Disputes: History and Essence – Rabbi Michael Abraham – Lesson 4
This transcript was produced automatically using artificial intelligence. There may be inaccuracies in the transcribed content and in speaker identification.
🔗 Link to the transcript on Sofer.AI
Table of Contents
- The argument over “why don’t you come to us”
- The paradox of moral credit for tolerance
- Persuasion versus coercion and the situation at the Midrasha
- Grounding tolerance in respect for autonomy
- Pluralism and monism as different fields and a conceptual opposition
- The practical difference: openness and dialogue
- Missionary activity, freedom of argument, and speech laws
- The radius of tolerance: boundaries, cost, and seriousness
- Ending the meeting and checking for leaven
Summary
Overview
The speaker confronts the claim that Haredim “get into the guts” of secular people in Yeruham, while the secular people do not come preach or try to bring people to repentance in the Haredi neighborhood. He shows that the various reasons given for non-interference carry no moral credit when they are based on self-interest or lack of point. He concludes that the concept of “tolerance” becomes coherent only when it means refraining from coercion out of a value-based rationale of respecting the other person’s autonomy—specifically in a monistic world, where there is truth and error. He distinguishes between tolerance and pluralism as belonging to different semantic fields, and even opposing ones, and argues that pluralism neuters openness and dialogue, whereas monism can generate genuine openness. He adds that tolerance is not infinite, but depends on a radius dictated by the severity of the harm and by how much the person is worthy of respect through seriousness, maturity, and expertise. He ends with a technical comment about the next meeting around checking for leaven.
The argument over “why don’t you come to us”
The speaker asks why secular people do not come to the Haredi neighborhood to persuade or coerce, and rejects one explanation after another, such as “each righteous person shall live by his faith” and pluralism, no chance of persuading him because he is a “fanatic,” indifference to the fact that he is “screwing himself over,” and fear of backlash if they come bother him. He argues that each such reason is just a reasonable explanation in terms of utility, time, self-interest, or pointlessness, and therefore does not deserve moral credit as tolerance. He presents himself as a monist who thinks he is right and they are wrong, and portrays his attempt to persuade them as a caring and noble act meant to prevent harmful error.
The paradox of moral credit for tolerance
The speaker concludes that when there is a rational reason not to come coerce or persuade, the non-interference is not tolerance but calculation. He argues that in order to receive “moral credit” for tolerance, all the reasons that would seemingly justify intervention must actually be present—including the belief that the other is mistaken, that the mistake is harmful, that you care about him, that you have a chance of influencing him, and that you do not fear backlash. He asks: if all of those conditions hold, then “why not come already, for heaven’s sake?” He reaches a crisis point where it seems that tolerance becomes “idiocy,” or else that “there is no such thing as tolerance.”
Persuasion versus coercion and the situation at the Midrasha
The speaker argues that the discussion was “absurd,” because he himself did not come to persuade anyone, but “just came to learn” with “eight or nine guys” who wanted a bit of Jewishness. He says they were afraid it would roll into persuasion. He describes the Midrasha as a public place intended for lecturers at Ben-Gurion University, and asks whether they would accept him as a physics doctoral student. They answer that they would, according to criteria—but he emphasizes that “for some reason there isn’t a single religious person there,” and accuses them of hypocrisy and of operating “behind the scenes” so that there would be no religious people there. He argues that there is nothing wrong with persuasion among intelligent adults, gives an example of a “repentance talk” with “doughnuts being handed out,” and says that the scandal is the very outrage against persuasion, not the persuasion itself.
Grounding tolerance in respect for autonomy
The speaker defines tolerance as a situation in which he thinks someone is “acting wrongly according to my view,” but still contains that and grants legitimacy to it—above all, refraining from coercion even though he has the ability to coerce. He sharpens the point that the value of tolerance is realized when, after an attempt at persuasion fails, he still does not coerce, because he respects the other person’s autonomy and right to determine his own path. He opposes coercion “on the essential level,” even if he has power, authority, and legal power to legislate, and explains that the problem is not violence but the principle that a person should decide for himself and not have someone else decide for him, “within certain limits” that he says he will discuss later. He distinguishes between self-interested justifications and value-based justifications, and says that only a value-based justification of respecting autonomy can ground tolerance.
Pluralism and monism as different fields and a conceptual opposition
The speaker argues that tolerance and pluralism are not synonyms, but belong to different semantic fields: pluralism is a philosophical view about the number of truths, while tolerance is a moral-value stance about non-coercion. He adds that beyond the difference, there is also an opposition between them: in a pluralistic world, “tolerance has no meaning,” because if everyone is right there is no reason to persuade or coerce, and tolerance gets meaning only in a monistic world where one can think the other is mistaken. He defines monism minimally as a situation where, at a certain point, you think “the other person is wrong,” even if you are prepared to accept that there may be “three other truths.” He also raises the possibility that a pluralist who tries to persuade a monist that there are “many truths” becomes a monist with respect to the pluralism-monism axis itself.
