The following is the first in a series of essays and exposes that will serve as an answer to the recent attacks on the Yeshiva system by the New York Times and the New York State Senate.
Imagine, if you will, a slice of pure 1950s Americana, the archetypical American Small Town. It comes replete with white picket fences, dinners, idyllic parks, letterman jackets, and apple pies cooling on windowsills. Let's call it Kingston.
In Kingston, no one locks their door. There is nothing that goes 'bump' in the night; the only thing to fear is tripping over a bicycle carelessly left lying by a child running home for dinner. A child who knows that no one will steal it in the dead of night, or at high noon for that matter. Everywhere, doors are unlocked, and windows are opened; what is there to worry about? Crime is almost non-existent. Everyone knows each other. Whether it's a barbecue, a baptism, or communal bingo, the whole town gets together. Or, at least, most of them, most of the time.
It's not to say things are perfect. Walk down a few blocks from where you stand, and you'll meet Bob, who has a severe drinking problem. A few houses down, sordid things sometimes happen at the Joneses, but no one knows about them (yet). On the other side of town, a young Barbara cries herself to sleep, wishing her life was different and far away from home. Who said a seemingly perfect town required perfect inhabitants or for them to live perfect lives? After all, even in the most sociable, safest, or wealthiest of communities, you'll always find someone living there feeling discontentment, apathy, or even outright hating it.
It's always possible to go and dig for every blemish you could conceivably uncover, but the rest of town and its residents more than make up for them. Even Bob, though he might smell of gin and peppermint mouthwash (it doesn't quite mask the smell if you get too close after lunch), will jump at the opportunity to give anyone a helping hand. Those same unlocked doors at night are always opened by day to anyone who needs a cup of sugar or is asking for a few dollars to help tide them over. Even those who don't have much give. They are proud Americans, proud of the town they live in, their lives, and the community they are a part of.
Kingston is diverse, too. You have the wealthy businessmen, the town doctor, and right next door, the town's poorer inhabitants, and all those in between. Some families have lived there for over a century, and some are newcomers too. Most of the residents at least make do, and for those who don't, the town gets together to ensure they won't want for lack of. And yet, even though people from very different socio-economic standings live in close proximity, everyone rubs elbows indiscriminately. The rich man and the poor man will sit next to each other in the pews, and, despite occasionally helping his neighbor, the rich man doesn't see him as any different merely because he wasn't blessed with more riches.
That's because Kingston is a real community. A community where children haven't been introduced to a monotonous life of endless screen time. Where being the poor or the rich kid doesn't matter because friends are just that, friends. They spend their summer days together running around, biking around, scooting around, making up games, and playing the way children used to play. No sitting on couches, eyes glued to an array of screens, empty of any desire except for the next movie, next TikTok, or next video game. These are happy and healthy children. They'll cherish those memories into old age and mourn for those who won't have the chance to experience a childhood like theirs.
To live in a place like Kingston today is almost an unreachable dream, an idyllic setting many Americans wish they could move to (if they knew where to) or go back to (if they knew how to). Life in most urban cities is rife with crime, protests, occasional riots, and constant petty vandalism. They are where neighbors, at best, ignore neighbors; that is when they don't outright live in fear of them. Which raises the question: why are so many focused on trying to destroy these few pockets left over from an era gone by, mostly untouched by our modern malaise?
Today, if you take a walk in the towns of Monsey, New Square, or Kyriat Yoel, you will come to slowly perceive Kingston. At first glance, it would appear very different to you, even quite alien, but pay attention and listen closely; you'll soon realize that while they're not singing the same song, they indeed share the same melody.
Admittedly, Chad and Johnny have been replaced by Chaim and Yanky, Becky by Brucha, and Cynthia by Shayna. Instead of a letterman jacket, they wear long black frocks; caps are the exclusive domains of kinderlach, and the men only wear black fedoras or shtreimels. The women might wear dresses that would respectably fit in a 50s catalog, but they also cover their hair with a scarf or a wig and a hat. Apple pies and ballpark hotdogs are nowhere to be found; kugels and chulent have replaced them. English is not their Lingua Franca; they're usually heard speaking in their mame lashon. Once you look past the peculiar cosmetics, however, you'll realize that the dynamics over here are the same as they are in Kingston over there.
The doors are also unlocked, and the windows opened; no door shut in the face of one who needs either sugar or a few dollars. Some are rich, others poor, with the majority in-between, and all live together in real fraternity and community. The kids might not be named Peter & Sarah, but they also spend their days playing outside on their bikes and scooters. More importantly, they also don't know of a life of endless screen time. If you figure out enough Yiddish to ask them about TikTok, they might just laugh confusedly and ask if you're talking about some sort of clock.
And just like with Kingston, you'd be a fool to think that things there are perfect. Not everyone growing up will embrace their distinct way of life. Some will, of course, move away; sometimes for marriage, sometimes for business, and sometimes because they can't take what they feel are constraints and limitations. As far as the latter, some will simply embrace a form of more relaxed Orthodoxy, so to speak; they'll cling to some of their ways and let go of others. And some will let go of their old life entirely but still bitterly cling to their resentment. More on them later, but for now, let us return to our original question:
Who is afraid of the Haredi community?
Assault on Precinct 613
"Fear? Of course not! We simply want to ensure that your children benefit from the best possible education!" is an age-old ditty that Haredim have heard chanted at them for a long time. We could even call this niggun, to channel C.S. Lewis, the "Do-Gooders' Tyranny". Unlike those of the Cossacks, Robber Barons, or Napoleon, this one just goes on and on and on. It has not once stopped since it first began.
