Ethics and Halakha 2
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Table of Contents
- Morality, facts, and the naturalistic fallacy
- Evolution, survival, and moral judgment
- The rabbinic person and the sovereign person
- Descriptive and prescriptive, and Kant
- Chaim Perelman, tautology, and the question of justification
- An example of change in Jewish law and the bridge assumption
- Utilitarianism, reward and punishment, and economics instead of morality
- Divine command as prescriptive language
- Moral feeling as a fact
- The Tanya, chapter 9: the animal soul and the divine soul
- Who is the locomotive: heart, mind, and the choice to be a chooser
- The good inclination and the evil inclination, age of commandments, and responsibility
- Altruism: tendency versus decision
Summary
General overview
The text defines morality as a domain that cannot be derived from facts alone, and grounds this in David Hume’s distinction between is and ought, and in what Moore called the naturalistic fallacy. It argues that evolutionary or psychological explanations can at most explain how a moral feeling or behavioral tendencies came into being, but they do not confer validity on moral judgment and condemnation in the sense of “that’s not okay.” It distinguishes between descriptive and prescriptive statements, presents the Kantian position according to which “murder is evil” is a binding principle and not a neutral description, and illustrates the need for a “bridge assumption” when trying to infer norms from facts. Later, he reads a chapter from the Tanya and interprets the inner struggle not as a struggle between the good inclination and the evil inclination, but between an instinctive “animal soul” and a “divine soul” of choice, so that the moral question depends on the source of the decision and the motivation, and not only on the behavioral outcome.
Morality, facts, and the naturalistic fallacy
The text distinguishes between naturalistic morality based on facts and “real” morality that is not derived from them. It states that one cannot derive a norm or judgment from a fact, and presents the fallacy of inferring ought from is, following David Hume—for example, claiming that a wall is a certain color “and therefore it is beautiful,” or that someone will suffer “and therefore it is forbidden” to do something. It explains that a valid inference requires a “bridge assumption” that moves from the plane of facts to the plane of judgment, such as the assumption that “whatever is brown is beautiful,” and without it the conclusion does not follow logically from the premises.
Evolution, survival, and moral judgment
The text describes a materialist position that sees morality as a product of an evolutionary process in which cooperation and mutual concern contribute to the survival of the group. It argues that even if this thesis is true, it explains only how moral feeling or the tendency to behave in a certain way arose, but it does not explain why there is validity to a moral judgment against someone who behaves differently, such as a “mutation” that has no problem stealing or murdering. It says that when a group sets survival as its goal, that does not amount to moral justification, because any group can define arbitrary or even violent goals, and the question is not whether it will happen factually, but whether it is justified. It distinguishes between a discourse of self-defense and the use of force for the sake of survival—which is consistent even in the animal world—and moral condemnation that addresses a person as someone who is “not okay,” and it argues that the pathos of such condemnation is not explained by evolution, nor does it receive any validity from it.
The rabbinic person and the sovereign person
The text presents Ari Elon’s idea of “the rabbinic person and the sovereign person” as an alternative to commitment to laws whose source lies outside the human being, such as the Holy One, blessed be He. It argues that if a person legislates his own laws, then by definition he is always “moral” according to his own laws, but in practice this contradicts our judging intuition, because a person who legislates for himself to be a hired murderer would not be considered moral. It parallels this to the claim that someone who becomes a murderer “because that is how he is built” cannot, in principle, be judged in a moral sense, just as one does not judge a lioness for her nature, and from this concludes that morality cannot be a fact about human structure.
Descriptive and prescriptive, and Kant
The text presents a distinction in analytic philosophy between a descriptive statement that describes a fact and a prescriptive statement that expresses a norm and is directed toward action or refraining from action. It argues that statements such as “murder is an evil act” are not a neutral description of what people think, but a binding statement whose meaning is “one must not murder,” and therefore any attempt to understand it as description alone requires another “bridge assumption,” such as “what is evil is forbidden to do.” It attributes to Kant the emphasis that morality cannot be the result of facts alone, and suggests that a person who asks, “If murder is evil, why is it forbidden to murder?” does not understand the meaning of the concept “evil” in its prescriptive sense.
Chaim Perelman, tautology, and the question of justification
The text cites Chaim Perelman, who argues that a statement like “Murder is forbidden because it is evil” may be empty, because “evil” is interpreted as “that which it is forbidden to do,” and then one gets the tautology “Murder is forbidden because murder is forbidden.” It also presents the opposite possibility, in which a person says “Murder is evil” but does not see that as a prohibition, and interprets this as understanding “murder is evil” as a social fact about the group’s judgment rather than as a binding norm. It concludes that prescriptive meaning is not a neutral fact and therefore does not rest on facts in a way that avoids the naturalistic fallacy.
An example of change in Jewish law and the bridge assumption
The text demonstrates the logical fallacy in the argument “In the past women were not educated and were therefore disqualified from testimony; today they are educated, and therefore they should be qualified for testimony,” and states that the normative conclusion does not follow from the facts unless one adds the assumption that the disqualification stemmed specifically from those facts and that they are the facts relevant to the norm. It emphasizes that sometimes the implicit assumptions are the Achilles’ heel of the argument, and that there is value in a systematic discussion that puts all assumptions on the table in order to clarify where the real dispute lies.
Utilitarianism, reward and punishment, and economics instead of morality
The text presents utilitarianism as a naturalistic conception when it tries to derive obligation from the fact that something “brings benefit,” because benefit is a fact and obligation is a judgment, and the transition requires an additional normative assumption. It argues that if one connects “morality” to reward and punishment or to a prize, then one is dealing with considerations of utility and economics rather than morality. It notes that ordinary moral discourse assumes significance for motive and for the question “Why did you do it?”, and therefore an attempt to reduce morality to a description of behavior alone misses what people actually attach to moral judgment.
Divine command as prescriptive language
The text argues that even if one accepts as a fact that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded at Mount Sinai, the question still arises as to what justifies obligation to the command, but it suggests that “the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded” functions as a prescriptive statement in which the very meaning is “this must be done.” It parallels this to the fact that “good” and “evil” in their prescriptive sense are not neutral descriptions but binding categories, and therefore someone who asks, “So what if the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded—why do you do it?” does not understand the meaning of command within that linguistic structure.
Moral feeling as a fact
The text describes a tendency to see morality as feeling, and warns that even “we have a moral feeling” is itself a fact about mental structure, which does not provide normative validity. It notes that people may infer from this that there is no morality at all, only facts and feelings, and admits that such a position can be consistent, even though he has no convincing argument against someone who insists on it, aside from self-examination of the meaning of condemnation and judgment that people actually employ.
The Tanya, chapter 9: the animal soul and the divine soul
The text quotes from Tanya chapter 9: “Now, the abode of the animal soul, which derives from kelipat nogah, in every Jew, is in the heart, in the left chamber… for the blood is the soul… but the abode of the divine soul is in the brains that are in the head… and also in the heart, in the right chamber… and it is love of God… and one nation shall prevail over the other… for the body is called a small city… and just as two kings wage war over one city… so the two souls, the divine and the vital animal soul… wage war with one another over the body and all its limbs…” He interprets the animal soul as instinctive conduct “like an animal,” which is not necessarily identified with evil because it can also lead to “good” behaviors according to its nature, while the divine soul is the plane of choice and decision beyond instincts. He uses the concept of kelipat nogah as a mixture of good and evil, connects it to Adam’s sin and the “filth of the serpent,” and argues that the struggle is not between two external inclinations but between the person and the totality of his inner drives, where after the sin the difficulty is that the drives are “inside,” and it is therefore hard to distinguish between tendency and decision.
