The Emperor’s New Clothes: Safeguards and a Look at “Lo Taturu” (Column 576)

With God’s help

Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.

In the previous column I discussed phenomena of doublethink—namely, a state in which a person inwardly thinks one thing, while on the conscious level thinks something else and also speaks and acts as if he thinks the latter. I applied this to beliefs regarded as foundational in Jewish thought (providence, etc.), and argued that sometimes people live with the sense that they believe in them and even act that way by the authority of tradition, even though deep down they understand that this is implausible and probably untrue. This is a dissonance between tradition and its dogmatics, on the one hand, and common sense and my personal conclusions, on the other.

Here I wish to address two aspects that arise from this discussion: first, the attitude toward Scriptural decrees and articles of faith; and second, another look at the prohibition of “lo taturu.”

A. Scriptural Decrees and Articles of Faith

My analysis concerns cases where I weigh some doctrinal claim presented to me as an article of faith by virtue of tradition, and it contradicts my views and conclusions. From what I wrote it might seem that in such a case one should adopt the inner view and reject the claim grounded in tradition. But that is not precise. There are situations in which there is a doctrinal principle that contradicts my straightforward perceptions (my common sense), yet even so I think it should be adopted at the expense of my own perceptions. Suppose I would find in the Torah a clearly stated belief—say, in the coming of the Messiah—and for the sake of argument I add that I regard this as utterly implausible. In such a case I do not claim that one must necessarily abandon the traditional belief in favor of common sense and my personal conclusions. A person can certainly say that although he himself would not have thought so, his trust in the Torah and in the Giver of the Torah leads him to realize that he was mistaken, and therefore, in the end, he does believe in the coming of the Messiah. Even if the initial feelings and doubts continue to fester within, this is not doublethink.

The reason is that a person can decide that, in his eyes, a certain belief is true even if intuitively it does not seem so to him. Even in science there are quite a few such phenomena. Quantum theory and even relativity strike many people as implausible. They are very hard to accept. But the empirical evidence is persuasive, and therefore I overcome my natural, initial feelings and adopt these theories. Even if a constant doubt lingers within me regarding these conclusions, there is no doublethink here. This is a doubt that I resolved in favor of one side—against my initial intuitions in this case.

All this holds if one truly became convinced that this is the situation. If so, one may also say that the doubts and misgivings that gnaw inside are the counsel of the yetzer (inclination) and ignore them. There is no doublethink in that, nor any other flaw. Despite my great appreciation for intuition, I certainly do not intend to sanctify it. It is entirely possible that our intuitions err. But we must decide that this is the case. If the source from which I draw my beliefs is, in my eyes, authoritative (empirical observation, interpretation of the Torah, etc.), then I can decide to forgo the intuitions and determine that they are incorrect.

My claim in the previous column is directed at those who have not undergone this process. They have not truly decided that this article of faith is correct despite their common sense; rather, they continue, out of inertia, to cling to it even though deep down they have not truly been persuaded of it. The fear of being labeled a heretic or an outlier (a deviant) deters them and causes them to repress the fact that they do not genuinely believe in this doctrinal principle. This is especially true regarding beliefs whose source is not well-grounded—for example, beliefs derived from some individual’s interpretation, or an invention of a particular group (even if it happened thousands of years ago). They cling to such a principle even though deep down they themselves understand it is not true. This is not a case of doubts that perhaps my conclusion is wrong, or some legitimate hesitation. Rather, it is a situation in which one harbors within a conclusion that, in one’s own eyes, is correct (and not merely stray doubts), yet in one’s conscious awareness one holds a different view and acts accordingly.

Thus, for example, a person who dons tefillin or refrains from eating pork because of the commandment, yet does not understand why it is good, is not in a state of doublethink. The midrash extols the people of Israel who accepted the Torah with the declaration “We will do and we will hear,” in contrast to the nations who first wanted to check what was written in it. Acceptance of “we will do and we will hear” does not entail any doublethink. The fact that I do not understand why what I do is good or fitting does not mean that in my opinion it is not good or fitting. I have trust in God, and therefore, in my eyes, this is good and fitting even if I do not understand it. This is the accepted meaning of the expression “gezerat hakatuv” (a Scriptural decree). In my view, most halakhot are of this type (especially according to my position that there is independence between morality and halakha, and between moral values and religious values; see, for example, in column 15 and many others). But if I were to conclude that this was not given by God, and in my eyes it is also not reasonable, and there is no serious source obligating it—and certainly if my behavior reflects the fact that I do not truly believe in it—then if I nevertheless declare my belief in that principle, I live in doublethink. One who treats every accepted statement in the tradition—especially if it lacks logic and foundation—as a “Scriptural decree,” adopts it and swears by its name, yet by his behavior shows that he does not really believe in it, is living in doublethink.

