Why This Book?
by Rabbi Joshua Fenton
Study in Judaism, though valued as an end in and of itself, is only fully realized when manifest through action. There is a scene in the Talmud in which Rabbi Akiva and Rabbi Tarfon are arguing about which is greater; study or practice. The sages interrupt and explain, “Study is greater for it leads to practice.” For the last few years we have read books that celebrate the Jewish experience, Jewish thought, and the Jewish community. I felt it was time to realize the words of the sages, so I chose a book I found both compelling and inspiring, that I hope will lead many if not all of us to action.
The fact of the matter is, I have not found a more clearly or succinctly articulated argument for giving more to those who have the very least, then in Peter Singer’s book, The Life You Can Save. It is truly not a Jewish Story. It’s not really a Jewish Book at all. Though Professor Singer did grow up in a Jewish home and is halakhicaly Jewish, he doesn’t identify as Jewish, doesn’t suggest that his ideas are somehow rooted in his Jewish heritage or the Jewish tradition, and in fact says “…my identity as a Jew, or not, just isn’t all that important to me.”
So why this book? In fact, not only does Singer not claim to be speaking as a Jewish person with a Jewish voice and perspective, but much of his philosophy is offensive to certain fundamental Jewish values and principles. It is true, Peter Singer is a troublesome philosopher and writer but, Singer has given us a book that demands a Jewish response and I believe through reading his book our experience as Jews will be deepened. The basic argument Singer puts forward is as follows: People are dying all over the world from preventable disease, due exclusively to the extreme poverty in which they live. We, “the rich folks” could end extreme poverty for ever with what Singer considers to be a nominal sacrifice of our current standard of living. He suggests that if each of us could give a few hundred dollars a year to organizations fighting extreme poverty, by 2015, 500 million people would no longer be living in extreme poverty and 300 million would no longer suffer from hunger.
How can anyone argue against this? But Singer doesn’t stop there. He goes on, talking about the implications of choices we make about the way we spend, save, and consume, and the direct effects that such a lifestyle has on the world. He argues that our lifestyles demonstrate that we value certain luxuries over the lives of individuals. How can you buy 1000.00 dollar shoes when people are starving unless you think your shoes are worth their starvation? For Singer, giving is a moral imperative. What Singer is trying to show us is that Tzedakkah, is not charity. It is true, he doesn’t use those words nor does he arrive at that realization through any “Jewish Process”, but he gets there. He gets there through making a profoundly simple argument: If 1000.00 dollars can feed a family for a year, than 1000.00 pair of shoes took food away from a family suffering from starvation. So what isn’t Jewish about this? It’s Singer’s process.
Peter Singer is a utilitarian philosopher. He determines whether an action is right or wrong based on the end it produces; The greater the happiness, the more acceptable the sacrifice. So, if those 1000.00 dollar shoes make you “more happy” then the “happiness” a year’s worth of food would bring to a starving family, it was a good decision. This is Singer’s method and this is what’s so “un-Jewish”, yet this is the logic that is so compelling to us modern American Jews. What’s “un-Jewish” is the basic assumption; anything is ok if it produces enough goodness or happiness for enough people. We believe that life is sacred, and therefore reject the logical conclusion of utilitarianism; we will never sacrifice the innocent to save the majority. Such behavior is a rejection of the most basic of Jewish values, life is sacred and of immeasurable value.
So why this book? Well the Jewish message, give 10% of your income before taxes to tzedakkah because it’s a Mitzvah, God says so, hasn’t done much for most people. And, the argument that you should do everything in your power to save even one life because of life’s inestimable value, also hasn’t moved us much to do a whole lot. We are even taught that only 90% of the money we earn in our lifetimes is really ours, the rest only given to us to distribute to the poor, has produced similar outcomes. So I thought we would investigate another approach, a wholly different argument, and then through studying it and the Jewish response, (of which I have only scratched the surface), just maybe we would be moved to do something really wonderful. The Sages of the Talmud explain “study leads to action”.
May our study this year inspire us to greater heights, profound generosity, and a renewed sense of purpose as partners with God in making this world the place it should be.
Response
by Rabbi Jill Jacobs
The always-provocative Peter Singer has a fascinating column in this week's Forward in which he argues that charitable giving that benefits the poor should be eligible for tax breaks, but that giving to philanthropies that do not work on poverty issues should not. In my new book I point out that, according to UNICEF, 27,000 children under 5 die every day around the world from avoidable, poverty-related causes. That’s an emergency that we ought to be doing much more to prevent. If Obama were to increase the tax deduction for donations aimed specifically at reducing that terrible death toll, and the extreme poverty that causes it, I’d applaud. But that doesn’t mean that I want to subsidize every charitable donation made by an American taxpayer.
