Michael: The modern world is obsessed with the separation of church and state. But what if I told you that the very operating system of our secular governments—from the White House to Wall Street—was secretly designed by early Christian theologians trying to explain the Holy Trinity? Kevin: Okay, that's a huge claim. The Trinity? Like, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost? How on earth does that connect to, say, the Federal Reserve or the modern presidency? Michael: Exactly! It sounds completely wild, but that's the core argument of Giorgio Agamben's book, The Kingdom and the Glory. He's this brilliant, and I'll admit, notoriously difficult Italian philosopher, and this book is a key part of his famous Homo Sacer project. He argues that this ancient theological puzzle created a blueprint for power that we're all still living inside. Kevin: A blueprint for power hidden in theology. That feels like a Dan Brown novel waiting to happen. Okay, I'm intrigued. Where do we even start to unpack that? Michael: We start by realizing that power, as we know it, isn't one thing. It's two. And that's the first big secret Agamben uncovers.

Michael: It all begins with a fundamental split. Agamben says all Western power has two distinct parts, two engines running at the same time. He calls them the 'Kingdom' and the 'Government.' A great way to think about it is that old political phrase: 'The king reigns, but does not govern.' Kevin: Right, I know that one. The king has the fancy title, the crown, the ultimate authority on paper, but it's the prime minister and all the bureaucrats who are actually running the country, doing the day-to-day work. Michael: Precisely. The 'Kingdom' is the transcendent, ultimate source of legitimacy. It's pure Being. It doesn't do much, it just is. The 'Government,' on the other hand, is the practical, messy, day-to-day management of things. It's all about Acting. And here's Agamben's bombshell: this structure wasn't invented for politics. It was invented to solve a massive theological headache in the early Church. Kevin: What was the headache? Michael: How can God be One—a single, all-powerful sovereign, the ultimate 'Kingdom'—but also Three? The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, all actively involved in the world, performing miracles, saving humanity. That active, managing side is the divine 'Government.' The Greek theologians gave it a special name: oikonomia. Kevin: Hold on. Oikonomia? That sounds suspiciously like the word 'economy.' Michael: It's the exact same root! It originally meant 'household management.' For the theologians, it was God's management of His creation, His divine plan. So they created this brilliant split: God's Being (His Kingdom) is one and unchanging. But God's Acting (His Government, his oikonomia) is articulated through the Trinity. This allowed them to preserve monotheism while explaining God's activity in the world. Kevin: So it was a theological workaround. But how does that jump from a 3rd-century religious debate into, say, the U.S. Constitution? Michael: Because that model—a single, transcendent source of authority that is separate from the practical apparatus that executes its power—was so effective that it became the unconscious blueprint for all Western political thought. Agamben gives this incredible historical example of the rex inutilis—the 'useless king.' Kevin: The useless king? I think I've worked for a few of those. Michael: (laughing) Haven't we all. He talks about the last Merovingian king of the Franks, Childeric III, in the 8th century. This guy was king in name only. He had the title, the dignitas, the 'Kingdom.' But all the real power, the administratio or 'Government,' was held by the Mayor of the Palace, a guy named Pippin the Younger. Kevin: So Pippin is doing all the work, and Childeric is just sitting on the throne, being useless. Michael: Exactly. So Pippin sends a message to Pope Zachary and asks, essentially, "Who should be king? The guy with the title or the guy with the power?" And the Pope, drawing on this deep theological logic, says the one with the effective power to govern should have the title. So, they deposed Childeric, sent him to a monastery, and crowned Pippin. They literally justified a coup by separating the Kingdom from the Government. Kevin: Wow. So they made the org chart match reality. And you're saying this same split is still around today? Michael: It's everywhere once you see it. The Law or the Constitution is the 'Kingdom'—the ultimate, almost sacred source of authority that doesn't 'do' anything on its own. The government agencies—the FBI, the EPA, the IRS—are the 'Government,' the apparatus that acts. In the corporate world, the company's mission statement and board of directors represent the Kingdom, while the CEO and the managers are the Government, executing the plan. This bipolar structure is the operating system. Kevin: Okay, so we have this two-part machine. But just having a system on paper isn't enough, right? People have to believe in it. It needs some... well, some pizzazz. It needs to feel real. Michael: That is the perfect transition to the second half of the machine. Because that pizzazz, that feeling, is what Agamben calls 'Glory.'

