It’s the Economy, Stupid! Was Carville Right?
Vayera 5787
While campaigning on behalf of Bill Clinton in 1992, James Carville famously declared, “It’s the economy, stupid!” The political strategist spoke for many who believed that those in power were out of touch with everyday Americans struggling to make ends meet. Of course, Carville was right. People prioritize pocketbook issues, and that is nothing new.
When given the choice of where to settle, Avraham’s nephew Lot chose Sodom because it appeared to be a well-watered area, “like the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt” (Bereishit 13:10). Immediately after describing Lot’s decision to move there, the Torah informs us that the people of Sodom were wicked, implying that Lot understood full well that he was moving into a den of iniquity. In other words, Lot was willing to trade his spiritual well-being for financial gain. It is not difficult to imagine a scene in which, after being admonished by Avraham for choosing to move to that city of sin, Lot responds to his uncle’s lecture with the words, “It’s the economy, stupid!”
Yet Lot’s willingness to sell out came at a terrible cost. His moral compass became so distorted by his new surroundings that when a mob gathered outside his door intending to sexually assault his two guests, Lot offered up his two virgin daughters in a desperate attempt to appease the hoodlums outside.
Although Lot and his daughters escaped the city before its destruction, much damage had already been done. Having experienced the trauma of their father offering them up as commodities in a desperate attempt to placate the mob, the daughters subsequently turned the tables on him. Alone in the mountains, they used their father to meet their own needs, intoxicating him and having relations with him in order to achieve their goal of having children.
In his attempt to accumulate a fortune by moving to Sodom, Lot lost something far more valuable than all the wealth he could acquire: a good name (Avot 4:17). Indeed, his name became forever tarnished, associated with incest. His elder daughter even had the chutzpah (gall) to name her child Mo’av, meaning “from my father.” So morally compromised had the elder daughter become that she made no effort to conceal what had happened, even immortalizing it in her child’s name.
Looking back, would Lot still have insisted, “It’s the economy, stupid”? Or would he have come to recognize that, while kitchen-table issues are vitally important, he had sacrificed far too much in his pursuit of wealth?
As Election Day approaches, we are reminded that being a responsible citizen requires balancing competing values. Lot’s disastrous choices teach us that focusing exclusively on our own narrow interests can harm others while diminishing our own moral stature.
On the other hand, we cannot simply dismiss our own interests. At the end of August, Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel told fellow Jews that they had a “moral imperative to place the needs of the world above even our own self-interest and, yes, even our own survival.” Invoking Queen Esther, she urged them to be prepared to “sacrifice the comfort, safety and security and even the very future of our own people” for the opportunity to save the rest of humanity. Her remarks came amid controversy surrounding Democratic Senate nominee Abdul El-Sayed and his positions on Israel and Jewish safety.
Even a cursory study of Jewish law makes clear that martyrdom, when necessary, is intended to ensure the survival, not the demise, of the Jewish people. Nessel also invoked the example of the Persian Queen Esther, who risked her life to save the Jewish people when they faced the threat of extinction within the Persian Empire. Yet Nessel fundamentally misunderstands Esther’s story. Esther did not call upon her people to sacrifice themselves; rather, she risked her own life to save them.
While we cannot read Nessel’s mind, a cynic might wonder whether her call for such dramatic Jewish sacrifice represents a case of the attorney general acting as Esther in reverse: calling upon her people to sacrifice themselves on her behalf so that she could remain in good standing with her political allies rather than standing up to those whose positions threaten Jewish security. If so, she would be guilty of the very mistake Lot made: treating others as commodities for personal advantage.
The story of the Akedah, the binding of Yitzchak, which appears shortly after Lot’s story, reinforces this very point. God ultimately prevents Avraham from sacrificing his son. The message is profound: even the most noble-sounding objective does not give us license to sacrifice another human being for our own purposes. A child is not a commodity to be used for someone else’s gratification or appeasement. Avraham’s willingness to obey God is ultimately met with God’s command to spare Yitzchak. The Torah thus draws a distinction between personal sacrifice and sacrificing others. We may be called upon to put ourselves at risk for the sake of others, but we must never casually demand that others bear the cost of our choices.
As we prepare to head to the polls this Tuesday, let us remember that there is nothing inherently wrong with looking out for our own interests. Carville was right: the economy matters, and so do the concerns of everyday people. But Lot’s tragic story reminds us that there are limits to how far we should go in pursuing our self-interest. We must never sacrifice our values, our integrity, or the well-being of others for personal or political gain. Those on either side of the aisle who ask us to do so are asking too much.
The challenge of responsible citizenship is to balance our legitimate self-interest with our obligations to the greater good. As we weigh competing priorities before casting our ballots, let us remember Hillel’s famous maxim: “If I am not for myself, who will be for me? And if I am for myself alone, what am I? And if not now, when?” (Avot 1:14).
Ultimately, Hillel captures the balance that both Lot and our contemporary political leaders must learn. We cannot be so preoccupied with our own interests that we disregard our responsibilities to others. But neither should we be expected to abandon our own people and values in the name of an abstract greater good. True leadership, and true citizenship, requires recognizing that both obligations matter. We must be for ourselves, but never for ourselves alone.
