Kabbalah, Mysticism, and Spiritual Intuitions – Continued (Column 268)

With God’s help

In the previous column I discussed people’s spiritual intuitions, especially those of mystics. Following my remarks, several responses made it clear to me that this discussion needs a continuation, especially Raphael’s comment (which impressed me greatly. a plastered cistern that does not lose a drop (a reservoir that loses not a drop), and he does not let me escape what I promised), which reminded me of a passage that I had intended from the outset to include in the column and simply forgot. So here, then, is a follow-up column.

Similarity Among Thought-Worlds: Two Interpretive Possibilities

In the previous column I presented two interpretations of the similarity between different mystical thought-worlds: either there is an objective reality toward which they are all directed and about which they all report, or else this is a similar structure in our psyche.[1] Following this, Elikim asked in his comment on the column:

Why is it more reasonable to assume the existence of an objective reality to which all human beings have access than to assume that human beings respond much more similarly than they think to certain ideas, are drawn to and repelled by these and other ideas in similar ways, and in general are far more alike than they think? In my view, that is the rational response called for by the findings.

Even if the workshop of the land is one (all humans are cast from the same mold), that does not mean that there exists some additional entire plane of being. Even if national archetypes exist, that does not mean they really have to exist anywhere other than in our imagined cultural and social space.

In my response I mentioned that in the column itself I had already raised both possibilities, and not by accident. It is indeed difficult to decide between them, and yet I do not reject the possibility that we are dealing with an objective reality:

I raised both possibilities, and not by accident. This connects to skeptical questions in general. One can similarly ask why we should prefer the option that our cognition correctly reflects the world over the solipsistic option (that there is no world and everything is only within us). Not to mention scientific generalizations that posit theoretical entities that are not directly observed, or mathematical Platonism.

Here I will expand a bit on this matter.

On Non-Sensory Cognition

Non-sensory cognition accompanies us in other contexts as well. For example, with respect to theoretical entities in science, there is an ongoing dispute among philosophers. Are these entities useful fictions, theoretical constructs that help us organize scientific information and no more, or are they real entities whose existence we can only infer from the scientific facts, without direct observation of them? Nearly all the scientists I know hold the second view. The overwhelming majority of them will tell you that there is a gravitational force and an electromagnetic field, that there are elementary particles and the forces between them. I do not know a physicist who relates to all these as nothing more than useful fictions. I have already mentioned here more than once the example of gravity, which shows this.

The law of gravitation states that any two masses attract one another with a strength inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them. That is an empirical fact. But the theory of gravitation assumes that there is a force that causes this attraction, and in common parlance it is called the "force of gravity." Note that gravitational force is a kind of theoretical entity. The claim that there is a force is a claim about something in the world, beyond the phenomenon of the mutual attraction of masses. It is the entity that causes this attraction. None of us has ever seen that entity. What we do see are its phenomenal manifestations, that is, phenomena that reflect (in our opinion) its existence. And yet the scientific world invests enormous sums and tremendous effort in testing the hypothesis that gravitons exist. Gravitons are the particles that carry the force of gravity (just as photons carry the electromagnetic field). To this day no one has seen a graviton, and the conjecture that they exist has the status of a mere hypothesis. About this I would say that I think almost every physicist assumes that they exist, even though no one has seen them. And the proof is that the scientific world invests enormous sums and vast time and resources in scientific investigations of the existence of gravitons.

Now think: if gravitational force were merely a useful fiction for the description of the theory of gravitation (the force of attraction being a fictive entity used to describe the law of attraction), then the hypothesis that gravitons exist would be a mere conjecture, and the chances of its being true would be negligible. There certainly would be no justification for such enormous investments in its empirical examination. And yet, as noted, such investments are constantly being made. Moreover, as I have already mentioned, nearly all physicists believe that gravitons really do exist, and that when technology makes it possible we will undoubtedly discover them.

