Taubes Liberalism PDF
Taubes Liberalism PDF
1093/leobaeck/ybs015
BY ELIAS SACKS
In recent years, a growing body of literature has emerged examining the thought of
Jacob Taubes, the rabbi, philosopher, and historian best known for his writings on
eschatology and politics. Since his death in 1987, Taubes has been the subject of
numerous studies, ranging from explorations of his historical scholarship to essays
on his political theory,1 while new editions of his works have appeared in various
languages, including English translations of his 1947 dissertation Abendla«ndische
Eschatologie and 1987 lectures on the Apostle Paul.2 Taubes has, moreover, exerted a
profound in£uence on philosophers including Giorgio Agamben, who opens his
own commentary on Paul with a dedication in memoriam toTaubes.3
* I would like to thank Leora Batnitzky, Eric Gregory, Paul Nahme, Elizabeth Sacks, Kevin Wolfe,
participants in Princeton University’s Religion and Critical Thought Workshop, and two
anonymous reviewers for their helpful comments on earlier versions of this article. This essay is
based on a paper delivered at a conference on ‘‘The German Rabbinate Abroad: Transferring
German-Jewish Modernity into the World?’’ held at the Ludwig-Maximilians-Universita«t Munich
and the Akademie fu«r Politische Bildung Tutzing in October 2009. I would like to thank Cornelia
Wilhelm and Tobias Grill for organizing this conference.
1
For some recent studies, see Richard Farber, Eveline Goodman-Thau and Thomas Macho (eds.),
Abendla«ndische Eschatologie: Ad JacobTaubes, Wu«rzburg 2001.
2
See Josef R. Lawitschka, ‘Eine neu-alte Bibliographie der Texte von JACOB TAUBES, zecher le-
veracha (dem seligen Angedenken)’, in Farber, et al., p. 570. For Taubes’s dissertation, see Jacob
Taubes, Occidental Eschatology, transl. by David Ratmoko, Stanford 2009, orig. published as
Abendla«ndische Eschatologie, Berne 1947 (hereafter referred to as Occidental). For his Paul lectures, see
The Political Theology of Paul, ed. by Aleida and Jan Assmann, et al., transl. by Dana Hollander,
Stanford 2004, orig. published as Die politische Theologie des Paulus, Munich 1993 (hereafter PTP). For
a selection of his essays, see From Cult to Culture: Fragments Toward a Critique of Historical Reason, ed. by
Charlotte Elisheva Fonrobert and Amir Engel, Stanford 2010, orig. published as Vom Kult zur Kultur:
Bausteine zu einer Kritik der historischen Vernunft, ed. by Aleida and Jan Assmann, et al., Munich 1996
(hereafter From Cult). For letters to Armin Mohler (14 February 1952) and Carl Schmitt (18
September 1979), see PTP, orig. published in Ad Carl Schmitt: Gegenstrebige Fu«gung, Berlin 1987
(hereafter ‘Taubes to Mohler’/ ‘Taubes to Schmitt’). Other translations are my own unless otherwise
stated.
3
See Giorgio Agamben, The Time That Remains: A Commentary on the Letter to the Romans, transl. by
Patricia Dailey, Stanford 2005, p. 3.
ß The Author (2012). Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of The Leo Baeck Institute.
All rights reserved. For permissions, please email: [email protected]
188 Elias Sacks
My article explores the return to German-speaking Europe by this controversial
Jewish thinker, who was born inVienna in 1923, completed rabbinical and doctoral
studies in Switzerland in the 1940s, and taught for more than a decade in Israel and
America before accepting a chair at the Freie Universita«t Berlin in 1966.4 More
speci¢cally, I aim to deepen our understanding of the content and emergence of
Taubes’s ¢nal and most widely discussed work: the 1987 lectures posthumously
published as Die politischeTheologie des Paulus (PTP), which claim to reconstruct and
defend an approach to politics outlined in Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. I will
argue that Taubes is both a critic of and an heir to German-Jewish liberalismçthat
the PTP is, in part, a critique of the liberal German-Jewish thinker Hermann
Cohen, but neverthetheless exhibits striking a⁄nities with Cohen’s writings on
4
After completing his doctorate in 1947, Taubes received a fellowship at New York’s Jewish Theological
Seminary; another fellowship took him to the Hebrew University, where he remained until
returning to America in the early 1950s. He would go on to hold posts at Harvard, Princeton, and
Columbia before moving to Berlin. See Christoph Schulte, ‘PAULUS’, in Farber, et al., pp. 101-103;
Ratmoko, preface to Occidental, pp. xii-xiii.
5
On Cohen’s links to thinkers and ideasçpolitical and religiousçtypically termed ‘liberal’, see David
N. Myers, ‘Hermann Cohen and the Quest for Protestant Judaism’, in LBI Year Book, vol. 46 (2001),
pp. 195-214.
6
See PTP, pp. 24, 61-62, 65-66 and passim. OnTaubes’s ‘‘antiliberalism’’, see Assmann et al., in From Cult,
p. xxiii.
7
Taubes seems to use these three terms interchangeably: see Taubes to Mohler, pp. 108-110; PTP,
pp. 23-26, 105; ‘Aus einem Streitgespra«ch um Carl Schmitt’, in Ad Carl Schmitt, p. 57.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 189
(Gebote) on the other.8 While I know of no text in whichTaubes explicitly clari¢es this
distinction, he repeatedly applies the former terms to norms that impose coercive
punishments, stating that Jesus was ‘‘condemned according to the law [Gesetz]’’9
and ‘‘nailed to the cross by nomos’’.10 Moreover, Taubes links the category of ‘law’ to
the existence of regulatory detail, grounding the ‘‘juridical’’character of Jewish law
in this system’s concern with ‘‘minutiae’’,11 and stating that Jewish Gesetz ‘‘leaves
nothing, not even a tri£e, to the fancy of the individual’’.12 I will use the term ‘law’,
then, to denote norms that impose coercive punishments and issue detailed
guidelines.