The practical difference: openness and dialogue
The speaker says that the confusion between a pluralist and a tolerant person stems from the fact that in practice they may look similar in their behavior of non-interference. He argues, however, that there is a first practical difference concerning openness, because openness is meant to listen to arguments in order to get closer to the truth—and that makes sense only if you are a monist who believes in the possibility of getting closer to the truth. He describes an “essential” pluralist as someone who has no real reason to listen to other arguments except out of politeness, and connects this to confrontation culture such as in “Popolitika,” where “nobody is going to persuade me,” so all that remains is “to wrestle” and be witty. He presents the monistic model as the basis for real listening, and brings the example of “Beit Hillel, who stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own” as an illustration that listening to opposing positions is a way of getting closer to the truth. He formulates this by saying that pluralism “castrates the discourse” and empties openness of content.
Missionary activity, freedom of argument, and speech laws
The speaker identifies in culture a deep fear of missionary activity, and says he is “completely in favor of missionary activity” when it comes to adults “who are of settled mind,” so long as it is done “in normal ways” and without violence. He sees banning the raising of arguments as “absolute absurdity,” and gives as an example that he opposes the law forbidding Holocaust denial, which he calls “a scandal” and “stupidity.” He presents persuasion as a legitimate act, and even morally required, in the spirit of “You shall surely rebuke your fellow” and “do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood,” and distinguishes that the real problem begins only at the point of coercion.
The radius of tolerance: boundaries, cost, and seriousness
The speaker introduces a second practical difference between pluralism and tolerance through the “radius of tolerance,” and argues that tolerance is always a tension between respect for autonomy and recognition that the other is mistaken, that the mistake is harmful, that there is an ability to prevent it, and that you care about him. He says that in especially grave mistakes he will not be tolerant, and gives examples such as a desire to commit suicide or being dragged into drug addiction, where he would intervene if he could. He adds that the boundary also depends on the question of “how serious he is” and “how much respect he deserves,” and therefore children do not have equal standing in discourse, and he does coerce his children “to a certain degree” until they grow up. He argues that lack of expertise also reduces the degree of respect owed, such as someone expressing a view in physics without understanding it, and parallels this to the halakhic realm, where someone who has not studied the topic does not earn respect for his halakhic opinion. He formulates it by saying that tolerance “has a price,” and the price is acquiring skill, expertise, thoughtfulness, and attentiveness to different considerations. Only after such a process will he be tolerant toward a different position, even though in his eyes it is mistaken.
Ending the meeting and checking for leaven
The speaker stops the discussion and notes that he will return to “these and those” after summarizing next time. The participants raise a difficulty about holding a class on the evening of checking for leaven, and it is said that “checking for leaven is only three minutes,” but there is doubt whether people will be available during Passover.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We don’t come bother you in Yeruham, in your Haredi neighborhood, so why are you getting into our guts, coming here to confuse our minds and preach to us and bring us back to repentance? So I asked them: why really don’t you come? Why don’t you come? And there was some silence, they had to think a little, and then all kinds of explanations started to come up. And I didn’t agree with any explanation that came up. I said I didn’t agree. And at a certain point I suddenly realized that I didn’t agree with all the explanations for the same reason. Meaning, they all fall into the same failure in my eyes. So I’ll explain to you how that works. In the middle of the discussion the penny dropped for me, so now I’m presenting it in a more complete way. Let’s say it started like this: we don’t come to you because each righteous person shall live by his faith, each person has his own truth, and we’re pluralists, so why should we come confuse your minds? I said to them, look: if you’re pluralists, then of course—even I, if I were a pluralist, wouldn’t come. Meaning, if I’m right exactly as much as you are, why would you come persuade me not to do what I’m doing? But I’m not a pluralist, I’m a monist. I think I’m right and you’re wrong, so why shouldn’t I come? In other words, the fact that you don’t come stems from pluralism—but I’m not a pluralist. Or in another formulation: I’d say the fact that you don’t come does not entitle you to moral credit. You don’t come because there’s no point in coming. It’s not because you’re such righteous people who don’t want to come and do something bad. You’re not doing something that, according to your own view, has no point in being done. So what’s the big deal? But I think you’re wrong, and I’m coming to try to prevent your mistake. So in my eyes that’s a noble act. Meaning, if there’s someone moral among us, it’s me. You’re fine, no problem, but you’re just not doing something that makes no sense to do—which is perfectly fine—but that’s not a moral act. You can’t ask to get moral credit for that. Okay? Fine. Then another claim came up: look, in any case we won’t succeed in persuading you, because you’re a fanatic, you can’t talk to you. Fine, maybe. But then take the compliment that I actually think you can be talked to. And you don’t think I can be talked to, so that’s why I come. And more than that, if you don’t come talk to me because I won’t be convinced—again, you don’t deserve moral credit for that. You don’t come because there’s no point. Why waste the time if in any case I won’t be convinced? Right? But I think I do have a chance of convincing you. So I come to convince you. What’s wrong with that? Then another discussion came up. Look, if we don’t come—
