Lessons from the Holocaust – On Fundamentalism, Atrocities, and Autonomy (Volume 67)

With God’s help

On the last Holocaust Memorial Day, I had some thoughts that seemed important to me. So I thought it would be appropriate to take a break before Next column (which will address the question of whether the majority is right) and present them here.

Who perpetrated the Holocaust?

Rabbi Amital once said that he met Abba Kovner (poet and writer, partisan, publicist and ideologue, education officer, some called him the political truck, of the Givati Brigade). Both were Holocaust survivors. Abba Kovner told the rabbi that in the Holocaust he lost his faith in God. Rabbi Amital replied that in the Holocaust he lost his faith in man.[1] There is an interesting reversal here, the atheist blames the Holocaust on G-d, and the rabbi blames it on man. I have already argued here in the past that faith does not require us to see events in the world as the work of G-d, since He gave us the choice between good and evil, and therefore acts like the Holocaust are carried out by the Nazis and not by G-d (at most, He did not prevent it). Here I would like to address another aspect, although somewhat tangential.

Religious belief and horrors

In religious education, we are taught that "if there is no God in this place, let him kill me," meaning that belief in God is a brake on the terrible consequences that can result from man's actions and passions (Hobbes's natural state). Belief in God is a guarantee of moral and humane behavior. In contrast, in our world, there is a feeling that the situation is the opposite: atrocities usually occur in the name of God and belief in Him. In the absence of faith, there would be no atrocities. Humanism (placing man at the center) is the brake on the horrors of religious belief. For example, Dawkins writes that in every society there are good people who do good deeds and bad people who do bad deeds. But the phenomenon of good people doing bad deeds can only occur in a religious society. Faith causes good people to do bad deeds in its name. It is also commonly believed that mass murderers always act in the name of religion. This is, of course, a statement that is factually unfounded. In the sixth chapter of my book God plays dice I have already stated that most of the mass murderers of the twentieth century were secular, and even did so in the name of secularism (Stalin, Pol Pot, Mao, etc. Hitler is a more complex question. Likewise today in Africa and Eastern Europe there are mass murders in the name of nationality or tribe with no clear connection to religion). Although in the past the murderers were religious, the whole world was essentially religious at the time (therefore, those who did good deeds were also mainly religious at the time). Since its birth, secularism has had nothing to be ashamed of in its achievements, even on this unsympathetic level. I wrote there that indeed there is no ideological murder without ideology (preferably total), but this is a simple tautology that religion and religious belief have little to do with it.

Well, then each side is certain that its path is not only correct but also the only guarantee of morality. We are all biased and therefore do not think straight. There is not much new in this. Here I actually wanted to argue that there is truth in the claims of both sides. Indeed, faith (like any unqualified ideological commitment) can cause atrocities, and at the same time God can act as a brake on them. This brings me to the question of the correct relationship between religious faith, critical thinking, and moral atrocities.

The lesson from the Nuremberg Trials

To the man in the street, it seems obvious that Nazis of all levels and ranks should be tried for their crimes. However, from a legal perspective, a difficult question arises here. How can a person be tried for obeying the law? At most, the legislator who established the laws can be tried, but can the citizen or soldier also be tried? Legal judgment, unlike moral judgment, purifies the categories of guilt. As long as there is no legal provision prohibiting the act, it is impossible to put a person on trial for committing it. It is no wonder, then, that many of the defendants in the Nuremberg Trials took the defense that they were obeying orders (or the law). As far as I understand it, the main legal innovation of the Nuremberg Trials is that in certain cases a person can be tried (legally, not just morally) even without a law prohibiting what he did. When he commits atrocities that exceed any minimal moral truth, no law is needed to put him on trial. This is how the matter was expanded in the Kafr Qasem affair when soldiers were put on trial for carrying out the order they received (to kill curfew violators). Since then, Judge Binyamin Halevi's statement about "an order with a black flag flying above it" has been etched in all of our hearts. Such an order must not be given and must not be carried out. Whoever gave it and whoever carried it out will be put on trial for it. This is an expansion of the above insight from the Nuremberg trials.

