In Israel, this Tu Bishvat will be a strangely quiet affair. No children planting new trees, no rabbis digging new forests. It's the Tu Bishvat of shmittah, the sabbatical year; with our spades at rest, it's time to consider big questions of eco-halachah
Here's the latest from the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, the United Nations-appointed consensus body of climate scientists. I can imagine how you feel about the UN, and believe me, it's mutual; but these are the top minds with the most accurate predictive models around the world, and their findings are so stark I cried when I read the report: "Human influence on the climate system is clear and growing. The gathering risks of climate change are so profound that they could reverse generations of progress against poverty and hunger... society faces food shortages, refugee crisis, the flooding of major cities and entire island nations… a climate so drastically altered it might become dangerous for people to work or play outside."
Now just before the earth overdoses on carbon, do we Jews have a halachic obligation to change our lifestyle in dramatic ways? How dramatic? The Department for Energy and Climate Change (DECC) reports that there are three major ways to reduce our carbon footprint. Firstly, stop driving. Secondly, stop flying in airplanes. Thirdly, stop eating meat. Let's begin our responsum with two underlying halachic generalities.
Because Jewish law deals in the real world, absolute certainty is rare. In its place we have decisions based on the majority. The classic talmudic case begins with a piece of meat found in the streets of the shuk. It that steak kosher or treif? If the majority of butchers on the street are kosher, then that's a kosher cut. Halachic reality bends towards 50.1 per cent and never looks back.
Now on to our second halachic assumption. When I dig a pit, or plant a tree, or buy an ox, if that pit, or tree, or ox causes damage, I am responsible, full stop. Intent is irrelevant and the intermediate steps between cause and effect are no excuse. Jewish jurisprudence is filled with variations on this theme.
Society faces food shortages, refugee crisis, the flooding of major cities
Here's one paradigmatic example: rubbish. In talmudic times, it was acceptable to throw one's refuse into the public street, as long as the rains would eventually wash it away. However, if a passer-by should injure themselves on your discarded waste, you paid their doctor's fees (Talmud Baba Kama 6a). There is a radical responsibility hidden within this law.
You did nothing wrong in throwing out that rubbish, it's been sitting on the street for days, it could hardly be said to belong to you in any meaningful way anymore; yet when that fellow slips on your banana peel and cracks his head, you pay. Nowadays, it's akin to receiving a letter from the recycling sorting plant in Bangladesh, demanding recompense for the worker who cut his hand on the broken glass you forgot to wrap in newspaper before tossing away.
Now, with our two halachic tools in hand, we can find out if Torah would have us park our cars, forever. Firstly, do the majority of relevant scientists link individual carbon use from cars, planes, and the meat industry with disastrous effects to human life? Most definitely. The World Health Organisation predicts that between 2030 and 2050, climate change caused by our carbon usage is expected to cause approximately a quarter of a million additional deaths per year, from malnutrition, malaria, diarrhoea and heat stress. Does it matter that a minority of scientists are less concerned or outright sceptical about these
figures. Halachically, not in the slightest.
Does the fact that I am entirely within my rights to be a flying, driving, carnivore lessen my liability for the CO2 damage caused to the environment and human health? Again the halachic answer is that intention is not the relevant factor. If I sowed the seeds of damage, I am held responsible for the problems reaped, no matter how removed the initial cause is from the final effect.
I admit this brief halachic foray may not immediately translate into a rabbinical prohibition against driving, flying and flesh-eating. There are holes in my argument. Unlike the slippery banana peel, it's difficult to directly link my minute contribution of carbon in the atmosphere to any specific cases of diarrhoea half a world away. But, the silence on this issue from Britain's leading rabbinical adjudicators is perplexing. If we can construct convoluted arguments against Limmud attendance or women chairing synagogues, surely those dying from a hotter world might also deserve a bit more from the rabbis than a rant.
