The Betrayal of the Intellectuals: A Look at Progressivism and Antisemitism (Column 610)

Since last Wednesday, the U.S. Congress’s hearing of three presidents of elite American universities hasn’t left the headlines. It is merely the culmination of antisemitic phenomena flooding those institutions—met with silence or even backing from their administrations and many faculty members. Many leftists in Israel (and not only here) are shocked by the phenomenon, and treat it as a betrayal by the intellectuals, especially those belonging to the ‘enlightened’ global left.

Much has been said in this context about antisemitism and progressivism, and about the way it spreads primarily in the universities, including those of the Ivy League—the most prestigious tier of American higher education. Much has already been written on the subject—on inconsistency, blindness, malice, and more. I wish to take the opportunity to look at this phenomenon with a slightly wider lens. I assume little of what follows will be truly novel, yet it is still worthwhile to notice the broader picture and the interconnections within it.

Description of the Events

For anyone living on the moon: about two months ago, the “Swords of Iron” war broke out. It began on the last Simchat Torah with pogroms by thousands of Hamas terrorists, joined by some of Gaza’s civilian population, who torched homes and people, murdered, raped, abused, and abducted thousands of children, adults, and elderly—women and men—with monstrous cruelty. Immediately thereafter the war began, and in its course we have been bombing and conquering wide swaths of the Gaza Strip; naturally, many uninvolved civilians on their side are also being harmed.

During this period, across the world, there have been mass and violent outbreaks of antisemitism—unprecedented in recent generations. There are demonstrations calling to erase and annihilate Israel; there are harassments of Jews; and above all one sees the silence of a significant part of the elites—especially in academia and media—in the face of these events. These phenomena (both the demonstrations and the silence and backing) are most conspicuous in academic institutions, including universities in America’s Ivy League. We are witnessing a fruitful collaboration between veteran antisemites; incited and inciting Muslims now spread across the Western world, enjoying platforms of expression they never had before; and progressive circles (including a handful of eccentric Jews who haven’t managed to rid themselves of their self-hating, auto‑antisemitic inferiority complex—though among Jews this is a negligible minority).

To complete the picture, we must see that there are countervailing processes as well: fighting antisemitism (and progressivism), standing for the right of Jews to peaceful lives and even to an independent state. Laws are being passed regarding Jewish rights and prohibitions against harassment and inappropriate expressions toward them. In most Western countries, government authorities do stand with Israel to one degree or another—and apparently so does most of the public there. Ireland and Spain are not representative examples, since they have for many years been rife with blatant and deep antisemitism and anti‑Zionism that did not begin now. By nature, antisemitic incidents receive media prominence, at least here in Israel; but I do not think the picture presented to us is balanced. There are two sides to it.

Within these phenomena, the role of universities worldwide is especially prominent. There we see anti‑Zionist and antisemitic demonstrations. Suddenly everyone notices what has long been shouted here: that anti‑Zionism abroad is not a stance arising from this or that policy of an Israeli government, but rather the contemporary expression of good old antisemitism. Leftists in Israel (and abroad) suddenly discover, to their astonishment, that their comrades in outlook and worldview are nourished from very different sources than they had thought. They saw themselves as part of the enlightened left and particularly the academy—as those who care for oppressed and persecuted minorities, who oppose forceful and racist policies (“the occupation corrupts”)—and suddenly they discover that they were mainly useful idiots. Antisemites around the world feed on Haaretz and “Breaking the Silence,” quoting them constantly as the foundation of their positions and actions (apartheid, the corrupting occupation, the murder of innocents, and so on). And suddenly Haaretz readers discover, to their amazement, that this was a false coalition. They learn that those people are not such good friends of theirs and not really “enlightened,” as they had thought. The bubble in which they lived until now bursts in their faces.

I have written in earlier columns that, in my opinion, a significant portion of the progressive left in Israel is not really different from its counterparts elsewhere. Their stance toward policies, groups, and other countries is very similar to what we now see their peers displaying toward us. Only now the Israeli left itself is among the harmed. Their friends and families are among the assaulted, abducted, and murdered; therefore they now have skin in the game. Suddenly they understand that standing with the Palestinians can injure them, and that the weak is not always the just and moral side—and then, ostensibly, they awaken. Yet I am quite sure that most of them have not changed their attitudes toward Poland and Hungary, or toward the U.S. (the terrible “colonialist”), to say nothing of Smotrich or Tali Gottlieb who were shouting this at them all along. I gather that, in many cases, we’re dealing with personal involvement rather than a substantive change of position. Regarding everything that does not touch them personally, many of them still hold the same stances.

I’ve already written that for this reason I refuse to see a difference between Israeli leftists who “awaken” at every turn and their colleagues abroad. That will happen only when I hear apologies for their contempt toward all those who repeatedly shouted the very things that they themselves are now discovering in their supposed “awakening”: regarding progressivism; anti‑Zionism and criticism of Israel’s and the IDF’s conduct; the proper attitude toward the Palestinians and the aspiration for peace; inclusion and our overall attitude toward them; military violence; the state’s and army’s racism; how to properly treat terrorists and the population; and much more. That can happen only when I see a fundamental change of stance also regarding phenomena in the world that do not affect them personally—not just an instinctive reaction to personal harm.

The event that most symbolizes this blindness is the hearing held in Congress about a week ago (Wednesday, 6 December) for three women presidents of major Ivy League universities: Harvard, MIT, and the University of Pennsylvania. The three women (one of them Jewish) could not bring themselves to issue an unequivocal condemnation of calls for the annihilation of Jews or of the State of Israel. Again and again they insisted that such expressions are “context‑dependent,” and explained how important freedom of speech is (which is true, of course). They argued that if it doesn’t lead to deeds, such speech is not necessarily problematic—something I might have been prepared to accept, had they applied it equally to statements against women, Blacks, or LGBTQ people. Needless to say, they were not bothered by the fact that these phenomena certainly do lead—and have already led—to deeds (harassment of Jews and Israelis). Time and again, these three scarecrows (apparently prepped for the hearing by the same law firm, hence parroting the same inanities in the same language) refused to speak about the persecution of Jews on campus, bundling it together instead with Islamophobia and the persecution of minorities (though never the straight or the “weakened” Jew). They weren’t even ready to say that such expressions constitute harassment and bullying, or that they contradict their institutions’ codes of ethics (a simple deduction). Were there events in which the very same statements had appeared with “Jews” replaced by “LGBTQ,” “women,” “Muslims,” or “Blacks,” there is no doubt they would have seen the contradiction to the rules—and would have launched a jihad before which ISIS’s wars would pale.

