On Meaning and Purpose in Haredi Ideological Discourse (Column 321)

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 argued that one should not take metaphysical considerations into account when forming a position and making decisions about what happens in the world. I claimed that this mistake characterizes both the religious-Zionist discourse (from the school of R. A. I. Kook) and the extreme anti-Zionist Haredi discourse (from the schools of Satmar Hasidism and Neturei Karta). Both sides, in my view, base their positions and decisions also on metaphysical considerations: the former in that we are in a stage of atḥalta de-ge’ula, the handiwork of the Holy One, blessed be He; and the latter in that the Zionist enterprise is the work of the sitra aḥra, as part of ikveta de-meshicha. In contrast, I praise and maintain that such considerations should not be taken into account—even if they were true—when we come to formulate a position regarding Zionism and the State. A stance on such issues should be based on halakhic considerations, on values (morality, and perhaps also national values), on interests, and on realpolitik (considerations of feasibility and reasonableness). Bringing in metaphysical considerations as a basis for such positions—at least so long as we lack certainty (see there the discussion in light of the passage in Berakhot about Isaiah and Hezekiah)—is a new phenomenon and, in my opinion, a flawed one. In the past there were those who invoked such considerations, but generally, to my impression, these were only ex post facto justifications after they had already reached a conclusion on substantive grounds.

And on the very day that the column went up on the site, a post by my friend Nadav Shnerb (written about a week earlier) reached me, dealing with almost the same topic. Rabbi Menachem Navat responded to him and Nadav replied in turn. In this column I will try to examine this debate, since I see it as highly significant for understanding the divisions and rifts in the religious community. Because of its importance, I bring the texts here in full and will add my own remarks and conclusions. Apologies for the length.

Nadav’s Post

Nadav, as usual, writes well and persuasively. His post deals with the difference between extreme Haredi positions and moderate Haredi positions. His claim is that, on the ideological level, there is no such thing as moderate Haredi thought—in short: they are all Satmar. The debate among Haredi shades, in his view, is only on the practical level: how to advance that ideology in practice. Should one cooperate with the Zionist enterprise and the State to extract from them as much good as possible, or boycott them, for better or worse:

Seemingly, these are explicit statements issuing from the mouth of a high priest. The citations clearly indicate that indeed “everyone is Satmar,” and that the debate among the factions is only about practice.

A Look at Reversed Correlations

Before entering the substance, one may already wonder: whence the practical difference between the approaches if indeed there is complete theological identity between them? I am among those who think that differences on the practical plane are rooted in foundational conceptions (philosophical or ideological). Let me sharpen this a bit.

Practically speaking, moderate Haredi society looks very similar to religious Zionism. At least nowadays, it is almost impossible to distinguish between them (apart from the question of which yeshivot/institutions will receive the money). Opposite these two groups stands the extreme Haredi world (today the Jerusalem Faction, with a few eccentric disengagement-era refugees from religious Zionism of the Rav Tal type joining it to some degree), which stands in its defiance. At best it does not cooperate with the State and Zionism; at worst it protests against them and makes common cause with their enemies.

How can it be that on the ideological-theological plane this middle group (moderate Haredim) stands with the extreme anti-Zionism against religious Zionism, but on the practical plane the situation is reversed, with religious Zionism and the moderate Haredim standing together against the extreme Haredim? That is quite something.

The Attitude to “God’s Sheep”: A First Glance

This description already implies that there is a gap between the ideology and theoretical conceptions of the middle group and its practical conduct. Admittedly, this is not necessarily the gap I discussed between metaphysics and ideology, but between ideology and practice. Yet we must take into account that we are not dealing here with small, everyday decisions of a person or group, but with principled decisions and consistent policy. That is, the practice here is itself a kind of ideology. If there are such sharp practical-ideological differences, and if the reversal of alignments is so dramatic, it is very likely that something deeper is at work. It seems that the gap is not between ideology and practice but between metaphysics and ideology. The metaphysics of moderate Haredi ideology resembles Satmar’s, but its ideology and practice, at least today, are entirely different.