The 1987 lectures published as the PTP were delivered at Heidelberg’s
Forschungssta«tte der Evangelischen Studiengemeinschaft shortly before Taubes’s death, and
Hobbes is dead serious when he speaks of the ‘great Leviathan,’ that ‘mortal God’ to
whom we oweçand this is the decisive pointç‘peace and defense’ ‘under the immortal
God.’ This is also why ‘that Jesus in the Christ’ is not an empty phrase, but an ever-
returning principle. This is why the machine of the state is not a perpetuum mobile, a
thousand-year Reich, sine ¢ne, but thus mortally a fragile balance between inside and
outside, thus mortally also always defeated . . . Paul (also highly ‘valued’ by the ‘¢rst
liberal Jew’), to whom I turn at the turn of the ages, distinguished inside and outside,
also for ‘the political’. Without this distinction we are exposed to the thrones and powers
Taubes claims to follow Paul in insisting that God leaves the state ‘‘always
defeated’’çthat the absolute sovereignty of God deprives the state of its authority.
Taubes’s Paulinism, then, involves a theological delegitimation of the state. For
Taubes and the PTP’s Paul, belief in God and the Messiah should lead us to reject,
rather than accept, states’claims on our loyalty.
A second point of agreement involves the status of ‘law’. The PTP’s Paul claims
that ‘‘it isn’t nomos but rather the one who was nailed to the cross by nomos who is the
imperator’’,20 and that if the Messiah is ‘‘condemned according to the law . . . so
much the worse for law’’.21 On this reading, Paul believes that we owe no obedience
to a type of norm which permits Jesus’ executionçthat we may obey laws for
reasons of expediency, but have no obligation to do so. Moreover, while it is
unclear whether Taubes himself goes so far as to reject all legal systems, he follows
his Pauline model by limiting the authority of such norms, refusing to treat
adherence to law as the fundamental principle governing our behaviour, objecting
that while a ‘‘jurist’’ must preserve ‘‘juridical form, by whatever hair-splitting
ingenuity . . . this isn’t my worldview, this isn’t my experience’’.22 Indeed, Taubes
explicitly links this move to Paul in a letter from 1952:
Judaism ‘is’ pol. theology . . . because law is ¢nally not the ¢rst and the last after all,
because there are ‘even’ between man and man relationships that ‘exceed’, ‘transcend’
lawçlove, mercy, forgiveness (not at all ‘sentimentally’, but ‘in reality’). I wouldn’t
know how to take a single step further . . . without holding fast to ‘these three’, and this
leads me again and againçagainst my ‘will’çtoçPaul.23
On this view, a move to limit law’s authorityçto privilege extra-legal ideals as ‘‘¢rst
and last’’ principlesçnecessarily ‘‘leads’’ to Paul. Taubes’s Paulinism, then, insists
19
Taubes to Schmitt, p. 112; see also PTP, p. 103. The ‘‘¢rst liberal Jew’’ is how Schmitt describes Spinoza
(Taubes to Schmitt, p. 153n).
20
Taubes, PTP, p. 24.
21
Ibid., p. 37.
22
Ibid., p. 103.
23
Taubes to Mohler, p. 110.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 191
that a commitment to meeting legal standards should not be the fundamental
principle governing our behaviour.
A third point of agreement involves the form of communal existence that would
replace law and the state. According to the PTP, Paul proposes a ‘‘new kind of
union’’ which is grounded in a ‘‘commandment [Gebot]’’ to ‘‘love your neighbour’’,
and which insists that ‘‘there’s no point in any revolution’’ because ‘‘the entire
swindle [is] going to be over’’.24 The PTP claims, ¢rst, that while Paul a⁄rms a
communal norm requiring love, this norm is not a law but a Gebotça norm that
neither imposes coercive punishments nor articulates detailed guidelines. Second,
while Paul denies legitimacy to Rome, he envisions a community that expects the
imminent arrival of the eschaton, and that therefore refrains from actively
The way I see it is that with the FirstWorldWar the synthesis of cultural Protestantism, in
which the German Jews participated just as much, broke down. This was, so to speak, a
joint ¢rm (or rather wanted to beçjust think of Hermann Cohen’s shameful tract on
Germanism and Judaism [Deutschtum und Judentum]; one can only avert one’s face before
this equation). But this ¢rm had its major partner and a minor partner who took
himself to be a partner while the other one didn’t take him to be a partner at all.46
The great professors, who of course at the time were like gods, Martin Rade and Adolf
von Harnack, lost their in£uence; the whole thing collapsed like a house of cards.
(Reference to a letter from Rade to Barth, who doesn’t countersign it.) It became
apparent that they were nothing more than Prussian civil servants. The same goes for
Hermann Cohen, lest you think that the minor partner was any better.48
Rade and Harnack were seen by many of their contemporaries as o¡ering Christian
defenses of German policy;49 indeed, Taubes had previously described one of these
‘‘civil servants’’, Harnack, as ‘‘a hairdresser for the theological wig of the Kaiser’’.50
By comparing Cohen to such ¢gures, then, the PTP claims that he should be
44
‘‘. . .wir als Gla«ubige der ju«dischen Religion unser deutschesVaterland lieben und fu«r seinen Fortbestand all unser Gut
und Blut . . . opfern.’’ Cohen,‘Deutschtum und Judentum’, in JS, vol. II, pp. 237-301 (p. 293).
45
‘‘. . .die messianische Idee des israelitischen Prophetismus.’’ Ibid., p. 290. See also Schwarzschild,
‘Germanism’, pp. 129-172; Myers, pp. 210-212.
