A Look at the Principle of Charity (Column 440)
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.
About two weeks ago Doron asked me whether I had ever written about the Principle of Charity. Searching the site, I found quite a few references but no discussion of the principle itself. I thought it was time to touch on it as part of the recent methodological series (Occam’s razor, slippery slope, etc.).
The Principle of Charity
The Principle of Charity is a rule used in philosophy, logic, and rhetoric. It states that when interpreting someone’s words or a given position, one should employ the most generous (supportive) possible interpretation, and attribute to it, insofar as possible, rationality and good sense. One should strive to avoid imputing fallacies, irrationality, and contradictions, and instead adopt the best possible reading. Rhetoric includes well-known fallacies that amount to violating this principle, such as attacking a straw man, and more.
The Relativist Justification
Some ground this principle in relativism, namely in the idea that there are many true interpretations of the same claims/sentences, and therefore there is no right and wrong; hence we ought to adopt the most reasonable interpretation. This is, of course, nonsense. Beyond the fact that I do not accept the essential pluralism implied here, it is unclear how one can rank interpretations if there is no criterion of truth. If all are true, how will you decide which is the best or most rational?![1] This succinctly expresses Donald Davidson’s objections to that approach (see Wikipedia at the cited page).
Others base it on differences in language and conceptual schemes among people and groups. On this view, misunderstandings and the seeming irrationality of claims should be attributed to differences between me and the speaker or other group. I think this too misses the point: if I can interpret the words rationally and truly believe that this was the intent, then I need no special methodological principle instructing me to do so. Clearly we must seek the true meaning of the claims under discussion, and the question is what that meaning is. If I cannot understand the other’s discourse, then even a charitable interpretation gives me no reason to assume I’ve captured his intent. And if I can understand him, I need no theories about differences, etc.
And in general, why must I assume the other is necessarily rational? The question is how I assess him. If I indeed know him to be a rational person, then of course I will interpret his words that way; if not—then not. There is no point in formulating a special principle for this. We could state it more generally (and trivially): interpret the other’s position to the best of your understanding of what he means.
Donald Davidson’s Justification: Better to Stretch the Wording than the Reasoning
Donald Davidson argues that we should apply the Principle of Charity on the (very optimistic) assumption that the other’s statements are true unless proven otherwise. He says this precisely because he assumes there is no genuine disagreement and no different evidences about the same reality (unlike the justifications above); therefore, necessarily, the other speaker intends what, in my eyes as well, sounds reasonable.
This reminds me of an experience that returns almost every time I study the Shach on Choshen Mishpat. The Shach’s way is to arrange the views of the Rishonim which, on the face of it, oppose his own position, and then to show that they all mean what he himself thinks. With creative interpretation—often not very convincing—he shows that they all think the opposite of what their straightforward wording implies. It is clear he does not intend to deceive. His starting point is that the Rishonim were certainly wise people; therefore, surely they must think like him (for that is the truth). If you think about it for a moment, you’ll see this is not as ridiculous or condescending as it sounds. In the end, the Shach reached his conclusions after thinking matters through, and this is indeed what seems to him most reasonable. Thus it is natural that he would try to show that other Torah scholars did not speak nonsense, and therefore the reasonable conclusion is that, if their words can be read like him, it is reasonable to do so.
This is essentially the accepted hermeneutic principle in halakha that it is better to stretch the wording than the reasoning (i.e., adjust the language to fit sound logic rather than cling to a literal reading that is unreasonable).[2] When I read a Torah sage’s position and the plain sense of his words seems to say X, but X strikes me as unreasonable, the claim is that we should prefer to stretch his wording to fit the reasoning rather than adhere to the (literal) plain sense that is implausible. Note that the “reasoning” is, of course, in the eye of the beholder (my reasoning), and thus this principle tells us to do exactly what the Shach does. What remains, of course, is a question of degree (how far to stretch the wording in favor of the reasoning, which also depends on how compelling the reasoning seems to me), but the principle is precisely what I described in the Shach.
Yet in my understanding, at least in the context of the general Principle of Charity, this claim is detached from reality. There are people and positions that are manifestly irrational. Why, then, should I assume everyone is rational? Are there no errors in the world? If you are arguing with a fool, must you necessarily assume he is wise?
The Principle of Charity as a Methodological Principle
I believe all these are mistaken conceptions of the principle. To my mind it does not belong to etiquette and manners (being generous to others), nor to the realm of interpretation (assessing that this is indeed the speaker’s intent), and certainly not to assessing the other’s intelligence (assuming he is surely wise). I claim the principle is meant to improve the efficiency of a discussion; its goal is to extract optimal benefit from it, regardless of the true interpretation of the other’s position.
Consider a case where I hold position A, and I’m presented with position B that opposes it. If I want to beat my counterpart/opponent in debate, then there is no reason to use the Principle of Charity. On the contrary, I should expose all the flaws in his position and present him as empty-headed. But there is no reason in the world to conduct such a debate. Why win the argument (unless you are competing in a debate contest)? The purpose of a debate I conduct should be to draw conclusions for myself, not to attack the other. I have often said to my students that the debate from which you gain is the one you lose. In a debate you win, you leave with the same position you brought in; you learned nothing (the other, who lost, may have learned something). In a debate you lose, you learn that what you previously thought is wrong. Only from such a debate can you say you gained anything. Now we can return to the Principle of Charity.