[Speaker B] Exactly—the second claim matters only if they’ve moved away from the pluralist approach, because if they haven’t moved away from the pluralist approach, then what’s the issue?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s the lawyers’ “in the alternative,” you know. I say this, and in the alternative I also say this, even though the alternative contradicts it. Yes, I’ll get back to that in a second. The third argument was: look, really, if you want to screw yourself over, then do what you want. If you want to live a stupid life, live a stupid life—what do I care? Do what you want. I said to them, that I really don’t understand at all. Meaning, you don’t care about me—that I’m doing stupid things, and you don’t care? And that’s some kind of moral virtue? I care that you’re doing things that in my eyes are mistaken and foolish, and I want to persuade you to do the right things because I care about you. So who’s moral? Are you moral or am I moral? Then they said: look, if we come bother you, then you’ll come coerce us and bother us. Again, fine—but you’re making a utilitarian calculation. You don’t come because you don’t want to pay the price that maybe I’ll also come to you. So for that too you don’t deserve moral credit. And so on—we went on with all kinds of reasons like that, and at a certain point I suddenly understood that the logic was the same logic. That’s really how it went. I just suddenly realized that I was rejecting all the arguments in exactly the same way. And what lies behind it is the following, and this is where I want to talk about the penny that dropped. As long as you have a sensible explanation for why you don’t come to persuade or coerce, right?—then you don’t deserve any special moral credit for that. Obviously, if it makes no sense to come, why would you come? So if you think that I—if you’re a pluralist, you don’t deserve moral credit. There’s no reason to come. If I’m as right as you, why would you come? So you don’t deserve moral credit. If you don’t care about me, then certainly you don’t deserve moral credit—it’s a self-interested reason that you don’t come, right? You don’t deserve moral credit. If you think everyone should do his own nonsense, or that each righteous person shall live by his faith—fine, so what will you gain? Again, by a rational calculation there’s no point in coming because it won’t bear any fruit. Again, you don’t deserve moral credit. Meaning, what really lies behind all these rejections? That every time there’s a rational explanation for why you don’t come, then that’s not tolerance. Right? That’s basically what I’m saying. But then something very strange happens here. Because really, in order to be considered tolerant—in order to deserve moral credit for your tolerance—exactly, no, all the reasons for not being tolerant have to be present. Meaning, first of all, you must not be a pluralist. If you’re a pluralist, you can’t be tolerant, right? Because if you’re a pluralist, then everyone is right, so of course you won’t come persuade or coerce someone else. So you have to be not a pluralist but a monist. You also have to assume—and I didn’t say this, but there are lots of other excuses I skipped, because the logic is this logic—you have to assume that my act is harmful. Even if I’m wrong, but if it isn’t harmful, then what do you care? It’s not harmful. You have to assume that my act is harmful and still not come. Meaning, basically, you have to assume that I’m wrong and you’re right. You have to assume that my mistake is harmful. You have to assume that if you come, you have a chance of influencing me. Because otherwise, again, there’s nothing special about your not coming. Right? You also have to assume that you’re not afraid that if you come, then I’ll come to you in return—because if you’re afraid and that’s why you don’t come, again, you’re not tolerant. Okay. So if you think I’m wrong, and you think my mistake is harmful, and you care about me, and you think you have a chance of changing it, and you’re not afraid that if you come to change it then I’ll pay you back and come bother you—all of that holds—then why not come, for heaven’s sake? All the reasons say to come. Meaning, there’s no reason not to come. Because if there is a reason—if there’s a reason not to come—then you’re not tolerant. So when are you tolerant? Only when there’s no reason not to come. So what—does tolerant mean idiot? Meaning, although all the reasons say to come, he still doesn’t come? Then a tolerant person isn’t a moral person; a tolerant person is an idiot. Something is broken here. I stopped there in the middle. After the penny dropped, I stopped there in the middle and understood that I was saying something self-contradictory. I thought I was going to win that argument, but I understood I was losing. I realized to myself—not because—but basically what I had said meant there’s no such thing as tolerance. Now, I consider myself tolerant too. Meaning, my assumption is that tolerance has value; that is, I also advocate the value of tolerance. I said to them, on the contrary—you don’t advocate it, I advocate the value of tolerance. And then when I suddenly understood this logic, I reached the conclusion that basically there’s no such thing. Meaning, either I’m an idiot or I’m not tolerant—there’s no other possibility here.