46
PTP, p. 62.
47
Ibid.
48
Ibid.
49
See Klaus Schwabe, Wissenschaft und Kriegsmoral: Die deutschen Hochschullehrer und die politischen
Grundfragen des Ersten Weltkrieges, Go«ttingen 1969, pp. 21-45; Anne Christine Nagel, Martin Radeç
Theologe und Politiker des Sozialen Liberalismus: eine politische Biographie, Gu«tersloh 1996, pp. 134-149;
Kurt Flasch, Die geistige Mobilmachung: Die deutschen Intellektuellen und der Erste Weltkrieg, Berlin 2000,
pp. 96-99.
50
Taubes, ‘The Demysti¢cation of Theology: Toward a Portrait of Overbeck’, in From Cult, p. 156
(quoting Franz Overbeck). Taubes repeats this accusation in PTP, p. 60.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 195
condemned for his theological legitimation of the stateçfor arguing that religious
concepts provide grounds for a⁄rming a state’s claims on our loyalty. Taubes’s
commitment to opposing the theologically-grounded state leads him to attack
Cohen’s politics.51
This characterization of Cohen as a‘‘civil servant’’closely linked to his Christian
contemporaries is perhaps unjust.52 My concern, however, lies not with whether
Cohen merits Taubes’s criticism, but rather with what this criticism reveals about
the PTP. Taubes associates Cohen with a moveçthe theological legitimation of
the stateçrejected by the PTP, citing Cohen as an example to show that this
move occurs among Jewsçto guard against thinking that Jewish thought was ‘‘any
better’’ than its Christian counterpart. Moreover, if we read this passage against
There was an aura, a general Hellenistic aura, an apotheosis of nomos [sic]. One could
sing it to a Gentile tune, this apotheosisçI mean, to a Greek-Hellenistic tuneçone
could sing it in Roman, and one could sing it in a Jewish way. Everyone understood law
as they wanted. See Philo, see Josephus: law as hypostasis. So there was an extensively
liberal Judaism, Alexandrian Judaism with its surrounding villages. It comprised a
missionary philosophy in the form of this nomos [sic] theology . . .This sort of thing
brings law and order into the Roman Empire . . . [Paul] clambers out of the consensus
between Greek-Jewish-Hellenistic mission-theology . . . He is totally illiberal; of that I
am certain. I have yet to be taken in by a liberal, whether in antiquity or in the Middle
Ages or in modern times . . . It isn’t nomos but rather the one who was nailed to the cross
by nomos who is the imperator!53
51
The argument that Taubes is objecting only to Cohen’s defence of the German state strikes me as too
narrow. Indeed, the text Taubes criticizesçCohen’s Deutschtumço¡ers a defence of the state per se,
not just of Germany (see Cohen,‘Deutschtum’, pp. 286-291).
52
After all, Cohen acknowledges that the German state is £awed and challenges aspects of liberal
Protestantism. See Schwarzschild, ‘Germanism’, pp. 129-172 and ‘The Theologico-Political Basis of
Liberal Christian-Jewish Relations in Modernity’, in Das deutsche Judentum und der Liberalismus,
London 1986, pp. 70-95.
53
PTP, pp. 23-24.
196 Elias Sacks
According to Taubes, ‘‘nomos theology’’ preserved political stability by demanding
respect for the ‘‘law’’ while allowing groups their own understandings of this term.
Initially, Taubes suggests, this theology gave rise to a ‘‘liberal Judaism’’ that utilized
the ‘‘apotheosis of nomos’’ to launch ‘‘missionary’’ activities, seeking to attract
Gentile adherents by identifying Jewish law with the nomos valued by the
Hellenistic world. For the ‘‘illiberal’’ Paul, however, this emphasis on law lost all
credibility once the Messiah was ‘‘nailed to the cross by nomos’’çonce nomos was
experienced as a mode of governance that sanctioned the execution of God’s
anointed.54
Of course, Taubes may intend his presentation of nomos theology as an attack on
diverse ‘‘liberal’’ thinkers.55 More important here, however, is the relationship
54
I leave aside the question of whether the PTP accurately presents the commitments of Paul’s
opponents. Taubes claims to be drawing on the work of Moriz Friedla«nder (PTP, p. 24).
55
He may also have liberal Protestant thinkers in mind.
56
See also Taubes,‘Notes on Surrealism’, in From Cult, pp. 104-109.
57
PTP, pp. 17-18.
58
Ibid., pp. 25-26.
59
Ibid., p. 29.
60
Ibid., p. 104. Although Cohen is not cited explicitly, the PTP refers to a ‘‘Protestant-Jewish liberal
consensus’’ and has identi¢ed Cohen with just such a ‘‘joint ¢rm’’ (p. 62); moreover, Taubes invokes a
‘‘liberal synthesis’’ existing before the First World War (p. 104) and associates Cohen with just such a
‘‘synthesis’’ (p. 62). Indeed, Taubes links one of Cohen’s studentsçErnst Cassirerçto this ‘‘liberal
consensus’’ (p. 104).
