This reflection has been triggered by a remarkable statement by Paul Krugman, “Blackmailers without a Cause,” The New York Times (February 3, 2023). I will come to that later. Krugman’s phrasing has caused me to think about what is required for the formation of a workable government. These requirements can range from the simplest arrangements to the most complex structures of administration, depending on how “hands off” or “hands on” a government might tend to be. The more authoritarian a government, the more it may intrude into every facet of common life.

It will not surprise you that I thought first of the emergence of government in the Old Testament. The evidence we have of early tribal Israel suggests a simple, informal governance by elders. The Book of Judges, moreover, attests to sporadic military heroes who came to exercise great and durable influence. Clearly, tribal structures had no need for, and no doubt refused and resisted any more elaborate governmental ordering. With the emergence of the state under Saul, David, and Solomon, matters became more complex. The recurring staples in this period of emergence of the state consist in military leaders and priests, that is, a concern for power and the symbols of legitimacy.

The biblical text provides a quick summary of David’s governmental ordering:

So David reigned over all Israel; and David administered justice and equity to all his people. Joab son of Zeruiah was over the army; Jehoshaphat son of Ahilud was recorder; Zadok son of Ahitub and Ahimelech son of Abiathar were priests; Seriah was secretary; Benaiah son of Jehoiada was over the Cherethites and the Pelethites; and David’s sons were priests (II Samuel 8:15-18).

In addition to a military leader (Joab son of Zeruiah) who figures prominently in David’s narrative, and priests (Zadok and Ahimelech plus “David’s sons”), the governmental roster includes a recorder (mazkir)   Jehoshephat son of Ahilud, and a secretary (sopher), Seriah. It is evident that a movement toward centralized government also eventuated in a move toward written records as the oral culture of tribal Israel was left behind. A state must have a long memory, not only of property arrangements, but also of court decisions (“justice and equity”), and memory of debts and offenses against the public order. No doubt David’s “recorder” and “secretary” were kept busy preserving the memory of the state. We may imagine that what the recorder and secretary wrote down was the beginning of “state secrets” and “classified documents” that have belatedly come to be taken as the “crown jewels” of the “intelligence community.” If one were a vulnerable subsistence peasant, one would at all costs avoid being “written down” or “written up.” Thus David Graeber, Debt: The First 5000 Years, observes that peasant revolts throughout history always have as a high priority the intent to burn official records that are essentially records of debt. King David evidently was not very far along in this process, but a beginning has been made.

It is noteworthy that David is here credited with doing “justice and equity” (v. 15; mispat, sedeqah). We are not told more of this, but we notice early on that David attracted those who are in distress, debt, and discontent (I Samuel 22:2). Perhaps it was hoped that he would administer some economic redress. He is remembered as being in uncommon solidarity with his people (II Samuel 23:13-17). The phrasing of this word pair in verse 15 is readily reiterated in the “royal” Psalm 72:

Give the king your justice, O God,

and your righteousness to a king’s son (Psalm 72:1).

David’s rebel son, Absalom is remembered as an administrator of economic justice (II Samuel 15:1-6). In this Absalom has little in common with his acquisitive half-brother Solomon.

We are able to see, in the case of Solomon, that a more highly developed officialdom was on its way, in contrast to the simpler order of David (see II Kings 4:1-6). Solomon’s government is a bit more complex. There are, of necessity, some recurring features. The roster of officials includes a son of Zadok as priest, and then in traditional fashion lists David’s two priests, Zadok and Abiathar. This list apparently has forgotten that already in I Kings 2:26-27 Solomon has purged Abiathar from his court. Benaiah continues as army commander, while Joab disappears from the roster (see I Kings 2:28-35). Jehoshephat continues as recorder (mazkir) after David. Two new secretaries (sopherim) are named. But what most interest us are the innovations with the last four names that have no counterpart in David’s list:

• Azariah is “over the officials,” perhaps suggesting a more expansive bureaucracy that required oversight;

• Zabud as the “king’s friend.” The phrase is unclear to us. Perhaps it is nothing more than a special personal friend of the king; or perhaps it is an identifiable government role as a “roving ambassador” to look after the king’s interest and intent. We may surmise that David had many friends whereas Solomon needed to have one designated.

• Ahishar is in charge of “the house,” suggesting more royal property to which to attend.

