#Revolt of the Youth at March for our lives

[blueiscoool]

A U.K. Museum Claims Roman Emperor Elagabalus Was Transgender

The North Hertfordshire Museum will refer to the 3rd-century ruler using she/her pronouns.

Third century C.E. Roman Emperor Elagabalus was transgender, says the North Hertfordshire Museum in the U.K., which will be referring to the ruler with she/her pronouns.

The change is in keeping with museum policy that states that pronouns used in its displays will be those “the individual in question might have used themselves” or whatever pronoun is “in retrospect, appropriate,” according to a report in the Telegraph.

The museum owns a coin minted in the reign of Elagabalus, who ruled Rome from 218 to 222 C.E., when the emperor was assassinated at age 18. It has been used in LGBTQ-themed displays. According to the museum, it consults with Stonewall, an LGBTQ+ charity, and trade union Unison’s LGBT wing for best display practices.

“Elagabalus most definitely preferred the she pronoun, and as such this is something we reflect when discussing her in contemporary times,” Keith Hoskins, Liberal Democrat councillor and executive member for arts at the Liberal Democrat and Labour coalition-run North Herts Council, told the Telegraph.

“We try to be sensitive to identifying pronouns for people in the past, as we are for people in the present,” he said. “It is only polite and respectful. We know that Elagabalus identified as a woman and was explicit about which pronouns to use, which shows that pronouns are not a new thing.”

Cassius Dio, who chronicled the history of Rome, wrote that Elagabalus was “termed wife, mistress, and queen,” telling one lover, “Call me not Lord, for I am a Lady.” Elagabalus even reportedly asked to have female genitalia fashioned for her.

There is some disagreement among historians about the meaning of the classical texts in which Elagabalus asks to be called “lady,” however, according to the Telegraph, with some deeming it an attempt at character assassination. Dio served the reign of emperor Severus Alexander, who succeeded Elagabalus, and used such behavior as justification for the assassination.

“The Romans didn’t have our idea of ‘trans’ as a category,” Andrew Wallace-Hadrill, a Cambridge classics professor, told the Telegraph, adding that “they used accusations of sexual behavior ‘as a woman’ as one of the worst insults against men.” Wallace-Hadrill also indicates that racism may have played a part, since Elagabalus was Syrian and not Roman.

Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (c. 204 – 11/12 March 222), better known by his nicknames Elagabalus and Heliogabalus, was Roman emperor from 218 to 222, while he was still a teenager. His short reign was notorious for sex scandals and religious controversy. A close relative to the Severan dynasty, he came from a prominent Arab family in Emesa (Homs), Syria, where since his early youth he served as head priest of the sun god Elagabal. After the death of his cousin, the emperor Caracalla, Elagabalus was raised to the principate at 14 years of age in an army revolt instigated by his grandmother Julia Maesa against Caracalla's short-lived successor, Macrinus. He only posthumously became known by the Latinised name of his god.

Later historians suggest Elagabalus showed a disregard for Roman religious traditions and sexual taboos. He replaced the traditional head of the Roman pantheon, Jupiter, with the deity Elagabal, of whom he had been high priest. He forced leading members of Rome's government to participate in religious rites celebrating this deity, presiding over them in person. He married four women, including a Vestal Virgin, in addition to lavishing favours on male courtiers thought to have been his lovers. He was also reported to have prostituted himself. His behavior estranged the Praetorian Guard, the Senate and the common people alike. Amidst growing opposition, at just 18 years of age he was assassinated and replaced by his cousin Severus Alexander in March 222. The assassination plot against Elagabalus was devised by Julia Maesa and carried out by disaffected members of the Praetorian Guard.

Elagabalus developed a reputation among his contemporaries for extreme eccentricity, decadence, zealotry and sexual promiscuity. This tradition has persisted; among writers of the early modern age he endured one of the worst reputations among Roman emperors. Edward Gibbon, notably, wrote that Elagabalus "abandoned himself to the grossest pleasures with ungoverned fury". According to Barthold Georg Niebuhr, "the name Elagabalus is branded in history above all others" because of his "unspeakably disgusting life". An example of a modern historian's assessment is Adrian Goldsworthy's: "Elagabalus was not a tyrant, but he was an incompetent, probably the least able emperor Rome had ever had." Despite near-universal condemnation of his reign, some scholars write warmly about his religious innovations, including the 6th-century Byzantine chronicler John Malalas, as well as Warwick Ball, a modern historian who described him as "a tragic enigma lost behind centuries of prejudice".

[sepublic]

           I really think Amphibia is a great example of like; The textbook, ‘evil’ species, the species comprised of brutish thugs who indulge in combat and violence… And it does SUCH a good job at subverting that trope by really humanizing the Toads, fleshing them out, and establishing them as not any different than Frogs and Newts, really.

           Like, yeah; We have the scary Toads at Toad Tower. But people like Bog, they’re still clearly people and not mindless monsters; They look a bit scary, but we see how Anne can get along with them. We see people like Mayor Toadstool or Stumpy, or other one-off characters, who are Toads. We see nameless Toads in the background just minding their own business, living decent lives with other Frogs, when they’re not pitted against them.

           Then we have our proper look at Toad Tower, and… Grime is a nasty dude, but he clearly stands out amidst his Toads, who have valid concerns about he doesn’t seem to care about them. Even if it’s for ulterior motives, the Toads’ ‘human’ desire for validation, for compliments, it’s rewarded because of Sasha, because Sasha recognizes that these Toads are still people and need to be treated as such. We get Toads like Percy or Braddock, who are on Grime and Sasha’s side, but they’re such sweet people that you can’t really call them ‘bad’, just in that kind of situation.

           You’ve got that one Toad guard who is sweating and nervous about spilling the beans on Sasha’s trap, and failing anyway because Sprig is too socially perceptive. We see how Toads are pitted against Frogs, used as oppressors but also soldiers by the hierarchy. We see them brawl and fight, but we see this through Sasha’s perspective, and while she can be pretty brutal, by the end of the day this fighting isn’t mean-spirited, and it hearkens back to what Polly regularly enjoys. 

          Then you’ve got Toads like Beatrix, Aldo, Bufo, who serve to flesh out the Toads and give them this sense of history, of comradery and rivalry… They have a culture and tradition, they have values and heroes, heroes who did GOOD things, things you can see why the Toads would admire them for!

           You have Toads realizing their lot in life, getting together. You have that one Toad who is trying to be mature as he marches onto Newtopia, but he can’t help himself at the last second and jumps through the gate just for that little achievement of being first. You get the very clear sense that Toads may be used to oppress Frogs, but they also suffer with a mandated ignorance almost; Grime doesn’t know about Frogs and their agriculture, but he grows to appreciate that with Hop Pop. Him and Hop Pop find solidarity over history, and something tells me that not everything Grime did was an act, if at all…

           Plus, the little nuance and fleshing out, how Grime was a gladiator in his youth, and how that kind of occupation is clearly not good for someone; How he had to fight to survive, how he still cares about Sasha in his own way… The Toads are a rowdy bunch but they’re not BAD, per se. 

          You get the clear and distinct sense that they’re almost proletariat in a sense, that like the Frogs, they’re both workers pitted against one another, with Toads given a false sense of ‘superiority’ over Frogs, which convinces them to overlook the fact that they’re still beneath others and being oppressed themselves. So when we of course are going to see Toads and Frogs unite, hopefully with Newts (because they don’t seem too fond of Andrias’ little flying castle stunt), it’s really a sense of solidarity between oppressed groups who find common ground and rise up together!

           It’s why a part of you can’t help but root for Grime’s rebellion, because even if the Toads are planning to only reverse the hierarchy and not do away with it entirely, it still makes sense! They’re sympathetic! They have motives, a place in this world, and they think about it! They engage with that place! And even though Grime and Sasha didn’t know about Andrias’ true intentions until AFTER their revolt, you can’t help but cheer for them, because in the long run they’re doing what’s best for Amphibia.

[nordleuchten]

so, I was reading some letters between Lafayette and Washington in the founders archive, and when I came to tumblr, I saw one or two posts of yours and now I'm curious, what are your favorite quotes from letter between the two of them??

