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Fame is a bully pulpit

To the editor:

In recent weeks, several artists have disappointed me deeply, while others have filled me with admiration. Among those who broke my heart: Liev Shreiber, Mayim Bialik, Debra Messing, Pete Davidson, Dave Chapell, Kevin Hart, and above all, Bill Burr.

Among those making me proud: David Cross, Mark Ruffalo, Olivia Colman, Susan Sarandon, Carsie Blanton, Marc Maron, and — most surprisingly — Shane Gillis.

Fame is a powerful gift, granted to a rare few who receive a platform and, with it, a moral duty to use their voices to better the world. Leaving the world improved for those who follow is everyone’s responsibility, but when handed a bullhorn and a bully pulpit — especially in times of suffering — misusing that opportunity becomes a sin.

Consider the story of the Irish grapefruit ladies. In 1984, as apartheid in South Africa was gaining global attention, two grocery workers in Dublin — Mary Manning and Karen Gearon — refused to handle grapefruits imported from South Africa. Their small act of protest led to suspension, but soon others at Dunn’s Grocery joined them. News of their boycott reached Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu, who personally thanked them for their solidarity and told them that the Black community in South Africa had heard of their courage and felt bolstered.

During this same period, Steven Van Zandt of the E Street Band took up the baton founding Artists United Against Apartheid and released the album Sun City, featuring musicians pledging not to perform at South African venues. Their efforts amplified global awareness and helped inspire international boycotts that pressured the apartheid regime to end legal segregation.

In early September, disheartened by the atrocities of the Israeli government, thousands of artists signed a similar pledge: not to perform in or for Israeli film or theatrical productions. Many musicians agreed to geo-block Israel, preventing their music from being played there. Lorde, Tilda Swinton, and Paramore are among those standing on the right side of history.

Which brings me back to Mayim Bialik and Bill Burr. This concerns two separate but equally short-sighted decisions. First, several comedians — including Burr — became inadvertent apologists for the Saudi propaganda machine by agreeing to perform at the Riyadh Comedy Festival. Meanwhile, as voluminous performers such as Hannah Einbinder, herself a Jew, signed on to boycott Israel, numerous others — such as Bialik — publicly criticized the Israel boycotts, aligning — intentionally or not — with right-wing expansionists masquerading as Zionists within the Israeli government. But disapproving of cruelty is not anti-Semitism, and challenging a regime is not the same as bigotry against a people.

Some artists have risked their lives on the Global Sumud flotilla to bring aid to those starved by the Israeli government in Gaza. Others chose to play clowns for a regime that murders and mutilates journalists.

Fame grants influence, and influence carries moral weight. The Irish grapefruit ladies — ordinary women without fame or wealth — proved that small acts of conscience can change history. When people blessed with global platforms choose profit and applause over principle, they don’t just betray their audience — they betray the very idea that art should serve humanity.

J. David Core

Toronto

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