Gate Four: Analyticity and Syntheticity in the History of Ideas

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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The Analytic and the Synthetic: Social Worldviews

This gate contains three chapters.

1. Equality
2. The Individual and the Collective
3. Tolerance, Openness, and Pluralism

Introduction

In Chapter 1 of the previous gate, we presented a historical perspective on the transition from analytic thought to synthetic thought. The peak of the dominance of analytic thought on the abstract plane was the development of the analytic approach in philosophy, alongside positivism in science and in the philosophy of science. This marks the end of adolescence—the second stage—in the development of Western civilization.

This claim leads us to a discussion on the social-ideological level of that same process. In this gate we will discuss the implications of analytic and synthetic positions on the ideological-value plane.

If the philosophical discussion is relevant only to thin layers of intellectual elites, the ideological discussion is expressed in much broader public circles. In this gate we will try to discern, through the central ideas prevalent in our contemporary world, indications of the abstract forms of thought described thus far. I will repeat my assumption that development on the abstract planes—philosophy, art, literature, and science—is what leads society as a whole. Sometimes there is a time gap between the stage at which the process stands on its philosophical level and the stage at which its social-ideological level appears. But, as we shall see, there is a clear correlation between the two planes, and one follows the other.

This gate deals with ideas as such, somewhat with their historical development, and hardly at all with their appearance in our contemporary world—except insofar as this is necessary to understand and illustrate the ideas under discussion. The next gate is devoted to our own period. The perspective recommended to the reader is to see what follows as an introduction to the contemporary description that will come there. After the previous gate presented a historical perspective on the development of the present world, this gate will attempt to understand thoroughly the roots of the fundamental values—equality, tolerance, openness, and the like—that prevail within it.

After these two introductions, in the next gate we will be able to attempt to diagnose the significance of the appearance of these values in today’s Western world, and to understand the philosophical roots of movements, positions, and processes in contemporary culture.

Chapter 1: Equality

The Concept of Liberal Democracy

The central social-ideological myth of the twentieth century is equality. We saw that according to the analytic approach, each of us has equal ideological, cultural, and intellectual standing, and there is no rational way to decide who is better, or more correct. The only requirement is consistency with one’s premises, and there is no need at all to justify the premises themselves. It clearly follows that we should all be equal, receive equal rights and equal status, and in particular equal weight in political and social decisions. From here the democratic idea naturally grows.

At first glance, there is not much logic in such a view. It would seem far more reasonable to let the wiser among us determine the lines of political and social policy. Why should a wise and educated person and a foolish, uneducated person have equal influence over the character, structure, and policy of society or the state? The model of a “council of sages,” or “great Torah authorities,” or Plato’s “rule of the philosophers,” sounds far more reasonable. Wise people see farther and more accurately, and therefore they will also make better decisions.

It is quite clear that the liberal-democratic outlook, which grants every human being equal rights to influence the structure and form of society, usually derives from an analytic conception. According to this view, as we have seen, there is no way at all to decide who is wiser, or who is more right.¹ Anyone who acts on the basis of certain principles and succeeds in remaining consistent is considered to have equal standing with anyone else. No one is more right or less right. At most, there are different interests.

In our cultural world one hears many statements such as: “Who said you are right? Maybe he is the one who is right.” Or: “No one has a monopoly on ___.” The blank in that sentence can be filled with all kinds of concepts and principles, such as truth, justice, Judaism, Zionism, socialism, economic understanding, morality, and so on.

This liberal conception was indeed conceived and born in earlier centuries, but it reached its full force, and full acceptance, in the twentieth century.² The correlation between analyticity in philosophy and science, and liberalism in culture and ideology, clearly testifies to the analytic roots of these cultural-ideological phenomena.

The Social “Right” and “Left”

It is worth noting that equality between two things, or between two positions, can arise in two ways. There is a situation in which I positively recognize that they are equal. In contrast, there is a situation in which, in the absence of knowledge, I assume such equality. In statistical calculations, for example, the basic assumption is that all events about which I have no information are equally probable. There, equality stems precisely from lack of information; in fact, this is almost always the case, since the chance that two different things will be exactly equal in any positive sense is very small. In the language of the Sages: “exact coincidence is impossible.”³

The same is true regarding the view of equality among human beings. There are two parallel ways to arrive at such a view. One can believe in the intrinsic value of every human being as such, and infer from that the equality that ought to prevail among all people. Or one can assume that since I have no indication that one human being is preferable to another—and especially if I do not recognize, in principle, the existence of such criteria—I have no choice but to behave according to the assumption that all have equal standing. This criterion is closer to statistical equality, which is based on lack of knowledge, than to a positive belief in human worth. The positive egalitarian conception is manifestly synthetic, whereas the second belongs to the analytic camp.

In this context one should distinguish between an approach that advocates equal rights for all human beings as such, and an approach that holds that all different positions are equally valid. The social left tries to connect these two planes, even though there is not necessarily any essential link between them.

It is important to emphasize that many people claim to believe positively in human worth—that is, to believe in equality for ostensibly synthetic reasons. But the truth is that their conception of equality is based primarily on the absence of any criteria for deciding questions of preference, and there are several indications of this fact (see below, in Gate Six). In what follows, we will try to point to this fact and substantiate our claim. We shall see that the modernist belief in equality is generally based on an analytic stance—that is, it is a negative, passive equality, not a positive one. We shall see that this is usually the case even among those who do not admit it.

The astonishing transformation of analytic equality—negative in its essence—into a positive, ostensibly synthetic value will also be discussed below. It is a symptom of a more general phenomenon that will later be called “Bokononism.”

Surprisingly, a similar phenomenon occurs on both sides of the social divide that was considered the highest barrier of the twentieth century: the divide between the social right and the social left. The socialist wing, called the “left,”⁴ whose extreme pole is communism, advocates an extremely egalitarian outlook, maintaining that all human beings should be equal in education, learning, and the means of production and economic acquisition. In contrast, the capitalist-liberal wing, called the “right,” also upholds values of equality among human beings. Capitalism—even in its harshest form—is based, at root, on the right of every individual to make use of the goods, abilities, and status that he has lawfully attained, without interference from the institutions of society or any of its members.⁵ In this sense, both dominant Western approaches have analytic roots. Both maintain that everyone is equal and that no one has the right to interfere with another or rob him of his rights, or that no one is superior to anyone else. The fierce dispute between them concerns only the question of what counts as forbidden intervention, and what those rights are—not the fundamental principle itself, that there should be equality among human beings.

Fascism—that is, the outlook that places society, or the state, or in fact some collective principle, above the individual (or above another collective)—is what represents true syntheticity on the modern map. Of course, this does not mean that the synthetic root must be identified specifically with the extreme part of fascism, which arouses in most of us, and justifiably, feelings of revulsion. Every form of nationalism is, in a certain sense, like this, and all the more so militant nationalism. In fact, every kind of chauvinism—even one not appearing in a national or nationalist context—is of this kind.

According to our definitions here, one could say that this is also the true right. Capitalism is called “right” relative to communism-socialism because it ostensibly gives a more central place to the individual and prohibits harming him more strongly. But, as we noted, a similar principle of individual equality also stands at the basis of communist ideology. Communism was founded, at root, for the welfare of the individual, and in fact its entire aim was the achievement of full equality for him.⁶

In light of this, one may determine that there is a more essential axis along which we should place the divide under discussion here—perhaps only a similar divide, but a more fundamental one. The divide between left and right is only an external expression of the philosophical divide between the analytic and the synthetic. This seems a more meaningful and principled plane, and it is through it that we should examine the ideological struggles discussed here. On one side, the analytic side, stand communism together with capitalism, both of which express different interpretations of the value of equality, and both treat it as a supreme and total value. On the other side, the synthetic side, stand nationalism (with fascism as its extreme expression), and alongside it religion.

