Distorting Jewish History

Historian Marc B. Shapiro writes: “While the examples Horowitz discussed are motivated by a Victorian style of writing, the example I give is probably motivated by a desire to shield the masses from the knowledge that even in pre-Reform Europe violation of halakhah was in many places a common phenomenon. It never ceases to amaze me how little knowledge of history some otherwise very intelligent people have, which I guess means that the censorship and rewriting of history is having an effect. Not long ago I was with someone who had spent a number of years in yeshiva, and he really believed that in 19th century Eastern Europe the porters and wagon drivers were all great talmidei hakhamim whose free time was devoted to mastering Shas.”

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Were The Africans Unattractive?

According to Wikipedia: “The word Cushi, also spelled Kushi (Hebrew: כושי‎) is a Hebrew term generally used to refer to a dark skinned person usually of African descent and was recently interpreted as being similar in meaning to the English word Negro. Initially, the word was used by Hebrew-speaking Jews to simply refer to individuals of African origin, or as a term of endearment for people with dark skin as in the case of Cushi Rimon.”

In modern Israel you hear the term “cushi mamzer” aka “black bastard.”

Historian Marc B. Shapiro writes: “I discussed Rashi’s understanding of the word Cushite, and how it is not to be taken literally. Ibn Ezra does take it literally (and still thinks that it refers to Tziporah). As with Rashi, he assumes that Cushites are not very attractive and explains that Miriam and Aaron, who spoke negatively about Moses, “suspected that Moses refrained from sleeping with Tzipporah only because she was not beautiful.” (Commentary to Num. 12:1).”

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The Jews Of Palermo

Historian Marc B. Shapiro writes: “Note how R. Ovadiah testifies that while the Jews in Palermo were careful about not drinking non-Jewish wine, which was noteworthy since elsewhere in Italy Jews routinely consumed this, their sexual morality and observance of the Niddah laws left something to be desired. He claims that most young women there were already pregnant at their wedding.”

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When Is It Kosher To Forge?

Throughout my life, I’ve noticed that otherwise righteous people are willing to lie if they think it can do good.

Historian Marc B. Shapiro writes: “If you are convinced of the correctness of your position, it is not hard to construct an argument, based on traditional Jewish sources, that false attribution and even forgery is permissible. In the book I am currently working on I bring all sorts of examples of this which I think will be very distressing for readers, as it is in complete opposition to what most of us regard as basic intellectual honesty.”

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Depending On Government Vs. Depending On Yourself

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Newspapers Promoting An Agenda

David Carr writes: “There is a growing worry that the falling value and failing business models of many American newspapers could lead to a situation where moneyed interests buy papers and use them to prosecute a political and commercial agenda.”

Nowhere in his piece does Carr reflect on how the major newspapers such as the New York Times and the Los Angeles Times prosecute a left-wing agenda. What’s the ratio of positive same-sex marriage stories to critical ones? About 50-1?

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All Defects Of Character

Alcoholic Anonymous started 72 years ago yesterday.

Step Six of the Twelve Steps is: “We’re entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.”

I’ve not been able to surrender to this step yet. I have too many tiny defects of character that I treasure. I’m not ready to have God take them away yet. I want to enjoy them a little longer. Sure, I know I need radical moral transformation. I know that if I keep pursuing things as I have, I’ll destroy myself. But I can’t quite give up all defects of character yet. I want to be a little bit lustful, a little bit duplicitous, a little bit aggrandizing, a little bit attention-seeking, but yeah, sure, overall, I know I need to change.

I’ve made a new friend. He sizes me up. I’m 46 and I’m working as a secretary. “You say things that will get your face punched in,” he says. “You want the freedom to say f*** you to everybody and so people don’t trust you. You’re reckless.”

Shortly before a tsunami rushes in, the tide goes way out to sea. I’ve experienced that countless times. It’s frightening. People around me see I’m a train wreck. They start pulling away. The tide is going out but soon the tsunami will be rushing in.

I’ll think I’m smart and funny and that people around me are too sensitive, too cowardly to enjoy my jokes, and then one by one, they start withdrawing from me and there’s nothing but silence before the fall. Then the tsunami of reactions to my misbehavior roll in and I’m flooded and resolve to do better, to change, to turn my life over to God, to ask him to remove all of my defects of character.

I wonder how bad things would have to get before I am genuinely ready to surrender all defects of character.

