Mattos/Masei: Leaving an Out for Your Enemy

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Artwork: Assemble the Legion, by Eric Deschamps

Mattos/Masei: Leaving an Out for Your Enemy

Hashem commands Moshe to wage a war of vengeance against Midian: 

Hashem spoke to Moshe saying, “Take vengeance for the Children of Israel against the Midianites. Afterward you shall be gathered to your kin.” Moshe spoke to the people, saying: “Arm men from among yourselves for the army, for them to be against Midian to exact Hashem’s vengeance from Midian …” Moshe sent them out … and they arrayed against Midian, as Hashem had charged Moshe, and they killed every male. (Bamidbar 31:1-7) 

The phrase “as Hashem had charged Moshe” implies that Hashem gave Moshe special instructions, but these instructions are not explicitly stated. The Sages expound on this in Sifre [1]: 

and they arrayed against Midian – [The Tanna Kamma says:] they surrounded it from all four sides. Rebbi Nosson says: he gave them a fourth side [open and unobstructed] so that they could escape. 

According to the Tanna Kamma, Bnei Yisrael were commanded to surround Midian on all four sides. The fact that they were given these specific instructions implies that under ordinary circumstances they would not (or might not) have done so. The Malbim [2] explains the rationale behind this anomaly: 

The Tanna Kamma held that based on what was written [earlier, when Bnei Yisrael were first commanded to go to war with Midian], “Be foes to the Midianites and smite them” (Bamidbar 25:17), the commandment [here to Moshe] was to not leave them any means of escape, as it was explicitly stated, and this was in order to take vengeance from them. 

In other words, in an ordinary war the only objective is victory, and as long is Israel wins, it doesn't matter if the enemy flees. In the war with Midian, however, victory was not enough. The siege had to result in total annihilation of the enemy. Midian had to be completely surrounded in order to make sure that no one escaped.

The second opinion cited in Sifre, that of Rebbi Nosson, stands in direct opposition to the Tanna Kamma’s view: Bnei Yisrael were specifically instructed to leave the Midianites an escape route, so they could flee. The Rambam [3] codifies this view as halacha: 

When laying siege to a city to capture it, we do not surround it on four sides, but only on three, and we leave a place to flee and for one who wants to save himself, as it is stated: “they arrayed against Midian as Hashem commanded Moshe” – from the Oral Tradition we learn that this is what he was commanded. 

The Ramban [4] agrees that we follow Rebbi Nosson’s view, and even goes so far as to count this as one of the 613 mitzvos, which he includes in his list of “mitzvos that the Rambam forgot”: 

When laying siege to a city we are commanded to leave one of the directions without siege so that those who want to flee will have a way to flee through there, because in this we will learn to conduct ourselves with compassion even with our enemies at a time of war. Furthermore, there is an additional benefit in leaving them an opening to flee, so that they do not strengthen themselves to meet us [in war]. It is stated: “they arrayed against Midian as Hashem commanded Moshe,” and [the Sages] expounded in Sifri: “surround it on three sides; Rebbi Nosson says: give them a fourth side so they can flee.” [5] This was not a temporary mitzvah in Midian, but is a mitzvah for all generations in every optional war (i.e. not in obligatory wars), as the Rabbi (i.e. Rambam) wrote in his great composition in the Laws of Kings and their Wars. 

The Ramban mentions two reasons for this mitzvah: (1) to train ourselves to exercise compassion, even towards our enemies, and even during a war in which we are permitted to kill them, and (2) because if we don’t leave the enemy an out, there’s a chance they’ll fight back with even more strength. The Torah Temimah [6] elaborates on this second reason: 

The reason we leave an opening on one of the four sides is because if we don’t leave them any opening, they would all go to war like those who have given up until they deplete the last of their strength, and it would be difficult for Israel to conquer them, but this would not be the case if we left them an out to escape. 

In other words, if the enemy knows that there’s no escape and no hope, they’ll summon up all of their remaining strength and go all out, knowing that they have nothing to lose because the battle has already been lost. Du Mu, the 9th century commentator on Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, refers to this phenomenon as “the courage of despair.” [7]

On the surface, these two reasons appear to be contradictory in character. The first reason is ethical in nature: we leave our enemy an out as an act of compassion, showing our willingness to spare lives. The second reason is tactical: we leave our enemy an out in order to make them easier to vanquish, and to save our own lives. Are these reasons incompatible? 

