Drawing upon Leigh Schmidt’s work on the “spiritual left,” this article presents a genealogy of the Black Spiritual Left featuring W. E. B. Du Bois, Mary McLeod Bethune, Howard Thurman, and Black Lives Matter activists Opal Tometi and Patrisse Cullors. Black Spiritual Leftists are defined as Black figures who separated from or were not part of Black churches and yet took on a spiritual orientation important to their progressive activism. Their faith is Spiritual, but not necessarily religious. In its most recent manifestation, the Black Spiritual Left argues—in opposition to some Black Church pastors—that defense of Black lives requires respect for marginalized Black women, LGBTQ, and criminalized Black men and boys.

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 The argument is grounded in historical references to ways that philosophers have clarified the philosophical commitment to methodological nonviolence, the ideal unity of means and ends, and the ideal community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.

In this review essay, Jennifer Kiefer Fenton examines Marilyn Fischer’s first of a planned 3-volume project on the philosophy of Jane Addams. Fischer’s volume on Jane Addams’s Evoutionary Theorizing brings close attention to source materials that Addams used for her classic work, Democracy and Social Ethics. As a result, Fischer is able to demonstrate that Addams was deeply engaged with social and ethical concepts that were undergoing transformation in the wake of Darwin’s evolutionary theory. Fenton’s review of Fischer’s volume argues that readers will find new groundworks for understanding why Addams resisted individualistic morality and preferred to use terms like association, cooperation, perplexity, propinquity, motives, sympathy, social ethics, and of course, democracy. In reply to Fenton’s review, Fischer affirms key findings and describes historical reasons why a more coherent recapitulation of Addams’s evolutionary method of ethical deliberation would be difficult to achieve.

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.

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.

This is a continuation of a lengthy article, the first half of which appeared in the previous issue of The Acorn, Vol, XV, No. 1, Winter-Spring 2014.

Those who accept a philosophy of non-violence akin to that advocated by Mahatma Gandhi commonly think of their stance as being in line with (if not actually called for) by the demands of love. It has not been hard for commentators to offer scenarios that present problems for this assumption. In what follows I will argue that such problems are overcome by Gandhi because he insists that the love required by nonviolence should be construed as universal, non-discriminating, and selfless in the widest sense—agape in its fullness. I will further show that problems presented for the view that Gandhian non-violence fits with and follows the demands of love exist for us, Gandhi holds, only in so far as we have not fully realized they type of love discussed here.

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.

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.