Who is the locomotive: heart, mind, and the choice to be a chooser
The text argues that the question is not which “tools” exist within a person, but who leads, and compares it to a long train in which the question is who the locomotive is. It defines the difference between the divine soul and the animal soul as the question whether the heart leads or the mind leads, and adds that the struggle is over “the whole city,” like two kings competing for control over all the limbs. It sets out two levels of choice: a choice in a specific decision, and a choice to be a deciding person rather than remain passive and let instincts lead, and it interprets “falling” as the experience of deciding not to choose.
The good inclination and the evil inclination, age of commandments, and responsibility
The text brings Rashi’s interpretation of “an old and foolish king” as the evil inclination given to a person from birth, as opposed to the good inclination given “at the time one enters the commandments,” and interprets this in Tanya’s terms as the distinction between the animal soul and the divine soul, not as a denial that children do good deeds. It argues that a person’s crystallization as one who decides, and the ability to bear responsibility, develop gradually, and that age 13 is a reference point for holding a person responsible for his actions, just as in legal matters a young child is not allowed to make binding decisions. It concludes that a person can behave like a “complete righteous person” by nature and still be “compared to animals” if there is no decision involved, whereas evil that stems from a decision is evil in a deeper sense because it is a choice and not merely a drive.
Altruism: tendency versus decision
The text distinguishes between an altruistic tendency as a product of the animal soul and altruistic behavior that stems from a decision as an expression of the divine soul, and ties this to the definition of “altruism” as either a natural tendency or a chosen act. It concludes that evolution can describe the formation of the tendencies and drives of the animal soul, but it does not touch the level of judgment and decision, which is “the bridge principle” from facts to decision, and that level is what he here calls the divine soul.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Last time we talked a bit about the definition of what morality actually is, morality and faith / belief, Kant’s proof, yes, the existence of God, the proof from morality. There I distinguished between naturalistic morality and real morality. Naturalistic morality is morality based on facts, and morality cannot be based on facts. I think I mentioned what’s called the naturalistic fallacy, which is basically, yes, the difference between ought and is according to David Hume, who says that I cannot derive the ought from the is. Meaning, I can’t decide that if this wall is colored, I don’t know, beige-brown, then therefore it is beautiful, because the fact that it is beige is a fact, and the fact that it is beautiful is a judgment. A judgment is never a logical result of a fact; there always has to be something in between that moves us from the plane of facts to the plane of judgments. Therefore, when you say, I don’t know, that it is forbidden to do something because someone will suffer if you do it, that too is actually not a valid argument, because the fact that someone will suffer is a fact, and the fact that it is forbidden to do it is a judgment—that is, it is a norm—and you can never derive a norm from a judgment. Therefore this is actually perhaps the philosophical formulation of the matter: naturalistic morality is a problematic thing, meaning morality…
[Speaker B] We already talked about this last year, when I wasn’t here.
[Speaker C] I was here two weeks ago.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We definitely talked about naturalistic morality—with that I think, morality meaning that morality is not derived from facts. Maybe I didn’t mention David Hume,
[Speaker C] I don’t know about is and ought.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, fine, not about—
[Speaker C] The fact that everyone is quiet makes me think either they’re afraid to say something or they don’t understand.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, that’s why you’re here. If I’m right, then I’ll say it now, no matter. I really maybe don’t fully remember anymore what we talked about, but the point was that morality cannot be the result of facts. That I do remember talking about: that when you do something because that’s how you are built, that is not a moral justification. Yes, when people say—materialists often bring an alternative to the Holy One, blessed be He, as it were, as the anchor of morality, and that was the topic last time—so they say: couldn’t morality be the result of an evolutionary process? It has evolutionary advantages. All in all, cooperation between people, or mutual concern among people, contributes to the survival of that group that contains this mutual concern. Meaning, it has evolutionary value, and therefore it came into being, it survived. That thesis, even if it is true—and it may be true—it only points to the question of how moral feeling arose within us. And even there I say there are good arguments against that too, but never mind. It explains how moral feeling arose within us, but it does not explain why I have the ability to judge someone morally. Why do I say that it’s wrong if you steal or murder? I can only say: this is how my tendency not to steal and not to murder came about. But the fact that I have one tendency or another does not mean that there is any validity to the claim that murder is forbidden, such that if someone was born differently, an evolutionary mutation, then from his perspective there’s no problem with stealing and murdering. So I usually judge him—that is, he’s not okay, he’s behaving wrongly. Now I ask: what is the basis for such a judgment? In what sense is it wrong? I am built one way, and he behaves the way he is built. If the whole reason I behave in a certain way is only because that’s how I am built, then he has exactly the same justification as I do. And therefore I talked about Ari Elon’s “the rabbinic person and the sovereign person,” where he thinks that a person legislates his own laws; that is the alternative to obedience or commitment to laws legislated by someone outside, the Holy One, blessed be He. And then I said that someone who legislates his own laws is always moral, since what he does is what he legislated for himself. Clearly Ari Elon himself doesn’t mean that—meaning it’s clear that there is some external source that determines objectively what is right and what is not right. If someone legislates for himself laws to be a hired murderer, nobody would define him as a moral person. And therefore I think in parallel to that, if someone becomes a hired murderer because that is how he is built, then on the principled level it’s not even right to judge him in court, because okay, so what—also a lion is a hired murderer, or really a lioness; the lion is just lazy, but the lioness is the hired murderer. What does that mean? She murders other animals so they’ll have dinner to eat—so there’ll be an economy in the home. So does anyone think there’s something wrong here or right here? There’s nothing here—it’s just her nature. Therefore morality is never a fact. When you tell me that the result of evolution is some feeling of empathy or a feeling of mutual obligation, that can explain the psychological fact that we have such a tendency, but it cannot give validity to that tendency. Meaning, it cannot tell me why it is right or why its opposite is wrong. When you judge someone, you are assuming something stronger than “that’s how I’m built.” You can’t judge someone and say, well, I’m built differently, therefore I’ll kill you or put you in prison. That sounds absurd.
[Speaker B] Yes, you talked about that theory of evolution—that the good of group survival can explain morality. So ostensibly, judging is always within a group; it’s not a person vis-à-vis himself, it’s at least two people. Okay, so if that same survival is supposed to motivate us as a group, then it can indeed become a measure for judgment. If the group is aware that these are the conditions that ensure survival, it sets laws and then it can judge whoever behaves differently from them.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it can’t.
[Speaker B] Because then he harms survival, which is defined as the goal of the group.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Now I ask: what validity does that goal have? I can define whatever I want. I can define that the group’s goal is that everyone stands on one foot, and whoever stands on two feet we’ll shoot. So since we all feel that way, we’ll make it a law and now we’ll judge him. And now I’m saying: maybe that will happen factually—I’m only asking whether when it happens, it will be justified. I’m not asking whether it will happen.
[Speaker B] You’re asking whether a group is allowed to care for its survival? Yes, exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] On what basis? Exactly—on what basis does it care for its survival? No, that’s why I say: the answer “it’s natural” is exactly the kind of answer I’m talking about. “It’s natural” means: that’s how I’m built. But “that’s how I’m built” is not a justification for anything.
