When the Loudest Voices Know the Least

It was a sunny, breezy afternoon in Venice Beach when I spotted him again—the man behind a small booth plastered with a large Palestinian flag and photos that he claimed were from Gaza. Months earlier, I had asked him if he had any connection to the conflict. He didn’t. Yet there he was, inviting passersby to “Prove Me Wrong.” Curious, and determined to finally have a real conversation, I approached him with my phone ready to record and what followed revealed just how little knowledge can masquerade as conviction.

I had biked eight or nine miles down the boardwalk that day, weaving through vendors and booths. I remembered passing this particular booth months ago, when my conversation with the man had been brief. At that time, I had regretted not asking my friend to film the encounter. I made a mental note then: if I ever saw him again, I would have a longer discussion and record it.

To my surprise, the booth was still there. After grabbing a quick bite, I approached him. This time, I recorded the conversation. Clay already had several cameras and GoPros set up to capture interactions with passersby. A small sign on the booth read “Prove Me Wrong,” in red, green, and white.

I asked why he was manning the booth if he had no connection to the conflict. He said he was born in 1948 and felt compelled to speak out as someone who grew up after World War II and the Holocaust.

Our conversation lasted forty minutes. Early on, he opened a binder labeled B’tselem, flipping pages as he tried to make points. I reminded him this was a conversation, not a reading session. Several times, he paused mid-sentence, rifling through the binder, muttering as if searching for the “right” answer. He even pulled out his phone to Google population statistics while talking—pausing, scrolling, reading aloud, hesitating.

It quickly became clear that Clay did not know what he was talking about. When I asked about Gaza’s population growth over the past three decades, he got caught up on my rough estimate of 500,000 people thirty years ago, even though the actual number was closer to 800,000. The difference didn’t change the point: Gaza’s population has exploded in recent decades, which would make Israel one of the worst perpetrators of genocide—if that were true. He eventually acknowledged the current population of about 2.2 million.

We spoke about Israel sending aid to Gaza during conflicts. I pointed out that it is the only time in recorded history that a nation sent aid to its enemy during an active war. He argued against it, this time declining to go on his phone to “check,” but I told him I was 100% certain, having researched it previously.

When we discussed his claim of genocide, he failed to account for intent, evidence, or context. I reminded him that Israel could have destroyed Gaza entirely in a short time if that had been its goal, which clearly was not the case.

The conversation turned to terminology. I asked him to define Zionism. He paused, claimed there were “various meanings,” and then admitted he did not know. Yet just minutes earlier, he had used the word Zionist multiple times, deploying images and accusations against the sole Jewish homeland without understanding even basic definitions or context.

At several points, Clay noted that he is 77 and that his mind is “not as sharp,” but age or cognitive ability does not excuse the public display of antisemitic claims. Flags, photos, and binders create an illusion of authority. Simply looking official or loud does not make someone informed or correct.

I am not saying someone needs to know everything about a conflict to advocate for it. But when a topic is this contentious, and a person has zero connection to it—not Jewish, not Israeli, not Palestinian—being so uninformed while publicly presenting yourself as an authority is reckless. You would think someone would at least do their homework before stepping into a public space with accusations that could inflame real-world hate.

Over the past few years, I have observed similar encounters at anti-Israel protests. Many of the loudest voices are the least informed, filling a void with causes they do not fully understand. This ignorance has real-world consequences. Following October 7, antisemitism surged worldwide, fueled by misinformation and misapplied outrage. Long dormant, this form of hatred was given the equivalent of lighter fluid.

Walking away from the booth, I felt a sense of validation. Knowledge is power, especially when applied in the right places. Simply waving flags or printing photos does not give someone authority over truth. As someone who has visited the region five times, spoken with people there from all backgrounds, and followed the conflict closely for two decades, I felt confident in my perspective. Yet it also reinforced the responsibility to speak up respectfully, firmly, and informed.

The loudest voices are often the least informed, and that is exactly why we must speak up.