What underlies this innovation is a twofold assumption: 1. There are fundamental moral laws to which every person is also legally bound, and they are binding regardless of whether they have been enacted in his country or not. 2. An individual is responsible for his actions, even if they were done by order of an authorized person or by law. These are at most reasons for mitigating the punishment, but ultimately a person who does something cannot shift responsibility for his actions onto another person, no matter how important, authorized, and wise. If you did something, the fundamental responsibility is yours. This is a perception of man as a sovereign and autonomous being who must make decisions about his actions and is therefore also responsible for them.

Conscientious objection

There is another extension of this line of thought. What happens when an order or directive is given that is clearly legal, but the person finds it to be contrary to fundamental values that he personally believes in. For example, an order to evacuate communities as part of a peace agreement. There are soldiers and civilians who see such an order as immoral and as very fundamentally and deeply contrary to their world of values. On the other hand, it is clear that such an order is clearly legal. It is a decision of a sovereign government that is implemented by the army and the military command, and therefore from a legal and military perspective there is an absolute obligation to obey it.

Such dilemmas arise mainly in the army, although not only in it (there is also conscientious objection or civil disobedience). There are people on the left who feel this way about service in the territories or in Lebanon (or as Amos Oz wrote about the decision to deport and transfer Arabs), and on the right in relation to the evacuation of settlements and the handover of territory to a foreign government. Ostensibly, in such a situation there is no escape, and the soldier or citizen must comply with the order or law, since there is no black flag waving above it. It is completely legal. However, modern legal thought treats such a situation in a more complex way. On the one hand, there is clearly an obligation to obey the law or order, but on the other hand there is legitimacy (legally) to refuse. The refuser will be punished because he broke the law, but society will not see him as a criminal but as a conscientious objector (which may also lighten the punishment). Furthermore, the punishment here does not express condemnation of the person, but rather serves as a filter whose main purpose is to ensure that this is a step that truly goes against his values and beyond the red lines. The indication for this is that he is indeed willing to pay the price of a prison sentence for his decision. If no punishment were imposed on such a person, this would open the door for anyone who disagrees with any ordinance or law, or who is simply uncomfortable with them, to violate them. The legislator wants to ensure that this will only be done in extreme situations. That the citizen or soldier will not decide to refuse whenever something seems wrong to him, but only in cases where the matter is acute and extremely serious from his point of view and from his beliefs. Therefore, such a refusal is subject to punishment.

Many confuse the two levels. They treat an order to evacuate a settlement as an order with a black flag flying above it. This can perhaps be said, but not in Justice Halevi's original legal sense, since the order is completely legal and there is a legal obligation to obey and fulfill it. This can only be said in a moral sense (and not in a legal sense). The difference between the situations is that in the first case (of a clearly illegal order) the one who gives the order and those who carry it out will be prosecuted and punished. And those who do not carry it out will of course not be charged. But in the second case (of conscientious objection) the one who gave the order will of course not be prosecuted. On the contrary, those who do not carry it out will be prosecuted and punished, but at the same time they will still be perceived as legitimate, respectable citizens.

The importance of refusal

We are very used to statements that refusal destroys the army and society. There is something to this, after all, an army is built on orders and a reformed society is built on obedience and respect for the law. But this perception is only partial. To the same extent, it is very important to clarify to people the possibility and obligation to refuse when the order or law crosses a red line for them. And again, I am not talking about biased statements that support refusal when it comes from the "right" side (in my opinion) and strongly condemn it when it comes from the other side (which is what usually happens, of course, on both sides). I am talking about the importance of refusal in whatever form it is. I expect every person who finds themselves in a situation where the order or law fundamentally contradicts their values (regardless of my opinion of them) to consider the possibility of refusal, and even to exercise it if necessary. This is the human image in us. We are never just citizens of a country or soldiers in the army. We are first and foremost human beings who are committed to their own values and their personal ethical and conscientious backbone. Therefore, every action we do must pass our personal filter, and it is not enough that the law or military orders require it.

