Migo and Legal Reasoning, Lesson 4
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 framework of the problem: evidence about the litigant and “this too would be true”
- Migo as the power of a claim and as the power of credibility as a response to evidence about a litigant
- Migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, and Tosafot and the Rashba
- Witnesses who came afterward, and the distinction between migo in the Talmud and in the medieval authorities (Rishonim)
- The rabbinic plane versus the Torah-level plane in “paid” with a migo of “forged”
- A litigant’s admission: Ketzot and Maharit according to the above
- The loop of “this too would be true” and parallel examples: Tosafot and Ran, and the Arukh
- Stopping the loop in migo: possession, a weakness, and a document
- Chazon Ish versus Pnei Yehoshua: the presumption of a plausible claim and shifting the burden of proof
- Migo as removing self-interest: the testimony of the merchants in Chazakah of houses
- Three directions for resolving “this too would be true,” and the move that “migo is not against liars”
- Legal intuitions: possession, “the burden of proof is on the claimant,” and the case of Rav Abba’s snatched silver ingot
Summary
General overview
The text returns to migo in its usual sense of why would I lie?, after an earlier distinction between migo as the power of a claim and migo as the power of credibility, and raises two difficulties: how evidence about the person himself can help a litigant who is disqualified not because he is suspected of lying but because he is a litigant; and how the migo “cuts itself off” when it equates the force of the present claim with the alternative claim on which it relies. The text suggests that the power of a claim or the power of credibility solves the problem of “evidence about a litigant,” because the migo does not prove truth but rather shifts possession status or the burden of proof. But a difficulty remains in cases of migo that contain only why would I lie? without the power of a claim, especially in a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, as in Tosafot and the Rashba. Later, ways are proposed to stop the loop of “if it were true” through an anchor of possession status or through the judge’s discretion in monetary law, and finally a sharp proposal is made: migo is not meant to deal with liars, but to prevent a situation in which a truth-teller would be forced to lie in order to win. In that way, why would I lie? is emptied of its status as factual evidence. The conclusion moves to a broader question about the standing of “legal intuitions” such as possession status and “the burden of proof is on the claimant,” which are not necessarily realistic estimations of fact, but rules that create the framework of decision.
The framework of the problem: evidence about the litigant and “this too would be true”
The text formulates a first difficulty: migo as evidence about the person himself can at most prove that the claimant is telling the truth, but a litigant is disqualified because he is a litigant, not because he is suspected of lying, similar to related witnesses who are disqualified due to kinship even if there were a migo. The text formulates a second difficulty: once you give a migo to claim B, you equate its force with claim A, and then claim A is no longer “better,” so the migo, which is based on A’s superiority, collapses into a loop in which canceling the migo restores it, and applying it cancels it. The text adds that migo even creates a “positive” victory and not just one based on doubt, so seemingly the claimant could actually prefer the weaker claim that is supported by a migo.
Migo as the power of a claim and as the power of credibility as a response to evidence about a litigant
The text argues that when migo is explained as the power of a claim, it solves the problem of “evidence about a litigant,” because the migo does not prove that the claimant is telling the truth, but turns him into the one in possession, and as the one in possession, the litigant wins the case. The text illustrates this in “paid” with a migo of “forged”: since he could have claimed “forged” and thereby won “by claim alone” without evidence, he is considered the one in possession even when he claims “paid.” The text explains that the power of credibility can also be described through a similar mechanism, in which the religious court “claims for him” the argument of “forged” and places on the other side the burden of proving that it is not forged, so that the result is a transfer of the burden of proof, not proof that the claimant is correct. The text emphasizes that specifically why would I lie? as direct evidence for a litigant remains problematic in places where there is no power of claim.
Migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, and Tosafot and the Rashba
The text presents the novelty of Tosafot and the Rashba in Ketubot, and the Rashba in Kiddushin, regarding a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, where there is claim A and claim B and neither one would win, but A is still “more comfortable” to make, for example it involves less brazenness. Therefore, if he makes B, there is evidence that he is not lying, because had he wished to lie, he would have chosen the more convenient lie. The text describes that the practical result is a victory through claim B based on the evidence that he is not lying, even though without the migo he would not have won with either A or B. The text states that in such a migo, “certainly neither the power of credibility nor the power of claim helps,” because even with the alternative claim there would have been no victory, and therefore this is a migo based only on why would I lie?
Witnesses who came afterward, and the distinction between migo in the Talmud and in the medieval authorities (Rishonim)
The text compares this to the case of “paid” with a migo of “forged,” where witnesses later came saying that the document is not forged, or the document was validated, so that it turns out that in practice he could not have claimed “forged,” even though at the time he claimed “paid” there were still no witnesses. The text says that the Talmud states such a migo is ineffective, even though seemingly there was still why would I lie? at the time of the claim. The text notes that some medieval authorities (Rishonim) suggest that when witnesses eventually come, there is concern that he knew about them and therefore did not claim “forged.” But without such a reason, what remains is evidence of why would I lie? without the power of claim, and even so it does not help. The text concludes that this reinforces the claim that a migo of why would I lie? without the power of claim “really does not help,” while the migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim of Tosafot and the Rashba remains hard to understand.
The rabbinic plane versus the Torah-level plane in “paid” with a migo of “forged”
The text proposes an analysis in which on the rabbinic plane, “paid” with a migo of “forged” is a regular migo, because with the claim “forged” he would have won by claim alone, and therefore the migo can give force to the claim “paid.” The text proposes that on the Torah-level plane, “paid” with a migo of “forged” resembles a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, because against a document even “forged” is not a winning claim without evidence, and yet one can still formulate evidence of why would I lie?, since “forged” is a more comfortable claim. The text notes that the difficulty raised by Ayelet Ahavim regarding a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim is even sharper, because the worse claim becomes “better” as a result of the migo, not merely equal, and there remains a possibility in some cases to attribute it to concern that he does not know the law.
A litigant’s admission: Ketzot and Maharit according to the above
The text brings an analogy from a litigant’s admission as an “ultra-migo” mechanism, and presents a dispute between Ketzot and Maharit according to the above: Ketzot explains a litigant’s admission as credibility, while Maharit according to the above explains it as self-obligation. The text notes that Maharit according to the above objects that it cannot be explained as credibility, because a litigant is disqualified not due to suspicion of lying but because he is a litigant, so credibility does not solve the problem. The text adds that Ketzot can rely on the verse “for this is it,” that a litigant’s admission is like one hundred witnesses, as an indication that in this case we do accept evidence for a litigant despite the problem, though this is presented as an analogy and not as a ruling about migo.
The loop of “this too would be true” and parallel examples: Tosafot and Ran, and the Arukh
The text defines the problem of “then what remains?” as a logical loop: if you give a migo to claim B, it becomes like claim A, so there is no migo; and if you cancel the migo, claim A regains its superiority and the migo reappears. The text gives as an example the dispute between Tosafot and Ran in Bava Metzia 30 about “with his consent” regarding the red heifer or the calf whose neck is broken, and the rendering of seeds susceptible to impurity, and describes Ran’s answer: if we do not disqualify it, then it is to his liking that it remain fit, and so a loop is created. The text also cites the Arukh on an inevitable result that is beneficial to him, and asks: who wants to get himself entangled in punishment? Again, a loop arises, because if there is no punishment, then it becomes beneficial to him. The text concludes that these examples show a broad phenomenon of loops in which it is hard to define a stopping point.
Stopping the loop in migo: possession, a weakness, and a document
The text proposes that the loop in migo is stopped through an anchor point of possession, so that if there is doubt whether there is evidence or not, you leave the matter with the current possessor. The text says that the power of a claim can stop the why would I lie? loop because it establishes possession status in a way that does not depend on the evidentiary element of why would I lie?. The text clarifies that sometimes the possessor’s standing is weakened by a flaw, and therefore he still needs a migo, for example when there is a document against him that removes him from possession, and then the migo can serve as evidence in his favor against the evidence of the document. The text emphasizes that “we do not say migo in order to extract,” and therefore usually the one invoking migo is already the possessor even without the power of claim “creating” possession, and this brings back the question of what the power of claim adds when possession already exists due to physical possession of the money.
Chazon Ish versus Pnei Yehoshua: the presumption of a plausible claim and shifting the burden of proof
The text raises an inquiry in the laws of damages: is liability due to negligence in guarding, or because “his property caused damage”? It presents an apparent practical difference regarding who bears the burden of proof when the damager claims unavoidable accident and the injured party claims negligence. The text notes that Pnei Yehoshua places the proof on the injured party as the claimant trying to extract from another, while Chazon Ish places the proof on the damager. The text argues that the common explanation in later authorities (Acharonim), in the name of Rabbi Shmuel, does not fit what Chazon Ish actually says, because Chazon Ish explains that the burden of proof is on the damager because his claim is less plausible, in a way similar to the civil-law principle that “the thing speaks for itself.” The text concludes that there is a concept of possession that is not possession of an object, but rather “possession of the more plausible claim,” which shifts the burden of proof onto the party whose claim is weaker.
