On Sayings and Rules (Column 274)
With God's help
To my wife Dafna, may she live long (there is reward for your labor)
A few days ago my wife showed me the following saying:
Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates: Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?
On an initial check online, I got the impression that this was a Buddhist saying from an unknown source. But elsewhere the claim is that it is a saying whose first known source is Sufi (Muslim), from the Sufi scholar Rumi.[1] Be that as it may, it struck me as rather appealing, even though (and perhaps because) I assume they also meant, in this way, to comment on my manner of expression. But I, true to my autistic way, will try to examine this saying a bit and see what exactly it says (I am probably repressing it).
Initial reaction
When my wife Dafna showed me this saying, my first reaction was that whoever said it (Rumi) did not live up to his own standard. This saying probably passes the second gate (and perhaps also the third), but certainly not the first. It is simply not true. And yet he said it…
Why do I think it is not true? Because in many cases it is entirely appropriate to say something that is not true. For example, when one wants to make a joke, or when one lies in a situation where doing so is permitted and desirable (see, for instance, here), such as for the sake of peace, or in one of the three other cases in which lying is permitted (see Bava Metzia 23b). That is with respect to the first component (truth). And what if I have something true and very useful that it is important to say, but it is not polite (and there is no way to soften it completely)? Is it necessarily improper to say it? I do not think so. For example, I see Reuven pursuing Shimon in order to kill him. I warn him that if he continues I will shoot him. Is it polite to threaten a person like that? Certainly not nice. Is that a reason not to say it? And what if I had no intention of killing him, but I was trying in that way to prevent the harm to Shimon? In such a case the warning is not truthful. Do you think it would be improper to do that? In short, apparently this is, at most, a charming little quip.
Does this mean the saying is worthless?
Suppose the examples brought in the previous section show that the saying is incorrect. Does the conclusion follow that it is worthless? Not necessarily. Sayings are judged no less by their poetic value than by their content. They need the right punch line, but sharp and apt wording is no less important, and sometimes even at the expense of precision in content.
In columns 107 and onward I discussed the definition of poetry as opposed to prose. I showed there an entire spectrum of genres between the two. It seems to me that a saying, too, occupies a place somewhere in between poetry and prose. It is not poetry, since its message is conveyed through its verbal content. But it is also not wholly prose, because the poetic wrapping and the form of the wording are an inseparable part of the saying (somewhat similar to literary writing, though of course much closer than that to the prose pole). A saying is not an encyclopedic description of some content, and therefore it is not pure prose. But neither is it a pure poem, because a saying does have content, except that it does not arise linearly from the meaning of the words. Part of its power and charm is connected to its poetic features. The content of a saying is certainly meaningful, except that at times poetic considerations should override the need for precision. A good saying instills some insight in me, even if its verbal content is not precise.
From this one can understand the danger in sayings. A poem whose content is imprecise or mistaken can be an excellent poem, and there is nothing wrong with that.[2] The content of the poem is its prosaic component, and its essence is the poetics (see the columns cited above). In sayings, by contrast, there is indeed supposed to be content, but because of their poetic component, the poetics may cover up a vacuum of content. In this connection, it is worth looking at column 17, which deals with koans and sayings (see also column 211).
But despite what I described above, when one hears Rumi's saying, it is quite clear that it teaches something and that meaningful lessons can be drawn from it. It is a good saying. From here I will move to a Litvak-style analysis of the saying.
Two levels of analysis
It seems to me that this saying has two components: the examination through the three gates, and the algorithm that decides, in light of the results of that examination, whether to speak or not. In other words, this saying says two things: 1. Every utterance should be examined by these three tests. 2. The algorithm by which we decide whether to say it or not is whether the utterance passes all three. Let us examine these two levels.
