Moral Judgment of a Person According to His Own Approach (Column 372)

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.

A few days ago a question was raised on the site about the moral judgment of the Nazis. In the course of the discussion, the question arose regarding the moral judgment we pass on a person’s (or a group’s) behavior: should it be made according to that person’s own approach, or according to the judge’s approach (according to mine)? For some reason I thought I had already addressed this more than once, but a search on the site did not turn up a systematic discussion. I told myself that this lacuna ought to be filled as soon as possible (after all, the whole world is waiting to finally hear the truth about how one should properly judge behaviors and people). The time has come to deal with this important, painful, and murky topic, and perhaps this column will also be a natural place for my revered Rabbi Metolginus, may he live long, to offer his reflections and critiques on the subject (in that thread they surfaced only in brief).

The Nazis

Let us begin by honoring our host and go straight to Godwin’s Law. The bluntest example to discuss, of course, is the Nazis, may their names be blotted out. Seemingly it is obvious to any sensible person that they were utterly wicked, and that every enlightened person is commanded to eradicate them from the face of the earth—preferably while they’re still small. Why is it so clear in that case that there is no room to judge them by their own approach? After all, unlike many other criminals who act out of a momentary impulse, the Nazis did have a coherent system they followed (and of course they were not the only ones. Even “the Jordanians had a method,” though this is not the place).

The assumption is that in the Nazi case it is patently clear that we are dealing with a perverse system. A racist conception that permits and even mandates killing living beings of various kinds (Jews, homosexuals—“as per the Torah,” of course—Roma, the disabled, regime opponents, communists, and more) is illegitimate; therefore it is not reasonable to judge those who hold it by their own lights. On the contrary, holding such a twisted system is itself a moral blemish. From this perspective, the Nazis were systematic felons rather than offenders driven by momentary urges, and that is a consideration for stringency, not leniency. Moreover, if we judge the Nazis by their own approach, it would follow that we cannot judge anyone strictly. Every person who does something acts according to his own approach. True, one could (in principle) conclude that we really cannot judge people at all; but anyone unwilling to accept that conclusion—i.e., anyone who believes in morality and its significance—cannot forgo moral judgment of people and behaviors. For such a person, it would seem the option of judging people by their own approach is off the table. One might, at most, treat the existence of a “system” as a mitigating circumstance (“we followed orders”), but certainly not as a full exoneration. And even seeing a “system” as a mitigating circumstance is not simple; intuitively, it argues for stringency, as I already noted.

But I nonetheless disagree with all this. In my view, every person, or group—including the Nazis—should be judged by their own approach, however perverse, and not by mine. To clarify, let me state already here that this has nothing whatsoever to do with moral relativism. Before getting into that, I must preface with a necessary note about moral judgment in general.

Judgment vs. Self-Defense

When I judge a person or a person’s act morally, I must decide whether he is a good person or not, or whether he acted well or not. The implications of that judgment can be varied. Sometimes there are legal consequences (imposing punishment, as in the case of the Nazis). Sometimes I want to know whether I must defend myself against him, or simply whether I want to have any dealings with him (friendship, neighborhood, diplomatic relations, and the like). And sometimes I judge a person only to learn how I should behave (and how not to). I may ask whether I want my children to associate with him (an educational consideration), and so on.

For my purposes here, the goal of the judgment doesn’t matter, but its character does. If I want to know whether I should defend myself against him or deter him (or others) from such actions in the future, that is a technical consideration, and the moral judgment itself is marginal. In such cases, I am not truly judging a person or an act morally; I am simply deciding whether I want the act to occur or not. That decision can be made for reasons of convenience, self-protection from threats, and the like. I can imprison or kill a murderer because I do not want him to kill me. Such a decision does not necessarily involve a moral judgment of his actions. It could be that the person is a dangerous robot that has gone out of control and poses a threat to me; therefore I will destroy it or lock it away. That does not imply that, in my view, that robot deserves punishment because it acts immorally. In such a case I am not judging; I am defending myself. The same applies to a human being. One can decide to imprison someone without determining that he acted immorally—simply because he is dangerous and I must protect myself. I am not dealing here with that kind of “judgment,” for it is not truly a moral judgment of the person or the act. Our topic here is judging the person and his deeds.