61
Indeed, just as nomos theology takes ‘law’ to be a category with respect to which Hellenism and
Judaism converge, so too does Cohen treat ‘law’ as a category with respect to which Germanism
and Judaism take similar approaches: see Cohen, ‘Innere Beziehungen der Kantischen Philosophie
zum Judentum’, in JS, vol. I, pp. 291-293.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 197
trenches, just as the theology of Paul’s opponents lost credibility after the violence of
Jesus’ cruci¢xion. Implicitly, then, the PTP presents Cohen as a modern defender
of views held by Paul’sJewish foes.We have thus discovered a second clue regarding
Taubes’s Jewish targets. We have reason to suspect that in lectures concerned with
‘‘Jewish . . . political theology,’’ one key interlocutor might be the Jewish thinker
whose politics and predecessors mark him as worthy of oppositionçwhose views
on the state are condemned as a Jewish instance of theological legitimation, and
whose thought is presented as echoing the ancient opponents of the PTP’s hero.62
A third piece of evidence emerges from the PTP’s historical context. Belonging to
a generation of Jews for whom Cohen was an important in£uence,63 Taubes
published an essay in 1983 in which he claims to have ‘‘returned’’ to Cohen while
Ezekiel 18 marks a turning point in the history of religion . . .‘It is a mistake’, Hermann
Cohen says, in his late work Religion of Reason Out of the Sources of Judaism . . . to consider
Ezekiel’s examination as ‘long-winded’ . . . These verses give testimony of the highest
order to the ur-history of subjectivity . . . ‘Make for yourselves a new heart and a new
spirit’ (Ezekiel 18:31). Hermann Cohen comments, ‘In the recognition of his own sin,
man became an individual. Through the power to create for himself a new heart and a
new spirit, however, he becomes the I’.65
Quoting Chapter 11 of Cohen’s Religion, Taubes seems to accept some aspects of its
argument that the prophet Ezekiel and Cohen’s philosophy of religion, rather than
earlier prophets and Cohen’s conception of ethics, provide a conception of ‘‘the
individual as I’’çof the human being as a particular individual who freely
‘‘creates’’ her selfhood.66 Signi¢cantly, though, Cohen launches the argument in
this chapter by recapitulating his own politics:
All the prophets up to Ezekiel made social morality the main point . . .The I is in the ¢rst
place the individual . . .The individual constitutes a problem in which the speci¢c
character of religion, in distinction from ethics, comes to the fore . . .The free individual
of ethics, if he . . . is directed and projected to totality in accordance with his ideal
completion, is thereby dissolved in totality. This dissolution of the individual is the
highest triumph of ethics. The ethical individual, as an isolated single being having the
basis of his life in metabolism, disappears, to be resurrected in the I of the state and, by
62
Admittedly, while Taubes explicitly links the Zentralrat, ‘‘college boys,’’ and the ‘‘orthodox’’ to ancient
predecessors, he only implicitly links Cohen to Paul’s opponents. Nevertheless, given the similarities
between Cohen’s thought and nomos theology, the comparison made by Taubes is clear.
63
See Treml, p. 166. For Cohen and other thinkers with whomTaubes engages, see Deuber-Mankowsky,
‘The Ties Between Walter Benjamin and Hermann Cohen: A Generally Neglected Chapter in the
History of the Impact of Cohen’s Philosophy’, transl. by Joel Golb, in Robert Gibbs (ed.), Hermann
Cohen’s Ethics, Leiden 2006, pp. 127-145; Peter Eli Gordon, ‘Science, Finitude, and In¢nity: Neo-
Kantianism and the Birth of Existentialism’, in Jewish Social Studies, vol. VI, no. 1 (1999), pp. 30-53;
see also Myers, p. 195. On Taubes and generations of intellectuals who rebelled against German-
Jewish liberalism, see Goodman-Thau, ‘Prophet und Priester im Kampf um die Geschichte Israels
mit Gott: Die politische Theologie von Martin Buber und Jacob Taubes’, in Farber, et al., pp. 432-446.
64
Taubes,‘On the Current State’, p. 314.
65
Ibid., pp. 306-307.
66
See Cohen, Religion, pp. 178-215. See also Poma, pp. 211-233.
198 Elias Sacks
means of the federation of states, in humanity. This is the range of ethics for the human
individual. The prophets of social morality, in their messianic monotheism, join in this
move. In the prophets’ view of humanity the individual, as single man, vanishes.67
Cohen summarizes his theory, outlined earlier, that states allow us to overcome our
natural individuality grounded ‘‘in metabolism’’, should create a ‘‘federation’’ that
begins to actualize the ideal of a united ‘‘humanity’’, and thus contribute to a vision
shared by Judaism’s ‘‘messianic monotheism’’.68 This summary plays an important
role in Cohen’s argument, allowing him to introduce his claim regarding possible
sources for a theory of subjectivity. For Cohen, if ethics envisions the ‘‘dissolution’’of
individuality through participation in the state and prophets prior to Ezekiel ‘‘join
in this move’’, we can only generate a notion of the ‘‘individual as I’’ by turning to
67
Cohen, Religion, pp. 178-179. I have slightly altered Kaplan’s translation.
68
Cohen’s reference to the ‘‘dissolution of the individual’’ is not a rejection of the state, for he describes
the state in similar terms in texts that defend such polities (see Cohen, Ethik, p. 433), and presents
this overcoming of individuality as part of his own ethics (see Religion, pp. 11-20). Rather, Cohen is
suggesting that we overcome our ‘‘natural’’ individuality as members of the state, and that this
account of the stateçwhile validçcannot generate an account of the ‘‘individual as I.’’ See also
Poma, pp. 199-202, 211-214. The question of whether this concern with the individual re£ects a break
with Cohen’s earlier thought lies beyond the scope of the present article.
69
This argument is also relevant to Taubes’s essay, which cautions against embracing ‘‘polytheism’’ and
‘‘mythology,’’ and presents the alternative to these approaches as being a ‘‘monotheism of reason’’ and
an ‘‘‘enlightened’ philosophy of revelation’’ (Taubes, ‘On the Current State’, pp. 302-310). Taubes thus
echoes the claim emerging from the summary of Cohen’s politics that we should turn to a
philosophy of religion (understood as a philosophical monotheism) as a source of crucial notions.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 199
that Taubes understands his embrace of Pauline thought as, in part, a rejection of
Cohen’s politics.