[Speaker C] But it all comes from your starting point that the goal of the encounter between the two groups is to influence one another, whereas tolerance means that the purpose of the encounter is to create an encounter, just an encounter, an exchange of views, to create—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And tolerance is simply to be nice to one another. No. I’m talking about it in the sense of a value conflict. What does it mean to be tolerant? To be tolerant means—and my assumption is that being tolerant means thinking that someone is acting wrongly according to my view, but containing that. Meaning, accepting it, granting it legitimacy. Whether to meet or not meet—I’ll discuss that differently; in my opinion that has more to do with openness than with tolerance, but I’ll talk about that in a moment. This is tolerance. Whether people meet or don’t meet is another question; that’s already a nuance I’ll get to, but it’s a nuance. Tolerance is first of all saying: I have the ability to coerce you to behave the way I think is right, and I won’t coerce because I’m tolerant. Even though I think you’re wrong and all the reasons that would justify doing so are present, still I won’t coerce. All right? And I also said about this—I forgot to mention—the whole discussion was bizarre in my eyes. Because they were searching for reasons why not to come persuade, when I’m not coming to coerce. I’m not even coming to persuade—that’s even worse. I was just coming there to learn with those eight or nine guys who wanted a little Jewishness there in that place.
[Speaker C] Which is exactly what shows that the argument was beside the point.
[Speaker D] No, no, no. He’s saying, I wasn’t coming to persuade, but they were afraid it would turn into persuasion.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, but I’m saying: all respect for those terrible fears, which of course were unfounded. Because what kollel fellow is going to come live in a place intended for lecturers at Ben-Gurion University? I mean, I asked them, by the way—I asked them afterward: tell me, if I wanted to come, if I worked at Ben-Gurion University, I’m doing a PhD in physics, okay? I’m not your standard kollel fellow. Let’s say I was accepted into the physics department at Ben-Gurion University and I wanted to live in the Midrasha. It’s a public place, not a private thing. Okay? Would you accept me? Of course—only according to the criteria, if you meet the criteria. For some reason there isn’t a single religious person there. Fine, but of course they’re pluralists and tolerant and accept everyone—except the people they don’t want. Okay? So there’s some level of hypocrisy here. I said to them: in my eyes this is a scandal, and the fact that there isn’t a single religious person here is your disgrace. It means that if it became known that I was coming to live there, you’d operate behind the scenes so I wouldn’t be accepted into the physics department. That’s obvious, because you don’t want religious people here.
[Speaker C] It’s not the place—maybe a religious person can’t live there because he doesn’t have the framework.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But what do you mean he doesn’t have the framework? I want to live there, I want to pray together, I want to live there—what’s the problem? What, is it forbidden? Here, I want to bring ten more lecturers, we’ll be there, we’ll make a quorum of ten. What, is that okay? Everything’s fine? It’s a public place, not their private place—you have to understand that. It’s a public place, meaning anyone who works at Ben-Gurion University can in principle be there. There’s something here, some crazy reversal of perspective—as if they—the feeling I got from them, and I believed them, was a sincere feeling that they’re tolerant and pluralistic and everything is wonderful, and only I’m dark and backward and all that. But I said: look in the mirror a bit. There’s a problem with the picture you’re presenting. Then I said to them: but let’s say I did come to persuade—and they weren’t coming there to persuade—let’s say I came to persuade. What’s wrong with that? Adults, intelligent people, university lecturers. Some kollel fellow who never finished second-grade math came—he learned Talmudic text, okay—but fine, he comes to persuade you to return to repentance, I don’t know, whatever, doesn’t matter. Okay, if you want, don’t listen to him. If you want, listen and don’t be persuaded. If you want, listen and do get persuaded. Adults—what, is it forbidden to persuade? What’s wrong with persuading? As far as I’m concerned, the discussion begins only with coercion, not persuasion. Persuasion I’m not even willing to discuss. If you want—I can’t coerce you to listen to me—then don’t come listen. Fine, no problem. You can make whatever decisions you want.
[Speaker E] Fine, there are two people here from the community, from the village, who want them to come to them—they’re asking for it, it’s their right.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Of course. I’m saying it’s legitimate. I’ll say more than that: even if I had tried—called everyone, put up notices all around the Midrasha: come, friends, there’s going to be a repentance talk, it’ll be an experience, they’re handing out doughnuts. Fine, that’s it. Not for children—I’m talking about adults. Okay?
[Speaker D] And in the religious community in Yeruham—not necessarily in the Midrasha—they wouldn’t—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They would receive them, and they also don’t say they’re pluralists and don’t say they’re tolerant—that’s all. But they put it on the table.
