Jewish Self-Criticism Cannot Substitute for Truth

In a recently published blog post in The Times of Israel, titled “Ending Violence Against Palestinians in Judea and Samaria Is Urgent,” Dr. Richard H. Schwartz, with contributions from Rabbi Shammai Engelmayer, presents readers with a sweeping and scathing indictment of Jewish residents in Judea and Samaria. The piece attempts to paint an entire community with a broad brush of systemic criminality, relying on a familiar chain of authorities: statements by opposition politicians such as Ehud Olmert and Ehud Barak, declarations from foreign governments, press releases from organizations such as Commanders for Israel’s Security, and opinion columns by figures such as Bret Stephens.

Dr. Schwartz presents this as a moral imperative rooted in Torah ethics. But a closer examination raises a serious question about how the argument is constructed: Can political statements, secondary media reports, and foreign commentary be treated as though they establish objective, empirical truth?

To understand the narrative being presented, we must first examine the basis of its claims. Dr. Schwartz cites former prime ministers and political opponents as though their pronouncements establish factual reality. But politicians involved in domestic political struggles do not speak from a position of neutrality. Their statements may reflect political positions, ideological commitments, or attempts to influence public opinion. They cannot automatically be treated as impartial findings of fact.

The same applies to foreign governments, political organizations, and opinion writers. Quoting one source after another does not necessarily strengthen an argument if all the sources are repeating or interpreting the same underlying allegations. A chain of secondary reports can create the appearance of extensive evidence without actually establishing the facts independently.

This phenomenon of seeing one’s own land primarily through criticism and reports from afar is not new.

In Talmud Chullin 63b, our Sages discuss the non-kosher bird called the Re’ah, which the Gemara identifies with the Ayah. The Gemara asks why it is called Re’ah and answers:
“שרואה ביותר” — it sees exceptionally well.
The Gemara then says:
“תנא עומדת בבבל ורואה נבלה בארץ ישראל” — it can stand in Bavel and see a neveilah, a carcass, in Eretz Yisrael.

Chazal’s description lends itself to a powerful lesson. The bird has extraordinary vision, but what does it choose to see? A neveilah in Eretz Yisrael. Standing far away, it sees the defect in the Land.

We should be careful, however, not to claim that this is the literal reason given by the Gemara for the bird being non-kosher. The Gemara is discussing the identity of the bird and its exceptional vision. Nevertheless, the image has long lent itself to a broader Torah lesson: there is a danger in seeing only the blemish in Eretz Yisrael while standing at a distance.

The Land of Israel is certainly not free of problems, and wrongdoing must never be ignored. But when fellow Jews are viewed primarily through a fault-finding lens based on foreign capitals, political organizations, and secondary reports, while context, proportion, and direct evidence are given insufficient attention, we risk adopting the distorted perspective symbolized by the Re’ah.

There is also a deeper point in the opening words of Parshat Re’eh. The Torah begins:
“רְאֵה אָנֹכִי נֹתֵן לִפְנֵיכֶם הַיּוֹם בְּרָכָה וּקְלָלָה”
“See, I am placing before you today a blessing and a curse.”

The Torah begins with “Re’eh”, in the singular, and then continues with “lifneichem”, in the plural. Our mefarshim have drawn lessons from this change in number: the Torah addresses each individual, but it is also speaking to the community as a whole.

There is an important lesson here for anyone who writes publicly. A person may speak as an individual, but his words do not necessarily remain individual. Once published and repeated, they can influence how an entire community is viewed. A writer who makes sweeping assumptions and publicly condemns his own people must recognize that the consequences of his words can extend far beyond himself.

This issue of Jewish self-criticism also has historical precedent.

In 1936, the Zionist labor leader Berl Katznelson published a powerful article in Davar entitled “Ha-Yesh Am Ba-Ammim?” — “Is There Such a Nation Among Nations?” Katznelson was deeply disturbed by Jews whom he believed had reached a point where they viewed the actions of their enemies with understanding while looking upon their own people with contempt.

