Front Matter

From the book Two Wagons and a Hot Air Balloon by Rabbi Michael Avraham. Translated from Hebrew using gpt-5.4 (reasoning_effort=high, batch API).

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This book is dedicated to the memory of my father and teacher

Rabbi Nahman Mendel (George), son of Rabbi Shmuel Zanwil Avraham, of blessed memory

Two Wagons and a Hot Air Balloon

On Judaism and Postmodernism

Second revised edition

Michael Avraham

Tam Press

Two Wagons

It was taught: “‘Justice, justice shall you pursue’—one command for strict law and one for compromise. How so? If two ships are passing on a river and collide with one another: if both pass, both sink; if they go one after the other, both pass. Likewise, if two camels were ascending the slopes of Beit Horon and met one another: if both go up, both fall; if they go one after the other, both ascend. How is this decided? If one is laden and the other is not laden, the one that is not laden yields to the laden one. If one is near and the other is not near, the one that is near yields to the one that is not near. If both are near, or both are far, make a compromise between them, and let them compensate one another.”

(Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 32b)

And a Hot Air Balloon

There is a story about two people who were flying in a hot-air balloon and lost their way. After some time, they saw a man standing in a field below them. They asked him, “Where are we?” The man answered decisively, “In a hot-air balloon.” One of the travelers turned to his friend and said, “That is clearly a real mathematician.” When the other asked, “Why a mathematician?” the first explained: “For two main reasons. First, what he says is precise and unquestionably true. Second, it is of no help to us whatsoever.”

(One version of a common academic joke)

Preface to the Second Edition

The book Two Wagons and a Hot Air Balloon was published at Passover 5762 (2002) by Beit-El Press. To my great delight, since then I have been in intensive contact with many readers, who showed great interest, commented, challenged, asked questions, and also disagreed with what was said in it.

Since within about a year the first edition disappeared from the bookstores, and demand for it remained lively, I decided to publish it once again. And because many comments had accumulated regarding the book, along with typographical and stylistic errors, the decision was made to publish it anew in a second, revised edition—this time through the Midah Tovah Association for the Study of Jewish Logic, as part of its efforts to encourage research into halakhic (Jewish legal) and Torah-based modes of thought in the spirit of the traditional rabbinic academy.

Let it be known that no changes whatsoever have been made in the book’s content. The corrections concern mainly local formulations, various clarifications, and the correction of typographical errors that slipped into the first edition.

A few months ago a sequel was published, Those Who Are Here and Those Who Are Not Here—On Science, Religion, and Myth, also by the Association. In the near future, two more sequel volumes are to appear under our imprint, and together with this book they will form a quartet. The first book places the players on the board, chiefly those relevant to the analytic-synthetic conflict. The second book deals with the relationship between science, religion, and myth, and with the implications of the analytic-synthetic conflict for the questions concerning the relations among these domains. The third book, which is also due to appear through the Association within a few months, will deal with the human being: the mind-body problem, emotion, intellect, values and morality, choice, will, and more.

These three books were originally intended to appear as one book. When it became clear that the work was too long, I decided to divide it into three separate books and turn it into a trilogy. For that reason, the three books are built as successive links that form one extended line of argument. There are therefore many references and cross-references among them.

Despite this complex structure, each of the books is meant to be autonomous and to allow independent reading, even for someone who has not read the others. These are not three volumes of one book, but three separate books. For that reason, each of the following parts contains a synopsis of what is necessary for understanding it. In any event, reading all three books will undoubtedly spread the subject before the reader in a broader and more complete way.

The writing of a fourth book has now been completed, and it serves as a continuation of this trilogy, thereby turning it into a quartet. This book deals with the first two foundational principles formulated by Maimonides, in which he discusses the rules for enumerating the commandments. Through an analysis of Maimonides’ words, the book unfolds a panoramic picture of the structure of halakha in all its parts, its functioning, and its significance, according to Maimonides’ conception. The book also touches on questions in the philosophy and logic of law, and in fact constitutes an application of the synthetic approach in the meta-halakhic domain and in the fields of general legal theory.

As stated, together with the three previous books there emerges here a quartet about the analytic-synthetic conflict and its implications. The quartet as a whole is named after my late father, The Nahman bar Shmuel Series. This is an opportunity to thank my mother, Eva Avraham, for bearing the financial burden of this edition, and of the entire series.

This preface would not be complete without heartfelt thanks to my dear friend and polymath Gabriel Hazut, for joining materially and spiritually in the establishment of the Association and in its mission in general, and in the publication of the trilogy in particular.

I would also like to add special thanks to the staff of Tomer Computers, and especially to Meital, the graphic designer, without whom we would not have come this far.

I shall conclude with gratitude for the past and a request for the future: just as the Creator of the world has granted us the privilege of bringing out a second edition of this book, a first edition of the second book, and two Midah Tovah books on the principles of interpretation, may He also grant us the merit to publish the two remaining books of the quartet, as well as the rest of the writings in my possession, to magnify and glorify Torah.

