Another Look at Haredi Society: Long-Term Considerations and Large Scales (Column 720)

In column 693 I addressed fundamental features of Haredi thinking and conduct. The basic principle was that Haredim are denizens of the World to Come: their faces are turned to the world beyond, not to our world. One might gain the impression that Haredi thought relates mainly to long timeframes and large scales, rather than to the here and now—but that is not so. In this column I will try to show and explain why this is incorrect, and in doing so I will also propose a reconciliation of those features with the description in that earlier column.

The Trigger

What prompted me to think about this was a WhatsApp conversation I had with a secular friend, following the Haredi threat to dismantle the coalition due to the failure to pass the draft law. I wrote to him that, in my estimation, the Haredim would not bring down the coalition and that this was a game of chicken (this morning, Thursday, it turned out I was indeed right). True, I hope the dynamics of the crisis will eventually pull this toward toppling the government, but it’s clear to me that this is not their plan.

Then he wrote me the following argument:

But—perhaps they also understand that Bibi, in the meantime, is wrecking the state and the economy, etc. And after all, the one who most needs to worry about the host is the parasite sitting on it, because if the host dies, the parasite also dies. So it occurred to me that they understand he is destroying relations with the nations—and who better than they know that one must preserve relations with non-Jews—and that the hi-tech folks are fleeing, and who better than they is attached to the teat of hi-tech, etc. So could it be that they also want to bring down the government for substantive reasons, from a parasitic point of view?

Beyond the sophistication in this line of thought, I detected a fundamental fallacy in understanding the Haredi mindset and conduct, and this is what I wrote back (mainly about the first, economic, consideration):

No chance. They simply don’t think in such horizons. Haredim, in principle, are unwilling to think big and long-term. People don’t understand this Haredi trait of “eat and drink, for tomorrow we die”…

My claim is that Haredim do not make long-term or large-scale calculations. They are emphatically uninterested in demographic forecasts, in future economic risks, or in risks that do not directly threaten them here and now. Therefore, don’t talk to them about future security dangers, about the functioning of the army or of the healthcare system now or years from now; and thus they generally don’t deal with questions concerning the condition of society and the state as a whole. Their thinking is private, short-term, and on small scales.

In my view, this is also why Haredim are not truly troubled by climate issues, environmental quality and the planet, questions of recycling, and the like (cf. the tax on bottles). In the past I thought this was because of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs—that they are busy with their own burning issues here and now and thus have no time or mental bandwidth for distant problems. But I have now concluded that this is only part of it, not the whole. An equally essential problem is the timeframe and scale of these issues. Haredim concern themselves with the individual or at most the community, but not with the state and certainly not with the world at large.

This is why Haredim are not particularly interested in the economic and security crises that are predicted for us because of the burden they place on the state: in grim forecasts about Israel’s economy and the state of the IDF. Ask Haredim what will be with the army, or what will be with the economy when an ever-larger percentage does not participate in it; what we’ll do when an ever-smaller percentage carries everyone else—economically and security-wise—and eventually can no longer do so. You will discover that they don’t engage with this. It simply doesn’t interest them. Again, we do of course have Maslow here and also egoism (since sustaining the economy and security is not their issue but ours: they eat and do not contribute). But I think it’s not only egoism and not only Maslow. For a more encompassing egoistic calculation should lead them to the conclusion that they themselves will suffer from these consequences: if there is no money, they too will have no stipends and no services; when the Arabs throw us all into the sea, they will not spare the Haredim. This is not the kind of question they set their minds to.

I repeatedly reach the conclusion that the root of the matter is their field of vision. It does not include the distant future, nor large scales. Even the empty talk one hears from their direction about God’s help (that He will save us militarily and economically) and “Torah protects and saves,” and other hollow clichés that of course are always in the background—do not really persuade me. When trouble approaches their doorstep, nothing is left to God’s help or to Torah. There, the “mitzvah of hishtadlut” (human effort) reaches its peak. Note that this rhetoric appears only when the trouble is distant from them in time and space: when someone else will handle it and work or die on their behalf—then “God will help” (with the aid of the suckers who actually do it). When the problem is the seculars’, the state’s, not that of “our people,” they speak of divine assistance and the Torah’s protection. What will happen when it finally reaches “our people” as well? “God will help.” But when it actually happens, I’m sure you won’t find a living soul in the yeshivot. Everyone will be engaged in vigorous “hishtadliot.” For mass street demonstrations everyone comes out, including yeshiva students who are ready to suspend Torah study for the sacred goal of optimal desecration of God’s name. But from their current point of view, these questions deal with horizons and scales they are unwilling to address.

