Are You On The Wrong Side of History?
Some clues that might help you find out, before it's too late.
Everyone thinks they’re on the right side of history. It would be weird to knowingly be a villain.1 Yet, throughout history, entire societies have banded together to do horrible things to their fellow humans. How can this be? Are they morally blind in the moment? Or maybe they’re just going along with the crowd, assuming that if everyone else believes something, it must be right. History tells a different story: the majority is frequently wrong.
A lot of Americans were quite racist until the civil rights movement challenged the status quo. The fact that a large number of people believed in a racist system didn’t make it moral. Anyone with an ounce of empathy knew that discriminating against people based on the color of their skin was inherently cruel. Still, for many it felt good to demean and bully a minority group, especially when they were surrounded by others doing the same. As long as the cruelty was socially acceptable, they could get away with it.
It wouldn’t take much detective work to know that the KKK members who murdered three civil rights activists in Mississippi in 1964 were on the wrong side of history. People who cover their faces often do so because they know their actions are shameful. The very act of putting on a KKK hood should’ve been a red flag, not just to others but to themselves. Or consider the mob that screamed at Elizabeth Eckford as she integrated an all-white school in Arkansas in 1957. A crowd of people yelling at a teenage girl just trying to go to school—how could anyone think that was heroic?
In today’s world, everyone uses the word Nazi to imply the worst kind of evil. But in the 1930s and 40s, Nazism was a massively popular movement across Germany and beyond. One of Hitler’s admirers was Haj Amin al-Husseini, the Palestinian Grand Mufti of Jerusalem. Millions embraced Nazi ideology, not because they didn’t understand it, but because it gave them permission to indulge their worst instincts. They could smash the windows of the Jewish shopkeeper they always resented or report a neighbor they didn’t like. The swastika gave them cover.
Anyone with eyes could see that the bullies marching through the streets with intimidating flags and chants weren’t the good guys. And yet it took a world war and the deaths of over six million Jews (and millions of others) to finally defeat Nazism. Afterward, many Germans pretended they had always opposed it. But anyone who lived through the era knew as it was happening that there was something deeply wrong with a movement that called for the elimination of an entire people.
So how do you know if you're on the wrong side of history? Look at the behavior. Are people hiding their faces? Burning things? Bullying dissenters? Silencing debate? Glorifying violence? That’s not what justice looks like. That’s what mobs look like.
Across the U.S. and Europe, pro-Palestinian protests have taken on a tone that’s impossible to ignore. Keffiyehs pulled tightly around faces. Jewish-owned restaurants vandalized with slogans. College students followed and harassed. Sidewalks graffitied with "Death to Israel" or "Globalize the Intifada."2 Hostage posters gleefully ripped down, campuses occupied for weeks at a time. And anyone who dares to challenge the dogma is met with aggression and threats. Even Jewish comedians are being kicked off stages at festivals like Edinburgh Fringe — silenced not for anything they said, but simply for who they are. Is this what justice looks like?
This isn’t principled protest, it’s bullying disguised as righteousness. It’s not about helping Palestinians. It’s about hating Jews. Once again, a movement has granted people permission to indulge their worst instincts. And many are gladly taking advantage of it.
This past weekend, I met two people whose lives were shaped by movements that embraced such cruelty. On Friday night, I went to a friend’s apartment for Shabbat dinner. One of the guests was Andrei Koslov, a former hostage of Hamas. Andrei was working as a security guard at the Nova Music Festival on October 7th when Hamas terrorists attacked. He was kidnapped and held hostage for eight months in horrific conditions before being rescued in a daring IDF operation. He’s an incredibly resilient and uplifting person. Today, he makes beautiful and haunting art that conveys what he experienced. At dinner, we didn’t talk about his captivity. He deserves a meal that isn’t defined by trauma. But I couldn’t help thinking about how many people, even here in New York City, would say he deserved it, simply for being at a music festival in Israel.
The same week, Hamas and Palestinian Islamic Jihad released sadistic videos of current hostages Rom Braslavski and Evyatar David. Evyatar, starved to a skeletal state, was forced to dig his own grave in an image straight out of the Nazi Holocaust. And yet, even this wasn’t enough to convince people that the cause they’re fighting for isn’t as righteous as they’d like to think.
No matter what you think about the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, there is no world where kidnapping civilians and boasting about starving them puts you on the moral high ground. Yet many continue to celebrate Hamas or justify their tactics. I recognize that someone could post images of suffering Gazans to prove that Israel is on the wrong side of history. I don’t deny or justify that suffering. I empathize with it immensely, which is why I hold Hamas responsible, as they alone have the power to end it immediately by releasing the hostages and surrendering (as discussed in last week’s post). Or they can stop hoarding all the aid that’s coming in.
Two days after that meaningful Shabbat dinner came Tisha B’Av, a Jewish day of mourning commemorating disasters throughout Jewish history. In observance of the holiday, I went to an event to hear Holocaust survivor Sami Steigmann speak. As a baby, he was sent to a Nazi labor camp and subjected to medical experiments. He lives with chronic pain but radiates gratitude and light. He didn’t focus on those who hurt him. Instead he told the story of a local woman from the village near the camp who risked her life to sneak him some milk. This act of kindness in the midst of evil helped him survive, and live to tell the story. Her quiet act of resistance—risking her life to offer milk to a Jewish child—proves that even in the darkest moments, there’s another path. You don’t have to join the mob.
Like Andrei, Sami is a living refutation of the idea that victimhood has to destroy you. And they both are reminders of how quickly societies can descend into darkness when cruelty becomes acceptable.
At some point, slogans fade. What remains is the behavior people were willing to justify in their name. People on the right side of history don’t kidnap teenagers or celebrate the suffering of hostages. They don’t smash windows, silence debate, or glorify mass murder. And they don’t chant for the destruction of an existing country.
Being part of a popular movement doesn’t make you right. Being loud doesn’t make you just. Real courage comes from standing up to the prevailing popular view when you know it’s not right. History isn’t kind to mobs, no matter how satisfying they felt in the moment.
Unless you’re Doctor Evil, in which case it’s literally in your name.
And mayoral candidates who won’t condemn it! (*cough* *cough* Zohran)