Ty for answearing and gm/gn wherever u are!! <3

Hello there :-)

I have actually answered two similar questions but I never did that explicitly for the letters between George Washington and La Fayette. I find these questions always quite hard because there are just so many interesting letters that we know of - and even more letters that we may never knew about. In general, I like those letters the best, that show historical figures as persons, a real living breathing human beings with all their interests and feelings and flaws.

February 23, 1778: La Fayette commented on the failed invasion of Canada - he makes it sounds like he just discovered a great secret, but the suspicions expressed in the letter were more or less common knowledge.

“I fancy (betwen us) that the actual scheme is to have me out of this part of the continent, and general connway in chief under the immediate direction of general gates (…)”

January 11, 1779: La Fayette wrote Washington a last farewell before returning to France for the first time during the War.

“Farewell, my dear General, I hope your french friend will ever be dear to you, I hope I Schall Soon See you again, And tell you myself with what emotion I now leave the Coast you inhabit, and with what affection, and Respect I’ll for ever be, my dear General Your Respectfull and Sincere friend”

September 30, 1779: Washington being very playful with La Fayette and Adrienne.

“But at present must pray your patience a while longer, till I can make a tender of my most respectful compliments to the Marchioness. Tell her (if you have not made a mistake, & offered your own love instead of hers to me) that I have a heart susceptable of the tenderest passion, & that it is already so strongly impressed with the most favourable ideas of her, that she must be cautious of putting loves torch to it; as you must be in fanning the flame. But here again methinks I hear you say, I am not apprehensive of danger—My wife is young—you are growing old & the atlantic is between you—All this is true, but know my good friend that no distance can keep anxious lovers long asunder, and that the Wonders of former ages may be revived in this—But alas! will you not remark that amidst all the wonders recorded in holy writ no instance can be produced where a young Woman from real inclination has prefered an old Man—This is so much against me that I shall not be able I fear to contest the prize with you—yet, under the encouragement you have given me I shall enter the list for so inestimable a jewell.”

December 8, 1784: Washington wrote this letter just after he parted ways with La Fayette who was visiting the United States right after the conclusion of the war.

“In the moment of our separation upon the road as I travelled, & every hour since—I felt all that love, respect & attachment for you, with which length of years, close connexion & your merits, have inspired me. I often asked myself, as our Carriages distended, whether that was the last sight, I ever should have of you? And tho’ I wished to say no—my fears answered yes. I called to mind the days of my youth, & found they had long since fled to return no more; that I was now descending the hill, I had been 52 years climbing—& that tho’ I was blessed with a good constitution, I was of a short lived family—and might soon expect to be entombed in the dreary mansions of my father’s—These things darkened the shades & gave a gloom to the picture, consequently to my prospects of seeing you again: but I will not repine—I have had my day.”

December 21, 1784: La Fayette’s reply to Washington’s letter from December 8, 1784.

I Have Received Your Affectionate letter Of the 8th inst., and from the known Sentiments of My Heart to You, You will Easely guess what My feelings Have Been in perusing the tender Expressions of Your friendship—No, my Beloved General, our late parting was Not By Any Means a last interview—My whole Soul Revolts at the idea—and Could I Harbour it an instant, indeed, my dear General, it would make me Miserable—I well see You Never will go to franee—the Unexpressible pleasure of Embracing You in My own House, of wellcoming You in a family where Your name is adored, I do not much Expect to Experience—But to You, I shall Return, and within the walls of Mount vernon we shall Yet often Speack of old times—my firm plan is to visit now and then My friends on this Side of the Atlantick, and the Most Beloved of all friends I Ever Had, or ever will Have Any where, is too Strong an inducement for me to Return to Him, nor to think that, when Ever it is possible, I will Renew my So pleasing visits to Mount vernon.

March 17, 1790: The letter that accompanied the Key of the Bastille that La Fayette send Washington as a gift and that is still displayed in the front pallor of Mount Vernon.

“Give me leave, My dear General, to present you With a picture of the Bastille just as it looked a few days after I Had ordered its demolition, with the Main Kea of that fortress of despotism—it is a tribute Which I owe as A Son to My Adoptive father, as an aid de Camp to My General, as a Missionary of liberty to its patriarch.”

August 23, 1790: La Fayette had received news that Washington had just recovered from a very serious illness.

“What Would Have Been My feelings, Had the News of Your illness Reached me Before I knew My Beloved General, My Adoptive father was out of danger! I was Struck with Horror at the idea of the Situation You Have Been in, while I, Uninformed, and to distant from You, Was Anticipating the long waited for pleasure to Hear from You, and the Still More Endearing prospect to Visit You, and present You with the tribute of a Revolution one of Your fine Offsprings—for God’s Sake, my dear General, take Care of Your Health, don’t devote Yourself So much to the Cabinet, while Your Habit of life Has from Your Young Years, Accostumed You to a constant Exercise. (…)You may Easily Guess what I am Exposed to Suffer, what would Have Been my Situation Had I known Your illness Before the News of Your Recovery Had Conforted a Heart So Affectionately devoted to You.”

October 6, 1797: La Fayette’s first letter to Washington after the long years of his imprisonment.

“(…) in Vain Would I Attempt, My Beloved General, to Express to You the feelings of My filial Heart, when, at the Moment of this Unexpected Restoration to Liberty and Life, I find Myself Blessed With the opportunity to let you Hear from me. This Heart Has for twenty Years Been known to you—Words, that, Whatever they be, fall So Short of My Sentiments Would Not do justice to What I feel—But You Will Be Sensible of the Affectionate and delightful Emotions With Which I am Now Writing—to You, and I know also it is Not Without Some Emotion that after five Years of a death like Silence from me, You Will Read the first Lines I am at Last Enabled to write —With What Eagerness and pleasure I Would Hasten to fly to Mount Vernon, there to pour out all the Sentiments of Affection, Respect, and Gratitude Which Ever Bound me, and More than ever Bind me to You (…)”

December 25, 1799: The last letter Washington wrote to La Fayette

May 9, 1799: The last letter Washington received from La Fayette

… and I can guarantee you, as soon as I hit “post” I will realize that I have forgotten at least one other quote. Anyway - what are you favourites, if I may ask?

I hope you have/had a beautiful day!

[spartanguard]

(love will see us through these) Dark Days [CSRT; 1/7]

Summary: A century ago, the United Realms of Pomem had been a land of peace, prosperity, and magic. Until war tore the land apart, leaving behind cruel leaders and even crueler laws regarding the use of magic. And each year, the youth of each realm are subjected to a fight to the death, both for entertainment and to weed out anyone capable of wielding magic. In the 99th Magic Games, past victors Emma Nolan and Killian Jones find themselves serving as mentors, while Alice Gothel and Robyn West end up representing their realm. Everyone has secrets; everyone has something to lose. Who will win? Who will die? Just don’t forget: all magic comes with a price.

rated M | 2.8k words | AO3

A/N: In case this sounds sort of familiar, this is a reworking of Once Upon A Time in Panem, which I've done as part of the Captain Swan Rewrite-A-Thon (@captainswanbigbang​). Thanks to the mod crew for putting on this awesome event! And to @optomisticgirl​ for being the greatest beta in the history of betas.

A note before you read: in this story, Alice is Killian's daughter with Eloise. But the circumstances surrounding her conception are NOT what they were in the show; while Gothel isn't exactly a great person, she's not the main villain and every effort has been taken to illustrate consent. But if the Knightrook relationship isn't your thing, it might be best to pass this one over. Also, as it was inspired by The Hunger Games, there is some mild violence.Story title comes from "Dark Days" by the Punch Brothers; chapter title from “Run Daddy Run” by Miranda Lambert + Pistol Annies.

part 1: Oh how I've dreaded this god forsaken day

Alice fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. It was a nervous habit and she knew what her mother would say about it—what she was probably trying to say telepathically from her seat on the stage. But Alice had never mastered the cool composure of Eloise; her emotions tended to carry her off with them. 

But even her mum had to have some nerves today. It was the Reaping for the annual Magic Games, and at 16—and the daughter of Sherwood’s only past Victor—she knew the odds weren’t in her favor. Statistically, she didn’t have a higher or lower chance of her name being drawn than any other 16-year-old, but Olympus loved a good story, and one they could never resist was seeing how a Victor’s child fared in the Games. 

