The Chosen People
Hilary Putnam
The Jewish Political Tradition, Volume II: Membership Edited by Michael
Walzer, Menachem Lorberbaum, Noam J. Zohar,
and Ari Ackerman Yale University Press, $40
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Hilary Putnam
The series to which this book belongs is
unprecedented. Even though I myself contributed
to the first volume, it was not until I actually
saw that volume and the present one in print
that the full scale of the intellectual ambition
of the series' three editors and the magnitude
of their achievement fully sunk in. What
each of these self-contained installments
attempts to do-and, in my judgment, succeeds
in doing-is to represent ancient and medieval
Judaism and its post-Enlightenment successors
as not just a religious tradition but an
evolving and dynamic political culture. The
subject of the first volume, which appeared
in 2000, was "authority"; the present
volume deals with "membership"
(which it subdivides into chapters on election,
social hierarchy, gender hierarchy, converts,
heretics and apostates, and gentiles), and
forthcoming volumes will deal with "community"
and "politics in history."
Because of the ever-present threat of anti-Semitism,
the great majority of books by Jews about
their own tradition have tended to be celebratory
or apologetic. However, the editors of these
volumes clearly believe that the best way
to do justice to their tradition is to present
it warts and all, stressing neither what
Jews with post-Enlightenment sensibilities
find inspiring nor what they reject. Rather
than apologizing for the Jewish tradition
or putting it on a pedestal (or, for that
matter, trying to pull it down), the editors
have chosen to stress its living and agonistic
character and the way it deals with conflict,
which, as they point out, must arise in every
long-standing political culture. (In so doing,
they show us how often what we find troubling
today also troubled Jewish sages and leaders
throughout history-although many of us will
be disturbed by some of the solutions they
chose.) That the tradition does not deserve
either to be blindly worshiped or to be simply
abandoned as irrelevant to current concerns
brilliantly emphasized by the interspersing
among the texts of commentaries written by
contemporary philosophers, political theorists,
and lawyers. As the editors explain, "The
purpose of the commentaries is not to provide
historical information . . . We have asked
the commentators, instead, to join the arguments
of the texts, to interpret and evaluate,
to revise or reject, the claims made by their
authors. Membership is a central issue today,
in both the Jewish and the non-Jewish worlds,
so it seems especially important not to treat
the tradition as if it were merely ancient
and venerable; it is contested and vital,
and the point of the commentaries is to bear
living witness to that fact."
To give an idea of how the tradition is "contested
and vital" I shall describe the first
chapter, the chapter on election (that is,
the idea of the Jews as "the chosen
people"). The editors begin the discussion
by pointing out that "the claim to a
universal mission, at least in any activist
sense of the word, probably isn't a feature
of the earliest election idea." (Even
in the prophetic writings, it is only in
"less than a dozen passages in second
Isaiah" that this idea is stressed,
according to Mordecai Kaplan, the founder
of the Reconstructionist branch of present-day
Judaism.) The main body of the chapter, however,
is concerned with two medieval models of
"chosenness" and with the subsequent
debates, many of them continuing and indeed
raging throughout the past century, about
whether either of them can be reinterpreted
so as to be acceptable, or whether the whole
notion of a chosen people is an "anachronism"
(the Reconstructionist position). The two
medieval models that are the subjects of
this controversy are the unique genetic endowment
model of the twelfth-century philosopher
Judah Halevi (which the commentators correctly
characterize as "racialist") and,
strongly opposing it, the rationalist model
of Maimonides, according to whom Abraham
was a philosopher
(!), who discovered the truth of monotheism
through pure reason, as did Moses later (!),
and who founded a community based not on
common descent but on a true knowledge of
God. The unique genetic endowment model of
Judah Halevi (the endowment in question is
a "divine thing," which prophets
in particular must possess) was, interestingly,
most influential among the Jewish mystics
and is found in an intensified form in portions
of the famous kabbalistic work the Zohar.
The Enlightenment, however, brought with
it a powerful attack by Spinoza on the notion
of election, after which the many Jews who
were not willing to simply turn their backs
on the Enlightenment and its ideals of reason
and universal human equality struggled to
find an acceptable interpretation-even if
it was obviously a re-interpretation-of that
idea.
Mordecai Kaplan, who, like Spinoza before
him, thinks the concept of election has outlived
its day, lists the following four possible
interpretations of the doctrine of the chosen
people:
1. Jews possess hereditary traits which qualify
them to be superior to the rest of the world
in the realm of the religious and the ethical.
2. Their ancestors were the first to achieve
those religious and ethical conceptions and
ideals which will, in the end, become the
common possession of mankind and help them
to achieve salvation.
3. Jews possess the truest form of the religious
and ethical ideals of mankind.
4. Jews are entrusted with the task of communicating
those ideals to the rest of the world. Kaplan
powerfully criticizes all four of these interpretations.
To replace the doctrine of election he proposes
a substitute doctrine of "vocation."