It is clear that egalitarian approaches are more universalist, since the differences between societies and cultures—even if they exist—are neither significant nor objective. Fascism, by contrast, is the antithesis of this universalism, because it posits differences between nations and societies in extreme fashion. At the basis of the dispute lies the philosophical question: are there criteria by which to determine such preferences, or not?

The Connection to Modernism and Postmodernism

Modernism is a position that believes in the ability to classify and compare societies, ideas, or periods. Usually the conclusion of the comparison will be that the modern is superior—spiritually, intellectually, and so on. Postmodernism is a position that denies the possibility of comparing ideas, or different societies. Every idea, or society, must be measured only from its own basic assumptions. These are brief and schematic definitions, suited to our purposes here. We will discuss this in greater detail below.

Fascism, and also religion, on this basic plane, are parallel to modernism, because both of these outlooks, by virtue of distinguishing among different societies—and preferring certain societies on a national or religious basis—believe in the existence of objective criteria for comparing and evaluating different societies or periods relative to one another. This is the common basis of modernism, nationalism, and religion, as was already noted in the introduction to this book. All these outlooks, because of their belief in some idea, place the idea above the individual who is supposed to realize it. By contrast, postmodernism, universalism (the left), and secularity, as a result of the absence of belief in any higher idea, place the individual at the center while rejecting every ideology whatsoever.⁷ The status of the individual stands at the center of the next chapter.

Chapter 2: The Centrality of the Individual

The Individual at the Center

As noted, the picture described in the previous chapter reflects another essential fact in contemporary Western culture: not only is no truth preferable to another, but as a direct result of this, the individual becomes central. The individual is the purpose of political or social association, not the association itself. By contrast, when one attributes objective validity to some ideology, it binds all individuals. In such a state of affairs, an ideological society is created that becomes an end in itself and, in many senses, subordinates its members for the sake of the ideology or the group. Often it stands in confrontation with other associations. In such a situation, the group or the collective is what stands at the center. This is the essence of the connection between the two planes: the attitude toward objective and overarching truths, and the relationship between the individual and the collective.

In our era, sometimes called the age of the shattering—or end—of ideologies, we are witnessing a strong tendency to build a society intended solely for the service of the individual who belongs to it. Today ideological societies are almost nowhere to be found. Even someone who believes in some ideology regards it with reservations, as binding only on himself. He generally does not see it as an objective truth that binds other individuals. Ideology—and certainly faith and religion—remain entirely within the private sphere. A total ideology, like an intolerant religion that is perceived as binding on all society, will often in our environment—and most of the time far too easily—receive the label “fascism.”

Although, as noted above, the term “fascism” is sometimes attached far too easily, it should be noted that this is not merely empty demagoguery. There is a real connection here. As we have seen, fascism has much in common with such positions: they are all based on a synthetic philosophical stance. The demagoguery in such an identification lies only in the negative connotation attached to it, which is based on identifying syntheticity with the extreme manifestations of fascism. Western culture, by way of rejecting every total ideology, has arrived at a worldview that places the individual at the center. As stated, on the deeper, philosophical plane, it was the rejection of certainty as such—that is, analyticity—that led to this. This is also why every synthetic position is identified with a fascist outlook and is perceived as a danger to society, for in truth every synthetic position contains something that threatens equality as a total value—which, as noted, is the sharpest and clearest expression of an analytic position—and threatens the status and centrality of the individual. Hence many devotees of analytic equality fear that syntheticity may lead to violent action in order to impose the specific ideology it advocates. It should be noted that according to this worldview, only a person who believes in nothing is not dangerous to those around him. We will discuss this in more detail below.⁸

Above we saw that communism, like liberalism and capitalism, also places the individual at the center of the social structure. According to the communist conception as well, society is intended to achieve more equal and better lives for individuals. That is, communism too—which ostensibly appears to be an ideology that puts society at the center and subordinates the individual to it—actually is nothing of the kind. This is merely a mirage, arising from a temporary association of individuals in order to arrive at a state in which each of them enjoys complete well-being.

Still, it would seem impossible to ignore the fact that communism is, ostensibly, a problem for the picture drawn in this chapter. Communism demanded that the individuals within it be subordinate and enslaved to the ideology, and in that sense it appears specifically to belong to the right-wing—synthetic—pole of the ideological map drawn here. The truth advocated by communism bound all individuals, and there was even an attempt to attach the rest of the world, even against its will, to this binding ideology. This is, apparently, a distinctly synthetic position.

Let us add that communism presents us with several further paradoxes, and many pens have already been broken in attempts to decipher them. For example, the relation between nationalism and universalism: Soviet communism called for the supranational unification of the working class against the exploiting classes, and at the same time developed a strong Russian national feeling. Communism also opposed every religion, and on the other hand itself possessed various aspects of a religion. Out of the desire to realize equality and achieve welfare for every human being as such, communists imprisoned, tortured, and killed everyone regarded as endangering the idea or the communist regime. I do not wish to analyze all these paradoxes here. The reader is referred to the beginning of Gate Five, where we shall see that parallel paradoxes also exist in the liberal West. There we will also examine the source of these paradoxes. The discussion continues in the third unit, where we will use these paradoxes to attack the analytic position in its various forms.

The Meta-Ideological Level of Centering the Individual: Between Ideology and Ontology⁹

The conception that places the individual at the center of the map is expressed even more extremely on the philosophical, meta-ideological plane. It turns out that this ideology has an abstract philosophical root. The metaphysical-ontological root—that is, the root in one’s approach to reality—of the ideology of equality, and of placing the individual at the center, is an ontological stance according to which society is not an existing entity, but only a collection of private entities. Only those really exist. Society, or the group, according to analytic ontology, is a fiction. In Gate Two we already noted that analyticity determines a conventionalist attitude toward all abstract concepts, and the attitude toward society or the group is only another example of this phenomenon. Society and group are no more than products of an agreement about language use. They are not entities in the world as such; these terms have no ontological basis or root.

Hegel advocated a different conception. He related to collective entities as actually existing entities, and indeed the analytic philosophy that came after him generally disagrees with him on this matter.

In the following note I will present examples of the Jewish conception of this meta-ideological stance. The prevalent Jewish conception resembles the Hegelian one, though of course it developed many years before Hegel.

Note 15: The Individual and the Collective in Judaism

In the body of our discussion, I described an ontological conception that sees the individual as real and the collective as an ontological fiction, and upon it rests the ideological conception that places the individual at the center. In contrast, one can find in the Torah and in Jewish halakha (Jewish law) a different conception, on both planes. In this note I wish to point to several consequences of this metaphysical-ontological difference. Let me state at the outset that this is a conception according to which the collective is not a technical aggregate of all its components, but an independent entity. Almost no one denies the existence of the individual as such—at least in the accepted senses of the term “existence”—and the dispute concerns only the ontological status of the collective.

In the prevalent Jewish conception, every human being has two faces, deriving from two different dimensions that exist within him: he exists and functions as an individual, but he also exists and serves as an organ within the Hegelian organism called the “collective” or the “community.” Any examination of the human being must take both dimensions into account.

1. In Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah, Laws of Repentance, chapter 3, he writes:

Every single human being has merits and sins. One whose merits exceed his sins is righteous; one whose sins exceed his merits is wicked; one whose merits and sins are evenly balanced is intermediate. And so too with a state: if the merits of all its inhabitants exceed their sins, it is righteous; if their sins exceed their merits, it is wicked. And so too with the whole world.

A person whose sins exceed his merits dies immediately because of his wickedness, as it is said, “because of the greatness of your iniquity.” So too, a state whose sins are many is immediately destroyed, as it is said, “The outcry of Sodom and Gomorrah is great.” And so too the whole world: if their sins exceed their merits, they are immediately destroyed, as it is said, “The Lord saw that the wickedness of humankind was great.”

Here Maimonides presents several levels of entities that are judged according to their spiritual state: the individual, the state, and the whole world. He returns to this in law 4 there, in the context of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. From this picture there follows the possibility that an individual will be acquitted in judgment and yet punished because of the state of the collective of which he is a part. This is the complete opposite of the modern conception, which holds that collective punishment has no place in a proper society. As stated, this conception derives from a philosophical stance that sees society as an ontological fiction rather than a real entity, and regards only the individual as truly existing.

