Javier Bardem and Me

Ciao Javier,

We met a few years ago in Venice during the Film Festival. It was a photo session in a garden. You came toward me in a good mood, looked at me and said: “Wow, you remind me so much of my sister.”

We immediately hit it off. You were friendly, approachable, warm-hearted, interested – more like a buddy than an international superstar. My assistant rolled out a large, bright-red velvet fabric, you lay down on it without hesitation, and the photo session began with a lot of laughter. It was carefree, almost as if we had known each other for a long time. I believe that still comes across in the pictures today.

Perhaps that is precisely why I am writing to you now.

I have been, and remain, a great admirer of your acting. For a long time, I thought my open letter to Tilda Swinton three years ago was all I wanted to say on this subject. But in the meantime, there are many famous people whom I have photographed and appreciated as human beings who have become strangers to me today. Because of Israel. You are one of them.

I see you on social media laughing with your wife, arm in arm. And in the next clip, I see a different face as soon as you talk about Israel: hard, angry, fanatical. I ask myself: What is happening to you?

It is now the story of Shalev Biton that makes me write to you.

Biton is an Israeli soldier who was seriously wounded in the war near Gaza and lost a leg. During his rehabilitation, he encountered a problem that millions of amputees know: if you only need one shoe, you still have to buy a pair. So he approached Adidas with a simple idea.

The company listened to him. Adidas is now making it possible, for the first time, to buy individual shoes. A small change for a worldwide company like Adidas, a major relief for people with amputations – regardless of whether they are Israeli, Palestinian, Muslim, Christian or Jewish. At the same time, Adidas could serve as an example -better role model- of how to build bridges.

And yet, you are calling for a boycott of Adidas.

I do not understand that.

You recently said: “Love is always, always, always stronger than hate.” That is precisely why this story should be yours, too. A wounded Israeli is using his own fate to make life a little easier for other people. He does not ask about nationality or religion. He is building a small bridge.

Why do you want to tear down this particular bridge?

For me, that is the fundamental problem with your public position. You say you want to help the Palestinians. But your anger is directed almost exclusively at Israel. Where is the same passion when it comes to Hamas? Where is it when Palestinians themselves protest against its rule? Where is it when people in Gaza demand a life free from religious fanaticism, terrorism and oppression?

In 2019 and 2023, Palestinians protested against Hamas under the slogan “We want to live.” Even later, there were repeatedly people in Gaza who stood up against the Islamists despite enormous personal danger. Many of them were persecuted and murdered by Hamas. There were also protests and public executions in 2025 and 2026. The 10–20% of civilians in Gaza who openly oppose terrorism, in particular, would need the solidarity of prominent voices right now.

So far, I have heard nothing from you about this. Nor have I heard anything about it from many of your prominent fellow campaigners, such as Mark Ruffalo, Susan Sarandon ….

And that discrepancy deeply troubles me.

You speak of genocide in Gaza. That is the most serious accusation that can be made against a state. Precisely for that reason, the term should not be used as a political slogan. A war can be horrific, brutal and involve enormous civilian suffering without automatically fulfilling the legal criteria for genocide. This question must be discussed on the basis of facts, intentions and actions – not slogans.

Of course, the suffering of the people in Gaza is real. Every civilian killed, every child killed, every family destroyed is a tragedy. No one should gloss over that. In Israel, families have likewise been destroyed, people injured and traumatized. And it is equally true that Hamas has embedded its military infrastructure in a densely populated civilian environment, built tunnels, used civilian facilities and conducted its war from within the civilian population. In doing so, it has used its own population as human shields. The tunnels do not serve to protect the civilian population.

We must be allowed to talk about that, too.

And we must talk about October 7.

You publicly present yourself as someone who opposes violence against women and toxic masculinity. That is right. But where was your voice when Israeli women and girls were abused, abducted and murdered in the most brutal ways on October 7? Where is your empathy for the hostages and their families?

Does your statement that we must not remain silent or look away in the face of violence not apply to Israeli women as well?

This question concerns me because I genuinely believe you are capable of empathy. I experienced you yourself as a warm-hearted, attentive person. That is precisely why I cannot understand this one-sidedness.

You compare Israel and its army to the darkest crimes in history, drawing parallels between the IDF and the Nazis. To me, this is an intolerable reversal of victim and perpetrator. You support “Free Marwan,” thereby calling for the release of Marwan Barghouti, who was convicted for his responsibility for deadly terrorist attacks. Even Hamas advocated for his release, despite Barghouti belonging to the rival and hated Fatah movement.