It should be understood that solipsism (a philosophical position that sees the world as a fiction, that is, everything exists only in our consciousness and not outside us) is a position that appears somewhat bizarre when it concerns the existence of the world around us. It is obvious to us that this world exists, and skeptical musings of this kind will not budge us from that position. Such musings are the province of philosophers amusing themselves with bizarre ideas. By contrast, when we deal with theoretical entities, solipsism would seem quite called for. And yet, it seems to me that very few scientists are solipsists. I will only remark that, to the best of my impression, among philosophers of science the position that theoretical entities are useful fictions (scientific solipsism) is far more common than among scientists. It seems to me that the explanation is that one who lives this world and "feels" it somehow succeeds in experiencing its existence in some fashion.[2]

A similar example is Platonism in mathematics. With respect to mathematical entities as well, a similar dispute rages: are they real entities that exist in some sense in the objective world, or are they creations of our wild imagination? Again, a few checks I conducted indicated that very few mathematicians are not Platonists. By contrast, among philosophers of mathematics this dispute rages with full force. And again, in my opinion, the explanation is that there is a difference between one who feels the things and works with them up close, and one who discusses them "from outside" (to paraphrase, an ‘armchair mathematician’).

And I have not even spoken about the assumptions that underlie scientific thinking, such as the principle of causality, which also have no direct empirical basis, and yet we all assume their truth. Another example is the topic known as "the philosophers’ chestnut."[3] Generally speaking, I would say that we all assume that our discourse with one another is based on similarity in the subjective perceptions that we experience within ourselves. That when you and I talk about the color red, the same color stands before our eyes. But in principle it is possible that I see the color I call ‘red,’ while you in fact experience what I call the smell of lavender, except that from time immemorial you have become accustomed that when you smell the scent of lavender you are to describe it in the words "I see something red." And so with every subjective perception we have.[4] Here too, the problem mainly troubles philosophers. Simple people like me generally assume that our subjective experiences and perceptions are identical, that is, that when we describe the same thing in words, we also see the same thing.

Explaining These Phenomena

In all the cases I have described there is a simple and intuitive apprehension of non-sensory reality, that is, of something for which we have no empirical confirmation, and yet we all assume that it indeed exists and that this is its nature. In all these cases philosophers raise obvious questions for which we do not have good answers, and they propose an alternative thesis that in many respects is simply simpler (it posits fewer assumptions about reality, that is, the existence of fewer entities—Occam’s razor). But at the end of the day these simple yet non-intuitive options remain the exclusive possession of philosophers, and only philosophers. Perhaps this is what someone meant when he said that there are statements so foolish that only intellectuals can utter them.

And yet, what justifies holding on to the intuitive picture of the world when we have no real basis for it? What do we answer the annoying philosopher who keeps asking why we should not choose another option, perhaps a more minimal and simpler one? It seems to me that we reject his words by claiming that these are skeptical arguments. If my cognition and intuition tell me something, the burden of proof is on the one who claims that these are fantasies, illusions, or fictions. If I apprehend something as existing, it probably exists.[5] This cross-confirmation supports the claim that we are indeed dealing with something that has a root in reality, that is, that this is not merely our subjective fiction. If so, the basis for trust in all these phenomena is probably a kind of contemplation with the eyes of the intellect (spiritual, non-sensory cognition), exactly as I described regarding mysticism, and the correspondence between different sources constitutes confirmation of this thesis and its reliability.

The World Is Written in the Language of Mathematics

In my book HaMatzui HaRishon (The First Existent), in the third conversation, I discussed the wondrous fit between our mode of thought and the structure of the world. One of the most prominent expressions of this fit is the mathematical structure of the world, and our ability to understand and describe it. Many thinkers and scientists have noted this, and they describe their wonder at this phenomenon. Several sources on the matter may be found in this article by Benjamin Fine.[6] More generally, Fine explains there that the synthetic a priori claims on which every science and all scientific knowledge are based are claims that we all accept despite their lacking empirical foundation, and with respect to all of them one can raise the same skeptical questions I described above (this is the substance of the fourth conversation in my book HaMatzui HaRishon, and here on the site it is the fourth notebook). In my books I grounded these claims as well (and therefore science and everything we know about the world) in that same non-sensory cognition I have described here.

I now come to the supplement I promised Raphael following the previous column (my lapse of memory).

What Is a Priest Doing in the Cemetery? On Brisk, Purity, and Sacrificial Law

As is well known, the Brisker ethos in Talmud study is that we ask only "what?" and not "why?" In the Brisk tradition it is assumed that we are too insignificant to understand the reason for the words of the Sages and certainly for the words of the Torah itself (the reason for the verse, the rationale of Scripture), and therefore all we can do is describe what they say, but not explain and understand.