It should be added that the Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 43b, somewhat qualifies the relation between the individual and the collective. Although it states there that all Israel are punished for the sins of individuals, because “all Israel are responsible for one another” (Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 27b), this is only in a case where they could have prevented those individuals from sinning. When hidden sins are involved—sins that society could not have known about and could not have prevented—there is no collective responsibility and therefore no collective punishment. In the language of the verse in the portion Nitzavim: “The hidden things belong to the Lord our God, but the revealed things are for us and for our children.”

2. In Laws of Repentance 6:5 we again see such a conception:

…Does it not say in the Torah, “They will enslave them and afflict them”? Thus it decreed that the Egyptians would do evil. And does it not say, “This people will rise up and go astray after the foreign gods of the land”? Thus it decreed that Israel would worship stars and constellations. So why were they punished? Because it was not decreed about any particular known person that he would be the one who goes astray. Rather, each and every one of those who went astray after idolatry—had he not wished to worship, he would not have worshipped…. And so too with the Egyptians: each and every one of those who oppressed and harmed Israel—had he not wished to harm them, he had the freedom not to do so. For it was not decreed about any specific individual; it merely made known that in the end his descendants would be enslaved in a land not theirs….

Maimonides determines here that sometimes the Holy One, blessed be He, decrees in advance how a certain people will behave, while every individual member still retains full freedom of choice. The determination applies to the people as a whole, not to the collection of individuals. The Egyptians will enslave Israel, but no Egyptian as an individual was obliged to take part in it. Israel as a collective will worship idols, but no individual is compelled to participate. From here emerges a conception according to which the state of the collective, and the relation to it, are not derived from the state of the individuals and the relation to them, and vice versa. There is here an independent relation to the collective, not merely as the sum of the individuals. This is a striking example of the claim made at the opening of this note: the group is an entity in its own right.¹⁰

3. In halakha there are commandments imposed on the community, such as appointing a king, blotting out Amalek, communal offerings, and many others. In Rabbi Saadia Gaon’s Sefer HaMitzvot, in the edition of Rabbi Yerucham Perla, the entire third section is devoted to this type of commandment. Who is to be found guilty for failing to fulfill such a commandment? Or alternatively: what is the entity that fulfilled it? Here again we see that a community is a legal entity upon which obligations are imposed that are not derived from the obligations imposed on individuals.

4. There are views in halakha according to which a father’s oath does not bind his sons (see, for example, the responsum of the Rosh, section 5, and Shulchan Arukh, Yoreh De’ah 228:35). Even so, we find in the Torah itself oaths sworn by the people of Israel that bind all subsequent generations to uphold them.

Rabbi Meir Dan Plotzki, in his book Kli Hemdah (on Nitzavim, section 2), explains that when a collective accepts something upon itself by oath, this binds all generations, even according to the views mentioned above. The reason is that the obligation of later generations to uphold the oath does not derive from the authority of someone else. The collective itself is obligated to uphold the oath, and therefore everyone belonging to that collective is automatically obligated as well.

The author of Turei Zahav (the Taz), on the Shulchan Arukh there, explains that the inability to bind future generations by oath stems from the fact that the obligated entity does not exist at the time of the oath, and therefore it was not the one that accepted the oath upon itself. In light of what we have seen here, the relevant entity is “the community,” and that is an entity that exists now. It is the one that accepts the oath upon itself. A community never dies—it always exists—as the Rogatchover states in several places (see below).

In fact, this matter is almost explicit in Scripture, in the passage describing the covenant in the Plains of Moab, between the Holy One and the people of Israel, before their entry into the Land of Israel. The portion Nitzavim begins in the plural: “You are standing today, all of you, before the Lord your God…” where the address is to an aggregate of individuals. It then shifts to the singular: “…and the stranger who is in the midst of your camp… that you may enter into the covenant of the Lord your God and His oath….” This is the stage at which a people has already been formed, and Moses addresses it. The address to the people is in the singular. Afterward Scripture returns to the plural: “It is not with you alone that I make this covenant and this oath, but with whoever is here with us today standing before the Lord our God, and with whoever is not here with us today.” The intent seems to be that because the covenant is not with individuals—”not with you alone,” plural—but with the people as a whole—”whoever is here,” singular—it is possible to obligate even “whoever is not here with us today standing”—that is, descendants who will be born in the future—to uphold the covenant.¹¹

This example too sharpens the Torah’s relation to the community as an entity existing in its own right.

5. Halakhic phenomena relevant to the concept of community are found in many places. A sin offering whose owner has died—that is, an animal consecrated for sacrifice in the Temple as a sin offering, whose owner then died—may no longer be offered. In the case of a communal sin offering, even if all the individuals who belonged to the community that consecrated it have died, it is not considered a sin offering whose owners have died, because the present community, even if it is composed entirely of different individuals, is still its owner.¹² The Rogatchover Gaon describes this in the words, “the collective does not die” (see Rabbi Menachem Mendel Kasher, Mefaneach Tzefunot, chapter 1, sections 10-13, and all of chapter 4).

6. Another example cited there concerns a person who has forbidden himself from deriving benefit from the property of the residents of a certain city. According to some views, that person is forbidden to benefit from the property of that city even after all the individuals who lived there at the time of the vow have died and all its current residents are different people.

7. Rabbi Soloveitchik, in his book On Repentance, details the relation between community and individuals, and distinguishes—as he was not the first to do—between a community and partners. A community is an entity not composed of the individuals included within it, whereas a partnership is merely a compound or mixture—this is a dispute among commentators—of individuals. In legal terminology, the concept of a community is called a corporation or corporate body.¹³

In his discussion of the beginning of Maimonides’ Laws of Repentance (chapter 1, laws 1-2), he shows that even regarding repentance there are two types: repentance and atonement for the community, and repentance and atonement for the individual. There are views in the Talmud according to which Yom Kippur itself atones for all Israel, even for those who did not repent. His explanation is that the atonement of Yom Kippur is an atonement for the collective, and the individuals who belong to it are thereby atoned for automatically. For further detail and additional consequences of this distinction, see there.

8. The Talmud states that whoever has not seen the Temple rebuilt in his days is as though it was destroyed in his days. There is here a severe charge against every individual concerning something that, apparently, is not in his control at all. It is perfectly clear that the rebuilding of the Temple, which is manifestly a collective matter, cannot depend on the spiritual state of any particular individual. If so, how can anyone be blamed for the fact that the Temple was not rebuilt in his days?

It seems that this is a collective accusation directed at every individual, as part of the organism called the people of Israel. The collective aspect of each of us is what is summoned here together with all the other parts of that organism.

To summarize, we have seen several examples that bear on Judaism’s conception of the relation between the collective and the individuals who compose it. We saw that the state of the collective, and the relation to it, are not a simple summation of the states of the individuals who compose it, nor of the relation to them. The collective contains a certain dimension that is beyond the sum of the individuals who make it up. Of course, from this there also follows the other side of the coin: within every individual there is a collective dimension as well; that is, part of his very being is his connection to the collective. Every individual is examined and judged in both of these dimensions together.

Ontology and Values

There is a common moral dilemma that can shed light on the network of relations between the individual and the collective. It is based on a certain conception of moral duty, and concerns the claim that if I sin, or break the law in secret, others may do likewise—and what then will become of society? This is a certain version of the social contract associated with Rousseau, and perhaps also of Kant’s categorical imperative. Let us now try to examine and analyze this claim in greater detail.

• Stage A: At first glance, it seems obvious that when I have no influence on my surroundings, there is no reason not to sin or break the law. Why should I not secretly evade taxes when there is no chance that my actions will affect my environment? Such a small amount of money has no influence at all in terms of the state treasury as a whole. Beyond that, sometimes tax evasion serves a purpose that stands higher on the scale of values or needs than obedience to the laws of the state, or than the moral duty to pay taxes. In such a case, there is apparently no reason not to act that way.

