Why I Am a Jew, Second Edition: Being Human – S. R. Kriger's Official Rambling

A little while — well, over a year ago, I wrote a blog entry on why, despite considering myself to be an agnostic atheist and having political opinions divergent from many supported by the Torah or mainstream Judaism, I still consider myself to be a Jew.

Every time I read something I wrote more than a week ago, I feel like I’ve since thought of newer and better ideas — and newer and better ways to express my old ideas. That blog entry is no exception. But because there’s been no significant change to my main points, I’m not going to bore you with a re-hash. Instead, sort of upon my friend YK’s suggestion (thank you, YK! And sorry that this has turned out to be a tangent only somewhat related to the question you actually asked!), I’d like to address a counter-argument I’ve heard against religious identification: why focus on being a Jew or a Christian or a Buddhist when I could instead identify as plain “human”?

Now, before I begin, full confession: I’ve been struggling with this blog entry for a long time because I was having trouble with tone. Some friends and family whom I hold very dear have told me they consider themselves to be “just human.” I respect that decision on their part. In no way do I wish to change their self-identification, and in no way do I consider to be them intellectually or morally worse because of it, just as I’m 100% happy for my Christian friends’ decision to identify as Christian. However, just as I would find it inappropriate if those same Christian friends used a certain approach to try to persuade me that becoming Christian is the right choice for me, I find myself similarly put off when my plain-human friends use certain approaches to try to persuade me to their side.

First, here’s the line of argument I understand them to be getting at:

1) Divisions between people are a cause of conflict and injustice: when people consider themselves to belong to a certain group, they are often biased in favour of fellow group members and against those who don’t belong.

2) Therefore, it’s in humanity’s best interests to have as few groups as possible.

3) There are some groups that are either impossible to “erase” or that reflect real differences: for example, groups based on physiological attributes like gender, sexuality, or race, and groups based on the ideological choices of free-thinking individuals.

4) However, groups based on things like nationality and most religions reflect no real differences — they are an accident of history and show only that you happened to be born to certain parents in a certain place at a certain time.

5) If you choose to share the ideologies of the groups into which you happened to be born, that’s one thing, but if you don’t, you should abandon your membership in those groups.

I can see how all these are reasonable assumptions, and, hey, I’m on board with #1 and #3 myself. And I won’t deal with #5, because I think that was the point of my previous entry. But allow me to spend the next little while explaining why I disagree with #2 and #4.

First, let me make it clear what I’m not saying: I’m not saying that Jews are fundamentally different from Christians or Italians from Swedes or Chinese from Japanese, etc. I agree that we are all, in fact, human beings with identical capacity for virtue, vice, and idiosyncracy. Prick us, do we not bleed,etc.

But it seems to me that underlying this point is the assumption that experience is immaterial. Let me put my views another way through an example.

I sometimes read articles about scientific studies that show that people, say, think the same wine tastes better if they’re told it cost more. The media often presents these findings as though they demonstrate how people are “wrong”: ha ha, you moron, both glasses were the same wine, and you’re stupid to think one is better than the other just because of a number!

But to me, what studies like this really show is that the exact physical composition of the wine is not the only factor that affects people’s pleasure in drinking it. Those test subjects weren’t wrong to enjoy one wine more than another — they really did have a more pleasurable experience, even if they can’t explain that experience the way they thought they could.*

Similarly, even if at heart we’re all the same wine, the experience of growing up in a certain place, within a certain community, or even just hearing certain stories or words linked with one’s heritage can make real differences. I share many Jewish experiences and ideas with my fellow Jews, and many Canadian experiences and ideas with my fellow Canadians. And although, living in a Christian-based society, I do have some Christian experiences, those weren’t part of my identity and therefore, although they affected me, they were different from the kinds of Christian experiences shared by people who do identify as Christian.

I know this part gets tricky, because I don’t want to suggest that these characteristics are immutable, that some identifications are illegitimate, or that all members of particular groups have the same experiences and are affected by them in identical ways. But, look, short version: I’m an historian. It shouldn’t be surprising that I think history matters, that the past affects the present, or that even though one can’t predict the future from the present, there are still macro- and micro-patterns that yield fruit.

Which brings us to…

2) Therefore, it’s in humanity’s best interests to have as few groups as possible.

