Towards an anthropology of doubt: the case of religious reproduction in Orthodox Judaism

ABSTRACT

As Israel’s Orthodox Jews struggle to live up to high fertility norms rooted in religious and Zionist ideals, an obscured model of stratified critique has emerged. Based on an ethnography of Israel’s reproductive landscape, I demonstrate how critique of high fertility standards is based on particular social and cultural capital only available to the religious elite. While well-established, knowledgeable and assertive religious members find private ways to bypass the almost unachievable levels of fertility, a veil of secrecy leaves less privileged groups, particularly ba`aley teshuva (returnees) to carry most of the fertility load. Whereas scholars of religious transformation have demonstrated how religious elites act as actors and leaders of resistance, my findings illustrate an opposite pattern. Instead of disseminating this critique publicly, religious elites engage in private strategies of secrecy and creative performances of failure that enable these individuals to diverge from norms without publicly contesting them. I argue that not only is stratified critique based on social and cultural capital, it also reproduces social inequalities. By focusing on doubt, struggles, and failures engendered in “everyday Judaism,” these findings require us to refocus our inquiry on power structures within different sub-groups of Israel’s Orthodox Jews. Further, this unique case study highlights how stratified reproduction takes new shape as social and religious convictions gain and lose their force at a particular moment in history.

KEYWORDS:

• Reproduction
• religion
• taboos
• stratification
• Judaism
• Israel

Acknowledgments

I am grateful to the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and the Israeli Democracy Institute for funding this research. I also thank Nurit Stadler, Yael Navaro, Vanessa Ochs, Katherine Dow and Sertaç Sehlikoglu as well as the anonymous reviewers for their insightful comments on earlier versions of this article. I also wish to thank my colleagues at the Woolf Institute and the Reproductive Sociology Research Group (ReproSoc) at the University of Cambridge for their ongoing support.

Disclosure statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.

Notes on contributor

Lea Taragin-Zeller, PhD, is a research fellow at the Woolf Institute and an affiliated researcher at the Reproductive Reproductive Sociology Research Group (ReproSoc) at the University of Cambridge. Her research interests lie at the intersections of medical anthropology, gender and religion.

ORCID

Lea Taragin-Zeller http://orcid.org/0000-0002-1886-4080

Notes

1 As discussed at length in the methodology section, during fieldwork in the Israeli Orthodox reproductive landscape, I found that couples from different groups attended non-sectarian settings to share their everyday difficulties. Based on this empirical set up, this study includes Orthodox couples from varied backgrounds while the analysis takes the different social settings into account. Yet, hassidic sects were not incorporated into this study as they usually attend communal-based gatherings and thus, did not attend these non-sectarian venues.

2 Ba`aley teshuva (returnees) grow up among non-observant families and choose to lead religious lives as adults.

3 The realm of sexuality is governed by strict modesty rules and intrusive monitoring: boys and girls are segregated from a young age; and sartorial modesty is tightly enforced (Stadler and Taragin-Zeller 2017; Taragin-Zeller 2015).

4 Even though the laws of niddah were originally part of the economy of impurities associated with access to the Temple, today it organizes marital sexuality through a recurring cycle of purity and impurity (Avishai 2008a; Hartman and Marmon 2004). In accordance with these laws, married women self-regulate their bodies as bleeding, spotting, or other irregularities demarcate a woman as a niddah, a time in which sexual intercourse as well as any other physical contact is prohibited between a married couple until immersion in a mikveh (ritual bath).

5 In Israel, every couple (including non-observant Jews) must attend bridal lessons if they wish to marry through the Israeli rabbinate. Bridal teachers usually offer basic sex education as well as detailed instructions regarding the laws of niddah (explained above).

6 Jewish law on contraception entails an entire system of individual concerns that may be taken into consideration. Contraception is allowed, depending on the timing and method (Irshai 2012).

7 Due to strict gender separation, I was unable to participate in male-only lectures (rare as they were).

8 While I tried to keep the sample as diverse as possible, these findings do not mirror the entire complexity of these communities.

9 As geographical and cultural boundaries between Israel’s Orthodox communities become more porous and less clear, this method resonates with others scholars who are rethinking these boundaries (Leon 2009; Salmon, Ravitsky, and Ferziger 2006; Zicherman and Cahaner 2012).

10 Colleagues often ask me how I managed to find couples who were willing to discuss intimate topics, especially Orthodox men who were open to interactions with a female researcher. I discovered that the fact that birth control is considered taboo actually worked to my advantage, as the couples were more amenable to sharing their stories with someone whom they would probably never cross paths with again. In cases where men were uncomfortable discussing these issues with a female researcher, a male substitute was provided.

11 “It” is a way of hinting to questions of birth control without using the exact term, a typical use of verbal taboo.

12 Among Ashkenazi Jews, it is customary for couples not to see each other during the week leading to the wedding.

13 Within ultra-Orthodox communities, poverty and unemployment are ballooning as the ascetic yeshiva-based ideology has become an onerous burden. Unlike the Jewish education system in pre-war Eastern Europe where only a few gifted men pursued full-time talmudic studies, upon Israel’s establishment all ultra-Orthodox men were slated for a path of life-time study. A society of learners, as Menachem Friedman coined it (Friedman 1988) was enabled by ultra-Orthodox women who participated in the workforce to support their husbands. These models are currently being recalculated, see (Hakak 2011; Stadler and Taragin-Zeller 2017).

14 Recent studies have highlighted the economic and political role the Israeli government plays in promoting low-cost suburbs around Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. Even though modern-Orthodox communities were the initial targets, recent settlements are catering for ultra-Orthodox communities (e.g. Modi’in Ilit, Beitar Ilit, and Elad), see: Zicherman and Cahaner 2012.

15 Ari Engelberg has documented this frustration and demonstrated how couples search for ways to create intimacy before marriage (Engelberg 2011).

16 Ecological questions about population size rarely emerged. When it did, it was only among Modern Orthodox couples.

17 This statement may have been linked to the fact that this remark was made by a female educator who is married to a high-ranking army officer.

18 For a critical analysis of the controversial anti-abortion group “Agudat Efrat” which continuously promote this national ideology, see: http://www.haaretz.com/israel-news/leading-israeli-rabbi-blasts-anti-abortion-group-efrat-for-irresponsible-language.premium-1.492457 (retrieved 27.3.17).

19 Rabbi Joshua asserts that one must never stop procreating (BT Yevamot 62b). Some authorities interpreted this as a rabbinic (Derabanan) determination meant to annul the limitation on the number of children needed (e.g. Rif, Ba`al Hamaor, Rosh) while others understood it as a suggestion (e.g. Ramban). The halahhic debate about procreation also includes lengthy debates about permitted birth control methods. Today, the pill and the IUD have become the most preferred method of birth control (Irshai 2012).

20 Customarily, it is not permitted to go to a pool on the Sabbath.