• Stage B: The problem is that such a consideration can be made by each component of society, and may lead to a situation in which the whole society sins in the same way. In the example of income tax, one may reach a situation in which there is no money at all in the public treasury—a situation everyone would regard as intolerable. That is, there is here a situation in which my decision exceeds its narrow significance, even though I have no direct influence on other individuals in society, who know nothing of my action. Therefore it would seem that one may not refrain from paying taxes even when there are ostensibly good reasons to do so.

• Stage C: After this consideration has been made by all the individuals in society and all have decided not to evade taxes, it once again becomes clear to me that if I now nonetheless decide to evade tax secretly, none of the other people’s decisions will be affected. Once again a situation is created in which, apparently, there is no reason not to act this way. If so, why indeed should I not evade taxes?

• Stage D: It should be noted that this consideration, even at the present stage, can arise in each component of society—the citizens. If so, the fear expressed at Stage B returns once again.

• And so on: The cycle repeats itself. This is an endless dilemma that reappears at every stage, even after the overall consideration has been made.

• Final stage: Once the entire logical loop has been understood, one may ask more generally: why, in the final analysis, should we decide in favor of Stages B and D rather than A and C?

What we see here is that there is a dimension of myself as a member of a group that exists even beyond my direct influence on the group. It derives from the mere fact that I am one of its components. This dimension ought to affect my considerations as an individual, because, as stated above, I myself as an individual also have another aspect by virtue of being part of the social organism. These are exactly the two dimensions we saw in the examples brought in the previous note.

Thus we learn that the conception according to which the collective is not merely a technical aggregate of all its components, but an entity in its own right, underlies various moral-social approaches in the wider world as well, and not only in Judaism. This conception is completely different from the declared conception of most of the liberal-democratic world. Yet paradoxically it is what underlies that world’s legal and moral stability. Every member of such a society, despite declaring an ontological stance that places the individual at the center, in fact behaves as if guided by a different conception—the Jewish one.

Let us now discuss another difference between the conceptions, regarding the value of self-realization. According to the Jewish conception, one can adopt the value of self-realization, but apply it to the collective “self.” In this way, the basic ontological entity that ought to realize itself is society rather than the individual. Liberalism can, from this perspective, appear as a particular instance of fascism. The difference between them does not necessarily lie on the level of values, but perhaps on the metaphysical-ontological level. If I conceive of myself as part of a society, the value of self-realization will lead me—in its extreme form—to fascism, whereas if I conceive of myself as an isolated individual, that same value orientation—self-realization—will lead me to liberalism, whether socialist or capitalist.

There is an interesting phenomenon here that deserves attention: ontological differences can sometimes appear as differences of values, whereas in fact they are not necessarily so. One can fully agree on the basic values and nevertheless act in completely different ways, because one’s conception of reality—even on the philosophical plane—is different.¹⁴ This is another example of the claim concerning the importance of philosophical analysis and the exposure of deeper layers, even on the actual ideological-social plane.

Memory and Memorial Days

A fine example of this difference on the social-ideological plane can be seen in Michael Feige’s article, “Leave the Departed Alone,” in the book Myth and Memory.¹⁵ The article compares the attitudes of two movements, Gush Emunim and Peace Now, toward movement martyrs—those who sacrifice themselves for the sake of the idea. Peace Now, as one would expect from a left-wing movement which, according to our description, stands on analytic foundations, emphasizes and remembers the private individual more. Gush Emunim, no less predictably for a right-wing movement that is religious-synthetic (see below on this connection), glorifies the contribution of the victims and the collective-ideological dimension of their actions and their deaths.

The phenomenon of public memory in Israel in general is undergoing the same process: from the synthetic to the analytic. The memorial days of young Israel were more ideological-national in character, and the deaths of the fallen were presented as exalted sacrifice for the national idea of Israel’s renewal in its land. Today the emphasis shifts more and more toward memories of each individual. The focus is on personal stories, letters, or the histories of individual people. This is also true regarding Holocaust memorial days. Today greater emphasis is placed on the suffering of the individual in the Holocaust than on the educational idea of heroism. Of course, even on the plane of heroism one can discuss either the individual or the idea. We have seen, and will continue to see below, that Israeli society, like the Western world as a whole, is becoming more and more analytic; therefore it places the individual at center stage in place of the idea or the group.¹⁶

More on the Ontological Status of the Collective

It is worth noting that the existence of this collective entity—the community—is more tangible than the existence of other abstract entities, or abstract concepts in general, whose existence I also defended in Gates Two and Three. The concept of “community” is not merely a global property of concrete objects, but a real global entity in its own right.

Let us illustrate this by an example. Consider some liquid composed of a collection of molecules. A global property of these molecules is their being a liquid. It is a global property because it characterizes only the collection as a whole, not the individual members that compose it. There is no meaning to the question whether a particular molecule is liquid. This global property, the liquid state, is itself an abstract concept, which according to Platonic conceptions exists in actuality—in the world of ideas—whereas according to Aristotelian conceptions it does not exist at all.

I wish now to ask not the usual question about this—does liquidity really exist?—but rather: does the liquid really exist? It is very difficult to say that the answer is negative. There is no doubt that the liquid is something that exists in the world, almost in the same sense in which the molecules composing it exist. This is a much more tangible existence than the Platonic existence of the ideas that describe it—in this case, liquidity. The existence is in the actual physical world, not in a world of abstract ideas. The liquid has properties that its components do not have, such as liquidity, compressibility, viscosity, and so on. Conceptually, all these properties characterize not the individual components but only the whole—a molecule is neither liquid, nor compressible, nor incompressible in that sense. The reason that global properties exist which characterize only the collection and not its components is that the collection is a different and separate entity from its components, and the properties of this entity are what are called global properties.

The existence of global properties—such as liquidity—which characterize only a collection of molecules and not a single molecule, should surprise only one who does not see the collection as an entity in its own right. According to the ontological conception that sees the collection as an entity in itself, it is obvious that this entity is what bears these properties.

In the context of nations as well, one can speak of their properties in the sense of characteristics that predominantly mark most of the individuals composing them—courtesy, orderliness, aggressiveness, cruelty, and so on. But one can also speak of properties of the nation itself. There are properties of the Jewish people, such as their survival, which is not a property of individuals but of the collective itself, of the people. As we saw in Note 15, in the Torah and in halakha there are also obligations imposed on that overarching entity called a people, and not only on the individuals who compose it.¹⁷ This is another indication of the collectivist ontology characteristic of the Torah conception.

Summary

There is a deep philosophical dispute regarding the ontological status of a collective: does it have an independent status—a synthetic conception—or is it merely a collection of the individuals composing it, an ontological fiction—an analytic conception? From this dispute there also follows the dispute about placing the individual at the center, and the characterization of our period as the age of the end of ideologies. Beyond the general description of the two sides of the dispute, we brought various examples and arguments supporting the idea that the collective has an independent ontological status—that is, the synthetic picture—both from the Jewish worldview and from prevalent conceptions in the broader world.

Chapter 3: Pluralism: Openness and Tolerance

Introduction

In the present gate we are dealing with the philosophical infrastructure of the ideologies prevalent in our world. The discussion revolved around equality, continued with the relation between the individual and the collective, and here we arrive at a somewhat more concrete issue—though even it will be discussed here mainly on the principled level—namely tolerance and pluralism.

On the Rejection of Coercion on the Theoretical-Conceptual Plane

One of the dominant values today in Western society, and in Israeli society as well, is pluralism. Religious circles, right-wing circles, and others—whom, in our broad sense here, we can call “synthetic”—are often accused of not being as pluralistic or tolerant as left-wing and secular circles, which in our terminology are “analytic”; they are also accused of tending to impose their views on those who do not think as they do.¹⁸

In light of what has been written and described thus far, this claim may sound justified. Circles with a synthetic conceptual foundation believe that there is truth, and also believe that it is in their possession. Naturally, one may expect intolerance toward other views to develop among them, and perhaps also a tendency to impose their views on others. Analytic positions, by contrast, will naturally tend toward greater tolerance. It stands to reason that a position which advocates a logical conception according to which everyone has his own truth will act accordingly on the practical-ideological plane as well.

