A Look at Quality and Undefined Concepts (Column 143)

With God's help

All right, forget existentialism, Hasidism, poetry, and experiences; today we have arrived at what really matters. These nights, the NBA playoffs are taking place in the realms of our great friend across the ocean. Since I was not privileged to have this magnificent art spoken of at night until long after Ben Zoma's homily, I decided to address an interesting aspect of this subject. I would like to dedicate these remarks to King James the First (Maharal James, may he live long), and of course also to my dear son, close to my heart, my study partner in my nightly investigations of this weighty topic, Shlomo, may he live and thrive. And here I begin, with God's help.

General description

In my unlearned and not entirely well-founded impression, the quality of the players and the games rises with the years. This year there are many players, some of them rookies (first-year players), of unimaginable quality. Some tall and some short, athletic and heavy, point guards and centers, team players and soloists. Despite the learned and commonplace pronouncements about the importance of small ball and the end of the era of centers, today one can no longer know what the winning structure really is, and it is doubtful whether there is any such structure at all.

Thus, for example, Golden State has in recent years assembled a collection of players who form an obviously unstoppable virtuoso lineup (although, as connoisseurs and those whose sleep wanders know, something happened last night in the kingdom of Denmark on this matter). That is on the western side of the map. On the eastern side there is the unshakable monarchy of King James (LeBron James), who is steadily acquiring an everlasting name as the best player in the world, and perhaps of all time (despite the excited eulogies, which proved very premature, after the second game against Boston. In the following two games he announced to all the world: the reports of my death were exaggerated). It is no wonder that many are occupied with comparing him to the game's undisputed king, Michael Jordan, nicknamed his airness (His Airness), and as far as I can tell the subject is chewed over endlessly with no clear decision.

On quality and its measurement

All this raises the question of how one can measure the quality of a team or a player at all and rank them against one another. Regarding a team, perhaps the final result can tell us something. At the level of teams, after all, each plays against all the others, and therefore in principle the best ought to win, and the one that won more often (the one higher in the standings) is presumably the best. Although the case of Golden State seems to be some sort of refutation of this simplistic assumption (see below).[1]

But how does one make such a comparison between players? And in fact, how is a player's quality determined at all? What is the scale? There is no dispute that this involves a combination of quite a few traits and qualities, and it is hard even to think of composing an explicit list of criteria, certainly of weighing them against one another. My impression is that the problem is not only the variety and complexity of the traits and our practical inability to compile a list of them and rank them, but that it is doubtful whether there even is such a list (whether Heaven itself knows what the list is).

The Hungarian Jewish mathematician Paul Erdős[2] used to speak of 'proofs from the Book.' A mathematical theorem can be proved in different ways. Some are more elegant and some less so, but there are those that seem taken directly from 'the Book.' As if God has a book of elegant proofs (aesthetically perfect proofs) for every theorem. In this terminology one may wonder whether with God there is a book containing a list of criteria for elegance or perfect quality, and the problem is only with us, who do not know the book, or whether there is no such book at all.

There are players who excel in ability A and others in ability B. How do we compare different abilities? Perhaps by their contribution to the number of points? But even that is not precise. First, there is an important contribution on defense that is not measured in numbers. Second, even the contribution to points is not measurable, since often it is an indirect contribution. Beyond that, for player X ability A plays one role, while for his fellow player that same ability at the same level contributes less (because of its combination with other abilities). Team composition also matters, for the supporting players are activated better by different abilities of the star, depending on their own character. There are supporting players who require leadership or superb passing in order to be activated, and activating other players requires other abilities (setting screens and the like).

Take as an example one of the king's viceroys, Prince James Harden I of the Principality of Houston. I read that in the summer he was sent for tests at some sports-scientific institute, and they discovered in him an ability that was not on the list at all (perhaps it is in 'the Book,' but not here on earth): the ability to move backward and steady himself immediately. The tests revealed that his stabilization time was significantly shorter than that of any other known subject. The professional staff (the legendary D'Antoni, Houston's coach), together with the said Harden, drew the conclusions and recommended that he do what is called a step-back; that is, take a step backward from his defender and immediately release the ball and score. Since then this recommendation has proven, and continues to prove, itself day after day. Harden has become a grand master of the step-back, and he makes all his defenders miserable and frustrated. Truly the Harry Houdini of basketball. Who would even have imagined that this trait had value for basketball? I understand that it was tested and discovered quite by chance. How many more such traits are there that no one has yet discovered? And if this trait were not attached to virtuoso shooting ability, it of course would be worth nothing (what good is stepping back and immediately releasing the ball if you miss?!).