We have seen that the purpose of debate and discussion should be to maximize my benefit. My goal is to examine my own positions and draw conclusions as necessary and possible. When I examine position B, which opposes mine, I must assess it to see whether position A (which I now hold) is correct, or whether I should change it. To that end I must present position B in the most rational way possible. Not because I assume that this is truly what my interlocutor meant, nor to be nice to him. I do it because only thus can I see whether that position is rational or can be refuted. Even if my interlocutor does not intend the arguments I marshal, that is irrelevant. For me, that is the version that genuinely threatens my position, and therefore it is the relevant one to test. My interlocutor may be a complete fool (especially if he disagrees with me), and he may also be an unsympathetic person to whom I have no desire to be generous. The crucial question is: what do I gain by examining a caricatured interpretation of his position? Perhaps I win the argument, but I gain nothing from it. If there are good arguments for position B, it matters to me to examine them to see whether I am mistaken; therefore, I must examine B in its best form. If my interlocutor does not know how to present his position optimally, I must do it for him, since that is the way to derive the greatest benefit for myself from the discussion.
This resembles the difference between two legal systems: the adversarial and the inquisitorial. The adversarial system is common where common law (British) prevails; the judge or jurors do not intervene in the debate between prosecution and defense. They hear both sides and both positions, and their role is only to decide at the end. By contrast, in the continental systems the inquisitorial model prevails: the judge intervenes in the discussion, questions the parties directly, and is involved in clarifying the positions in his courtroom. Simply put, it is clear that the inquisitorial method is correct, for if the judge sees that the defense attorney or prosecutor is a fool who does not know how to present his case, he should help him. After all, our aim is to get at the truth, not to play games to determine who won. If there are reasons to adopt the adversarial system, they are mostly technical, and thus not our concern here.
The upshot of the interpretation I’ve proposed for the Principle of Charity is that I should act this way even where it is clear that this was not the proponent’s intent. Even if it is clear he did not mean it, I should still interpret his position this way and only then discuss it.
The Duty to Judge Favorably and the Principle of Charity
The Mishnah in Avot (1:6) states:
Yehoshua ben Perachyah says: Make for yourself a teacher, acquire for yourself a friend, and judge every person on the side of merit (favorably).
A similar expression appears in the chapter “Acquiring Torah” (Avot 6:6) among the forty-eight things by which Torah is acquired:
[…] bearing the yoke with one’s fellow, tilting him to the side of merit, setting him on the truth, setting him on peace, settling one’s heart in study, asking and answering, listening and adding, …
I think there is a difference between these two directives. The instruction in Chapter 1, to judge favorably, concerns the judgment of a person, whereas in Chapter 6 the matter concerns the ways of acquiring Torah. My claim is that the directive in Chapter 6 is the Principle of Charity. You tilt him to the side of merit not to vindicate him but to reach more correct conclusions in your own learning. As noted, these are instructions concerning the way to acquire Torah. To discuss your study-partner’s approach, you must present it in the best way so that you can understand whether he is right or not. This is meant for your Torah, not for him. Accordingly, the other traits listed alongside it are different: “setting him on the truth; settling one’s heart in study; asking and answering; listening and adding,” and so forth.
Although I argue that the chapter concerns the ways of acquiring Torah and not character traits, at the beginning of the Mishnah in Chapter 6 we do find what seem to be ethical directives:
Knowing one’s place; rejoicing in one’s lot; making a fence for one’s words; not taking credit for oneself; beloved; loving the Omnipresent; loving creatures; loving righteousness; loving reproof; loving uprightness; distancing oneself from honor; not being arrogant in one’s study; and not rejoicing in issuing rulings.
But in my view, at least some of these are not about character per se. You are to refrain from taking credit, to love reproof and uprightness, to shun honor, and not to be arrogant in your study not only because these are good traits, but also because such conduct helps you reach the truth. If you are arrogant in your study, you will not be open to other positions. Likewise, if you take credit for yourself, do not love people, do not love reproof and righteousness, and so on. All these are good traits in themselves, but I think they appear here for a different reason: not as a mystical foundation to help you be righteous and attain Torah (receiving heavenly assistance), but as a mode of conduct that enables you to take other positions seriously. This is precisely the meaning of the Principle of Charity expressed in the instruction “tilt to the side of merit.” It is part of the path to acquiring Torah and wisdom. Perhaps not coincidentally, here the expression is “to tilt to the side of merit,” while in Chapter 1 the phrase is “to judge favorably.” There the person is judged; here positions are weighed. I once heard someone say that a debate is between positions, whereas a dispute (in the negative sense, like Korach’s quarrel) is between people.