I have already written here more than once that this ethos is an expression of dazzling naivete. There is no "what?" without "why?" So long as you have no understanding of the rationale behind the laws, you will not be able to explain and define them. The common yeshiva distinction between formal definition and rationale is extremely vague, almost to the point of nonexistence. A definition always rests on some understanding of the rationale, and it is neither correct nor even possible to detach them completely.[7] Even if it is true that we are so small (and I am not at all sure of that), we simply have no choice. Every definition requires understanding (indeed, this itself is a Brisker saying attributed to R. Chaim: lack of clarity is lack of understanding)[8].

Anyone familiar with the Brisker study hall knows that they prefer mainly to study the areas of impurity and purity and the domain of sacrificial law. It seems to me that the reason is that in those areas we have no intuitions that come with us from home. There we will not be taken captive by our "understandings," and we will be able to focus on the formal definition alone. When one examines what is written in those study halls in the areas of sacrificial law and purity, one finds that not a little reasoning and common sense are employed there (and sometimes not such straight common sense, as is the way of the world). This is quite surprising, since in Brisk they claim that they are not trying to understand. But as stated above, this is an illusion, for there is no definition without understanding. Therefore it is obvious that you will find understanding and logic there in the laws of purity and sacrificial law. The Briskers do not even notice that they are understanding, and so they continue to claim that they are merely defining without trying to understand.

But even aside from Brisk, this situation is truly surprising. From where do we get intuitions and understandings in the areas of sacrificial law and purity? These are seemingly areas in which the Torah innovates matters that are not drawn from our conceptual world and are not connected to it. I would expect that in such areas my common sense and intuition would have nothing to say. In such areas, seemingly, I should be entirely subject to what is written in the Torah, and focus on the "what" without the "why" (which, of course, is impossible, as above).

My conclusion is that even in these areas we have primary intuitions, despite the fact that seemingly we have no previous experience of them. The obvious way out is that this is a kind of viewing with the eyes of the intellect upon these abstract and spiritual ideas (impurity and purity, primary sources of impurity and their derivatives, types of offerings and modes of offering, etc.). Even things that seem to us like detached mysticism that has no connection to our sensory experience appear to be things with which we have some ability to make contact, to know, and to understand.

Analyzing an Example

Let us touch briefly on an example that I chose at random from R. Chaim HaLevi’s novellae on Maimonides, Laws of Tzara’at Impurity 16:8. I note that the choice was accidental, because the same thing can be shown in every interpretive passage on every law from the laws of impurity or sacrificial law in Maimonides, without exception. I will not enter into the details of the interpretive-halakhic move, because our concern here is not with the laws of tzara’at impurity. My purpose here is only to point to the important point for us: the intuition that we possess even in "mystical" areas, which seemingly are foreign to us and to our sensory or other experience, and which allows us to make distinctions and draw interpretive and legal differentiations even in these areas.

Maimonides rules there:

If someone was standing in a leprous house and stretched his hands outside the house, with his rings on his hands, then if he remained for the time needed to eat the requisite amount, the rings became impure even though they were outside. And likewise, if one was standing outside and stretched his hands into a leprous house, etc., then if they remained there for the time needed to eat the requisite amount, his rings became impure; if not, they remained pure.

The source of this law is Mishnah Nega’im 13:10, and one could already wonder here about the tannaitic Sages: how did they know to make this distinction? Even if it emerges from verses, it is still clear that without a priori reasoning we would not have derived it from the verses.[9] That is, the Sages had an a priori intuition regarding the laws of impurity and purity, and they drew legal conclusions from it in Torah-level law, both leniently and stringently. But, as noted, this is not only true of them. It continues with Maimonides and, ironically enough, even with R. Chaim himself.

R. Chaim, in his novellae there, raises the following difficulty:

However, this is difficult whichever way you look at it: if in the first clause, where most of him was inside, we say that his minority part is drawn after the majority and he is therefore considered as entirely inside, then in the latter clause, where he was outside and stretched his hand inside, why do the Rabbis maintain that if he remained there for the time needed to eat a peras they are impure? Why do we not say that his minority part is drawn after the majority, so that he should be regarded as entirely outside?

