States of Speculation: Gillian Rose’s Talmudic Hegel

Gillian Rose argues that the broken nature of modernity necessitates a return to a speculative Hegel that strongly rebukes poststructuralist thinking of ethics and politics as separate entities. In this article I argue that Rose reads Hegel speculatively through Talmudic law in a manner that both extends and exposes the limits of universal ethics in modern political life.¹

The Talmud is a corpus of rabbinic Jewish legal interpretation that Rose sees as a legal method, rather than mere religious tradition, for modernity. She understands both Talmudic and Hegelian methods as a ‘flawed jurisprudence’ characterized by ongoing, speculative and dialectical mediation. I explore the political stakes of Rose’s proposal through her critique of Emmanuel Levinas for exemplifying poststructuralism’s ethical blunders in a 1982 interview about the Sabra and Shatila massacre in Beirut. I contend that this bears directly on current debates on Rose as a political thinker and the limits of universalist ethics more broadly.

I first introduce Levinas’s interview, then outline how Rose’s critique of it is linked to her early interpretation of Hegel’s idea of the state. I explore how she turns to Talmudic argument as a speculative legal method that echoes her speculative understanding of Hegel, Talmudizing Hegel and Hegalianizing Talmud in the process. Last, I reflect on the wrinkle in the sovereign authority of Hegel’s state and a similar one in Rose’s approach to the Talmud. I argue that while Rose proposes a fascinating Talmudic Hegel, her speculative reconciliation reaches its limit when it comes to the tension between a quasi-universal ethical law and the particular authority of a statist or divine legal order. In this space lives the violence of the state.

The debate on Levinas’s interview

On 14 September 1982 a bomb went off in the East Beirut headquarters of Lebanese president Bashir Gemayel, killing him and twenty-six others. The following day the Israeli Defence Forces (IDF) occupied West Beirut, to prevent a further escalation and secure Shia Muslims from Christian Phalangists, but actually introduced Phalangists into Palestinian refugee camps. The Christian soldiers massacred several hundred people in the Sabra and Shatila camps over nearly two days; the IDF did not intervene. An independent commission run by assistant to Secretary General of the United Nations Séan Macbride concluded that the massacre was a form of genocide and that the IDF bore responsibility. ²

On 28 September 1982 Levinas did an interview on Radio Communauté in which Sabra and Shatila was discussed. The interviewer asks: ‘Emmanuel Levinas, you are the philosopher of the “other”. Isn’t history, isn’t politics the very site of the encounter with the “other”, and for the Israeli, isn’t the “other” above all the Palestinian?’ Levinas responds:

The other is the neighbour, who is not necessarily kin, but who can be. And in that sense, if you’re for the other, you’re for the neighbour. But if your neighbour attacks another neighbour or treats him unjustly, what can you do? Then alterity takes on another character, in alterity we can find an enemy, or at least then we are faced with the problem of knowing who is right and who is wrong, who is just and who is unjust. There are people who are wrong.³

This interview sparked a fierce debate.⁴ Oona Eisenstadt and Claire Katz describe its contours as ‘a progression by which [Martin] Jay suggests, [Howard] Caygill argues, and [Judith] Butler assumes that Levinas’s words in the interview, and his thought as a whole, are tainted by an ethnic or national parochialism that violates the terms of his ethics’.⁵ In contrast, Eisenstadt and Katz counter that for Levinas the face of the other is a transcendental device, not a concrete political reality. With the exception of Bettina Bergo’s exegesis in Levinas Between Politics and Ethics,⁶ Rose is mostly absent from the critical reception of Levinas’s interview that began in the early 1980s and still continues.

Rose responds to Levinas’s interview in the last chapter of The Broken Middle in the ‘Ethics and Halacha’ subsection; halacha meaning Jewish law.⁷ She critiques Levinas on the basis of his argument for an ethics separated from politics. Arguments that Levinas’s ethics are a transcendental device rather than grounded in politics miss the point for Rose; his ethics should be grounded. She sees Sabra and Shatila in this context as an example of the violence that arises when the political is not thought together with the ethical. This calls for a speculative Hegelian model that brings the ethical and the legal back together in mediation.

