Dostoyevsky's antisemitism, manifested in his writings of the 1870s, seems to contradict his humanism, and many critics have tended to dismiss it as a marginal detail of the writer's views. Argues, however, that antisemitism held an important place in Dostoyevsky's ethical system, and was linked to his vexed relationship with Christianity. Notes that he staunchly held three ethical principles: sanctity of children, incompatibility of ethics with utilitarianism and calculation, and the view that every kind of authority was bound by the same moral strictures as individuals. Thus, he could not accept a God who had sacrificed his "son" or a redemption brought about by the suffering of a child (Jesus). Dostoyevsky invented the image of a Jew onto whom he could project everything that was unacceptable to him in religion and Western ethics. He considered the "merchant ethics" of both liberalism and socialism to be a Jewish idea and, in particular, regarded the politics of the "Jew" Disraeli as an embodiment of such ethics: to sacrifice innocent Balkan Slavs in the name of supreme political principles. In the 1870s, Dostoyevsky increasingly contrasted the Russian conception of God and compassion for the weak with the Jewish-Western "merchant God" and the idea of obtaining benefits for one person from the suffering of another, innocent person. He developed a conception of principal opposition between things Russian and things Jewish.
Dostoyevsky's antisemitism, manifested in his writings of the 1870s, seems to contradict his humanism, and many critics have tended to dismiss it as a marginal detail of the writer's views. Argues, however, that antisemitism held an important place in Dostoyevsky's ethical system, and was linked to his vexed relationship with Christianity. Notes that he staunchly held three ethical principles: sanctity of children, incompatibility of ethics with utilitarianism and calculation, and the view that every kind of authority was bound by the same moral strictures as individuals. Thus, he could not accept a God who had sacrificed his "son" or a redemption brought about by the suffering of a child (Jesus). Dostoyevsky invented the image of a Jew onto whom he could project everything that was unacceptable to him in religion and Western ethics. He considered the "merchant ethics" of both liberalism and socialism to be a Jewish idea and, in particular, regarded the politics of the "Jew" Disraeli as an embodiment of such ethics: to sacrifice innocent Balkan Slavs in the name of supreme political principles. In the 1870s, Dostoyevsky increasingly contrasted the Russian conception of God and compassion for the weak with the Jewish-Western "merchant God" and the idea of obtaining benefits for one person from the suffering of another, innocent person. He developed a conception of principal opposition between things Russian and things Jewish.
Sheriff Milt Kovak, having joined his psychiatrist wife on a trip to a conference in Las Vegas, expects a welcome vacation, inspecting the casinos. He has left a capable second-in-command to watch over his small town in Oklahoma, but almost as soon as they arrive, Milt gets an S.O.S. call from his cousin Maida. Her pregnant daughter has been beaten by her husband, and Maida's husband, Burl, has thoroughly trounced his son-in-law. The young man is the son of a very powerful businessman in Vegas, and the police want to lock Burl up. Milt manages to talk his fellow cops into giving him custody of Burl until the trial and takes the still-steaming man to their hotel room; Burl reciprocates by disappearing. Milt doesn't think anything else can go wrong—except it does. The next morning, the young man is found dead. Now Milt must forego the wonders of Las Vegas to try to find Burl and clear him from the charge of murder. He expects to get some help from the young widow's several brothers, who descend on the town "volunteering to help.'' But they are more involved with quarreling among themselves than in finding the murderer. Will Milt hit the jackpot? Susan Rogers Cooper has upped the ante with her latest, fun-filled, adventure-packed addition to this consistently entertaining series.
In early twentieth-century Russia, suicide became a public act and a social phenomenon of exceptional scale, a disquieting emblem of Russia's encounter with modernity. This book draws on an extensive range of sources, from judicial records to the popular press, to examine the forms, meanings, and regulation of suicide from the seventeenth century to 1914, placing developments into a pan-European context. It argues against narratives of secularization that read the history of suicide as a trajectory from sin to insanity, crime to social problem, and instead focuses upon the cultural politics of self-destruction. Suicide - the act, the body, the socio-medical problem - became the site on which diverse authorities were established and contested, not just the priest or the doctor but also the sovereign, the public, and the individual. This panoramic history of modern Russia, told through the prism of suicide, rethinks the interaction between cultural forms, individual agency, and systems of governance.
Thank you for visiting our website. Would you like to provide feedback on how we could improve your experience?
This site does not use any third party cookies with one exception — it uses cookies from Google to deliver its services and to analyze traffic.Learn More.