Contents

• Preface to the Second Edition
• Contents
• List of Excursuses
• Glossary
• Prologue
• Introduction
• Part One: Basic Concepts and Definitions
• Gate One: Basic Concepts: The Analytic and the Synthetic
  • Chapter 1: Pre-Kantian Dogmatism and the Challenge to It
  • Chapter 2: Kant’s Solution: The Synthetic A Priori
  • Chapter 3: Another Facet of the Analytic and the Synthetic: Forms of Inference and Axiomatic Systems
  • Chapter 4: Forms of Thought and Stances: Analytic and Synthetic
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate One
• Gate Two: Matter and Form: The Thing-in-Itself and Its Appearances
  • Chapter 1: Matter and Form: The Principle of Individuation
  • Chapter 2: Form and Definition: Essential and Accidental Properties
  • Chapter 3: Thought and Cognition
  • Chapter 4: The Linguistic Plane: The Problem of Ostension
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Two
• Part Two: The Analytic and the Synthetic in Historical Perspective: Ideology, Culture, and Philosophy
• Introduction to Part Two
• Gate Three: The Analytic and the Synthetic: Historical Perspective
  • Chapter 1: Historical Overview
  • Chapter 2: Jewish and General Classicism: The Decline of the Generations
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Three
• Gate Four: The Analytic and the Synthetic: Social Worldviews
  • Chapter 1: Equality
  • Chapter 2: Individual and Collective
  • Chapter 3: Tolerance, Openness, and Pluralism
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Four
• Gate Five: The Analytic and the Synthetic in Western Culture: The Postmodern Age
  • Chapter 1: The Analytic-Synthetic Paradoxes in Western Culture
  • Chapter 2: Values
  • Chapter 3: Implications for the Attitude toward the Spiritual Dimension of Reality
  • Chapter 4: Real and Spurious Correlations in Political-Ideological Outlooks in Israel
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Five
• Gate Six: Genuine and Counterfeit Modernism: Postmodernism
  • Chapter 1: The Modernist Critique of Postmodernism
  • Literary Intermezzo: What Does Borges Have to Do with All This?
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Six
• Part Three: Critique of Analyticity
• Introduction to Part Three
• Gate Seven: Against Analyticity: First Move
  • Chapter 1: Analyticity and Concepts of Truth
  • Chapter 2: The Analyticity of Transcendental Arguments
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Seven
• Gate Eight: Against Analyticity: Second Move
  • Chapter 1: Between Deduction, Analogy, and Induction
  • Chapter 2: The Analytic Thinker’s Modes of Defending Deductive Reasoning
  • Chapter 3: The Meaning and Relativity of Axioms
  • Chapter 4: The Failure of Formal Language to Solve Paradoxes
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Eight
• Gate Nine: Against Analyticity: Third Move
  • Chapter 1: Decidability and Completeness of Systems of Thought
  • Chapter 2: Inside the System and Outside It
  • Chapter 3: Gödel’s Theorem: Provability and Truth
  • Chapter 4: Inside the System and Outside It—Once Again
  • Chapter 5: A Historical Note
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Nine
• Gate Ten: Who Is Rational? Does a Pure Analytic Thinker Exist?
  • Chapter 1: The Analytic: Model and Reality
  • Chapter 2: Between Philosophy and Theology
  • Chapter 3: Who Is Rational?
  • Chapter 4: On Definition
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Ten
• Part Four: The Synthetic Position
• Introduction to Part Four
• Gate Eleven: The Synthetic Alternative
  • Chapter 1: The Fundamental Problem of Epistemology: The Distinction between Thought and Cognition
  • Chapter 2: Thought and Cognition: Additional Aspects
  • Chapter 3: Listening Logic
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Eleven
• Gate Twelve: The Synthetic A Priori in a New Sense
  • Chapter 1: Living in Paradox
  • Chapter 2: The Meaning of Negation: Between the Logical and the Analytic
  • Chapter 3: The Logical-Philosophical Meaning of the Distinction between the Logical and the Analytic
  • Chapter 4: Torah Perspectives
  • Chapter 5: Human Thought and Logic
  • Chapter 6: Back to the Synthetic A Priori
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Twelve
• Gate Thirteen: The Synthetic Position in the Study Hall
  • Chapter 1: The Meaning and Character of Torah Study
  • Chapter 2: Halakha and Reality: What Is Halakhic Expertise?
  • Chapter 3: Implications for the Character of Study
  • Chapter 4: The Dilemma of Innocence
  • Summary of the Discussion in Gate Thirteen
• Summary and Conclusions: Constructive Postmodernism
• Epilogue
• Appendix: The Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life
• Bibliography
• Index of Subjects and Names

List of Excursuses

1. Object-Centered and Person-Centered Perspectives in Halakha
2. Punishments Are Not Imposed on the Basis of Logical Inference: Two Types of A Fortiori Reasoning
3. The Concept of Legal Acquisition—Matter and Form
4. What Is a Sukkah (Festival Booth)?
5. Color and Individuation: The Chess-and-Domino Riddle and Quantum Physics
6. A Theological Difficulty
7. The Delivery of a Bill of Divorce and Zeno’s Arrow: Process versus Change of States
8. What Is “Good”?
9. Quantity and Quality
10. The Simplicity of Ostension and the Complexity of Meaning: Halakhic Implications
11. Names in the Torah and in Halakha
12. Using Formal Rules versus Understanding Language: The Chinese Room
13. The Hermeneutic Problem in Halakha: Primary Categories of Damages
14. Between Greece and Israel
15. Individual and Collective in Judaism
16. Halakha’s Relation to Acts Performed under Coercion
17. Spurious Correlations
18. The Mapam-Ratz-Shinui Political-Social Axis (the Meretz Party)
19. Russell’s Theory of Types and a Parallel Analytic Consideration in Talmudic Discussions
20. Mathematical Thought and the Structure of the World
21. The Train to Scotland: God as a Coordinating Factor
22. A Fortiori Reasoning as Syllogism
23. Definition by Extension and by Intension
24. Legal Systems: An Analytic Solution to Life’s Problems
25. The Existence of God: Between Philosophy, Theology, and Religion
26. Abortion and a Woman’s Right to Her Own Body
27. The Usefulness and Meaning of Mathematical Definition: Convexity and Concavity
28. The Problem of Knowledge and Free Choice
29. Positive and Negative Commandments
30. From This Point On, Retroactively
31. Parallel Time Axes
32. It Begins in Negligence and Ends in Unavoidable Circumstances—Two Types of Connection

Glossary

For the reader’s benefit, a short glossary is presented here, defining the main terms that will accompany us throughout the book.