“Half measures don’t work,” I’m learning in the program.

Rather than fully surrendering to a God-centered life, I’ve tried in the past to plug the hole in my soul by plugging as many women as possible. Some of these women I’ve fallen for in my love-addicted way, and I’ve sought salvation in them. I’ve sought rescue. I’ve sought to make them the meaning of my existence. Of course no relationship can handle this weight. No wonder that none of them last much beyond a year.

My laziness has been a great benefit to me here. “Luke is a very lazy womanizer,” Cathy Seipp wrote in my memoir. I’m not willing to work hard at chasing women and so this has kept way down the number of my liasons and instances of reckless behavior. Sure, I dig romantic and sexual intrigue, but not enough, most times, to really pursue it. More often than not, I retreat into fantasy and isolate. It’s much easier for me to imagine myself as some grand character than to go out into the world and to try to make this real.

So I’m going to shul every day, I’m studying Talmud every day, I go to a job four or five days a week, I go to therapy every week, I go to a 12-step meeting every week, I go to a writing group every week, and I’m busy most of the time, too busy to get into trouble.

I find myself wanting to separate from those who are living out of addiction and to instead spend my spare time with those living in recovery.

I haven’t tried to date anyone I’ve met in 12-step programs. I’ve found this work changing how I think. Even my fantasies are different. They’re not as cruel.

Twelve Step work is helping to make me realize my need for God. It’s easy in most of Judaism to get lost in observance of Jewish ritual and to forget about God. That’s why I like Hasidic Judaism. It’s frequently God intoxicated.

It’s easy to pray by the beach or by a mountain and feel spiritual. It’s a challenge to pray in some hole-in-the-wall shul and encounter God. But that’s Judaism, trying to find God in the mundane and daily.

For the first time in my life, all the different parts of my life are working together. I’m not ashamed to tell people in one area of my life about what’s going on elsewhere.

I wonder when I’ll no longer feel compelled to blog out every tawdry detail?

I’ve tasted that in the past, tasted enough human connection so that my need to make an exhibition of myself online goes way down.

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Living Out A Chaim Potok Novel

When I was 14 and 15 (1980-1981), my family and I read all (or almost all) of Chaim Potok‘s novels about Judaism. They reminded us of what dad had gone through with the legalistic — in our view — Seventh-Day Adventist church.

I was fascinated by the world Potok portrayed but never thought for a second about joining it.

Then in 1988, I started listening to Dennis Prager on the radio. By the end of 1989, I was determined to convert to Judaism. I reread Potok’s novels.

After my Reform conversion, I moved to Los Angeles in 1994 and got to know Chaim Potok’s son Akiva. I’m not sure I realized until recently (or I just didn’t think about it) that my friend Akiva was Chaim Potok’s son. I don’t think we ever talked about his dad or my dad. Not until Shuvuot anyway, when a group of us, including the director of The Chosen, Jeremy Kagan, ate dinner together.

I told them that I liked to reread all of Potok’s Jewish novels every decade. That I have a hard time davening (as did Chaim Potok) and much prefer to study in shul.

You meet amazing people in Jewish life. The primary purpose of shul is not to pray but to mingle with other Jews.

As a 14-year old Seventh-Day Adventist, I never mixed with people who were influential outside of the church. I had no notion of ever mixing with Chaim Potok’s family and the director of one of the first movies I ever saw, but as a Jew, I routinely run into people at shul who went to school with American presidents (YICC’s Don Etra with George Bush at Yale) or helped run presidential campaigns or are among America’s most powerful congressman (such as Henry Waxman) or are great actors (like Dustin Hoffman at Ohr HaTorah).

I like being at the center of life where things are happening rather than wasting away in some isolated community removed from worldly events.

Here is Akiva Potok’s eulogy of his father:

Two and half years ago I had a vivid dream. I dreamt that I wasstanding here before you eulogizing my father. In the dream the location of the eulogy was the Nanuet synagogue, from which we buried my uncle, my father’s younger brother, whodied of this same disease six years ago. There, I eulogized my father, and I wept. I told everybody that I loved my Aba. I told them what a beautiful man he was, how proud I was of him. I talked about sitting at the Shabbat dinner table and listening to the fascinating and never-ending conversations that would take place with friends and family. I eulogized him, and I wept; I wept, and I pointed at the coffin and said things like, “This man… what could life possibly be like without him…” and tears were rolling down my face, and then I woke up. There were tears in my eyes. I had been weeping in my sleep. Tears were running down my cheeks. They woke me up! I had eulogized my father in my sleep! I sat up in bed and looked around the room and wondered if I should call home, but decided not to. About a month later my Aba was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I was not surprised. Somehow, I do not know why, I had been warned.