Law, the state and the absolute: Rose and Hegel via Levinas

Levinas describes Hegelian dialectics as ‘a radical denial of the rupture between the ontological and the ethical’.⁸ This is indicative of his broader critique of Hegel as the main face of a philosophical tradition that has prioritized ontology over the ethical Other.⁹ While this is also aimed at Heidegger, Levinas’s accusation of the premissing of being over ethics is mainly directed at an imagined Hegelian totality and unity. For Rose this violent totality is precisely the problem that Levinas enacts through his separation of ethics and politics.

Rose lays the groundwork for this critique in Hegel Contra Sociology (1981), embodied in the statement that ‘Hegel’s philosophy has no social import if the absolute cannot be thought.’¹⁰ Rose argues that breakdowns of social reason in modern social theory can be traced back to Kant’s separation of theoretical and practical reason. Marx, Durkheim and Weber draw attention to the socio-historical possibilities of particular theoretical and social disciplines and practices.¹¹ Yet each does so, Rose contends, by appealing to a transcendent condition to explain spheres of social reality, a mistake repeated by thinkers ranging from Adorno and Horkheimer to Heidegger. They all overlook Hegel’s model of the absolute, as outlined in his Logic, as not a static concept but a process. Rose writes:

The idea of phenomenology can be seen as an alternative to Kant’s theoretical quaestio quid juris, while the idea of absolute ethical life can be seen as an alternative to Kant’s justification of moral judgements. This, however, would be to concede the Kantian dichotomy between theoretical and practical reason. The idea of all Hegel’s thought is to unify theoretical and practical reason. In his Logic, as in all his works, the unification is achieved by a phenomenology and the idea of absolute ethical life.¹²

Rose underlines that this process of mediation operates through dialectical contradiction in which poles such as abstract and universal, theoretical and practical, are not opposites but rather parts of an unfolding whole. Furthermore, ‘If the absolute cannot be pre-judged but must be achieved, it must be always present and have a history.’¹³ The speculative method outlined in Hegel’s Logic unfolds in various ways the absolute’s historicity in concrete spheres such as the state, its laws and its mediating institutions. Here phenomenology becomes visible, as ‘a series of shapes of consciousness’, within absolute ethical life.¹⁴ This present and this history are underlined by an understanding of the individual as an implicated site of contradictions of dialectical consciousness with a broader societal whole.¹⁵

Rose traces the absolute throughout Hegel’s work, arguing that ‘Absolute ethical life is more explicit in the political writings than in other writings. In the Philosophy of Right this is because the other illusions which made Hegel despair of any reunification of political and religious life are not prominent.’ These writings most clearly expose their unifying propositions and reveal a ‘lack of unity in political life’.¹⁶

In his Philosophy of Right Hegel introduces the state as a conceptual model of ethical life rather than a particular historical example.¹⁷ In this context he outlines family as an immediate ethical relation, civil society as the site of individual rights and economic interests, and the state as the broader ethical whole in which the tensions between these two realms are superseded. The state both negates the private particularism of civil society via a universal good and conserves individual autonomy via individual freedom. Freedom within this context is found in the communal form within the state, linking internal individual freedom and external freedom as the dialectical realization of concrete universality. Through this motion, both universal good and individual freedom are elevated.

The transition from the family, horde, clan or multitude into the state constitutes the formal realization of it in the idea. If the ethical substance, which every people has implicitly, lacks this form, it is without that objectivity which comes from laws and thought-out regulations. It has neither for itself nor for any others a universal or generally admitted reality.¹⁸

Law undergirds the social and political institutions that rationally enact both right and morality. As such, they give objective and rational form to ethics. If ‘the ethical substance … lacks this form’ of the state, ethics remains implicit and incapable of reaching either a universal status or ‘generally admitted reality’. Law gives the structure for ethics to enter both universal form and general reality of the people.

Hegel goes on to write that ‘In the same way civilized nations may treat as barbarians the people who are behind them in the essential elements of the state. Thus, the rights of mere herdsman, hunters, and tillers of the soil are inferior, and their independence is merely formal.’¹⁹ This contention that some states and their laws are left behind in the progression of the Spirit is part of a broader critique that in Philosophy of Right Hegel deifies the Prussian state, rejects democratic politics in favour of the fixed societal position of a monarchy and underlines a providential and reconciliatory history that leads to the Germanic people.²⁰ On the contrary, Rose sees Philosophy of Right as ‘a speculative (dis)guise’ both rejecting reconciliation and seeking to overthrow bourgeois property law:

