Jewish lives don't matter.

Why does it feel like only the Jewish People's oppression comes with an asterisk?

Antisemitism is a virus so potent that it causes people to lose all their logical bearings — if they even had them to begin with. (photo: Levi Meir Clancy/Unsplash)

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In case you forgot, there are still 100-plus hostages being held in Gaza not just by Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad, but also by everyday Palestinians.

I am talking about the Palestinians we have been relentlessly persuaded are just innocent, uninvolved civilians whose human rights remain in grave violation.

Is it not ironic that these same “innocent” and “uninvolved” civilians, whom we are urged to view solely as victims, are complicit in the continued captivity of these hostages? Is it not ironic that those who demand justice for their own suffering can simultaneously enable or turn a blind eye to the suffering of others?

The narrative of blanket innocence collapses under the weight of these contradictions, forcing us to question whether the world’s moral framework is truly built on justice — or merely on sociopolitical expediency.

However, my primary anger and frustration is not pointed at “the Palestinians.” I see many Palestinians for who they are: a different culture, historical narrative, and value system not just from Israel, but from the West as a whole. And that is fine. I am not in favor of a multinational culture police galloping around the world making sure certain cultural standards are upheld.

But in the West, there has been this combination of guilt and coercion that every victim must be our victim and every cause must be our cause, and we should be ashamed if we do not protect these victims and champion these causes — even if they have nothing to do with us. Fine, fair enough, I am happy to speak up for the weak and stand with the oppressed.

But what happens when the victims are Jews?

Suddenly, the moral clarity dissolves, replaced by caveats, justifications, and uncomfortable silences. The same collective guilt that compels us to rally for others seems to evaporate when it comes to us. Instead of solidarity, we face scrutiny; instead of protection, we are asked to justify our pain or prove we deserve empathy. If justice requires accountability, let it be universal. It feels like only our oppression comes with an asterisk.

In other words, there has been no hashtag campaign dominating social media feeds. No #JewishLivesMatter trending for weeks in mainstream societies. No global marches or public statements of solidarity from celebrities or politicians of influence.

Where is Michelle Obama, who has lent her powerful voice to causes of justice and compassion, speaking out for the release of these innocent hostages? Where are the think pieces in mainstream media about their suffering, the candlelight vigils, the passionate declarations of “never again”?

In the void left by this silence, a devastating truth emerges: Jewish lives do not matter.

I have to admit that even I have stopped thinking about the hostages as much — because I see no societal reminders like I saw with other movements, campaigns, and causes. It’s as though the absence of public outcry has numbed my own sense of urgency, as if so much of the world’s indifference has quietly signaled that this suffering isn’t worth holding onto.

Without hashtags, rallies, or a collective demand for justice, even my own outrage feels dulled by the silence. And that realization terrifies me — because if I, as a Jew, can begin to forget, what hope is there that anyone else will remember?

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For 14 months, the hostages have languished, held in conditions the thought of which alone makes me feel nauseous, their families living in increasingly dire agony. Each week brings reports of more dead hostages — either dying or being killed in captivity — yet there is no collective outrage.

Compare this to other movements for justice — vital, necessary movements like #BlackLivesMatter or the global outcry for Ukraine — and the absence of advocacy for the Israeli hostages is glaring.

It is not that people do not know. They know. The videos exist. The testimonials are gut-wrenching. Yet there is a peculiar alchemy at work in the global conscience when it comes to Jews: the simultaneous hypervisibility and invisibility. We are either the scapegoats of conspiracy theories or entirely forgotten.

It is an uncomfortable truth that solidarity today often requires a good narrative, one that flatters the observer as much as it uplifts the victim. The Israeli hostages, by virtue of their Jewishness and association with Israel, do not fit neatly into the boxes of performative wokeness. Their suffering is too politically inconvenient, too entangled in thorny issues surrounding the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, to inspire a viral campaign.

This selectivity of empathy is a moral failing. It suggests that solidarity is not about justice but about branding. When Jewish lives require too much nuance, when they demand a reckoning with antisemitism that goes beyond platitudes, they are discarded.

The progressive Left, which tends to be the camp that champions causes of social justice, has largely failed to show up for Jews. Perhaps this is because antisemitism masquerading as “anti-Zionism” has become normalized in these circles, or perhaps it is the enduring stereotype of Jews as privileged and therefore unworthy of protection. Either way, the silence is deafening.

Worse still, many of the same people who champion justice for marginalized groups have justified Hamas’ actions or minimized the hostages’ plight as collateral damage in a larger geopolitical struggle. It is a perverse double standard: Every other oppressed group deserves empathy and outrage, but Jews must first pass a political litmus test.

When the world forgets Jewish lives, it sends a dangerous message: Some atrocities are more acceptable than others. It normalizes the dehumanization of Jews and perpetuates a cycle of violence and neglect that history has taught us leads to catastrophe.

The hostages in Gaza are not just Israelis. They are human beings. Their suffering is not less significant because of the flag they were born under or the faith they practice. The world’s silence is not just an affront to Jews; it is an affront to the very concept of universal human rights.

It is not too late to change this narrative. The Jewish community cannot and should not shoulder this burden alone. Allies who understand that justice is indivisible must speak up. Politicians and celebrities, who have shown the power of their advocacy in other arenas, must amplify the call for the hostages’ release.

And yes, we need a hashtag. Perhaps #LetThemGo or #JewishLivesMatter. It may feel superficial, but in a world dictated by social media algorithms, visibility can be the difference between action and apathy.

The silence surrounding the hostages in Gaza is not just a failure of compassion; it is a failure of humanity. Jewish lives have always been a test case for the world’s moral compass. Right now, much of our world is failing that test.

But here is the thing about Jews: We are relentless. We have survived pharaohs, pogroms, and the Holocaust. We will not be erased, no matter how much the world looks away.

So let me be clear: Jewish lives do matter. The hostages matter. And until the world recognizes this, we will continue to fight — for them, for ourselves, and for the idea that no life should ever be so easily discarded.

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