Taubes’s return to German-speaking Europe, then, culminates in an engagement
with German-Jewish liberalism. What I now wish to show, however, is that the
PTP’s relationship with Cohen’s work is not merely antagonistic. Knowingly or
unknowingly, Taubes re-enacts a variety of moves associated with his German-
Jewish opponent.70
Reconciliation of man with God [Verso« hnung des Menschen mit Gott] is the entire problem of
religion . . . And if we still require a historical proof that the Pharisees are genuine,
albeit one-sided, successors of the prophets, Yom Kippur [der Tag der Verso« hnung] has
provided this proof. For the Pharisees, the sages of the Talmud, really created it from
the biblical day of the sacri¢ce of the high priest with the marvelous consistency of
monotheism’s basic thought.80
Cohen cites the Pharisees’ emphasis on Verso« hnung as a mark of their Jewish
authenticity, arguing that insofar as a concern for reconciliation follows logically
from Jewish ‘‘monotheism’’, ¢gures who place an emphasis on the former count as
‘‘genuine’’ representatives of the latter.
Taubes and Cohen thus display a considerable degree of a⁄nity in their
identi¢cation of Verso« hnung as a concern that proves the Jewishness of Paul and the
75
Ibid., pp. 37-38. Lest we miss the emphasis on Paul’s Jewishness, the PTP pointedly notes that his ‘‘task
is not that of an apostle to the Gentiles, but that of an apostle from the Jews to the Gentiles.’’ See
also p. 48.
76
Ibid., p. 47.
77
For another line of reasoning regarding Paul’s Jewishness, see PTP, pp. 7-11 on ‘‘messianic logic’’.
78
Cohen, Religion, p. 215.
79
Ibid., pp. 165-215. See also Poma, pp. 211-228; Michael Zank, The Idea of Atonement in the Philosophy of
Hermann Cohen, Providence 2000.
80
‘‘Verso« hnung des Menschen mit Gott, das ist das ganze Problem der Religion . . . Und wenn es noch eines
geschichtlichen Beweises bedurfte, da die Pharisa«er echte, wenngleich einseitige Fortsetzer der Propheten sind, so
hat der Tag der Verso« hnung diesen Beweis erbracht; denn die Pharisa«er, die Weisen des Talmud haben aus dem
biblischen Opfertage des Hohenpriesters mit der wunderbaren Konsequenz des monotheistischen Grundgedankens
ihn geradezu gescha¡en.’’ Cohen,‘Der Tag der Verso«hnung’, in JS, vol. I, pp. 140-141.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 201
Pharisees, respectively. Moreover, while other Jewish thinkers also emphasize
Verso« hnung,81 the move whichTaubes echoes seems to be distinctively Cohenian, for I
know of no other ¢gure who advances the argument that a thinker’s concern with
Verso« hnung is capable of securing her Jewish authenticity.82 By establishing Paul’s
Jewishness through this reasoning, Taubes thus re-enacts an argumentative
strategy speci¢c to Cohen.
Moreover, we can identify a second a⁄nity between Taubes and Cohen if we
consider the PTP’s account of the history of Paul’s reception. Tracing the role of
Pauline propositions in Western thought, Taubes argues that such ideas serve as
presuppositions on which later ¢gures dependçthat premises on which the
arguments of various post-Pauline thinkers rely coincide with claims advanced
The question is where [Marcion] does capture an intentionçand he does take himself to
be Paul’s true disciple . . . Look at the jubilation we discussed, Romans 8: separated
from the love of God through Christ. God’s love, which Paul presumes, is very, very, far
away . . .The thread that links creation and redemption is a very thin one. A very, very
thin one. And it can snap. And that is Marcion. There the thread has snapped. He
readsçand he knows how to read!çthe father of Jesus Christ is not the creator of
heaven and earth.84
For Taubes, Marcion is best understood as a ¢gure who ‘‘reads’’ and develops Paul,
deriving from the apostle a belief in the fragility of ‘‘the thread that links creation
and redemption,’’ and developing from this separation a more radical distinction
between the God of ‘‘creation’’and the God of ‘‘redemption’’. In other cases, Taubes
is concerned less with historical derivation than with conceptual resemblance,
calling attention to thinkers who do not draw on the Apostle’s premises, but
nevertheless rely on ideas echoing Paul’s statements. For example, Taubes o¡ers the
following account of why Walter Benjamin considers worldly states to be ‘‘passing
away’’:
Of course I don’t want to say that it’s identical with Paul in a strictly exegetical sense. I
want to say: This is said out of the same experience, and there are hints in the text that
con¢rm this. These are experiences that shake Paul through and through and that
shake Benjamin through and through after 1918, after the war. That’s what I’m talking
about. This is not a matter of the ABCs of exegesis, but a question of optics.86
Ethical theory’s ethical life comes together with religion at this point, as in the end
nothing is left for it except to set up the idea of God . . . as surety for the future actualization of
ethical life on earth. This and nothing else is the clear meaning of the messianic idea of the
prophets . . . Cultured humanity has adopted this messianic idea; even philosophical
ethics has to adopt it. With it, however, the prophetic concept of God enters into the
theoretical content of philosophical ethics.87
85
Ibid., p. 72.
86
Ibid., p. 74.
87
‘‘Die ethische Sittlichkeit vereinigt sich an diesem Punkte mit der Religion, indem auch ihr nichts anderes am letzten
Ende u«brig bleibt, als die Idee Gottes aufzurichten . . . als Bu«rgschaft fu«r die einstige Verwirklichung der
Sittlicheit auf Erden. Dies und nichts anderes ist der klare Sinn der messianischen Idee der Propheten . . . Diese
messianische Idee hat die gebildete Menschheit angenommen. Auch die philosophische Ethik hat sie anzunehmen.