Migo as removing self-interest: the testimony of the merchants in Chazakah of houses
The text brings an example from Chazakah of houses, where the possessor brings merchants to testify that they lived there for three years as renters in order to establish the three-year presumption, and the Talmud disqualifies them as interested parties because they fear having to pay again. The text explains that migo can remove the self-interest, because they could have claimed, “We paid,” in a way that would have prevented their loss, and therefore they have no interest in the testimony. The text states that this migo does not turn them into possessors and does not prove truth in the sense of why would I lie?, but rather validates the testimony by removing their self-interest, and then the religious court accepts their words as the testimony of two witnesses, not by virtue of the migo itself.
Three directions for resolving “this too would be true,” and the move that “migo is not against liars”
The text proposes a first direction for stopping the loop through possession or the power of claim, but notes that elsewhere it is not clear where to stop. The text proposes a second direction based on the position of Rif and Maimonides at the beginning of chapter 24 in the laws of the Sanhedrin, that in monetary law the judge should do what his judgment inclines him toward, and the laws of evidence are only a recommendation. Therefore, one who chooses the weaker claim takes the risk that the religious court may not accept the migo, whereas claim A gives a more certain victory. The text adds the law of a suspicious case, where the judge may withdraw when his judgment inclines him to think that something “smells bad,” and emphasizes that later custom greatly limits the exercise of discretion. The text proposes a third direction: the objection of “if it were true” is a game-theory mistake. Canceling migo does not deal with liars, because a liar will simply choose the stronger claim; canceling migo harms specifically the truth-teller, who is then forced to lie in order to win truthfully. The text attributes to Maimonides an explanation that migo is intended so that a Torah scholar and truth-teller will not be forced to lie in the face of a liar, and concludes that on this view migo is not evidence that he is not lying, but a mechanism that allows him to tell the truth, to the point of the surprising claim that “there is no migo of ‘why would I lie?’” in the simple evidentiary sense, even though the language in the Talmud remains.
Legal intuitions: possession, “the burden of proof is on the claimant,” and Rav Abba’s snatched silver ingot
The text opens a side discussion on why we give an advantage to the possessor, and argues that this is not a realistic estimate according to which the one holding the item is more truthful than the claimant, because in the set of disputed cases there is no statistical indication of who is lying. The text proposes a possible argument that assuming the possessor is lying means assuming theft, whereas assuming the claimant is lying does not necessarily imply actual theft but only an attempt to gain in court, but rejects this because in many cases, such as a loan or a deposit, there is no theft involved, just one lie against another. The text brings the case of Rav Abba’s snatched silver ingot, where an object was seized on the basis of testimony of snatching, and the snatcher claims, “I snatched what was mine,” and the law is that it must be returned, because the possessor is whoever was in possession at the moment the doubt arose, and later seizure does not help. The text concludes that possession is a legal presumption, not factual evidence, and connects this to a possible explanation of why “we do not say migo in order to extract,” because there is a presumption in favor of the possessor beyond the rule that the burden of proof is on the claimant. The text ends by saying that “the burden of proof is on the claimant” can be understood as a framework enactment against anarchy, and that sometimes such rules “build their own logic,” similar to the loop discussed regarding migo.
Full Transcript
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We were in the topic of migo. I spoke a bit about migo as the power of a claim, migo as the power of credibility, about the difference between those two formulations. Now I want to close the circle and come back to migo in its usual sense, meaning the why would I lie? idea. From there, basically, we were left with two points, two difficulties we raised. One of them is: what good is evidence about the person himself when we’re talking about a litigant? At most it can prove that he’s telling the truth. But with a litigant, his disqualification stems from the very fact that he is a litigant; it’s not because we suspect that maybe he’s not telling the truth. Like relatives: if we had a migo for related witnesses, it wouldn’t help, because we don’t reject the testimony of related witnesses because they’re suspected of lying, but because they’re related. That’s the first claim. And the second claim is the fact that the moment there is a migo, it undercuts the very claim it rests on, because it equalizes the force of the two claims. And the whole proof of migo is based on the fact that the alternative is a better claim. Now, if you give the same force to the claim I’m making now, then it comes out that I’ve undermined the consideration of why would I lie? Because now, what do you mean, why would I lie? I’m lying because I know I have the same force with this claim too. More than that, as I said, if I win with that claim, then I win because I have the upper hand. But if I win with this claim, then I win because there’s evidence in my favor, there’s a migo, so it’s not a win based on doubt, it’s a positive win. So it’s more convenient. It seems to me that it’s even more convenient, not just equal.
Okay, so regarding evidence for the litigant, meaning why migo helps a litigant when all it does is prove that the litigant isn’t lying — here, in fact, migo as the power of a claim solves the problem. Migo as the power of a claim basically says — let’s say I’m talking about the power of a claim or the power of credibility — the mechanisms I talked about until now solve the problem. Because if I say, for example, “paid” with a migo of “forged,” then when I claim “paid,” the formulation of the power of a claim says that since I could have claimed “forged,” I’m considered the possessor. Because I could have won by claim alone. If I had said “forged,” I wouldn’t have needed to bring evidence; I would have won by claim alone. The moment I would have won by claim alone, that’s what possession means — that I don’t need to bring evidence, I can win without bringing evidence. So if that’s the case, then the question doesn’t arise of how this helps a litigant, because the migo doesn’t operate by proving that he’s telling the truth. The migo simply turns him into the possessor. A litigant who is in possession really does win; what’s the question? If he has a migo, he becomes the possessor. Once he’s the possessor, a litigant who is in possession wins the case.
If we’re talking about why would I lie?, then the question really is: what good is the evidence that I’m not lying, if my whole problem is that I’m a litigant, not suspicion of lying? But if there’s the power of a claim here, then the power of a claim turns me into the possessor. Once I’m the possessor, I win not because this is evidence in my favor. The same is true also with the power of credibility, with all the differences between them, but in this regard I think the power of credibility would also work. If the power of credibility basically means, say, that I claim “paid” with a migo of “forged,” then it’s as if I’m really saying “forged.” Meaning, I win as though I had actually claimed “forged,” because basically the religious court makes the claim of “forged” on my behalf. It sets an evidentiary threshold in front of the other side: prove that it isn’t forged. That’s how I explained it too. Basically, it’s not that I’m really claiming “forged,” but that the task is placed on you to prove that it isn’t forged, because I could have claimed “forged” and waved you away. So if that’s really how it works, then once again all it does in practice is place the burden of proof on you; it doesn’t prove that I’m right. Since that’s so, again there’s no problem with the fact that I’m a litigant. So what if I’m a litigant? In the end, through this mechanism I shifted the burden of proof onto you. Very similar to the power of a claim, and therefore I think it works in a similar way.
Why would I lie? really is problematic when it operates with regard to a litigant, and so the question remains. And on that I don’t have a good answer. The question remains in those migos where there is only why would I lie? and no power of claim. For example, a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim. I once mentioned this strange migo that the Rashba and Tosafot in Ketubot, and the Rashba in Kiddushin, talk about. There is a migo from one weak claim to a somewhat less weak claim. With both of them I wouldn’t have won; even with the alternative claim I wouldn’t have won. But still it’s more comfortable for me to make it for all kinds of reasons. So now, when I make the more inferior claim, I have evidence that I’m not lying because — and the Rashba and Tosafot in Ketubot and the Rashba in Kiddushin say — there is a migo from one inferior claim to a less inferior one, and with both of them I wouldn’t have won. Why wouldn’t I have won with the less inferior claim? But still it’s more comfortable for me to make it for all kinds of reasons. So now, when I make the more inferior claim, I have evidence that I’m not lying. Because after all, I could have lied with a more comfortable lie. Even though I wouldn’t have won with it, still it’s at least more comfortable. After all, if I’m lying, I’d certainly choose the more comfortable lie. So there is evidence that I’m telling the truth. What the later authorities (Acharonim) call this is a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim. And with such a migo, certainly neither the power of credibility nor the power of claim helps. Because after all, even if I had made the best claim, I still wouldn’t have won. Yes, that’s Tosafot and the Rashba. That’s their innovation. Their innovation. In place of the less inferior claim, the more inferior one.
[Speaker C] It doesn’t help me because with it I still wouldn’t win.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I have claim A — I need to remember again what… I have claim A that doesn’t win, and claim B שגם doesn’t win. But claim A is more comfortable for me to make. Say there’s less brazenness in it, or things of that sort. Okay? Now I make claim B. Now if you say, listen, believe me that I’m telling the truth, because if I were lying I would have made claim A. True, I wouldn’t have won, but I also don’t win with this one, so if I’m already lying, I would choose the better claim, the more comfortable one. Okay?
[Speaker C] And then what happens in the practical outcome?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The result is that I win with claim B. Even though originally I wouldn’t have won with either A or B. But since I have a migo, and that proves that with claim B I’m not lying, then with claim B — even though it’s more inferior than A, and even A doesn’t win — with claim B I do win. Because I have evidence that I’m not lying.
[Speaker D] The whole question is whether in every migo of why would I lie? there, if witnesses arrive, they’ll invalidate that migo?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Witnesses, of course, certainly invalidate it. Why?
