No matter who wins today’s election, the biggest casualty for the Jewish community will be unity. We allowed ourselves to be pulled into a partisan game, where non-Jewish voices — opportunists on both sides — defined which party is “more antisemitic,” leading us to turn on each other. The only people who win from Jewish disunity are antisemites.

We must remember that we are a people apart. We might be Democrats or Republicans — but only as long as these parties allow us to remain. Both parties contain elements that don’t see Jews as “real” members of their ranks. At any moment, the fringes of each side could pull the mainstream in their direction, and we will find ourselves either shown the door or quietly made to feel unwelcome.

To be clear, the Democratic Party is not “The Squad,” and the Republican Party does not believe in Marjorie Taylor Greene’s “Jewish Space Lasers.” The parties are more than their loudest extremes. But we have to face the fact that these factions hold influence, and they can pull the broader party platform in directions that aren’t always comfortable — or safe — for us. We can argue over the extent to which these views are tolerated in each party, and we can vote accordingly.

By “unity,” I don’t mean that we should all vote the same way or ignore real issues on either side. I mean that we need to recognize that neither party will always represent what is good for the Jews. Both will court us, both will insist that the other side is a threat, and both will try to lock us into alliances where their interests come first. All our alliances are marriages of convenience.

Take our alliance with Evangelical Christians, for instance. Many of us are fully aware that their pro-Israel stance aligns with our interests today, but this alliance is not without strings. Evangelicals often support Israel because they see it as central to their eschatology, not always because of a genuine affinity with the Jewish people. We are allies — until the day our priorities no longer align. Going “all in” on their agenda is a risk we cannot afford.

This election cycle has exposed just how fractured we are and how much our alliances need rethinking. The old alliances — built on broad social causes, unions, and civil rights movements — are in tatters. We are finding ourselves increasingly pushed to the sidelines of causes we once led. We are not Democrats or Republicans, conservative or liberal. In the end, we are Jews, a people apart, and we must do what it takes to survive.

A few years ago, I spoke with an author who argued that the Jewish community needs to abandon “Tikkun Olam” — the notion that we should dedicate ourselves to repairing the world. His stance was that we should be concerned, first and foremost, with helping other Jews. At the time, I dismissed his viewpoint. As American Jews, we have always taken pride in our sense of justice and duty to broader society. Our pursuit of Tikkun Olam has often been the driver behind our roles in social justice, union organizing, and countless other efforts that uplifted not just ourselves, but all Americans.

Yet here we are, finding ourselves ousted from some of the very movements we helped to shape. The calls for justice are still loud, but our voices are increasingly unwelcome. Now, I am beginning to see the wisdom in that author’s argument.

In this climate, we need a different rallying point. We are not Tikkun Olam and we are not MAGA. We should be wary of both sides’ accusations of antisemitism, for neither side truly has our best interests at heart.

This isn’t to say we need to be centrists. Rather, we need to look both ways, as my mother used to tell me, before crossing the street. We need to hold onto the knowledge that we are a people with a long history, one that has outlasted empires and nations. We need each other to continue that history, no matter the political divisions that try to rip us apart.

Somehow, we allowed these divisions to harden. We forgot that we are one people. Instead, we have looked at our fellow Jews as enemies. We’ve resorted to name-calling, hurling words like “kapo” and “fascist” at each other. Friendships have been broken, families split, and fingers pointed in anger.

Yes, we’re Jews. We argue. Debate is in our DNA. But this has gone beyond debate. Our community’s infighting has provided a gift to our enemies, who look at us — splintered and vulnerable — and smile.

So, when exactly have Jews ever been united? I can think of once within my lifetime. When I was around 12 years old in 1976, my family hosted a violinist named Boris Brant. We lived in Battle Creek, Michigan, at the time, and he was a recent immigrant from the Soviet Union. Brant was one of the Soviet refusniks — Jews who had been denied the right to leave the USSR. He’d been a prominent violin professor in Odessa, but applying to emigrate had cost him his career. He left behind everything he knew to come here and start over as a free man.

His arrival in the US was part of a larger movement. By the 1970s, American Jews of all stripes were rallying around the cause of Soviet Jewry, working to free Jews who wanted to leave. This advocacy led to the Jackson-Vanik Amendment, which tied US-Soviet trade deals to the Soviet Union’s willingness to allow Jewish emigration. If they wanted favorable trade, they had to respect basic rights. This was one of the rare times that Jews, across all backgrounds, got behind a single cause.

Jackson-Vanik was groundbreaking. Orthodox, Reform, secular, left, right — everyone joined in. Synagogues held rallies, youth groups raised awareness, and Jewish families like mine opened their homes to tell the stories of Soviet Jews. For once, we felt like one community, and the message was simple: Jewish freedom was non-negotiable.

No matter who wins today, we have a serious antisemitism problem in this country. It is a problem that will take all our talents and efforts to address. So much emotion and time is wasted on blaming our fellow Jews for a problem that is not of our own making. We are a talented, brilliant, driven, creative, clever, stubborn people. Let’s focus all that energy on fighting antisemitism — not one another.

Howard Lovy is a Michigan-based author, book editor, and journalist who specializes in Jewish issues. He is currently working on a book, From Outrage to Action: A Practical Guide to Fighting Antisemitism. His novel, Found and Lost: The Jake and Cait Story, will be released in 2025. You can find him on his website or on X.

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