A Look at the Principle of Charity (Column 440)
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).
Discussion
You were understood very well then and now. But it seems to me that I was not understood. I wrote explicitly that if you are engaged in interpreting the person opposite you, there is no principle of charity. You interpret him according to what you think he really means to say. But the methodological principle of charity that I described here does not depend on the intentions of the person opposite you. All this was explained well in the column (that is its main point).
Therefore, if the feminists intend to argue A, which is nonsense, but I can present their words as B, which is more reasonable, then on the methodological level I should interpret them as B. This is so that I can discuss serious arguments against my own 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 that is a matter that has to be discussed for each claim on its own merits.
This thesis is presented very briefly at the beginning of the Hatam Sofer’s responsum, Orach Chaim, sec. 208, and in his view the principle of charity derives from a biblical negative prohibition, or something close to that; see there.
Truly enlightening, thank you very much.
Even so, one must explain the matter of “the power of leniency is preferable,” for one may wonder what exactly this expression means: if the halakhah is X, what difference does it make whether it is to permit or to prohibit? One can say that after the stage of conceptual analysis, and after we have established each position on solid foundations, there are some who are afraid to hear and obey their own intuition and prefer to be stringent in order to avoid all doubts; but there are stronger people who have “the power of leniency” and are not afraid, and if their intuition tells them that even though the prohibitive approach is logical, still the permissive approach is more reasonable—therefore I permit.
What do you think?
So perhaps we agree on the general principle (which says, in my view, that the principle of charity is subordinate to the principle of consistency), and disagree only about the interpretation of that specific feminist position. Regarding that position, you should have said that Gadi Taub is right, because their remarks about “female science” cannot be presented in a more reasonable way. Not because one should not try, but because our attempt to do so in practice failed.
Therefore I argued against you that if you understood the depth of the radicalism of their position, you would agree with me regarding the miserable diagnosis (and prognosis…) of their worldview. And therefore it is also incorrect to claim—as you did—that Taub (or your humble servant) set up a straw man in the debate with them. Taub’s position is actually fairer and “does them more charity.”
The explanation is very logical when discussing the substance of things that were said. What happens when the discussion is about interpreting a text that is binding in itself—even if it is mistaken? (Like interpretation of the Gemara itself, or interpretation of a law according to non-activist approaches.)
Indeed. And for the public’s benefit I copied here the words of the Hatam Sofer that are relevant to us:
“And in this way I interpret ‘You shall not answer concerning a dispute by inclining’ [Exodus 23:2]: that the intention of those debating in judgment, between one dispute and another and between one blood-case and another, should not be to incline his fellow’s opinion to his own opinion—for what is he to me, and what am I to him? Rather, the debate should be in order to establish my reasoning and my opinion according to my intellect, in such a way that whatever my fellow argued against me I will examine in my thought: if his words are true, I will retract; and if his words do not seem right to me, I will stand by my opinion. And what does it matter to me whether he agrees with me or not, for my intention is not to incline his opinion to mine. And so too should be the mind of my fellow who opposes me: to establish his reasoning for himself; and after this debate—follow the majority. But those who specifically want their fellow to agree with them, and whose intention is to incline their fellow’s opinion to their own opinion—those stray from the path of truth and incline toward mere victory, and a distorted judgment emerges. And also, in the prayer of Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah, that I should not err in a matter of halakhah and my colleagues rejoice over me, it is not speaking of this; nor was he afraid of those who would honor themselves through his disgrace, Heaven forbid, for such people were not found in the fellowship of the Sages. Besides, why was he not concerned about an actual halakhic failure itself, but only that his colleagues should rejoice over him? Rather, it seems to me, based on what is stated in chapter Yesh Nochalin, 133b, ‘I the Lord, in its time I will hasten it,’ and Rashbam explained: Rav Ilish was ashamed before Rava lest Rava say in his heart: had I not been here, he would have rendered a false judgment, etc. Rava recited to comfort him: ‘I the Lord, in its time I will hasten it’—at the time when the righteous need salvation, the Holy One, blessed be He, provides it for them. So too, I know of you that a judicial stumbling has never come through your hand, for behold now the Holy One, blessed be He, arranged for me to come to you before you reached a ruling and you did not stumble. Thus it is clear that Rav Ilish almost stumbled, and the Holy One, blessed be He, arranged Rava for him, and it was a joy for Rava that he merited to save Rav Ilish. Yet it would have been better for Rav Ilish had the Holy One, blessed be He, enabled him to arrive at the truth by himself, without needing Rava to be arranged to save him and rejoice in his mitzvah. And this was the prayer of Rabbi Nehunya ben HaKanah: that I should not err in a matter of halakhah and need an agent to bring me back, and my colleagues rejoice over me because they merited to save me. You, O Lord, grant me that I should arrive at the truth by myself; and so too all my colleagues—that we should not need one another. So it appears to me. But Heaven forbid, Heaven forbid, that a person should rejoice in his fellow’s mishap.”
