Judaism Uses Jewish Legal Interpretation For AI

When a software engineer in Tel Aviv writes code for a self-driving car, they face a problem that dates back to the Bronze Age. They must decide how a machine should value one life over another during a crash. While most of the world treats these dilemmas as brand-new headaches, scholars of Judaism have spent centuries building rules for exactly these types of "impossible" choices.

The tension lies in the fact that we are handing over our moral choices to boxes of silicon. We assume our modern problems are too complicated for ancient wisdom. In reality, the legal frameworks used to manage ox-carts and open wells in the desert apply perfectly to neural networks and data scraping. The analysis of these old texts reveals a ready-made system for holding programmers accountable.

Judaism relies on a massive library of case law to navigate these shifts. It does not wait for a new law to be written every time a new gadget arrives. Instead, it looks for the root logic of an old rule and stretches it to cover the new world. This process of Jewish legal interpretation ensures that even as our tools change, our responsibilities to each other do not.

The ethical core of Jewish legal interpretation

The strength of this legal system is its ability to remain steady while the world moves. It uses a logic called Svara, which is a form of deep common sense. Scholars look at a modern problem, find the closest ancient equivalent, and pull the moral thread through to the present.

From Sinai to Silicon Valley

This style of reasoning is entirely based on precedent. Think of it like a legal "bridge" that connects a 3,000-year-old mountain to a modern server farm. When a rabbi looks at a piece of software, they don't see magic. They see a series of actions that lead to results.

Through the use of Jewish legal interpretation, authorities can determine who is at fault when a computer makes a mistake. They look at the "logic of the law" rather than just the physical object. If a rule was meant to protect a neighbor's privacy from a low-hanging window, as seen in Talmudic principles, that same rule now protects data from a high-tech camera.

The primacy of human life and dignity

According to a report by Har Etzion, the principle of Pikuach Nefesh, or saving a life, serves as a primary rule that takes precedence over nearly every other religious law in Judaism. Regarding AI safety, this acts as the ultimate "kill switch." If a system has a real chance of hurting someone, the law demands we stop it immediately.

The Har Etzion study also points to Berakhot 19a in the Talmud to highlight Kavod HaBriyot, or human dignity, as a significant concept that can even override Torah prohibitions. Reuters reports on how these values are challenged in practice, noting that Amazon once abandoned an AI recruiting tool because it systematically biased results against women. Judaism teaches that humans have a "divine spark" that no machine can ever copy.

How Judaism defines machine intelligence

We often talk about AI as if it were a person, but the law sees it differently. To understand what a machine is, scholars look back at the stories of artificial servants built from clay. These stories help us set boundaries for what a computer can and cannot be.

The Golem as a functional archetype

The Golem of Prague is the most famous example of an autonomous entity in this tradition. In the 16th century, legend says a rabbi built a clay man to protect his community. The Golem was strong and followed orders, but it lacked a soul and often caused unintended damage.

This story serves as a warning for modern robotics. Just because a machine can perform tasks doesn't mean it understands the "why" behind them. The Golem lacked Da'at, or meaningful understanding. Today, we treat AI as a digital Golem—powerful, useful, but prone to "hallucinating" or breaking things if left unguided.

Soul vs. Syntax

A clear distinction exists between a human and a machine. Humans possess what is called Nefesh Ha-Medabberet, which is the "speaking soul" capable of moral choice. A machine only has syntax; it follows a recipe of ones and zeros without knowing what they mean.

Does Jewish law consider AI to be sentient? While AI can mimic human speech, Jewish legal interpretation generally views it as a sophisticated tool rather than a being with a soul or legal rights. In an article for Chabad, scholars explain that AI cannot be counted toward a prayer group (minyan) because it lacks the human faculty of speech. It remains a piece of property, no matter how smart it sounds.

Tort law and the logic of algorithmic damage

When things go wrong, someone has to pay. The Talmud, which is the heart of Jewish legal interpretation, has an entire section called Nezikin dedicated to damages. It breaks down accidents into specific categories that help us find the responsible human.

The "Pit in the Public Square" analogy

One of the most useful categories is Bor, or the "Pit." This logic follows Exodus 21:33-34, which states that if a person opens or digs a pit in a public street and fails to cover it, they must compensate for any resulting damage or injury. The act of creating a hazard in a space where people walk is a crime.

Software developers are essentially digging digital pits. If a programmer releases a buggy AI that makes a dangerous medical error, they have "dug a pit" in the public square of the internet. They are responsible for the injury because they created the condition that allowed the harm to happen.

Negligence and the duty of oversight

The law also requires us to "build a fence" around our dangerous property. This is called Ma'akeh. If you have a flat roof where people hang out, you must build a railing so no one falls off. This applies to AI safety filters and guardrails that prevent bots from giving out toxic advice.

Who is liable for AI mistakes under Jewish law? Primary responsibility usually falls on the programmer or owner, as they are legally obligated to prevent their property from causing harm to others. Ironically, the smarter the AI gets, the more responsibility the owner has to watch it, just as the owner of a powerful ox must guard it more closely than the owner of a sheep.

Intellectual property in the age of generative models

Research published in Arxiv regarding the LAION-5B dataset notes that modern AI models are trained through the collection of millions of books and billions of photos. Many artists and writers feel this is just a high-tech form of stealing. Judaism has a specific set of rules to handle this kind of "boundary crossing."

