Carmel U. Chiswick is Research Professor of Economics at George Washington University. A founding member of the Association for the Study of Religion, Economics, and Culture and a former officer of the Association for the Social-Scientific Study of Jewry, she has written extensively on the economics of religion and has been a consultant to organizations in the United States and Israel. Professor Chiswick holds a Ph.D. from Columbia University and has worked as an Economist at USAID, the United Nations, and the World Bank.
The following exchange will focus on her book Judaism in Transition: How Economic Choices Shape Religious Tradition (Stanford, 2014). Part 1 can be found right here.
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Dear Professor Chiswick,
In the previous round you gave us an overview of your book’s approach, noting how different forms of economic incentives and considerations play an important role in the evolution of the religious practices of American Jews. A particularly interesting manifestation of this can be seen in the realm of Jewish education –
In your book you use the term ‘Jewish Human Capital’ to denote the “specific human skills that enhance participation in Judaism’s religious communal, and cultural life without necessarily affecting the other dimensions of American life.” Now, you point out that acquiring such Jewish human capital (which plays a vital role when it comes to intermarriage and the continuity of the Jewish people) through Jewish education is clearly a time, effort, and money consuming endeavour, and that well-off Jewish Americans now have a vast array of alternatives to this type of educational investment. You mention, for instance, that while the study of Hebrew might give a child special access to traditions and ultimately lead to him leading a more Jewish life, this comes at the expense of other educational investments (including some which might lead to more materially rewarding results).
The resource consuming nature of acquiring Jewish human capital and the availability of other educational alternatives create a situation in which, as you put it, “High wage American Jews… face strong economic incentives to deemphasize the importance of traditions which require specifically Jewish human capital”.
My question – Is the decline in Jewish human capital stoppable, or are the economic incentives against resource-consuming Jewish practices (including thorough Jewish education) too overwhelming? Is there anything (non-orthodox) Jewish leaders can still do, on the macro level, to ensure the long-term existence of a deep, rich engagement with Jewish tradition in America?
Yours,
Shmuel.
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Dear Shmuel,
To answer your second question first, we tend to forget that in every time and place deep religious study was the purview of a minority, people who were especially talented and extensively trained in Jewish human capital. They served as specialists whose Jewish human capital was deep as well as broad and were highly regarded as a resource available to ordinary people seeking wisdom or advice. Judaism survives across the generations as long as there are opportunities for some people to develop this kind of expertise. Other Jews study Judaism in a less intensive fashion, for the sweetness of it as well as for its usefulness, according to their interests and their opportunities. As in any field – medicine, sports, economics – there is a place for amateurs, and we strive to achieve our best, but we don’t all have to be experts.
The answer to your first question, whether the decline in Jewish human capital among ordinary American Jews is stoppable, is yes and no. People with a weak Jewish background get a lot less benefit from time spent in religious activities – whether ritual, celebratory, or educational – than people who come to these activities with a lot of Jewish experience and skills. Those with little Jewish human capital can improve their situation in various ways. They can reduce their time spent on Judaism in favor of other activities from which they get greater benefit, typically expressing this as a low priority placed on religion. Alternatively, they can work on improving their Jewish skills, making investments in Jewish human capital that improve the religious experience they get from Jewish activities.
In between these two extremes there are many ways that people can find tradeoffs, retaining their attachment to Judaism without heavy investments in Jewish human capital. Some people like to emphasize the universalist dimension of Judaism: Jewish ethical values, social or political activities that qualify as Tikkun Olam, vegetarian diets rather than kashrut per se, seders where the Haggadah is not read, etc. Others use their secular human capital to enhance serious Jewish study, applying a high level of literary and analytical skill to the study of Jewish texts and commentaries in English translation. Many non-Orthodox American Jews adapt religious rituals like the seder, the mikvah, or the Bar/Bat mitzvah in ways that satisfy their secular sensibilities without losing the power to connect with our ancient tradition.
As Jews assimilate into the American mainstream, Jewish human capital becomes the main thing that distinguishes them from their non-Jewish friends, neighbors and colleagues. Those who don’t meet some minimum threshold of investment in skills specific to Judaism become Jews in name only, indistinguishable from non-Jewish Americans and without the skills to pass Judaism along to the next generation. High intermarriage rates suggest that many American Jews are below this threshold, and the communal response has generally been to increase the Jewish content of Jewish education. People differ on just how this can be done – in the synagogue, in summer camps, in Torah study groups, with books, films, and trips to Israel – but the need is generally recognized. Americans generally encourage a variety of approaches, eschewing a one-size-fits-all approach in favor of diversity and self-selection. Even Jews who rarely go to synagogue but express their Judaism in some other fashion – perhaps studying Jewish history and literature, perhaps participating in Israel’s secular culture, perhaps observing Jewish holidays at the local JCC – are investing in Jewish human capital. These people may think of themselves as “not religious,” but since Judaism does not actually separate peoplehood from religion anyone who builds strong bonds with Am Yisrael is ipso facto investing in Jewish human capital.
Today’s American Jewish community seems to be divided into two main groups. There are many who have little Jewish human capital, whose attachment to Judaism is weak and whose children are raised as Jews in name only. But those who remain within the community join synagogues, practice Judaism and concern themselves with Jewish education make heavier investments in Jewish human capital than their parents and grandparents did. It is not uncommon for Jewish children to know more Hebrew, and to have more synagogue skills, than their parents. The typical Bar/Bat Mitzvah experience in today’s non-Orthodox synagogues involves more Jewish content than it did in a previous generation. For those American Jews who are not disaffected with Judaism, the earlier decline in Jewish human capital is already being reversed.
Pessimists who see American Judaism as a religion on the decline are often looking at its shrinking membership, which I have attributed to low investments in Jewish human capital, rather than the characteristics of the community itself. But there is also a tendency to view the Judaism of 17th-18th century Eastern Europe as our benchmark for religious tradition, characterizing our non-Orthodox selves as “less observant,” “not traditional,” or even “not religious” Jews. This is unfortunate because even when it is not romanticized (which it often is) or based on false nostalgia (which it often is), that particular brand of religious practice arose in an economic environment that was very, very different from our own. Jews in other times and places – those of medieval Spain, of Italy during the Renaissance, of the Ottoman Empire – developed high levels of Jewish human capital that were different from those of Eastern Europe, but just as valid. Although many of their traditions disappeared over time, others persist and are preserved in Judaism’s religious literature.
Even a cursory look at the Jewish religious experience in America impresses one with the ingenuity and variety of adaptations that have been suggested and tried. Some have not stood the test of time, but many have coalesced into what we now call American Judaism. As befits a Jewish community deeply embedded in the larger American society, our Judaism combines independence, creativity, and wisdom with a lot of trial-and-error, and it is still a work in progress.
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