When Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu rose to speak before the United Nations General Assembly in September 2025, many delegates responded by standing up and walking out. The gesture was meant to be symbolic—a protest against Israel’s ongoing war on Gaza, widely described by human rights organizations as genocidal in nature. The walkout was covered as a “powerful statement,” a bold refusal to give Netanyahu an audience.
But let’s pause. Was it really powerful? Or was it just performative? More importantly: did it do anything to change the situation on the ground? Did it lessen suffering in Gaza? Did it bring accountability to Israel’s government? Did it shift Netanyahu’s mindset, even slightly? I would argue no. In fact, I believe the walkout, while emotionally satisfying for some, was counterproductive in the long run.
And here is why: shunning someone—ignoring them, treating them like a monster, pretending they don’t exist—does not foster accountability. It fosters division. It deepens echo chambers. It emboldens both sides to dig in harder. And it undermines the very empathy and compassion that are essential if we ever hope to resolve conflicts rooted in cycles of hate.
The Politics of Walking Out
On the surface, walking out looks like a protest. It says: “We refuse to legitimize you by listening.” But what it really communicates is a refusal to engage. And engagement—difficult, uncomfortable, painful engagement—is exactly what’s needed in a conflict as entrenched and brutal as the Israeli-Palestinian one.
Walking out allows delegates to congratulate themselves on “taking a stand” without actually doing the work of standing up. It is, in a sense, a privileged move. If you are sitting in the UN hall, you are not the one under bombardment in Gaza. You are not the one facing checkpoints in the West Bank. You are not Netanyahu himself, under the spotlight. You are in a position of safety, a position where walking away is an option. For Palestinians trapped in Gaza, walking away is not an option. For Israelis under Netanyahu’s government, walking away is not an option.
To walk out is to cover your ears like a child on a playground, shouting “la la la” so you don’t have to hear something you don’t like. It may feel righteous in the moment, but it accomplishes nothing. Worse, it can backfire.
The Backfire Effect
Imagine how Netanyahu interprets a walkout. Perhaps he thinks: “So they don’t even care to hear me out. Fine. Why should I care about them?” He can easily frame it to his supporters as proof of global bias, as evidence that Israel is unfairly targeted. The walkout becomes propaganda fodder, not a challenge.
Meanwhile, for those who walked out, the act may feel like moral clarity. But what it really does is leave Netanyahu to speak unchallenged. His words go into the record without pushback, without confrontation. Walking out might deny him an audience, but it does not deny him a platform. It simply removes dissent from the room.
And for the global public watching, the image is polarizing. Pro-Israel supporters interpret the walkout as anti-Israel hostility. Pro-Palestinian supporters cheer it as defiance. But no minds are changed. No dialogue is sparked. The trenches only deepen.
Radical Empathy Applied
This is where radical empathy comes in. Radical empathy insists that even someone like Netanyahu, presiding over policies many see as genocidal, should not be dehumanized. He should not be treated as a monster to be shunned. He is still a human being—flawed, dangerous, perhaps destructive, but human nonetheless.
Recognizing his humanity does not mean excusing his policies. It does not mean minimizing the suffering in Gaza or erasing the calls for justice. It means approaching him as someone capable of hearing, of being confronted, of being challenged face-to-face. It means saying: “We oppose what you are doing, and we will tell you directly to your face, because we believe you are human enough to hear it—even if you refuse to listen.”
Radical empathy also extends to his supporters. If they see him mocked, shunned, and demonized, they will only entrench further, convinced the world hates them. But if they see him confronted with dignity, with compassion even amid accountability, they may begin to question. They may feel less need to double down.
Accountability vs. Dehumanization
One of the hardest lessons of radical empathy is that accountability and compassion are not opposites. You can hold someone accountable while still recognizing their humanity. In fact, real accountability is only possible when we do so.
