Yoni Goldstein: Society should separate complicated artists’ lives from their art

Carlebach's music can still be loved despite his inexcusable transgressions, as can Roger Waters'

Later this month, a film about the life and times of Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach will debut at the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival titled, “The Darkest Light.” The film promises to examine “the towering and deeply complicated shadow cast” by the man known as “The Singing Rabbi.” Carlebach’s catalogue of Hassidic songs has enraptured Jews for several generations, and his oeuvre continues to heavily impact Jewish music and musicians in Israel and the diaspora more than 30 years after his passing in 1994.

Whether you know it or not, you have probably heard his work at a synagogue or a Jewish lifecycle event, from birth, to marriage, to death. It’s hard not to be moved by Carlebach’s mystical voice, his understated guitar work and his message of hope and faith. But there was another side to Carlebach, one that was whispered about during his lifetime and that has been increasingly amplified since his passing.

As the creators behind “The Darkest Light” describe it, their film “traces a painful reckoning that emerged after numerous women publicly accused Carlebach of sexual abuse” forcing his family and acolytes “to confront the difficult question: what do you do when someone revered as a holy teacher has also caused profound harm?” Recommended Videos The accusations against Carlebach include a litany of highly plausible incidents of indecent touching, sexual solicitations and other forms of abuse.

The rabbi often preyed on young, impressionable women making their first, tentative ventures into Jewish religious life (Carlebach was a leader of the “kiruv” movement which seeks to influence secular Jews to become more observant). These reports, compiled over time in various publications and public forums, represent a disturbing pattern of behavior where spiritual influence clearly crossed the line into criminality. They have generally been accepted by even Carlebach’s most ardent followers, including his daughter, Neshama, herself a prominent singer and one of the main torchbearers of her father’s musical legacy.

And yet, Carlebach’s musical influence lives on in the Jewish zeitgeist. The revelations of his bad behavior have barely made a dent to his artistic legacy, even as they have tarnished his personal one. No one has stopped humming his tunes or listening to his recordings.

Few, if any artists, have disavowed his profound influence. Rather, with each passing year it seems a new singer comes along to carry forth his unique blend of song and spirituality. For those who know the full story of Shlomo Carlebach, there appears to be a healthy separation between the rabbi’s music and the man himself.

This is exactly as it should be — and there is a broader lesson to be extracted. Cancel culture has largely succeeded in binding art and artist, so that if the latter has acted improperly, or merely holds unfavorable opinions, the former is wholly negated. Musicians, actors and writers who do not adhere to popular social dogmas, including support for the Palestinian cause and vilification of Israel and Jews, are summarily erased.

Broad campaigns tell cultural consumers that if an artist has bad views, one must not only condemn them, but also de-platform their work. This has led to the freezing out of those who support Israel (or simply perform there) and speak out against antisemitism and other popular opinions around race, sexuality and gender. This is, broadly speaking, the ethos of the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement (BDS) against Israel: it renders the work of any Zionist individual or organization invisible, along with the person themselves.

There is little evidence to suggest that this unfortunate trend will reverse itself, at least in the short term. Indeed, cancel culture, mostly as a response to BDS, has gained its own unique foothold in the Jewish community, so that anyone who does not support the Zionist cause, or who are themselves antisemitic, are made verboten by the community. There is, admittedly, some logic to this “reverse BDS” trend, which operates against people and companies spanning not just music and film but all manner of commerce.

But as an ideology, it is unhealthy for us, and it makes us no different than our inept and undemocratic enemies. And yet, perhaps there is hope, evidenced in the case of Carlebach, that the Jewish community can ultimately buck the trend. If we can value Carlebach’s art while castigating the individual, can we further free ourselves from the burden of having to exclude the work of every individual who hates us and our way of life?

Can we enjoy, for example, the music of Pink Floyd without carrying the dreaded feeling that we are somehow supporting the tirades of Roger Waters who has been accused of repeated antisemitism? I hope the answer is yes, not only because cancel culture represents the great social ill of our times, but because doing so can only improve our lives. After all, why shouldn’t we be able to enjoy the things that make us happy, that make our lives better in quantifiable ways, just because the person or group that produced them don’t?

It is perfectly acceptable to enjoy and be moved by the music of Shlomo Carlebach, and at the same time recognize that the man himself was significantly less than the hero we once thought he was. And by the same token, it is fine to listen to Pink Floyd. It doesn’t make one less Jewish, less Zionist, or less of a good person.

Rather, it shows that we are able to successfully navigate the complexities of life, to find the good and discard the bad. Besides, what do you think would make Roger Waters angrier — Jews and Zionists not listening to him on principle, or actively enjoying his music while still being Jewish and Zionist? Option one would only confirm his skewed worldview, while option two may keep him up at night, fuming.

National Post