They will never deal with the question of how to run a state without a reasonable, enforceable legal system. For them, the prohibition of turning to secular courts exists today as it always did (unless they need them, in which case everything is waived). They will not make a systemic calculation that one cannot live in a state without a legal system accepted by the entire public, and with legal content not adapted to the modern era. Not for nothing did I explain that past-nisht considerations are an emphatically modern feature (see columns 448 and 476).

Similarly, they are not troubled by how the country’s agriculture will cope with the sabbatical year. As far as they are concerned, let everyone burn. They worry only about how the individual farmer will survive here and now without transgressing (and that too only in the best case, if they address it at all—let us not forget that there are hardly any Haredi farmers, so this isn’t really their problem). And what will become of the agricultural sector in a country that loses customers? Can a country sustain agriculture that shuts down entirely one year in seven? Will it be possible to return to the global market after a year? Even the slogan about the divine promise (“I will command My blessing”) is no longer at their disposal, since Shemitah in our time is rabbinic, and for that there is no promise (that is the excuse for why we do not see the expected abundance for those who observe Shemitah. Yes yes, I know the folk tales about the locusts, etc.). They do not answer this question because it does not trouble them. No one there thinks about how a state can be run, what the five-year agricultural plan is, and how to sustain agriculture in a modern society for the long term. This is not the kind of question they consider. Here you will hear, at most, “God will help and save.”

And I have not yet spoken about issues such as the redemption of captives. As is known, Haredi parties tend to prefer releasing hostages over victory in war. This also expresses a desire not to highlight military matters (because of their conscription issue), but it is also the result of narrow thinking in which the here and now is decisive. Victories and strategy are not really in their conceptual toolkit. Right now, there is a captive who must be redeemed.

Note that these questions do not trouble them for two reasons: 1) they concern problems that will arise in the long term; 2) they concern large scales (the state, the world), not the individual or, at most, the community. Again: timeframe and scale. Of course, there is a connection between the two. A state—and certainly a universe—cannot be run on the basis of short-term considerations. When managing a state, one necessarily considers long-term factors. The scale of the problems determines the relevant timeframe. When an aircraft carrier needs to turn, preparations must begin long before the actual turn. It’s not like turning a hasaké (lifeguard paddleboard).

This is related to modernity, of course, since the concept of the state and managing a modern state is a modern matter. Even if in the past there was state management (not modern), historically for many years we did not function as a public on large scales. At most we lived within a community framework inside a gentile state structure. Therefore we did not get used to such thinking. Thus, modernity here is not necessarily essential; part of it is simply a forgetting of the original situation in which we lived within a state framework (see a similar phenomenon in column 164). But one must not ignore the differences between an ancient state and a modern one. In an ancient state there were not many macroeconomic considerations, healthcare systems, and even the legal system was a collection of local courts rather than a truly national system (though this was the aspect closest to the modern situation).

Be that as it may, it is clear that those open to modernity and to the current situation can, of course, fill the gaps in halakhic and Torah thinking that were created during the years of exile. Therefore, Haredim who are unwilling to recognize that the situation has changed—that there is a state to be managed—and who have not internalized that running a state is different from what we were accustomed to, will continue to run the state like a shtetl. They will make decisions about state conduct according to the method of a questioner in Responsa Tzintzenet HaMan, with the decisor sequestered in his study among his books, having no idea what he is talking about. He has no clue what is happening out there, yet he is the one whose word is law. They will choose a Chief Rabbi roughly the way one is chosen in a shtetl. They will ignore questions of nepotism, transparency, and proper governance. They will apply here ancient halakhic norms such as hereditary public office, the disqualification of women from positions, and the like.

My claim is that all this madness does not stem only from corruption and self-interest, nor merely from conservatism; there is something deeper here: they do not understand what it means to manage a state, and are unwilling to recognize that such a subject exists. They have been habituated to think on small scales and short terms, and they faithfully continue in accordance with halakhah (as they conceive it). This is indeed conservatism, but a particular kind of it. It is indeed a very primitive and very childish attitude—but it has a deeper root which is important to note and understand. As I wrote to my friend: instead of saying “eat and drink, for tomorrow we die,” say rather: “eat and drink, for tomorrow God (and the suckers who act on His behalf—the messiah’s donkeys) will help.”