Claim 1 seems very reasonable. Moreover, it contains a significant insight. Thinking about the matter, I discovered that this classification is very clever. Each of its components is necessary (none can be reduced to the other two), and in addition, it is very difficult (if at all possible) to find an additional test that cannot be subsumed under one of these three categories. Think, for example, about politeness (kindness). At first glance, it falls under utility, because if we speak impolitely the benefit of what is said will not be achieved. But that argument assumes that the purpose of politeness is consequentialist (to contribute to achieving the benefit), and that is not so. The purpose of politeness is not to hurt the other person, even if there is benefit in the statement (though not at any price, as noted). If so, politeness is an independent category (which does not fall under utility). Truth, of course, does not fall under utility, and the converse is also not true. That is, these three are independent. Now think of another test through which it would be worthwhile to pass our utterances, apart from these three. Every test I thought of fits under one of the three (for example, my fear of damage that will be caused to me if I say these things is part of the benefit involved in saying them. The benefit is mine too, not only that of others). Thus the three components in this classification are indeed necessary and exhaustive (this is a "complete partition" in mathematical language).
So much for component 1 of the saying (the three gates). But component 2 seems, on its face, incorrect. True, every utterance should be examined by these three criteria, but it is not necessarily correct that every utterance must pass all three. As we saw in the examples above, there are quite a few situations in which the proper algorithm is different.
Another look at the algorithm
But on further reflection, the algorithm Rumi proposes also seems important. We have seen that every utterance should be run through these three tests (component 1), and now I will argue that it is also proper that it pass all three (component 2). The claim is that, in principle, the algorithm really ought to be built on passing these three tests. True, there are cases in which it is justified to deviate from this algorithm, but such cases are the exception, and therefore the rule remains in force. If there is significant harm that it is important to prevent (the second criterion), one may waive politeness (the third). If there are circumstances in which it is permitted and desirable to lie (the second), one may waive truth (the first). If there is a grave injury to politeness (the third), one may waive speaking the truth and perhaps even tell a lie (the first). In other words, overall, in all situations we maneuver among these three tests with different weightings. Usually one must pass all three, and even in the exceptional cases in which one of them overrides the others, that too results from weighing all three. In any case, no consideration other than these three is involved here. It is hard to say that such a saying is incorrect, and certainly that it is worthless. It is quite clear that its poetic value justifies the lack of precision in its content. If so, Rumi, who said this saying, actually did meet the criteria he himself set, provided we do not take them too rigidly.
When one examines the wording quoted above, one can see that perhaps this is what Rumi himself meant as well. He only said that an utterance should pass through the three tests, but he does not necessarily say there that the algorithm is built from passing all three. After examining the utterance from these three angles, one can make the decision according to some other algorithm.
Is there an algorithm at all?
An interesting question is whether there is any such algorithm at all. That is, is the inability to formulate it the result of excessive complexity, or is there in fact no algorithm and each case must be judged on its own merits. Human judgment is not necessarily susceptible to algorithmic formulation. That is not to say that there is no right and wrong here. It is entirely plausible that there is right and wrong, and in many cases this would even be agreed upon by most people, despite the fact that we do not have in our hands (and perhaps there is no such thing as) such an algorithm. Moreover, despite the absence of an algorithm, it may well be possible to build a mechanical program[3] that will make correct decisions in these matters (that is, one that passes the Turing-Rumi test).
I have already discussed here more than once[4] the meaning of rules. In the legal context, it is customary to distinguish between positivist methods, which operate in an algorithmic way, and casuistic methods (as in British law), which prefer learning through cases and the analogies based on them. The Talmud clearly prefers casuistry, and it seems to me that this saying is a good example of why, in many respects, this is indeed the preferable way. If we try to teach a person how to express himself by presenting the three tests together with a formulated decision algorithm (whether to speak or not), we will get a very unsympathetic and unpleasant machine. Not really a human being. If, with respect to halakhic and legal thinking, an algorithmic machine cannot make good decisions, then this is certainly so regarding social and interpersonal considerations.