Is everyone who holds an implausible position in a state of doublethink?

This is the place to sharpen what I answered to some commenters on the previous column. When there are strong arguments against a given view and against the reliability of its sources, that indeed strengthens the diagnosis that one who holds it is likely in a state of doublethink. If a person maintains a problematic and implausible view, that raises a stronger suspicion of doublethink, since it is unlikely that he truly believes it. But it is important to understand that my diagnosis of doublethink is not based solely on the implausibility of the claims. Not everyone who holds a claim that, in my eyes, is implausible, is in a state of doublethink. Therefore, all those who brought against me arguments about particular doctrines of providence that are (in their view) more plausible, and argued with me about my own view of providence—or those who protested that from my personal stance on providence I inferred that people who hold it are necessarily in doublethink—were mistaken. As I replied to them, I neither wrote that nor think so. I certainly do not infer that a person is in a state of doublethink every time he holds a position that is, in my eyes, implausible. I claim doublethink only when there are indications that the person does not truly think what he declares to be his belief. That is the determining factor.

The implausibility of the position he holds is only part of the complex of considerations that lead to this paternalistic diagnosis. Therefore, I do not claim that everyone who believes in providence is in doublethink, and not even everyone who believes in providence in its sweeping, total sense (that everything that happens is the work of God). It is possible that a person truly and sincerely adopts such a view (which, to me, is utterly implausible and also lacks any real source) and really believes it without any doublethink. I will claim doublethink only when that person behaves, speaks, or thinks in ways that do not accord with that view. In such a case I assess that deep down he does not genuinely believe it.

Indeed, in cases of extreme implausibility, one might diagnose doublethink on the basis of implausibility alone (because it is not possible that this person truly believes such nonsense). But that is very rare and requires extreme implausibility (and also a judgment that the person I am evaluating is himself supposed to understand the folly involved).

Summary and the “Turkey Prince” Comparison: Three Criteria for Doublethink

I am reminded again of the “Turkey Prince” story to which I referred in the previous column. In column 199 I explained that the king’s son, who thought he was a turkey, was living in doublethink—that is, deep down he knew all along that he was a human being. If you read it, you will see that my diagnosis there was based on three parameters, all of which I have addressed in these columns as well: (1) the extreme implausibility of his view (that a person suddenly sees himself as a turkey). (2) In addition, there is the cure that seemed to happen on its own. His behavioral change produced an incomprehensible cognitive leap, indicating that deep down he always understood he was human—just like in “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” which I cited in the previous column. (3) Note that, beyond these two, the Turkey Prince story also contains a behavioral indication that the prince did not truly think of himself as a turkey. The sage who went under the table, joined him without clothes, and pecked grains with him aroused the prince’s wonder. The prince immediately asks him what he is doing there. That is, despite his conscious conception, deep down it was obvious to him that one who looks like that is a person and not a turkey. And that is precisely my point here as well.

These three criteria are good indicators, but one does not always need all of them, and it is not always so clear-cut. I was asked in the comments where I see the immediate change in people’s attitudes toward providence (i.e., that it is not similar to “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” where the change came instantly). They pointed out that I myself wrote that my success as the child who calls out that the king is naked is not very great or quick. I explained that instantaneous change is for fairy tales. But the great energies and the persistence of the struggle over religious consciousness and over God’s involvement in the world indicate that within us at least a great doubt pecks away at this. Add to that the indications of people’s inconsistency in this belief.

B. “Lo Taturu”: The Problem

My second remark concerns the prohibition “and you shall not stray after your heart and after your eyes.” Its source is, of course, in the Talmud and the Sages, but here I will bring Maimonides’ words in Hilkhot Avodah Zarah, chapter 2, where he elaborates on the prohibition of turning after idols and also addresses “lo taturu.” I quote the first three halakhot of the chapter:

a. The essence of the commandment regarding idolatry is that one must not worship any of the created beings—not an angel, nor a sphere, nor a star, nor any of the four elements, nor any of the beings composed of them. Even if the worshiper knows that the Lord is God, yet he worships this created being in the manner that Enosh and the people of his generation first did—this is idolatry. This is what the Torah warned about when it said: “Lest you lift up your eyes to the heavens and see the sun…” which the Lord your God has allotted to all the nations; meaning, lest your eyes wander and you see that these are the ones that govern the world, and that the Lord assigned them to all the world, that they are living and enduring and not perishing in the usual way of the world, and you say it is fitting to bow to them and serve them. And regarding this it commanded and said: “Take heed lest your heart be seduced,” meaning: do not err in the thoughts of the heart to worship these as intermediaries between you and the Creator.