[Speaker D] They don’t say they’re pluralists.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So now I’m saying: the fact that people rise up against your trying to persuade—that itself is a scandal. On the contrary, I said to them: listen, why don’t you come to me? I really said that, not as a rhetorical move. You think I’m wrong, and you have good arguments? I want to hear. Come—really—not to provoke. Come. If you persuade me, fine. I hope I’ll be honest enough to admit it. Not sure, but I hope so. And if you don’t succeed in persuading me, then no. But an adult person—what’s the problem? What are you afraid of? This crazy fear—I go nuts over this fear. So I said: fine, let’s talk about coercion, I told them, not persuasion. Leave persuasion aside. I’m talking about coercion. Explain to me why not come coerce you. So all the arguments you raised before are arguments that explain why it makes no sense to come and coerce you. But I’m saying: wait, tolerance means not coming to coerce even though logic says yes to come—because otherwise you don’t deserve any credit for it. But if logic says yes to coerce, then why indeed not come and coerce? If I think you’re wrong and I have the ability to influence, and I care about you, and I’m not afraid that you’ll strike back, and your mistake is harmful—all that holds. So why not prevent it by coercion? I’m now asking: why not prevent it? Until eventually I understood—and this, I’m saying, was an accounting I gave myself, because I do consider myself someone who supports the value of tolerance. And then suddenly I said: wait, I no longer know how to explain this to myself, so what is going on here? And in the end I understood that the value of tolerance is when I don’t come coerce you because I respect your autonomy. How is that different from all the previous justifications that I rejected? All the previous justifications that I rejected were self-interested justifications. Meaning: there’s no point in coming, it’s a waste of time, it won’t help, you’re as right as I am so why come? There’s no logic in coming. Okay? They weren’t value-based justifications, they were self-interested ones, cold calculation—whether it’s worth coming or not worth coming, whether it will bring results or not bring results, whether it’s needed or not needed. Justifications of that kind really cannot ground tolerance. Okay? But value-based justifications—justifications that say, look, you’re wrong and I think your mistake is harmful and I think I have the ability to influence you—not influence, to coerce, I’m talking about coercing. If we’re talking about persuading, there’s no justification for not coming to persuade. Everyone should persuade the other if he thinks the other is wrong, in my opinion. But coercion is another matter. And with coercion I say: I think you’re wrong, and your mistake is harmful, and I can change the matter, and I’m not afraid you’ll strike back, and I care—
[Speaker C] —about you, and all of that is true, and still I don’t come. Why don’t I come?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Because I respect your autonomy. After I tried to persuade you and you weren’t persuaded, and we remained in disagreement. Now, persuasion too—saying don’t come persuade because I respect autonomy—that I don’t agree with. Either he’ll be persuaded or he won’t be persuaded. I’m not coercing him to hear you. Either he’ll be persuaded or he won’t be persuaded; I’m trying to point out his error. He wants to? Fine. Doesn’t want to? Don’t come. Is there something problematic in that? On the contrary—there’s something problematic about someone who doesn’t do that. “You shall surely rebuke your fellow,” “do not stand idly by your neighbor’s blood”—what do you mean? You see someone making a mistake, you should try to persuade him, prevent him from the mistake. But if I tried to persuade him and I didn’t succeed, and now I have the ability to coerce him—let’s say I’m the stronger party in the situation, and I have the ability to coerce him—I don’t come. Why don’t I come? Because if he heard my arguments and reached the conclusion that he doesn’t agree with me, I respect his view. I respect his view even though I think he is wrong, and his mistake is harmful. All right? Why? Because a person should determine his own path for himself. That now is the value—in my eyes, that’s the value of tolerance. The value of tolerance is grounded in a justification; it’s not stupidity. It’s grounded in a justification, but not in a self-interested justification. All the previous kinds of justification were justifications of self-interest, of calculation about whether it’s worthwhile to come or not worthwhile to come, whether there’s a point in coming or no point in coming. Here I’m talking about a value-based justification. I don’t come because I think you have the right to act differently if you think differently, even though you’re wrong and even though that mistake is harmful. Okay? That’s the meaning of tolerance. The result that comes out of this is basically that tolerance and pluralism not only are not synonyms, but they are two opposites. Meaning, wherever you are a pluralist, you can’t be tolerant. Because if you think the other person is as right as you are, then there’s no reason to go persuade him to do something else or to coerce him. Tolerance has no meaning. Right, so automatically tolerance has no meaning. Tolerance has meaning only in a monistic world. In a pluralistic world tolerance has no meaning. I’ll say even more than that: even at the first conceptual glance, before the analysis, tolerance and pluralism belong to completely different conceptual worlds or semantic fields. Pluralism belongs to the semantic field of philosophy: the question of how many truths you think there are. If you think there is more than one truth, you are a pluralist. That—just a second—that’s a philosophical view. It has nothing to do with morality at all. The question is what you really think: is there one truth or five truths? What does that have to do with morality? The question is what you think—how many truths there are. That’s a question of pluralism or non-pluralism. The question of tolerance belongs to the semantic field of morality, of values.
