It’s the Divine Economy, Stupid
“All significant concepts of the modern theory of the state are secularized theological concepts…” (Carl Schmitt)
Before modern economists and political theorists debated the question of if and how authority should be centralized or decentralized, theologians debated whether divine providence is generic or specific. Before millennials professed their faith in Bitcoin and Web3, mystics questioned whether God was to be understood as an individual or as a relationship. Is God a supreme lover or is God love itself? Is God a supreme being or Being itself? Is God a Creator or is God creation itself? Did God make the first set of tongs or is God perhaps just the spark of invention that sits inside each soul? These abstract questions implicitly and explicitly contain questions of great consequence for how we order ourselves, from states to companies to households and beyond. For at issue is the question of whether God wants us to literally go to the corner office and consult God on every issue or if it is enough simply to ask ourselves “WWBD?” (What would Boss do?) Perhaps—even when we get it wrong—God delights in our agency.
Does God care about each blade of grass, or only about the field, as a whole? If God is, as Neoplatonists thought, a helmsman (the original meaning of governor) steering the ship of the world, does God need to know the future path of the ship at every moment, or can God simply navigate by quantum computing in the same way that the Waze App does? If God is not tied down to any particular path, so the argument goes, God is more free to reach God’s destination. Redemption, if you will, or Revelation, or Grace, pick your favorite big theological term is not “path dependent.”
Perhaps this is the meaning of John 14:6 when Jesus says “I am the way…” Believers don’t need to know how they’ll get to the proverbial Promised Land, because they have the Way. It’s notable that the metaphor of Way recurs in numerous spiritual traditions—from Taoism, where Tao translates as Way, to Judaism where Halacha, law, literally means path, to Greek philosophy where method originally meant path.
Does God walk a predetermined path, conceived already in the divine mind, or is God a path-maker and trailblazer whose feet, lead God, measure by measure, to unforeseen vistas?
Maimonides vs. Tanya
Maimonides takes a generic view of Providence. God isn’t sitting there micro-managing every moment or getting involved in each person’s life. Rather, God is closer to Jefferson’s clock-maker for whom the world already has everything it needs. In Maimonides and Jefferson, I see the prologue to Hayekian economics— the market doesn’t need an interventionist God to keep on course. The complex sum of transactions yields a kind of immanent intelligence. In Russ Roberts’s terms, there is no “weaver of dreams.” Instead, price—where supply meets demand—is the functional equivalent of general providence.
But The Tanya, AKA Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, takes the opposite view. The world would fall apart in any given moment if not for God’s miraculous sustenance. God keeps the world afloat through continuous utterance, continuous attention. The laws of nature are only apparently autonomous, but in fact, could change at any moment.
Prayer
In the Maimonidean model, prayer might be a way to self-knowledge or virtue, but it’s not theurgic—you can’t influence God to act on your behalf. God’s will isn’t up for persuasion or emotional auction. In the Tanya model, prayer has nearly infinite upside. Every time you pray, you might be tipping the scales of the universe. Maimonidean prayer affirms that God knows where God is going; theurgic prayer is like shouting at God as an exit approaches, TURN HERE!
I am more sympathetic to the Maimonidean posture, but I’m not consistent. I also jive more temperamentally with the idea that the highest form of sovereignty is teaching others to fish for their own sovereignty rather than feeding them the fish of one’s own while keeping them dependent. But regardless of which you prefer, it’s worth appreciating that the range of positions one might take on questions of state authority and free markets are all embedded in some theological mental model of how the world works. The notion that networks rather than individuals know best is perfectly compatible with the Maimonidean view. Meanwhile, the notion that God is a benevolent dictator (or CEO) resonates well with the Tanya’s view. If we were going back further, we might say the debate is intra-Biblical. For Leviticus the company falls apart without God. In Deuteronomy, the company’s health depends upon God’s and Moses’s succession plan. Ultimately, the company will need to be handed over to “the people.”
Definite vs. Indefinite Optimism
Should you invest all your resources in one thing or spread them out? Portfolio theory tells us that we should diversify. But if everybody put all their savings into the S and P 500 who would found, build and run the companies? Meaning is often found when we don’t hedge, but make a big bet on what we believe. The difference between buying a broad basket of goods and concentrating in something is the difference between what Peter Thiel calls definite and indefinite optimism. Or is it? It’s only indefinite optimism from the Tanya’s point of view. It’s definite optimism from the point of view of Maimonides. The question is what unit of analysis you take as salient. If your unit is the individual, buying the market is a cop-out from investing in yourself. If your unit is society, then perhaps it is wise not to be in the business of picking individual winners.
Hegel would have run Vanguard. Napoleon would have put all his savings into bootstrapping his own company. Hegel’s risk-return profile might be better. Cautious people write books. Reckless people build (and crash) Empires.
Conclusion
You can’t avoid having a theological view.
All questions of authority are implicitly modeled on divine authority.
Every great religious tradition contains massive variety—even fundamental disagreement—on questions of authority.
There is a reason why the metaphor of the path is prominent in all ancient conceptions about providence.
Generic providence is less individualistic than specific providence for better and for worse.
Believing in your own agency is a form of theurgy. Rationalists hedge. Romantics build (and pray).
Does a rationalist with some mystical sympathies (I wonder if this is what Maimonides actually was) hedge on rationalism itself? Because of our own limits (or because God may not have the limits we impute to God), it doesn't make sense to rule out the romantic approach. So you commit to the network (klal Yisrael), recognizing that it supports both approaches, and hold them in tension. Maybe it's not crazy (irrational?) to deeply buy into both.
I suppose that calls into question the first point. I can't avoid having a theological view, but it can change by the minute.