Cynthia Ozick, a Jewishly-informed extraordinary author and woman of letters, whose novella, The Cannibal Galaxy (originally appearing in The New Yorker of November 10th 1980 as “The Laughter of Akiva”) is, among other things, a profound meditation on the integration of Jewish and general studies within a day school context, a theme quite close to my heart and career, published an intriguing essay entitled “The Novel’s Evil Tongue” as the front-page article in the most recent New York Times’ Book Review Section for Sunday, December 20, 2015 (http://www.nytimes.com/2015/12/20/books/review/the-novels-evil-tongue.html?_r=0 ).

Ozick posits in her essay that, on the one hand, telling stories inherently involve the Halachic prohibitions of gossip (Lashon HaRa; Devarim 24:9), talebearing (Rechilut; VaYikra 19:16) and rumor (assuming that the information has been deliberately falsified, Cheshad and Motzee Shem Ra; Devarim 22:13-9), and on the other, that biblical stories, beginning with the account of Adam and Chava giving-in to the beguilements of the primordial Nachash, all contain these prohibited elements!

Ever since Genesis, no story has been free of gossip, and how unreasonable (!) it is that gossip has its mischief-making reputation…

Scripture…teems with stories, including tales of envy (e.g., Yishmael VeYitzchak, Yaakov VeEisav, Rachel VeLeah, Korach VeMoshe), murder (e.g., Kayin VeHevel, Avshalom VeAmnon, Nisyanot Shaul LaHarog Et David), adultery (e.g., David U’Batsheva, Avshalom U’Pelagshai Aviv, Hoshea VeIshto), idolatry (e.g., Eigel HaZahav, Eglai Yeravam ben Navat, Rov Neshai Shlomo HaMelech), betrayal (e.g., Dor HaMabul, Dor HaFlaga, Dor HaMidbar), lust (e.g., Anshei Sodom VeMalachim, Lot U’Benotav, Bnot Moav U’Bnai Yisrael), deceit (e.g., Yaakov VeYitzchak, Lavan VeYaakov, Rachel VeAviha). Yet its laws of conscience relentlessly (!) deplore gossip, the very engine that engenders these narratives of flawed mortals.

Harmful speech has been compared in its moral injury to bloodshed, worship of false gods, incest and adultery (Arachin 15b) ; but what novelist can do without some version of these fundamentals of plot?…

Under the influence of the evil tongue, 10,000 stories and novels, before and since, have insinuated themselves into our sin-seeking world…

Among the biblical “stories” that would never have come into being along with the many permutations of the themes that such stories engender down through literary history had humanity never partaken from the forbidden Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, in addition to those I have listed above in italics, Ozick explicitly mentions: 1) Kayin VeHevel; 2) the concept of and journey to “the Promised Land” of Israel; 3) Yosef in Egypt.

It seems to me that Ozick makes a very good case for one side of the debate regarding whether all biblical characters should be subject to moral scrutiny and critique. If we would on principle always give even the most sterling of these individuals the benefit of the doubt and explain away their occasional missteps foibles, while they would thereby remain on the pedestals of veneration and be worthy of our awesome respect, would we truly be able to learn from not only their positive, but even their negative examples? Nevertheless, it is a radical perspective to declare that the bible itself engages in Lashon HaRa about so many of those who people its tales. While were a human being to engage in presenting such true stories, it is possible that the category of Mitzva HaBa’a VeAveira (a positive action that comes about via a transgression—see “Nevua HaBa’a BeAveira”) would be applicable, this can hardly be said about a Divine Document such as the Tora, and the Divinely Inspired texts of NaCh. But if as spiritual strivers, we are to try to emulate God’s Example, in accordance with the oft-repeated biblical injunction, “VeHalachta Be’Derachav” (and you will walk in His Ways) that is strikingly interpreted by the well-known Talmudic commentary in Sota 14a:

R. Chama son of R. Chanina further said: What means the text: “Ye shall walk after the Lord your God”?   Is it, then, possible for a human being to walk after the Shechina; for has it not been said: “For the Lord thy God is a devouring fire”?  But (the meaning is) to walk after the Attributes of the Holy One, Blessed Be He. As He Clothes the naked… so do thou also clothe the naked. The Holy One, Blessed Be He, Visited the sick… so do thou also visit the sick. The Holy One, Blessed Be He, Comforted mourners… so do thou also comfort mourners. The Holy one, Blessed Be He, Buried the dead…  so do thou also bury the dead.

are we to assume that telling stories comparable to those in TaNaCh is a manifestation of another of those Aspects of God that human beings are not to emulate, such as:

