A Globalist Perspective in Halakhah (Column 574)

Today we began studying the sugya of agency for a transgression (shaliaḥ le-davar aveirah). In the course of the discussion, the topic of spiritual solipsism resurfaced—a topic I discussed here in the past in columns 236, 357–358, and see the references cited there. In this column I wish to add a related but different distinction: between a global outlook and an individualistic one.

Spiritual solipsism: definition

Let us first redefine “spiritual solipsism.” I discussed there a basic approach to divine service whereby Reuven’s goal in serving God is that Reuven himself end up in an optimal state. He assists others optimally and with remarkable devotion, but does so in order to discharge his obligation (maximum mitzvot and minimum transgressions). Such a person sees himself as existing alone before the Holy One, blessed be He, and all other people are “extras.” That is why I call it “solipsism” (a philosophical view that only I exist and the world is merely a collection of my experiences; there is no real external world—or at least no way to know it).

Note that this is not the same distinction as serving for its own sake versus not for its own sake (for reward or to avoid punishment). A person may assist others not for the sake of his own World-to-Come but in order to do his Creator’s will. He simply understands that his Creator’s will is encapsulated in commandments and prohibitions, and therefore his task is to maximize his mitzvot and minimize his transgressions. The rest of the world—and of course the people in it—are extras. They stand in a film in which he is the star, and their role is to present him with various challenges that take the form of fulfilling mitzvot and avoiding prohibitions. He gives them charity in order to earn the mitzvah of charity and avoid punishment, not in order to improve the pauper’s lot (a practical ramification: if he himself resides in an unwalled city, he will send gifts to the poor and portions to his friends in the walled city on the fourteenth day, since that is his mitzvah. The focus is not what they will do with it but how he fulfills his own commandments). Humanity as a whole is a set of recipients for his mitzvot and transgressions. In the aforementioned columns I brought implications that sharpen this distinction.

One must understand: this is not a bad or selfish person. On the contrary, in a certain sense it is supreme altruism. This is how he understands the will of his Creator of him, and he does everything to fulfill his Creator’s commandments. It is not necessarily service for any personal interest (including reward and punishment) but for the interests of the Creator. He stands before the Creator, examined and judged by Him, and the rest of the world is merely the backdrop. He is an altruist who dedicates his life to “the Other,” but the “Other” for whom he acts is not human beings but God and the world at large. It slightly resembles a quip I once brought here about a well-known Hasidic Rebbe, of whom my late grandfather said that he loved the people of Israel as a whole very much, but had no small number of problems with the particulars. That statement carries a clear negative connotation. The type I describe here is different, and I think that if you look around you will find quite a few religious people (and even more Haredim) like this. He is not necessarily an egoist; he is a person who views the world and his divine service through a solipsistic lens.

In this column I wanted to address the other side of the coin. Opposition to spiritual solipsism leads to a demand for more collective conduct and greater consideration of the other. This brings me to the phenomenon of spiritual globalism.

Spiritual globalism

At the end of Hilchot Kilayim the Rambam brings a very novel ruling (10:31):

One who clothes his fellow in kilayim (forbidden mixture): if the wearer acted intentionally, the wearer is lashed, and the one dressing him transgresses “Do not put a stumbling block before the blind” (lifnei iver lo titen mikhshol); and if the wearer did not know the garment was kilayim and the one dressing him acted intentionally, the one dressing him is lashed and the wearer is exempt.

In the first case, a person caused his fellow to stumble by wearing kilayim; therefore the wearer is lashed for violating the prohibition of kilayim, and the other violated “lifnei iver”—a prohibition for which one does not receive lashes (apparently because it is a “general” prohibition). But in light of this, the ruling in the second case is unclear: the wearer was inadvertent, so obviously he is not lashed. But although the dresser acted intentionally, he did not himself wear kilayim. So for what is he lashed? Recall that one is not lashed for “lifnei iver.” The conclusion is that according to the Rambam, in this case the one who dressed the other violated the prohibition of kilayim—even though he did not wear kilayim at all. He dressed someone else and is lashed as if he himself wore kilayim.

Already the Rosh in a responsum, and after him the Rambam’s glossators (see, for example, Radbaz and Kesef Mishneh there), are very puzzled by this ruling and struggle to find its source. But beyond the question of source there remains the question of rationale: what is the meaning of this strange law? Some sought to link it to the parameters of the prohibition of kilayim (that somehow there is also a prohibition to dress another, not only to wear). That is odd in itself; beyond that, such an explanation likely does not fit the Rambam, because a similar law appears in two other contexts that have nothing to do with kilayim.