When I taught at a yeshiva in Yeruham, I spoke to a group of students who were taking an officer course. I told them that I would not go to war with a soldier who I knew would never refuse me. This is a bad soldier who creates a bad army. The officer's job is to educate the soldier to obey orders, and at the same time to instill in him his duty to refuse when the orders cross a red line for him, or are clearly illogical. This is after carefully considering how convinced he is, equipped with facts, and how serious the expected moral or practical damage is compared to the damage of refusal. For example, there are situations in which an officer in the field receives orders that he clearly knows are incorrect. This is not a moral dilemma (only indirectly), but a command and operational decision. In certain cases, he is obliged to consider refusal. This is when it is completely clear to him that the echelon above him is wrong and insists, and that all the relevant facts are in his hands. The military significance of such a "big head" is presented as destructive and strongly rejected by our society. But the significance of blind obedience and a "small head" can be no less destructive, ethically and operationally, and also lead to bad decisions, ethically or operationally. If there are no people at the end of the chain with backbone who will consider refusal, or if my soldier will never refuse me, then I have no motivation as a commander to consider the orders I give. On the other hand, soldiers who may refuse force the commanding echelon to think twice about the orders he gives. This way the orders will be better and more moral, and will create a better army. Therefore, refusal is not just a right of the soldier or a defense argument that gives legitimacy to his refusal (of a conscientious objector). It is an important value that also improves the moral and operational functioning of the army.

And again, I will reiterate that, of course, discipline is important, and refusal is a last resort for very exceptional extreme cases. The soldier and the citizen should consider very seriously whether, in this given situation, there is justification for refusing. But nevertheless, the very existence of the possibility of refusing is very important on both levels: both in terms of the quality of the soldier and the person in him, and in terms of the quality of the army and its orders. Blind obedience leads to atrocities and led, among other things, to the Holocaust. But as mentioned, it can also lead to simply bad decisions by detached commanders.

About the atrocities of tyrants

I once read a biography of Stalin, and I remember that a thought kept accompanying me the whole time that I couldn't get rid of. This is the ruler of a huge country with about one hundred and fifty million citizens (the USSR). Everyone who has any connection with him (as opposed to innocent, distant citizens who are subject to constant propaganda) is afraid of him to death and wants to kill him. And yet Stalin died in his bed after more than forty years of absolute terror over this entire vast empire (except for conspiracy theories that exist everywhere here, of course). How is this possible? How could one man alone, for about half a century, defeat a power of one hundred and fifty million people with a huge army and powerful security organizations? The answer is the fear that leads to obedience. Stalin committed all the atrocities through his soldiers and citizens. He did not do it himself. Stalin ruled them without mercy and gained their complete obedience. Everyone was afraid to take a step of resistance or rebellion, lest they report him or he simply fail, and then of course he would die immediately. This fear brought this entire mighty mechanism to its knees. At the command of a single man and dancing to his flute. This is how he was able to carry out all his atrocities and madness.

Between guilt and responsibility

But what can the ordinary citizen do? After all, he is afraid of death, and rightly so. Every time he turns to someone in an attempt to rebel, to assassinate, to prevent the implementation of some order, he risks a real danger to his life. That person can inform on him and he will be subjected to torture and immediate death. Is it any wonder that the vast majority of people did nothing (there were those who tried, and indeed failed)?! Is it possible to come to them with complaints?

A similar question arises in the context of the people of Shechem. Maimonides writes in 1 Kings 9:4:

And as it is commanded of the judges, they are obligated to appoint judges and magistrates in every province and district to judge these six commandments, and to warn the people, and a son of Noah who transgresses one of these seven commandments will be killed by the sword, and because of this all the owners of Shechem are obligated to kill, because Shechem plundered and they saw and knew and did not judge it…

He explains that the residents of Nablus pledged to die for not condemning their king who had usurped their rights and abused her. And the commentators have already made it difficult for him: What could a simple resident of Nablus do to his king? And is it possible for a simple citizen in a country (apparently not democratic) to do anything against the injustices of his omnipotent king? After all, he would have had his head whipped on the spot, just like Stalin.

