The Acorn

In this introduction to a special section on the philosophy of Bat-Ami Bar On, guest editor Court Lewis introduces Jennifer Kling’s article on equitable resettlement of refugees, Wim Laven’s article on meaningful political citizenship, and his own work on the analysis of the violent threat of citizen culture-warriors.

This article—a tribute to philosopher Bat-Ami Bar On—argues that states have obligations to not only resettle refugees, but also to put into place laws, policies, and procedures that are likely to ameliorate exclusionary attitudes and socio-political stances of existing members toward refugees and other forcibly displaced persons. The article begins with a recollection of Bar On, who encouraged the author to pursue the well-being of refugees as a worthy philosophical topic. The article then argues that refugee camps do not serve the purpose of justice; therefore, resettlement must be sought. Resettlement, in turn, raises several questions that egalitarians must take more seriously. In the end, equitable resettlement of refugees requires a broad based ethics of inclusivity and equality that bolsters community willingness to share spaces and “live and let live” in the face of cultural differences.

In this tribute to the life and work of philosopher Bat-Ami Bar On, I start by describing what daring to be good looks like. I present engagement with good and evil as a dilemma, one that I believe Bar On’s work overcomes. In the experience of evil in the world, people can make good decisions with incomplete information and uncertainty, or people can experience atrocity in bold relief and remain apathetic. We should understand the causes and motivations for both. I make suggestions about how we can bring these visions into the classroom with the critical, engaged pedagogies of Paolo Freire and David A. Kolb, concluding with a return to the idea of philosophy as political action. We are daring—courageous—when we endeavor to do good, especially when the outcome is uncertain and/or requires sacrifice. In the end, I summarize Bar On’s five-step method for confronting evil with meaningful political citizenship.

In tribute to the philosophy of Bat-Ami Bar On, this article draws upon her Arendtian analysis of fascism to explore recent dynamics of ethnic nationalism in the US. Whereas Bar On analyzed the problem of citizen-soldiers, this study extends analysis toward the citizen culture-soldier, suggesting that recent dynamics in the US are suggestive of a Cultural Revolution that threatens the inclusive practice of citizenship required of democracy. Bar On’s work motivates philosophers to not be lulled into acceptance of anti-democratic practices of citizenship. The values of respect, equality, and equity suggest that another form of citizenship should be practically pursued.

At the height of the Nazi Holocaust in 1942, children in an orphanage in the Warsaw Ghetto performed Rabindranath Tagore’s 1912 play Dak Ghar (The Post Office). They were in the care of Janusz Korczak, a socialist, pedia­trician, and one of the world’s first child rights advocates. The play centers on a young boy, Amal, who is confined in quarantine and on his death bed. This article attempts to understand why Korczak may have chosen Dak Ghar and how this play may have resonated in the Warsaw Ghetto, where he confronts two painful questions: is there anything worse than death? And, how to prepare children for death? This essay draws on Walter Benjamin’s concept of play, Han Jonas’s concept of eternity, Tagore’s expansive sense of humanity, and Korczak’s philosophy of child rights to argue the following: that in choosing a play from another time and place, Korczak empowers the children of the Warsaw orphanage to experience the radical unity of all humanity as inhabitants of this earth—and our arts as a way to transcend the boundaries of space and time. In consequence, the children may have tasted eternity through a play and memorialized in community that which would be denied by the Nazis—their deaths and, thus, their existence.

Heroism presumes “humanity.” Black candidates for heroism in the United States, however, must often overcompensate for the presumed sub-humanity imposed upon them by the American popular imaginary. By way of an illustration, consider the instructive case of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., who, arguably, attains the status of (Black) American Hero in spite of his Blackness. Through a unique account of the life of Dr. King, I will argue that King attains the requisite overcompensation necessary for (Black) American heroism by becoming what João Costa Vargas and Joy James call a Baldwinian Cyborg, a “super human with unnatural capacities to suffer and love.” I will present, here, a literary narrative that weaves speculative fiction into the interstices of the historical record in order to contend that the Black Cyborg is necessary in a world where white Americans are “human” but Black citizens remain aspirations.

The drives of white nationalism in the US and Hindu nationalism in India are found to be significantly similar in aim and methods. Witnessed in two large nations that are alike too in diversity and in constitutions, the two drives violate statutory norms as also the norms of democracy and equality acknowledged by the world. Contrasting these drives with Gandhi’s vision of partnership and mutual respect among communities and races is illuminating. It may be seen, in addition, that both white nationalism and Hindu nationalism rest on a falsification of history. Stirring up and employing a sentiment of majority victimhood, and another sentiment of dislike for the minority “other,” the two drives present a challenge to all who regard humanity as one and human beings as equal.

This article considers the nonviolent commitment of philosophy, arguing that “methodological nonviolence” is a normative ideal guiding philosophical practice and that rational dialogue is connected with nonviolence. The paper presents a transcendental argument about the form of nonviolent communication. Even when philosophers argue in favor of justified violence, they make such arguments within a nonviolent practice. The argument is grounded in historical references to ways that philosophers have clarified the philosophical commitment to methodological nonviolence, the ideal unity of means and ends, and the ideal community of inquiry, which is a model of positive peace. While Socrates is treated as a paradigmatic example of methodological nonviolence, Tolstoy’s work is presented as a crucial historical turning point from implicit methodological nonviolence to the more explicit forms that may be found in the works of Jane Addams, Mohandas K. Gandhi, and Martin Luther King, Jr.

Andrew Fitz-Gibbon in Pragmatic Nonviolence: Working Toward a Better World argues that a principled form of pragmatism—pragmatism shaped by the theory of nonviolence—is the best hope for our world. He defines nonviolence as “a practice that, whenever possible seeks the well-being of the Other, by refusing to use violence to solve problems, and by having an intentional commitment to lovingkindness.” In the first part of the book, Fitz-Gibbon asks what a better world would look like. In the second part, he covers what is the greatest obstacle to that better world: violence. In the third part, he examines philosophical theories of nonviolence. The fourth part examines pragmatism as a philosophy of “what works” (William James) through the lens of the principle of maximizing well-being through nonviolent practice. In response to Fitz-Gibbon’s work, critic Danielle Poe asks what a nonviolence response looks like to the Other whom we have wronged and wonders how nonviolence responds to systemic violence. Sanjay Lal asks whether pragmatism and nonviolence can be synthesized given the popular conception that the pragmatic possible seems at odds with the ideal of absolute nonviolence. William C. Gay affirms much of the text and suggests its uses in teaching. Mechthild Nagel wonders if Fitz-Gibbon’s pragmatic nonviolence is too anthropocentric and questions the absence of a consideration of systemic violence in the criminal justice system. Fitz-Gibbon then responds to the critics.