[1] I saw in other places that it is attributed to a Sufi scholar named Jalal al-Rumi (Rumi).
[2] By the way, it seems to me that this was what lay at the basis of the legal discussion concerning the film Jenin Jenin. The director's claim was that a film is a work of art and therefore is not committed to precision in the details, and in fact to precision in content at all (after all, a film may also be entirely fictional). The legal question was only whether there was deception there, since the film was presented as having a documentary basis and dealt with real events and real people. The courts ruled that the film is full of deliberate lies and was made with the intent to defame, but the suit was dismissed because the Defamation Prohibition Law does not allow a civil tort claim for defamation of a collective. A few days ago I heard that they have now found a private individual who appears in the film to file the suit, and therefore the discussion is being renewed these very days.
[3] I have already mentioned here more than once neural networks, which are a type of software that imitates the way our brain works. Such a network does not operate in the ordinary algorithmic way. It is trained by trial and error, that is, it receives feedback of correct or incorrect on each decision, and it teaches itself and improves. I will only note that our thinking, at least large parts of it, does indeed proceed in an algorithmic way. This, of course, raises an interesting question about the relation between the mode of operation of the brain and the mode of thinking of the intellect, and whether there is a mapping between them and what its nature is, but this is not the place for that.
[4] For example, in the responsa here and here, and in the article Midah Tovah 5767 for Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelekh, and in the two articles for Parashat Ha'azinu in Midah Tovah 5765-6 – articles 53 and 100, and especially in the third book of the trilogy, Part IV, Chapter 12.
Discussion
Nice. Thanks for the column.
Thank you very much for the column.
Short (relative to this venue) and to the point (as usual for this venue).
My opinion, as someone who reads here a lot (but comments little),
is that this length of column is more effective and better suited to readers’ taste.
It’s worth considering splitting longer columns into two parts, even if that comes to some extent at the expense of the big picture.
Very true!
Hello Rabbi.
In note 3 the rabbi writes: “I’ll just note that our thinking, or at least large parts of it, is indeed carried out algorithmically. This of course raises an interesting question about the connection between the way the brain operates and the way the intellect thinks, and whether there is a mapping between them and what its nature is, but that is not the place to discuss it.”
I didn’t understand. The connection between the way the brain operates and the way the intellect thinks?
It’s not something else, and not at all. See “partition” in Wikipedia.
We smell with the nose, walk with the leg, and think with the brain. The brain is an organ like any other organ. The intellect is the mental part in and through which thinking takes place. What we are aware of is the intellect. The machine that carries this out is the brain.
Thank you very much.
If there really is a full mapping between the activity of the brain and the way of thinking, then humanity is basically one big zoo.
Not necessarily at all. First, there may be a difference in the level of thought. Second, if the intellect operates the brain, then there is room for discretion.
Another advantage of a short column is that it allows the writer to think before every utterance: Is it true? Is it necessary? And is it said in an acceptable way?
Best regards, G. A. D. Rumi
I don’t know what it says in Wikipedia. From what I remember, a partition of a set is a division of a set into subsets (usually disjoint ones). What subsets are there here? There’s only a set with 3 elements here.
The set of tests (criteria) is partitioned into three disjoint subsets (types of tests) whose union is all the tests: tests of truth, tests of utility, and tests of politeness.
With God’s help, 15 Tevet 5780
I do not know what the original Persian expression was that Jalal ad-Din Rumi used, but kind in English does not mean “polite,” but rather “good,” “beneficent,” “gentle,” “considerate,” and the like. A mnemonic for this: Jalal is gentle 🙂
According to Rumi, before speaking one should check whether the speech is true, whether it is necessary, and whether it is beneficent and considerate. When one aspires to satisfy all three parameters, by checking before speaking all three conditions, one generally succeeds in meeting all three, except in unusual situations, such as “altering for the sake of peace,” where we forgo truth in favor of the value of beneficence, or a case where one must rebuke a wrongdoer sharply, where we prefer the good of the victim over the good of the offender.
