Your remarks make a powerful case by connecting Bagehot’s defense of monarchy’s clarity with the Hebrew Bible’s warning about kingship. You show how a failure of civic imagination—then and now—can lead people to choose rule by one over the more demanding work of self-governance.
By drawing a line from Israel’s covenantal, federal structures to modern movements like Occupy, you bring out a deep human desire not just to be ruled, but to take part in ruling.
That said, the contrast you draw may be a bit too absolute. Even Israel’s theocracy involved visible roles—judges, elders, prophets—that gave form to God's rule. And while your account of horizontal assemblies is stirring, such spaces still need some structure to endure.
Rebuilding public life, as you argue, does take imagination—but it also takes institutions that can carry that imagination forward. Just as a workable localism requires laws and regulations beyond just its own to avoid self-determined silos of prejudice and provincialism.
A rich and thought-provoking piece (as always)—thank you!
Your comment practices what you and I are often drawn to write about—the need for civic (not just civil) discourse. To me, the comments box below a Substack post serves as a cross between a book’s margins and an open letter to the post’s writer. My book’s margins are often a mix of what might be reduced to “Yes!,” “Well . . .,” “I might have put this another way . . .,” “Wow!,” “This reminds me of . . .,” and the like. The comments box (like the etymology of “essay” itself) suggests that the writing isn’t complete without the reader, and in that sense—and as with a good conversation or civil society itself—it’s never complete.
I appreciate your emphasis on civic imagination, a concept I raise early in this post but leave flapping in the wind. What values, what institutions, what disorder, and what order must be put in place and fostered to foster imagination? Imagination, in turn, often “pays it forward,” as some say today: the artistic impulse, for instance, can demonstrate in a group, a classroom, a committee, or even a polity a third way that also validates the discussion that led to it as well as the assembly itself.
I just realized that I haven’t changed subjects!
I’ve often reflected on Hannah Arendt’s celebration of both disorder and order. (One thinks of Genesis’s account of chaos and creation.) She rarely addressed the then-current version of the left-and-right political divide, but she associated the left with revolutions and the right with constitutions. No matter how inaccurate these associations are historically, her point—and her main point in On Revolution, I think—is that the spirit of revolution must find its institution. While she celebrates in that book many of the elements of the U.S. Constitution, particularly the Senate and the Supreme Court, she laments the Constitution’s neglect of the local assembly.
My post kind of leaves the 99 sheep—the valid institutions of government—though I should have left them a good caretaker. I go after the missing one, the local assembly. I think the remarkable balance of powers—the order, if you will—achieved in our Constitution is threatened by our longstanding and pervasive civic disengagement. Like you, I believe that “likes don’t count”: the engagement must be chiefly corporeal, and then online engagement can be (overall) a blessing and not a curse.
We may differ a bit over the semantics of “rule.” One sees a similar difference in discussions about what ancient Athens was up to. Was it “no-rule” (Arendt’s understanding of isonomy) or was it the practice of alternating roles in self-government (ruling, then being ruled, then ruling, etc.)? Or do these two concepts mean the same thing? And is there a difference between rule and sovereignty, which I believe God reserves to Himself?
I assign those two words different meanings, though I’m aware that most people probably don’t. I’m for a certain limited account of human rule but against human sovereignty. In the early modern period, Continental Europe vested sovereignty in monarchies while England vested it in Parliament. (I am, of course, telling you nothing you don’t know . . . ) The American colonies missed out on Europe’s fights over sovereignty (except to absorb many of its English refugees) and managed to avoid sovereignty by institutionalizing a medieval notion of a balance of powers in our Constitution (I’m summarizing Samuel Huntington’s account here). This balance (with its commensurate rule of law) is now threatened, in part by the effects our modern civic disengagement. Our disengagement amounts to prefigurative politics in a negative sense: we are living now as if we already have a sovereign other than God. Will we notice any difference in our civic life, such as it is, if and when the Constitution’s balance of powers and its institutions fall before human sovereignty?
Sometimes it’s just wording. Some people prefer “facilitator” to “leader” or “chairperson.” Where “facilitator” expresses something about a group’s civic life, I’m all in. I’ll even accept the term where it’s evidently aspirational. But “facilitator” as a euphemism leads to cynicism, that sad expression of resigned disengagement.
I’m rambling on again.
I’m so grateful for your comment and its evident faith in me as a facilitator of my small space in the Substack universe.
Thank you for this thoughtful and generous reflection—it’s a model of the very civic engagement it champions. I deeply agree: the comments box, like the margins of a well-used book, can become a space of shared thinking rather than mere reaction. Your invocation of Arendt, the missing local assembly, and the risks of disengagement all speak directly to concerns I share. I'm especially struck by your distinction between rule and sovereignty—an essential tension, not just theological but political. Thanks very much for your "rambling." !
Thank you, William. I woke up from a long nap later today with the realization that I hadn't really considered your point about providing a more well-rounded account of government as represented in the Hebrew Bible. Up to the point where my post addresses that, the post really is about republicanism versus monarchy--more specifically, absolute monarchy. I need to follow through with that in the second half of my essay and save my focus on the local assembly for another post. I'm revisiting my sources, including Elazar whom you helped me with not too long ago, to revise my post to do just that. I'm sorry I was so dense to your point in my previous comment! I think my revisions will make for a better essay. I so appreciate your feedback!
I've substantially revised this essay here since originally publishing it! See my interactions with William Green among the comments here for an explanation of the revision. My thanks to him for his positive support and constructive insights.
Oh- may we indeed “Create the future in the present.” and be informed and inspired by all we are learning today about it. My POV: All we need is Love.