Evidenz — self-evidence. A clear intuitive sense that something is correct.

Ontology — the branch of philosophy that deals with being, that is, with what exists in the world itself, as distinct from epistemology, which deals with questions concerning how we know what exists.

Philosophical idealism — a philosophical doctrine claiming that there are no existing things in the world at all. Everything is a product of human imagination.

Induction — inference from the particular to the general.

Empirical — based on experience.

Empiricism — the belief that experience is the source, usually the only source, of our knowledge.

Analogy — inference from one particular case to another similar case.

Analytic — dissecting; analyzing.

Essentialism — the view that there is a concept in itself, prior to its descriptions and definitions.

A posteriori — based on experience.

Epistemology — the theory of knowledge.

A priori — prior to all experience.

Bokononism — turning the principle that there is no God into a god in itself, one that commands its believers to do whatever they want.

Deduction — inference from the general to the particular; a necessary inference.

Listening logic — according to the Nazir of Jerusalem: a type of deep thought or cognition based on “listening” to the world.

Matter — the object, or the concept in itself, after abstraction from its characteristics.

Analytic thinking (dissecting) — a necessary mode of thought and argument, or one that is logical-mathematical.

Synthetic thinking (composing) — a mode of thought and argument that is not analytic.

Tautology — logical equivalence; a logically necessary proposition.

Transcendental argument — according to Kant: an argument that proves conclusions by showing that they are a necessary condition of human thought and cognition.

Teleological — purposive, as distinct from causal.

Modernism — an approach according to which the world progresses, with the implicit assumption that there are criteria by which progress can be evaluated.

Monad — an autonomous unit that lives in isolation and without influence from its surroundings, operating on the basis of internal principles.

Analytic proposition — a proposition whose predicate is merely an analysis of its subject.

Synthetic proposition — a proposition whose predicate is not merely an analysis of its subject.

Noumena — the world of things-in-themselves.

Synthetic — composing.

Analytic position — a philosophical stance holding that statements are true only when there is an analytic proof showing that they are derivable.

Synthetic position — a philosophical stance holding that non-analytic arguments can be true.

Positivism — a philosophical position according to which one cannot speak about what cannot be defined or proven, whether empirically or rationally. Extreme positivism: what cannot be defined or proven does not exist; it is merely a fiction.

Politically correct (sometimes: PC) — “politically proper” speech, sometimes meant ironically and sometimes seriously. A label for postmodern dictates that do not allow one to state claims containing unequal treatment of a certain group, for example a gender.

Postmodernism — a philosophical position that does not recognize the existence of objective criteria. Postmodernism often appears not on the philosophical plane, but in art and literary criticism and the like.

Phenomena — the world of appearances, that is, things as they are perceived by us and as they appear before our consciousness.

Form — the collection of an object’s or concept’s characteristics.

Conventionalism — the view that concepts are arbitrary definitions established by the community that uses them.

Contingent — accidental, not necessary.

Rationalism — in the philosophical sense: the view that the world can be known through rational considerations. In the everyday sense: acting according to reason.

Theism — belief in God in some philosophical sense, not necessarily a religious one.

Prologue

Achilles, a pluralist and progressive, and his friend the Tortoise, old-fashioned and dogmatic, meet for a friendly conversation at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

Achilles: Greetings, my friend Tortoise. It has been a long time since we last met.

Tortoise: Greetings, Achilles. As you may recall, we first met in ancient Greece, with Zeno of Elea. About two thousand three hundred years later, Lewis Carroll brought us together. About another hundred years after that, we met again in Douglas Hofstadter. And now, barely a little more than twenty years have passed, and here we are again.

Achilles: It seems the intervals between our meetings are growing shorter.

Tortoise: Indeed. Apparently I am beginning to catch up with your pace.

Achilles: Absolutely not! You are still far behind me, in every sense. As for the mathematical question, I explained to you long ago that the intervals between our meetings form a decreasing geometric series with a finite sum, and therefore in the end I will always arrive before you. This time, however, I do not mean the mathematical aspects, which we discussed in our recent meetings, but rather your worldview, which for some reason is also far behind. You and your friends throw me off balance every single time. Why this incessant coercion? Why can we not live a life of creativity and health here, and enjoy freedom of expression? Why do you want to forbid us from running fast on Sundays, and tell us what to eat and what to wear? According to you, we must not eat healthy food or wear sports clothes. My friends and I respect your slow, dogmatic, outdated worldview; respect our views and our way of life as well.

Tortoise: In what way do you respect our worldview?

Achilles: Has anyone from our side ever tried to come and dictate our way of life to your public? Do we come and tell you to hurry on the roads, or alternatively, if you cannot move faster, to refrain from using them? Have we forced you to shed your shells and wear lighter clothes?

Tortoise: In my opinion, usually that is because no one like you is truly convinced that our approach is mistaken—the approach that says one should move slowly and wear armor.

Achilles: And are you and your friends convinced that we are mistaken? On what basis are you so sure that you know the whole truth? Do you have proofs for all your strange beliefs?

Tortoise: Do you yourself have proofs for your own beliefs?