Hasagat Gvul and unfair competition

The concept of Hasagat Gvul literally means "moving a boundary marker." Historically, this stopped a person from opening a business that would directly destroy a neighbor's ability to survive. It is about protecting a person’s "space" in the world.

When an AI is trained on an artist’s work without permission, it might be seen as encroaching on their livelihood. In 1550, a famous rabbi named the Rama issued a ban on a specific printing of a book because it unfairly hurt the original publisher. This 500-year-old ruling is now a main tool for debating how AI companies should pay creators.

Human agency in the creative process

There is also the question of who "owns" the output. If you type a prompt and a machine makes a painting, who is the artist? Jewish legal interpretation focuses on "toil." It values the effort a human puts into a craft.

Since the machine does the "toiling," the law struggles to grant it ownership. However, the human who designed the prompt may have a claim if their input was the specific "spark" that guided the machine. Most scholars agree that because a machine lacks human agency, it can never hold a patent or a copyright on its own.

Judaism and the impact of automation on labor

The rise of AI is changing how we earn a living. Many people fear that robots will take their jobs, leaving them with no way to support their families. Judaism views work as a spiritual act rather than a way to get money, offering a path to participate in the ongoing creation of the world.

The sanctity of human labor

Work is seen as a partnership with the divine. When a person builds, teaches, or heals, they are performing a holy act. Automation risks turning humans into passive consumers who no longer have a "place" in the community.

If a machine can do a job, it should free the human to do higher, more meaningful work. It should not simply toss the human into the street. The goal is always to improve the world (Yishuv HaOlam), rather than simply increasing profits.

Distributive justice and the AI divide

If AI creates massive wealth for a few tech giants while others lose their jobs, the community has a duty to step in. As noted by Chabad, the laws of Tzedakah define this practice as "justice" or "righteousness" rather than an optional gift, making it a legal obligation.

Does Judaism support a universal basic income for AI-displaced workers? Jewish legal interpretation emphasizes the communal duty to provide for the poor, suggesting a strong social safety net is required when traditional work disappears. This concept is grounded in the biblical instructions for the Jubilee year in Leviticus 25:10, which mandated the return of family property and the proclamation of liberty to prevent a permanent underclass from forming.

Protecting truth and the sanctity of data

According to the News Literacy Network, we live in a time when "deepfakes" have proliferated, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish reality from fabrication. This is a major concern for a legal system that relies heavily on the truth of testimony.

The prohibition of Midvar Sheker Tirchak

The Torah gives a direct command in Exodus: "Stay far from a false word." It doesn't just say "don't lie"; it says to keep your distance from anything that smells like a falsehood. This is a very high bar for AI companies that release models known to make things up.

Through the lens of Jewish legal interpretation, scholars argue that releasing an AI that fabricates facts is a violation of this command. We have a duty to ensure that the information we put into the world is accurate. If a chatbot gives a user wrong medical or legal advice, the creator has failed this "distance from lies" test.

Privacy and the "Eye that Sees"

There is also the problem of surveillance. AI can track us everywhere. As explained in the Talmud and discussed by Hadar, privacy violations include "hezek re’iyah," where a person is prohibited from building a window that looks directly into a neighbor’s yard to avoid sight-based damage.

Privacy is seen as a physical asset. When an AI company scrapes your personal data or observes you through a camera, they are committing a form of "visual damage." The law protects our right to be "unseen," which forces us to rethink how much data these companies should be allowed to collect.

The future of Judaism and artificial governance

As AI becomes part of our daily lives, it will eventually enter our religious spaces. We have to decide where the machine's role ends, and the human's role begins. This requires us to look at the very heart of what it means to practice a faith.

Can AI participate in religious life?

Some people have already tried to use AI to write religious documents like a Mezuzah or a Torah scroll. However, the law is very clear: these items must be written with Kavanah, or holy intention. A machine has no intention. It is just a printer with a fancy brain.

Similarly, an AI cannot act as a rabbi. While you can ask a bot for a fact, you cannot ask it for a Psak or a legal ruling. A ruling requires empathy, a sense of the community's needs, and a "pastoral heart." A computer can give you a data point, but it cannot give you wisdom.

The role of the "Human in the Loop."

The final decision must always stay with a person. Jewish legal interpretation insists that we cannot outsource our moral weight to an algorithm. If a machine suggests a punishment or a legal path, a human must still sign off on it.

This "human in the loop" requirement keeps us from becoming slaves to our own tools. It ensures that the world remains a place built for people, by people. Even if the AI becomes a million times faster than us, it will never have the authority to decide what is "right" or "just."

The enduring relevance of Judaism in a digital world

We often think that technology moves so fast that it leaves tradition behind. In reality, the problems created by AI are the same problems humans have faced for millennia: fairness, honesty, safety, and respect. With the tools of Judaism, we can see through the hype and focus on the human effect.

The ancient laws regarding the pit, the boundary marker, and the speaking soul offer a sturdy framework for the digital age. They remind us that we control our inventions, not the other way around. Ultimately, Jewish legal interpretation teaches us that while our code may be new, our duty to act with justice remains constant.