Already here I would note that he assumes symmetry. How does he know that the drawing of the minority after the majority should be symmetrical, both from inside outward and from outside inward? Already here there is an intuitive assumption about a field completely unfamiliar to us. This is a scriptural decree, and we should accept the "what" without being troubled by the question of "why." At most, R. Chaim could have formulated this as a conclusion and not as a difficulty: we learn from here that the drawing of the minority after the majority occurs only from outside inward and not from inside outward. He could also have explained it in a thousand strange and unusual ways (and of course wholly illogical ones). But he is unwilling to settle for an explanation that does not "make sense," and he looks for something reasonable. That means that we have rational understanding even in such areas.

He then proceeds to resolve the difficulty (!):

It seems possible to say as follows. In Shevuot 17b it states: Rabbi Hoshaya said, etc., that one who enters a leprous house backward—even if his entire body entered except for his nose—remains pure, because the verse says, “and the one who enters the house”; the Torah prohibited entry in the normal manner of entering. Now at first glance it would seem that only the person remains pure, but the vessels on him become impure. First, because the fact that entering backward is not considered entry applies only to the person; but regarding the vessels, we should not care at all that the person entered backward. Second, even regarding the person himself, if he entered entirely he is impure even if he entered backward, as explained there in the passage. If so, the vessels, which he has already brought in entirely, should have to be impure. This is difficult for Maimonides, who rules without qualification in chapter 16 of the laws of leprous impurity that a pure person who entered a leprous house backward—even if his whole body entered except for his nose—remains pure, and he states this without qualification. Why did he not explain that the vessels are at least impure? Later I saw in Tosafot on Shevuot there, s.v. “even if,” that it is explained there that if one entered entirely backward except for his nose, the vessels are in fact pure. But this is difficult, for the vessels ought to have been impure, as we explained. Nor can one say that since the impurity of the vessels comes through the person, therefore once the person is pure the vessels are automatically pure—for that is not so, since it is explicitly stated in the Mishnah we cited that even if he inserted only his hands, the vessels are impure; and there too the person is Torah-level pure, yet nevertheless the vessels are impure. If so, here too, in the case of entering backward, the vessels should likewise have been impure.

It seems possible to say as follows. It appears that regarding this rule—that if one remained in the house for the measure of time needed for eating, the vessels become impure—we are forced to say that the law is not that the garments become impure through the person, as in the ordinary law of impurity of garments. For, as is explained in the Mishnah we cited, where he was standing outside and inserted his hands inside, the vessels are impure; this explicitly shows that even though the person is pure, nevertheless the vessels are impure. Rather, certainly the fact that their status depends on the person’s entering concerns only the legal definition of entry: through the person’s remaining there in the leprous house, the vessels too are regarded as having entered the impure structure; but their impurity in truth is due to themselves, since once they are regarded as having entered the impure structure, they become impure because of the house. According to this, it is quite understandable why, in the case of entering backward, the vessels are pure, whereas in the case of inserting one’s hands, the vessels are impure. Tosafot in Shevuot ask: according to the Gemara’s conclusion that one who entered entirely backward is impure because he is no worse than vessels in the house, then why should we not also say that most of him is considered as the whole of him, and he should be impure even when he entered mostly backward? After all, even when one enters in the normal manner of entry, full entry is likewise required; rather, he is impure when most of him entered because of the rule that most of him is like all of him. If so, in the case of entering backward we should likewise say that most of him is like all of him. It would seem, however, that this rule—that most of him is like all of him—applies only where he entered in the normal manner of entry. For every part counts as a kind of entry, but he does not become impure until his whole body enters; regarding that, we indeed say that most of him is like all of him. But when he enters backward, as long as he has not entered entirely, it is not considered entry at all. Thus, the need for his full entry is not only because even in normal entry we maintain that he does not become impure until he enters entirely; rather, here he is additionally pure because as long as he has not entered entirely, even partial entry is not considered entry. According to this, the rule that most of him is like all of him has no relevance here at all, for that rule applies only regarding the question of how much must enter; therefore we rightly say that the majority, which is already considered to have entered, counts as the whole. But where, without full entry, there is no entry at all, one cannot say that most is like the whole, since even the majority still does not have the status of entry. Accordingly, the distinction between entering backward and the rule of inserting one’s hand is very well explained. In the case of entering backward, where we maintain that even what has entered is still not considered entry at all, the vessels are therefore rightly pure as well. Since the Scriptural decree of “and the one who eats in the house,” from which we derive this rule of remaining there for impurity of garments, means that the vessels’ entry must specifically be by means of the person’s entry, therefore once the person has not yet acquired the legal status of entry at all, there is correspondingly no legal status of entry for the vessels either. But in the case of inserting one’s hand, which is a normal manner of entry, this partial entry is considered already to have entered; it is only that the person remains pure because he does not become impure until his whole body enters. Therefore, with respect to the vessels, since all we require is that their entry be by means of the person and not that their impurity come through the person, they indeed have the legal status of entry through the entry of part of the person, and consequently they become impure on their own account.