Yet, it would be entirely fair for the would-be yeshiva reformers to fret that 'This was then, this is now! You can't judge our motives based on those from another time, another land, another group of people!'. And they would be right, too! So, let's judge their new claims individually and based on their merit while still being mindful of the past. We have a long collective memory, after all.
This recent offensive on the Haredi community educational system is a highly coordinated affair, and as far from grassroots as it gets. A New York Times 'expose,' two years in the making, was "coincidentally" released a few days before Albany decided to crack down on the 'subpar levels of secular education in yeshivot. Using the controversy raised by the Gray Lady's scathing indictment as cover, the State Senate quickly passed a unanimous vote (without debate!) to force yeshivot to either adopt the curriculum they deemed "essential" or face closure.
Not quite satisfied yet, The Times doubled down on the following day, then the following Sunday, publishing yet another op-ed describing the absolute necessity for the do-gooders to swoop in and save Haredi children from a childhood oh so lacking in English syntax and trigonometry. They also invited their ex-hasidic readers to voice their complaints to the NYT, no doubt for another timely expose.
The former newspaper of record has since then published many other articles, all negative in nature. Just this Sunday, their latest report included many stereotypical antisemitic tropes and laid the blame of the Crown Heights Pogrom at the feet of its victims. The reporter who wrote the initial expose even tweeted to let us know that (((major landlords))) were urging alumni to support candidates promising not to destroy the institutions they proudly graduated from.
The community long knew that this was coming. Activists, local politicians, Rabbis, and other community members mobilized. Consequently, hundreds of thousands of letters in support of yeshivot were written by parents and alumni to the Board of Regents. They were then swiftly ignored by both the State and the Fourth Estate in favor of a few dozens of disgruntled ex-Hassidim and ideological allies. After all, what's the difference between 350,000 for and 300 against, if not a few mere zeroes? You wouldn't expect someone with a yeshiva education to know enough math to sense something's wrong here…
The reasons provided to help justify a complete overhaul of the entire yeshiva system were three-fold: due to the lack of secular education in yeshivot, children from a Haredi background were unable to function in the modern world, then grow up stuck in an endless cycle of poverty & joblessness as a result, as well as the accusation that yeshivot misuse public monies to fund themselves disproportionately and in violation of the law.
The question is... are they right?
To teach how to think, or what to think?
Contrary to public perception (and unlike modern public education), learning in yeshivot is not merely studying by rote and repetition. That is to say, Margaret Mead would have been pleased! The first and foremost skill you will develop and hone throughout your years in yeshiva is critical thinking, paired with problem-solving, an expertise that would benefit many New York Time reporters (or bureaucrats in Albany, for that matter).
The New York Times's claims can be disassembled as follows:
Haredim are unable to function in the modern world.
Haredim are stuck in an endless cycle of poverty & joblessness.
Haredim misuse public monies to fund their yeshivot in violation of State law.
Conclusion: Yeshiva education creates Claim 1, which leads to Claim 2. Yeshivot are also guilty of Claim 3 (seemingly unrelated to either 1 or 2).
Solution: Reform yeshiva education, which will prevent Claim 1, and de facto stop Claim 2, at which point Claim 3 stops being a problem (presumably).
Before implementing any potential solution to a problem, we have to make sure that the initial claims are valid, that the conclusion deduced from them is sound, and that said solution will solve the problem efficiently.
Therefore need to demonstrate that:
Haredim are, in fact, unable to function in the modern world.
This inability is the result of yeshiva education.
The inability to function in the modern world leads to poverty & joblessness.
Haredim are, in fact, stuck in a cycle of poverty and joblessness.
This is because of their inability to function in the modern world.
Changing the curriculum to the one required by NYS will help introduce the students to the modern world.
Due to their newfound ability to interact with the modern world, Haredim will no more be stuck in a cycle of poverty and joblessness.
Yeshivot get disproportionate public monies to fund their yeshivot.
Said funding is against the law.
A single break in this chain, and the whole argument falls flat on its face:
If Haredim can function in the world, yeshiva is not leaving them unprepared.
If Haredim are stuck in the cycle of poverty & joblessness but can function in the modern world, then yeshiva education is not the reason why.
If Haredim can’t function in the modern world but are not trapped in a cycle of poverty & joblessness, then the yeshiva curriculum is not the problem.
If public monies are distributed legally and proportionally, or Haredim pay more than they receive, the funding argument is also moot.
Once we have broken these contentions down into their various components, the first thing that stands out is that the claims about funding are merely there to buttress the accusations against yeshivot; after all, if they represented a real problem, there would also be calls from Albany and the NYT to reform the way private schools are funded. Yet, we are in a situation where, if yeshiva curriculum is reconstituted to include a curriculum the State Government deems adequate, funding no longer appears to be an issue.
If we can demonstrate that yeshivot do not produce graduates unable to live in the modern world or that aren't stuck in the aforementioned cycles, once again, the question of funding is just as irrelevant as it has nothing to do with the education received in yeshivot.
In fact, even if we found that Haredim are both unable to function in the modern world and stuck in an endless poverty and joblessness cycle, we would still need to establish whether yeshiva education is the causation or a mere correlation. After all, as even humble yeshiva students know, correlation does not equal causation. What if the symptoms highlighted by the NYT are real, but their root is an entirely different disease? Then, isn't it what we should fix instead of the yeshiva curriculum? And as far as the funding issue goes, a simple comparison and contrast with other private and public schools should suffice to address it.
Therefore, before we even assess whether we need to revise what is being taught in yeshivot, we first need to establish whether the accusations at the heart of this reformation attempt have substance. After all, If there's no such problem, there's no need for such a solution.
Even a New York Times writer should get that.
The next installment will focus on Haredim and the Modern World.
Keep up the good work! Hatzlachah Rabbah!