Judgments aimed at self-defense or deterrence—even if I must reach conclusions about what is fitting or unfitting—are certainly made according to my approach and not the “offender’s.” I must determine whether the act is dangerous and should be prevented; therefore, here, my own approach is obviously decisive. The same holds for deciding whether I want my son to share a classroom with him. I want my son to grow up with proper values and to keep away from a bad neighbor so as not to be influenced. Here, the evil of that prospective neighbor is determined by my approach. After all, I am deciding how I want my son educated; I am not judging that person in himself. As stated, my discussion in this column is not about such judgments. Here I deal with judging a person or act to determine whether it was moral or not. I want to determine whether he is a good or bad person. One might ask: to what end—why do I need to judge people at all, beyond practical questions (like self-defense and education)? But the fact is that we do judge, and I seek to examine the nature of such judgment.

Judging the Person or the Act

Even when I judge the person, if in my approach murder is forbidden, then a murderer is a bad person. Even if in his own approach there is no prohibition of murder—he is a bad person. In fact, if he believes there is no prohibition of murder, he is even worse: he holds a bad ideology, and is not merely someone who stumbled. So where can one even hesitate about whether to judge a person according to his own approach?

It is no accident that up to now I spoke about judging a person and judging an act. The act of murder is certainly a bad act, even if the murderer thinks it is good. But when I ask whether the person is bad, here one can argue that the judgment should be made according to his own approach. The distinction between judging the person and judging the act could be interpreted as distinguishing between judging a specific act and judging a person’s overall conduct (across his life). That is not what I mean. Here I intend to distinguish between two kinds of judgment of the very same act: judgment of the act (the cheftza) and judgment of the person who performed it at that moment (the gavra). My claim is that I can decide that the act of the Nazi who murdered a Roma person is bad (the cheftza of the act is bad), but if the Nazi truly believed that he was doing a good deed—then he is not a bad person, and did not act as a bad person (the gavra was not bad). In such a case, I claim it is proper to judge the person as mistaken but not wicked. My contention is that a person’s wickedness is determined according to his own approach.

Consider an extreme example: Reuven sees Shimon running with a rifle and thinks Shimon is firing in all directions and endangering people. Reuven shoots Shimon dead under the law of a “pursuer.” An act that unquestionably demands moral evaluation. It then turns out he was mistaken, and Shimon was actually using a device that disperses a pleasant scent in the area. The act Reuven committed was, of course, bad—he killed an innocent person. But it is very hard to say that Reuven behaved as a bad person. On the contrary, he did what he was obligated to do from his point of view. In this case, the act is bad (in the cheftza) but Reuven (the gavra) is mistaken, not wicked. This is a case of a factual mistake. I contend that a mistake in an ethical worldview is similar in this respect to a factual mistake. A Nazi who truly and sincerely believes that Jews are harmful and must be exterminated from the face of the earth is not a bad person but mistaken—assuming he truly believes this. From his perspective, the moral imperative is to kill all Jews. In the Radbaz’s terminology, one would say he “erred in his reasoning,” and is therefore coerced. Note well that I fully agree that the act itself is manifestly evil, and that the ethical position that led to it is clearly evil (the generalization that all Jews are dangerous and malicious). My claim is that the person who did it is not a bad person. The reasoning is very simple: if he truly believes all this, what do we expect him to do—act in a way that seems bad to him?

My principal claim here concerns the judgment of the gavra as I have defined it, and only that. I argue that such judgment should always be made according to his approach, not mine.

Weakness of the Will

Here the key question arises: who, then, is a person it is proper to judge as a bad person (in the gavra)? Seemingly everyone believes in what he is doing (even if his values are bad in my view), and if we judge him by his own approach, he is never a bad person.