The criticism of them was scathing, though insufficient. One of them (Magill, President of the University of Pennsylvania) has already resigned together with the Chair of the Board of Trustees, apparently due to threats to cut donations—something already happening for several weeks to a number of elite universities in the U.S., and not only from Jewish donors and alumni. It turns out there are a few more sane wealthy people out there.[1] Unsurprisingly, this resignation (more are expected, though they have been slow in coming) is, of course, prompting renewed waves of antisemitism: now you see how Jews use their money to move systems to their advantage and muzzle mouths in violation of free speech. Ironically, the person replacing the resigning president is the head of the Jewish Federations of North America. Hundreds of faculty members have already signed letters of support and protest against the Penn president’s resignation, and the president of MIT received full backing from the university’s bodies, which decided to keep her in her seat.

In an article here you can read about the awakening of Sam Altman (founder of OpenAI), who suddenly realized that there is antisemitism in his milieu. But for our purposes, the article’s main claim is more significant: that Magill’s resignation treats a symptom rather than the disease (antisemitism). There is something to that—but I think it is only a small part of the truth. In my view, the disease is not antisemitism and is not essentially connected to antisemitism.

Because diagnosis matters—if only so that we might treat the disease—I will try to diagnose it in this column. In short, progressivism does not serve antisemitism; the reverse is true: antisemitism is a by‑product of progressivism—and progressivism is the real disease. But people tend to throw around the term “progressivism” far too casually: anyone who doesn’t suit me or criticizes me is immediately crowned with the progressivist tiara. So here I will try to sharpen the definition, and, as is my wont, I will argue that its roots lie in philosophy.

“The Betrayal of the Intellectuals,” or “The Stench of Intellectualism”

The phrase’s origin is in a book by that very name, by the French‑Jewish author Julien Benda, published between the world wars (1927), of course also after the Dreyfus affair and Emile Zola’s J’accuse. It deals with how intellectuals related and behaved, primarily toward the war. He accuses them of submitting to power and consensus, left or right; of feebleness and dishonesty; of exploiting their status for the sake of power and harnessing their authority, talents, status, and knowledge to its ends. From then until today (a brief Google search will show), that phrase has been used to describe similar conduct by intellectuals vis‑à‑vis various events. No wonder it comes up regarding the events of our day. Intellectuals are silent while disgraceful events unfold in their (indeed front) yard—and even provide backing and propulsion.

But there are important differences between the betrayals of intellectuals in Nazi Germany, in the Dreyfus era, or in other cases, and our current situation. Usually when people use this term they speak of groveling before powers—governmental, economic, or otherwise. It is a lack of courage and of intellectual integrity that breeds feebleness and the failure of the forces of light to stand before powerful market and political/social forces pulling in negative directions. But in our discussion the situation is reversed. They do, in fact, stand against the government and against significant market forces; indeed, they are the ones leading the negative process, not merely silently abetting it. In that sense, our intellectuals are displaying notable courage—only this time it is in service of evil and against sanity. Yes, there are considerable progressive academic forces against whom someone in that milieu needs courage merely to dissent; but I am speaking about the conduct of those forces themselves—not of those who grovel before them. Thus, in our case we are dealing with a process opposite to “the betrayal of the intellectuals,” and one that betrays something far deeper.

Some argue that even here it is groveling before Qatari money from donors, or before the force and violence of a Muslim population. I have no data, but my impression is that this is not the heart of the matter at all (see also footnote 1 above). You can sense this in the activism of progressive circles in these struggles—including in contexts not dependent on such money and power—and especially in academic and public statements premised on fully elaborated progressive doctrines even without connection to the Israeli‑Palestinian conflict (you find similar attitudes there toward women, Blacks, and other “weakened” and disadvantaged groups—with or without scare quotes—who behave violently and immorally). In our case they lead, rather than being led. Hence, this is not a betrayal by intellectuals, but the stench and debasement of intellectualism itself—so much so that it is highly doubtful whether we can truly regard them as intellectuals. It is more accurate to see it as a pseudo‑intellectual stench.

The Roots of the Matter: Postmodernism

As noted, it is customary to ascribe these phenomena to antisemitism resurfacing. “Halacha: it is well known that Esau hates Jacob.” But many, including people who know the actors well (see, for example, here, among many others), have already written that antisemitism is found mainly among Muslims or among Christian extremists, and only sparingly in the general public. In the elites, in many cases, there is no antisemitism, and it is incorrect to see it as the motive here. Qatari funding and Islamic influence or sympathy for the Palestinians are likely not the root either. Even if there is a tilt toward the Palestinian side, that itself requires explanation. The root of it all is what today is called “progressivism,” and in its philosophical origin may be called postmodernism.

Following the twentieth‑century world wars, a philosophical‑cultural stance coalesced that denies the existence of objective yardsticks. There is no longer more or less true, more or less just, more or less good, more or less beautiful, and so forth. Say rather: there are different narratives—each with its own conception. Those narratives also draw from hidden yardsticks and power struggles that govern and drive us (Marxism). On the ideological‑social plane, this delusional current rested on a hope—good in itself—that once the yardsticks are erased, there will be no more wars. Wars are fought between groups each of which believes itself just and the other evil or mistaken. If we erase the terms “just” and “mistaken,” or “evil” and “righteous,” then there will be nothing to fight about—and the wolf will dwell with the lamb. But that is typically a social‑ideological aspiration which, as such, is not necessarily bad. Yet from here follows a duty to persecute those who hold ideologies, religious positions, or, in fact, anyone who claims an exclusive truth (not relative and pluralistic).