In several places in the past I have noted the difference in halakhic thinking between issues that concern the conduct of a state on large scales and issues concerning the conduct of individuals or communities (see, for example, in my article on “Lo Taguru,” and in the series of columns 529–531).

The Root of the Matter: The Example of Autopsies

One must understand that this perspective is not a new invention. It has a deep root in halakhah. A clear example can be found in the question of autopsies. In a modern society it is customary to perform autopsies for various reasons. Four prominent ones are: medical research, training medical interns, harvesting organs for transplantation, and assisting criminal investigations. In halakhah it is customary to prohibit autopsies for several reasons: there is an obligation to bury the dead, an obligation to honor the deceased and a prohibition to degrade him, and so forth (you can see a review here). In the Haredi world it is customary to prohibit this absolutely, and in many cases I have seen with my own eyes (also in my family) hysteria around each deceased person to keep him under supervision lest, heaven forbid, those wicked doctors (who of course cannot be trusted) snatch him and dissect him without reporting to us for their dark purposes.

The principal response that underlies the discussion is that of the Noda BiYehuda (part II, Yoreh De’ah §210). He rules there that it is permitted to dissect for the sake of a patient who is present before us, since saving a life overrides the entire Torah. But many decisors understood from his words that it is forbidden to dissect a corpse for patients who are not present before us, and certainly not for the sake of medical research or training medical interns or criminal investigations. From there, discussions begin as to what qualifies as a case of a patient “before us” (see the review cited above).

Some decisors go a step further and argue that dissection for medical purposes is not an affront to the dignity of the dead. Moreover, the deceased himself would probably have agreed to it. Therefore there are those who expanded the permission even to more distant medical purposes. But this consideration still remains within the field of Haredi halakhic discussion, which is based on narrow thinking that ignores long-term and large-scale considerations.

Whenever I discussed this grave issue, the form of the discussion and this kind of consideration troubled me. In the modern era it is hard to see how medicine develops and how medical interns are trained without dissecting bodies (there are decisors who acknowledge the need and write that they should train on the bodies of non-Jews). How is this different from the ancient era? Why did decisors in the past not permit it? On this I say two things: First, I am prepared to disagree with the decisors of the past. The halakhic discussion that pores over the phrasing of the Noda BiYehuda as if it were the Talmud seems to me very strange. Even if he did not permit something, I do not see why that obligates me. I would permit if I thought it right (this is the issue of first-order halakhic decision-making; see columns 332, 637, and more). Beyond that, these discussions ignore the fact that modern medicine operates differently from the medicine of Talmudic and early-medieval times. There is standardization of training and care; there is a necessity to empirically test every medical thesis and procedure; without all this, medicine would not be what it is. It is therefore patently unreasonable to treat autopsies today as though we were living in the tenth century. Medicine is an inseparable part of our lives, and this entire large system would not have emerged and cannot exist without autopsies.

I was pleased to find in that review that Rabbi Melamed cites Rabbi Goren, who wrote as follows:

“And Rabbi Goren added that even according to the Noda BiYehuda it would be permitted. For everything the Noda BiYehuda wrote—that it is forbidden to dissect a corpse for the sake of a patient who might appear in the future—pertains specifically to a private physician who is not connected to a large medical organization, like the physicians two hundred years ago. Such a doctor may not dissect a corpse so that perhaps he will be able to save such a patient if he comes before him in the future. But the medical institutions of the State of Israel are responsible for four million Jews, and therefore they are obligated to take into account even future patients, and this is considered pikuach nefesh. Therefore it is permitted to dissect corpses if thereby they can find ways to heal future patients (something similar was written by Rabbi Weinberg, Techumin 12:382).”

Immediately afterwards he cites Mishpetei Uziel (Yoreh De’ah §§28–29) regarding the study of anatomy, who—contrary to most decisors—wrote that it is permitted, because that too is pikuach nefesh. It does not surprise me that these two decisors were not Haredi but Religious-Zionist. This is very typical of decisors who are aware of how the modern world functions, and therefore do not automatically apply precedents created in ancient, entirely different periods.