I will address this claim with an argument composed of two elements:

1. One must distinguish carefully who is advancing arguments against coercion and in favor of tolerance. We must ask ourselves what his assumptions are, and to whom he is speaking. The rejection of coercion is itself one of the central theses of the analytic approach, and therefore it too is among the matters under dispute. It is entirely possible that the holder of the synthetic position denies this very thesis—the rejection of coercion. If so, from the point of view of an objective observer of the analytic-synthetic conflict, coercion is not a defect of the synthetic position, unless that observer is already, at least implicitly, among the proponents of of the analytic position.

2. In addition, I wish to argue that these very claims about synthetic intolerance and analytic pluralism are inaccurate, and sometimes almost the exact opposite of the truth.

Let us begin with the first component of the argument. My claim is that the principle stating that a person who holds one opinion must not impose his position on those who hold another opinion is itself derived from the analytic conception that says there is no certain truth, or even one preferable to others. I will qualify this claim later. Accordingly, one who argues that there is a preferable truth, and who does not believe in the equal validity of all consistent positions, clearly will not accept—at least not as self-evident—the principle that ideological coercion lacks moral legitimacy. Put differently: when the dispute concerns the very legitimacy of coercion, one cannot complain to one side in the dispute and say that, in imposing its opinion on others, it is violating the rules of the game—whether moral, democratic, or whatever.

This analytic attack against the holders of synthetic positions is often carried out under the guise of an objective point of view. It is as though all contenders on the ideological field must observe the rules of the game, which include not coercing others into their opinions. Even if this attack is correct, it is clear that it is not made from an objectively moral point of view—that is, from the point of view of “the rules of the game,” which precede the examination of the positions themselves. It itself arises out of one of the positions in the dispute, and therefore it constitutes the taking of a side—albeit covertly—in the dispute itself.

In fact, a double argument arises here against the analytic approach, whose extreme expression is postmodernism: this approach is both inconsistent and immoral—even according to its own assumptions. Assuming that you are acting from a certain cultural context, and not from an objective and binding standpoint, what is the basis of your claim concerning the illegitimacy of coercion? This demand itself has the same subjective, culture-dependent coloring as the substantive contents themselves, and therefore it binds only the one who makes the demand.¹⁹ It would seem that on the level of rules of the game and meta-ideology, even the analytic thinker who argues against coercion acts in a synthetic fashion. True, his dogmatic—synthetic—conclusions regarding the illegitimacy of coercion are the opposite of those of the true synthetic thinkers, since the latter, as stated, tend more to advocate coercion. This reversal, in which the analytic thinker acts synthetically, will be discussed at length in Gate Five, and the philosophical discussion of the foundations of this paradox will take place below, in the third unit. In any case, the analytic thinker must recognize the fact that by making such demands he is acting synthetically, and here he is not consistent. Beyond that, he is also not moral—by the standards of his own moral principles²⁰—because he demands that others not impose their views, while he himself does precisely that.

It is interesting to note that a similar claim is raised against postmodernism by several figures who, in various ways, try to represent a secular modernist position—to argue that the secular wagon is “full,” in the philosophical sense as well. Let us bring two examples from two Israeli writers.

Zeev Bechler, at the end of his book Aristotle’s Philosophy of Science,²¹ writes as follows:

I would now like to argue that although ethical relativism sounds like a progressive, liberal, pluralistic, even democratic idea, it is in fact the ground on which an ideology of coercive force is built—the ideology that produced Russian and Chinese communism and Italian and German fascism.²² Since in the absence of a single objective criterion for the common good, there is no possible ethical argument against imposing some arbitrary criterion on all society by force and fear. And from the moment Darwinian considerations of efficiency and survival enter the game, democracy becomes merely a means, like any other means, for imposing one ethic.²³

Another critic of this postmodern approach, in a very similar vein, is Zeev Sternhell, who writes as follows:[^97]

In many respects democracy is nothing but a doctrine of conflict management and of creating conditions in which everyone gives up something, but also gains advantages that make compromise worthwhile. But democracy is based on the assumption that the human being is a rational creature capable of choosing between alternatives. Undermining rationalism necessarily removes the basis on which democratic order stands. In this sense democracy is based on the distinctly modern conception according to which there is a hierarchy of values. In political life there are concepts of good and evil, and they have concrete meaning: not everything is relative.

Precisely in light of these two passages, some readers may feel that what I have written involves an unjustified transition from postmodernity to secularity in general. A secular modernist, whose outlook is synthetic in its essence, as is expressed in these passages, is seemingly not exposed to these claims, since he certainly recognizes the existence of an absolute truth that is not context-dependent. Gate Six is devoted entirely to grappling with this question. There we shall see that even a secular modernist, like Bechler, Taub, or Sternhell, is generally a disguised analytic thinker.²⁴ We already noted above that historical modernism, which advocates the “death of God,” is usually false and serves only as a fig leaf for postmodernity. We will elaborate below.

From these passages it emerges, beyond what has been argued here, that not only is there no basis for the analytic thinkers’ claim about the illegitimacy of coercion, but that they themselves employ coercive means intended to enforce their arbitrary will, precisely because they have no binding principles, and in particular no binding moral rules.

There may perhaps be a tendency to think that in practice this does not happen. The left is perceived as not having a coercive or forceful approach. This view is mistaken, and it will be examined in the next gate.²⁵

Let us now turn to the second component of the counter-argument mentioned at the beginning of the chapter. I wish to add and show—still on the theoretical-principled plane—that the claim about synthetic intolerance is inaccurate, and sometimes even the reverse of the truth. In many respects analyticity is specifically not tolerant, whereas syntheticity is. Something similar is claimed in the two passages cited here, but I wish to ground it on deeper and more systematic levels. To do so, we must first discuss the concepts “pluralism” and “tolerance.”

Pluralism and Tolerance

Pluralism has in recent years received fairly intensive treatment in the philosophical literature.²⁶ Here I mainly wish to summarize the principles relevant to our discussion, and to add a little to what has already been written on the subject.

Pluralism, or tolerance, is generally understood as consideration for and recognition of views different from one’s own, and allowing the other to act in ways that do not seem right to you. According to this definition, the very appearance of the concept of tolerance involves a contradiction. Someone who has no opinion at all on the matter at hand cannot be tolerant, because it is impossible to act contrary to his opinion. Of course, someone who has no opinion at all cannot be defined as tolerant in any situation. On the other hand, someone who does have a defined view on the matter has no obvious reason why he should show tolerance toward those whom he regards as mistaken—those who, in his opinion, act or think incorrectly. At first glance, anyone who holds any particular position should be intolerant, or zealous.

Let us formulate this more precisely. Tolerant behavior apparently has three characteristics:

1. I believe that my way is true and that the other person is mistaken.
2. I have good reasons to act against him, because of harm he causes to me, to himself, or to others. In addition, I also have the ability to do so; otherwise there is no moral significance to my tolerance.
3. There are reasons that nevertheless lead me not to act.

When these three characteristics exist—and only then—can some behavior of mine be regarded as tolerant in the moral-value sense.

The reasons that may appear in the third characteristic—not acting against opposing views—can be many and varied. It should be noted that if we really wish to see tolerance as behavior possessing moral value, those reasons appearing in the third characteristic must be value-based or moral reasons, not technical reasons or calculations of profit and loss.

Let us now examine several possible reasons for refraining from coercion, assuming that the first two characteristics exist.

A first example of such reasoning: the action will not help, though one could argue that this is already included above in the second characteristic. In such a case, even if I can seemingly act, there is no point in doing so.

Alternatively, coercion may bring worse results than allowing my opponents’ position to persist. Such a situation is depicted in Orwell’s well-known book 1984: coercion indeed succeeds, but the whole world lives in fear, and therefore the price of coercion—in terms of morality or quality of life—may be too high.

