Like All the Other Nations Jewish Desires for (and against) Kings and Sovereignty

1. "For it is not you that they have rejected, it is Me": When the Jews Pled for a King

2. Is having a king a mitzva? (Is it an aveira?)

2a. It's a mitzva

2b. It's optional

2c. It's giving aveira...

3. Can a King do Whatever He Wants?

3a. Yes

3b. Really?

3c. No

4. "Crying out": Rabbis and Prophets after experiencing kings

5. Like all the other nations: A model or a cautionary tale?

A Model: Zionism

A Cautionary Tale: Anarchism

For us, the Jewish people, our entire distinctiveness is the Torah and Judaism; the kingdom of the spirit is our state territory.

Rabbi Aaron Samuel Tamares - A Passionate Pacifist, Everett Gendler

​​Rabbi Aharon Shmuel Tamares (1869–1931)—an underappreciated Polish rabbi and philosopher who has recently gained more attention following the publication of a translated collection of his writing—makes a direct connection between the Israelites’ penchant for adopting their neighbors’ practices and the rise of Jewish political nationalism, which he traces back to the Israelites’ entrance into the Land of Israel and their decision to appoint kings as rulers. “The Holy Spirit,” he writes, “began to be driven away and separated from [the Jewish People] by the gross spirit of ‘political nationalism’ which took their hearts. And as the Holy Spirit fled from the people, the imprint of the Torah also faded.” Thus, the “Jewish People fulfilled its intention to be ‘like all the nations,’ and performed its part: it saddled itself with kings. And the kings performed their part: they involved the nation in cruel wars, and thus the people [became both] killed and killers, slaughtered and slaughterers . . . All of it, the whole business, exactly as carried [out] in the surrounding nations.” Rabbi Tamares links this ancient politicization to the Jewish embrace of 20th-century nationalism in the development of political Zionism. In his view, “Zionism understood in this way should be spurned and discarded,” for it represented the most recent fulfillment of our parshah’s grim warning: Inspired by the nations around us, who saw nationalism as the highest embodiment of collectivity, we, too, took on a nationalist ethos, despite God’s disapproval.

Often, Jewish commitment to separatism is seen as a root cause of Jewish supremacy, especially as enshrined in Israeli apartheid’s legal subjugation of Palestinians. And indeed, verses like the ones in our parshah that prohibit adopting the practices of the people around us can lead us to believe that we are fundamentally different from and superior to others—chosen for a higher and more sacred purpose, unlike them. But as Rabbi Tamares explains it, Jewish supremacy is not the result of our attempts to be distinct, but rather the manifestation of our sameness. It is what emerges when we, despite the Torah’s many warnings, embrace the practices of rulers and kings, seek protection and safety in idolatrous ideologies and states. This reading suggests that to counteract and uproot Jewish supremacy, we need not shy away from the particularity of what it means to be Jewish, but should instead interrogate the places where we—individually and collectively—have internalized and replicated the ways of oppressive nations and empires.

Laynie Soloman - Drash on Parshat Nitzavim-Vayelech, Jewish Currents Newsletter 9/27/24

Scholem always wondered whether Jewish history “would be able to endure this entry into the concrete realm,” because, in a sense, the resurrection of the Jewish people onto the international stage—and the concomitant negation of their history of exile—was the most assimilatory act of all: joining the world of powerful nation-states, with all its dark demands. One wonders whether, to this end, Zionism exiles Jews anew by exiling them from their history of exile. Perhaps this is what Scholem meant when he warned, with his dim hyperbole, that “even if we wish to be a nation like all the nations, we will not succeed. And if we succeed–that will be the end of us.”

Samuel Earle - A Nation Like All Others: Gershom Scholem and the Paradox of Zionism, Jewish Currents

6. Anarchist Tehillim: 146

EXTRA RELATED SOURCES

Not in order

As other midrashim make clear, this dispute is not merely about monarchy as opposed to other forms of political sovereignty. Rather, it is about divine sovereignty in relation to human sovereignty as such. Enumerating the sins of even the best kings, the hermeneut concludes by quoting Isaiah 33:22, ‘the Lord shall be our ruler, the Lord shall be our prince, The Lord shall be our king,’ and envisions a messianic reversal of the demand issued in I Samuel (DR 5:11).

