Richard J.

Bernstein
Is Politics "Practicable"
without Religion?

The good Lord did not create religion: He created the world.
Franz Rosenzweig

THIRTY YEARS AGO, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF A FEW SCHOLARS,

political theology was barely discussed. Today political theology seems
to be the rage, with symposia, anthologies, and books dedicated to
the topic. Why? Insofar as political theology is used to designate the
extremely broad range of issues concerning the complex relationships
among pohtics, theology, and religion, there are good reasons for this
interest. Secularization theories^whether primarily descriptive, pred-
icative, or prescriptiveare in complete disarray.^ No one today believes
what was once, only a short time ago, an unquestioned dogma: that with
rapid global modernization, rehgion is or will be disappearing. And only
a small minority of militant atheists think that it ought to disappear.
There has been a grovnng awareness of the power of religion and how it
influences pohtics. Indeed, basic questions are being raised today about
the very meaning and boundaries of politics, religion, and theology.
Although the term "political theology" has a long history, its
intellectual popularity today is primarily due to the influence of Carl
Schmitt's 1922 monograph. Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept
of Sovereignty. There has been endless commentary on the famous open-
ing sentence, "Sovereign is he who decides on the exception" (Schmitt
1985, 5). The beginning of Schmitt's third chapter has been taken as the
urtext of the contemporary discussion of pohtical theology. Let me cite
it in full.

social research Vol. 80 : No. 1 : Spring 2013 33

 All significant concepts of the modem theory of the state
are secularized theological concepts not only because of
their historical developmentin which they were trans-
ferred from theology to the theory of the state, whereby,
for example, the omnipotent God became the omnipotent
lawgiverbut also because of their systematic structure,
the recognition of which is necessary for a sociological
consideration of these concepts. The exception in juris-
pmdence is analogous to the miracle in theology. Only by
being aware of this analogy can we appreciate the manner
in which the philosophical ideas of the state developed in
the last centuries (1985, 36).

Although recent discussion of political theologyor, more accurately,

political theologiesencompass a great variety of different issues, there
is one strain in these debates that I want to single out and challenge.
Pohtical theology has been understood to mean thatin the final anal-
ysisthe "legitimacy," "authority," "intelligibihty," the "practicability"
of politics depends on theological or rehgious presuppositions. If we are
to make sense of politicsor, more precisely, what Schmitt calls "the
political"then we cannot do so unless we appeal to such religious
concepts as faith, the sacred, and original sin. This is true whether we
view politics from the perspective of participants or from the perspec-
tive ofthe theoretician who seeks to make sense of pohtics. So contrary
to the suggestion that Schmitt makes in his other famous book that
"the pohtical" is an autonomous sphere of human endeavor that can
be sharply distinguished from other spheres, the political itselfulti-
matelypresupposes theological categories. I will label this strain in
political theology the "presupposition strain," and I am using this in
a broad sense to concentrate on the claim that politics needs religion,
pohtics presupposes religion, and that we cannot finally make sense of
politics vwthout appeal to theological concepts.
I want to develop my critique by focusing on what may initially
seem to be an extremely odd couple, Carl Schmitt and Simon Critchley.

34 social research
Critchley has been a sharp critic of Schmitt and the new Schmittians,
whether on the right or the left. And Critchley is a champion of the
type of anarchistic politics that Schmitt detested. So it may seem that
both the letter and the spirit of Schmitt and Critchley are absolutely
antithetical to each other. And they truly are. But as any careful reader
of Hegel (or Derrida) knows, what initially appears to be antithetical
has a curious and devious way of coming close to its opposite. Stating
my thesis more judiciously, I think that there is a deep stmcture that
Schmitt and Critchley sharea common framework that needs to be
exposed and challenged.

I GREATLY ADMIRE MY COLLEAGUE SIMON CRITCHLEY. I THINK HE IS

one of the most original, creative, and thought-provoking contempo-
rary thinkers. I especially admire his imagination, creativity, and intel-
lectual daring. The Faith of the Faithless: Experiments in Political Theology is
stunningfilled with fresh interpretations of Rousseau, Heidegger, St.
Paul, and medieval mysticism. Critchley is never afraid to take risks
and to engage in what Hannah Arendt once called "thinking without
banisters." And because he has the rare abihty to write about difficult
and complex issues vdth great lucidity, the "presupposition strain" in
his experiments in political theology emerges with dramatic sharpness.
I want to make it absolutely clear that I am neglecting much that is well
worth discussing in his rich and varied discussions, such as his reflec-
tions on love. I am focusing exclusively on the "presupposition strain"
in his thinking about faith of the faithless.
In a section of his book entitled "Why pohtics is not practicable
v^thout rehgion and why this is problematic," Critchley raises the ques-
tion "Is politics conceivable without rehgion?" "The answer," he writes,
"is obviously affirmative, as the evidence of various secular political
theories testifies." But this is not what Critchley takes to be the interest-
ing or central question. He goes on to ask;

But is politics practicable without rehgion? That is the ques-

tion. . . . Can politics become effective as a way of shaping.

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 35

 motivating, and mobilizing a people or peoples without
some sort of dimensionif not foundationthat is reli-
gious, without some sort of appeal to transcendence, to
externality, to what we called above, with Charles Taylor,
"fullness," however substantive or otherwise that appeal
might be? I do not think so (Critchley 2012, 24; emphasis
in original).