Note that here too we are dealing with a kind of consideration that speaks of a distant timeframe (future patients) and large scales (the medical system of the state and the world, not the condition of this or that particular patient). Everyone understands that, in the end, these things will cost the lives of very specific people—but that will happen in the distant future. Such considerations do not play a role in the usual Haredi decisor’s way of thinking (barring occasional flashes), and we have seen above several examples of this. I repeat: in my view there is room for this in halakhic thinking—but when dealing with private thinking, not systemic. When the question touches the functioning of systems, one must adopt an entirely different mode of thought. It is improper to apply to rules and halakhic modes of reasoning that are drawn from considerations of the individual. Just as one does not treat war and public dangers the way one treats the pikuach nefesh of a particular individual.

A Side Note

Rabbi Melamed also discusses using autopsies on non-Jews, which raises another question; I will only note it here. In my eyes there is no difference between Jew and non-Jew, first of all because this parasitism is intolerable. It is inconceivable that I will insist on my values and demand that others pay the price for me. I know this is utterly foreign to Haredi thought, which sees the entire world as its set of servants, but this appalling way of conduct must be shaken off. More than that, there is a substantive mistake here as well. The primary prohibition of dissecting a corpse is not only because of the reasons stated above, but—as written by Binyan Tzion, responsum 171—because of the prohibition to infringe upon the rights and dignity of another (what I have often called “territorial considerations”). Therefore, if there is a prohibition, it applies to non-Jews as well, since they too have a right over their bodies and dignity. Just as it is forbidden to steal from a non-Jew, even apart from the biblical prohibition “Do not steal” (which, according to some early authorities, does not apply to non-Jews). R. Shimon Shkop, in Sha’arei Yosher gate 5, wrote that according to all opinions there is a legal prohibition in stealing from a non-Jew because it is an infringement of another’s proprietary right—something outside your “territory” (you are not the one entitled to make decisions regarding it). See this in the third book of my trilogy (part II, ch. 4; and part VIII, ch. 24). A similar sort of consideration (though of course not identical) can be seen in the responsa of the Achiezer (Yoreh De’ah §16:6) and Igrot Moshe (Yoreh De’ah III §36), who forcefully rejected the view of the author of Mishnat Hakhamim, who recommends handing a dangerous operation over to a non-Jewish physician so as not to transgress the prohibition of murder.

Timeframe and Scale as an Expression of Childishness

Short-term, small-scale thinking (me and my immediate surroundings) characterizes children. They cannot rise above the here and now. A mature person is supposed to look with a broader gaze, not only at his immediate spatio-temporal environment. I have often pointed to the childishness of Haredi thought, and in particular of Haredi leadership (see, for example, column 655), and this is yet another expression of it.

I have often read complaints by Haredim that the army is not truly making the preparations and not accommodating them properly, and examples are always brought of a lack of consideration for a particular soldier’s religious need. He did not have a prayer book, or they did not give him time to pray, or heaven forfend he saw through a telescope a girl wearing pants in the vicinity of his base. From this, of course, the conclusion follows that the army persecutes Haredim, and if the army does not do what it must, then they are, naturally, exempt. This logic is crooked and distorted. First, the assumption is that it is the army’s job. They are not part of the matter. We all need to lay a red carpet completely prepared before them, and then they will graciously come and do their duty. This, even when they are the government, not some marginal, negligible public. Let us leave aside also their ignoring the fact that this is a real danger to all our lives (theirs as well), and therefore such nuances should not have an effect. When there is danger, one goes out to fight even if—heaven forfend—one eats only the basic kosher certification or sees a woman at a distance of a kilometer. In such a situation everyone enlists immediately and unconditionally, and of course we try to solve the problems (at least the few that are real problems and not mere caprices) so that it is done optimally. But solving the problems cannot be a precondition for enlistment. Here, however, I wish to focus on another question: the childish point of view expressed in this claim.

Each of us encounters the army’s dysfunction. There are cruel jokes about it (beginning with the notion that logic halts at the guard post). It is a large system composed of people like you and me; a great many are not professionals (since it is not a professional army); and after all, we are all human. Such systems suffer from quite a few failures. Many people find themselves in Kafkaesque circles of bureaucracy and dysfunction and suffer from it—starting with a commander who ignores justified claims and makes me run around the base, or leaves me for the weekend on base; continuing with inadequate medical care, foolish orders, and various bungles; shortages of equipment or food, problematic and foolish thinking, and more and more. What soldier has not encountered all this? It is of course very annoying, no doubt. The question is how one interprets this and what conclusions one draws.

