How Is Google Aiding Israel’s Unrestrained War?

An investigative analysis of a $45 million government ad buy, the ethics of Big Tech, and the battle for global narratives

When technology platforms become propaganda tools in bloody conflicts, the moral question comes first: can a company the size of Google be used to polish the image of a government accused of genocide?

That is the charge triggered by a $45 million advertising contract signed with the Israeli government in June 2025, exposing how slogans of “neutrality” and “responsibility” collapse under the weight of money and politics.

This article examines the contract’s background and mechanics, Google’s motives and the gap with its stated policies, the effectiveness of Israel’s media blitz, and the broader ethical and political implications for global tech. It situates the deal within Israel’s long-running strategy to market a settler-colonial project through digital advertising, influence networks, and narrative warfare.

I. Inside the Government Ad Deal with Google

In June 2025, Israel’s Government Advertising Unit (LAPAM) signed a six-month contract with Google, positioning the company as a “primary partner” in the Prime Minister’s media strategy.

The campaign ran on YouTube and Display & Video 360 (DV360) and was formally categorised as hasbara—state propaganda designed to justify Israeli policies and deflect mounting international criticism.
The declared aim was to amplify government messages and downplay the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza.
In parallel with the tightening siege in March 2025, paid ads denied the existence of famine and claimed “ample food”. An official video—boosted via Google’s ad stack—garnered millions of views.
Execution sat with LAPAM under the Prime Minister’s Office, with Google (alongside X) listed among the core platforms supplying the infrastructure to scale the campaign.
Tactics included multilingual content production, granular audience targeting for a global reach, and the recruitment of US-based influencers to pivot the narrative from “starvation” to “aid”.

Investigations reported that the contract explicitly framed the effort as propaganda, carried messaging to deny famine, attacked humanitarian bodies such as UNRWA, and promoted alternative entities favoured by Israel and the United States, while allocating additional budgets on other platforms to broaden the blitz.

By August 2025, the United Nations declared famine in parts of Gaza, calling it man-made, with hundreds of deaths from hunger and malnutrition recorded. Against that reality, Google-amplified ads became a stark example of disinformation at scale.

II. Google’s Motives vs Its Public Policies

Google’s acceptance of a $45 million state-propaganda buy raises fundamental questions about its motives and consistency with its own rules.

The company claims it does not profit from hate or harmful misinformation, yet it carried a campaign denying a UN-documented famine.
This suggests either profit and political calculus trump policy, or a deliberate blind spot for state speech from a Western-aligned government.
Ironically, the sum—large in headlines but minor for a company with tens of billions in annual revenue—puts Google’s reputational risk centre-stage.

Google’s ad policies prohibit harmful misinformation, but enforcement narrows when content is framed as “political speech” by an official source. Thus, claims denying famine were treated not as falsehoods, but as contestable political statements, despite conflict with UN and humanitarian reporting.

Evidence indicates Google was fully aware of the campaign’s nature: the contract referenced supporting the Prime Minister’s messaging, and rights-based criticism had already reached Google. A company co-founder even accused the UN of antisemitism, signalling an ideological tilt that discounts rights-based objections.

The contradiction is sharp. Google previously exited Project Maven with the US Department of Defence after employee protests against weaponised AI, professing a refusal to “work on war”. Today, its platforms are integral to whitewashing a siege and starvation documented by international bodies—a posture rights groups call “morally disgraceful complicity.”

The picture that emerges: commercial pragmatism and political pressure overrode values. In pursuing short-term revenue, Google placed itself at the heart of a global ethics scandal—no longer a neutral conduit, but an active participant in manufacturing consent.

III. Did Israel Win the Information War with Google’s Help?

A central question is whether the campaign achieved its goals—or whether spending tens of millions on ads merely signalled that Israel is losing the global narrative.

The blitz came amid surging worldwide condemnation during the 2023–2025 war on Gaza, as images of devastation and siege flooded traditional and social media.
Israeli officials and allies conceded that Israel’s international standing had plunged; even the Prime Minister acknowledged Israel was “losing the media war”, hoping battlefield gains would flip the optics.

Outcomes:

Backfire effect: Famine denial drew ridicule and rebuttal from journalists and aid groups. UN officials publicly alleged Israel used Google ads to undercut UNRWA fundraising by smearing the agency—casting the ad buy itself as a threat to humanitarian operations.
Transparency trail: Platform ad-transparency tools enabled reporters to trace spend and provenance, exposing the state origin and collapsing the campaign’s “humanitarian mask.”
People vs. ads: A vast, organic global solidarity movement for Gaza—millions marching in major cities—generated billions of impressions across social platforms, dwarfing paid placements and hardening public scepticism of official spin.

