Platonism – Lesson 35

Table of Contents

• [0:00] Introduction: Platonism in science and mathematics
• [0:00] Introduction to Platonism in science and mathematics
• [1:23] Matan Binyamin’s claims about Ockham and judging favorably
• [1:35] Ockham’s principle – choosing the simpler interpretation
• [3:17] Understanding Ockham’s principle: simplicity versus entities
• [5:00] Ockham as a methodological rule and not a tool for truth
• [5:00] Critique of using Ockham in moral methodology
• [7:52] The source in Jewish law: the Mishnah in Avot and judging favorably
• [12:02] The source in the Mishnah – “judge every person favorably”
• [18:14] Maimonides’ interpretation of the rule of judging favorably
• [21:59] Maimonides’ explanation of judging favorably
• [21:59] Applying the rule of judging favorably: conditions and cases
• [23:12] Extreme examples: the leading rabbi of the generation and the situation with the knife
• [23:12] Practical examples of applying the rule of judging favorably
• [24:25] Summary – the command is not a positive commandment but a prohibition
• [28:56] Judging favorably versus judging unfavorably
• [28:56] To judge every person favorably
• [30:38] The punishment dilemma in a case of doubt
• [31:56] Critique of the concept of “existential truth”
• [31:56] Existential truth versus factual truth
• [33:32] Rabbi Akiva and judging favorably in reality
• [35:53] Ockham’s razor – simplicity as justification
• [36:22] Rabbi Chaim and the signs of a mentally incompetent person
• [38:26] A presumption after three times and Ockham’s theory
• [40:55] The example of falling bodies – gravity and the parallel to Ockham’s razor
• [40:55] A scientific demonstration of Ockham’s razor using gravitational force
• [53:28] The common denominator and the simpler explanation
• [55:20] Summary: Ockham’s razor and judging favorably
• [57:18] The connection between Ockham’s razor and judging favorably
• [57:21] The connection between Ockham’s razor and judging favorably
• [58:23] Ockham’s razor as a tool for uncovering scientific truth
• [58:23] Ockham’s razor as a tool for uncovering the truth
• [59:38] The moral demands of the Mishnah in interpretation

Summary

General Overview

This text presents a concluding lecture on Platonism in science through a critique of an article by Matan Binyamin, who argued that the obligation to judge others favorably rests on Ockham’s razor, and that both are methodological rules not aimed at factual truth. The lecturer disputes all three of his claims: he interprets “judge every person favorably” as a rule directed by common sense and by clarifying reality according to probability and a presumption of propriety, not as a demand to adopt far-fetched interpretations; he argues that Ockham’s razor is a tool aimed at truth and not merely convenience; and he rejects the claim that Ockham’s razor strengthens, in Jewish law, the requirement to judge favorably, especially if both are described as non-truth-oriented rules.

The Framework of the Series and Matan Binyamin’s Article

The lecturer presents this lecture as an opening to the final two chapters on Platonism in science and mathematics, and asks to focus today on Platonism in science. He bases himself on an article of his that was written as a critique of a Torah-oriented article by Matan Binyamin in the journal Badad (Bar-Ilan), in which it was argued that the need to “judge favorably” can be justified with Ockham’s razor. He summarizes the article’s outline in three claims: judging favorably is not directed toward factual truth but toward presenting a coherent possible picture; Ockham’s razor is not directed toward truth but is a methodological rule for choosing a simpler theory without claiming that it is more correct; and therefore one can justify the requirement to judge favorably by analogy to Ockham’s razor. He mentions another example in the context of Ockham’s razor: attributing preference to a religious theory in the thought of Rabbi Kalner because it posits “one being” that explains everything, similar to Ockham’s original idea of minimizing entities.

Interpreting “Judge Favorably” versus “Existential Truth”

The lecturer presents Matan Binyamin’s position as though “judging favorably” is a moral imperative that allows and even requires adopting a “generous” interpretation without claiming it is the factual truth; it is enough that it be possible and coherent. He argues that this formulation is problematic, because a person cannot consciously “believe” something that seems false to him merely by force of a command, and he compares this to the difficulty in formulating the “prohibition against accepting slander” if the slander seems convincing. He proposes a more coherent formulation: as long as there is a possible interpretation that does not contradict the facts and presents the person in a better light, one must not render judgment and remove him from the presumption of propriety without evidence, similar to the rule that “the burden of proof rests on the one seeking to extract from another.” He emphasizes the distinction between “what I would bet on” and “whether I am allowed to determine that he is wicked and treat him that way,” and he places the requirement within a rule against rushing to judgment, not within accepting belief in a far-fetched interpretation.

Maimonides, Bartenura, and Rabbeinu Yonah: Dividing People into Righteous, Wicked, and Intermediate

The lecturer brings Maimonides’ commentary on the Mishnah in Avot and highlights the division into three types: a person who is unknown, a publicly known righteous person, and a publicly known wicked person. He quotes that Maimonides obligates one to interpret the deed of a righteous person positively even if it appears bad and requires “very great strain and a remote possibility,” while regarding a wicked person he writes that “one must beware of him and not believe good of him” even if there is “a very remote possibility” for evil, and he cites the verse, “Though he speaks graciously, do not trust him, for there are seven abominations in his heart.” He notes that Maimonides also presents the case of a person who is “unknown,” in which “as a matter of moral excellence” one judges favorably, and he connects this to the presumption of propriety and the laws of evidence. He adds Bartenura, who limits “judge favorably” to a situation “when the matter is balanced on the scales and there is no decisive tilt,” and permits judging one “established as wicked” unfavorably; and Rabbeinu Yonah, who speaks about an unknown person or an “average person,” especially where the matter is “evenly balanced,” and even when the act “leans more toward the side of guilt.” He concludes that the basic explanations of the Mishnah’s commentators do not demand “crooked reasoning,” but rather a consideration of probability, presumption, and burden of proof.

Examples of Common Sense versus “Crooked Reasoning”

The lecturer gives an extreme example: the leading rabbi of the generation, or a righteous person like Rabbi Aryeh Levin, chasing an engaged young woman with a drawn knife, and he argues that the reasonable interpretation regarding a righteous person is not that he is pursuing her to harm her, but some alternative scenario, such as returning a knife she forgot, because it is not reasonable that a righteous person would do such a thing. From this he formulates that the obligation to judge favorably functions as a moral prohibition: a ban on adopting an unreasonable interpretation that stems from biases and from the urge to judge quickly, alongside an obligation to adopt the interpretation called for by one’s acquaintance with the person and by the evidence. He compares this to the story about Rabbi Chaim of Brisk, who asks why “crooked reasoning” was created and answers that it was created “in order to judge favorably,” and he presents this as a description of the approach from which he dissociates himself when coherence alone becomes the standard. He rejects the language of “existential truth” as an oxymoron and compares it to formulations like “war is peace” in the style of 1984, and he criticizes Rabbi Dessler in Michtav Me’Eliyahu, who presents situations where one may lie as cases in which “it is not a lie at all,” arguing that it is still a lie, except that another value overrides the prohibition.

