https://www.newyorker.com/books/page-turner/philip-roth-says-enough#entry-more

Philip Roth and the Fragility of Military Brotherhood

By Jack Kozinn

What happens when a common identity becomes grounds for special treatment? Philip Roth’s 1959 short story “Defender of the Faith” takes up this question through the conflict between Sergeant Nathan Marx, a Jewish-American soldier, and Sheldon Grossbart, a fellow Jewish recruit who repeatedly appeals to their mutual heritage. Through this dynamic, Roth raises a larger issue: does belonging to the same culture or religion create a moral obligation that overrides fairness and military discipline?

Critic Gillian Steinberg, in her article “Philip Roth’s ‘Defender of the Faith’: A Modern Midrash,” argues that identity justifies Grossbart’s behavior, writing: “If Grossbart’s self-preservation results in the continuation or strengthening of traditional Judaism, then he is doing the religion a service” (Steinberg 14). Yet this interpretation overlooks the ethical code of the military, which demands fairness and cooperation above all. By focusing only on religious continuity, Steinberg neglects the responsibility soldiers have to one another. Roth’s story suggests that judgment in the military should rest not on how one worships or looks, but on conduct.

Postwar America and the Military Ethic

Defender of the Faith is set just after World War II, when the United States was shifting from global conflict into relative stability. The military remained highly structured, emphasizing hierarchy, discipline, and equal treatment. For Jewish Americans, this period carried both vulnerability, as Holocaust survivors reminded the world of enduring antisemitism, and pride, as American victory strengthened belonging. Roth uses this tension to frame Marx’s dilemma: whether solidarity of belief should outweigh duty to the company.

The tension Roth depicts did not end with the postwar years. The U.S. Department of Defense continues to wrestle with the same balance between belief and cohesion. Its 2020 directive on religious liberty specifies that “the DoD Components will accommodate individual expressions of sincerely held beliefs… which do not hurt military readiness, unit cohesion, good order and discipline, or health and safety.” The policy affirms that religion deserves protection, but only within the limits of collective survival. In many ways, Roth anticipated this principle. Through Marx’s refusal to grant Grossbart special favors, the story illustrates that even common heritage cannot outweigh the demands of fairness in a disciplined institution.

Roth’s Challenge to Identity-Based Favoritism

Roth translates this broader historical tension into the intimate exchanges between Marx and Grossbart. What plays out between the two men mirrors the larger conflict of the time: whether personal identity can claim precedence over collective duty. Grossbart presses further, turning small requests into larger demands for privilege. Early on, he insists that missing duties for services is a religious necessity: “That isn’t it, Sergeant. It’s the other guys in the barracks. They figure we’re goofing off. But we’re not. That’s when Jews go to services, Friday night. We have to” (Roth 3). His reasoning highlights appearances rather than devotion. Marx cuts through this appeal with blunt clarity: “Look, Grossbart. This is the army, not summer camp” (Roth 9). Here Roth underscores that integrity and order come before private ties.

As the story unfolds, Grossbart’s requests escalate, ranging from food changes to weekend passes. Marx finally confronts him: “What are you attempting to do to me, Grossbart? … What do you want? You want me to give you special favors, to change the food, to learn about your orders, to provide you weekend passes” (Roth 20). Roth makes clear that Grossbart is not seeking to preserve tradition but to exploit identity for personal gain. Such manipulation, if indulged, destabilizes the trust that military life depends on.

The Moral Stakes of Leadership

This mounting pressure leads to a decisive moment. Having recognized the manipulative pattern, Marx broadens his perspective beyond individual grievances and considers what is at stake for the entire group. The story reaches a turning point when he asks Grossbart: “How can you do this to people?” (Roth 26). The word “people” refers not only to fellow Jews but to the entire squad. Roth reframes loyalty as universal rather than narrow, showing that moral accountability comes from protecting the whole.

Steinberg portrays Marx’s decision as ethically ambiguous, suggesting that his refusal to shield Grossbart is akin to “sentencing a fellow Jew to possible death” and insists that his choice reflects “ethical ambiguity” (Steinberg 12). This view diminishes the influence of leadership obligations. Marx is not rejecting Judaism but upholding his duty. Roth illustrates that leaders cannot allow identity to override integrity without endangering the very institution they serve.

Lessons in Military Brotherhood

Taken together, these moments form Roth’s lesson about leadership. By showing how identity-based favoritism erodes the bonds of trust, he underscores the costs of allowing solidarity to be twisted into leverage. Sergeant Marx must resist manipulation to preserve fairness, even at the cost of disappointing someone who shares his heritage. In this way, Defender of the Faith reveals the fragility of military brotherhood when personal identity becomes bargaining power.

The story also serves as a broader lesson in leadership. Loyalty must extend beyond narrow belonging and return to the company as a whole. Institutions cannot function if individuals use their identity for selfish ends. Roth reveals that real moral leadership means resisting partiality, even when it comes cloaked in solidarity. Today, military codes formalize this expectation, ensuring that leaders are not forced into the same dilemma Marx faced.


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