Damit aber tritt der prophetische Gottesbegri¡ in den Lehrgehalt der philosophischen Ethik ein.’’ Cohen, ‘Die
Bedeutung des Judentums fu«r den religio«sen Fortschritt der Menschheit’, in JS, vol. I, pp. 32-33.
88
Schwarzschild,‘The Title of Hermann Cohen’s ‘‘Religion of Reason out of the Sources of Judaism’’’, in
Religion, p. 9.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 203
Judaism’’to the property of ‘‘being an origin [Urspru«nglichkeit]’’89 which, he suggests,
should be understood as follows:
Religion certainly is not permitted to do without the lawfulness of its origin, as well as its
development . . . Reason is the organ of laws. The religion of reason, therefore, comes under
the light of lawfulness . . . Being an origin, which we have considered up till now to be
merely historical, appears now to be founded beyond the limits of all history:
lawfulness becomes the foundation of being an origin.90
Cohen thus sees Jewish texts as providing the ‘‘origin’’ of a system of ideas not by
meeting some ‘‘historical’’condition, but rather by being capable of ‘‘development’’
in a conceptual process characterized by ‘‘lawfulness’’çby articulating claims that
Humanity is the fundamental concept of his ethics. With the idea of humanity, he uprooted all
sensualism, all eudaemonism . . . Everyone should now again feel, in this main point, the
inner community between Germanism and Judaism . . .The biblical spirit has even
been active, as the deepest cause, in German humanism. Messianism is the fundamental
pillar of Judaism: it is its crown and root. It forms the creative fundamental theme of
monotheism, which Herder already emphasizes: ‘If Jehovah was the One, the creator of the
world, then He was also the God of all men, all races’.93
89
Cohen, Religion, p. 8; see also p. 34. I have altered Kaplan’s translation.
90
Cohen, Religion, p. 10. I have altered Kaplan’s translation.
91
Schwarzschild,‘The Title’, p. 9 and pp. 8-17. See also Poma, pp. 83-97, 171-233.
92
PTP, p. 62.
93
‘‘Die Menschheit ist der Grundbegri¡ seiner Ethik. Mit der Idee der Menschheit entwurzelt er allen
Sensualismus, allen Euda«monismus . . . An diesem Hauptpunkte sollte nun wiederum jedermann die innere
Gemeinschaft zwischen Deutschtum und Judentum fu«hlen . . . [D]er biblische Geist auch im deutschen
Humanismus als tiefste Ursache gewirkt hat. Der Messianismus aber ist der Grundpfeiler des Judentums;
er ist seine Krone und Wurzel. Er bildet das scho« pferische Grundmotiv des Monotheismus, das Herder schon
hervorhebt: ‘War Jehova der Einige, der Scho« pfer der Welt: so war er auch der Gott aller Menschen, aller
204 Elias Sacks
Cohen claims here that the Bible, through its image of ‘‘all men’’, supplies German
culture with a notion of humanity, that the great thinkers of ‘‘German humanism’’,
such as Kant, treat this ‘‘fundamental concept’’ as a building-block for their
arguments, and that this biblical notion’s underpinning role thus re£ects a
‘‘community’’ between Judaism and German culture. In other cases, however,
Cohen is concerned less with historical derivation than with conceptual
resemblance:
The distinction between the certainty of human cognition in the exact sciences, and the
certainty of human cognition in all questions of faith, became vivid for modern
man . . .That is the contrast that the German Enlightenment forms compared to the
age of Voltaire and the Encylopedists . . .Through the distinction between two types of certainty,
For Cohen, this ‘‘distinction’’ between scienti¢c and religious ‘‘certainty’’, rooted
in philosophical ‘‘idealism’’,95 serves as a premise or ‘‘foundation’’ for movements
such as ‘‘the German Enlightenment’’, since this distinction allows such thinkers to
pursue diverse modes of inquiry without making claims that would violate
intellectual ‘‘conscience’’. In particular, by positing multiple types of ‘‘certainty,’’
modern thinkers provide a ‘‘foundation’’ for accepting answers to theoretical and
religious questions without disingenuously presenting these answers as
epistemologically equalçfor treating these answers as ‘‘certain’’ without
disingenuously insisting that the same ‘‘certainty’’ inheres in both types of claims.
Cohen continues:
Suddenly, we have come into contact here with the Bible, and thus also with
Judaism . . . Idealism is not scienti¢cally prepared here, but the movement towards
philosophical speculation is unmistakable . . .This thought of God is not the thought of
science, but rather the thought of love. Cognition of God is love. Love is the genuine biblical
word for the reformational-biblical word faith.96
Geschlechter.’’’ Cohen,‘Deutschtum’, pp. 263-264. While Cohen uses the term Ursprung in passing, his
focus lies with historical derivation.
94
‘‘. . .ist dem modernen Menschen die Unterscheidung lebendig geworden zwischen der Gewiheit der
menschlichen Erkenntnis in den exakten Wissenschaften und der in allen Glaubensfragen . . . Das ist der
Unterschied, den die deutsche Aufkla«rung gegen das Zeitalter Voltaires und der Enzyklopa«disten
bildet . . . Durch die Unterscheidung der beiden Arten von Gewiheit hat die Idee des Protestantismus
dem wissenschaftlichen Kulturgewissen der modernen Vo« lker erst das sichere Fundament gegeben. Und alle
Entwicklung der Religion, wie nicht minder auch alle Entwicklung der Ethik ist bedingt durch diese Ausfu«hrung
des Idealismus der Kultur.’’ Ibid., pp. 242-243.
95
On Cohen’s use of this term, see ibid., pp. 239-243.
96
‘‘Unversehens sind wir hier schon auf die Beru«hrung mit der Bibel, also mit dem Judentum gekommen . . . Der
Idealismus ist hier nicht wissenschaftlich vorbereitet, aber die Richtung auf die philosophische Spekulation ist
unverkennbar . . . Dieses Denken Gottes ist nicht das Denken der Wissenschaft, sondern das Denken der Liebe.
