Children are the symbol of peace and justice kissing. When property’s truth can be the nature of value, revolt. MK Gandhi in Canning Hall, England.


Satyagraha. The pyre of a Satyagrahi’s assassination, MK Gandhi’s funeral in1948.


When can you deny established majesty? While seeking evil in the many forms of hatred.


The sentiment and blasphemy of Paul Kearns; The end of blasphemy law along with The “Pious Cant” Sara Payson Willis (Fanny Fern 1811-1872.) Radicalized Sentiment by Jaime Harker.

christianwalkBlasphemy law was once an integral part of English constitutional and criminal law, such was the law’s close affiliation with the precepts of Christianity. The author marks the end of blasphemy law in England by adumbrating the reasons for its decline, and by providing a brief history of the crucial developments within that defunct but once important law, with reference to international as well as domestic case law. He also alludes to the sea change in religious priorities in England and the attempted resolution of possible inter-religious antipathies. Article by Dr Paul Kearns, Lecturer in Law at the School of Law, University of Manchester – published in Amicus Curiae – Journal of the Society for Advanced Legal Studies. The Journal is produced by the Society for Advanced Legal Studies at the Institute of Advanced Legal Studies, University of London.
“Pious Cant and Blasphemy”

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content.
 For contemporary readers who find nineteenth-century culture smotheringly conventional, Fanny Fern seems an enigmatically modern voice–funny, courageous, and disrespectful. She criticizes traditional Christian ministers, the “listless and blundering clerical expositors–many of whom offer us a Procrustean bed of theology, too short for any healthy creature of God to stretch himself upon” (Fresh Leaves 90). By exposing the materialism of the pious, Fern demonstrates over and over that for many, the “contents of [the] pocket-book” are the most important, at the expense of widows, orphans, immigrants, and the poor (Fern Leaves, First Series 18).  But unlike other nineteenth-century writers whose “advanced” feminism made them anathema to the general public (for example, Lydia Maria Child), Fanny Fern was well-paid and popular. Her 1853 Fern Leaves From Fanny’s Portfolio sold seventy thousand copies, and her success continued through a weekly column for the New York Ledger (for more than fifteen years), two novels, five additional collections of articles, and three children’s books. Fern’s honored place in 1850s popular culture has prompted drastically different interpretive responses. Her literary success led Fred Pattee, in The Feminine Fifties, to describe her as “the most tearful and convulsingly ‘female’ moralizer of the whole modern blue-stocking school” (110). The issue of sentimentalism has been central for U.S. feminist scholarship focusing on the nineteenth century. Jane Tompkins’s ground-breaking study Sensational Designs reclaimed sentimental culture as exemplary and formally skillful; in many ways, her work paved the way for feminist re-evaluations of nineteenth-century women writers. Yet Tompkins’s literary paradigm has often erroneously been applied to all women’s writing of the nineteenth century, and many scholars have moved away from Tompkins’s celebration of “sentimental power” due to its gender essentialism and its often conservative politics. What the sentimental is and how contemporary feminists can best understand and value the sentimental are increasingly difficult questions to resolve. Fanny Fern is a prime example of this difficulty, for her writings both embody and challenge common understandings of sentimental culture. Her newspaper articles, even more than her fiction, combine funny and progressive critiques with pietistic fervor. It is this point that makes Fern so tantalizing and ultimately so frustrating, for alongside her subversiveness and her humor are anthems to the God of nature and impassioned apologies for motherhood and religion and irony is difficult to detect in many of these passages. Certain topics are off-limits for Fern; she approves of those who “ha[ve] not learned to sniff at sacred things” and never questions the existence of God or the truth of Christianity (Folly as it Flies 271).  So is Fanny Fern sentimental or modern? Subversive or sincere? I would like to consider the possibility that she is both. If Fern invoked irony to persuade her audience to a progressive Christian ethics and invoked pathos and religion for the same purpose, what cultural implications might such a reading have for the “feminine fifties” as well as for contemporary American culture? Examining Fern’s critical legacy and her newspaper articles, this essay will consider the following proposition: Fanny Fern’s humor, her feminism, and her progressive politics came not in spite of or against her Christianity, but through it.
Legacy 18.1 (2001) Volume 18, Number 1, 2001. PP. 52-64 | 10.1353/leg.2001.0003.  52-64. Jaime Harker, Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh, America.

Why the truth of humanity is often a human being’s morality. From Yahoo Answers.

Disasters happen because we live in a sinful world. Obviously we know that terrible things happen all the time, but just because they happen it doesn’t mean that God doesn’t care. When Adam & Eve first sinned, it had repercussions on all of us. We have to go through trials like these because we live in a sinful world. This stuff doesn’t necessarily happen because God is angry with us or wants us to learn a lesson, but through disasters we tend to get closer to God, to call upon Him because during these times, we realize that we cannot make it on our own. Walking on a dream, 2012.

The Bible, Isaiah on Jerusalem’s Future. Be joyful with Jerusalem and rejoice for her, all you who love her.