I have often mentioned the passage in Eruvin 13 which explains that the law was decided like Beit Hillel because they would present Beit Shammai’s words before their own. This is commonly understood as a reward for polite and courteous behavior toward one’s disputant. But there is another reading: because Beit Hillel presented Beit Shammai’s words before forming their own position, they reached more correct conclusions, and therefore the halakha follows them.
The duty to judge one’s fellow favorably in Chapter 1 corresponds to the mistaken interpretations of the Principle of Charity. There, indeed, the matter concerns judging the person and not the position as such. There I am to be generous to him, to assume he is righteous and rational, and the like—but all that is in order to make him look good, not so that I will gain anything. Hence it pertains to judging favorably in Chapter 1, not to “tilting to the side of merit” in Chapter 6.
In my article here and in Column 30 I touched on this duty and showed that even in the ethical directive the intent is not to interpret the other irrationally just to make him look good. This is because of the difficulties I raised above regarding the common interpretations of the Principle of Charity. We saw there that there is no logic to adopting it wholesale, detached from my assessments of my interlocutor. I asked there: if the person before me is not rational, why should I assume he is? Similarly in the matter of judging favorably: if he is not righteous, why assume that he is? In those sources I explained that the notion that one must interpret a person’s conduct irrationally just to exonerate him is mistaken. The commentators on Avot 1 already note this. Maimonides there writes:
“Judge every person on the side of merit”—Its meaning is that if there is a person unknown to you, you do not know whether he is righteous or wicked, and you see him do an act or say a word that, if interpreted one way, is good, and if interpreted another way, is bad—interpret it as good and do not think ill of him. But if he is known to be a righteous man, famed for good deeds, and he appears to have done an act whose every indication points to its being bad, and it can be construed as good only with great difficulty and by a very remote possibility—then you must interpret it as good, since there is a possibility of its being good, and one may not suspect him; and regarding this they say, ‘Whoever suspects the innocent is smitten in his body.’ Conversely, if he is wicked and his deeds are infamous, and afterward we see him do an act that all the indications point to its being good, yet there is a very remote possibility of bad—one must beware of him and not believe it to be good, since there is a possibility of bad. As it is said (Prov. 26:25): ‘When he makes his voice gracious, do not believe him, for there are seven abominations in his heart.’ And if he is unknown, and the act inclines to one of the two sides—then, as a matter of moral excellence, you should judge to the side of merit, whichever side that may be.”
He explains that one should incline to the side of merit, but not to exaggerate. Only in regard to one renowned as righteous should we tilt interpretation toward the positive, and not for every person. Note, as I explained there, that regarding such a person this is the reasonable interpretation; thus this is not an instruction to distort reason in order to judge favorably. But for one not known to be righteous, it is not correct to contort interpretation toward the positive, for that likely would not be the reasonable reading.
So too writes Rabbeinu Yonah there:
“Judge every person on the side of merit”—This speaks of a person whose status (righteous or wicked) is unknown. And if he is known and is an average person, sometimes doing bad and sometimes good, and he does something that could be judged to the side of guilt or to the side of merit by weighing—or even (at first glance) it appears to lean more to guilt—if by some aspect one can judge it to merit, one should say he intended for the good. But this does not apply to a completely righteous person nor to a completely wicked person: the righteous—even if his deed appears entirely bad and leans to guilt from every angle—one should always judge him favorably, saying it was an error that emerged from the ruler, and behold he has regretted and sought forgiveness; as our Sages said: ‘If you see a Torah scholar who has sinned at night, do not suspect him by day—say not “perhaps” he repented, but “surely” he repented,’ for since he is a Torah scholar and until now nothing corrupt has occurred by his hand, certainly he immediately repented. From here you learn that one should never judge a perfectly righteous person to guilt; and thus the phrase “judge every person to the side of merit” was not needed for him. Nor did he say it about a perfectly wicked person: even if his act appears wholly good and there seems no reason to suspect him of sin, a person should judge him to the side of guilt and say he acted outwardly, and his inside is not like his outside, as it is said (Prov. 26:25), ‘When he makes his voice gracious, do not believe him, for there are seven abominations in his heart.’ So too wrote the Rambam. And about this Solomon said in his wisdom (Prov. 21:12): ‘The Righteous One considers the house of the wicked; He overthrows the wicked for evil.’”
Thus the initial interpretations I cited for the Principle of Charity are not meant to deflect us from the reasonable interpretation. If our aim is indeed to judge a person, there is no logic to judge him in a way I know to be wrong. By contrast, the Principle of Charity in the sense I propose instructs us to interpret the interlocutor’s position in the best way even if it is clear to us that he himself did not intend it so. The reason is that the principle does not instruct us to judge the person favorably, but to judge the position itself favorably. Here I must do this for my own sake, not his.
Indeed, just as I remarked about the common interpretations of the Principle of Charity, so I remark about this Mishnah: why is such a command needed at all? Seemingly this is the reasonable interpretation of a person’s acts and conduct, and so I should interpret them. It is not a normative principle but a simple interpretive guideline. Is there a need to command us to be reasonable people? Perhaps the command is needed because we have a negative tendency not to do so. But in principle, no command is needed. It is not a moral command but a purely logical interpretive instruction.