Your remarks make a powerful case by connecting Bagehot’s defense of monarchy’s clarity with the Hebrew Bible’s warning about kingship. You show how a failure of civic imagination—then and now—can lead people to choose rule by one over the more demanding work of self-governance.
By drawing a line from Israel’s covenantal, federal structures to modern movements like Occupy, you bring out a deep human desire not just to be ruled, but to take part in ruling.
That said, the contrast you draw may be a bit too absolute. Even Israel’s theocracy involved visible roles—judges, elders, prophets—that gave form to God's rule. And while your account of horizontal assemblies is stirring, such spaces still need some structure to endure.
Rebuilding public life, as you argue, does take imagination—but it also takes institutions that can carry that imagination forward. Just as a workable localism requires laws and regulations beyond just its own to avoid self-determined silos of prejudice and provincialism.
A rich and thought-provoking piece (as always)—thank you!
Your comment practices what you and I are often drawn to write about—the need for civic (not just civil) discourse. To me, the comments box below a Substack post serves as a cross between a book’s margins and an open letter to the post’s writer. My book’s margins are often a mix of what might be reduced to “Yes!,” “Well . . .,” “I might have put this another way . . .,” “Wow!,” “This reminds me of . . .,” and the like. The comments box (like the etymology of “essay” itself) suggests that the writing isn’t complete without the reader, and in that sense—and as with a good conversation or civil society itself—it’s never complete.
I appreciate your emphasis on civic imagination, a concept I raise early in this post but leave flapping in the wind. What values, what institutions, what disorder, and what order must be put in place and fostered to foster imagination? Imagination, in turn, often “pays it forward,” as some say today: the artistic impulse, for instance, can demonstrate in a group, a classroom, a committee, or even a polity a third way that also validates the discussion that led to it as well as the assembly itself.
I just realized that I haven’t changed subjects!
I’ve often reflected on Hannah Arendt’s celebration of both disorder and order. (One thinks of Genesis’s account of chaos and creation.) She rarely addressed the then-current version of the left-and-right political divide, but she associated the left with revolutions and the right with constitutions. No matter how inaccurate these associations are historically, her point—and her main point in On Revolution, I think—is that the spirit of revolution must find its institution. While she celebrates in that book many of the elements of the U.S. Constitution, particularly the Senate and the Supreme Court, she laments the Constitution’s neglect of the local assembly.
My post kind of leaves the 99 sheep—the valid institutions of government—though I should have left them a good caretaker. I go after the missing one, the local assembly. I think the remarkable balance of powers—the order, if you will—achieved in our Constitution is threatened by our longstanding and pervasive civic disengagement. Like you, I believe that “likes don’t count”: the engagement must be chiefly corporeal, and then online engagement can be (overall) a blessing and not a curse.
We may differ a bit over the semantics of “rule.” One sees a similar difference in discussions about what ancient Athens was up to. Was it “no-rule” (Arendt’s understanding of isonomy) or was it the practice of alternating roles in self-government (ruling, then being ruled, then ruling, etc.)? Or do these two concepts mean the same thing? And is there a difference between rule and sovereignty, which I believe God reserves to Himself?
I assign those two words different meanings, though I’m aware that most people probably don’t. I’m for a certain limited account of human rule but against human sovereignty. In the early modern period, Continental Europe vested sovereignty in monarchies while England vested it in Parliament. (I am, of course, telling you nothing you don’t know . . . ) The American colonies missed out on Europe’s fights over sovereignty (except to absorb many of its English refugees) and managed to avoid sovereignty by institutionalizing a medieval notion of a balance of powers in our Constitution (I’m summarizing Samuel Huntington’s account here). This balance (with its commensurate rule of law) is now threatened, in part by the effects our modern civic disengagement. Our disengagement amounts to prefigurative politics in a negative sense: we are living now as if we already have a sovereign other than God. Will we notice any difference in our civic life, such as it is, if and when the Constitution’s balance of powers and its institutions fall before human sovereignty?
Sometimes it’s just wording. Some people prefer “facilitator” to “leader” or “chairperson.” Where “facilitator” expresses something about a group’s civic life, I’m all in. I’ll even accept the term where it’s evidently aspirational. But “facilitator” as a euphemism leads to cynicism, that sad expression of resigned disengagement.
I’m rambling on again.
I’m so grateful for your comment and its evident faith in me as a facilitator of my small space in the Substack universe.
Thank you for this thoughtful and generous reflection—it’s a model of the very civic engagement it champions. I deeply agree: the comments box, like the margins of a well-used book, can become a space of shared thinking rather than mere reaction. Your invocation of Arendt, the missing local assembly, and the risks of disengagement all speak directly to concerns I share. I'm especially struck by your distinction between rule and sovereignty—an essential tension, not just theological but political. Thanks very much for your "rambling." !
Thank you, William. I woke up from a long nap later today with the realization that I hadn't really considered your point about providing a more well-rounded account of government as represented in the Hebrew Bible. Up to the point where my post addresses that, the post really is about republicanism versus monarchy--more specifically, absolute monarchy. I need to follow through with that in the second half of my essay and save my focus on the local assembly for another post. I'm revisiting my sources, including Elazar whom you helped me with not too long ago, to revise my post to do just that. I'm sorry I was so dense to your point in my previous comment! I think my revisions will make for a better essay. I so appreciate your feedback!
https://substack.com/@poetpastor/note/p-163590838?r=5gejob&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
I've substantially revised this essay here since originally publishing it! See my interactions with William Green among the comments here for an explanation of the revision. My thanks to him for his positive support and constructive insights.