Seemingly, there you have my view in a nutshell. The moderate Haredim behave precisely as I described: they separate metaphysics from practical conduct. And yet, it seems this is not really the case. Note that moderate Haredi discourse does express itself (albeit relatively little) also on the higher metaphysical-theological plane, and the citations Nadav brought testify to this. It turns out that, for them, metaphysics is indeed a relevant plane, and despite the gap between it and life and practice, they are unwilling to make the absolute separation I propose between the planes. In practice, they know quite well how to be flexible and pragmatic, but in their principled conception there is and can be no severance from the metaphysical plane. If so, despite their moderation and pragmatism, this malaise has seeped, at some level, into their thought. It turns out they require theological justifications for themselves in the face of metaphysics, even though their practice deviates from it not a little.

I think this is why all sorts of odd and strange excuses appear there to resolve the contradiction, including reliance on esoteric knowledge and a mystical connection of the great Torah figures and religious leadership to the will of God despite its unintelligibility. In my view, the strong resort within the Haredi world to “Da’at Torah” stems to a large extent from this dissonance. Since we have no coherent and convincing explanation for our actual mode of action, and particularly for its mismatch with our own ideology and metaphysics, we can only rely on the great Torah leaders and their broad perspective. By virtue of their spiritual charisma they surely know the will of God, and not every mind is fit to bear it. Moderate Haredim tell them that this is a decree of Scripture and we can only be silent, accept, and obey (and vote).

Rabbi Menachem Navat’s Response: A First Glance

Together with Nadav’s column came to me the response of Rabbi Menachem Navat. It is a long response that appeared split as three consecutive comments on Nadav’s post. I preface by noting that, according to Navat’s own testimony, the response was written as a comment, rather from the gut, not as an edited and reasoned article. Nevertheless, in my opinion his words are precise, wise, and on target (though later I will disagree with him on an important point), and therefore I asked his permission to copy it here. I will also address Nadav’s response to Navat. Already here I will say that I agree with both of them, and the explanation will follow.

It is pleasing to begin with one short, pithy sentence written there in the comments by another respondent, Hani Gargel:

Don’t you know that the Haredi public lives with a wink?

Her claim is that a Haredi text of this type is an esoteric text; that is, it does not always intend the simple meaning of what is written in it. Navat elaborated much more on this, but it seems to me that this is the gist of his words as well. I bring his response here in a frame for those interested. I certainly recommend reading it, but one may skim and jump to my words that follow it.

Rabbi Navat’s Main Argument

Space does not allow me to analyze Rabbi Navat’s arguments and their implications in detail, and therefore I will focus on what, in my eyes, are the principal and important points in his words. As noted, I will then touch on Nadav’s reply and the debate’s significance. Since Navat’s words were brought in full, I permit myself to insert into my presentation of his words some interpretations and expansions of my own.

Navat argues that Haredi ideological discourse must be read differently than religious-Zionist or modern-religious arguments (these are not, of course, synonyms). In the modern ideological world (of which religious Zionism, and certainly modern Orthodoxy, are a part), a claim or logical argument is intended to present an orderly, systematic framework of claims and their conclusions, and thus to create an ideological infrastructure within which the conceptual framework and mode of conduct are described. From it one can also draw conclusions, support or reject actions or modes of thought, and of course raise refutations pro and con. Such an infrastructure invites a debate that begins with analyzing the claims and subjects them to critical scrutiny. Rightly does Rabbi Navat add that even those parts of the religious-Zionist community that tend toward Hasidut and existentialism try (not always successfully) to formulate their arguments systematically. It is no wonder that sometimes a class on R. Naḥman looks like an academic lecture. Even the arguments about the limitations of rationality strive (again, often not with great success) to present their point by means of well-formulated logical arguments meant to stand up to tests of refutation.

By contrast, Haredi ideological discourse is constructed differently. The claims and arguments are not meant to present some metaphysical, theological, or other truth, nor to build a coherent, systematic theoretical framework. The purpose of Haredi ideological claims, according to Navat, is mainly to produce results. In our case their purpose is primarily to increase fear of Heaven, to create identification with Haredi society and with the Torah, and of course to generate cohesion in the face of external threats. Therefore one should not examine the claims raised there with logical glasses, analyze the arguments the way one analyzes a regular logical argument, derive conclusions, or raise refutations and supports. These claims must be read with an awareness of the subtext that in most cases is far more important than the text.