Other statements also trouble me. Following the massive border crossing from Morocco into the Spanish enclave of Ceuta, you blamed Israel for it and suggested that it was a reaction to Spain’s critical policy toward Israel. Claims like these are no longer criticism of an Israeli government. They promote a worldview in which Israel is held responsible for events taking place thousands of kilometers away.

You often wear a keffiyeh, even though it is known that this scarf has, for generations, been associated with calls for violence against Jews. It was a bloody symbol under Arafat back then, and it is one for Hamas today.

Your calls for boycotts of Jewish figures in the American film industry also raise a deeply troubling question for me: Where does criticism of Israel end – and exclusion of Jews or incitement against Jews begin? Would you actually want to see Hollywood “free of Jews-  Judenfrei”?

At the same time, I hear nothing from you about those Palestinians in Gaza who oppose terrorism, Islamism and Hamas rule.

And they do exist.

People like Ahmed Fouad Alkhatib, who comes from Gaza and now lives in the United States and, despite suffering losses in his own family, is trying to develop a political vision beyond Hamas and endless war. People who ask what a future Palestine would have to look like so that its inhabitants have genuine opportunities: coexistence with their neighbors, work, education, freedom, democracy – and a life that is not defined by aid deliveries, armed terrorism and yet another war against Israel.

There are also Arab voices calling for precisely this kind of radical self-reflection within Palestinian society and warning of the destructive consequences of antisemitism and radical anti-Zionism.

That would be a debate in which your voice could carry weight.

Because if “Free Palestine” is to be more than a slogan, the question must be answered: Free from what – and free for what?

Free from Hamas? Free from religious fanaticism and terrorism? Free from antisemitism? Free from a political culture in which the next war matters more than the lives of one’s own children?

I want the Palestinians to have a self-determined and peaceful life. And I equally want an Israel whose people do not constantly have to fear for the existence of their country.

One must not be a prerequisite for the abolition of the other.

That is why I would also like to ask you something: Have you ever actually been to Israel? Have you spoken with survivors of the Nova Festival? With relatives of the hostages? With people from the kibbutzim near the Gaza border? With farmers? With soldiers? With Arab Israelis? With Holocaust survivors for whom October 7 brought old fears back with tremendous force? With children in the north of the country who had to spend many months in shelters? With the wounded?

Not with officials, not with activists – with people.                                                             I would like to show you Israel.

Not the Israel of Instagram clips, propaganda videos and political BDS campaigns. But a contradictory, loud, sometimes exhausting country. A country in which Jews and Muslims live, where Arabs are judges, doctors, members of parliament and soldiers. A country with a vibrant opposition, with fierce arguments over Netanyahu and his government, with many peace initiatives and people who have been trying for decades to find some kind of way out of this conflict.

You could meet people who work on the political and social conditions necessary for peace. You could visit the Peres Center for Peace and much more.

And you could meet Palestinians and Arab Israelis whose stories do not fit the simple narrative of perpetrator and victim. People who, despite all the problems, regard Israel as their home and would not want to live anywhere else. The fact that Israel is a vibrant democracy is also evident in the fierce debates in the Knesset and the demonstrations in the streets.

Perhaps we would argue fiercely. Probably.                                                                       Your temperament against mine.

But perhaps that would be better than the next call for a boycott, the next slogan, the next post in which it has already been decided who is good and who is evil.

I still remember the Javier from that garden in Venice: curious, warm-hearted, open to the person standing before him.

That is the Javier I would like to ask:                                                                                       Do you really want to change something for the Palestinians? Then help those who want peace, freedom and a life without Hamas. And if you criticize Israel – of course you have every right, and indeed should, do so – then distinguish between criticism on the one hand and delegitimization and demonization on the other. And take a look at this country. Listen to the people there, too. Not to give up your opinion, but to test it against reality.

Perhaps bridge-building begins precisely there: by listening, especially when you believe you already know everything.

After losing his leg, Shalev Biton did something very simple. He turned his personal misfortune into an idea that helps other people.

All people.                                                                                                                             Perhaps that is the better answer to hatred against Jews and Israel at this moment.

And perhaps it would be a beginning to find the courage to experience Israel for yourself – and to let Israel live.

To better days.                                                                                                                         Ciao,                                                                                                                                    Gabriella

The original text: Jüdische Allgemeine/Germany https://www.juedische-allgemeine.de/meinung/javier-bardem-und-ich/

Photographer Gabriella Meros has photographed more than 750 portraits of famous and interesting people since 1995. Her work has been published by magazines including Focus, Elle, Stern, Madame, Vogue, Gala, GQ, Sunday Times Magazine, Esquire, Paris Match, Vanity Fair and many others.