The Story of Rabbi Akiva as a Reflection of Factual Truth

The lecturer returns to the story in tractate Sabbath about the laborer whose employer did not pay him, and the laborer judged him favorably through a whole series of excuses that appear unreasonable, and in the end it turns out they were true. He explains that the conclusion is not that Rabbi Akiva adopted some “existential truth” or crooked reasoning, but that he knew the employer to be a righteous person, and therefore the reasonable explanation was that there were circumstances preventing him from paying. He sums up this part by saying that “judging favorably” means adhering to factual truth as much as possible, or operating within a framework of a presumption of propriety in a place of doubt, and not preferring a far-fetched interpretation purely on the basis of a moral command.

Ockham’s Razor, Presumptions of Three Occurrences, and Scientific Generalization

The lecturer presents Ockham’s razor as a way of preferring one explanation that unifies phenomena over a multiplicity of local explanations, and he expands on the contemporary meaning of simplicity as a theory with fewer parameters and not just “fewer entities.” He brings Rabbi Chaim of Brisk’s interpretation of the Talmudic passage in tractate Chagigah about the “three signs of a mentally incompetent person,” and explains that the combination of three signs lowers the probability that these are three separate coincidences and favors one unifying explanation, similar to the presumption formed after “three times” with menstrual cycles and in other examples of legal presumptions. He demonstrates the same principle in scientific generalization: seeing a ball, a phone, and a bag fall leads to the assumption that every body with mass falls, because a unifying explanation (“mass/gravity”) is simpler than three separate explanations. He shows how the “common denominator” and the Talmudic inference of binyan av also rely on this same structure: preferring a shared property Z as the reason for a law, rather than splitting the reason into different X or Y causes, because one explanation is simpler than the combination of “either this or that.”

Simplicity as an Indication of Truth versus a Rule of Methodological Convenience

The lecturer presents Matan Binyamin’s claim that simplicity does not indicate truth, and that choosing the simpler explanation is only a matter of methodological convenience when the explanations are “equivalent,” and he illustrates the psychological version of the claim that simplicity depends on what is in a person’s head. He rejects this and argues that in practice people believe that the simpler explanation is also the more correct one, even if not with certainty, and he formulates simplicity as serving as a criterion for truth. He demonstrates this through the image of a “watermelon” versus an “orange” with accumulated characteristics, and through the practical certainty that fire burns after repeated trials. He concludes that the philosophical question “why there is a connection between simplicity and truth” is a real question that he will discuss later, but presenting the razor as merely a rule of convenience strikes him as disingenuous and as failing to describe how people actually reason.

Rejecting the Link between Ockham’s Razor and Justifying “Judging Favorably”

The lecturer argues that even if one were to accept Matan Binyamin’s two premises—that Ockham’s razor and judging favorably are both methodological rules and not truth-oriented—this still would not genuinely strengthen the requirement to judge favorably; at most it would provide an illustration. He identifies here a kind of “deference” before science: if something “silly and illogical” appears in science, that does not turn it into a Torah justification, and he compares this to trying to explain an unclear phenomenon through quantum theory as though it were an “English-English dictionary.” He says that specifically if Ockham’s razor is a tool for uncovering truth, then one could see in it a parallel that strengthens the understanding that judging favorably is not detached from truth, but rather makes use of circumstances and probability where there is no direct proof. He closes by saying that everything discussed up to this point is only an introduction, and that in the next lecture it will lead to “scientific Platonism.” He then brings reactions from the audience emphasizing that “an airplane… rises into the air according to scientific rules” as proof that the razor functions as a tool of truth, and the lecturer confirms that this actually undermines Matan Binyamin’s position rather than strengthening it.

Okay, we’re already getting close to the end of the series. Basically what we still have left is that I want to talk a bit about Platonism in science and in mathematics. Those are really the final two chapters of this series. Today I want to talk about Platonism in science. And in order to present this issue I want to follow an article I wrote in this context, and it actually starts from a critical angle on some Torah article. There was a fellow named Matan Binyamin—I don’t know him—he wrote an article in Bedad, yes, that’s the journal that comes out at Bar-Ilan, “In all your ways know Him.” So the initials make Bedad. By the way, can you hear me well? You can hear me? Yes? Okay. I put this thing now in the second place from yesterday, I hope that’s okay. Better than yesterday. What? Better than yesterday. Okay. So he said—he wrote there in the article—that he wanted to defend the need to judge favorably. And he wanted to hang that mainly on the principle of Ockham’s razor. Ockham’s razor is a principle that tells us to choose the simplest interpretation, or the simplest model, in order to explain a given set of facts. If we have several possible explanations, we choose the simplest one. And he wanted to use Ockham’s razor to ground the possibility of judging favorably.

I’ll briefly say what he says, because that gives the context. His claim is that the requirement to judge favorably is not really meant to get to the truth, yes, to the factual truth. When you judge someone favorably, it’s not that you’re really explaining what his motivations were and why he did what he did. What you need is to present a coherent picture of the world in a way that does not necessarily contradict the facts, and then you say: fine, so I assume regarding this person that the picture is this one, the more generous one. Yes? The principle of charity. And not the interpretation that makes him look worse. But not that you’re really claiming that this was the reality in his case; rather, you claim that it is possible that this was the reality in his case, and from your perspective that is enough. In other words, that’s the meaning he gives to the requirement to judge favorably. The Mishnah in Avot: “Judge every person favorably.” That’s his first premise.

His second premise is that Ockham’s razor also really works in a similar way. Ockham’s razor basically tells us that if we have two interpretations or two theories, if you like, that explain the particular facts we’re dealing with, we choose the simpler interpretation. In Ockham’s original formulation, the meaning was to choose the interpretation with the smallest number of entities. The theory with the fewest entities, when his goal was actually to get to the existence of God, which is a theory that includes only one entity and can explain everything—a theory of everything, as they call it. I think this is exactly—again, I haven’t read it, but I saw the description—there’s a book by Rabbi Kellner called Fanaticism and Something and Generality, I don’t remember exactly, something like that, Pluralism, Fanaticism, and Generality, I think it’s called. And there, basically, his claim is that the religious theory has an advantage because it grounds everything in one being, in God. And since that’s so, from the standpoint of Ockham’s razor that’s preferable. It’s really just repeating Ockham’s argument.

But today, when we use the principle of Ockham’s razor, we use it in a broader sense. That is, we compare two interpretations or two theories, and we choose the simpler one, but simplicity is not necessarily the minimal number of entities; it can also be theoretical simplicity. In other words, if you can describe it with a straight line, you don’t attach a parabola or a sinusoid to it. Okay? In other words, the simplest explanation, regardless specifically of the number of entities involved; rather, you want the simplest possible description, with the smallest possible number of parameters, and so on. That is Ockham’s razor.

Matan Binyamin says there—what he writes is—that the fact that theory A is simpler than theory B does not in any way mean that it is also more correct. So why should I choose the simpler theory? And therefore, he argues, this is really a methodological rule. In other words, it’s not that I am really claiming that the simpler one is also more correct; rather, I’m claiming that if I have two theories and both offer an explanation of the facts, then why shouldn’t I take the simpler one? There’s no reason to use the complicated one if the simpler one does the same job. But that’s not because the simpler one is more correct; rather, at the moment they are equivalent. Given the piece of information currently in my hands, they are equivalent. And since that is so, I choose the simpler one because it is simply more convenient to use. And again, you see the logic: the claim is that Ockham’s razor is not a tool that directs us toward the truth. I do not choose the simpler theory because it is the true one; rather, it is a methodological rule for how to choose an explanation.

