Recently, the Irish band U2 released a surprise album that grapples with many of the moral and political issues currently shaping our world. For those of us who admire their music, it felt like receiving a letter from old friends trying, like so many of us, to make sense of this moment in time.
As a child of the 1980s, I grew up listening to their music.
I owned a cassette of The Joshua Tree and listened to it on repeat until the tape started to show signs of wear. I memorized the words to “Where the Streets Have No Name” and “With or Without You.” I went with friends to see Rattle and Hum and marveled at Bono’s larger-than-life presence on screen. But it wasn’t until college that my love for them turned into something bordering on obsession.
Yes, I was one of those fans. Their music played constantly in the apartment I shared with my best friend, blasting from our stereo, the soundtrack to our daily lives. We spent hours waiting to catch their music videos on MTV and VH1. We owned every CD and sang along to their music on every car ride. We attended as many of their concerts as we could, always the first in line outside our local grocery store to purchase tickets (Ah, remember those days?).
We walked around the cities where they performed, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. We half-seriously considered a trip to Ireland to pay homage to their home country. Everything about their music moved me in a way I couldn’t explain. Their music wasn’t just “pop,” it was meaningful and deep. And the older I got, the more I admired the conviction behind their lyrics, their activism, and their moral compass.
Shortly after October 7, 2023, U2 was performing at the Sphere in Las Vegas.
Like everyone else in the Jewish community, I was stunned and terrified by the attacks carried out by Hamas. I prayed for the hostages. I imagined the world would unite in unequivocal condemnation, and for a brief moment, that seemed to be the case. When I watched footage of U2’s concert, watched Bono sing passionately about the massacre at the Nova Music Festival, altering the lyrics of Pride (In the Name of Love) to honor the young victims, I cried. On that stage in that huge arena, Jewish pain was not invisible.
But solidarity within the global community was fleeting. After Israel launched its counterattack on Gaza, support for the Palestinian people (necessary, moral, and legitimate support) often overshadowed any acknowledgement of Israeli trauma.
As weeks of fighting turned into months, then years, the narrative shifted. Israel widely became viewed as the aggressor, colonizer, and committer of genocide. The whole country was lumped into the role of perpetrator, not just the reigning government. Anyone who supported Israel’s right to exist was labeled Zionist. The outcome was a slow, steady rise in antisemitism, fueled by hateful jargon and a general ignorance of Israeli/Palestinian history.
And everyone had an opinion! In Hollywood, popular artists began boycotting the Israeli entertainment industry. More than once, I read that an actor or musician whose work I admired had added their name to the ever-growing lists of entertainers boycotting Israeli film institutions or music streaming services. Names like Emma Stone and Benedict Cumberbatch (along with the usual suspects like Mark Ruffalo, Susan Sarandon, and Billie Eilish). I began to despair that the whole world had turned against the pain of the Jewish people. It was a dark place to be in.
So when I saw the subject of U2’s new album, Days of Ash, I held my breath.
I sat down and listened to their album carefully, wondering if and how they would address the conflict in the Middle East. I wondered if they, too, had chosen a side. Had their original support waned? I hoped their message wouldn’t slip into a binary narrative that held no room for complexity.
Would a band I had long admired for wrestling with truth and justice let me down?
Thankfully, the answer was no. I wasn’t disappointed. I let out my breath. Like so many times in the past, I was moved by the theme of their music, by songs that did indeed speak about the conflict but acknowledged both sides of the war.
The album included a recitation of the poem “Wildpeace” by Israeli poet Yehuda Amichai, and in an interview following the album’s release, Bono expressed his respect for the Jewish religion, the reality of rising antisemitism, and the importance of separating the Jewish people from the government of Israel.
The album’s songs also paid tribute to the slain Palestinian activist Awdah Hathaleen, and the song “The Tears of Things” mourns the violence in our world today while searching for a way to live with compassion.
The band’s message acknowledged something that many seem to dismiss: that two truths can exist at the same time. It is true that the Palestinian people are suffering under Hamas’ regime and the brutal war since October 7, and it is true that the Israelis experienced trauma on a scale not seen since the Holocaust on October 7 and are still recovering from that trauma.
The other songs on the album shone a spotlight on other injustices in today’s world. “American Obituary” focuses on the shooting of Renée Good in Minnesota by ICE officers, “Song of the Future” is dedicated to Sarina Esmailzadeh, a 16-year-old Iranian protestor who died after being detained, and “Yours Eternally” addresses the ongoing Ukrainian war.
U2 has never been just a band. Their music has depth, their lyrics have meaning. The themes of their songs center around faith and doubt, justice and mercy, rage and redemption. That is why I am a devoted fan. They remind me that art can be a space that acknowledges the messiness of life in a beautiful way, where contradictions can coexist, and hope can rise from the ashes.