[Speaker D] But—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The why would I lie? exists in every—
[Speaker D] situation, because if he’s lying—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, because if there are witnesses against that claim, then you couldn’t have made it.
[Speaker D] But at the time I made the claim, there weren’t any witnesses.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] You mean the witnesses came afterward?
[Speaker D] They came afterward.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] If the witnesses came afterward, then in any case, even in a regular migo, the same question can be asked.
[Speaker D] Then this power of claim — that claim is already gone? No, the opposite. The power of claim…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why would I lie?… no, the opposite. In a regular migo, let’s say a document was paid, with a migo of “forged.” Okay? And afterward witnesses came that the document is not forged, they validated the document. So I can’t claim “forged,” because there are witnesses. Now when I claimed “paid,” the witnesses hadn’t yet come. I could have claimed “forged.” So this is again a migo that has why would I lie?, but doesn’t have the power of claim. Because I couldn’t have won, but it proves that I’m telling the truth. So this too is a migo in which there is the element of why would I lie?, but not the element of the power of claim. The very same question would apply to such a migo. Exactly the same question.
[Speaker D] And does that help there? Yes? A migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim that does help?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? A migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim is one issue, and Tosafot and the Rashba claim that it helps.
[Speaker D] On the side of why would I lie?, in a place where the witnesses… right, and that’s the approach of why would I lie—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Why would I lie? would help, since in a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim there is only why would I lie?, and if it helps, that means migo can work even without the power of claim, only with why would I lie?
[Speaker D] What happens when witnesses arrive? What?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] I’m saying again: it has nothing to do with witnesses. A migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim is an example of a migo that has only why would I lie? and no power of claim. Now, if Tosafot and the Rashba say that it helps, okay? Then that means a migo of why would I lie? without the power of claim also helps under certain circumstances. Now if that’s so, then what I said earlier is problematic. Because what I said earlier was that the only way migo can help is because of the power of claim within it. Because with the power of claim, I don’t care that I’m the litigant. Why would I lie? can’t help, because it proves that I, as a litigant, am not lying — so what? Okay? But with the power of claim there’s no issue; it turns me into the possessor. Fine? But here there’s a migo that has only why would I lie?; it doesn’t have the power of claim. So how can it work? It proves that I’m not lying, period, end of story. But I’m a litigant. With a litigant, the concern is that he lies — no, that’s not the point. Now one second, I’m coming back to what you remarked. The same question itself can be asked not about a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, but about every migo where witnesses came afterward and knocked out the alternative claim. Because it’s the same situation.
[Speaker D] And that doesn’t help in the Talmud? What?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Such a migo does not help in the Talmud.
[Speaker D] And why doesn’t it help? Because it’s Tosafot and the Rashba?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Okay, the same question, yes. I’m saying: such a migo is stated in the Talmud not to help. Yes, if witnesses came afterward. And I already remarked on that: seemingly it should have helped because the why would I lie? is present. Because the moment I claimed “paid,” I didn’t know that I wouldn’t be able to claim “forged.” Why didn’t I claim “forged”? I didn’t know witnesses would come. So I said that there are medieval authorities (Rishonim) who want to claim that if witnesses came at the end, maybe I knew about them, and therefore I didn’t claim “forged.” There’s some concern that it actually wasn’t comfortable for me to claim “forged,” because I knew or suspected there were witnesses or something like that. But without that, this really is a migo in which why would I lie? is present, but the power of claim is not present, and indeed the Talmud says it does not help. So that means that a migo of why would I lie? without the power of claim really doesn’t help. And that actually strengthens what I said earlier. That migo can’t… actually, the simple conception of migo is why would I lie?, and everyone asks where the power of claim comes from. Why would I lie? is clear; where does the power of claim come from? Now I’m trying to show that it’s exactly the opposite. Why would I lie? doesn’t work at all. But in the case of a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, according to Tosafot and the Rashba, I truly can’t understand that migo. If neither claim would have helped me on the merits, then the migo suddenly can’t create— why not? Easily it can. What? After all, I have proof that I’m not lying. I really do have proof that I’m not lying. But you’re not lying, fine, yet you didn’t make a claim with which you could win.
[Speaker C] No, I can’t win with it because I’m lying. That’s not true. You’re saying that the claim from worse to less-worse—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] In both claims, even if they were accepted, you still wouldn’t win. Why?
[Speaker C] Because they’d say I’m lying. No, okay, but I have proof that I’m not lying.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, that’s not the issue. Why?
[Speaker C] Otherwise it’s not a claim. What’s a claim? A claim means I’m claiming that I’m not liable. With such a claim, if it stood on its own without a migo, according to the rules of claims I wouldn’t win with that claim. I’m claiming that I’m not liable. Now there is proof that I’m telling the truth. Let’s say two witnesses came and said I’m someone who has told the truth all his life. So if you believe him, then he wins.
[Speaker E] But that’s regular migo, not the worse-to-less-worse case.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no — in a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim. In a migo from a worse claim — let’s say, take “paid” with a migo of “forged.” And let’s assume that I also can’t claim “forged” against a document — in truth, on the rabbinic level… sorry, on the Torah level I can’t claim “forged” against a document. On the rabbinic level they enacted document validation; on the Torah level also… but let’s talk on the Torah-level plane. “Paid” with a migo of “forged” on the Torah level is a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, right? When I claim “paid,” I can’t claim against a document.
[Speaker D] I can make the claim, but I don’t win.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, obviously. I can’t win with that claim. With “forged” I also can’t claim against a document. Meaning, the requirement to validate documents is rabbinic. So on the Torah level I can’t claim “forged” against a document. Now if I claim “paid,” I can still say to them, listen, friends, claiming “forged” is easier, that way I brush him off. Claiming “paid” is a weaker claim. Now with neither would I have won. But since the claim “forged” is more comfortable for me or seems more persuasive, the fact that I said “paid” is proof that I’m not lying. Because if I were lying, I would have chosen the claim of “forged.”
[Speaker C] Okay, I understand that, but you’re saying that even with the claim “paid” against a document, you wouldn’t win even if you’re telling the truth.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, if I’m telling the truth—
[Speaker C] I do win, because I came and paid it.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What does it mean, if I’m not telling the truth?
[Speaker C] What are you doing to me? What does it mean that I don’t win if I’m telling the truth?
[Speaker E] The worse-to-less-worse case means that right now… he thinks that in any event he doesn’t win.
[Speaker C] I wouldn’t have won with the claims. If I’m telling the truth, then of course I win. So what—
[Speaker E] is the difference between a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim and a regular migo?
[Speaker C] Because in a regular migo, with the claim I could have made, not only would I win if they believed me, I would win with it in any case.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By the claim itself, I would win with it. On the rabbinic plane, “paid” with a migo of “forged” is a regular migo. On the Torah-level plane, it’s a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, right? So let’s see what happens on the rabbinic plane. On the rabbinic plane I claim “paid.” I could have claimed “forged,” to say: if I had actually claimed “forged,” I would have won, right? Why would I have won? Because the assumption is that I’m telling the truth and it really is forged, and I have the right to make that claim; I don’t need to bring evidence in my favor in order to win, right? I would have won by the claim alone. With the claim “paid” I don’t win. But since I could have won with “forged,” that migo helps me win with the claim “paid.” Without the migo I wouldn’t win, but the migo helps me. But with “forged” I would have won even without the migo, simply by virtue of the claim itself.
In the worse-to-less-worse migo, now I move to the Torah-level plane. On the Torah-level plane, “paid” with a migo of “forged” is a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim. Because I can’t claim “forged” against a document.
[Speaker D] So if I were to say “forged,” I wouldn’t win unless I had some evidence that it’s forged. But otherwise, I wouldn’t win. And with “paid” I also don’t win unless there is a migo.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But if I claim “paid,” and the claim “forged” would have been more comfortable, even though I wouldn’t have won with it, still it would have been more comfortable, then I have an argument — evidence — that I’m not lying when I say “paid.” Because if I were lying, I would have chosen the claim “forged.” So now the claim “paid” is supported by evidence. I have a migo in my favor. So that can indeed help me win. The difficulty raised by Ayelet Ahavim there was a hard one. The claim I’m making and the claim I’m not making… okay. In a regular migo, with both of them I win, in relation to lying. The point here is that I won’t lie. The difficulty of Ayelet Ahavim there is much harder, because in a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, with that other claim I wouldn’t have won at all. Not only is it not of equal force to the current claim; the inferior claim suddenly becomes better. Not just equal to that other claim, but actually better.
[Speaker F] So I have an interest in making this claim — not only do I not have an interest in making the other claim, I have an interest in making this claim, and that’s obviously much stronger.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, you can worry that he doesn’t know the law, but assuming that he doesn’t know the law is something entirely different.
[Speaker F] That can happen.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, it matters, it matters. In this way, it really does leave some difficulty with those migos that have why would I lie? without the power of claim. Fine, but those are really rare migos. That’s the worse-to-less-worse migo. Usually there’s, for example, a migo of brazenness, and there is the power of claim without why would I lie?. Migos like that are more common. A migo that is only why would I lie? without the power of claim is rarer. There is a Tosafot in the Rosh that really needs to be understood — what exactly he’s doing there. You have to get into the case there. I think the case there is some specific situation; I just don’t remember exactly what it’s about.
