Silence Is Complicity: When a Spouse’s Words Become Your Responsibility

By: Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

By Rabbi Efrem Goldberg

In the introduction to a recent episode of “Behind the Bima,” Yocheved and I had a discussion about the role of the Rebbetzin. There’s no school or degree that formally prepares someone to become a Rebbetzin of a community; it’s an honorary title that comes with being married to the rabbi. It usually comes without a salary, contract, or formal job description, but it often comes with significant expectations. Although the rebbetzin does not work for the shul and is not paid by it, what she says and does is often associated with the rabbi and is seen as an extension of him.

While particularly relevant in the case of a rabbi and rebbetzin, the question arises more broadly to society in general. When is a person responsible for the words and actions of their spouse? Does marriage create a shared moral identity or are the spouses entirely independent of each other? Does the answer change when the couple occupies a public role in society?

Jewish Insider recently reported that, though New York City Mayor Zohran Mamdani spent his mayoral campaign attempting to distance himself from the most radical, antisemitic elements of his leftist party, an examination of his wife’s social media activity revealed that she liked multiple Instagram posts cheering on Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023 massacre.

Rama Duwaji, Mamdani’s Syrian-American wife, liked a post that celebrated the terrorist attack in which nearly 1,200 Israelis and foreign workers were killed, thousands wounded, 251 civilians and military personnel were kidnapped, and numerous citizens were assaulted. Duwaji, an animator and illustrator by trade, not only liked this post, but several others using her personal account that her husband has interacted with in the past. She used her social media account to also directly criticize Israeli policy. Additional posts she liked include captions featuring the slogan, “From the River to the Sea,” and one including a clip of the crowd chanting “Every colonized people, every occupied people have the right to self-defense.” Additionally, Duwaji liked a post claiming that Hamas’ rapes of Israelis during the Oct. 7, 2023 terror attacks were a “mass hoax.”

The report of the First Lady’s social media activity sparked backlash from critics and women’s-rights advocates. Mamdani responded by saying, “My wife is the love of my life, and she’s also a private person who has held no formal position on my campaign or in my City Hall. I, however, was elected to represent all 8.5 million people in the city. And I believe that it’s my responsibility because of that role to answer questions about my thoughts and my politics and my stances.”

Is that answer sufficient? True, Duwaji was not elected and holds no formal position, but can we dismiss her views and positions simply because her social media accounts are separate from the mayor’s?

In a separate but similar story recently reported by The New York Times, Democratic Rep. Dan Goldman faced public scrutiny over his wife’s social media activity, although the context and substance differed sharply from the Mamdani situation. According to the Times, Goldman’s wife, Corinne Levy Goldman, who also serves as his campaign treasurer, liked and shared a number of posts on X (formerly Twitter) following October 7, 2023 that included posts from right wing accounts that mocked “Jews for Palestine” supporters and criticized broader movements like Black Lives Matter. Some posts used language that critics viewed as insensitive or dehumanizing toward Palestinians or pro-Palestinian activists. In response, Goldman told the Times that his wife’s likes do not speak for him and emphasized that his own record, votes, and statements are the only reflection of his beliefs.

The Goldman episode differs in key ways from the controversy involving Mamdani’s wife. Duwaji’s likes on Instagram include posts that celebrate the Hamas attack itself and dismissed investigations into the assault and violence associated with the October 7 massacre as a “hoax.” Corinne Goldman’s activity may not be beyond reproach, and at most contained rhetoric that some could find offensive. In addition, Goldman has a direct role in her husband’s public life by serving as his campaign treasurer, whereas Duwaji has no such position.

So, the broader question remains. Whether a rabbi and rebbetzin, mayor and first lady, or congressman and spouse: are couples responsible for what their partner believes, says, or posts? Are we extensions of each other or entire separate and independent individuals?

Certainly, individuals must retain independence even within a marriage. There is room for individuality in thought and expression. No two people, even spouses, are meant to agree on everything. Yet Judaism understands marriage as far more than two unrelated individuals living parallel lives.

The Torah describes the relationship between husband and wife as ezer k’negdo, a helpmate opposite one another. Our sages explain that a healthy marriage includes two roles. At times, it requires offering support and encouragement; at other times, it requires having the courage to stand opposite and challenge a spouse in order to bring out the best in them.