And what he is basically demonstrating through Ockham’s razor is that many times, when we are standing before certain facts and looking for an explanation for them, we are not only looking for the truest explanation. That is, the choice is not always made according to criteria of what is most probable or what is most true. Sometimes there are methodological criteria, like simplicity and Ockham’s razor, and therefore he basically argues—that’s his second claim; his first claim was that the requirement to judge favorably is not a tool for reaching the truth. It’s not that I am claiming that if I judge someone favorably then that is the true explanation of why he did what he did; rather, it is a methodological rule. Then he says, second premise: Ockham’s razor is also a methodological rule. It is not a rule that actually says what the truth is; it is a methodological rule. His third claim is that Ockham’s razor can be used to justify the halakhic requirement to judge favorably. Because you see that in other contexts too—scientific ones and so on—we adopt explanations not necessarily because they are more correct, but because of one methodological consideration or another. More or less, it seems to me, that’s the schema of what he wrote in his article.

Now, clearly, in order to argue with him it is enough to argue with one of his three claims. Either his understanding of judging favorably, or his understanding of Ockham’s razor, or the connection he makes between the two. In other words, whether Ockham’s razor can really ground the requirement to judge favorably or not. I disagree with him on all three claims. That is, I think all three claims are incorrect—all three are incorrect. And I want to explain why I think so regarding each of them. And through that you’ll see how we arrive at Platonism.

So I’ll begin with the obligation to judge favorably. Yes? The Mishnah in Avot: “Yehoshua ben Perachyah and Nittai the Arbellite received from them. Yehoshua ben Perachyah says: Make for yourself a rabbi, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person favorably.” All right? And what Matan Binyamin basically says is that there is upon us a halakhic or moral command—not that Avot is exactly Jewish law, but there is some kind of command—to adopt an interpretation, even a strained one, of reality, because there is an obligation to judge favorably.

Now this claim itself I want perhaps to sharpen a bit, because on its face it sounds terribly unreasonable. Because what do you mean? If that’s not the truth, then why should I adopt it? It’s not the truth. Why is it a decree of Scripture that I have to think incorrectly? If I think it’s not correct, then I cannot adopt it because it is not correct. In other words—how can one—even the command, for example, that the Chafetz Chaim says, that there is a prohibition on accepting evil speech. Yes, maybe one has to be concerned, but it is forbidden to accept it. What does it mean, forbidden to accept it? If it seems logical to me, then I accept it. You can’t forbid me to accept something that I do in fact accept, right? In other words, if I think it is true, then you can forbid me till tomorrow to accept it, but in my eyes it is true—what can I do? Unless you convince me that it isn’t true—fine, then I don’t need a command not to accept it. I’ve been convinced that it’s not true. So there is some command here that is a very problematic command.

It seems to me that one can formulate it a bit more reasonably and say as follows: as long as there is a way to interpret the situation in a manner that is coherent with the facts and casts the person in a better light, then true, if you ask me what he really did, he did the bad act. That’s the more probable interpretation. But since there is also another interpretive possibility, I cannot issue a verdict against him. It’s something like “the burden of proof rests on the claimant.” Yes? Even if I am convinced that the defendant owes the money—in other words, it is more likely that he owes the money than that the money is his—still, the rule is that the burden of proof rests on the claimant. As long as you have not brought proof against him, we will not take the money from him. That is not because I think he is right, that the money is his; rather, there are laws of evidence. The laws of evidence say that the possessor has the upper hand, and the plaintiff will not prevail unless he brings proof. If he has not brought proof, he will not prevail. In that sense, one can also interpret the requirement to judge favorably in this way and say: you see a person doing an act that on its face looks like a bad act. Now, there is a remote possibility to judge him favorably and say, no, no, he actually meant well, he erred in his understanding of reality, or perhaps I am erring in my understanding of reality; really he is doing a good act, he is a good person. But that is a remote possibility—it is not probable, but it is possible, it is coherent. Okay, it does not contradict the facts and it is internally consistent. So I say: since such a possibility exists, I cannot issue a verdict that he is wicked. If you ask me what I really think, then of course he is wicked. What do I mean, of course? I’m almost sure he is wicked. Okay, so if I had to bet on what is true, of course I would bet that he is wicked. But they tell me: bet all you like, do whatever you want in the lottery—but issue a verdict against him you may not, as long as you have an interpretive way out that casts him in a good light. The burden of proof rests on the claimant: if you want to remove him from his presumption of fitness, you need to be equipped with strong evidence in order to do that. As long as it is possible that he still retains his presumption of fitness, I leave him in that presumption. All right? That is already a formulation that seems to me more coherent.

Rabbi, Rabbi, still—the question is a little better than the answer. “Judge every person favorably”—this is not talking about a judge, and it’s not talking about a government clerk; it’s talking about an ordinary person in the street, who sees every person, and with regard to every person he has to judge him favorably. Seemingly, the rabbi is saying that if the logical probability, the intuition, the data, and the facts all prove one side—that he is wicked—you still have to think of him, to judge him favorably. No, no, that’s why I’m claiming I don’t have to think he’s righteous. If you ask me, really, he is probably wicked. So then what does “judge” mean? But you can’t issue a verdict about him. But you’re not a judge; this is not speaking about a judge. Clearly, it’s not talking about a judge; it’s talking about an ordinary person. So what does “judge” mean? To issue a verdict and determine about him that he is wicked. I’m not signing any form; I’m standing next to my friend and he asks me: what do you think of him? A complete villain. So they tell you: yes, but judge him favorably. I’m not some official—what does “judge” mean? I’m saying, it’s not a form, it’s not a legal ruling; I’m talking about a simple person. Even in the Chinukh, when it speaks about “Judge your fellow with righteousness,” the Chinukh, at the end of the discussion, at the end of the commandment of “Judge your fellow with righteousness,” adds: this is a command to every person, not only to a judge. Right, exactly, I’m saying therefore that proves that every person has a narrative of good. For every person, if we make an effort, this Mishnah in Avot says: invest effort—or whoever said it, invest effort to judge him favorably. And if you wanted to, if you were his lawyer and got a million dollars to represent him, suddenly the wellsprings of understanding would open up for you, and you’d manage to judge him favorably, surprisingly enough. That’s what I’m saying. No, but it really means believing it, not just saying there’s such an option with a ninety percent chance that it’s wrong. So what does it mean to believe it? It means that I assume there’s a ninety percent chance it’s wrong. But why not interpret it simply? When there’s no tilt to one side, when we don’t have—when it’s fifty-fifty, this way or that way, then they tell you: in that case, judge favorably.