[Speaker G] Does it have to be only one of them, or can there be a combination of both the power of claim and why would I lie??
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What do you mean? In a regular migo there is a combination.
[Speaker G] Meaning, if migo were either this or that, some one thing takes hold, then now couldn’t even a case of a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim fit in too? Why? Because why would I lie? proves that I’m telling the truth, but what disqualifies him is not—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] because he isn’t telling the truth. I’m a litigant. So in a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim, if migo helps, then if—
[Speaker C] If it were the power of claim, it wouldn’t be explained. If it’s why would I lie?, then it is explained.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, but it’s not explained. In a migo from a worse claim to a less-worse claim there is only the element of why would I lie?; there is no element of the power of claim. The problem is that with the element of why would I lie?, we have a difficulty. Because the element of why would I lie? proves that the litigant is telling the truth, but with a litigant my problem isn’t that he isn’t telling the truth. Why do I care that I have proof he’s telling the truth? That’s the difficulty we asked about why would I lie? from the outset. So in migos of this kind, where there is only why would I lie?, I can’t answer what I answered before — look, there’s the power of claim, I win because of the power of claim. Here there is no power of claim; there is only why would I lie?
[Speaker G] Yes, so that really seems to be the distinction of the Ritva, I think, when he said that with a litigant, arguments about the person himself don’t work. But that’s only kind of…
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, it’s not the Ritva; it’s general. If there’s a migo for relatives, it won’t help. For related witnesses it won’t help, because with related witnesses we don’t disqualify them as liars, but because they’re related.
[Speaker G] Right, there are maybe three… it’s a dispute, as if there are two approaches: one that really does not accept arguments about the person himself, and one that does accept arguments about the person himself. Right. The first one is the one who says we don’t accept arguments about the person himself.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Look, if he were believed by migo, telling the truth… migo helps witnesses — there’s a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim). I don’t remember a dispute among medieval authorities (Rishonim) about migo regarding problems of the person himself. There’s Ketzot and Maharit according to the above on a litigant’s admission. I said that a litigant’s admission is a mechanism somewhat similar to migo — it’s an ultra-migo. And there Ketzot indeed claims that a litigant’s admission is credibility. Maharit according to the above claims that it is self-obligation. And then Maharit according to the above asks exactly this point: it can’t be credibility, because a litigant is disqualified not because of suspicion of lying. So what good does credibility do for me? We don’t accept his words because he is a litigant. Therefore he says it is self-obligation and not credibility. But Ketzot, who says it is credibility — it would seem from him that indeed a consideration of that kind… maybe that’s what you meant — yes. But that’s not proof for migo. It’s an analogical example, because with a litigant’s admission there is a verse: “for this is it,” that a litigant’s admission counts like one hundred witnesses. So Ketzot will say, fine, that’s what the verse teaches: in this case we do accept this kind of evidence, even though it’s evidence for a litigant. Fine. So from ordinary migo it’s a bit hard, but maybe from here we can learn about ordinary migo too. Wait — in fact it helps even more than one witness. Yes, much more than one witness.
So that’s the first point about how migo works when it is evidence about the person himself. The second point is really the question of “then what remains?”, meaning that the migo refutes itself. And here we can go in several… let’s examine a few directions. This is a logical loop, right? Right. The first point is to notice that there is a loop here. Why? Because what are you suggesting?
[Speaker C] Because I’m giving—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] you credibility for claim B by virtue of the migo that I could have made claim A, which is better for me. So you say: since there is a migo, claim B receives the force of claim A. That’s perfectly logical. And therefore there is no migo, because the whole migo is based on the fact that if I wanted to lie, I would have made claim A, which is better. But after there is a migo, it’s no longer better; claim B is like claim A. Fine — so what are you suggesting? That there should be no migo. So if there is no migo, then once again there is—
[Speaker C] a loop, because if there isn’t—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] a migo, then that means claim B remains inferior, so then I do have proof that I’m not lying, because if I were lying I would have made claim A. So if I cancel the migo, that creates a migo. If I create the migo, that cancels the migo. So it turns out that there is some sort of loop here that you just can’t stop.
I’ll maybe bring an example of this. There’s a dispute between Tosafot and Ran in Bava Metzia 30. The Talmud there talks about a red heifer or the calf whose neck is broken that had no yoke placed upon it. And the Talmud says: a yoke has to be placed upon it with the owner’s consent, because otherwise it doesn’t become disqualified. If work is done with it, then it’s not fit to be a red heifer. But if the yoke was placed on it not with the owner’s consent — say someone else did work with my red heifer — that doesn’t disqualify the heifer. Right? A person cannot prohibit something that is not his. So only if a yoke was placed upon it with his consent. Tosafot asks there: what do you mean, with his consent? Obviously he won’t want it to be disqualified. He won’t agree to have a yoke placed on it; he’ll lose a fortune. A red heifer is extremely valuable. So by definition it’s not with his consent. Whenever a yoke is placed on it, he’ll always say: this isn’t with my consent. So how can it ever be with his consent?
[Speaker F] If he put the yoke on it? What? If he put the yoke on it? Yes, obviously.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, he doesn’t want it disqualified, because he’ll lose its standing. “With his consent” refers to the yoke. Okay, right. But the Talmud there also says that a yoke can be placed on it with his consent through someone else.
[Speaker F] Maybe he asked him—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] and he told him, “I agree”? Not only that, but you’re right in your remark that Tosafot’s intuition may be only with regard to someone else doing it. But why is this discussed?
[Speaker F] He asked him and he said, “I agree.” If he doesn’t do it himself, but he told him—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] We need to look there, because the Talmud there, it seems to me, is talking about “if water was put” and “if water was put,” regarding rendering seeds susceptible to impurity. And then it says that basically we’re dealing with a situation where rain falls and wets the fruit, so the question is whether that renders them susceptible to impurity, because there too it needs to be with his consent. And there it’s clear that this is only some kind of satisfaction, or someone asked him and he says, yes, this is to my liking. I think that’s how… I don’t remember exactly; I’d have to look there again. So Tosafot asks the question — okay, then where is the consent? So fine, Tosafot answers something, but Ran says: so what do you want? That we should not disqualify the heifer? If we don’t disqualify the heifer, then it will be with his consent that it remain qualified, so then it is with his consent. So once again you have some sort of loop here. The same thing with — you know there’s the Arukh.
[Speaker F] Wait, so when is it with his consent and when is it not with his consent? What? I didn’t understand.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] By what are you going to decide whether it is to his liking or not to his liking? So he said that you can’t stop this loop. If it’s to his liking, then yes, and it doesn’t matter that it’s not to his liking, because what saves it from the question of whether it is to his liking or not? If this is apart from the issue of disqualification, were it not for the issue of disqualification, would we have needed this burden? Yes. Tosafot also writes that, but at least he means what the Ran says at the end, and that’s another discussion. There is the Arukh, who writes about an unintended act: after all, in a case of an inevitable result you are liable on the Sabbath. If you do an act and drag a bench and create a furrow, right? So an unintended act is exempt; the Jewish law follows Rabbi Shimon, that he is exempt—actually it is even permitted in the case of an unintended act; Rabbi Yehuda exempts and the Sages exempt and so on. But in a case of an inevitable result you are liable. And if you drag a bench in such a way that a furrow will definitely be made, then you are liable. But the Arukh writes that this is only an inevitable result that is beneficial to him. So only such a case, where it is convenient for you that the furrow be made—you want it to plow or something like that. So again they ask there—and later authorities already note this—
[Speaker F] among the medieval authorities—and what if he gets himself into trouble?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] After all, he will get himself into trouble. What? If it’s to his liking, then he made a furrow and he’ll get entangled in an inevitable-result case and so on. What about the warning? Yes, yes—warning, witnesses, everything.
[Speaker E] What will they tell him—don’t make the furrow?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, of course—if all the conditions are met. Okay? So by definition it is not to his liking, right? After all, who wants to get into trouble? So what’s the question? And then what will you say? Fine, then they won’t stone him. If they don’t stone him, then—
[Speaker E] Yes, it is to his liking again—it is. Let him say that he does want to die.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, if he says that, then fine. But the assumption is that ordinarily a person does not want to die, and if he didn’t say that explicitly, then you can’t—
[Speaker E] But then this difficulty applies to every transgression, because who really wants to die?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] He doesn’t need to want to die.
[Speaker E] He doesn’t need to? Doesn’t he need warning and witnesses and “knowing that, I still do it”? Only here? Why only here? In every transgression?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No. In every transgression he does not need to want to die; he only needs to want the act. Understand? If he does the act intentionally, then that’s enough. But here, in a case of an inevitable result, you need that it be beneficial to him. Right. In short, all these loops—but it really isn’t clear where this leads. Okay, so there is a loop, but where do you stop? Who says that this loop resolves anything? In general, where do you stop? So simply speaking, in migo—let’s return to migo—where do you stop the migo when there is a loop? I assume that since we are in doubt—either there is proof or there isn’t proof—we leave it with the one currently in possession. Now who is the one in possession? No, no—it’s the force of the claim, the “why would I lie?” point. Now who is the one in possession? So look: if I have force of claim, then that turns me into the one in possession. Now the “why would I lie?” can generate it in such a way that since I am the one in possession, I will also prevail through migo, so I will also have “why would I—”
[Speaker C] “lie.”