Cancer is, in its way, a very kind disease. It robs you of a parent slowly. It warns you. You get lead-time. A family can think, it can gather, make plans, talk about what is happening. Last Friday, Aba became bed-bound. He simply could not remain awake long enough to be brought down stairs. Not being able to join us downstairs for Shabbat dinner, we put Shabbat dinner together and brought it upstairs to his room. And the family all sat around his bed and ate dinner and surrounded him with him with love, attention, and adoration. We said Kiddush over the Shabbat wine and he joined us, saying what he could, which was much of it!!! A week earlier he had actually led the Kiddush himself, and it was a pleasure to hear his voice again. He could barely form new sentences, but he could still daven, pray. On Monday, the afternoon before he passed away,we gathered around him on the bed, and sang zemirot, songs sung after Shabbat meals. Beautiful songs, songs about love, about Jerusalem, about the Sea of Galilee, one song about a sailing ship filled with sleeping sailors, that drifts off to sea! We sang to him. We sang to ourselves. We loved him, and we loved being all together, which is how he wanted it.

Aba. I am talking to you. I miss you horribly, and you only left yesterday, and I love you so much. What should I tell people, Aba? That this is strange? Have I lost my compass and my bedrock? Is life now without authority, and do I suddenly have no real memory of who I am? You wrote about silence, and maybe for a time during your life you found it difficult to talk to your son, but later on both of us worked very hard and we found our way to each other. I came back after college and lived at home for two years, and some might say that I was a touch afraid of the big blue world, not without truth, but I was adamant that you and I would form a friendship and break the quiet that was dominating our relationship. And so two years later when I went to California, it was knowing that you were now with me. That I could always come home to you and sit there and revel in your company. You told me then that if things didn’t work out in California I could always come back home. That was only ten years ago. But I guess it’s just not really true anymore, because the childhood home I left is no longer really there for me to comeback to.

Aba, how your voice filled me with confidence. How holding your hand spread dignity throughout my soul and filled me with the peace of knowing where I belonged. You were my guide. You gave me advice with such wisdom. And how your judgments scared me. Why won’t I be able to sit and talk to you anymore? Who will continue to teach me how to write? Where will I put my arms when I want to hug you? I have lost my ally, I have lost my enemy, I have lost a stranger, I have lost my twin! When I couldn’t figure out my writing, you would make suggestions and help. Sometimes you would even take over. We had to work on that one, too! In some ways for me this is devastation, but in other ways for me, this is truly a rebirth. What will my life be like without my father? What kind of journey could this be? I’m terrified. I am enraged that he is gone. I think that I am also excited to see what comes next! Soon we will travel from this building. We will carry this box, this coffin to a cemetery, and we will do what I never reallythought would happen to me, we will in fact put my Aba in the ground and bury him. What a dignified life. I can’t even begin to fathom it. How many people has he touched. It amazes me.

I guess if I were to tell you about the love between a father and a son I would say that it is to be surrounded by your father’s love as if by a bright white light, to be surrounded by it, but to find it utterly baffling and incomprehensible; and to cherish it.

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His Rabbi’s Face

There’s a midrash (ancient rabbinic story) that when Joseph was tempted by Potiphar’s wife, a vision of his father’s face came to his mind and that stopped him from sinning.

There’s a strong tie many Jews feel with their rabbi that constrains their behavior. Their rabbi’s face comes to mind… Hasidic Jews might have photos of their rebbe up in their home.

Is there anything like this in Adventism and Christianity? I’m sure a vision of Jesus coming to mind has prevented many Christians from sin, but I’m wondering about ties to a particular priest or pastor? Is this language used? I was about to do X, but then a picture of my pastor came to my mind. Or, I didn’t want to let my pastor down, and so… Do ties to a pastor constrain behavior? Is this language used?

I remember that many people felt intense loyalty to my father the preacher. I’m trying to remember the language they used to express this tie.

For almost all of the Christian clergy I knew, their primary concern was whether or not I was saved (for the next world). I’ve never known a rabbi with this concern. Instead, they’ve been worried about whether or not I was receiving adequate medical care and mental health care. Had I investigated psychotropic medication? Was I in psycho-therapy? What were my relations like with my family? Did I have a job? How was I holding up financially? Where was I going with my career? Was I interested in getting married and having kids?

