When JD Vance was asked in a recent interview whether the conservative movement should tolerate antisemitism, his response was careful, expansive — and, for some Republicans, deeply unsatisfying.

The exchange, aired in a widely shared online clip, has drawn sharp criticism from conservative Jewish commentators and renewed scrutiny of how Republican leaders address extremism within their own ranks. At issue is not whether Mr. Vance condemned hatred in general — he did — but whether his refusal to single out antisemitism reflected political caution at a moment when the party’s internal divisions are becoming more visible.

Mr. Vance, a first-term senator from Ohio and a close ally of Donald Trump, was interviewed by Scott Jennings, who posed what appeared to be a straightforward question: Does the conservative movement need to reject people who espouse antisemitic views?

“No, it doesn’t,” Mr. Vance replied, before broadening his answer to denounce all forms of ethnic hatred, including antisemitism, anti-Black racism and anti-white prejudice. He framed his response in religious terms, emphasizing Christian principles and the idea that individuals should be judged by their actions rather than their identity.

For some viewers, the answer reflected a standard Republican appeal to universalism. For others, it appeared evasive — a rhetorical maneuver that avoided acknowledging antisemitism as a distinct and pressing problem on the political right.

Criticism came swiftly from conservative Jewish voices online, many of whom argued that Mr. Vance’s response blurred a specific concern into a generalized moral statement. Several commentators noted that antisemitic rhetoric has become increasingly visible in far-right media spaces, and that addressing it directly is necessary to confront the problem.

The reaction highlights a broader dilemma facing Republican leaders who are seen as potential successors to Mr. Trump. While opinion polls and donor interest often favor figures who can appeal to both populist voters and institutional conservatives, the two constituencies do not always share the same priorities — particularly when it comes to confronting extremist rhetoric.

Over the past several years, a number of right-leaning media personalities and activists have drawn criticism for antisemitic language or conspiratorial framing. Figures such as Candace Owens, Tucker Carlson, and Nick Fuentes have each been cited by watchdog groups and journalists for comments that critics say echo antisemitic tropes, though the individuals involved have rejected that characterization.

Mainstream Republican leaders have often responded cautiously to such controversies, condemning hate in principle while avoiding direct confrontation with influential figures on the right. Political analysts say this reflects an enduring fear of alienating segments of the party’s base.

“What you’re seeing is a balancing act,” said one Republican strategist who requested anonymity to speak candidly. “Candidates want to reassure donors and swing voters without provoking backlash from highly energized online communities.”

Mr. Vance’s defenders argue that his comments were consistent with a long-standing conservative emphasis on individual responsibility and religious pluralism. They also note that he explicitly rejected antisemitism, even if he did so as part of a broader moral framework.

But critics counter that the approach risks minimizing a specific threat. “You can’t solve a problem you won’t name,” wrote one conservative commentator, echoing a sentiment that appeared repeatedly across social media following the interview.

The episode also underscores how rapidly internal party debates now play out in public. Clips circulate online within hours, framed by partisan outlets that interpret answers not just as policy positions, but as signals of loyalty or betrayal.

For Mr. Vance, the controversy arrives at a moment when he is increasingly discussed as a leading figure in the post-Trump Republican Party. His rise — from venture capitalist to populist senator — has made him a bridge between the party’s insurgent wing and its traditional power centers. That position, however, comes with risks.

As the Republican coalition continues to evolve, questions about how directly its leaders confront extremism are unlikely to fade. Whether Mr. Vance’s careful wording will prove to be prudent politics or a strategic miscalculation remains unclear. What is evident is that, in today’s Republican Party, even broad condemnations of hatred can become flashpoints — revealing fault lines that no single answer can easily paper over.