On Secularism, Morality, and Quantum Logic (Akdamot – 2002)

Dr. Meir, in his article ‘Religion and Morality – Toward a Synthesis’ (Akdamot 12), employs an almost axiomatic structure in order to justify the following conclusions:

1. ‘Secularism is a phenomenon of significance… and therefore is not time-bound, and hence is not destined to disappear at some future point in time.’

2. One should learn from it, and even accommodate secularism and secular people within the frameworks that shape Jewish law. The principal contribution of secularism, as described in the article, is a sense of responsibility and the impossibility of relying on God, or on any other entity whatsoever.

3. Secular people should make room for religion as a partner in constituting the world of values and morality. The contribution of religion, as described there, lies mainly in the consciousness of God as a being from whom one cannot hide even in secret; that is, moral precision and scrupulousness.

Many passages in the article, and certainly its pretension to being axiomatic, are open to criticism. But I will try to be brief and focus on several of the main points.

First, the assertion that secularism will never disappear is a rather presumptuous prophecy (one that has appeared in the writings of quite a number of authors recently). Against it I shall argue, if you wish, from Scripture; and if you wish, from reason. From reason alone—and this is, of course, only an objection, not a counterproof—the same could have been said about biblical idolatry. It lasted far longer than contemporary secularism, and it appeared far more dominant throughout the ancient world, and yet it vanished.

And from Scripture—and this is already a proof: belief in the coming of the Messiah says that in the end of days the whole world will be perfected under the kingship of God. Is Dr. Meir trying to say that this is not a fundamental principle of Judaism? Or perhaps that it is simply untrue? Or perhaps his claim is that after the Messiah comes the whole world will be secular? From his remarks it seems as though the Messiah arrives in order to regulate relations between the religious and the secular in our world. Astonishing.

If we continue this analogy, we can see the absurdity of the rest of Dr. Meir’s argument. We might now say that much can also be learned from idolaters. Many of them were very courteous, full of joy, and perhaps also imbued with a sense of freedom (though that, of course, may be disputed, at least with respect to some forms of idolatry), and surely they possessed many other fine traits and values.

Incidentally, with all imaginable distinctions, one could say in even more extreme fashion that much could also have been learned from the Nazis (truly!): discipline, love of country, fidelity to principles, and the like.

Secularism denies God. It upholds the right to desecrate the Sabbath, an offense whose religious punishment is stoning, along with many other transgressions, some even more severe. Dr. Meir argues in his article that this is a positive stance and therefore one that will remain forever. Astonishing.

The basic problem with these erroneous claims is that in both cases, despite all the distinctions between them, these fine values serve a distorted idea. Therefore I do not wish to preach to the public that they should learn anything from people who hold such ideas, or incorporate them into my theology. They certainly have aspects from which one can learn, and perhaps in private I would even do so. But to grant them legitimacy—and even, with a stroke of the pen, to grant them eternal life—seems to me to contradict the entire foundation of religious thought.

I learn nothing from secularism, only from secular people (at least some of them). I do not need secularism in order to recognize my commitment to morality or to natural law. Even Rabbi Shimon Shkop, who is cited in Dr. Meir’s article, did not learn this from them. He proves his claims from the Talmudic discussions themselves (it is worth studying his words carefully, since many use them improperly). There is a general human stratum in the service of God, but there is no need to learn it from secularism. Human reason and will are shared by secular and religious people alike; they are not the monopoly of secularism, as one might infer from Dr. Meir’s remarks. Secularism can help draw attention to those obligations, but I learn nothing from it as such, nor from its ideas.

As noted, the structure of the argument, despite its outward appearance, is not axiomatic at all. Indeed, at several points it simply begs the question.

The reading of Rabbi Shimon Shkop—and I am convinced he would turn in his grave if he saw how his words are being read—is, as the article explicitly declares, a radical reading, even more so than the two other readings presented there (Sagi and Eilon). There is no proof here from Rabbi Shimon, only an illustration, and perhaps even empty rhetoric. Nor is any reason given why this is the correct reading. There is no doubt that this is simply the reading the author desires, while truth—or Rabbi Shimon’s own intention—is of no concern to him here.

Saadia Gaon, who opens the discussion, does not identify secularism with religion, but rather a religious outlook without revelation at Sinai with the outlook after revelation at Sinai. Both outlooks under discussion in his work are religious. At most, if anything, he renders revelation at Sinai superfluous, not belief in God—which is precisely what secularism rejects at its core.

The claim that the two systems have a common subject matter, namely morality, is both banal and absurd. Dr. Meir ignores far broader common subject matter shared by the two systems: all the commandments belong to that shared subject matter, by his own definition. Secularism claims that one should be moral—perhaps. But it certainly claims that there is no obligation to keep the Sabbath, or in general to observe the commandments, or to believe in God. That is certain. Is that not common subject matter as well? Must I learn from that too? Or perhaps grant it legal standing within Jewish law? Much more could be said about this, but this is not the place.

In conclusion, I would put it this way. Usually an axiomatic structure is intended for one of two purposes: 1. to dispel confusion in a complex field; 2. to derive unexpected conclusions from a field that appears simple and clear. My claim against the article is therefore twofold: 1. the issue here appears simple, and therefore there is no point in obscuring it with axiomatic formulations; 2. the conclusions that emerge from the article are either mistaken or trivial. The grant of legitimacy is mistaken and impossible. Respectful treatment and cooperation at the points where they are possible already more or less exist, and therefore that is a trivial conclusion.