I’ll tell you why. Because it says, “Judge every person.” Every person—when you don’t have a weight in favor of… It doesn’t say “when.” It says “every person.” It doesn’t say it, but one could say that the meaning is: when you have two possibilities, judge every person favorably. But I—if we really entered, if we really really asked honestly on the deepest level, if we were to see some bad act of somebody else, and then somehow step into his shoes, his skin, his history, his past, his tendencies, his genes, and everything he’s going through, and suddenly we could really understand him, really understand him—there is a way to understand that, meaning to judge him favorably, not to turn him into a righteous saint. To understand is something else; understanding is, in the end, not seeing him as some complete scoundrel. No, it means arguments for leniency in sentencing. I didn’t say punishment. I’m talking about arguments regarding the act itself. You know, there’s the case when they ask the parents of criminals, what do you think? No, no, I’m saying there’s Rabbi Akiva, for example. There’s the famous story in tractate Shabbat about that laborer—they say it was Rabbi Akiva—but some laborer whose employer didn’t pay him his wages. So he comes to the employer and says, tell me, why didn’t you pay me? So he says, because I had no money. He says, look, but you’ve got lots of sheep. The sheep are pledged to someone, or I already sold them, or—but what about your house? My house is pledged. In short, I don’t remember the exact details of the story anymore, but all the way through he invents there these obviously very implausible stories, some combination of circumstances that almost certainly did not happen, and he judged him favorably. And in the end it turned out that it was true too, but that’s another issue.

But in a situation where the thing really is implausible, you can’t tell me, look, believe that this is true, because there’s a ninety percent chance it isn’t true. I work with statistics. Okay? All you can tell me is: look, you cannot determine a position about him. For example, you cannot behave toward him as if he is wicked. You can think—if they asked you what you’d bet on—you’d bet that he is wicked. But when you now judge him, say, in the sense of how you behave toward him, how you relate to him—then here I relate to him on the positive side, even though the positive side is only ten percent. Okay, that is basically the claim.

Now, that is an interpretation that is more charitable to this approach. It reminds one of the well-known story about Rabbi Chaim of Brisk. They once asked him: after all, everything that exists in the world was created by the Holy One, blessed be He, and presumably there is some reason why He created it. There has to be a reason for everything, otherwise why would the Holy One, blessed be He, make it? So they asked Rabbi Chaim: why did the Holy One, blessed be He, create crooked intellect? Why are there people with crooked minds? Yes, one could ask this about evolution too, by the way. It’s the same question. If evolution really refines us and makes us more survivable and more capable, then how can it be that there are people with crooked minds? Well, in evolution one could say maybe crooked intellect also has an evolutionary advantage, I don’t know. Sometimes that’s true. But improvement is relative to the past, not… What? It’s an improvement over the past; once it was even more crooked. It’s only an intermediate stage; it’ll keep improving further. Okay. In any case, you’re optimistic. In any case, Rabbi Chaim said that the Holy One, blessed be He, created crooked intellect in order to judge favorably. When you look for a scenario, a context, or an explanation for so-and-so’s actions, you need to activate the best of your crooked mind in order to reach explanations that are completely implausible, so as to find some interpretive option that casts him in a good light. And that is why crooked intellect was created. Which is basically Matan Binyamin’s approach, right? The approach is that I need to dig under the ground, to produce some theory—like they always do in analytical study in the yeshivot—if you have some coherent theory then everything is fine, you can present it as one of the approaches in the topic. The sole criterion is coherence, not common sense.

So the claims basically say that judging favorably is some sort of moral imperative. But when we look at the commentators on the Mishnah, for example Maimonides on this Mishnah in Avot writes as follows: “And judge every person favorably.” And the meaning is this: if there is a person unknown to you, and you do not know whether he is righteous or wicked, and you see him doing an act or saying something that, if interpreted one way, is good, and if interpreted another way, is bad—interpret it as good and do not think badly of him. But if he is a person known to be righteous and famous for good deeds, and there appears of him an act whose indications all point to its being a bad act, and no good act can be inferred from it except with very great strain and a remote possibility, one must interpret it as good, since there remains some possibility that it is good, and it is not permitted to suspect him. And about this they say, ‘Whoever suspects the fit is stricken in his body.’” Up to here this seems to fit the proposal I suggested earlier, right? I am basically adopting a strained interpretation. Why? Because there is a moral command to assume the more optimistic assumption. Again, statistically it is less probable, but if I am issuing a verdict, if I am determining what my attitude toward the person is, how I conduct myself in relation to him, I need to assume the more generous possibility.

“And similarly, if he was wicked and his deeds were notorious, and afterward we saw him doing an act whose indications all point to its being good, but there remains a very remote possibility for evil, one must beware of him and not believe him to be good, since there also remains a possibility for evil. As it says: ‘Though he speaks graciously, do not trust him, for seven abominations are in his heart.’ And if he was unknown, and the act leans toward one of the two extremes, then by way of ethical excellence one should judge favorably whichever of the two extremes it may be.” So he distinguishes here among two—really three—types of people whom I judge. If it is a righteous person, then I always have to take the positive direction, even if the positive direction is implausible. If it is a wicked person, I have to take the not-good direction, even in a place where the not-good direction is implausible. Notice, this is somewhat the opposite of what the Mishnah says. That is, there is a matter of judging him unfavorably: “one must beware of him and not believe him to be good, since there remains a possibility for evil.” And if it is someone you do not know whether he is righteous or wicked, then judge favorably, because the two possibilities are equivalent. That sounds like the last suggestion raised here.

But what is the meaning of this distinction among these three types? It seems to me that what stands behind Maimonides’ claim here—Rabbi, Rabbi, again, this is an example of how Maimonides shows us that a person needs to and can believe whatever he wants. Like belief in God, which is a commandment, so here too. If, for example, we go to Yad Vashem and bring students to Yad Vashem and look at what the Nazis did, then if someone really makes the effort, maybe he’ll find some way to judge them favorably, right? But we don’t want to judge them favorably and we shouldn’t, because it’s not good to judge wicked people favorably, because they’ll go on doing evil. You are still assuming that this is a moral command and not a striving for truth. But wait, that is exactly what I want to discuss. Or that it’s subjective. That is exactly my topic today. I’m getting to it. I don’t agree, but I’ll explain why I don’t agree.

What Maimonides is really saying here, at least in my view, is not a moral command at all, except perhaps in the third case. He says: if you see a good person, known as righteous and famous, doing an act that is blatantly bad, then it is simply not reasonable to say that this act is bad, and therefore you judge him favorably. Why assume that someone righteous would do a bad act? It is simply not reasonable. This is not a moral command; this is the truth. And therefore, for example, regarding a bad person, someone known to be bad—even if the possibility that he is bad is remote—one must judge him unfavorably. Why? You could say there is no obligation to judge him favorably, but why should there be an obligation to judge him unfavorably? There is no logic in that at all. Because Maimonides understands that the truth is that one should judge him unfavorably. That is the truth—that he probably did the transgression—even though it is not probable on the face of the act, because after all you know him, you know that he is wicked.

Only the third case, of a person you do not know what he is—or a person you know is average, it doesn’t matter—and you have two equal possibilities, neither one more probable than the other; in such a case you really adopt a criterion of burden of proof. You say: as long as it has not been proved otherwise, I will assume he is righteous. But everywhere there is a probable interpretation, then the command to judge favorably is not a moral command. It says: adopt the probable interpretation. That is what this command says.