If we treat Netanyahu as a monster, as less than human, then nothing he does can surprise us. Monsters behave monstrously; what more is there to say? He is beyond redemption, beyond dialogue, beyond change. That narrative may feel emotionally satisfying, but it shuts the door on accountability. It assumes nothing can be done.
But if we treat him as a human being, then he remains capable of choice. He remains responsible for his actions. He remains accountable. It is precisely because he is human that we can and must hold him to human standards of justice.
What Would Have Been More Effective
Instead of walking out, imagine if the delegates had stayed. Imagine if they had held signs in the hall, or stood silently in protest while Netanyahu spoke, making their dissent visible but undeniable. Imagine if they had interjected—challenging his words in real time, refusing to let him speak unopposed.
That would have been confrontation. That would have been accountability. That would have been empathy in action: respecting him enough as a human being to challenge him face-to-face, rather than pretending he didn’t exist.
Walking out, by contrast, is passive. It avoids conflict rather than engaging it. It silences dissent instead of amplifying it. It does not challenge Netanyahu—it merely sidesteps him.
The Privilege of Silence
Another dimension worth naming is privilege. To walk out on a speech is, ultimately, a luxury. It is the privilege of those who can choose when and where to engage. For those living under bombs, there is no walkout. For those living under occupation, there is no walkout. For those suffering daily, there is no luxury of silence.
Delegates at the UN had an opportunity to confront Netanyahu directly, in a space where the world was watching. Instead, they chose the comfortable option of removing themselves from discomfort. That is not bravery. That is not solidarity. That is, at best, self-expression. At worst, it is self-indulgence.
Division and Escalation
The larger danger of shunning as protest is that it deepens divisions. Pro-Palestinian activists celebrate, pro-Israel advocates seethe, and both sides move further apart. Each interprets the act through their own lens, and instead of opening dialogue, the walkout closes it.
This is not just ineffective; it is dangerous. When people feel unheard, ignored, or dismissed, they often radicalize further. They lash out. They stop caring about dialogue, because dialogue feels impossible. Shunning Netanyahu may feel like a symbolic victory, but the long-term effect is to push him—and his base—further into isolation, anger, and defiance.
Radical Empathy as a Political Strategy
This is why radical empathy is not just a moral stance but a political strategy. It insists that we must engage with our opponents as human beings. Not because we agree with them, not because we excuse them, but because refusing to engage only strengthens their position.
Radical empathy says: “We see you as human, and that is why we will not let you go unchallenged. We will confront you, but we will confront you with dignity, with compassion, and with clarity.”
In practice, this could look like:
- Staying in the room and making dissent visible.
- Speaking truth directly to Netanyahu’s face.
- Asking pointed questions in real time.
- Refusing to normalize or excuse, but also refusing to dehumanize.
Beyond the Walkout
The walkout at the UN will likely be remembered as a symbolic gesture, another entry in the long history of empty theater in international politics. But the suffering in Gaza continues. The oppression of Palestinians continues. The divisions deepen.
If the goal is to build a world where justice is possible, where accountability matters, and where cycles of violence are broken, then gestures like walking out are not enough. Worse, they may be counterproductive.
We need something deeper. We need radical empathy.
Conclusion: Confront, Don’t Shun
Netanyahu’s policies deserve scrutiny. Israel’s treatment of Palestinians demands accountability. The world must continue to speak out against what many call genocide. None of this is in doubt.
But the way we respond matters. Walking out is not a solution. Shunning is not justice. Dehumanization, even of our oppressors, is a trap. It mirrors the very logic of hate we claim to oppose.
Radical empathy offers another path. It calls on us to confront rather than ignore, to engage rather than dismiss, to humanize rather than demonize. It challenges us to see even Netanyahu not as a monster, but as a human being capable of accountability, of choice, of change.
That may feel harder. It may feel less satisfying in the short term. But it is the only way forward. Because if we truly believe in justice, then we must also believe in humanity—even the humanity of those who have caused immense harm.
Walking out is easy. Radical empathy is hard. But only the hard path will take us anywhere worth going.