Critchley claims that this is precisely the question that Rousseau's

thinking about politics faces.

The exemplarity of Rousseau, to my mind, consists in

the fact that he gives us the definitive expression of the
modem conception of politics: that is, politics is the break
with any conception of nature and natural law and has to
be based in the concepts of popular sovereignty, free asso-
ciation, rigorous equality, and collective autonomy under-
stood as the self-determination of a people. And yet, in order
for this modem conception of politics to become effective it has to
have a religious dimension, a moment of what the Romans
used to call theologia dvilis, civil theology (Critchley 2012,
24; emphasis added).

These are strong and controversial claims. They are not incidental to
Critchley's project: they are central. Initially, the claim that politics
requires political theology, that if politics is to become effective it must
have a religious dimension, appears to sound more like Schmitt than
any radical political thinkerespecially one who champions anar-
chism. But Critchley retorts: "It seems to me that the left has all too
easily ceded the religious ground to the right and it is this ground that
needs to be regained in a coherent, long-term, and tenacious war of
position, as Gramsci would say" (Critchley 2012, 25). In short, with-
out an appeal to rehgion, faith, transcendence and the sacred, politics
todaya radical leftist pohticsis not "practicable."^

36 social research
 To properly appreciate what Critchley is saying and doing, I want
to make two prehminary comments. The first deals v^ath what I take to
be his primary concern, worry, and anxiety. It is a deep concern with
the possibihty of pohtics in the face of the "motivational deficit" that
is so pervasive and stifiing in liberal democratic societies. This motiva-
tional deficit leaves us vwth two completely unsatisfactory alternatives:
passive and active nihilism. The passive nihilist looks at the world and
finds it meaningless. He concludes that humans are simply rapacious
animals and he advocates that we should cultivate our own personal
projects and try to achieve a type of calm superior contemplation rather
than trying to change the world^we should be "pohtical realists." The
active nihihst believes that much of the modern world of capitalism,
liberal democracy, and secular humanism is meaningless and that "the
only way to remake meaning is through acts of spectacular destruc-
tion" (Critchley 2008, 5).
Critchley not only strongly resists both forms of nihilism; he
understands philosophical activity"the free movement of thought
and critical reflection" (2008, 2)to be defined by its militant resis-
tance to nihilism. In his earlier book. Infinitely Demanding: Ethics of
Commitment, Politics of Resistance, Critchley focused on current political
disappointment rather than religious disappointment, although he
acknowledged that these forms of disappointment are closely related.
But he has come to realize that these two forms of disappointment are
even more intimately related than he previously suggestedthat his
ethics of commitment and politics of resistance require a confronta-
tion with the religious dimension of politics and a proper political
theology. One of the deepest reasons Critchley turns to political theol-
ogy is because he is convinced that faiththe faith of the faithlessis
absolutely necessary if one is to honestly face the question of what
can "motivate a subject to act in concert with others." "[R]ationality
alone is insufficient" (2012,19).
My second conunent is that if we are to grasp what Critchley is
saying and doing, we have to fully appreciate how deeply paradoxical
his stance isand he is fully self-conscious about this. This is, of course.

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 37

reflected in the very title "the faith of the faithless." Although Critchley
constantly appeals to religious categories, he deeply questions the
very possibility of religion. Throughout, Critchley speaks of a "series
of dcalagesdisplacements, moments of tension, ambiguity or seem-
ing contradiction" (2012,9).^ What Critchley means by dcalages is quite
close to what Derrida calls "aporias": conditions that are at once neces-
sary and impossible. Consequently, although Critchley is constantly
drawing upon religious and theological concepts, especially from
Christian sources, he is also undermining these concepts. He refuses
the standard either/oreither secularism or theism. We will see that
Critchley's political theology turns out to be a theory of fictions.

BEFORE PURSUING CRITCHLEY'S ARGUMENT FOR THE NECESSITY

of a new political theology, I want to turn back to Schmitt. When
Schmitt claims that all significant concepts of the state (and politics)
are theological, he is not merely making a "historical" point but a
systematic one. There is no escape from political theology. This is just as
true of the modem constitutional state that is based on deism, which
banished "the miracle from the world," as it is true of anarchism, which
defines itself as opposing the state and all political theology. In the
final chapter of Political Theology, he rehearses a grand contesta great
battle between the counterrevolutionary philosophy of de Maistre,
Bonard, and Donoso Corts and the champions of anarchism including
Proudhon, Kropotkin, and especially Bakunin, "the greatest anarchist
of the nineteenth century" (1985, 66). Schmitt tells us that the true
significance of the counterrevolutionary philosophers of the state lies
in the consistency with which they decidethe consistency with which
they do not evade the "exacting moral decision" that is the core of the
political idea. Donoso Corts demands a political dictatorship, a pure
decision that is not based on reason and discussion but "an absolute
decision created out of nothingness" (1985, 66). The last great battle is
between authority and anarchism. Ironically, there is common ground
between dictatorship and anarchism, for both agree that every govern-
ment is necessarily absolute. But the counterrevolutionaries argue

38 social research
that dictatorship is the only way to confront the radical evil of human
beings, whereas the anarchists assume that man is essentially good and
therefore all govemmentthe source of evilis to be opposed.
Schmitt concludes his Political Theology with a grand rhetorical
flourish:

Every claim of a decision must be evil for the anarchist,

because the right emerges by itself if the immanence of
life is not disturbed by such claims. This radical antithesis
forces him of course to decide against the decision; and this
results in the odd paradox whereby Bakunin, the great-
est anarchist of the nineteenth century, had to become in
theory the theologian ofthe antitheological and in practice
the dictator of an andictatorship (1985, 66).

