Ethical Individualism in American Politics

In the arena of American politics, where candidates vie for the trust of a diverse electorate, philosophical underpinnings can profoundly shape not only policy proposals but also the interpersonal dynamics that underpin effective governance.

Human relations—forged through empathy, dialogue, and mutual respect—are the lifeblood of legislation, coalition-building, and constituent service. A senator's ability to navigate these relations determines whether laws bridge divides or exacerbate them.

This article argues that a candidate guided by the principles of ethical individualism, as articulated by Rabbi Russell McAlmond, emerges as a markedly superior choice over one who champions Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives. Rabbi McAlmond's framework, rooted in universal Jewish values and practical human-centered ethics, prioritizes the inherent dignity and uniqueness of the individual while fostering inclusive communities through voluntary bonds of respect.

In contrast, DEI often imposes group-based quotas and identity-driven mandates that can erode personal accountability and genuine human connection. By examining these philosophies through the lens of political efficacy and relational impact, we see why ethical individualism equips a Senate candidate to lead with integrity and effectiveness.

Ethical individualism celebrates the singular worth of every person, rejecting "group judgmentalism" and collectivist pressures that subordinate the self to group identities. It echoes the Jewish pursuit of tikkun olam (repairing the world) not through enforced uniformity, but through personal ethical striving that naturally builds harmonious relations.

DEI, by contrast, represents a modern progressive orthodoxy that, while well-intentioned in addressing historical injustices, often prioritizes group affiliations—race, gender, ethnicity—over individual merit. Originating in corporate and academic settings, DEI frameworks mandate proportional representation, bias training, and equity audits to "correct" systemic disparities. In politics, a DEI-promoting candidate might advocate for legislation like expanded affirmative action in federal contracting or judicial appointments based on demographic balances.

Yet this approach risks viewing people as avatars of their identity groups, fostering resentment when merit is sidelined for quotas. Critics, including legal scholars like Richard Sander, argue that such policies can perpetuate division by implying inherent group deficiencies, undermining trust in institutions.

In human relations, DEI's emphasis on "lived experience" tied to identity can stifle open dialogue, as dissenting views are labeled as "microaggressions" or privilege-blindness, creating echo chambers rather than bridges.The divergence between these philosophies manifests starkly in the realm of politics and legislation, where human relations are not abstract ideals but practical necessities.

A Senate candidate embodying McAlmond's ethical individualism approaches constituents as unique individuals, listening to their personal stories before crafting policy. Consider immigration reform: such a candidate might draw from McAlmond's method by invoking the rabbinic call to respect the stranger while grounding solutions in the realities of families at the border—perhaps proposing pathways to citizenship that reward personal initiative, like entrepreneurship or community service, rather than blanket amnesties based on group status.

This builds relational capital: voters feel seen as moral equals, not statistical categories, leading to broader coalitions. In committee negotiations, the individualist senator fosters trust by appealing to shared ethical principles—fairness, compassion—allowing diverse voices to converge on pragmatic compromises. Historical precedents abound; leaders like Abraham Lincoln, who valued individual liberty amid national fracture, navigated crises through empathetic dialogues that honored personal agency, averting deeper schisms.

McAlmond's own advocacy, such as coaching people to "view others as unique individuals deserving of respect and equal fair treatment" in local Oregon politics, exemplifies how this philosophy translates to real-world relational healing. A DEI-oriented candidate, however, might frame the same issue through intersectional lenses, prioritizing "equity" for marginalized groups via race-based allocations of resources. While this signals virtue to certain bases, it alienates others by implying that individual effort is secondary to group victimhood.

In legislative horse-trading, such a stance can rigidify positions: concessions become "betrayals" of equity goals, eroding the relational flexibility needed for bills to pass. Real-world impacts are evident in polarized Congresses, where identity-focused rhetoric—exemplified by debates over the 2021 American Rescue Plan's equity provisions—has deepened partisan rifts, stalling progress on bipartisan issues like infrastructure. Human relations suffer as colleagues are reduced to oppressors or oppressed, fostering suspicion over solidarity.

Data from Pew Research underscores this: trust in government plummets when policies emphasize group divisions, with 2024 surveys showing only 22% of Americans believing DEI enhances fairness, versus 41% viewing it as divisive.The relational superiority of McAlmond's ethical individualism lies in its capacity to humanize politics, transforming legislation from zero-sum battles into collaborative endeavors.

This philosophy aligns with America's founding ethos—Emerson's self-reliance wedded to Tocqueville's voluntary associations—where individuals, empowered by ethical autonomy, form bonds based on mutual respect rather than mandated inclusion. A candidate like this would excel in town halls, not by checking diversity boxes, but by engaging personal narratives, much as McAlmond does in his rabbinic and advocacy work: deriving wisdom from universal values to illuminate individual paths, opposing "the fallacy of collective guilt" and promoting equality without favoritism.

This yields durable alliances; think of senators like Kyrsten Sinema, whose independent streak prioritizes personal conviction over party-line identity politics, enabling cross-aisle deals.DEI's group-centric model, while addressing real inequities, often incentivizes performative allyship over substantive connection, weakening the interpersonal fabric of governance.

In a Senate where filibusters demand 60 votes, relational acumen is paramount; a philosophy that views opponents as systemic threats hampers the empathy required for persuasion. Ethical individualism, conversely, equips candidates to legislate with a moral compass attuned to the human soul—diverse yet unified in ethical potential.In conclusion, Rabbi Russell McAlmond's ethical individualism renders a U.S. Senate candidate not merely competent, but transformative: a leader who honors the individual's unique journey while weaving inclusive tapestries of relation.

In an era of fracturing trust, this philosophy outshines DEI's collectivist prescriptions, promising legislation born of genuine human encounter. Voters seeking senators who mend rather than moralize should champion the individualist—for in politics, as in life, true progress blooms from the soil of personal dignity.