Hegel is stressing, in opposition to liberal natural law, that the institutions which appear most ‘natural’ and ‘immediate’ in any society, such as the family or the sphere of needs, presuppose an overall economic and political organization which may not be immediately intelligible. Unfortunately, the mistakes of natural consciousness which Hegel was exposing have frequently been attributed to him.²¹

In Rose’s interpretation, accusations of quietism or defending the status quo miss Hegel’s broader critique of idealist naturalist law. Absolute ethical life is contrasted with the relative ethical life of modern bourgeois society in the ‘illusions of natural consciousness’. If Kant only understands such institutions as forms of the natural will in an abstract morality, and Fichte in terms of the fixed laws of civil society, Hegel presents its contradictions and thus ‘[t]he discrepancy between the natural will’s definition and its experience, the social reality presupposed by the definition, itself transforms the inequity’.²² This, Rose underlines, is a speculative interrogation of the state’s contradictions that aims to transform them. Such an understanding foreshadows her eventual idea of an ethical ‘broken middle’, which I will unpack in the following section.

In Rose’s introduction to The Broken Middle she underlines the continuing issue of philosophical and sociological disjunction outlined in Hegel Contra Sociology. ‘Made anxious by such inscrutable disjunctions, we invariably attempt to mend them, as will become evident, with love, forced or fantasized into the state.’²³ For Rose, such a forced mending of the state leads to exactly the illusions that Hegel cautions against. As I will explore in her analysis of Levinas’s response to Sabra and Shatila, that understanding of the state has violent consequences. A return to Hegel is not only relevant, but urgent.²⁴

Rose’s Talmudic Hegel

The Talmud is a corpus of wide-ranging commentaries and debates about Jewish law, or halacha. It is based on the Hebrew Bible, whose interpretations were written down in 70 CE following the Hebrew people’s diaspora. This first comprised the Mishnah (200 CE); a commentary on the Mishnah known as the Gemara was then compiled based on the Palestinian Talmud (400 CE) and the Babylonian Talmud (500 CE). The Babylonian Talmud became the authoritative version; the main rabbinic commentaries included in its printed text were written until around the thirteenth century, with continued emphasis on interpretation of Jewish law in varying communities in the diaspora.²⁵

The Talmud’s hermeneutic method is known as Mishnah, rooted in this history of continuous rabbinic commentary in which the law is perpetually debated and never final. On the one hand, this is bound up with how the Talmud is often seen as a turn in which Jewish legal tradition shifts from the prophetic to the discursive. Before the Talmud, divine revelation was passed from prophets to the people.²⁶ With the Talmud, no more divine revelations are passed but rather rabbis continually interpret the Torah’s implications for their communities. Authority on the law moved from divinely chosen messengers to the interpretations of learned men. This ongoing interpretation took place as a system of law within a specific community that remained stateless in the diaspora, always under the rule of law of another state to which it had to reconcile Jewish law. ²⁷

Rose focuses on the Talmud and halacha in The Broken Middle to designate a legal method. In Mourning Becomes the Law she uses ‘Midrash’ to mark her intervention in explorations of Midrash as method within literary studies in the 1980s.²⁸ In this context she focuses on Geoffrey Hartman’s notion of Midrash as a method of ‘unified multiplicity of interpretation’ to find a method of interpretation after poststructuralist deconstruction that is still connected to a tradition.²⁹ This hermeneutics resonates with Hegel, emphasizing multiple contradictory interpretations that sustain a whole. Rose positions Hartman’s Midrash as a ‘unified multiplicity of interpretation’, as a tool for repeated, broken political engagements within the state that refuse to give in to watered-down cultural pluralism.³⁰

In The Broken Middle Rose brings together Talmudic and Hegelian mediation to explore this within a philosophical–legal realm. Her idea of ‘the broken middle’ proposes a space of mediating the quandaries of modernity without resolution: namely, living in the tension between ethics and law, particular and universal. It is a speculative method that draws on such divisions within communal life and emphasizes ethical nourishment from this.