In fact, in order to make comparisons and rank players, we would have to go through the entire list of traits from 'the Book,' update each player according to his abilities, and train him to realize them optimally. Afterward we would need to take every two players and place them within the same framework (the same supporting players, the same coach, and the same opponents), and swap the frameworks each time and see which of them wins, and then rank the two against one another. Thus we would have to proceed for every pair of players, sum and weigh everything, and create a list and an overall ranking. That is of course impractical, and it is clear that even the most veteran players have not gone through a sample large enough to count as universal. Beyond that, in my estimation the results would not be transitive. If player A turns out better than player B and player B better than C, that does not mean that in a direct test player A will necessarily be found better than C.

Is this measurement of quality merely a technical problem because of the complexity of the list, while in 'the Book' (God's book) there is such a list? Or is there no such list at all? Even with respect to teams, I mentioned above the case of Golden State. I suspect that most people you ask will tell you that this is the greatest team today, and perhaps ever, despite the fact that they are placed second in the table. The question is whether there is a contradiction here. After all, the ultimate expression of ability is points and the ability to win, and here we have clear proof that Houston (first in the table) was better (at present, as is known, the situation between them is unclear—2:2). If so, ostensibly we ought to give up the prior assumption that Golden State is better and dismiss it as prejudice. Yet few will give up that assumption. Most will insist that it is indeed the better team. Even if this quality is not expressed in victory and in points, there is still something there that seems to us more perfect (not only more aesthetic, which is obvious and not necessarily dependent on points, but even a fuller and better basketball ability, though it is not expressed in points). So does this have any meaning at all? Is there any prediction that follows from this claim (if quality does not predict a higher number of points), or are these empty words? And again, is there behind this some list from the Book such that whoever possessed it could determine the quality of the team or player, or is there no such list at all (and not merely one too complex to be in our hands).

Application to King James

In a nighttime study session with my son, the claim arose that King James is not the best at any single trait or conceptualized quality of a basketball player. Traits such as drives, shooting, free throws, blocks, steals, defense, ball handling, basketball intelligence, passing, selflessness, court vision, consistency, focus, professionalism, and preparation are also found among some of his peers, and in almost all of them—perhaps literally all of them—there is someone better than he is. You may say that with him the winning factor is the combination of all of them, but even when one examines the combination, one finds in some others (such as KD, Kevin Durant) a dosage that seems stronger. And yet it is hard to shake the impression that he is still the greatest of them all (I have heard claims that this is only an aura that creates fear, produced by public relations, but I reject that completely).

He is a true professional (he trains seriously on fitness and on specific abilities in ways that are hard to comprehend. There are mornings before a game when he takes upon himself a specific task because he knows he will need it, and for all his status he works on it with the utmost effort and without compromise. In the evening's game one can see what he practiced that morning. It is quite amazing for someone who follows him). One cannot ignore his enormous experience (in basketball terms he is no longer young and still entirely at his peak), his astonishing wisdom and court vision, and of course his leadership and physical power. He is very measured and very wise, and does not get rattled by anything, and still it is hard to see in all this a clear measure of complete quality. All this together and separately can also appear in others and still not create such dominance. Moreover, a different cluster of traits can appear in another player and create under him a monarchy no less significant.

King LeBron I is, in my impression, the only player who wins games by himself. He plays with four extras against full teams and wins. It is inconceivable. My impression is that in most cases almost nothing depends on others, only on him. Usually a player can have bad shooting days, or be well guarded, and then his productivity drops enormously. With LeBron it seems that all this has little effect. On a bad shooting day he makes it up with drives, defense, and assists, and still produces (I am under the impression that in general his output is very stable—far more than others'). In the second game in the aforementioned series against Boston (after which they eulogized him) he was rather poor (everything is relative, of course), but it was clear that what appeared there was a lack of motivation on his own part. One could plainly see that he was flat (yes, yes, even kings have that happen). Only something like that can diminish this power. Well, this description is a bit exaggerated and sweeping, but I think anyone familiar with the matter knows there is a good deal of truth in it.

Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance

Robert Pirsig, in his cult classic, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, describes a rhetoric lecturer in an American college named Phaedrus, who, as is the way of the world, grades his students' essays and gives them marks. In the course of his work he begins to feel uncomfortable, because it is difficult for him to present the criteria for the quality of an essay. Ostensibly this is merely a subjective impression, and another lecturer would give the same essays entirely different grades. So what justifies deciding students' fate on the basis of subjective feelings? Is a grade not supposed to express objective measures of quality?

