WRY BREAD: Mr. Shvitz goes to Washington

David Levine

“The time is at hand when the wearing of a prayer shawl and skullcap will not bar a man from the White House – unless, of course, the man is Jewish.” – Jules Farber

In the weeks since unveiling his presidential campaign, Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders has found himself at the forefront of a grassroots political movement, surging into the double-digits in Democratic primary polls and emerging as the only candidate talking about issues that matter to America’s middle class, issues such as student debt, breaking up the big banks, and corporate tax loopholes, all while posing no threat at all to Hillary Clinton’s fated ascendancy to the White House. 

Much more exciting, however, has been Sanders’ campaign strategy: forgoing image consultants, makeup teams and apparently mirrors as he campaigns, Sanders has made all his recent appearances on TV and at events around the country looking as though he arrived via wind tunnel after staying up all night to finish your science fair project. 

The move is designed to draw the viewer’s eye away from an indistinct blur of candidates who do brush their hair and teeth regularly, and it’s part of a strategic playbook that’s as old as Jewish American politics themselves.

It should be stated unequivocally that the Jews of America are a comely people – Jewish Americans like Natalie Portman, Jake Gyllenhaal, Mila Kunis, Winona Ryder and I serve as ample demonstration – and American politics are a highly polished affair, attracting the attractive since voters first saw JFK standing next to Richard Nixon. 

Consider the 29 Jews who currently serve in the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, and now consider that Al Franken is the most attractive of the bunch. Not convinced? Try to think about (just kidding: use Google!) non-Jewish politicians – like Cory Booker, Michelle Bachmann, John Edwards, John Thune, or former movie star Ronald Reagan. 

Why, then, does Sanders always look like he’s waiting for the antacid to kick in? Why did Sen. Joe Lieberman run in the 2004 primaries looking as though he slept in a waffle iron?

The answer, as your elderly relatives keep shouting in their sleep, is “anti-Semitism.” After decades of exclusion from office, American Jews developed a careful strategy of non-threatening homeliness, and they’ve been drawing from that playbook ever since. The goal is twofold; by transforming themselves into crotchety grandparents, they endear themselves to the American voter, while their hairdon’ts and general musk clearly signals their limited ambition to Washington insiders. “Don’t worry,” their off-brand clothes say, “I don’t actually think I stand a chance of getting elected.” 

Everyone who remembers the racist backlash that accompanied the early days of Barack Obama’s 2008 campaign can imagine the fallout from a Sanders campaign in which the candidate brushed his hair, stopped spending his campaign funds on a voice-hoarsening coach, and replaced the caffeine in his diet with sleep. 

Sanders knows full well that America isn’t ready for a popular, polished Jew in presidential politics. His decision to represent himself as a candidate that you’d never waste a vote on is, in fact, his sacrifice for future generations of American Jews, made in the hopes of loosening the giant, racist ketchup bottle that is America. His brave and unshaven face is the face of American Jewry – a face that may just inspire others to continue working toward the day when America is ready to accept an articulate, polished, and media-savvy Jewish candidate for president – the day when all Americans, Jew and gentile alike, can come together and declare: “Natalie Portman for president!”