[Speaker B] It’s survival. Survival is an essential thing.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, terribly essential, everything is true. But that’s what you think. He thinks not—especially your survival, he thinks it’s not essential. Fine, that’s what he thinks. You understand? I completely understand why you do it. I cannot see the justification for what you do. Those are not the same thing. When you ask me what causes human beings to do something, that’s like animals. After all, animals too have evolutionary considerations that sometimes lead to the formation of some herd or group with mutual commitment. There are such phenomena in the natural world too. I don’t think it’s right to define that as a moral phenomenon. It’s not a moral phenomenon. Why? Because what they do, even though it fits our rules of morality, they do not do for the right reasons. Rather, they do it because that’s how they are built; they are simply built to care for one another.
[Speaker C] There’s some circular argument here—whether the very fact that we ask what the justification is means that there’s something such that if we hit that target, then it’s okay. But that’s actually the definition of morality, no?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what I’m claiming. I’m trying to propose a definition of morality. I’m not asserting; I’m trying to define the concept of morality. You’re completely right. Meaning, now of course someone can come and say—and against that I have nothing to say—someone can come and say: true, all this morality is an illusion, and overall we act the way we are built. I have nothing to say against such a thing. Meaning, that is a consistent claim.
[Speaker B] Not necessarily built—I could say the group defined survival as its goal.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, because it is built that way.
[Speaker B] Fine, so the group is built that way, it doesn’t matter. But what does “defined” mean? Where did it define it from? Where did that definition come from? Because it wants to survive.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But what does “wants” mean? Where did the definition come from? What validity does that definition have? By what right do you go to war over that definition? You kill people, or maybe you yourself go to be killed, say if you belong to that group’s army, yes? On what basis? So what if they defined it? So they defined it—so what? Any group of people can define all sorts of things, so what does that mean? Does that mean the definition has validity? The fact that something was defined doesn’t mean anything.
[Speaker B] What you’re saying could be true except regarding survival. Survival is the most sensible thing that could be defined.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why? Why is it sensible? Because that’s how you’re built. Fine. So I’m not—I’m a suicidal person, I’m not built that way, I have no problem with non-survival. Do you have any claim against me? No, you don’t. That’s it. So now I ask: what is the basis for someone who does have a claim?
[Speaker B] I don’t want you in the group.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s perfectly fine. I’m saying: that’s completely consistent. Therefore I say one has to be very careful. It’s completely consistent, and if I say that I defend myself against someone who threatens me even if I don’t think he is evil, that too is completely consistent—I have no problem with that. I’m asking the question: what is the basis for judging him? Not judging in the technical sense, but judging morally. Meaning, to say: this man is not okay, he is behaving morally wrongly.
[Speaker D] First of all, if you’re against survival, then I’m helping you with yours—I’m not judging you. But I think the parable is the story of the person sitting in a boat who drills a hole. Okay, so the owners of the boat, yes, like Jonah, they—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They won’t judge him, they’ll throw him into the sea.
[Speaker D] Exactly, self-defense of society. One hundred percent. I said, that’s an ethical conception.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, that’s exactly what I’m saying. One hundred percent—so we completely agree, but that’s exactly the point. Therefore I say: if someone denies the existence of morality in the sense people usually think of it—as some kind of right and wrong, not simply “that’s how I’m built and I have some survival tendency, and whoever threatens it, I’ll defend myself against him as much as I can”—that’s perfectly fine, completely consistent. It exists also among monkeys and other animals. And whoever thinks that that is the essence of morality is completely consistent. I have no claim against him. What I’m trying—I do have a claim that he is not right, but I have no argument that can convince him. Meaning, he is consistent, and I don’t know how one convinces such a person.
[Speaker D] He places morality at a very shallow level too. Yes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, I don’t think that’s morality at all. It may be good behavior. Morality is exactly what I tried to define last time: morality is something that cannot be detached from its motivations, from how the decision is made, not what decision was made. The definition of morality is not only the question of what decision you make or how you behave, because that’s true of sheep too—I brought the story about Amnon Yitzhak, I remember that. So it’s true of sheep too. And if human beings do the same thing, then it’s something else, and I think it’s something else because it comes out of some decision, a moral consideration, that says: this is the right way to act, and this is what I do even if I need to overcome my inclination. Of course the determinists will say that the overcoming itself is also a product of how you’re built. I have no argument that can convince them. I’m only trying to set the alternatives next to each other, one against the other. Meaning, I only want to say that it is impossible to accept morality in its deep, full sense—not the instinctive survival one—and at the same time think that there is nothing from outside, that it is simply a collection of facts, or the result of evolution. That’s nonsense. In an evolutionary world there is no such thing as values. There are behaviors acquired in the process, and you take care of yourself, that’s completely clear, but there is really no basis here for a true claim that “you are immoral.” That moral pathos we feel when we turn to someone and say: wait, how can you behave like that? We don’t just shoot him in the head in self-defense; we have some condemnation toward him. That condemnation, that feeling that it is not okay—that cannot be explained by evolution. And even if it were explained by evolution, by the way—in my opinion it also isn’t explained by evolution. But even if it were explained by evolution, it wouldn’t matter, because it would only explain how it came into being; it would not explain why it is right.
[Speaker C] Could there be a contradiction between the morality of the group and divine morality, right?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If you’re asking my personal opinion, I think not—but we’ll get to that later. I think yes, but we’ll get to that later.
[Speaker D] I think on the subjective level, by the way, the question is whether that doesn’t happen even more in divine morality, but it’s very subjective. For example, talking with the enemy. Some would say that’s immoral because it harms the group, and some would say the opposite—it saves.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, because they have a dispute about facts—simply what will benefit the group. Some think it will benefit the group more, and some think it will harm the group.
[Speaker D] And with what authority, by what right, can I judge someone?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, so that’s why I say: if you reduce it to facts, I don’t care; I’m not talking about that. Because if some people say, “I talk with the enemy because in the end a peace agreement is better for me than war and I want to survive, and that helps my survival,” and someone else says, “Don’t talk with the enemy because it will bring disaster upon us,” not because it’s immoral, but because it will bring disaster upon us—that is a different assessment of the facts that will result from such talk. That is a dispute in assessing reality, not a moral dispute. But if someone says, “It is forbidden to talk with the enemy because it is reprehensible,” meaning because it is morally wrong, regardless of what the consequences may be—here the dispute is a moral dispute. Understand? And now the question is: on what basis, how does one justify such a thing? Meaning, in the end what I’m at least trying to define here is that morality is the second thing, not the first. Now again, someone can come and say, okay, if that’s the definition, fine, we’ll agree on the definition—but there is no such thing. I don’t think there is such a thing, only how I’m built or how the group is built, it doesn’t matter to me right now. Okay? I said: that is completely consistent. I have nothing to argue against such a view except that each person should check with himself whether that is really what he thinks, or whether he really thinks otherwise—that morality is a collection of binding principles by virtue of which one can condemn and judge and evaluate and so forth. Okay, that was last time. And now, what I said now with the naturalistic fallacy: David Hume distinguished between ought and is, between what should be and what exists, fact and norm or judgment. That is true on the aesthetic plane, true on the ethical plane, true on every plane that is not fact. So when I want to derive a conclusion that is not factual from premises that are factual בלבד, there is a fallacy here. And later Moore called this the naturalistic fallacy. Why? Because naturalism means the natural things, the facts. When you make a naturalistic claim, what that means is that you ground the moral, ethical, aesthetic principle—any domain that is non-factual—on factual premises. Meaning, you think the moral or aesthetic norm, whether a picture is beautiful or not beautiful, is the result of a fact. “This picture is beautiful because”—because it has such-and-such a color combination. That is a logically void argument. It is logically void even though it may be true. True, yes, meaning it is true, but it does not follow merely from the color combination. You need some additional assumption that a color combination of this kind has aesthetic value. Okay, if you do not assume that assumption, then the fact that there is this color combination—so what does that mean? It’s a fact. We all agree there is a color combination. Okay, how does that mean it is beautiful? The fact that it is beautiful is a kind of judgment. So you are basically assuming here—okay, yes—for the argument even to be logically valid, suppose the argument is: this table is brown and therefore it is beautiful. You understand that the conclusion does not follow from the premise, right? So then, in order for the conclusion to follow from the premise, I need to add another premise that whatever is brown is beautiful. Right? If I now say this table is brown, and whatever is brown is beautiful, the conclusion is that this table is beautiful. That is a logically valid argument. Okay? Meaning that on the logical level, when you take only the factual premise and infer from it a normative conclusion, the argument is void. The conclusion does not follow from the premises. What is missing? A bridge assumption is missing—an assumption that transfers me from facts to judgment. Everything brown is beautiful. Brown is the fact, beauty is the judgment. If I insert into the premises something that transfers me from facts to judgments, then the argument can be correct. It can also be not correct, but at least it has a chance of being correct. If the argument is based only on facts and the conclusion is a norm, then that argument is void, full stop—you don’t need to look at it twice. It is void. Who approves the bridge?