He divides the relation between the person and the items on him into two different planes: 1. There is a question regarding the very entry—whether the person’s entry is considered the entry of the items. 2. And there is a question regarding the state of impurity (whether the person’s impurity determines impurity for the items as well). According to his view, there may be situations in which the person is considered one who brings in the items, but his impurity still does not necessarily determine their impurity (they are independently impure because they came—through the person—into the afflicted house). This is a classic "two laws" move of R. Chaim.

All these distinctions, of course, presuppose various understandings and intuitions regarding the laws of impurity and the way they take effect. In a complete vacuum of understanding it would not have been possible to say any of this. Again I stress that these distinctions exist already among the Sages and testify that even they had such intuitions, but R. Chaim shows here distinctions that Maimonides innovates (or proves them from the Talmudic passages). Moreover, now note that R. Chaim himself innovates these understandings in Maimonides’ view (for they are not written there explicitly. This is an interpretive conclusion that he draws). At each of these stages, the people involved were dealing with a field that is entirely mystical, the impurity of tzara’at, and yet they made rational assumptions about it, drew distinctions, and of course inferred conclusions from them.

From here R. Chaim turns to resolve the Maimonides with which we began:

Now, accordingly, what we asked at the beginning of our discussion is well resolved: just as the entry of most of a person is effective to render the vessels impure, so too the fact that most of him is outside should be effective to render them pure. For according to what was explained, even a part of the person itself is also considered as having entered; if so, this partial entry indeed helps with respect to the vessels, so that they are regarded as entering the house by means of that part of the person. And this appears even more strongly correct, for we learned there that a pure cloak, of which an area of three by three handbreadths was inserted into a leprous house, becomes impure; whereas regarding other vessels, the Tosefta there in chapter 7 teaches that this is only so once most of them has been inserted. The reason is that they become impure in one of two ways: either by inserting most of the object, or by inserting the minimum measure fit to contract impurity. Therefore, with a cloak, since it contains an area of three by three, which is the measure fit to contract impurity, it becomes impure; whereas with other vessels, where part of the vessel does not constitute a measure fit to contract impurity, we therefore require that most of them be inserted. According to this, then, if most of his body is standing inside, he should be impure because of the rule that most of it is considered as the whole of it; and if he inserted his hand together with the vessels inside, he should likewise be impure because of this rule that he inserted an impure measure, for the vessels do contain a measure relevant to impurity. Thus the Mishnah correctly teaches that both cases are impure, as explained above.

As noted, many other distinctions could have been proposed, and of course most of them would seem to us groundless. But that itself is the proof that we have the ability to determine that one distinction is reasonable and another is not, despite the fact that we are dealing with a "mystical" field unrelated to our experience.

Just think now whether, after all this, one can really "buy into" the Brisker ethos of dealing with the "what" without the "why." Does the flight into mystical areas really enable them to do that?

A Connection to the Philosophy of Science

A phenomenon similar to the one I described here can also be seen in the philosophy of science (see my book Et Asher Yeshno VeAsher Einenu (That Which Is and Which Is Not), Gate Two, chapter 1, especially from p. 59 onward). Let me begin by saying that the picture Francis Bacon presented at the beginning of the modern era regarding the development of science (his inductive logic) was linear: from facts to theory. One gathers relevant facts and from them constructs a theory that explains them. But this picture is very problematic. So long as we do not have a theory in hand, there is no way to determine what the relevant facts are.