A third type of reason is also possible. Refraining from coercion is intended to clarify the truth more fully. That is, even someone who believes that there is an objective truth, or certainty, is not necessarily sure that he possesses it in full. There may be value in the existence of other views, so that through dialogue with them he himself may clarify his own positions more completely.

Another possible reason is that even if we succeed in imposing our view, it will have no value. For example, if in our understanding an action performed under coercion has no value because it is not autonomous, then clearly there is no point in using coercive power. In such a case one can indeed say that coercion failed to achieve its goal, but that determination rests on the coercer’s scale of values—which holds that action under coercion lacks value—and not on a factual determination.

Note 16: The Attitude of Halakha toward Action Under Coercion²⁷

In halakha there are different approaches to action—and especially to committing a transgression—under threat or coercion. Some maintain that such an action is indeed considered the action of the threatened person, but he cannot be punished for it because he is not guilty of performing it. That is, the exemption here derives from lack of culpability: he acted under duress. Others, by contrast, hold that this action is considered as if it was not performed by him at all, and it cannot be attributed to him in the first place. For that reason there is no room at all to discuss whether he should be punished for it. In legal terminology, one could say that this is not an exemption from punishment but the absence of grounds for punishment.²⁸

One of the consequences of this dispute is seen when the person under threat actually would have wanted, on his own, to do the act forced upon him, and quite likely would have done it even without coercion. There is also extensive halakhic discussion of a similar case in which someone deliberately enters a place where he knows he will be forced to commit a certain transgression. In such cases, if we say that when he acts under threat the act is not considered his act, then even if he wanted it, in the end he cannot be blamed or punished, since he did not perform the act at all. By contrast, if the conception is that he is the one who performed the act, and the question is only whether he is guilty of the act he performed, there is much room to argue that he should indeed be punished, since in the end he wanted it, and he was responsible for the situation; what difference does it make that in practice he was also under duress?²⁹

Another consequence may arise when a person commits a transgression regarding which halakha requires him to be killed rather than transgress, such as murder, idolatry, or forbidden sexual relations.³⁰ If someone forces a person to violate sexual prohibitions, then according to halakha he is required to be killed rather than commit the transgression. If nevertheless he committed the transgression to save his life and did not allow himself to be killed, one must ask whether he is regarded as someone who committed a grave sexual offense, or whether no such offense can be attributed to him at all, since he did not really do it. In that case, one could say that he violated the prohibition against desecrating God’s name, for which he was obligated to be killed. That is, the very fact that he did not allow himself to be killed constitutes desecration of God’s name, even though the sexual offense itself cannot be attributed to him. The reason is that when a person acts under threat, the act is not attributed to him. Among those who discuss this is Rabbi Elchanan Wasserman, of blessed memory for martyrdom—who himself was killed for the sanctification of God’s name in the Holocaust—in his Kovetz Shiurim on tractate Ketubot, section 5.

These two conceptions parallel the types of reasons presented in the main text.³¹ According to the view that such an act is not considered the act of the coerced person at all, it seems reasonable to formulate the matter as follows: an act that is not autonomous is not an act of value at all, and therefore coercion is pointless. Even if I force a person to do as I wish, that is not his act but mine. According to the view that the act is indeed attributed to the coerced person, but there is room to exempt him because he is not culpable, the justification for tolerance may perhaps require the other reasons listed above as well.³²

It may be assumed that, in light of the present discussion, many readers will ask about the meaning of religious coercion. Coercion to observe commandments is well grounded in halakha, but a halakhic discussion of religious coercion and its relation to the principles discussed here is more complex, because there are additional layers in halakha that must be taken into account. For example, there is a halakhic principle stating that every Jew, even when coerced to fulfill a commandment against his apparent will, is only having his true will brought to expression by the coercion; the coercion does not really act against his will. Maimonides’ well-known formulation in Mishneh Torah, Laws of Divorce 2:20, states such a principle explicitly. See also Encyclopedia Talmudit, at the beginning of the entry “coerced bill of divorce.” There are additional aspects that must be considered in such a halakhic discussion, and this is not the place to exhaust the issue.

Pluralism, Tolerance, and Openness

After characterizing tolerant behavior, let us distinguish it from two additional concepts sometimes used as synonyms for tolerance: pluralism and openness. My claim is that these two—pluralism and openness—are different concepts, and to a large extent even opposites.³³

Pluralism is tolerance without the first characteristic—in other words, tolerance that stems from a position that does not believe in certainty. Someone who advocates this position, even if he holds some belief or opinion, attributes no objective importance to it. That opinion binds only him. As stated, this approach cuts off the most important branch on which the concept of tolerance sits, and therefore it cannot be considered a tolerant approach.

In fact, pluralism is exactly the analytic position as defined thus far. In this approach, everyone has his own truth, and therefore there is no reason for coercion. Hence there is also no moral or value-based significance in the tolerance shown by one who holds such an approach. The expression “pluralism” comes from the root meaning multiplicity. This approach claims that there are many views, and all have equal standing. The synthetic approach, as stated, cannot accept such a position, because its entire essence is the belief that there is a preferable truth even on the objective plane.

The conclusion that follows from this, surprisingly, is that it is specifically the holder of the synthetic approach for whom the path of tolerance, as defined above, is open. A holder of the synthetic approach who believes in the existence of objective truth may still think that he does not possess all of it, or think that the harm caused by coercion is greater than its benefit, or hold any of the other motives listed above under the third characteristic; and therefore he decides to be tolerant. More than that: it is reasonable to assume that the holder of the synthetic approach, if he is a rational person, will possess a basic tolerant attitude. A rational person, even if he holds a synthetic approach, takes into account that even if there is an objective truth, it is unlikely that all of it is in his possession, and he cannot determine with certainty that there is no error at all in his views. If that is indeed his approach, one may say that tolerance follows from his syntheticity.

The synthetic person, precisely because he knows there is a certain truth, strives to reach it. This striving is carried out, among other things, through fruitful dialogue with another person who holds opposing views. One may call this approach—a certain type of tolerance—by the name openness. It is an approach whose aim is not merely to allow the other to live, but to learn from him in order to apply that learning to oneself. This is the difference between openness toward the other and tolerance toward him, which we have here called pluralism. For the holder of the analytic position there is no point at all in such dialogue, since there is no goal for which it is intended. For him there is no objective truth at all that could be clarified in this way.³⁴

What emerges from all this is that specifically the seemingly dogmatic person is the one called upon to adopt tolerance or openness, even though it is clear that he cannot be a pluralist. The analytic thinker, by contrast—the skeptic, the postmodernist—is not interested, and perhaps cannot even conduct a fruitful dialogue from an open approach. All that remains for him is barren pluralism, and he is forced to adopt a “live and let live” attitude.

There is another shade of pluralism that stems from indifference. A person for whom the mistaken action of another is of no concern will of course not try either to coerce him or even to influence him to change his ways. This is, in a certain sense, a relinquishing of the second characteristic of tolerance—the existence of reasons for coercion. Clearly, someone with an analytic position cannot hold such a pluralism, for he has no way to determine that the other’s action is mistaken. It seems to me that pluralists whose basic position is synthetic—for example, religious people who oppose coercion—are often motivated by precisely such indifference.

Pluralism Is Analytic, and Openness Is Synthetic

One often hears a claim from holders of the analytic approach against those who try to impose on them. If we examine this claim against the background of the fact that those trying to impose are holders of a synthetic approach, what their analytic counterparts are really demanding of them is that they be indifferent to the fate of others. That is, when a religious / modernist / right-wing person adopts a pluralistic approach, this usually expresses indifference, not moral excellence, as people are accustomed to attribute to it. The synthetic person who possesses moral virtue, when he understands that the other is mistaken, should be sensitive to the other’s fate and should try to dissuade him, or move him away, from mistaken actions and beliefs. In other words, when holders of the analytic approach demand pluralism from synthetic thinkers, what they are really demanding of them is to act in a way that, from the latter’s standpoint, is specifically immoral.