• Most especially Adoniram was over “forced labor” for which there is nothing comparable with David (see I Kings 5:14 as well). Adoram (likely the same as Adoniram in I Kings 12:18) must have represented what was most resented and resisted by the populace who comes to a sorry end through the violence of a popular uprising (I Kings 12:18).

Thus on all counts Solomon’s government is more expansive and more complex than that of David, much more a regulation of ambitious rules with an acquisitive intent. It is worth noting that there is here no mention of “justice and righteousness” as with David, perhaps suggesting that the old assumptions of covenantalism have now been expelled from the royal horizon. (We may take the phrase in I Kings 10:9 as pertains to Solomon as nothing more than conventional court flattery.)  Solomon’s roster of officials suggests a greater need to exercise control; but then, with his amassing great wealth, Solomon has much more to control than did his father, David. It is to be noted that Solomon’s governmental roster is immediately followed in I Kings 4:7-19 with a detailed account of the tax-collecting apparatus of Solomon. Clearly his regime cannot be understood apart from a heavy accent on taxation; see I Kings 12:1-19. The data on David has no such counterpart.

We may consider, third, that the book of Deuteronomy traces out a model of government that is marked by the covenantal aspects of the Mosaic-tribal tradition. This matter has been well noted by both Norbert Lohfink, “Distribution of the Functions of Power: The Laws Concerning Public Affairs in
Deuteronomy 16:18-18:22,” The Song of Power and the Power of Song: Essays on the Book of 

Deuteronomy, ed. by Duane Christensen (1993), 336-352, and by S. Dean McBride, “Polity of the Covenant People: The Book of Deuteronomy,” (ibid. 62-77). Lohfink works backward from the political theory of Montesquieu concerning the separation of powers for the maintenance of a viable government. Thus in these chapters of the Book of Deuteronomy we get this plot of organization:

• municipal judges (16:18-20);

• judicial procedures (17:2-7);

• a court of appeals (17:8-13);

• a king with circumscribed powers (17:14-20);

• priests and Levites (18:1-8); and

• a prophetic office (18:15-22).

This roster identifies all of the ingredients essential to a government. Each office, moreover, is restrained by the claims and limits of covenantal righteousness. As Lohfink has seen, such limitations preclude any excessive accumulation of power or wealth, especially of the kind subsequently modeled and embodied by Solomon (and in the case of Lohfink as a Jesuit, the imperial Vatican). Thus the Deuteronomic model of public power directly joins issue with the near-absolutism of royal power as it was exercised in the Davidic dynasty. The contrast between local covenantal authority and unrestrained royal power is stark and compelling. The matter of “checks and balances” is old and long running.  One mantra of resistance to royal absolutism, twice voiced in the tradition, goes like this:

We have no portion in David, no share in the son of Jesse!

Everyone to your tents, O Israel.

This mantra is voiced in II Samuel 20:1 by a Benjaminite, Bichri, who resists the assertion of David’s power. It is reiterated in I Kings 12:16 in a refusal of the heavy taxation proposed by Rehoboam over the Northern tribes. It requires no great imagination to see that in our current political scene such sentiments are re-voiced and re-performed by protest groups, sometimes violently. Such protests often have no positive political agenda, but only resist and refuse what is perceived to be, as in older days, excessive concentration of power that is inevitably oppressive and exploitative.

The models of David (II Samuel 8:15-18), Solomon (I Kings 4:1-6, 7-19), and Deuteronomy (16:18-18:22) exhibit various efforts to identify and install what is required for the sake of governance. By comparing and contrasting these several models we can see how differences emerge, depending on the simplicity or complexity of governance, depending on the delicate balance of power between governors and governed, and depending on the coercion required for the sake of revenue.

With this biblical retrospect, I turn now to the remarkable observation of Paul Krugman to which I have alluded. Krugman has observed that for all of the posturing by some politicians of “cutting the budget,” in fact they have no actual proposal in hand for cutting the budget. They have, moreover, little energy for such work beyond lip service, preferring to engage in the relatively cost-free exercise of culture war. Krugman sees most clearly that in fact there is very little to be cut from the federal budget because the budget is largely divided among four expenditures: the military, Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. Krugman’s stunning conclusion is this:

As always the fundamental fact about the budget is that the federal government is basically an insurance company with an army.