He wrote:

“Is there another people among the nations whose sons have reached such a degree of distortion, intellectual and emotional, that everything done by the enemy — every robbery, every murder, every rape — fills their hearts with admiration and fascination, while everything done by their own brothers is despised and hated?”
Katznelson warned of the danger of such an attitude taking hold among Jewish youth — of Jews developing what he called “hatred of themselves.” His concern was that criticism of Jewish society could cross a line and become a reflexive condemnation in which the actions of the enemy were rationalized while the actions of one’s own people were automatically condemned.

His words were written in a very different historical context, and they should not be used to excuse wrongdoing. Jews, like everyone else, are obligated to condemn injustice when it occurs. But his warning remains relevant. There is a fundamental difference between honest criticism of one’s own society and a reflexive willingness to accept every accusation against one’s own people while giving insufficient attention to evidence, context, and the conduct of those making the accusation.

The Torah sets a demanding standard for establishing facts. In the laws concerning an alleged violation, the Torah says:
“וְדָרַשְׁתָּ וְחָקַרְתָּ וְשָׁאַלְתָּ הֵיטֵב”
“You shall investigate, examine, and inquire thoroughly.”

This is not a call for superficial investigation or for collecting reports that confirm what one already believes. It is a demand to establish facts carefully before reaching a conclusion.

Here, therefore, one must ask Dr. Schwartz directly: Can you honestly claim to have fulfilled “וְדָרַשְׁתָּ וְחָקַרְתָּ וְשָׁאַלְתָּ הֵיטֵב”?

Have you personally investigated these claims on the ground? Have you questioned primary witnesses? Have you examined the underlying police and judicial data?

Have you distinguished between proven criminal acts, allegations, political claims, and reports repeated by others?

Or have you mainly compiled secondary media reports, foreign press releases, political statements, and opinion pieces?

These are not insignificant distinctions. True justice requires evidence, investigation, due process, and respect for the rule of law.

If an individual has committed a crime, that person should be investigated and, where the evidence warrants it, prosecuted. No Jew is above the law, and no community should be protected from legitimate scrutiny.

But there is a profound difference between establishing that particular crimes have been committed and turning individual cases into a generalized indictment of an entire population.

We cannot afford the luxury of naivety when it comes to the consequences of repeating accusations without proper investigation. Throughout history, one of the persistent enemies of our people has been antisemitism — a hatred that changes its language and arguments but repeatedly seeks to single out Jews, apply standards not demanded of others, and turn the actions of individuals into collective guilt.
Today, such attitudes can appear in international bodies and foreign media. When Jewish writers themselves validate sweeping accusations against fellow Jews without adequately examining the evidence, foreign critics do not necessarily respond by saying, “How courageous and nuanced.” Their words can instead be used as confirmation of accusations already being made against Israel and against Jews.
That is why Jewish self-criticism requires responsibility.

We must be able to condemn wrongdoing without helping to create a false picture of an entire community. We must be able to acknowledge genuine problems without accepting every allegation as fact. And we must be able to distinguish between legitimate criticism and the transformation of individual cases into collective guilt.
None of this means that wrongdoing should be ignored. Quite the opposite. Any legitimate criminal conduct must be investigated and, where the evidence warrants it, prosecuted through the proper judicial and law-enforcement authorities of the State of Israel.

But the reverse is equally true: no community should be condemned without evidence, and no population should be held collectively responsible for the actions of individuals.

At a time when antisemitism is surging around the world, we have to be especially careful with our words. We need moral clarity, but moral clarity begins with truth. We need courage, but courage does not mean believing every accusation against our own people. And we need the integrity to investigate before we condemn.

The Torah’s message is simple:
See. Investigate. Examine. Ask carefully.

Before we condemn others, we must make sure that what we present as truth has actually been established as truth.

What one person writes and teaches can affect many others. We therefore have a responsibility not only for what we believe, but also for what we place into the public record about our own people.

We can and must condemn genuine wrongdoing. But we must also firmly reject the practice of turning localized infractions into collective indictments against an entire population.

That is not justice.

And it is certainly not the Torah’s demand for truth.