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] The force of claim will stop the loop of the “why would I lie?”
[Speaker C] Is there doubt whether I am the one in possession?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, no, because by virtue of the force of claim there is no doubt. The whole problem of “or perhaps he is in fact telling the truth” applies only to the “why would I lie?” within migo. I have the force of claim in any case. Since the force of claim turns me into the one in possession—and this is by force of claim, not by force of credibility, and that is a practical difference—so it turns me into the one in possession. Once it turns me into the one in possession, if there is doubt whether I have proof or don’t have proof—
[Speaker D] since I am the one in possession, then I will win.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] It’s not that simple, because sometimes the one in possession has some weakness, and even so he still needs something in his favor; otherwise, why would you ever need migo in the world? After all, if he is coming to extract, then migo does not help to extract, and to retain you don’t need migo—I’m the one in possession. So it is always a situation where I am the one in possession, but there is some weakness such that without the migo I would still lose. For example, when there is a document against me. What is this migo of “the document is forged”? Here, in the migo of “the document is forged,” after all, the money is with me. He is suing me for money, that I should repay him the loan. But it is clear that even though the money is with me, I will have to pay. I need the migo in order to be believed.
[Speaker C] But is force of claim enough for that? You don’t need “why would I lie.”
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, that’s the point—it’s not certain that it is enough. It may be that it is enough. But it may be that even though it turns me into the one in possession—very good—still there is a claim against me. The document extracts from me even though I am in possession. The document will not turn you into the one in possession. I am in possession, but the document extracts from me. And there is a document; proof extracts from one in possession.
[Speaker D] But does force of claim really not help me—just force of claim alone?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Yes, it made you the one in possession, and now you have to examine whether someone has contrary proof. So if I am in possession, I lose. Okay? But if I have migo, then there is proof in my favor. And then it may be that I will win. Okay. So it may be that the force of claim stops the loop of the “why would I lie?” So that is one possibility.
[Speaker F] Yes, but in the cases of the cow and the maidservant that we mentioned earlier, there the assumption is that there is doubt.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] That’s what everyone asks: why does it stop there? Continue the loop. And then you have to understand in every place why they stop the loop דווקא where they stopped it. I’m not getting into that topic; it’s only an example. We have returned to the matter of migo. In migo I can suggest a criterion for why the loop stops here. The loop stops here because he is the one in possession. Now, simply speaking, this is not only because of the force of claim. Let’s say he has no force of claim. After all, we do not say migo in order to extract. So if this migo helps, that usually means that I am in possession not only because of the force of claim, but I am in possession—like with money when someone sues me over a loan. The money is with me; I am in possession of the money. He has a document against me, and I am in possession of the money. So my being in possession does not stem from the force of claim. My being in possession is because I really am in possession. And then there is a problem, and I need migo in order to win despite the fact that I am in possession. Okay? So since that is so, it turns out that even without force of claim, even a migo that goes from a worse claim to a worse claim, or even a migo that does not contain force of claim, still usually the one raising the migo is the one in possession, because otherwise the migo would not help—it would be a migo to extract.
[Speaker C] What does force of claim help if he is already in possession anyway? What does force of claim help if he is already in possession anyway? Against the document.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Right, you’re correct. It’s a kind of possession in the claim, maybe. Since you asked that here already, I’ll answer it here already. In monetary law, in tort law, there is an inquiry among the later authorities as to why the owner becomes obligated to pay. Let’s say my ox gored your ox—why do I have to pay? Some say I have to pay because I was negligent in guarding it. Some say I have to pay because it is my ox. And of course both agree that you need both things: negligence in guarding, and it has to be my ox. The whole question is what creates the obligation and what is the condition. Okay, it’s clear that you need both, and that’s that. It’s just that one says negligence in guarding creates the obligation; but of course, it has to be mine, because otherwise I am not obligated to guard it. So the negligence in guarding matters because I have a duty of guarding. And the other says no—the very fact that my property caused damage obligates me; only if I was not negligent is that a claim of exemption.
[Speaker C] So I have an exemption.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But what obligates me is that it is my property. What is the practical difference? There are almost no practical differences, as in all these inquiries. Whenever they bring them, they’re never really practical differences.
[Speaker C] What? Reasoning and understanding, yes, exactly.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But one practical difference is, at least on the face of it, apparently persuasive. It’s a dispute between the Chazon Ish and the Pnei Yehoshua on the question of the duty of guarding. If my ox gored someone else’s ox, and I claim that I guarded it properly and my ox dug under the wall—in other words, I was prevented by circumstances beyond my control, and I am exempt; I was not negligent in guarding—and the injured party claims that I was negligent in guarding, now the question is who has to bring proof. So apparently, the injured party. The injured party wants me to pay, right? So I am the one in possession, and therefore the burden of proof is on the injured party, and that is indeed what the Pnei Yehoshua says. But the Chazon Ish argues that the burden of proof is on the damager. The later authorities explain—and Rabbi Shmuel, and everyone follows him in this—explain that the dispute is exactly on this point. If negligence in guarding is what creates the obligation, then as long as you have not proven that I was negligent in guarding, there is no basis for liability. Obviously you have to prove that I was negligent, because without that I’m not even talking to you. In contrast, if the fact that it is my property is what obligates me, and only if I was not negligent I am exempt, then the fact that my property caused damage is a fact—that is clear—and in order for me to be exempt because I was not negligent, I have to bring proof that I was not negligent. Now when you look in the Chazon Ish itself—and it seems to me Rabbi Eliyahu Blumenzweig, head of the Yerocham yeshiva, everyone repeats this, really—you can see it in all the later authorities—it is simply not true. When you read the Chazon Ish inside, you see that he writes exactly the opposite. The Chazon Ish writes that the burden of proof is on the damager, but he explains why the burden of proof is on the damager: because his claim is less plausible. After all, your ox caused damage, right? Now you come and claim that you guarded it properly and nevertheless it dug under a wall—you were under compulsion. That is not a plausible claim. It can happen, but it isn’t plausible. Therefore the burden of proof is on you. Meaning, the Chazon Ish assumes—he does not assume that in tort by one’s property what obligates me is that it is my property and negligence exempts me. Rather, no: he agrees that negligence in guarding creates the obligation, and therefore in principle he is the one trying to extract, and in principle the burden of proof should have been on the injured party.
[Speaker C] It’s just that—he—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] says: your claim is weaker, and whoever has the weaker claim has the burden of proof on him.
[Speaker C] By the way, in civil tort law there is the same thing. There is a rule that “the thing speaks for itself,” and then the burden of proof shifts to the damager.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] And that is exactly what the Chazon Ish says.
[Speaker C] And the conditions for “the thing speaks for itself” are exactly these things: first, that it is his, and second, that his claim is less plausible than the other side’s, and then this rule applies.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] So that is exactly what the Chazon Ish says.
[Speaker C] Is there a State governed by Jewish law?
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] What? Is there a State governed by Jewish law?
[Speaker E] You—
[Speaker C] know—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Even a stopped clock shows the right time twice a day.
[Speaker C] Not just even—only a stopped clock.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Only a stopped clock. A clock that never stops will never be exactly right twice a day—or else it will happen twice in more than a day or a little less than a day, unless it goes crazy. Why won’t it be exactly right twice a day? Either it is accurate, and then it’s right all the time, not twice a day. Three-sixty shows the right time twice a day. In any case, what does the Chazon Ish tell us? The Chazon Ish says that there is another concept of possession, which is not possession of the object—meaning, if the object is with me then I am in possession—but rather the more plausible claim: whoever makes the more plausible claim is considered in possession, and that transfers the burden of proof to the other side, whose claim is less plausible. Now here, many times, by the way, in migo where there really is a problem—I am in possession, but there is a problem with my claim. There is a problem with my claim because the claim is not plausible. Now in such a place, sometimes the migo does not prove that I am right; rather, it turns my claim into an admissible claim. There is an example of this that they always bring, with the merchants in the chapter “Chazkat HaBatim.” There—
[Speaker C] two people are sitting in a house—
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] where I rented the house for three years to merchants. I rented the house for three years to merchants. Now I want to claim that the house is mine by three-year possession: I used the house for three years and he did not protest. How does the religious court know that I used it for three years? I bring the merchants as witnesses: here, I rented them the house, they sat there on my behalf for three years and paid me. The Talmud says: what are you talking about? The merchants are not believed, because they have an interest in testifying in my favor—they do not want to pay the other homeowner again; they already paid me. If they testify that it is his, he will say, fine, bring the money—you lived in my house for three years. They don’t want that; they are interested parties. So on that the Talmud says that they have a migo. The medieval authorities say—I don’t remember—the medieval authorities say there that they have a migo because they could have said that we paid him, that the house is his and that we paid him.