There is little doubt about where Schmitt stands in this grand battle.
When he describes Donoso Corts' belief that "the moral vanished v^dth
the theological, the political idea with the moral, and all moral and
political decisions are thus paralyzed in a paradisiacal worldhness of
immediate natural life and unproblematic concreteness" (1985, 65), he
is revealing his ovwi deepest convicons."*
The point that Schmitt is making here corresponds to one that is
also central to The Concept of the Political when he asserts that "all genu-
ine political theories presuppose man to be evil" (Schmitt 1996, 61).
There is an intimate connection between (genuine) political theories
and the theological dogma of original sin. "A theologian ceases to be a
theologian when he no longer considers man to be sinful" (1996, 64).
Schmitt's animus toward liberalism as well as anarchism is based on
his firm conviction that these doctrines do not really grasp the depth of
original sin and the evilness of human beings. They presuppose a naive
(and ultimately unpohtical) optimism that man is essentially "good."
Now what is striking about Critchley's experiments with political
theology is that he basically accepts the Schmittian frameworkthe
Schmittian way of posing the fundamental issue. Here are his words:

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 39

"If human beings are defined by original sin, then politics becomes
the means of protecting human beings from themselves, something
that justifies the forms of dictatorship and state authoritarianism
defended by Schmitt" (2012,11). And Critchley does think that updated
versions of the concept of original sin are still very much aliveand
frequently take the form of a "political realism" that maintains a deep
pessimism about human nature and ends up in a version of passive
nihilism. Critchley takes up Schmitt's challenge and wants to defend
what Schmitt categorically denies; that original sin can be overcome in
what, following Norman Cohn, Critchley calls "mystical anarchism." In
short, Critchley basically accepts Schmitt's (and Donoso Corts') either/
or; either political dictatorship or anarchy. And furthermore he accepts
Schmitt's claim that a consistent anarchism is itself based on a pohtical
theology, albeit an antitheological pohtical theology. This is the faith of
the faithless. This is what I meant when I suggested earher that Schmitt
and Critchley share a common framework even though they, of course,
take up antithetical stances. To put it a bit glibly, they are mirror images
of each other.
Let's explore in greater depth some of the key concepts that
Critchley weaves together into his version of political theology; faith;
the sacred; and original sin. When Critchley speaks of "dcalages,
displacements, moments of tension or seeming contradiction" (2012; 9)
he is not exclusively referring to the texts of Rousseau, but to his own
thinking. Faith, as Critchley understands it, is not the "abstraction of
a metaphysical belief in God, but rather the lived subjective commit-
ment to an infinite demand. Faith is understood here as a declarative
act, as an enactment of the self, as a performative that proclaims itself
into existence in a situation of crisis where what is called for is a deci-
sive political intervention" (2012,13).
There is a great deal packed into this claim, and Critchley has
sought to develop in detail how he understands this "lived subjective
commitment to an infinite demand" and why it is necessary for "deci-
sive pohtical intervention." But note that this characterization of faith
does not specify an3^hing about the content or object of this faith.

40 social research
It seems equally applicable to those passionately committed to the
most nefarious political causes as well as those committed to positive
Utopian ideals. Both may accept that the demand on them is an infinite
one. Furthermore, there is deep tension between this subjective strain
in this conception of faith and the political or communal strain. When
Critchley stresses that faith is the "enactment of self," this is an existen-
tial condition that makes sense in regard to a subject who is responsive
to an infinite calling. But politicscertainly the politics that Critchley
favorsinvolves collective action. There is a gap here between the
personal faith of an individual subject and the shared communal moti-
vation that is required for pohtical intervention. Although Critchley's
politics is antithetical to Schmitt's, there is nevertheless a Schmittian
element in the call for existential decisiveness in his characterization
of faith.
Critchley's characterization of faith seems to be at once too
narrow and too broad. It is too narrow because it is only applicable
to those who experience "the lived subjective commitment to an infi-
nite demand." This would certainly exclude most of those who profess
religious faith. But it is too broad because it is difficult to see what is
the difference that makes a difference between "faith" and a passion-
ate commitment to a cause or ideal to which one is vwlHng to dedicate
oneselfperhaps even die for. The concept of faith is in danger of being
banalized if it is used to encompass all forms of passionate commit-
ment to an ideal that one knows cannot be fully realizeda banaliza-
tion similar to the way in which Paul Tillich came close to identifying
religion with any "ultimate commitment." Why do we need political
theology to explain or account for this fundamental existential experi-
ence that is a defining trait of many dedicated activists, social reform-
ers, and revolutionaries?
We find similar problemsdcalagesin his analysis of "the
metaphorphoses of sacralization." Serious students of religion have
illuminated how the historical understanding of any of the great reli-
gions shows that they have undergone metaphorphoses of sacraliza-
tion. This is a dominant theme in Charles Taylor's A Secular Age. But

