In one of his articles, Daniel Kahneman, Nobel laureate in economics, portrays a human phenomenon that he has studied. He describes how the world is divided into two typologies: optimistic people and realistic people.
Many small businesses are launched based on the initiative of optimistic people who rely on forecasts of success and high hopes. All too often, it turns out that in truth, all that there was were false hopes. Statistics show that most entrepreneurs suffer from overly optimistic personalities, and usually tend to exaggerate their chances of success. In the end, the overwhelming majority of such businesses end up in failure.
Moreover, the more optimistic the person, the greater the risk he is willing to take. And the more a person is successful when she takes risks, the greater the sense of success and the more risk she will be willing to take in the future. This leads to increased levels of risk and raises the likelihood of a major crisis. Kahneman calls this process “the growth of delusional optimism,” but the academic concept can be replaced by the more popular concept of compulsive gambling. Anyone who has won a single time will continue to gamble, having lost control over this decision, as well as other decisions that will follow.
In contrast with the types of people who rush into new ideas and initiatives, stand realistic people who will not make a move without a serious study of the situation. They will never move forward without examining every single relevant aspect. Such people rely solely on accurate scientific predictions, on forecasts that are devoid of any bias, those that are based on reasonable predictability.
Were we forced to choose between these two lifestyles, which would we choose?
On the one hand, someone who will not act unless he has the full support of proven data will never make any progress. On the other hand, someone who follows his own exaggerated ideas will find himself pursuing his fantasies like Juha from the Arab legends or James Thurber’s Walter Mitty. He may then find himself in very difficult situations, buried under a burden of debt or obligated to people and tied to promises.
The use of accurate, precise data can paralyze entire systems, demoralize, and lead organizations to wallow in self-fulfilling dark prophecies. At the same time, risk-taking can lead to catastrophe.
It seems that in the debate between the optimists and the realists, are "correct". That is, each one is correct in a different time and place. Sometimes optimism is the correct tactic, and sometimes one must be realistic.
This description may help shed light on two controversies that we find in our parasha. One is the Ma'apilim affair, when a group of Israelites realize their error in accepting the words of the spies and decide to rise up towards the Land of Israel without the support of God or Moses. They take an immediate risk, and they fail. The second is the dispute between the ten spies and Yehoshua Bin-Nun and Caleb.
The ten spies saw fortified walls, giants, and a wealthy country with enormous economic power, and understood the great threat that they faced. They calculated the level of risk and understood that the Israelites stood little chance in the face of the reality of the situation in Canaan. Yehoshua and Caleb, however, saw the enormous potential inherent in conquering the land. They worked with the assumption that no one could stand in their way. Their aspiration to inherit the Promised Land, guided them and enabled them – some would say, blinded them – to interpret reality according to their dreams. They saw the giants as easy prey, "for they are our bread; their protection has departed from them." They believed that they could conquer even fortified cities.
The tension between absolute, gloomy predictions and positive assessments exists in many halachic contexts. One of these places is the law of hazaka, the presumption that an existing situation continues until we have definite proof that it has changed. Hezkat hayyim – a presumption of life – means that if a person was alive yesterday, there is no reason to assume that he is now dead. Similarly, if a vessel is whole, there is no reason to assume that it is now broken. The mishnah in Tractate Gittin (3:3) deals with the question of whether a divorce document sent from afar by a man who is old or sick is valid to effect divorce when it reaches his wife. The mishnah fears that the husband may have died in the time that it took for the document to arrive in the woman’s hands. The fact is that every person dies in the end, and given the husband’s condition we need to be realistic about the validity of the divorce. After all, a dead man cannot divorce his widow ...
The mishnah concludes that the messenger should deliver the divorce document to the woman, as we presume that the man who sent it is still alive. The Jerusalem Talmud asserts that this is true in all circumstances, even if the husband was 100 years old, and even if it took the messenger 100 years to deliver the document. Of course, this statement is an exaggeration, but behind it is a firm statement: Life goes on based on trust and strength. Even as death is a constant threat, we do not consider these pessimistic possibilities, so that life can continue as usual.
In the Babylonian Talmud, Rava qualifies the teaching of the mishnah. He rules that if a sick patient sends a divorce, it is valid. If the patient was on his deathbed, however, then we must accept the possibility that he likely passed away before the divorce document was delivered. He further states that if the husband has passed the age of eighty, we also must question the validity of the divorce. Thus, Rava raises the possibility that we must examine the circumstances and rely on statistics, giving weight to realistic considerations. We cannot simply rely on ideas and principles that are derived from human experience that are based on illusion and optimism (see Gittin 28a).
Rava's skepticism may result in constant fears, and a blanket prohibition against of sending divorces by means of a messenger. In contrast, the assumption that things remain largely as they were allows us to assume that dramatic events most likely have not occurred, and that we are not required to examine and critique every situation.
Generally speaking, positive assumptions are required for a normal and healthy life. In our parasha, these optimistic assumptions are not only just helpful and enabling, they are essential, since what is on the agenda is not the continuation of life as usual. The people of Israel in the wilderness must transcend reality. They have to transform from a nomadic people to a ruling nation. The message of the parasha is that in ordinary life it is possible to consider whether to hesitate or to charge forward. But major change will not happen without vision and without dreams. Without the willingness to rush into the future, there is no way to move beyond the existing situation. However, the anxieties and difficulties that characterize these transitional stages create optimal conditions for polarization and positive tension between these two points of view.