He writes:
The place previously occupied in the Jewish
consciousness by the doctrine of election
will have to be filled by the doctrine of
vocation. The whole course of Jewish history
has been so dominated by religious motivation
that Jews cannot be true to themselves, as
a people, without stressing the religious
character of Judaism. Jewish religion would
have Jewish civilization make for the enhancement
not only of Jewish life but of the life of
mankind, and thus help to render manifest
the cosmic purpose of human life. Jewish
religion expects the Jew to live the civilization
of his people in a spirit of commitment and
dedication. To live thus is to live with
a sense of vocation or calling. In another
contribution to this rich set of selections
Judith Plaskow, writing in the late 1980s,
criticizes the idea of election as belonging
to the same circle of ideas as, and thus
supporting, gender hierarchy (the subject
of the third chapter of this volume) as well
as other invidious forms of hierarchy. Among
writers opposed to simply junking the idea,
as urged by Kaplan and Plaskow, one finds,
for example, the noted modern Israeli theologian,
Yeshayahu Leibowitz, who proposed that election
is simply and solely a duty: the duty to
obey the commandments (which for Leibowitz
meant the whole of Jewish law, the Halakhah).
He wrote, "The people of Israel were
not the chosen people but were commanded
to be the chosen people. . . . The Jewish
people has no intrinsic uniqueness. Its uniqueness
rather consists in the demand laid on it.
The people may or may not heed this demand.
Therefore its fate is not guaranteed."
One also finds the voice of classic socialist-Zionism,
in an excerpt from the famous speech given
by A. D. Gordon to the 1920 gathering in
Prague that formed the Zionist Labor Party.
Gordon does not use the term election, but
he does speak of "the path of our renewal
and redemption":
We do not demand from [the nations] special
rights; we demand human rights, the rights
that they have denied us; and first of all-the
right to be a working and producing people.
They have a moral obligation to wield their
influence and help us get back our land-of
course, without displacing those who reside
in it, of the Arab nation or others-and they
are obligated to allow those of our people
who reside in their lands to engage in productive
labor, especially to till the land and to
live by labor. . . . That is the path of
our renewal and redemption. We have no other
path. Even should we wish to follow the path
of the mighty, behold, we have no might.
Our strength is that of the spirit, not a
disembodied spirit, but rather a living spirit
of labor and productivity.
Distasteful voices are also allowed to speak,
as they must be, and the chapter includes
a poem written in 1929 by Uri Zvi Grinberg
in which, as the commentator Arthur Isak
Applbaum points out, Grinberg celebrates
"heroic murder-suicide." Applbaum's
verdict: "Beware the powerful who still
think themselves powerless: they desecrate
the name of any political life humane enough
to be worth defending, and this is no improvement
over too-pious sanctification."
I suppose that as a practicing Jew my own
attitude toward election resembles the attitude
toward patriotism that Richard Rorty advocated
in Achieving Our Country: Leftist Thought
in Twentieth-Century America
(Harvard, 1998). In this book Rorty vigorously
urged a revival of the "reformist left"
and equally vigorously criticized the "cultural
left." The alternative Rorty saw to
simply abandoning the idea of patriotism
to the right was struggling for a future
in which our ideals of social justice will
be realized. Such a move has the aspect of
a "faith" (Dewey, who is one of
Rorty's heroes, spoke of a "democratic
faith"), but a faith that knows itself
for a faith, for a project. We can be proud
of our country because we see its best moments-and
there have been moments when the cause of
justice was furthered-as emblems of what
could be. But this "could be" is
not empirically verifiable; so what is its
epistemological status? Rorty's answer is
that its status is that of a moralizing story.
In Achieving Our Country he describes the
role such stories played in his own upbringing-
tales of the achievements of great fighters
for social justice, black and white, poor
and rich, activists and legislators-to illustrate
the power that stories of heroic struggles
(and of their heroes) can have in shaping
a social conscience and keeping it alive.
I do not think of Judaism simply as a movement
for social reform (although it needs to be
at least that) but also as a way-though not
the only way-of passing on the experience
of a connection with God. Judaism bears this
singular experience, but there is no reason
one cannot celebrate its religious and moral
achievements without denying that other faiths
and peoples also have religious and moral
achievements. Jonathan Sacks, the chief rabbi
of the British Commonwealth, recently argued
in The Dignity of Difference that "as
Jews, we believe that God has made a covenant
with a singular people, but that does not
exclude the possibility of other peoples,
cultures, and faiths finding their own relationship
with God within the shared frame of the Noahide
laws. . . . God is the god of all of humanity,
but between Babel and the end of days no
single faith is the faith of all humanity."
I venture to read this as saying that a people
can think of itself as chosen-chosen for
a vocation, perhaps?-without denying that
other peoples and faiths have been chosen
too.
* * *
I have described the chapter on election
in detail to give some idea of the rich dialectical
structure of these volumes. Every one of
the chapters enacts a debate that should
have a living resonance, not just for Jews,
although obviously for them, but for everyone
with a historical sense and a political conscience.
Nevertheless, some have complained that in
the first volume (on authority) there was
no Marx, Freud, or Derrida. That is true.
The editors wanted-rightly, in my view-to
present voices that respond to one another
in an unfolding tradition, not just another
anthology of famous names that happen to
be Jewish. There are many such anthologies,
but the present volumes are something quite
different; if entered in the right spirit,
they present a continuous tradition, one
with not just a rich past and a lively present
but-im hu yirtze (if He wishes)-a long and
contentious future. <
Hilary Putnam is the Cogan University Professor
in the department of philosophy at Harvard
University. He is the author of numerous
books, including Renewing Philosophy and
Pragmatism.
Originally published in the February/March
2004 issue of Boston Review.
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