It was why her mother never really wanted to have her. Not generally something a parent told a child, but it’s not like there was anything all that normal about their relationship anyways. 

So she continued to tug nervously on her skirt, her mother’s thoughts be damned. 

“Welcome, welcome all,” announced the district escort from Olympus, Victoria Tremaine. She’d been in that role for years but was seemingly ageless; Olympus had some skilled plastic surgeons, apparently. “Thank you for joining me today at the Selection for the 99th Annual Magic Games.” As if they had a choice: attendance was mandatory for everyone, no matter how young or old. Even the textile factories were shut down from their normal ‘round-the-clock grind; the air was eerily quiet without their constant hum. “Before we get to the main event, allow me to present a brief program on the history of the Games, so we can reflect on where we’ve been, and see just how far we’ve come.”

Alice sighed and shifted her weight impatiently; it was the same video every year—the same propaganda.

“Once upon a time, the realms of magic were at peace, and a harmonious existence was enjoyed by all,” the narration told. “It was so idyllic that they decided to join as one so as to better share their prosperity.”

She probably had it memorized at this point.

“And so the most skilled magic users in each realm got together and wove the strongest spell anyone had ever seen, joining the worlds in one land: the United Realms of Pomem, from the Latin for apple—representing their hopes to share knowledge and for a fruitful future.” 

Alice shivered; she was always leery of apples.

“There was a land without magic, though, which had landed in the middle of Neverland, one of the most magical. This was decided to be the capital of this new world, and it was given a name that all the realms knew as mythical: Olympus.

“For years, Pomem flourished, sharing ideas and trade and becoming one of the most technologically advanced civilizations in history. Eventually, it became hard to tell where the magic stopped and science began.”

And this was where the video took a turn for the worse, as far as Alice was concerned.

“Those with magic grew jealous of the advancing technology, despite the fact that it put everyone on equal footing. They preferred to be seen as higher than their peers, and more skilled; they didn’t want to lose their power. What once had brought people together was now a point of division.”

Oh, someone was definitely clamoring for power, Alice knew; but it certainly had not been magic-users.

“Harsh penalties were put in place for anyone caught practicing or using magic—a fair law—” Alice couldn’t suppress her snort of derision “—which many didn’t appreciate, even if they didn’t possess it themselves. Tensions built, and the ungrateful citizens of the realms revolted.”

I would have, too, Alice thought; she didn’t dare voice that opinion out loud, though—not when the armor-plated Black Knights from Olympus were standing guard over the proceedings. 

“Four leaders emerged in the rebellion: sorceresses known as the Wicked Witch of the West, the Evil Queen of the East, the Guardian in the North, and the Savior in the South. They led the insurrectionists against Olympus.” The grainy image of four women in old-fashioned cloaks, standing together in a defensive pose, was the only part of this that Alice even sort of enjoyed. She always wanted to know more about them, but any record of who they were outside of the rebellion had been destroyed. 

“But they didn’t stand a chance. Olympus knew something they didn’t: how to destroy magic. Through their advanced technology and incredible force, Olympus obliterated the insurgents, and nearly rid the realm of the offending sorcery. Completely destroyed was the realm of Wonderland, which had been another stronghold of magic.”

That part always bothered Alice the most—as if genocide wasn’t enough, the fact that an entire realm had been destroyed...god. There was an image of the annihilated ruins on the projection—burning shrubbery, charred homes, and what she could only imagine had been plants of a fantastical nature reduced to ashes. What a waste.

“So, to make sure the citizens remembered their place and that magic never gained power again, Olympus took two known magic users from each realm and locked them into an arena in the depths of Neverland, forcing them to fight to the death. The inherent magic in the land made it all the easier to determine who was the most powerful—and ensure they couldn’t unleash their sorcery on the world again. The lone Victor was granted immunity, and was rendered safe for the world by wearing a computerized cuff that blocked their use of magic.”

That part always hit too close to home; Alice glared at the bracelet her mother had to wear.

“To ensure the continued suppression of magic, the Magic Games continue each year, with each of the realms—Phrygia, Oz, Arendelle, Agrabah, Sherwood, Atlantica, Erebor, Misthaven, DunBroch, and Stormhold—” the scenic views of each that flashed overhead were definitely altered; she’d never seen a cotton field in Sherwood look so photogenic “—required to send two tributes each from their young people. Only one can emerge victorious—and those with magic rarely survive.

“Now, Pomem is once more that land of expanding knowledge and growing prosperity, with no magic to be seen. We continue the games to ensure our lasting peace. Now, let the Reaping begin, and remember: All Magic Comes With A Price.” The crest of Olympus—an apple hanging off a branch—appeared onscreen, along with the strains of the anthem, and then faded away. A few government officials clapped, most enthusiastically being Tremaine, who took the mic again.

“Let’s not drag this out any longer, shall we? Let the Reaping for the 99th Magic Games commence!” How she could be so cheery when she was essentially sentencing children to death was something Alice couldn’t comprehend. 

The woman placed her well-manicured hand in the bowl that held the name of all the youth of the realm, everyone from age 12 to 18. Everyone around Alice joined in her restlessness; they all had their names in there five times—once for every year since they became “eligible” (as if it was some kind of honor—ugh). 

Carefully, Tremaine pulled out a slip and made a production of opening it. Alice held her breath. 

“Our first tribute is...Robyn West.”

“No,” Alice gasped under her breath, and her eyes darted around to find the other girl. Robyn was her classmate, though they weren’t all that close. The thing was: she wanted to be close with her—had for ages—but never worked up the nerve. The butterflies she felt whenever she looked at the strawberry blonde girl were dancing a sad flutter in her stomach as she watched the other girl confidently march up to the stage. God, that sucked. 

“Thank you, Miss West,” Victoria said once she’d reached the podium. “And now for our second tribute...Nicholas Zimmer.”

Okay, that was worse; it may not have been her name called, but she felt no relief. Nicholas was only 12, and he and his twin sister were probably the closest thing she had to friends—at least, they were the only ones to take pity on the weird girl who lived practically alone in Victor’s Village. Well-socialized, she was not. That, and she knew the family was struggling—she could see his mother breaking down in tears as he shyly stepped forward to head up. 

No, she wasn’t okay with that at all. But there was only one thing she could do about it.

Good thing everyone already thought she was crazy, because what she did next was pure insanity. 

Steeling her nerves, she squeezed her hands into fists, tamping down the sparks of magic that were trying to escape. Then she stepped into the aisle between everyone. 

“I volunteer!” she shouted. Gasps surrounded her, and Nicholas froze in his spot. 

She jogged up to him, placed her hand on his shoulder, and gave him a look that she hoped told him it was okay. Then she faced Tremaine and said again, “I volunteer as tribute.”

Behind the escort, her mother was giving a stern look that she couldn’t exactly read. But Victoria carried on. “Well, this is quite the surprise! Come on up, then, and tell us your name.”

Before her mind could catch up with what she’d just done, she ran up the steps to the microphone. “I’m Alice; Alice...Gothel.”

“Why, you must be Eloise’s daughter!” Tremaine exclaimed. “How wonderful!” That wasn’t the word Alice would have chosen.

In no time at all, Alice was being escorted off the stage and into the city hall behind them. She threw a glance toward Robyn as they entered the building, only to find the other girl nearly gaping at her. Maybe she would get a chance to tell her how she felt after all. Not that it would do much good. 

Neither of them had great chances of getting out of this alive, coming from a poor realm like Sherwood. But Alice was the daughter of not one, but two victors; that had to count for something, right?

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

Emma Nolan could hear her mother gasping from downstairs. 

“David! Look at that—she volunteered to save that boy! No one ever does that!” 

“I’m sitting right next to you, Snow.” 

“I know, but—oh my god, isn’t that Eloise’s daughter?”

“Damn, I think it is.”

God, it was like they’d never seen a Reaping before, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth. Not that anyone’s lives were free of the annual anguish, but her family in particular was extra intimate with the affair. 

Snow Nolan and her husband, David—who were victors in back-to-back years, and were basically local royalty—had long served as Misthaven’s mentors, with one main exception: the year their daughter, Emma, was reaped (one of their former mentees, Graham Humbert, had the honor that year).