In my opinion, the two reasons are not incompatible – and that is precisely the point. 

There are certainly cases in which showing compassion is not in one’s own best interests, and will lead to harm. Perhaps one of the most famous cases of this is Shaul’s decision to have compassion on Agag, King of Amalek, concerning which the Sages say: “anyone who is merciful on the cruel will ultimately be cruel to the merciful.” [8]

In this case, however, the Ramban is pointing out that being compassionate is also tactically advantageous. One need not refrain from displaying compassion out of the feeling that this will lead to harm or loss. And if a general or a soldier feels compelled to block the enemy’s path of escape in violation of the halacha, this can only stem from military incompetence or from a misguided impulse of cruelty. 

Although most of us will never find ourselves in a position to implement this halacha, we can still take its lesson to heart and apply it in other areas of life. For example, I once mentioned to my Mishlei rebbi that an atheistically inclined student posed a number of “heretical” objections to a lesson of mine, and I refuted every one of them. My rebbi said: 

“Maybe that was the right move, but sometimes it’s good to let the student ‘score’ a point against his rebbi. If you crush him by taking away all of his 'outs,' he might turn away and close himself off because his ego can’t handle it. It’s important to throw him a bone every once in a while.” 

The same advice applies to many relationships: showing compassion by giving the other person an out is often tactically advantageous to the long-term success of the relationship. 

Footnotes

[1] Sifre Bamidbar 31:7. It should be noted that there are two versions of Sifre. I believe the one cited here is based on the more accurate manuscript. The other version says: “[The Tanna Kamma says:] they surrounded it from all four sides. Rebbi Nosson says: he gave them a fourth side [open] so that they could escape.” In other words, in our version Rebbi Nosson argues with the Tanna Kamma, but in this other version he merely explains his reasoning. 

[2] Rav Meir Leibush ben Yechiel Michel (Malbim), Commentary on Sefer Bamidbar 31:7. The Malbim held that our version of the Sifre is correct, and that there is a machlokess between the Tanna Kamma and Rebbi Nosson. 

[3] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer Shoftim, Hilchos Melachim 6:7. There’s a whole to-do about how we can paskin like Rebbi Nosson against the Tanna Kamma. The easy way out is to say that our version of the Sifre is correct, and both the Tanna Kamma and Rebbi Nosson hold that we leave an escape route. If you’re interested in how the other approach is resolved, consult the Nosei Kelim on the Rambam. 

[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Nachman (Ramban / Nachmanides), Critique of the Sefer ha’Mitzvos of the Rambam: Mitzvos Aseh “that the Rambam forgot” #5 

[5] Note that the Ramban had the other version of the Sifre, without the machlokess Tanna Kamma Rebbi Nosson. 

[6] Rav Baruch ha'Levi Epstein, Torah Temimah: Sefer Bamidbar 31:7, footnote 9 

[7] Sun Tzu writes: “When you surround an army, leave an outlet free” (7:32). Whether Sun Tzu’s intent actually corresponds to our halacha is an open question. He might very well mean what the Ramban wrote as his second reason. However, Du Mu writes that “this does not mean that the enemy is to be allowed to escape.” Rather, "[the object is] to make him believe that there is a road to safety, and thus prevent his fighting with the courage of despair … After that, you may crush him." 

[8] Tanchuma, Metzora 1; Yalkut Shimoni I Shmuel 15 (Remez 121)

"and fools despise Pokemon GO" (Proverbs 151:7)

Part of me feels that this fundamental idea deserves its own blog post ... but this real-world example was just too good to pass up. 

"and fools despise Pokemon GO" (Proverbs 151:7)

According to an article in the NY Post, NYPD Commissioner Bill Bratton thinks that the recent Pokémon Go trend "is one of the stupidest ones I've seen." 