The example I’ve already brought more than once about this issue: you see the greatest rabbinic authority of the generation chasing after a betrothed girl with a drawn knife, all right? In public, before all Israel. Now you have two possibilities. Any other person who was in such a situation, I would say: wow, maybe he’s going to rape her or kill her or I don’t know exactly what; he has the status of a pursuer and he should be killed. But if I see the leading rabbi of the generation doing that, it is not reasonable that that’s what he’s doing. So I invent something. What do I say? Apparently she worked at his house in the kitchen, she’s his helper, and she simply forgot there the knife that she brought from home when she was cutting tomatoes. Okay? So he’s running after her with the knife in order to return her knife to her. She just forgot it at his house. Now you understand that if it’s just an ordinary person and you see him in that situation, with a very angry look on his face, then certainly you won’t interpret it that way—it’s a less probable interpretation. But if you see the leading rabbi of the generation in such a situation—Rabbi Aryeh Levin in such a situation—not necessarily the leading scholar, but a righteous person in such a situation—that is the probable interpretation. I do not interpret it that way because I want to fulfill the Torah’s command to judge a person favorably; rather, that is the probable interpretation.

And then it turns out that the command to judge favorably is really a prohibition. It is not a command; it is not a positive commandment; it is a prohibition. Again, not in the halakhic sense but morally—it is a prohibition. What is the prohibition? The prohibition is: do not adopt an improbable possibility about a person. Sometimes we have an impulse to give an improbable interpretation to a person’s actions. That is forbidden. Adopt the probable interpretation. Judge the wicked as wicked, and judge the righteous favorably. The obligation to judge favorably is a prohibition against not judging favorably; it is a prohibition against adopting an interpretation that is improbable simply because of biases, biases that I have. And what is incumbent upon me is to adopt the probable interpretation. That is the meaning of judging favorably.

Look, this also appears in other commentators on the Mishnah. There is, for example, Bartenura there. Rabbi, so when it says “every person,” does it mean a person of the third type, whom we don’t know? Or a righteous person. It means—that’s an example. “Judge favorably” means: judge according to the called-for interpretation. But regarding a person you don’t know, if I see him in that situation, then why interpret him? I mean, you know, in a situation where he’s chasing a betrothed girl with a knife, then what, should one really stand by? Leave aside what to do in practice for a moment, but it is not reasonable to interpret it like that. No, if he is a pursuer—what I said was that with regard to a person you do not know, here there is room for hesitation. One could say: if it is a person you do not know, then you cannot judge him, and therefore you de facto adopt the generous interpretation, because the burden of proof is on you. Yes, again, if you ask me what I’d bet on, that is another question: I’m uncertain what I’d bet on—fifty-fifty. If you asked me how I would behave, what the default assumption would be by which I determine my conduct, then that should be the default assumption of favorable judgment. And here there really is a criterion that is not a criterion of truth. Here it really is a criterion one could call moral, but that is only because here there is no truth available. Where there is no compelling truth, then perhaps we are dealing with a moral criterion.

But it is not that this Mishnah tells me to adopt crooked intellect. For example, if that possibility were very, very implausible, then even if the person is unknown, I might judge him unfavorably. Now Maimonides’ language seems not to indicate that, because Maimonides writes regarding the unknown person—look, there is this wording there: “and if he was unknown and the act leans toward one of the two extremes, one should by way of ethical excellence judge favorably whichever of the two extremes it may be.” He does not speak of the case where the two interpretations are equal. He says it leans to one of the two extremes. The question is: how much does it lean? What, even in something utterly implausible—one percent—should I adopt that too? That doesn’t seem reasonable to me. But on the other hand, one should note that this person, the unknown person—yes, regarding an unknown person, in Jewish law there is a presumption of fitness. So I am supposed to treat him as a fit person. In order to determine that the person is unfit, evidence is required. Therefore, it could be that what Maimonides is saying is again a continuation of that same idea: since this is a person unknown to us, we go by presumptions—a presumption of fitness—and then I am supposed to assume that he is righteous. Again, an assumption that may be legal, but it is still the more reasonable assumption, at least legally, even if not factually. The question is how we relate to the presumption of fitness.

So according to this interpretation, the third case too, of the unknown person, is really a case where I am not—this is not a matter of moral exaggeration; rather, this is simply what ought to be done, plain and simple. I said that Bartenura also implies this. He writes there: “And judge every person favorably—when the matter hangs in the balance and has no decisive tilt either way, such as a person whom we do not know whether he is righteous or wicked, and he did an act that can be judged favorably and can be judged unfavorably, it is a pious quality to judge him favorably. But a person established as wicked may be judged unfavorably, for they only said that whoever suspects the fit is stricken in his body, which implies that whoever suspects the wicked is not stricken.” Here again is a statement basically quite parallel to Maimonides; there are differences in nuance perhaps, one can debate that, but that’s not my topic right now.

The same with Rabbeinu Yonah. “And judge every person favorably”—I’m just showing you this so you’ll be convinced that this is not some esoteric interpretation of the Mishnah—“And judge every person favorably”: this speaks of a person about whom we do not know whether he is righteous or wicked, or if we know him and he is an average person, who sometimes does bad and sometimes does good, and if he does something that can be judged unfavorably and can be judged favorably, in equilibrium, with the two sides balanced and no tilt—and even if, according to appearances, it tilts more toward the unfavorable side”—you see, with him what I said about Maimonides is explicit; it is speaking about some tilt, but not that you adopt a completely implausible interpretation—“if in some respect one can judge him favorably, one should say that he intended for the good. But this does not apply to a completely righteous person nor to a completely wicked person.” You see that systematically, the main commentators on the Mishnah—I don’t know if all of them, but the main ones—do not interpret the command to judge favorably in that way. The command to judge favorably does not require crooked intellect from us; it requires common sense. There is no point at all in using crooked intellect.

But of course the example we gave, with the righteous man running with a knife, is of course not really apt; it doesn’t belong here. Because what are we discussing? We are discussing, basically, what is worse: to punish a person who did not sin, or to let him off because of doubt even if he did sin? No, I’m not talking about punishment; I’m not a judge; leave punishment aside. I mean when we judge, basically, what is morally worse—I don’t know—punishing a person if he didn’t sin, or giving him the benefit of the doubt if he did sin? What is worse morally, or whatever? Here, with that guy running with the knife, it’s not just giving him the benefit of the doubt; here, if we don’t do something, she might die. No, no, important—again, the problem is no longer just philosophical. I’m not talking now about whether to apply to him the law of the pursuer—that’s another question. Suppose that in the end he is pursuing her, but I know she is quicker than he is, and he won’t catch her. She isn’t in danger. Still, I ask myself: yes, but what does he want? Does he want to kill her, or does he want to return the knife to her? Right, right, but I wasn’t discussing whether to apply the law of the pursuer; I’m talking about the principled question of how I look at such a situation. Okay.