Beyond aspirations, there is also a logical‑philosophical basis for these attitudes. I have often explained that their root lies in the realization that, at the basis of every argument, lie foundational assumptions that themselves have no justification—hence they are necessarily arbitrary. Therefore, even if someone provides an argument for one position or another, it is an arbitrary stance—the product of a cultural narrative within which one grew up and under whose influence one remains—since that is what led one to adopt those assumptions rather than their opposites. The argument leads to a conclusion based on the premises. Conclusions are a function of our arbitrary assumptions and thus have no objective validity.

This is the logical‑philosophical groundwork for narrativism and the erasure of yardsticks. A yardstick is always based on assumptions, and assumptions—as such—lack a foundation. Hence the yardstick is arbitrary and lacks validity. From here follow moral relativism and certain artistic fashions according to which any creation—poem, sculpture, book, play, or painting—may count as great art just like any other (see, e.g., column 488). Whoever prefers one work over another is simply captive to his narrative. We, the “enlightened,” have already moved past that. True, one cannot completely escape the narratives within which we live and act—but at least we can be aware of their existence and understand their significance. We must internalize the relativity of our positions and the equal possibility that anyone else might be as right as we are. [Note that I’m not distinguishing here between the claim that everyone is right, the claim that there is no “right” or “wrong” at all, and the weaker claim that there is no way to know who is right.]

And yet, despite adopting these utopian conceptions, the longed‑for peace didn’t quite arrive. To many people’s surprise, some foresaw that in advance. In my book Two Carriages (Shtei Agalot), in the fourth gate, I cited two relevant quotations. Ze’ev Bechler, at the end of his Aristotle’s Philosophy of Science,[2] writes:

I wish to argue that, although ethical relativism sounds like a progressive, liberal, pluralistic, even democratic idea, it is in fact the soil upon which the ideology of forceful coercion is built—the ideology that created Russian and Chinese communism and Italian and German fascism. For in the absence of a single objective criterion for the common good, there is no ethical argument whatsoever against imposing some arbitrary criterion on the entire society by force of arms and fear. And from the moment that considerations of efficiency and Darwinian survival enter the play, democracy becomes merely an instrument—like any other instrument—for imposing an ethics.

Another critic of this postmodern approach, in a very similar way, is Ze’ev Sternhell, who writes:[3]

In many respects, democracy is merely a doctrine for managing conflict and creating conditions in which everyone gives up something yet also gains advantages that make compromise worthwhile. But democracy rests on the assumption that the human being is a rational creature capable of choosing between alternatives. To undermine rationalism necessarily pulls out the ground beneath the democratic order. In this sense, democracy rests upon a distinctly modern conception, according to which there is a hierarchy of values. In political life there are concepts of good and evil—and they have concrete meaning: not everything is relative.

Both warn that, in the absence of yardsticks and a willingness to acknowledge objective right and just, this is a framework inviting in intolerant and non‑pluralistic positions—for the same reasons these, too, cannot be dismissed as inadmissible. Such a stance, instead of bringing peace, yields surrender to those who do not share it (hence the talk of “defensive democracy,” etc.—but in a systematic view these have no basis or place in postmodern, narrative thought).

Gadi Taub devotes his book The Sullen Rebellion to this very issue, and the entire book shows the problematic consequences of the “New Critique,” even before it ballooned to the monstrous proportions we see today. In my book Two Carriages I criticized all three writers above for the fact that they indeed criticize postmodernism but cannot offer a real alternative to it (for without faith in God, there is no such alternative). I also pointed out there that a person is not built to live in a vacuum: everyone understands that there is truth and falsehood, and that some principles are more correct and others less. To deny this is to deny a clear truth and, of course, oneself. Indeed, what happened to those delusional postmodernists is that postmodernism itself became, for them, an absolute article of faith that must not be questioned; anyone who disputes it is disputing the Shekhinah. It is not “a narrative” but an absolute truth—and thus, even in their world, there is now something worth dying for. Nietzsche’s “death of God” (the source of objective yardsticks) became a religious doctrine that may not be questioned—in other words, a new god. This is the sacred vacuum. Anyone who opposes it—that is, dares to claim that he is right and the other is wrong, or that he holds the truth and the other is wrong—is presented as a heretic. And again, of course, this cannot be applied to the thesis itself: whoever holds the postmodern position is certainly right absolutely, and anyone who opposes it is a heretic.

We must understand that in the absence of yardsticks one cannot even mount counter‑arguments to anything—including to this very delusional position. That is why arguments that sound so self‑evident to you do not penetrate the progressive armor. It is immune to arguments, for everything is narratives. For the scrupulous, even logical consistency is a narrative (they share this with various dogmatic religious types we all know). Needless to say, they disqualify in others precisely their own defect: those trapped in their narratives are, chiefly, themselves. If you offer any substantive argument, you will immediately be accused of condescension! And who appointed you, anyway? Who gave you the monopoly? And why do you think you are right and the other is wrong? They will explain your dark motives and the interests you seek to advance, and so on. You will rarely find arguments there.

We must grasp that in such a world one is not speaking of an inability to defend against malicious statements because of postmodernism. These are the statements of the progressives themselves. How does that happen? Here we again meet the sacred emotion. If the intellect cannot be granted the status of a tool for arriving at truth, and everyone has his own truth, then every stomachache of someone becomes a legitimate truth for him—and eventually, pure and exclusive truth. Counter‑arguments are irrelevant. If you feel compassion for someone—this immediately becomes an argument in favor of his positions. He becomes the ultimate just side. Emotion replaces reason. If you feel post‑colonial pangs of conscience—rightly or wrongly—your conclusion is that you are always in the wrong and the subjugated are always right, even when they cry the cry of the robbed Cossack. They may murder, rape, act violently toward anyone not part of them, be utterly intolerant toward exceptions (even toward women and LGBTQ people, God forbid), refuse to take even the smallest step to improve their own situation, and still be the ultimate righteous. And we (the post‑colonial West) are the ultimate guilty party.