The top cop went on a rant about the dangers of the scavenger hunt-style game, which uses a cellphone’s camera and GPS functions to virtually populate real-world locations with cartoon creatures. The app, Bratton said, has turned millennials into “walking zombies” as they follow the game’s directive to “catch ’em all.”

"Okay," I thought to myself, "I can understand where this officer is coming from. He believes that Pokémon Go poses a threat to public safety because of how distracted people are when they play. That seems reasonable enough."

But then the article went on to quote the Commissioner as saying one of the most idiotic things that he could have possibly said:

“I don’t understand it, and I don’t intend to understand it,” he said. “It’s of no appeal to me, and at the same time, people are putting themselves at great risk.”

I laughed out loud in disbelief when I read this statement. Really? REALLY?! I get it that he has no personal interest in playing the game, but as someone who is trying to solve a problem, does he really think that refusing to understand the appeal of the game will help him achieve his goal? 

Sun Tzu, the legendary Chinese general, taught: 

If you know the enemy and know yourself, 

you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. 

If you know yourself but not the enemy, 

for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. 

If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, 

you will succumb in every battle.

It just boggles my mind. What kind of problem-solver refuses to understand the problem he is trying to solve? What would happen if the police had this mentality about other societal ills, such as drug addiction, gang violence, and sex trafficking? Would this Commissioner display the same attitude towards the recent "craze" of texting and driving, or identity theft, or other new phenomena? If this rash of cop-killing continues, would he say, "I don't understand it, and I don't intend to understand it"? 

Officer Bratton's obstinate stance reminded me of two statements in Sefer Mishlei (The Book of Proverbs): 

יִרְאַת ה' רֵאשִׁית דָּעַת חָכְמָה וּמוּסָר אֱוִילִים בָּזוּ:

"Fear of Hashem is the beginning of knowledge, but eveelim (fools) deride wisdom and discipline" (Mishlei 1:7)

עַד מָתַי פְּתָיִם תְּאֵהֲבוּ פֶתִי וְלֵצִים לָצוֹן חָמְדוּ לָהֶם וּכְסִילִים יִשְׂנְאוּ דָעַת:

"How long, O simpletons, will you love folly, and scoffers covet mockery for themselves, and ksilim (fools) hate knowledge?" (ibid. 1:22)

Shlomo ha'Melech (King Solomon) identifies two types of fools in these verses: eveelim and ksilim. He says that the eveelim deride wisdom and discipline, whereas the ksilim hate knowledge. The questions are: (1) What is the difference between these two foolish attitudes? (2) Which type of foolishness is reflected in Officer Bratton's statement?

I brought this question up to my Mishlei rebbi this morning, and he answered me based on his current understanding of these two types of fools. I will do my best to summarize his answer, but I won't speculate about how he arrived at this answer (since he was responding on the basis of his Mishleic intuition that has been formed by years of learning hundreds of pesukim). 

He explained that the eveel is someone who looks at reality superficially. He assumes that his first impressions are correct, and that there is no need to look beneath the surface, or at the big picture, or at the long-term consequences. He acts on impulse, seeking immediate pleasure and the avoidance of immediate pain. 

Although the eveel is foolish, he is not stupid. He has enough life experience to realize that there is more depth to reality than he is willing to see. And yet, he can't bring himself to face that reality - whether out of laziness, or fear, or attachment to his present way of thinking, or what have you. Whatever the reason may be, he does not want to face reality because of the implications of doing so. But in order to justify his avoidance of reality, he must mock and disparage those who involve themselves is seeking knowledge of reality - otherwise, they would be too consumed with self-loathing on account of the anti-reality lifestyle he has chosen. 

The ksil has a different problem. He relates to reality as an authority figure who is trying to control him, and he relates to knowledge like the words of a stern parent disciplining a child. [1] This is the root of his hatred of knowledge. Every gain in knowledge poses a threat to his ego. In order to preserve his sense of self, he must utterly reject the pursuit of knowledge with vehemence. 

