Tag Archives: theology

Open Letter to My Students 78: The Excellence of Excellence

I am by nature a liberal. But I read conservative authors to keep myself honest.

Anthony Kronman is such an author, whose recent book True Conservatism chides liberals for valuing equality at the expense of excellence.[i]  Surely, he reasons, we want excellence in doctors and carpenters. Why shouldn’t we expect similar excellence in simply being human? Everyone should have equal opportunity to develop human excellence, but as a matter of social policy, we should cultivate that excellence and expect it of people.

Do we have an obligation to foster a society where human excellence is the goal? Religions, certainly, would seem to say yes. The Jewish version is the adage by Hillel, “Where humanity is lacking, strive to be humane.”[ii]

The most immediate liberal objection is the cultural bias inherent in defining “humanly excellent.” We can more easily agree on what counts for excellence in doctors and carpenters (they themselves have criteria for what they do). But who is to say what counts as human excellence? 

We can reframe the question by asking how human beings are unique among animals. What is it that the evolution of human beings has uniquely outfitted us to do? 

I know of several impressive answers to that question.

The first is by Aristotle, who calls human beings rational animals. Only humans can reason their way through thick cobwebs of arguments to arrive at logical conclusions. It would follow that schools should teach the ability to reason wisely; that politicians should demonstrate the art of rational debate and deliberation; and that individuals should dedicate themselves to lives of thoughtfulness.  

Aristotle further believed in a uniquely human form of happiness, not momentary hedonism but “morally virtuous action guided by reason,”[iii] which he thought would produce the long-term sense of well-being that Greeks called eudaemonia. Human excellence lies in “the hunt for the life that is truly worth living”?[iv]

But there are other options. Human reason is an extension of our ability to manipulate language, which philosopher Ernst Cassirer saw as a complex system of symbols. For him, we humans are not so much rational, or even eudaemonia-seeking, animals, so much as we are symbol-appreciating animals. A society that values excellence would imbue its members with an appreciation of symbols — not just language, but mathematics and the various arts as well, for these too are symbolic systems that stretch our human imagination.  

But what about religion, a symbol system whose purpose is to seek the eternal, the transcendent, a “cosmic connection” in which we see the world as “shot through with joy, significance, inspiration.”[v] Hence a third view, represented most forcefully by Mircea Eliade, who pioneered the discipline called History of Religions: Human beings, he says, are religious animals. We should create societies where the search for transcendent meaning is foremost; and where the legitimate religious expression of that human urge for ultimacy can thrive. 

And finally, the view of Karl Marx, who brilliantly redefined human beings as the species that works.Marxism (untethered from Communism) is the commitment to guarantee everyone a form of work that satisfies because it is rewarded and fulfilling. The search for social excellence would transform work itself as part of that “life worth living.”

Liberals might still object that these definitions of human excellence are by white men who are part of the classic philosophical heritage which denied equality to women, condoned slavery, and colonized native peoples worldwide. And there is some truth to that. Aristotle taught Alexander the Great who “colonized” a good deal of the entire known world. Eliade once flirted with his native Rumania’s nationalist but anti-Semitic Iron Guard. Marxism was concretized in Communist states that suppressed everyone around them. As a Jew who fled Germany and denounced both hero-worship and racism, Cassirer seems the least implicated, but until Hitler came along, he certainly was part of the European intellectual establishment.  

Still, shouldn’t the claim for human excellence be judged on its own merit? 

A related charge is that advocating excellence as the ultimate human goal sounds elitist, especially in a society with chronic inequality and rampant poverty. But these human ills are heinous precisely because they run counter to the right of every person to aspire to the excellence for which being human is intended.   

What can possibly be wrong with a national agenda that demands 1. rational conversation as a path to ongoing happiness; 2. the right to be at home in the distinctively human symbol systems of language, mathematics and the arts; 3. access to religious systems that provide transcendence and religious meaning; and 4. work that is rewarded and rewarding? In fact, I see no reason why any of this need be a specifically “conservative” doctrine. Liberals too should claim as their own. 