Which made her wonder—why would the child of a victor who hadn’t been selected enter the Games voluntarily? If she somehow managed to escape that fate, why go chasing it? She didn’t need Henry seeing stuff like that; his odds were terrible enough as it was. At least he was still only 11.

God, even the thought of that made her magic prick at her fingertips. She took a few calming breaths until it subsided; few knew about it, least of all Olympus, and she needed to keep it that way if she was going to have any success this year.

Her mother had been chosen as Mayor of Misthaven a few months ago, which was how Emma found herself rushing to pack a suitcase in anticipation of her first year as a mentor, alongside Graham, who had come to be one of her closest friends in the ensuing years. To the rest of the world, they were more than that—as far as Olympus and its citizens were concerned, Emma and Graham were True Loves, capital letters and all, just like her parents, living happily with their son, Henry. 

And she did love Graham, but more as a brother than a lover, and she knew he felt the same toward her. Their shared experiences in the Games brought them together as friends and Henry had united them as parents, but she had long since vowed to never fall in love again; not after what happened with Neal.

“Mom, hurry up! Dad’s already packed. You don’t want to be late!” Henry shouted from downstairs. Truthfully, she was supposed to be watching the other realms’ Reapings before attending Misthaven’s, but she wouldn’t be her if she wasn’t procrastinating. It was as good an excuse as any to avoid the inevitable crowd shots of weeping parents and terrified kids. 

Henry apparently gave up waiting and just ran into her room. Despite Graham not being his biological father, he looked more like Graham’s son than Emma’s, with their shared dark, messy hair; she’d hoped Henry would inherit her green eyes, but they were definitely Neal’s deep brown. He knew the truth about his father, but Graham was as much his parent as Emma was. 

“I’m almost done,” Emma replied, zipping up her bag. “Just missing one thing: a hug.” She walked over to her son and wrapped him tight. “I’m going to miss you, kid.”

“I’ll miss you, too, Mom. Are you sure you have to go?”

“You know I don’t have a choice, Henry; it’s my turn,” she answered; there were only a handful of other Victors in their realm, but they had all done the mentor thing before her parents. “Plus, I think your grandparents are looking forward to having you to themselves for a few weeks.” Henry laughed at that, but hugged just a bit tighter. “I love you, Henry.” 

“Love you, too.”

Graham poked his head into the room. “Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Shall we, then?”

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

From his home in Atlantica, Killian Jones, victor of the 82nd Magic Games, watched the events in Sherwood as they were broadcast. He was about to make his way to his own town square for their Reaping, and from there would head with this year’s tributes to Olympus as one of their mentors.

He was nursing his glass of rum with extra careful attention this year. The Reaping always had a way of bringing up unpleasant memories—being reaped twice will do that to a man—but it’d gotten worse each of the past few. The rum didn’t really help, but he supposed it didn’t hurt either. It wouldn’t change the outcome, but he’d gotten so used to the vice over the years that it was something of a comfort—especially given that his only true source of comfort was presently out of reach. 

The same familiar churning in his gut began to coil as he watched the mouthpiece from Olympus stick her fingers in that bowl. The image was nearly identical to the one 23 years ago, when his 12-year-old self was first called up. That one was clearer in his memory than the one six years later, because of what followed.

But he shook his head, trying to dislodge the memory; as much as it still hurt, it was in the past. He turned his focus back on the television, and let out a deep breath when the first name was called, even if it was slightly familiar. It wasn’t the one he was most concerned with.

It was the same with the second name, and he finished his drink. He stood to start to make his way out, but then an all-too-familiar voice rang out from the television, and that memory that had threatened to take over played through his head without restraint. 

“I volunteer!” the voice shouted, and its echo rang out in his head—his brother’s voice, all those years ago.

He watched in horror as the blonde girl from Sherwood took the boy’s place, just like Liam had taken his. No—no, this couldn’t be happening, not again. Gods, he couldn’t watch. 

“I’m Alice; Alice...Gothel,” the girl said. 

(“I’m Liam Jones,” the memory echoed.)

In a weird way, being chosen again for—and then somehow winning—the games when he was 18 had ended up giving him a reason to go on, instead of the aimless drift he’d been on in those intervening years. But in one moment—one more absurd display of nobility and bravery—that was all at risk of crumbling again, and spectacularly so.

With a primal yell, he punched his tv with his hook, shattering the screen and cutting his clothing, but that was the least of his cares. 

The Games had already taken his hand, his love, and his brother. 

They weren’t taking his daughter, too. 

◇─◇──◇────◇────◇────◇────◇────◇─────◇──◇─◇

thanks for reading! the rest of the chapters will be much longer, I assure you. tagging some people who might be interested; please let me know if you/don’t want a tag! @kat2609​ @thesschesthair​ @xpumpkindumplingx​ @shipsxahoy​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​ @mryddinwilt​ @cocohook38​ @annytecture​ @wingedlioness​ @word-bug​ @distant-rose​ @wellhellotragic​ @welllpthisishappening​ @let-it-raines​ @pirateherokillian​ @its-imperator-furiosa​ @killianmesmalls​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @ineffablecolors​ @laschatzi​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​ @nfbagelperson​ @stubblesandwich​​ @killian-whump​​ @phiralovesloki​ @athenascarlet​ @kmomof4​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @snowbellewells​ @idristardis​ @scientificapricot​ @searchingwardrobes​

[histoireettralala]

Joachim Murat: his youth in Quercy.

His steps often joined those of Napoleon. Born 250 years ago in Labastide, Marshal of France, the king of Naples remained, all his life, attached to his native land. His native village now bears his name: Labastide-Murat.

Published on August 29, 17 at 16:05, in ActuLot

Joachim Murat en uniforme de sous-lieutenant au 12e Régiment de Chasseurs en 1792 (Age 25), by Jean-Baptiste Paulin Guérin, 1835

His name will later be inscribed on the Arc de Triomphe de l'Etoile. On April 5, 1791, three young people from Quercy (Murat, Bessieres and Ambert), appointed by the Lot Directory to be part of the King's constitutional guard, whose creation has just been voted by the Legislative Assembly, take the road to Paris. Coming from a family of small social status, Murat will reach the highest military glory thanks to the Republican wars and the prestigious imperial epic.

He was born on a causse with unexplored abysses

Joachim Murat was born on March 25, 1767, at La Bastide-Fortunière, a village in the Causse de Gramat. This physical environment has a certain connection with the future King of Naples' life and character. “La Bastide, a small village on the high plateau, looks like a fortress commanding the country. This majestic appearance amidst the drought, the almost desolation of the limestone soil which unexplored abysses hollow out in some places is the very image of Murat's life, a life full of contrasts where the good and the worst intertwine, where the peak honors and glory are next to disasters, mentions Marcel Dupont in his work on Murat. The sometimes violent wind is still a striking image of the marshal's mind, always filled with clouds and where hopes, vast projects, fury and annihilation collide day and night. Here is summarized in a few strokes, the prodigious and fatal destiny of this horseman who would have no equal to descend like a windstorm on the enemy troops.

His mother Jeanne's favorite child

Yet he seemed destined for a peaceful existence. Murat comes from a family that has lived in the town for more than three centuries. They are hard-working peasants, exploiting poor soil in harsh winters. How could a king arise from this modest environment more conducive to the development of country virtues than to warlike exploits?

This required the ardor of his youth, which will never leave him, but also the revolutionary upheaval. His father exploited the lands of "a few enlightened minds" in the village. Not being the owner, he is the manager, receiving earnings proportional to the crops. These are certainly satisfactory because the couple have a large house in the center of the town. This is the mother’s domain. The ground floor has been converted into an inn and the floor is divided between the family apartment and a few rooms for passing guests. This energetic woman who runs the inn is a caring mother. The good Jeanne Loubières, whom he will adore all his life, in fact, makes of the youngest of her eleven children, her favorite. By her constant presence, her desire to provide Joachim with an education, that goes beyond that of his environment, she will shape this son to the point that he will never forget his childhood.

With his curly hair and cheerful face, he's a rowdy kid, sometimes a brawler, as it should be to be respected in this country where endurance is proof of character. His time at La Bastide-Fortunière school made a good impression on his teachers: he is an average student but whose qualities of camaraderie and friendliness are recognized. His loving mother, who has deep religious feelings, thinks that the day will come when young Joachim will enter the Orders and may be parish priest of La Bastide.