In Hilchot Avel 3:5 the Rambam writes:

One who renders a kohen impure: if both acted intentionally, the kohen is lashed and the one who defiled him transgresses “Do not put a stumbling block before the blind.” If the kohen was inadvertent and the one who defiled him intentional, the one who defiled him is lashed.

Here too, if a Yisrael renders a kohen impure and the kohen was inadvertent, the Yisrael who defiled him is lashed. Again, this cannot be lashes for “lifnei iver”; it must be for the prohibition of a kohen’s impurity. Here the novelty is even greater than what we saw in Hilchot Kilayim: there, the dresser himself belongs to the realm of the prohibition (just that he did not wear it himself). Here, however, the case is someone else who defiles a kohen—plainly even a Yisrael who defiled a kohen (the Rambam does not distinguish). It turns out that a Yisrael can be lashed for a prohibition to which he himself is not commanded.

A third source appears in Hilchot Nezirut 5:20:

One who renders a nazir impure: if the nazir acted intentionally, the nazir is lashed and the one who defiled him transgresses “Do not put a stumbling block before the blind.” But if the nazir was inadvertent and the one who defiled him intentional, neither is lashed. And why is the one who defiled the nazir not lashed? Because it says, “He shall defile the crown of his consecration,” meaning he is not lashed unless he intentionally defiles himself.

Here, one who renders the nazir impure is not lashed. But the glossators already noted that the Rambam himself needs to explain this ruling and bring a source for it—meaning that the default should have been that one who renders a nazir impure would be lashed.

Thus, from three places in the Rambam it emerges that there is a sweeping halakhic rule: if a person causes a transgression to occur in another person—he, the one who caused it, is lashed for it even though he did not commit the act himself. What does this mean? There is a general statement here about halakhah, and it is interesting to examine its rationale.

What seems to be reflected is a conception one might call globalism: when God designates an act as a transgression—say, wearing kilayim—the transgressor is not necessarily the one who wore it but the one who caused there to be a situation in which a Jew is wearing kilayim. If by my actions I dressed my fellow in kilayim, I violated the prohibition of kilayim because I caused there to exist in the world a Jew wearing kilayim. In a certain sense, all prohibitions are result-offenses and not act-offenses—though not in the usual definitions. Some prohibitions are formally defined as act-prohibitions, but the essence is that the act be done, not who did it. If someone else brought about the doing of the act, then he is the one who violated the prohibition.

One can describe this picture as if from God’s perspective. From His vantage point, it does not much matter whether Reuven wore kilayim or Shimon did. He does not want there to be in the world a Jew wearing kilayim (or that the act of donning kilayim be done). Therefore, the one who caused that situation to obtain is the one who transgressed. If Reuven did it to Shimon, from God’s perspective that makes no difference. A Jew caused a situation in which a Jew (himself or another) is wearing kilayim. From this vantage point, the cause of the resulting state is the one who violated the prohibition. That is why I call it a globalist outlook: what matters is the global outcome that occurred, not precisely where and in whom. Another Jew in the world ended up wearing kilayim—that is what matters.

Transgressions on behalf of a sick person

In column 358 I brought an illustration of spiritual solipsism from the sugya of slaughtering for a sick person on Shabbat (see also columns 62 and 555). Briefly: if there is a patient who must eat meat and no kosher meat is available, the Rishonim debate whether it is preferable to slaughter an animal on Shabbat for him or to feed him non-kosher meat. Various reasons and views are raised there, but one basic consideration is conspicuously absent (it appears as a tentative suggestion in the Tashbetz and is rejected even there): if I perform the slaughter, I am the one who will commit the transgression for the sake of the patient; whereas if he eats the non-kosher meat, the transgression is his. Should it not be preferable that the patient’s rescue come at the cost of his transgression rather than mine? After all, this is being done for his rescue; why should I pay the price?! As noted, this consideration is not presented as decisive in favor of feeding non-kosher meat. Apparently, in the Torah’s view, there is no importance to the question of who commits the transgression. If it must be committed, it does not matter whether it is committed by the patient or by me. What matters is whether a transgression will be committed and which transgression. The identity of the transgressor is irrelevant and does not figure as a consideration in this discussion.

