A. P. Martinich's The Two Gods of Leviathan appeared in 1992, and J. R. Collins's The Allegiance of Thomas Hobbes in 2005. Martinich offered a revisionist interpretation of Thomas Hobbes's religious commitments. He rebuked the conventional view that Hobbes was an atheist and placed him within particular traditions of reformed Christian theology. Collins's book strongly differed from these conclusions, and reasserted Hobbes's hostility to traditional Christianity as part of a general contextualization of his writings within the period of the English (...) Revolution. The following exchange between Martinich and Collins was first aired in 2007 as a debate at the Southwestern Political Science Association's Annual Conference. (shrink)

A. P. Martinich's The Two Gods of Leviathan appeared in 1992, and J. R. Collins's The Allegiance of Thomas Hobbes in 2005. Martinich offered a revisionist interpretation of Thomas Hobbes's religious commitments. He rebuked the conventional view that Hobbes was an atheist and placed him within particular traditions of reformed Christian theology. Collins's book strongly differed from these conclusions, and reasserted Hobbes's hostility to traditional Christianity as part of a general contextualization of his writings within the period of the English (...) Revolution. The following exchange between Martinich and Collins was first aired in 2007 as a debate at the Southwestern Political Science Association's Annual Conference. (shrink)

What motivated an absolutist Erastian who rejected religious freedom, defended uniform public worship, and deemed the public expression of disagreement a catalyst for war to endorse a movement known to history as the champion of toleration, no coercion in religion, and separation of church and state? At least three factors motivated Hobbes’s 1651 endorsement of Independency: the Erastianism of Cromwellian Independency, the influence of the politique tradition, and, paradoxically, the contribution of early-modern practices of toleration to maintaining the public (...) sphere’s religious uniformity. The third factor illustrates how a key function of the emerging private sphere in the early-modern period was to protect uniformity, rather than diversity; it also shows that what was novel was not so much the public/private distinction itself, but the separation of two previously conflated dimensions of publicity – visibility and representativeness – that enabled early-modern Europeans to envisage modes of worship out in the open, yet still private. (shrink)

Newman remains an ecumenical figure held in high esteem by Roman Catholics and Anglicans. His ecumenical hermeneutics is observable in Tract No. 90. This Tract is a re-reading of the Thirty-nine Articles of Religion ratified in 1571 as the fundamentals of the Anglican faith. This tract is the product of the Oxford Movement that returned to the Antiquity in view of resolving the Anglican faith crises epitomized by erastianism. This return to the Fathers of the Church had a lot (...) of implications for the Anglican faith. Influenced by Antiquity, Newman rediscovered the common grounds between the Anglican faith and the church Catholic that inheres in the Roman Church. Thus, Tract No. 90 demonstrated that more things united the Nineteenth Anglicans and the Roman Catholics than what separated them. (shrink)

Both Michael Oakeshott and Carl Schmitt were deeply preoccupied with what Oakeshott called ‘the experience of living in a modern European state’; both felt that the state's proper origins and trajectory had not been grasped, that proper statehood had profoundly been put into doubt in the twentieth century, and that state authority and legitimacy needed to be shored up in an age of ‘mass politics’. Not surprisingly, then, both developed their conception of political association with and sometimes against Hobbes. Both (...) profoundly disagreed with conventional readings of Hobbes as propounding a materialist or ‘scientistic’ philosophy. Most importantly, both consistently de‐emphasized, or entirely discounted, Hobbes's contractualism – they cut off any possible route from Hobbes's thought to liberal theories of explicit or tacit consent. Instead, both stressed a concern with the cultural preconditions of political order. Oakeshott's civil association turned out to be an idealized picture of modern European individualism as a unique civilizational achievement that sustained a very limited state whose authority could only be acknowledged, rather than contested. Schmitt, on the other hand, advocated a deeply authoritarian fusion of political and religious elements, a sort of neo‐Erastian dictatorship as the solution to the problem of political order. Idiosyncratic as these visions might appear, they in fact sum up two ways of thinking about political order still prevalent today: the notion that liberal democracy is only for the West; and the idea that, ultimately, political cohesion depends on a shared religious mentality. (shrink)

The striking similarity between the position of Hobbes’s political sovereign on earth now and the position of Christ following His return after the Last Judgment is the final insight of many contained in Franck Lessay’s trenchant essay. Pursuing several lines of analysis into Hobbes’s ecclesiology, Lessay seeks to show its singularity and radicalism vis-à-vis any other contemporary position. The constant attempt to undercut any pretended independence of the church from the civil government is characteristic of Hobbes’s approach, and in this (...) he is far more Erastian certainly than Laud or also Hooker. An extended focus upon Hobbes’s doctrine of the Trinity yields several important insights regarding the central role of the Christ, as Hobbes understood it, as well as the merely commemorative meaning of the sacraments established by Him. As in other articles in this section, Lessay shows important links between Hobbes’s theology and his politics. (shrink)

It is refreshing to read fifteen erudite articles written by seasoned experts and promising young scholars who engage the wide-ranging question of the intersection of religion and politics in Hobbes's works. The free standing arguments are not framed by Hobbes's alleged religious sincerity, or by a priori conceptions of natural law, or some modernization thesis. This work is therefore a must-read for scholars yearning to explore Hobbes's religious politics in new ways. I hope it inspires more volumes, possibly organized around (...) narrower religious topics.Johan Olsthoorn argues that Hobbes's theory of representation takes him beyond Erastianism to the stronger claim of church-state identity... (shrink)