A General View
Needless to say, the Principle of Charity in the sense I have given it is not a moral principle but a logical one. A rather surprising conclusion follows: despite the stirring and lofty terminology (“Principle of Charity,” or “judging favorably”) that evokes elevated moral connotations, both the Principle of Charity and the duty to judge favorably—according to the two interpretations I have outlined (the second of which is the Principle of Charity)—do not belong to the moral sphere but to the rational one.
The only moral aspect I can see here is the duty to address the matter, not the person. Our evil inclination (the inclination to quarrel, as opposed to argue) leads us to attack the person before us for being irrational—and that is occasionally true. But there is no point in doing so. One should strive to clarify the truth, and therefore conduct the discussion inquisitorially rather than adversarially. In this there may be a value component, but not because of values about proper regard for the other; rather, because of the duty to pursue truth. In my view, the pursuit of truth is a value, but not a moral value, since it does not pertain to the other.
Implications: The Principle of Charity in Interpretation
In analytical Talmud study we also use the Principle of Charity quite a bit, but here it concerns positions in the rational-interpretive plane rather than conduct and ethical stance. When we examine the approach of Tannaim, Amoraim, Rishonim, or Acharonim, we try to explain it in the best way and rescue it from all difficulties and conflicting sources. To that end we often make fairly complex conceptual moves, effectively judging them to the side of merit quite creatively. One might say that in many cases we stretch the wording in order to avoid stretching the reasoning.
Here too one may ask: do we really believe that Maimonides, the Rashba, or R. Akiva Eger truly meant what we attribute to them? There are the familiar jokes—“What does a ‘frank’ (outsider) understand in the Rambam?!”—which reflect a healthy skepticism on this point.[3] Several explanations can be offered for this yeshiva-style analytic practice, and unsurprisingly they overlap with the two types of explanations I proposed for the Principle of Charity and for judging favorably.
One interpretation says: these were wise people and thus could not have erred. Therefore, if I see something irrational in their words, I must interpret them in the best possible manner, even if it does not follow from the plain wording. We saw above that this is the Shach’s practice. In Column 431 I discussed the importance of this approach in a student’s learning toward his teacher and in general. We saw that such trust will cause the student to reconsider his teacher’s position before deciding to reject it. The credit he gives him will make him think before adopting a different stance (but of course it is not correct to adopt the teacher’s view without one’s own thought and agreement). This is the directive to judge favorably in Avot Chapter 1.
Yet this explanation is somewhat forced. Certainly regarding this or that rabbi who can of course err—and even regarding great sages it is hard to accept that such a sage conceived an elaborate structure as commentators propose without saying a word about it (sometimes it is an implicit, unconscious stance, but not always does it seem so). This could be a methodological presupposition meant to make us think again before rejecting a halakhic-analytic position, but not a substantive principle. The assumption that any given sage, however great, never errs—that is, that he formed his view after considering and accounting for all the difficulties—is not reasonable.
I myself once proposed (see my article here) an interpretation according to which such canonical sources are not in error because divine providence ensures no mistake will fall into them. Put differently: even if the person himself could have erred, God ensures that a canonical text upon which all Israel relies for halakha will not contain error. I assume you can guess that I no longer hold this view.
We can also interpret this analytic practice in the way I have explained the Principle of Charity here. I do not truly think that this is what the Rambam or the Rashba intended; but for my purposes, if their view can be explained this way, then it is a viable halakhic position and I must examine it (to know whether to adopt it or not). The goal is not to uncover the Rambam’s intent but to conduct a thorough, systematic inquiry of the sugya in order to form my own stance. I present all the positions in their best form so that I can examine them and formulate my own position most correctly. According to this proposal, I will do this even where it is clear that the Rambam or the Rashba themselves did not mean the interpretation I propose, and even when I have collateral evidence proving that was not their intent (manuscripts, their responsa, testimonies from students, etc.—my article there includes such examples). According to the Principle of Charity as I have proposed it, we can understand this seemingly illogical yeshiva practice simply and rationally: the generous interpretation I propose for the view in question is not an attempt to plumb the author’s intent but to offer the best presentation of the position as such—even when I know it was not the author’s intent.
The Principle of Charity as a Basis for Halakhic Decision: On Analysis and Ruling
In a question here on the site, “EA” mentioned my claim that those with highly developed analytical abilities find it difficult to reach halakhic rulings. Hence the (sometimes mutually disparaging) distinction between lamdanim (theoreticians) and poskim (decisors). The reason that people with high analytic ability find it hard to decide is that their strong abilities enable them to render any halakhic position—even the most puzzling—logically grounded and consistent, and to resolve all the difficulties against it. They explain its premises and show that one can derive all conclusions from them and settle all challenges. Once all positions receive such analytic treatment, it naturally becomes very hard to decide among them. They are all equally rational.