So that is one side of the coin: that judging favorably really means applying common sense, reaching the conclusion of what is actually probable in the situation. In general I don’t like the terms that this Matan Binyamin used—what is “existential truth”? It’s not factual truth. I don’t know what existential truth is; it’s an oxymoron. If it’s truth, then it’s truth; and if it’s existential, then it’s not truth—it’s some psychological matter, moral matter, or whatever it may be. I think I already mentioned in the past the words of Rabbi Dessler in Michtav Me-Eliyahu, where he brings the Gemara that says it is permitted to lie in certain situations. Yes, on three matters in tractate Elu Metziot a Torah scholar customarily lies; there are other places too: one may alter things for the sake of peace, and so on. So one may lie in certain situations. Rabbi Dessler says that in those situations it is not a lie at all, because a lie is something that one is forbidden to say. But here this is the thing that ought to be said, so one cannot say it is permitted to lie; this thing is not a lie at all. That is his claim. Now in my eyes that is an outrageous statement. It is a lie because it is a lie, because it is not true. True, you are permitted to lie because there is another value that overrides the prohibition of lying. But you cannot say that it is not a lie.

Well, similarly here too. I don’t know what “existential truth” is. Either it is true or it is not true. “Existential truth” is George Orwell, yes? “War is peace, freedom is slavery, ignorance is strength.” That’s 1984, where they wash people’s brains—Communists, yes?—and convince them of the opposite of the truth, and if you repeat it enough times, maybe in the end the person is convinced too.

Okay, so now the claim is that judging favorably really means applying common sense; that is what is called judging favorably. And even this case of Rabbi Akiva that I mentioned earlier, who judged his employer favorably—the Gemara indeed says that in the end it turned out that this was in fact the reality. He really decoded reality correctly, even though it was something utterly implausible. The point is: apparently Rabbi Akiva knew that employer and knew that he was a righteous man, that he does not withhold wages from his laborers, and if he withheld the wages then apparently all his sources of funding dried up for various reasons. And that is the probable interpretation—not because Rabbi Akiva was noble of spirit and judged him favorably with crooked intellect, “existential truth,” as they call it. No, that was the factual truth. Because if he is such a righteous person, it is not probable that he simply withholds wages. And therefore there were probably all sorts of reasons, even though on the face of it this sounds strained or implausible.

So that is item A: judging favorably. But according to this there is a general commandment that—well, I don’t know why it even needs to be written—but if so, simply: use common sense? So I explained earlier that not only regarding judging favorably; in everything, and that is self-evident. No, I explained earlier that specifically in these contexts, because using common sense everywhere is certainly right. But here sometimes you have an impulse not to use common sense. And the command comes to tell you: don’t give in to that impulse; here too, insist on using common sense. And when you see a righteous person doing a bad action, you say, wow, so he isn’t righteous—and that is really an impulse. If you would think for one more moment and say, wait, wait—if he is so righteous, let’s try to think, perhaps there is actually a generous interpretation. But you don’t stop to think, because you judge him immediately. About that there is this command: “Judge every person favorably.” In places where you have an impulse not to use common sense. In other places, simply using common sense is obvious, and called for on its own; there’s no need to discuss that.

In any case, that is item A, the item of judging favorably. And basically, if I summarize: he says this is existential truth; I claim this is factual truth. Judging favorably means clinging to factual truth as much as possible, or in a case of doubt, to the presumption of fitness—which is a bit exceptional—but in principle it means using common sense and adhering to factual truth.

The second principle is Ockham’s razor. Ockham’s razor—again, he assumes that this too, let’s call it in that language, is existential truth. You adopt the simpler interpretation or theory, but not because it is the more correct interpretation, but because from your standpoint it is more convenient to use. It is existential truth; it is not factual truth, yes—that is basically his second premise regarding Ockham’s razor.

Let’s try for a moment to look at some situations. Rabbi Chaim—again, Rabbi Chaim of Brisk—famously interpreted the Gemara in Chagigah, at the beginning of Chagigah. The Gemara there brings three signs of an insane person: one who sleeps in a cemetery at night, tears his clothes, and I don’t remember another one—talks to himself, I don’t recall—there are three signs of an insane person there. The Gemara there discusses whether, in order to determine that someone is insane—that is a halakhic status, it has implications—one needs all three signs, or whether one is enough. And the Gemara says there that you need all three, that is, according to at least one opinion, you need all three. Why do you need all three? The Gemara says: because if he goes alone and sleeps in the cemetery at night, maybe he forgot something there and therefore he is going to the cemetery at night to retrieve the thing. You see? That is judging favorably. It says: he is not really some necromancer; rather, he forgot something in the cemetery during the day, so he goes there to get it. And if he tears his clothes, then maybe he is simply concentrating on some topic and doesn’t notice, and therefore he tears his clothes—yes, like Rava in that passage in Shabbat, with the sectarian who says to Rava, “A rash people, who put your mouths before your ears”; yes, Rava injured himself while thinking about some topic. So that too is not a definitive sign, because maybe you can interpret it in a way that judges him favorably, yes, and think that he is sane and doing this for understandable reasons. And similarly regarding the three signs: for each one they bring an explanation.

So Rabbi Chaim asks: so what does it help that there are three signs? That is why one needs three signs. He asks: what does it help that you have three signs? Statistically, even if there are three signs, still: the fact that he slept in the cemetery at night is because he forgot something there. The fact that he tears his clothes is because he is concentrating on some analytic Talmudic issue. And so you have explanations for each thing like that. So what does it help that you have all three signs? Probability, probability. Exactly. So Rabbi Chaim says that basically what we have here is the same idea as the presumption created by three occurrences. We know that in Jewish law there are many places where a presumption is established by three times. For example, in a woman’s menstrual cycles: if three times she sees her cycle on the same date, or after the same interval, or something like that, then after three times that is presumed to be her fixed cycle. Why? Maybe it just happened by chance. Once it happened to fall on the sixth of the month; the next time, by chance, it again fell on the sixth; and the next month again by chance it fell on the sixth. After all, if it happens once, you say maybe it’s chance. If it happens twice, you also say maybe it’s chance. So three times can also be chance. So Rabbi Chaim says—yes, in matters of menstrual cycles, and “his brothers died because of circumcision,” and there are many examples in Jewish law where three occurrences create a presumption, even possession of land—some connect it there; the Gemara, the scholars of Usha connect it to presumptions from an ox that gores three times, and more.

So Rabbi Chaim says that really what is involved here is some kind of probability. What does that mean? Each such case can be accidental, and not indicate the claim for which I am seeking evidence. For example, in the case of the signs of insanity, let’s say sleeping in the cemetery at night could be accidental because he forgot something there, and not because he is insane; and the tearing of his clothes is not because he is insane but because he is concentrating on some topic. And similarly with the third thing. But if all three things happened, then it is already implausible to say that each of them happened for some different accidental reason. Why is it implausible? Because there is one simple explanation that explains all three facts. And obviously, one explanation that explains the three facts is a simpler explanation than three explanations, each of which explains one of the three facts. If I have one explanation that explains the three cases, according to Ockham’s razor that is a simpler explanation than three different explanations, each explaining one of the cases. And basically what we have here is Ockham’s razor. And all presumptions of three times in Jewish law are basically founded on Ockham’s razor. And they basically say: if I have three cases that point to the same thing, even though each one could be accidental, I prefer the interpretation that indeed there really is such a thing causing the cases, because that is an explanation based on one principle, and not the explanation that each time it happened accidentally for a different reason, because that is three different explanations, each explaining a different case. And again, this is Ockham’s razor.