The “insurance company” of the federal budget includes Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. The “army” is the extensive, expansive military establishment. For political reasons, no serious cuts will be made in any of these expenditures. These politicans do not ever want to cut the military budget. And cutting the “insurance” programs is politically unthinkable. So no cuts! Krugman judges that they are “rich in nihilism.” He avers:

It’s dangerous when a political party is willing to burn things down unless it gets its way; it’s even more dangerous when that party just wants to watch things burn.

For our topic of governance, what interests us is Krugman’s wise listing of the essentials of government as “army” and “insurance company.” There are, to be sure, many other features and functions of government, but they do not claim great portions of the federal budget. Thus we may set Krugman’s survey alongside the summaries of David, Solomon, and Deuteronomy to see what is essential in governance. It is useful and important to recognize that the present debate about the role of government is part of an ongoing and inescapable discussion, as we adjudicate simplicity and complexity, localism and concentrated power, and the extent to which government is involved in various aspects of our common life. It is elementally the case that for all the posturing about “small government,” the truth is that all such serious public matters (health, housing, education, and defense) the involvement of the government is essential and indispensible. The little note on David concerning “justice and equity” (II Samuel 8:15) is a clue to how we in the church may think, speak, and act about governance. We may be sure that there is no government initiative in which matters of “justice and righteousness” are not at stake. We know, moreover, that “justice and righteousness” depend, in covenantal-prophetic tradition, on identifying the most vulnerable neighbors among us, and finding ways to include them in the management and benefits of good governance. Amid the nihilism crowd, we have opportunity to think clearly about matters of taxation and the distribution of resources. When we adjudicate the matter in the presence of the most vulnerable, we will come soon enough to consider reparations for the most severely “left behind.”

The church’s role, signaled by “priests” in the roster of David and Solomon, and by “priests” and “prophets” in Deuteronomy, is to keep front and center the issue of “justice and “righteousness” toward our most vulnerable neighbors. Such a role allows for the church’s generous practice of charity; but it runs well beyond charity to policy. It is the work of the church to care vigorously about “justice and righteousness” in policy. Among other things, that must surely mean the maintenance and extension of Krugman’s “insurance” to the most vulnerable.

One other thought. Both the rosters of David and Solomon include among essential officers “scribes (sopherim) and “recorders” (mazkirim). That is, governance is a “writing thing.” That is why we currently have such demanding engagement about “classified documents.” A modest, simple oral society has no need for such writing. But as soon as government becomes more complex and bureaucratic, it depends upon written records, most notably to make recruitment lists, tax lists, and records of debt. The “secretaries” and “recorders’ listed in these rosters are elsewhere designated as “scribes.” Scribes were the ones with a learned capacity for writing, recording, and remembering. It is this characterization that leads me, amid a reflection on government, to the singular words assigned to Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew that occur nowhere else in Gospel memory:

Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old (Matthew 13:52).

The new government of the coming regime of God will require scribes who are skilled recorders, rememberers, and interpreters of the tradition. Such scribes, in this perspective, have a special capacity  (a) to bring out from the tradition what is new, and (b) to bring out of the tradition what is old. The scribe is to engage the tradition, the lively memory of the community, in order to recall the old lessons learned, but to be able, at the same time, to offer fresh interpretation that may permit and authorize society (and government) to open new vistas of wellbeing.

It occurs to me that amid the pressure and demands of Krugman’s “army and insurance company” that social wellbeing depends upon skilled interpreters of the tradition who know how to value what is done and settled, and to know, at the same time, how to open the tradition to new initiatives for the sake of wellbeing. It may indeed be the religious community—Jews, Christians, and Muslims—that has the capacity and the responsibility to handle our societal traditions in generative ways. Without such work we are likely to reiterate old errors or, alternatively, to become unmoored in innovation. There is good reason that much of the church, through its history, has been committed to a “learned ministry,” to a ministry capable of and prepared for critical study of and reflection on our social past. King Solomon embodies the unknowing dismissal of the past, as he eliminated Abiathar, priest of the old tradition. It is for this reason that Jeremiah instructs his community, in its belated days:

Stand at the crossroads, and look,

and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way lies; and walk in it,

and find rest for your souls (Jeremiah 6:16).

Old paths of Torah are the paths of neighborliness. The community, in its amnesia and its radical new modes, requires the ballast of such critical remembering.  Religious leaders are peculiarly situated precisely for such work.

Walter Brueggemann

March 22, 2023