[Speaker C] Doesn’t matter.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] They are two witnesses; they can do whatever they want with the litigants—they are two witnesses, right. They can say we paid him. Now here all the—
[Speaker C] But he claims the house is mine.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] Who says? Reuven rented the house to two merchants. Okay? For three years. After three years Shimon comes and says, gentlemen, what are you doing in my house? Reuven says, I rented it to them; this house is mine, I bought it from you. Now there is the presumption of three years: if for three years you use the house and the other person does not protest, that is proof that the house is yours. But that is only a claim. Wait. Yes, the claim is that I bought it. No, no. Oh—that I bought it? I bought it from you three years ago; I rented it to them. Now how do we know that he used the house for three years? He brings the merchants as witnesses. The merchants testify, okay. The merchants are not believed.
[Speaker D] They are not believed because obviously they will testify in his favor—they do not want to pay the host again. Not true. So let them say it belonged to the host and we paid him.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] But they can’t, because the seller says, what are you doing here? Get out. The host—the one who says this house is mine—yes, he himself says, you merchants, get out of here. He says he did not receive payment. So we say that we paid him—so what if he says he didn’t receive it? We are two witnesses; we say we paid him. Send him home. But he—
[Speaker E] can claim: no, they should simply leave.
[Rabbi Michael Abraham] No, but if he sues me claiming I didn’t pay him, and I bring two witnesses that we did pay him, then what? Is he right or am I right? But he isn’t claiming, “You didn’t pay me.” He’s saying, “I rented it to you—get out of here, this is my house. I wasn’t the host at all.” So now we leave; the whole question is only whose house it is. Clear. So I’m saying: we testify in favor of the current possessor. Right. The host comes and says, “It’s mine.” Right. So we say: we testify in favor of the possessor; there are two witnesses for the possessor. No—you’re not valid witnesses, because you have a personal stake in the matter, since you’re afraid you’ll have to pay him. If you had testified that it was his, you would have had to pay him. No—if I testified that it was his, I would also say that I’m paying him, that I paid him. What’s the problem? So that migo removes my personal stake as a witness. This is a migo that removes a personal stake. And that stake turns me into a litigant, and the migo removes the stake. This migo doesn’t turn me into the possessor; it doesn’t do any such thing. It removes a personal stake. Okay? It also doesn’t prove that I’m telling the truth; it’s not the usual “why would I lie” mechanism. Rather, it’s a migo that shows I have no stake in the matter. Meaning: I could have said this, I could have said that, therefore accept our testimony. Now they accept it as testimony—they accept our testimony because we are two witnesses, not because we have a migo. It’s just that without the migo we would have had a personal stake in the matter, and they wouldn’t have accepted our testimony. The migo removes the stake. There are a few examples of this. What? Does the migo validate them? Yes. So sometimes migo does not create the “why would I lie” effect, nor is it some kind of argumentative force; it just removes a personal stake. You don’t need it despite the fact that I’m the possessor.
The loop, Rabbi—I think the loop is created, and you won’t be able to get out of it if the conditions are symmetrical. You need something to break the symmetry—either the money is with you, or only there. If two people come into religious court with one cloak, migo doesn’t help. Okay. They split it, because there’s no way to break it. They split it because they’re both possessors, and that’s the law. They split it according to what? No—why is that the law? This one says, “It’s all mine,” and the other says, “It’s all mine,” so they split it. Migo won’t help there. It’s only because he isn’t claiming the quarter. You mean the case of “all of it” and “half of it”? So what’s the question? No, I’m saying that there too there’s symmetry, because the claim isn’t symmetric. When the claims are symmetric, the loop is created, right? Obviously not. But with the other half too, in the case of “half of it” and “all of it,” that’s also symmetric. One half you admit to, and regarding the second half we are both possessors. Therefore they split the second half. Yes. That doesn’t mean it’s correct. No, it’s not clear. If there isn’t some claim that makes this like the ordinary splitting case, there’s no difference between “all of it and half of it” and “all of it and all of it.” I agree. I’m saying that where there is—because there, in “all of it and half of it,” on one half there is no dispute. Right, so he takes it. Right. But all the claims are only about the second half, therefore they split. Agreed.
I’m saying: migo, when the conditions are symmetrical—if the money is not with you, or if I’ve established possession over you regarding the money—then there’s no solution. Right. Therefore I’m saying you have to find some anchor point that stops this infinite loop. I’m saying that possession, or argumentative force, can stop this loop. I still don’t agree with that, and I’ll also say why. If the witnesses—the merchants—say, “We could have claimed that we rented it from the host and paid him,” they couldn’t have claimed that. Why? Because it is contradicted by both sides. It’s contradicted by the homeowner, who says, “I rented it to you,” and also contradicted by the host, who says, “I don’t know you at all—get out of here.” Either way, one of them is a litigant and the other is one witness. They both contradict the merchants’ claim—the claim they supposedly could have made—and of those two, one is a litigant, so what remains is one witness. And one witness against two is ineffective. I don’t know—it’s like what they could have claimed. I bring two. Who wins? I win—I have two witnesses. You bring one witness; you don’t count, because you’re a litigant. You’re constantly under the impression, like in our system, that a litigant is also a witness. Israeli law? Yes, and ordinary law too—a litigant has weight in the sense that the judge has to decide whom he believes; if he believes him, he believes him. Right, right—there is no essential disqualification merely because you are a litigant, but there is some weight, and of course they take into account the fact that you have an interest. And certainly if you admit liability—but in Jewish law, in monetary law, there is admission of a litigant; but not because of your evidentiary weight as a witness. Admission of a litigant is a special rule. But in criminal law, no—in criminal law it’s different, not there.
So that’s one direction for stopping the infinite loop. A second direction I once thought of is the law of a deceitful case. Maimonides, in the Laws of Sanhedrin, writes at the beginning of chapter 24—he says at the beginning of chapter 24, I think he’s speaking there about capital cases or lashes—that there, you need two proper witnesses. Meaning, there’s no freedom; you are tied to the formal laws of evidence. In monetary law, Maimonides says, the judge should do what his mind inclines toward; he is not bound by the laws of evidence—the evidence is only a recommendation. In monetary law, the source for this is the Rif, who derives it from the Talmud. Tosafot disagrees, though only partially. But the position of the Rif and Maimonides is that in monetary law, the laws of evidence are only a recommendation. Meaning, the judge basically has to do what he thinks. Meaning what? Yes, whatever he thinks. And this again is a state governed by Jewish law. Right, right, a state governed by Jewish law. In the end we’ll discover that we live in a state governed by Jewish law. In the end we’ll discover that the Messiah is here. And that’s the High Court—the High Court does whatever it wants. I see—the High Court does whatever it wants. Yes.
Now, this addition is only brought by the Rif, and Maimonides copies it, that this was the custom of the two academies; that’s how they did it in Babylonia. But from that period on, they accepted that they no longer do this, because the people were dispersed and the generations did not know—I don’t remember exactly what—or our minds are confused, or whatever it was exactly. They no longer rely on judges in this generation, and so we do stick to the laws of evidence. But there is still the law of a deceitful case. A deceitful case means that if the judge’s mind inclines very strongly toward one side, and the other side brings two witnesses in its favor, and the judge feels that something smells bad here, he can no longer rule against the two witnesses—that existed once and no longer exists now—but what he can do is withdraw from the case. “I can’t rule in his favor; something smells bad here.” Bring another judge? Yes, yes, exactly—bring another judge. Bring another judge, and then what? Then they’ll have to persuade him, and then everything has to start again from the beginning. Yes. If he is persuaded by those two witnesses, fine—he’ll rule with them. And if not, then he too will withdraw. What’s the point of everything we’re saying—what difference does it make? Good question. Apparently this is in a place where you don’t have your own judge and you want to stick to the laws of evidence. There are those who want to narrow Maimonides more, but the plain meaning of Maimonides and the Rif is that you do whatever you want, everywhere—whatever you want.
Let me just add one more remark here. In capital punishment or lashes it’s different from civil law, from monetary law. In monetary law there are two sides. Therefore in capital punishment or lashes—or in legal systems in general today—in criminal law you need a much higher evidentiary threshold than in civil law. In criminal law there is no second side; at most, you acquit the person. If it isn’t beyond a reasonable doubt, you cannot convict him. In civil law, fifty-one percent is enough, because if you acquit this one, you obligate that one. There’s no way to go here with ninety-nine percent, because if you went with ninety-nine percent, then on the remaining two percent he wins. It can’t be that you give him the money on the basis of two percent; there are two sides here. So in a certain sense, perhaps that’s the reason that in monetary law the judge does what his mind inclines toward, because there too the inclination of his mind has weight. In criminal law—even if your mind doesn’t incline—right. It doesn’t incline, but if the laws of evidence say so, fine, and if not, then no. Then nothing happened—you acquitted the person, the person who would otherwise be liable. No, here it’s also for liability. Right—that you obligate an innocent person, that’s the problem if your mind didn’t incline. Okay, and that’s a problem. Yes. If one says it can go toward liability, then one can withdraw. What? Yes, one can withdraw. The case remains standing in any event. Toward liability too—even if he doesn’t want to—he simply withdraws; he won’t impose liability. Yes.