Die Erkenntnis Gottes ist Liebe. Lieben ist das echte biblische Wort fu«r das reformatorisch-biblische Wort des
Glaubens.’’ Ibid., pp. 243-244.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 205
Here, Cohen insists that it is through his argumentative strategy that German
culture is brought ‘‘into contact . . . with Judaism’’, since this strategy reveals that
Judaism’s Bible echoes ^ but is not the historical source for ^ the distinction on
which modern thinkers rely. In other words, even though the Bible is not the source
that laid the ground for the idealist distinction between scienti¢c and religious
certainty,97 it nonetheless proposes a similar distinction between scienti¢c and
religious knowledge by presenting the ‘‘thought of God’’ not as a ‘‘thought of
science,’’ but rather as ‘‘cognition’’ involving ‘‘love’’ and ‘‘faith’’.98 The Cohenian
‘‘equation’’ attacked by Taubes, then, is based on identifying premises relied on by
German thinkers which are supplied by or echoed in ancientJewish texts.
In the passages surveyed above, then, both Taubes and Cohen connect ideas
When in our generation Zionists set out on ‘the utopian retreat to Zion’, Rabbinic
authorities looked askance at the enterprise on the whole, and were frightened by the
‘overtones of Messianism’ . . . The Messianic claim ‘has virtually been conjured up’ out
of the horror and destruction of European Jewry and has allowed wild apocalyptic
fantasy to take over political reality in the state of Israel. If the Messianic idea in
Judaism is not interiorized, it can turn the ‘landscape of redemption’ into a blazing
apocalypse.99
Taubes, then, worries that a state which grounds its legitimacy in a messianic task
might cast aside all restraint, seeing itself as entitled to employ even the most
violent means (a ‘‘blazing apocalypse’’) to pursue its divinely-sanctioned aims.
Taubes elaborates on this point elsewhere in his writings, arguing that a state
which denies the existence of God might force us to ‘‘su¡ocate in blood’’,100 that
such a state would lack ‘‘protective fences’’ restraining our ‘‘ingenerate’’ and
‘‘destructive’’ drives,101 but also that a theologically-grounded state would behave
97
Cohen presents the Greeks as sources for this idealism: see Cohen,‘Deutschtum’, pp. 237-241.
98
See Cohen,‘Das soziale Ideal bei Platon und den Propheten’, in JS, vol. I, pp. 306-312.
99
Taubes,‘The Price’, p. 600. The quotation marks indicate Taubes’s citations of Gershom Scholem’s The
Messianic Idea inJudaism.
100
Taubes to Mohler, p. 109.
101
Taubes,‘Theology and Political Theory’, in Social Research, 22 (1955), p. 68.
206 Elias Sacks
similarly to this atheistic polityçthat living in a state which fails to draw a
‘‘boundary between spiritual and worldly’’ (i.e. a state that draws on religious
concepts for legitimacy) would be like being ‘‘exposed to the thrones and powers
that in a ‘monistic’ cosmos no longer know any Beyond’’ (i.e. a state that does not
recognize God’s existence).102 That is, just as a state that denies the existence of
God might recognize no constraints on its behaviour, so too might a state that
claims divine sanction; after all, if the individuals who guide a state con£ate their
authority with God’s sovereignty, they might behave as if they were not subject to
any external power and fail to restrain their violent tendencies. Taubes worries,
then, that the theological legitimation of a state leaves us exposed to violence.
A third a⁄nity now becomes clear. If Taubes accuses Cohen of theologically
While my analysis has illuminated the PTP’s content, it also raises questions about
this work’s emergence. First, while we have seen that the PTP’s critique of Cohen is
shaped by Taubes’s opposition to the theologically-grounded state, it is less clear
why this particular preoccupation drives the PTP. Why does Taubes focus on the
theologically-grounded state when he believes that other modelsçsuch as an
atheistic polityçalso leave us exposed to violence? Second, while we have seen
that Taubes ascribes destructive consequences to the political posture he associates
with Cohen, it is less clear why the PTP identi¢es Pauline thought as the
alternative to this type of view. Why does Taubes endorse a posture that rejects
I did not invent the comparison between the Calvinist Puritans’ theocracy and the
Pharisees’ theocracy . . .The comparison forms the axis around which the o⁄cialJewish
scholarly analysis of the Pharisees turns: the analysis that Louis Finkelstein, the
chancellor of the JewishTheological Seminary in New York, one of the most signi¢cant
rabbinical institutions today, produced unchanged in three editions . . .We hold to the
comparison between Pharisees and Puritans, even if today it no longer sounds as stylish
and honourable. Certainly the Pharisees’ theocracy did not have a solely and purely
religious meaning, but rather was intended in an earthly, concrete,‘political’ way.108
Taubes argues that the American Puritans, like the Pharisees, provided a theological
grounding for their ‘‘earthly’’ political structures. Insofar as Taubes emphasizes
105
For example, a broader essay might discuss debates in Continental political theory, as well as the
impact of the Holocaust: see Assmann et al. afterword to PTP, pp. 138-142; Schulte, pp. 100-102.
106
Taubes,‘The Price’, p. 600.
107
He suggests that a ‘‘theocratic state’’ [theokratischen Staat] in Israel would constitute a ‘‘ghost’’
[Gespenst] of ‘‘Puritan New England’’ [puritanischen Neu-Englands]. Taubes,‘Walter Benjamin’, p. 143.