Navat argues that in certain respects the ideological discourse in the Haredi society is of an old (non-modern), or traditional, character. It is not committed to validity, logic, and common sense (on the contrary—as I noted in my preface—the more a claim runs counter to common sense, the more one must obey the great Torah figures, for it is apparently a spiritual-divine matter that only they understand, not the product of simple human rational thought)[1]. Nor is it intended to constitute an infrastructure by which decisions are made and positions formulated. On the contrary, the positions exist beforehand, and at root they are practical or intuitive. The theory comes only afterwards, to cast these conclusions into some general framework and to give them an appearance of validity. It strengthens the public in its adherence to the path, but it does not truly intend to assert any truths.

An Example from the Chazon Ish

In this context I always recall several statements of the Chazon Ish, the great Haredi leader in Israel after the Holocaust. He has several odd statements that I am almost certain he himself did not believe. My sense is that he said them only to ground the practical conclusions that he cherished, but without truly intending them.

One prominent example is his well-known claim about the “two thousand years of Torah.”[2] There are Talmudic determinations that look very problematic in light of modern scientific knowledge. The question is whether it is correct to change the Talmudic halakhic ruling, since it rests on an error.[3] The Chazon Ish argues that even if science today teaches us that the Talmud erred in some scientific assumption, halakha is determined according to Talmudic science. Why? He bases himself on the midrash that divides world history into three periods: two thousand years of chaos, two thousand years of Torah, and two thousand years of Messiah. In his view, the binding Torah determinations are those fixed during the “two thousand years of Torah” (the Talmud belongs to that period), and therefore even if the Talmud is based on mistaken scientific knowledge, its ruling is binding.

Since it is quite clear that this interpretation has no basis or source, and since I am a great admirer of the Chazon Ish, who in my eyes was very wise and intellectually honest, I have no doubt he himself did not believe it. How then should we understand his odd statement? It seems that, as halakhic policy, he deemed it very important that we preserve Talmudic halakhic rulings even if they are based on scientific error (in order to prevent reform). And since, in my assessment, he too understood that the accepted explanations for this are far-fetched (at least in my view)—some cast doubt, in varying degrees, on contemporary science in favor of Talmudic science,[4] and others hang it on questions of authority (also, in my opinion, baseless)—he therefore found himself compelled to concoct such a bizarre explanation to keep the conclusion in place. In this he believed (and apparently rightly) that he could preserve Talmudic halakha and silence the critics. This is an excellent example of the sort of discourse Navat describes—this time on the halakhic (more precisely: meta-halakhic) plane.

A Few Additional Features

Within his words, Rabbi Navat notes (and I too have written this more than once) that Haredi society is far less ideological than the religious-Zionist society. In the religious-Zionist world (the “kav” is the outstanding example, of course), there is a tendency to examine every decision and every step according to ideological principles. In Haredi society, decision-making is much more pragmatic. Contrary to common belief, it is much easier to compromise with Haredim than with religious-Zionists. For this reason you will also find in religious-Zionist writings many theoretical contortions that try to reconcile everything that happens in reality and every decision with their principles. By contrast, in the Haredi world there is not much engagement with ideology. There are some slogans, but everyone understands (consciously or not) that it is not right to take them too seriously and relate to them.

Beyond this, in Haredi society statements are usually extreme and pompous.[5] Every event is a disaster, a calamity—or a redemption and salvation the likes of which never were (there are examples also from Navat). He explains that these phenomena too are rooted in the fact that they are not careful about precision and correspondence with reality, since the purpose of such statements is not to convey information or analyze a situation but to achieve educational-rhetorical goals. In contrast, in religious-Zionist discourse there are also moderate statements; not everything is a foundation of faith or an extreme situation. He also brings another difference—regarding sense of humor—and on that I tend to agree (though to my impression it is improving with the years). In religious-Zionist discourse there is little humor. Everything is very serious and ideological. Every analysis obligates us and of course has important implications. In the Haredi world there is no necessary contradiction between piety and a sense of humor. Haredi pragmatism more easily permits itself to joke about others and also about itself. Already in my days in Bnei Brak and until today I have wondered how people live with the jokes about R. Y. S. Efrati,[6] that is, about the influence of attendants on the proclamations and statements of the rabbis, and at the same time believe with perfect faith in “according to all that they instruct you.” There is there a surprising sobriety intertwined with dogmatism that is not at all comprehensible.

