I am a U.S. history and government teacher and, for the past few election cycles, I have viewed the approach of a presidential election year with dread. What should be a chance to marvel at our ability to participate in the choosing of our leadership—something that would have been the stuff of dreams for my ancestors in Eastern Europe—or maybe to consider thoughtfully what policies best advance our values and the needs of this country, instead … well, you know exactly what it’s become.
Across the United States, scholars have measured the same phenomena we have witnessed: polarization (more starkly divided political parties), negative polarization (one identifies more with hating the other party than with supporting one’s own) and sorting. This last phenomenon is that, increasingly, Americans live, socialize and interact with other Americans who share their political views. The “other” is a figure for social media vilification, caricature, and maybe awkward or heated conversations around the Thanksgiving table.
The Jewish community certainly recognizes this tendency. As a former student pointed out to me years ago, in any suburban Jewish community with multiple shuls, locals can tell you which shul is more conservative and which is more liberal. (Can you do that for your neighborhood? Of course you can.) An SAR parent, years ago, told me, “It’s not just the shuls—it’s the minyanim. Hashkama has different politics than the main minyan.” But we at SAR are committed—in principle, and as a practice—to trying to hold our community together across deep and important lines of difference. We aim not only to state that we are am echad, a unified people, or to issue paeans to the value of achdut, unity, but to say that those statements mean that we are Jews far more than we are red or blue.
But that is vastly easier said than done. For reasons both lofty—we disagree about what will best secure the well-being of the Jewish people and the flourishing of the United States—and base—“My team is better than your team and your team stinks”—it is very difficult to have meaningful conversations across these lines right now. In some communities, and also in some families, including my own, the solution has frequently been silence. If we agree never to speak about these difficult issues, talking instead about the weather or the Yankees or the food at kiddush, we can avoid being torn apart by more painful and complicated topics. But that achieves only what Justice Robert Jackson, in a Supreme Court opinion in 1943, referred to as “the unanimity of the graveyard.” It is quiet there, but nothing is alive. If we really want to act as though we are one people, treating each other as though we believe that people can be good and thoughtful and motivated by values and reach different conclusions about important issues than we have, then we are going to have to figure out how to talk to each other about those issues in a real and meaningful way.
This year at SAR High School, our theme is koach hadibbur—the power of speech. We are emphasizing this principle across many realms, including interpersonal interactions and conduct online, but certainly the presidential election gives us an opportunity to practice being attentive to how we speak and how we engage with one another.
As a school, we have committed to the principles of civil discourse around how we discuss elections. These principles assume that not all of the truth resides simply and clearly on one side of a political divide; that we must be able to engage with each other even around challenging issues; and that we must remember, even as many serious concerns may divide us, to find the things that unite us as Jews and as Americans. We shared these principles with our faculty at summer in-service in preparation for the school year and with our students as the election nears, encouraging all members of our school community to consider how best to integrate them into their interactions and discussions, both in and out of class. They include:
American democracy is a precious legacy to us, and we have a responsibility to take care of it.
The values that unite us as Americans are greater than the political differences that divide us.
We recognize the central importance of the rule of law and therefore support the outcome of elections and reject the use of political violence.
As members of the Jewish community, we are united by far more than any political differences that divide us. Even as we engage in vigorous political debate, we must not lose sight of that.
The Torah value of guarding our tongues pushes us to engage in political discussion with respect and civility, and without demonization, name-calling, or delegitimization.
As American Jews, we have the ability and responsibility to use our vote to advance issues that we care about. Different members of the Jewish community will interpret differently which parties or candidates best serve that interest, and we recognize and respect that.
Torah is neither Republican nor Democratic, it is Torah (paraphrasing Professor Jerome Chanes from the Center for Jewish History at the CUNY Graduate Center).
These principles aren’t a magic bullet; discussions about ideas, policies, or election outcomes will continue to be complicated. In the Jewish community, and in the American body politic, there are intense and divided feelings about this election. But we as teachers can consciously work on and model a better, more respectful, more values-centered way to be Jewish American citizens who are invested and engaged. Our community needs this, and our country needs it.
Dr. Rivka Press Schwartz serves as director of research and program development at Machon Siach and associate principal, general studies at SAR High School, and as a research fellow at the Shalom Hartman Institute of North America. She earned her Ph.D. in the history of science from Princeton University.
About Machon Siach: Machon Siach was established in 2015 with a legacy gift from Marcel Lindenbaum z”l, honoring the memory of his wife, Belda Kaufman Lindenbaum z”l”.