For my rabbis, whether or not I had a good doctor was of more importance to them than my relationship with God. I don’t recall my rabbis expressing much concern about whether or not “I was right with God.” They certainly never used that language. If they were Orthodox, it was important to them that I acted according to Jewish law (primarily in public).

I don’t recall any of my rabbis pulling me aside to talk about my spiritual life (which was the primary concern of my Christian clergy). Instead, they’d pull me aside to ask about my health, my work, my relationships. If they were Orthodox, they’d pull me aside and speak to me privately if my public violations of Jewish law with my writing and speaking were disrupting the community.

Only one rabbi ever inquired about the state of my soul. That was Danny Landes and I once ran into him at an event at Westwood’s Sephardic synagogue in 2000. It shook me up and contributed to my choosing to visit Israel that year.

Before I officially converted to Judaism, no rabbi encouraged me to make such a move. Instead, they all discouraged it. They talked to me about my health, my relationship with my parents, and other such prosaic matters. They wanted to make sure I knew the consequences of converting. Did I know that God did not need me to become Jewish? I could get to Heaven more easily without converting. No rabbi wanted to save my soul. No rabbi wanted to win me for their side. With most of the Christian clergy I knew, I was just fodder for Christ. By contrast, the rabbis related to me as a shrink does to a troubled soul. They were concerned about my well-being in the here-and-now, not in where my soul would go in the next world. They had no concerns about my becoming a soldier in their army.

I was not used to this. I was not used to clergy who spent their time finding their congregants jobs and doctors and apartments and shiduchim (matches). These concerns seemed so worldly. What about my theology? Perhaps I had incorrect beliefs? What about reincarnation? Well, so long as I had no beliefs in the divinity of Jesus, my rabbis seemed unconcerned with how I thought about God. If they were Orthodox, they were much more concerned with my visiting the sick, distributing gift baskets on Purim, and showing up to help make a minyan (prayer quorum).

I never had a Christian clergy try to find me a job or an apartment or a doctor or a match.

In Orthodox Judaism, people tend to develop close ties to their rabbi or they become lax in their observance. Christianity focuses more on theology than behavior, so I suspect there may be less of a behavioral tie to a particular clergy. And you don’t have the daily prayers and rituals that bind an Orthodox Jew to his rabbi.

When you go to shul every day, you see your rabbi’s face. He leads Torah study. He may lead the prayers. And you’re right there together. You eat meals together at shul and at people’s homes. There’s drinking and dancing and weddings and brises (circumcisions) and funerals etc. I feel like these ties you develop as an Orthodox Jew to your clergyman are stronger than the ties I remember as a Christian to my pastor because then I saw my clergyman maybe once a week. You didn’t drink together and you didn’t dance together and you didn’t pray together every day. The religion was more theological than ritualistic.

A Christian friend tells me: “1. because Christians believe in the priesthood of all believers (no hierarchy since Christ came, direct access to God, &c.—though this is not always clearly understood) and 2. because Adventist ministers tend to move every couple of years and not be an abiding influence, this would not generally be something that is taught in Adventism. Humans are fallible, so best to look to Christ as a mentor. The title of that old book, Practicing the Presence of Christ has often been urged as the principle Christians need to live by. What would Jesus do? That latter phrase was often used in Adventism in my day (remember, we don’t attend). Lots of people, Christians or not, would think of their parents and not want to let them down (ideal). Certain races like the Japanese are more likely to think this way, and they, of course, are largely Buddhist.”

I recall no Adventist parallel to the Hasidic practice of getting kiddush wine from the rabbi’s cup and pieces of bread and other food from his hand in a tish. Our pastor’s touch of food and drink held no power.

There’s no Adventist notion of praying at a revered leader’s grave (as in Hasidic Judaism)? I don’t think so but there are prayers at graves and words spoken about the person’s good traits. Christians rarely say, I’ll follow my pastor anywhere. If he moves to Sydney or Los Angeles, I’ll go with him. People didn’t move to be near my dad and he had a fanatically loyal Christian following.

I don’t recall many Christians moving so that they could be close to their priest. Rather, they generally accept the priest the church sends them.