In The Broken Middle this gains contours in the ‘Violence and Halacha’ sub-chapter, in which Rose critiques Levinas’s 1982 interview as well as his Totality and Infinity and Otherwise than Being. While many understand Levinas’s philosophical ethics as undergirded by Jewish interpretations and legal concepts, this is explicitly thematized in his Jewish, not his philosophical, writings.³¹ Rose’s main argument is that Levinas fails to apply the lessons of Talmudic argument to his philosophical writings. That is, she contends that his philosophical ethics follows the prophetic form of Jewish law rather than the later, rabbinic and broken Talmudic interpretation of divine command:

Levinas’ authorship here acknowledges and denies the diremption of ethics and halacha, ethics and law, just as in the interview cited above it acknowledges and denies the diremption of love and the state. … Commentator and exponent of the law in his lectures talmudiques, [he] nevertheless, stakes his authorship on divine ‘an-archy’.³²

‘Divine an-archy’ here underscores the idea that Levinas’s ethics is rooted in divine command that leaves politics, law and immanent life untouched. By not engaging in speculative legal dialogue, immanent anarchy ensues from such ethics. This sets the scene for moments of violence such as Sabra and Shatila. Rose underscores that by keeping such a gap between ethics and politics ‘Levinas exonerates not only Israel in particular but the whole political-historical structure of repetition backwards that he evasively identifies.’³³

Here, Rose’s critique is not grounded in the particular injustices done to the Palestinian Other or third. It is not about measuring a failure of Jewish ethics, but rather about the general broader condition of the dangers of seeing any state as based on a separation between ethics and politics. Israel is a particular example of the kind of violence such a vision entails. In this context, Rose brings in Hegel to deepen her argument:

This tertium quid, in its equivocation without reduction makes it possible to comprehend both Levinas and Hegel through making the very difference in the place of the commandment precise, so that the struggle – not the path – between universal and singularity, between law and ethics, between that ‘generous’ and this flawed jurisprudence, which Levinas will not thematize, but which Hegel dramatizes, may emerge.³⁴

Here Rose suggests that Talmud and Hegel both engage in a ‘flawed jurisprudence’. Rose’s intervention here is bold given that Hegel is often stereotyped as an anti-Judaic thinker who sees Judaism as a religion based on obedience to an abstract law separated from the state form, commanded by an abstract God.³⁵ Rose turns this critique on its head by presenting him as more engaged in Talmud than Levinas. Conversely, by reading Talmud as a specific kind of speculative mediation, she Hegelianizes it in the process. In this context, the tension between ‘generous’ and ‘flawed’ jurisprudence designates the difference between the supposedly generous bourgeois law and the actually generative flawed (Talmudic) law. One law enacts violence in its promises of wholeness, while the other creates speculative space.

Rose’s argument is based on ‘the difference in the place of the commandment’, which also marks a tension between Talmud and Hegel. To what commanding authority does each refer? Does this have implications for Rose’s critique of Levinas?

Talmudic and Hegelian wrinkles: violence and the state

In exploring the tension between Talmudic and Hegelian authority, one short passage from Hegel Contra Sociology jumps out. There Rose expresses a small criticism of Hegel that she glosses as an ‘inconsistency’: ‘For example, the role of monarch varies from merely “crossing the i’s and dotting the t’s”, to that of being far more than a figurehead. This inconsistency, minor in itself, is an instance of a fundamental ambiguity in Hegel’s ethical life.’³⁶ The ambiguity of the place of the sovereign within the speculative state seems to leave open the question of authority and power within the political state, driving a wedge in its transformation. It also brings up the question of to what extent the issues of authority for Hegel’s state sovereign bear on those surrounding a Christian God’s role in the broader journey of the Spirit.

This parallels Rose’s dismissal of Beth Sharon Ash’s critique of Geoffrey Hartman’s Midrash as method as an essentially conservative venture.³⁷ Yet Ash convincingly pushes back against Midrash as a broadly applicable method, arguing: ‘Such a description of the Hebraic hermeneutical style of interpretation would seem, however, to forget conveniently about God and his text … Midrash is not merely intertextuality since its dialogue is restrained by the requirement to respect God’s words.’³⁸ Accordingly, one could say: Hegel and Talmud are not merely speculative legal forms because they are restrained by their requirement to respect particular (divine) authorities.