Instead of arguments there is weakness and flaccidity; instead of intellect, emotion. Force makes an appearance only in confrontation with reason and reasonable arguments (or even the possibility of such arguments). In column 605 I discussed the exalted status of emotion in our time; we can now understand the source of the problem: despair of reason.[4] That is what we are seeing these days before our not‑so‑astonished eyes: absurd assumptions based on feelings of frustration and pangs of conscience (some imagined) replace arguments. Logical and moral arguments are irrelevant and do not receive any hearing. Progressive leftists who were partners to this process are stunned to witness with their own eyes its meanings.

It is worthwhile to bring here a striking quotation from the Maharal of Prague’s Netsach Yisrael (ch. 35), which describes with precision the very process I have presented:

“But ‘truth will be absent’—meaning that truth will be nullified. Thus the Sages interpret: ‘Truth will be made into flocks and will go away’—lest you say that only the base will lie due to their baseness, such that this is not the absence of truth but only that people are not good and therefore come to falsehood. At times a decent person will be found and not everyone will lie. But in the future, truth will be removed of itself and not found in anyone; every person will be a liar. And this is a far greater baseness: truth itself will not be found.”

He missed only one point: there is, in fact, one absolute truth—namely, that untruth itself has become a sacred, absolute, and singular truth.

Between Progressivism and Antisemitism

You can now understand the automatic support granted to Palestinians, women, Blacks, LGBTQ people, and other “weakened” groups. Needless to say, some on that list are “weakened” only in scare quotes (the Palestinians), and some not (women, Blacks, LGBTQ). Naturally, those who were once truly weakened will eternally continue to be regarded as such—even after the messiah comes and they conquer the world. For the progressives, they will forever be allowed everything. The principle of “weakness” is the only one not open to challenge, and no change of circumstances will affect it. For our progressive cousins, the weak is forever weakened; therefore the support for him is automatic and unconditional. This is not because someone thinks they are right—but because there is no such thing as “right.” To the contrary, those who “weaken” them are those who come in the name of being more correct or more enlightened—and that is precisely what draws progressive ire. If our heart goes out to some group’s “weakness,” then the heart decides.

From this you can understand my claim that these phenomena do not have a necessary connection to antisemitism. A person might not be antisemitic at all—having nothing for or against Jews—but will automatically support the “weak,” because he is progressive. It does not matter who is to blame for the weakness of these “weakened” groups; it does not matter what they do and how they themselves contribute to their situation; it does not matter how they treat themselves (their women and LGBTQ people) and others (anyone different from them). They may proclaim from every platform that their goal is to destroy the entire world and Islamicize it—and still they are to blame for nothing. Only we are—Ashkenazi, powerful, colonialist—we are culpable for everything. We weakened them; therefore even their weaknesses are our fault, and we must bear the consequences and “contain” them to the death. Just listen to the foolish arguments comparing casualty numbers on each side (ours and Gaza’s), and you will understand that the search here is for the weak, not the right. Thus, anyone who opposes Muslim immigration is a racist and an Islamophobe; to say nothing of anyone daring to state something negative about Islam and Muslim/Arab culture generally. His fate is death by hanging in the Boston town square or in some Californian city. No one checks whether the statement is grounded, whether he has arguments; no one cares to offer counter‑arguments. The moment you’ve declared that someone is better than someone else—you’ve been caught and fallen. You are a heretic; hence the “devout” (believers in the progressive religion) have no interest in examining your arguments. I intentionally use religious terminology: the progressives’ obtuseness and blind adherence to utter nonsense, while ignoring arguments, reminds one very much of the obstinacy common among conservative believers.

I must repeat that at the base of all this lies a highly positive and worthy motivation. Indeed, there are many chauvinistic and sweeping statements about certain groups that must be combated. There are many prejudices that seem correct to people, and they should be shattered. Essentialism regarding women, Blacks, LGBTQ, etc., can be problematic. It is very important to put every such opinion to a critical test and to raise counter‑possibilities: perhaps they are “weakened”? perhaps this is only a small part and not all? perhaps the group characteristic is not essential to it? The problem with progressivism is that the “perhaps” is omitted. The moment there is a problematic group, it is by definition “weakened,” not guilty; its traits are non‑essential (essentialism is the accusation in the progressive world); it is only a small part and not all; in fact, we are guilty—of racism and generalizations, etc., etc.

The Philosophical Root

In my books Two Carriages and a Hot‑Air Balloon and later Truth, Not Certitude, I analyzed this philosophical‑ideological phenomenon in detail and pointed to its many consequences. I will not enter into that analysis here at length, but I will briefly sketch the root.

I explained there that the fundamental problem undergirding this entire discussion is the status of foundational assumptions. Since every argument and every position or ideology rests on foundational assumptions, the status of the conclusion depends on our attitude toward those assumptions. By virtue of being foundational assumptions, there cannot be—and there isn’t—an empirical or philosophical basis that justifies them. In the two books I showed that the framework for the discussion consists of a pair of principles that many of us regard as quite natural and thus correct: (A) Only what is proven/certain is admissible. (B) Nothing can be proven (since there are always foundational assumptions in the background that cannot be proven).

From this I showed that attitudes toward the problem fall into three types:

1. The analytic—which adopts both principles. It regards foundational assumptions as arbitrary—narrative. Hence, all conclusions are likewise arbitrary, since a conclusion can never have greater validity than the assumptions on which it rests.
2. The fundamentalist—which abandons, at least de facto, the second principle. True, one cannot rationally prove foundational assumptions; nevertheless, it regards them as necessary and not subject to critique. Thus, despite the lack of proof, foundational assumptions are certain and therefore admissible (principle A). Usually this certainty rests on higher sources—God, caliphs, rabbis, some religious tradition, communications with aliens, and so on. In my eyes there is no difference between any of these.
3. The synthetic—which abandons principle A: even the non‑certain can be admissible. This approach is willing to view the assumptions—and therefore the conclusions drawn from them—as something non‑certain, yet still admissible. The fact that something is not certain does not mean it is subjective or that there is no right and wrong. There is common sense; and what it yields, even if not necessary, is the best truth according to my understanding. Whoever says otherwise—likely errs.