Few Protestants go to church every day (unless they’re employed by the church) while about a third of Orthodox Jewish men do. A Protestant who goes to church once a week is considered religious while an Orthodox Jew who goes to shul but once a week is considered a slacker (even though the center of Judaism is the home, not the shul).

I’m thinking about Reb Moshe Feinstein (greatest halachic decider of the 1960s – 1980s). I think that much of his community left Russia in the 1920s and followed him to America.

Growing up a Seventh-Day Adventist, I was never upset by a change in my pastor. Moving on from my rabbi, by contrast, has often been wrenching. It felt like my world was coming apart when I moved on from Ohev Shalom in Orlando, from the Mountaintop Minyan at Stephen S. Wise, from Ohr HaTorah, from Aish HaTorah, Young Israel of Century City, Beth Jacob and Bnai David-Judea, sometimes choosing a minyan with no official rabbi to lose because my heart could handle no more.

However close I’ve grown to my rabbis, however, I’ve always put my blogging before my relationship with them.

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Money, Power And Wall Street On Frontline

Watch the three hours and 47 minutes of four total shows here.

I love PBS Frontline. I think it tends to be fair and to be journalistically solid. The show does have a definite pro-regulation bias. Whether it is tackling cell phone towers or the porn industry, the point of its shows is that people are getting hurt and even dying when left to their own devices and that more government regulation would save lives and be a good thing.

I think that if people want to climb cell phone towers for the money offered them and they want to climb in an unsafe way, I’m not sure that requiring companies to prevent people from doing what they want is a good idea. I’m not necessarily opposed to it either. I’m just not kneejerk uniformly in favor of regulation to prevent people choosing to do things that are bad for them.

The PBS show on Wall Street prominently interviews Joseph Stiglitz as in favor of more government intervention. It does not mention the well-paid public advocacy he did for Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the propaganda work he engaged in for these companies dissing their critics who said the companies were a house of cards waiting to fall down. The critics were right, Joseph Stiglitz was very wrong. But Stiglitz pays no price.

Fannie and Freddie have needed a $150 billion bailout so far and more taxpayer money will be needed. At least the banks and AIG and company paid back their bailout and the government even made a profit on it.

As for the Barack Obama government investment in the UAW and GM, that is unlikely to ever be paid back.

The Frontline special says that Wall Street got a bailout but Main Street didn’t. Well, much of the Wall Street bail out was unneeded. Goldman Sachs and some of the major banks needed no bailout but were forced to take one to save face for weaker financial institutions. And all these so-called bailouts were paid back with interest. The U.S. Treasury made a profit on them. They weren’t bailouts as much as stopgap loans.

All the people interviewed for the series either have no discernible ideology or they are left-wing. None of them put any blame on government policies that forced banks to lend to people who were a bad credit risk. Banks can’t invest their funds as they see fit. They have to get regulatory approval for their investments and if they want to expand, they have to buy off left-wing interest groups like ACORN by donating to them hundreds of millions of dollars. If banks could’ve invested their funds as they saw fit and without the distorting effect of Fannie and Freddie looking to buy subprime mortgages, this mortgage crash and economic crisis would not have happened, as it did not happen in Canada, which has banks less susceptible to left-wing interest group lobbying.

Frontline gives a lot of time to the Occupy Wall Street movement but portrays it as mainly wanting to hold banks accountable to sound lending practices when in reality Occupy Wall Street wants to get rid of all debt (such as mortgages and student loans). This would end the Western world’s economy as we know it. This side of the Occupy crowd gets no play on these Frontline documentaries.

Frontline: “The recession destroyed $11 trillion of American’s net worth. Occupy Wall Street wanted bankers held responsible.”

This recession was not primarily caused by bankers, which Frontline alleges. It was caused by government policy that mandated lending to people who were bad credit risks.

Frontline calls for criminal prosecutions of bankers but none for the politicians who created the policies that caused the recession.

Frontline correspondent Martin Smith: “What upsets people is that banks have recovered but the economy hasn’t.”

This is typical left-wing thinking. If somebody is getting rich but these riches aren’t spread evenly, that’s a bad thing.

Whenever there’s vibrant economic growth, the rewards are not spread evenly. If you want even distribution of resources, you can’t have vibrant economic growth. It’s a classic freedom vs. equality dilemma. For conservatives, freedom is more important. For liberals, equality is more important.

And the banks aren’t booming. Bank of America, Wells Fargo and Citi are struggling. They’re teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.