A child in such a situation issues a verdict on the entire system. But a mature person is supposed to understand that that is how systems function. No one is persecuting him personally. The stick strikes him, but there is no one holding the stick and aiming the blows at him. It just happens. These are the mishaps and dysfunction that every soldier sees. One must of course try to improve it, but a mature person does not see all this as blows directed at him. He understands that the large system is composed of people and does not manage to function on small scales (and, unfortunately, often not on large ones either). The Haredi perspective sees all these mishaps as persecution of Haredim, indifference, and essentially an anti-Haredi agenda. They cannot rise above the here and now and understand that this is how large, bureaucratic systems operate. That is how states and armies function. Even if there is an anti-religious or anti-Haredi commander, that is one individual. It does not mean that an order was issued by the Chief of Staff to persecute Haredim. But they see it that way—various legends about clandestine plots to make them abandon their religion (or lack of sense).

This is all the more striking when one looks at how Haredi systems operate—far smaller than an army or a state—from municipalities to educational institutions and yeshivot. Does everything there run perfectly? Usually far less well than in parallel institutions in the non-Haredi world. The focus on the here and now and the inability to raise the gaze to larger scales and longer horizons, and to understand that there is a difference between systems and the people who staff them, are hallmark childish features of Haredi thought. But that is not the whole problem. It runs deeper.

I noted that even mature people get angry when such things happen to them. That is natural, and of course not only the province of children. But that is why there are leaders and managers to clarify the matter—to help the individual lift his gaze and look at the larger scales. Haredi leadership should have understood and explained to its flock that this is a systemic failure and must be addressed. But that is how systems function, and the individual citizen who encounters the problems should not conclude that someone is persecuting him personally, or Haredim in general. The Haredi problem is deeper because Haredi leadership is often more childish than the average Haredi. These are rabbis who know how to stitch together logical moves, sometimes brilliant, but they are confined to yeshivot and do not understand the world around them. Despite the white beard and advanced age, their attitude to the world and to everything outside the purely Torah realm is that of a five-year-old. Now imagine that this brilliant child receives the mandate to decide everything for a whole group of people—for the entire society (he has da’at Torah. He decides everything and must not be contradicted. He does not err, for he is truly brilliant. He is, in effect, God’s mouthpiece). This creates a deadly combination of a group led by five-year-old children, and not only that, but those children receive the status of gods who never err. Not only do they not help their flock to escape their childish approach focused on the here and now and rise to a more mature vision that understands that there are larger scales and longer horizons—they deepen it with a compounded childishness of leadership itself. This recipe entrenches the childish outlook I have described thus far.

Explanations

Beyond the Haredi world’s detachment from the broader world, and beyond the fact that they do not manage large systems and therefore do not understand how this works, I believe there is a theological issue here.

As is known, everything is in God’s hands. Not a blade of grass sprouts below without an angel above telling it to grow. Everything that happens to us is from God’s hand. So why should we act at all? Ah, that’s simple: the duty of hishtadlut (human effort). This marvelous and oxymoronic ethos of trust in God and human effort is the very core of Haredi thought (not only theirs, but among them it reaches particularly exalted levels). We are always told that belief in God is not truly harmful and does not lead to apathy and passivity, because of this thesis. Because of the duty of hishtadlut, even Haredim take the actions required to deal with problems, even though, in fact, everything is in God’s hands. So even if it’s an oxymoron, at least it’s not harmful. But when we move to large scales and long horizons, I think this oxymoronic thesis collapses. The Haredi lack of attention to large scales and long horizons is rooted in the belief that these are consigned to God. We will manage our small plot of God’s earth, and He will do what He sees fit. After all, the existence of the state or victory in war are not really in our hands. Therefore, they tell themselves—often not consciously—that this lies beyond the bounds of the duty of hishtadlut. Large scales and long horizons are managed directly by God. We have no role in those domains.

This childish disregard for large systems and long timeframes is rooted in that preposterous theology of trust and effort. On such matters Haredim rely on God’s help. And again—when it reaches their own doorstep, that is, when the horizon is short and the system is narrowed to the Haredi system itself—you will see all the oxymorons evaporate. There, frantic “hishtadliot” will be conducted. But as long as there are suckers who do the long-term accounting, work for us, and die for us—we can rely on God (and the especially scrupulous won’t even thank them, for it is not they but God).