Think about a scientific generalization. I see various bodies falling to the earth. Yes, I see a ball, I hold a ball, I let go of it and it falls to the earth. Now I hold a phone, I let go of it and it too falls to the earth. Now I hold a bag, I let go of it and it too falls to the earth. Okay, so apparently all bodies with mass fall to the earth. But why? It could be that only bags, phones, and balls fall to the earth. Why not? Maybe I happened by chance to encounter three types of things that just happen to fall to the earth. Why assume that this is true of all bodies with mass? Again, this is Ockham’s razor. What does that mean? There is one possibility to say that bags fall to the earth for certain reasons, balls fall to the earth for other reasons, and phones fall to the earth for a third set of reasons. That is one possible explanation. Another possible explanation is that the fall to the earth is based on a property that exists in all three of these kinds of objects. That property is having mass. Since the second explanation is simpler, because it is an explanation on the basis of one principle that explains all three types of cases, it is simpler than an explanation that gives a different explanation for each type. And since that is so, the scientific generalization we make—namely, the law of gravitation that every body with mass falls to the earth—you see that in the scientific context too, and in every other context, when we essentially choose among different explanations, we use Ockham’s razor as a device to check which explanation is—or we check which explanation is simpler—and Ockham’s razor tells me to adopt it, to adopt the simpler explanation. Yes, that is it in a nutshell.

Now I ask: Matan Binyamini assumed that Ockham’s razor too is basically existential truth. Why? Because why should one assume that the simplicity of an explanation is an indication of its correctness? So it’s simple—so what if it’s simple? It’s simple in your eyes; someone else could come along and in his eyes it wouldn’t be simple. Take your head—it’s built that way. It’s a statement about you, that this explanation is simpler than that explanation, because your head is built that way. If there were someone who preferred triple explanations, then from his perspective the explanation with three different explanations might look simpler and more natural. So simplicity is not a criterion for truth. Rather, I adopt the simpler explanation for technical methodological reasons, because if it does the job, why use the complicated explanation? A simple explanation also does the job. Not because it is more correct, but because it is not less correct than the other—parallel to the third type in Maimonides, where you do not know which of the two explanations is correct, so you adopt the explanation that is more convenient. If you know which of the two explanations is correct, you adopt that one. If you don’t know—the situation is balanced, like that person about whom you don’t know whether he is righteous or wicked—then adopt the explanation that is more convenient for you; judge him favorably, as it were; say that the explanation is simpler.

So the claim about Ockham’s razor is that it is a methodological rule. And I ask a simple question, just plain common sense: do you really believe that the law of gravitation is true? That all bodies with mass fall to the earth? Or do you say, no, in the meantime I use that explanation because as long as it isn’t refuted, it is the simplest? It seems to me that every reasonable person would answer here—every reasonable and straightforward person would answer here—that of course the law of gravitation clearly seems true to him. Again, not certainly true; nothing is certain; but it is probably true. It is not an accident that these three types fall to the earth if I have a common explanation that can explain all three cases. The common explanation is indeed better—not only more convenient and simpler, but better. Simplicity is a criterion of truth. That is my claim. And the principle of Ockham’s razor is not a methodological principle; it is a tool for reaching truth. The simpler explanation is also the more correct explanation. It is likely also the more correct explanation.

If you saw a person who in three different contexts behaves like a madman, some sort of lunatic, what would you say? Each time would you judge him favorably in a different way? Or would you say: no, no—if three times, if it’s green on the outside, red on the inside, and has watermelon seeds, then it is probably a watermelon. And not an orange that also happens to be red, also happens to be green, and also happens to have watermelon seeds. Right? This is not a methodological principle. If I had to bet, I would bet that it’s a watermelon and not an orange. It is not just an arbitrary choice because it is convenient for me and no worse than the second option. It is better than the second option. Again, there is no certainty. I am not claiming that it is certain, but I am claiming that it is much more plausible. Therefore, my claim is that Ockham’s razor too, like the requirement to judge favorably, is not merely a practical or existential working tool. Ockham’s razor is a tool for reaching truth.

Every time we put our hand into the fire, the hand gets burned. Does that mean that fire always burns things inside it? Or does it mean—I don’t know—every time pain just happened to arise in me by chance when my hand entered the fire? Right? We all understand that no, fire probably burns. One can ask a philosophical question about what that is based on. Why do we really assume that? But it seems very hard to deny that this is how we assume, and in fact this is how we assume. That is, the simple explanation appears to us as the correct explanation. Now philosophically one can indeed ask why. Why should there be a connection between simplicity and truth? That is a good philosophical question; I’ll get to it later. But first of all I want to point to the fact. To feign innocence and say, no, no, it’s not more correct; I adopt it only for practical considerations or considerations of convenience—that is disingenuous. Human beings do not really think that way. They may be mistaken, but they do not really think that way.

And there is also in the inference of the common denominator—so this too is basically built like a scientific generalization. Let’s say I have two teaching cases that teach some derivative case. Let’s say case A and case B, and the derivative is C. Now A has property X that C doesn’t have. B has property Y that C doesn’t have. Therefore, when I want to learn C from A, I say: what about A, which has property X? I want to learn it from B: what about B, which has property Y? And now what? I would expect that okay, that creates here—so you can’t learn it. Because you can’t learn it either from A or from B. But the Gemara doesn’t say that. The Gemara says: “and the reasoning returns; this is not like that and that is not like this. The common denominator in A and B is that they both have property Z, and that property also exists in C, therefore I can learn C from A and B together.” Even though from each one separately I could not learn it, because there is a property that blocks the inference, but from both together I can. What is that based on? Again, Ockham’s razor. That is a scientific generalization; it is simply the same logic as a scientific generalization. What does that mean? It means that probably property X does not cause the law in A. How do I know that? Because B also has the same law even though it does not have property X. So by elimination I say: probably X is not what causes the law. And then I say: but Y also is not what causes the law. True, in B there is Y, so maybe that’s why there is this law? But in A, where there is no Y, there is still this law, so we see that Y is not needed in order to generate the halakhic result.

And then what? There is still the possibility that the result is generated by either X or Y. Whoever has one of the two properties will have the law we are talking about. The Gemara says: true, that is a possibility, but that explanation is more complicated, or less simple, than the alternative explanation. After all, A and B share property Z, and if both of them have this law, then it is probably much more natural, much more plausible, to attribute this law to property Z rather than to either X or Y. That is a simpler explanation. And if the law depends on property Z, C, the derivative case, has property Z. Therefore the derivative case too has the law. But Rabbi, if I throw a die a hundred times and every time it lands on six—there is a possibility that it is accidental, and there is a possibility that someone cheated with the die. So the probability of the second possibility as against the first is separated by almost one hundred percent. Okay, what’s the question? So it’s obvious that Ockham’s razor is a matter of sensible statistical reasoning and not just some sort of existential thing. It supports what you’re saying; it’s completely obvious. Okay, fine, so that’s what I’m saying.