Achilles: Indeed I do not, because there is no such thing as proofs for beliefs and opinions. We have passed beyond the naive age of dogmatic certainties. Beliefs and opinions are each person’s private affair, a subjective feeling. For that reason, in my view, everyone should be allowed to live according to his conscience and understanding. In short: live and let live, or, each person with his own truth.

Tortoise: I disagree with that thesis itself. I think the more accurate sentence would be: each person with my truth.

Achilles: That sounds arrogant, paternalistic, inconsiderate, and morally unjust. I ask again: do you have a monopoly on truth? What proofs make you feel so certain of the correctness of your way?

Tortoise: I think that in order to believe something one does not need proofs. As you said, there are no proofs, in the accepted sense, for any ideology or worldview. With that claim I fully agree. I simply do not agree with the conclusion that if there are no proofs, then there is no truth and no certainty.

Achilles: I am an ardent believer in the god of doubt and compromise. How can you be sure you are right, especially if you yourself are not even claiming to have proofs?

Tortoise: That is precisely the point. I do not accept proof as the exclusive tool for attaining truths or certainties. There are things that seem to me true and binding even though I have no proof for them. Explaining this would take time and would require a separate clarification, but let us return to the question of coercion. Do you agree that, assuming I believe in my principles as binding principles, it would be perfectly reasonable to try to impose them on you as well?

Achilles: I do not agree that they really are binding. But as you wish, let us ignore that issue for the moment and continue the discussion on the assumption that you sincerely believe in the truth of your principles. Even so, I do not think there is moral justification for imposing them on me and my friends.

Tortoise: If I indeed believe in my principles, and as a result conclude that you are making mistakes, why should I not forcibly prevent you from making them?

Achilles: Because it is still possible that you are mistaken.

Tortoise: We already agreed that my assumption says that I am not mistaken, even though I have no proof. Surely you do not mean to claim that such an assumption is immoral. I hold a philosophical position different from yours. There is no difference between us on the moral plane: principles I do not believe in I will not try to impose on you, because I do not believe in them. The question is what about the principles I do believe in? Would you not coerce me in matters in which you believe I am mistaken?

Achilles: The fact is that I do not coerce you, and only you coerce me.

Tortoise: That “fact” can also be debated. But even if we assume you are right, why indeed do you not coerce? If you really believe something, why do you not impose it? In matters about which you are not certain, and in which you feel there is room for other understandings that are no less legitimate, obviously you will not want to impose your view on others. There is no special moral virtue in that. Genuine tolerance exists only when you truly believe something and nevertheless do not impose it on someone else who thinks differently.

Achilles: There are cases in which coercion serves no purpose. Why should I care whether you, or someone else, wear armor?

Tortoise: With that I entirely agree. If there are principles in which you believe, but the other person who errs and does not act in accordance with them causes no harm, either to himself or to others, there is no point in forcing him to act as you think he should. But you will agree with me that here too there is no special moral virtue. Obviously, if no harm is caused to anyone, there is no reason for coercion. I too coerce only when, in my estimation, harm is caused either to the one who errs himself or to others. From my perspective, wearing light clothing may lead to catching cold, and running too fast may lead to a heart attack. You have surely heard of the founder of jogging in Uncle Sam’s wondrous land, who breathed his last while running as a result of a heart attack.

Achilles: I agree that my refraining from coercing you has moral value only if I think you are mistaken, and if I also think, in addition, that your mistake is harmful.

Tortoise: But if those two conditions really are fulfilled, would you truly not coerce me? And if not, why not?

Achilles: Because there is value in a person being autonomous. A person has a right to make mistakes, and sometimes perhaps even to harm himself—at least himself.

Tortoise: Here I can agree, but your words carry the undertone that in such a situation coercion can at least be considered. If the harm is such that you cannot live with it, clearly you will adopt a policy of coercion. For example, if someone is dealing drugs to your son, would you still maintain your tolerant ideology toward him? Or if you saw someone about to commit suicide—and especially if that person were dear to you—would you still behave with the same tolerance?

Achilles: Apparently not. Clearly there are limits.

Tortoise: If so, we agree that coercion makes no sense when I do not believe the imposed principle to be a binding truth, or when violating it causes no harm. By contrast, in the opposite situation—if both of those conditions are present—both of us would generally also consider coercive measures.

Achilles: And yet the reality is that my friends and I do not coerce you, whereas you certainly do bother us.

Tortoise: The only conclusion I can draw is that we believe in our principles, and think that failure to observe them causes harm, whether to the person himself or to his surroundings, and therefore we coerce. In our opinion, someone who does not wear armor may catch cold; someone who runs too fast may harm another person in a traffic accident or may himself suffer a heart attack; and someone who eats healthy food may die of heartbreak because of its terrible taste. As for the fact that you are not inclined to coerce others, it seems to me that so long as you do not feel that different behavior may harm you yourselves, you refrain from coercion for one of two principled reasons: either you do not believe the principle in question to be a binding certainty, or you are not sensitive to the harm I may cause myself, and what troubles you are only the harms that may be caused to you or to those close to you. I see no special moral virtue in that. It is simply indifference to my fate, or to the fate of others in general. In other words, it is egoism. Do you believe that wearing armor, or walking slowly, is plainly mistaken and liable to cause harm? If so, the fact that you do not try to impose the correct behavior on us points either to indifference toward our fate, or to the fact that you do not really believe in the error and harm involved in such behavior.