Not so. In many cases we act in ways that—even according to us—are bad. A religious believer sometimes commits religious transgressions even though he himself thinks the act is wrong. A person committed to morality commits moral transgressions even though he knows the deeds are bad. These are phenomena of weakness of the will (see Columns 172–173), and in religious terminology we often refer to them as the overpowering of the evil inclination. Such a person is one it is proper to regard as wicked also in the gavra, not only in the cheftza.

Consider someone who steals another person’s property. The thief believes in people’s right to property and in the prohibition against violating it (“Do not steal”), but he lacks money, or simply has an urge to harm another or to gain more money. How should we judge such a person? I see him as a bad person, since the way he acted is bad even according to his own approach. True, in his value hierarchy, the desire to make money stands above respecting others’ property rights; thus, ostensibly, he did what is right according to his approach. But it is clear that his desire to make money is not a value—it is an urge or an interest. One who places an interest or urge above his values is a bad person. When I speak of judging a person by his own approach, I refer to someone for whom, according to his system of values, there is nothing wrong in failing to respect others’ property rights. He is not acting out of urge or self-interest against morality; rather, his set of moral rules differs from mine. If I were persuaded that this is indeed the case, I would judge him favorably (in the gavra), even though his act is, of course, bad.

It seems to me that what usually happens is that we simply find it hard to believe that a person truly holds such a morally preposterous system. When we see someone stealing from someone or murdering someone, we assume that he too understands the act is bad, but his urge overpowered him and he succumbed to desire or interest. Therefore we view him as a bad (immoral) person. But if Elijah the Prophet came and told us that, in fact, the prohibitions of theft or murder are not recognized in his value system, we would have to judge him differently. This also applies to the Nazis. In my opinion, we judge them unfavorably only because it is clear to us that it is impossible that people truly believe in such a morally distorted system. We assess that they too understand that murder is bad, but their desire overpowered them. If that is the case, then indeed they should be judged unfavorably. But if, hypothetically, I were convinced that they truly and sincerely believe that this is how one ought to act, I would have to relate to the gavra differently. My general claim (that wickedness must be determined according to the “wicked person’s” own approach) is to be taken as a theoretical one. Practically, such a judgment depends on whether I believe the person truly holds a value system so different from mine.

Factual Error vs. Value Error

Let us return to the Nazis. I explained that if they acted in a way that—even by their own account—was morally bad (for example, out of lust or fear), then they should be judged culpable. In that case, by their own lights they are bad people (in the gavra). But there are two other modes of action that can lead to Nazi-like behavior: (1) a factual error—for example, suppose they thought the Jews were plotting to take over the world and destroy everyone else; (2) a value error—they truly and sincerely believe that killing Jews is good (even if the Jews are not plotting to take over the world; akin to “you shall purge the evil from your midst”).

Both of these are claims for leniency, since coercion regarding beliefs is coercion in every respect (see, for example, Responsa Radbaz IV §187, 1158), yet there is still a practical difference between these two possibilities:

• In possibility (1), given their factual premise, they are right in the stance that the Jews should be exterminated. What is more, if we had reached that conclusion, we would probably have done the same. The value system that one should eradicate evil is correct, and it is not unique to the Nazis. In such a case, their error was a factual one, since the Jews were not actually plotting to take over the world.
• By contrast, in possibility (2) we are dealing with a value error. They act on the basis of an incorrect moral system; that is, they are mistaken regarding the prohibition of murder (again, in this possibility I assume they truly and sincerely believe this, and it is not the counsel of desire). There is a difference in how we treat these two possibilities.

Above I noted that when it comes to a value error, we have a (not always justified) tendency to think this cannot be. I do not believe a Nazi who claims he truly thought there is nothing wrong in murdering a Jew or a Roma. Therefore I judge him unfavorably. But if, theoretically, he truly believed it, and if I were convinced that this is indeed the case (if Elijah came and told me so), then I would indeed judge him favorably. By contrast, in a case of misapprehending reality, it is certainly possible that this is really what the person thinks. After all, in principle it is possible that there is a group of people plotting to take over the world. In such a case, it is easier and more reasonable to accept the claim that they made a factual mistake, and therefore to judge them favorably. Here I would not even say I judge them favorably; rather, I see them as people acting with dedication on behalf of morality. They invested effort and resources into cleansing the world of a group that seeks to destroy it. Not only do they not deserve condemnation; they deserve appreciation. The fact that they erred in assessing reality changes the judgment of the act itself, of course, but it does not change the judgment of the gavra.

