Stephen Flatow and many others see Hannah Einbinder’s Emmy acceptance — punctuated by “Go Birds, f— ICE, free Palestine” and a pledge to boycott Israeli cultural institutions — as proof that Hollywood prefers performative outrage over consistent moral courage.
Stephen M. Flatow — president of the Religious Zionists of America and the father of Alisa Flatow, murdered in an Iranian-backed Palestinian terrorist attack in 1995 — framed the moment perfectly: an industry that markets itself as the nation’s conscience used its biggest stage to deliver a cheap applause line while ignoring real victims and inconvenient truths.
Hannah Einbinder, fresh from winning an Emmy for Outstanding Supporting Actress, chose her acceptance speech as a platform for a trendy slogan. “Go Birds, f— ICE, free Palestine,” she declared — a line that drew cheers from the room, was bleeped by broadcast networks, and ignited praise across social platforms. But this was not a spontaneous moral revelation. It was branding: the celebrity-grade virtue signal that costs nothing but yields maximum peer approval.
What followed was predictable. Einbinder had already signed a public pledge by scores of entertainment figures to boycott Israeli cultural institutions — a symbolic gesture condemned by Paramount, the parent company of her network. The pledge and the speech together form a pattern: easy denunciations of Israel paired with conspicuous silence about far grimmer abuses elsewhere.
That contrast is stark and damning. Hollywood happily courts China for box-office receipts, accepts Gulf cash, and maintains lucrative ties with regimes that crush dissent. Yet when it comes to Israel — the one liberal democracy in a volatile region and the country that has endured terrorism and paid a horrific human cost — the industry leaps into moral righteousness. Why the double standard? Because saying “Free Palestine” onstage costs nothing in this protected bubble. Calling out true, systemic repression — the Uyghurs in China, the theocratic crackdown in Iran, or real gender oppression under brutal regimes — would threaten careers and corporate bottom lines.
Awards shows were meant to honor craft. Increasingly, they have become platforms for performative politics: applause lines dressed as conscience. Einbinder’s speech was less about principle and more about being on the right side of a social moment. The deeper problem is that this kind of posture trivializes real suffering — including that of families like the Flatows — and normalizes a conversation where slogans substitute for substance.
If Hollywood wants to be a moral leader, it must show consistency. Until then, moments like this remain what they are: a celebrity troupe mistaking applause for bravery, while those who actually paid the ultimate price — victims of terror, bereaved families, and communities under existential threat — are reduced to props for a trending line.