In short, Navat argues that Nadav is mistaken in understanding Haredi discourse. Nadav quotes statements from Haredi leaders and sees in them an expression of Haredi ideology. For him, if they write like Satmar then they believe Satmar’s beliefs. And what about the different practice? In his view that is only a practical dispute. Navat, however, argues that the discourse is being misunderstood. Those statements are intended to create an atmosphere and an attitude toward Zionism and the State and to preserve internal cohesion. They have almost nothing to do with the expression of systematic beliefs and opinions, and anyone who infers from them something about Haredi ideology and worldview (insofar as there even is such a thing) does so at his own risk.

In the WhatsApp group where this discussion arose I wrote that, in my view, Navat is entirely correct on this point. His is a pointed description of Haredi discourse, and Nadav’s analysis is indeed problematic. However, as we shall now see, there is also another side to the coin.

Nadav’s Reply: On Esotericism

Nadav, in his response to Navat, sees his arguments as apologetic defense:

As noted, he sees these arguments as a dishonest defense meant to dodge and get Haredim off the hook of his critique. On that I disagree. I think these arguments truly describe the situation as it is, whether you like it or not. On this point I fully agree with Rabbi Navat.

Yet Nadav also argues—and in my view, quite rightly—that Navat’s interpretation implies that one cannot debate the arguments of Haredi speakers on their merits. There is always the possibility of retreating to the claim that they did not really mean what they said, and the difficulty is negated from the outset. On this I fully agree with Nadav. That is, Navat is right in his interpretation of Haredi texts, but precisely because of that, Nadav is right in his critique of this esoteric approach. I will now sharpen this further.

Is Haredi Discourse Esoteric?

To preempt expected responses, let me say already here: what follows (as did my words until now) are generalizations. When I speak of Haredi discourse I mean those statements that are the subject of the debate between Nadav and Navat. I do not intend to say that every word issuing from a Haredi thinker or rabbi has no meaning and is nothing but rhetoric to achieve an educational goal. I also do not claim that everyone there always speaks nonsense. I will focus my words on statements of the sort Navat described, and only on them. I will now try to sharpen my claims regarding them—namely, to explain why and how I agree with both sides in this debate.

The problem Nadav raises exists in any text written in an esoteric approach. If you have no way to refute a claim or argument, then it is doubtful whether they are saying anything at all. Whenever you raise a difficulty, you will be told that the intention was not what is written. But this is not only when difficulties arise. Anyone can hang on such a text whatever he wishes, since evidence for some interpretation based on what is written will never be conclusive. As noted, Haredi/esoteric discourse does not assert claims but only creates an atmosphere for educational and indoctrination purposes. So long as I lack a criterion that tells me when the argument intends what is written and when not, and how I am to interpret it in each case, not only is there no way to argue with it—the argument itself does not truly say anything. It is, at best, a source of inspiration, like a poem or like the Delphic oracle’s obscure text.

Thus far the ills of esotericism. But in our case the problem is deeper than in esoteric writing. In esoteric writing, the assumption is that the writer intended something definite, and that there are discerning readers who can understand the text properly. Esotericism only prevents the masses from understanding the text (this is generally the goal of esoteric writing). But here there are no discerning readers who can understand the meaning of the words—because there is no meaning. We have no rules of interpretation that can bring even a skilled listener or reader (a Torah scholar) to the true interpretation. In Haredi discourse there is simply no true interpretation (consider the examples Nadav cited and Navat explained). As Navat describes it, the relation between signifier and signified in Haredi ideological discourse does not exist (or at least is different). The text has no signified in the sense of the text’s meaning, but only in the sense of the text’s goal. In this sense Haredi discourse somewhat resembles speeches in the squares (though there the phrases—even beyond the goal—also have meaning, albeit sometimes exaggerated, foolish, or at least imprecise).

I think Navat too well understands that this lack of meaning is the lot of experts and Torah scholars and not only of laymen, for if there is no meaning no rules of interpretation will bring us to the meaning of the words. Moreover, the lack of meaning and the inability to extract from what is said any conclusions or implications are also the lot of the speakers themselves—that is, of the Haredi leaders and rabbis who say and write these texts. They themselves, according to Navat’s description, are unaware of this problematic. The speaker himself lives in a traditional (not modern) atmosphere, as Navat rightly explains. He thinks and writes negligently and imprecisely because he lacks the modern awareness of logical precision and of the meaning of his words. Therefore he says/writes things from which conclusions emerge that he himself does not intend. The main thing is that the educational goal be achieved.