Note that I can certainly act decisively according to my truth, even if it isn’t certain—yet at the same time I am always willing to put it to critical test, to examine challenges to it, and to change my position if I conclude that I must. But until I change my view and encounter a convincing argument against it—this is my position and, for me, it is the truth. Others who think otherwise are mistaken—knowingly or unknowingly.

In the books I explained that the basis for this entire dispute is our attitude toward intuition. If we are willing to grant our foundational assumptions any status, it is only because of the trust we place in the intuition that leads to them. I will not enter here into the nature of intuition; I will only recall my conclusion in those two books: it contains both cognitive and thinking dimensions (a kind of thinking‑knowing). I showed there that without relying on intuition, and without understanding that it fuses cognition and thinking, we are condemned either to total skepticism in all areas of life, or to fundamentalism.

I also showed (and I must say it was written long before it became so vivid and well‑known on the surface) that there is an unwritten alliance between the first two camps—the fundamentalists and the analytics—since both agree that only a certain claim is admissible; all else is “narrative.” Their dispute is only over higher sources—namely, whether certainty without philosophical/empirical/logical proof is possible. From here comes the alliance between fundamentalist Islam and progressivism. Progressives accept the “Oriental” by virtue of his weakness (that is, his “weakened” status), but the root is that he maintains, in his view, an absolute truth. Hence postmodernism is so flaccid in confronting him: an empty wagon cannot contend with a wagon full—even if the latter’s occupants err in thinking that their fullness is valid.

Standing against those two groups is the synthetic stance, which gives no respect to illogical positions and accepts truths by common sense—even without ascribing certainty to them. In its view, the weak is not always right, nor always “weakened.” Therefore, if he acts cruelly and unjustly—one must fight him. He gets no celebrity privileges, and we are unwilling to treat him with the racism of low expectations. We judge him by his arguments, his values, and his conduct (paternalistic as we may be), not by his status and weakness. But that is precisely the primal sin in progressive eyes: they arrogate the right to declare themselves right and the other wrong—or even evil. They act according to arguments—which is utterly illegal. “It all depends on context,” remember the mantra from the hearing? That is narrativism incarnate. At the same time, Muslims and other “Orientals” are certainly permitted to declare themselves right and others evil, and to try to eliminate them. They are “weakened,” so they’re allowed to hold that preposterous narrative (which, indeed, is preposterous—like every other narrative, by virtue of being a narrative).

A Note on Narratives: Judging the Other by His Own Terms versus Justifying Him by His Own Terms

In my view, narrativism has a positive, worthy basis. Perhaps it will surprise you, but I completely agree that it is very important to recognize that different groups have different narratives—not because of postmodern pluralism, according to which everyone is equally right or there is no truth—but because, in practice, there are disputes in the world, and it is very important to manage them by knowing the other’s narrative. Even if the other is wrong, in my opinion, the fact that he operates within a certain narrative is still important to me, at least for two reasons:

• It allows me to understand him and to grapple better with his conceptions. And perhaps I should also test my own position (my narrative) against his, with a willingness to be persuaded. Recall: those with a synthetic stance do not hold their positions with certainty. Precisely because they believe in the existence of truth and in their ability to reach it, they listen carefully to other positions and arguments.
• It enables me to judge him justly. In column 372 I explained that the judgment of a person must be made according to his terms, not mine.

But these two reasons do not mean that if he has a different narrative, he is as right as I am. This is precisely the mistaken leap progressivism makes toward philosophical and ideological narrativism.

Focusing for a moment on our context: I certainly want to understand the Palestinian narrative (the occupation and the Nakba) and the Muslim one (establishing a caliphate and jihad against the whole world). That matters to me in the two aspects described. But that does not mean that, to me, those who hold such narratives are as right as I am. I do criticize them—for holding a narrative that is (historically and morally) false, and at times even wicked. Of course, if there is a person who truly believes in that narrative, I may not judge him morally (see the conditions in the column cited). But I will certainly judge the society that developed such delusional and cruel narratives, and in particular I will defend myself if it poses a danger to me.

The difference from progressivism is rather subtle—which is why it is so easy to accuse everyone and his wife (especially me, as has come up several times on the site) of progressivism. But this subtlety is the core of the matter. In my eyes, it is most important to know the Palestinian narrative—even though I believe they are wrong (though I am ready to listen to arguments that might refute me: I am no fundamentalist). And the main thing is that I must understand the conceptual framework within which my enemy operates; it is the only way to contend with him and his claims—and perhaps, if I manage to bring him to a similar stance of knowing my narrative (which he deems mistaken), we even have a chance for a practical compromise. If each side understands that the other has his own narrative and that we likely will not change those narratives (even though only one is correct), we may reach compromise. At least in this sense, I find myself close to postmodernism on the practical plane.

It is crucial to understand that postmodern progressivism does not encourage compromise. If you have no stance, you have nothing to compromise. If someone with a stance stands opposite someone without one—he has neither reason nor motivation to compromise (since, in the end, he will likely prevail). Moreover, if all are the same—equally right or equally wrong—there should be no conflict at all. As noted, that was the postmodernists’ hope in the first place. But when fundamentalists enter the picture, the progressives suddenly discover that there are groups in our cruel world with positions—that is, not everyone is progressive. In their echoing lala‑land bubble they may fight non‑progressive enemies while simultaneously denying their existence. At that stage they are willing to compromise with the dinosaurs who have yet to discover the progressive light—but then they learn they have no partner: it takes two to tango. Next, they insist on denying reality and claim that there is, after all, someone to talk to—for denial of reality is their art. They create their own virtual reality, which, at times (as now), explodes in their face.