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 41

Critchley is not primarily concerned vwth the sacred in traditional reli-
gious contexts. He states that "the history of political forms can best be
viewed as a series of metamorphoses of sacralization" (2012, 10; emphasis
in original). We can grasp what Critchley means by examining one of
his examples.
In his book. Inventing the People: The Rise of Popular Sovereignty in
England and America, Edmund Morgan explores in fine historical detail
how the "fiction of the divine right of kings gave way to the sovereignty
of the people." Morgan vwites:

The sovereignty of the people was not a repudiation of the

sovereignty of God. God remained the ultimate source of
all governmental authority, but attention now centered on
the immediate source, the people. Though God authorized
government. He did it through the people, and in doing so
He set them above their governors. (2012, 83)

This shift from the divine right of kings to the sovereignty of the
people is a metamorphosis of the sacred. But note how Critchley char-
acterizes this development: one fiction historically succeeds another
fiction. Here we touch upon a dcalage that stands at the very center of
Critchley's apologia for political theology and at the same time threat-
ens to explode it. The history of political forms can be approached by
the category of fictions. "Fiction" is not a negative term in Critchley's
vocabulary; it is not contrasted with fact. Indeed, fiction can be the high-
est expression of imaginative creativity. The appeal to political fictions
is intended to be a diagnostic tool for demythologizing those political
fictions that obscure the rottenness of political reahties. But Critchley
also wants to make a strong speculative claim when he advances his
idea of a "supreme fiction." Borrovwng from Wallace Stevens, Critchley
defines a supreme fiction in pohtics as a "fiction that we know to be a
fiction, but in which we nevertheless beheve" (2012, 91).^ This supreme
fiction allegedly enables us "to approach the problem of political legiti-
macy through poetic categories."

42 social research
 Critchley's speculative hypothesis about supreme fictions
opens a Pandora's box of paradoxesand I think he knows this.
Suppose, for the moment, we grant Critchley's claims that "in the
realms of politics, law and religion there are only fictions" (2012, 91;
emphasis in original). The really hard questionthe political ques-
tionbecomes: How is one to evaluate competing supreme fictions?
Fictions, as Critchley understands them, have real-life consequences
frequently disastrous, violent consequences. Whether we are dealing
with a diagnosis of the succession of political fictions or proposing
some new supreme fiction, the cmcial issue becomes why we should
adopt one fiction rather than another. This is not an abstract issue.
Hannah Arendt emphasized that the "success" of totalitarianism is in
part due to the fictional world that it creates. But if we are to critique
totalitarianism or any other political fiction, then we must ask: What
is the basis for such a critique? How are we to distinguish, evaluate,
and judge "good" supreme fictions from nefarious supreme fictions?
Critchley comes dangerously close to Schmittian decisionismdecid-
ing for or against a supreme fiction is ultimately groundlessit is "an
absolute decision created out of nothingness."
I want to make it clear that I am not calling into question
Critchley's project of demythologizing political fictions. This is what
he takes to be a primary task of the philosopher concerned vwth real
politics. But I am questioning the grounds, if any, for choosing among
fictions. It is not sufficient to tell us that this involves a poetic task of
creative imagination. For this is just as tme of the political fictions that
Critchley condemns. If dem5^hologizing is a form of critique, then one
can always ask: Critique in the name of what? And if one is proposing
an alternative political fiction to one that is well entrenched, then it
must be defended and supported by argumentsnot simply passion-
ately affirmed.
There is an even more serious problem with Critchley's apologia
for an antitheistic political theology. We can discern this in his analy-
sis of Rousseau, but it is equally applicable to Critchley's own stance.
Critchley tells us that "Rousseau's thinking enacts a series of contradic-

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 43

tions that any serious thinking of politics is obliged to confront." Here
is how Critchley states the problem:

[I]f the only law that I can follow is the law that I give
myselfa law that is the expression of the general v^dll, a
law that is consistent with my autonomy yet binding on all
members ofthe social groupthen by virtue of what does
this law have authority? The obvious answer is that if law is
nothing else but the act ofthe general vwU, then authority
becomes self-authorship. That is, there can be no higher
court of legal authority than autonomy. Yet, if authority
becomes self-authorship, then doesn't a legitimate polity
end up as a collective narcissus? Despite the immanen-
tist logic of Rousseau's argument, isn't there a need for a
moment of transcendent authority in law in order to bind
subjects to the law, a moment of radical externality or
heteronomy, like the function ofthe monarch in Hobbes? If
that is the case, if Rousseau also seems to need a mortal god
to animate his politics, then is such an authority conceiv-
able vwthout religion? (2012, 60)

The questions that Critchley raises at the end of this passage are not
merely "rhetorical." Leaving asidebracketinghis interpretation of
Rousseau, Critchley does think there is a need for the fiction of a tran-
scendent authority and that such authority is inconceivable v\dthout
rehgion. I think that Critchley puts his finger on a problem that stands
at the heart of modem political thinking: how to account for the way
in which a people can create an authority that binds themselves and
future subjects to the law. This problem is at the heart of explaining
the creation of modem constitutions, explaining the pouvoir constituant
of a people. For the creation of a constitution is intended to bind future
subjects to its law.
But I am skeptical ofthe claim that we need a political theology
to confront the paradox of sovereignty. And my reason for being skep-