This reminds me of the discussion among the poskim regarding performing surgery on a patient in mortal danger. Suppose there is a patient at risk of death. The doctors recommend surgery, but the surgery itself is very dangerous and could kill the patient. Is one permitted to perform such a surgery, or should we say that inaction is preferable? The accepted ruling is that it is permitted, and the proof is from Avodah Zarah 27b:

Rava said in the name of R. Yoḥanan—and some say Rav Ḥisda said in the name of R. Yoḥanan: if one is doubtfully alive or doubtfully dead, we do not seek healing from them [idolaters]; if certainly going to die, we do seek healing from them. But he is still alive for a short time! We are not concerned for “life of the moment.” And from where do you infer that we are not concerned for “life of the moment”? As it is written (II Kings 7): “If we say, we will enter the city, and the famine is in the city, and we shall die there”—but they still have a short time to live! Rather, it must be that we are not concerned for “life of the moment.”

If a person is ill and has only ḥayyei sha’ah (a short time to live), he may go to a gentile physician even though there is a risk the doctor will kill him. From this, the poskim learn that it is permissible to perform a risky surgery that could kill the patient if he has only ḥayyei sha’ah. So rules the Rambam (Hilchot Rotzeaḥ u’Shemirat ha-Nefesh 12:9) and the Shulchan Aruch (Yoreh De’ah §155:1).

In Responsa Achiezer (YD I §16:6), he concludes from here regarding performing risky surgery on a patient in mortal danger:

As to the question you asked about a patient for whom expert physicians say that without an operation he will not live more than six months, while with an operation he might live, but the operation is very dangerous and more likely will cause him to die quickly: it would seem from Avodah Zarah 27 that if he is certainly going to die, one does seek healing from them—that for “life of the moment” we are not concerned when there is a possibility of cure, even a remote one, once hope of recovery is gone. And I have seen this likewise in Shevut Ya’akov §75, cited in Pithei Teshuvah YD §339 and in the marginal notes to the Rashba §336, and so in Responsa Binyan Tziyon, part I (R. Yaakov Ettlinger), and in Tiferet Yisrael to Yoma. And the logic is simple: there is no difference between “life of the moment” for a day or two or several months. See Mishnat Chachamim, Laws of Idolatry, who was in doubt whether a Jewish doctor would be permitted, since the allowance of disregarding “life of the moment” was stated about seeking healing from a gentile physician. One could say: in the case of an internal wound he is considered a tereifah, and if they do not operate he will surely die; and as the Rambam writes (Laws of Murder 2:8) about killing a tereifah—that if it is certainly known that this is a tereifah and physicians say this wound has no cure in a person and he will die unless something else kills him—the killer is exempt. According to this, for a Jew it would be less severe, for the Rambam writes (Laws of Kings 9) that a Noahide is liable for killing a tereifah. However, the main point is: since we are not concerned for “life of the moment” where there is a possibility of saving a life, and the doubt of saving overrides “life of the moment,” there is no difference between a Jewish physician and a gentile; and Mishnat Chachamim concluded that the doubt would need to be balanced—an equal chance of living and of immediately dying. But from the principle that we are not concerned for “life of the moment,” it seems there is no difference. Where he will certainly die without the operation, we are not concerned for “life of the moment,” as Shevut Ya’akov writes. One should nonetheless deliberate, rely on the most expert physicians; and since, as your honor wrote, the great doctors in Königsberg have so ruled without dissent, it is necessary to rely upon them.

He, of course, permits such surgery. But within his words he cites Mishnat Chachamim (R. Moshe Ḥagiz), who suggests perhaps the leniency applies only with a gentile doctor, whereas a Jewish doctor may not enter such a procedure lest he murder the patient. The Achiezer rejects this outright, for in his view, if the surgery is needed and permitted, then it makes no difference who performs it. If the patient is permitted to undergo such surgery with a gentile, that means such a situation is appropriate; then a Jewish doctor is likewise permitted to perform it. One might have said that if possible it is preferable to hand it to a gentile doctor, but his wording implies there is no difference at all between gentile and Jew.[1]

In Responsa Igrot Moshe (YD III §36), he too discusses this question, brings the dispute between the Achiezer and the Mishnat Chachamim, and proposes an explanation of the latter’s position. But when he subsequently considers the argument to prefer a gentile doctor, he rejects it out of hand:

As for the Mishnat Chachamim’s reasoning, cited by the Achiezer, that perhaps it is permitted specifically via a gentile doctor and not via a Jew where there is a possibility he will die from the surgery—the Achiezer is certainly correct that there is no distinction between a Jewish doctor and a gentile one, since the doubtful possibility of saving him overrides his “life of the moment.” The Mishnat Chachamim’s view is very surprising: killing oneself is also prohibited as “You shall not murder,” just like killing another. Since he himself is permitted to go to the doctor and pay him a fee to treat him and perform this surgery that places his short-term life in danger for the sake of the many years of life that people ordinarily enjoy, how can it be prohibited to the doctor? And one cannot say that his going to the doctor is merely a causative factor, for we are speaking of medications that require the patient to act—putting them in his own mouth and swallowing them—as in the case in the marginal notes to the Maharsha, where the doctor gave him medicines to swallow and vomit. And certainly the Shevut Ya’akov is also speaking that way. And it is obvious that R. Yoḥanan in the Gemara, who permits seeking healing from a gentile doctor, is speaking in most cases where the gentile doctor will give him medicine to drink and swallow—so that the act is done by the patient himself and not by the doctor; the doctor only provides the drug—and nevertheless it is permitted. Therefore there is no reason to be concerned at all for his words for the halakhah.

His claim is that if it is permitted to the patient, it is permitted to the doctor. Again, the perspective is global: from God’s standpoint, if the act is permitted, there is no reason to play with the identity of the one who performs it. It simply does not matter who does it, so long as the result is the same.

If so, however, it is unclear why, in halakhah, instructing a non-Jew (amirah le-nokhri) is generally more lenient than a Jew himself committing the act. Seemingly, the prohibited outcome still occurs. But in the discussions about amirah le-nokhri, the mitzvot in question are ones to which the non-Jew is not commanded at all (like Shabbat observance). Perhaps, then, he also bears no responsibility for the outcome of another’s Shabbat desecration. Globalism would only say that one who is obligated in the matter is thereby also responsible that it not occur in others; but one who is not commanded bears no responsibility that others not do it. This is somewhat difficult in the case of a Yisrael who marries a divorcee to a kohen (see the dispute in Bava Metzia 10b and Tosafot s.v. “de’amar” there, to be cited below).[2]

Seizing for a creditor when it harms others

The Gemara (Gittin 11b) brings the rule of seizing for a creditor (tofes le-ba’al ḥov):

Meanwhile R. Yirmiyah noticed them and said to them, “Children, thus said R. Yoḥanan: one who seizes for a creditor in a situation that harms others does not acquire.”

The case is where someone borrowed from several people and lacks funds to repay all. Suppose Yaakov borrowed 100 shekels from Reuven, Shimon, Levi, and Yehuda; he has only 100 shekels. To whom should it go? In such a case, each creditor can seize his own debt for himself. But someone else (not one of the creditors) cannot seize on behalf of one of them, for he harms the others who will not be able to collect: “one who seizes for a creditor when it harms others does not acquire.” See the entire sugya there.

This rule reappears in Bava Metzia 10a regarding a found object:

Rav Naḥman and Rav Ḥisda both said: one who lifts a found object for his fellow—his fellow does not acquire it. What is the reason? He is like one who seizes for a creditor when it harms others; and one who seizes for a creditor when it harms others does not acquire.

The novelty is that one cannot acquire even where the “claim” of others is only a potential entitlement (as with a found object), not a fixed debt.

Rashi there (s.v. “lo kanah”) explains:

“He did not acquire”—as stated in Ketubot: for it is not within his power to jump in on his own and harm others, since the creditor did not appoint him as an agent to seize.

The reason he did not acquire is that he cannot leap in and disadvantage others. But Rashi adds that this is because Reuven did not appoint him an agent—implying that if he had appointed him, it would work. The reason is clear: Reuven himself could surely seize for himself; why should his agent, acting in his name, not be able to do so? The general rule is that a person’s agent is like himself. Therefore Rashi explains that the rule of seizing for a creditor applies only when the one seizing acts via “zakhin” (benefiting another) and not via formal agency.

But why does zakhin not operate like agency? If an agent can acquire for me even when it harms others, why can a benefactor not do so? Simply put, zakhin is an extension of agency—just without appointment. (Some Acharonim explain that this is true even according to Rishonim who hold that zakhin is not by virtue of agency, though there is more to analyze. See Ketzot Ha-Ḥoshen §105:1, who writes that this is precisely the dispute between Rashi here and Tosafot cited below.)