In my answer there I explained that there is no real contradiction between these two abilities (analytic learning and decision-making). The problem is that people equate lamdanut with analyticity. Analytic ability is an important foundation that must precede decision. After we have done the analytic work and established all approaches and positions in their best, most consistent form, we can then decide by our intuition which seems most reasonable. The inability to decide stems from an analytic stance, not from analytic ability. In my quartet I explained that an analytic stance equates thinking with analytic dissection; therefore, when every position resolves all the difficulties, it seems there is no way to decide among them. But that is a mistake. Decisions are not made by a knockout via a crushing question or absolute logical proof. On the contrary: only after we have resolved all difficulties and set aside positions that cannot be resolved, we are left with the consistent positions. Now there are no more questions, but there still remain stretches and considerations for and against; now there is room to decide better.
On this the Ramban writes in the introduction to Milchamot regarding his debates with the Ba’al HaMaor:
“And you who look into my book—do not say in your heart that all my replies to the Rav, R. Zerahiah, of blessed memory, are in my eyes decisive answers that compel you to admit them, and you will boast that by refuting even one of them to its students you will enter the eye of a needle to cast off the force of my proofs. It is not so. For every student of our Talmud knows that in the disputes of its commentators there are no conclusive proofs, nor in most of the questions are there absolute refutations, for in this wisdom there is no demonstrative certainty like the calculations of arithmetic or the experiments of astronomy. Rather, we will set all our desire and suffice in every dispute to distance one of the views with persuasive considerations, and we will stretch the sources against it, and we will give preference to the other side by the plain sense of the halakhot and the fitness of the sugyot together with the agreement of sound reason—and this is the utmost of our ability and the intent of every wise and God-fearing person in the wisdom of the Gemara. And there are times when we defend our teacher’s words though they remain distant from the plain sense of the sugya or sugyot; but our intent is to open the students’ ears to the merit within them, and we do not conceal from any reader of our book what doubt remains against it—and this is permitted us, since we come to defend the great rabbi and the words of the early authorities. And such is our obligation to him, as the Sages taught their students: ‘If my ruling comes before you after my death—do not tear it up, and do not learn from it’; do not tear it up—perhaps if I were alive I would have a reason; do not learn from it—‘for a judge has only what his eyes see.’ And from this it follows that we are to be stringent in his words, to be stringent and not lenient.”
You can find here almost everything I wrote in this column: from the duty to judge favorably (even where the words are distant), through the fact that it is meant to clarify truth and not defend a person, and concluding with the idea that after setting the Rif’s approach in order, we can now decide for ourselves for or against him.
Lamdanim who cannot decide hold an analytic stance, beyond having strong analytic abilities. Analytic ability as such does not contradict the ability to decide. Likewise, the view that sees a contradiction between lamdanut and decision assumes that lamdanut is an analytic stance and decision is a synthetic stance. Not so. Lemdanut is the use of analytic ability; after exhausting it one can proceed to a synthetic decision. The lamdan, too, should ultimately hold a synthetic stance.
In my quartet I explained that analytic tools serve also those with a synthetic stance; they just do not see those tools as the whole of thinking. Therefore those who disparage analytic lamdanut (“pilpulim” with a soft p, in R. Ovadia’s phrase) are mistaken. The synthetic outlook does not negate the use of analytic tools. On the contrary, their use clarifies the picture and enables a more informed decision in favor of the more reasonable position.
[1] One could of course argue for pluralism in interpretation but not in philosophy: that a text has no single true interpretation, but in philosophy there is only one truth. But this seems arbitrary. If you are a pluralist, it is reasonable to apply that also in the philosophical realm and not only in the interpretive one.
[2] See about it in the second book of my trilogy, Chapter 2. It is commonly attributed to the Chazon Ish. However, it appears explicitly in the Beit Yosef, Yoreh De’ah §228. See also Responsa Ish Matzliach, Orach Chayim §15, p. 64d; R. Moshe Levi, Tefillah Le-Moshe, vol. 1, p. 4 n. 1; and idem, Menuchat Ahavah, vol. 1, ch. 3 (end of p. 64). See also Ezra Cohen’s article, “Stretching the Language and Stretching the Matter,” in Me’Avnei HaMakom (Yeshivat Beit El), vol. 11 (5760), p. 118.
A good presentation of this issue (the divergence of peshat from the literal meaning) can also be found in R. Ze’ev Weitman’s article, “On the Relation between Midrash and Peshat,” HaMa’ayan 18 (5728), p. 26. The article was written in response to a series by Neshka on the relations between peshat and derash.
[3] I previously mentioned here the debate between R. Yehoshua Hutner and R. Yechiel Weinberg regarding R. Chaim Brisker’s interpretations of the Rambam (I have now found only in the responsum here; see there the link to the description of the debate itself).
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I was honored to have my name mentioned at the beginning of the column, so I nurtured an expectation that there would be a reference to the issue I raised. Which seems to me to be in the background. I did not find such a reference. You are of course entitled to write about whatever you want, but in my opinion the problem with your words that I pointed out in that debate remains.
On one hand: It seems that you are adopting the principle of kindness in a somewhat dogmatic way with the aim of embellishing the position of the opponent you are arguing with. This is so as not to put a straw man in front of you. In my opinion, this methodological choice is wrong. The main thing in interpretation – especially philosophical – is not to put yourself in the shoes of the opponent in advance in order to put the opponent at his best, nor the opposite position (putting the opponent at his worst). The main thing is to get closer to the truth. You yourself write this in the column, but your method does not really allow you to do so. In my opinion.