What I’m saying is, you can take this in two directions. There’s a difference between monetary law and punishments. So what do I want to say? I want to say that migo, in the end—if we think about the core law for now, and leave aside our present time, let’s say as it was then—basically migo is only a recommendation. So in practice, when you make a migo claim, you don’t know whether the religious court will accept it. You’re taking a gamble. Right? Either they will accept it or they won’t; it depends whether they’re persuaded. Because essentially the judge does what he thinks. Therefore if claim A is better than claim B, you won’t make claim B. Because with claim A you definitely win. With claim B, you win only if the court decides that it is persuaded by your migo. But if it decides that it suspects you, then despite your migo you won’t win. So obviously you’ll go with the safer route; you’ll take claim A. That’s why migo works. This is the question, and this is the answer to the question of the Ilui according to Beit Shammai. If claim A has a better chance of persuading the judge than claim B—obviously, because with claim A he wins, simple as that, there’s no hesitation. Again, unless some terrible stench arises, yes? But there’s no hesitation; I persuade you. What do you want? A better chance of persuading the judge. Yes. So in fact, even after we rule that there is migo, there is no room for the Ilui’s question according to Beit Shammai. Because even after we’ve determined that there is migo, it still remains up to the court whether it uses the migo here or does not use it here. If it suspects that something isn’t right, it won’t give him that migo. You take a risk when you make the weaker claim. Don’t rely on the fact that you have migo. There’s a chance you’ll win.
Migo from one weak claim to another weak claim, say, is always worth doing, and there the question is indeed harder. But ordinary migo—you won’t give up a claim with which you definitely win in order to gamble on a claim with which you might win. But even that claim—you’re not almost certain; doesn’t matter, almost certain—you say it’s forged, so what are you saying? There’s a better chance I’ll persuade them. It’s not clear that the court will acquit me—or rather rule for me—unless, again, if there’s some reason, it’s not at all clear how, if there’s some reason to say something here isn’t enough. It’s enough that there’s a better chance. So he won’t make the weaker claim.
But sometimes a claim of “it’s forged” is a claim that broadens the front. Because even if one thinks it’s a stronger claim, the proof required there—falsification—means you’re opening a larger front; your opportunity to get caught is greater. If I say it’s forged. I mean when he says it’s forged. Yes, but you’re taking a greater risk. Why? Because attacking a claim of forgery is easier than making a wild claim without—meaning, sometimes people don’t choose the harder claim because it’s a case of migo de-ha’aza; it’s that kind of place. I’m saying even there. No—when you say “forged,” you take a risk. You can’t later retract that claim. So are you challenging the presumption that a fool will make a strong claim and then later say, “Nothing ever happened,” and then he wants to add all sorts of little things—you’re finished. That’s not essential. The “paid” in the migo of “forged” isn’t—that’s not the important point. But as a matter of principle, if claim A is better and claim B is less good, then you will make A, even though B has a migo.
Now, if by chance claim A also broadens the front, then it simply isn’t better. True—but it isn’t better because that is exactly migo de-ha’aza. I accept that. I’m saying: it may be stronger in one sense, but… Fine, then it won’t be stronger, and that will undermine the migo itself; it doesn’t matter. I’m saying that in a place where there is migo, where claim A really is better, and it doesn’t involve risk—if with the claim I could have made, the better claim, I make it—but it isn’t true. It isn’t true. After all, I made the weaker claim on the assumption that the weaker claim is the true one, in terms of what actually happened; I’m only using migo so they’ll believe me about it. No—the judge, the opposite. I’m speaking about the judge. I claim “paid”; I have a migo from “forged.” No—I’m speaking about the problem with the judge. But I’m saying, if you tell a person: because he’s worried that the judge won’t accept the weaker claim, it’s preferable for him to make the stronger claim straight away—but it isn’t true. It’s false. No—he’s lying in any event. Who says that in the second claim—what did he say? Again, you’re missing this point. When I claim “paid” with a migo from “forged,” why do I need migo? Why don’t they believe me when I say “paid”? Because the court thinks I’m lying. There’s a reason, right? Wait, no, one second. The court thinks I’m lying, so I say to the court: look, if, as you think, I were lying, I would have lied better, right? Now you can no longer say that. Because if, as… meaning on the contrary, you can say it; that is, even if what you’re saying is false—if, as we think, you are lying, it still isn’t true that you would have made that claim. In this claim you have a migo; you would have made that other claim because there it’s true. What do I answer? Not true. Because even if, as you think, I am lying, I still would have made that other claim, because with this claim maybe you won’t be persuaded and won’t accept it. The whole question is: according to your view that I’m lying. For me, it doesn’t matter what I think the truth is. I make claim B; you don’t know whether it’s true or false. Maybe I know; you don’t. So I’m doing the calculation for you, not for me. From your perspective, you claim that I’m lying. I tell you: look, if I were lying, I would have made that other claim, so believe me that I’m not lying. Meaning, the whole calculation is done under the assumption that claim B is also false. Okay? That’s the second direction.
A third direction—which sounds to me the best, and it isn’t written in the booklet; I added it later—is that the whole business is simply wrong. The “if it were true” argument is just a mistake in the calculation, in his question. Why? Let’s look again at this migo. Okay? A person comes and says “paid”; he says: believe me, because if I were lying, I would have claimed “forged.” The Ilui asks: what do you mean? After all, you know there is migo. You’re saying “paid” even though “forged” is a better claim, because you want to be believed on “paid” through migo, right? What are you proposing? Let us not accept the migo, right? Because then what will happen? If we do not accept the migo, then if he says “paid,” we won’t accept his claim, and if he says “forged,” we will accept his claim. Now let’s do the calculation. Suppose he is a liar. Fine? Game theory—we draw the tree of possibilities. Let’s suppose he is a liar. If he is a liar and we do not give him the bonus of migo, you will never be able to overcome him. He’ll say “forged.” You will never be able to overcome a liar. Because when a liar comes and says “paid,” he wants you to believe him because of migo, and we suspect he’s lying. Therefore he says, “Believe me because of migo.” Meaning: according to your view that I’m a liar, believe me because of migo. If according to our view he is a liar, and we do not give him migo, then that liar would really come and say “forged.” Not giving migo will not save you from liars. After all, the liar can choose whatever claim he wants. So if he knows that the code of Jewish law says that migo claims are not accepted, no problem—he will come and say “forged” directly; he won’t say “paid.” Who have you hurt by removing migo from the code of Jewish law? Who have you hurt? The truth-teller. Because a person who is telling the truth and wants to claim “paid” is trying to persuade us that he is telling the truth. He says: look, if I were lying, I would have claimed “forged,” right? So believe me when I claim “paid”; allow me to tell the truth. If you do not believe me because of migo, you force me—as a truth-telling person—to lie in order to win truthfully. Because the truth is that I am right; I really did pay. But if you do not accept from me the claim “paid,” then in order to save my money you are forcing me to say “forged” and to lie. Let me be believed through migo. Why should we care? Let’s let him be believed through migo so that he won’t be forced to lie. Because from the liar’s perspective, he loses nothing. From the liar’s perspective, even if we don’t give him migo, he wins anyway—he’ll say “forged.”
What difference does it make… how to lie… The court may not accept “forged.” If there’s a concern that the court can do something… No, no, no—I’ve moved to the third direction now. Forget the court. Without the court. Without the whole issue that the court has discretion. Let’s ignore that now. I’m claiming that even if the court is constrained—after all, in our time, when the court can no longer exercise discretion, okay?—I’m saying: there is still a mistake in the calculation. Because you want to give up migo in order to deal with fraudsters, because you’re afraid of fraudsters. But if the fraudsters are standing in front of you, what do you gain by not giving migo? If you don’t give migo, then he’ll say “forged” instead of “paid.” After all, the fraudster does whatever he wants just to win. So you gain nothing. So you’ll ask: then what is migo needed for at all? It doesn’t deal with fraudsters, so what do we need migo for? That’s what Maimonides explained, remember? We read Maimonides. Maimonides said: what is migo needed for? To tell a person: look, you are a truth-teller; you are a Torah scholar. You know that with the true claim you will lose. So, as a Torah scholar, you would force yourself to lie, because otherwise the liar facing you will win the case. You would claim “forged” even though the document is genuine. Or he won’t be forced to lie; he’ll be forced to pay. Yes, but we’re afraid… I didn’t understand—even if he doesn’t lie, a bad result still happens… To cause the honest side to come to lie… Yes, but in my opinion that’s a less significant consideration. Because if you were negligent and didn’t take the document back when you paid, then you got yourself into trouble. We only want the person not to have to lie, so that we know what the person is really saying in religious court, so that he won’t have to lie to us. That’s also how Maimonides explains there in the law we read, when Maimonides says: you are a Torah scholar… He is not fighting against liars. Migo cannot fight against liars.