It seems Rashi holds that in zakhin the Torah appoints the benefactor as the recipient’s agent; thus he becomes like his agent even without the recipient’s appointment.[3] From here, if that (Torah-based) appointment would benefit Reuven at Shimon’s and Levi’s expense, the Torah does not appoint the benefactor as Reuven’s agent, for the Torah has no interest in benefitting one person at another’s expense. If the person himself appoints the benefactor—then indeed “a person’s agent is like himself.” But if it is the Torah that appoints, it sees us all as if passing before Him one by one. From the global perspective, it makes no sense to benefit Reuven at Shimon’s and Levi’s expense. The overall good in the world does not increase. In such a case the Torah does not appoint him, and therefore there is no zakhin.

But Tosafot (s.v. “tofes”) there in Bava Metzia dispute Rashi:

“One who seizes for a creditor when it harms others does not acquire”—what Rashi explained, that this is because he did not appoint him as an agent, is not correct, for in Ketubot 84b (s.v. “at”) it implies in the case of Yeimar bar Ḥashu that even if he appointed him as an agent, one who seizes for a creditor when it harms others does not acquire.

According to Tosafot, even if the recipient appointed him as an agent, the benefactor cannot acquire for him when it harms others. It seems there is no principled dispute here about the globality of halakhah: Tosafot simply hold that agency itself is a novelty granted by the Torah, and the Torah did not grant even that novelty where it benefits one at the expense of others. The same logic Rashi applied to zakhin applies, according to Tosafot, to agency as well.

In any case, it seems we again see a global conception of halakhah. From God’s perspective the identity of the person in question is unimportant; what matters is the overall consideration. If one would gain at another’s expense, the Torah does not intervene. Let them conduct their competition themselves. This example is of course more trivial than the previous one (the Rambam on kilayim): there we saw that the Torah cares that transgressions not be committed, and it does not care who commits them; here we see that the Torah simply does not intervene in a way that is non-egalitarian (i.e., favoring one over others). But this is not necessarily a statement that a person’s deeds have no importance except as part of a collective. It is a simpler claim, of course.

The dispute over a courtyard’s “agency” in transgression

In Bava Metzia 10b the sugya discusses acquisition by one’s courtyard on the owner’s behalf. One view presented is that a courtyard acts like the owner’s agent, with a practical ramification regarding acquiring something stolen placed in his courtyard. True, that would be agency for a transgression—and the rule is that agency does not apply to transgressions (the Torah is unwilling to “assist” people in committing transgressions, somewhat akin to what we saw above about seizing for a creditor when it harms others): there is no agency for a transgression. The common rationale is a sevara: “the words of the Master and the words of the disciple—whom should one heed?!” In other words, responsibility lies with the agent, for he should have obeyed God, not the sender.

Accordingly, the Gemara now asks: how can we find agency for a transgression regarding a courtyard?

If you think a courtyard acquires by virtue of agency, then we would have found agency for a transgression—yet we hold there is no agency for a transgression.

In response, the Gemara presents two Amoraic answers:

Ravina said: Where do we say there is no agency for a transgression? Where the agent is subject to obligation; but with a courtyard, which is not subject to obligation, the sender is liable. If so, if a man told a woman or a slave, “Go steal for me”—are we to say the sender is liable since they are not subject to obligation? You must say: a woman and a slave are subject to obligation; only now they are not able to pay [compensation], as we learned: if the woman was divorced or the slave freed, they are liable to pay. Rav Sama said: Where do we say there is no agency for a transgression? Where, if he wishes, he does; if he does not wish, he does not. But a courtyard, which receives [the item] against its will, the sender is liable.

Ravina holds that the courtyard acquires as his agent because it is not “subject to obligation.” Rav Sama holds it is because a courtyard has no free will. Both rationales apparently rely on the “Master/disciple” sevara: if the agent is not subject to command or has no choice, one cannot argue the “Master/disciple” consideration; hence agency applies.