For example (which I brought there in my book), suppose we want to investigate the causes of Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo. Francis Bacon tells us that first of all we must gather all the relevant facts. The question is: what are those relevant facts? The name of the mother of the sergeant of the fourth platoon? The length of his grandmother’s belt? The height of the battalion adjutant? The soldiers’ morale? The color of the uniforms? There are countless facts, and it is unclear how we could know which of them are relevant. It is obvious that so long as we do not possess a plausible theory of victory and defeat in military battle (what factors influence matters one way or the other), we have no way of knowing which relevant facts we should collect. I am speaking about the hypothetical situation of someone founding the field of military research at its very beginning. At that moment he has no idea what might have an influence and how. So how does he begin accumulating knowledge? There are infinitely many facts, and therefore no way to perform elimination among them (to determine which are relevant). I also brought there the example of the physician Semmelweis and puerperal fever (a famous example brought by the philosopher of science Carl Hempel), which documented a similar phenomenon with respect to medical research.

So how, after all, are we to understand the progress of science? How can medical or military research even begin to advance from the bleak starting point I have described? We are forced to conclude that even before we set out on the path of systematic research we already possess intuitive ideas regarding its results. Something of the theory to which we will eventually arrive is in fact already present within us at the starting point. Afterwards we gather facts that seem relevant to us, correct the theory in light of them, gather facts that have now become clear to us as relevant and discard others that have become clear as irrelevant, and so on. Without an initial intuition that precedes the gathering of facts and empirical observation, there is no real way to advance. Empirical research cannot function without resting on a priori intuitions.[10]

This is another indication that we possess a non-sensory power of contemplation, one that also finds expression in science. The assumption that reality cannot be learned except through the senses does not withstand critical scrutiny. Therefore, one should not rule out the possibility that certain people are endowed with a non-sensory power of contemplation also with respect to the mystical dimensions of reality.

[1] There is also a third possibility: that the similarity was created through mutual influence among the thinkers. See N.’s comment on the previous column.

[2] In this context it may perhaps be interesting to see my remarks in the mythological demons thread on the forum Stop Here, Think (Atzchach). There I explained that the demon "Sha’ya" (see Bava Kamma 21a) that is responsible for the disintegration of abandoned houses is nothing other than the second law of thermodynamics. This is an example of an ontic realization of scientific law. See also Column 7.

[3] See about it in columns 99, 153, 251, and also here.

[4] In this context, one can listen to the recordings of the series of lectures that has just begun in Petah Tikva on subjectivity and objectivity in Jewish law and in general.

[5] It is worth discussing whether the fact that this is the intuition of many people carries any weight. I have already written here (see, for example, Column 262 and the discussions that followed it) that in my view, if most people think something, there is a presumption that it is not correct until proven otherwise; but this was said mainly with respect to reasoned positions. Their intuitions, however—and especially intuitions that they do not abandon even when they hear opposing arguments—do carry some weight, even if not decisive (certainly if these are also my intuitions). In the end, I do not know how to provide a general criterion for when and whether the opinion of the many carries weight, but it seems to me that if there is correspondence between opinions that have not mutually influenced one another, that constitutes some confirmation of the thesis under discussion. That is also my conclusion above.

[6] The article was brought to my attention in a WhatsApp group, and when I read it I was surprised to see that almost all of its fundamental elements and arguments had already appeared in my writings in various places.

[7] In our book Yishlach Sharashav, in the essay on the fifth root, we tried somewhat to clarify these matters, and in particular their implications for the inquiry into the reason for the verse.

[8] They will of course explain that the intention is to understanding the formal definition, not the rationale.

[9] I have already pointed out in several places that every scriptural derivation contains a layer of reasoning. Without that layer we could not derive the derivation. Thus, for example, “You shall fear the Lord your God” — this includes Torah scholars (‘Fear the Lord your God’—to include Torah scholars). Even if we accept the assumption of Rabbi Akiva’s school that the word et comes to include something, it is still not clear what it comes to include. That is left to our reasoning. So it is with all the hermeneutical rules. Every rule is a scriptural trigger for carrying out a derivation, but what exactly is to be derived always remains with the interpreter. A verse is never a complete explanation for any law derived from it. There is always a layer of reasoning there as well.

[10] It is commonly thought that these intuitions were accumulated from our cumulative experience, even if we are not aware of it. In the final analysis, everything comes from experience. But that cannot be correct, because that long road too has to begin somewhere. At the beginning of the road there must be primary classificatory principles that were not drawn from experience. Without this assumption, we would still be stuck today with the science of Adam.