Banking has become a less profitable business thanks to the excessive regulations passed by the Democrats in 2010. Lenders are less likely to lend out money for mortgages and other things because the prospect of timely repayment is diminished by increased government regulation of the free market.

Frontline shows journalists heckling bankers. “Lloyd Blankfein, will you give the American people an accounting of how you spent their money?”

Blankfein runs Goldman Sachs, which didn’t want or need a government bailout, so why should they give an accounting about funds they were forced to take and paid back as soon as they were allowed?

Reporter to banker: “Do you have any regrets about how you spent taxpayer’s money?”

Well, all taxpayer money was repaid as soon as the banks were allowed to repay the funds they were forced to take.

Frontline: “Many questions have been asked but there have been few satisfying answers [from bankers].”

Well, of course bankers can’t give you satisfying answers because if they were free to speak, they would point out government policies that forced them to lend out money they had little prospect of being repaid, and this caused the recession, but if bankers said this publicly, they would simply bring down the wrath of leftists and that would make it harder for them to do business.

Frontline: “Finance might have gotten too complicated for anyone to understand.”

Well, reality will sort it out quick. The market will sort it out. You can’t fool people for long when there is money to be made in accurately gauging what is going on.

Frontline: “Managers of these institutions have been given an impossible task that they won’t be able to comprehend.”

When there is money to be made from comprehending difficult data, people will figure it out right quick. Many people, for instance, made big money in 2007 betting on the collapse of real estate prices.

Frontline shows a Democrat lawmaker yelling at bankers, “You created the mess we’re in. You created CDOs. You created credit default swaps.”

There’s nothing wrong with these financial instruments. The economy was fine until people stopped making their mortgage payments (this increasingly happened from 2006 onward). Who rigged the game so that many people who could not afford mortgages and were bad prospects for paying back mortgages got such loans? Politicians primarily, not bankers. Bankers want to make money. You don’t make money lending money to people who can’t pay it back. Who said bankers have to lend money to minorities with bad credit? Politicians.

Frontline: “It’s hard to pinpoint the origins of America’s financial crisis but one weekend at this resort in Boca Raton, Florida, is a good place to start… At the time, it seemed innocent enough.”

That weekend bankers developed new financial instruments to try to manage risk.

And Frontline blames the bankers for the crash. It never investigates politicians who determine the rules that bankers operate by, except to argue that politicians did not regulate bankers enough. There’s nothing on Frontline about politicians forcing banks to loan out money to those unlikely to pay it back.

What was Wall Street’s primary role in the real estate crash? They played the role of suckers buying mortgage-backed securities they did not understand. Mortgages were a solid business until politicians blew it up by forcing banks to lend out money that was not wise to lend out.

If financial instruments don’t work as expected, those using them will suffer. The stupid will be culled out of the game.

Many of the fancy financial instruments developed over the past 20 years were derivatives. They were a way to manage risk. But if government creates a house of cards that is going to crash down as it did in 2007-2008, most of these fancy ways of managing risk are going to get overwhelmed. But not all bankers were overwhelmed. Goldman Sachs was smart and made money from this disaster as did many other smart people. The dummies were bankrupted.

Most of Barack Obama’s mortgage relief programs were aimed at bailing out people who bought more home than they can afford. Why should people who made prudent financial decisions bail out those who made bad decisions? Why reward people for making stupid decisions? That’s what Obama, the Democrats and many Republicans want to do with their mortgage relief programs. They are programs to relieve those who acted idiotically from the painful consequences of their stupidity. Such relief reduces moral hazard, aka incentives to act prudently.

Bankers who under-estimated the amount of risk they were taking on with their credit-default purchases lost a lot of money just as people who under-estimate the risk they’re taking on with any financial purchase get hurt. That’s called the reality principle and works pretty well until you dull it out government doles.

There’s nothing inherently bad about credit default swaps or fire or water or guns or nuclear weapons. It’s all about how these things are used. If you make a bad choice and only hurt yourself, that’s one thing, but when you make decisions and hurt innocent people, then you’re doing something terrible.

Because of credit default swaps, credit became more widely available. The trouble became serious when U.S. government policy demanded that banks extend this credit to people, frequently politically favored minorities such as blacks, who were unlikely to pay back such loans.

If it had not been for government forcing them to do such risky things, bankers would never have extended many of these risky loans, and therefore, they would not have had such gigantic losses when the real estate market began crashing in 2007.

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