The Meaning of Coercion

Usually, when a claim of coercion (ones) is raised regarding a person’s act (the exemption under “you shall do nothing to the girl”), it is a claim intended to exempt him from responsibility for his actions. If he acted under coercion, his responsibility is reduced, if it exists at all. This claim does not arise at the stage of determining the verdict (guilty or not), but when we reach sentencing (the punishment). My claim here is that the coercion claim also has a role in the discussion of the verdict itself. The very question whether the person is a wrongdoer (in the gavra) depends on his conception of reality and his moral system. That is, not only are errors in understanding reality and in the moral system claims of coercion; they also affect the very seeing of the person as a wrongdoer, not merely the degree of his responsibility (and the punishment he deserves). The claim is that he deserves no punishment at all—not that he is a wrongdoer exempt from punishment.

Irresponsibility in Forming One’s View of Reality or Values

It is, however, possible to level a charge against a person who errs in his value conceptions or his view of reality, if the formation of those conceptions was done irresponsibly and without sufficient thought. If a Nazi were to tell us that, in his view, Jews are plotting to destroy the world, we could ask him what evidence led him to that conclusion. Especially if he takes such drastic measures against them, he is obligated to examine thoroughly the factual and value underpinnings on which those measures are based and which justify them. Irresponsibility in forming a moral system and a view of reality is also grounds for a moral claim.

There are situations where it is harder to establish blame, when a person grows up and lives within a social atmosphere in which those assessments of reality and moral conceptions are taken for granted. Think of a Haredi or religious person who lives within a conception in which the gentile is a kind of animal who behaves like an animal and never acts for moral reasons. This is indeed nonsense that does not withstand factual scrutiny, but we know the religious apologetics and pilpul that harmonize the dogmas (with a cholem…) against any reality whatsoever. Even if he sees a gentile acting properly, he can explain that the behavior is intended to achieve some interest, to gain honor, to look good, and so forth. And a Jew who does not act properly—well, of course, that is the “leaven in the dough” (whatever that odd statement may mean). The gates of excuses are never closed.

How far can we find a person like that blameworthy—for behaving toward a gentile according to the absurd assumptions on which he was raised and which everyone he respects keeps pumping into him? The matters are presented to him as a direct instruction from the Creator, and who is he—“a worm and not a man”—to disagree?! This is a very difficult question. True, such a person is not exercising his critical faculties regarding what is presented to him as “principles of faith,” but it seems that almost any reasonable person in such a situation would act this way. Very few permit themselves to be critical of foundational positions accepted in the society in which they live (this is one of the main aims of this site).

The same applies to societies that are, ostensibly, less closed. Readers of Haaretz are considered a more open community than the Haredi community. I am not at all sure that is correct, but setting that aside, we must think about someone who lives within such a cultural environment and is nourished by the processed information it presents to its believers. Is it reasonable to demand that he exercise a critical sense and recognize that these folks are talking nonsense? I hear intelligent people from that camp who say such nonsense that one’s ears should be shielded from hearing it. The same holds, of course, for the Right. The same holds for the dispute around the LGBTQ community and its supporters or opponents. Here too, on both sides there are categorical judgments, and people are unwilling to judge their opponents according to the opponents’ own approach.

Again, in most of these cases we are not dealing with horrific deeds (although a murder at a pride parade, or persecuting people on the basis of sexual orientation, are of course grave acts; see below on extreme cases), yet there is certainly judgment being made by both sides—even in the gavra. We not only disagree with the other side’s views and actions (in the cheftza); we also regard them as wicked. Right-wingers are convinced left-wingers are wicked, and vice versa. The same for liberals and conservatives. But if we judge them by their own approach, the picture changes. Even if we do not change our view of the opinions and actions themselves (in the cheftza), the judgment of the gavra certainly changes. Again, there is room to examine how they formed their positions (both value and factual), the logic and evidence underlying the stances they express, and still it is hard to see full culpability here. A reasonable person who grew up in such an atmosphere will likely think that way.