In this sense there is a real problem here, just as Nadav described in his last response—and this precisely because Navat is, in my view, right in his interpretation of these texts. The picture that emerges is of people, some of them very wise (listen to and read their Torah classes and innovations on Talmudic topics and you will see), who, when they deal with the realms of thought and ideology, simply speak unconsciously at a truly childish level. The foolishness that Navat describes at the start of his words, when he describes texts about which it is hard to say “only a wise and understanding people,” is not a side effect. It touches the very foundation.

It seems to me that the sense of the speakers and readers who adopt such discourse is that philosophy and ideas are entertainment that requires no skill. One throws out statements that on their face seem fitting, and that’s it. Skill and analytical ability are required and exist (abundantly) only in the realm of Talmudic discussion. Anyone familiar with Haredi society knows this phenomenon. During my time in Bnei Brak I occasionally heard talks by mashgichim or ramim who came to preach in the synagogue; the listeners—many of whom were top-tier lamdanim—if they had heard a Talmudic class at such a level, would have chopped the speaker to bits; here they listened to the nonsense being spoken as if it were the giving of the Torah by Moshe Rabbeinu himself.

By the way, above I qualified my words and said they target the texts Navat described and not necessarily every Haredi ideological text. But now we can infer that even if only some of the texts are such, we have no way of knowing when exactly that is the case. We have no criterion warning us about imprecise statements meant to achieve educational goals rather than convey any content. But such a state casts a shadow on the ability to interpret any Haredi ideological text. You cannot know whether it belongs to the texts with a signified (meaning) or to those that have only a goal and no signified. If you challenge it, one can always explain to you that this is a text that does not mean what is written in it. The dismal conclusion is that such an approach creates a severe problem regarding the corpus as a whole, and my earlier qualification is itself not entirely in place. Nonetheless, I do not intend to claim that no Haredi text is interpreted as it reads. There are texts whose meaning is fairly clear. Even so, there is an inescapable principled problem here. Certainly, one cannot debate someone—even if only some of his texts are constructed in such a way.

A Note on the Difference Between Derush and Pilpul

We have seen that not only the listeners but even the speakers themselves are not truly aware of the gap between the meaning of their text and its purpose. The purpose of such a text is to generate behavior and atmosphere, not to convey meaning and content. In fact, the speakers themselves do not expect understanding of their words but behavioral and cognitive outcomes among the listeners. It seems to me that this can be tied to a distinction I have often made between derush and pilpul (see, for example, in column 52).

I explained there that pilpul is an argument that appears solid and correct but leads to an obviously false conclusion (a kind of paradox), whereas derush is a weak argument that does not hold water but leads to a correct (usually trivial) conclusion. I added that I can see value in pilpul, if only as a riddle and intellectual challenge (constructing good pilpul is a real art), but derush seems to me entirely without value.

In this sense, the Haredi discourse as Navat describes it is a kind of derush. They present arguments that do not hold water, with the aim of leading to the desired cognitive and behavioral conclusion. If in the end the conclusion is good (the goal is achieved), what do I care that the arguments leading to it do not hold water?! This is precisely why “one does not respond to derush.”[8]

A Final Note on the Continental Atmosphere

From reading Rabbi Navat’s words it emerges that we are dealing with a discourse intended to achieve a goal and not to convey content and meaning. On the other hand, one can gather from his words that nevertheless Haredi discourse has some sort of meaning, even if not entirely precise and rigid—and this is what Nadav misses in his analysis. Perhaps this is also how to understand Hani Gargel’s formulation cited above (about the “wink”). From her words one can perhaps understand that adepts do perceive the wink and understand what is said. My problem is with the claim that seeks to present as if such texts have a meaning that does not arise linearly from the words and sentences themselves. If that interpretation is correct, then in my view they have no meaning.