In any case, even when it is necessary to depart from one of the conditions, this does not mean there is no rule at all; rather, the departure is a case of something “overridden,” a constrained situation that is adopted only for lack of alternative, and therefore one tries as much as possible to minimize the violation, and even what is done not according to the rule is accompanied by a difficult feeling.
Therefore, even when rebuking a person, one should examine carefully: is it necessary to rebuke him sharply, or would gentle speech achieve the goal? Is there a need to shame him in public, or is it enough to rebuke him “in private”? Thus the Torah commands: “You shall surely rebuke your fellow, and not bear sin because of him,” and our Sages explained this to mean that you should not incur the sin of publicly humiliating him.
And therefore, even when there is a need to alter for the sake of peace, this should not be done with satisfaction and enjoyment. Thus the Netziv explained that Jacob was deceived by Laban as “measure for measure” because he took his father’s blessings through deceit; even though he had to do so, since the blessings belonged to him, nevertheless even in a situation where a “transgression for its own sake” was permitted, one was not permitted to enjoy it, and for that enjoyment there is an aspect of punishment.
In short: the aspiration is to satisfy all the “conditions”—that speech be true, necessary, and beneficent—and only in exceptional situations may one forgo one of the conditions, and such a concession should be made only after careful examination and with a heavy heart.
Best regards, Shatz
This saying is attributed to Buddha, to Socrates, to the Persian poet Rumi, and to Sai Baba of Shirdi, because sayings tend to be hung on lofty trees, preferably from the Far East. Apparently, the precise source is the American-English clergyman James Haldane Stewart (1778–1854), about whom it was written in a biography: “He was careful to avoid condemnatory language, and advised people that before they spoke evil of someone, they should ask themselves: first, is it true? second, is it kind? third, is it necessary?” A poem, in the spirit of these words, entitled “Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?” appeared in a children’s poetry book by Mary Ann Pietzker published in London in 1872. Presumably they relied on Indian sources, such as:
“A brother who goes to rebuke his fellow must first find within himself five good qualities before doing so: ‘I will speak at the right time, and not at the wrong time. I will speak truth, and not falsehood. I will speak gently, and not harshly. I will speak for his benefit, and not to his detriment. I will speak with a pleasant countenance, and not in anger.’” (Buddha)
“Speak the truth, and speak so as to be pleasant; do not speak the truth so as to cause pain; do not speak what is untrue so as to be pleasant; this is an eternal good quality.” (Indian saying)
And there was an incident involving a lonely old man who fell ill, and some people brought him to the emergency room. There, after examination and initial treatment, they discharged him to his home. The activists did not know what to do, since there was no one to be with him and supervise the continuation of his treatment. One of the activists came up with a brilliant idea. He brought the old man to the emergency room of another hospital and told them that he had found the old man lying in the street, and then the hospital could not send the old man home. The “trick” worked, and the activist recounted it all with a pleased smile to R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach. R. Shlomo Zalman answered him: Fine, there may have been no choice but to do it, but to be happy and smile about having been forced to lie?
With God’s help, 15 Shevat 5780
To M80 — greetings,
The instruction to rebuke gently at first was already stated by our Sages. Thus it is written in Sefer HaChinukh (commandment 239): “And they said there in the Sifra: One might think he rebukes him and his face changes color? Scripture therefore says, ‘and you shall not bear sin because of him.’ This teaches that at the beginning of rebuke it is fitting for a person to rebuke in private and in gentle language and soothing words so that the other should not be embarrassed. And there is no doubt that if he does not repent through this, then one shames the sinner in public, publicizes his sin, and humiliates him until he returns to the good path.”
These are also the words of King Solomon: “The words of the wise are heard in calm more than the cry of one who rules among fools,” and he also said: “A gentle tongue breaks bone.” Sometimes there is wisdom among Jews too 🙂
Best regards,. Shimshandre Livingor
To lie and to steal, of course.