If we return to the example we discussed earlier, radical feminism and its philosophy of science. You wrote to me then that I was positing a “hard man” who replaces radical feminism and justified this by saying that it is impossible for people to say nonsense as you attributed to them. What can be done in this case, nonsense is the essence of the matter. Therefore, it is not important whether the feminists intend or do not intend to say nonsense. What is important is that this is what is logically implicit in their words. Or to put it another way: what matters most is the essential principle that stands in the background.
In other words: the principle of kindness is important (and even necessary) but before it is the principle of consistency that strives to extract the objective truth in the background. Your approach blocks the way to this principle.
I hope I have been understood.
You were well understood then and now. But I think I was not understood. I wrote explicitly that if you are engaged in interpreting the person in front of you, there is no principle of kindness. You will interpret him according to what you think he really means to say. But the principle of methodological kindness that I described here does not depend on the intentions of the person in front of you. All of this was explained well in the column (this is the main point of it).
Therefore, if feminists intend to claim that A is nonsense, but I can present their words in a way B that is more reasonable, on the methodological level I must interpret them in a way B. This is in order to discuss serious arguments against my position. And of course I do not necessarily have to assume that this is indeed their intention. There are situations in which I also assume that this is their intention, but this is a matter that must be discussed on each claim's merits.
So maybe we agree on the general principle (which says in my opinion that the principle of kindness is subject to the principle of consistency), but we only disagree on the interpretation of that specific feminist position. Regarding this position, you should have said that Gadi Taub is right because it is not possible to present their words about “feminine science” in a more reasonable way. Not because we shouldn't try, but because our attempt to do so in practice has failed.
That is why I argued against you that if you understood the depth of the radicalism of their position, you would agree with me about the miserable diagnosis (and prognosis…) of their worldview. Therefore, it is also incorrect to claim – as you claimed – that Taub (or your servant) set up a straw man in their argument. Taub's position is actually fairer and ”does kindness” to them.
This is of course debatable. I'm not at all sure. In my opinion, they themselves are not clarifying their position, but it is certainly possible that they intended to do so. And as mentioned, for the sake of the discussion, it is clear that it is better to state their opinion logically in order to clarify the issue itself, even if that is not their true position.
Because you're teasing me a bit again. In that discussion you told me that I (and probably Taub) are not doing them any favors with their position, or in other words, you're setting up a straw man. I argued then and I argue now that you were wrong about that, but now I've also explained why - you made a dogmatic use of the principle of grace. I would be happy if you would address this and say a word about this very possibility, whether you agree with me that you failed here or not.
In any case, this is my main argument regarding the subject: in interpretation there is a principle prior to the principle of grace. I explained what I think it is.
It's hard with you. I answered everything and you keep repeating yourself as if you didn't read.
Indeed, in my opinion you are setting up a straw man. In my opinion they meant the claims I put in their mouths, and not the nonsense that you and Taub put in their mouths. I didn't see any reasoning against it in your words. You can of course assess differently than I do (because I don't have any information either), but you don't have any reasoning. And if there are no reasoning, there is no reason to assume that these are just nonsense. But beyond that, I added that even if you believe that they did intend this nonsense, there is no point in fighting against a straw man, because the discussion is to clarify my own position. Therefore, the logical argument must be presented and discussed. And this is the principle of kindness.
There were reasons, in that response. You make me repeat myself... I said then that the thought pattern of radical feminism operates on the Marx-Nietzsche-Foucault axis. According to this, power, especially political power, is the face of everything and in any case no body of knowledge (for example, the branch of physics) has any separate "content". In the absence of this, all of science is a collection of "narratives" of equal status. In such a world, it is supposedly possible to create an alternative science and fly airplanes with an "independent" set of rules. This is nonsense. So far the reasoning (as mentioned, presented again...).
The more fundamental issue that your (incorrect) analysis reveals is that the principle of kindness is based on a more fundamental principle. It is not clear to me whether you accept the existence of such a principle
Well, I can't really remember what was there. Anyway, what you brought here doesn't say that. Even if I accept for the sake of discussion the identification you made with Marxism and Foucaultism, these too can be interpreted in the way I described. Do you really think that someone there claims that if you build a three-dimensional kite out of fabric measuring one and a half meters, it can carry two passengers to the US? I highly doubt it.
The problem, of course, starts with them, because they themselves confuse themselves and don't clarify what exactly they mean. And yet I believe that no one there will answer you in the affirmative about the kite question.
This thesis is presented succinctly at the beginning of the response of the Hat”s O”ch Si’ R”ch, and in his opinion the principle of kindness derives from a prohibition not in the Torah or close to it, Aish.