This connects, for me, to a review I once wrote of Rabbi Navat’s book, Le-Rega’im Tevaḥanenu, and here I will only note this briefly. In that review I pointed out that Rabbi Navat appears to live in a continental (primarily French) philosophical atmosphere (I understand this is also his family’s background). In column 223 (and also here) I addressed the great problematic I see in the French philosophical atmosphere (I do not mean “French” in the ethnic sense, of course). It is an atmosphere that tends toward postmodernist discourse (yes, I know there are giants who distinguish between one French thinker and another, and between them and postmodernism—sorry, I’m not buying it). It is no wonder that one finds there word games without color or well-defined meaning, and especially a very liberal attitude to the relation between signifier and signified (that itself is a common term in postmodernist texts). Admittedly, I wrote in my review that, in my opinion, Rabbi Navat’s book is interesting and impressive in the clarity and depth of its words, and I think that also here he displayed deep understanding and excellent capacity of argument and expression. Even so, I suspect that the French atmosphere is what leads to his sympathetic—or at least understanding and accommodating—attitude toward the kind of discourse he describes.

He himself explains that Haredi discourse replaces meaning with purpose and infers from this that we should not relate to it as bearing meaning or derive conclusions from it; yet he seems to relate to this with much indulgence (his words are essentially a brief for the defense of this discourse, despite the criticism found therein). One gets the impression that, to him, this is merely a different kind of meaning. In contrast, in my (and also in Nadav’s) eyes—as one who thinks within a conventional philosophical framework and sees in the French verbiage little beyond word games—the discourse he describes is empty of content. It has no meaning whatsoever. As noted, Rabbi Navat’s interpretation of the citations Nadav brought is more correct than Nadav’s, but precisely because of this, Nadav’s claims against this discourse are, in my view, very strong. In my opinion, Nadav was not right in his original post in which he claimed that all Haredim are Satmar, but he is certainly right in his response to Rabbi Navat—namely, in his claim that if Navat’s interpretation is correct, then their discourse is not serious, childish (and perhaps “derushi”), and in effect says little.

[1] As is well known, Maimonides, Guide III:25–26, sharply condemns this mode of thought. See also my article, “What Is a ‘Decree of Scripture’?”

[2] See on this at the end of chapter seventeen in the third book of the trilogy, Maḥalakhim Bein Ha’omedim.

[3] I discussed this in part six of the third book of the trilogy, and there I explained that, in my opinion, despite the Talmud’s unassailable halakhic authority, these rulings are nullified on their own—that is, there is not even a need for a court to annul them. But I do not know of any such halakhic doctrine in the whole history of halakha. The rationales offered to ground this approach are very strange, and I will not enter them here.

[4] Some are convinced that Talmudic science does not err and ours does; others cast doubt and, from doubt, do not permit themselves to change the halakha; and others wonder whether there are interpretations that reconcile the matters (without proposing such interpretations).

[5] I have cited here in this context the fascinating opening to Amnon Levi’s book, Ha-Ḥaredim (see on this in column 161).

[6] For those unfamiliar: “the R. Y. Sh.” is the name of Rabbi Yosef Shalom Elyashiv; and Rabbi Yosef Efrati was his close attendant. This joke mocks the fact (or: assumption) that the public statements issued in Rabbi Elyashiv’s name were in fact statements of Rabbi Efrati, who maneuvered him. As noted. But this did not prevent people from treating those statements with holy awe. If in any case one does not understand, and in any case God speaks from Rabbi Elyashiv’s throat, then it does not really matter whether it is logical and whether Rabbi Elyashiv himself actually said it or not. “The spirit of the Lord upon His holy servants” (to use Nahmanides’ phrase in the section about plotting witnesses), and He ensures that one who takes counsel with the elders does not stumble (except for the times he does).

[7] Incidentally, I do not agree even with this note of Nadav. The words of Rav Kook are not distinguished by clarity and unequivocalness, of course, and they are far from the precise academic character that Navat describes—but that is not the important point. Rav Kook’s writings, with all their lack of clarity, are certainly subject to interpretation and critique and are interpreted in light of what is written, not according to such-and-such educational aims. That is at least the accepted assumption (perhaps because those who study him are usually not Haredim). They are not presented as esoteric writing whose purpose is educational indoctrination in place of truth. Rav Kook meant what he wrote—whatever the meaning of his words may be. In this sense, Rav Kook’s writing is not Haredi.

[8] There is no point in raising refutations to a failed argument whose whole purpose is to lead to a correct conclusion (usually a trivial one). If the conclusion is correct, what do I care that the argument is flawed and fails?!