
Why Cultural Boycotts Miss the Mark
Art builds bridges, politics builds walls. When we start excluding artists based on their nationality or political statements, we're not fighting oppression—we're replicating its logic. We're saying that some voices matter more than others, that some stories deserve to be heard while others should be silenced.
The Biennale got this right. Instead of silencing Israeli voices, they amplified Palestinian ones. They included "The Voice of Hind Rajab," ensuring that the story of a five-year-old Palestinian girl's final moments would be heard by audiences worldwide . That's how you create change—through more art, more stories, more truth, not less.
Collective punishment is wrong, regardless of who applies it. When we demand that Gal Gadot be excluded simply because she's Israeli, we're applying the same logic of collective responsibility that underlies so many historical injustices. We're punishing an individual for the actions of their government—a principle that, if consistently applied, would lead to the exclusion of Russian artists for Putin's crimes, Chinese artists for Beijing's oppression, and American artists for their government's foreign policy mistakes.
Where does this end? Who decides which countries are too morally compromised for their artists to participate in international culture? This road leads to cultural isolation and increased nationalism, not peace and understanding.
The Dangerous Logic of Purity Tests
Here's what really troubles me about this movement: it's creating purity tests for artistic participation. Artists must now prove their political credentials before being allowed to practice their craft on international stages. This is precisely the kind of ideological gatekeeping that authoritarian regimes use to control cultural expression.
I've spent years studying how oppressive systems work, and one constant is their need to control the narrative by controlling who gets to speak. When we start applying political litmus tests to artistic participation, we're walking down that same dark path—even if our intentions are good.
A Better Way Forward
The cause of Palestinian liberation is fundamentally about human rights and dignity. You cannot advance human rights by restricting human rights—even the rights of those you disagree with. The moment we start saying that some people don't deserve a platform because of their political views, we've abandoned the very principles we claim to defend.
Instead of demanding censorship, we should be demanding more voices. More Palestinian artists at Venice. More films about Gaza. More stories that challenge comfortable narratives. The answer to speech you disagree with isn't less speech—it's more speech.
The Biennale showed us the way forward. They didn't silence Israeli voices; they elevated Palestinian ones. They didn't engage in cultural warfare; they created space for difficult conversations. That's how you change hearts and minds.
The Long Game
I understand the frustration. When people are dying, when children are suffering, the desire to "do something"—anything—is overwhelming. But we must ask ourselves: will boycotting Gal Gadot save a single life in Gaza? Will it bring peace one day closer? Or will it simply make us feel better about our own moral purity while accomplishing nothing concrete?
History suggests that cultural isolation breeds extremism, not moderation. When we cut off dialogue, when we refuse to engage with those we disagree with, we create echo chambers that radicalise all sides. The path to peace runs through conversation, not silence.
The Uncomfortable Truth
Here's the truth that many don't want to hear: the same impulse that drives us to boycott Israeli artists is the same impulse that drives some Israelis to dehumanise Palestinians. It's the belief that the other side is so morally compromised that they don't deserve basic respect or dignity. It's the conviction that our cause is so righteous that any means are justified.
This thinking doesn't lead to justice. It leads to endless cycles of retaliation and dehumanisation. Breaking those cycles requires us to be better than our opponents, not to mirror their tactics.
What We Should Do Instead
Rather than demanding censorship, let's demand more. More Palestinian films at international festivals. More funding for Palestinian artists. More platforms for Palestinian voices. More education about Palestinian history and culture. More pressure on governments to take concrete action to end the suffering.
Let's support organisations working on the ground to provide humanitarian aid. Let's vote for politicians who will change policy. Let's use our economic power to support Palestinian businesses and boycott companies that profit from occupation.
But let's not sacrifice our principles in the process. Let's not become the censors we claim to oppose.
Conclusion: The Courage of Complexity
The situation in Gaza demands our moral clarity, but it also demands our intellectual honesty. We can condemn genocide without becoming censors. We can support Palestinian rights without silencing Israeli voices. We can fight for justice without abandoning the principles that make justice possible.
This isn't about being neutral or "both-sides-ing" a conflict where there's a clear power imbalance. It's about recognising that the tools we use to fight injustice matter as much as the fight itself. When we use the oppressor's tools—censorship, collective punishment, ideological purity tests—we risk becoming what we claim to oppose.
The path forward is harder than simple boycotts and easy moral posturing. It requires us to engage with complexity, to hold multiple truths simultaneously, to fight for justice while defending the principles that make justice possible.
That's the challenge of our time. That's the burden of those who truly want to change the world rather than just signal their virtue. And that's why, despite my horror at what's happening in Gaza, I'll continue to oppose cultural censorship in all its forms.
Because in the end, the bridges we burn today are the ones we'll need to cross tomorrow.
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