Paragraph 1, line 4
…and they publicize his sin…
In line 1
…and men of kindness brought him to the emergency room…
You are speaking about a person rebuking his fellow for his sin, such as “open rebuke is better than hidden love,” or about an intellectual virtue of the speech of the wise: “The words of the wise are heard in calm.” The saying in this thread resembles the Jewish or Indian sayings in form, but not in content, for it contains neither instruction nor an algorithm for how to rebuke or speak; rather, it asks three rhetorical questions in order to persuade people not to speak slander.
With God’s help, 16 Shevat 5780
On the religious and educational coping with the question of “falsehood for the sake of Heaven,” Rabbi Lior Engelman discusses this in his book Longings – Chapters of Religious Reflection בעקבות the Uprooting of the Communities in Gush Katif (pp. 153–164). During the siege on Gush Katif in the months before the expulsion, many infiltrated the bloc by presenting themselves as family members of the residents.
Rabbi Engelman cites there the words of the Netziv (Ha‘amek Davar, Genesis 27:9): “This is comparable to deadly poison, for certainly there are times when it is a life-giving medicine for a sick person, yet it is still called deadly poison because in most cases it kills; and even when it is needed for life, great precision is required according to the physician, and in strict measure so as not to add beyond what is needed” (p. 159).
Rabbi Engelman further explains (p. 160), following the Netziv, that whereas a mitzvah is still a mitzvah even if it contains ulterior motives and is done “not for its own sake,” in contrast, one who commits a transgression for its own sake—“if he stumbles, and his intention is even partly not for its own sake—then he has a transgression in his hands. According to this it is explained why Jacob’s descendants were punished for Esau’s cry but were not punished for Isaac’s trembling.” For in Isaac’s trembling Jacob took no pleasure, and he was under compulsion; “whereas regarding Esau’s cry he rejoiced in his heart, and therefore he was punished, for this was caused by the transgression of falsehood, and it is forbidden to take pleasure in this.”
Rabbi Engelman concludes there: “In addition to caution regarding the proper amount of falsehood and the counsel one must take from a distinguished Torah scholar—when one comes to use falsehood for exalted purposes, the heart must be clean of petty things, of private interests mixed into the important goal that necessitated the falsehood; one must avoid rejoicing at the expense of those who are the objects of the falsehood. Foreign and irrelevant considerations must not be involved in the act of deception, and this is by no means a simple demand.”
Later, the author discusses the question of coping with the psychological habituation to lying and scheming, and the problematic nature of using falsehood in front of children, who cannot grasp the complexity of “falsehood for its own sake.” See there at length. But this is not the place to elaborate.
May it be God’s will that “trouble not arise a second time,” and that we not be forced to return to the struggles of those terrible days.
Best regards, Shatz
Regarding Rmda’s comment about concern for theft in transferring the old man to the hospital without mentioning that those bringing him knew him.
Since those who brought the patient to the hospital are not the patient’s relatives, they have no obligation whatsoever to care for his follow-up treatment. The public should have a solution for caring for a solitary patient who has no supportive family. For this purpose the hospital has a social worker, who is supposed to find the solitary patient an appropriate public framework.
It is not proper for the hospital to demand that a private individual who is not a family member of the patient take responsibility for him. That is the job of social workers, and one cannot demand that a volunteer assume responsibility that is not part of his role and for which he has no tools or resources to meet.
Best regards, Shatz.
Two comments:
1. First of all, in mathematical language this isn’t called a partition. A partition (of a set) is something else entirely. The rabbi meant that this is called a complete and independent set of requirements. ("Necessary" means independent, and "exhaustive" means complete.)
2. I think “politeness” should be removed from there, because I see it as something fake. “Refinement” should be put in its place.
That is, as opposed to coarseness.