Platonism – Lecture 26
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
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Table of Contents
- The flaws of Platonism in Popper and rigid utopia
- The three truth-questions and the mistake of mixing them up
- The Halakhic Man of Rabbi Soloveitchik versus value-behavioral Platonism
- Ideology as the imposition of an idea and the reversal of the human-ideology relationship
- Sarah Stroud’s moral saint and mechanical morality
- Kant, applying principles, and the difference between flow and mechanism
- Emotion, feeling, intuition, and the two hemispheres of the intellect
- Eichmann, drugging, and violence as deliberate disregard of instincts
- Soft versus rigid Platonism and caution in applying utopias
- The Rabin assassination, religious faith, and a red line without rigid rules
- Talmud, reservations about rules, casuistry versus positivism, and dangerous deduction
- The rigid versus the flexible: short-term versus long-term victory, and democracy versus non-democracy
- Doron Avital, combat doctrine, schematic models, and operational flexibility
- Aharon Barak, good faith, and legal certainty versus justice
- “Lite” ideology as an a priori outlook and the struggle against Hardal propaganda
- Rigid leadership as an influence on the “lite” crowd, and the Yeruham example
- The Rabbi of Brisk, Rabbi Chaim Ozer, and the value of reminding people of the rules
- Torah in the world and not in a cave: evil speech, Noah’s Ark, and the stubborn and rebellious son
- Platonism in morality and moral realism as the planned continuation
- Lite, Reform, stigmas, and creating a third identity
- “It’s not appropriate,” secular courts in Syria, and a conflict that is managed rather than denied
- Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Yosi, and post factum justification for extremes
- The Sabbath, a refrigerator, a chair, and a concrete ruling within the tension
- The myth of weakness of will and conclusion
Summary
General Overview
The text presents a critique of rigid Platonism as an ideological basis that produces a rigid utopia, leads to extremism, cruelty, and trampling reality, and in this context is attributed to Karl Popper in “The Open Society and Its Enemies” and to examples like communism, Nazism, and ISIS. The speaker distinguishes between three different questions about truth: whether there is truth, whether it is in my hands, and whether my certainty is absolute, and argues that the greatest danger lies in absolute certainty and in the mechanical application of principles. At the same time, he argues that one should not give up on ideas and ideologies, but rather apply them with flexibility, attentiveness to reality, common sense, and feeling-intuition that is not biased emotion but another side of thought. He describes how “lite” propaganda in the religious sphere pushes people to abandon commitment, and proposes a l’chatchila identity of “lite” in a positive sense: loyalty to principles together with adaptation to reality, without rigid rules that make human beings into machines.
The flaws of Platonism in Popper and rigid utopia
The text states that Karl Popper devotes about half his book “The Open Society and Its Enemies” to a discussion of Platonism and argues that Platonic ideology aims at a rigid utopian ideal that gives rise to uncompromisingness, extremism, and cruelty. The text describes communism and Nazism as living in the world of ideas and therefore trampling the world around them in order to impose upon it a utopian structure. The text states that this kind of Platonism is a recipe for inflexibility and heavy costs.
The three truth-questions and the mistake of mixing them up
The text distinguishes between the question whether truth exists, the question whether I know the truth, and the question whether what I hold is certain and cannot be mistaken. The text argues that the third approach is very dangerous, the second is dangerous but livable, and the first contains no danger at all, quite the opposite, because someone who thinks there is no truth may end up in a situation where “anything goes.” The text argues that Popper mixes up these questions and throws all Platonists into the same dangerous basket, even though belief in the existence of truth is a necessary condition for certain dangers but not a sufficient one.
The Halakhic Man of Rabbi Soloveitchik versus value-behavioral Platonism
The text argues that the image of “Halakhic Man” in Rabbi Soloveitchik resembles Platonism in the sense of bringing patterns and categories and looking at reality through them, much as a mathematician associates patterns with mathematical structures. The text gives examples of seeing sunrise and sunset through concepts like one who immersed that day and practical implications for corpse impurity, and seeing a tree through the laws of orlah. The text states that Rabbi Soloveitchik’s plane is not the plane of utopias as behavioral values, and therefore does not deal with the cruelty and inflexibility Popper is talking about.
Ideology as the imposition of an idea and the reversal of the human-ideology relationship
The text describes extremism as beginning with an idea detached from the world that seeks to impose itself on reality, through coercion, killing, and treating people as means rather than ends, until ideology turns from serving human beings into an end in itself, and the human being turns from being served by ideology into serving it. The text cites the expression “people are oil on the wheels of the revolution” as an example of this view. The text compares different extremists and locates the root of extremism in a rigid Platonic utopia.
Sarah Stroud’s moral saint and mechanical morality
The text expands on the “moral saint” in an article by Sarah Stroud and presents the problematic nature of people who conduct their entire lives according to formulated and defined moral principles. The text states that such morality produces mechanical human beings who analyze every situation through moral categories and act like robots, in contrast to natural, flowing kindness. The text presents dilemmas of friendship and parenthood versus moral obligation, including the question of what one does when a friend or a child turns out to be a criminal, and what place the value of closeness has relative to objective equality.
Kant, applying principles, and the difference between flow and mechanism
The text argues that Kantian morality requires living in light of well-defined principles, but that there are still two ways of applying them: a flowing and dynamic way versus a mechanical way. The text gives an anecdote from Yeruham about dancing at a wedding reflecting a style of learning: someone who learns technically dances technically, and someone who flows in conceptual reasoning dances naturally. The text states that one can internalize principles so that they are applied without trampling reality, while examining constraints, compromises, and complexity.
Emotion, feeling, intuition, and the two hemispheres of the intellect
The text rejects the claim that the solution to rational rigidity is emotion, and argues that morality lies in the intellect and not in the heart, but that within the intellect there is a formal analytical wing and a creative flowing wing. The text proposes distinguishing between emotion as bias and feeling as intuition that embodies unformulated intellectual insights, and argues that these too must be taken into account. The text connects this to “Kahneman’s System One and System Two” and emphasizes that the mistake is to let the analytical dominate the intuitive in the name of fighting emotion.
Eichmann, drugging, and violence as deliberate disregard of instincts
The text refers to the claim that Eichmann said he was a Kantian and refuses to view the problem as a lack of emotional compassion. The text describes an example from a conference on free will where it was claimed that Hamas drugged themselves before the atrocities of October seventh, and that Nazis got drunk before executions, and interprets this as proof of very voluntary action: suppressing instincts in order to realize values they believed in. The text argues that the central lack is the thought that “this is the right thing to do,” not a lack of emotion, and that if one treats intuition as a serious side of thinking, one does not suppress it but integrates it into the calculation of behavior.
Soft versus rigid Platonism and caution in applying utopias
The text argues that criticism of Platonism should not lead to giving up utopias, but to warning against their trampling implementation. The text presents a position of preserving a vision while paying attention to the world, correcting patterns, being flexible, compromising, and weighing when and to what extent to implement. The text places danger also in the anti-ideological alternative, and argues that a world without ideology may be no less dangerous.
The Rabin assassination, religious faith, and a red line without rigid rules
The text refers to claims made after Rabin’s assassination that “you see where religious faith can lead,” and rejects the conclusion that one should give up belief in God. The text states that the problem is fanatical implementation, not faith itself, and emphasizes that the search for rigid rules that decide every dilemma leads back to rigid Platonism. The text argues that the response is attentiveness to one’s surroundings and common sense that decides without trying to erect a rigid system of rules that closes off all cases.
Talmud, reservations about rules, casuistry versus positivism, and dangerous deduction
The text presents the character of the Talmud as suspicious of all rules and as preferring thinking in terms of cases and analogies. The text compares the casuistry of “common law” with German positivism that performs deduction from rules, and describes this rigidity as fertile ground for computerized application and for Nazism. The text argues that the promise of “certainty” through rules is an illusion born of fear of soft thinking attentive to reality, and that in practice rigid rules lead to worse results.
The rigid versus the flexible: short-term versus long-term victory, and democracy versus non-democracy
The text states that in social interaction the rigid wins in the short term and demeans the flexible as “lite,” but in the long term the flexible wins. The text gives as an example the Second World War, in which the Nazis lost after six years, and the principle that democracies suffer in the short term because of tolerance but go farther and win. The text presents flexibility as strategic strength rather than weakness.
