For the past few months, there has been a media frenzy about the book “Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother” by Yale Law School professor Amy Chua. In that book, the author expresses the idea that American children are coddled and are not encouraged to live up to their potential. She asserts that her Asian parenting heritage is superior and reports that she has produced competent, articulate young women by shaming them and pushing them to produce high-quality work.
Much has been made of her parenting choices to forbid sleepovers and playdates and of her refusal to accept a hastily made birthday card. The author has been compared to the “Race to Nowhere” parents who push relentlessly, and she has been condemned for unfairly representing her heritage.
I can’t resist jumping into this fray, even though I haven’t yet read the book. But I have read the excerpts that appeared in the Wall Street Journal, and I’ve read many of the editorials and interviews that have been noted in every reputable media outlet. The lessons from Jewish tradition about humiliation, about the power of words and about fair practice in arguing a case cry out in response to all the ink that has been spilled about this story.
Chua talks about humiliating her children, labeling them “garbage” when they acted disrespectfully. Jewish tradition clearly frowns on the practice of humiliating anyone. Since our tradition believes that each human being is created “betzelem elokim” (in the image of God), an insult to a human being is an insult to the creator.
We are asked to think carefully about the impact of every word before we utter it. When we make a mistake, there is the possibility of doing “teshuvah” — turning ourselves around and correcting the error. But the rabbis note that it is impossible to retrieve words. The damage from ill-spoken words is indeed far worse than other sorts of damage for which restitution can be made.
I am intrigued by the public reaction to Chua’s work and what that says about our society. In this, I am mindful that there is a Jewish tradition that respects different opinions — in fact, invites different opinions.
The reaction to Chua’s work has been mostly quite negative. She has been accused of narrowly circumscribing her daughter’s lives as she chose music and homework over childhood play with peers. The critics tend to use these examples to draw the conclusion that her daughters may be skilled musicians and competent mathematicians, but they can’t possibly think for
themselves, derive joy from the music they play, nor know how to interact with other people.
The public response to Chua’s book represents the common and dangerous practice of dichotomous thinking. Pick an issue — health care reform, war, religion, public education — and the arguments in public discourse seem always to be framed as either for or against. In dichotomous thinking one develops the argument for or against by selecting only the pieces of data that fit the category and omitting the data that just doesn’t fit. The nuances of an argument are missed.
Would that we were a society trained in talmudic thinking that calls out for us to understand and to respect differing opinions. The very point that led Chua to write this book — her own questioning of her parenting techniques as she was challenged by one of her daughters — is absent from the various critiques. Critics also have ignored her daughter’s response that describes the laughter and jokes as the family cuddled together watching movies.
The accusation that the daughters must be mechanical thinkers unable to think for themselves nor to think analytically is an extension of the simplistic “for or against” thinking. Do we really think that music and mathematical drilling or even demands for excellence preclude analytical thinking? Both are possible, and I find it hard to believe that this sort of thinking wasn’t nurtured naturally during dinner discussions in a home with two high-powered, analytically inclined academics.
I am also disturbed by the reaction that demonizes a person who holds a divergent view. Again this is an extension of dichotomous thinking, but it is a dehumanizing practice that has the potential to rip apart a society. It fails to acknowledge the humanity — that spark of God — in each person one opposes. It fails to understand and respect different value positions, different routes to similar goals or unshared goals.
To be sure, there are evil people for whom anyone would be hard-pressed to find a decent spark to respect, but Chua does not belong to that category.
I am not an apologist for Chua. I do believe and know that one can motivate a child to want to perform to his/her best ability without shaming and without oppressive sanctions. But I respect her desire to take parenting seriously, her desire to honor her own heritage and her quest for excellence. I can respect her practice and her courage to share her parenting struggles. Her means to the end are different from mine but no less worthy of thoughtful consideration.
Our tradition demands of me that I listen to her carefully and respect her as a fellow human being on the same daunting journey with the weighty responsibility of rearing the next generation.
Barbara Gereboff is the head of school at Ronald C. Wornick Jewish Day School in Foster City.