44 social research
tical is itself based on Critchley's own reasoning. If we take seriously
his sketch of a theory of political fictions, then we must realize that it
is "we" human beings who write poetry and create fictionsinclud-
ing political fictions. It is "we" human beings who create our gods
and postulate a transcendent source for legitimation. Fictions do not
WTite or invent themselves; "we" create them. Presumably Critchley's
appeal to religion and political theology is to find a motivating source
of political legitimation and authority. But what he is actually show-
ing is that this legitimation and authority is created by human beings.
This is not political theology but rather its antithesis. I can easily
imagine Carl Schmitt claiming that when we dem3rthologize what
Critchley means by political theology it turns out to be a version of
the humanism that Schmitt ridiculed and despised.
One of the reasons for the current seductive fascination vdth Carl
Schmitt is the sharpness with which he draws his dichotomies. Even
his severest critics have to admire his rhetorical ability in condemn-
ing an3^hing that tries to escape these either/ors. The most famous
dichotomy is the friend/enemy distinction, which he claims is "the
specific political distinction to which political actions and motives can
be reduced" (1996, 26). This dichotomy is shaped by Schmitt's views
on original sin and his belief that all state and political ideas can be
tested by whether "they consciously or unconsciously presuppose man
to be by nature evil or by nature good." Schmitt's stance is even stron-
ger because he claims "all genuine pohtical theories presuppose man to
be evil" (1996, 61). Consequently, any political theory that presupposes
human beings to be good is not a "genuine political theory"and this
includes both liberalism and anarchism. Furthermore, this dichotomy
between competing anthropologies is closely related to the antagonism
between authoritarian and anarchist theories. Strictly speaking, there
is no liberal politics, only a liberal critique of politics.
Critchley basically accepts these Schmittian dichotomies. His
animus against existing liberal democraciesalthough coming from
the leftis as strong as Schmitt's. Critchley wants to turn the tables
on Schmitt. Secularized or naturahzed doctrines of original sin are still

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 45

very much with us. John Gray, for example, represents a contemporary
version of original sinthe conviction that human beings are "homo
rapienes, rapacious animals." Because human beings are "killer apes vwth
metaphysical longing" (2012,109), Gray advocates a conservative "politi-
cal realism" that is intended to avoid the pitfalls of liberal humanism,
utopianism, and millennialism. But Critchley argues that Gray's conser-
vative "pohtical realism" leads straight to passive nihilism: "John Gray is
the Schopenhauerian European Buddhist of our age" (2012,115).
Critchley's response to both Schmitt's authoritarianism and
Gray's conservative "political realism" is staunchly to defend what
both of them totally rejectwhat Critchley calls "an ethical neo-anar-
chism where anarchist practices of political organization are coupled
with an infinitely demanding subjective ethics of responsibility." He
makes it clear that what he means by infinitely demanding "is the ethi-
cal disposition of being open and attentive to what exceeds the finite
situation in which we find ourselves" (2012, 244). I will turn to his poli-
tics shortly. But here I want to emphasize that Critchley accepts the
basic Schmittian dichotomy that there are two and only two compet-
ing anthropologies: that man is either fundamentally evil or goodor,
more precisely, that "original sin" can be overcome. Critchley, in a fasci-
nating chapter, explores what he considers the most radical anarchism
ever conceived"mystical anarchism"an anarchism that claims that
our thinking about politics and community is transformed "once the
fact of original sin has been overcome" (2012,117).^
But I want to question the rigid dichotomy that underlies this
entire discussion, an anthropology that presupposes only two possi-
bilities: human beings are basically evil or good. Haven't we learned
from experience and (Freudian) theory that there is something desper-
ately vvrrong with this dichotomy? Haven't the genocides ofthe last two
centuries taught us that human beings can be more rapacious than our
wildest fantasies ever imagined? But haven't we also learned, as Primo
Levi and other witnesses have taught us, that even in the most extreme
circumstances there are acts of human decency and ethical responsi-
bility? I am reminded here ofthe story of Anton Schmitt that Arendt

46 social research
relates in Eichmann injemslem. Anton Schmitt was a German soldier
who secretly helped Jewish partisans in Poland by supplying them vwth
forged papers and trucks. He was apprehended by the Germans and
executed. When the story of Anton Schmitt was told in the Jerusalem
court it was as if those present observed a two minute silence. Arendt's
comment beautifully captures its significance.

And in those two minutes, which were like a sudden burst

of light in the midst of impenetrable, unfathomable dark-
ness, a single thought stood out clearly, irrefutable, beyond
questionhow utterly different everything would be today
in this courtroom, in Israel, in Germany, in all of Europe,
and perhaps in all countries of the world, if only more such
stories could have been told (Arendt 1965, 231).