I think that in these cases we tend not to believe that people truly hold these positions. We tend to see them as wicked who adopt such a stance for various dubious reasons (what reasons?). But I think that is merely our bias. I am inclined to think that usually these people do indeed believe the positions they express. At most one could say these are foolish positions, and that they did not examine them responsibly and properly. But there is, at least, diminished culpability here.

I will note that the degree of blame for irresponsibly examining values and facts depends on the severity of the outcomes. If the outcome is horrific, then there is a stronger demand to examine the counter-arguments thoroughly before forming a position, and therefore culpability in such cases is graver. This brings me to especially extreme groups, such as ISIS (or the Nazis).

Extreme Cases

It is relatively easy for us to require judging the gavra according to his own approach in questions of Left and Right, since the outcomes are not horrific. And in general, Haredim usually do not commit horrific acts against gentiles or secular people (if only because they lack the power and ability to do so). But what would you say about the disciples of al-Baghdadi of ISIS? They grow up on conceptions that the West and the infidels are evil, and it is a commandment to exterminate them. Thus says God Himself through His prophet al-Baghdadi. Do we expect a simple, God-fearing person, whose spiritual leaders instruct him to decapitate a Western journalist, to exercise his critical faculties and refuse to do so? Perhaps I do expect that, but how realistic is the expectation? It is easy to agree that there is no full personal responsibility here. He truly and sincerely believes that beheading infidels corrects the world and leads it toward its telos. We must remember that the matters are presented to him as the very word of God, and we cannot comprehend or critique them.

True, we can demand of him to examine his stance and the arguments of his leaders, and certainly to distinguish between the word of God and the interpretations those words receive from human mouths. I repeat again and again in the Trilogy and here: almost nothing in the Torah that reached us is the direct word of God untouched by an interpreter’s hand. Almost everything is human handiwork; therefore every halakhah we have, biblical or rabbinic, can be mistaken. And even if there are considerations of authority (we lack the authority to determine that halakhot established by the Sanhedrin or the Talmud are mistaken), it is nevertheless clear that I would not kill on the basis of a mistaken halakhah just because of a lack of authority.

In practice, we all know this is a very demanding requirement. Go and see, in the moderate religious world, how willing people are to examine foundational assumptions, and how they defend religious dogmas with all their might—even when it turns out to be utter nonsense.

Personal Responsibility

I will conclude with a story. A year or two ago I was invited to a gathering of religious leaders at Ort Ramla High School, which serves an Arab population from Lod and Ramla. Religious leaders from all accessible religions were invited: Christian priests, Muslim and Druze imams, and Jewish rabbis. We all spoke before the students in various classes, then they asked questions and a short discussion followed.

Incidentally, I cannot refrain from expressing my impression of the event. It was most impressive. I do not think I would encounter as interested, respectful, and polite an attitude in Jewish schools as I saw among the students there. It was quite surprising to me, especially when I learned that this is a comprehensive high school without selection of students. The principal was also a very impressive figure. In general, it was an interesting encounter and dialogue among us as well.

I note that the religious leadership present was very moderate, and one of the main goals of the talks was to prevent extremist actions and views. Their main message was the duty to obey the religious and spiritual leadership, and they all assumed that this way they would prevent extremist actions usually committed by unruly youth.[1] In my own talks I tried to convey to the students in the various classes quite the opposite message. I called on them to form their positions themselves and not to follow any spiritual or religious leader, moderate or extreme. I told them that in my opinion this prescription leads overall to a more balanced situation than collective following of a leader, even a moderate one. Beyond the inherent value I see in a person’s autonomous conduct, tying the conduct of an entire group to a single person is dangerous. A single problematic instruction from him suffices to change the whole picture of the group. By contrast, when people form their conceptions themselves, each pulls in a different direction, and together they produce a better social balance (this is essentially a capitalist “invisible hand” conception versus centralism).