Achilles: It seems to me that what emerges from our conversation is that the fundamental difference between liberals, who do not impose themselves on others, and clericals, who do, does not lie on the social-ideological plane but on the philosophical one—if we reject the possibility that their liberal behavior stems from ugly indifference to the fate of others. These believe that their truths are binding and objectively valid, and those do not believe that. Or perhaps, in truth, the difference is only one of quantity. Liberals have only a few such truths for which they are willing to impose themselves, whereas you have many.

Tortoise: There is indeed justice in what you say, but you must notice that tolerance—that is, non-coercion—often points to a lack of belief in one’s principles, or to a lack of concern for others. If we do not wish to accuse the enlightened community of runners of lack of concern and injury to basic humanism, we will have to assume that it does not believe in its own principles as binding principles, at least not in a total sense. One who has no certain truths obviously does not coerce others to act in accordance with them. In other words, what usually hides behind your liberal and tolerant humanism is not a moral principle, but a philosophical doctrine that generally does not believe in any certainties. That is the root of the unwillingness, or the prohibition, to behave coercively toward others. You yourself, Achilles, said that you believe in the god of doubt and compromise. The god of compromise may be an ethical god, but the god of doubt is a logical-epistemological god. The connection that is often made between doubt and compromise brings us to the following conclusion: liberalism is generally not a moral stance but a logical-epistemological one.

Achilles: I do not think I agree with that sweeping claim. I think I do not coerce because of a moral principle that says it is preferable for a person to err autonomously than to act correctly because of external coercion. That is a moral principle. For me, the moral principle that one must not coerce is stronger than the concern for the harm caused by the mistake. I do not accept your interpretation as though I have less confidence in my principles, and certainly not less concern for the fate of others.

Tortoise: If so, why, in cases of suicide or drugs, do you and your friends support coercion? Where has autonomy gone? It follows that when you are convinced you are right and that the other person causes harm, either to himself or to others, you do coerce. It turns out, then, that in all the other cases, in order to explain the absence of coercion, it is not enough to believe in the moral principle of the autonomy of the acting person; one must add another assumption, namely that the other person’s harm or error does not appear so unequivocal in your eyes.

This may sound surprising to you, but my friends and I too do not like, and do not wish, to coerce others for no reason. We simply believe firmly in more principles than you and your friends, believers in the god of doubt, are prepared to believe in. In our eyes, violations of those principles can also cause harm. Therefore I repeat and formulate my claim somewhat more gently: at the basis of the liberal position stand logical and epistemological views as well, and not only ethical positions. What distinguishes it from my “dark” and “dogmatic” stance are mainly those views, for I too share the ethical positions regarding the prohibition of unjustified coercion.

Achilles: Could you explain to me a bit more fully this logical-epistemological position which, you claim, lies at the basis of your dogmatic doctrine, and the difference between it and the logical-epistemological position that underlies the liberal outlook? In addition, I am very curious to know whether you can explain what sort of foundation there can be for your belief in principles for which you yourself have no proof whatsoever.

Tortoise: For that purpose I now invite you to begin another race with me. Since we are both already somewhat older than we once were, I will not even ask you for a head start. I am also prepared to show a tolerance that is uncharacteristic of me and those like me, and to agree that each of us remain dressed in the clothing he prefers. My only request is that you persist in running with me, at my pace, until the end of the course, even though it is sometimes long, slow, and winding. My request is that you draw your conclusions and formulate your positions only at the end of the road.

Introduction

On “Wagons,” “Trains,” and “Locomotives”

The title of this book, Two Wagons and a Hot Air Balloon, is a summary of its contents. The two excerpts on the opening page will be connected to one another over the course of the discussion, which in fact attempts to offer a different interpretation of the well-known, and somewhat worn, argument about the emptiness of the “secular wagon.” The book does not deal only with the relationship between the religious “wagon” and the secular one, but broadens the canvas and links them to additional “wagons” on both sides.

This is in fact a confrontation between two “trains,” and not only between two “wagons,” if one may borrow and adapt the accepted terminology. What I mean is that if we look more deeply at the argument between secular and religious people, between left and right, between modernism and postmodernism, between Zionism and post-Zionism, and many other disputes that currently reverberate through our world, we will notice that many of them rest to a large extent on a common conceptual platform. We shall try to show that two basic worldviews usually underlie these ideologies, and that it is these that face one another in many of the disputes just mentioned.

Through discussion of historical, social, cultural, philosophical, and Torah perspectives, the book presents a picture of these two “trains” facing one another. The two ideational forces, or basic forms of thought (“the locomotives”), that underlie many of the conflicts (“the train cars”) we are witnessing today, are presented and analyzed throughout the book. For reasons that will become clear later, they are called “the analytic position” and “the synthetic position.”

The book is built in four parts. These two basic positions are presented in the first two parts of the book. In the first part we shall present their philosophical foundations, and in the second we shall see their various expressions in the ideological-cultural world of our time. In the third part a critique of the analytic position will be presented, and in the fourth and concluding part the synthetic alternative will be proposed. There are many additional implications to the discussion conducted here, but because of limited space I chose not to enter into them.

The Emptiness of the “Empty Wagon” and the “Hot Air Balloon”

The first excerpt on the title page, taken from tractate Sanhedrin in the Babylonian Talmud, was used by the Hazon Ish when Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion visited him in Bnei Brak. The purpose of the visit, held on the first day of Heshvan 5713 (1952), was to try to clarify the possibilities for shared life between the religious-ultra-Orthodox public and the secular public in the young State of Israel. The Hazon Ish’s argument was that the wagon of the religious public is a full wagon, loaded with all the cargo of Jewish creativity and culture throughout the generations—a cargo that is primarily religious—whereas the secular wagon is empty, at least of Jewish cargo. And just as in the talmudic passage above the empty ship is required to yield in an encounter that may lead to collision, so too in the situation created in the State of Israel the secular wagon is required to yield to the religious wagon in the conflicts that arise between them.

