The following essays are part of a collaboration between the Journal of Law and Religion and Political Theology. Editors from both journals selected the two texts interrogated and interpreted here—James Baldwin’s essay “Equal in Paris” and the United States Supreme Court decision in the case United States v. Wong Kim Ark (1898). The purpose of the collaboration was twofold. The first purpose was to see what new interpretations arise when scholars working primarily in law read the essay by Baldwin, who has been a touchstone in much contemporary Black theology, and when scholars working in religious studies read the legal decision in Wong Kim Ark, a case in which the Supreme Court extended citizenship to the child of Chinese immigrants who conceived and bore him on American soil. The second purpose was to divide publication between the journals, with each journal publishing three of the six essays, with a view to building bridges between readers of each journal over a topic at the intersection of both law and political theology.

This essay examines the interplay between law, Christianity, and oppression in the thought of James Baldwin. This essay begins its inquiry from Baldwin’s own essay, Equal in Paris, and expands out to his broader writing. The essay makes four contributions. First, it shows that Equal in Paris presents a view of law and Christianity as simultaneously serving as instruments and sources of hypocrisy and injustice while representing critically important, if difficult to achieve, standards of justice and love. Second, the essay shows that for Baldwin avoidance and denial of collective moral failure underlies the hypocritical use of law and Christianity to perpetrate injustice rather than justice. Third, the essay reveals that Baldwin would see current legislative bans of critical race theory as a means of avoidance and denial of collective moral failure. Moreover, from a Baldwinian perspective, the maintenance of innocence through bans on critical race theory is a “crime” that typifies the problem at the root of racial oppression in America, which is the refusal to come to terms with the reality of white supremacy. Fourth, while agreeing with scholars who find significant overlap between Baldwin’s approach to law and critical race theory, the essay concludes that Baldwin’s work suggests that critical race theory’s neglect of love constitutes a critical shortcoming for critical race theory’s anti-subordinationist agenda.

James Baldwin’s autobiographical essay “Equal in Paris” is a perceptive and often amusing account of the American writer’s first visit to Paris. An aspiring novelist who left America in rage over his experience of the country’s injustice and contempt toward Black Americans, Baldwin is acutely aware of racial prejudice in majority white societies. He tells of his experience of staying in a dilapidated hotel, of being wrongly accused of theft and then imprisoned in a Paris jail for more than a week over Christmas. Baldwin’s astute observations of Parisian life and its institutions, show how as a Black American, he struggles to understand this new cultural environment which like most Western societies, has its own form of racism. But this is also a story of an artist’s search for a new intellectual home where he can breathe freely and write. His new friendships with other artists and observations about cosmopolitan European life, allow him to assess what it means to be an American in Paris. This includes exploring those social attitudes that divide America and Europe and those that are universal.

This essay analyzes one of James Baldwin’s least commented-upon essays, “Equal in Paris,” through the lens of current debates about transatlantic differences regarding race, equality, and citizenship. In his essay, Baldwin narrates how he was imprisoned in Paris for several days a year after his arrival in France. Baldwin constructs his essay not as a political manifesto about race, citizenship, and equality. Rather, through a powerful and cinematographic description, he leads the reader to share the narrator’s distressing experience of disjunction and terror he had while in prison. This literary choice can be understood in the context of Baldwin’s rejection of theologies of damnation and redemption that, according to him, motivate protest writings.

As one of the world’s only constitutions to recognize Theravada Buddhism as the state religion yet not include a religious exemption to the universal franchise for its monastic community, Cambodia’s Constitution stands out as an anomaly. This article traces the ways in which the realities of this remarkably inorganic approach to religion—enshrined in Cambodia’s Constitution in 1993, pursuant to a heavily internationalized peace process—have subsequently been shaped by debates occurring within Cambodia’s Buddhist institutions, rather than judicial ones. Drawing on data derived from archival research and a series of ethnographic interviews conducted during 2017 and 2018, I home in on decades-old debates about the voting rights of Cambodian monks to show how individual monks justify their participation in electoral politics through a mixture of both secular and religious arguments. The on-the-ground reality of the extension of the franchise to the Buddhist clergy in Cambodia, in other words, is ultimately shaped by an ongoing contestation within the sangha, with proponents and opponents of a religious exception grounding their arguments simultaneously in constitutional and theological vocabularies. The article sheds light on a singular constitutional arrangement—a unique relationship between religious and state institutions that has so far received relatively little scholarly attention—and highlights an instance of constitutional practice that occurs beyond the reach of both judicial and other state institutions.

A marked feature of the contemporary U.S. constitutional landscape is the campaign by an Evangelical-Catholic coalition against the idea of secularism, understood by this alliance to mean the exclusion of religion from the state and its progressive marginalization from social life. Departing from the tendency to treat this project as a national phenomenon, this article places it within a longer global genealogy of an earlier international Christian ecumenical effort to combat secularism. The triumph of that campaign culminated in the making of Article 18 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, now considered the paradigmatic international legal provision on religious liberty. Article 18’s protection of the rights to proselytize and convert, I argue, was a product of an impassioned contestation between an ecumenical movement keen on securing the prerogative to spread the gospel to the non-Christian world and a secularism in a strange alliance with Islam in the region that held the greatest promise for the evangelical enterprise—Muslim Africa. In excavating the genealogy of ecumenical thought as it developed a critique of the so-called secularist threat, I recover the delicate links between the contemporary U.S. anti-secular campaign and the earlier ecumenical efforts.