Limited gains: The campaign found narrow resonance among segments already primed to disbelieve Palestinian testimony, and some legacy outlets echoed parts of the script without scrutiny. Domestically, the campaign reassured Israeli audiences, signalling that the government “explained Israel’s case to the world”—a morale function that may feature later in legal defences (“no intentional use of starvation”).

Bottom line: Despite heavy spend, Israel did not reverse the narrative tide. Even in allied environments, opinion—especially among youth—shifted towards stronger criticism of actions in Gaza. The Google deal stands less as a success than as evidence of a propaganda crisis.

IV. Ethics and Corporate Responsibility

The Google–Israel contract forces a core dilemma: should a global company transact with a government accused of war crimes and genocide? Indiscriminate bombardment and starvation are banned under international humanitarian law. Cooperation with an accused party raises the spectre of corporate complicity.

Under the UN Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights, companies must respect rights and conduct due diligence to avoid contributing to abuses—standards Google failed to meet.

Beyond legality, claims of political neutrality ring hollow when the platform carries a famine-denial campaign from one side of the conflict—while it is unimaginable the company would accept a counter-campaign from Palestinians on similar terms. In an era of “responsible investment” and ESG rhetoric, Google risks investor backlash, sustained rights-based pressure, and consumer boycotts, particularly across the Muslim world.

In the end, reputation—Big Tech’s most valuable asset—faces the greatest loss. This contract will remain a case study in how profit and power can trample principle.

V. Precedents: When Tech Chose Power over Principle

Google’s crisis is not isolated; it joins a lineage of tech scandals with profound ethical stakes:

Facebook–Cambridge Analytica (2018): targeted ads + data misuse undermined democratic processes, ending in record fines and moral censure.
TikTok: persistent allegations of propaganda and spying triggered threats of bans.
Google’s Project Maven (2018): shelved after mass employee dissent over weaponised AI.
Amazon & ICE: heavy criticism for enabling harsh migration enforcement seen as violating refugee rights.

Consequences come from regulators, states, employees, and civil society. For Google today, the risks combine: global public anger, potential legal exposure, internal pushback, and market-specific fallout—especially in Arab and Muslim markets.

VI. Israel’s Tech–PR Network: Buying the Narrative

Israel has built extensive partnerships with tech and PR to launder its image:

Project “Nimbus” with Google and Amazon for cloud/AI, widely protested for potential use in repression.
PR and lobbying in Washington: some with covert fronts to sidestep disclosure laws, others registered, all focused on message coordination and influence.
Platform pressure on Facebook/X to remove anti-Israel content—political leverage beyond paid contracts.
Influencer recruitment on Instagram and TikTok to pivot from “starvation” to “aid”.

The Google deal is thus not an aberration but an extension of a long strategy. The unresolved question: can paid reach permanently eclipse on-the-ground reality? History suggests facts reassert themselves.

VII. Reputation vs Revenue: What Will Google Choose?

Since exposure of the $45 million ad buy, debate has centred on whether Google will see it through or reverse course under public and rights-based pressure.

By September 2025, the company’s response remained generic “policy” lines, as protests grew outside offices and calls to cancel the deal multiplied—alongside boycott momentum in the Arab and Islamic worlds.

While no direct lawsuits were filed at that time, accountability could still come via shareholder actions, OECD mechanisms, parliamentary hearings, or global debates over corporate liability in conflicts—echoing historic cases on hate media.

In a striking twist, the contract came to light through Google’s own ad transparency records—transparency tools turning into instruments of indictment. The fate of the deal will likely track the pressure curve. Whatever the outcome, this episode is a vivid lesson in how, in wartime, profit collides with principle—and who pays the moral price.

Key Takeaways

$45 million Google ad contract (June–Dec 2025) positioned the company as a primary vector for state propaganda denying UN-documented famine.
Enforcement gaps treating government speech as “political” let harmful disinformation slip policy nets.
Despite heavy spend, Israel failed to win the global narrative; organic solidarity content overpowered paid messaging.
Under UN business & human rights standards, Google faces claims of complicity risk, reputational damage, and market backlash—especially across Muslim audiences.
The deal fits a broader tech–PR ecosystem long used to shield Israeli policy—now increasingly visible under public scrutiny.