[Speaker B] What? Who approves the assumption?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Nobody approves it; assumptions are not approved. I’m talking about each person for himself. When you raise an argument that contains only factual premises and the conclusion is a judgment, you yourself need to decide that you made a mistake, not me. You can also argue about assumptions—both factual assumptions and non-factual assumptions. Or I won’t agree with your assumptions. But when you present an argument, you need to present that kind of argument. And now we can begin to discuss whether we agree or not. Like arguments in favor of changes in Jewish law—we might talk about that sometime too. People say: women should be qualified for testimony. Why? Because in the past women were not educated or were not involved in economic matters, in worldly matters, and therefore they did not know, did not understand these things, and their testimony was not believed, let’s say, yes. And therefore today women are different, they do know and are educated, therefore they should be qualified for testimony. That argument is a void argument. Logically void, I’m saying—not necessarily untrue. It is logically void; the conclusion does not follow from the premises. Because the premises contain only facts. What are the facts? That women in the past were such, and women today are different—that is a fact. Okay? But from that fact, or from that pair of facts, you cannot derive anything normative or legal. In order to derive that, what do you need to assume in addition? That the reason why a woman is disqualified from testimony—the norm—stems from those facts, that those are the facts relevant to the norm, and then the argument is a valid argument. Now one can discuss whether the assumptions are true or not true. But now it’s an argument.
[Speaker C] Those who say that—the assumptions are different.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, fine, I’m not attacking; I’m only trying to illustrate a point. Obviously, many times in everyday language we don’t write out all the assumptions or say all the assumptions. There are things we take for granted. But I do think it’s terribly important to notice this, because sometimes what you take for granted and don’t write down—that is the Achilles’ heel of your argument. And if you don’t write it, people don’t understand where to argue. Because there is something here that seems obvious, no one talks about it, and all the rest—who doesn’t agree that women in the past were such and today are such? So what are we arguing about? There is great value when one conducts the discussion at least systematically; there is great value in putting all the assumptions on the table, not leaving things implicit. And then one can begin to discuss: this is true, this is not true. But when the argument is built, now we can begin to talk. When the argument is not built, there are all kinds of jumps in the middle that you didn’t put on the table; maybe that is where the dispute really lies. Usually, by the way, that is where the dispute lies.
[Speaker C] But that’s the Talmud in practice—someone says something, Tosafot says it’s because of this, then someone says no, he doesn’t say it’s because of this, but because of something else. Okay.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not only the Talmud. Every dialogue between human beings. Obviously—what do you mean, these aren’t huge innovations I’m saying now, just noticing this point. That when I derive a judgmental, value-laden, aesthetic conclusion from a set of facts, that is a fallacy. It is a fallacy unless I add another assumption that transfers me from the facts to the conclusion. Did you want to comment?
[Speaker C] Yes. In a music synthesizer, in modern music styles, the great musicians have software into which they can input new music and in a judgmental way determine whether it will succeed or not succeed.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Here the input is only a fact. True—but the output too is a fact. Why? It doesn’t say that it is beautiful. It says that maybe when it reaches—if it’s a successful program—then when it reaches a certain group of people, which is the program’s reference group, they will say that it is beautiful. That is a fact. When I say something—when I say no, that’s not a judgment at all. When you judge something to be beautiful, that is a judgment. When I say that so-and-so judges this thing to be beautiful, that is a fact. Do you understand? Now the software gives you facts; the software does not give you judgments. It only tells you what the facts are, and the facts are that the judgments of this group of people will be such-and-such. Fine—if it’s good software, maybe it will work. Yes, yes. So returning to—so essentially what this means, Hume’s naturalistic fallacy, is what lies behind the problem of naturalistic morality. The problem of naturalistic morality is a morality whose validity tries to be derived from facts. Evolution for this purpose is a fact, assuming it’s true—then it’s a fact, okay? But that fact does not give validity to a judgment; it is exactly your example. It can explain why people behaved in a certain way, evolutionary theory—it cannot explain why, meaning, what the justification is when each individual decides to do it. It can say there is no such thing as justification, it’s just—fine, I said before, that’s not what I’m discussing. But if you are trying to ground justification or to ground the validity of a moral argument, there is no way to do that through facts. Kant emphasized this point over and over; he devotes a considerable part of all his books that deal with morality to this point, that morality cannot be the result of facts alone. People don’t understand this. Okay, on the linguistic plane, in analytic philosophy they distinguish between two types of sentences. There is a descriptive sentence and a prescriptive sentence. A descriptive sentence is a sentence that describes. I describe something; it basically expresses a fact. Yes? A prescriptive sentence is a sentence that makes a claim, that perhaps tries to move me to action sometimes. Not always—for example in aesthetics it doesn’t necessarily move one to action, but to describe some relation to the thing, not to describe the thing itself. So when I say, for example, that murder is an evil act, or that giving charity is a good act, okay? People usually think that such a sentence is descriptive. Meaning, it’s a sentence that describes. But if it is only a descriptive sentence, then it says nothing. Then it is basically saying what the computer said: these people judge murder as something evil. If you want to say that murder is evil, that is not a descriptive sentence; it is a prescriptive sentence. It is a sentence that says one must not murder; it also gives an instruction, it is not just neutrally standing there. When you stand before a physical fact, a physical fact is neutral; it is simply there. Yes, that mountain climber, I don’t remember who it was, they asked him why he climbs Everest. So he said: because it’s there. Meaning, there is a fact; the fact imposes itself on me. Here it doesn’t work like that.
[Speaker D] Meaning, that’s exactly the example—he doesn’t climb because it’s there; he climbs because he thinks it’s good.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, exactly. No, he wants to say that for him it’s so obvious—what do you mean, you see Everest and you won’t climb? Of course you climb. He was crazy, but fine. And here we see the difference: he is built one way and I am built differently. Actually here that decision is made not in the head but in the legs or in the stomach. But the claim that a moral sentence that describes a norm is not a descriptive sentence—it is not a descriptive sentence. And therefore, for example, there is Chaim Perelman, a philosopher of law, a Belgian philosopher of law, who wrote several books that were also translated into Hebrew. Among other things, he says there that when you tell someone, look, murder is forbidden because it is evil, you have said nothing. You have said nothing because what is evil? Evil is the same thing as that which one is forbidden to do. So what are you actually saying? Murder is forbidden because murder is forbidden. Right? That is basically what you’re saying; you have said nothing beyond saying murder is forbidden by saying that it is evil.
