NOTES for Dan 6:18

What can and what cannot the ruler, even an absolute monarch, the head of the great power of his time? Reading certain chapters of the Book of Daniel, it sometimes seems that he can almost nothing. Or, at least, cannot make the main thing: take the decision, which in a concrete situation seems to him the only right one. It is the case with Darius: he does not want Daniel's death, it would be satisfied to change the decision taken by him formerly and to cancel the decree issued by him, but he is not able of doing that: the laws taken in the Persian Empire were irrevocable, and even the king could do nothing here. It is difficult today to say with certainty, if such was really the case, or if we have before us one of the numerous legends about the Persian Empire and its rulers. But in this case it is not important: whatever it was, the author of the book noted a characteristic feature of the position of the ruler, standing at the head of any State, that abides by the laws of the not transformed world: he has no power either on himself, nor on the situations, in which he is, as ruler. And the problem here is not in the sacredness of the laws or authority and nor in the fact that, as announces the famous proverb, "the retinue makes king".

Of course, about the sacredness of the laws in a certain sense and at the known periods one can speak, and the influence of the entourage on the ruler is a reality that any regent has to consider. But and that and the other, and many things again, with which is facing any authority, ultimately represents nothing else than what we could call the logic of the power. Of course, many depend on a concrete person. And all the same the authors of all the biblical books are unanimous: there is no good power in the fallen world, there is only a bad or very bad. And not because all its representatives are initially bad-intentioned, but because every State was always and remains a machine, mechanism of which, either functions according to the laws inherent to it, or doesn’t function at all.

And the more complex and larger the mechanism, the more manifests in it the evil, in which, according to the word of the Gospel, lies the world. For the author of the Book of Samuel, theocracy is better than monarchy, even elective, as it was in the time of Saul and David, not only because in the authorities in this case are charismatic leaders led by God (in the same books the real theocracy is described, as an institute spiritually, and politically ambiguous), but also (and perhaps even primarily) because it allows to avoid the formation of the State mechanism.

Although of course in the fallen world even theocracy is not a panacea. The Torah for the prophets and for the wise men is the best legislations possible, but it will also not make an ideal society, it can only do it, according to the expression of Plato, "second after the best". And in an ordinary society, in a big empire, it sometimes only remains to the ruler to be tormented by remorse and the inability to help the one he finds not guilty at all. And only the remorse he can present to God the day of the Judgment, as the proof of his best unimplemented intentions.

The image of a pagan ruler in the Book of Daniel is not painted only in black. Such a ruler is not always and not necessarily the embodiment of pure evil, a fiend of hell with nothing human in him. On the one hand there is Belshazzar, a cynic ready to violate any norms and rules and trample any holy things because for him there is nothing sacred at all, no norms or rules except his own will and his own desires. On the other hand there is Darius, a person of a completely different sort, with his own ideas of good and evil and corresponding rules of life and government, which in general Darius is ready to follow. Forced to throw to the lions a man whom Darius himself understands to be innocent and undeserving of execution, the ruler can find no peace because he has violated moral norms that are obvious to him and binding upon him.

But here the laws of the state begin to operate, that very state machine which takes no account of moral norms, just as no machine takes account of them at all. Its symbol becomes the irrevocability of a law adopted in the Persian Empire and its absolute binding force for everyone without exception. Giving orders and signing decrees, the king becomes their prisoner. He cannot revoke his decisions; he cannot stop the machine he himself has set in motion. Near him and around him are courtiers who will not allow the king to do so, even if the king himself wants it. The retinue really does, to a certain degree, make the king, often a very cruel king, and so it has been in every age.

Of course, much here depends on the concrete person, on the extent to which the person himself is ready to follow the rules of the game and allow the state machine to define him and his existence as a person, as a politician, as a statesman. Yet, as has often happened in history, a person who does not want to play by the rules ends up outside the game, whether voluntarily or by force. Understanding this, people who sought spiritual and everyday independence have in every age tried to stay away from affairs of state and politics. Often they were guided not by cowardice and not by snobbish escapism, but by a sober assessment of the situation and the realism proper to people who know the true state of things.

There have, of course, been exceptions: people who, even in high posts and at the head of a state, did what they considered right. But such people have been few, and their fate has never been simple. Darius, the hero of the Book of Daniel, as one can see, is not one of them. He is left only to grieve while continuing to do what the machine he himself has set in motion demands. In his spiritual condition, the condition of a pagan who has fallen under the power of the ruler of this world, he has no other choice.