[Speaker D] Of values, exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Meaning, if you’re tolerant, then under certain circumstances you don’t coerce the other person. Therefore tolerance and pluralism cannot be synonymous. They simply belong to different conceptual worlds. My claim is only that beyond that—not only are they different conceptual worlds, but in a certain sense there is even an opposition between them. Because if my philosophical view is pluralistic, then my moral view cannot be tolerant.
[Speaker F] Seemingly it could hold. If I’m a pluralist and he’s a monist, I want him too to be a pluralist, because it’s not true that there is one truth. I have to persuade him that there are many truths.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Then in that sense you’re also a monist. You’re a monist because you think there is an incorrect view. As far as I’m concerned—again—monist of course doesn’t have to mean someone who says there is one correct view; it’s enough that you think the other person is mistaken. If you think the other person is mistaken, you’re a monist. I don’t care in what respect. At that point, in that particular argument between you. If you think he’s wrong, then you’re a monist.
[Speaker C] You’re a monist about pluralism.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Exactly. You’re a monist on the issue of pluralism versus monism, okay? And when you conduct the argument on that axis, then you’re a monist.
[Speaker G] Regarding coercion—is the problem that it involves the use of violence, or is it beyond that, even if there were no violence here?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no—not because of the violence, but because he needs to decide his path, not me. I claim it’s not only that violence is a problem; beyond that, I think a person should decide his path, and I shouldn’t decide it for him. I can try to persuade him. I should try to persuade him, to show him the arguments in this direction, so that he’ll choose correctly. But I raised the arguments, I didn’t manage to persuade him—that’s his position.
[Speaker G] Simply his position. But let’s say he’s in my house now, or he’s my child or something—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] —like that, where I can, where I have the authority to decide for him. A child is something else—not authority. Even if I had authority—if I were president, prime minister, and speaker of the Knesset, and I were all 120 members of Knesset. Before the surgery and the weight loss, that would have been about right; you were more or less at the right weight. Okay. So—and I can legislate now a law to coerce everyone, I have the power—I won’t do it. I won’t do it. I am opposed to coercion at the essential level. Even if I have the power and I have the authority and according to the law I can do it, I won’t do it. I oppose it; I will fight against anyone who does it. Because it’s not that the problem is violence. The problem is that a person should decide his path by himself, and I shouldn’t decide it for him. Within certain limits that I’ll talk about later. The point is that tolerance can appear only within a monistic framework. Meaning, only within a monistic conceptual framework, not within a pluralistic conceptual framework. Now I’ll take one more step and ask whether there is also a distinction between pluralism and tolerance on the practical plane. Meaning, the distinction I made until now is a distinction on the level of motives: why I act. Am I not interfering in your life because I’m a pluralist, or am I not interfering in your life because I’m tolerant? But practically speaking, in practice we behave the same way. A pluralist and a tolerant person—that’s why all this confusion arose between pluralism and tolerance, because in practice it appears in the same phenomenological behavioral form. The behavior of those two types is very similar. Basically the same.
[Speaker H] There’s another option here: lazy. Huh? There are other options here too. Why didn’t Reuven interfere in Shimon’s path?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, so yes, you can add a few more guys into this behavioral framework. But what interests me right now is the comparison between a pluralist and a tolerant person. Lazy, busy—fine, okay. Pluralist versus tolerant person—that’s the comparison I’m making. There may indeed be many more motives for not interfering, I completely agree. Also just feeling uncomfortable—it’s not always laziness. Sometimes it’s just not pleasant: who are you to interfere in his life? Again, the same feeling that coming to persuade someone is somehow improper. That has sunk very deeply into our culture, and I don’t understand why. It simply seems illogical to me.
[Speaker G] The root of it is the opposition to missionary activity in Judaism and in all religions generally. There’s a primal fear of missionary activity.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right. I’m completely in favor of missionary activity. I think all forms of missionary activity on earth should be permitted. Not for children, I’m saying—for people who are already of settled mind. There, persuade whoever you want of whatever you want. As long as you do it in normal, reasonable ways—not violently. You’re making arguments. How can you forbid someone from making arguments? It’s absolute absurdity in my eyes. I even once wrote on the website about Holocaust denial—I think I also talked about it here—that I’m against that law that forbids denying the Holocaust. That law is a scandal. What stupidity. Anyway, back to our subject: is there a behavioral difference between tolerance and pluralism? I think there is. I think the difference can be pointed to on two planes. One difference relates to the question of openness, and that’s what I said I would get to later. The pluralist—I’m speaking now about a somewhat fictional figure; there really is no true pluralist exactly as I’m defining him here. A pluralist is someone who says there are no truths, everyone is equally right. Okay? The pluralist should not really display openness toward other positions at all, because the goal of openness is to listen to more arguments in order to learn, maybe to help me clarify for myself what the truth is. Because if I’m not so arrogant and I don’t think I’m the only wise person, but that there are other people who can raise interesting and useful arguments, then it’s very important to listen. But all that is only if I have some hope or belief that after I hear the arguments, I’ll be able to formulate a true position.