In citing Arendt, I do not want to make a sentimental point,

but a theoretical one. And Freud is our best guide. Those basic human
tendencies that pohtical theologians call evil and good are so inextrica-
bly related to each other that they cannot be separated. Because they
are deeply rooted in our unconscious psyches they are ineradicable
and ineliminable. This is what Freud taught us. Any political think-
ing that fails to acknowledge this fundamental psychic ambivalence is
inadequate (on this point, see my discussion of Freudian ambivalence
in Bernstein 2002, 138-39). The dichotomy between an anthropology
based on original sin or one based on the nave assumption that men
are by nature good is a false dichotomy. This does not mean giving into
the temptation of passive or active nihihsm. I fail to see that we need
political theology to grasp the significance of this fundamental psychic
ambivalence of human beings. And although it is clearly empirically
true that there have been crucial moments in history when religious
convictions have inspired radical pohtical action, it does not follow that
pohtics is not "practicable" without rehgion.
This becomes clear when we turn to Critchley's actual discussion
of the politics that he favors. In his final chapter, he defends his ethical

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 47

nonviolent anarchism against the criticisms and misunderstandings of
Slavoj Zizek. In my opinion, Critchley's critique of Zizek is deliciously
devastating. He exposes what he calls Zizek's "crypto-Bismarckian
authoritarianism" (2012, 232), which certainly has a Schmittian aura.
But I want to focus on Critchley's own understanding of anarchistic poli-
tics. He tells us that politics for him "is about the movement between
no power and state power and it takes place through the creation of
what I call 'interstitial distance' within the state." These spaces are
not given; they are created through political articulation. They require
"forging a common front, imagining and enacting a new social bond
that opens a space of resistance and opposition to government" (2012,
233). To illustrate what he means, Critchley refers to the indigenous
rights movements in Mexico and Argentina, the actions around the san
papier and the sans abri in France, the movement of antiglobalization,
and even antiwar movements. He also adds the struggles around immi-
gration in North America and Europe. Even if one does not entirely
endorse Critchley's infinitely demanding ethics of commitment, one
can certainly support the political movements and interventions that
he favors.
But to put it bluntly, I fail to see what any of this has to do with reli-
gion or pohtical theology. Of course, those who participate in such activ-
ities may be highly motivated by a sense of moral, pohtical, or economic
injury, a sense of injustice, a deep sense of being treated unfairly. Some
may be motivated by "religious" concems. Where is the evidence that
this type of radical pohtics is not "practicable" without (or must presup-
pose) religion and political theology? On the contrary, when Critchley
actually analyzes such instances of political action as the Mexican or
Australian indigenous movements, there is no mention of religion in
understanding their motivation or strategic action. Once again, we must
beware of the surreptitious slippage that claims that genuine motivat-
ing passionate commitment to an ideal or a just cause is merely another
version of religious faitheven the faith of the faithless.
Schmitt is famous for the way in which he ridicules and carica-
tures discussion, deliberation, and judgment that he takes to be char-

48 social research
acteristic of liberalism. His most famous "put dovioi" of deliberation
is when he tells us that for Donoso Corts liberalism "answers the
question 'Christ or Barabbas?' with a proposal to adjourn or appoint a
commission of investigation" (1985, 62). More basically, the very way
in which Schmitt structures his discussion of "the political" leaves us
with only two possibilities: either we falsely think that law and politics
can be based on norms or we recognize the primacy of the event of
decision. Remember that Schmitt speaks of "a pure decision not based
on reason and discussion and not justifying itself, that is, to an absolute
decision created out of nothingness" (1985, 66). This is what my student
Santiago Rey has labeled "the Mjrth ofthe Presuppositionless Decision."
What gets excluded here is any serious consideration of the type of
deliberation and judgment required for making political decisions.

NORM OR D E C I S I O N ! I THINK THIS DICHOTOMY, THIS E I T H E R / O R

rational justification or decisionhaunts a good deal of contemporary
philosophy and politics, including those who think of themselves as
opposed to Schmitt. They are suspicious and deeply skeptical of any
account of decision that would seek to circumscribe it. There can be no
rational principles that determine our decisions. Of course this is true if
it is taken to mean that a decision "follows" automatically from a rule.
There is always a gap between any principles that we may profess and
the political decisions that we make. Decisions do not simply follow
from any norm, principle, or rule. Furthermore, there is always an
element of risk, uncertainly, and unpredictability in making a deci-
sion. But what is neglected or excluded in this dichotomy of "rational
justification or decision" is the type of judgment or deliberation that
informs and guides decisions. This type of judgment is not thematized
in Critchley's experiments in political theology, although ironically
he comes close to appreciating its importance in his interpretation of
what Walter Benjamin means by Divine Violence. Critchley, hke Judith
Butler, stresses that the conrunandment "Thou Shalt Not Kill" is not like
the mj^hical violence that Benjamin condemns but rather serves as a
guideline (Richtschnur) that does not dictate our actions. It is a guideline

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 49

with which we must strugglea guidehne that in concrete situations
may even be violated (Critchley 2012, 217-21; see also Butler 2006,
201-19).
I suggest that if this stmggle is a serious one, then it demands
carefuleven painfuldeliberation, not simply decisiveness. I do
not think it makes sense to talk about real political decisions without
referring to the political judgments, good and bad, that inform (but
certainly do not determine) decision and action. Political decisions do
not spring out of nothingness or pure fictions. What I have in mind
is what Hannah Arendt sought to clarify in her politicized interpreta-
tion of Kant's notion of reflective judgment. This is a form of judgment
that must always be sensitive to particularsto the complexities of a
situation that one is confronting. It is a mode of thinking that does
not subsume particulars under general rules but ascends from the
particular to what is more general. Forming such judgment is a think-
ing process in the sense that it involves weighing reasons pro and con
about what is to be done. And if it is genuinely political then it not only
involves imagination but also the give and take vwth one's peers.
At one point in his analysis of Rousseau, Critchley declares that
"the essence of politics or the being of the political consists in an act
whereby a people becomes a people, an original covenant that presup-
poses that there has been at one time unanimity" (2012, 38). In this
respect he seems to agree with Schmitt's insistence on the identify and
homogeneify of a people. But here I think that the Arendtian empha-
sis on pluralify is far more appropriate for the type of politics that
Critchley advocates; a pluralify that recognizes our singularify. Each
of us has a different perspective on the world. And because we have
plural perspectives, the space of political life is one in which there is (or
ought to be) a contest of different opinions. Becoming a people does not
require unanimify or homogeneify, but rather the possibilify of agree-
ment, an agreement that results from the agonistic confhct of opinions
by of a pluralify of human beings. "[T]his enlarged way of thinking,
which as judgment knows how to transcend its own individual limita-
tions . . . cannot function in strict isolation or solitude; it needs the