Surprisingly, again and again it turns out that, contrary to initial expectations, assertive synthetism has a greater chance of bringing compromise and peace than progressivism. Even if we cannot defeat the enemy decisively, we can perhaps try to compromise with him (we may succeed or not). Peace‑seeking progressivism only brings wars. Thankfully, these days some may be awakening from this absurd dream and philosophy; but the hard core—especially those not personally harmed by the fundamentalists—continues, of course, to cling to its “religious” beliefs. Sadly, every religion is characterized by dogmatism (a note for those who cling to the dogmas of our own religion—conservative Judaism—some of which do not quite pass the test of reality).

To conclude, I cannot avoid three remarks. I wish briefly to suggest explanations for the prominent presence of progressivism in academia, for the fact that those three disconnected presidents were women, and for the connection of all this to left and right.

Academia and Progressivism

I have written in the past about the meaning of academic treatment of various issues (see columns 419 and 554, and my article here). One of the basic demands of an academic argument is objectivity and refutability. A claim in an academic paper must be open to objective judgment—namely, to testing for truth or falsehood. Thus, for example, an academic article cannot argue for pluralism (halakhic or otherwise), but it can argue that Maimonides, Abu Bakr al‑Baghdadi, Alexander the Great, or Ben‑Gurion were pluralists. The first claim is a value position and therefore has no place in an academic article; it belongs in an op‑ed. By contrast, the latter claims are subject to objective judgment—through comparison with sources and statements of the people discussed. One can determine whether they are true or false (admittedly, crudely; this is not simple logic), and thus they can be discussed in an academic article.

This means that an academic paper is not supposed to judge a stance or ideology. It can, of course, present its different sides—but judging is not its business. That is for readers—or for the academic himself, in an op‑ed. This does not mean you will not find judgments in academic papers (see again my article here), but in principle that is how it should be. The implication is that an academic statement dealing with values is usually hypothetical. An academic does not advocate value X; rather: if we assume A, or if we are dealing with A, then X is correct. By the way, even a mathematician cannot say that the sum of a triangle’s angles is 180°, but only that if one adopts Euclidean axioms, the sum is such. In the natural sciences you will find many non‑hypothetical claims—but, on a closer look, those are usually hypothetical as well: they state that if one assumes the methodological assumptions of the natural sciences—causality, induction, uniformity of laws of nature, properties of space‑time, etc.—then the law of nature is X. And in the “sciences of nonsense,” a literature scholar cannot say that a work is beautiful or not—but only examine whether it fits certain criteria. A scholar of Jewish Studies cannot argue, academically, that one may waive acceptance of commandments in conversion, but only that there are such‑and‑such approaches. In his academic hat, he does not sit at the professional disciplinary table; he studies that profession and its professionals who do sit around that table. Similarly, a social scientist cannot argue in an academic article that a Muslim, or Islam itself, is good or evil; only that if one assumes certain assumptions, one reaches such‑and‑such conclusions. Who is righteous and who is wicked is each of our own business; it is not a professional judgment. Note: this is not a criticism. On the contrary—this is indeed the academic’s role, and one should not deviate from it in academic contexts.

Yet, as I have often noted, many of us tend to confuse methodological principles with worldviews (see columns 191 and 586). Thus, for example, biologists speak of a random component in evolution—which is correct at the methodological level—but infer from it conclusions about randomness in the world—which is usually mistaken. Physicists can say that there is probably no true randomness in evolution—or, at least in most cases, that we are dealing with complexity rather than randomness. Such confusion underlies the very phenomenon we are discussing. We saw that academics are guided by a methodological principle of refutability, which channels them toward making only hypothetical claims. They cannot judge ideologies—only describe them. From their perspective, there is a multiplicity of narratives, each standing on its own and studied on its own—and it is not for us to judge or rank them. Many of them, unwittingly, jump from the methodological principle of refutability—which dictates the hypothetical nature of academic engagement—straight into an analytic worldview that believes in the very hypotheticality (narrativity). Academic papers are unwilling to judge Muslims or Palestinians (but they will judge Jews and Israelis), and that is entirely proper methodologically. But it does not preclude the possibility, outside academia, of claiming that Islam is good or evil. And thus academics who nonetheless make that jump find themselves holding a stance that refuses to recognize judging claims and judgments altogether. Narrativity becomes, for them, not a methodological principle but a worldview.

But of course that is an unjustified logical leap. The fact that academic articles are not supposed to judge groups and ideologies does not mean that such judgments are untrue; it only means they are not academic. Just as I have often written: if a claim is not falsifiable, that does not imply it is untrue—or even that it is not plausible. It only implies that it is not scientific. The plausibility and truth of claims do not necessarily depend on their being scientific. And yet, I suspect that this is the source of academics’ tendency toward hypothetical judgments and narrative conceptions. They understand each group in its own terms and in light of its own principles, and therefore struggle to judge and to form—and certainly to express—positions about its justice or wickedness. Analogously, Brisker scholars, accustomed to analyzing each halakhic approach internally in light of its own assumptions against other approaches (also judged internally), have great difficulty arriving at halakhic decisions (i.e., deciding which approach is correct). Thus, Briskers end up stringently adopting all the early authorities’ approaches—not only out of piety, but mainly because of their methodology. Ironically, in this sense at least, it is academic in nature.

In the “sciences of nonsense” (gender studies and related fields—though most of the humanities and social sciences are prone to this), the phenomenon is even worse. Not for nothing do you find much more agenda‑laden garbage there than in the exact sciences—and not because the agendas are wrong, but because there is no distinction between agenda and academic treatment. For example, I oppose imposing a feminist agenda on the study of gender, even though I regard myself as a feminist. Show me gender researchers who explain that women have essential traits, or that they are less capable than men in something. You might find a few—in small numbers—but anyone presenting such a claim is taking an unwise risk. In those fields, there is rarely observation that forces a framework and constraints as in the natural sciences; therefore many papers there are burdened by ideological assumptions and drift far from objective judgments—simply because such judgments are not really present. In doing so they betray their academic standards; but factually, such blending exists (see column 60 and the series 178–184, among others).