That is not the Talmudic meaning of the expression. There it refers to a consideration of formulation—that it is preferable to clarify the view of the one who permits, because his innovation is greater. But perhaps in the background there is your reasoning: that the innovation in leniency is greater because the tendency is to be stringent.
Good question. At first glance it seems that there we should try to get at the intention of the author/text, and not present his view in the most logical way possible. But I wrote my remarks also regarding the interpretation of Talmudic opinions. And indeed, in light of what you say, this needs to be sharpened further. When one presents a Talmudic opinion in such a way, one must be careful that in the end I truly think that this is what the Talmud itself means. There it is not right to go so far as to a point where it is clear that this is not the Talmud’s view. Still, it is preferable to strain the language rather than the reasoning, because we judge the Talmud favorably (in the sense of chapter 1 and of the Shakh).
Of course one can argue about that. I am not at all sure. In my opinion they themselves do not sharpen their own position for themselves, but it is certainly possible that this was their intention. And as stated, for the sake of the discussion it is clearly preferable to present their view in a logical form in order to clarify the issue itself, even if that is not really their position.
Michi, you’re stringing me along a bit again. In that discussion you told me that I (and apparently Taub) were not doing charity to their position—in other words, in your terms, we were setting up a straw man. I argued then, and I argue now as well, that you were mistaken in that, but now I’ve also explained why—you made dogmatic use of the principle of charity. I’d be glad if you addressed that and said a word about the very possibility itself, whether or not you agree with me that you failed here.
In any case, this is my central claim regarding the matter: in interpretation there is a principle that precedes the principle of charity. I explained what I think it is.
The principle of charity can apply only in a case where you are wiser than the person opposite you and understand what he is saying and the ignorance on which his words are based.
In an ordinary 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 in the end the dispute stems from different psychologies).
You’re difficult. I answered everything, and you keep coming back again and again as if you hadn’t read.
Indeed, in my assessment 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 saw no argument in your remarks against this. You can of course assess it differently from me (since I also have no information), but you have no arguments. And if there are no arguments, there is no reason to assume that this is just plain nonsense. But beyond that, I added that even according to your own view, that they really did mean that nonsense, there is no point in fighting against a straw man, since the discussion is in order to clarify my own position. Therefore one must present the logical argument and discuss it. And that is the principle of charity.
There certainly were arguments, in that response. You’re making 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 everything, and consequently no body of knowledge (for example, the field of physics) has any separate “content.” In the absence of that, all of science is a collection of “narratives” with equal status. In such a world one can supposedly create an alternative science and fly airplanes with an “independent” system of rules. That is nonsense. That is the argument so far (as stated, resubmitted…).
The more fundamental issue that your (mistaken) analysis exposes is that the principle of charity rests on a more basic principle. It is not clear to me whether you accept the existence of such a principle.
Well, I can’t really remember what happened there. In any case, what you brought here does not say that. Even if, for the sake of discussion, I accept the identification you made with Marxism and Foucauldianism, those too can be interpreted in the way I described. Do you really think someone there is arguing that if you build a triangular kite out of cloth, one and a half meters in size, it will be able to carry two passengers to the United States? I very much doubt it.