50 social research
presence of others 'in whose place' it must think, whose perspectives
it must take into consideration, and v^dthout whom it never has the
opportunity to operate at all Judgment, to be valid, depends on the
presence of others" (Arendt 2006, 217).
It strikes me that the type of deliberation and formation of judg-
ment that I am emphasizing is in fact integral to the very type of pohtics
of resistance that Critchley favors. Of course there are no algorithms for
making such judgments and we have to face the possibility that our best
judgments may lead to disastrous consequences. Critchley is extremely
sensitive to the type of judgment that I am sketching even though he
does not thematize its centrality. As I have already indicated, this is
especially clear where he speaks of nonviolence as a guiding principle
but one that can never completely rule out those exceptional circum-
stances in which violence is demanded. My concern is that Critchley
(like Schmitt) fails to elucidate the type of political judgment that is
needed to make sense of our political decisionsand that he fails to
show us how religion or pohtical theology is required for understand-
ing and making political judgments. And like many thinkers today who
have become fascinated with the "Event," Critchley succumbs to the
temptation to focus almost exclusively on the event of decision rather
than how we judgmentally reach our decisions.
Introducing the theme of political judgment also has conse-
quences for Critchley's understanding of faith and fiction. I certainly
want to affirm that a politics of resistance requires a refusal to submit
to the seductions of a "political realism." Critique demands that we
emphasize the gap between the ugly political realities we confront and
the ideals that we seek to realize or approximate. This is the tension
that is required to keep open the space for effective political action. And
this requires a faith in a defensible ideal of justice, equality, and free-
dom that stands opposed to what presently exists and that can provide
a motivating force for political action. This conception of faith is close
to what William James described when he argued that such a faith that
goes beyond the facts plays a vital role in bringing about a new reahty.
But this type of faiththe passionate commitment to ideals that guide

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 51

our political actiondoes not require a belief in the fiction of some-
thing transcendent, something "external" that legitimizes and autho-
rizes our action.
This even provides for an alternative way of understanding
what Critchley means by political fictionsideals that are imagina-
tive constructions of actual human beingsfictions that express our
political dreams and hopes. These fictions may be exorbitant in the
sense that they can never be completely realized. We must remain
"open and attentive to what exceeds the finite situation in which we
find ourselves" (2012, 244). But these fictions themselves do not escape
judgment. If they do, they become potentially dangerous. We need to
argue for and justify the imaginary constructions that we cherish and
that animate our pohtical activity. And I am fully aware that frequently
the most contentious issue that we debate is what precisely consti-
tutes a good argument for the position that we favor. Critchley claims
that pohticsradical politicsisn't "practicable" without religion and
pohtical theology, but I think that it isn't "practicable" without imagi-
native pohtical judgment. And I fail to see that real pohtical judgment
depends upon or presupposes religion or pohtical theology.
I want to touch upon one final either/or that I believe ought to be
rejected. Philosophers have been obsessed with the very idea of rational
justification, where this is understood as some sort of knock-down or
transcendental deduction that is based upon incorrigible foundations.
Some sort of foundationalism keeps creeping back into philosophy.
There is the anxiety that if we give up on foundationahsm we are left in
the abyss of arbitrary relativism. I have long argued that this either/or,
which I once called the "Cartesian Anxiety," needs to be deconstructed
and rejected. Critchley and Schmitt are deeply suspicious of any form
of rationalism that claims that political decisions and actions can be
adequately justified by an appeal to basic norms. I agree with them. But
this does not mean or entail abandoning deliberation, argument, and
pohtical judgment.
"Justification" of what Critchley calls "fictions" is a complex
process that weaves together diverse elements. It involves imagination.