[Speaker B] You said that it is forbidden to do an evil thing.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but “it is forbidden to do an evil thing” is a tautology. Because an evil thing means something one is forbidden to do. What is an evil thing? What is evil? Evil is those things that one is forbidden to do, no? Okay, so I’ll discuss whether that’s so or not, but that’s what he claims. Now I’ll ask the opposite question. Basically you understand that what he assumes is that the claim “murder is forbidden” is a prescription, not a description. And when I try to tell you “don’t murder” and I bring as a justification “murder is forbidden,” then “murder is forbidden” is not a neutral fact but a statement that you are forbidden to murder, and therefore he says, so saying that is the same thing. Let’s ask the opposite.
[Speaker C] Someone does go in cases where murder is not forbidden. Okay, it’s not exactly the same level. For example, in a case of self-defense, of defense, fine,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m talking about a situation where it is forbidden, never mind.
[Speaker C] There it is not forbidden. Right—and it is still evil.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who said it is still evil?
[Speaker C] Why do you think it’s still… who said?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe not? Why, why assume that it’s still bad? If it’s permitted to do it, then it’s not bad. I don’t know, there’s room to discuss it, but that’s a bit semantic.
[Speaker C] No, murder as a general category is an action. What? Murder generally, fine. But there are cases—murder—there’s still some difference between the general category of bad and murder, which is a subset of bad.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, but I’m not talking about the general category. But I’m not talking about the general category—I’m talking about the statement, about the proposition, about this specific situation. And in this specific situation I say: it’s forbidden to murder because it’s bad. Okay? This subset of murderous acts is bad. Let’s ignore the other groups where it isn’t. Okay, what does that add? Apparently it doesn’t add anything. That’s on one side. On the other hand, someone could come and say the exact opposite, one hundred and eighty degrees the other way. Someone says: I understand that it’s forbidden to murder—that murder is bad, sorry. I understand that murder is bad, okay, now I’m going to go murder. So who said that what is bad is forbidden to do? I understand perfectly; you don’t need to teach me ethics lessons. I know—murder is bad. I was in class with you too. Fine, now I’m going to murder. Why is the fact that it’s bad supposed to make me not want to? So if someone asks a question of that sort, how is he understanding the statement “it is forbidden to murder”? As a description, right? He’s basically saying: this is a description. Okay, interesting fact—and now I’m off on my way. Like someone saying: this wall is brown, but who said it’s beautiful? I think it isn’t beautiful.
[Speaker D] Like people who say smoking is forbidden and they smoke. Yes, right. Sorry, that’s not a thought.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But if they were to say not just that they do it—they’d say smoking is bad but it’s permitted to smoke. Not that they smoke in practice. Smoking in practice is just a lapse because of temptation; that’s something else. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about a contradiction on the cognitive level. I’m saying: murder is forbidden, okay? But sorry—not “murder is forbidden.” Murder is bad, but it’s permitted to murder. Not that I actually murder. The fact that I actually murder—I can still think it’s forbidden, I just failed because I couldn’t hold out. I’m talking about something deeper, or subtler. I’m talking about a situation where you say: murder is bad, okay, that’s a fact, murder is bad—but it’s permitted to murder. How do you understand such a thing? I think only in the way you said—and actually that’s a good example, that claim. Because what you really mean when you say “murder is bad” in that context is that the group of people I live among defines murder as something bad. Right, I know that. Okay, and what does that mean for me? Why does that make it forbidden for me to do it?
[Speaker B] Here I want to go back to what you said about women’s testimony. “Murder is bad” is a normative fact. “Do not murder” is a prescription, or an instruction. Right. I don’t see the connection between them. Where is the bridging premise?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, there isn’t one. There’s no bridging premise. That’s why I’m saying: if you see it as a description—
[Speaker B] I see it as a prescription,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] not as a fact, because a bridging premise is missing. There is no bridging premise. The moment you see it as a prescription, that itself means murder is forbidden. You don’t need any bridging premise. If you see it as a description, you say: murder is bad, so now you have to move me from the plane of descriptions to the plane of ethical instructions. So here you need another premise—that what is bad is forbidden to do, or something like that. Okay, right. But if you see it as a prescription, then you don’t need that. Because prescription is exactly what it means: that a moral fact is not a neutral fact. It’s not a fact to which the naturalistic fallacy applies, where now in order to move to the moral instruction you need another principle, another premise. No. It itself includes the premise. It’s a statement that’s already loaded. When people say “murder is bad,” they don’t mean to establish some fact like “this wall is brown.” “Murder is bad” means that it is forbidden to do it. It means this is a statement that is supposed to motivate you to act—or to refrain from acting. Okay?
[Speaker D] It also isn’t based on a fact. What? It also isn’t based on a fact.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, it can’t be based on a fact. And that’s the bridge from the other side. Exactly. It can’t be based on a fact. If you want to derive a prescriptive statement from a descriptive one—from the fact that all people think it’s bad, to derive that it is bad—there you’ll need a bridging principle. Because these are two meanings: you’re saying the same words, but in two completely different senses. Okay? And those are exactly the two conceptions I’m talking about. The second conception is the Kantian conception. The conception that says “to murder is bad” is not a fact. “To murder is bad” is an ethical principle. Even though the structure of the sentence looks like “murder is bad,” “this wall is brown.” It’s the same linguistic structure, but it’s not the same thing. Okay? And therefore, in the Kantian picture, if someone comes and asks me, “Yes, I understand that murder is bad, but why is it forbidden to murder?”—then you probably don’t understand what bad means. I have nothing to answer you. There’s no need to answer you. You simply don’t understand what bad means. Bad means the very thing that is forbidden to do. If you don’t understand that or don’t agree with it—it doesn’t matter, whether you don’t understand it or don’t agree with it—I have nothing to discuss with you. I don’t know what to do with such a person.
[Speaker B] What do you mean, why?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean, why? What am I supposed to say to you?
[Speaker B] Why is it forbidden to do it? I’m asking you—I want to know why it’s forbidden to do something bad.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s exactly what I’m saying. It’s forbidden to do something bad because that is the meaning of the concept “bad.” Bad is the same thing as something forbidden to do. It’s a definition. I don’t need an explanation for that. It’s like saying: why do I say this table is brown if the wavelength of the rays coming out of it is such-and-such? Because that’s what comes out of it. When you say it’s intersubjective, that means it isn’t objective facts, but no—I don’t think it’s the same thing. The naturalistic fallacy still stands. Even in the conception… So you can change it, right. If you really manage to justify, to establish the claim that because women were light-minded they were disqualified from testimony, and the fact that today they are not light-minded, then the conclusion is that today they are fit for testimony—that is a completely valid argument. But you have to know that in order for the argument to be valid, you have to show that women’s disqualification then stemmed from the fact that they were light-minded. Even if we accept the fact that they were light-minded, you still have to explain, you have to understand, that this is the relevant fact for the norm we’re talking about. And showing that is pretty hard. No wonder people don’t put that on the table in these arguments, because it’s pretty hard to prove such a thing. Okay, in either direction by the way, for both sides. Fine, but we’ll still talk about changes in Jewish law. So basically the distinction between prescription and description is really an expression of the two meanings of the concept as I’ve described them until now. Is morality really facts? And if it’s facts, then you’re just describing. When you say “murder is bad,” you’re describing how a person is built. That’s all. You’re not really saying anything evaluative or normative. You’re describing how a person is built, like software that predicts what people will say when they hear this song. Okay? When you want to say “it is forbidden to murder” in the prescriptive sense, then that is a different moral conception. It’s a Kantian conception of morality, and with respect to it you can’t say, okay, if it’s bad then why is it forbidden to do it? Or if it’s good then why should it be done? That’s what the concepts good and bad mean. Now, someone may come and say: I don’t agree that it’s bad, or I don’t agree that it’s good, or there are no such categories at all of good and bad in the prescriptive sense. Fine, I have nothing to say to such a person.
