Greta Thunberg, once the poster child for climate activism, has shifted her focus to a new cause: Gaza. Her recent attempt to sail to the Gaza Strip aboard the vessel Madleen with a group of activists has sparked intense debate, with critics like Jake Wallis Simons, a columnist for the Daily Mail, labeling her actions as deeply immature and shameless. Simons argues that Thunberg’s Gaza venture reveals a “dark truth” about her activism—a quest for attention rather than genuine humanitarian concern. While her intentions may stem from a desire to spotlight suffering, her approach raises questions about the sincerity and impact of her actions.

Thunberg’s journey began on June 1, 2025, when she and 11 other activists set sail from Sicily, aiming to deliver a “symbolic” amount of humanitarian aid to Gaza and challenge Israel’s naval blockade. The Madleen, dubbed the “selfie yacht” by critics, carried a modest cargo, much of which, according to Israeli authorities, had already been consumed by the activists during the voyage. When intercepted by the Israeli navy, Thunberg and her crew were diverted to Ashdod, where she was photographed accepting a turkey sandwich from Israeli forces—a stark contrast to her claim of being “kidnapped.” This image, widely circulated, has fueled accusations of performative activism. Simons points out the insensitivity of her language, given the 251 individuals truly kidnapped by Hamas on October 7, 2023, many of whom endured horrific violence.

At 22, Thunberg is no longer the 15-year-old who sparked a global climate movement with her school strikes in 2018. Yet, as Simons notes, her behavior—symbolized by a green frog-shaped sunhat—suggests a persistent immaturity. Her transition from climate advocate to Gaza campaigner has been marked by controversial moves, such as a 2023 social media post featuring a stuffed octopus, a symbol critics linked to anti-Semitic tropes, forcing her to delete the image. Her vocal support for Palestine, often draped in a keffiyeh, has been criticized as cultural appropriation and a shallow embrace of complex geopolitical issues. The Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs dismissed her flotilla as a “media provocation,” arguing that established aid routes already deliver substantial support to Gaza, with over 92,000 trucks facilitated in the past 18 months.

Simons and others argue that Thunberg’s Gaza crusade is less about aiding Palestinians and more about self-promotion. Her selfies in a keffiyeh and her refusal to engage with evidence of Hamas’s atrocities—such as the October 7 attacks—suggest a selective moral outrage. Critics contend that her activism ignores the reality that Hamas often seizes aid, using it to sustain its operations rather than help civilians. By framing Israel’s blockade as the sole cause of Gaza’s suffering, Thunberg overlooks Hamas’s role in diverting resources and perpetuating conflict. This one-sided narrative, Simons argues, aligns her with a broader “NGO-media-digital industrial complex” that amplifies anti-Israel sentiment while ignoring the complexities of the region.

Thunberg’s defenders, however, see her as a principled activist evolving with the times. Supporters argue that her shift to Gaza reflects a broader commitment to justice, linking environmental and humanitarian causes. They point to her statement that “the moment we stop trying is when we lose our humanity,” emphasizing her determination to act despite overwhelming odds. Yet even these defenses struggle to justify the impracticality of her flotilla, which carried less than a truckload of aid—hardly a game-changer in a region where large-scale aid operations already exist.

The dark truth, as Simons sees it, lies in Thunberg’s apparent need for relevance. Her climate activism, once groundbreaking, has lost its edge as global attention shifts to other crises. By pivoting to Gaza, she taps into a cause that guarantees headlines, but her approach—marked by inflammatory rhetoric and symbolic gestures—undermines her credibility. The Madleen stunt, far from a daring act of charity, appears as a self-serving bid to stay in the spotlight.

In the end, Thunberg’s Gaza crusade reveals the pitfalls of activism driven by personal branding. While her passion may be genuine, her failure to grapple with the conflict’s nuances and her reliance on performative gestures risk alienating those who once admired her. As Simons suggests, true humanitarian work requires more than selfies and slogans—it demands a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths, something Thunberg has yet to demonstrate.