The issue here is not that of contradiction, for Rose’s and Hegel’s speculative models are premissed on clashing entities in ongoing dialogue. On the one hand, Rose’s recourse to two specific, different models nevertheless still privileges certain frames of authority, idealizing both Hegel and Judaism in a manner potentially violent to those outside of them. In the specific example of the Sabra and Shatila massacre, what does it mean that Rose seeks to correct the original mistakes of a Jewish-inflected model of the state (Levinas as separating ethics and politics) intimately connected with extreme violence with yet another Jewish-inflected model (a speculative state of the Hegelian Talmudic broken middle)? On the other hand, Rose contends that violence is part of the law and indeed belongs to the painful process of negotiating the broken middle. But if her Talmudic Hegel rests on an unstable sovereignty, this leaves little space for the kind of political decisions that prevent violence. As Vincent Lloyd notes in his discussion of Rose’s broken middle, ‘claims to sovereignty do violence but relationality offers no relief’.³⁹

Any attempt to find universal ethics pushes up against its sourcing in a particular model. Rose’s Hegelian Talmudic broken middle does not propose a finished or complete ethics, but nevertheless its Hegelian and Talmudic dialogue partners are still particular entities with particular histories that risk violence in their broader application. For example, it is difficult to imagine applying such an understanding of Rose’s broken middle to current Palestine and Israel. Amidst an unfolding genocide in Gaza, a call for a Jewish-infused Hegelian Talmudic-style model, no matter how speculative, would still be felt as violent. Conversely, Rose’s analysis of Levinas does not offer a means for how to intervene in particular instances of political violence. Recourse to broken mediation falls short here as speculative reconciliation hits its limit. However much a universalized ethics without violent traces is an impossible ask, engaging with Rose means centring these tensions between a flawed jurisprudence and sovereign violence.

Footnotes

1. 1. I want to thank my interlocutors at the 2025 Gillian Rose Memorial conference for sharpening my article with their questions, especially Marie Louise Krogh for her question about authority and Jacqueline Rose for her follow-up queries on this topic; as well as Sophie Pousette for her questions on Talmud and diasporic/leftist Jewish thought and Anna Beria for her suggestions concerning concrete universality. Thank you to Myriam Sauer, Dana Hollander, Sophie Pousette, Elad Lapidot and Peter Osborne for their insightful feedback on this article. ↩

2. 2. Séan McBride et al., ‘Israel in Lebanon: Report of the International Commission to Enquire into Reported Violations of International Law by Israel during Its Invasion of Lebanon’, Journal of Palestine Studies, vol. 12, no. 3, Spring 1983, pp. 117–33, www.jstor.org/stable/2536156. ↩

3. 3. ‘Ethics and Politics’, in The Levinas Reader, ed. Sean Hand, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, 1991, p. 294. ↩

4. 4. For a summary and deepening of this debate, see Elad Lapidot, State of Others: Levinas and Decolonial Israel, Indiana University Press, Bloomington IN, 2025. ↩

5. 5. Oona Eisenstadt and Claire Elise Katz, ‘The Faceless Palestinian: The History of an Error’, Telos 174, Spring 2016, pp. 9–32, doi:10.3817/0316174009, p. 9. ↩

6. 6. Bettina Bergo, Levinas Between Politics and Ethics: For the Beauty that Adorns the Earth, Springer, Dordrecht, 1999. ↩

7. 7. For more on Gillian Rose’s connections with modern Jewish thought, see Elliot Wolfson, Nocturnal Seeing: Hopelessness of Hope and Philosophical Gnosis in Susan Taubes, Gillian Rose, and Edith Wyschogrod, Stanford University Press, Stanford CA, 2024. ↩

8. 8. Robert Bernasconi, ‘Hegel and Levinas: The Possibility of Forgiveness and Reconciliation’, in Claire Katz and Laura Trout, eds, Emmanuel Levinas: Leading Assessments of Critical Philosophers, Routledge, London, 2005, p. 50. ↩

9. 9. Ibid., p. 49. ↩

10. 10. Gillian Rose. Hegel Contra Sociology, Verso, London, 2009, pp. 45, 98, 218, 223. ↩

11. 11. See Anthony Gorman, ‘Gillian Rose and the Project of a Critical Marxism’, Radical Philosophy 105, January/February 2001. ↩

12. 12. Rose, Hegel Contra Sociology, p. 48. ↩

13. 13. Ibid., p. 50. ↩

14. 14. Ibid. ↩

15. 15. For a discussion of how this connects to feminist interpretations of Hegel such as those by Judith Butler, Rebecca Comay and Catherine Malabou, see the episode of the Why Theory podcast ‘Hegel & Feminism’, 11 November 2024. ↩

16. 16. Rose, Hegel Contra Sociology, pp. 54, 53. ↩

17. 17. See Terry Pinkard, ‘Should Hegelian Philosophy Jettison the Absolute? Hegel’s Political Philosophy Two-hundred Years Later’, Crisis & Critique, vol. 1, no. 2, 2021, pp. 307–27, www.crisiscritique.org/storage/app/media/2021–12–13/cc-82–terry-pinkard.pdf. ↩

