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Chapter Two: On Legal Conservatism

 

Legal systems, as such, tend to conservatism. Generally, law is not the force that changes reality but the means by which existing change can find expression. This is done through the formulation of a new social consensus in the shape of norms. Law is not revolutionary by nature. It does not produce a new sets of priorities; it refrains from leading social revolutions and is reticent to serve as the catalyst of cultural change. The law is driven by change and does not impel such change; it lags behind reality rather than creating it. The law reflects changes in the facts, preferences, tastes, and decisions of its reference group, but it is not the crucible of these changes.

Legal conservatism is easily discernible in two components of a legal system: the legislature, which is the source of legal norms, and the court, which is the setting for the interpretation and implementation of these norms.

Members of a legislature conduct political negotiations, whose results are formulated as law. Lawmakers try to use their political power so that the interests and the values of their constituency will be reflected in the emerging norm. As a result, the legislative outcome is usually an authentic expression of society’s combined priorities and of the will of the electorate. The preservation of harmony between the public will and parliamentary legislation is guaranteed by the fact that members of parliament who fail to operate in this way will not survive the next election. Quite simply: if the agency creating the norms were not exposed to recurrent public election, the law might function in an independent mode that imposes the legislator’s preferences on reality. However, since the legislative body is elected, it is clear that the legislation it produces will be conservative, giving expression to society’s current preferences.

What about the judges? In some judicial systems, including the Israeli one, once judges are nominated they do not stand for public re-election. As such, from a perspective of political independence, they can use the authority invested in them in non-conservative ways, an approach that may be synonymous with creative legislation. Courts that regularly embrace such an approach in varying and widely controversial contexts will be correctly classified as social catalysts and as promoting changes in values, with all that this implies. Although some would describe the current Israeli Supreme Court in these terms, it must be stressed that this description does not as such point to the basic character and the general ethos of judicial activity. Judicial activity has inherent limitations: it is a secondary activity, ancillary to the primary legal one that takes place in parliament. [21] Judges have no direct authority to determine norms ex nihilo, but must rather follow the normative path paved by the legislature.[22] As we know, however, some judges tend to judicial passivity while others lean toward activism. The difference between these two conceptions of the judicial role, although relevant to the present discussion, does not change the general picture. An activist judicial tradition does not assume a mandate to instigate social and ideological revolutions. Judicial activism, even when allowing a judge to go beyond settling specific disputes in order to set general norms for society,[23] is, after all, a professional activity, wherein a judge considers a range of legitimate interpretations of a given law and chooses one that, more than others, will change current societal norms.[24] But activist judges, if they wish to preserve their legitimacy and society’s trust, understand that their creative interpretation of the law must remain within a relatively limited spectrum of possibilities dictated by the source of the law as created in the legislature.[25]


This description of legal conservatism, which applies to all judicial systems, is all the more true with regard to the halakhic system, particularly in light of the significant and broad characteristics of Halakhah that I will discuss below. It is important to emphasize that these characteristics are not universally agreed upon, but are nevertheless generally accepted in contemporary discourse regarding Halakhah and hence central to our discussion. The characteristics that reinforce the judicial conservatism with which Halakhah is viewed may be enumerated as follows:

First, the source of Halakhah’s authority is a singular and unique divine revelation at Sinai, a belief that distinguishes it axiomatically from the source of authority claimed by other legal systems. The divine is eternal, and its norms – unlike that which is human – cannot be affected by the vicissitudes of time. Since Halakhah was shaped by God, the singular character of revelation would necessarily mean that it applies to all human experiences – past, present, and future – until the end of days.[26]

Second, Halakhah is a religious system of law and hence, its purpose is twofold. Alongside the traditional role of ordinary legal systems – that is, creating social order – a religious legal system is also attuned to theological aims. Its declared purpose is not measured solely by temporal circumstances and needs, nor is it necessarily tailored to fit earthly dimensions. Thus, whereas an ordinary legal system deals with two normative spheres – one covering the relationship between individuals and another that between the individual and the collective – the halakhic system includes a third normative layer, namely the relationship between the individual and God.[27] The purpose and the aims of this aspect of the law, like the internal connection between this theology and halakhic observance, distinguish Halakhah from non-religious legal systems.[28]