He sets out on a journey with his son and crosses America with him on a motorcycle. During the trip he reflects on various philosophical issues and discovers that the question of quality touches the foundations of our thinking and culture: quantifying scientificity, objectivity versus subjectivity, West versus East (science versus Zen Buddhism). One of his central insights is that the Greeks (the wicked ones) messed up our minds by implanting in us the assumption that whatever cannot be defined does not really exist. If one cannot define quality and give it objective measures, then there is really no such thing and it is merely a subjective impression. This insight led him to the conclusion that there really is better and worse quality, and anyone skilled in the matter can discern it when he reads a student's essay. The fact that I cannot present conceptual criteria for it does not mean that it is necessarily something subjective with no root in reality itself. We are dealing with a concept for which I do not know how to give conceptual criteria, and perhaps there are no such criteria at all. But still, when I encounter quality, I know it is there.

The same, with respect to the quality of an essay, I could repeat everything I described above. There is one student whose essay will be of excellent quality because his characters are round (dedicated to my daughter Rivka, may she live long), but another writer uses flat characters and does so wisely, thereby producing excellent literature. One author has virtuoso linguistic abilities, and then he can—and perhaps should—give up other things. Another writer will write in very simple language and thereby create high literary quality. The combination of the different abilities means that none of them can be set up as a necessary criterion for quality. Each configuration creates a different meaning, and quality will appear in different forms. This arouses the suspicion that perhaps with rhetorical quality too, as we wondered about basketball quality, there is no 'list from the Book.' That is, even God Himself does not know how to give us a list of criteria. Literary, rhetorical, athletic, human quality—it is something that when you encounter it, you know it is there. But no list of criteria will succeed in exhausting it.[3] Even someone who meets the criteria, if it is done in a technical and dry way, may well not have any real quality there.

To sharpen the point, I should say that it is not clear to me whether artificial intelligence will be able to assess such qualities, or whether this is a distinctly human capacity. Perhaps a neural network could, since it is based on training that creates an unconscious imitation of human thinking. But a classical program, I am fairly convinced, could not do this. The interesting question is whether that is only because of the complexity, or because there is no such program at all. That is, even God Himself could not write it.

Returning lost property by visual recognition

The Talmud in tractate Bava Metzia 23b–24a says:

For Rav Yehuda said that Shmuel said: In these three matters rabbis are accustomed to alter their words: regarding a tractate and regarding a bed. And what practical difference does this make with regard to an innkeeper? Mar Zutra said: It matters for returning a lost item based on visual recognition. If we know of him that he does not alter his words except in these three matters, we return it to him; but if he alters his words in other matters, we do not return it to him..

A Torah scholar who is careful not to lie (except in three cases where they permitted, and perhaps even required, one to lie) may receive his lost property back without giving the finder the identifying marks as required. It is enough that he say he recognizes the lost object and that it is indeed his (he has visual recognition of it), and the finder must return it to him. This is codified in Maimonides, Laws of Robbery and Lost Property, ch. 14, laws 12–13, and in the Shulchan Aruch , Choshen Mishpat 262:21.

Following this Talmudic passage, in yeshivot people customarily speak about 'the visual recognition of a Torah scholar,' meaning that a Torah scholar has a special ability to identify objects or occurrences or the character and deep intentions of a person by a mere glance. But from the Talmud here the opposite, of course, emerges. It appears quite clearly that the Talmud assumes that every person has the ability to identify his own objects by visual recognition, but ordinary people cannot get their lost property back on the basis of visual recognition alone because of the concern that they are lying (merely saying that they recognize the object). In their case an objective test is required to verify that they really identify the object, and therefore one must get identifying marks from them. But for a Torah scholar, who is presumed not to lie, one may rely on his visual recognition and give him the lost object.

The interesting question is what the nature of that visual recognition is. Ostensibly it is some kind of mystical ability. A person who encounters his own object forms some sort of connection with it and knows instinctively that it is indeed his object. But the simpler explanation is of course that we are talking about small and/or complex signs that are hard to give a verbal description of—scuffs and wear of different kinds on different parts of the object—yet the identification is still based on visual signs in the object. It may be that the problem is not only verbal but also one of conceptualization. Even I myself find it hard to understand exactly what the signs are on which I rely, and not only hard to formulate those signs verbally. It is a general impression, and I do not know how to account for it to myself (and not only how to describe it verbally to others). I see the signs, and it is clear to me that this is my object, but I do not know how to point precisely to what caused me to identify it.

