I write this on the anniversary of the storming of the US Capitol in the attempt to overturn ratification of the 2020 Presidential election. What better evidence is there that ‘[m]odern democracy is in crisis’ (p. 1)? To understand what is happening Joshua Mauldin aims to ‘focus on how the work of Barth and Bonhoeffer can inform contemporary discussions regarding dissatisfactions with and criticisms of political liberalism’ (p. 3). It ‘is a project in the field of social ethics rather than history’ (p. 3). To give some orientation, Mauldin identifies himself at the outset with a tradition of ‘pragmatism’ influenced by the work of Jeffrey Stout, Richard Rorty and others, in which economic structures are regarded as human practices that ‘carry with them moral norms’ (p. 4). From Barth and Bonhoeffer Mauldin seeks ‘theologically inflected answers to questions that are of interest well beyond circles of theological and ecclesial concern’ (p. 4).

After a brief overview of ‘critics of modern politics’, Mauldin turns to Barth's response to the First World War, in which his ‘early political theology’ was distinguished from that of theological liberalism because of his rediscovery of an eschatological perspective on history (p. 48). Chapters 3 and 4 explore Bonhoeffer's thinking about the ethical life of modern society and his theology of the structures of political life, the so-called ‘divine mandates’, in which spaces are held open for God in the world. Here, Mauldin defends Bonhoeffer against critics (including Barth) who view the mandates as intrinsically conservative. The most gripping part of the book for me is its discussion of the use made of Bonhoeffer, by scholars and commentators, to assess whether the election of Donald Trump in 2016 presented Americans with a ‘Bonhoeffer moment’, in which resistance was called for. With good judgement Mauldin argues that one may learn from Bonhoeffer without rushing to co-opt him. Chapter 5 returns to Barth's engagement with the rise of National Socialism, especially in the series of letters Barth wrote from the late 1930s to the mid-1940s to Christians in European countries and the USA. Mauldin concludes that, for Barth, since ‘National Socialism is a product of a theological error, it can only be understood, critiqued and resisted on theological terms’ (p. 140).

Mauldin's attempt to move from exegetical and historical theology to think constructively about contemporary challenges is welcome. But thought-provoking and enjoyable as Mauldin's book is, it skates over several critical issues, of which I note two. First, what are the significant differences between modernity and late (or post-)modernity that inhibit the usefulness of using mid-twentieth-century figures to contribute to contemporary debates? Second, while it is true that ‘Barth and Bonhoeffer saw at close range the destruction caused by illiberal solutions to the challenges of political liberalism’ (p. 152), it is not clear that either of them thought the answer was to defend political liberalism. Instead, in irreconcilably different ways, Barth and Bonhoeffer were committed critics of the political liberalism Mauldin wants (pragmatically) to uphold. Even after Barth ceased summing up his faith as ‘from Christian to Socialist – and back again’, he continued to hold that liberal capitalism, in its own way, is as misconceived as Communism. Respecting Bonhoeffer, Mauldin concludes that ‘[a]lthough Bonhoeffer's understanding of the mandates did not emphasize democratic norms, his account of ethical life has much to teach us about how we maintain the ethical life of democratic society’ (p. 105). But this is true only in part. While Mauldin correctly notes that Bonhoeffer hoped for a military coup that would restore the rule of law, he does not spell out sufficiently that Bonhoeffer aimed for a Germany that would, for the foreseeable future, lack key features of a liberal democracy, such as elections and press freedom. Simply put, Bonhoeffer got this wrong, and Barth was right to tell him in 1942 that a military coup was not the way forward for Germany. Any attempt, such as Mauldin's, to retrieve Bonhoeffer's insights for contemporary political reflection must reckon not only with his abhorrence of Hitler, but his conviction that in the Weimar Republic liberal democracy had failed.

Finally, while I see positive aspects to Mauldin's aim to bring Barth's and Bonhoeffer's insights to bear on the current ‘crisis of modern democracy’, there is a price to pay respecting his engagement with his sources, particularly in relation to Barth. Though he knows German, Mauldin decides only to use primary and secondary texts published in English. While this may help with accessibility, it means that several of Barth's writings that are directly relevant, but which have not been translated, are ignored. It further means that the acute editorial material in the Karl Barth Gesamtausgabe is unused. Similarly, using only English secondary sources means that several monographs yielding invaluable insight into Barth's political thought (e.g. F-W. Marquardt's Theologie und Sozialismus (1972) and U. Dannemann's Theologie und Politik im Denken Karl Barths (1977)) are absent. Supposing an American readership, which the book does, Barth's social democratic political views might well be sensitive; but without considering them, it proves difficult fully to grasp what's going on in his critique of modernity and his developing attitudes to National Socialism.