Michael: Power can't just exist in a flowchart. It has to be performed, celebrated, and acclaimed by the people. 'Glory,' or doxa in Greek, is the spectacle that makes the government's actions feel legitimate and powerful. It’s the fuel that makes the engine run. Kevin: So you're talking about things like presidential inaugurations, royal weddings, military parades, all that pomp and circumstance? Michael: Yes, but it's much deeper and more fundamental than just decoration. Agamben traces it back to ancient Rome. He looks at the fasces lictoriae—that bundle of rods with an axe head that the Roman magistrates' bodyguards carried. Kevin: I've seen those on old buildings and coins. I always thought it was just a symbol of power. Michael: That's what's so fascinating. It wasn't just a symbol. It was the literal instrument of power. The rods were for flogging, and the axe was for beheading. When you saw the fasces, you were seeing the state's power to kill, made visible and present. It was glory and government fused into one object. Kevin: That's... a lot more intense than a parade. So Glory is about making power visible and terrifying? Michael: Visible, terrifying, and also desired. Think of the Roman Triumph. A victorious general would parade through the city, acclaimed by the crowds. That acclamation, that public cheer, wasn't just a party. It was a quasi-juridical act. It conferred legitimacy. It was a performance of glory that solidified political power. Kevin: Okay, I can see that for ancient Rome. But what's the modern version of that? We don't have Triumphs anymore. What are our acclamations? Michael: You're using one right now. The media. Public opinion. Consensus. Agamben makes the provocative argument that in modern democracies, the entire function of 'Glory' has been concentrated in the media. Kevin: So a president with a 70% approval rating is basically having a modern-day Triumph? Michael: You've absolutely nailed it. High approval ratings, positive media coverage, social media consensus—this is the new form of acclamation. It's the 'glory' that makes a government's actions seem legitimate and effective. A leader with 'glory' can pass laws, wage wars, and transform society. A leader without it is politically impotent, even if they hold the same office. The government needs the glory of consensus to function. Kevin: That's a pretty dark and cynical take on democracy. It makes it sound like we're not citizens participating in self-governance, but just an audience in a grand liturgical ceremony, cheering on cue when the media tells us to. Michael: It is a deeply critical perspective, and that's why Agamben's work is so polarizing. He's not saying it's a conspiracy. He's saying this is the deep structure of Western power. The forms have changed—from liturgical chants to cable news panels—but the fundamental need for power to be glorified hasn't. The 'glorious' aspect has just become so perfectly integrated with the governmental machine through media and public relations that we don't even see it as a separate thing anymore. It's just... politics. Michael: And this leads us to his most profound, and frankly, most mind-bending idea. If you could strip away all the layers—the Kingdom, the Government, the Glory—and look at the very center of this whole machine, what do you think you would find? Kevin: The ultimate source of power? The will of the people? God? The Illuminati? Michael: Nothing. An empty throne.

Kevin: An empty throne? So the whole thing is a sham? There's nothing at the center? That sounds like a bug, not a feature. Michael: Agamben argues it's the ultimate feature. He uses this beautiful, recurring image from Byzantine art called the hetoimasia tou thronou—it's a depiction of an empty throne, prepared and waiting for Christ's second coming. For Agamben, this empty throne symbolizes the true, hidden core of politics: what he calls 'inoperativity.' Kevin: Inoperativity. Like, it doesn't work? It's inoperative? Again, that sounds bad. Michael: It sounds bad to us because our entire modern world is pathologically obsessed with work, function, productivity, and purpose. We believe everything and everyone must do something. But Agamben asks a radical question: what if what makes us truly human is our capacity to not have a function? To be 'inoperative'? Kevin: To just... be? Without a goal or a task? Michael: Exactly. Think of the Sabbath in the Jewish tradition. It's a sacred time defined by the deactivation of all work. It's a pause in the endless cycle of production. Agamben argues that the highest political act is to render our usual functions—our jobs, our social roles, our biological drives—inoperative, in order to open up a new way of living. Politics, in its deepest sense, isn't about managing life more efficiently. It's about contemplating the possibility of a different kind of life altogether. Kevin: That is... incredibly philosophical. So, he's saying the ultimate purpose of this massive, complex machine of government and glory is to point towards its own potential uselessness? To make space for something beyond the machine itself? Michael: Yes! To make space for what theology calls 'eternal life.' And he doesn't mean living forever in a temporal sense. He means a quality of life that has been deactivated from its purely biological or social purpose. A life lived 'as not,' as the Apostle Paul says. You have a wife, but live as if you have none. You own property, but live as if you own nothing. It's not about apathy; it's about a radical freedom from being defined by your function. Kevin: So the empty throne at the center of power is a constant, silent reminder that the whole game of government and glory isn't the ultimate point. The point is what becomes possible when the game stops. Michael: You've got it. It's a radical, almost mystical vision of politics that challenges everything we think we know about power and its purpose. It suggests that true freedom isn't found in better government, but in our capacity for inoperativity.

Kevin: Wow. Okay, let me try to stitch this all together. Our entire political system is a two-part machine, secretly designed by ancient theologians trying to figure out the Trinity. This machine is powered by a spectacle of 'Glory' that now lives in our media and shapes our consensus. And at the very heart of it all is... an empty space, a void, telling us to stop working so hard and just be. That's a lot to take in from one book. Michael: It is. And it's why Agamben is such a challenging and essential thinker, even if his work gets criticized for being overly dense or idealistic. He forces us to see that the real problem of politics isn't just about who has sovereignty or who wins the election. It's about the governmental machine itself—the ministry, the police, the bureaucracy, the media. And that machine is powered by this deep, ancient, and often invisible connection between administration and ceremony, between Government and Glory. Kevin: It absolutely makes you look at the world differently. You stop just seeing a policy debate on the news and you start seeing a performance of power, a ritual of glory being enacted in real-time. It makes you question what's real and what's just part of the show. Michael: And it forces you to ask what is being governed, and why. Is it just about managing resources and populations, or is there something else at stake? Kevin: That feels like the perfect question to leave our listeners with. As you go about your week, think about this: where do you see this performance of 'Glory' in your own life? Is it in the brands you follow, the news you consume, the political or social consensus you feel pressured to join? Where are the invisible thrones and acclamations that shape your world? Michael: A perfect question. It's everywhere once you start looking. This is Aibrary, signing off.