Doron Avital, combat doctrine, schematic models, and operational flexibility
The text tells of an encounter with Doron Avital, commander of Sayeret Matkal, and of his book “Philosophy in Action,” which deals with military philosophy and implications drawn from Wittgenstein. The text describes how in the First Lebanon War in ’82 he instructed his soldiers to walk without flak jackets, against orders, because a flak jacket weighs you down and impairs functioning, and presents this as preferring flexibility over rigid protection. The text adds that in training he insisted not to simulate reality one-to-one, not to use realistic dummies but schematic human outlines, and to vary scenarios so as not to enslave the fighters to the model, because in the field unexpected variables always appear.
Aharon Barak, good faith, and legal certainty versus justice
The text connects this stance to Aharon Barak’s approach to contract interpretation and to the doctrine of good faith, which seeks the parties’ intent and not only the written text. The text presents the criticism that such an approach abolishes legal certainty and makes commerce harder, but also justifies that under rigid positivism rules alone do not bring justice. The text states that rules are needed, but should not be applied “as is”; rather, one must deviate when required out of attentiveness to reality.
“Lite” ideology as an a priori outlook and the struggle against Hardal propaganda
The text defines “lite” as an ideology and not as an accusation, and presents a story about a missing dot in an email address as an example of propaganda that says that without total precision “the whole thing is worth nothing.” The text argues that this image is true of machines but destructive for human beings, because the real world is not a machine and rules do not fully capture it. The text uses the example of language and grammar to show that correct speech requires conscious deviations from rules, especially in creativity, and warns that the aspiration for human beings to behave like computers is the root of dangerous Platonism.
Rigid leadership as an influence on the “lite” crowd, and the Yeruham example
The text argues that in the Jewish-religious world even the “lite” crowd internalizes that rigid leadership is the “standard” one, and therefore seeks a non-lite leader. The text gives an example from Yeruham where a Conservative prayer quorum could not get off the ground even though many people there were traditional, and explains that traditionalism as a phenomenon says, “In practice I’m Orthodox, I just don’t feel like it,” and therefore people are not willing to pray in a Conservative setting. The text mentions Bozaglo in the context of turning traditionalism into an ideology and sharpens the distinction between traditional and Conservative.
The Rabbi of Brisk, Rabbi Chaim Ozer, and the value of reminding people of the rules
The text brings a story about the Rabbi of Brisk, who was rigid, and Rabbi Chaim Ozer, who said that it is good that there are people like him who remind us what the rules are. The text agrees that a world that is entirely “lite” may forget principles and drift with reality all the way into Reform, and therefore fanaticism breathing down one’s neck reminds people that there are also principles. The text states that the importance of extremists does not mean they are right, only that they provide a constant reminder of the other side of the tension.
Torah in the world and not in a cave: evil speech, Noah’s Ark, and the stubborn and rebellious son
The text gives the example of evil speech and asks why people do not recommend living in a cave in order to avoid failure, and replies that “the Torah was not given to the ministering angels,” and that the Torah was meant to be implemented in the street, with costs and failures as part of the deal. The text uses the stubborn and rebellious son as a model of an ideology whose purpose is to mark a direction and not actually to be implemented, and emphasizes that the Sages drastically narrow its practical applicability so that it will not happen. The text describes proper implementation as the exercise of common sense navigating between rules and reality without erasing the rules and without imposing them cruelly.
Platonism in morality and moral realism as the planned continuation
The text notes that the plan for the meeting had been to deal with Kantian morality and moral realism, and that the central claim would be that Platonic ideas exist at the base of morality, and therefore morality is not merely conventions or floating rules. The text presents this as soft rather than rigid Platonism, and promises to demonstrate it in the field of ethics next time.
Lite, Reform, stigmas, and creating a third identity
The text is asked about a lite public as pragmatic and conflict-free, and the speaker’s response is that part of such behavior is produced by conservative stigmas that present “Judaism is this and only this” and cancel every middle possibility. The text argues that if one presents a conception in which the ideal obligates but implementation is attentive to the world, many people will find themselves in a third identity and behave more seriously instead of abandoning things. The text applies this to examples of Sabbath observance and distancing measures, and rejects solutions of hysterical separation while accepting that there are prices that require coping.
“It’s not appropriate,” secular courts in Syria, and a conflict that is managed rather than denied
The text presents the prohibition on secular courts as an example of “it’s just not appropriate” in the modern world, and argues that in reality people committed to Jewish law need the civil court system, and that the Talmud itself recognizes the concept of “courts in Syria.” The text states that attentiveness to reality is not the erasure of Jewish law but part of its proper realization. The text says that a conflict remains a conflict, but since there is commitment to both sides, one looks for an outlet that realizes both in the best possible way.
Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Yosi, and post factum justification for extremes
The text refers to a study in Ein Ayah by Rabbi Kook on the story with the Romans and raises the image that Rabbi Shimon represents uncompromising ideological truth. The text replies that saying “it’s important that there be such people” is not a justification for being such a person l’chatchila, and that someone who behaves that way cannot justify himself by saying “it’s important that I exist” if he himself thinks it is not actually correct. The text compares this to the fact that secular Zionism contributed to the establishment of the State, but that one cannot conclude from this that one ought to be secular, and distinguishes between recognizing the utility of an existing phenomenon and adopting it as the right path.
The Sabbath, a refrigerator, a chair, and a concrete ruling within the tension
The text gives the example of a refrigerator that was forgotten plugged in on the Sabbath and the suggestion to place a chair so that the door will not close, and accepts this as a possible solution. The text states that not every encounter with reality nullifies Jewish law, but that sometimes one should weigh consequences such as needless destruction, look for solutions such as asking a non-Jew, and discuss each case on its own merits. The text concludes that the tension is between fanaticism that refuses to discuss and the erasure of principles, and that the desired path is a flexible middle that does not give up commitment.
The myth of weakness of will and conclusion
The text accepts the comment that internalizing “the myth of weakness of will” affects the ethos in which people relate to themselves and the need to stand behind their actions according to the degree of their belief and authenticity. The text ends with “Shabbat shalom, good news.”
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We talked about the other side of Platonism, which is basically its drawbacks. Right, I said that Karl Popper, in his book The Open Society and Its Enemies, devotes about half the book to a discussion of Platonism. And his claim is that when you conduct yourself in light of an ideology whose underlying conception is Platonic, that means you have some idea, some given utopian state that you are striving toward. And the moment you have a rigid utopia that you’re striving toward, you’re prone to cruelty, uncompromisingness, and extremism. You have a picture before your eyes that you’re aiming at. So for example, right, what he says is aimed at communism of course, or Nazism on the other side, both of which had some kind of utopia before their eyes, and they didn’t see the world around them; they lived in the world of ideas. And therefore they trampled everything going on around them in order to create, to impose on this world, that same structure they saw in the world of ideas. So Platonism is a recipe for uncompromisingness, for extremism, for lack of flexibility, and this always carries a heavy price. And not for nothing, really, after… Rabbi, can I… What? I can’t hear.
[Speaker B] Can I make a comment here, maybe just one small thing, that it’s not only that they see the Platonic idea, but the very fact that they even think there is such a thing, that there’s some final defined thing that is the right thing—even if you don’t know it right now, but you’re sure there is such a thing—that already shuts you off…
[Speaker C] Wait, there’s some… hold on a second.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll mute and then you…
[Speaker B] can come in.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, okay.
[Speaker B] So I’m saying, the very fact that Platonism determines that there is something final and correct, and that’s it and there’s nothing else, that already shuts off the person who thinks, or claims to know, that truth.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] From being attentive to another possibility, from self-doubt, from deliberation, the whole business, and that’s a very, very dangerous style. No, here I’m not sure, because if you don’t… you have to distinguish between two things, and maybe I’ll also get to that in the example that follows. You have to distinguish between two things. The question whether there is truth or not is one question. The question whether I know the truth, or whether it is in my hands, is another question. And the question whether the truth in my hands is absolute truth—that is, it’s impossible that I made a mistake—that’s a third question. And I think the third approach is of course a dangerous one. The second has dangers in it, but I think one can live with it. The first approach I don’t see as dangerous at all—on the contrary, I see danger in someone who doesn’t accept the first approach. Someone who thinks there is no truth, then basically as far as he’s concerned, anything goes, and therefore…
[Speaker B] No, no—why does anything go? I’m saying if the path is infinite, the way to God is infinite, then you can never say, I’ve arrived. And that doesn’t mean there isn’t a God there at the end, but you strive toward Him, but…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You…
[Speaker B] don’t say, I’ve arrived, this is it, there’s nothing else.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Again, we’re back to the three questions. The question whether there is truth is one question. The question whether the truth is the thing in my hands is a second question. And the question whether what’s in my hands is certain is a third question. You have to distinguish between them, and a lot of times people mix them up, and I think that’s a mistake. And I think that’s Popper’s mistake too. Because Popper takes all the Platonists and puts them into the same basket of dangerousness. But the fact that you think there is truth is of course a necessary condition for your being dangerous—but not a sufficient one, let’s say in the dangers Popper is talking about. Meaning, if you think there is truth, there’s a chance you’ll live in light of a rigid utopia. If there is no truth, then you have no rigid utopia. But the fact that you think there is truth does not make you dangerous. As I said before, there’s an opposite kind of danger that precisely someone who creates an atmosphere that there is no truth is exposed to, or creates. Because where there is no…
[Speaker B] But I only want to distinguish between saying there is no truth and saying we are not capable of reaching it—we know in advance we won’t reach it. The distance here between the two statements is very small. Is there truth, or is it impossible to reach?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Again, we’re back to the distinction I made; that’s why I distinguished between the three questions. I distinguished because I deal with each one separately.