I think Maimonides' argument is that while it is difficult to make accusations against the common man, the responsibility nevertheless lies with him. After all, what the King of Shechem did could not have been done without all the citizens. He rules by their power (even if he was not democratically elected) and therefore acts by their power, just like Stalin. They are the ones who give him the power, and without them he has no power. Therefore, even if everyone has a good explanation for why he is not acting and cannot act, each citizen still bears personal responsibility. After all, all of them together could certainly have prevented this. One could perhaps say that there is no blame here, but rather an imposition of responsibility.

I will clarify that I assume that I too would not have acted differently in the situation of the people of Nablus or the residents of the USSR, and yet if we do not hold the individual citizen responsible, we will not be able to prevent atrocities committed by his power and strength. All the residents of Nablus are nothing more than a collection of citizens, just as the USSR is nothing more than a collection of its citizens. If none of them are responsible, there is no one who will be responsible for the atrocities committed by his power. There is no choice but to hold the isolated and powerless individual responsible, despite the fear and despite the fact that we in his place probably would not have acted differently. A standard must still be set that requires each such individual to act, and in principle, perhaps we can also judge him if he did not act.

Think of a Soviet soldier or policeman who came to arrest or kill you unjustly. He is not guilty because if he refuses, they will surely kill him. Am I allowed to kill him in order to save myself? Of course, yes. This is analogous to the law of persecuting a fool or a minor. It is said that a fool takes a weapon and starts shooting in all directions. This is of course not his fault, since he is mindless and has no responsibility for his actions. Is it permissible to kill him? Of course, it is. Not because he is guilty but because he is responsible (meaning he is the one who should pay the price to neutralize the danger. Certainly not me). Indeed, according to the law, it is certainly permissible and necessary to kill a persecutor, even if he is mindless, because even though he is not guilty, he is responsible. And in the same way, it is permissible to kill a Soviet policeman who came against his will to kill me. This means that I hold him responsible for what he does even though he is not guilty of it.[2]

Therefore, the responsibility for what a state does, even if it is totalitarian, lies with the citizens, because without them it would not have happened. They have a responsibility to unite and resist despite fear and to refuse. They must not agree to carry out the atrocities and even prevent their execution, despite fear. If they did not do so – perhaps there is no guilt, but the responsibility certainly lies with them. This is the basis for the claims against the Nazi criminals. Even if there was terrible fear and there was no real possibility of preventing the acts and resisting them, the responsibility nevertheless lies with them. As we have seen, the fact that there is an order, even a legal one, and even if there is terrible fear and helplessness, it is impossible not to impose responsibility on the individual citizen. Responsibility for a collective that is not imposed on any of the individual citizens is empty of content (in the words of Chazal: "I am not a warm or cold companion of mine"). The obedient silence is what enables the commission of these atrocities, especially when it comes to large-scale ones, and imposing individual responsibility is, and only it, perhaps able to prevent them. The way to prevent atrocities is to impose responsibility on the individual, even when he acts by virtue of an authoritarian, frightening system, and even when it is wise and just.

Application of religious law

Are these things also applicable to religious law (halakha)? It is worth noting that the atrocities being committed today in Iraq and Syria by ISIS are justified in exactly this way. Every such operative is certain that he is acting according to a divine command (through Caliph Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, who in his eyes is the direct mouthpiece of Allah). I believe them that this is indeed what motivates them (at least some of them). Does this absolve them of responsibility? Ostensibly yes, it is as if God, the Holy One, or Moses commanded us to do such acts. In such a situation, wouldn't we have to do it? So what do we want from them?[3]

