Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Rabbi Yosef Albo vs. Gotcha!
Elsewhere we’ve discussed the world of Gotcha!, in which everyone is a critic and every public figure a target.
Inherent to the Gotcha! game is the assumption that the target is ignorant/incompetent/ill-intentioned, so that her opponent may take a shoot-from-the-hip potshot on the basis of superficial reads and thirdhand accounts and assume that his gut reaction is correct, not to mention the acceptable equivalent of a fully formed, rationally explored, articulately expressed thesis.
From the attacks on Rabbi Lookstein at the start of 2009 for his participation in the National Day of Prayer, to the attacks at the close of 2009 on Rabbi Riskin for his comments on Christianity, the chattering critics spent little time analyzing, let alone researching, and instead launched their salvos immediately. [Note: I am defending neither of them, only pointing out the unwise haste of people who leap to criticize.]
This came to mind when I read the following disclaimer by Rabbi Yosef Albo, from his introduction to Part Two of his Sefer haIkkarim:
What should not escape the attention of this book’s reader is that the text includes many statements of hypothetical ideas rather than the truth itself. In other sections, the opposite idea may appear as an expression of the actual truth.
Alternatively, in one place an idea may be expressed with one meaning and in another place with a different meaning, as the Rambam did in many places in the Moreh haNevuchim…
Therefore, it would be appropriate for one who would examine a chapter from any author’s work not to leap to respond before he knows the styles employed in that work, and until he has surveyed the related material that appears in other parts of that work.
Sometimes a text will omit an introduction in one spot because it is independently understood or clarified elsewhere, or because the author wishes to conceal it, and the reader will think that this is an error of the author and will rush to respond and to think him a fool…
Therefore, one who examines a text should not leap to reply based upon his initial reaction, but he should think in his heart that the author is not an intellectual lightweight who fails to grasp the depths perceived by the reader and the thoughts the reader developed at his first read. It would be more appropriate to suspect one’s own wisdom and understanding, and to say that it is not possible for the author to err in an obvious matter. The reader should attribute the error to his own analysis, and extend the depth of his analysis until the author’s true intent becomes clear. Because of the great breadth of his analysis of deep matters, the author will sometimes give short shrift to clarification, and so analysis will be difficult for the reader.
I particularly like his point, “He should think in his heart that the author is not an intellectual lightweight who fails to grasp the depths perceived by the reader and the thoughts the reader developed at his first read. It would be more appropriate to suspect one’s own wisdom and understanding, and to say that it is not possible for the author to err in an obvious matter. ישיב אל לבו כי המחבר ההוא לא היה מקלי הדעת שלא השיג בעומק עיונו מה שיעלה על לב המעיין בתחלת הדעת, ויותר ראוי לכל אדם לחשוד שכלו והבנתו ולומר כי אי אפשר שיטעה המחבר ההוא בדבר נגלה הטעות.”
A little credit, a little care, a little benefit of the doubt and presumption of competence, would go a long way toward defusing pointless and baseless Gotcha!ism.
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While I agree that leaping to conclusions can result in "broken bones" I have a problem with this statement: "Because of the great breadth of his analysis of deep matters, the author will sometimes give short shrift to clarification, and so analysis will be difficult for the reader.
ReplyDeleteWhy does someone take their writings and have them published? Is it only for the purpose of self-gratification, seeing his/her name in print? I don't think so (although it can and does happen). Publishing is about sharing. Publishing is about wanting readers to understand something near and dear to an author's heart. Publishing is about putting forth information so that a reader can gain knowledge.
As an editor my job is to take an author's text and make sure that it is intelligible to readers, that a reader will not be lost in tackling an author's work. Part of that job is also telling an author that what he/she has written needs to be rewritten for clarification.
What purposeful use would an author have for his work if he starts out with a caveat that clarification has gotten short shrift, therefore analysis is going to be difficult for the reader? Of course some works are complex and require lots of work on the part of the reader, but they also require lots of work on the part of the author, and clarification of complex ideas is precisely one of those areas an author owes the reader.
All due respect to the rabbi but is this really what he intended to convey to readers? It sounds like he could have used a seasoned editor.
Hi ProfK,
ReplyDeleteIn our age, I'd agree. In R' Albo's age (end of the 14th/early 15th century), Jewish philosophers published their works for the initiates rather than the masses. [Also, editing in the pre-printing era was unrealistic.]
ProfK:
ReplyDeleteThe commentary Etz Shasul explains R' Albo's statement as referring to concepts which the author thought to be self-explanatory.
So we're not talking about an author deliberately withholding information from the reader. He's just making an assumption that certain ideas are self-evident, in order to keep the book to a manageable length and not have to digress too much.
[Naturally, in a society with different axioms (compare, say, modern physics with Aristotelian ones, or democracy vs. the divine right of kings), some of these concepts are indeed not so self-evident, and would require further explication to make them understandable.]
Thanks Rabbi and Anonymous for your explanations. But they raise further questions. If R'Albo was writing in the 14/15th century I'll assume he was not writing in English. The English translation, then, was clearly done by someone living closer to our own time, if not in our time period (which the diction supports). If so, the translator/editor would have done today's readers a real favor by including bracketed material [] explaining how today's reader should view the words translated and what might have actually been meant by the author. Certainly the audience for the original work should have been indicated.
ReplyDeleteWorks in translation, particularly from eras long in the past, present all kinds of difficulty of understanding which a skilled editor could be a great help with.
ProfK-
ReplyDeleteActually, that was just my own quick translation, done at the time of my post. I tried to preserve linearity, hence the older style, but the date on it is, most assuredly, our time period.
Just to add to R. Torczyner's point, rabbinic literature in general is written in a different style than contemporary literature. Any modern comp teacher would give a student who wrote an essay in the style of the Mishnah or Gemara an "F" because today we try to explain things as clearly as possible. But rabbinic literature lets the student do the work, as a classic part of learning Torah is figuring out the information for oneself. If we keep in mind, as R. Torczyner intimated, that rabbinic literature (including, by the way, Gemara) was written originally for people at an advanced level already familiar with the basics of rabbinic style (for example, how concepts are derived via diyyuk in the lashon of the hachamim), it would make sense if not everything is spelled out. This should hold for even philosophical texts written by rabbis as well (e.g. More Nevuchim).
ReplyDelete