King Solomon's Justice

-- By RohanGrey - 20 Feb 2012

Introduction

This essay examines the biblical parable of King Solomon's "Wise Decision" in an attempt to gain insight into the nature of justice.

The Parable

Solomon is asked to rule over a dispute between two women, each of whom claim maternity of a living infant. Unable to differentiate between them, Solomon orders that the baby be killed and its body split in two. Woman 1 rejects the ruling, offering instead to withdraw her claim in order to preserve the life of the infant. However, Woman 2 insists that the ruling be carried out. In light of this interaction, Solomon deems Woman 1 to be the true mother and awards her custody.

What is the Function of the Parable?

Viewed outside its broader Biblical setting, the parable presents the reader with a stark legal universe, devoid of any historical or social context. As the divinely anointed sovereign (cue Handel), Solomon possesses plenary judicial power akin to a primitive court of equity. He adjudicates with absolute discretion, making no attempt to explain or rationalize his decisions in accordance with any external set of values. Instead, he is guided by "divine wisdom" that enables him to overcome the psychological and biological constraints of his humanity.

The explicitly transcendental nature of Solomon's judgment renders him a judicial tabula rasa; formally embodying the ideal "Lawmaker" while not possessing any inherent substance. Instead, this substance is provided by the reader through the meaning they assign to Solomon's actions. Hence, rather than offering any direct insights into the nature of the law, the story functions as a means by which the reader can reflect on his or her own normative theory of lawmaking or "justice."

A Realistic Reading

At the outset, Solomon is presented with what appears to be an empirical question. There are three possible ways to interpret his response. The first is that Solomon decides it is impossible to empirically determine who the biological mother is. Consequently, he chooses the only non-arbitrary solution available to him: splitting the asset equally and dividing the proceeds. This interpretation fails, however, to explain Solomon's willingness to later overturn his decision in light of new empirical evidence.

The second is that Solomon decides it is possible to empirically determine who the biological mother is, but finds the evidence insufficient at the outset to make a decision either way. When later presented with additional evidence, he modifies his decision. This interpretation is equally unconvincing, since it fails to explain why the new evidence was dispositive to the question of biological maternity, or why Solomon chose not to investigate or cross-examine the women prior to making his initial decision.

The third interpretation is more nuanced. Rather than accepting a biological definition of motherhood, Solomon creates a new legal definition centered around care for the wellbeing of the child. He then tests this functional definition by threatening the life of the child in order to provoke observable reactions from the two women. The judicial feint works as intended, providing Solomon with sufficient evidence to conclude that the first woman does in fact care for the child, and hence is the rightful mother. This interpretation is persuasive because it coherently explains Solomon's actions and addresses both the epistemological and normative elements of lawmaking.

Reflection

If we accept the latter account as a highly stylized but essentially accurate view of the human judicial decision-making process, what can we infer from it about the relationship between justice and society?

Unlike King Solomon, real judicial decision-makers are not guaranteed to possess unique insight into the human condition. Instead, most rely upon axiomatic beliefs derived from their personal life experience. The degree of accuracy of these beliefs, like in Solomon's case, can literally mean the difference between justice and the arbitrary murder of an innocent child. Moreover, even highly sensitive judges remain vulnerable to the Machiavellian strategies of equally or more enlightened individuals with influence over the judicial process. It is not hard, for example, to imagine Woman 1's settlement offer as a deliberate preemption of Solomon's strategy, or alternatively as an attempt to move the dispute to an extra-judicial context in which she expected to perform more favorably.

While the the inherent fallibility of mortal judges underscores the need for a healthy skepticism of the law, it is not cause to abandon faith in it entirely. Human law, unlike Solomon's law, is not based on a monolithic decision-maker. Instead, it consists of a myriad of actors with varying forms of discretionary lawmaking power, ranging from politicians and judges to law enforcement officials and the voting citizenry. These actors jostle against each other to preserve and expand their respective spheres of influence, creating a constant tension that self-regulates the system from the risks posed by any one individual or group.

The success of this self-regulation is conditional on the degree to which coercive power is diffused between the actors in the system. Luckily, no single actor in the real world possesses a Solomonesque monopoly over human action. Instead, every individual retains the fundamental freedom to oppose the legitimacy of laws they perceive to be unjust, either internally through democratic mechanisms or externally through acts of civil disobedience.

In light of this, perhaps the real hero of the parable is in fact the mother, whose rejection of Solomon's initial ruling forms the critical action of the story. On one level, this rejection functions as a metaphor for human compassion. On another, it represents a suitable grounds upon which Solomon is able to make his decision. The juxtaposition of these meanings invites the almost Buddhist conclusion that our ability to achieve justice ultimately depends on the cultivation of feelings of empathy and compassion.

I find this draft very puzzling. At its heart, there seems a willful determination to pretend ignorance. You don't need these conflicting "interpretations" of the story. The King (it has been told since before there was writing, no doubt, and the version interpolated in the miscellany of Hebrew literature we call the "Old Testament" was surely not less than its thousandth telling) is administering a test to find out who is the mother. He "knows" that the woman who would rather live without the child than see it die is a real, biological parent. His test, as you say, succeeds.

But no other hypotheses such as those you pretend to advance and then discard are necessary. The test, which finds unconscious emotional truths under rational arguments, is "the meaning" of the story. Given which, it's surprising and (for me) telling that you hypothesize the behavior of the natural mother as strategic or rational, rather than being what the story presents and requires it to be, namely unconscious and emotional. As is the other confluence of emotions demonstrated by the second woman, who knows very well that she will not be considered the mother if she proposes to make the death of the child the price of winning her case, but who cannot dissemble her malice. The sage has brought out the unconscious condition of both women, not one.

For these among other reasons, I think this is not a story about justice. It's about wisdom. It is told about Solomon not because he is King, but because he is wise; this cliche story isn't biography: it is a conventional marker, a designator, for wisdom. The human being who does this is not a shaman, one who consults the spirits in the spirit world, as is typical of Eurasian prehistory. Nor is he a possessed, whom the god enters and through whom the god speaks, as in African tradition. Those are judges. He is a human who bridges the distance from the conscious to the unconscious and makes the truth visible. That's the context in which the closing reference to Buddhism makes sense.

It seems to me that the choice before you is whether to regard the metaphor or the message as the center of the next draft. The story of Solomon "splitting the baby" has become part of lawyers' language, and perhaps it is the story you should stick with, through its changes down the millennia. But maybe there was something being said about judging that was made more puzzling by its association with the wisdom-tale, and could be made more simple and straightforward by leaving the tale behind.