This argument moved to the center of public discussion more than thirty years after that meeting. Amos Oz, who it seems to me was the one who reintroduced this statement of the Hazon Ish into public consciousness,¹ and many others, claim that they cannot forgive Ben-Gurion for his lack of response, which may be interpreted as agreement with the argument about the emptiness of the secular wagon.

Against the background of increasingly acute conflicts between these two groups, or wagons, many claims are now being raised that challenge the idea that the secular wagon is empty. Part of the secular public claims a different, yet legitimate, interpretation of Judaism. Another part claims that it indeed has no Jewish cargo, and does not pretend to constitute a continuation of historical Judaism. Both groups claim that their wagon is not empty, but loaded with different cargo.

This is the background to the first half of the title given to this book: Two Wagons.²

Here we arrive at the second part of the book’s title, and the second pole of the discussion: the hot air balloon. The story of the hot air balloon in the second excerpt on the opening page contains much more than a somewhat humorous description of a mathematician. It contains philosophical depth, and clarifying that depth is one of the aims of this book. The two characteristics of the mathematician noted in the story—namely, the precision of his assertions and their lack of usefulness—are not independent of one another. The deep connection between them will be clarified in the first gate of the book, through the claim known in philosophical circles as “the emptiness of the analytic.” That claim says, in effect—if one uses a not entirely careful formulation—that every assertion that is necessarily true is empty of content, that is, not useful. In other words: something that is perfectly precise necessarily says nothing.

Einstein once said something similar about geometry: “As far as geometry is certain, it does not deal with facts; and as far as it deals with facts, it is not certain.”³ We shall return to this point again and again later.

At this point, the connection to the emptiness of the wagon mentioned above may begin to appear. The hot-air-balloon joke serves here as an interpretation of the emptiness of the wagon in the first excerpt. The deeper meaning of this emptiness is not emptiness of values, or of any specific content, Jewish or otherwise. It is emptiness of certainty, or of truth in its classical and profound sense.

For that reason, the offense many people feel when they hear the metaphor of the “empty wagon” is also unjustified. There is no disparagement here of the secular position, as though it referred to people who are somehow inferior. There are bad people and good people in both the religious camp and the secular camp. In this book I shall try to show that the description of secularism as an “empty wagon” refers to “emptiness” in the philosophical sense, and not to “emptiness” in the human-moral sense.

The Importance of a Meta-Ideological and Meta-Cultural Philosophical Analysis

I would like to add one more important remark in order to clarify one of the motives for writing this book. I firmly believe that at the foundation of ideological, or social-historical, processes stand abstract ideas. These are basic forms of thought, or philosophical structures, that are sometimes clearly and openly present on the surface, and sometimes hidden beneath it. I do not wish to claim that every person who carries an ideology, or acts according to it, is a conscious philosopher, that is, someone who acts knowingly out of philosophical motives. I mean only to say that such a philosophical root exists, even if it is sometimes unconscious. Focusing awareness on it can help explain many phenomena that accompany the ideology or social phenomenon under discussion.

In my opinion, one who does not agree with such a way of looking at things pulls the ground from beneath the possibility of conceptual argument between sides or groups that disagree with one another. What remains for us is only the possibility of a crude struggle for power.

A reader who belongs to those who believe such debates are worthwhile will surely find interest in an analysis of the different approaches on the philosophical, meta-ideological plane. Such an analysis adds a better understanding of the processes, and may perhaps also contribute to a somewhat more intelligent discussion between the sides. In this way, one can clarify and sharpen the points of disagreement and discuss them directly, thereby getting rid of a great deal of demagogic verbiage whose contribution to the discussion is generally negative.

One of the central claims of the book is that many of the sharpest public debates currently taking place in Israel, as well as in the wider world—between right and left, both in their global and Israeli forms, between religious and secular people, and even between modernity and postmodern approaches—have a very similar conceptual structure. The three ideas—right-wing, modernist, and religious—rest on a base of very similar patterns of thought. The same is true of the three ideas standing on the other side of the barricades, which, in our argument, are in fact one barricade: left-wing, postmodern, and secular.

A large part of the book deals with questions that are, ostensibly, philosophical and abstract, and do not seem relevant to understanding events and outlooks in the world around us. As argued above, I do not think that is true. The roots of processes in the real and practical world are anchored in the meta-ideological, philosophical world. One of the aims of the book, among others, is to show and substantiate that very claim. I shall also try to show that from such a perspective one can arrive at a deeper understanding of ideological correlations between different positions which, from a superficial perspective, sometimes seem baffling.

Judaism, Modernism, and Postmodernism

The philosophical conflict between modernism and postmodernism, which to the best of my knowledge has not yet received sufficiently deep discussion and analysis—at least in Hebrew—is the one conducted on the plane closest to meta-ideology, and to a large extent it is the most fundamental of the three. This explains the book’s subtitle, which presents the two antithetical poles of the debate, at least in its Jewish-Israeli context, as Judaism and postmodernism. An analysis of this claim, which will be undertaken in greater detail later, will also clarify the relationship between the definitions of the worldviews called “right” and “left” in the wider world and their Israeli counterparts, which at first glance seem very different from one another.