Back to the quality dilemma

Not for nothing does this recall the quality dilemma described above. There too, when I stand before a high-quality essay or a high-quality basketball player, I simply know that this is high quality. But I cannot describe to others why, I cannot offer conceptual criteria, and perhaps I cannot even account to myself in a non-conceptual way for why this is so. It is simply so, because I see it. As I asked there, I am not sure that even on the theoretical level there is such a list of criteria ('the Book'). Incidentally, here it seems that this ability really exists only in a 'scholar,' that is, someone who has developed his sensitivity and expertise in that field (basketball, rhetoric).

With respect to a lost object that is an inanimate object, I tend to think that there ought to be such a list, that is, that God or even a classical computer program (not a neural network) could identify an object by its signs. Sometimes the signs are subtle, and it is hard to teach a computer to do this. But despite the difficulty, in this case it seems to be a difficulty born of complexity and not something essential. There, it seems to me, there is a 'book.' Even when it comes to identifying a person, we are indeed dealing with body language and various mannerisms, but all of these still have visual and sensory expressions. But I think that with human beings it is not only that. In an encounter between human beings there may also be something beyond the visual and beyond the sensory altogether (that is, not only hearing and smell). An encounter with the soul may perhaps occur directly, skipping over the visual parameters, or even meeting the person who bears them through them.

I once wrote here that when we give a description of an object or a person, the description is made up of characteristics that relate to its form and attributes: it is triangular, brown, tall, fat, soft, smells sour, has a high voice, and so on. But there are a few references (very few) that concern the thing itself and not its form, such as the determination that it is one object and not two, the determination that it exists[4] and the like. Our encounter with human beings takes place through the characteristics, but in the very end we encounter through them the person himself (the bearer of the characteristics). Therefore it may be that identifying him is also not exhausted by the external characteristics alone, but involves some kind of meeting between souls (therefore a program, and in this case perhaps even a neural network, will not be able to do it).

In my book Emet Ve-lo Yatziv I brought in the name of my student Hamutal (from Be'er A in Yeruham) the possibility that love between human beings, too, relates to the person himself and not to his various characteristics. We meet the person through his various characteristics (the outward expressions of his personality), but in the end the encounter is with the person himself as expressed through them. Our love is for the person, not for the collection of his characteristics.[5] In the terms of the Mishnah in tractate Avot, one can say that this is love that does not depend on anything (a love that does not depend on a thing), and therefore if the matter has lapsed (the thing ceases)—that is, the person changes, adopting other characteristics—the love for him does not necessarily cease.

And perhaps quality is like that too. When we encounter it, this is done through its external characteristics, but it is not correct to identify it with any collection of characteristics (just as a person is not the collection of his characteristics, and even if they change we will still say that it is the same person, at least in most cases). When one encounters it, one understands that it is there, but one cannot give a conceptual justification for it by means of a list of characteristics. There is no 'book' there.

Intuition–logic dilemmas

The picture I have described here casts in a different light dilemmas that many of us encounter in various situations in life. We have some intuition, and someone raises a logical proof against it. Ostensibly you ought to give up that intuition and treat it as a subjective illusion. But if we really have the ability to apprehend things directly, not through criteria, then it is not at all clear that this is what should be done in such situations. So, for example, if someone were to come and present me with a list of criteria and demonstrate beyond doubt that LeBron James is not the greatest of all. Kevin Durant or Stephen Curry are better players, because they have such-and-such abilities to a greater degree than he does. Must I throw up my hands and admit that the feeling was an illusion? Not necessarily. If we have the ability to grasp something directly (in my books I call it intuition), and if I trust it, then perhaps I should suspend judgment even if I have found no flaw in the logical argument, and assume that there is probably a flaw in it nonetheless. A very talented person (with logical ability) can often cause us embarrassment of this kind. We have a clear feeling that something is true, but he raises brilliant logical arguments that disprove that feeling. In many cases we nevertheless tend to hold on to our intuitions and, even if we have found no flaw in the arguments, to attribute this to some oversight. The logical argument is not the end of the road.