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

Then, alone the ‘Lord shall be Exalted (Isaiah 2:17)’ — the proverbial kingdom of heaven is restored; ‘peace, and justice’ will serve as ‘your officials’ and the sound of violence ‘shall no more be heard (Isaiah 60:17–18).’

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

If among the haluzim Zionism represented a ‘principled rebellion,’ over time it came to look ‘only toward the forms of life already proposed by the other nations, its ideal goes no farther than to be like the other peoples.’ Thus, it became ‘thickly overgrown with the European order (Steinberg 1925, 17)’ it once rejected, its ideology being reduced to ‘a copy of the presently ruling capitalist-statist ideology.’ Its utopian vision degraded into ‘a simple translation of reality (Steinberg 1952, 201–202)’ into Hebrew. Intimately aware that ‘modern states are built on diplomatic lies, democratic swindles, national violence-politics, military yokes, and economic exploitation,’ he insisted the Jewish people must not ‘build a copy of the surrounding world (Steinberg 1952, 289).’

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

In a similar vein, Steinberg contended that diaspora Jewish experience militates, so to speak, against militarism. ‘In the course of their wandering throughout the world,’ he wrote, ‘the Jews have more than once seen how states and statist civilizations come to be, grow, reach a peak of power and influence’ and then crumble as a result of ‘sin and crime ... [and] evil tyranny (Steinberg 1952, 379);’ we ‘who have seen what the gentiles do with their states cannot easily accept undertaking the same (Steinberg 1952, 424). Rather, ‘the warning of the prophet Samuel against the institution of kings and rulers’ remained valid...

Concentration on my State, on ‘my country, right or wrong,’ is responsible for that indifference and hostility to neighboring States, which must sooner or later lead to war. Thousands of injustices and stupidities which the average person condemns in his private life are transformed into just and wise actions the moment they are bedecked with state patriotism ... [which even permits leaders] to violate the rights of their own peoples and to stifle the natural solidarity of mankind. (Steinberg 1946, 115)

Thus, if ‘military-political power, diplomatic swindles, national patriotism, and propaganda disrupt humanity (Steinberg 1952, 437),’ Yavneh fortifies the Jews against it and cultivates in them an appreciation for the fact that ‘weapons are not objects of beauty and decoration, but things of dishonor (Steinberg 1955, 240; Shabbat 63a).’

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

‘I am not afraid,’ he wrote shortly before the Israeli War of Independence, of the fight to establish the state, but ‘of the consequences of the fight (Steinberg 1946).’ A tiny state founded against the will of its neighbors and therefore constantly under threat would become one in which ‘Jewish life will stand in the service of military self-defence.’ This, he feared, would cripple its moral and cultural development (Steinberg 1952, 383).’

The central ‘Jewish concept,’ Steinberg explained, had always ‘been the quest for harmony between thought and deed, the desire that politics and morals ought not to be two different worlds, but rather one and the same (Steinberg 1956a).’ It had been about ‘striving for peace, for justice, for the brotherhood of nations (Steinberg 1951b).’ That is why, ‘Jewish spiritual tradition has not allowed itself to be misled by states and rulers, by political and financial power, by physical force and armed might.’ Turning aside from this tradition, Steinberg warned, the Jewish people risked losing ‘its own historic face,’ becoming ‘like the rest of them, like the ruling nations of the West (Steinberg 1956a).’

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

Today, where are all the Caesars, church fathers, and generals who have tread us underfoot? Where did they go? Where? They have disappeared into the molekh of their own hate. But we homeless vagabonds who have survived the darkness of hate and power, we live, and live actively. Is that not justice? ... I have also suffered pain and bitterness from my childhood on. It is for that precise reason that I am not one who takes vengeance, but a revolutionary ... We Jews take part in every revolution. Wherever there are people who want to throw off the last of their pain ... there are Jews there, and they fight, sacrifice themselves, and die. This is our ‘vengeance’ — that we who, more than any other, have sipped from the cup of sorrow will, with our feet, tread upon that cup for the sake of humanity.

