The Zionist Occupation of Open Source

Be sure to read our other post as well: Technology Without Humanity Means Nothing.

When Open Source Meant Freedom

In the beginning, open source felt like a promise.
A promise that code would belong to everyone, not to a few.
Every new line shared was not just logic written for a machine, it was trust offered to another human.

Developers gathered around repositories the way people gather around a fire. One person brought wood, another brought a spark, and soon the warmth spread to everyone. It was not about control or profit. It was about building something bigger than ourselves.

Open source was a movement born from freedom and solidarity. Freedom to use, to change, to share. Solidarity that crossed borders, cultures, and languages. It gave people who had never met the power to create together.

For a while, it worked. The dream was alive. And we believed the fire would never be taken away from us.

The Rise of Next.js and Vercel

Then came Next.js.
On the surface, it promised speed, SEO, scalability and everything a modern web demanded. Developers rushed to adopt it. Companies embraced it. Startups built their futures on it.

But something changed. Slowly, React, the very foundation, began to fade into the background. Next.js was no longer just a framework, it was the new default and the new standard. Behind it stood Vercel, positioning itself not only as a hosting company but also as the gatekeeper of the modern web.

It was no longer just about code, it was about control. The ecosystem shifted from community-driven innovation to company-owned dominance.

Guillermo Rauch and the Collapse of Trust

For years, Guillermo Rauch, the CEO of Vercel and creator of Next.js, was respected. A founder, a builder, someone who inspired developers worldwide. But then came the moment that broke the trust.

That trust began to crack with a single tweet. Guillermo posted words praising Israel. At a moment when images of destroyed homes and dead children filled the world’s screens, the community expected silence at the very least. Or an apology. Or even an explanation. What came instead was nothing. The tweet stayed. The silence grew louder than any statement.

Then came the photograph. Guillermo, smiling next to Benjamin Netanyahu. To millions, Netanyahu is not a neutral figure. He is seen as a war criminal, a man tied to the deaths of women and children. For Guillermo to stand there, smiling, was not just another political gesture. It was a declaration. He was choosing his side openly, and it was the side many in the open source community could never accept.

What made people even angrier was not only the photo. It was the tone. Guillermo spoke of peace while praising the very man accused of war crimes. He made it sound normal, almost like everyday politics, while communities around the world were mourning lost children. This was the second time he had done it. The first time he faced massive backlash, yet he repeated it. People no longer believed it was a mistake. They saw it as intentional, as part of a plan. A Zionist plan.

This fear was not baseless. In past IDF communications, technology figures were highlighted as valuable voices. They were encouraged to write in support of Israel. Those who opposed were mocked and discredited by organized troll armies on social media. This strategy was even shared publicly by Paul Graham, the founder of Y Combinator. The pattern was clear: technology leaders were not just writing code anymore, they were being turned into political weapons.

The man once respected became a symbol of disappointment. The collapse of trust was complete.

Sponsorship and the Stain of Bloody Money

The community was already boiling with anger. The photo had shocked many, but what followed took that anger to another level. Just one day after Guillermo stood smiling with Netanyahu, the news broke: Vercel had secured new funding.

Of course, funding is not something you secure overnight. Although with these people, even that would not be surprising. But in this case, it was clear enough. Guillermo had done his part. First with his earlier visit and post praising Israel, and then with his photo smiling next to Netanyahu. Step by step, the signals were sent. And right after came the money.

For developers who were still processing the betrayal, this felt like a punch in the face. It was no longer just an ideological gesture. Now it was also about money. Zionist capital was not only standing behind Vercel symbolically, it was feeding it financially. The message was loud and clear.

And then came the announcement on X. Not from Vercel, but from React’s official account. React Conf proudly declared Vercel as a sponsor. For a community already wounded, this was the last straw. React was supposed to be the heart of open source. Now its most important gathering was being promoted with the name of the very company whose CEO was openly praising a war criminal.

Reactions were explosive. Developers flooded social media with accusations:
“You took bloody money.”
“Even React is sold.”
“Trust is gone.”

But what made people furious was not only the sponsorship itself. It was the timing and the arrogance of how it was shared. Guillermo and Vercel had just faced outrage from every corner of the world. Yes, from every continent, from millions of voices loud enough to drown any PR narrative. And yet, React’s own official account proudly posted about Vercel sponsoring React Conf.

This left the community asking: Who approved this? If it was handled by a PR agency disconnected from reality, then they had no idea what they were doing. If it came from within the React team itself, it revealed clear bias. Because even a PR intern with the lowest IQ would know not to make such an announcement during this storm. You would only do this if there was pressure, or if it was part of a bigger agenda.

And if it was indeed part of an agenda, then the silence of the React team spoke volumes. Not a single person said “stop.” No one held back the post. Which led to one conclusion: React, too, was in the hands of the Zionists.

Instead of transparency, silence followed. The sponsorship post stayed. The announcement was not withdrawn. And with that silence, a new perception was sealed: React itself was now occupied.

The Debate on Boycott

After the outrage the community split into two camps.