His great pleasure is to lead alone the horses to the village trough. At the age when a horse seems formidable to a child, Joachim, who has an unusual vigor, already knows how to subdue them.

An amazing ability to lead

These predispositions did not arouse any suspicion among his parents who obtained a scholarship to send him, at 10 years old, to the Saint-Michel college in Cahors. He will stay there for 8 years. It is there that he will have as a comrade Jean Bessières from Prayssac, a future Marshal of the Empire. An unwavering friendship is born between these two men who would become close to the emperor.

Far from La Bastide, the young Murat discovers unknown horizons which open up new appetites for him. His intelligence is real. But as soon as he crosses the threshold of the class, he takes a singular ascendancy on his comrades, even develops an astonishing capacity to lead. How to blame him? If he goes too far for his age, he knows how to repent, implore and become very sweet again.

His whole life, he will use these weapons. Many contemporaries believe that he is completely sincere. Going from anger to tenderness, from elation to dejection, he is already and will remain, impulsive, even excessive in everything. Not without kindness and generosity.

At 20, he joins the cavalry

At the age of eighteen, he joins the Lazarists' seminar in Toulouse. But wearing the cassock does not make the seminarian. And this handsome young man of 1.85 meters, with a pleasant smile, already leads, outside the establishment, a private life the "good fathers" ignore. Here comes an important moment in Murat's life: his military engagement. It is allowed to think, with Jean Tulard, that after a quarrel, our too fiery seminarian was excluded from the University and dreading his father, takes advantage of the passage of the Cavalry of the Ardennes regiment to sign up for, he says "a life that does not displease him". In fact, the new Chasseur is "thrilled". He quickly stood out for his ability to train the most reticent horses and quickly became sergeant*.

For the simple rider, the days are repetitive and gruelling. After an early awakening (at six o'clock), you must groom sick animals, currycomb and brush them before preparing fodder, water and oats. It is only after this daily work, at ten o'clock that a soup is distributed. Then the upkeep chores of the stables. Strict rules still from the Ancien Régime! Because already Parisian ideas are swarming in the garrisons.

Giving free rein to his temperament, his need to be a leader, Murat, who places a lot of hope in the new ideas, takes the lead of the discontented men of the Regiment. This behavior is little appreciated by his leaders: he is put on permanent leave and expelled from the army. Humiliated, he decides to go back to the Lot. We are in 1789.

Delivery Clerk in Saint-Céré

Very badly received by his father who cuts him off, he returns to Saint-Céré where he is hired as a delivery clerk. For a few months, he was enraged, champing at the bit with impatience, convinced that his place is not here. The villages are buzzing. He became aware of the real state of France, of the mounting demands of the campaigns. Murat takes advantage of this return to his native land to attend and participate in public meetings of local clubs.

The past winter has been harsh and long. The harvest was poor. Lack of food and unemployment strike everywhere. Castles see their dovecote burned down. " Here will be hanged the first inhabitant who will pay the rent to the lord," says a poster from a Cahors merchant. It’s the revolt. Louis XVI summons the Etats Généraux on May 1, 1789 in Versailles. In 1790, for the Fête de la Fédération on July 14, each department must appoint two to three delegates. You can imagine that Murat is volunteering! The sympathetic, sweet talking but proud young man speaks. And it is in Lotois dialect that he expresses himself in cafes, wishing to reach the greatest number. The Revolution is born: Joachim Murat, who is part of the Third Estate by his origins, tries to change public opinion according to events. Every Sunday, he goes to Cahors: he listens, he harangues the crowd. He is on the Montfaucon list and is chosen to represent the Lot department.

The republican patriot leaves for Paris

Murat, 23, can go and explore the capital. It’s the consecration.

A new man is born. After a secular mass celebrated by former Bishop Talleyrand, speeches on the Champ de Mars ignite the crowds. One hundred thousand Parisians came to celebrate the first anniversary of the Capture of the Bastille. A year later, returning to the army, he is appointed to the King's Constitutional Guard, to protect but also to monitor Louis XVI. Indignant, the protester manifests a flawless patriotic commitment, calling himself a "pronounced republican", facing "this hideout of royalists who gravitate around the king". But the wind turns, Robespierre falls. His revolutionary passion almost interrupted his meteoric career. Bitter and worried, he is put on leave and returns for some time to Quercy, "wanting to become a simple plowman again".

Aide de camp

Skeptical about his future, then dejected, Murat quickly reacts, helped by the deputy for Gourdon, Jean-Baptiste Cavaignac, who encourages him to return to Paris. It is on the night of 12 to 13 Vendémiaire (October 5, 1795) that Murat is put in contact with the First Consul who needs him. He orders him to save the Convention threatened by the royalist riot. Forty cannons are placed by Squadron Leader Murat around the Tuileries Castle. Three hundred royalists will be killed. The government of the Republic is saved again. As Tulard points out: "From now on the star of Murat will merge with that of Bonaparte". No more depression, finally power and glory.

Promoted Bonaparte's aide-de-camp, he leaves for the Italian Campaign, direction Marengo. There, "his clothes will be riddled with bullets", but they will know victory.

He becomes Napoleon I's brother-in-law

In 1800, he marries Caroline, the First Consul's youngest sister, becoming the brother-in-law of the future Napoleon I. This marriage will give Murat an outstanding position among the marshals of the Empire. Quickly, he is invited to move to the Château des Tuileries and becomes part of the close entourage of the new master of France.

The rouser of men from the imperial epic will remain kind to his family at La Bastide. Coming from a small inn in Quercy to fly with his squadrons across Europe and into Egypt, Murat seems like a legendary character. Chateaubriand will devote long passages to him in the "Mémoires d'Outre Tombe". He will be admired by Stendhal, Dumas and Balzac. Three words characterize the King of Naples: ardor, ambition and panache. If he remains the most magnificent rouser of men the imperial epic will produce, he will invest much into the Lot whose deputy he will become in 1803.

And he will show kindness for his whole family. Especially for his mother, for whom he will show a deep attachment: he sends her rosaries blessed by the Pope.

The portrait he has done of Jeanne in 1792 will never leave him. It will be with him, in his homes, in his tent during his campaigns and in Naples, in his palace. He will build a castle for his "La Bastide family" in his native village, modeled on the Palais de l'Elysée, where he had resided as governor of Paris.

The King of Naples dies executed on October 13, 1815.

By André Décup

[Translation is mine.

Note: I translated by ‘sergeant’ the grade of Maréchal des Logis, which is its equivalent in the cavalry (and nowadays in the Gendarmerie).

There is no right translation for “entraîneur d’hommes”, I hope “rouser” doesn’t seem too weird in English.]

[four-loose-screws]

FE4 Suzuki Novelization Translation (Gen II) - Chapter 7

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———————————

Chapter 7 - Earth Lance Gáe Bolg

T/W: Mention of likely one-sided romantic feelings between adopted siblings.

Travant ordered both Coruta's dragon knight unit and Princess Altena to deploy. With the empire's presence gone completely from the Thracian Peninsula, he considered this to be the perfect chance.

"Start by seizing Munster. Do not hold back against anyone who turns against you, even the citizens. Kill them all."

"Wait, Father!" Altena called out.

Altena wore the uniform of the Thracian Dragon Knights, and held her long brown hair back with a bandana. Her almond shaped eyes gave a bit of an intimidating impression, but when she put on her military uniform, it highlighted how brave and honorable she looked.

"I'll happily fight if the imperial army is our enemy, but there's no meaning in killing powerless civilians. Even if you say we'll fight with the empire, we should be happy to work with the liberation army. Why must we fight them?"

Prince Arion, General Hannibal, and a few other people held the same opinion as her, but she was the only one who was open about it with the king. 

However, no matter what she said, Travant would not be swayed. "Altena! Are you trying to lecture me!? Do as I say! I will not allow you to talk back to me!"

"But…"

"Altena, do as Father says." Prince Arion said. He felt that their father would only get angrier the more they opposed him.

"Brother… I will." Altena said and bit her lip. Her dissatisfaction with her Father's orders did not go away, but she always believed in her brother's decisions.

'Big brother said he thinks the same as I do. He must have a reason for saying that.'