Indeed. And for the benefit of the public, I have copied here the words of the court that concern us:
And yet I interpret that you shall not answer a quarrel to incline [Exodus 23:2], that the intention of those who argue in law, between quarrel and quarrel and between blood and blood, should not be to incline the opinion of their friend to his opinion, because what is mine and his, but the argument should be to present my opinion and my opinion according to my reason, in a way that my friend has argued against me, I will see in my mind whether his words are sincere, I will retract it, and if I do not see his words, I will stand by my opinion, and what does it matter to me whether he agrees with me or not, because I do not intend to incline his opinion in my opinion, and so should the opinion of my friend who is against me be to present his opinion for himself, and after this argument, after many people have been inclined. But those who specifically want their friend to thank them and intend to sway their friend's mind to their opinion, those who stray from the path of truth and tend to lead and a distorted judgment results, and even in the prayer of Rehavâd that I may not fail in a matter of halakhah and that my friends may rejoice in me, I will not be jealous nor will I be afraid of those who are honored by his disgrace, because there were no such people in the group of sages, and even more so, he does not feel the failure of the halakhah itself, only that his friends may rejoice in him, but we will be surprised, according to Daita Pâ; There are those who are pleased with me, 3:2 I am the Lord At that time, Achishana and the interpretation of Rashba and Zel, Ichsaf Rav Ilyish from Rava, lest Rava say in his heart, "If I were not here, he would have judged falsely, etc.", Rava called upon him to console him, "I am the Lord." In the time of Achishana, when the righteous need salvation, the Holy One, blessed be He, provides for them, I know in you that you have never been the subject of a mistake by you. For now, the Holy One, blessed be He, summoned me before you arrived at the teaching and you did not fail. Now, Rav Eilish almost failed and the Holy One invited Rava for him, and the Rava was happy that he had the privilege of saving Rav Eilish. It would have been even better for Rav Eilish if the Holy One, blessed be He, had honored him, so that he would stand on the truth on his own and not need to invite Rava to save him, and that Rava would rejoice in his commandments. This was the prayer of Rav Eilish that I would not fail in a matter of Halacha and would need a messenger to bring me back and that my friends who had the privilege of saving me would rejoice in me. You, the Lord, grant me the privilege of standing on the truth by myself, and so all my friends will not need each other, as we are dependent on each other. But God forbid that anyone would rejoice in the mistake of his friend.
Really waiting, thank you very much.
And finally, the matter of the power of the more is better, because one must wonder what the meaning of this expression is, if the halakha is X, what does it matter whether it is to permit or to forbid. And it must be said, that after the stage of learning and after we have placed every method on the golden masters, there are those who are afraid to listen and obey their intuition and prefer to be stricter to get out of all the sufficiencies, but there are strong people who have the power of the more and are not afraid and if their intuition tells them that even though the prohibitive approach is logical, the permissive approach is more reasonable, and therefore I permit.
What do you think?
This is not the Talmudic meaning of the phrase. There, it is a consideration in the wording, that it is better to clarify the opinion of the one who permits because his innovation is greater. But perhaps in the background is your explanation, that the innovation in the permit is greater because the tendency is to be stricter.
The explanation makes a lot of sense when we discuss the substance of what has been preserved. What happens when the discussion is about the interpretation of a text that is binding on its own part - even if it is wrong? (Like the interpretation of the Gemara itself or the interpretation of a law according to non-activist approaches)
Good question. It seems that there we should try to get to the intention of the writer/scripture and not state his opinion in the most logical way. But I also wrote my words regarding the interpretation of Talmudic opinions. And indeed, in light of your words, one should be more precise. When one states a Talmudic opinion in such a way, one must be careful that in the end I really think that this is the intention of the Talmud itself. There it is not right to go to the point where it is clear that this is not the opinion of the Talmud. And it is still better to push with language than with reasoning because one is judging the Talmud on merit (in the sense of Chapter 1 and the Sh”ach).
A. I agree in general, although one should be wary of a situation where, in the name of “studying virtue” and preferring explanation over language, one does not get to the bottom of the system and does not rethink the fact that there is also another logical explanation (for example, many times the language of the Rambam is forced to fit the system of the issue according to the Gemara commentators who justify their opinion in detail, but upon further thought, his words as understood simply from a linguistic perspective are very logical). B. Regarding the preference for explanation over language, I remember that it is said that among some Sephardim (the first ones) this is not the case. Are there any sources on the matter?
I completely agree. Important note. Don't rush to reject the language because of the explanation. It is necessary and advisable to re-examine the explanation (as emerges from the issue of this benefit and this is not lacking and from the introduction of R”Sh. Shkop).
I don't know.
The principle of kindness can only apply if you are smarter than the person in front of you and understand what he is saying and the ignorance on which his words are based.
In a normal situation, there should be either a principle of non-offense (recognize the possibility that you are wrong without being offended) or the principle of taste-and-smell (that ultimately the dispute stems from a different psychology)
Let's say you are a wise man – a student of the Volozhin Yeshiva, adjudicating between the first and the last –
and you suddenly come across the Mohar”n Collection – The Stories of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov.
Many have treated the stories as the words of the rabbis who are not worth discussing at all.
If they had applied the principle of kindness – perhaps they would have come to the conclusion that the writer had a thought –
as many good people in later generations have concluded.
