‘Visibility can be liberating, but it makes you vulnerable as well’
What and who is considered human is something that constantly needs to be defined—and sometimes fought for. Few understand this better than Hanna Reichel: as a professor of systematic theology at Princeton Theological Seminary and as a person who, in the current political climate in the United States, identifies as non-binary. This month, Reichel is a guest at the Protestant Theological University (PThU), engaging in profound and intensive discussions with students and faculty.
Humanity in connection
The title of the lecture Reichel delivered at PThU on 19 March, Against Humanity, may sound provocative at first. 'That is intentional,' Reichel explains. 'My last book was titled After Method, but its working title was Against Method, because I argue that methodology in itself does not provide salvation. In my current project, I am doing something similar with theological anthropology.'
But what does that mean in practice? Reichel emphasises that their work is not opposed to human dignity or humanity itself, but rather to the way ‘being human’ is defined and used. 'Humanity is often presented as something self-evident, but it is also a promise. Some people have to "earn" their humanity to be recognised, while others automatically fit the definition. My question is: who decides that, and with what consequences?'
This critique touches on fundamental theological concepts, such as imago Dei—the idea that humans are created in the image of God. 'I am exploring how anti-humanist critique can help us rethink this. What would happen if we viewed "being human" less as a fixed state and more as something relational, something we shape in connection with others?'
Staying quiet or speaking out?
Reichel places these questions within a broader political context. In the United States, where they work, humanity and human rights are under pressure—both from progressive critiques exposing the limitations of universal human rights, and from conservative movements seeking to restrict those rights to a select few. 'At Princeton, for instance, we have to prepare for potential raids by ICE, the immigration enforcement agency. It is a bizarre reality.'
Academic freedom is also under threat. Although Princeton, as a private institution, is relatively secure, many universities fear for the future. 'There is an ongoing debate: should we keep our heads down to avoid sanctions, or should we use our privileges to stand up for what matters?' For Reichel, as a queer theologian, this is a difficult dilemma. 'Michel Foucault once said: "Visibility is a trap." Visibility can be liberating, but it makes you vulnerable as well. We feel that vulnerability now more than ever.'
Bridging tradition and critique
During their visit to PThU, Reichel, along with students and ministers in permanent education, engaged deeply with these challenging theological questions. Their research seeks to bridge classical systematic theology, such as that of Karl Barth, and more radical theologies, such as the queer theology of Marcella Althaus-Reid. 'Some theologians take constructive theology seriously but remain within the frameworks of their own tradition. On the other hand, some queer theologians completely abandon systematic theology. I believe both approaches miss something.'
Reichel's work elicits diverse reactions. 'Some find it confusing, others deeply inspiring. I try to take both traditions seriously and bring them together, but that is a constant struggle.'
Not just studying theology, but doing it
'For me, theology is always a form of problem-solving,' Reichel states. 'Whether it is about pastoral care, ethical dilemmas, or practical issues in the church, theology helps us formulate answers. Often, we start with an implicit theological framework without even realising it. By making it explicit, we can examine and improve it.'
For Reichel, theology is not merely about study—it is about practice. 'What is the problem you are trying to solve? How does theological reflection help with that? Theology is not an end in itself, but a way to navigate the complexities of life.'