[Speaker D] Another question: in what way is this Jewish law mainly different from what Rabbi Soloveitchik talks about with Halakhic Man? Isn’t it the same thing?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] When Rabbi Soloveitchik talks about Halakhic Man, that really is an interesting analogy, it’s very similar. Because he arrives with certain patterns—you can call them Platonic—and he looks at reality through those patterns. But I think the plane Rabbi Soloveitchik is dealing with is not the plane I’m talking about. And that’s actually an interesting distinction, now that you bring it up. For example, one of the examples he gives there: you see, I don’t know, sunrise or sunset—right, the setting of the sun—and immediately what comes to mind is one who immersed that day, or yes, a practical implication for corpse impurity, and the like. Meaning, you see a spring, you see that a zav can purify himself in it, the whole world around you. Right, I once heard a vort, a Hasidic little saying of Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda—this is the kind of vort that infuriates me. It says that “whoever walks on the road and interrupts his learning and says, ‘How beautiful is this tree,’ is liable for his life.” So Rabbi Tzvi Yehuda, that’s what people said, said that anyone who thinks that when he says “How beautiful is this tree” that counts as interrupting his learning—he is liable for his life. Because ostensibly that’s part of his learning; it’s not interrupting his learning. So Rabbi Soloveitchik is basically saying the same thing from the other side. He’s basically saying: when I look at “How beautiful is this tree,” from my perspective it’s simply the laws of orlah. Meaning I don’t see the tree; I’m not interrupting my learning. Even when I look at the tree I continue to see it in terms of my halakhic learning. But I don’t think Rabbi Soloveitchik is talking about utopias in the sense of behavioral values. Meaning, as far as I remember, in that book Rabbi Soloveitchik does not talk about whether I have a clear utopia that dictates how I behave. And I’m talking about Platonism in that sense. Meaning, there is a difference between seeing the world around me through various halakhic categories—he compares it to mathematics, right, just as a mathematician basically looks at patterns in the world and associates them with mathematical structures he brings with him, so too the Halakhic Man’s structures are the structures of Jewish law. But nowhere, I think, does he speak about the cruelty or the inflexibility Popper is talking about. Meaning, that I have some particular pattern and I’ll trample the whole world to force it into that pattern. Like the communists did on one side, the Nazis on the other side, and various ISIS types, doesn’t matter—all the extremists, basically. Their extremism starts with the fact that they have a Platonic utopia, some idea detached from the world—they have an idea. And now they want to take that idea and impose it on the world. And if someone doesn’t agree, we’ll rape him, we’ll kill him; people are oil on the wheels of the revolution, as the communists said. Meaning, people are objects, they are means, they are not ends. The ideology basically begins with being intended for people, and at some stage it turns into an end in itself, and then people suddenly start serving the ideology, instead of the ideology serving the people. And then people get trampled on the way to realizing the utopia. And I expanded this afterward to the moral saint—right, I also talked about the moral saint, in an article by Sarah Stroud—where she says: what is problematic about people who conduct their whole lives according to formulated, conceptualized, defined moral principles? These are terribly mechanical people. Meaning, every situation they encounter, they basically analyze through moral categories and decide to act according to what comes out of their ethical or logical analysis of the situation. And there is something problematic in that kind of morality—you could call it mechanical morality, Platonic morality—as opposed, say, to the natural, flowing morality of a person who is naturally kindhearted. So someone here rightly noted—Menachem, I think—that this is in fact what follows from Kantian morality, and I’m getting to that in a moment. Menachem, is that the family name? Sorry. So Kantian morality really does tell us to live in light of principles. Well-defined principles. But even if you have defined principles, I think there are two ways to implement them. There’s the flowing way and the mechanical way. I don’t remember if I told this here once—I told it in other contexts—the first year when I taught in Yeruham, the first class of the yeshiva, in the hesder yeshiva. The first class of the yeshiva, so the first one to get married there, so we all went to the wedding, all the guys and the teachers, we were at the wedding, and I was standing there with one of the teachers at the wedding, and I said to him: look how the guys from his class, from his cohort, are dancing—each one dances the way he learns. I showed him: look, you see? This one dances like this, the whole thing flows through his limbs, you can see that he dances naturally, he’s a dancer in his soul. There’s someone else who is a mechanical dancer, meaning he’s constantly—right, the Yemenite step, that was it—so he’s constantly thinking, how do Ashkenazim do a Yemenite step? It always becomes mechanical like that: you stop and calculate what to move now, this leg and then that hand, and you see that it moves like that—every time there’s a result of the calculation, it moves. It’s discrete, not continuous. But it’s this sort of thing where you make a calculation and then act—it’s like a robot. And these people danced exactly the way they learned. Meaning, someone who learns in a technical, mechanical, very analytical way, also danced that way. And someone who says sevarot, what seems logical to him, the balabos, right, the balabos—he also dances that way. And Kant, on the one hand, since you mentioned Kant, Kant says on the one hand not to be a balabos, right, to go with principles; there are defined, formulated principles. But that does not mean that when you apply them, you apply them mechanically. There’s a big difference. Meaning, if you manage to internalize this within yourself, then you can go with your principles but in a dynamic way. And then what happens is that even if you have principles before your eyes, you look around at reality—you do not trample it. You check what is happening in reality, what reality dictates, what can be done, what can’t be done, what is the most proper way to do it. It’s not always possible to do it all the way; reality is more complex, so sometimes you have to compromise. So even if you have principles—and I’m very much not preaching the absence of principles—I do think there is something in clinging to principles, in this mechanicalness, this mechanical morality, this clinging to sources, to principles, that is very problematic. It’s very hard to live with ideological people—we know that. Ideological people, everything… and one should appreciate people who are ideological, who have an ideology and check their steps each time against the ideology and act as they understand to be the right behavior—that deserves appreciation. But on the other hand, worthy of appreciation, but not next to me. Meaning, not in my school. I don’t want to live next to human beings like that. Because such people often… I told you there was someone I knew who said, there are no friends, I have no friends, I have fellow travelers. Meaning, I have friends who are really with me in my ideology. Friendship in the simple human sense—I love him, I’m his friend, I care for him—that does not exist for him. And in certain respects Sarah Stroud takes this to an extreme too: what happens if my friend turns out to be a criminal? Will I protect him? Won’t I protect him? On the one hand, properly speaking, I shouldn’t protect him. So he’s your friend—so what? If he’s a criminal, properly speaking he should be dealt with. On the other hand, there is also value to friendship. It is not true that friendship has no value. They talked about parents—parents and children, even. If my child turns out to be a criminal, should I cut off relations with him? No. I shouldn’t ignore it; it should be dealt with. But still, my relation to him will be different from my relation to another criminal. Because there is something in the relationship of closeness, in friendship.
[Speaker E] The question is whether I have to turn him in. That’s the hard question. Can you hear? The question is not whether to cut off relations; the question is whether I need to turn him in.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s one of the expressions of it. Now sometimes maybe yes, sometimes no, I don’t know—it requires… it’s more complex. I don’t have a clear and sweeping answer for all situations. I’m only saying that in these situations two values are in play. People think that, value-wise, I’m supposed to relate to my son the same way I relate to everyone else. Right, I have psychology, instincts, emotions, so sometimes I don’t manage that. I argue: no. Friendship, or parenthood, or the bond, is also a value—it’s not just an instinct. It’s a value, and that value has to be taken into account. That’s what Sarah Stroud talks about—the value. Is friendship a value, or is it only a given condition and one has to overcome friendly instincts in order to behave correctly in a Kantian way, right, to act objectively and equally? So on the one hand there’s something to that, but on the other hand it’s not just instinct; there’s something deeper here.
