Politics and Violence: Arendt on the Idea of a Jewish Army

“The Jewish Army—The beginning of Jewish Politics?”

–Hannah Arendt, The Jewish Writings

For an author who insisted on identifying as a political theorist rather than a philosopher, Arendt is surprisingly cavalier when articulating the content of politics. What often most baffles her readers is what she excludes from politics. Arendt, famously, distinguishes the social from the political. For Arendt issues of economic policy, for example, are not properly political but rather form part of the “social question.” What distinguishes the social from the political is that while the former deals with the realm of necessity, the latter is concerned with freedom. Economic issues must be resolved in order to deliver individuals from the realm of necessity. By Arendt, therefore, much of what we take to be politics is not really politics. If, in Rousseau’s words, our politicians “speak of nothing but commerce and money,” they speak of the social question and not of politics.

Arendt also draws a distinction between violence and power. She holds that the former is not properly political on two counts. The currency of the political realm is words and persuasion. To the extent that violence substitutes fear for persuasion, it is a counterfeit currency. Arendt also rules violence out of the political on the grounds that it is instrumental. Violence is instrumental, while politics is an end in itself. By ruling out violence from politics, Arendt also seems to challenge the Clausewitzian commonplace that “war is the continuation of the politics by other means.”

In making these distinctions Arendt challenges our conception of the content of politics. She reminds us of the extent to which our discourse on money and violence does not in fact deal with politics. But her separation of the social and violence from politics can strike one as overly restrictive.

Despite her insistence that the political realm is one of freedom where words and persuasion are the modes of operation, in an early article she wrote for Aufbau in 1941 she advocated the creation of a Jewish army. Her support for a Jewish army suggests that she was not deaf to the reality of arms and force in the world. But what is most striking about the article is that one finds Arendt wondering whether the creation of a Jewish army might not herald the beginning of Jewish politics. Given Arendt’s opposition to admitting violence into the political sphere, her statement is puzzling.

There are several ways to make sense of the statement. Perhaps what Arendt means when she writes about the beginning of Jewish politics is that the formation of a Jewish army is the necessary precondition for the emergence of Jewish politics. Arendt would then be agreeing with what she considered the Ancient Greek view on violence. For the Greeks, Arendt writes in the Human Condition, “because all human beings are subject to necessity, they are entitled to violence toward others; violence is the pre-political act of liberating oneself from the necessity of life for the freedom of the world.” But Arendt’s article suggests that she conceives of the creation of the Jewish army not as a pre-political act but as a first and necessary political act on the part of the Jewish people. She writes in the article that the formation of a Jewish army would tell the world that the Jewish people “too engage in politics.”

To square Arendt’s support for a Jewish army with her stand against violence in politics, one can proceed in two ways. First, one could argue that it is unfair to apply distinctions to an article that predates most of her writings on politics. Second, one could argue that it is unfair to equate support for a Jewish army with admitting violence into political affairs. One could, in other words, make a distinction between war and violence as some of Arendt’s readers have done (most notably Patricia Owen in her book Between War and Politics: International Relations and the Thought of Hannah Arendt). While the distinction between war and violence is an important one, it perhaps offers too easy a resolution. Even if one distinguishes between war and violence, one is left to make sense of the fact that in calling the creation of a Jewish army the possible beginning of Jewish politics, Arendt is admitting into the political sphere something that goes beyond words and deeds accomplished through persuasion.

Arendt views the creation of a Jewish Army as a necessary step for the Jews to enjoy freedom. She writes, “An old and very contemporary Zionist proverb says that freedom is not a gift. Freedom is also not a prize for suffering endured.” The use of force is necessary, therefore, in order to create the space in which freedom can flourish. Arendt is arguing that by standing on the sidelines without taking arms, one cannot expect to attain freedom. But this again reduces the call for a Jewish army to a pre-political step that is a necessary prelude to Jewish politics. Arendt, however, goes beyond the Machiavellian recognition of the necessity of violence.

What ultimately allows her to view the creation of a Jewish army as the beginning of Jewish politics is the very act of creating the army. Arendt warns in the article that “the existence of people is definitely too serious a matter to be left to the rich.” She calls on Jews around the world to both demand a Jewish army and volunteer for such an army, and not leave this task to a “plutocratic regime.” The creation of the Jewish army, as Arendt conceives of it, is an act aimed not primarily at creating a force to inflict violence. Rather, the very act of getting together an army allows Arendt to wonder whether the creation of the army might mean the beginning of a Jewish politics. She writes that the idea of a “Jewish army is not utopian if the Jews of all countries demand it and are prepared to volunteer for it.” Arendt’s principle aim in her article on the creation of the Jewish army is to ensure broad participation in the army. The creation of a broad based Jewish army would be the beginning of Jewish politics because it would be an act of power rather than violence. Arendt’s article calls on the Jewish people to act in concert and assert their power. Here, as in many other places, Arendt echoes Machiavelli. Arendt agrees with Machiavelli on the necessity of having one’s own arms and calls in effect for a citizen army. Arendt thus takes on board some of the lessons of the famous Florentine realist. In her usual fashion, however, she adapts the lessons to create a compelling alternative. While Arendt acknowledges that sometimes force is necessary and recognition can only come from taking up arms, her insistence that violence does not belong in politics warns against making what Machiavelli calls “extraordinary modes” ordinary.

--Faisal Baluch