I told them that in my religious outlook (and I added that I say and write this to religious Jews as well), a person will ultimately be held to account for his actions, and he cannot hide behind obedience to his leadership. In the end, each of us is responsible for his deeds. You can consult and hear arguments—certainly if we are talking about wise people older than you—but in the end the responsibility is yours and the decision is yours. So they told the Nazis at the Nuremberg Trials, and so shall it be told to every person, Jew or Muslim or of any other faith, when he comes before the Heavenly Court. I told them that ISIS members justify beheading by saying it was their leader’s command, and in my eyes this is a problematic justification (beyond the fact that the directive itself is wrong). In the end you are required to think and form your own position. Choosing the leader is also your decision, of course; thus, following him is also a step rooted in your own choice, and you are responsible for it. This is true for Jews (cf. “the annihilation of Amalek”)[2] and for Muslims, for Right and Left, and for every person. Even if you truly and sincerely believe in the rightness of your path—especially when that path involves extreme steps—you must examine carefully its basis and hear contrary facts and arguments. You must exercise your intuition, even if you are not an outstanding religious scholar. In the end, the decision is yours and the responsibility is yours. Choose well the leader who guides you, and it is best to examine both him and his directives with sevenfold scrutiny.

It was instructive to see the shock that most of the religious figures present expressed upon hearing my words (to be sure, there were a few who supported what I said). It really looked like the reactions I am used to when I say and write these things in the Jewish context.

A Note on Moral Relativism

In the thread linked above, Doron repeated again and again that my words imply moral relativism. I already noted above that this is not correct. My claim about judging the gavra by his own approach has nothing to do with moral relativism. On the contrary, throughout my remarks I assumed that there is right and wrong in the moral domain, and the discussion is only about how we should judge a person who behaves in a morally improper way. That is, I assume there is a correct moral system that everyone is obligated by; in this sense I am decidedly not a moral relativist. My claim is that although what is morally correct (what is fitting) is clear, nonetheless the judgment of the person (the gavra) must take into account what he himself considers fitting. The act (in the cheftza) is evil by virtue of a binding, universal moral system (in my view), yet the judgment of the acting person (the gavra) depends on his own conceptions. In short, my claim is not a claim about moral values, but about the proper manner of moral judgment of the gavra.

Conclusion

Bottom line, the picture is complex and I have no clear criterion. I truly believe that judgment of the gavra must be made solely according to his own approach (whereas judgment of the cheftza is only according to mine). But around this there are mitigating and aggravating circumstances. The question of how responsibly the person weighed the position he formed is important. And even if he did not, there is the question of how much it is reasonable to demand that a reasonable person in his situation form a position independently.

All this is mainly on the theoretical plane, since, practically, we saw that judging the gavra depends on how much I believe that these are indeed his positions, and how I assess his capacity to judge his values and his perception of reality, and that of the society in which he lives and its leaders. Therefore, despite the categorical nature of my position, it is important for me to qualify and say that such judgment must always be made with caution; none of us examines kidneys and hearts. On the one hand, it is improper and even dangerous to be overly forgiving of evil deeds or to over-understand them; on the other hand, one cannot ignore the circumstances surrounding the person and the act under discussion.

[1] According to many of them, most Muslim religious leadership is moderate, and the loud, extreme voices are a small minority. I do not know how true this is. I suppose most readers here have a firm position on the matter (they no doubt think this is mere outward apologetics), and to me this is yet another example of forming a position on an issue about which we have no serious information, solely from a general impression.

[2] I am sure that if and when the matter becomes practical and relevant, every person must form a position on whether to annihilate Amalek or not, and the justification that “so it is written in the Torah” will not suffice. The feeling of whether it is fitting or not fitting to do so is important—even if it is the feeling of a layperson. The person himself is responsible for his actions, and there is no room for a justification based on obedience to authority. If this is true for the Nazis and for ISIS, it must also be true with respect to us.