[Speaker B] Rabbi, basically where the Rabbi is heading here, the way I read it—and of course the Rabbi won’t agree to this—is toward the place of emotion, because the rigidity is rational rigidity.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You were right to say that I won’t agree. I don’t agree because in my view morality—I think we’ve argued about this more than once—morality in my view is not located in emotion but in the intellect. But even in the intellect itself there are two wings. Meaning, there is the analytical, structured wing—the left hemisphere of the brain—and there is the wing of the right hemisphere, and both are the brain, not the heart. But even in the brain there are two hemispheres, and the right hemisphere is more creative, more flowing, less analytical and formal. And I think that in morality there is great importance to what I will now call feeling. You call it emotion; I call it feeling, because to my mind feeling reflects intellectual insights, not emotion. Emotion is bias. And there are unformulated intellectual insights—they don’t come through formulated principles—but it’s still very important to take them into account. It’s not the evil inclination. Right, there are those who say that this is the evil inclination; you have to let the intellect rule over it—assuming that the intellect is only the left-side wing. Meaning, the intellect is the mathematical part of our thinking. No. In our thinking there is also some more flowing part, which belongs to the right hemisphere. In the brain that’s the right hemisphere. I’m talking about the intellect; the brain is the organ through which this is realized or expressed. It’s like saying I walk with my legs, so I think with my brain. But what thinks is the intellect, not the brain. But in the brain it is divided between the hemispheres in that way. Fine.
[Speaker B] After all, Eichmann at his trial said he was a Kantian—he was attentive to what mattered.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He was a Kantian of the kind…
[Speaker B] Now what could have saved Eichmann? If he had had compassion. He would have said, yes yes, I’m a Kantian, but I can’t ignore compassion. And that’s emotion.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, on the contrary—I’ll tell you more than that. You know, I was at a conference this Sabbath on free will, and there was some woman there, some doctoral student in something, I don’t remember what, and she said that we see that Hamas drugged themselves before they committed their atrocities on October seventh, and the Nazis too, as is known—there are documented cases where before carrying out a mass execution they got drunk. And she said: so you see that people really do not act out of free will. And then I caught her afterward during the break and told her that she was making a bitter mistake. Meaning, these actions are the most free-willed actions there are. Because what is happening is that these people decided that this is the right thing to do—to kill infidels or Jews or whoever. But what can you do? They have instincts or tendencies, like every human being has, and therefore they were afraid that those instincts would not let them realize their free will, their true values. So what did they do? They suppressed those instincts, or blurred those instincts, through drinking wine or drugs or whatever it was, and then what happened? They were able to realize what they truly thought was right. Meaning, the drinking and that masking they engaged in was a masking of emotion. And what is lacking in the end, I think, is not their emotion, but the fact that they thought this was the right thing to do. That’s the problem—not that they lacked emotion. Or alternatively, I would say that if you treat that thing as emotion, that’s the problem, because then basically you need to drink wine to overcome it and do what’s right. But if you understand that this thing is not emotion but rather the right side of your thinking—right side not necessarily in the political sense, though there is a connection—but the right side of your thinking, then you take it seriously. So it’s not just some instinct or emotional bias; it really is part of the reckoning of what is right or how one should act. And then you don’t drink wine to suppress it; you also take it into account when you come to determine how you behave. So it sounds like a semantic difference—whether you call it intuition or call it emotion—but to my mind it’s a very important difference. Because if you treat it as emotion, then basically that means: okay, so it’s something embedded in me, I need to overcome it, because I have to do what is right. That’s Kantianism in its rigid sense, right? By contrast, if I say no, this is not emotion, this is another side of thinking, the side of Kahneman’s System One and System Two, right? There is some system that works not through formal formulation but through these primary intuitions, and one must take them into account too, not only the analytical, mathematical, philosophical, formulated calculation. And very often we feel that as part of our duty to strengthen the intellect over emotion, we actually have to strengthen the analytical part over the synthetic or intuitive part—and that’s not right. We need to strengthen it over emotion, but not over the synthetic and intuitive part, and that’s not the same thing. And that is my claim.
[Speaker B] So in the end we’re not disagreeing, Rabbi, sorry to say.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, so that’s why I’m saying the difference is in the question of how we label this thing. You call it emotion; I call it… an instinct that comes out of the way I’m built, so that’s not something I would take into account. If you’re telling me that this is a kind of perception that doesn’t pass through philosophical conceptualization, then that I do agree with. What you call it, why should I care? Choose whatever name you want. That’s the important point here. So in the end, the claim is that there is, there is, as Popper said, and Straud and everyone point to the great danger in ideologies. Ideology is always Platonic thinking. Platonic thinking means I have some model, some kind of utopia, and I strive toward it. And I’ll run over the whole world, I’ll impose my utopian template on it, and everything that doesn’t fit will be trampled. Yes, I, I’ll destroy it. But, and here, here there’s some kind of missing point, it seems to me, in this way of thinking, because I don’t think this argument is supposed to make us give up utopias. This argument is supposed to make us cautious in implementing utopias. Meaning, I have utopias, but there’s also a world. You have to pay attention to what’s around us here, what, what we’re doing with it. Are we acting this way, acting another way, where to compromise, where to be flexible, while in the end, in the end, I still want to reach some state that in my eyes is the right state. I’m not giving up Platonism in this softer sense. I am giving up rigid Platonism. Platonism that sees no world, only utopia, and imposes the utopia on the world. In a great many ideological societies it’s like that, yes? From the communists to Har Hamor. Meaning, this is, it’s the same outlook, the same attitude. Meaning, you have some templates, and you impose those templates on reality. If something doesn’t fit, you find excuses, but in the end, in the end, you have to impose them on reality. But reality is more complex, and it doesn’t always fit your templates. And you need to pay attention, sometimes to correct the templates, sometimes to consider how to implement the templates, when to implement them, whether to implement them, to what extent to implement them. You have to live the world too; it’s not enough to go around with templates and live in the Platonic world of ideas. And in that sense I think that non-Platonism, or the alternative proposed by the critics of Platonism, is no less dangerous. As some, some writers have said about this—I bring some of them in Two Wagons—someone who recoils from Platonism, in my language, someone who recoils from Platonism and therefore doesn’t want ideologies because ideologies are dangerous—after all, Rabin was murdered because of ideology—will arrive at a world without ideology, where people murder without any connection to one goal or another. Meaning, I don’t think it’s right to give up ideology; you need to give up ideologies. That is, the question is how much you let ideology lead you—not as, as, not as some distant vision, but as something that dictates every step you take. That’s very dangerous. But not the very existence of ideology. In the murder of Rabin, the claim came up many times: there, you see where religious faith can lead—to the murder of a prime minister. So I said to several people who spoke to me about it: so what are you suggesting? That I stop believing in God? Because someone murdered Rabin? I believe in Him—that’s the fact. What do you want me to do with that? So yes, religious faith can lead people to fanaticism, but that doesn’t mean it invalidates religious faith. It means that someone who believes in religious faith—that’s a fact, that’s what I believe in—has to pay attention to how he implements it.
[Speaker E] How far do the red lines go? Based on what do we decide? We keep discussing and discussing and discussing, but we’ve stayed in the same place—we still don’t know where the red line is. What’s permitted, what’s forbidden. Was Pinchas, who killed there I don’t know how many millions—is that okay, not okay? What? Fine, yes, we know the dilemma, but I don’t see
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] how you get to a decision.
