During Bill Clinton’s 1992 presidential campaign, political strategist James Carville coined the now-famous phrase, “It’s the economy, stupid,” as a reminder to stay focused on the issue that truly drove American citizens to the voting booths. It cut through distractions and identified what he believed was the central motivation behind the election.
When it comes to antisemitism, a similar principle often applies. Strip away the slogans, the shifting justifications and the political messaging, and the recurring question becomes: What is really motivating those who place the Jewish people at the center of their political agenda?
In many cases, the answer appears surprisingly simple: It’s the Jews.
One of the enduring lessons of the Torah is that history often repeats itself—not in identical events, but in recognizable patterns of human behavior.
This week’s Torah portion deals with the aftermath of an attack against the Jewish people initiated by Balak, the king of Moab. Jewish commentators note that Balak was not originally a Moabite ruler but rose to power because of a singular objective: confronting the Jewish people.
Even more striking is that Moab and Midian, longtime rivals, temporarily set aside their differences to unite against a common enemy. Their alliance was not built on shared values or mutual trust, but on a shared desire to inflict harm upon the Jews. The story illustrates how political authority can be used as a vehicle for a larger ideological goal.
Some observers see echoes of this pattern in modern history. They argue that the Iranian regime, representing Persia, has made the Palestinian cause a central element of its regional strategy, using it as a platform in its broader conflict with Israel rather than out of primary concern for Palestinian welfare.
Likewise, critics of New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani argue that, despite campaigning on issues such as affordability, his own statements that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict motivated his entry into politics suggest that his primary political focus lies elsewhere. Whether one accepts these interpretations or not, they illustrate the argument that political messaging can sometimes mask deeper ideological objectives.
This pattern appears throughout the long history of antisemitism. American historian Lucy Dawidowicz documented that Adolf Hitler prioritized deporting Jews to extermination camps, even when Germany’s military desperately needed railway capacity at the front, illustrating the obsessive centrality of antisemitism within Nazi ideology. Hatred of Jews was not merely a byproduct of Nazi policy. It was one of its defining purposes.
Recent events in Gaza have similarly fueled debate about the obstacles to peace. Reports of Hamas suppressing internal dissent—including arrests, intimidation and violence against protesters—have led many to argue that ordinary Gazans deserve freedom from Hamas, just as many Lebanese seek freedom from Hezbollah and many Iranians seek freedom from the regime in Tehran.
From this perspective, lasting peace requires confronting the forces that perpetuate conflict rather than overlooking them in pursuit of a seemingly moral but ultimately elusive objective that is cruelly used as a pretext to sanitize their pure hatred for the Jews.
The story of Balak reminds us that alliances, political movements and claims of moral purpose deserve careful scrutiny. Throughout history, old enemies have united, leaders have gained power, and causes have been invoked not always for the reasons they proclaim. The Torah’s ancient narrative challenges us to look beyond appearances and ask what motivations truly drive those who seek authority.
Like Carville’s famous reminder to focus on what really mattered, the Torah urges us to look beneath the rhetoric. Sometimes, the slogans change. Sometimes, the political language evolves.
Sometimes, the stated causes are different. But if history teaches anything, it is that when Jews repeatedly become the central target, the essential question remains: What is really driving the movement? Or, to borrow and adapt a famous political slogan: “It’s the Jews, stupid.”