The decisionistic strand in Jewish legal philosophy is often neglected by scholars focused on the more common rational explanations for Jewish law. This article brings attention to decisionism in Jewish legal thought by analyzing the legal philosophy of Shneur Zalman of Lyady, the founder of the Habad Hasidic movement. The author uses the legal and political thought of Carl Schmitt—arguably modernity’s most influential decisionist—to help elucidate Shneur Zalman’s decisionistic legal thought and thereby put into sharper focus an otherwise underappreciated current in Jewish legal philosophy.

Women’s political leadership is one of the abiding controversial issues among Muslim scholars. The question of whether a Muslim woman can lead in her country is generally answered negatively by Muslim scholars, but some modern scholars explicitly support women’s political leadership without any restriction. Where the scholars stand on the issue is influenced by their social context. With the intent of examining the interaction between social context and Islamic legal methodologies in fatwās—Isalmic legal opinions—related to women, the author discusses as exemplary texts the fatwās issued by two well-known religious institutions, the Dār al-Iftā’ in Saudi Arabia and the Diyanet in Turkey. The institutions function in different social contexts: Saudi Arabia is a theocratic monarchy that applies Islamic law; Turkey is a democratic country whose legal system is based on a secular law. Through a detailed analysis of the spatio-temporal fatwās regarding women’s political leadership, the author provides insight into the influence of contextual elements during the process of issuing fatwās, suggesting that these differences of opinion among Muslim scholars and religious institutions will continue.

This essay considers the vexed relationship between belonging and identity. Belonging is not an objective or unreflective association but rather an emotional assertion of attachment. That emotional connection is an indispensable component of identity, which, as Joseph David argues in Kinship, Law and Politics: An Anatomy of Belonging, is a relationship charged with meaning. Accordingly, the distinction between belonging as a privately held sentiment and the politics of belonging overlooks the fact that the emotions associated with belonging define group membership. Belonging is not a private matter but an emotional relationship that shapes social life, reinforces a group’s identity politics, and finds expression in a group’s practices. Analysis of two case studies from ancient Judaism—the writings of Philo of Alexandria and the sectarian Dead Sea Scrolls—demonstrates the emotional, social, and discursive dimensions of belonging and the role it plays in producing identity. Belonging is not a stable concept but is rather one that assumes different forms depending on the emotional orientation of the group and the particulars of identity politics. For Philo, belonging reflects a universalistic love for all humanity that helps shape an identity embracing Jewish practice and Greek virtue. By contrast, the Dead Sea sect’s antipathy toward all other Jews requires that a sense of belonging express not only love for fellow sectarians but also hate for all outsiders.

Belonging and the sense of belonging are vital factors of human identity, loyalty, and roles, the expectations we have of ourselves and of one another. The boundaries, social and sexual, that all human societies deploy to protect personal privacy and personal and group dignity are modulated by our sense of belonging and often by a complementary sense of difference. The bonds of affinity and the corresponding sense of belonging that modulate our norms and roles are perhaps most visible in the striking colorations they assume in the eyes of outsiders viewing the mores of traditional societies. But the vital necessity of a sense of shared identity is all the more critical when social identities are fragmented by faction, tribalism, or racism, or when anomie and alienation have sapped the sense of commitment that energizes collaborative efforts in any human group. Few dimensions of personal outlook and awareness are more powerful in communal, legal, or political settings than the sense of belonging, that curiously shared identity by which we bind ourselves and one another to shared goals and values in some version of the sense that we are one.

Joseph E. David’s Kinship, Law and Politics: An Anatomy of Belonging provides an erudite demonstration of how an analytical approach that directs attention to negotiations of belonging in exegetical and legal thinking can yield crucial insight into how social boundaries are defined and defended in throughout human history in a broad array of contexts. Among the examples he brings to illustrate premodern efforts to delineate belonging is Nahmanides’s interpretation of territory based commandments. David shows that Nahmanides made the radical claim that the covenant was firmly linked to the land, so that any people inhabiting the land were obliged to follow it, and complete compliance with divine law could be achieved only in the Land of Israel. This essay examines David’s discussion of Nahmanides’s interpretation of law in the Land of Israel and considers the implications of extending an analysis of conceptions of belonging into other corners of Nahmanides’s career as a commentator, community leader, and teacher.

In Kinship, Law and Politics: An Anatomy of Belonging Joseph David offers an erudite and duly nuanced analysis of Judaism as the faith of a people bound by kinship and a faith grounded in religious law, of consanguineous and spiritual belonging. In the premodern period and prior to the onset of secularization, the relation of kinship and spiritual belonging was determined by religious law in dialogue with evolving social realities. With the eclipse of religious authority, as David astutely notes, the traditional codes of Jewish belonging were desacralized, allowing for competing ethical and social values, and visions of the good. To remedy the consequent fracturing of Jewish affiliation, David calls for a revalorization of Jewish kinship, focused on familial affection and mutual regard, which he celebrates as an ethos of care. To cast the ethos of care in purely phenomenological terms, however, courts a blurring of the ethical and axiological boundaries between ideological communities—Left and Right—that offer bonds of mutual care, solidarity, and distinctive visions of the good. Moreover, as regards Judaism, one might find contemporary institutional expressions of Jewish kinship, religious or otherwise, to be incompatible with one’s understanding of the tradition’s teachings and values and choose not to belong.

Like many others, I believe that the information revolution is a constitutive moment in human history, and not only because of the development of technologies that change our habits and improve the quality of our lives. More than anything else, it is because the information revolution profoundly and dramatically changes our self-concept. That revolution is changing our understanding of the place we occupy in the universe (the erosion of anthropocentrism), forcing us to rethink our uniqueness as human beings and our human essence. I believe that the preconditions of our existence are changing dramatically nowadays, and consequently, our notions of belonging and identity require revision.