So we saw above regarding the comparison between Golden State and Houston. Ostensibly it is logically proven that Houston is better, since it finished in first place and Golden State in second. But from an intuitive perspective it is clear that Golden State is better and of higher quality. So what are we to do? Logic and the facts strike us in the face. Should we give up the intuition, or can we assume that there is a flaw in the logical argument, and perhaps suspend judgment?

I once heard an example of this from Rabbi Yoel Cohen (the Lubavitcher Rebbe's chozer—official oral repeater). Think of two people, a blind man and a sighted man, who enter a sealed room (an enclosed space with no opening or window other than the door to the outside) and establish that it is completely empty. They go out, lock the door, and sit on chairs in front of it. After an hour the sighted man gets up, opens the door, and enters the room again, and to his astonishment finds it full of furniture. The blind man of course does not believe him, for he has a logical proof that the room is empty: an hour ago it was empty. Since then it has been locked, and we sat by the door and made sure it was not opened. The room has no other opening and no other connection to the outside. Conclusion: no one brought furniture into the room, and therefore it is empty. The sighted man accepts all this, but what can he do—he sees that the room is full of furniture. What should he do? Should he prefer the logical argument and give up the evidence of his eyes? I assume that most of us would not give up what our eyes show us, despite the fact that we know they sometimes deceive us.[6]

By contrast, it is important to understand that such a cast of mind is a recipe for conservatism and ossification. Someone who goes too far with this approach will permit himself to ignore every logical argument and always say that he is probably missing something, but that in fact he is always right. Thus each of us can remain with his initial intuitions and never give them up. I do not know how to give criteria for when we ought to give up the intuition and when to suspend judgment, but that decision itself must be made intuitively.[7] The important thing is simply to be aware of and open to both possibilities.[8]

A closing confession

Indeed, I have an urge (an evil urge?) for the game of basketball, especially at these inconceivable levels and qualities. These days (really, nights) of the playoffs are truly an experience for me. One can see there art at the highest level. It contains physical and other abilities, intelligence, character development and leadership, decision-making, hard work, a sense of humor and sportsmanship, teamwork, division of roles, and charged and fascinating interpersonal relations, along with a huge complex of other things that, as we have seen, I do not have the 'book' with the list to spell out, for they are many (if there is any 'book' on this at all). It is a whole world, even for someone like me who is not really a professional and does not follow too closely (except in these days) what is happening.

When one thinks about what happens there, it arouses quite a few thoughts and insights that are relevant to other fields as well. But to be honest, I do not intend to claim that this is the reason I devote time to it. I do it simply because I love it very much, and in my opinion it is no worse than any other art, science, or pastime. Still, it is certainly true that when one thinks about it, one sees that there are quite a few lessons and points for reflection here. If Pirsig did this through teaching rhetoric and a motorcycle journey across the continent, wrapped in Zen reflections, then I may do it while following fantastic basketball games. And He, being compassionate, will atone…

[1] And see Hullin 116a: An a fortiori inference can be challenged; a mere slight point cannot be challenged. (we refute an a fortiori argument, but not on just any minor basis). But here, after all, we are dealing with an a fortiori inference and not with a binyan av (argument from a paradigm); is Maharal James weightier than His Airness, and is Golden State weightier than Chicago, or is the a fortiori inference itself refuted? Consider this carefully.

[2] An extraordinarily colorful and fascinating figure (I think I actually heard about him in my childhood from my late father, who met him at the Technion. Following Erdős, he would call every small child he saw: 'Come here, epsilon, give me your tushie'). It is worth reading about him in the book The Man Who Loved Only Numbers, Matar 2001.

[3] See in column 108 the discussion of multiple intelligences.

[4] See on this in the first notebook, in the discussion of objections to the ontological proof, and in Two Carts in the second section.

[5] See on this in my article On emotions in Jewish law and in column 22.

[6] See on this briefly also column 67 (in the section "A brief look at the binding of Isaac").

[7] Usually, when the logical argument points to a frontal and direct logical contradiction to which the intuition leads, I would seriously consider giving up the intuition. But it is not always clear when we are dealing with such a contradiction. Such a determination requires logical skill, and that can be very confusing. Beyond that, sometimes we have the feeling that there is something flawed in the argument, only we have not caught it (apart from our initial intuition itself, which contradicts the conclusion of the argument). In such a case as well, it is reasonable not to give up and not to surrender to the logical argument. Even so, it is important to try and look for it and examine it again and again until one reaches a conclusion.

[8] See on this column 108, and especially the discussion of multiple intelligences that was already mentioned above.