One side declared: “We are leaving Vercel. We are done with Next.js. We will not build on their platform anymore.” To them the answer was clear. Continuing to use tools backed by Vercel meant endorsing a company and a CEO who had publicly taken a side many found impossible to accept.

The other side mocked this position. “You cannot boycott open source,” they said. “Keep politics out of code.”

But here lies the truth. What is being boycotted is not the code. It is the stance. Open source was never just neutral code. Licenses are political. The choice to share or not is political. The choice to accept money or not is political. Standing against concentrated power is political. Defending human dignity is political.

This matter is not only political. For many it is plain moral. People are not debating abstract policy. They are watching hospitals, schools and homes being destroyed and civilians being killed or left to starve. The World Health Organization and other agencies reported heavy damage to health facilities and severe humanitarian needs in Gaza. These facts make the issue a human and moral crisis for many readers.

Many communities around the world have treated the events not as policy differences but as mass suffering that demands a moral response. Large protests and public outcry in many cities reflect that feeling.

There is also a pattern that worries people. Technology leaders and influencers have long been politically visible and sometimes pressured to take sides. Historical episodes show how public comments by tech figures can create strong reactions inside the ecosystem.

Saying “this is politics” misses the point. In Gaza the facts that many international observers and human rights experts have documented create a moral test. The UN independent commission concluded that actions in Gaza amounted to genocide according to its report and findings. For many community members that conclusion is decisive in deciding what counts as a permissible stance in open source.

Silence is also a position. Claiming neutrality while people suffer looks like siding with those who hold power. That is why the boycott debate is not about code. It is about conscience.

The Power of the Zionist Lobby in Tech

What happened with Vercel was not an isolated story. It was a mirror of a larger system. For years, the Zionist lobby has understood something very clearly: technology is influence. The software we write shapes billions of lives, controls information flow, and builds the infrastructure of the future. Whoever shapes the tools, shapes the world.

This is why influential figures in tech are courted, praised, and used as amplifiers. The strategy is old. The Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs itself documented campaigns where celebrities, athletes, and entrepreneurs were used to “normalize” Israel’s image abroad. In the last decade, tech founders and CEOs became the new ambassadors. They are invited, photographed, celebrated, and then their voices echo through the community.

Paul Graham, founder of Y Combinator, once pointed out how online troll armies were being mobilized to defend Israel’s narrative, flooding social media to silence critics. It was not random noise. It was organized. And when combined with the reach of tech influencers, it became a powerful propaganda machine.

So when Guillermo smiles next to Netanyahu, it is not just a personal mistake. It is a play in a larger script. When React’s official account proudly shares Vercel as a sponsor right after the backlash, it is not just tone-deaf PR. It is how normalization works: through repetition, through silence, through the idea that “this is normal.”

The lobby does not need every developer to agree. It only needs the ecosystem to stay quiet. To keep building, keep deploying, keep pushing commits as if nothing happened. Because silence is victory.

This is why the story of Vercel is not about one company. It is about how the open source world — once the symbol of freedom — can be occupied not by code, but by capital, politics, and propaganda.

The Occupation of Open Source

Open source began as a promise. A promise of freedom, equality, and collaboration without borders. For years, we believed that promise could never be broken. But today, it is under occupation.

The occupation is not by soldiers but by money. Not by tanks but by sponsorships, investments, and staged photographs. Not by weapons but by narratives carefully repeated until they sound normal.

React was born as a tool of freedom. Next.js rose as a promise of speed and power. Vercel positioned itself as the future of the web. But along the way, the ideals were traded for capital. Lobby interests slipped into our ecosystem under the cover of “open source progress.”

Every framework we use, every package we install, every sponsorship we accept — these are no longer just technical choices. They are moral choices. To say “code is neutral” is to ignore the values embedded in it, the money behind it, and the politics shaping it.

We cannot pretend anymore. To use Vercel or Next.js today is not just to build websites. It is to become part of a chain that connects our code to propaganda, to occupation, to war crimes.

The story of open source is at a crossroads. Either we accept the occupation and keep coding in silence, or we remember what open source was meant to be: freedom.

And history will remember. Not just the commits we pushed, but the silence we kept.

What Must Be Done

Silence is no longer an option. If open source was built on freedom, then freedom demands responsibility. If we believe in community, then community must act.

• Support alternatives. Frameworks and tools do not belong to a single company. Forks and independent projects exist. They need contributors, visibility, and courage.
• Demand transparency. We must ask who funds our tools, who sponsors our conferences, who sits in the photos we celebrate. Code without accountability is a lie.
• Refuse normalization. When propaganda enters our ecosystem disguised as “progress,” call it out. Do not let staged photos and hollow words erase the reality of war crimes and suffering.
• Speak up. A tweet, a post, a conversation matters. Every developer who refuses silence weakens the occupation. The lobby thrives on apathy. Break it.
• Build together. The dream of open source was never about one framework or one company. It was about all of us. We can take it back if we choose to.

This is not about politics alone. It is about conscience. Technology is never neutral. Every line of code carries the values of those who write it, fund it, and use it.

The question now is simple:
Will we let open source remain occupied, or will we fight to free it again?