The “He’s No Idiot” Rule

Before you get mad at me, let me share a personal story from the way back machine.

I was ordained a rabbi from the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in 1982 and have proudly served my people and my community ever since. But here is my post-ordination secret. If I were dinged a dime for each bit of knowledge I once knew but now have forgotten since I finished my undergraduate and seminary training, there would be almost nothing left in my bank account. But if I had a nickel for everything I have learned in the subsequent forty plus years about Judaism, faith, life and humanity, I would be able to replenish everything that I would have lost, and then some. I learned a whole bunch in rabbinic school and a lot of that has slipped away. And life, mine and yours, has imparted so many other lessons to make me wiser, kinder and more humble. I understand a lot more now, some fifty years later. And I realize that I know a lot less today than when I was young and I knew it all. 

Here is a true story from my student days. 

In the winter of 1978. I carried that day’s New York Times under my arm as I subwayed down to school. That winter morning, I was annoyed by something I read on the editorial page. (By the way, my being annoyed at the New York Times editorials is not unique to those days. Being annoyed when I read that paper is something that has continued unabated.) 

Isaac Bashevis Singer had just been awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature for his Yiddish storytelling. Hard to imagine that in those days Yiddish literature was taken so seriously by the world. He then wrote something in the Times that I found nonsensical. I cannot remember what he wrote. I cannot remember my objection. I can only remember feeling that what he wrote was not serious Judaism. 

Impressed with my own brilliance and insight, I complained to my Theology/Philosophy professor, the intimidating and brilliant Dr. Eugene Borowitz, of blessed memory, who did much to shape my thinking. In Dr. Borowitz’s class, any student could share whatever opinion he or she found compelling. But you better be able to back up your assertions with some thoughtful consideration. Unlike much of academia today, in those days we did not have to be in lockstep with our teacher or with our classmates. But we had to think things through. Otherwise, no one was better at humbling the haughty than Dr. Borowitz. 

I raised my hand and said something to the effect that Nobel Laureate Singer’s remarks were foolish or stupid. Dr. Borowitz glared at me. “Mr. Miller, I admire your passion. But may I make the following observation. Isaac Bashevis Singer has won a Nobel prize. His thoughts appear on the editorial page of the New York Times. You have done neither.” 

Ouch! That was a cut, and I deserved it. 

But then my teacher taught me a lesson that I still hope I follow most of the time. “Mr. Miller, I suggest that you adopt the ‘He’s no idiot’ rule. You may learn something. Singer is not an idiot. You may disagree with him. But do not assume that he is an idiot. Instead, try to understand why other people think that he is a great writer and thinker.” 

Today, we live in very polarized times. 

I remember the 1960’s. In those days the issues felt to me to be life and death (remember Vietnam and the draft and the terrible injustices in Birmingham, Selma and South Boston, the assassinations and the riots and the Six Day War?) We had in-your-face problems that we had to address as a nation. Today, it feels to many of us that America is in the same place as we were when I was a teenager.

We feel a sense of peril. 

A friend of mine said, “How can anyone even think of voting for X-candidate? They must be evil or stupid.” Another friend said, “How can I be friends with someone who supports candidates that I think will bring doom upon our nation?” One friend said proudly, “I know why one candidate’s supporters support him/her?” 

“Tell me.” 

“They are all mentally damaged and psychotic.” 

“Oh.” 

So are we living in a country where half the people are deranged, psychotic, march-in-step black hatted autonomatons, and the other half are normal down to earth Americans, the good guys with white hats?

That seems a bit crazy to me. 

I understand the passions we feel today. I feel them too. But I refuse to write off half of my country as foolish, unthinking, and vile. I do understand that there are bad people out there who vote for Republicans. There are bad people out there who vote for Democrats. There are bad people out there who are Jews and there are bad people out there who are Christians and there are bad people out there who are Muslims and there are bad people out there who don’t believe in anything. But most of all, I think that most people are not psychotic or evil or depraved. Most people are decent and thoughtful, whether they agree with me or not. 

When the political dust eventually settles and we come back to our senses as a nation, we would do better to try to understand why the other half, no matter where you sit on the national spectrum, why the other half think the way they do and believe what they do. We do not have to abandon our strongly held world view to try to understand what motivates people who think differently from each of us. But we should try to figure them out. From where I sit, I believe that other people are mostly good and mostly thoughtful. Before I condemn, I want to understand. How’s that for a 2024 heretical notion? 

I think we would all be happier if we could adopt Dr. Borowitz’ “he’s no idiot” rule, especially with people we disagree with. We might learn something even. And I for one, would be a whole lot happier living in a world where I respected those who differ with me, and they did likewise. (And I am allowing for the fact that there are some idiots out there, otherwise we would have no need for Comedy Central!)

I may not always get it right. But I am not an idiot. They, on the other side, may not always get it right. But neither are they idiots. If we could try to understand where “they” come from and why “they” think and believe what they do, we might could then put down our lances and try to sing in some kind of harmony. 

Wouldn’t that be nice?