[Speaker C] A truer one.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] A truer one, yes. And then there’s reason to listen to all kinds of opinions, even ones very different from mine. One second—I just want to finish—because that can teach me, can help me formulate my own position. But that is only, of course, if I’m a monist, if I have some belief that I can reach the truth or get closer to the truth. Never certainty in a complete sense, but get closer to the truth. If I’m an essential pluralist—meaning someone who essentially says there is no such thing, every truth is circumstance-dependent, you can’t reach truth—then there is no real point in listening to other arguments. Only politeness. But it isn’t really because you won’t learn anything from them. At most it will change your position, and your previous position wasn’t right and your current position also isn’t right.
[Speaker C] Or both are right.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Or both are right—it doesn’t matter. But fundamentally you don’t believe in a person’s ability to reach truth or get closer to truth. So what’s the point of listening? This is one of the things I always remember from the Popolitika period, when everyone got very upset about the lack of manners on the panel—Tommy Lapid and Shelly Yachimovich and Eichler were there—the lack of manners on the panel. And to me it was clear that this wasn’t about lack of manners at all. It was some kind of basic conception that says: nobody is going to persuade me. It was completely obvious that he came from that party and she came from that party, and they clash with each other—none of them is going to change his position, right? That was obvious. They came to entertain us—they’re just sparring. They came to entertain us. No one is going to persuade the other. So what remains? They’ll wrestle, ‘let the young men arise and play before us.’ Now, that conception comes out of pluralism. Because we’re looking at it through pluralistic glasses. I’m saying this is a philosophical conception, not just a human attitude. A philosophical conception says there’s no such thing as truth and right and wrong and arguments and persuasion and being convinced and all that. It’s all loops and schemes, and there’s no such thing—they don’t believe in the possibility of persuasion. So what remains? Just to wrestle and laugh at one another and come out the smartest and sharpest and wittiest, because arguments don’t really have significance. But in a tolerant world—in a tolerant world, I expect people to listen not because of politeness. Even in a pluralistic world I expect them to be polite, but that’s only politeness; it’s not genuine listening. In a monistic world I expect them to listen. Why? Who told you you’re the greatest genius? There are other people who can present arguments you haven’t thought of, and maybe they’ll change your position. Why are you so sure you know everything and you’re the smartest? That’s just arrogance. Being a monist doesn’t mean being arrogant—quite the opposite. And that’s Beit Hillel, who stated the words of Beit Shammai before their own; therefore the Jewish law was ruled in accordance with them. In a monistic reading, the Jewish law was ruled in accordance with them. Why? Because in order to reach the truth in which you believe, you have to hear positions of other people who think the opposite. Because only that way do you have a chance of getting closer to the truth. Meaning, openness is a product of monism, not of tolerance and not of pluralism—sorry. All these values that are perceived as synonyms are simply the exact opposite. Pluralism contradicts openness. Pluralism contradicts tolerance. Pluralism castrates the discourse.
[Speaker D] It doesn’t contradict openness; openness has no meaning there.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, it doesn’t allow it—there’s no such thing, it’s undefined.
[Speaker I] But a person can be a pluralist, think there are many truths, but regarding a particular claim, a specific approach, a specific method—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I told you before: as far as I’m concerned, that’s called a monist. A monist is someone who thinks I’m right and you’re wrong. That’s a monist. I don’t care right now whether there are three more people who are right. Meaning, there may be many correct positions. But in principle you’re willing to accept that there are incorrect positions. As far as I’m concerned, for the purposes of this discussion, that’s called a monist. I don’t care—it could be that there are three truths. But if there is one that is not truth, then from my standpoint you’re a monist for the purpose of this discussion.
[Speaker D] Fine, but then how do you explain “these and those are the words of the living God”? Wait, wait. Now, that’s a claim, that’s—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] One distinction—I see this already isn’t enough, so I’ll continue it. The first practical distinction between tolerance and pluralism, the first practical distinction, is openness. Because from a tolerant person, or a monist—let’s call him a tolerant person—from a monist I expect openness. From a pluralist I don’t expect anything. That he should be polite, maybe, but no more than that. Okay? That’s one difference. The second difference is the difference in the radius of tolerance. And that’s an important point. Essential pluralism, the way I described it here, is actually supposed to accept every opinion. Every opinion—there is no limit on the principled level. Now, I’m not talking about self-defense, because if someone comes and threatens me with a gun, then I’m not going to let him hurt me because it’s his right—he thinks he’s allowed to murder me. Fine, in principle you could take this to a ridiculous level like that, but I’m not talking on those levels, right? I’m talking not on the level of self-defense, but on the level of mutual coercion.