18. 18. G.W.F. Hegel, Philosophy of Right, trans. S.W. Dyde, Dover, New York, 2005, p. 202. ↩

19. 19. Ibid., p. 202. ↩

20. 20. For a summary of these debates, see Robert Pippin, ‘Introduction’, in Robert Pippin and Otfried Höffe, eds, Hegel on Ethics and Politics, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2004. ↩

21. 21. Rose, Hegel Contra Sociology, p. 54. ↩

22. 22. Ibid., p. 91. ↩

23. 23. Gillian Rose, The Broken Middle: Out of Our Ancient Society, Blackwell, Hoboken NJ, 1992, p. xii. ↩

24. 24. Vincent Lloyd makes a similar argument, noting both that Rose’s early work on Hegel led to her engagements with Jewish law and that the debate between law and ethics is not just a Jewish problem, but relevant for a broader modernity. Vincent Lloyd, ‘Law all the Way Down’, in Joshua B. David, ed., Misrecognitions: Gillian Rose and the Task of Political Theology, Cascade Books, Eugene OR, 2018, pp. 300–337. I return to Lloyd’s reflections on the limits of speculative reconciliation towards the end of the article. For a critique of how Lloyd approaches universality in Rose’s thought via his stance on identity politics, see my forthcoming article for Political Theology’s 2026 special edition on Susan Taubes. ↩

25. 25. Barry Scott Wimpfheimer, The Talmud: A Biography, Princeton University Press, Princeton NJ, 2018. ↩

26. 26. See Michael Walzer et al., eds, The Jewish Political Tradition, Volume 1: Authority, ch. 6, ‘Rabbis and Sages’, Yale University Press, New Haven CT, 2000. ↩

27. 27. While it may be asked to what extent the Talmud contributes to a more exilic rather than statist model, Rose seems to reject this as part of ‘Neo-Hebraic’ efforts that aestheticize politics, such as ‘idealizing of the interpretive or discursive community, of atoning criticism, of exilic Writing’. Rose, Mourning Becomes the Law, p. 80. For Talmud as an exilic, diasporic Jewish ethics, see Daniel Boyarin’s A Traveling Homeland: Talmud as Diaspora, University of Pennsylvania Press, Philadelphia PA, 2015. For how this has influenced broader leftist Jewish politics, see Jacob Plitman, ‘On an Emerging Diasporism’, Jewish Currents, 16 April 2018. ↩

28. 28. Popularized by Geoffrey Hartman and Harold Bloom, this method was also closely connected to Derrida. See Geoffrey Hartman and Sanford Budick, eds, Midrash and Literature, Yale University Press, New Haven CT, 1986; and John Llewelyn, Derrida: On the Threshold of Sense, Palgrave Macmillian, London, 1986. ↩

29. 29. Geoffrey Hartman, ‘The Struggle for the Text’, in Midrash and Literature, pp. 1–19. ↩

30. 30. Gillian Rose, Mourning Becomes the Law: Philosophy and Representation, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1996, p. 78. ↩

31. 31. See Ethan Kleinberg, Emmanuel Levinas’ Talmudic Turn: Philosophy and Jewish Thought, Stanford University Press, Stanford CA, 2021. ↩

32. 32. Rose, The Broken Middle, p. 249. ↩

33. 33. Ibid., p. 248. ↩

34. 34. Ibid., p. 266. ↩

35. 35. For more on how this effort ruffled the Neo-Kantian liberalism of Hermann Cohen dominant in modern Jewish thought at the time, see Martin Kavka, ‘Saying Kaddish for Gillian Rose, or on Levinas and Geltungsphilosophie’, in Clayton Crockett, ed., Secular Theology, Routledge, London, 2001. ↩

36. 36. Rose, Hegel Contra Sociology, p. 86. ↩

37. 37. Rose, Mourning Becomes the Law, p. 82. ↩

38. 38. Beth Sharon Ash, ‘Review: Jewish Hermeneutics and Contemporary Theories of Textuality: Hartman, Bloom, and Derrida’, Modern Philology, vol. 85, no. 1, pp 65–80; p. 70. ↩

39. 39. Lloyd, ‘Law All the Way Down’, p. 332. ↩