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

This was not a threat Steinberg limited to the Jewish community of Israel. Rather, he saw it as a worldwide Jewish problem. This accusation is most pronounced in his response to the Qibya massacre (Steinberg 1953a). The fact, he wrote, ‘that Jews ... could, in cold calculation, murder dozens of innocent men, women, and children ... is in itself a hair-raising crime,’ but worse ‘is the indifferent or satisfied reaction to this event (Steinberg 1953b)’ in Jewish communities everywhere. ‘Fatal proof of the moral upheaval taking place in the Jewish world’ was ignored. Contrary to the example set by King David, who cried ‘I stand guilty before the Lord (2 Samuel 12:13)’ when confronted with his crime (Steinberg, undated E), they prevaricated: ‘speeches began with: “of course we are sorry,” and ended with: “but others are guilty too.”’ In the abyss between ‘of course’ and ‘but,’ Steinberg claimed ‘was lost all the Jewish moral sensitivity which has guided our people throughout its history (Steinberg 1953b).’

Thus, Steinberg asked, how long can ‘a wise and discerning people (Deuteronomy 4:6)’ be stricken with ‘uncritical enthusiasm’ and ‘struck blind (Steinberg, undated E)’ concerning its own national projects? ‘We dare not wait until nations ... come preaching morality to our sorely tried people, and tell it that it has not acted honestly, that it has spilled innocent blood,’ he urged. The real criticism must ‘come from the Jewish people itself, from the very depth of the Jewish soul ... We will permit no one to take from us this right and this privilege which we have accepted ourselves (Steinberg 1956b).’ In this way, he suggested, the Jewish people must answer an existential question: ‘do we wish simply to live, or do we wish to give life the meaning ascribed to it by the prophets (Steinberg 1935b, 289)?’ — to truly be an ‘atah bahartanu (chosen)’ people or just to pretend?

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

As Steinberg went on to explain, Jewish cultural vitality was ensured not only by dispersion itself, but also due to the fact that Jews did not waste ‘their national energies on upholding states and the other institutions that belong to them (Simha 1966).’ Rather, in response to the imperative ‘you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation (Exodus 19:6),’ Judaism ‘never concealed its rebellious nature,’ its exclusive devotion to the ‘King of Kings (Steinberg 1955, 241)’ to whom alone sovereignty belongs (Steinberg 1952, 379).’ This meant that ‘in the midst of the Jewish people stood not the majestic throne of royalty, but the invisible glory of Mount Sinai (Steinberg 1955, 242).’ Relying explicitly on Rocker’s claim in National- ism and Culture to the effect that Germany was a center of European culture until it became obsessed with national unification, Steinberg argued that the more a people grows ‘in political, technical, and economic power, the less they supply themselves with the inner spiritual and moral power that builds and supports a lively people (Steinberg 1952, 379).’ Thus, because the Jews upheld a ‘concept of peoplehood nurtured on religious and moral demands’ over and against ‘the concept of statehood that continually swept the nations around them,’ they ‘felt stronger and even more sure (Steinberg 1955, 237).’

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

According to Steinberg, R. Yohanon[, when saving Yavne and its sages and abandoning Jerusalem,] acted not as a private individual, but ‘was driven to it as if by an unspoken command of the people itself;’ as an agent of its collective will. So he explained: they were ‘disillusioned with their statehood, its errors, crimes, and sins.’ Thus, ‘to assure their spiritual survival and their innermost national-religious substance,’ they rejected it. The ‘streets of an embattled Jerusalem were strewn’ not only with the shattered remnants of ‘a fallen political order,’ but the discarded shreds of a whole ‘national-political ideology (Steinberg 1955, 235).’ R. Yohanon merely gave popular sentiment a concrete expression.