The Gemara now derives an implication of the dispute for a case where one sends an agent who has free choice but is not subject to the particular obligation:

What practical difference is there between them? A case of a kohen who said to a Yisrael, “Go betroth a divorced woman for me,” or a man who said to a woman, “Round the corners of a minor’s head for me.” According to the view that where, if he wishes he does and if he does not wish he does not, the sender is not liable—here too, since he has free choice, the sender is not liable. According to the view that where the agent is not subject to obligation the sender is liable—here too, since they are not subject to obligation, the sender is liable.

According to Rav Sama, even if the person is not subject to the obligation but has free choice (e.g., a woman regarding the prohibition of rounding the head, or a Yisrael regarding a kohen’s marriage to a divorcee), he is not an agent but acting on his own; therefore in such a case there is indeed no agency for a transgression. Ravina holds that in such a case he is the sender’s agent, for he has free choice; therefore here there is agency for a transgression.

What is the point of dispute between Ravina and Rav Sama? It appears Rav Sama holds that if a person is subject to obligation, he bears responsibility for the sender’s transgressions as well. Even if he himself is not commanded in the matter (as a woman in rounding or a Yisrael in a kohen’s marriage), he should consider the sender’s transgression that will result from his act and refrain. Ravina holds that this is not a relevant consideration for him; each person must worry about his own transgressions. Therefore, if he is not commanded in the matter, the fact that his act will lead to the sender’s transgression is the sender’s problem, not his.[4] It may be that Ravina does not reject globalism, but he holds that responsibility for others’ deeds falls only upon one who himself is commanded in that very prohibition; one who is not commanded bears no responsibility for others violating it.[5] I will only note that there is no point in checking how the halakhah is decided here, for the whole discussion assumes that a courtyard acquires by virtue of agency; in practice, the law follows that a courtyard acquires as a “hand” (yad), not via agency.

Image of God and providence

What emerges from this picture seems somewhat disturbing. Somehow it appears that we are all extras in God’s eyes. There is a herd of human beings, and His expectations from us are only at the collective level: maximal output and avoidance of harm to the herd as a whole. This or that individual does not play a role before Him. As far as He is concerned, we could trade places.

On the surface, this resembles the Rambam’s conception of providence over animals. In Guide of the Perplexed III:17, the Rambam writes:

For my belief is that divine providence exists in this lower world—that is, beneath the sphere of the moon—over the individuals of the human species alone; this species alone is such that all that befalls its individuals, whether good or bad, follows justice, as it is said, “for all His ways are justice.” As for other living beings, and all the more so plants and others, my view of them is like that of Aristotle: I do not at all believe that this particular leaf fell by providence over it, nor that this spider preyed on that fly by decree from God and His particular will at that time, nor that the spittle which Reuven spat moved until it fell upon this gnat in a particular place and killed it by divine decree, etc.—rather, all these are, to me, purely by chance, as Aristotle maintains. However, divine providence, in my view and as I see it, follows the divine overflow; the species to which that intellectual overflow cleaves—until its individual becomes an intellect and all that is revealed to an intellect is revealed to him—is the one to which divine providence attaches, apportioning to him all his actions by way of reward and punishment. But if a ship sank with what was in it, as mentioned, or a roof fell upon one who was in the house—if this was by chance, according to our opinion, yet by divine will—according to justice in His judgments, the order of which our intellects cannot grasp…

What brought me to this belief is that I did not find at all in the words of any prophet that God has providence over any individual among the living beings except human beings alone. Do not think this view is contradicted by such verses as “He gives the beast its food,” “The young lions roar after their prey,” and “You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing,” and by the Sages’ statement: “He sits and provides sustenance from the horns of wild oxen to the eggs of lice,” and many like them that you will find. None of these contradicts my opinion, for all these refer to species-level providence, not individual. It is as if he recounts His actions in preparing for each species its necessary food and the material of its persistence. This is clearly evident. Aristotle too holds that this species-level provision necessarily exists.

As for their statement “Causing pain to living creatures is a Torah law,” and God’s rebuke “Why have you struck your donkey?”—this is for our perfection, that we not learn the trait of cruelty and not inflict pain needlessly, without benefit, but be oriented toward compassion and mercy, even toward whatever living creature happens to be at hand—except when there is need, as it is written, “When your soul craves to eat meat”—not that we slaughter in cruelty or mockery.

He writes that with respect to animals there is no individual providence, only over the species as a whole. God cares that there be, say, a thousand cows in the world, but it does not matter to Him which specific thousand. It is all happenstance. The Torah wants there to be flies to bother me, but it does not care which fly does so. Matters reach the point that, in the Rambam’s view, the prohibition of causing pain to animals is not a moral principle vis-à-vis animals but only a way to educate human beings against cruelty.