[Speaker E] At what point do I stop being ideological and light a cigarette on the way to the hospital on the Sabbath if I had to drive? So should I light a cigarette or not? What? Where do all these things stand?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’ll answer you. Look, questions of this kind are exactly what lead to rigid Platonism. Because then people say, look, you’re just floundering around—you have a vision, but you’re not carrying it out. You’re “lite.” Know the term “lite”? That’s basically the accusation against the lites. The accusation against the lites comes from ideological groups like the Hardalim, who say that anyone who doesn’t implement the ideology in every single step is lite. But that’s not true. Sometimes he is lite, but sometimes he isn’t. Sometimes he understands that ideology has its proper place, but reality is more complex. Now how do you know when and to what extent to implement it? You’re looking for rigid rules that will define that too, but you understand that if there are rigid rules that define that too, then I’ve gone right back to being a rigid Platonist. The whole point is that I listen to the environment, and I have some common sense that tells me how and when it is proper to act, and I’m not looking for rigid rules in order to know where and how much to implement. That’s exactly the point. I don’t believe in rigid rules, and rigid rules are basically rigid Platonic ideology. That’s the dangerous thing, not the very existence of rules. I think I’ve mentioned more than once the character of the Talmud, which is very wary of rules. It is wary of rules in the world of legal thought. In that context this is a dispute between positivism and casuistry. Right, meaning, casuistry is the case-based approach. I have cases, and I understand what happens in each case, and I make analogies to another case—that’s British common law. And positivism is German law, the Bundeslaw. So that’s an outlook that says there are rules, and the cases that come before me are private cases; I perform deduction from the rules. You see Nazism here, yes? You see this Platonic rigidity here that says: I have an ideology and I will apply it to the cases that come before me; all I need to do is deduction. A computer can basically issue halakhic rulings; you don’t need a human being. I have rules, and I apply them to the cases that come before me. But that kind of attitude is one that doesn’t really lead to truth. It’s an illusion. It’s fear of the softer kind of thinking—of analogies, of cases, of listening to reality rather than applying rigid rules to it. There’s fear of that because it can lead to all sorts of things, but walking by rules meanwhile seems to me to lead to worse things. And therefore even now, yes, you
[Speaker F] see that in the interaction between the rigid people and the softer people, or the people who want to compromise, in that interaction the rigid one always wins, and the compromiser always comes out looking contemptible, because he supposedly gave up his principles. And this keeps repeating the whole way through.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A big mistake, a big mistake. Always—almost always—the flexible one wins. Except that it’s in the long term. In the short term, the rigid one will define the flexible one as lite, and as though he has the upper hand—he’s ideological, he’s attached to his values, and so on. In the long term, the flexible one wins. In the end, just think of World War II, I
[Speaker F] need to live long enough to know that.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We look at it from a historical perspective. I can’t always win in my own short term, and sometimes maybe not even in my lifetime. But in the end, flexibility wins. After all, in World War II it took six years, but in the end the Nazis lost. And in the struggle between democracy and non-democracy, true, in the short term—and we know some examples—in the short term democracies suffer because they tolerate even phenomena that threaten them, but in the end democracy goes farther and wins. And maybe I’ll bring another interesting example. Once I had a meeting with a very interesting man named Doron Avital. He was commander of Sayeret Matkal. We have a mutual friend; we met at his house for a discussion about the book. He wrote a book about the doctorate he did at Princeton, I think, on philosophy. It was called Philosophy in Action, I think that was the title of his book. And there he basically talks about military philosophy and shares from his experience in the army, philosophical implications tied to Wittgenstein’s philosophy and so on. I read the book, gave him comments, and afterward we met for a discussion. It was a very interesting discussion, I think. In general, the motto of his book—it’s a fascinating book, by the way, I recommend reading it—the motto of the book is basically this. The motto of his book was that when he was a commander in the army in the First Lebanon War in ’82, I think he was even court-martialed, or there was something with that story—he was a paratrooper company commander then, before he got to Sayeret Matkal. He was a paratrooper company commander and he ordered all his soldiers to go without flak jackets, in the field, in the middle of a war. To go without flak jackets because he decided that walking with flak jackets makes movement too heavy. True, it protects you, but it makes you heavier and you won’t be able to function in the field. And that was against orders, against regulations. He said: everybody takes off the flak jackets. Then there was an uproar over it and so on; it could be he was even court-martialed over it, I don’t remember exactly anymore. But there was a whole story around it. Because he gave an order that was illegal—the commanders had ruled that they had to go with flak jackets—and his claim was that this flexibility is in the end worth more than rigid protection. You know, like with tanks: when you have very heavy tanks they are very well protected, but they are slow, and therefore very vulnerable. The whole game in producing an advanced tank is how do we produce a tank that gives strong protection but isn’t too heavy. That’s why you need complex materials and light but protective materials, and rigid and so on. And he said even more than that. He said when he got to Sayeret Matkal, he apparently, if I’m… he apparently wrote their combat doctrine. He’s that kind of philosopher, so he probably really wrote out a whole structured, orderly combat doctrine there, but “structured and orderly” belongs to the right side, not the left side, not the left side of the brain. Meaning, he says for example that when they trained for an operation, he insisted not to simulate the real situation in a one-to-one model. Deliberately not. And not to place there—usually they would take mannequins from shop windows because that’s what most resembles a person, a human being, from clothing stores. And he would insist on putting abstract human outlines there and not mannequins like that, so that it would be an abstract person, a schematic person, not a person like you meet in the field. And why? If you create a model that accurately simulates what happens in the field, you become captive to the model and it breaks your flexibility. In the field nothing goes the way it does in training. There are always things you discover that don’t fit your model because you didn’t have the full information, because something changed, because someone there suddenly got creative, and you need to know how to respond to a reality that is not the reality you prepared for. And therefore in training he would constantly change the reality, even if they knew, even if they had information, he wouldn’t give the full information, he would change it, he would say okay, what happens if this, what happens if that, and he insisted on not making an exact model. And that is exactly the point. Even though he had information and the training was indeed designed to deal with the real model, when you train people you don’t put the real model before their eyes. You put some schematic structure with various possibilities; you train them in what they need to do in each situation. He linked this to Wittgenstein’s philosophy and all sorts of other things—a very interesting book. In any case, the claim is that—by the way, he also linked it to, or maybe I linked it to, I don’t remember anymore—to Aharon Barak. Aharon Barak, for example, with contract law—the claim that a contract, there are those who view a contract as something where what is written in the contract, what is derived from the contract, that is what binds. And Aharon Barak is often accused of basically—yes, the doctrine of good faith and so on—trying to find what the parties actually intended, not what is written in the contract. Which is basically a non-positivist approach, an approach that doesn’t go by rigid rules but by something softer. Then people say this essentially destroys legal certainty. You sign a contract and you don’t know what the judge will decide; you don’t know what the contract means, because what it says is not what binds, but rather what the judge thinks should be done is what binds. And that really is very problematic in the commercial world, in the world of contracts and the like. On the other hand, going with rigid positivism—Barak too has justice on his side. Meaning, going with rigid positivism according to the rules is something that in the end often will not bring justice. There is something here that forces you to be prepared to deviate from the simple rules in order to conduct yourself properly. Not because you shouldn’t have rules—you should have rules—but don’t apply them as-is. That’s the point. Be attentive to the environment, be flexible enough to understand how and whether to adapt them, and even though it looks lite, it looks unserious, inconsistent, uncommitted, right? No—that’s how you apply things correctly. I’m in favor of the ideology of lite. For me, lite is an ideology; it’s not an accusation.
[Speaker E] Right, we once had a guest in the yeshiva, and he spoke about this issue of being exact to the very end or being flexible. And he brought that well-known story of a guy who argued with him, and they argued about this issue, and then he said to him, okay, I’ll send you the answer by email, you’ll get it, and so on. Half a year later they meet, and the guy complained: you didn’t send it to me, you promised me an answer by email. He said to him, what do you mean I didn’t send it? I sent it. He said, to what address did you send it? He said the letters—everything matched perfectly. It didn’t arrive. Why? He said, ah, after the third letter there was supposed to be a dot. He said to him, I just didn’t have time, so I didn’t put in the dot—so what? And for him it was this kind of story to show that if you’re not precise all the way, exactly, the whole thing is worthless, it won’t get anywhere.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And that is exactly the Hardali mistake, or the Haredi mistake in general. The Hardali mistake more than the Haredi one.
[Speaker E] Okay, so what do we do? But the dilemma still exists to this day—what should we teach the children? How should we educate them? To go all the way, or to cut corners, cut corners and always remain mediocre?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What needs to be taught is that living lite in the sense I’m talking about is not mediocrity. Don’t give in to the Hardali propaganda. When you write an email address, you are dealing with machines. A computer is a machine. A machine works by rules; if there’s no dot, it won’t do what you want it to do. By the way, neural networks or AI already do things more flexibly; that’s already closer to human beings. But machines, in the sense of an email address—if you don’t write the dot, the email won’t be sent.
[Speaker E] That’s why when the whole world works like that—not only the machine, all of us.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Only the machine. When you deal with machines, you have to work exactly by the rules. And that is exactly the difference. When you deal with human beings, when you deal with the real world, the real world is not a machine. And someone who works exactly by the rules in the real world will arrive in very, very bad places. Very bad places. Rules never manage to capture the thing in a genuine way. Someone who uses—think, for example, because the example I always bring in this context is the use of language. You use language; someone who always speaks according to grammatical rules speaks bad language—mistaken, problematic language. Because there is some kind of natural rhythm to language; you understand when you need to bend the rule, round off a corner, when you need to deviate a little from the rule—certainly when you write poetry. Then you need somehow to understand how to maneuver. Now, you don’t throw away the rules; they’re there. But you need to know how and to what extent to apply them. Therefore, in the world, when you want to do something meaningful, you have to weigh the rules against reality. I can’t go straight at reality and impose the rules on it—you’ll simply break reality. Therefore this propaganda—this is exactly the propaganda I’m talking about with that email-address example. This image of human beings as computers is exactly the root of the terrible Platonism Popper describes. Because they think one should behave in the world like a computer. The peak of their utopia is that human beings become computers.
