Since his Leo Strauss and the Theologico-Political Problem (University of Chicago Press, 2006), Heinrich Meier has established himself as at least one of the most serious philosophic interpreters of Strauss. Political Philosophy and the Challenge of Revealed Religion confirms this assessment with an incisive analysis of Strauss's Thoughts on Machiavelli and “Niccolo Machiavelli” (Strauss's latest piece on Machiavelli which first appeared in the Strauss-Cropsey History of Political Philosophy) and Meier's own continued exploration of the thought of Rousseau, through an interpretation of high points in the Social Contract. (Unfortunately, this reader has not yet had the time to read Meier's much more in-depth exploration of Rousseau's Reveries of a Solitary Walker. Robert Berman has very adeptly translated both of these books, including Meier's inquiries into Rousseau.) If Meier's earlier work deepened Strauss's readers’ understanding that the theologico-political problem is the central problem in Strauss's thought, Challenge enhances that understanding and offers further evidence that the “doctrine of ‘ancients and moderns’” (101) is as secondary as Meier previously claimed. He shows persuasively that the philosophic way of life was of as vital interest and concern to thinkers as different as Machiavelli and Plato. In view of the vitality of that interest among moderns such as Machiavelli and Rousseau, what can explain the fact, underlined by Meier, that Machiavelli (and Strauss in his own parting account of Machiavelli in the last section of chapter 4 of Thoughts) felt it necessary to conceal philosophy and its portrayal in the person of Socrates (cf. 81, 112, and 102)? The preliminary answer is: though the ancient celebration of the philosophic life may have bolstered the prestige of philosophy through teachings such as the philosopher-king, that very same celebration seems only to have fed the rise of Christian contemplation, which only confirmed “priestly” rule (97, 149, 173). Although it is not surprising that both Machiavelli and Rousseau should view priestly rule or theocracy as anathema to decent politics, the convergence of the manner in which what is anathema to politics should prove also to be anathema to philosophy is striking and thought-provoking.

Meier's Challenge provides a searching reading of Thoughts on Machiavelli. The main focus of that reading is chapter 4 of Thoughts, titled “Machiavelli's Teaching,” the theme of which is “the philosopher” (50). Pages 46 through 107, parts 2 and 3 of Meier's chapter 2 and more than a quarter of the book, consist of a relatively close reading of the “Teaching.” For any reader interested in the fate of philosophy in modern philosophy, this close reading of Machiavelli's hidden discussion of the philosopher is especially welcome. According to Meier, Strauss's chapter 4 consists of 11 sections: section 1 = paragraphs 1 through 3; sect. 2 = paras. 4–14; 3 = 15–25; 4 = 26–37; 5 = 38–42; 6 = 43–45; 7 = 45–51; 8 = 52–60; 9 = 61–68; 10 = 69–81; 11 = 82–87. (Although Meier frequently indicates his turn to a new section near the beginning of a paragraph, I include this list of sections and paragraphs because the reader is rewarded greatly by attending to the sections of Strauss's chapter.) Meier's part 2 of chapter 2 covers sections 1 through 5 of “Machiavelli's Teaching”; his part 3 of chapter 2 covers sections 6 through 10—that is, the second half of chapter 4 and the transition to it—and the concluding epilogue-like section 11. According to Meier's reading, section 11, more than anything else in Thoughts, deepens Machiavelli's concealment of philosophy by rehearsing the putative gap between Machiavelli and the ancients. The conclusion of Meier's chapter 2, however, through a consideration of “Niccolo Machiavelli,” reveals a Strauss who felt the need to pull back the curtain on Machiavelli's concern for philosophy. And the opening of Meier's part 3 to chapter 2 explains how Machiavelli seeks to protect the philosophic life by hiding or “obfuscate[ing]” it (80). Much as Strauss has observed that Plato (as well as Cicero, Alfarabi, and Maimonides) engaged in defensive philosophic politics perhaps too successfully (What Is Political Philosophy? [Free Press, 1959], 127), one wonders whether the same could not be said about Machiavelli—even though the former defended philosophy by declaring philosophers worthy of kingship and the latter by rather profound “obfuscation.” Perhaps Machiavelli was so successful in hiding philosophy that he inadvertently contributed to the late modern forgetfulness of philosophy. Be that as it may, Meier does yeoman's work in recovering Machiavelli's philosopher for us. In doing so, he also reveals the other great pole of his own scholarship, namely, “political theology.” While Strauss often seems intent upon leaving the reader with the impression that philosophy and theology are equally viable ways of life, Meier makes it clear that political theology is the spokesperson for God's tyrannical rule through revelation (55–58).

Although some might find the turn to Rousseau to be somewhat undermotivated, I found the turn instructive and useful. That Machiavelli is the founder of modern political thought almost no one would gainsay. That he was also the founder of modern philosophy, not only political philosophy, this book goes a long way toward showing. That Rousseau then was Machiavelli's greatest successor, which seems implied by Strauss's placement of Rousseau on the top of the second wave of modernity, at least many political theorists might assent to if only because of the obvious grace and profundity of his writings. Meier neither attempts to cover the entirety of the Social Contract nor rests satisfied with treating obscure corners of the work not made sense of by others. Rather, he takes on the biggest themes that anyone who has ever taught the work has been able to see are its peaks, even if many of us, unlike Meier, can convey only a rough sense of why they are the peaks. Meier's chapter 3 consists of untitled sections with the following parts: part 1, the general will; part 2, the Legislator; part 3, the Government and second half of the work; part 4, religion or the civil religion. As peaks they embody the ongoing tension between consent and “insight” or wisdom—the very core of the theologico-political problem—which not surprisingly becomes evident in the center of the part on the Legislator (138). Of these four parts, the centrality of the third needs most to be explained. Although the people are the sovereign, it is not they who directly govern, despite Rousseau's pointed attack on representation (162). All or at least nearly all of the paradoxes of the Social Contract reveal themselves in the capable hands of Meier to be manifestations of the theologico-political problem. Regarding Strauss's central problem, then, both Machiavelli and Rousseau reveal their fundamental kinship to Plato (cf. 123–24).