Based on this distinction, my Mishlei rebbi maintained that Officer Bratton's attitude corresponded to that of the eveel. For whatever reason, he just doesn't want to face the reality of the Pokémon Go trend. Not only does he refuse to understand it, but he even goes so far as to mock it, as another news article reported:

[the] constant peering down at their devices as they go walking around looking for - I guess it's Pokémon they're looking for, that's something like the Tooth Fairy, I guess - they're putting themselves at risk of accidents

His refusal to understand, his superficial assessment of the phenomenon, and his cheap and derisive comment about "looking for the Tooth Fairy" are all symptomatic of the mentality of the eveel. 

To be clear: I'm not saying that Officer Bratton is an eveel in all respects. Mishlei speaks in generalities and archetypes which rarely correspond 100% with any individuals in the real world. Still, the foolishness of his statement stands as a stunning example of the eveel's attitude towards those aspects of reality which he does not wish to face. 

So for those Pokémon Go players out there: may you succeed in catching Eevees, without encountering any eveels. (I'm sorry!!!)


[1] I'm aware that my Mishlei rebbi's explanation of the ksil sounds more like my explanation of the eveel. I guess I'll just have to learn more Mishlei to see whose explanation makes more sense to me!

Sun Tzu: On Long School Days

Originally posted in August 2012.

I've been Sun Tzu's The Art of War - one of the most ancient, and certainly the most famous treatise on military strategy - with the goal of applying its principles to classroom teaching. I don't know whether this will actually become a series, but if it does, I shall call it: "Sun Tzu: The Art of Classroom Teaching." 

Sun Tzu: The Art of Classroom Teaching - Long School Days

I have taught in three different Jewish high schools. These three schools had at least one thing in common: a very, very, very long school day. On the left you'll see the daily schedule for the school at which I currently teach. However, the times alone do not tell the full story. Let's start from the beginning.

Students who live locally can probably afford a reasonable 7:00am wake-up time. Students who live "across town" (who constitute a third of our student body) have to wake up at 6:00am or earlier in order to catch the bus, since the bus makes several dozen stops along the way. When students arrive at school, they are immediately herded into to a single room to endure a lengthy (usually 40 minute) shacharis. Davening is often followed by either announcements, a dvar Torah of sorts, or both. Students are subsequently released to their precious 10-15 minutes of breakfast and socializing time.

Then the morning classes begin. Students are shunted from class to class for the next three hours and twenty minutes. Each class is exactly 38 minutes long. Students are given 2 minutes to get from one classroom to the other, and there are no other breaks in between. This allows for just enough time for them to pack up their belongings, rush to their lockers to retrieve any books or materials they need, dash to their new class, and sit down before the teacher takes attendance. If they need to use the restroom (or take some time to breathe), they must leave in the middle of class, so as not to be marked tardy at the beginning of the period - unless, of course, they are unfortunate enough to have a teacher who prohibits students to leave during class time. (And yes, such teachers still exist.)

Then comes lunch time: the 40 minutes of freedom and redemption for which they yearn all morning long. Here they finally get a chance to unwind, to socialize, to relax, and to tend to their bodily functions.

Before they realize it, their prison sentence resumes with the onset of the dreaded Double Period. For the next hour and 16 minutes - which, to children whose waking life is divided into 40 minute chunks, must feel like an eternity - students are subjected to a double period of a class. The more merciful teachers (such as myself) give them a short break in the middle, but other teachers keep them in their seats for the entire period. The fact that this double-period occurs right after lunch makes it even more intolerable.

After the double-period, students are given a generous four minutes before their next class starts. They have one more 38-minute class, followed by a 16 minute "break" after each of them davens minchah on her own. This tefilah will necessarily be rushed, since the sooner they get done with minchah, the more free time they'll have. Then comes the home stretch: three more 38-minute class periods. The light is visible at the end of the tunnel (except in the dead of winter, when its dark by the time students leave).

Finally, at 5:15, the school day ends. The fortunate students who live locally arrive at home by 5:45 at the latest. The students from the other side of town must suffer on the long bus ride with its many stops. Some don't get home until 7:00pm. And that's on days when they don't have any after-school sports or activities. 