Personal note:

A few years ago I participated in a discussion between religious and secular Jews, in which the secular participants expressed deep resentment toward religious people who come and try to persuade them to observe commandments. The common claim was: I do not come and try to persuade you not to observe the Sabbath, or not to light candles, so why do you come and disturb me and try to persuade me to observe it? Arguments of this sort are very common in such meetings. My reply to this claim was that if I did not try to influence them, that would be indifference, not pluralism, since I believe they are mistaken. It was specifically against them that I had a claim: if you believe that observing the Sabbath is a mistake—that is, you are synthetic thinkers—then your unwillingness to persuade me stems only from indifference to my fate, and for that I do not esteem you at all. More than that: I very much want you to come and persuade me that I am mistaken. In that way I can clarify better whether I am acting correctly or whether I am mistaken. On the other hand, I added, if your pluralism stems from the fact that you do not think it is a mistake to observe the Sabbath, or that it is harmful, but simply do not think it any more correct than not observing it—that is, you are analytic thinkers—then your pluralism is not tolerance, and certainly does not testify to openness. If so, it certainly contains no basis for the moral demand directed at me that I behave as you do. It seems to me that many secular people who raise such claims and the like ought to examine themselves and ask whether they themselves are not failing in a similar way.

Sometimes it is specifically the religious person who is interested in fruitful dialogue between the sides, because his approach is open rather than pluralistic. Usually he is also interested in dialogue that leads to conclusions, not in a merely academic discussion, because he wants to clarify the truth. It is specifically the secular person who evades this, and usually tries to channel such discussions—if they are held at all—into an academic direction. Usually this is called, in elegant phrasing, “getting to know one another.” A discussion whose purpose is drawing conclusions is perceived as an illegitimate attempt at persuasion, and is often called “brainwashing” or similar expressions. This stems from the fact that the concept of persuasion does not exist in the analytic lexicon, where it is accepted that everyone has his own truth—the truth derived from his premises. Sometimes people are willing to conduct a discussion that is not merely academic, but then it is an argument, usually conducted in such a way that each side fortifies itself in its own position and there is no chance of changing either side’s initial assumptions. This is the culture of “pop-politics,”³⁵ so prevalent in our environment.

I do not wish to argue here that the typical religious person in our present reality is tolerant by nature, but only that this is the approach one would expect from him if he is rational. An additional claim is that, contrary to the way the secular person perceives himself, he too is generally no more open. On the contrary: more often than not, his interpretation of tolerance is pluralistic barrenness, achieved by erecting a wall between the different approaches and avoiding open dialogue among them. Pluralism means that societies holding different positions should live like monads that do not speak to one another.³⁶

The Paradox of Analytic Tolerance

Let me formulate this in a more principled way. A pure analytic position generally advocates pluralism as the sole binding value. It follows, therefore, that the only approach that can be in frontal conflict with it is a non-pluralistic approach. All other positions are not really in conflict with the holders of the analytic position, because in their eyes all positions are of equal weight—at least relative to their holders. On the other hand, analytic thinkers often claim that they are unwilling to let holders of non-pluralistic positions enjoy and exploit their tolerance and pluralism while not themselves sharing in that pluralism and tolerance. For example, many claim that one should not behave tolerantly toward ultra-Orthodox groups in the State of Israel, because these groups do not themselves accept the obligation to behave similarly. They are not tolerant toward those different from them, and therefore do not deserve a pluralistic attitude.

If this is indeed so, one may determine that there is no analytic tolerance at all. If, as we saw, the only direction that can count as opposed to the positions of an analytic person is not entitled to tolerant treatment, then there is no analytic tolerance whatsoever. The analytic thinker has no other candidate toward whom to display tolerant behavior. The other positions, which are compatible with analyticity, do not need the concepts of tolerance in order to be treated respectfully. If so, no position remains toward which one can display true analytic tolerance. The analytic thinker is tolerant only toward one who thinks as he does, or at least not against him. Such tolerance, by everyone’s standards, cannot be considered valuable; see above, the first characteristic of tolerance. The conclusion is that the analytic thinker is indeed a pluralist—these are almost synonymous terms—but he cannot in any way be considered tolerant.

The Dilemma of Tolerance

Let us now summarize what may be inferred from what has been said so far. It is specifically the holders of the synthetic approach, considered dogmatic, who alone can possess an open and tolerant approach. Holders of the analytic position, which is usually considered more enlightened and open, cannot be open at all, but only, at best, pluralistic. The synthetic person—for example, the religious person—who does not try to struggle or influence is not usually more moral, as it seems to the holders of the analytic position. Often this is specifically an expression of indifference to the fate of the other, that is, an expression of moral deficiency.

Let us now sharpen the dilemma of tolerance. Suppose a person sees his son about to drown himself in a river, or become addicted to drugs. One option is to let him do as he wishes, since the father is tolerant—or pluralistic. The overwhelming majority of human beings, including the strictest analytic thinkers and postmodernists, would not act this way. When the situation is less extreme—for example, when the son chooses a different way of life, such as becoming religious, leaving religion, joining mystical cults, and so on—the tendency to intervene decreases. Still, if effective intervention is possible, it seems that a large majority of pluralists would nevertheless intervene in what is happening, even by means of coercion. These are expressions of situations in which there is a firm belief in something—or certainty that its opposite is harmful—and therefore in such a case every reasonable person will intervene, and usually by coercion as well, if he can.

If the harm is as in the first case—suicide or addiction—but the person involved is more distant from me, not my son but my neighbor’s son or someone I do not know at all, again the likelihood of intervention decreases. Of course, this is an expression of indifference, not of any moral virtue.

The conclusion is that when the following two conditions are met:
1. The person involved is close to me.
2. The harm he will cause himself is unequivocal, at least in my opinion.
In such a case almost no one will refrain from intervening and trying to impose his opinion, not merely persuade.

Now let us examine a situation in which a religious person believes that his secular friend is about to lose eternal life—and in certain respects also drag him along with him³⁷—by a mere word or casual gesture of Sabbath desecration. In particular, one must take into account that the relevant information is not in the hands of that “offender.” He is entirely unfamiliar with the concepts of the World to Come, and knows nothing of the revelation at Sinai, and is generally unaware of all the foundations of religious obligation and the value of religious acts. If that religious person nevertheless does not intervene, then often the reason is one of two:
1. Either the harm is not unequivocal in his eyes—he is not a full believer. This is a violation of the second condition.
2. Or he is indifferent to his friend’s fate; he does not feel closeness to him as though he were his own son. This is a violation of the first condition.

This dilemma in fact stands before every holder of a synthetic position who sees his fellow as mistaken—at least in his own view—and thinks that by this error the other is harming himself or others. If the reason for non-intervention is the first—that the harm is not unequivocal—then he is not considered a synthetic thinker with respect to this matter, since he does not really think that he knows the truth better than his friend. If the reason for non-intervention is the second—a lack of concern—then that synthetic thinker is simply a moral nonentity, defective from the moral standpoint. He is indifferent to the fate of the other.

In light of this, let every opponent of coercion examine himself. Does his opposition stem from the fact that, in his view, the harm is not so great? If so, then he is indeed an analytic thinker, at least with respect to this issue. And if so, he should not demand reciprocity from his synthetic friend, who believes in the real harm that transgressions can cause to himself and to the collective as a whole. And if that person opposes coercion because he does not feel concern for the fate of others, then this too, as stated, does not indicate moral nobility, to put it mildly.

This is one of the key points of my repeatedly stated claim: liberalism is generally derived from an analytic position on the philosophical plane, and not from moral superiority. One who opposes coercion in principle, sweepingly—and not only in one particular case or another—plainly has a position that derives from lack of concern. And if he does not regard himself as indifferent and wicked, then almost inevitably he holds an analytic worldview.