If such an ISIS operative were to stand trial before us, what would we claim against him? That despite his faith, responsibility for what he does rests with him. We would expect him to filter the orders and instructions he received, that is, the laws of his religion, through his personal ethical filter. The fact that he truly and authentically believes in this system does not exempt him from responsibility for his actions. But if we demand this from him, there is no way we cannot demand it from us and everyone else. Everyone thinks that their religion must be right and just, it's just that the others commit unjustified atrocities. But personal duty and responsibility mean that even if I believe, I am responsible for what I do. If my law requires me to commit atrocities, I must refuse. If I did not do it, there is no difference between me and those ISIS members. I do not intend to say that the law does indeed command committing atrocities, but only to establish the principle that a normative system, state law, instructions from a charismatic leader, as well as religious law, do not exempt a person from responsibility for what he does. Every act of mine must pass through my personal filter and not just the ideological filter in which I believe. My assumption is that a person has a filter (moral intuition) that can stop the atrocities that his religion or ideology may cause him to commit (cf. Dawkins).

The conclusion is that a pinch of "secularism" is really needed as a brake on atrocities. Faith is also a brake, but absolute faith and unqualified, unconditional commitment can be a catalyst for committing atrocities. Within each of us there must be a personal filter and a willingness to act autonomously that will prevent them. The conclusion is that humanity also has a role in braking religious faith and vice versa. The optimal dosage is to be religious but also a little "secular."[4] In fact, the duty is to be myself.

In my book True and unstable I argued that fundamentalism is perceived here as people who commit extreme atrocities in the name of religion or some ideology. But the philosophical root of fundamentalism is the real problem. I defined fundamentalism on a philosophical level as a belief that does not stand up to the test of critical thinking. The danger in such an approach is not only that it may lead to atrocities. That is true, but it is only a symptom of the real problem. A person is supposed to be responsible for his actions and not let any ideology or belief dictate them in an uncontrolled manner. The fundamental danger is that he loses his human image, which is personal autonomy. The atrocities are a result. The Nuremberg Trials, Kafr Qasem, and the arguments raised here teach that a person must pass on his decisions and actions to his personal values, that is, not to be a fundamentalist towards any system, religious, ideological, national or otherwise. This is the meaning of faith in man as a lesson from the Holocaust. Although man has not really proven himself, man is also the one who overcame the Nazis. The lesson is that we probably need to get better at this (in Syria).

Could this be a religious belief?

What I am saying here is that a person should not be completely committed to their faith and what comes from it. Our decisions should always be based on our personal views and values. This seems to be in direct contradiction to the principles of religious perception and education. Still, I think this is the main lesson I draw from the Holocaust, that each person's actions are their own responsibility, and their ideological and other commitments are no excuse for inappropriate behavior. One should not be too big a dos, and one should not abandon critical thinking.

In the religious and Jewish context, we must remember that the law as it is in our hands is not the word of God, but a human adaptation of the word of God. What is written in the Torah is a basis, or raw material, that the sages put into practice and shape in order to create the law in practice. Therefore, even if we believe that God is perfect and moral and that there can be no flaw in His instructions, this is certainly not true with regard to the law, which is the result of human action and thought. Therefore, a halachic teaching must always pass through our personal filter, and the claim that the law requires this, and certainly the claim that this or that wise and charismatic person (such and such a rabbi or an unknown great man of the generation) told me this, does not justify any action on his part. The person who does something is always responsible for what he has done and must be involved in the decision. He can of course decide that he trusts such and such a person or an unknown person or a book, but this is also his decision and he is responsible for it and its consequences.[5]

To reassure readers, I will cite a few sources here to show that this concept is not foreign to the Sages either. The Gemara in Tractate Chulin 124a narrates that Rabbi Nachman says to Ula after he hears some halacha from him in the name of Rabbi Yochanan:

God: If God had told me through Rabbi Yochanan, we would not have obeyed him.

He swore that even if he had heard such an instruction from Rabbi Yochanan, he would not have obeyed. Further down the page, a similar statement by Rabbi Ami appears, which further strengthens Rav Nachman's opinion:

God did not tell me Joshua son of Nun to call him, but we did not obey him.