[Speaker E] Fine, so in the example of language, should we start saying “five shekel,” but others will say no, Hovi Rosenthal really
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] argues, Hovi Rosenthal really argues, there’s no problem at all with “five shekel.” If that’s what people say, then it’s slang.
[Speaker E] Right, so some say this and some say the opposite, so what—where are we poor people supposed to decide?
[Speaker F] But in the end you said—you see in practical life that in the Jewish-religious world, in the end, the leadership that dominates, even with regard to the lites, is the rigid leadership. And the lite person himself, in the public, sometimes looks down on the lite rabbi because he isn’t enough for him. He’s willing to be lite, but he doesn’t want his leader to be lite.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And that is
[Speaker F] a terrible affliction, because in the end everyone falls into line according to the rigidity.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, right, I completely agree, and I’ve written this more than once, and I’m also acting now in practice for the sake of this issue. Exactly because of this matter, because this propaganda about the lites penetrates so deeply into religious consciousness that even the lites themselves live that way—they internalize it. And for them the utopia is a Hardali utopia. Meaning, the synagogue in which he does not pray is only a Hardali synagogue. Meaning, no, yes—it’s like when I was in Yeruham. MK Michael Biton, he’s a good friend of mine, there was a period when some couple wanted to set up a Conservative minyan there. And they couldn’t do it—nobody came. So Michael Biton said to me, look, all of Yeruham are basically a kind of Conservatives, so how can it be that they can’t gather a minyan? So I said to him, look, the people of Yeruham are not Conservatives; the people of Yeruham are religious lites. Meaning, the synagogue in which they don’t pray is only an Orthodox synagogue. They’re not willing not to pray in a Conservative synagogue or to pray in a Conservative synagogue. They just won’t pray in the Orthodox synagogue. Yes, traditionalism and Conservatism are two completely different things. Until Buzaglo comes along and turns traditionalism into an ideology. But traditionalism as an original phenomenon is a traditionalism that basically says: in practice I’m Orthodox, I just don’t feel like it, it doesn’t suit me right now, so I’m not there. The Conservatives turn litetism into an ideology, and that he does not agree with. He is Orthodox, it’s just that he doesn’t observe anything—he doesn’t observe anything because he doesn’t feel like it—but he is Orthodox. He won’t come pray in a Conservative synagogue. So it’s exactly the same issue.
[Speaker F] So I wish you, I really do wish you, great success in that you’re beginning to work in practice to change this situation. Okay, thank you. I’m not, I’m not optimistic.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, look, I don’t know whether I’m optimistic or not, but you have to try to do something. That’s for sure.
[Speaker D] A somewhat different story, a somewhat different story. The rabbi of Brisk was very rigid. So there’s a story with Rabbi Chaim Ozer, who disagreed with him. He said that he didn’t take reality into account, and he said, it’s good that there are people like the rabbi of Brisk, who remind us at least what the rules are. I may be more compromising, but it’s good that there are people like that.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. I completely agree with that reservation. And I think a world that was entirely Lithuanian would really be a Lithuanian world. Because then we’re already following our natural feelings, and we’re completely abandoning the principles that after all are also supposed to be taken into account—not only reality. And sometimes we can forget the principles and just flow with reality, and for that we have all sorts of fanatics like these, yes, who go all the way with their principles. So they are not right. But they do have important added value, because they always remind us that there’s another side that has to be taken into account—not only reality, there are also principles. But the fact that they are important doesn’t mean they are right. It’s good that there are such people, but not in our school. Meaning, it’s important, but I don’t think they are right. I completely agree with the statement that this is important. There is something in this Haredi or Hardali fanaticism that is always breathing down our necks. It always says to us, wait, wait, pay attention, there are principles here too. Not only life exists in the world; principles do too. And you need to know how to apply the principles to life—so that life does not prevail, because that is Reform, and so that principles do not prevail, because that is Hardalism. Rather, there is something in common sense that says: take the principles, the same principles as theirs, but they need to be implemented in life. And in life there is common sense. A friend of mine once gave me a nice example. He said that there is no one who does not stumble in gossip almost. Here, I just said gossip. Meaning, there is no one who does not stumble in gossip. So why shouldn’t there be a recommendation to live in some cave? Like Maimonides says, to flee to the deserts and live in a cave so as not to stumble in gossip. Ostensibly, that is the required conclusion from relating to Jewish law as it is. Why live here and risk all sorts of prohibitions? Live alone in a cave. Today I even think that by Zoom you can make a minyan, so you can even pray with a minyan there. But never mind—even if you don’t pray with a minyan, you won’t stumble in gossip. But no one recommends doing that. Even Maimonides, who wrote that, I don’t think he would recommend it. Why not? Because there is something—the Torah was not given to ministering angels. The Torah was given to be implemented in our world. And our world, with all its stumbling blocks and challenges and the difficulties it creates and the struggles—everything is true, and it will lead to failures. But that does not mean I need to go to a monastery so that there I can do things perfectly. No. The Torah was given in order to be implemented in this world, not in a monastery, not in Noah’s Ark—in Haredi language that’s what they call monasteries, Noah’s Ark. So I say no, it should be neither in Noah’s Ark nor in a monastery; it should be in the street. The people in the fields must keep the Torah. And yes, there are prices to that, and it will not be kept in a pure and complete and pristine way. And it is very good that that is so; it is not only after the fact—this is how it should be. Because ideology is like the stubborn and rebellious son: it never was, never existed, and never will be. So why was it written? Study it and receive reward. What does that mean? The stubborn and rebellious son was written in order to mark for us, to signal to us, a direction. But anyone who imagines implementing it in practice is crazy. Meaning, obviously you do not implement it in practice. What, you demand of parents to kill their child because he stole a tartemar of meat and drank a log of wine? Obviously not. But there is some statement there that is very important to have written in the Torah—that this is a dangerous phenomenon and one must pay attention to it, to the point that it is as if he deserves death. Fine. So the Sages already do all the tricks there so that this thing ceases to be practical, or cannot be practical. But there is a tension here between two things. Meaning, on the one hand there is the section of the stubborn and rebellious son, and there are those who would lament our bitter fate that people in this world do not implement the law of the stubborn and rebellious son, because parents love their child and will not bring him to be killed if he steals a tartemar of meat. Fine, but that is not something to lament. These instructions are supposed to be implemented in our world, within the world of human beings, with all the challenges and constraints and everything. And we need to use common sense in order to know whether to implement, how much to implement, until when to implement, to play with the rules in such a way that I still remain faithful to them. But there is also a world, there is also reality. And you need to understand how I maneuver between the rules and reality. And this is the same thing everyone misses, both the Hardalim and Popper who criticizes them. Both miss it. There’s some noise here. Both the Hardalim and Popper who criticizes them, both miss it. Because the Hardalim miss it, Hardalim as ideological societies, because as I said before, they impose the utopia on reality. But Popper, who accuses them of this and therefore demands that they give up utopias—he misses it too. There should be a utopia. There should be a utopia that is my vision, but there is also a reality within which it has to be implemented. So I do not give up the utopia; I give up the rigidity in the way of implementing it, or in its interpretation, in its realization, okay? It’s a very delicate business. So rigid Platonism really is a problematic thing. Platonism in itself is not only something blessed, but in my view also something correct. There need to be utopias, there need to be ideals that guide us how to move forward. But you need to know that when you implement them in life, yes? I was asked more than once on the website—and now I’m already just going by associations. I simply haven’t yet started what I planned. I was once asked on the website, I don’t remember anymore, in several contexts, about the Kantian principle of morality, yes, do what you would want to become a universal law. And then it would turn out that the world would be destroyed. Meaning, if people did that, the world would be destroyed. And I told them that there are situations in which the Kantian principle—that you should do what you would want to become a universal law—is a correct principle. But there are other correct principles too. And sometimes another correct principle can override the Kantian principle. Someone who thinks that the Kantian principle is morality and there is none beside it, and applies it all the time as-is, will not get far. It is a correct principle, I completely accept it, I wrote about it, I identify with it, all true. But it is not the only player in the arena. There is reality. There is sometimes some common sense that tells you, look, but here you need to understand that there are other systems, other principles, other constraints, because of which it is not right to apply the Kantian principle. I need to look for the examples—there are very nice examples of this on my site, several times, where people say, wait, according to the Kantian principle one should have done such-and-such. And I said not to do such-and-such. Why? Because there are other principles besides the Kantian principle. As who was it—Groucho Marx said, I don’t remember: I have