Ernst Kantorowicz analyzes the development in later medieval
political thought by isolating one aspect of it: the King’s Two
Bodies. By this phrase he means the conjunction of the king’s own
natural body with that of the “body politic” (9). It is not entirely
clear exactly what “body politic” denotes, and Kantorowicz’s ambiguity
is deliberate: the phrase shifted in meaning throughout the Middle
Ages. It is Kantorowicz’s further claim that this shift in meaning had
theological roots.
Kantorowicz argues, somewhat counter-intuitively, that “The King’s
Two Bodies” is a monophysite construction—while purporting to be an
analogy between the King and the divine, it actually takes the form of a
heretical Christology (14-15; see also p.18). The charge of
monophysitism is somewhat difficult to follow, but Kantorowicz claims it
resulted from the indifference (and inability) to properly distinguish
the body of the mortal king from the body of his realm (p. 18). As is
evident, the medieval jurists were seeking to imitate their
constructions of kingship from Christological truths. That is nothing
new, nor is there anything wrong with it. The Eastern Romans already
were doing that for hundreds of years. The problem arose when other
theological currents changed the way the Church in the West did
Christology, and thus changed the way it did politics.
In the early middle ages Western Europe was similar to the Eastern
Romans in terms of using Christology to shape kingship. Both
civilizations shared a common faith and used that common faith to
understand politics. They saw the King as imitator of Christ (47). It
should be noted, however, that the Eastern Romans did not use the
phrase “King’s Two Bodies” as extensively (at all?) as the West did.
While the phrase wasn’t heretical, per se, it was always attended by
many possible dangers. In either case, both sides saw the King as the
representative, not of God the Father, but of Christ. This reflects the
ancient reading of the Old Testament as a revelation of God the Son. A
moment’s meditation on this point will make it obvious: political
theologies are almost always based on the Old Testament simply because
it deals with politics more than does the New Testament. Therefore,
one’s reading of the Old Testament will shape the way one does political
theology.
The West’s grammar changed, though. Previously, kingship was done
in the context of liturgy. The King represented Christ’s rule in a
mystical way. He was anointed with oil for the sake of the realm. He
was, in short, an ikon of popular piety.
The watershed mark demonstrating the transition best is the reign of
Otto II, and the best way to illustrate this difference is in the
ikonography surrounding Otto. Otto is important for he represents the
intersection between the Byzantine East and Frankish West, including the
best and worst elements of both. Kantorowicz contrasts two
ikonographic paintings which portray rulers: the Aachen miniature over
against the Reichenau painting of Otto. The former portrays the
Charlemagnic king as the representative of God the Father whereas the
Reichenau painting places Otto in the foreground of a Byzantine halo,
suggesting he represents Christ (77).
The above is an important point and I suspect the larger part of it
is lost upon Kantorowicz. This ikonography reflects a shift in
theology, which probably reflects a shift in the way sacred texts are
read. It was mentioned earlier that the Old Testament was now read, no
longer as a revelation of God the Son, but of God the Father. One
could probably take it a step further—it was seen as a revelation of
God-in-general.
The Corpus Mysticum
In many ways it is the concept of a “Mystical Body” that contributed
to the secularization of Western political thought. One must avoid,
however, overly simplistic reductions regarding the phrase. The phrase
“Mystical Body” originally connoted the interplay between the Eucharist,
the body born of the Virgin Mary, and the Church itself. While the
phrase is not Pauline, if left at this stage there is no problem. As
Kantorowicz, drawing upon the work of Henri Cardinal de Lubac, notes,
the distinctions between the two bodies hardened into oppositions.
Therefore, the body of Christ per the Church was separated from the body
of Christ the Son of God. While small at first, this opened the door
for a
secularization of concepts.
The King as Corporation
One suspects that the idea of the “corporation” arrived in the West
coterminous with the sharpening of the “King’s Two Bodies.” Indeed,
even if not chronologically accurate, it is logically consistent.
Jurists were puzzled over the problem of whether the king’s other
body—his realm—died when he died. The short answer to this problem was
that the king’s other body did not die. The people were in-corporated
into this body and outlived the king. The canon lawyers coined a phrase
for this:
dignitas non moritur—the dignity does not die.
One cannot avoid noticing throughout this work, and if the argument
holds then throughout Western history, a progression of concepts
regarding political theology. Like its Byzantine cousin, Western
political theology began with liturgical roots (59). After the Ottonian
period, these liturgical roots were translated into secular terms
(115). Therefore, when the King is called a “corpus mysticum,” this
cannot be interpreted in early liturgical Christian categories. Rather,
it can only reflect the ongoing secularization. Because of the
hardening of “the King’s two bodies,” jurists had to account for the
fact that the second body, the realm, did not die
[i],
and they could only do this by introducing the idea of the
corporation. Therefore, one can trace the movement of Western political
theology along the following line:
Liturgical Kingship degenerated into a Law-based Kingship which degenerated into Corporate Kingship which degenerated into and finally The State
Conclusion
This book is a genealogy of political theology. It traces the rhythm
of Western politics through the lens of a highly disputed phrase.
Further, it traces the nuances later attributed to that phrase, and the
earth-shattering consequences. Our only regret is that this was the
only book of its kind that Kantorowicz had written.
There are some difficulties with the book, though. Kantorowicz does
not always identify his main point in each chapter, or he might wait
until some random moment in the middle of the chapter before he informs
the reader of his argument. Further, there are some portions of the
book which do not seem relevant at all (e.g., his extended discussion on
medieval English fiscal rights). On top of all of this is the rather
dense style in which he wrote, coupled with the numerous (usually
un-translated) sentences and paragraphs in Latin. One suspects that
many of these phrases are indeed central to his main argument, but if
one’s grasp of Latin is not on a post-graduate level, the argument will
be lost on the reader.
EXCURSUS ON MONARCHICAL POLITICAL THEOLOGY
Thirdly, one suspects that a key point in Kantorowicz’s central
thesis is likely lost on the average reader, for Kantorowicz mentions it
in passing. He notes that the phrase “The King’s Two Bodies” has
Monophysite tendencies (e.g., the heresy that Christ has only one
nature, which is akin to a divino-human hybrid). For those schooled in
church history, this appears counter-intuitive. “Two Bodies” seems to
suggest “two persons,” which is Nestorianism (which is indeed the route
many thinkers to the phrase when they referred to the ‘twin-personed’
king). Further, Western Christologies often have Nestorian tendencies;
therefore, it seems odd that a culture operating on a Nestorian
Christological structure would employ a Monophysite structure in its
political theology. On the other hand, this might not be too odd.
One should recall St John of Damascus’ dictum that all heresies
deconstruct on the same point: they confuse person and nature.
Regardless, Kantorowicz rightly notes the connection between
theological heresy and political theory. One is reminded, again, of
another Patristic father on this matter, St Gregory of Nazianzus. In
his Third Theological Oration St Gregory notes the three opinions about
God: monarchy, polyarchy, and anarchy. St Gregory notes the latter two
opinions deconstruct to the same end—chaos. This leaves monarchy as
the only viable option. English-speaking students are going to miss an
important point. The suffix arche denotes a principle of order for
both social and theological ethics. Therefore, one’s position
regarding the Trinity will affect one’s position on politics.
[i]
One cannot help by notice the Nestorianism here: there are two bodies
that are separated from each other. Interestingly, we see that the
Monophysite structure of “The King’s Two Bodies” has deconstructed into
the dialectically opposite heresy—Nestorianism.