The problem starts with them, of course, because they themselves confuse themselves and do not sharpen what exactly they mean. And yet I believe that no one there would answer your kite question in the affirmative.
A. I generally agree, though one has to be careful of a situation where, in the name of “judging favorably” and preferring reasoning over wording, one does not get to the bottom of the view and does not rethink the possibility that there is also another logical reasoning (for example, many times people force the wording in Rambam to fit the approach of the sugya according to the commentators on the Gemara, who explain their position at length, but on further thought his words, as simply understood linguistically, are very logical). B. Regarding the preference of reasoning over wording, I recall that people say that among some of the Sephardic rishonim this was not the case. Are there sources on the matter?
I completely agree. An important remark. One should not rush to dismiss the wording because of the reasoning. It is necessary and worthwhile to reexamine the reasoning as well (as emerges from the sugya of “this one benefits and that one does not lose,” and from the introduction of R. Shimon Shkop).
I’m not familiar with it.
With God’s help, 3 Shevat 5782
The writer spoke well in saying that even if one does not arrive at the author’s actual intention, still through the ‘principle of charity’ the learner derives benefit for himself by uncovering in the words an idea that has sense and logic. So too wrote the Hatam Sofer in his novellae to Beitzah: it is not proper for a person to seek that his words be accepted; rather, his intention in the debate should be to reexamine his opinion in light of his interlocutor’s arguments. If he finds that the other’s arguments are correct—he should accept them; and if after examination he finds that his previous position remains intact—then his confidence in the justice of his position becomes firmer.
But one should add that even in striving to understand the author’s intention, the ‘principle of charity’ advances us, for in striving to understand the author’s intention we must present all the existing options for interpreting his words, both in this direction and in the other. When we have several reasonable possibilities in hand, and examine each one for its advantages and disadvantages, our ability to estimate the more plausible interpretation will increase.
Our recognition of the speaker’s character also affects how we interpret his words, for if the speaker is ‘abundant in kindness,’ it is reasonable to incline toward kindness and assume that his words were said wisely. And conversely, with someone established as dubious, it is very reasonable ‘to attribute the defect to the defective person.’
With blessings, Hasdai Bezalel Dovdavni Kirshen-Kwas
In this period, the use of the principle of charity is vital.
And that is because the merit that can be taught regarding many texts is that they were written for the sake of
Publish or perish, and out of the assumption that the editor of the publication would judge them charitably.
And on a somewhat similar matter, and in order to practice the theoretical material,
I would like to read a charitable reading of texts by Haim Dawe’el Luski.
It seems to me that all the charity of our rabbi Michael will not suffice.
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From my acquaintance with the above-mentioned person, it seems to me that if there is an exception to the principle of charity, you have put your finger on it precisely. No interpretation will save the magnificent nonsense that comes out of his mouth and from his pen. I know of no competitor in the entire world of pretentious drivel to the texts that issue from his hand, and it seems to me that at the sight/sound of them Lewis Carroll himself grows pale in his grave. In short, that task is ten sizes too big for me.
Friends, as long as you haven’t heard him live at the university, as I have, you have no real reason to complain. My soul vomited me out from within it. A difficult experience.
According to this plain-sense reading, this is not a principle at all, at most a recommendation for how to become wiser and sharpen my reasoning and argument. I can act this way regardless of an opposing position standing before me: always think what the best argument that could be made against me is.
You acted according to the principle of charity (according to your view) in order to explain the principle of charity…
Correct and correct.
Suppose you are the wisest of men—a student of the Volozhin yeshiva, ruling between rishonim and aharonim—
and suddenly you encounter Likkutei Moharan—the stories of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov.
Many related to the stories as idle nonsense not worthy of discussion at all.
Had they adopted the principle of charity, perhaps they would have reached the conclusion that the author had a thought—
as many good and worthy people indeed concluded in later generations.