Reverse your conclusion – The principle of kindness means that perhaps there are depths in Rabbi Nachman's words that you have not yet reached.
First, for this, credit must be given to the person. Without this, I do not think that the principle of kindness applies to stories but to attitudes. If you want to learn from a story, then of course you can always find meanings in it, but this has nothing to do with Ren of Breslov. Every folktale or children's legend is like this (see some examples at the end of Shalom Rosenberg's book on the Khozari).
And beyond that, even my little self has often used Ren's stories for one lesson or another. Therefore, I do not see why you write that your words are the opposite of my conclusion.
In B”D 3; Bishvat P”B
The writer said well, that even if there is no intention to agree with the writer's opinion, then by the ‘principle of kindness’ the learner benefits himself by discovering in his words an idea that has a sense and logic. Similarly, the ’Chat”Sofer’ wrote in his novellas to the Bitzah that it is not appropriate for a person to ask that his words be accepted, but rather that his intention in the debate be to reexamine his opinion in light of the arguments of his companion. If he finds that the arguments of the other are right – he will accept his words, and if after the examination he finds that his previous position remains the same – then his confidence in his rightness will become stronger.
But it should be added that even in striving to understand his intention, the writer – The ‘principle of kindness’ advances us, for in striving to understand the writer's intention, we must present all the options available for interpreting his words, both on one side and on the other. When we have several reasonable options, and examine each for its merits and demerits – our ability to speculate on the more plausible interpretation will increase.
Our knowledge of the speaker's character is also a factor that influences the way his words are interpreted, for if the speaker is ‘very kind’ it turns out to be biased towards kindness and to assume that his words were spoken wisely. And on the other hand, someone who is held to be dubious – it turns out to be very ‘to blame the spoiled’.
With greetings, Hasdai Bezalel Duvdevani Kirshen-Kawas
In this period, the use of the principle of grace is essential.
This is because the right that can be taught about many texts is that they were written on behalf of
Publish or perish, and with the expectation that the editor of the publication will judge them as grace.
And in a somewhat similar matter, and in order to practice the theoretical material
I would like to read a study of grace on texts by Chaim Deuel Lusky.
It seems to me that all the grace of our Rabbi Michael will not be enough.
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From my acquaintance with the above, it seems to me that if there is an exception to the principle of kindness, you have definitely put your finger on it. No interpretation will save the magnificent nonsense that comes out of his mouth and pen. I know of no competitor in the entire world of eloquence to the texts that come out of his hands, and it seems to me that the appearance/meaning of them would make Lewis Carroll himself turn pale in his grave. In short, this task is ten times greater than mine.
Friends, as long as you haven't heard him live at the university, like me, you have no real reason to complain. My soul vomited out of me. A difficult experience.
According to this simplification, this is not a principle, at most a recommendation on how to sharpen and refine my opinion and argument. I can act in this way regardless of the opposing position facing me. Always think about what the best argument that can be argued against is.
You acted according to the principle of kindness (in your opinion) to explain the principle of kindness…
True and correct
The matter of considering the right to a certain extent, the interpretation of the revelation of the word Kamal, should be noted that the reasonable interpretation also depends on the identity of the person. What do you think of another interpretation (which seems necessary after the column and Mysticism Lesson 8) which is normative guidance. Sometimes something seems unreasonable on the surface, but if you reflect on it as you think it is, it becomes more logical. After you systematically present the interpretation of the right to a certain extent, and reflect on it as you think it is, then sometimes it will also seem no less reasonable than the interpretation of the obligation to a certain extent. So the guidance is to sit and think on the assumption that the truth is the right to a certain extent, and after the picture becomes clear, then each person will believe in his own mind what he believes (after all, it is forced upon him, etc.).
[On the two interpretations, why did the Tanna say to consider the right to a certain extent and not say to consider the obligation to a certain extent? After all, we were the same. For example, if I see a known cannibal feeding pheasants to his captives, the likely interpretation is that he is feeding them for his own needs, and not that he is gifted and given. To say that a person is doing something wrong and the Tanna comes to guide him in what is necessary seems a bit strange to me.]
[By the way, I have a lot of money, of course, from a number of reasons, including taking root and enjoying it, in a considerable amount. As far as I'm concerned, I'm keeping a deposit until I find a way to return it, and as long as I don't get kicked out, I can still accumulate more].
This interpretation is the interpretation I proposed here. To reflect as I should in order to formulate my own correct position. I did not understand what the difference is between this and what you proposed here. It is to decide on the merits. And on that your question is not too difficult, since I decide every position on the merits, and also its opposite. To judge on the merits is a person and not a position, and there it seems that we are talking about real merit.
Close, but why the same? Investing time and making the right side clear is practical guidance that can be violated. Whereas knowing that the interpretation of the situation depends on the person's identity is that those who agree agree and those who don't, don't, and the violation does not belong intentionally.
A willful violation is committed if a person judges someone without regard to their identity. I commented in the column that perhaps the commandment came to remove our tendency to judge recklessly from being obligatory.