The Torah’s vision of marriage is not simply one plus one equals two; it is two halves becoming a whole. The pasuk (Bereishis 5:2) describes, “He created them male and female, and blessed them, and He called their name Adam.” Adam and Chava were originally created as one being, fused together before Hashem separated them. The search for a spouse and the act of kiddushin are, in a sense, an effort to recreate that original unity.

The Talmud (Berachos 24a) expresses this idea even more explicitly with the phrase ishto k’gufo, a person’s spouse is like their own body. This relationship is not purely symbolic. It carries real halachicimplications in areas ranging from lighting Chanukah candles to financial obligations to family minhagim.

Of course, being two halves of a whole does not mean thinking, speaking, or posting exactly alike. Spouses can have different tastes, preferences, and political views. Healthy marriages allow for individuality, but there must also be shared red lines when it comes to moral absolutes.

A husband and wife might vote differently, emphasize different issues, or express themselves differently. But when it comes to fundamental moral truths about good versus evil, justice and cruelty, and the value of human life, silence or neutrality is not an option, and a spouse cannot dismiss the other’s position as “that’s just their opinion, not mine.”

When the Torah describes marriage as two becoming one, it is not speaking only about companionship or romance. It is describing a moral partnership. A spouse is not a random bystander; a spouse is the person closest to us, the one with the greatest access and the greatest potential influence over who we become.

That is precisely the meaning of ezer k’negdo. Sometimes the role of a spouse is to support and stand beside. Sometimes it is to stand opposite. If someone we love embraces a position that celebrates murder, excuses terror, denies violence against innocent civilians, or dehumanizes them, the most loving response is not silence but moral clarity, the courage to say this is not who we are.

Jewish tradition has long recognized that silence in the face of evil carries moral weight. The Prophet Yeshayahu rebukes those who see injustice and remain silent. The Torah commands, Hocheach tochiach es amisecha, we must speak up when someone close to us goes down the wrong path. That obligation certainly applies in the most intimate relationship we have. Just last week, we read the famous words of Mordechai warning Esther in no uncertain terms about the consequences of staying silent: ki im hacharesh tacharishi ba’et hazot, “For if you remain silent at this time…”

This is not about controlling a spouse or denying their independence. It is about recognizing that marriage creates a shared moral space. When one partner publicly embraces something morally reprehensible, the other cannot hide behind technicalities of independence. The world reasonably assumes that if you strongly oppose something outrageous said by the person closest to you, you would say so.

If you do not object, if you allow it to stand unchallenged, dismiss it, or pretend it has nothing to do with you, then you are no longer just an observer. You are complicit.

Ishto k’gufo cuts both ways. Just as a spouse’s kindness and goodness reflect on their partner, so too does cruelty or moral blindness when it goes unchallenged. To be married is to share not only a home and a life, but also a responsibility for the moral atmosphere you create together.

In the end, the question is not whether spouses are identical or independent. Of course they are individuals. The question is whether we take seriously the covenant of becoming one. When someone we are married to and joined together with celebrates evil and we say nothing, we have allowed that evil to live in our shared space, and others are justified in concluding that we tolerate it.

For that reason, the issue raised by the reports about Rama Duwaji cannot simply be brushed aside as the private views of a private person. If posts that celebrate the October 7 massacre, deny the assault of Israeli women, and glorify terror truly do not reflect the values of Mayor Mamdani, then the moment calls not for distance but for clarity. Leadership demands the courage to say that celebrating the murder of innocent people and denying the suffering of victims is morally abhorrent.

If a spouse publicly embraces such a position and we remain silent, we share responsibility for allowing it to stand. But if we believe something is wrong, we must speak up. In this case, the appropriate response is simple. If those posts do not represent his values, Mayor Mamdani should say so plainly and unequivocally and object to them.

Silence is not neutrality. Silence is complicity. 

Rabbi Efrem Goldberg is the Senior Rabbi of the Boca Raton Synagogue (BRS), a rapidly-growing congregation of over 850 families and over 1000 children in Boca Raton, Florida.