Deep down, the reason why she believed him was because of her love for him (though she did not realize it). And it was not just the love of a brother and sister, but something much more. Her feelings were simply locked away in the subconscious of her heart, so she did not notice them.

Travant watched her begin to leave the reception hall, and said, "Altena, have you finally agreed to deploy? You're a very strong-willed girl. Your mother was just as tough. Don't fight your blood."

"Altena means well, Father. Please be lenient with her." Arion interjected.

"I know that. You would speak the same words as her if you had the opportunity. Unifying with Northern Thracia has been our deepest wish for many long years. Our lands are barren, so the men are all hired as mercenaries, while being looked down upon as hyenas… And the women remain here to dig into the mountains' slopes, and must till their meager fields. If we continue to live here alone, then we will always be forced to live in poverty. Altena grew up in the palace, so she does not know what the people wish for."

-

The dragon knight unit lined up in front of Munster Castle.

"The liberation army that killed Bloom is still on the other side of the river. But only the citizens who revolted are currently at Munster Castle. And I've received reports that they know of our movements and are gradually running away. We should begin our attack straight away." Courta explained to Altena.

"Wait, Coruta. There's no reason for us to attack an enemy like that. I'll go and suggest to them that they surrender. Wait here for a bit."

"I can't do that. I was given specific orders by the king. No matter what you say to me, I cannot go easy on them.”

"I am your commanding officer. Are you going to ignore my order?"

"This is my unit, and I received my orders from His Majesty directly. If you disagree with that, then stay here and watch. We will attack on our own." 

Coruta flew off and delivered his order to his soldiers. "All units, we will ambush the enemy! Those who resist will be killed! Now charge!"

The dragon knights all flew into the sky at once.

As she watched them fly towards Munster Castle, all Altena could think about was the tragedy that was about to unfold, and how infinitely powerless she felt.

'Maybe my views are wrong. ...No, they couldn't be. Brother agrees with me. Father and Coruta are the ones in the wrong. Even in the event that they win, killing civilians will make the people hate us, and do the exact opposite of unifying us.

But are Father and Coruta the only ones to blame? I couldn't do anything to stop either of them. Am I just as guilty as they are?’

The first dragon knights to try to fly over the castle wall were suddenly hit by the strongest gust of wind they'd ever experienced. Their dragons' wings twisted, and their bones, usually able to withstand anything during flight, snapped in an instant. Without the ability to stay in the air, they all began to drop like flies.

And it didn't end there, with another guest of wind assaulting the next group of dragons.

"Dodge! Just dodge it!" Coruta shouted, realizing this was no force of nature.

They cautiously made their way around the castle, until they found a single man standing atop the castle tower.

'Dammit, he's using wind magic!'

Faced with an enemy stronger than he thought there'd be, Coruta decided to change course and go after the citizens fleeing from the castle.

'If it's just that group, we can kill them all before they make it to the river.'

However, Seliph and the liberation army had just crossed the river. And to make matters even worse for Coruta's unit, the liberation army was much larger than they'd ever imagined, and had archers amongst their ranks, which dragon knights were weak against.

Coruta was only lost about what to do for a second.

'If your only other option is to run away, then choose to die a glorious death.'

That was the pride of the Thracian dragon knights, and a legend that had been passed down for generations.

'Even if our bodies should perish, our tales of bravery will live on.'

"Chaaaaaarge!" Coruta shouted, and led his unit in a dive bomb maneuver.

The enemy army grew larger and larger with each passing moment.

The moment he saw a bow, Coruta knew that an arrow had been shot at him. 

As Altena watched Coruta's unit fight spectacularly yet tragically from a nearby mountain ridge, her feelings were very complicated. The regret of losing her allies, the blame she placed on herself for what she hadn't the chance to tell the unit, and the justification that made her sure this was not the way to fight, all swam around in her mind.

After watching the last dragon knight fall, Altena lightly pushed her knees into her dragon, signaling her mount to flap her wings and fly into the air.

She flew high into the air so that she would not be attacked, and slowly circled around the battlefield.

The liberation army had once again started marching towards Munster Castle.

'We weren't the only brave ones here.' Altena thought. 'What is the liberation army going to do next? Since we attacked them, they must now think of Thracia as their enemy. If they intend to march to Grannvale, then they'll travel through Thracia to get there. So they'll most likely attack Mease Castle next.'

There were only a few soldiers, led by General Maikov, stationed there.

'Maikov is a brave general, but there's no way he can defend the castle against an army as large as this one.' She turned her dragon towards Thracia Castle.

-

Meanwhile, from amongst the liberation army, Finn said to Prince Leif, "Lord Leif, please take a good look at that dragon knight."

"That one? I've looked up at them a few times already. They appear to be a woman, but I don't think that's uncommon in Thracia. And she seems to be bathed in light. Perhaps she's flying in a ray of sunlight?"

"Yes, that light is what I'm referring to. It looks just like the light of Crusader Njörun, which would also envelop your late father whenever he wielded Gáe Bolg. If I am correct, then she is wielding that lance right now. It id the one passed down through the Leonsterian royal family."

"What? Why would a female Thracian knight have Father's Gáe Bolg?"

"I don't know. The only thing I can think of is that she is your elder sister, who went missing when the Thracian Army attacked. Lady Altena seemed to be unharmed, but had gone missing with Gáe Bolg."

"But why would my older sister be with the Thracian Army?"

"My guess is that she was kidnapped by Travant, and he raised her as his own."

"I've heard that Travant is a coldhearted man, but he might have a small human heart inside him after all."

"No, I don't think that's it. Crusader Njörun's blood was passed down from Lord Quan to Lady Altena, so Travant must have wanted Gáe Bolg's power. It seems like something he would do."

"So he's tricked her, hasn't he? How could Travant be so horrible…? Finn, let's help her. I want to tell her the truth and team up to free Father and Mother of their regrets."

"You are the only one who can do that, Lord Leif. If her younger brother tries to persuade her, then she is likely to open her heart and listen to you. Please save the princess!"

"Of course I will! You always stop me from doing so, but when we fight with the dragon knights, I'll go on the front line. I'll risk my life, but try my hardest to persuade Big Sister! And if she's alive, that means…"

'That means I'm not alone anymore.’ Leif thought.

As a boy raised without any memory of his birth parents' love, he was starved to meet someone from his blood family.

He knew full well that Finn loved him. But that love was an extension of his loyalty to Quan and Ethlyn. Finn was a great guardian and teacher, but wasn't someone that Leif felt he could fully open up to about his troubles and worries.

Finn had said to Leif on countless occasions in the boy's youth, "Lord Leif, you are the next in line to become king of Leonster. You mustn't say such things."

Or sometimes it was, "You mustn't do such things." Other times it was, "You mustn't cry over such things."

"I understand, Finn. I won't say that ever again.” Leif would answer. 

But deep down in his heart, he always muttered to himself, ‘Mother, why did you die and leave me here all alone? Why…?’

He also had that thought when he was living in hiding, and saw parents or siblings expressing love towards one another.

'Why am I the only one who's all alone?'

When he became so sad that he couldn't bear it anymore, he would find a place where no one else would find him, and cried.

'Mother, why did you die and leave me here all alone?'

So the news that his sister was alive (even if he couldn't confirm if it was true yet), made him happier than anything else in the world.

As he marched together with his unit, he imagined what his sister might look like. Then, he imagined successfully persuading her, and how they would hug each other, and be so happy...

'I'm not alone anymore!'

-

Seliph lowered the gate and entered Munster Castle, then met Ced inside.

"Hero Ced, many of the citizens' lives have been saved because of you. Thank you."

"I've waited so long for this moment to come… Lord Seliph, please save not only Thracia, but the entire world. The people are living in despair. Even in Munster, many children have been kidnapped and taken to Miletos Shrine. I couldn't save them. I am no hero, but a mere coward."

"No you're not! I couldn’t do anything by myself! I've made it this far because of everyone else's power. Hero Ced, I want you to join us."

"Understood, Lord Seliph. I will follow you to the ends of the earth." Ced took a step forward to shake Seliph's hand, but when he saw Lewyn standing behind Seliph, his hand froze. "Lord Seliph, who is that behind you?"