But it doesn't end there. School extends its pale and spindly arms into the privacy of students' homes in the form of homework and studying. By "studying" I don't mean "learning" or "Torah lishmah." I am referring to the dreadful task of "learning" (read: memorizing) material for The Big Test. If the student is efficient and/or hasty enough, he or she might still manage to find a few hours (often, the wee hours of the morning) to have some time for friends, hobbies, relaxation, and socializing. But these hours are few and far between. Inmates at correctional facilities have more time to reflect on their lives than high schoolers. It's no wonder so many of students appear bleary-eyed and soul-stricken at the beginning of the school day.

Oh, I forgot to mention: I've only been talking about the schedule for the all-girls school. The all-boys school I taught at last year had all of that, plus an extended Thursday evening learning schedule - which would last several hours into the night - AND a half day of school every other Sunday.

Now before you start quoting to me Gemaras about the intensive type of schooling system advocated by Chazal, I'm going to stop you right there. My rant in this post is based purely on my own observations. The guidelines, halachos, and ideals set forth in the Mesora must be understood and taken into account, but the first step is to recognize the reality that confronts us at the present.

General Sun Tzu: 544 B.C.E. - 496 B.C.E.

This brings us to The Art of War. Sun Tzu said:

2:2 - When you engage in actual fighting, if victory is long in coming, the men's weapons will grow dull and their ardor will be damped. If you lay siege to a town, you will exhaust your strength.  

2:3 - Again, if the campaign is protracted, the resources of the State will not be equal to the strain.  

2:4 - Now, when your weapons are dulled, your ardor damped, your strength exhausted, and your treasure spent, other chieftains will spring up to take advantage of your extremity. Then no man, however wise, will be able to avert the consequences that must ensue.

Like many of Sun Tzu's teachings, the truth of these statements is evident. If you exhaust your soldiers, whether physically or psychologically, then your chances of victory are severely diminished, and in your weakened state, you will be open to defeat from a multitude of causes, from within and without.

What is true for actual milchamah is also true in the Milchamta shel Torah (the War of Torah). In my few years of teaching experience, I have found that most students are alert and eager to learn for the first five periods of the day, but as the afternoon drags on, they become increasingly weary. They become restless and fidgety, they lose focus, their "misbehavior" increases tenfold, and the overall quality of their learning suffers. By the time they get to the final periods of the day (which, thankfully, I have never had to teach), their minds have already left the building.

And the students aren't the only ones who are affected by the length of the day. The teachers who teach full-time are also exhausted by the intense schedule. For example, in my second year of teaching there were some days of the week when I'd show up at 8:00, teach six back-to-back-classes (with a couple of short breaks thrown in), then drive off to another school and teach for two full periods. I was able to teach effectively for the first six periods, but by the time I got to the afternoon classes, I was spent. My own exhaustion, when combined with the post-lunch exhaustion of the students, made for a bad mix. Those were not my proudest teaching times. I don't know whether any objective comparison can be made between the exhaustion of the students and that of the teachers, but neither are pleasant, and each exacerbates the other.

Artwork: Diminishing Returns, by L.A. Williams

The lesson here can be summed up by borrowing a phrase from Chazal: "tafasta merubah, lo tafasta" (Chagigah 17a) which may be loosely rendered as “If you try to grab a lot, you'll end up not grabbing anything at all.” I understand that Jewish schools are under a lot of pressure to help their students achieve success in limudei kodesh and the so-called "secular studies," but I wonder how many administrators have stopped to seriously consider the question of whether their ambition has lead to a diminishing returns sort of effect. Are we trying to accomplish too much? And could we accomplish even more by doing less? 

In any endeavor one can only push a human being so far for so long before the productivity level begins to decrease. Has our Jewish day school system reached this point, with its 12-period dual-curriculum school days? And how much of the problem has to do with the educational approach we have been duped into adopting? Personally, I think that if the day were less structured, and students had the freedom to learn what interests them, they'd be able to increase the quality and the quantity of their learning.

The need for reform is dire, but the prospects are dim. In major Jewish centers, such as New York and Baltimore (and probably elsewhere), any Jewish school that attempted to cut its curriculum or shorten its school day would immediately lose students whose parents would be afraid that their kids were at a disadvantage compared to the more "traditional" schools (whose "tradition" is not rooted in our Mesora).

I don't know of a good solution, but recognizing the problem is an important first step.