How We Learned to Love the Villain

From Tony Soprano to Free Palestine 

Tony Soprano¹ was the first evil hero of popular culture. For the first time, audiences were instructed to root for a protagonist who was not merely flawed, but fundamentally corrupt. This was a reversal. The “good guy” was no longer good. He was a criminal, a predator, a murderer—presented as the center of the story. 

The deception was subtle and effective. We were shown his wounds instead of his victims. His childhood instead of his crimes. His therapy instead of his brutality. 

Each episode trained the viewer to excuse what should never be excused. Adultery became complexity. Intimidation became strength. Murder—including the murder of innocents—became part of the character. 

By the end, the lesson was complete. We no longer judged the evil. 

We rooted for it. 

No Mercy for the Unrepentant 

The Torah does not extend compassion to the wicked. It does not humanize them. It does not soften their crimes. It does not ask us to search for their “better side.” 

Hashem never records the sensitivity of Lavan, who tormented our forefather Ya’akov for twenty years.² Hashem offers no mitigating context for Pharaoh, who murdered Jewish children and bathed in their blood.³ Evil is not reframed as trauma. 

Nor does the Torah invite sympathy for Amalek. It does the opposite. It commands remembrance—not for empathy, but for eradication.⁴ 

Mercy is reserved for those who repent. Those who persist in wickedness are granted none. This is not cruelty. It is moral clarity. The Torah trains the mind to recognize evil as a parasite—feeding on the good, destroying what sustains it, and spreading if left unchecked. Like a deadly disease, it is not negotiated with. It is removed. 

How Atrocity Rebrands Itself as Resistance 

Without the Torah teaching us how to recognize the wicked, we are easily misled. We are trained to admire the wicked for superficial traits, symbolic gestures, or carefully curated grievances. 

This pattern repeats itself across history. From revolutionary icons to dictators to national movements, evil is rebranded as “resistance”. 

These are not misunderstood actors. They torture. They rape. They murder. These acts are not incidental—they are defining. 

The contrast is stark. The Jewish People allocate a portion of their national resources to care for the poor, the orphan, and the sick. Their enemies allocate resources to reward those who murder Jews. Violence is not a byproduct of their system. It is their system. Murder is not an aberration; it is a compensated service. 

The Palestinians function as Nazi, Inc.—a system that monetizes their Holocaust. Right now, families can feast on prime meat because of the atrocities of their kin on October 7. Subsidies to these families are financed not in secret but as public policy.⁵ Bloodshed is converted into salaries, stipends, and status. This is not resistance. Rather, it is an economy built on murder.

The world should recognize this policy for what it is. Instead, it is presented with a narrative. The wicked are recast as victims. Defeat is reframed as oppression.  Moral failure is excused because power was never achieved. 

But repeated defeat of the wicked at the hands of good does not confer innocence. When evil persists despite every opportunity to abandon it, it forfeits the right to sympathy. 

This pattern is not new. Cultures that engaged in brutality, human sacrifice, cannibalism, torture, and systematic murder were not victims undone by circumstance. They were defeated because they were morally untenable.  

Stories are written only later to soften the verdict. 

The Torah Doesn’t Rewrite Evil 

The Torah does not revise history. It does not rehabilitate reputations after the fact, and it does not ask us to search for virtue where wickedness is brazen. 

We are not permitted to admire the good qualities of the unrepentant wicked. That moral confusion is not compassion; it is corruption. 

Repentance changes the equation. Those who turn back in repentance are judged differently. For Jews who fall but then repent, mercy is not optional. There is no justification for hating a brother or a sister, even when they fail. 

But toward the wicked who persist in evil, the Torah sets firm boundaries. We are not instructed to listen to voices urging sympathy for those who choose cruelty. When real evil asserts itself—when violence sheds its disguises—those voices of sympathy inevitably fall silent. 

With Amalek, Hashem draws its hardest line. A nation defined by perpetual, unrepentant evil is not rehabilitated, explained, or spared. They are erased with a Divine decree to execute genocide on this evil.⁴  

The Torah’s position does not fluctuate with circumstance. It does not bend to moral fashion. 

For the wicked, sympathy is not a virtue. It’s a mistake. 

Editor’s Notes: 

¹ Tony Soprano was the protagonist of the crime drama series, The Sopranos. He was a member of the Italian-American Mafia and became the boss of the fictional DiMeo crime family. 

² Bereishit (Genesis) 31:41

³ Shemot Rabbah 1:34

⁴ Devarim (Deuteronomy) 25:17-19 

⁵ The Palestinian Authority (PA) has a long-standing policy (known as “pay-for-slay”) of providing financial stipends to Palestinian security prisoners in Israeli jails and to the families of those killed in terror attacks. In January 2024, the PA added individuals tied to the October 7 attacks to this stipend list. See PA to Immediately Reward Families of Oct 7 Terrorists with Nearly $3 Million.

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David Ben Horin lives in Afula with his family, 60,000 passionate Israelis, and Matilda, our local camel.