I argued above that, in my view, the matter is simple, and this is how I would describe it:

1. I believe that the Torah is from Heaven, and in what it obligates us to do (though this, of course, is subject to different interpretations). Therefore, whoever believes the opposite is mistaken. One may call this condescension, but I do not think that is what is involved here. There are good reasons for this error, and I assume that had I grown up in a background similar to that of our secular brothers, I too would have adopted a worldview similar to theirs. The problem is not stupidity but a lack of knowledge, religious consciousness, and religious education (see the end of my response to Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun in Akdamot 11).

2. Any formulation claiming that the secular person is not mistaken gives him legitimacy. To say that it is legitimate not to believe in God means giving up the Jewish law that obligates us to act vigorously—this is an understatement—against such beliefs. There is here a logical flaw of accepting two opposites, but this is not the place to elaborate (see below).

3. If the secular person is indeed mistaken, then he is legally culpable, unless he acts under compulsion, or is like a child taken captive and raised without any knowledge of Judaism, or simply because we do not possess sufficient power to deal with him.

4. Likewise, I believe that the Messiah will come, and then he will bring the people of Israel back to repentance (as it is written in the Torah itself: ‘And you shall return to the Lord your God’ [Deut. 30:2], repeated in the Prophets and stated three times in the Writings, and by the sages of the Oral Torah in every generation, except for the well-known Rabbi Hillel in Sanhedrin, about whom the Talmud there says, ‘May God forgive Rabbi Hillel’ [Sanhedrin 99a]). Therefore secularism, like idolatry and like every other evil, will disappear from the world. Of course I am speaking about the sins, not about all sinners. I pray that all of us, religious and secular alike, may merit to recognize the truth—with all its complexities, yet there is such a thing as ‘truth’—and abandon falsehood.

5. One can learn from anyone, even the very worst (see above), but if no legitimacy is being granted here, then the statement is trivial. And if legitimacy is being granted, then it is a grave statement.

This simple picture leads me to Aryeh Baratz’s article, which proposed adopting a theology of complementarity (following the principle of complementarity in quantum theory).

My criticism here divides into two parts. First, as a physicist, I claim that there is a mistaken interpretation here of the quantum principle of complementarity. Second, as a religious Jew, I claim that there is no connection—except a merely illustrative one—between the principle of complementarity and any theology whatsoever, certainly not between it and any reasonable Jewish theology.

Above I wrote that if I believe there is a God and that every Jew must observe His commandments, then anyone who does not believe this is mistaken, perhaps unintentionally and perhaps even willfully.

No quantum principle of complementarity, nor any philosophical, religious, or other bit of casuistry that occasionally appears in our circles, can alter that state of affairs. Nevertheless, I can relate respectfully—but not with understanding and legitimacy—to a secular position. That is the essence of the religious level of the critique, which I have already addressed in greater detail above.

I now turn to the scientific level. The principle of complementarity does not state that a contradiction is a valid logical claim. If that were indeed what we learned from the principle of complementarity, then the simultaneous acceptance of Baratz’s claim together with its opposite would be no less a valid logical principle—not to mention logic itself together with its opposite.

The principle of complementarity cannot alter any basic logical principle (contrary to the bizarre position of some proponents of the approach called ‘quantum logic’). Logical principles underlie the mathematics that was used to construct the instruments which measured the results on which quantum theory relies—a whole cascading chain of dependence. Mathematics serves both quantum theory and the language in which people speak about quantum theory. No principle of quantum theory is valid together with its opposite (and therefore neither is any religious principle, or any other principle). Hence it is absurd to claim that the results cut off the branch on which they sit. Put differently: logic cannot be measured in a laboratory. Logic is an assumption that underlies empirical activity, not a result of it.

The principle of complementarity—about which, in my humble opinion, many are mistaken, including professional physicists and philosophers—states a principle that is valid only for the material world, and even there only within its relevant domain of application.

In my view, this is an ontological principle, not a logical one. The principle of complementarity does not say that a particle is a wave and a wave is a particle, even though those concepts are contradictory. Nor does it define a logic different from the accepted one. That is absurd, as I have already shown.

This principle states that in reality itself there are no particles, nor are there waves. There is an entity that cannot be measured, called the ‘wave function.’ It appears before us in two forms, which are what we call ‘particle’ and ‘wave.’ These two are different manifestations of that basic entity, but they are not themselves entities. One cannot measure the direct properties of the wave function, only its manifestations (similar to the Kantian distinction between noumena and phenomena), and therefore there is an illusion that it does not exist. But, as noted above, no other interpretation is logically tenable.[1]

If we now try to apply the principle of complementarity, in its correct formulation—ontological rather than logical—to the theological context, we arrive at the conclusion that God is not an existent entity. Rather, there exists a divine wave function, which sometimes appears as existing and sometimes appears as not existing.

At this point we arrive directly at Schrödinger’s cat. I do not believe in half-dead cats but in a living God—fully living. If God exists, then He exists. And whoever thinks He does not is simply mistaken, and in a dangerous and grave way (sometimes through no fault of his own). I do not intend to be tolerant of such errors, and certainly not to grant them legitimacy, and I do not see how anyone who truly believes what I believe can propose this.

In addition, even if the formulation of the principle of complementarity were correct, it is only a metaphor. I do not see how theological conclusions can be derived from it. It is an illustration of the author’s heart’s desire, and the only reason for changing accepted theology that I found in his article was that he wants it very much. So do I. But desire is one thing, and logic another!

Here too much more could be said, but for lack of space I will summarize: even metaphors must be used cautiously, and their validity must be examined. One certainly should not derive from a metaphor a conclusion that does not follow from the substantive matter itself. One must be careful not to take metaphors—even if they are indeed accurate—too far, beyond their relevant sphere.

[1] This entity, incidentally, behaves in a completely deterministic fashion, unlike the particle and the wave in quantum theory.