wonderful principles, but if you don’t like them, I have others. Meaning, if you don’t like them, I have more, I have others too. And I say that positively, not negatively. Meaning, there is something here that praises flexibility, praises litetism, and this is Platonism in its negative sense. And again—not postmodernism, which is the same outlook that says, okay, so let’s throw out all ideologies because they’re dangerous. That takes it too far. I am not throwing out ideologies. I implement them carefully and flexibly, attentively. Okay? But not that I give up ideologies. There are things I believe in. I’m not going to give up what I believe in. But I hope that won’t lead to murdering a prime minister, or murder at all, even before murdering a prime minister. Right? Because it can get there. So you need to implement it delicately, but not throw the baby out with the bathwater. Not say that because it leads to murder, therefore I’ll throw out ideologies. That’s throwing the baby out with the bathwater, because after all, I believe in them. Maybe I mentioned once—I was in my family, my sister married someone from a communist family. And they’re all from Yad Hanna, yes, a communist family, devout, genuine, not communism just from the lips outward. A real communist heritage. And when my brother-in-law’s father passed away, I was at the funeral; the funeral was in Yad Hanna. Yad Hanna was the only truly communist kibbutz there was in Israel. Others were close, here and there, Mapam and the like, but an actual communist kibbutz—there was only one, only Yad Hanna. And Tamar Gozansky is from there, yes, who was a translator, a writer, appeared on television—she is my brother-in-law’s half-sister. In any case, at the funeral there was all this wailing—it was a funeral for communism, not a funeral for my brother-in-law’s father. All of them there, all the communists in the country gathered there, around three hundred. I think just about all of them were there. And they understood that that’s what it was, and they mourned the fact that the world no longer—they were no longer relevant. They are at the margins of history. And in the course of it I met some economist, a professor at the Hebrew University, I forgot his name, some redhead, who is a member of the Communist Party to this day. And my daughter started arguing with him, never mind, we talked and it was very interesting. And he said, listen, we’ve disillusioned ourselves of our great utopias. We no longer have that kind of utopia of full equality and so on. We know that without a free market the world today can’t function—that we understood. I asked him, so in what sense are you a communist? So he told me, because I’m still seeking the truth, still want to fix things. He’s willing to make changes. I told him, that’s not a definition of communism—that’s a definition of people who want to improve the world. People who want to improve the world exist in all kinds of directions. World-improvers of the communist type are people who want to make change, but a certain kind of change. Meaning, what defines—In what sense are you a communist? I think what confused him was that he does believe in communism, in the content of communism. But the thing is, he understands that in our world it isn’t implementable. So the vision remains a communist vision, but he does not really want to implement it now, because he understands that trying to implement it would lead to what happened in the Soviet Union under Stalin, Lenin, Stalin, and the whole gang. Meaning, he understands that implementation can no longer be trampling implementation of the kind the old communists thought, but he lives with the same vision. In that sense he is a true communist. And therefore he did not know how to define for himself and for me the distinction I made here. This distinction that says: I remain with the vision, but I understand that its implementation needs to be more attentive, flexible, soft—something where I cannot simply charge straight toward the vision and trample everything in the way. But he does remain with the vision; he is a communist, he defines himself as a communist. And that is exactly this failure of distinction, the fact that he could not define in what sense he is a communist—that is the same mistake as Popper’s. It is the same mistake as all the mistakes I talked about today. This mistake that says: I do not give up my vision, my utopia, my Platonic ideals, but I understand there is a world and I am attentive to it and I need to understand how to implement this and when and to what extent and so on. But all the time in the background I have that vision, and I really do strive toward it—just not head-on. I strive in this way, in that way, and apparently I also won’t finally reach the vision exactly as it is, but that’s okay, that’s how the world is. It’s an interaction between theory and practice. This interaction creates something more complete and more correct than ideology by itself or practice by itself. And that is one of the reasons I agree with Professor Turkel’s reservation, when he said that true, but it is very important that there be people who constantly remind me of the ideology. From the perspective of that redheaded fellow, it is very important that there be true communists who also want to implement it exactly as it is. They are very dangerous, they are killers, but if they are not there, then he will not remain a communist. Like Rav Chaim in the well-known story—Rabbi Chaim of Brisk said, if I am lenient in the laws of nat bar nat of the same day, then the poultry apprentice in Paris will worship idols. Meaning, there is something in this determined dogmatism of the hard Platonists that is important—important that it be there—so that we remember that reality is a terribly powerful thing; it always takes us captive. It is very easy for us to go along with it and forget where we are going and what principles we believe in, because it isn’t practical and it isn’t this, okay, so let’s leave the principles and just flow with life. Then we really do become the lite phenomenon. But I think lite in the real sense is not lite at all, and not second-class, and not someone weak who doesn’t implement principles, but someone who understands that the implementation of principles must be done in a more flexible way. And this is an ideal approach from the outset; it is not weakness. And once I explain this—or if I succeed in explaining it to people—it seems to me that it rescues many of them from the consciousness, from the self-perception, of themselves as lites, as second-class. Because very many people who perceive themselves as such—there are many who are indeed like that—but there are many who perceive themselves as such and they are not. They were forced into that box because what was presented to them was either rigid Platonism or nihilism. Yes, or nothing. And that’s not right—there is non-rigid Platonism, and that is what it seems to me Popper also missed. And therefore when he criticizes Platonism, he throws out the baby with the bathwater. He doesn’t want ideologies at all. I say: if you believe in communism, be a communist. But when you implement it, pay attention—you don’t need to kill people in order to help them. Communism is intended to help people, and you’re basically killing everyone in order to help them; in the end there’ll be no one left to help. And in that sense you need to be attentive to the matter, but remain with your position, don’t give it up. And the fact that the world is recalcitrant, that it doesn’t cooperate with your ideologies, does not mean you need to give up the ideologies. It only means you need to know how to implement and how to progress toward them, to update them, or whatever you want to call it. Okay, that’s the point, and I see that the whole meeting has gone on this issue. What I had actually planned to do today—I’ll just say in one sentence so you can see how it connects—what I had actually planned to do today was to speak a bit about morality, Kantian morality and realism, what’s called moral realism. The claim will be, and I’ll do that next time, that at the foundation of morality there do exist Platonic ideals. Morality is not floating rules. It is not a collection of principles, social conventions, and the like. Rather, there is a very, very clear Platonic conception at the foundation of morality, because otherwise there is no morality. But, as I said here, soft Platonism, not rigid Platonism. So in that sense, everything I said here in the end I’ll try to demonstrate in the field of ethics. Right. On questions of morality. Okay. I’ll stop here, I didn’t even get to start it. If there are comments or questions.
[Speaker G] Okay, I wanted to ask a few things. First of all, regarding the lite public, what came up here in the discussion. A sociological question. What I’m exposed to and know is something that more resembles the Rabbi’s definition of Reform Jews—that is, people whose attitude to the principles of Jewish law and faith, let’s call it, is more pragmatic, and if it works for me, good, but if it clashes with other values, there’s no conflict. And you don’t agree with that distinction?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I don’t know, I don’t know what the majority is; I didn’t do statistics. But you need to pay attention to an important point. A great many of the people are led to be like that דווקא because of the stigmas or stereotypes imposed by the conservatives. Meaning, the moment someone tells you, look, Judaism is this. Anyone who doesn’t implement it even against reality and against everything is lite, Reform, I don’t know what. Now I, as someone who is not some great philosopher, just an ordinary person, not some great philosopher, say: okay, if that’s Judaism, then I’m not there. I don’t believe in it. Now if you present him with an alternative and say to him, look, but there is another option. True, that is Judaism, but that is the ideal of Judaism; the implementation of Judaism has to be done in a way that is attentive to the world. And you tell him that this is an approach from the outset, not a weakness. Then it could be that very many of the people who behave like Reform Jews, as you described before, will suddenly understand that this is not their real place. Their real place is here. Not lites—they are lite in the sense I’m talking about. Many, many people behave like the lites you described, but only because they don’t have the conceptual framework through which they can create the identity in which they really believe—the third identity, yes?—in which they really believe. The moment you give them that slot, he suddenly finds himself located there. And then it could be that he really does also conduct himself more seriously. Because people are often pushed into being like that because there’s no room given to such an outlook. There is no such outlook. Either you are Hardali, or you are nothing, or you are Reform. There is nothing else. So if Judaism is Hardalism, then I’m not Jewish. That’s what many people say to themselves.