By far the largest slice of the roughly $300 billion dollars that Americans give to charity goes to religious organizations. I’m not religious, and I don’t see why people should pay less in taxes because they give to their church, synagogue or mosque. No doubt some religious organizations do some good, but others definitely don’t. . . I also don’t want to subsidize all of the museums, art galleries, theaters and performing arts organizations that are registered as charities. . . In the United States, public schools in poor districts tend to start from behind when it comes to funding, because the property tax base just isn’t there. And rich school districts can tip the balance even further in their favor because their residents can better afford to donate money to their local schools. Such giving is often done through tax-deductible donations to nonprofit organizations and foundations that channel money to specific schools and districts. Since the rich are taxed at a higher rate than the poor, and are more likely than other taxpayers to itemize their deductions, the government actually gives an additional subsidy to schools in affluent districts.
Ultimately, Singer's suggestion that the government should distinguish between charitable organizations that alleviate poverty and those that do not seems untenable. Virtually every non-profit can make an argument that it works on poverty in some way. Even the largest university can point out the amount of financial aid given to students in need, many cultural institutions offer public education programs for schools in low-income areas, and virtually every religious institution does some kind of service work. It doesn't seem reasonable for the government to try to sort out whether gifts to a church that hosts a soup kitchen should be tax deductible, or whether only gifts to organizations that devote the majority of their budgets to poverty relief should be eligible. The reason that tax guidelines for non-profit donations are so broad is that the government doesn't want to get involved in deciding which organizations are worthy and which aren't, lest we end up with government subsidies only for groups with one political agenda or another.
But Singer does tap directly into the very Jewish question of the distinction between tzedakah and other kinds of philanthropic giving. Though he is not one to speak from a Jewish text perspective, he (unwittingly?) precisely defines one of the problems with the way in which we often speak about tzedakah. Quite simply, tzedakah refers to monetary or other material support for the poor. So--giving money, food, clothing, medicine, or even spiritual sustenance such as books to those in financial need is tzedakah. Giving money for other purposes is not. In one teshuvah (legal opinion), the contemporary legal authority, Rabbi Eliezer Waldenburg counts buying books for a synagogue library as tzedakah, as these will be lent to those who cannot afford their own books, but draws the line at buying candles or other items that will help the synagogue but will not directly benefit the poor. (Tzitz Eliezer, 9:1) This is not to say that there is no obligation to give to institutions that do not directly benefit the poor. In fact, rabbinic law mandates sharing in the cost of public infrastructure. However, such donations do not count for the 10-20% of income that Jews are obligated to dedicate for tzedakah.
In the Jewish world, we often speak of tzedakah as interchangeable with philanthropy. We classify as tzedakah gifts to synagogues, JCCs, cultural institutions, and schools, as well as gifts to social service agencies, community organizing groups, and anti-poverty advocacy initiatives. This slippery use of language probably owes a lot to the IRS's lack of distinction among different kinds of non-profits. We are used to itemizing all deductions to 501(c)3 organizations, and therefore begin to think of all of these deductions as tzedakah.
And, of course, as I said, the line between organizations that work on poverty issues and those that do not is not always clear. If I allocate my university donation for financial aid, is that tzedakah, even though I know that the vast majority of university expenditures do not directly benefit low-income students? What about supporting an advocacy effort to raise the minimum wage, even though the benefits may be far in the future? What about a donation to build a local park that will be available for families of all income levels? While there are no easy answers to these questions, simply asking these questions forces us to think more seriously about the ways in which we allocate our own personal and communal tzedakah. When I choose where to give my own 10-20% of income, I at least have to justify to myself that the recipients address poverty in some significant way.
Other giving--to my prayer community, to my alma mater, or to cultural institutions comes out of regular expenses--even if I do declare these gifts to the IRS at the end of the year. During these economic times, many of us are cutting back on our giving because we have lost our jobs or fear losing our jobs; or because we have lost money in our savings accounts, or simply fear what the future may bring. Of course, low-income communities are suffering disproportionately from the new scarcity of resources. As the need grows, those of us who can afford to do so should increase our tzedakah giving beyond the bare minimum of 10%. Those of us who cannot afford to give more now might think about how to allocate our money so that the giving that we count as tzedakah does, in fact, meet the requirement that tzedakah should alleviate--and ultimately end--poverty.
About the Author
Peter Singer was born in Melbourne, Australia, in 1946, and educated at the University of Melbourne and the University of Oxford. He has taught at the University of Oxford, La Trobe University and Monash University, and has held several other visiting appointments. Since 1999 he has been Ira W. DeCampProfessor of Bioethics in the University Center for Human Values at Princeton University.
From 2005 on, he has also held the part-time position of Laureate Professor at the University of Melbourne, in the Centre for Applied Philosophy and Public Ethics. Peter Singer first became well-known internationally after the publication of Animal Liberation in 1975. Since then he has written many other books, including Practical Ethics; The Expanding Circle; How Are We to Live?, The Way We Eat (with Jim Mason) and most recently, The Life You Can Save.
His works have appeared in more than 20 languages. He is the author of the major article on Ethics in the current edition of the Encylopaedia Britannica. Two collections of his writings have been published: Writings on an Ethical Life, which he edited, and Unsanctifying Human Life, edited by Helga Kuhse.