So much for progressivism and academia. Now to women and to the left.

On Progressivism, Femininity, and Leftism

As is well known, progressive discourse is more common among women, Blacks, and LGBTQ people—and the reasons are fairly clear. These are populations that suffered exclusion (genuine—truly “weakened,” at least in the past), and their way to fight it was to adopt a postmodern‑narrative discourse. As we saw, if there are no yardsticks, there is no right or wrong, no wise or less wise—and thus, it might be expected that exclusions and discriminations would disappear. That, at any rate, was the hope. Its shattering is what we have been encountering in recent years, all the more so these days. Without a yardstick, one may spew any nonsense without commitment to any truth, argument, or reasoning. We all lie at an equal distance from truth (on the circumference of the circle of differences). I suspect this is why the three presidents in that absurd hearing were women. By virtue of their gender, they belong to a population prone to falling into the progressive pit.

Needless to say, the left–right axis connects to this discussion in a similar way. The left centers equality. It cares for the weak or “weakened” (or ‘weakened’), and as a means to achieve the desired equality it is unwilling to accept ideologies (other than its own) or group chauvinism of any kind. It is thus very comfortable for it in a postmodern discourse devoid of yardsticks, where a wondrous equality is expected to arise among all. If there is no right and wrong, we are all equal—the most fanatical Muslims and the Ivy League’s liberal Ashkenazim; all are equally wise, equally right, equally moral, and equally entitled (the last being the only true one in that list). Well—except for those who aren’t, of course (Jews, straight white men, and the State of Israel). As Taub, Bechler, and Sternhell foresaw, such an approach rests on dazzling optimism with no hope of realization. Beyond that, it is a sure recipe for trouble: throwing out the baby with the bathwater is almost inevitable, since there is room on that nihilistic circle of differences even for primitive and violent populations that deny truth and facts and live in a movie. With or without arguments—it hardly matters.

One Last Note About Our Village: Progressivism and “Palestinianness”

I have written in the past (see my article on Jewish identity, and column 338, among others) that, in the Israeli‑Palestinian conflict, the two poles on this axis are extremely far apart—and no wonder it stands at the heart of the progressive struggle. I prefaced there that there is a dispute about the meaning of national definitions. There are essentialists who see them as natural; for them, a nation has an objective basis and is not mere subjective feelings. In contrast, the conventionalist approach (Benedict Anderson and his gang) sees national definitions as purely conventional—without any objective basis—matters of human agreement (arbitrary). I wrote that, in my opinion, the latter view is mistaken, chiefly because a nation is a non‑binary concept lacking a sharp definition and mono‑criterial tests. But it is incorrect to infer that any concept we cannot sharply define (a vague concept) does not exist (see on this in my series on poetry, 107–113).

Moving to our home field: Shlomo Sand is the most prominent exponent of the narrative, conventionalist view regarding the Jewish nation. His book is titled “How and When the Jewish People Was Invented,” no less. That is odd, given that the Jews are among the most ancient and most defined peoples on earth—usually criticized for having too many shared features (such as religion) rather than settling for merely ethnic or cultural traits like any “normal” people. Even our claim to the Land is essentialist—by virtue of a divine promise (even if not all believe it today). Our bond to the Land is not merely romantic nationalism or bare facts, but rests on arguments of right, promise, and the like.

That is one side of the equation. Opposite us stands the “Palestinian people,” whose definition poses one of the greatest challenges in the study of nations, perhaps the greatest. It seems they share almost nothing—beyond a fabricated millennia‑long history (see a concise account in Assaf Wolff’s book, The History of the Palestinian People); endless whining about discrimination; terror and murder of Jews, including exporting those commodities to the rest of the world; and the desire to throw us into the sea (which at times seems stronger than the desire to secure any plot of land for themselves). Their chief contribution to world culture is Edward Said’s well‑known book, Orientalism, which helped crystallize the orientalist thesis underlying post‑colonial frustration. Thus took shape progressivism’s delusional attitude toward “weakened” minorities. Its chief contribution to world culture is “theoretical” backing for their ceaseless grievances and cries of discrimination—that is, the thought that undergirds the vacuum.[5] No wonder he lives in the narrative sphere—and is, in fact, one of its founders. That is roughly the Palestinian contribution to universal culture and knowledge. We are dealing with a hodge‑podge of people with no shared background—of whom one can say that they certainly do not discriminate in favor of their own: with wondrous national solidarity, they murder their own no less (indeed far more) than members of other peoples (including Jews and Israelis). It is very hard to find anything truly shared among them beyond that. Not for nothing did someone, before the age of political correctness, say that there is no Palestinian nation (Golda Meir; and there are those who dare to say so after her)—though today it is, of course, forbidden. Political correctness is progressivism’s military arm.

Needless to say, Sand—who is not a Zionist and denies our national identity—fights for the Palestinian people’s right to self‑determination. He denies the identity of the world’s most defined nation and sees it and its claims to the Land as an invention—while the most invented “nation” in the universe is the one for whose right to self‑definition and land sovereignty he dedicates his life. Do not be mistaken: there is no contradiction here. On the contrary, precisely because of his view of national identity as narrative and subjective, he can recognize as a nation any group that sees itself as such. As noted, no arguments are needed—mere narrative fantasy suffices.

In this sense, the narrative ideal finds its epitome in Palestinian national identity. No wonder that, if you look around the world, you will discover that progressives and the left generally are always pro‑Palestinian and anti‑Zionist (and anti‑Jewish). The correlation is nearly 1. I believe the reason is that Palestinian nationalism is the ultimate test case for narrativity. Every self‑respecting postmodernist will fight for the right of a fiction like the “Palestinian people” to receive proper and equal treatment—especially when the party threatening it is the archetype of the least fictitious and most essentialist group. No wonder we arouse in the average progressive rage and disgust. We threaten the very narrative approach—and sometimes we even say so (like Golda). We even offer arguments (God forbid!)—which is utterly illegal (hence presented by them as lies and useful fictions). From here you can understand why the use of “narratives” and “narrativity” is a hallmark of discussions of the Israeli‑Palestinian conflict.