I saved this one for second because I think it’s in response to it that I find strong or naive persuasion in favour of being “just human”… well, okay, I want to be honest: offensive.

When someone says, “Instead of being a Jewish atheist, you should identify as a human atheist,” what exactly do they mean? I try to take it as intended, as the advice of someone who is genuinely concerned about my wellbeing and that of others, but, frankly, even so, even though I know in 99% of cases, this fallout is completely unintended, I can’t see a way where it doesn’t imply something as deeply insulting as, “Don’t side with other women just because you’re a woman.”

If someone said that to me, I’d be furious: maybe the fact that we both identify as women has unconsciously biased me in some way, but how dare this person simplify it to this? It takes more than noting some boobs and a va-jay-jay for me to sign on board! Worse, the speaker implies that through a set of superior character traits or moral awareness, she has somehow overcome her own biases and is speaking from an objective stance — and, hey, maybe that’s true on this particular issue. But call me a cynic: I find it easier to believe that instead of fixing the prejudices, most of us paint over them with a veneer of neutrality, thinking that getting rid of the labels gets rid of the learned patterns of thought as well.

Don’t misunderstand — I think words are important. And I appreciate that my moral responsibility to respect a person’s wishes not to identify as “Christian” or “American” is just as strong as it is when the labels in question are slurs like “retard” or “faggot.” But just as I think that even if everyone stopped using “faggot” right this instant, though the world would be better for it, there would still be urgent social problems for the LGBTQ community, I think that just saying, “I am no longer a Christian” doesn’t mean someone has abandoned all the experience he acquired when that was his identity, nor does it mean that he’s been able to abandon the political and social privilege (or lack thereof) accorded to that group.

And the reason the tone of this blog entry bothers me terrifically is because I guess I have to say, no, personal friends and family about whom I care deeply, I don’t believe that we, regardless of choice of labels, have succeeded in ridding ourselves of all the hidden group-related biases that come packaged with being born into the human condition — which means being born into a specific time and a specific place with a specific culture. I believe we’re trying. I believe some of you are doing way better than me, and maybe I’m doing all of you an injustice to assume that on the inside, you’re as constrained by your natures as I am by mine. I still don’t believe any of us is there yet.

I’m also not arrogant enough to think you didn’t consider this before drawing your own conclusions. I understand that many of you who arrived at the opposite position differ from me not in this train of thought but in your strategy of attack: maybe taking away the labels doesn’t solve everything, but you can’t expect the first step to take you all the way down the road.

Contrariwise, to me, this kind of approach seems to obscure the real problem. Do people have trouble seeing outside their groups? I can’t believe that the solution is to try to eliminate as many groups as possible. Instead, I want to try: let’s learn how to see differently.

Because whether we like it or not, we’re all limited by our histories and the histories of those who came before us. I want a general solution, one that will last even if new groups spring up, even if it turns out that some differences are just insurmountably divisive.

These two strategies aren’t in principle mutually exclusive. And if someone makes the argument for being just human from this perspective, although I still might not ultimately agree that the position is the right one for me, I’d find it more persuasive and more appropriate. But I have yet to hear an explicit argument for this stance. And I’d need to hear a good one, because I think , when they’re otherwise politically neutral, the labels are often an important part of drawing our attention to the ways in which we need to change how we see.

So maybe I should have said this part first, because it’s the premise that underlies my entire view. I believe in pluralities, in the fruitfulness of (non-violent) conflict, in multiplicities of opinion.** I believe in a living history that continues to shape our world through personal experience and sociopolitical landscape. And most of all, I believe in transcending differences rather than trying to eliminate them.

* Whew, I almost got sidetracked onto the contribution of context to meaning. Don’t worry, my self-control saved you.

** For the meta-minded, yes, that means I have no problem with dialogue with those who don’t believe in pluralities, nor is my ultimate goal to convince everyone to my own opinion. I’m happy for others to engage with it and with me, as I engage with them and theirs.

Also, I don’t believe this means I must accept all propositions as being equally valid or that I should never reject things as false or immoral. My own standpoint is a biased standpoint the same as everyone else’s; though I can concede that a perfect worldview might contradict mine, it is still incumbent upon me to do what I’m convinced is right and good.

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