[Speaker C] But isn’t there something in the middle, with utilitarianism?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, that’s a fallacy. What? Utilitarianism is a fallacy. Clearly—it’s a naturalistic conception. What? Utilitarianism. It’s a fallacy because the fact that something will bring benefit is a fact, and the question why therefore one now ought to do something—that’s a judgment. You can add that what brings benefit ought to be done, but then notice: you’ve already inserted a statement here that’s easy to attack, or can be attacked, because it’s no longer a fact. That whatever brings benefit should be… Understand, usually people don’t say this. They skip over it, but that’s where the trap in this conception lies.
[Speaker C] I think it’s something human beings arrived at—their premises.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, but I’m saying the question is whether their premises are only that this brings benefit. If so, then we’re back to description, and then people are just reacting—people aren’t making moral judgments. But the very same thing can be said from another place. The very same thing can say: this brings benefit, and I think there is a moral obligation to do that which brings benefit to the maximum number of people, let’s say—one of the utilitarian conceptions. Okay? Then that’s already a moral statement. But utilitarianism in the descriptive evolutionary sense is, in my view, a fallacy. It doesn’t generate morality; it generates an explanation for human behavior. Okay, yes.
[Speaker B] The practical question is, we’re talking about morality and its justification. If I’m getting the impression from the very little I know, all these terms like morality and values are something late in Jewish culture. Say, in the Torah, in the Prophets, you see laws, behaviors—nobody talked about values.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Maybe they didn’t talk about it because it was taken for granted, I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t talk about it because it was obvious. They didn’t engage in philosophy—the Sages didn’t engage in philosophy in any area. Maybe. I said, I don’t know how to deal with the claim that maybe it doesn’t exist. That’s the claim of people who are completely consistent, who say: no, it doesn’t exist. There are only acquired or accumulated behaviors, and that’s it. And divine command—those are things that exist. I’m not looking for morality now. Morality is… No, forget it, I’m not talking about morality, I’m talking about judgment. That’s why I intentionally also gave the example of an aesthetic judgment or a halakhic judgment. They’re all the same; I don’t care—morality is just an example here. When you tell me that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded—suppose that’s a fact, suppose I reached the conclusion that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded at Mount Sinai. So what? He commanded. I’ll command you things too—so now you’ll do those too? I personally am obligated by the command. Why are you obligated by a divine command? What do you mean why? But why do you decide that? I’m asking whether it’s justified or whether that’s just how I’m built. The same question I ask about morality I ask here too—it’s the same thing. In what sense is it justified? Because you understand that a divine command is by definition something that ought to be done, just as the good is by definition—exactly. And therefore if someone asks you, so what if the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded—why do you do it?—the answer is: that’s like asking, so what if it’s good, why do you do it? Or, so what if it’s bad, why don’t you do it? If you ask that question, then you don’t understand what it means that the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded. “The Holy One, blessed be He, commanded” means that this is what ought to be done; that is the meaning of the concept “the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded.” Okay? I’m speaking of “the Holy One, blessed be He, commanded” as a prescriptive statement, and therefore this is not specifically about morality. I mean any judgment in relation to facts. Fine, now the question really arises—or the question is that in light of all this there is a certain mindset that sees morality as a kind of emotion. Because after all, if it isn’t connected to facts—and also the conclusion is that it is not a result of facts—then what is it? So many people reach the conclusion that we have a moral emotion, and of course they don’t notice the point that a moral emotion is also a fact. So what if we have a moral emotion? Fine, maybe we’re built that way, not only physically but also mentally. Okay, but we’re still basing it on the fact that that’s how we’re built, and that’s all, so it’s still a fact. Okay? And then people, when you expose this point to them, say: right, you’re correct, there is no morality, everything is facts, and emotion is really just a collection of feelings. That’s all—if they insist. Maybe let’s look at a passage in the Tanya; I think there’s a very beautiful passage there. You can’t connect… no… what? I didn’t hear.
[Speaker C] To ground all morality in reward and punishment?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then that’s utility again, so we’re back to utility. It’s a question of utility, not morality—considerations of utility, that’s economics.
[Speaker D] In order to receive a reward?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, that’s economics, not morality. You act that way out of economic considerations. Okay? Many times people accuse, say, wealthy people who donate and put their name on the donation, that they did it for publicity. If morality is merely a description of what you do, then what difference does it make why they did it? Meaning, the whole condemnation—again, I don’t care at the moment whether the condemnation is right or not—but the very discourse around it assumes that there is something in moral judgment beyond the question of what you do. The question is also why you did it. That’s very important. Meaning, I did it because that’s how I’m built—what’s the question? I think almost everyone believes in morality in this sense, only when you push them into a corner and say, wait a second, notice what that means, suddenly they become evolutionary and neo-Darwinian and all kinds of things like that. That’s my personal assessment. Anyway, in the Tanya, chapter 9, he writes as follows: “Now, the dwelling place of the animal soul, which is from kelipat nogah, in every Jew, is in the heart, in the left chamber, which is full of blood, and it is written, ‘for the blood is the soul’; therefore all desires and boasting and anger and the like are in the heart, and from the heart they spread throughout the body, and also rise to the brain in the head to think and meditate on them and grow clever through them, just as the blood, whose source is in the heart, spreads from the heart to all the limbs and also rises to the brain in the head.” Right—the thoughts of the animal soul, in a moment I’ll define it more, take the same route as the blood. Their source is in the heart, and just as the blood rises to the head to nourish the brain, so too these thoughts rise to the brain. “But the dwelling place of the divine soul is in the brains of the head and not in the heart like the animal soul, and from there it spreads to all the limbs”—right, it goes through the opposite process—“and also in the heart, in the right chamber, where there is no blood, as it is written, ‘The heart of the wise is to his right.’ And it is the love of God, like fiery flames blazing in the heart of the enlightened, who understand and contemplate in the knowledge in their brains matters that arouse love,” etc. We’ll elaborate more. Maybe I’ll read a little more and then explain. “But behold it is written”—I’m skipping a bit—“‘one nation shall prevail over the other,’ and ‘the elder shall serve the younger.’ For the body is called a ‘small city,’ and just as two kings wage war over one city, each wanting to conquer it and reign over it, namely to lead its inhabitants according to his will and have them obey him in everything he decrees over them, so too the two souls, the divine and the vital animal soul from the kelipah, wage war with one another over the body and all its limbs: the divine soul desires and wills that it alone rule over him and direct him, and that all the limbs obey it and be completely nullified to it and become a chariot to it, and be a garment for its ten faculties and its three garments mentioned above,” etc. And the animal soul wants the opposite. Fine, this is… There’s a description here that on the face of it maybe partly sounds cryptic, and I think there is something very, very interesting here. And it… this is a central chapter, but I think it appears in other chapters too; I’m really not an expert on the Tanya, but… What he is basically saying is this: when we picture to ourselves—as we’ve been taught since kindergarten—when we picture the struggle taking place within a person between good and evil, we usually describe it as a struggle between two impulses. We have a good inclination and an evil inclination, and the question is which one overcomes the other. This question, this description, is a very problematic description. A very problematic description because of the question: where am I in this picture? If the two inclinations are each trying to drag me in a different direction—me—they are trying to drag me. Notice the serpent, yes, and the first man—we’ll get to Maimonides, whom we said we’d get to, though obviously not today, I see. There’s something as if external to me that’s trying to take me right or take me left, and the question is who is the bigger