b. Many books have been composed by idolaters about its worship—how its service is done, its practices and statutes. The Holy One, blessed be He, commanded us not to read those books at all, nor to think about it nor about any matter of it; even to look at the image of the form is forbidden, as it says: “Do not turn to the idols.” And regarding this it says: “Lest you inquire after their gods, saying: How did these nations serve…?”—you shall not ask about the manner of its worship, even if you do not intend to worship it, for this leads one to turn after it and to do as they do, as it says: “And I will do likewise.”

c. All these negative commandments are of one kind—that one not turn after idolatry. And anyone who turns after it in a manner that constitutes an action incurs lashes. And not only idolatry is it forbidden to turn after in thought, but any thought that causes a person to uproot a principal of the Torah—we are warned not to entertain it in our hearts, and we must not let our minds stray after the imaginings of the heart. For a person’s understanding is limited, and not every mind can grasp the truth fully. If every person follows his heart’s thoughts, he would destroy the world according to his limited understanding. How so? At times he will stray after idolatry; at times he will ponder the unity of the Creator—perhaps it is so, perhaps not; what is above and what is below, what came before and what will be after; at times, prophecy—perhaps it is true, perhaps not; at times, the Torah—perhaps it is from Heaven, perhaps not. Not knowing the measures by which to judge until he knows the truth fully, he will come to heresy. Concerning this the Torah warned and said: “And you shall not stray after your heart and after your eyes, after which you go astray”—meaning, let none of you follow his short understanding and imagine that his thought attains the truth. Thus said the Sages: “After your heart”—this is heresy; “after your eyes”—this is sexual immorality. And although this negative commandment causes a person to be banished from the World to Come, it does not carry lashes.

On the face of it, Maimonides warns here not to think or even raise a “hava amina” (initial assumption) in favor of idolatry or a heretical thought against some article of faith. I have explained more than once that there is no possibility to command beliefs; therefore, such a command is, on its face, absurd. In my view, we are likely misunderstanding it; and even if not—then it is not to be obeyed (see column 6 and more). The problem with reading the prohibition this way is both conceptual-logical and axiological (value-based).

First, the conceptual-logical problem: there is no formal authority over facts (and beliefs are facts). One can try to persuade me of this or that belief, but if I am not persuaded, there is no way to command me to adopt it. Even if I very much wish to comply with the command, I could merely say, lip-service, that I believe with perfect faith—but deep down, what rules is persuasion; and if I am not persuaded, then I speak but do not truly believe.

Beyond the logical-conceptual issue, there is also a value problem. A system cannot forbid me from examining that system itself. If one accepts such a command, then we cannot lodge any complaint against an idolater, for perhaps his tradition also forbids him to examine itself. That is implausible and unacceptable. A person is supposed to formulate his views for himself; being born into some tradition says nothing regarding its truth or validity. Everyone is born somewhere, and the responsibility to examine and formulate one’s own position lies with him and only him. After I have reached conclusions and adopted a commitment to a particular tradition, then we can begin to command me regarding things. The very adoption of the tradition and commitment to it must be made by my free decision, not by command or prohibition.

Yet despite these difficulties, the notion of doublethink opens the door to a plausible explanation of these prohibitions.

A Proposed Solution

In column 75 I argued that the prohibition is intended to prevent superficial considerations in our grasp of reality. The term “to tour/seek out” (latur) in Parashat Shelach deals entirely with a superficial gaze (that of the spies); hence the correction in the section of tzitzit is to forbid superficial gazes. That is, the prohibition is against adopting mistaken views due to shallow and partial considerations. I now wish to clarify this further in light of the notion of doublethink.

A person who has adopted a commitment to the Jewish tradition may encounter various arguments that challenge it and may wish to examine them. This can come in one of two ways: (1) An argument that is, to me, clearly baseless. I understand that its source is the yetzer, and that its aim is to undermine belief and create within me doublethink. Its purpose is to cause me—although I hold the correct view (the Jewish one)—to adopt, in my conscious awareness, a different view and perhaps also to act accordingly, even though deep down I will always hold the correct position. (2) An argument that raises claims and possibilities that on their face warrant serious examination.