The picture I described above resembles this attitude toward animals—except that here we are speaking about human beings, indeed Jews. We too stand before God as a collective and not as individuals. Is it really the case that, from a halakhic perspective, there is no difference between human beings and animals? Are we too merely a herd? Likely not, and to understand that we must sharpen the meaning of the globalism under discussion here.

I assume that with respect to human beings, no one would claim that one may cause them pain and suffering so long as someone else benefits thereby. On the contrary, we saw that one who seizes for a creditor when it harms others does not acquire—meaning, the Torah will not enable one to gain at the expense of another’s suffering and rights. True, that is not precisely what we see there: the Torah certainly allows it—if the person himself acquires at the expense of his fellows. The Torah simply will not do the job for him. Nevertheless, the analogy to animals is superficial. That is not the meaning of the globalism I am speaking about.

Regarding human beings, God presumably cares about each person’s fate and each person’s deeds. We stand before God both as a collective and as individuals (see my series of lectures on the individual and the collective and my article in Tzohar on Operation Defensive Shield, as well as my article on the duty of the individual in public office, and columns 529–531 on the same topic). But globalism means that He is unwilling to allow us to escape our obligations by having someone else fail in our stead. If I cause another person to commit a transgression, that will not save me, for the transgression will be attributed to me. This is not a herd conception like with animals. On the contrary, it is a conception that places upon each person responsibility for what happens in all of creation—including among other human beings. In this sense it is the very opposite of animals’ “herdness”: the individual bears full responsibility, which extends over the whole collective (and the entire reality).

Between globalism and solipsism

In this sense, globalism is the opposite of the spiritual solipsism described above. Spiritual solipsism treats all humanity as extras whose purpose is to challenge me as an individual. I stand before God, and all that is incumbent upon me is to emerge from the course of this world’s trials with maximum mitzvot and minimum transgressions. Others are merely the recipients of my mitzvot and transgressions. By contrast, globalism holds that a person bears responsibility even for what his fellow does, and if his fellow wears kilayim, he himself has violated the prohibition and will be punished for it. This is the exact opposite of the solipsism I described.

By way of conclusion, I note that opposition to spiritual solipsism is not identical with globalist behavior. It is possible that a spiritual solipsist will act according to a global consideration: he will not dress his fellow in kilayim or perform a surgery to save his life even though there is a chance he will thereby commit the transgression of murder, since he knows that according to halakhah he bears responsibility that the other not transgress. That is, he will care for the other—but will do so out of a consideration of fulfilling his own mitzvah or avoiding his own transgression, not out of concern for the other’s state or that of the world. So there is a connection between the issue of solipsism and that of globalism, but they are certainly not identical.

[1] For my part, it is also unclear why the Mishnat Chachamim holds there is a difference; a gentile too is prohibited from murder, and “lifnei iver” applies vis-à-vis a gentile as well.

Moreover, one could have argued against him that the patient himself certainly wishes to undergo the surgery, since it is what gives him a chance to live. He is therefore willing to accept the risk of dying in surgery. Why, then, should the doctor care more for him than he cares for himself?! (See on this my article on the separation of conjoined twins and columns 437–438.) And if the transgression is vis-à-vis God and not vis-à-vis the fellow human being, then it should also have been forbidden to the patient himself to do it.

[2] Then all of the Rambam’s statements would have been said only regarding “result-mitzvot.” The assumption would be that kilayim, kohen’s impurity, and nazir’s impurity are all result-prohibitions. Perhaps one should distinguish between act-mitzvot and result-mitzvot after all, contrary to my earlier suggestion.

[3] In R. Akiva Eiger’s novellae to Ketubot 11a, he writes that this is why zakhin works even for minors—even according to the view that zakhin operates by virtue of agency. Zakhin is agency without appointment (the Torah appoints in place of the owner). In his view, the entire problem with a minor is his inability to appoint an agent; but if the Torah appoints in his stead, there is no problem, and one can be an agent for a minor.

[4] One could discuss why the agency should not be nullified because of the agent’s “lifnei iver” (even if he himself is not commanded in the matter), but that is a discussion in the sugya there, unrelated to my remarks here.

[5] As we saw above regarding the prohibition of instructing a non-Jew.