For nearly three years, we’ve begged the world to believe us.
Believe Israeli women. Take antisemitism seriously. Stop excusing people who profit from hate. We watched as the world embraced the double standard so many Israelis came to describe with one painful phrase: #MeTooUnlessYoureAJew.
Which is why this weekend felt like such a punch in the gut.
A controversial online personality with a public record of inflammatory rhetoric and associations with figures including Myron Gaines, Sneako, Andrew Tate, and Nick Fuentes arrived in Israel and was welcomed by several Israeli creators. Photos were taken. Videos were filmed. Invitations were extended. To millions watching online, the message wasn’t nuanced. It looked like Israel was rolling out the red carpet for a known sexual predator.
That should concern every one of us. But this isn’t really about Clavicular. It’s about us.
It’s about a growing culture within parts of Israel’s advocacy and creator community that mistakes influence for integrity. Somewhere along the way, we started believing that if someone has enough followers, we should be grateful they’re willing to talk to us at all — even if they have spent years platforming hatred, extremism, or misogyny.
Frankly, it’s desperate.
And desperation is a terrible strategy.
Before many of these collaborations happened, concerns about Clav’s public record had already been raised. Despite those warnings, some creators moved forward anyway. One publicly invited Israeli women to come party with him and Clav. Others dismissed criticism by insisting that those raising concerns simply “didn’t understand the strategy” or were being emotional.
I don’t buy it.
The outcome speaks for itself.
Instead of creating goodwill for Israel, the conversation became about why Israeli creators were choosing to embrace someone whose online ecosystem has long been associated with antisemitism, misogyny, and extremism.
That isn’t strategic. It’s self-inflicted. Israeli women deserve answers.
Who funded this trip?
Who organized it?
Who decided this represented Israel well?
How did someone with such a widely documented public record gain this level of access in the first place? If organizations were involved, they owe the public transparency. If private individuals coordinated it, they should explain why they believed this served Israel’s interests.
Because here’s the reality: the internet doesn’t distinguish between a private collaboration and an official welcome. When millions of people see someone touring Israel alongside Israeli creators, they don’t ask who paid for the flight. They conclude that Israel embraced him.
That perception has consequences.
I’ve spent years saying that loving Israel doesn’t mean defending every decision Israelis make. It means believing we’re capable of better. The same applies to our creator community. We don’t have to chase everyone with a platform. We don’t have to abandon our values because someone has millions of followers. We don’t have to confuse attention with legitimacy.
We get to decide who represents us. We get to decide what kind of community we’re building.
I want to be part of a creator community that stands for something. One that understands our values are our greatest asset, not an obstacle to growth. One that knows saying “no” is sometimes the strongest statement we can make.
Because the community we build today is the one we’ll all have to live in tomorrow. So let’s build one rooted in integrity instead of insecurity. One that rewards courage over clout, principles over proximity to power, and character over clicks.
Israel deserves that.
Names, not just a pattern
I’ve spent this piece describing a phenomenon. But phenomena are made of individual choices, made by people I know, and I’m not going to hide behind the abstraction.
Tal, I considered you a friend. I spent time advising you, connecting you with organizations, and welcoming you into this space. We warned you about Clav’s record before you filmed those videos with him. You went ahead anyway, and now you’re denying you knew.
Moshe and Daniel — over the weekend, in group chats and on calls, you told the rest of us there was “a greater strategy that we women don’t see because we’re emotional about sexual assault.” There was no strategy. There was a s***show, and it landed exactly where we said it would. The two of you are the public faces of Let’s Do Something, the organization you built after our friend David Newman was murdered at the Nova festival on October 7th. David would not have wanted his memory attached to a weekend spent partying with a man who was filmed singing along to a Nazi-referencing song alongside Nick Fuentes at a Miami nightclub. That contrast is not something a “strategy” defense survives.
Shira — the death threats you’re receiving are disgusting, and nothing in this piece should be read as an excuse for them. At the same time, you posted #BelieveAllIsraeliWomen after October 7 — and then you spent a weekend generating content with a man who is a known antisemitic predator. Both things are true. Holding you accountable for the second doesn’t require excusing the first. Take down the videos, apologize.
Thank you to men in this space like Aaron Morali, who made sure Clav was kicked out of Tel Aviv’s Loullie beach club — and shame on Shalvata for welcoming him with open arms.
What this exposes
This weekend wasn’t just a failure of judgment by a handful of creators. It exposed a bigger problem: we need higher standards.
Not every audience is worth winning at any cost. Not every collaboration is strategic simply because it reaches millions of people. Israel should absolutely engage critics. We should have uncomfortable conversations. We should be willing to sit across the table from people who disagree with us.
But engagement is not endorsement. Trying to change someone’s mind is not the same as handing them legitimacy, and strategy should never become an excuse for abandoning our values. As creators, whether we asked for it or not, we’re ambassadors. Every collaboration, every photo, every video tells the world something about who we are and what we stand for. That comes with an ethical responsibility.
For nearly three years, we’ve asked the world to believe Israeli women. To take antisemitism seriously. To understand that values matter. Those values can’t just be talking points we deploy when it’s convenient. They have to be the standard we hold ourselves to, too.
I’ve always believed that loving Israel doesn’t mean pretending we’re perfect. It means believing we’re capable of better. It means calling each other in, holding each other accountable, and building the kind of community we’d actually be proud to represent. Because at the end of the day, our credibility isn’t built by who takes a selfie with us. It’s built by what we’re willing to say no to.
Let’s build a creator community rooted in integrity instead of insecurity. One that values character over clicks, principles over proximity, and impact over influence.
That’s the community I want to be part of.
And I know I’m not the only one.
The writer is an activist and content creator. Raised in Jerusalem and living in Tel Aviv, she has become a leading voice on and offline for liberal Zionism. A third-generation IDF veteran with over a decade in Israel advocacy, Hallel has created and executed content for dozens of major organizations. She is an associate at the Tel Aviv Institute.