It is commonly assumed that all heretical arguments are of the first type—that it should be obvious to all of us that faith and its articles are all true, and that any doubt or challenge to them is the counsel of the yetzer. I want to argue that this is only one of the two possibilities under which such arguments arise. If indeed it is a case of type (1), then one can command me not to enter into it. If it is clear to me from the outset that it is untrue, but there is a concern that it might penetrate me and create doublethink (what the Sages called “heresy that draws one in”), then I should not engage with those arguments. But if it is part of clarifying my worldview and positions, then it is obvious that I must seriously examine every argument and formulate conclusions for myself. No one else should—or can—do this in my stead. Cases of type (2) cannot be prohibited and therefore, it seems, are not prohibited.

My claim is that, in the received attitude toward traditional beliefs, we all make overly broad use of doublethink. The claims are that a person can fully believe and, due to his evil inclination, adopt a mistaken view (in order to sin). So the Talmud states explicitly in Sanhedrin 63b:

Rav Yehuda said in the name of Rav: Israel knew that there is nothing to idolatry, and they worshiped idols only in order to permit for themselves sexual immorality in public.

The entire sugya there deals with such doublethink. It is just like the prince in the Turkey Prince story: he decided he was a turkey only to permit himself to live like an animal. My description in the previous column of states of doublethink merely extends this rabbinic concept also to beliefs that ostensibly belong to our own tradition. If there can be a state of doublethink (where the inner belief is the traditional one), there is no reason to think it cannot exist when the inner belief is specifically the one that does not fit the tradition. A note to all those who protested the previous column and its paternalism.

But here I wish to add and argue that the phenomenon of doublethink truly allows for a reasonable construal of the “lo taturu” prohibition. The prohibition is not against serious examination of our beliefs (whether from the outside or those ostensibly inside), for, as I explained, such a prohibition is neither logically nor morally tenable. The prohibition can only apply to giving room to considerations of the yetzer to enter and generate in us doublethink.

However, I further contend that not every case of hesitation regarding articles of faith is of that kind. A hesitation whose root is the desire to seriously examine other arguments of any sort is a hesitation that a person must clarify and examine, and about which he must formulate his own stance. That cannot be prohibited. This is true with respect to foundational beliefs (such as belief in God and the giving of the Torah, commitment to halakha, etc.), and certainly with respect to beliefs that are not foundational (and most of them are in any case untrue, or at least unnecessary), which I listed in the previous column.

The conclusion is that there is such a thing as genuine inquiry in matters of faith (it is odd to me that this needs to be said at all, but it turns out that many people are unwilling to accept the existence of such a state, and to them all such doubts are of type (1)); and another conclusion is that such inquiry cannot be forbidden, and therefore apparently was not forbidden. As stated, even if someone were to prove to me with signs and wonders that situations of type (1) are indeed included in the prohibition—it does not interest me in the least. As the Talmud says (Chullin 124a):

“By God! Even if Joshua son of Nun told me in the name [of Heaven], I would not obey him.”

There are things that are impossible, and this one should not accept from anyone.[1]

If so, we have a more reasonable construal of the above words of Maimonides and of the cluster of prohibitions against considering counter-arguments to articles of faith. What is forbidden is to consider arguments that we know from the outset to be false, out of concern that they will generate in us doublethink. This is the arousal of the yetzer (just as in sexual immorality, so too in heresy there are impulses), and the aim of the prohibition is to prevent doublethink (a believing person living as if he does not believe). But this applies only where we clearly know from the outset that it is the counsel of the yetzer. In contrast, mere intellectual rigidity and conservatism are certainly not desirable, and it is highly implausible to me that there is a command in the Torah whose aim is to produce them (and even to obligate us to be that way). Genuine examination is certainly not prohibited.

This also explains the apparent contradiction in Maimonides himself, who, ostensibly, trampled these prohibitions. After all, he read all the books of heresy and idolatry that he cites (such as the writings of the Sabeans), and thus, seemingly, violated an impressive collection of severe prohibitions (ancillary matters of idolatry). But according to what I am saying here, it seems he did not truly consider them in thought—and, moreover, he had no fear that they would enter him and produce doublethink, for his whole purpose was to confront them. In such a case there is no “lo taturu” prohibition.

Behold, then, the other side of the coin of the mental doublethink described in the previous column.

[1] Incidentally, in Berakhot 24b a similar statement is attributed to Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi:

Rav Ḥisda said to him: “By God! If Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi himself said it with his own mouth, I would not obey him.”

I suspect that perhaps the passage in Chullin also intended him and not Joshua son of Nun, or perhaps it is a paraphrase of that saying.