  1. Taking revenge—While God Is Described as (Tehillim 94:1) “HaShem Is a God of Vengeance” yet we are explicitly instructed, (VaYikra 19:18) “You shall not take revenge nor bear a grudge…” (the exception is where God Directly Orders us to act in this manner, as in (BaMidbar 31:2) “’Avenge the children of Israel of the Midianites…”)
  2. Destroying the Creation—God at times Determines that what He has Created must be obliterated, as in the case of the Flood or the destruction of Sodom and Amora. However, human beings are bound by the dimensions of the prohibition of Bal Tashchit, as manifest in (Devarim 20:19) “When thou shalt besiege a city a long time, in making war against it to take it, thou shalt not destroy the trees thereof by wielding an axe against them; for thou mayest eat of them, but thou shalt not cut them down; for is the tree of the field man, that it should be besieged of thee?” (Once again, exceptions exist in the case of Pikuach Nefesh or if the tree is not a fruit-bearing tree and needed for an important human purpose.)

Another distinction regarding human storytelling that Ozick’s essay suggests, is the difference between stories which are drawn up completely in one’s imagination as opposed to accounts that are based upon historically verifiable facts. Obviously, if an author creates a roman-a-clef whereby real-life characters are readily identifiable within an ostensibly fictitious context, and unflattering things are stated or implied about them, one could wonder about how Lashon HaRa may have been violated. But if the individuals that are being described are completely the figments of the author’s imagination, how can one invoke the sin of character assassination when the persons to whom these actions are attributed never existed in the real world? While it could be claimed that a fictional character is the composite of many individuals with whom the author has interacted or learned about, if the character is not readily identifiable with someone in the “real world,” can this be categorized as attacking in some way the actual person after whom the character has been modeled? (One of my favorite novels is Hermann Hesse’s Magister Ludi which I read was a roman-a-clef with respect to a number of German intellectuals. But I am unfamiliar with any of them. Does this mean that the act of writing the book may have had morally questionable motivations, which no longer apply to an uninformed reader?) Regularly, a disclaimer accompanies books and films to the effect that “All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.” While such a statement is obviously intended to attempt to protect the author or producer from libel suits on the part of individuals who claim to have been slandered, while this may satisfy the “letter of the law,” would it be also sufficient to be in compliance with the “spirit” of a concept such as Lashon HaRa?

A variation regarding this question would apply to the many recent works of fiction that combine historical fact with fictional dialogue, events, meetings, etc. Should someone who cares about Lashon HaRa feel reticent about projecting particularly questionable activities and motivations to a real, historical figure, along with his empirically verifiable activities, particularly when the reader may not be able to tell the difference?

Furthermore the totally imaginary characters, and the values they represent, can become quite important to a book’s readership. Can an author indiscriminately choose to debunk someone who everyone has come to venerate? An interesting case-in-point is the recent release of Harper Lee’s Go Set A Watchman, which tells the story of Atticus Finch from the perspective of his daughter known as “Scout,” many years after the events described in Lee’s classic novel To Kill a Mockingbird. In contrast to the work that had been published earlier to great acclaim, with the protagonist becoming an icon for fairness, courage and racial color-blindness, Atticus is now depicted as a closet racist who is dedicated to preserving the south’s segregationist culture, much to his daughter’s chagrin. Turning aside from the controversy swirling around Go Set a Watchman, that includes challenging its provenance, it is remarkable to see the extent to which not only the fictitious Scout, but actual flesh-and-blood readers have been nonplused by the novel’s revelations that someone they had viewed as a “hero,” might in fact have either evolved into someone professing beliefs with which they now disagree, or who may always have ascribed to such a point of view, but kept it well-hidden from the public eye. At least in some readers’ minds, their original conception of the character “Atticus” has been slandered by the newly-released novel. Can this be said to serve as some sort of manifestation of Lashon HaRa on the part of the author? Or is a fictional character completely “owned” by its creator, and therefore the author retains the moral right to change whatever aspects of the individual’s personality he wishes? Can the character at some point take on a life of its own by being viewed by the general population in a certain manner, and therefore its creator is deprived of the opportunity to continue to tinker with his outlook and behavior?

Obviously, Cynthia Ozick, as a distinguished author who is Jewishly observant, has a great deal at stake regarding whether the act of writing entails violations of Tora law such as Lashon HaRa. Her insistence that considering and sharing the motivations of individuals encourages interiority and self-reflection is extremely well-taken and on-point. Yet it seems to me that the profound question has not been answered, particularly for someone sensitive to Halacha and who at the same time loves and values literature. To state that stories appeal to our “sin-seeking world” severely challenges those who are committed to trying to avoid sin and live lives committed to Tora and Mitzvot, rather than compartmentalizing their enjoyments from the “self-conscious and vulnerable organ that humanity once dared (defiantly, subversively) to call Soul…”