AN EXEMPLARY ACT OF CONSCIENCE IN JUNE

Jewish actress Mandy Patinkin issues a reminder of conscience to Jewish people:

"How can you do to others what was done to you and your ancestors?"

As volunteers at the Conscience Foundation, each month we choose an act of conscience from around the world and from real life, and we try to make it visible.

This month's chosen act of kindness, selected by our volunteers, is the powerful appeal to conscience by American Jewish actress Mandy Patinkin to her community, her historical memory, and Jewry worldwide, in the face of the suffering inflicted upon children and civilians in Gaza.

This month's humanitarian hero: Mandy Patinkin.

Who is Mandy Patinkin?

Mandy Patinkin, born November 30, 1952, in Chicago, is an American actress and singer of Jewish descent. She has had a long and successful career in theater, film, television, and music. She won a Tony Award for her role as Che in the musical Evita on Broadway, an Emmy for her performance in the television series Chicago Hope, and is best known for her role as Inigo Montoya in the film The Princess Bride.

More recently, he became known to the world public particularly through his portrayal of Saul Berenson in the television series Homeland. In the series, Saul Berenson was not only an intelligence figure but also a powerful character representing intellect, experience, and conscience. This role made Patinkin a face associated with narratives of war, intelligence, security, and the Middle East.

But what makes Mandy Patinkin important to us this week isn't her acting. What places her at the center of this week's act of conscience is her choice not to remain silent in the face of the suffering in Gaza, without hiding her Jewish identity or shying away from her historical memory.

Patinkin comes from Jewish immigrant families of Polish and Russian descent. He grew up in a conservative Jewish environment, attended Jewish school as a child, and sang in synagogue choirs. Furthermore, learning that some members of his family were sent to Treblinka and killed during the Holocaust transformed Jewish historical memory from abstract knowledge into an integral part of his family's collective memory.

That is precisely why his words on Gaza are not just an ordinary political comment. It is a Jew looking at the suffering of another people while remembering the historical suffering of his own people.

What happened?

Mandy Patinkin's stance on the Israeli-Palestinian issue is not new. In 1998, she boycotted an event marking Israel's 50th anniversary because she objected to the then-Israeli government's approach to the peace process. In 2012, she participated in a peace conference under the Peace Now umbrella, visited places like Silwan and Hebron, and took a critical stance against occupation and settlement policies. In 2020, she opposed the annexation of the West Bank, saying that this step would be a disaster for both Israelis and Palestinians.

So Patinkin's statement about Gaza in July 2025 wasn't a sudden outburst of anger. It was the continuation of a long-standing line of conscience.

On July 12, 2025, he appeared on The New York Times' "The Interview" program with his wife, Kathryn Grody, and son, Gideon. During the program, he was asked about what it means to be Jewish today, the events in Gaza, the rise of antisemitism, and the policies of the Netanyahu government.

In that speech, Mandy Patinkin addressed Jewry worldwide directly. She said that Netanyahu and his right-wing government were harming not only Palestinians but also Jews around the world. She emphasized that what was being done to children and civilians of all ages in Gaza was unconscionable and incomprehensible, regardless of the justification.

And then he asked the question that got right to the heart of the matter:

"How can you do this to someone else when it was done to you and your ancestors?"

This statement was not merely a political criticism directed at Netanyahu; it was also a grave moral question addressed to Jewish historical memory.

Patinkin was essentially saying this:

The memory of a people who have been marginalized, expelled, subjected to pogroms for centuries, and who have experienced some of the darkest atrocities in human history, such as the Holocaust, cannot be blind to the starvation of another people's children, the death of their civilians, and the destruction of their homes.

Having suffered in the past does not give you the right to inflict suffering on others.

On the contrary, that pain places a greater responsibility on the person.

Kathryn Grody, Patinkin's wife, complemented this call with her statement in the same context: "To feel compassion for every person in Gaza is a profoundly Jewish thing." In other words, for them, the issue wasn't about opposing Judaism; on the contrary, it was about protesting state violence in the name of Jewish morality.

In his speech, Patinkin also explicitly stated that he wants Israel to continue to exist. This point is important because his objection is not directed at Jews, Judaism, or the Israeli people. His objection is directed at the Netanyahu government's Gaza policy, the war mentality that normalizes the deaths of civilians and children, and the attempt to justify this cruelty with Jewish historical memory.

These remarks provoked a strong reaction from Patinkin. Some pro-Israel circles accused her of distorting Holocaust memory, even leveling serious accusations against her. She was targeted, criticized, and subjected to attempted lynching on social media. Yet, she did not back down. She continued to call for a ceasefire in Gaza, the release of hostages, the delivery of humanitarian aid, and the protection of civilians.

So, why was this particular approach chosen?

Mandy Patinkin's action was chosen because she spoke from the most difficult place: from within her own identity, to her own society, to her own historical memory.

It is certainly valuable to object to a distant injustice from the outside. But to be able to say to those in your own neighborhood, your own people, those hiding behind their own historical pain, "Stop, what you are doing is wrong," requires a completely different kind of courage.

This is precisely what makes Patinkin's stance conscientious. He did not deny the suffering of Jewish history. On the contrary, by reminding us of that suffering, he said: If you know how terrible what was done to you and your ancestors was, how can you condone the same suffering being inflicted on others?

This is not an easy question. Because it transforms a person's memory of victimization from a shield of superiority into a moral responsibility.

Patinkin's words are powerful for this reason: because he did not use historical victimization as a justification for oppression against another people. He rejected the flawed logic that says, "We suffered, therefore we can do whatever we want." He reminded us that suffering should teach compassion, not revenge.

This is where the conscientious aspect of this behavior lies: instead of remaining silent by hiding behind one's own identity, speaking the truth from within that identity.

We hope that Mandy Patinkin's conscientious stance will give courage to all who see historical suffering as a source of compassion and justice, not revenge.

We hope that one day all nations will remember their own past sufferings not to ignore the suffering of others, but to recognize that suffering sooner, to defend it more strongly, and to oppose oppression more clearly.

And our hope is that no nation, no religious group, no state will ever use its own memory of suffering as an excuse for the deaths of another people's children.

Because if the pain of the past justifies the cruelty of the present, then there is not memory, but moral decay.