As Steinberg proceeded to explain, he aimed not to save the homeland, but to ‘transform the very concept of a Jewish homeland (Steinberg 1955, 235–236).’ From then on, ‘the life principle of the Jewish people’ would not be organized around the idea of ‘my land,’ but around ‘the power and sanctity of the spiritual-religious idea’ that ‘his presence fills all the earth (Isaiah 6:3; Steinberg 1952, 379–380).’ It would not coalesce within the ‘proud walls of Jerusalem,’ but within the ‘humble but indestructible walls of the beyt midrash, the house of study (Steinberg 1955, 236).’

This fundamental change in the relationship of Jewish identity to Jewish places and power produced a new conception of collective life: the tabernacle of the Torah ‘always travelled with Keneset Yisrael,’ the congregation of Israel writ large, that established ‘countless Jerusalems in the diaspora (Steinberg 1955, 236).’ As each community took root and situated itself in a new ‘cultural environment (Steinberg 1948, 118),’ it brought ‘forth nothing but Jewishness’ though in ever varying forms (Steinberg 1948, 120). As each such center fell, its inhabitants carried with them this accumulated cultural wealth to the next Jerusalem and increased it still further (Steinberg 1950). Thus, Judaism thrived not in spite of, but because of its dispersion — dispersion enriched it.

Yitshak Nahman Steinberg

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

Ahad Ha’am, a major intellectual force within Hibbat Zion, according to whom the goal was national-cultural revival, not politics. Mediating between the division of so-called ‘ethnic’ and ‘civic’ nationalisms — the former legitimated by common ancestry, culture, and land, the latter by the will of a (potentially) diverse population as embodied in a shared constitution (Kohn 1946, 330–331; Meinecke 2015, 10) — he represented the fullness of human life in ethnic terms, while at the same time identifying ‘Jewish spirit’ with the grand moral vision of the prophets, who taught Israel to ‘respect only spiritual power’ and ‘not to seek glory in the attainment of material power and political dominion (Kohn 1951).’ In Fichtean fashion (Kohn 1949b), he defined Jewish national particularism in universal terms and rejected Zionist aspirations toward ‘normalization,’ insisting that the Jews not ‘become like other peoples’ but serve as a beacon illuminating a higher mode of life.

Ahad Ha'am

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

On Abravanel’s reading, not only is the monarchy optional, but it is analogous to that of the infamous rule of the ‘beautiful woman,’ whom a soldier may take captive (Deuteronomy 21:10–14) but will, in doing so, be considered utterly despicable. He then proceeds to inquire whether societies need kings and, if so, whether that same necessity applies to Jews. Kings, he says, serve several functions, all of which can be fulfilled through other political structures — the Italian republics of his day being a case in point. On the basis of this reference, many scholars regard Abravanel as a republican thinker (Kimelman 1995). In doing so, however, they disregard his claim that for the Jews God fulfills these functions through his Torah — which means that, at least for them, human authority is rejected.

The same error, he attributes to the builders of the Tower of Babel. It led them to devote All their attention to innovating the skills required for building a city with a tower in it, so as to gather together therein and render themselves civilised (medinim) ... They strove only to found states (kibbuts medinot) ... believing this to be the highest human achievement while ignoring all that follows from it: titles, appointments, dominion, imaginary honors, the pleasure of accumulat- ing property, violence, theft, and bloodshed. Here, Abravanel expresses what could be described as an anarcho-primitivist viewpoint. The rise of the state is associated with a capriciousness that

destroys natural human solidarity and also the human bond with God.

Indeed, that is the meaning he ascribes to the dispersion: they ‘withdrew

from brotherhood’ in order each ‘to own things for himself’ and likewise

‘they migrated from the east (mi’kedem) (Genesis 11:2),’ parting from ‘the

One who preceded the world (Kadmono shel Olam) (GR 38, 7).’
there is no mention of kings, just statecraft. Yet, Abravanel’s hostility is equally if not more palpable.