thug, the good inclination or the evil inclination—and what does that have to do with me? Why do I thereby become a good person or a bad person? This is a descriptive account, right? It’s basically a description that says: whoever is built in such a way that his right side is stronger is righteous; whoever is built in such a way that his left side is stronger is wicked. That is description. It leaves no room at all for the person’s own decision. What does it have to do with me? My inclinations—with all due respect to them—but what do they have to do with me? Unless there is no such thing as me. I am the collection of my inclinations, or not only inclinations, but my whole mental-psychological complex. Okay? That’s one possibility. The author of the Tanya argues against this that the essential division is not between inclinations, or in our metaphor not between right and left, but between up and down. That is, there is a divine soul and an animal soul, not a good inclination and an evil inclination. That is not the same thing. When he begins this chapter he says, “Now, the dwelling place of the animal soul, which is from kelipat nogah, in every Jew…” Kelipat nogah in the writings of the Arizal—there is a gate on kelipat nogah in Etz Chaim—and this is basically the serpent’s skin, and once again we’ve returned to the sin of the first man, where the serpent injected its contamination into man. After the sin, this is basically kelipat nogah. Now the Arizal writes that in kelipat nogah—unlike the other cases—there are four kelipot in Kabbalah; three kelipot are absolute evil, and kelipat nogah is evil and good mixed together. And what the serpent injected into man is “knowers of good and evil,” yes, as the verse says. “Knowers of good and evil” is kelipat nogah. It is the serpent’s shell, the serpent’s slough, in Meir Ariel’s language. So that shell is what the animal soul is. Meaning that animal soul versus divine soul is not synonymous with good inclination versus evil inclination. The animal soul includes within it both inclinations, both the good inclination and the evil inclination. Both of them are the animal soul. Why? Because animal soul means conducting oneself like an animal. An animal can behave well, it can behave badly. We saw Omnitshka’s sheep, right? Except that it does it simply because that is its nature, that’s how it’s built. So too in a human being there is some dimension that is like the animal; there is the lower dimension that is like an animal. A person who functions on that level is a person of the animal soul. Utilitarian? What? Utilitarian, always. Utilitarian, or I would even say more generally—even if he is self-destructive he can be like that. Then he’s not utilitarian, but instinctive. Exactly, instinctive. He acts according to how he is built, simply. He doesn’t pass it through any further exercise of judgment; rather, how he is built is what he does. It’s reflexive. Exactly, right. So that is called the animal soul, and it has nothing to do with good and evil. It can be a person who does acts that we define as good acts, and a person who does acts that are bad acts. And opposite that there is the divine soul. The divine soul too is not good and evil. There can be a wicked person with a divine soul and a righteous person with a divine soul. A person with a divine soul is simply a person of choice. Exactly—someone who is not an animal. That means he decides; he doesn’t let instincts take him, but he decides what—he also has instincts, of course, we all do. There is a good inclination and an evil inclination. The question is what we do with them, okay? And a person who examines what he does with these inclinations, and thus makes his decisions, is a person who functions on the plane of the divine soul in his framework. Now this too is a simplistic description. This chapter is really fractal. Meaning, the struggle—so far I described either right versus left or up versus down. But that too is not correct. As he says, these are two kings fighting over the whole city. So in the end the divine soul wants to take over the heart as well, and the animal soul wants to take over the head as well. So in fact they are both present throughout the whole city, “a little city and few men in it.” So there is some struggle here over the whole pot, over both the heart and the head. So before I get into the question of this struggle, the question that arises here is: then what nevertheless is the difference, if both are present in all the places? So what is the real difference between the divine soul and the animal soul? Both of them really involve both heart and brain. So it’s not true that this is synonymous with the difference between right and left, but now suddenly we see it’s also not true that it’s synonymous with the difference between up and down. So what is the difference between them? Between the animal soul and the divine soul? The source. Exactly—the source. Yours, you have a train, the train is long; the question is who the locomotive is. Right? There is an animal soul and a divine soul, there is heart and head, there is heart and head, okay? Or heart and brain. These are metaphors, of course—don’t pin me down on the biology.
[Speaker D] Like king and Lamech. Yes, exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So the question is whether you are king or Lamech—that is exactly the question, what leads: does the heart lead or does the brain lead? The question is who the locomotive is.
[Speaker C] How does this connect to my previous question?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You decide who leads. That decision, who leads—that’s yours. You decide to be a deciding person. By the way, we’ll talk more about this—there are two levels of human choice. There is a person’s choice where he decides what to do, and there is a person’s choice to be a deciding person. Meaning, not to just go along with the environment or with his instincts or something like that. These are two different levels of choice, and it creates certain paradoxes—maybe we’ll talk about that too. So basically the difference is not in the question of what tools that soul uses; each such soul uses all the tools we have. But the question is who the locomotive is. And in the divine soul the locomotive is the brain; in the animal soul the locomotive is the heart. And there is a struggle over who will be the locomotive. Now that is really the struggle: who will be the locomotive. Everyone understands that you need both heart and brain; the question is who the locomotive is. And here I just want to sharpen the point: what does that mean? There can be a person who behaves like a perfectly righteous person simply because his animal soul is terribly good. He was born a terribly good person. He is still “man is likened to the beasts.” If he behaves entirely well and has an entirely good nature—but he doesn’t do it because the nature is entirely good, rather because he decided to go with it because he thinks it is good—then that is the divine soul, because it doesn’t have to be that everyone who is born good is a bad person. It’s strange to say such a thing. I’m only saying that it doesn’t have to be that someone born good is a good person. Okay? It can also simply stem from his nature. And the same in the direction of evil. Also with the divine soul, the same thing. There can be a person who behaves badly, okay? That doesn’t mean his nature is bad. It means he chose evil—if I’m speaking of the divine soul. It means he chose evil, so he is a real wicked person. It doesn’t matter what his nature is. Those are circumstances relevant to arguments about punishment. Meaning, if you have extremely strong inclinations in a certain direction, to the point of an irresistible impulse, something you can’t withstand—that is grounds for leniency in punishment, but not from the standpoint of judgment. In judgment, you are a bad person. Okay. So that means that whether you are a bad person or a good person does not depend on the question of what you do; it depends on the question of where what you do comes from. Also on the question of where it comes from. Yes.
[Speaker D] He can’t argue with that. Before the sin, was the first man completely a being of free choice? Certainly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We’ll leave that until we get to Maimonides, because this is exactly preparation toward that issue. Meaning, that is exactly where I’m aiming.
[Speaker B] You say that the choice is to decide according to the head or according to the heart—that’s my choice. Right. But you also say that both the head and the heart contain good and bad parts.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. In the head there are no parts. The head is the choice itself. If you are a human being, then you function with the divine soul; there is no human being who functions with the animal soul. The chooser is the divine soul itself. The question is whether it lets the animal soul take over and lead, be the locomotive, or whether it decides: no, I am the locomotive.
[Speaker B] And if I am the locomotive and I behave badly? Then you are wicked. So that means there is also in the divine soul—? No, again.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Potential, yes. But I’m saying: if you assume it has an evil part and therefore it does it, then you’ve turned it into the animal soul, because then it too does it simply because it has that in it. And I want to escape that. I claim that this description is true of the animal soul. In the divine soul it is not the same thing. There is neither good nor evil there. There is you there. And whatever you choose is what is there. Now if you choose that there be good there, then there will be good. If you choose that there be evil, there will be evil.