Susan Neiman is a moral philosopher whose Jewish parents imbued her with the leftist doctrines that were commonplace among Jews who hailed from eastern Europe. Her recent book, The Left is Not Woke, attacks the woke doctrines that are currently popular on campuses and distinguishes them from true liberalism, the point of view that traces its roots to the Enlightenment, esteems rational discourse, and seeks to better the lives of human beings everywhere. 

Defining human excellence as I have may not be compatible with wokeness, but it is perfectly in keeping with Susan Neiman’s liberalism, which is my brand of liberalism too.

True liberals should demand this kind of excellence. We should insist on a national conversation on how to reframe our institutions, government, and culture to embody and to emphasize a life worth living — the virtuous, peaceful, and universal sense of human dignity toward which human equality of opportunity should aspire. 


[i] Anthony T. Kronman, True Conservatism: Reclaiming Our Humanity in an Arrogant Age (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2025).

[ii]  Avot 2:6. Literally “Where there are no men, strive to be a man.” Avoiding the sexist “men” is difficult here. But I think I have captured the idea correctly.

[iii] A nice turn of phrase I borrow from Riin Sirkel, review of Øyvind Rabbås, Eyjólfur K. Emilsson, Hallvard Fossheim, and Miira Tuominen (eds.), The Quest for the Good Life: Ancient Philosophers on Happiness(Oxford University Press, 2015). https://ndpr.nd.edu/reviews/the-quest-for-the-good-life-ancient-philosophers-on-happiness/.

[iv] Robert C. Bartlett and Susan D. Collins, Eds., Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), Introduction, p. 14.

[v] Charles Taylor, Cosmic Connections: Poetry in the Age of Disenchantment (Cambridge and London:  Belknap Press of Harvard University, 2024), p. xvi.

Open Letter to My Students 66: Nostalgia and the State of the World – Why we are the way we are.

Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be – and that’s no joke. So what was it once and what is it now? We should care because it explains the West Bank Settlers in Israel, White Christian Nationalists in America, the right-wing successes of Europe, and even the American Supreme Court.

            The expert on nostalgia was Svetlana Boym, a Jewish émigré from the former Soviet Union, who taught at Harvard, and died too young (just 56 years old). As Boym tells the story,[i] the word “nostalgia” was coined by a Swiss  physician, Johannes Hofer, in 1688. He considered it a disease treatable by leeches (OMG), opium (worse), and restful vacations in the Alps (better).  

            “Nostalgia” was his second choice for a name. At first, he tried philopatridomania, which (unsurprisingly) didn’t catch on but which translates as something like “an overly developed love of home.” “Nostalgia” derives from the Greek, algos (“pain, longing”) and nostos (a word denoting a mythic hero’s homecoming). The German Heimweh (“home pain”) captures it exactly.

            So nostalgia used to be a personal yearning to return home to a better time or place. Centuries of diasporan “exile” made Jews the prototypically nostalgic people: for a place (Lashanah haba’ah birushalayim, “Next year in Jerusalem”) and a time (chadesh yameinu k’kedem, “Renew our days as of old”).

            This sort of nostalgia is overall harmless: just the practice of sugar-coating selective reminiscences of the way we think we were: “a romance with one’s own fantasies” says Boym, or (at worst) “hypochondria of the heart.” She labels it “reflective.” It is what nostalgia used to be. But all over the world, nostalgia has now morphed into a different and distinctly dangerous variety that Boym labels “restorative.” Historian Marc Lilla prefers calling it “militant.”[ii]

            Restorative/militant nostalgia seeks not just to reflect on what is lost, but to recover it. It fantasizes conspiracies by enemies who are destroying the old and the good for their own nefarious purposes. Hitler’s Germany is the best example. Putin’s Russia is not far behind.  