And so, in certain respects, now look at what comes out for us: in order to answer the question of the Ilui of Meitshet, in practice we erased the “why would I lie” of migo. We simply erased it. Because in fact this argument works from the outset only on the assumption that you are a truth-teller. I don’t need migo. Migo does not prove that you are telling the truth. Migo allows you to tell the truth and not lie—that’s all. But migo does not prove that you are telling the truth. And therefore, after all the calculations, what comes out is that there is no migo as “why would I lie.” It’s simply astonishingly revolutionary. Meaning, after you explain why the question of the Ilui of Meitshet does not arise, you save the “why would I lie” at the price that in fact there is no “why would I lie.” There isn’t; it doesn’t really work. And so somehow, from every direction, a rather surprising thing emerges at first glance: the part of migo that seems least logical, the part everyone doesn’t understand—why it is there—is the only part that actually exists. The logical part, the one everyone does understand in migo, in fact does not exist. The Talmud immediately brings formulations of “why would I lie.” What? The Talmud immediately brings formulations of “why would I lie.” Yes, yes, there is a “why would I lie” here, but only in this sense. It’s in a technical sense; there is no real proof that you’re not lying. There is a mechanism here that allows you not to lie. Meaning, “why would I lie” gets interpreted differently according to the direction I’m suggesting here. But in terms of the calculation, that’s what comes out. Okay?
So—I don’t know—those are the three possibilities; you can choose whichever you want. Now I want, maybe I’ll just begin now and continue next time, to talk a little about the appendix I wrote here: how to relate to this kind of reasoning that we encountered throughout this whole passage. What is the meaning of the matter? One can expand this more. Why should we give an advantage to the possessor, for example? What is it—the possessor is more likely to be telling the truth than the claimant? Why assume that he is telling the truth and the claimant is lying? It doesn’t seem like a plausible inferential consideration. Meaning, that it is more likely that you are speaking the truth than the other person. What should we do? What should we do? We do nothing. We leave the state of affairs as it is. Okay. So many levels of doubt, so much uncertainty. Why do we take this half away from him? If we don’t know, then why take this half from him? Why not? It’s fifty-fifty. Maybe he’s lying, maybe he isn’t. What do you mean, why take it away? We don’t take anything away—simply. Whoever is stronger prevails, or I don’t know. Split it, judicial discretion, I don’t know. Do whatever you want. But why—where does the rule “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another” come from? Otherwise there would be no end to it; you extract in order somehow to resolve matters. What do you mean? To whom belongs the presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his? The burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract. So what is there without that? There is no presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his, in a place where there is no presumption. Where there is one—when the objects are in my possession—the assumption is that they are mine. There is no such presumption. In my view that’s a major mistake. There is no such presumption. If there is a person who… No, I’ll tell you why not. If an object is in my possession, is it more likely that it is mine than that it just happens to be with someone to whom it doesn’t belong? I’ll tell you why not. Because this is a common mistake, a statistical mistake. Obviously, when I survey all objects found among people, in most cases the objects are theirs; they are not stolen. But an object that is under dispute—how do you know that there the one holding it is right and the claimant is the liar? In the group of disputed objects, I have no indication who the liar is and who is telling the truth. We don’t examine people; we only examine… Why? Obviously, the claimant—why do you presume he is a thief? Ah! So there is one possible explanation for what you are suggesting, and afterward I’ll explain why even that is not correct. But there is one possible explanation. In order to assume that I am lying, I—the possessor—you also have to assume that I stole it. Not only that I am lying, because how did it reach me if it isn’t mine? Now theft is already a far-reaching claim. Whereas, wait—whereas if I assume that the claimant is lying, then he didn’t steal; he’s lying and trying to make money by means of a lie. Some would argue that it is preferable to assume that someone is lying than to assume that someone stole, because that is less far-reaching. How many thieves are there? There are more liars. How many thieves are there? Therefore the possessor has an advantage over the claimant.
But the claimant wants to steal—what does he want to do? No, he wants to lie so that the religious court will take it for him. He isn’t taking it himself; he isn’t breaking into the house. It’s not the same thing. Lying in court—many people do that. How many people enter their fellow’s house and take an object that isn’t theirs? No, not an object—you’re talking about a loan? No, wait—that’s exactly the point. In a loan there is no thief. And that’s the answer to why it’s not correct. It’s not correct because in very many cases—in most cases—the issue is not that you stole from me. That may be true in a situation where I claim that you stole from me and you say you didn’t. But in a situation where I deposited something with you and you say, “It was lost through circumstances beyond my control”—you are a guardian and you say that—or I lent you money and you say, “I repaid it.” Right? In such a situation there is no question of thief versus non-thief; it’s liar versus liar. And yet there is still a presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his? Of course. That presumption was not said only in the context of theft; it was said everywhere. “The burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another” applies everywhere, and there is also the presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his. And those two things come together? Certainly. The two things come together, except for the case of the goats that ate peeled barley—yes, those goats wandering around—there there is no presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his; there is only the rule that the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract. But in every normal case there is also the presumption.
By the way, there are those who explain that this is why we do not say migo in order to extract. Because “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract”—how can that stand against migo? After all, I have a migo, so I brought proof; “the burden of proof is on the extractor”—I brought it. After all, “the burden of proof is on the extractor” gives no positive weight in your favor. If there is no reason to do anything, then we do nothing. But if there is a migo, even at the lowest evidentiary level possible, then that is already in my favor—fifty-one percent in my favor. That should be enough for them to move the money to me, no? It’s only because I see the money is with you—meaning, there is a presumption in your favor, not just the rule that the burden of proof is on the extractor. Therefore we do not say migo in order to extract. That may be the explanation of why we do not say migo in order to extract.
In any case, let me give an example; it may show that this is written almost explicitly in Tosafot. There is the passage of the scarf of Rabbi Abba. In the case of the scarf of Rabbi Abba, someone snatched—snatched an object from someone else, say, in front of two witnesses. In the original case of the scarf of Rabbi Abba it was in front of one witness, but let’s speak now about two witnesses; it’s simpler. Okay? So two witnesses come and say that I snatched money, that I snatched an object from Shmuel. Okay? And I say: correct, I snatched it, but I snatched my own. What is the law in such a case? I return it. I am obligated to return it. What do you mean? Even with the witnesses—the witnesses say I snatched it, and I too agree that I snatched it—so now I say: I snatched my own. Why do I return it? Because he was the possessor at the moment the doubt arose, and when I seized it from him, that seizure was after the doubt had already arisen. Meaning, we already know that the object was in his possession; the fact that I later seized it—this seizure does not help to change the possession status. So I return it. Now in such a case it is clear that this is not liar versus liar, nor liar versus thief; it is thief versus thief. If they assume that I am the liar, then I stole, right? If they assume that he is the liar, then he is a thief. Because what was it doing with him before, right? So here it is thief versus thief. I said there are cases—in a loan it is liar versus liar. Here it is thief versus thief, and here too they leave it with the possessor. You see that you don’t need the advantage—it isn’t an advantage based on logic. There is no presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his as a logical inference. Because here there is no such inference. Either I am the thief or he is the thief, or I am the liar or he is the liar, and still he wins. Why does he win? And even if I have a migo, he wins. We do not say migo in order to extract. He still wins. Why? He wins because there is a legal assumption that what is under a person’s hand is assumed to be his. A legal assumption, not a factual one; there is no factual proof that he is right and not the claimant. It is a legal assumption that it is his.
And once again the question arises: what is the source of these kinds of legal reasonings? Are all the assumptions basically only legal? Not all the assumptions. The presumption that a person does not pay before the due date—that follows from the behavior of an ordinary person. But that does not mean it cannot also be legal. No, but the difference is that there it isn’t one hundred percent certain, but it’s eighty percent; that’s enough—that’s evidence. But here it’s fifty-fifty. Here there is no weight at all. It’s not merely that it isn’t certain; there is no weight. You are right to exactly the same extent as he is; wrong to exactly the same extent as he is; lying to exactly the same extent as he is. It’s the same thing. So this is legal reasoning. Likewise we spoke about “it is in his power,” admission of a litigant, and all things of that sort—those are all legal reasonings. So the question is: what is the status of such legal reasoning? Regarding “the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract from another,” one can still understand it. Why? Because there is this concern that any person will walk down the street, attack someone, and say, “Give me the money.” Once that happens, there will be anarchy here. So you are saving the world from becoming lawless, and you establish that the burden of proof is on the one who seeks to extract. You are basically creating an opening. After all, the whole idea I mentioned now—that there is no more proof for the defendant than for the claimant—is only because there is the rule that the burden of proof is on the extractor. If there were no such rule, then yes, there would be such a rule—you understand? Exactly like the loop of migo. Because who ensures that you won’t simply attack me in the street as a liar? The rule that the burden of proof is on the extractor—that is what ensures it. You don’t get to attack me in the street when it was in my possession. Consequently, if you attacked me, then maybe you are just as right as I am. There is no proof that I’m more right than you. If there were no rule that the burden of proof is on the extractor, then indeed it could be that the presumption that what is under a person’s hand is his would also exist regarding disputed money, not only ordinary money. But the rule that the burden of proof is on the extractor builds itself. And there are situations in which we make the calculation: the rule exists, but it is not based on some prior logic; it creates that logic. Okay? But it creates that logic, and now that’s fine—the logic has been created and everything is fine. Okay? So this is like what we saw in migo. Fine. Legal implications—I still want to add more.