Why the New Social Media Trend to Block Celebrities Over Gaza Is Really Catching On

As the war in Gaza reaches new levels of catastrophe—fighting has resumed in the north and escalated in the south, thousands of children are orphaned, and alarming rates of hunger have become famine—in America, pro-Palestinian and pro-peace activists are still imploring legislators and the White House to call for a cease-fire and end, stem, or condition U.S. military aid to Israel. Antisemitism and Islamophobia are rising. College student protesters have also built encampments and gone on hunger strikes to pressure their respective university leaders and trustees to divest from any businesses associated with the Israeli military apparatus.

Meanwhile, advocacy is also evolving on social media. A curious new trend you might be noticing in your feeds is the Blockout 2024 movement: a call for the public to signal their disapproval of celebrities who are “silent” on Palestinian rights by blocking them and boycotting their work. The logic of the movement, such as it is, is that users will deal a blow to the stars’ ad revenue and royalties, and thereby pressure them to change their minds and actions.

It’s difficult to discern the monetary or political impacts of the trend on the struggle for human rights in Israel-Palestine, let alone the staying power of this particular action among pro-Palestinian activists. Some are divided on its efficacy and whether the energy around celebrity activism (or lack thereof) distracts from on-the-ground protests, fundraising, and lobbying about Gaza.

Still, these concerns haven’t stopped the movement from growing. One prominent TikTok page dedicated to the cause, @blockout2024, has more than 180,000 followers. The creator of the account has posted videos with millions of views called “Celeb block of the day” featuring popular stars to “divest” from as well as encouraging people to make videos with their own personal block lists.

That personalization of each list, however, has resulted in pretty disparate standards for boycotting. The block lists—which users are calling a digital guillotine or “digitine”—encompass stars who have been outwardly pro-Israel, such as Jerry Seinfeld and Amy Schumer. But the “digitine” tends to be even more focused on stars who, while not publicly supporting Israel or the Israeli military campaign, have not adopted what users deem a firm-enough pro-Palestinian stance; many of the targeted stars have said nothing at all about the conflict. Take, for example, calls from other users to block Kim Kardashian, who recently replied, “Free Everybody,” after a protester chanted “Free Palestine” during her talk at a business festival in Germany. Beyoncé, too, has been targeted for blocking, for not yet publicly speaking about Israel or Palestine. (She also received backlash last year after her film Renaissance was screened in Israel.) Some of the blocked stars have even supported cease-fire and Palestinian rights. Billie Eilish, for example, has been mentioned, even though she wore an Artists4Ceasefire pin at the Oscars and has publicly urged for fundraising to support struggling Gazans. One creator justified Eilish’s inclusion on her block list by saying her activism hasn’t been enough.

Other celebrities named for blocking include Dwayne “the Rock” Johnson, Taylor Swift, Kylie Jenner, and Harry Styles.

In an Instagram video with 834,000 views, a singer named Anees called it a way for activists to take power back.

“We the consumers of content are the ones who drive revenue and profit from ad consumption on social media,” Anees said. “If it’s an artist, don’t listen to their music. If it’s an actor, don’t watch their movies. And if it’s a content creator, refuse to consume their content by blocking them.”

While this might seem pretty far removed from the war and those with power to control it, activists seem to be merely trying to reach those who seem to have more prominence and money, and perhaps therefore more power and influence, than themselves. This might help explain why many antiwar activists bristled at the Met Gala last week. In response to clips circulating from the opulent fundraiser, some users said it was like “watching from District 12,” comparing holding the event during wartime to elites’ hoarding of resources in the The Hunger Games. Protesters disrupted the gala and were arrested. Another block list is circulating with stars’ names who attended the gala.

What remains to be seen is whether any of these rejections will stick. Fan and online reaction to artists’ political stances have affected celebrities before, after all. Think of someone like Debra Messing, Kid Rock, or Clint Eastwood. Their politically active lives have defined who they are to the public, and have shaped their audiences.

Macklemore was once a villain to many left-leaning fans for what they deemed cultural appropriation and unwarranted success in hip-hop, but he’s gained new admiration among many similar observers for his song “Hind’s Hall,” a pro-Palestinian anthem. (However, the song didn’t stop him from getting added to at least one user’s block list.)

In November, after Noah Schnapp, one of the stars of Stranger Things, posted pro-Israel content, some fans of the series announced a boycott of the upcoming season.

Even Malala Yousafzai, the renowned human rights activist and Nobel Peace Prize winner, has faced backlash by the movement’s supporters, following her co-producing collaboration with Hillary Clinton on the women’s suffrage–centered musical Suffs. Clinton argued in an op-ed against a full cease-fire, so Yousafzai’s association with her drew criticisms of hypocrisy (Yousafzai later affirmed her support for cease-fire and condemned Israeli leadership).

Yousafzai has devoted her life to activism. Kim Kardashian has not. Some would argue that celebrity activism is meaningless or moot—that the model, athlete, singer, or whoever—is usually ill-informed, even sometimes spreading misinformation on the conflict. And that most importantly, it doesn’t matter. Biden, Netanyahu, Hamas—suffice to say they’re not changing what they do because of whatever letter Harry Styles signed.

But, perhaps to proponents of #Blockout2024, it’s less about impact on the conflict than on what the artists they follow say about them. They want the celebrities they follow and identify with to show they care. And they want the stars to care about the same things, in the same way, as they do. Culture, after all, is identity. Retweets are not endorsements, they say. But if, as the movement suggests, being online makes you an inadvertent supporter of stars once you follow or interact with them, then at least—these users are affirming—the stars you support with your attention should be people who align with your moral values. They may not be targeting the most salient people or focusing their activism energies too precisely. But it’s not such a novel or crazy idea.