
When victories of this kind are secured, the most important question is no longer what was said, but rather: what comes next?
The answer goes far beyond the individuals involved. It speaks to a long, cumulative struggle in which global solidarity with Palestine is advancing step by step, while the once-dominant Zionist narrative is clearly retreating; a narrative that survived for decades on claims that have now worn thin.
From “the only democracy” to the test of genocide in Gaza
For years, a familiar storyline was relentlessly promoted: that Israel is “the only democracy in the Middle East”, that it represents a necessary refuge after historical persecution, and that Jews everywhere are perpetually besieged by antisemitism. Under this cover, a deliberate conflation was engineered between criticism of Zionism and its crimes, and hatred of Jews themselves. Any challenge to Israeli policies was swiftly labelled antisemitic.
Then came the genocide in Gaza. Not as an isolated event, but as the culmination of a long pattern of daily violations, in the West Bank and Jerusalem, in Syria and Lebanon, and through the ongoing injustice inflicted on Palestinians inside the 1948 territories. At that point, the masks began to slip. The old claims became harder to sustain, and propaganda far less persuasive, even in Western environments that had long been indulgent of the Israeli narrative.
Art and free speech: when culture says what official discourse cannot
It was in this context that Bob Vylan took to the stage and voiced opposition to a terrifying military machine. The moment was not so much “unexpected” as it was deeply unsettling for those accustomed to controlling platforms and policing acceptable speech. Tens of thousands responded on the ground, with millions more watching and engaging from afar. Even the British Prime Minister weighed in describing the scene as “appalling”.
Yet the most significant outcome was not political condemnation, but the legal conclusion. After due process, the authorities determined that no criminal offence had been committed, that no prosecution was warranted, and that the act remained firmly within the bounds of freedom of expression. This was no minor technicality; it was a meaningful precedent that strengthens the space for solidarity with Palestine and directly challenges the strategy of silencing dissent through intimidation.
The same applies to the case involving Reginald D Hunter. In dismissing an antisemitism complaint against him, the judge stated unambiguously that the claim amounted to misleading the court and wasting its time, and that the real objective was not protection from harm, but the cancellation of an individual voice. It was a rare moment of judicial clarity that exposed the logic of censorship and reaffirmed the crucial distinction between legitimate political criticism and hatred.
The price, and why people of conscience are willing to pay it
None of these positions came without cost. Media attacks, cancelled performances, and organised smears followed. Yet the response was both simple and devastatingly clear: “This is a small price to pay compared to what the children of Gaza are paying with their blood.”
With that sentence, Bob Vylan pulled the debate back to where it belongs.
Here, art ceases to be entertainment, and comedy ceases to be escapism. Both become moral acts in an age defined by cruelty.
Humanity is still alive: living examples from London and Gaza
Anyone who reflects on this moment in its full context will see that it is about far more than a single incident. What drives a globally influential activist like Greta Thunberg to travel from Sweden to London in solidarity with hunger-striking detainees, some of them imprisoned, even at the cost of being detained herself by the Metropolitan Police? And why is it entirely unsurprising to see her reappear at another protest shortly after her release?
What motivates young activists, at the beginning of their lives, to undertake hunger strikes lasting nearly 48 days in a city where they could otherwise enjoy freedom, opportunity and anonymity without consequence?
The answer is not merely emotional. It is political and ethical in the deepest sense: a belief that action, even when it appears limited, accumulates, and that silence in the face of genocide is no longer a viable moral option.
Cumulative action: how public opinion is reshaped
Theories of social change remind us that major transformations rarely occur in a single moment. There is short-term impact, in breaking taboos and disrupting dominant discourse; medium-term impact, in shifting public mood and eroding the legitimacy of prevailing narratives; and long-term impact, in altering policies and power balances.
What artists and activists are doing today sits squarely within this cumulative process. They widen the space of debate, raise the cost of repression, and give hesitant voices the courage to step forward. This lesson is not confined to the West; it speaks equally to those in the Arab world who have been worn down by frustration and prolonged waiting.
What comes next? Practical steps
Admiration alone is not enough. What is required now are practical, sustained actions:
- Anchor arguments in verified facts and consistently distinguish between criticism of Zionism and antisemitism.
- Support courageous voices through presence, engagement and resistance to forced cancellation.
- Invest in cumulative action: sign, donate, protest, and write, even if only a few lines, on a regular basis.
- Expand the conversation beyond familiar circles, addressing those outside the usual sphere with calm language and rigorous arguments.
- Defend legal space by knowing the boundaries of free expression and refusing to allow intimidation to prevail.
The legal victory in the Bob Vylan and Reginald D Hunter cases is not the end of the road, but it is a clear signpost. When truth advances a single step, falsehood is forced to retreat twice as far. Humanity, despite all the smokescreens, is still alive and the Palestinian cause is closer to justice than many assume, precisely because its defenders are no longer confined to the margins.
This is a long struggle, yes, but it is one that is moving forward. And in a time when consciences are meant to fall silent, simply raising one’s voice becomes an act of resistance. In the end, it is accumulation, not noise, that remains the shortest path to justice.

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