The failures in Haredi thinking are rooted in halakhic habits born of exile; in a conservatism that is unaware and unwilling to acknowledge changes in the modern world; and in an oxymoronic theology that can function without our noticing its problematic nature on small scales—but not on large ones. You cannot run a state with “God’s help.” There one must work and fight. When there is an Iranian threat, we need a sophisticated and skilled air force and Arrow missiles with cutting-edge technology. These do not arise from prayers but from years of work and research, and from budgets and large systems, from foreign relations and diverse state systems. None of these appears at all on the Haredi horizon of thought. They will continue to sell themselves the notion that their crooked Torah protects and saves us all, and the Arrow and the air force are merely hishtadlut (in which they do not participate). What does it matter, since there are those who will do the work while they pray and study (in the best case).

An Illustrative Implication

From time to time reports are published about the low income level of the Haredi public (see, for example, here for 2024). In their view, this is a great virtue, for it shows contentment with little and devotion to Torah. Our sages already taught us the way of Torah: “Bread with salt you shall eat, and water in measure you shall drink.” But they do not entertain the notion that there is a problem here. The problem is not people’s suffering. If they volunteer to suffer—good for them. If they are willing to suffer for Torah, that is indeed worthy of appreciation. However, there are those who will earn very little and not engage in Torah. Their own salaries are also lower than those of their counterparts in the general public. But all of this belongs to the private sphere.

From a macroeconomic perspective, everyone understands that there is a problem. Your decision to be content with little is excellent and admirable; but an entire society that decides not to produce and to be content with little is a real problem. A state’s economy will not survive that way. Our national product suffers from this, and in the future an economic collapse is expected. True, only the non-Haredi publics need to worry about the air force and Arrow missiles, the healthcare system, the economic and security systems, and other state services—but even those “suckers” need the capacity to do so. A collapsing economy will bring everything down on all our heads—Haredim and non-Haredim alike.

Beyond that, what about the stipends and the endless budgets that flow to Haredi society via thousands of different and strange channels (there is hardly any way to measure how much budget reaches a Haredi household because of the endless variety of these channels: many are indirect and unreported; others are presented as benefits to the general population—like Goldknopf’s housing benefits, and more), all because of low income. What about fierce opposition to the tax on disposable bottles, which leads to air pollution and morbidity—opposition entirely rooted in economic shortfall?

These are systemic considerations, on large scales and not-immediate timeframes. Such considerations do not stand at all before the Haredim’s eyes. The planet, the state’s existence, our condition in fifty years—all that is only in God’s hands. What have we, small as we are, to do with such problems? This is not within our hishtadlut horizon.

The attitude toward low income is a good example not only of the damages inherent in non-systemic, short-term, small-scale thinking, but also of the perspective that follows from it. Admiration for self-sacrifice is indeed justified. But this is a private perspective on private individuals. Alongside it must come a perspective on the systemic implications of such a policy. Is it proper to educate people to be content with little? In my view, absolutely not—at least in a modern state this is not an option. We would not want to be content with little defense, little healthcare, little security, little education, little welfare—and, in fact, also little Torah (for as is known, Torah too needs flour).

The same applies to core studies. I am the last person to admire what goes on in the schools and the wretched education they provide. Even the professional training received there (English, mathematics) is quite poor. And yet, after all the jokes, if one does not send children to acquire general and professional education, one ends up with a society in poor condition. Systemic reasoning says that alongside the criticisms and the jokes about the education system, there is no choice but to require basic education for every child. I would certainly be glad for a child who is suited to it to choose to devote himself to Torah and nothing else; but it is a systemic error to build an educational system that steers all children in that direction. Beyond the terrible waste of the lives of those unfitted to it (the vast majority of children), there are severe systemic economic and security costs that we all pay for this. And I have not yet spoken of the fact that even one who focuses on Torah and seeks to grow in it needs general education. Our eyes see what kind of “great Torah scholars” and what kind of Torah emerge from those who do not study general subjects. But that is not our topic here (see, for example, column 682). Systemic education toward contentment with little will lead to contentment with little in all these spheres.

The conclusion is that a particularized view, even if correct, must be accompanied by a systemic view. The childish Haredi approach is unaware of all this. In kindergarten (at least in the Haredi one) they do not teach it, and Haredi adults—even those unjustly called “the leading sages of the generation”—do not make up for this hole in their education. The damages of this education are terrible. And when, with this childish thinking, those children lead their flock—and all of us—toward the brink, the matter is all the more severe. This is a crooked Torah, and this is its recompense.