Wait, now the software looks different, I’m not… wait. Okay, I don’t know why they call it a software improvement when they make it more complicated. Anyway, so look, I have here one teaching case, a second teaching case, and a third teaching case. Okay? This is A, this is B, and this is C. Okay. A has property X; B has property Y. C has neither X nor Y. And there is also property Z here, and property Z here too, and C has property Z. Okay? Now, how is the common denominator built? It’s always like this. Now I want to derive C. Let’s say A and B are primary categories of damage. So A is an ox’s goring and B is a pit, all right? Or A is fire and B is a pit, yes, so we remember the A and the B better. So fire and pit, all right? And C is something else, I don’t know what; C is sea.

Now fire has the properties X and Z, and I want to derive C from fire. It says: no, what is unique to fire is that it has X, so you can’t derive from it. Fine, then B will prove it. It says: no, what is unique to B is that it has Y—and C doesn’t have Y—so you can’t derive it. And then suddenly I derive from both together. Right? How can I derive from both together? It could be that in A one is liable to pay because of property X, and in B one is liable to pay because of property Y. And C, which has neither X nor Y, is not liable to pay at all. The Gemara says: no, one can derive. That is the common denominator, a construct from two texts; it is one of the interpretive principles by which the Torah is expounded. Why? Because I have another interpretive option. Namely, that the law in A and B is generated not by X or Y, but by Z, which exists in both. Now if that is the reason for the law, Z of course also exists in C. So if everyone who has Z has the law—he is liable to pay—then C, which has Z, is also liable to pay.

Now basically I have two theories. One theory attributes the law to Z. The second theory attributes the law to X or Y. Okay? So now I can—there are two theories, both valid, both possible. I can say that the fact that in A and B one is liable to pay—the theory is that everyone who has either X or Y is liable to pay. What will the result of that be? That C is not liable, right? The result will be that C is not liable to pay, because C has neither X nor Y. But if I adopt this explanation, that Z is responsible for the obligation to pay, then C will be liable because it has Z. So the practical difference between these two explanations is the question whether C is liable to pay or not—whether one can derive it from A and B. And the common denominator tells us that yes, one does derive it from A and B. Why? Because we prefer this explanation over that explanation. Why do we prefer it? Because it is simpler. If you attribute the law to one parameter, Z, that is a simpler explanation than attributing the law to one of two parameters, either X or Y. And since that is so, we adopt the simpler explanation, and this interpretive principle, the common denominator, is really built on that. You still see this? Yes, we see it. Rabbi, but still, in a case where X and Y have more of a contextual flavor relative to the result, and Z doesn’t—that would already be a different theory. It’s only a question of preference; it’s not something decisive. Also in Talmudic modes of inference you see such things? Yes, of course. In a place where you have a common property that is irrelevant, nobody would make a common denominator.

So the claim I want to make, in summary, is really the second point. The second point says that the principle of the razor, Ockham’s razor, is also not merely a methodological rule. Rather, it too is really a rule that selects the more correct explanation, and not just some arbitrary lottery—I want to choose the simpler thing because it is more convenient for me to use.

One final remark, and with this I’ll stop for now—we’ll continue next time—is his third premise. His third premise is that even if I adopt his approach regarding Ockham’s razor and regarding judging favorably, Ockham’s razor can strengthen the Mishnah that requires judging favorably. On that too I disagree. That is, even if we accept for the sake of discussion his first two interpretations—that judging favorably is existential truth, and Ockham’s razor is methodological truth and not factual truth—even then I do not understand why Ockham’s razor strengthens the requirement to judge favorably. How does it help? You can use it as some kind of illustration, not as proof. There is here some sort of very characteristic self-nullification before science. If science does something completely foolish and irrational, then from that I can prove that in Jewish law everything is also okay. Hey, in the scientific context too it’s foolish and irrational? Yes, but science is sacred. Science is sacred, so if it is foolish and irrational there, everything is fine. It is like all kinds of explanations given for unclear things by means of quantum theory. Quantum theory itself is strange, so how does it help me—an English-English dictionary, I called it—how does it help me to explain one incomprehensible phenomenon by means of another incomprehensible phenomenon? It helps nothing.

At most you could tell me that in the scientific context too I look for the same sort of explanation, just as many philosophers indeed asked: what is the justification for Ockham’s razor or for the assumptions of scientific methodology? What is the justification? Do they have a justification in the sense that they aim at truth, or are they really only methodological rules? And this question can be asked in the scientific context too, not only in the Torah context. On the contrary, if you said that Ockham’s razor is a tool for revealing the truth, then that could perhaps strengthen the claim that the requirement to judge favorably is also not disconnected from truth, because we see that sometimes circumstances can help us choose a true explanation even though we have no direct proof that it is true. It does not look more true in itself, but the circumstances show that it is. One can see that both in Ockham’s razor and in judging favorably. But if one adopts his explanation that both Ockham’s razor and judging favorably are only methodological rules, then I do not see why Ockham’s razor adds anything at all to judging favorably.

Now all of this was really some sort of initial introduction. In the next class I’ll enter into scientific Platonism, using what we saw here. It gives us the framework. Okay, that’s it for now. Any comments or questions?

You mentioned something about the comparison between sacred science and Torah—as if it’s simple. Science isn’t sacred, but it proves itself every day. A plane that weighs, I don’t know, a million tons rises into the air according to scientific rules—so what is there to argue about? It’s a fact. Good—but notice what you’re saying. I’ll get to this next time. Notice the meaning of what you’re saying. The meaning of what you’re saying is that Ockham’s razor in the scientific world is not a methodological rule; it is a rule for revealing the truth, because after all it works. Correct. But he argued that it is a methodological rule and wanted to derive from it support for another methodological rule, namely judging favorably. In my opinion that helps not at all. What you’re arguing—I completely agree with—but what you’re arguing proves that he is not right, not that he is right. It proves that in the scientific context Ockham’s razor is a tool for revealing the truth and not a tool for selecting theories of convenience, a rule of convenience. Agreed. Okay. It could be that judging is something else. What? Judging a person favorably—judging a person, not judging a plane or gravity—maybe there’s a gap between the two things, between judging favorably… No problem. I’m only saying that the connection he made is, in my opinion, incorrect. That’s true. Okay.

But the example of judging favorably really echoes for me what we talked about yesterday in class about dogmatism, so I’m curious whether the rabbi intends to deal with that in that context—meaning, if a person interprets the situation differently in another case, then what exactly is the moral demand, or what is the Mishnah demanding of him to do? So I’m curious whether… There is no demand. He has to interpret according to the best of his understanding. You can’t demand of a person how to interpret things. What he interprets is what he interprets. So what is the Mishnah itself coming to teach—what is it trying to educate toward? Right, so that’s what I explained earlier. The Mishnah comes to say: don’t follow the evil inclination; seriously weigh what you think. The evil inclination sometimes causes us to adopt interpretations that, as it were, I can present as reasonable interpretations. Here, look, he is chasing her with a knife. Don’t you understand that he’s going to kill her? No, no—wait. That’s the evil inclination. Think again. After all, we’re talking about a person who is… Rabbi Aryeh Levin. Do you really think he’s going to kill her? But sometimes we have some tendency to slander him right away. We see it and immediately—this command says: do not go after that tendency. But do make a straightforward interpretation. Stick to common sense. I understand, thank you. Okay, Sabbath peace. Sabbath peace. Sabbath peace.