Third, the halakhic legal system does not draw upon an authoritative normative source parallel to a legislature, which continuously creates new norms ex nihilo. After Halakhah’s constitutive act, namely the revelation at Sinai, there exists no clear and sharp division separating legislative and judicial powers. Halakhah, to be sure, allows for the creation of new norms that supercede halakhic precedent or stand in contradiction to it in the form of an “enactment” [gzerah] or “regulation” [takkanah] issued by institutions or individuals with authority. Such enactments and regulations, however, do not constitute a continuous, fixed, and broad endeavor imbued with structural significance resembling that of the legislature in a modern legal system.[29] Reliance on precedent and its application to a given case through interpretation remains the mainstream pattern for halakhic development, while enactments and regulations are the exception.

So far, then, we have noted that the divine source of halakhic authority (divine rather than human), its content and aims (theological rather than merely social and ethical), and its patterns of development (generally hermeneutical rather than legislative) distinguish it from an ordinary legal system. These three distinctive aspects intensify the sense of conservatism that accompanies the halakhic endeavor. The singular divine source and the theological meanings of Halakhah appear to support the notion of the eternity of the norm and its detachment from human reasons and explanations, to assume its truth independently of facts, and to sever its link with real consequences and with transient human morality.

Let me be precise: the validity of these characteristics of Halakhah, as well as their specific details and implications, are not universally accepted, and halakhists themselves have historically expressed diverse and opposing views with regard to them. In my view, every one of the general statements depicted above with broad brush strokes requires separate and rigorous analysis from a variety of perspectives – theological, legal, historical, and sociological. A critical analysis of this type will probably reveal an intra-halakhic picture far more complex than the one drawn above. Yet, for our purposes in the present context, it is precisely this broad and sketchy description of Halakhah’s distinguishing characteristics that is current and even dominant in popular halakhic discourse and in the discourse regarding Halakhah. Whatever their substantive validity, these characteristics are the ones that determine the perception of Halakhah in our generation. This perception, in turn, underscores the relatively conservative nature of Halakhah vis-à-vis other legal systems which, in any event, tend naturally to conservatism. If the source of authority is a singular divine revelation, it cannot react to changes in reality; if Halakhah has a theological purpose as well, then those interested in normative changes consistent with the system find their hands tied; if Halakhah lacks a functioning legislature, its course of development precludes innovation by means of novel reformulations of its priorities in accordance with the demands of the time; if its development depends mainly on precedent, its ability to react to shifting realities depends on the availability and frequency of relevant precedents and on the judicial activism endorsed by halakhists.

Notes

21. Aharon Barak, Chief Justice of the Israeli Supreme Court, states at the opening of a book dealing with statutory interpretation: “Legislation by the political authorities (the legislative and the executive) is essentially different from legislation by the judiciary. The former (by the political authorities) is directly concerned with the creation of legal norms. The latter (by the court) emerges in the course of the judicial activity and as its by-product”. Aharon Barak, Interpretation in Law [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Nevo, 1994), vol. 2, Statutory Interpretation, 41-42. Judicial review as well, which is the paramount expression of independence in the court’s activity, is exclusively focused on examining the validity of a norm enacted by the legislature (in light of another norm, higher in the constitutional ranking, which was also issued by the legislature). The court does not replace the legislature in determining the content of the normative arrangement, but only determines the legitimate limits of the legislature’s use of its authority.
 
22. This in no way contradicts the fact that, in practice, some situations do call for judicial creativity. For a judge’s perspective concerning suitable criteria when applying judicial creativity and concerning the authority and formal legitimacy of each type of creativity, see Aharon Barak, “The Varieties of Judicial Creativity: Interpretation, Filling Lacunae, and Developing the Law” [Hebrew], Ha-Praklit, 39 (1990), 267.
 