For my part, I am entirely in favor of granting a group the right to define itself as a nation even without a real basis—as long as they truly possess a national consciousness (even if fictitious), and not merely for the sake of dispossessing others or grabbing something. I do not think it correct to deny that—even if it is a groundless narrative. After all, every nation begins somewhere and sometime, and its traits form over time. The fact that we formed several millennia earlier does not necessarily give us an advantage. Therefore, if we ever have a partner, I will be the first to rejoice in compromising, establishing good neighborly relations, and recognizing their narrative (i.e., understanding that this is their narrative and that they truly believe it—even if I deem it utter nonsense). For now, that seems an absurd utopia. In any case, I do join Golda’s assertion that there is no Palestinian nation—but I do not think it matters much. Unlike progressivism—though it might sound similar—I reject the comparisons that are made between narratives, as though we all hold some fictional narrative along the same circle of differences. And I object to the tolerant, accommodating attitude toward their historical and political fabrications—and certainly toward their destructive, whining, violent, and murderous ideology (internally and externally).

With all the sadness in my heart, I must admit there is something to the demagogic slogans that say this is a struggle that goes far beyond a national and territorial—even religious—conflict. It is presented as the sons of light versus the sons of darkness—but not for the right reason. It is not due to murderousness versus Western enlightenment; we saw that some Western enlightenment sits precisely on the murderous side. From what I have described, it emerges that this is a philosophical struggle between truth and fiction, and between fact and narrative. Regardless of this struggle’s outcomes and policy conclusions (whether to grant them a state or not), it is very important to understand what it is about and not to waive judgment.[6] I will happily sign a peace agreement and at the same time tell them that they speak nonsense and behave wickedly. The desire for peace does not require surrendering truth. That is one progressive error. Another is letting politics dictate philosophy. Nor may one ignore facts and values and succumb to comforting relativism. All these are progressive errors to which we must not yield. These days we can see how a philosophical step—seemingly so abstract—can be destructive in the real world as well.

Appendix: Notes on Direction, Casting, and Script

I don’t know how you would cast a parodic film with three German university presidents in the 1930s appearing before a Reichstag hearing about the persecution of Jews and other minorities. Personally, I would portray them as heads of liberal elite institutions, with casting along these lines: one is… oh, a Gypsy. The second… maybe a Jew. And the third? I don’t know—perhaps just a non‑Aryan. Oh—and one more thing: the Gypsy should also be disabled (and gay), to round out the picture of the persecuted “weakened.” Imagine those three types invited to the Reichstag (before it was burned, of course—or perhaps not?…) to discuss calls to annihilate Jews—and, naturally, backing it. Ah, I forgot the end: the “merely non‑Aryan” resigns in light of the hearing’s results, while the Gypsy and the Jew remain proudly in office. As is known, for the super‑minorities everything is permitted—even going against morality, and against themselves in particular.

Well, there you have it: reality did it for you—and much better. The congressional hearing invited three presidents of liberal elite institutions: one Black (Claudine Gay, President of Harvard), the second Jewish (Sally Kornbluth, President of MIT), and the third just a woman (Elizabeth Magill, President of UPenn)—another “weakened” minority to complete the representation. Wait—where is the LGBTQ here? There! The director thought of everything: the Harvard president’s surname is “Gay.” Oh—and who resigned in the end as a result of the hearing? The “just a woman,” of course. The Black woman and the Jewish woman remained in their chairs. And another point I already mentioned: the person who replaced the resigning president is the head of the Jewish Federations of North America. QED.

Now all that remains is to find a verse that predicts all of this via Torah equidistant letter skips:

GOTO Hidabrut.

END.

So don’t tell me reality doesn’t outdo any imagination, and that its divine director isn’t a genius. Incidentally, the only rival to the divine director is whoever directed the Eretz Nehederet skit about the Hogwarts hearing (here with English captions; see the article here in Hebrew). To sharpen the point, note that Yuval Semo is himself “butzdemi” (like Korngot)—how could he not be?! A brilliant skit. A must.

[1] I am amazed that the Qataris aren’t filling the gap and funneling in a few billion dollars to drown out all those Jews who think themselves powerful because of a hundred million bucks or such pocket change. I must say: this casts doubt, for me, on the thesis about Qatari donations being the cause of these universities’ antisemitic stance.

[2] Ze’ev Bechler, Aristotle’s Philosophy of Science, The Open University/“University on the Air,” Israel Radio. More recently, another book by Bechler came out, devoted entirely to spelling out this point from the angle of philosophy of science—titled Three Copernican Revolutions, University of Haifa / Zmora‑Bitan, 1999. That book contains several parallels to the moves taken in this essay, albeit from a slightly different angle.

[3] In issue 48 of Politics, titled “Back to Modernity,” see especially p. 13.

[4] See my friend Nadav Shnerb’s critique of Rabbi Shagar’s postmodern book, Shattered Vessels, titled “The Tale of a Wise Man Who Despaired of Reason.”

[5] Incidentally, he used to present his personal background as a refugee from Jerusalem—but that is a kind of falsehood: his family immigrated to the U.S. at the beginning of the twentieth century (see his Wikipedia entry). If you read his responses to Bernard Lewis (the renowned Jewish‑British historian of the Middle East, considered Said’s main opponent), you will see that the mode of argument is narrativist: he usually does not address the claims themselves, but points to Lewis’s motives and motivations. On this hallmark of postmodernism, see my series on Marxism, 178–184.

[6] I drew a similar distinction in column 504 regarding attitudes toward LGBTQ people. One may dispute the queer gender definitions and even see them as an empty narrative (see column 497) and still treat them respectfully. Conversely, respectful treatment does not obligate me to accept their empty (narrative) definitions.