Tolerance and Syntheticity

So far it appears that the synthetic position is a condition for openness and tolerance, though it certainly does not encourage pluralism. On the other hand, tolerance and openness do not seem to follow necessarily from the synthetic position. A person with a synthetic position may not be tolerant. All that we have claimed is that it is almost impossible for an analytic person to be so.

I now wish to raise an argument that explains the positive obligation of the synthetic person to tolerance. The conclusion of the argument will be that syntheticity is not merely a necessary but insufficient condition for tolerance, but that it is almost committed to this value—though not on the logical level, that is, not by the very definition of the synthetic position.

As stated, a synthetic person is one who believes in the existence of truth. On the other hand, almost everyone can see, looking back, that he once erred, or at least changed his positions on various subjects. A rational conclusion, therefore, is that even now not all truth is yet in his possession. As noted, the analytic thinker, who does not believe in the existence of truth at all, will not even try to clarify it, or assume that it is not in his possession. From his standpoint, it is in no one’s possession.

That person with a synthetic position, who understands that truth is not entirely in his possession, finds himself obligated to listen to different views with genuine openness, in order to learn from them things that will help him reach the truth.

In such a situation, when he hears another opinion, if he dismisses it out of hand because it does not seem right to him, he will never advance. With such an approach he will always remain with the same positions and opinions he holds now. His only way to advance is to hear the other and to learn from him specifically at the points where they disagree. One should note this very carefully: the only points at which we advance toward the truth and learn new things are the points at which we were mistaken in an argument with another. In every dispute in which we came out on top, we actually learned nothing.³⁸

If so, a synthetic person has a supreme interest—incidentally, an egoistic one—in admitting his mistakes, and in fact in failing in arguments with other people. Of course, there is no point in doing so unless one truly believes that one ought to change one’s position on the matter under discussion; but in every argument one must examine whether there is not such a point in the other’s reasoning.

At first glance this is a simple argument, but in practice all of us fail in situations in which we insist on coming out on top no matter what. Therefore one must note that specifically in those situations we have wasted our time, because we have learned nothing. True, in such cases we have contributed to the other person—since perhaps he has changed or will change his views—and therefore there is still reason to insist on our positions, at least for the sake of the other. This is in fact pure altruism. Paradoxically, one may infer from this that in a synthetic world, admitting error is an act with egoistic dimensions, whereas insisting on my being right—of course only when I am truly convinced of it—is in some respects an altruistic act.

This is exactly what we said: one who argues with another, like one who coerces another, is usually someone who cares about the other.

Synthetic Secularity

Below we will expand on the explanation of the correlation between secularity and analyticity, but already here we have seen several foundations that support it. Any reader who feels himself to hold a secular outlook and at the same time a synthetic one, contrary to the identification made here, can already begin to examine his positions. If he indeed opposes coercion categorically, he must seriously consider two possibilities: either he is not secular, and therefore openness rather than pluralism underlies his behavior; or he does not in fact hold a synthetic position.

The fact noted above—that the same analytic thinker will indeed intervene when his son is about to drown in a river or become addicted to drugs—indicates that in principle he is willing to intervene and is not a complete analytic thinker. There are things in which he believes, and for them too he will impose his opinion on others, if only he can.

Often the liberalism of a secular person—even a synthetic secular person—derives from fear that things will be imposed on him himself. Usually there are no values for which the liberal has to struggle against his own desire to impose on others. As stated, only where such a struggle exists is there a value dimension to his tolerant attitude. When you have no desire to coerce, there is no moral significance in the fact that you do not coerce.

Let each of the synthetic secularists examine himself more carefully: for what values, if any, does he feel a desire and need—even though he does not carry it out—to impose his opinion on the religious other? Does anyone feel a need to force a religious person not to light Sabbath candles? Or perhaps to eat on Yom Kippur? The reason he feels no need to coerce in such cases is that in those circumstances the religious person does not disturb the secular person at all, nor harm him. Beyond that, he is usually not even sure that such behavior is wrong. If so, there is here no expression of morality, but simply an absence of real reasons for coercion.

From a summary of the discussion in the last two points it emerges that, theoretically, we are all holders of a synthetic position. The dispute concerns only which synthetic values each of us believes in. Some believe in many such values, and some believe in only a few. To achieve what we truly believe in, we will generally also use coercion.

The figure described ideally as “analytic” is, in the real world, a person whose certain—synthetic—principles are relatively few. I mentioned in the introduction to this unit that every person is complex and located somewhere between the two poles described in this book. Such a person is not the pure, one-dimensional analytic thinker described here. He is simply a person who, like all of us, is somewhere in the middle, but whose center of gravity lies closer to the analytic pole of the axis. That is the difference between the analytic thinker and the synthetic thinker in the real world.

In Gate Six we will continue to compare the beliefs and values of analytic and synthetic thinkers. There we will distinguish between positive and negative—passive—values, and we will see more sharply the difference that nonetheless exists between them. To complete the discussion of the issues raised here, the reader must wait until he reaches that point.

A direct derivative of the synthetic approach is that coercion is not necessarily wrong. Perhaps this picture is uncomfortable for the analytic person because he understands that he has no chance of escaping attempts at coercion and influence. Here we saw that not only does the holder of the synthetic position not reject coercion morally, but he morally rejects non-coercion as well—at least when it stems from indifference. If he is moral, he must try to coerce, or at the very least conduct open dialogue with those who hold rival positions in order to persuade them—or to be persuaded by them.

It may be that the analytic person—say, the secular one—would specifically prefer, for reasons of convenience, that the holder of the synthetic position adopt this attitude of indifference, even though it is not moral in essence, because it interferes less with his life. In any event, it is clear that his moral claims against those trying to influence him are unreasonable. These claims are an expression of his analytic position, treated as though it had objective validity that ought, in his view, to bind even those who hold the synthetic position. It is clear that they are not located on the moral plane.

What is said here calls for self-examination from the opposite direction to the accepted one. Usually we are rebuked for lack of tolerance, whereas here there is an attempt specifically to awaken the reader not to be so tolerant. This applies both to the secular side, which usually demands tolerance and declares pluralism, and to the religious person, who must also examine his behavior to see whether it is pluralistic, and whether the source of his pluralism is not mere indifference, lack of faith, or simply a desire to appear enlightened and popular.

Summary

This chapter presented one of the focal points of the argument identifying liberalism with analyticity, and this time not only with respect to ideological groups, but in a way that every individual can examine within himself. The test point is the character of a person’s tolerant outlook: is it open and tolerant, or only pluralistic? The continuation of the argument on this plane will be presented below, in Gate Six.

Summary of the Discussion in This Gate

In the present gate we completed the introductions needed for the description of the contemporary world that will come in the next gate. We described here the ideas of equality, the relation between collective and individual, tolerance and openness, and their relation to the positions discussed here—the analytic and the synthetic.

We saw that the worldviews now dominant in the Western world—both socialist and liberal-capitalist—despite the differences between them, are all based on an analytic position, that is, on the ethos of equality. We argued that as a result they place the welfare and status of the individual at the top of the scale of priorities, and erase all ideologies, which are synthetic by nature.

Over the course of this gate, from several different angles, there repeatedly arose a paradox that accompanies analytic ideas, both “left-wing” and “right-wing.” We saw that the analytic position itself is perceived by its advocates as wholly correct and as binding on everyone else. There is here a synthetic conception of analyticity itself. This paradox appears in different shades in several aspects of Western culture, some of which we have seen. It will be treated at length in the next gate, and its deeper philosophical layers will be discussed in the third unit.

In the chapter concluding this gate, we discussed the ideas of pluralism, tolerance, and openness. We saw clear implications of the analyticity that underlies the total—and sometimes totalitarian—status of these values in the Western world. We arrived there at surprising conclusions, according to which only a synthetic position allows a tolerant and open attitude toward the other—and almost obligates such an attitude. By contrast, from within an analytic position it is actually very difficult to expect a tolerant attitude, at least in the moral-value sense of tolerance. At most, one can expect pluralism there.

Footnotes