23. Thus, according to Ruth Gavison, for instance, the High Court of Justice has changed its perception of the judicial role: it currently assumes responsibility not only for fair adjudication between litigating parties but also for leading society in “the right moral direction”. See Ruth Gavison, Mordechai Kremnitzer, and Yoav Dotan, Judicial Activism For and Against: The Role of the High Court of Justice in Israeli Society [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2000), 75.
 
24. See Aharon Barak, “Judicial Philosophy and Judicial Activism” [Hebrew], Tel-Aviv University Law Review 17 (1992), 475-501.
 
25. For a broad definition of the court’s role, see Mordechai Kremnitzer’s stance in Gavison et al., Judicial Activism For and Against, 177-179.
 
26. Maimonides states in Laws of the Foundations of the Torah 9:1 (Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, The Book of Knowledge, tr. and ed. Moses Hyamson [Jerusalem: Jerusalem Boys Town, 1962]):
It is clearly and explicitly set forth in the Torah that its ordinances will endure for ever without variation, diminution or addition; as it is said, “All this word which I command you, that shall ye observe to do; thou shalt not add to it, nor take away from it” (Deuteronomy 13:11) and further it is said, “but the things that are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this Law” (Deuteronomy 29:28). Hence the inference that to fulfill all the behests of the Torah is an obligation incumbent upon us for ever, as it is said, “It is an everlasting statute throughout your generations” (Leviticus 23:14; Numbers 18:23). It is also said, “It is not in heaven”. Hence the inference that a prophet is forbidden to make innovations in the Torah… for the Lord enjoined Moses that this Commandment shall be unto us and to our children after us for ever. And God is not a man that he should lie.
For a broad discussion of this question by various thinkers, see Hermann Cohen, Religion of Reason Out of the Sources of Judaism, tr. Simon Kaplan (New York: Frederick Ungar, 1972), 338-370; Zeev Falk, Religious Law between Eternity and Change: On the Dynamism of Jewish Law in Jewish Thought and on Jewish, Christian and Muslim Attitudes towards Legal Change [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Mesharim, 1986), 10-67; Paul Tillich, Theology of Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1959), 7.
 
27. The conflict over the very possibility of distinguishing between “legal” and “religious” sections in Halakhah is well known. On this issue, Elon holds: “The term mishpat ivri, in its currently accepted meaning, includes only those parts of the Halakhah corresponding to what generally is included in the corpus juris of other contemporary legal systems, namely, laws that govern relationships in human society, and not the precepts that deal with the relationship between people and God” (Elon, Jewish Law 105). By contrast, Yitzhak Englard considers this distinction artificial. His analysis leads to conclusions that “undermine the assumption whereby the parts of Halakhah can be isolated and severed from the religious meaning attached to all its sources”. See Yitzhak Englard, “The Study of Jewish Law: Its Essence and Aims” [Hebrew], Mishpatim 7 (1976), 36.
 
28. The religious element specific to the relationship between human beings and God is clear. Thus, for instance, in the context of the laws of repentance, M. Yoma 8:9 states various ways of atoning for a-normative acts that were performed in each one of these relationships: the holiness of the Day of Atonement suffices to atone for a wrongful act that is essentially religious (“between man and God”), but cannot atone for a wrong that is essentially social-human (“between man and man”). The latter type of offense is atoned only when the sinner assumes the initiative for approaching the injured party, thus overtly gesturing the existence of a personal commitment to mend his/her ways (“regains the good will of his friend”). Similarly, R. Ovadyiah Yosef rules that a minor is not responsible for acts s/he performed at the level of the relationship between man and God, but bears responsibility for all the activities s/he performed at the level of the relationship with another human being. See R. Ovadyiah Yosef, Responsa Yabi`a Omer, Part 8, Hoshen Mishpat, #6.
 
29. Elon classifies the Written Law as supreme legislation, and the enactments and regulations issued over time as subordinate legislation. He also emphasizes that, contrary to other legal systems, supreme and subordinate legislation in Jewish law do not operate beside one another since, as noted, the supreme legislation is a single event set for all times. Elon, Jewish Law, vol. 2, 478-481.