Accordingly, he goes so far as to reject the doctrine of the anointed ‘king

messiah (Yeshu’ot Meshiho, II.3).’ In the end of days, he says no one shall

‘serve any prince, king, or ruler; only God.’ Rather, everyone will be as
equal as they were at the beginning of creation, in the generation of Adam;’

Presumably, by absolute language like ‘no one’ and ‘everyone,’ he means also to include gentiles. Thus, we find that Abravanel’s vision is not republican, but positively anti-authoritarian, serving as an alternative to the Maimonidean norm that sided with R. Yehudah in interpreting the laws of the king, it later served as a primary resource for anarchistically inclined Jewish theo- logians wishing to side with R. Nehorai instead. Like Kropotkin, who began as a prince and became an anarchist, Abravanel may have filled the role of a ‘Jewish aristocrat,’ but his heart was filled with ‘the deepest Jewish anarchism (Bick 1940, 74).’

Isaac Abarbanel

No Masters but God - Portraits of Anarcho Judaism, Hayyim Rothman

A whole nation, just as an individual, must arrange its way of life on the foundation of the aphorism mentioned by Tosafot (Bava Kama 23), “one must be more concerned about harming others than in being harmed by others.” Indeed, for when a person strives to guard his own fists from causing harm to others he causes, through this, the reign of the God of truth and justice over the world, and he gives strength to the kingdom of righteousness. This strengthening of righteousness will in turn guard him against being harmed by others. This is not the case if he prioritizes his own self-defense and keeps his fists ready to defend against the attacks of others. Behold, by this very way of thinking he weakens the power of justice and arouses the characteristics of wickedness. As the text of the Passover Haggadah states, “And I shall pass [through Egypt] on this night—I and not an emissary.” The Holy Blessed One could have given Israel the ability to exact revenge on the Egyptians themselves. However the Holy Blessed One did not want to show them how to use their own fists. Even though at that moment it would be to protect themselves from the wicked, it would end up causing the spread of the use of the fist throughout the world, and the defenders would eventually become pursuers [...] We can now explain the beraita that discusses the verse, “and you shall not leave, not any one, from the door of his home until the morning.” Rav Yosef taught, “once permission was given to the destroyer, he will not differentiate between wicked and righteous.” At first glance, this beraita is a deep contradiction to the statement in the Haggadah of “I and not an emissary.” How can the beraita say, “once permission was given to the destroyer!” But according to our ways the two statements match. For the beraita is coming to explain why the Holy Blessed One sought to exact vengeance Himself and did not allow the Israelites even to look. The answer is that God acted in this way so as not to arouse the destroyer that is within the Israelites themselves. For once permission is given, he will not distinguish between wicked and righteous and the defender will in the end become a pursuer.

Contemporary youths, members of the new movements, do not understand at all that Israel has a special destiny in the world [...] Because of this, they present the galut as a simple and secular phenomenon that does not contain within itself any advantage [...] Recently, they have decided amongst themselves “beli neder” to remove the galut with all the means at their disposal, whether to find some new land or to change the organization of the lands where they already reside. But all of their struggles are for naught. Exile, and accompanying antisemitism, are not, God forbid, some sort of incitement or pogrom from the Holy Blessed One when we fall behind in offering up to him “taxes” in the form of mitzvot. Rather, exile is a necessary result of our destiny and our role.

We left the political arena under duress but also with a certain inner willingness, until that happy time when a polity could be governed without wickedness or barbarism. The delay has been necessary. We have been disgusted with the terrible iniquities of ruling during the evil age. Now the time has come, is very near, when the world will be refined and we shall be able to prepare ourselves [...] It is not for Jacob to engage in government as long as it entails bloodshed, as long as it requires a knack for wickedness.

Tamares, “Freedom,” from Pacifism, the Jewish Mission, and Religious Anti-Zionism: Rabbi Aaron Samuel Tamares in Context, David Wolkenfeld

The great ideas of the eighteenth century have not passed by our people without leaving a trace. We feel not only as Jews; we feel as men. As men, we, too, would fain live and be a nation like others.

Leon Pinsker - Autoemancipation, 1882