Chapters 17 and 18 of the TTP constitute a textual unit in which Spinoza submits the case of the ancient Hebrew state to close examination. This is not the work of a historian, at least not in any sense that we, twenty-first century readers, would recognize as such. Many of Spinoza’s claims in these chapters are highly speculative, and seem to be poorly backed by historical evidence. Other claims are broad-brush, ahistorical generalizations: for example, in a marginal note, Spinoza refers (...) to his Jewish contemporaries as if they were identical with the ancient Hebrews. Projections from Spinoza’s own experience of his Jewish and Dutch contemporaries are quite common, and the Erastian lesson that Spinoza attempts to draw from his “history” of the ancient Hebrew state is all too conspicuous. Even Spinoza’s philosophical arguments in these two chapters are not uniformly convincing, as I will attempt to show. Yet in spite of all these faults, the two chapters are a masterpiece of their own kind: a case study of the psychological foundations of politics and religion. The work that comes closest in my mind is Freud’s 1939 Der Mann Moses und die monotheistische Religion. The two works are similar not only in terms of their chronological subject matter – the Hebrews of Moses’s time – but also in their attempt to reconstruct the communal psyche of the Hebrews in order to demonstrate their respective social theories about the foundation of civilization. Needless to say, there are numerous differences between the two works, not the least of which are their distinct aims and the very different political contexts in which they were produced. We will return to this comparison with Freud’s Moses and Monotheism toward the end of the essay, but let me first stage the background for our discussion. Chapter 16 of the TTP begins a new section of the book which primarily deals with the relation between religion and the state. In this chapter Spinoza presents an outline of his political theory and his understanding of key notions such as right, power, the state of nature, the social contract, sovereignty, democracy, and justice. The title of chapter 17 announces its aim and focus: “showing that no one can transfer everything to the Supreme Power, and that this is not necessary; on the Hebrew Republic, as it was during the life of Moses, and after his death, before they elected Kings, and on its excellence; and finally, on the causes why the divine Republic [Respublica divina] could perish, and could hardly survive without rebellions” (III/201). The far less ambitious title of eighteenth chapter states that in it “certain Political doctrines are inferred from the Republic and history of the Hebrews” (III/221). Essentially, the two chapters present a surprising, ironic, and penetrating reading of the story of the divine Hebrew Republic, a reading which highlights both how much and how little was achieved by the use of the fantastic political device of attributing divine sanctification to the state and its sovereign. (shrink)

Chapters 17 and 18 of the TTP constitute a textual unit in which Spinoza submits the case of the ancient Hebrew state to close examination. This is not the work of a historian, at least not in any sense that we, twenty-first century readers, would recognize as such. Many of Spinoza’s claims in these chapters are highly speculative, and seem to be poorly backed by historical evidence (Cf. Verbeek (2003), 126). Other claims are broad-brush, ahistorical generalizations: for example, in a (...) marginal note (to be discussed shortly), Spinoza refers to his Jewish contemporaries as if they were identical with the ancient Hebrews. Projections from Spinoza’s own experience of his Jewish and Dutch contemporaries are quite common, and the Erastian lesson that Spinoza attempts to draw from his “history” of the ancient Hebrew state is all too conspicuous. Even Spinoza’s philosophical arguments in these two chapters are not uniformly convincing, as I will attempt to show. Yet in spite of all these faults, the two chapters are a masterpiece of their own kind: a case study of the psychological foundations of politics and religion. The work that comes closest in my mind is Freud’s 1939 Der Mann Moses und die monotheistische Religion. The two works are similar not only in terms of their chronological subject matter – the Hebrews of Moses’s time – but also in their attempt to reconstruct the communal psyche of the Hebrews in order to demonstrate their respective social theories about the foundation of civilization. Needless to say, there are numerous differences between the two works, not the least of which are their distinct aims and the very different political contexts in which they were produced. (shrink)

Grotius’s attempt to find a compromise both between reason and revelation, and between free will and predestination, his philological approach to the reading of Scripture, his refusal to engage in doctrinal disputes, and his insistence on ethics as the core of Christian teaching, were increasingly important in shaping a powerful strand of thinking about the Anglican church from the Great Tew circle to post-Restoration latitudinarianism. The references to Grotius’s apologetic work which appeared in moderate Anglican writing should be understood by (...) setting them in a broader context encompassing the settlement of Anglican Church, its religious doctrine, and its relations with civil authority. In order to recover the complexity of the political and ecclesiological context for the English translations of De Veritate , I will divide the period from 1632 to 1686 into three distinct phases: the initial phase goes back to the 1630s, when the members of the Great Tew circle at Oxford facilitated the circulation of the early translations and editions of De Veritate in England within the context of Caroline/Laudian religious policy. The second covers the 1650s, when a number of Grotius’s works were translated by the Anglican theologian Clement Barksdale in order to provide a new ideology for the post-Laudian Anglican Church. The third phase spans from the Restoration until 1686, when De Veritate converged in the complex political and intellectual background of ‘latitudinarianism’. (shrink)

In the present article I examine the influence of Grotius's works on English republican literature by focusing on the writings of Anthony Ascham. Ascham's interpretation of Grotius is set in the context of the multifaceted uses of the Dutch lawyer's works in the 1640s and in early 1650s, comparing it to Marchamont Nedham's use of Grotius in support of the republican regime. In order to explain the purposes behind Ascham's and Nedham's deployment of Grotian language, I seek to connect them (...) with the politics of propaganda carried on by political groupings within the Parliament between 1648 and 1650. Finally, by pointing to Ascham's use of Grotius, some considerations follow concerning Anglo-Dutch republicanism in mid-seventeenth century. (shrink)