We see here that the Amoraim are not willing to accept anything that does not make sense, even if it came to them directly from the mouth of Joshua ben Nun, the greatest of the prophets except Moses. If they had heard him say this, they would have determined that he was wrong and would not have accepted his words.[6]

There is reason to bring up in this context the issue of "offense for its own sake" (see Nazir 23b).[7] It is also explained there that a person who is alone in an extreme situation is supposed to make decisions alone, and in extreme cases even in violation of the law. For example, at the end of the page it is stated that the actions of Lot's daughters (who had marital relations with their father and gave birth to Ammon and Moab) were a mitzvah. The explanation is probably that they saw that the entire world was being destroyed (to their eyes. Everything they saw was destroyed), and decided to violate the severe prohibition of incest, which has no halakhic permission in any situation, and this is only because the alternative was the extinction of the entire human race. The Sages praise them because it was a "transgression for its own sake." There is no halakhic permission here, but this is what a person should do in such an extreme situation. They did this without the instruction of a rabbi or a regulation of the Sages, but with the understanding that in such an extreme case their values and ethical judgment require them to violate the law. As mentioned, they are praised by the Sages for this decision.[8]

A brief look at the binding

Our father Abraham received an instruction from God to bind his son. He does not hesitate, but rather hurries to saddle his donkey himself early in the morning and fulfill the terrible command he received. He does not reflect on or hesitate about the moral injustice and the logical contradiction of the promise that Isaac would be called a seed. On the surface, this is blind obedience, which stands in stark contrast to everything I am preaching here. Although some have interpreted that Abraham failed in the attempt to bind his son,[9] But this is an unreasonable interpretation of the verses of the Torah (the Torah itself and of course the Sages never stop telling us the opposite). So how does Abraham really accept this divine instruction? Why doesn't he show responsibility for his personal values? To sharpen the difficulty, I will mention that in the destruction of Sodom, Abraham argues with God very stubbornly and absolutely does not accept His decisions. Why does Abraham stubbornly not suspect that perhaps it is not God who is speaking to him? Perhaps this is a matter of hallucinations or some kind of deception (Descartes' deceptive demon)? After all, the order he received blatantly contradicts both morality and logic.

Kierkegaard, in his book On the Binding Strength and trembling, exalts this sacrifice, and in fact sees it as the essence of the Akida. Abraham (whom he sees as the "knight of faith," i.e. the ultimate believer) Akida his morality and his logic, thereby proving that he is a true believer. But Rabbi Kook in his siddur Visual impairmentIn his commentary on the Akida, he follows most of the interpretive path parallel to Kierkegaard, but his conclusion is quite the opposite. If Christianity places the absurd at the center of faith, Judaism places logic and understanding. God is essentially teaching Abraham that it is impossible for God to command him to do such a thing. In the eyes of the Rabbi, the lesson of the Akida is the commandment, "Do not lay your hand on the boy." If you thought God could command you to do something like that, you were wrong. It is good that you obeyed God. You have proven that you are a true and committed believer. But the lesson is that in such situations (not exactly like these. See details below) it is forbidden to obey. Abraham showed great devotion and for this he received full appreciation, but in essence, the law came to teach us the opposite lesson. That one should not do things that go against morality, values, and logic, even if there is a divine command. If such a commandment has reached us, we have probably misunderstood it.

onMy articles on the Holocaust I have maintained that a person cannot judge another person who is in a different situation. The right to make the final decision is reserved for the person who is in the situation (as in the case of Lot's daughters). No matter how comprehensive halachic knowledge I have, I do not give me the opportunity to decide for the person in the situation. If we return to the Akida, I have never experienced a divine revelation, and therefore I can offer Abraham solutions that perhaps this is not a revelation but some kind of deception. But Abraham experienced the revelation, and as a prophet who knows about revelations, he probably knows that this is clear and beyond doubt. He has no doubt that God Himself is involved here and that no moral wrong will result from this. He cannot explain this certainty to a person who has not experienced prophecy, just as a wise person cannot explain to a blind person his confidence in what he sees with his eyes. The blind person who is not endowed with the sense of sight does not understand why I am so sure and do not doubt what I see (especially since I also know that sometimes there are phenomena like Peta Morgana, and yet this does not lead me to doubt what I see).