Contrary to your conclusion—the principle of charity says that perhaps there is depth in Rabbi Nachman’s words that you have not yet reached.
First, for that one must give the person some credit. Without that, I do not think the principle of charity applies to stories but rather to positions. If you want to learn from a story, then of course you can always find meanings in it, but that is not unique to R. Nachman of Breslov. Any folktale or children’s tale is like that (see several examples at the end of Shalom Rosenberg’s book on the Kuzari).
And beyond that, I myself have also more than once used R. Nachman’s stories for the sake of one lesson or another. So I do not see why you write that your remarks are the opposite of my conclusion.
You interpreted the matter of judging favorably as a statement clarifying that one should note that the reasonable interpretation also depends on the identity of the person. What do you think about an additional interpretation (which seems called for after the column and Mysticism lesson 8) that this is normative guidance? Sometimes something seems unreasonable on its face, but if one reflects on it properly it becomes more logical. After one presents the interpretation in an orderly way on the side of merit, and reflects on it properly, then sometimes it will also appear no less reasonable than the interpretation on the side of liability. So the guidance is to sit and think on the assumption that the truth is on the side of merit, and after the picture becomes clear each person will think what he thinks (for it is compelled upon him, etc.).
[On both interpretations it is a bit difficult why the tanna said to judge on the side of merit and did not say to judge on the side of liability. After all, it is the same thing. For example, if I see a known cannibal feeding pheasants to his captives, the reasonable interpretation is on the side of liability—that he is fattening them for his own use—and not that he is being gracious and giving. To say that judging on the side of liability a person does anyway, and the tanna came to guide him only where there is need, seems to me a bit odd.]
[By the way, your money is in my possession, of course, for several reasons and resolutions, among them “it takes root” and “one benefits,” in no small amount. As far as I’m concerned I am safeguarding a deposit until I find a way to return it, and as long as I am not kicked, more can still accumulate.]
This interpretation is the interpretation I suggested here: to reflect properly in order to formulate a correct position of my own. I did not understand what the difference is between that and what you suggested here. That is deciding on the side of merit. And regarding that, your difficulty is not too difficult, for I decide every position on the side of merit, and also its opposite. To judge on the side of merit refers to a person, not a position, and there it seems to be speaking of actual merit.
Close, but why identical? To invest time and clarify the side of merit is practical guidance that one can violate. Whereas knowing that the interpretation of the situation depends on the identity of the person—whoever agrees, agrees, and whoever does not, does not; intentional violation is not relevant there.
Intentional violation is relevant if a person judges someone without taking his identity into account. I noted in the column that perhaps the commandment came in order to counteract our inclination to judge hastily to the side of liability.
I had the privilege of having my name mentioned at the beginning of the column, so I developed the expectation that there would be some reference to the issue I raised, which seems to me to stand in the background. I didn’t find such a reference. Of course it’s your right to write about whatever you want, but in my opinion the problem in your remarks that I pointed out in that debate remains.
In a nutshell: it seems that you adopt the principle of charity somewhat dogmatically, with the aim of beautifying the position of the opponent you are arguing with, so as not to set up a straw man. In my view this methodological choice is mistaken. The main thing in interpretation—especially philosophical interpretation—is not to hobble yourself in advance in order to present your opponent at his best, nor the opposite stance (to present your 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 that. In my opinion.
If we return to the example we discussed in the past, radical feminism and its philosophy of science: you wrote to me then that I was setting up a “straw man” that substituted for radical feminism, and you justified this by saying that it cannot be that people would say nonsense like what I attributed to them. But the fact is that in this case the nonsense is the essence of the matter. Therefore it does not matter whether the feminists intend or do not intend to say nonsense. What matters is that this is what is logically implicit in their words. Or, in another formulation: what is most important is the essential principle standing in the background.
In other words: the principle of charity is important (and even necessary), but it is preceded by the principle of consistency, which strives to extract the objective truth in the background. Your approach blocks the way to that principle.
I hope I’ve made myself clear.