Moshe Halbertal, Maimonides: Life and Thought (2014)

I knew very little about Maimonides when I started this intellectual biography - basically, only that he was somewhat akin to people like Averroes (Ibn Rushd) and Thomas Aquinas in that they all sought to integrate their religious faiths with Aristotelian philosophy. By the time I was finished with Maimonides, I was, to put it in technical terms, blown away by him. His intellectual audacity was breathtaking. As a type, he reminded me of Max Weber. John Leizman, a colleague at Bard, compared him to Aristotle himself. Maimonides' first major project was a codification of all of halakhah, the great, overflowing and, by design, contentious corpus of Jewish law encompassing the Mishnah and the Talmud. Maimonides aspired to put an end to the contention by codifying and, in a sense, replacing that corpus. This work - Mishneh Torah- drew extensively on Aristotelian ideas. His other great project, however, The Guide for the Perplexed, more directly addressed the challenge of integrating Torah and philosophy. However, unlike the Mishneh Torah, the Guide addressed an elite audience and concealed its radicalism, making it an esoteric text. Halbertal skillfully guides the reader through the theological and philosophical questions Maimonides wrestled with. The decisive question pertained to God's will and God's wisdom. Emphasizing the former meant that God created the world ex nihilo, intervened purposefully and repeatedly in history, etc. This fitted the traditional, and arguably self-evident, interpretation of the Bible. Contrary to it, however, Maimonides's revolutionary theology focused on the wisdom of God, which implied that the world had existed eternally, God did not intervene, God's wisdom could be found in the orderliness of nature, etc. In short, this was a nearly wholesale reinterpration of Judaism in light of Aristotle's thought. Even prophecy and personal salvation were reinterpreted as natural accomplishments. What made Maimonides's project all the more remarkable were the conditions in which he lived and worked. He and his family fled al-Andalus in the middle of the 12th century, upon the seizure of power by the relatively intolerant Almohads. Unlike many Andalusian Jews, who fled to Provence, Maimonides fled first toward the Almohad power center in the Maghrib. Eventually, they settled in Cairo. Maimonides had lost the safety and familiarity of Cordoba and had to make due as a refugee. To accomplish such a revolutionary rethinking of an entire tradition under such conditions is truly remarkable.

Moshe Halbertal, People of the Book: Canon, Meaning, and Authority (1997)

This is a pithy, profound book. In its 130 pages, Halbertal traces the evolving nature of the "rabbinic revolution," which roughly 2000 years ago replaced the priest and prophet with the rabbi and book. In Weberian fashion he distinguishes different species of a common genus - whether canon, meaning, the hermeneutic principle of charity, Kabbalah, esotericism, etc. First came the Bible, of course; but then came the Mishnah and the Talmud, both of which were open-ended, polyphonic, and contentious - the first a collection of legal rulings, the second a discussion of them. The Talmud in particular displaced the Torah as the central text of this text-centered community. In the middle ages, philosophy and Kabbalah (mysticism) each claimed to complement the Talmud. As I was reading about these intense efforts in hermeneutics and legal reasoning, I found myself wondering about the interaction between Jewish and Christian thinking, especially after, say, 1000, when Christian efforts to revive Roman law and to integrate Christianity with Aristotelian philosophy began? Were these Christian and the similar Jewish efforts Halbertal describes merely running in parallel, or was there cross-fertilization between them? My guess would be that any influence there might have been went only one way, from the Christian to the Jewish - simply because I don't believe the dominant Christian thinkers took much interest in the tiny Jewish minority, at least not until the Reformation. But I may be wrong. In any case, this is not a question Halbertal here addresses. The focus is on the evolution of Jewish texts and text-centeredness, but there are all sorts of connections to fundamental questions of interpretation, religious evolution in general, the meeting of cultures (Judaism and Greek philosophy in the middle ages), etc. The second I finished this book, I started Halbertal's intellectual biography of Maimonides, which looks to be superb as well.....

Nicholas Carr, Superbloom: How Technologies of Connection Tear Us Apart (2025)

This book came out the same day that Chris Hayes's The Sirens' Call did (see my previous post). Generally overlapping in their critical assessments of the digital revolution and even in the responses they recommend, the two books are still different enough to make them both well worth reading. While Hayes is perhaps flashier and more conversational, Carr - as in a previous book of his which I also highly recommend, The Shallows - argues more carefully and writes in sharper prose. One of the threads of Superbloom is the belief that more and more universal communication will knit ever-widening circles of humanity together. With antecedents in Enlightenment thought, this idea animated the early American sociologist Charles Cooley and, in the wake of WWII, Margaret Mead. In a section that I wish Carr had expanded a little, he shows that the same confidence lay behind the fateful lack of regulation of the internet in its 1990s infancy. In the 1996 Telecommunications Act, two key doctrines that had governed communications previously were quietly abandoned: secrecy of correspondence (the Faustian bargain we enter with Google and its ilk is that we get their services for free in exchange for allowing the content of our messages to be mined for opportunities to advertise to us) and the obligation of "broadcasters" to serve the public interest, which had been established in the original 1934 Communications Act but had already been eroded when it came to radio and cable TV in the 1970s. Interestingly, like both Jenny Odell (How to Do Nothing) and Hayes in The Sirens' Call, Carr doesn't place great hope in legal or policy remedies for the damage being inflicted by digital technologies. All three emphasize individual action, which may eventually inspire collective action. On the last page of his book, Carr recommends "the taking up of positions, first as individuals and then, perhaps, together, not outside of society but at society's margin, not beyond the reach of the information flow but beyond the reach of its liquefying force." This is almost exactly what Odell means by "standing apart." And it's how I'm trying to live my life.