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Be exceedingly glad with her, all you who mourn over her, That you may nurse and be satisfied with her comforting breasts, That you may suck and be delighted with her bountiful bosom. For thus says the LORD, “Behold, I extend peace to her like a river, And the glory of the nations like an overflowing stream; And you will be nursed, you will be carried on the hip and fondled on the knees. As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you; And you will be comforted in Jerusalem. Then you will see this, and your heart will be glad, And your bones will flourish like the new grass; And the hand of the LORD will be made known to His servants, But He will be indignant toward His enemies. For behold, the LORD will come in fire And His chariots like the whirlwind, To render His anger with fury, And His rebuke with flames of fire. For the LORD will execute judgment.

On the Existence of Man. The Philosophy of History by G.W. F. Hegel.


The human will is emancipated only abstractly-not in its concrete reality–for the whole sequel of History is occupied with the realization of the concrete Freedom. Up to this point, finite Freedom has been only annulled, to make way for infinite Freedom. The latter has not yet penetrated secular existence with its rays.  Subjective Freedom has not yet attained validity as such: Insight (speculative conviction) does not yet rest on a basis of its own, but is content to inhere in the spirit of an extrinsic authority. That Spiritual kingdom has, therefore, assumed the shape of an Ecclesiastical one, as the relation of the substantial being and essence of Spirit to human Freedom. Besides the interior organization already mentioned we find the Christian community assuming also a definite external position and becoming the possessor of property of its own. As property belonging to the spiritual world, it is presumed to enjoy special protection.

Speak Low, Phoenix, the movie, 2014. Vocalist, Nina Hoss.

All evil is not moral. Political evil takes place when those governed obey governments that permit it.

Alan Wolfe, author of Political Evil and Professor at Boston College, USA.

Alan Wolfe, author of Political Evil and Professor Boston College, USA.

How To Learn the Language of Evil,  Alan Wolfe’s Political Evil offers lessons liberals especially need.

By Michael Ignatieff,

Evil is a moral problem for everyone, difficult to acknowledge in ourselves, hard to understand in others, and difficult to defeat without committing lesser evils. Liberals—I count myself as one—have a special problem with evil, connected to our particular form of self-regard. Liberals like to believe we are tolerant, but evil, by definition, cannot be tolerated. We believe that politics ought to be deliberative, but we can’t deliberate with evil. We think compromise can be honorable, but there are no honorable compromises with evil. We think politics ought to be governed by reason, but evildoers, while they may reason, are not reasonable.  Political evil—genocide, massacre, terrorism, ethnic cleansing—is another matter. Here, Wolfe argues that we are dealing with motives, intentions, which while repellent are political. Killing all Jews is not crazy: It is a plan that will make you master of all you survey. Expelling everyone unlike yourself is not insane: It guarantees eternal domination for your kind. Terrorizing a people you cannot defeat in battle is not pathological: It may force your enemy to yield. Alan Wolfe has written a guide to these quandaries. He distinguishes between evil in general and political evil in particular, and argues that we should think politically about evil because the evil that we can actually do something about is a form of politics and can be defeated only if understood as such.  Moral evil can be understood when laws that govern human beings are disobeyed. There is plenty of evil out there. Adolescents slaughtering other adolescents at a high school, predators molesting children, loners acting out fantasies of revenge and empowerment with automatic weapons. Our various therapeutic and explanatory discourses still leave us without consolation in the face of these murderous frenzies, but, Wolfe argues, we should at least spare ourselves the foolish idea that such evil lurks in all our hearts. The Norwegian killer who sprayed bullets over children at a liberal party summer camp was a psychopath. He is not us and we are not him. He tells us nothing about Europe, about Norwegian society, about anything. It accords him a dignity he does not deserve to explain him. It is appropriate to mourn and remember, and it would be prudent to keep him locked up for good. It is an utter waste of time to give him significance.

So, Wolfe’s first lesson is a very old one, but worth repeating. There is method in apparent madness. The world is not divided between a sane world of deliberative politics and an insane world of apocalyptic violence. It is all politics, all the way down. To call a terrorist attack “senseless” is merely to admit that you have not understood its purpose. Moral precision is a precondition for political precision. Nothing is gained, and much is lost, if, in seeking to mobilize opinion to stop a massacre, you call it genocide. You debase the coinage of outrage. Next time you cry wolf, no one will believe you.

We are indiscriminate in our use of the language of evil, Wolfe argues, because we like what the language does to our own moral standing. It makes us self-righteous. To call others wicked is to give us a moral privilege we may not deserve and a moral permission we are likely to misuse. The language of good and evil only seems to create moral clarity: It actually creates moral entitlement.  Moral clarity mobilizes: Who does not want to enlist on the side of good against absolute evil? But clarity also anaesthetizes. If I am on the side of good, they on the side of evil, what am I not permitted to do? The authors of President Bush’s torture memos claimed the privilege of moral superiority after 9/11 and used it to torture.