January 20, 2026|ב' שבט ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Dancing to the Soundtrack of Antisemitism
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On a recent night in Miami Beach, something unfathomable unfolded. Videos surfaced from a crowded nightclub showing a group of controversial online figures, including Nick Fuentes, Andrew Tate, and others, arriving at the venue blasting Kanye West’s antisemitic song “Heil Hitler.” Inside the club, they requested the DJ play the same song. The DJ agreed. What followed was not confusion or discomfort, but participation. Members of the group, and others in the crowd, were filmed singing along and dancing to lyrics praising Hitler and Nazi imagery. Some cheered. Others stood by. What should have been met with immediate outrage instead became a spectacle of moral collapse.
This was not ignorance. It was not misunderstanding. It was the celebration of hatred, of genocide, of an ideology responsible for the systematic murder of six million Jews and millions of others. It was a reminder that antisemitism does not always arrive wearing boots and uniforms. Sometimes it comes wrapped in entertainment, applause, and silence.
The nightclub has since issued statements attempting to distance itself from what occurred. Political leaders have rightly condemned the incident. But statements after the fact do not address the deeper question: how did this become possible in the first place? How did people feel comfortable dancing to words that glorify mass murder? And how did others watch without protest?
This incident should disturb Jews profoundly. But it must not disturb only Jews. It should alarm every American who cares about the moral direction of this country. When Nazi glorification can be repackaged as provocation or “edginess,” when genocidal ideology is treated as spectacle rather than a red line, something far deeper is eroding. This is not merely an attack on one community. It is an assault on the values that sustain a society built on human dignity, moral accountability, and the rejection of evil as acceptable discourse.
We should ask ourselves honestly: would society tolerate a nightclub blasting a song celebrating racism against Black Americans? Would people be permitted to sing and dance to lyrics glorifying lynching or white supremacy? Would anyone defend a venue that encouraged chants calling for the destruction of Muslims, Asians, or any other minority group?
The answer is no. Such incidents would be condemned immediately and unequivocally. The perpetrators would be ostracized, not excused. They would be marginalized, not invited onto mainstream platforms and podcasts. And yet when it comes to Jews, the rules too often change. The outrage softens. The excuses multiply. The silence grows louder. That silence is not benign. It is dangerous.
We must rise to this moment, confront voices of hate, and demand accountability from individuals, institutions, and platforms that enable them. But this moment also calls for honest self-reflection. As we challenge others for their indifference, we should ask ourselves: are there areas where we have grown numb? In speaking about fellow Jews who are different than us or about individuals and groups among non-Jews, is there language we have tolerated that we should have rejected? What lines have we allowed to blur?
Judaism does not permit moral neutrality, neither toward others nor toward ourselves. The Torah is explicit: “Ohavei Hashem sin’u ra,” those who love Hashem must hate evil. Love of God is not measured only through ritual observance or eloquent prayer. It is measured through moral clarity. To love Hashem is to reject evil wherever it appears, especially when it becomes fashionable or normalized. There are moments when intolerance is not a flaw but an obligation.
As we reject hatred directed toward us we should work to eliminate derogatory speech and cruelty towards all. Not because there is moral equivalence, there most certainly is not. But because moments like this demand introspection alongside confrontation. What happens to us also asks something of us. It calls us to grow, to refine our speech, and to recommit ourselves to ethical conduct even under pressure.
That is the call of this moment. Not only in the world’s relationship with the Jewish people, but in America’s relationship with its own moral compass. We must remain maladjusted to antisemitism no matter how common it becomes or how cleverly it is repackaged. We must demand that our leaders, institutions, and fellow Americans refuse to grant it a social foothold.
When people chant Nazi slogans or sing songs praising Hitler, they are not expressing an opinion. They are endorsing annihilation. That is not speech that deserves a platform. It is poison that must be rejected. Silence in the face of such evil is not neutrality. It is acquiescence. A crowd that dances or stands idly by while Nazi chants echo has crossed from passivity into participation.
There is a growing practice on prominent podcasts and media platforms to invite extremists under the guise of balance or debate. But platforms confer legitimacy. Presenting explicit hatred as one side of a conversation is itself a moral failure. Some ideas must remain on the fringes because they violate the basic dignity of human life. Antisemitism is one of them.
To be ohavei Hashem means drawing clear moral lines. It means refusing to normalize what should horrify us. It means teaching our children that hatred toward Jews is not clever or acceptable and neither is hatred toward anyone else.
Shlomo HaMelech taught, “Maves v’chaim b’yad ha’lashon” death and life are in the hand of the tongue. Words chanted, songs requested, platforms offered, and silence maintained are not neutral acts. They shape the moral atmosphere we live in. They can mean the difference between safety and danger, between life and death.
If we love Hashem, we must hate evil. And we must never allow our society to dance while it plays the soundtrack of hate.