Andy Byron, Negative Speech, and the Laws of Repentance

Unless you have been living on another planet, you are undoubtedly familiar with the Andy Byron story.  He was the individual caught cheating on his wife at a Coldplay concert in Boston when the camera at the concert zoomed in on him and a female employee at his company together in an uncompromising position.

While there are many elements to discuss about this story, I’d like to focus on two specific parts: 1) the question of whether the laws of lashon hara (the prohibition of negative speech) and ona’at devarim (the prohibition of verbal or emotional abuse and causing pain to another person through speech) are relevant to the case, and 2) what would an appropriate apology letter look like if it were consistent with Maimonides laws of repentance?

To best answer the first part, I asked Rabbi Daniel Feldman, spiritual leader at Ohr Saadya in Teaneck, NJ, and Rosh Yeshiva at Yeshiva University, five specific and targeted questions. In the past, Rabbi Feldman has written extensively on the subject of social media and lashon hara. Below are the questions I asked him — and his replies:

The Chofetz Chaim devotes extensive discussion to the prohibition of lashon hara—speaking negatively about others, even when true. In the age of social media, how should we apply these halachot to the act of sharing a publicly available video that embarrasses or shames another person? Does the fact that it’s already public remove the ethical prohibition against further spreading it?

The notion that “publicity” mitigates the prohibition of lashon hara, which to a certain extent is largely theoretical, has two versions:  One, there is an idea of “apei t’lasa,” which means that the elements of future publicity are there, and second, the case of something that has been so widely spread that it is considered known to all, which has a much greater level of public awareness.

However, in both cases, there are significant limitations. It is only permissible to spread the information when there is no increase in the population that will find out about it. Further, there is still the element of character degradation, which means that even if no one new is being informed, it is only appropriate to spread the information if there is some constructive purpose in doing so.

Pirkei Avot (3:14) teaches, “Beloved is man, for he was created in the image of God.” At what point does kavod habriyot—the dignity due to every human being—require us to refrain from amplifying a video like this, even if the person’s actions may warrant public scrutiny? How do we balance human dignity against the possible societal value of holding someone accountable?

Human dignity is a factor to which our society has already tremendously weakened and eroded our sensitivity.  Whatever can be done to increase our awareness of this crucial Torah value is certainly worthwhile and must be held in balance with other considerations.

Rambam, in Hilchot Teshuvah 4:1, warns that public humiliation can be one of the greatest barriers to repentance. If a video like this essentially freezes someone’s worst moment in time and makes it globally visible, are we creating a situation where teshuvah becomes nearly impossible? Does Judaism see that as a communal ethical failure?

The contemporary digital culture has done much to both enhance and challenge our spiritual growth and potential for repentance.  On the one hand, the idea that “everything is written in a notebook” is now very real and tangible. On the other hand, the fact that our worst mistakes can often be preserved for posterity at the same time as they are spread to a degree previously unimaginable makes the promise of getting past them seem impossible. However, repentance was never purely correlated to physical realities; it is a spiritual gift, a miraculous grace of God.  It would then fall on the community to recognize that if God can forgive, the rest of us must also find a way to move past what has happened, even if video evidence remains, including a commitment to do what is possible to reduce any further dissemination, as difficult as that may seem.

The Talmud and later halachic sources speak of ona’at devarim — verbal or emotional harm — not only to the direct subject but also to those around them. How much weight should Jewish ethics give to the pain caused to innocent family members — such as children or a spouse — when we consider whether to share or comment on such content?

Much more weight should be given to this factor than currently is given. Often, the immense pain that is felt by family members is completely ignored in these situations. Sometimes, the communal interest may be significant enough that that might be a necessary sacrifice, but very often it is not necessary or appropriate that such disregard should be given to this very significant and overwhelming anguish.

Pirkei Avot (2:5) teaches, “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” Is there an ethical obligation for bystanders — those who see others mocking, sharing, or commenting cruelly about such a video — to step in and try to stop the spread, even if the video is already viral? What does Jewish tradition say about our role as digital bystanders?

One should always try to make a difference, regardless of how difficult that seems or how unpopular the perspective appears to be. That being said, there is always a balance of considerations, including assessing what will be productive vs. that which will trigger a doubling down and a counter response.

It is also fair to consider to what extent, when a story is literally spread throughout the entire world, far beyond the population of the people involved, how much harm is being added by the additional comments of those with no connection whatsoever to the principal parties involved.

There remain significant character factors, but those sometimes are weighed against other considerations, and can vary greatly in their significant and impact.

In terms of the second part, I decided to ask ChatGPT to draft an apology letter for Byron, which would be faithful to Rambam’s laws of teshuva.  Here is what it came up with … I think it’s very good!

Dear Friends, Colleagues, and Community Members,

I am writing this letter with a heavy heart and a deep sense of responsibility. In recent days, my behavior at the Coldplay concert has come to public attention, and the footage that has spread has caused pain, confusion, and disappointment to many — especially to those who know me personally and expect better.

I want to begin by acknowledging, without excuse or justification, that my actions were deeply inappropriate. I failed to live up to the standards I believe in and that others have a right to expect of me. I used words and displayed conduct that were not only offensive but also embarrassing to others and to myself. I am not writing today to defend what happened. I am writing to say: I was wrong.

In the spirit of our tradition, I have reflected on the gravity of my actions, guided by the teachings of Rambam’s Hilchot Teshuvah. The first step is to recognize the wrongdoing — not only the act itself, but the harm it caused to others: to my family, my colleagues, those who were present, and even those who watched the video later and were disturbed by it.

The second step is remorse. I am filled with regret — not just because of the public consequences, but because I let myself be governed by impulses and frustrations that are unworthy of who I strive to be. I recognize the damage that can be done in just a few moments and how those moments can reverberate far beyond their origin.

Rambam teaches that we must also confess our wrongdoing with clarity and without minimizing it. So let me be clear: I used language that was unacceptable. I acted without restraint. I caused embarrassment to others and myself. And in doing so, I caused a chillul Hashem — a desecration of God’s name. For that, I ask forgiveness not only from the people I hurt, but from God.

Finally, I want to make a firm commitment: to seek help, to do the inner work necessary to understand what led to this, and to never repeat this kind of behavior again. I am taking concrete steps—privately and with guidance — to ensure I grow from this experience and emerge a better, more honest, and more respectful person.

To those I hurt: I am sorry. I ask humbly for your forgiveness, though I know it is something I must earn over time through changed behavior.

I know that some people may not be ready to accept this apology, and I accept that. I can only pledge to do better from here, and to try to live in a way that rebuilds the trust I’ve broken.

Sincerely,
Andrew Byron

While we can debate what the appropriate actions should be after such an incident occurs, the most important lesson from this episode might be one that a former teacher of mine emphasized to our class decades ago: whether you are in a public setting engaging in an inappropriate action, or in a private setting where you think no one is watching, God always has his camera on you 24/7. Perhaps if we keep that fact in mind, we will never even think of placing ourselves in an uncompromising position — and not have to worry about dealing with the questions I have posed.