Therefore, when a prophet receives a direct divine revelation, he can and must do what God commands him to do. He probably also has confidence that no moral wrong will result from it (and indeed, in the end, no wrong will result from the akeidah). But this is in relation to a prophet like Abraham. To us, ordinary mortals, nothing comes directly from God. For us, it is always the word of God that has been conveyed to us through the mediation and processing of people. Therefore, we must always examine what we are told with a critical eye and not automatically accept it. Even the Torah itself is not clear that it was given literally from Sinai (it probably contains later additions). Therefore, at least for someone who is not a prophet, the general instruction should be not to accept anything automatically. Despite religious belief and commitment to halakhah, things should always be passed through a personal filter, otherwise horrors may occur. This is an application of the lessons of the Holocaust in relation to religious and halakhic thought, as I have suggested here.

A little current affairs to finish

The reader will surely forgive me if I cannot restrain myself, and here too I will groan in criticism of some public statement. Miriam Naor, President of the Supreme Court, Spoke At the swearing-in ceremony for judges at the President's Office, she referred to Holocaust Remembrance Day:

"This is one of the most important lessons that we must learn from the darkest chapter in our history as a people; from the most terrible crime known to human history, the Holocaust." According to her, "One of the lessons of the Holocaust is that democracy cannot be identified with majority rule. Not every decision or law that is adopted by a majority is necessarily a democratic decision or law, as history teaches that if the power of the majority is not restrained, it may turn into tyranny.". And added: ""The dark days of the Nazi regime taught us that the rule of the majority that deprives individuals of their rights; a majority that oppresses the minority living among them – is not a democratic government."

There is a strange phenomenon here that I have become accustomed to, that senior public figures can say any banal nonsense that comes to mind and it becomes a headline and is presented as something profound and sublimely wise that deserves to be quoted and discussed in the press. In this context, I can already imagine the headline for the IDF Memorial Day: "The President said that in their death they commanded us to live," or the headline for the Independence Day that is coming upon us for the better: "The Prime Minister said that Israel will stand on its own two feet thanks to its talented sons and its extraordinary achievements, and will continue to be an extraordinary and creative democratic model, a model for the entire world" (oh, and we will also fight Iran), and many more pathetic phrases along these lines.

Well, we're used to that. But in the passage cited above, we encounter an even more fascinating phenomenon: the president of our Supreme Court (!) reveals the thinking and articulation abilities of a small child. I'll start with an exercise for the reader: How does the Holocaust prove that democracy cannot be identified with majority rule? If Nazism was acceptable to all citizens in Germany (and not just the majority) and did not affect any minority, was it then enlightened? What does this have to do with claims about majority rule in general? The problem with the Nazis was that they did not protect the rights of the minority? The problem was that they indiscriminately murdered people wherever they went. Without any connection to the rule of the majority, the minority, or the collective as a whole.

Naor probably meant to say that the Holocaust proves that majority rule cannot be identified with enlightenment and morality. But that's pretty banal, isn't it? At least when there is an evil majority, the government based on that majority will probably be evil. Does anyone see anything new here? This tautology isn't really enlightening. Indeed, one should be wary of majority rule because sometimes it too is dangerous to human rights. But it's not necessarily because of the abuse of the minority, but because this majority makes evil decisions toward external factors.

In conclusion, it is indeed important to preserve the rights of the minority and not blindly follow the decisions of the majority. This is of course true, and even banal. But there is reason to expect that the president of our Supreme Court will succeed in formulating her banal "innovations" in a reasonable and logical manner, and will not conceptually confuse democracy with morality, or majority rule with evil rule. And even if she had chosen a more successful formulation, it would still be worth sparing us these banal tautologies.