52 social research
thought experiments, satire, humor, telling likely stories, and using
rhetorical devices to make a "fiction" as motivationally attractive as
possiblebut it also involves argumentation and judgment. And this
is what Critchley really practices. I sometimes dream of the day when
philosophers are no longer obsessed with the Cartesian Anxiety, learn
the lessons that Nietzsche tried to teach us, and honestly face up to the
bricolage of what we actually do when we seek to "justify" our most
cherished and central convictions and commitments.
One final comment. In the preface to his classic, Spinoza and
Other Heretics: The Marrano of Reason, Yimiyahu Yovel declares, "Above
all [Spinoza] put forward a radically new philosophical principle that I
call the philosophy of immanence. It views this-worldly existence as all
there is, as the only actual being and the sole source of ethical value"
(1989, ix). Yovel seeks to show how the philosophy of immanence is
developed and deepened in Goethe, Heine, Marx, and Freud. And, of
course, one can add many other thinkers committed to this philoso-
phy of immanence, including Kant, Hegel, and Nietzsche. But we are
living in a time when this philosophy of immanence is under attack
by political theologya political theology that argues that immanence
is not enough, that we must appeal to transcendence. And this "tran-
scendence" is not a horizontal transcendence whereby we strive to
transcend what is given in order to realize our ideals, but a vertical,
"exterior" transcendence that presumably grounds our immanence
our "this worldly existence."
Where does Critchley stand in the opposition between a philoso-
phy of immanence and political theology of transcendence? I suspect
he might say that he rejects this dichotomy or that, in a paradoxical
sense, he stands on both sides. The faith of the faithless is the faith of
"this worldly existence as all there is, as the only actual being and the
sole source of ethical value." Yet he also wants to maintain that the
faith of the faithless must believe in the supreme fiction of a transcen-
dent realm that is "exterior" to our immanence. I do not believe that
he has justified this central thesis. I actually believe thatdespite his
explicit intentionshis political theology really amounts to a sophisti-

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 53

cated defense of a robust philosophy of immanence. And for this he is
to be praised.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This paper was originally presented at a conference on political theol-
ogy at the New School for Social Research in November 2011.

NOTES
1. For the purposes of this paper I am not making a sharp distinction
between "rehgion" and "pohtical theology." I am extremely skepti-
cal about the meaning and use ofthe generic expression "rehgion"
because it explicitly or implicitly suggests that there is something
commonor even that there are strong family resemblances
among the phenomena that we frequently call "religions." I doubt
this. "Political theology" has come to mean reflection on the political
significance of such "rehgious" phenomena as faith, revelation, the
sacred, original sin, etc. But given the vagueness of both terms, it is
difficult to draw a careful distinction between them.
2. Critchley makes it perfectly clear that he has come to this conclusion
"with no particular joy":

We are living through a chronic re-theologization of poli-

tics, which makes this time certainly the darkest period in
my lifetime, and arguably for much longer. At the heart of
the horror of the present is the intrication of politics and
religion, an intrication defined by violence, and this is what
I would like to begin to think through in this book. I want
to do this not in order to break the connection between
politics and religion, but to acknowledge the hmitations of
any completely secularist politics, particularly on the left
(2012, 25).

3. Critchley initially introduces the theme of dcalages in relation to his

close reading and interpretation of Rousseau, where he argues that

54 social research
 "an avowedly immanent conception of pohtical autonomy requires
an appeal to franscendence and heteronomy that appears to under-
mine it." But, as Critchley makes clear, this does not simply charac-
terize the intricacies of Rousseau's texts, but "can be used to cast
hght on the intrication of pohtical and rehgion in the contemporary
world" (2012, 9).
4. The German pohtical theorist Heinrich Meier has argued tenaciously
and persistently that the unifying center of Schmitt's thought is
political theology, specifically his faith in revelation. I agree vwth
those critics who argue that Meier exaggerates the role of politi-
cal theology for understanding all of Schmitt's jurispmdential and
pohtical thinking. I also reject the stark alternative that Meier pres-
ents between pohtical theology (Carl Schmitt) and pohtical philos-
ophy (Leo Strauss). Nevertheless, a close reading of Schmitt's texts
reveal the depth of Schmitt's commitment to a distinctive version of
Christian pohtical theology. For a more detailed critique of Schmitt
see Bemstein (2011).
5. Critchley borrows this idea of a supreme fiction from Wallace
Stevens' poem "Notes toward a Supreme Fiction." He quotes Stevens;
"The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a
fiction, there is nothing else. The exquisite tmth is to know that it is
a fiction and that you believe it v^dllingly" (2012; 91).
6. There is a dazzhng discussion of mystical anarchism in his book; a
revolutionary eschatology at the basis of millenarian belief that
gained great popularify in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
Although Critchley is skeptical of eschatological behef, he seeks to
show that what animates it "is a form of faith-based communism that
draws its strength from the poor, the marginal and the dispossessed"
(2012,11).

REFERENCES
Arendt, Hannah. 1965. Eichmann inJerusalem: The Banality ofEvil. New York;
Viking Press.
. 2006. Between Past and Future. New York; Penguin.

Is Politics "Practicable" without Religion? 55

Bernstein, Richard J. 2002. Radical Evil: A Philosophical Interrogation.
Cambridge: Polity.
. 2011. "The Aporias of Carl Schmitt." Constellations 18:3.
Butler, Judith. 2006. "Critique, Coercion, and Sacred Life in Benjamin's
'Critique of Violence.'" In Political Theologies, edited by Hent de Vries
and Lawrence E. Sullivan. New York: Fordham University Press.
Critchley, Simon. 2008. Injinitely Demanding: Ethics of Commitment, Politics of
Resistance. London: Verso.
. 2012. The Faith ofthe Faithless: Experiments in Political Theology.
London: Verso.
Schmitt, Carl. 1985. Political Theology: Four Chapters on the Concept of
Soverdgnty. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
. 1996. The Concept ofthe Political. Chicago: University of Chicago
Press.
Yovel, Yirmiyahu. 1992. Spinoza and Other Heretics: The Marrano of Reason.
Princeton: Princeton University Press.

56 social research
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