At first glance it seems that modernism is the opposite of religiosity, and that postmodernity is the opposite of analytic-rational thought, which demands proofs for every claim—certainly the opposite of positivism, which is an extreme expression of such an approach. One of the central conclusions of the discussion in this book, which may seem surprising at this stage, is that these superficial identifications are not correct. We shall try to show that precisely religious worldviews are the natural, and perhaps the only, basis for modernism, and that precisely positivism is the plausible basis for the development of postmodernism.

Some of the disputes mentioned above are based on different assumptions held by the participating sides, both on the plane of principle and on the plane of the very form of discourse and the modes of discussion themselves. In such a case there is no chance of substantive discussion unless it is conducted at the level of the underlying assumptions.

Even if both sides come to terms with the fact that they do not reach agreement, the discussion about how to live together must at the very least be conducted with agreed-upon tools. For that reason it is very important to clarify whether such tools exist at all. Usually, as this book seeks to argue, even the tools of this meta-discussion are not agreed upon. This leads to many painful misunderstandings between the sides, and illuminating the assumptions that underlie them may perhaps dull some of that pain.

At the basis of this mode of description, of two “trains” with an ideational “locomotive” pulling many “cars,” lies a conflict between two positions with a very broad and fundamental spectrum: the synthetic one, which claims that there is binding truth—or, in another formulation, that there is objective and binding certainty—and opposite it, the analytic one, which claims that each person has his own truth.

The terminology “analytic-synthetic” is borrowed from Kantian philosophy, and it will be clarified and defined more fully in the first gate. I would add that, in my opinion, the original intention of the Hazon Ish in his remarks to Ben-Gurion mentioned above was very close to the interpretation presented here.⁴

The worldview that led me to this way of looking at the ideational events and developments around me is built on an understanding, at a more basic and fundamental level, of Judaism and its significance. The position represented by Judaism, from the confrontation with the Greek conqueror in the Hasmonean period down to our own day, is a synthetic position that rejects the analytic one, which was represented by the Greeks, as we shall see in the third gate. To show the contrast between these two worldviews, I shall discuss various issues both in general philosophy and in halakha and Jewish thought, and I shall propose different interpretations in both domains. The parallel course of the analytic-synthetic conflict in Jewish history and culture, and in general culture as well, will also be described and illustrated in the third gate.

Apologies

1. The ordinary reader may feel resistance to the identification made here between secularism and analyticity—the absence of certain truths—and likewise to each of the other identifications made here. In the course of the book I shall try to justify these correlations in detail, and perhaps also to point to their partial nature. See the introduction to Part Two, its concluding chapter, and Gate Ten.
2. A large portion of the ideas, even if this may not be apparent from reading the text itself, is not original with me, and wherever I can I shall give references to relevant sources. The list of sources is by no means complete, nor does it pretend to be. I myself do not always remember, or am not even aware, that this or that idea is not my own, and what its source is. My apologies to the sources of the ideas and to the readers alike.
3. I hesitated whether to focus in a religious direction and discuss mainly Torah aspects, since in my opinion the insights presented in the book have far-reaching implications even within the study hall, or in a secular direction, shifting the focus of the discussion toward the social and philosophical sphere. The decision, as reflected in the book, was not to decide. This book addresses both directions. To the best of my faith and outlook, philosophy and Torah are not separate disciplines, and the formation of a Jewish worldview, as well as a general one, requires deep discussion of both. I think and hope that the picture emerging from the book shows that there is mutual enrichment in the parallel study of these fields. The conclusions of the discussion, as noted, have important implications for all sides.

Because this was my aim, I tried to present all the topics in a way that would be understandable even to someone lacking prior background in them. I hope this decision will be received with understanding also by those readers who, because of their familiarity with one or more of these fields, may sometimes feel that the length is unnecessary. Despite what has just been said, I believe and hope that each reader will be able to benefit from reading and following the entire course of the argument.

Structure of the Book

The book is accompanied by local expansions of the discussion, which are called “excursuses.” Whenever a topic, or an implication of the discussion, or an example that could help illuminate it, required a long and detailed treatment—whether in philosophy, halakha, or any other field—which would interrupt the flow of the argument, and yet seemed to me important and interesting, I did not forgo it. These excursuses are printed as separate sections, in a different typeface, and are numbered consecutively. A reader who is not interested, or who at first wishes to skip the excursuses in order to preserve the continuity of reading, can generally do so, except in places where otherwise indicated.

I shall now briefly sketch the structure of the book. This book does not deal with one specific concrete problem. Rather, it tries, through one long line of argument, to present an overall worldview, to explain by means of it an entire cluster of cultural, social, and ideological phenomena, and even to take a stand with respect to them. The skeleton of the argument consists of four parts, each divided into gates. Each gate is divided into chapters. The excursuses are woven throughout the book and are numbered consecutively. At the end of each gate there is a concise summary presenting the main conclusions that arise from that gate. This summary can serve the reader as a quick review before, or during, the reading of the following gates.

The first part deals with basic definitions and concepts. The first gate presents the Kantian concepts “analytic” and “synthetic,” and defines the way they are used in the argument of this book. Here we shall distinguish between the two basic types of thinking with which we are concerned. This gate contains mainly standard material, and there are not many innovations in it beyond the very definition of these positions, but it serves as a necessary introduction to what follows. Throughout the book, in other contexts as well, use will be made of details of the discussion that appear almost incidentally in this gate.

The second gate will present the epistemological implications of the two positions introduced in the first gate at the logical level. There we shall identify three philosophical issues that are not usually perceived as related to one another. These issues also belong to historical periods and conceptual systems that, on their face, seem remote and utterly different. The first is the issue of matter and form—or, in another formulation, substance and accident—in Greek and medieval philosophy. The second is the issue of the thing-in-itself, or of phenomena and noumena in Kantian terminology. The last is the issue of ostension in modern analytic philosophy. This gate, together with its predecessor, constitutes a kind of introduction to the body of the argument presented beginning with Part Two.