108
‘‘Den Vergleich zwischen Theokratie der calvinistischen Puritaner und der Theokratie der Pharisa«er . . . habe nicht
ich erfunden. Er bildet die Achse, um die o⁄zielle ju«dische gelehrte Analyse der Pharisa«er sich dreht, die Louis
Finkelstein, der Kanzler des Ju«disch-Theologischen Seminars in New York, einer der bedeutendsten rabbinischen
Institutionen der Gegenwart, in drei Au£agen unvera«ndert vorlegte . . . Halten wir am Vergleich zwischen
Pharisa«er und Puritaner fest, auch wenn er heute nicht mehr so schick und ehrenvoll klingt. Die Theokratie der
Pharisa«er hat wahrlich nicht nur einen allein rein religio« sen Sinn, sondern ist irdisch konkret ‘politisch’gemeint.’’
Ibid., p. 144.
208 Elias Sacks
these modern instances of theological legitimation shortly before composing the
PTP, then, it seems reasonable to treat a concern with these episodes as paving the
way for the PTP’s claims. That is, one of Taubes’s reasons for attacking the
theological legitimation of the state, rather than another target, seems to be a
belief that some modern nations appeal to religious concepts for authority, and
that theological legitimation thus constitutes a threat worthy of attention. So, in
attacking the politics he links to Cohen, Taubes is in part drawing what he sees as a
lesson from American and Israeli history, a lesson which teaches us that the
theological legitimation of the state remains a real danger in modernity, and that
this move should therefore be challenged when recommended by a thinker.
Of course, Taubes might have focused on America and Israel even if he had not
109
While some texts also brie£y invoke France, Geneva, and England, it is primarily America and
Israel that are cited as models of such states; indeed, the allusions to Geneva and England focus on
the American successors of Swiss Calvinists and English Puritans. See Taubes, ‘Theology’, pp. 64-68;
‘On the Symbolic Order of Modern Democracy’, in Con£uence, vol. IV, no. 1 (1955), pp. 57-71; ‘Walter
Benjamin’, pp. 143-144.
110
See Occidental, p. 119; the Puritans also appear on p. 19.
111
See Taubes,‘Theology’, pp. 64-68; ‘On the Symbolic Order’, pp. 57-71.
112
See also PTP, p. 44.
JacobTaubes, Hermann Cohen, and the Return to German-Jewish Liberalism 209
the experience of living without a human king undermines belief in a divine
sovereign:
What is a king in the perspective of our age? . . . Is the royal symbol not reduced in a
democratic society to a mere petri¢ed allegory that has no root in the consciousness of
the community? . . . Can the religious symbols £ourish if they are not rooted in man’s
concrete political experience?113
Invoking Paul’s ‘‘quietistic’’ approach, Taubes claims to ¢nd this posture ‘‘not at all
strange’’ in the light of his life in America. That is, he claims to be attracted to this
posture because Pauline detachment from Rome echoes his own detachment from
the United States: just as Paul avoids interfering with the empire’s operations while
rejecting the empire’s calls for loyalty, so too does Taubes accept the operations of
the American state while remaining a politico-cultural outsider, receiving an
American passport without considering himself ‘‘very American’’. And while it
may be tempting to dismiss this remark, it was precisely after living in America
and Israel that Taubes began to describe Paul as worthy of endorsement: while
Taubes’s dissertation, written in Switzerland, devotes no more attention to the
Apostle than to a variety of other ¢gures,115 a letter written after several years
abroad claims that life ‘‘leads’’ to Paul.116 When Taubes declares that his time in
America disposes him favorably towards Romans, then, both his emphasis on
‘experience’, and the history of his Paulinism, indicate that we should take him
seriously. Taubes’s experience as a not ‘‘very American’’American may have shaped
his embrace of Pauline politics, of a vision which becomes plausible in part because
it coheres with his own sense of detachmentçwith his experience as a politico-
cultural outsider.
To conclude, then,Taubes understands his embrace of Paul as, in part, a rejection
of Cohen’s politics. Taubes’s attraction to this Pauline alternative, in turn, may have
113
Taubes,‘On the Symbolic Order’, p. 58.
114
PTP, pp. 40-41. I have slightly altered Hollander’s translation.
115
Although he presents Paul as a ‘‘turning point,’’ Taubes neither o¡ers the endorsement of Paul that
we ¢nd in later works, nor devotes more attention to the apostle than to other thinkers, such as
Thomas Mu«ntzer, Kant, and Hegel. See Occidental, pp. 58-69, 106-118, and 137-163. See also Schulte,
pp. 94-100.
116
Taubes to Mohler, p. 110. By this point, Taubes had lived in both Israel and the United States.
210 Elias Sacks
been shaped by his experience living outside of Europe, for he ¢nds in the Epistle a
political ‘‘mentality’’ that coheres with his own experience as an outsider. When
privileging Pauline detachment from empire over Cohenian loyalty to the state,
then, Taubes embraces a political vision rendered more plausible, perhaps, by his
time in foreign nations: just as the historical study undertaken during his time
abroad grounds a commitment that shapes his critique of Cohen, so too may a
sense of detachment related to that experience ground the selection of Paul as the
alternative to Cohen. A close reading of Taubes’s work thus suggests that the
histories of the nations in which he lived, as well as his experience as a politico-
cultural outsider, may have shaped his engagement with German-Jewish thought.
Taubes’s return to German-speaking Europe, then, culminates in an engagement
117
For example, given that the chapter of Religion he examines in 1983 is concerned with Verso« hnung, did
he perceive the similarities between his exploration of Verso« hnung and Cohen’s treatment of this
theme?
118
We might, in particular, explore similarities between Taubes and Schmitt (for possible sources, see
note 17, above).
119
We could, for instance, question whether Taubes’s politics coheres with his anthropology; for at the
same time as calling for a community governed by love, he presents human beings as violent
creatures driven by ‘‘ingenerate’’ and ‘‘destructive’’ impulses.