From Berlin 1936 to Lisbon 2025: When Erasure Becomes the Easiest Applause

A 1936 script of exclusion is playing out on the tech world's biggest stage, and the audience is complicit in its silence.

The Script of 1936

The year is 1936. The Olympic Games are underway in Berlin. Tens of thousands of cheering spectators fill the stands, marveling at the spectacle of sport and unity.

But for those living in Germany, the meaning is darker. Jews, Black people, and other minorities have already been stripped of their humanity. They still exist in reality, but in the public imagination, they’ve been erased. They are forbidden from the stage, banned from cultural life, hidden from view.

For the euphoric crowds, the moral narrative feels simple: Jews and Black people are the “bad ones,” the undeserving. Their exclusion is not only tolerated—it feels justified. A few may sense discomfort, but no one wants to spoil the show. No one dares to stand up.

Only one man truly breaks the script: Jesse Owens, the Black American athlete who refused to bow. He stood tall on the podium, dignified and unflinching, as others around him saluted tyranny. His defiance was quiet, but history remembers it as thunder.

A Modern Echo: Lisbon 2025

Now fast-forward to 2025, to Lisbon. Tens of thousands of tech leaders gather for the world’s self-declared celebration of innovation—the Web Summit. The event opens with a parade of flags, each nation symbolizing humanity’s shared progress.

Yet one flag is missing.

Israel’s flag is nowhere to be seen.

Once again, a nation—and a people—are made invisible.

The Silence Louder Than Keynotes

Politicians, entrepreneurs, and technologists mingle. Glasses clink. Deals are made. Startups are pitched. No one wants to stop the music or interrupt the cheer. What does it matter if an entire people has been erased from the pageant?

Israelis barely attend the summit anymore. Many still recall the 2023 controversy—just weeks after the October 7 massacre—when the Web Summit’s founder posted a message that many saw as seeking moral justification for terror. It was a wound that never fully healed.

And yet, as the celebration continues in 2025, the silence of the crowd is louder than any keynote.

No one questions the absence.

No one asks why the Israeli flag isn’t among the others.

No one dares to ruin the party.

The Silent Majority

You—the audience, the speakers, the investors—are the silent majority.

You allowed the show to go on.

You didn’t protest.

You didn’t speak up.

You let the Israeli flag vanish.

For many Jews in 1936, it was hard to comprehend the process of dehumanization unfolding around them. For us, in 2025, it should not be hard to recognize it now.

Because history rarely repeats itself exactly—but it rhymes.

And in that rhyme, we hear the same chilling refrain:

Erasure always begins quietly, and always with applause.