            Like pretty much every empire throughout time, restorationists thrive on uniting the power of the state with the ideology of religion. David and Solomon needed their priesthood. Constantine empowered early Christianity. Pope Leo III crowned Charlemagne. Henry VIII founded his own Church of England. Putin works closely with the Russian Orthodox Patriarch. The racist claim to keeping America white justifies itself because it will be a white Christian nationalism.  

            Both church and state, however, draw heavily on the glue of ethnicity, the good old days when it is imagined that we were all “authentically” the same: minorities are, at best, sidelined; at worst, demonized and victimized. There is little room in Modi’s India for Muslims. Arab Muslims in northern Sudan are even now eradicating non-Arab Muslims in the south. A militant settler movement in Israel cites the Bible to justify expelling West Bank Arabs.

*

            Restorative nostalgia is part of a larger picture: a centuries-long struggle between head and heart, reason (on one hand) and romanticism (on the other).

            The Age of Reason (17th-18th centuries) celebrated the head, with a claim that as much as people may look different on the outside, we are all creatures of reason on the inside — all the same, that is. It gave birth to Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) whose philosophy assumes universal human reason and arrives at equally universal human duty. Or, earlier (1685-1750), Johann Sebastian Bach, whose fugues are mathematically precise and appealing to both ear and mind.

            This dependence on reason was behind the French Revolution’s call for universalist values of “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity”; and its mission to end the unreasonable differences in privilege that marked the old order. Napoleon’s intended breakup of that order was a logical extension. Unsurprisingly, the European aristocracies who were threatened by that breakup exchanged head for heart: not universal reason but a romance with ethnic/nationalist tribalism. Germany for Germans; France for the French. Instead of Kant, we got Hegel, who thought the spirit of history was inexorably evolving into its preordained end, the superior German state. Instead of Bach, we got Wagner (1813-1883), whose operas glorify Germanic myths of origin.

            World War I was the natural outgrowth of this romanticized particularism, where each of the warring nations distrusted all the others. And Germany of World War II is a textbook case of restorative nostalgia militarized.

            When WW II ended, the seesaw of head and heart resumed. At first,  reasoned universalism made its comeback. The American variety stressed worldwide democracy and open-market capitalism; the Soviet alternative underscored the interests of the international proletariat. Both sought to remake the world in their own version of a universalist tomorrow. 

            When the Iron Curtain fell, only the American variety survived, and with it, a strengthened European union, globalism unbound, free trade, and capitalism unleashed: all of it, the new gospel for liberal intellectuals.

            But Jobs migrated to Asia; computers replaced people; the wealth gap widened; and religion was sidelined. A deluge of immigrants and the reality of a black president threatened the white ethnics who blamed the liberal universalist era for passing them by. So in 2016, romanticism returned with restorative nostalgia. Unsurprisingly, adherents of MAGA (Make America great again) denounce universal scientific reasoning behind vaccines and masks.

            American restorationists today romanticize the good old days of the 1950s, where (they imagine) America was mostly white and Protestant. The Supreme Court’s fetish with “originalism” is itself rooted in the assumption that the guiding wisdom of our founding fathers will overturn the liberal universalist order and reproduce the golden years when America was already great (never mind the extermination of Native Indians and an economy dependent on black slaves).

            Unlike the right, the woke left has no delusions about returning to yesteryear. But the same return to romanticism informs its claim that aggrieved minorities must hunker down behind “our own kind.” Men cannot understand women; whites cannot comprehend blacks. Hence the rise of anti-Semitism on the right and on the left, both of them romanticized, tribalized, and militant enemies of the universalists’ love affair with reason and the way we are all the same. 

            I love being a Jew; I think the Jewish People matters – but as part of a divine mission where all peoples draw upon their specificities to make their own unique contributions to a better world for all. That makes me an unrepentant universalist. Restorationist nostalgia on the right and romantic tribalism on the left will eventually end, I know. In the meantime, I write letters like this and practice having patience.   


[i] Svetlana Boym, The Future of Nostalgia (New York: Basic Books, 2001), p. 3.

[ii] Mark Lilla, “The Tower and the Sewer,” New York Review of Books,  June 20, 2024, p. 14.