I’ve been reflecting on how the constant discussion of the terrible human rights conditions that produced the stadiums and infrastructure around the World Cup in Qatar is making me rethink my general impressions of the grand archeological wonders of the ancient and medieval world that we see.
Maybe we should be looking at ALL great ancient construction projects more as crime scenes, as records of terrible human rights abuses, and less as great civilizational achievements.
Ancient Egypt would probably have been a far better place for more people to live without the pyramids, and the world would be a better place today for many, many people without the World Cup complex.
Yuval Noah Harari would remind us that “Egypt” didn’t build the pyramids. Untold thousands of slaves and serfs built the pyramids, carrying out the orders of a few very powerful Pharaohs. Similarly, “Qatar” didn’t build all of these stadiums, roads, hotels, and support infrastructure. “Qatar” is what Harari would call a “story,” an imaginary concept, not real in any concrete sense. Everything was actually built by thousands of migrant workers, many thousands dying in the process. And they weren’t forced to do this by an entity called “Qatar.” They were forced to do it by a very small, very specific group of people who are trying to reap the benefits of the massive collective effort of those thousands of workers.
All this tracks with one classical rabbinic understanding of the Tower of Babel that tries to pinpoint what was so bad about what the builders of the tower wanted to do:
Recall the story (Genesis 11)
Everyone on earth had the same language and the same words. And as they migrated from the east, they came upon a valley in the land of Shinar and settled there. They said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks and burn them hard.”—Brick served them as stone, and bitumen served them as mortar.— And they said, “Come, let us build us a city, and a tower with its top in the sky, to make a name for ourselves; else we shall be scattered all over the world.”
This rabbinic interpretation asserts that, despite appearances, the tower was actually not a grassroots project. Yuval Noah Harari would observe how the human capacity to create stories can motivate and organize people - all these people wanted a “name,” and they came together to build the city and the tower. But he would also observe how human stories do not just bubble up organically - sometimes (mostly?) they are imposed by people seeking to further their own self-interest. In this case, the story was Nimrod’s.
democracy is the system that actually genuinely represents a collective will - especially as it includes and empowers more of the individuals that make up the collective. Every other authoritarian modality of government ultimately is the emperor with no clothes
A few verses earlier: (Genesis 10:8-11)
Cush also begot Nimrod, who was the first man of might on earth. He was a mighty hunter by the grace of the LORD; hence the saying, “Like Nimrod a mighty hunter by the grace of the LORD.” The mainstays of his kingdom were Babylon, Erech, Accad, and Calnehc in the land of Shinar. From that land Asshur went forth and built Nineveh, Rehoboth-ir, Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah, that is the great city.
When the 2nd century rabbis of the Midrash read this passage, Nimrod was not as much a hunter (of animals) but an ensnarer (of people).1 And not “by the grace of God,” but “in opposition to God.”2
With this reading, the rabbis cast Nimrod as a charismatic leader who drew people behind him (and away from God). To the rabbis, this story is the archetype of Empire (something they knew about, living in Roman Palestine).3
Noting that Nimrod’s domain and the tower of Babel were both located in the land of Shinar, it was not a major jump for the rabbis to connect the dots - the tower was built on the authority Nimrod, the power-hungry King who sought to supplant worship of God with the worship of himself and his empire.
This is especially resonant because in the actual Biblical text, the people specifically don’t build the tower to fulfill the directive of Nimrod - they do it to create “a name.” It sounds like a story for/about themselves.
But, actually, their story was Nimrod’s story, and their labor was for him, not for themselves. Even if it gave their lives a sense of meaning and purpose, it was ultimately an expression of Nimrod's will, not theirs.4
A later midrash asserts:
If a man fell and died, they paid no heart, but if a brick fell, they sat down and wept, and said: ‘Woe is us! When will another one come in its stead?’
It would be one thing if everyone was so motivated by a common purpose that they were willing to sacrifice themselves to ensure it was achieved.
But the rabbis are telling us that they weren’t really sacrificing themselves. Nimrod was sacrificing them.
Just as some of the foreign workers in Qatar may have been genuinely proud to be part of a major achievement like a beautiful new stadium or metro built in the middle of the desert. Maybe some of those workers, aware of the risks, took these jobs anyway because they needed to support their families. But, all the same, they were sacrificed by the Qataris.
It reminded me of this line that Rep. Jamie Raskin told me last summer (15:24) - that democracy is the system that actually genuinely represents a collective will - especially as it includes and empowers more of the individuals that make up the collective. Every other authoritarian modality of government ultimately is the emperor with no clothes - it may profess to have a collective interest or be about the best interest of the nation, or God, or whatever, but ultimately are about the best interest of whomever is making the rules.
Ultimately, it's not about “Qatar.” It's about Nimrod.
The original reference probably had something to do with the royal lion hunts that were part of Assyrian culture.
The Hebrew “לִפְנֵי יְהֹוָה” literally means “before God” - but even more literally it means “in the face of God.” So it is ambiguous - it could simply mean he was the great hunter “in the world", or either of the two options above.
There is a LOT more to this. The rabbis, in a million ways, connect the character of Nimrod to the character of Esau. Since the rabbis see Esau’s descendants, Edom, as the progenitors of the Roman Empire, talking about Nimrod was, for them, a sneaky way of talking about their current imperial overlords in code.
It is both, really. Think of the patriotism, bravery, even heroism of an individual soldier, as opposed to the political, pragmatic, even cynical calculations by the top brass and politicians who send them into battle. Their heroism is real, even if the context created by their leaders is problematic, even deceptive or evil.