Get hip to your own hypocrisy

British essayist William Hazlitt once wrote that “the only vice that cannot be forgiven is hypocrisy.” Clearly Hazlitt was not a Jew, or he would know all about teshuvah, the Jewish practice of seeking forgiveness and self-improvement, but his point is well taken. There are few things that irk my soul more than the overconfident lack of humility on display when an oblivious person exhibits a behavior they purport to stand firmly against.
This is doubly true for me when the culprit is a Jew. Yes, Jews are human beings, fallible as any other, but we are supposed to live our lives according to the highest moral code. I don’t even mean the specific laws or commandments or rituals; I mean the ethos, the core values, the “pintele yid,” the spark of Jewish essence inside us.
Unfortunately my high regard for the moral character of my tribe and my distaste for hypocrisy came into a cacophonous clash this past fall, in the 100 days of Kamala Harris’s campaign for president of the United States.
The 13 months from October 2023 until November 2024 were extraordinarily difficult for the Jewish people. We are still living through this terrible moment, the one that began on October 7th and has continued every day since, as we have defended ourselves from those who seek to destroy us, both literally and symbolically. The only possible antidote to all this anti-Jew venom, the only chance we have to stand strong against it, is to be a loving, supportive, unified Jewish community. It is like the Roman phalanx formation — we need to be in lockstep, each protecting the other, or we will have no chance of beating back the superior numbers of our enemy.
And yet, while facing this existential threat, the Jewish community wasted no time cannibalizing itself over political disagreement, in a messy and public way that was antithetical to everything being Jewish is about. The polarization pitfall was ready and waiting, and the Jewish community jumped right in.
There was a clear and reasonable case to be made for Jews to support either candidate. What it boiled down to was this: Jews on the Left (which is by far most Jews) could not stomach voting for a candidate in Donald Trump, whom they saw as being the best example of the worst kind of person our species can produce. Most Left-leaning Jews chose to hold their noses and vote for an imperfect candidate and an imperfect party, who at least overlapped with some of their Jewish values, rather than choose a man who wouldn’t know a Jewish value if it smacked him in the face.
On the Right, Jews were concerned about the situation in Israel and the safety of Jews in America, period. They saw in the Democratic party a constant mealy-mouthed equivocation, a pandering to the party’s most anti-Jewish elements, decisions of rhetoric or optics that undercut Israel’s ability to win the war in swift and decisive fashion.
Both positions were valid, but one would never know it from the way Jews began attacking each other. Where was the “derech eretz” — the Jewish value of common decency and respect? Where was the sense of common cause? Out the window, from the people who should be most holding themselves to the highest ethical standard.
This ugly clash between political ideology and communal solidarity raises a critical question for Jews — and for any group navigating divisive times: How do we balance our individual convictions with the pragmatic and moral imperative to stand together as a community?
From the Left, I heard exasperation, frustration, dismissal, and condescension of those who would dare to approach the situation from a different point of view. And while I can understand the reflex to be horrified at support for Donald Trump, I cannot justify the rush to demonize our own brothers and sisters, and the refusal to even attempt to understand them. We’re supposed to be better than this.
Moreover, many Jewish voices and media outlets fanned the flames of this embarrassing discord. On the Right, I saw Jewish influencers openly trolling, bullying, and insulting other Jewish figures on the Left. I saw inflammatory and divisive videos on both sides, gleefully painting our own community members as “the enemy.” I saw Jewish media dropping incendiary, biased articles clearly meant to stoke the flames and rile people up. I saw few attempts, if any, to calm the waters and promote unity.
Thankfully, the election is over and the internecine fighting has quieted down. But a new regime has assumed the reins of power, and if it’s anything like the last Trump administration, we’re going to be seeing and hearing our president on the news every single day, saying and/or doing things that some will applaud and others will deplore.
As we step deeper into this uncharted new year, my hope for our people is that we remember ourselves, our values, our essence; that we not allow fear, as powerful a motivator as it can be, to supersede our higher thinking and holy ethical code. If hypocrisy has any saving grace, it is that we can shut it down as soon as we become aware of it. Let’s hope the Jewish community gets hip to our own hypocrisy, because unlike agreeing on politics, the stability and survival of our lives depend on it.
So next time, before you hit send on that tweet or text or DM, remember: We are capable of better. We must be better.