"Huh? Oh, this is my advisor. His name is Lewyn. He is Silesse's King Lewyn. Oh, that's right, I heard you're from Silesse, too!"

Ced did not answer Seliph, instead walking up to Lewyn. "Father… It's you, isn't it, Father?"

"Ced, it's been a long time since I saw you last. How have you been?"

"'How have I been?' I've been looking for you this entire time! Do you have any idea how many years have passed since you left!?"

"Now that you mention it, I do wonder how long it's been. How is Erinys?"

"How could you be so… Mother passed away! All she wanted was to see you one more time, and watch you pass Forseti on to me! That's why I went on my journey, to find you!"

"I see, so she's… How unfortunate."

"You're so cold, Father! You're finally heard that Mother died, yet you won’t shed even a single tear!"

"Ced, I don't have a wife, nor any children. That's what I have decided. I want you to think so from now on as well." 

Ced glared at him in response.

Seliph knew very well that Lewyn was not a cold person, so he questioned his flippant response towards finally reuniting with Ced.

-

That night, the army held a modest celebration, where Ced and Fee realized they were brother and sister. That reunion was a happy one.

"Fee and Lewyn joined us in Isaach, so they've been face-to-face since then. Yet why haven't they called each other father and daughter?'

Though Seliph's trust in Lewyn did not change, the suspicion within his heart slowly began to grow.

[sauveteen]

what do you think of Gandhi? I read some open eyes stuff about him lately and I want to know your opinion on him, if you don't mind of course

okay okay so it’s like... a case of the lesser of two evils? in a sense? but for the life of me, i cannot tell if what he did for the country can erase all the evil he’s done in his life. bear with me because this will be.. kind of long.

tw: racism, the holocaust, mentions of sexual assualt/r*pe

on one hand,

he beat his wife, wouldn’t sleep with her when they got old (compared her to a weak cow), and made young, underage, naked girls sleep next to him throughout the night to test his celibacy (i don’t fucking understand this— hinduism does not ask you to be a celibate after marriage. he was not a saint.)

he was misogynistic as fuck; he participated in victim shaming, supported rape culture, said honour killing was okay because a victim of sexual assault would taint her family’s honour and respect in society. he believed a woman getting harassed was her own fault.

again, about his wife, can’t tell you the shit he put her through. he refused to give her modern medicine (penicillin i think, but don’t quote me on this), ultimately leading to her death, but used modern medicine when he came down with malaria to nurse himself back to health? apparently the reasons for not giving her the medicine were ‘religious’. religion doesn’t apply to gandhi, it seems

GANDHI WAS RACIST. while in south africa he actively supported the apartheid regime, said he was treated badly because he was an indian all while treating black people like scum (said that black africans were savages and ‘living a life of nakedness’, was hellbent on convincing the british that the indian community in south africa was better than the natives). he said jews should’ve killed themselves (public mass suicide) in the holocaust to prove a point, as they were dying anyway. he criticised them for defending themselves.

was against contraception (women who used them were whores) and menstruation was unholy and dirty.

was a baby, and hear me out on this. he went on hunger strikes the moment someone went against him— that is not how you lead. when ambedkar wanted seperate constituencies for the underprivileged (here, meaning the dalits), he declared a fast unto death until the motion was taken away. [for the record, i think seperate constituencies were the wrong way to go too, but you cannot guilt someone into dropping something they so wholeheartedly believe in. ambedkar was a dalit himself. he knew fucking better than a privileged upper class man who had the luxury to go abroad for a higher education in times when that was unthought of.]

(there’s probably more that i’m missing out on, and will find links so you can read up more)

on the other hand,

although he did not believe that the caste system should be abolished, he supported the harijans, voiced their struggles, and played a big part in reducing untouchability in the country

taught a large, vulnerable section of the youth about ahimsa (the principle of non violence) at a time where the country was in turmoil, when civil strifes, public violence, riots, etc. seemed to be the only path that led to independence

paved the way for a sort of ‘social harmony’ in india

successfully led a non violent tax revolt, the salt march to dandi, the first non cooperation movement. he had the wits to call it quits, when there was a need. he didn’t push movements that would harm others, called some movements off after the jallianwala bagh massacre.

saying that, he did make himself the figure of independence in india. [i do not believe he was the reason— i think credit should be given to bhagat singh, subhash chandra bose, sukhdev thapar. gandhi made himself the forerunner, but these are the ones who pushed the movement that brought india to independence] he became a leading figure when india had the desperate need for one, and united different fronts (religions, caste, ages) into one unified fight for the motherland.

it pains to know that this is the kind of man our country applauds, and yet, we cannot discredit what he has done for the freedom struggle. i do not think he is our saviour, but he was sure was a catalyst. having said that, he doesn’t deserve to be the man on our currency. good does not erase evil.

[sethnicity]

Black on black on black on black

Wood tar pitched and shackled back 

Back to back to back to back

Paid in full no matter man fact

priceless pain packed pickings to rack

crack the back of blacks to stack

paper to pay to paper for play and man

Who's black backs crack and snap

Crack sha clack to crack to Sha clack

Know sun know heat know work

Know sleep know Moon at night No heat Get beat go reap another man's grain and wheat

And corn and cotton, their hemp and spitleaf

Our pain our slain our toil their gain

a country a town and cities and Constitutional refrain

All men are equal less black or brown frame

So black on boats float back to back

from Africa Jamaica America human traffica

And Crack Sha clack to crack the back

So stack em and sack em and diminish our brain

Feel worthless feel bitter feel soiled distain

For years and decades and centuries no claim

Just hatred and service and humility and shame

Even our children were destined for flames

They wonder they ponder they infight

And inflame

Could this be the moment they realize humane

To labor was fine for individual gain

But not on the backs of these black and brown folks

They people, they feeble, they fight for our hopes

Let's take arms let's share arms let's bare arms and vote

For blood shed the tender for which man loves most

Men falling slaves falling many calling this civil but I won't

Till constructs of unjust are rebuffed and wrote

Till black men hold power in seats of highcoat

Well we held then we swelled them till whiteego did bloat

 

We built it and they killed it and burnt it on high horse

The birth of our freedom was strangled off course

Flooded by waves of dishonest discourse Before Hollywood and Broadway one sliver screen would divorce

Our future freedom from slavery and remorse

Blood and labor and words no savior

On roads and rails and rocks on street blocks

Laws to wrap the black lack in locks 

dread locks and cops and knocks and knots

Locks and laws and loops from logs

backlogged black laws closed jaws and halls

freedom is someone who knows the walls

You live you learn you see no turn

so learn to know no way to earn

lose your job they rob your home your wife

A way of life is guns and strife 

knot in back no friend but lack

black on black on black on black

 

Run from hoods in hoods and hide

when the moon is full in a land of lies

Sun by day means mad men by night

Free from chains but not from spite

for them deny and then deny 

deny deny deny deny 

Washed away with whittle white sight

We musta been wrong when white is right 

 

Cops on blocks in shops and hops

Watch for the Man on beat on stops

Crack on corners and broke back moms

peddle from job to job then sob

Mom and Dad Divorced by workforce

Paid pennies cus many "Too dim of Course!"

Get back, You black, No Slack, Take That

can't pay em the same they'll ruin our aim

For Good and Power and money to reign

From hungry to dummy to nummy and slain 

held down by Presidents Planters and Pain

The Pain so well ingrained in brain

  

So train a child the way to grow

Get Money, Get Power, Get Good to Go

Get Smart was said, but a hard road to hoe

Some Rattle some Crackle 

some Dream some Battle

Moving the movement by Marching the Capital

But capital got capped and Anger got tapped 

burning the bridges extended tween US

When Fed help medicate minds but menial

The gun clap on black when black on back

burn the bridge we all worked to track

but silent echoes sha clack sha clack 

Attack is back so black react

 

We gamble on gravity with coin of Change

knowing the game ain't geared for gain 

ignore the lack of footing in rain

For certain it's curtains yet playing the same

blinders on triggers on surprise when maimed

Forgotten the root so strange fruit ain't strange

Aged in grief raged in street 

surprise when lame, inflamed, in heat

We old in defeat deranged and weak

Should have been focused on governing seats

Youth forgot when work was sought

In a world wide web the mind was bought

Trapped in chains unseen yet wrought 

To dream is deemed an impure thought

Wonder why kids abandoned the plot

A dream deferred is a dream forgot

When truth repeats the gears don't stop

When voting is bought the truth gets locked

in cycles, in history, in catch phrase, and pop!