[1] I don't think it's right to say that Rabbi Amital didn't have faith in man. Sometimes I had the feeling that his faith in man was excessive. I think what he meant was to say that the Holocaust should not be blamed on G-d, but on man, and therefore if one is going to lose faith in something, it is appropriate to lose faith in man and not in G-d.

[2] According to the law, there is a law that one should be killed and not commit murder. In other words, the law imposes responsibility on a person for the act of rape that he commits, and obliges him to surrender his life even though he is not guilty of killing the other (he was forced to do so). This is precisely the difference between guilt and responsibility (and indeed the Rishonim disagree on whether when he commits a crime and kills he is punished or if he is considered a rapist and therefore, even though he committed a crime, he is not punished).

[3] Ehud Barak once said that if he were a young Palestinian, he would take part in acts of terrorism and attacks against Jews and Israelis. Everyone was outraged by him, even though he was of course right. But the connotation that came from his words that they should not be criticized is incorrect. If they do so innocently, as they see it, then perhaps they are not to blame, but the responsibility certainly lies with them.

[4] The term is a metaphor, of course. This is my religious perception itself.

[5] I will tell you an interesting personal story of mine. When I studied at the yeshiva in Bnei Brak, my rabbi was a Haredi Bnei Brak avrech, a prominent student of the legendary Rosh Yeshiva of Ponevezh, Rabbi Shmuel Rozovsky. When Rabbi Schach established Degel HaTorah, every voter was chased for fear that they would not pass the threshold. Of course, I announced in the yeshiva that I was going to vote for the FedL (simply because those around me voted differently). The next day, one of the rabbis came to me and informed me that Rabbi Schach was calling me (we had a good relationship with his family, and he probably heard about the brat from personal sources as well). I didn't go because I was afraid that he would order me to vote for Degel HaTorah and then I would surely listen to his voice (in the end, I voted for them anyway. But I probably won't repeat this nonsense again). Afterwards, I asked my rabbi what would happen if I got to heaven and they sued me for not voting for the FedL, which is the correct vote in the eyes of the Lord of the Universe? Will telling them that I received an instruction from Rabbi Schach absolve me of responsibility for the mistake? After he recovered from this bizarre question (in his eyes), he gave me an equally surprising answer: Absolutely not. Rabbi Schach probably has a higher chance of getting it right, and therefore it is worth listening to him. But the responsibility for the mistake always lies with the one who makes it. I must say that such an autonomous approach from a Haredi rabbi really surprised me. It is not for nothing that I still see him as someone who is closest to being a rabbi.

[6] It is interesting to bring here the words ofBeit Yosef According to the end of the Rambam, he wrote:

It is written at the end of the book of Erchot Chaim that a man quarrels with his friend and says to him, "I do not accept you if you were like Moses, our Lord, who would punish him for his contempt, etc." And it seems to me that this is why they said in the Gemara (Chulin 124): "If Joshua ben Nun had said from his mouth, we would not have obeyed her, and they did not say, "If Moses had said:

That is, the unlimited obligation relates only to Moses our Lord. It should be remembered that Moses only spoke the Torah, but all its interpretations were spoken by later sages. Therefore, the halakhah that we have from it is not actually from the mouth of Moses. Therefore, in practice, it is possible to not accept any halakhic statement of any kind if I am convinced that it is incorrect.

And16 There, in the Saka, he wrote that it is not even because Moses is not wrong, but because such a statement is an insult to Moses, that it says that another person could be like him, which is impossible (since the Torah states, "No one has risen like Moses"). He further expands the permission to reject such a statement even regarding Moses. What they forbade is only comparing someone to Moses.

[7] See about this inMy articles on a crime for its own sake.

[8] I will note that in the Gemara this name is not presented as part of the issue of transgression per se, but the context seems clear.

[9] I saw some such interpretations in Aviezer Ravitzky's article on this subject (I don't have it with me at the moment). He claims that there is a difference between Sephardic and Ashkenazi interpretations on this subject.