[Speaker C] Why are you using the term accept and not respect?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The pluralist respects every opinion.
[Speaker C] No, that’s not pluralism.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He doesn’t respect it—he thinks he’s right.
[Speaker C] What does it mean to respect? To respect means he thinks you’re mistaken—that’s tolerance.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] To respect means that I think you’re mistaken and nevertheless I respect your right to be mistaken, because you decided, and you need to decide for yourself. But you are mistaken—without that, what meaning does respect have? If I think you’re right, that’s not respect; that’s my philosophical view that you’re right just like I am. So the second difference is a difference that touches on the radius of tolerance. Radius—in the world of tolerance it is never, almost never, infinite, because tolerance is always a tension between two considerations. One consideration is this value of respecting the autonomy of the other, that the other person needs to make his own decisions. But on the other hand, we already talked about the fact that the other person is mistaken, his mistake is harmful, and I have the ability to prevent it, and I care about him. Okay? Now, with very big mistakes, it is very likely that I will not be tolerant.
[Speaker D] If someone wants to commit suicide,
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, if someone wants to commit suicide, if someone wants to become addicted to drugs because right now he’s feeling down. But I know that for the rest of his life he’ll regret this moment. Okay? Then I won’t let him if I can help it. I won’t let him become addicted to drugs. Why? Respect it—he wants to live that way. No. When the damage from that respect is so great, and I really do care about you—after all, tolerance comes from caring about you—then I will intervene anyway. Meaning, the moment there is—when I speak about tolerance, it is always a tension between two considerations. On the one hand, to respect the autonomy of the other; on the other hand, all the reasons say the opposite. To intervene as well. Right? Because I think I’m right and you’re mistaken. Your mistake is harmful, I can prevent it, I care about you. All the reasons say yes, intervene—but I respect your right to be mistaken. But the moment there is tension between two things, then there is always some boundary at which it finds its balance. Each person will place the boundary wherever he places it, it doesn’t matter, but there is some boundary at which the balance exists. If the damage is enormous, then with all due respect to the value of tolerance—if it is irreversible—I will not be tolerant. Okay? The pluralist, on the principled level, the pure pluralist has no boundary. Meaning, how do you know that you’re right and he isn’t right? After all, both of you are equally right. You can’t know on the principled level. In a principled conception, tolerance is always a question of tension, and tension always balances itself at some point in the middle. The second aspect—and here I’ll stop—but one aspect that determines the radius of tolerance is the aspect of cost. How severe are the consequences of his mistake, because in my opinion he is mistaken. The second aspect is how serious he is. How much respect does he deserve? After all, I do this because I respect him. Does he deserve respect? It depends. If he is a child, for example, then I won’t respect his decisions all that much because I don’t think he is yet able to make decisions. So with my children, yes, I do impose things on them, at least to some extent. Right? Or in general, children can’t participate as equals in the discourse, because they’re not mature yet. Let them grow a bit, and then we’ll hear their opinion and they’ll hear our opinion, everything is fine. In the meantime, do what you’re told until you grow up. Okay? Therefore, someone who is not entitled to respect—again, not necessarily through any fault of his own—say he is young, or someone who is not an expert and expresses a position in a field he understands absolutely nothing about. So what, should I be pluralistic, tolerant? Fine, he thinks this way and Einstein thinks that way—a debate between two great physicists. He understands nothing about physics, he hasn’t examined it, he hasn’t studied it, I’m not going to respect that. Right? That makes sense. The same is true regarding the halakhic field. A person who hasn’t studied the topic, or who has no ability to study the topic because he doesn’t understand it, then I’m not going to respect his halakhic opinion. That has nothing to do with tolerance. Tolerance has a price. If you paid the price of tolerance, then you deserve tolerance, because you deserve respect if you paid the price. What is the price? The price is to grapple with the problem, acquire skill, become expert in that field, think about it, hear the considerations of those who disagree with you and those who agree with you. If you have done all that and arrived at a position different from mine, no problem at all—I am tolerant toward you. Not because you are right; in my eyes you are mistaken, but I am tolerant toward you. Therefore both the cost determines the radius of tolerance, and seriousness—that is, how much you really deserve that respect. If you don’t deserve that respect, then I don’t respect you. Okay? Now we’ll go back to these and those after I summarize this next time, and then.
[Speaker J] In the tension—we’re in tension. Rabbi, next week there’s the search for leaven.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Next week is problematic—it’s the eve of the search for leaven, I don’t think, right?
[Speaker J] So then in another three—two? What’s the problem with the search for leaven?
[Speaker D] The search for leaven takes all of three minutes.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Passover—people won’t let us off, I still don’t know.
[Speaker D] The search for leaven.
[Speaker J] We still have the search
[Speaker D] for leaven already.