[Speaker B] Or I can choose to let the animal one lead according to…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. To choose not to choose. Exactly. To choose to remain passive. Okay? And many times we feel that when we sin or do something we don’t want to do—by the way, sin not necessarily in the religious sense; in the moral sense it could even be in the sense of a diet, it doesn’t matter. Anywhere we feel we failed, that we did something that is not what we think is right to do—that basically means we decided not to choose. Right? That’s basically what it means. We let the animal soul lead us. What does this really mean? That the human struggle is not a struggle between good and evil; it is a struggle between being oneself and letting oneself be ruled, be led. And even when one is led, one can be led toward good. It doesn’t have to be toward evil. We have lots of good inclinations; it feels good to us to do good. And that doesn’t mean someone with an animal soul will automatically be bad—absolutely not. As Rashi on Ecclesiastes, I think, brings a midrash about “an old and foolish king.” So Rashi explains there that this is the evil inclination, because the evil inclination is placed in a person from birth, and the good inclination is placed in a person only from the bar mitzvah, when he enters into the commandments. Now we know children also do good deeds from time to time, at least when they’re asleep. They also do good deeds. So what—where—what is this inclination, what is the… the good inclination that is implanted in him only at the age of bar mitzvah? What is that—such a pessimistic view, as if the evil inclination is in you from birth and the good inclination is at an inherent disadvantage? It is younger, yes, it is a wise child compared to an old and foolish king who has already taken over the whole city, yes, this is the war that is described here. In the terminology of the author of the Tanya, this midrash of the Sages is not talking about the good inclination and the evil inclination; it is talking about the animal soul and the divine soul. The terminology of the Sages is the terminology of good inclination and evil inclination, but they mean this. A child does good deeds, of course he does, but he doesn’t do it because he decided—not zero and one—but he doesn’t do it entirely because he decided to do good deeds. The formation of a person as a deciding person, his maturation, is basically reaching the age of obligation in the commandments. He does not thereby become a good person; he becomes a person. He becomes someone who is less of an animal. Now clearly this doesn’t happen at age thirteen as a step function. It’s a gradual process. But they determined that age thirteen is already sufficiently formed for you to have responsibility for your actions. That’s why also on the legal plane, when you buy and sell things at a young age, they don’t let you do it. You can understand very well what an acquisition is—you’re a smart person, a smart child, he understands perfectly. But the responsibility to understand what it means that this is so and what the consequences are—that he still doesn’t have. We don’t want him making decisions.
[Speaker B] Maybe it’s because from age thirteen until age twenty there is—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You have such a struggle. The process continues there. I think it exists even before age thirteen, but it’s not reasonable that suddenly at age thirteen something happens. This is something that is built. On the contrary, you are supposed to help him build it—to build in him the ability to decide and the awareness that he needs to decide, and not let his inclinations, including the good inclination, take him. Rather, if an inclination seems good to him, then let him go with it—but not as surrender, not saying, okay, you lead.
[Speaker F] Is this connected to the discussion of what is greater, the perfectly righteous person or the penitent?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So I don’t think it’s connected, although at first glance it really does look similar, because the perfectly righteous person is a person of the divine soul. He is not a person who was born good, because then he is not perfectly righteous—he’s a sheep. Okay, now what is a penitent? A penitent is also a divine soul. It’s a person who decided to go in that direction, even though earlier he had other decisions, or no decisions at all. In the end they both arrive at being the divine soul. So this is not a comparison between the divine soul and the animal soul. If that were the comparison, then really you would be right that the penitent is preferable to the perfectly righteous person, but as they already said: “In the place where penitents stand, even the perfectly righteous cannot stand”—you know why? Because it’s crowded there. So the claim is basically that human decision is made up of two layers—I want to finish—made up of two layers. The first layer is the instinctive layer; I’m translating this into our language. The instinctive layer—where my inclinations take me—and it includes both good and evil. A lot of good in most people. People enjoy doing good; they have this—it’s evolution, by the way. Evolution describes the formation of the animal soul, the tendency to do good. But morality does not mean—just a second—morality does not mean functioning with the good inclination. And that is precisely the mirror image of the naturalistic fallacy. Meaning, because the animal soul is basically a collection of facts: you are a programmed process that does this, does that, you tend this way, you tend that way, and that is what you do. The divine soul is the decision to do something beyond the facts. What do I think about the facts? That decision—that bridging principle that leads me from the facts to the decision—that is the divine soul. And the main struggle of a person between good and evil is not a struggle between inclinations. It is a struggle between him and the totality of his inclinations, both good and bad. In kelipat nogah they are both together. And when kelipat nogah entered man, then both the good inclination and the evil inclination entered him. Except what happened was that the serpent had stood outside, and it was clear that it was someone outside me and that really I had to make the decision—this speaks a little about the sin of the first man—then it was easier. It was easier because it was clear that the inclinations were there and I was here. Why do people today think that the choice between good and evil is between the inclinations? Including all the determinists think that, and also many non-religious people. Religious people too—it is a conceptual error for them, that this is the conception, that it is called the good inclination and the evil inclination. Because after the sin of the first man, this kelipat nogah, this serpent contamination, was thrown into them, into the human being. The serpent’s contamination is both good and evil—it is kelipat nogah. And now the inclinations are inside, not outside. So now it seems to me that I want to do good or I want to do evil, and it is very hard to distinguish when the tendencies embedded in me are taking me and when this is really an informed decision or my own exercise of judgment. And that is the great difficulty after the sin of the first man, because it is inside. Because it is hard to understand that these are actually different things, and that is what he wants to clarify here in this chapter.
[Speaker C] He is the Satan, he is the evil inclination. The Satan that seems to be outside is the evil inclination.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. After the sin, it is the evil inclination. And it is also the good inclination. Because the Satan that takes me to do good is also Satan. So he is a person of the divine soul who is wicked. And we’re returning to where we began—
[Speaker F] He says, this is what I want, and you say it’s bad.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. No, I’m just explaining what evolution deals with and what I’m talking about. Evolution deals with the formation of the animal soul. And suppose there is a good explanation for why tendencies to do good, to help others, were born in us—so it emerged, it was embedded within us in an evolutionary process. All true. The question is whether that explains good and evil. I wanted to argue that there is another layer—whoever accepts that there is another layer of judgments—and that is what is called here the divine soul. Evolution has nothing to do with that at all. Evolution lays out here some map of pressures and drives, and now that map is me, as it were—or really my periphery, it isn’t really me. And I am the owner of the map, yes, the Rema. Meaning, the one to whom all these drives and inclinations belong, and who now has to decide what to do with them. That is the divine soul. This just gives conceptual form to the distinctions I made earlier, so that it can be used.
[Speaker C] Is altruism by definition the animal soul?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It depends how you define it. If altruism is the tendency to care for the group, then yes. If altruism means caring for the group, then no. You see?
[Speaker B] If you as an individual care for the group, is that not really altruism?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying it’s a matter of definition. You can define it that way; of course that definition stems from a broader worldview. I don’t know—you can define it this way, you can define it that way. The altruistic tendency is the animal soul; altruistic behavior is the divine soul.
[Speaker C] So now decide what you call altruism, I don’t know—the tendency versus the behavior?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, or the decision and the behavior. Meaning, the tendency versus the decision and the behavior that follows from it. Okay? Fine.