The second part deals with presenting the historical development of the two basic positions and their expressions on the ideological plane. Here we shall also arrive at a description of present-day social-ideological processes in the Western world in general, and in Israel in particular, and propose a meta-ideological analysis of them in the terms defined in Part One. We shall point to connections among the ideological pairs, the “train cars,” briefly discussed above. Parallel movements in Western history in general and Jewish history in particular, driven by the ongoing conflict between analytic and synthetic positions, will also be presented here. This part provides the practical and contemporary motivation for the philosophical discussion. We shall try to show the implications of the philosophical discussion for understanding the real world around us.

In the first two parts, the discussion presents two positions facing one another, both on the philosophical plane and on the social-ideological one, without taking a stand or explicitly justifying either of them. In the third part we shall begin to take a stand on the questions raised earlier. The heart of this part consists of three parallel moves of critique directed at the analytic position. The tenth gate, which concludes the part, will discuss the relationship between rationality and analyticity.

In the fourth part the synthetic alternative is proposed. We shall try to characterize it, and to examine the implications of adopting it from both philosophical and Torah perspectives. In this part we shall try to ground and substantiate the importance and validity of this kind of thinking, and to show that one cannot ignore this part of thought, even though many tend to repress it.

We shall conclude the body of our discussion with a chapter offering a summary and conclusions from the entire discussion.

In the epilogue Achilles and the Tortoise meet again, after the race, and the Tortoise presents a more personal perspective on the significance of the entire move.

At the end of the book there is an appendix containing a critique of parts of Yuval Steinitz’s book The Tree of Knowledge. This critique will set the analytic approach against the synthetic one—whose confrontation is, as noted, the axis of the book’s discussion—and will clarify a number of essential points that arose throughout the “race.”

Acknowledgments

This book is the fruit of the crystallization of thoughts over many years, and therefore the people to whom I owe thanks belong to different periods and different spheres of my life. I wish here to express my gratitude to some of them, without whom it is doubtful that this book would have seen the light.

First, to my teacher and rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Reichenberg of Yeshivat Netivot Olam in Bnei Brak, who devoted many hours to me, and from whom I learned most of what little Torah learning I possess.

Second, to my three good friends, very different from one another, with each of whom I spent many hours in discussion and study on various topics: Amnon Levav, Rafi Maayan, and Nadav Shnerb.

Third, to my students and friends from whom I have learned much in recent years at the academy in Yeruham that combines Torah study with military service. To the head of the academy, Rabbi Eliyahu Blumenzweig; its administrator, Shmulik Ben Shalom; the faculty rabbis Uriel Eitam, Yair Yaakovi, Nir Weinberg, Avi Blidstein, Meir Kahane, Yoel Rabinovitz, and David Aronovsky. And finally, all the students who listened with patience and interest, and also asked questions and made important comments.

Among my teachers and friends at the university, I would like to thank especially Professor Moshe Gitterman of the Physics Department at Bar-Ilan University, a man with much soul—though as a materialist he will probably deny this simple fact—from whom I learned much, not necessarily in the areas discussed here, and from whom I also received considerable help. Shuki Glazer, my longtime friend, also deserves thanks.

My thanks to my friend Avi Varshavsky of Yeruham, who devoted no little time, much knowledge, and much ability to a critical reading of one of the book’s last drafts. He made many useful comments to me, most of which are incorporated into the present version.

My wife, Dafna, showed patience and forbearance throughout the writing, and in our life together generally. I hope, and am sure, that this patience will continue to stand by both her and me in the future as well.

I would also like to thank the rest of the family: my mother, Eva Avraham, and my father- and mother-in-law, Amram and Arela Dror, who help us without ceasing.

There are many others to whom I owe thanks in various matters, and “I cannot list them here, for they are many.” My thanks to them all.

I also wanted to record here the memory of my good friend from youth, Rami Buchris, of blessed memory, who fell in the line of duty in the Israel Defense Forces at about the age of twenty-one. It was clear to me, as to all his friends, that he was destined for greatness, and he would no doubt have appeared in a place of honor in the list above. Sadly, we did not merit that. In addition, I would like to recall the memory of his father, Ephraim Buchris, of blessed memory, a man of many deeds, a teacher and educator of generations of students and teachers. Like many others, I too learned much from both of them. May their memory be blessed.

This book is dedicated to the memory and elevation of the soul of my father and teacher, George Avraham, of blessed memory—a teacher, educator, and principal, admired by thousands of students and a polymath. Beyond many other things, he taught me not to suffice with the surface level of what I see, but to examine things from as many angles as possible. Sadly, I did not have the privilege of continuing to learn from him because of his untimely passing on 19 Sivan 5744 (1984). May his memory be blessed.

Prayer

To conclude this opening, nothing is more fitting than to offer the prayer of Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah, recited when a person enters the study hall:

May it be Your will, Lord my God and God of my fathers, that no mishap come about through me, and that I not stumble in a matter of halakha, and that my colleagues rejoice in me. And may I not declare the impure pure, nor the pure impure; nor the permitted forbidden, nor the forbidden permitted. And may my colleagues not stumble in a matter of halakha, and may I rejoice in them. For the Lord grants wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding. Open my eyes, that I may behold wonders from Your Torah.

(Shulchan Arukh, Orach Chayim 110)

Footnotes