When music festivals become a stage for hate
Explicit calls for the extermination of Jews were met not with moral clarity, but with ambiguity, deflection — and in some quarters, outright defence
Over the weekend, Glastonbury — once a symbol of peace, unity, and creative expression — descended into something far darker. British rapper Bob Vylan led festival-goers in chanting “Death, death to the IDF,” a slogan that doesn’t merely criticise Israeli military policy, but crosses a dangerous line into incitement — against the Jewish state and, inevitably, Jewish lives.
Also on stage was Irish group Kneecap, whose lead singer is currently facing terrorism-related charges for alleged support of Hezbollah, an internationally proscribed terrorist organisation.
What’s most disturbing isn’t simply that these chants occurred, but that they were met with cheers — not condemnation. Not a word from fellow artists. No rebuke from the media. The BBC, incredibly, continued its live broadcast. Festival organisers offered no statement. The hatred, instead of being called out, was welcomed with applause.
We are not witnessing a new form of antisemitism — we are watching the oldest hatred repeat itself, this time to the rhythm of Western counterculture.
In 1930s Europe, the Holocaust did not begin with camps and crematoria. It began with slogans, boycotts, propaganda, and the dehumanisation of Jews. They were depicted as parasites, subversives, and threats to the state. That rhetoric seeped into schools, newspapers, popular entertainment — until it was no longer shocking, but acceptable. From there, the path to atrocity was tragically short.
Today, the language is chillingly familiar. The chants at Glastonbury — “Death to the IDF” — bear a striking resemblance to what we heard in Sydney on 9 October, just two days after the Nova Music Festival massacre in Israel. There, on the steps of the Opera House, protesters shouted “Gas the Jews” and “F*** the Jews”. Local authorities later claimed that the chant was misheard — that it was “Where’s the Jews.” The public wasn’t convinced. Nor should they have been.
In both cases, explicit calls for the extermination of Jews were met not with moral clarity, but with ambiguity, deflection — and in some quarters, outright defence.
At the Nova Music Festival — an event not unlike Glastonbury in spirit — more than 360 young people were murdered by Hamas terrorists. Others were raped, mutilated, burned, and dragged into Gaza. Some remain there as hostages. And yet, at Glastonbury, there were no chants for their release. No outcry for peace. Just “Death to the IDF” — the very force trying to bring them home.
So how did we arrive at a point where genocidal rhetoric is not only tolerated, but mainstream?
Part of the answer lies in the ideological capture of cultural and academic spaces. Over the past decade, radical interpretations of critical race theory and intersectionality — once academic tools — have been misappropriated into moral dogmas. The world is now divided into binaries: oppressor versus oppressed, coloniser versus colonised. Nuance is unwelcome. Identity is everything.
In this hierarchy, Jews — and especially Israeli Jews — are portrayed as part of a white, colonial elite. This is as ignorant as it is insidious. The reality is that a majority of Israeli Jews are of Middle Eastern, North African, or Ethiopian descent — hardly the profile of European colonisers. Yet Jewish identity is flattened into a stereotype, and Israel is miscast as a foreign occupier.
This intellectual sleight of hand has led to a grotesque inversion: Jews, among history’s most persecuted people, are now framed as racial oppressors. Calls for their destruction are cloaked as “anti-Zionism.” Antisemitism is repackaged as activism.
Legitimate criticism of Israel’s government, like any other democracy, is fair game. But what we’re witnessing now is not debate — it is dehumanisation. The line between protest and incitement has been crossed. And too many are pretending not to notice.
I often ask self-proclaimed anti-Zionists: How can a people “colonise” the land where their civilisation began more than 3000 years ago? I’ve yet to hear a coherent answer. What I do hear are slogans, shouted louder each week — especially on the streets of Melbourne, where chants calling for Jewish death have become routine.
Still, there is silence from political leaders. No condemnation from Premier Jacinta Allan. No meaningful words from Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. No defence of Jewish Australians, even as their communities face rising threats, vandalism, and intimidation.
Imagine the reaction if a rapper had stood on stage and chanted “Death to Hamas.” There would be international uproar. Accusations of hate speech. Immediate cancellations. Yet Hamas is a designated terrorist organisation responsible for the deliberate slaughter of civilians — including women, children, and babies. But when the hate is directed at Jews, it’s recast as political expression.
This is the core of the problem: we no longer treat antisemitism like other forms of racism. It is explained away, rationalised, ignored — especially when dressed in the language of social justice.
That’s not intellectual laziness. It is a moral collapse.
Albanese, long known for his pro-Palestinian stance during his union days, must now decide what kind of leader he wants to be. He can cling to outdated slogans — or he can speak with the clarity this moment demands. Because silence is not neutrality. It is complicity. I don’t hold my breath given his government has trashed Australia’s relationship with our ally Israel and Albanese has no real relationship with the leader of the free world, US President Trump.
The 20th century taught us that when people say they want to kill Jews, they should be believed. When hatred becomes fashionable, it must be opposed. When calls for genocide are met with applause, the time for polite hesitation is over.
Until we confront antisemitism with the same urgency we apply to all other bigotries, it will spread — in our universities, our streets, our festivals.
And one day — as we always do — we will look back and ask, too late, why we did nothing when it counted.
Perhaps it’s time we reaffirm something basic: that all lives matter. Regardless of race, religion, sexuality, gender, or nationality, every human being deserves dignity and protection. Because if we don’t speak up now, we will soon find ourselves answering a question history has asked before: Why did you stay silent when the signs were all around you?
Shane Shmuel is a member of the Melbourne Jewish community.
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