[Speaker G] I’ll try to think practically. For example, people who are not careful about sexual boundaries—whether in touch, or seclusion, or things like that—or Sabbath observance, because that just doesn’t fit with the world, there’s no getting around it. We don’t live in a world that allows that in a way
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] of “it doesn’t fit,” it doesn’t fit with the world—but when a person takes the constraints of the world into account, the implementation of that also has to be more flexible, even there. And when people see this lack of flexibility, yes, “he should not converse with her behind the fence, he should not converse—even if he dies,” yes? That rigidity around sexual prohibitions says to them, okay, this is not a system I’m willing to accept. So I’m not there. So no—then I don’t observe the laws of touch, as they call it today, right? No—then I’m not, I’m not there. And if you tell him, look, this is the system, and it sets you a challenge, and it is important to meet it, but we live in a world, and in our world there are these applications and those applications, and we do not believe—I do not believe—in separation between men and women, hysterical separation like in the Haredi world so that we not come to prohibitions. Not because it isn’t safer. It has its own problems too, the result of it, but—but true, one can fail if I don’t insist on separation, but I do not believe in a world of separation. And true, it can lead to problems. So I will have to deal with the problems. And once I present things that way, I think more people will be able to find themselves, from the outset, in such an outlook, and not find themselves detached from the halakhic or Jewish world.
[Speaker G] But how should I relate, for example, to a person who is in this dilemma, and let’s say he can’t observe seclusion because of work issues, because of one social situation or another, he just can’t keep it—how should I address this specific case with him in a conversation?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So you have to discuss things case by case. If there’s a situation where it’s impossible to keep this, it’s simply not the way the world works—people don’t keep it. Not to keep it, to be in seclusion. Because that’s just not how things are conducted. You mentioned it—there’s this phenomenon of “it just doesn’t work”; I’ve written and spoken about it more than once. There’s the prohibition against going to civil courts, right? That’s the example I often bring in the context of “it just doesn’t work.” What about the prohibition against resorting to the courts? It’s a severe prohibition, as though one planted an Asherah tree beside the altar, and all sorts of terribly severe things. But today, in everyday life, every normal person understands that even though he is committed to Jewish law and he’s not lax, he uses the court system. Why? Because in our reality, it just doesn’t work otherwise. You can’t function that way. And I said, this already appears in the Talmud—the concept of courts in Syria. The Talmud itself already says that this is how one should act. You need to be attentive to reality. Being attentive to reality does not mean I erased Jewish law. That’s always what the conservatives accuse you of: fine, you’re attentive, I get it—you’re not committed. You’re committed to nothing. You’re sloppy, you’re lax. No, that’s not true. I’m not lax, but I am attentive to reality. Because in my view, attentiveness to reality is part of the proper way to implement Jewish law.
[Speaker G] So in a case like this, is there supposed to be a conflict, or are you saying from the outset that this prohibition isn’t applicable?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, of course there’s a conflict. But I find some kind of outlet for it, because I’m committed to both things. When there’s a conflict between Jewish law and morality, or between two values within Jewish law, or between two moral values, in the end I arrive at a bottom line and that’s how I act. Does that mean there’s no conflict? There is a conflict. I’m committed to both, and they contradict each other. But I believe that since I’m committed to both, then the practical implementation has to take both into account. Meaning: to find the way to realize both of them in the best possible way.
[Speaker G] If I may, Rabbi, I want to add another comment in connection with what you said about the need for people who are ideological—let’s call it on the edge—and who dictate some kind of essence that sets something. In yeshiva we often learned Ein Ayah of Rabbi Kook on tractate Shabbat, on the story of Rabbi Yehuda, Rabbi Shimon, and Rabbi Yosi with the Romans—about what they instituted. So Rabbi Kook really analyzes it, that each of them was very, very similar to the groups the Rabbi defined: that Rabbi Shimon was—this is also how the people who taught us explained it, and they were mostly rabbis from Har Hamor—they defined themselves as, we are like Rabbi Shimon, who say the absolute truth, the pure ideological truth, without qualifications, without compromises, and live in some kind of cave. Then there’s Rabbi Yehuda, who did agree to it on a certain level and was willing to be in dialogue with it and to act in that context, and Rabbi Yosi, who kept silent, which is some kind of maybe—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Wait. My problem with that is that I can say it’s very important that such people exist. But the person who is like that—how does he justify his own conduct? In other words, the fact that it’s important for him to exist is true, but it’s not right to be that way. So when a person says, look, it’s important that I be this way—that’s not really it. Har Hamor says it’s important to be me; it’s not just important that I too appear on the map. Do you understand? That’s a different statement, and in my opinion they make that leap too quickly. And I’m willing to say that it’s very important that they, too, exist. But if I had to choose—clearly, that is an incorrect path. I don’t agree with it. The fact that this path is useful and important that it exist—that’s all true. But because of that, you yourself should act incorrectly? In other words, one should not behave that way. Now, when a person says, I behave this way because it’s important that I exist—that’s absurd, because if you yourself understand that it’s not right, then don’t be that way. So what will happen—who will be that way? Those who really think that way. But you, as someone who doesn’t think that way—it’s as if your teachers didn’t really think that way either. They understood that it wasn’t okay, but that it was important that they exist. If you’re in that mindset, then you’re not supposed to be that way. That’s something that should emerge after the fact. Since there are people who truly think that this is how one should behave, then I, as someone who thinks not, say yes—but it’s important that they exist. But from their point of view, they are that way because they truly think it’s right, not because they think it’s important that such people exist. Do you understand what I’m saying?
[Speaker G] Is this maybe related to the distinction between a person, privately, wanting to live in that kind of pure ideological way, versus saying this about a community—maybe a bit similar to that distinction?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, more than that. I think even a private individual shouldn’t behave that way. True, for a private person it is of course more feasible, more appropriate, and less harmful. But I’m saying that in principle, I don’t believe in that path. Meaning, whatever is not suitable for the many is not suitable for the individual either—that’s the categorical imperative. You should do what you would want to become a general law. But the point is this: I say there’s a difference—and this is what Rabbi Kook’s interpreters at Har Hamor don’t understand—there’s a difference between saying that problematic phenomena have positive consequences, and saying that therefore one should adopt them. Secular Zionism made an enormous contribution—what do I mean enormous? Without it there would be no state. Does that mean I should be a secular Zionist? A secular person—not Zionist, I mean a secular person. No, of course not. So the fact that I say it’s important that such people exist is not a justification for me to be one of them. I don’t think that’s right. That path is not right. After the fact, once it already exists, it’s important that such people exist. But that same person who behaves that way cannot himself behave that way because he thinks it’s important that such people exist. He has to behave that way because he truly thinks it’s right. In my opinion he’s mistaken, but it’s still important that he exist. But a person who says, look, I behave this way even though it’s not right, because it’s important that such people exist—that strikes me as ridiculous. If you think it’s not right, don’t do it. There’s a difference between justifying a phenomenon after the fact and producing it from the outset, or recognizing its importance once it already exists, versus saying, I—
[Speaker G] One hundred percent, thank you.
[Speaker E] So I have a brother—we always tell this story about him—who one Sabbath opened the refrigerator and discovered that he had forgotten to disconnect it. So what did we do? Anyway, the story is that he took a chair and put it by the door so it wouldn’t close. I already committed one transgression once; I don’t want to again. Is that how it is? Is that how one should act? To put a chair there so as not to close the door?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes. What’s the problem? Not “always”—that’s exactly the point. I’m not saying that whenever reality creates a problem, Jewish law is nullified or cancelled.
[Speaker E] That’s obvious. But that means wanton destruction, all the food in there goes bad, the cost, everything—what?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Your food won’t spoil that quickly if the door stays open just two centimeters so that the light won’t turn off; the refrigerator will still more or less keep cooling, so it’s not terrible. If there really are situations with extreme consequences, then you have to discuss each case on its own. There’s asking a non-Jew to do it, there are all kinds of solutions, never mind—but yes, then you really have to start discussing it. That’s exactly the point. So that’s exactly this tension between fanaticism that refuses to discuss, and someone who completely erases the principles and says, well, if it doesn’t suit me then I just won’t keep it. That’s exactly what I’m talking about—the middle path between those two extremes. Good.
[Speaker B] Rabbi, I assume the Rabbi probably won’t agree with me, but if we—after all, they are captive to this myth of weakness of will, which all of us have managed to internalize, and therefore they relate to themselves the way they do. If we understood that this is a myth, then the whole ethos would collapse, because they do what they believe, and they need to stand behind it—each person according to the level of his belief and the level of authenticity he attributes to himself.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, fine, I completely agree. Okay, have a peaceful Sabbath, may there be good news. Have a peaceful Sabbath. Good news.