This sheet on Deuteronomy 20 was written by Jermey Benstein for 929 and can also be found here
Shortening a war means saving lives and reducing suffering. Given the supreme value of human life in the Jewish tradition, one would think that nearly anything that would lead to the end of the conflict would therefore be justifiable. Thus it is surprising to find a strong restriction on permissible military tactics, and in particular, how to treat the trees.
Verses 19-20 forbid the chopping down of fruit trees in order to construct siegeworks, however necessary for the campaign. Given the potential suffering an extended siege may cause, and the need for construction material to get through the city's defenses, limiting the use of trees was a serious restriction. With Napoleon's scorched-earth policy, the devastating American chemical defoliation of Vietnam, or the tactics of Saddam Hussein in Kuwait, the issue of destroying nature in order to wage war is widespread, and horrific.
But while the prohibition is clear, the reason for it is not. There is an intriguing textual ambiguity that invites two very different interpretations, as revealed by two translations. The King James version translates the crucial passage (20:19): "... thou shalt not cut them down (for the tree of the field is man's life) to employ them in the siege." As medieval commentator Ibn Ezra explains, we are not to cut down the fruit trees because our lives are dependent on them and the food they produce. Simply put, destroying fruit-bearing trees is forbidden because it harms human beings.
The New JPS translation (which we use here) offers a very different rendering of the same verse: "... but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you under siege?" The verse is parsed as a question, and a rhetorical one at that. As Rashi reads the verse: Are trees like people, that they can run away from an advancing army, and take refuge in the town? Of course not, they are innocent bystanders. Therefore, don't involve them in your conflicts, and don't cut them down. This approach makes no reference to human needs. The trees have a life of their own; they are not (only) a means to our human ends.
The half-dozen words of the original encapsulate in their ambiguity the two main schools of current environmental thinking on issues of preservation and development. The view that nature has value in and of itself, that it exists apart from us and our needs, that we should refrain from destroying what we cannot create, has a deep spiritual power that speaks to many of us. It is complemented by the equally legitimate anthropocentric approach, which is often tactically more effective: It speaks to "the bottom line," what we get out of the deal. It also implies a generational perspective: we harm not only ourselves but generations to come when we selfishly exploit resources for our short-term gain.
After all, we and our children have to live in this land when the fighting stops.
Verses 19-20 forbid the chopping down of fruit trees in order to construct siegeworks, however necessary for the campaign. Given the potential suffering an extended siege may cause, and the need for construction material to get through the city's defenses, limiting the use of trees was a serious restriction. With Napoleon's scorched-earth policy, the devastating American chemical defoliation of Vietnam, or the tactics of Saddam Hussein in Kuwait, the issue of destroying nature in order to wage war is widespread, and horrific.
But while the prohibition is clear, the reason for it is not. There is an intriguing textual ambiguity that invites two very different interpretations, as revealed by two translations. The King James version translates the crucial passage (20:19): "... thou shalt not cut them down (for the tree of the field is man's life) to employ them in the siege." As medieval commentator Ibn Ezra explains, we are not to cut down the fruit trees because our lives are dependent on them and the food they produce. Simply put, destroying fruit-bearing trees is forbidden because it harms human beings.
The New JPS translation (which we use here) offers a very different rendering of the same verse: "... but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you under siege?" The verse is parsed as a question, and a rhetorical one at that. As Rashi reads the verse: Are trees like people, that they can run away from an advancing army, and take refuge in the town? Of course not, they are innocent bystanders. Therefore, don't involve them in your conflicts, and don't cut them down. This approach makes no reference to human needs. The trees have a life of their own; they are not (only) a means to our human ends.
The half-dozen words of the original encapsulate in their ambiguity the two main schools of current environmental thinking on issues of preservation and development. The view that nature has value in and of itself, that it exists apart from us and our needs, that we should refrain from destroying what we cannot create, has a deep spiritual power that speaks to many of us. It is complemented by the equally legitimate anthropocentric approach, which is often tactically more effective: It speaks to "the bottom line," what we get out of the deal. It also implies a generational perspective: we harm not only ourselves but generations to come when we selfishly exploit resources for our short-term gain.
After all, we and our children have to live in this land when the fighting stops.
(יט) כִּֽי־תָצ֣וּר אֶל־עִיר֩ יָמִ֨ים רַבִּ֜ים לְֽהִלָּחֵ֧ם עָלֶ֣יהָ לְתׇפְשָׂ֗הּ לֹֽא־תַשְׁחִ֤ית אֶת־עֵצָהּ֙ לִנְדֹּ֤חַ עָלָיו֙ גַּרְזֶ֔ן כִּ֚י מִמֶּ֣נּוּ תֹאכֵ֔ל וְאֹת֖וֹ לֹ֣א תִכְרֹ֑ת כִּ֤י הָֽאָדָם֙ עֵ֣ץ הַשָּׂדֶ֔ה לָבֹ֥א מִפָּנֶ֖יךָ בַּמָּצֽוֹר׃
(19) When in your war against a city you have to besiege it a long time in order to capture it, you must not destroy its trees, wielding the ax against them. You may eat of them, but you must not cut them down. Are trees of the field human to withdraw before you into the besieged city?
Dr. Jeremy Benstein is the managing editor of 929-English, and is the author of a new book about the Hebrew language, "Hebrew Roots, Jewish Routes: A Tribal Language in a Global World" (Behrman House, 2019).
929 is the number of chapters in the Tanakh, the Hebrew Bible, the formative text of the Jewish heritage. It is also the name of a cutting-edge project dedicated to creating a global Jewish conversation anchored in the Hebrew Bible. 929 English invites Jews everywhere to read and study Tanakh, one chapter a day, Sunday through Thursday together with a website with creative readings and pluralistic interpretations, including audio and video, by a wide range of writers, artists, rabbis, educators, scholars, students and more. As an outgrowth of the web-based platform, 929 English also offers classes, pop-up lectures, events and across North America. We invite you to learn along with us and be part of our dynamic community.
To join 929's listserv for new and dynamic content each week click here
To join 929's listserv for new and dynamic content each week click here