Black and White in Chains Distraught

Distraught no thought with teeth dry rot

the lot has rot and lost its hot

Slavery Antiquity and Dreaming De' mode'

Truth is Questioned and Fiction la Mode'

Truth is Fact too black for show

So Back too Black to Act just mold

Anger and fear our coal to hold

Remember regret, let go, too bold

So revolt loose canary for gold….

too late to leap the mind will fold

the future looks cold so cold so cold

but the dice we roll and roll and roll...

 

But Why?

When Blacks in Stacks in Fear; The Facts.

[utilitymonstermash]

King Farouk of Egypt sounds like a real character:

Farouk was greatly upset in 1940 when he learned that his mother, Queen Nazli, whom he viewed as a rather chaste figure, was having an affair with his former tutor, Prince Ahmed Hassanein, who as a desert explorer, poet, Olympic athlete and aviator, was one of the most famous Egyptians alive. When Farouk caught Hassanein reading passages from the Koran to his mother in her bedroom, he pulled out a handgun and threatened to shoot them, saying "you are disgracing the memory of my father, and if I end it by killing one of you, then God will forgive me, for it is according to our holy law as you both know."

King Abdullah I of Jordan wanted all of Palestine for himself and dismissed Farouk as a pseudo-Arab who should not even be attending the summit, saying with reference to Farouk's Albanian ancestry: "You do not make a gentleman out of a Balkan farmer's son simply by making him a king".

Farouk spent his nights at the Auberge des Pyramides nightclub with Cohen or his latest mistress, the French singer Annie Berrier. At the same time, Farouk was engaged in a relationship with the American model Patricia "Honeychilde" Wilder, who stated in an interview that of all her lovers, he was the one who had the best sense of humor and made her laugh the most.

Project FF or Fat Fucker was a Central Intelligence Agency project in Egypt, aimed at pressuring King Farouk into political reforms. The project was masterminded by CIA Director Allen Dulles, Secretary of State Dean Acheson, CIA operative Kermit "Kim" Roosevelt Jr., and CIA Station Chief in Cairo Miles Copeland, Jr.

On the morning of 26 July 1952, Maher arrived at the Ras El Tin Palace to present Farouk with an ultimatum drafted by Naguib telling the king he must abdicate and leave Egypt by 6pm the next day or else the troops loyal to the Free Officers would storm the palace and execute the king.

At about 12:30 pm, Farouk in the presence of a Supreme Court justice and Caffery, cried as he signed the instrument of abdication. At about 5:30 pm Farouk left the palace, was saluted by the Sudanese Guard, said farewell to his best friend Pulli who was not allowed to leave Egypt, and at the dock, boarded the royal yacht El Mahrousa to leave Egypt for the last time. The Mahrousa was the same yacht that taken Ismail the Magnificent to Italy when he was deposed in 1879, which Farouk kept brooding about during his voyage to Naples.

Farouk is also reported as having said "The whole world is in revolt. Soon there will be only five Kings left – the King of England, the King of Spades, the King of Clubs, the King of Hearts, and the King of Diamonds."

Attracting much prurient interest both in Egypt and abroad was the revelation that Farouk owned one of the largest collections of pornography in the world as he possessed a vast collection numbering into the hundreds of thousands of pornographic photographs, postcards, calendars, playing cards, watches, glasses, cockscrews and so on.

Farouk's obsession with collecting also ranged into diamonds, dogs, stamps, rubies, Faberge eggs, ancient Tibetan coins, medieval suits of armor, aspirin bottles, razor blades, paper clips and Geiger counters. At the Koubbeh Palace, it was discovered that Farouk had collected 2,000 silk shirts, 10,000 silk ties, 50 diamond-studded golden walking sticks and one autographed portrait of Adolf Hitler.

One of Farouk's best friends during his Italian exile was the Mafiosi Charles "Lucky" Luciano who had been deported to Italy, and Farouk "bought" his mistress, the Swedish writer Birgitta Stenberg, to be his mistress.

Farouk chose the Miss Naples of 1953, Irma Capece Minutolo, to be his last "official" mistress. As Capece Minutolo was 16 years old; had blond hair and big breasts; and was from a cultured, aristocratic family, she was considered the ideal woman by Farouk. Her parents disapproved of their teenage daughter being courted by much older, married man, but after Farouk offered a considerable sum of money, they consented to their daughter losing her virginity to him

After Farouk discovered that Stenberg's roommates in her Rome apartment were a gay American couple, he made her move into the Villa Dusmet as he could not stand seeing her roommates whom he called "perverts". Farouk's relationship with Stenberg ended over his refusal to promote her up to "official mistress" status as she wanted.

Ultimately, Capece Minutolo objected to living in the Villa Dusmet, which she considered a gloomy and depressing estate, and Farouk moved into a luxury apartment on the Via Archimede in Rome.

Farouk fired one of his aides, Amin Fahim, for trying to seduce his 14 year old daughter, Princess Ferial, whom he subsequently discovered had been working as a spy for Egypt.

On 29 April 1958, the United Arab Republic, a federation of Egypt and Syria, issued rulings revoking his citizenship.

He was granted Monegasque citizenship in 1959 by his close friend Prince Rainier III.

Farouk's daughter, Princess Ferial, recalled that in exile he was a loving father whose only rules for her as a teenager were that she never wear a dress that exposed any decolletage or dance to rock n' roll music, which he hated.

In his last years, Farouk lived with Capece Minutolo, continued to visit nightclubs to gamble and socialise, and spent his days at the Cafe de Paris on Rome's Via Veneto, drinking coffee, smoking cigars and talking to anybody who approached him.

Farouk disapproved of the social changes of the 1960s, and often wished he could relive his youth in the 1930s.

He died in the Ile de France restaurant in Rome on 18 March 1965. While some claim he was poisoned by Egyptian Intelligence, no official autopsy was conducted on his body.

[revoltoftheyouthofficial-blog]

“It was a whole process. It took a couple of weeks. I had the idea, and I was kind of scared to share it honestly. I didn't know how a lot of people would feel. And then I was just like, you know what? This is what I want to do, so I'm gonna do it. And the more I started being vocal about what it was that I wanted to do, as far as bringing the Snoop Youth Football League kids and taking them to the march and letting them see it firsthand, it started with me informing Kenneth Cole and letting him know that I had this plan.” - Cordell Broadus

Revolt of the Youth at March for our lives 

[crimethinc]

Update from the Nicaraguan Insurrection: Horizontal Organizing vs. Left Neoliberalism and the Pitfalls of Nationalism

Two weeks ago, we published a report from the uprising in Nicaragua that began in April. Since then, the situation has only intensified. Here is an update from our comrades in Nicaragua, describing the most recent developments and the stakes of the struggle. In Nicaragua, we see an uprising against the neoliberal policies of a “left” government in which a movement is attempting to resist right-wing cooptation in the absence of an established anarchist or autonomous movement. We are concerned about the prevalence of nationalist and rhetoric and imagery, but we believe that it is important to support revolts against authoritarian governments in order to generate dialogue that could open up a revolutionary horizon. Just as it will not benefit leftists to support unpopular and oppressive “left” governments, it does not benefit anarchists to refuse to engage with insurgents whose goals are still evolving.

For the past month, Nicaragua has seen daily protests against the government of Daniel Ortega. This is being called La Insurreccion de Abril (“the April Insurrection”). Over the last two weeks, these protests have escalated to countrywide blockades and urban barricades. Organized students are occupying three public universities (UNA, UPOLI, UNAN). Nicaraguans in every major city have taken to the streets to demand complete systemic change, including the resignation of Daniel Ortega. Riot police and Sandinista Youth continue to carry out pro-government repression, although this has died down in Managua, Masaya, Matagalpa, and Jinotega.

“It’s been amazing to protest in the streets of Managua without government or Young Sandinista repression. We’ve been able to do this for ten days now. It’s the first time since Ortegas came to power that we’ve been able to take the streets in this way. I truly feel as if the city is ours. We’re witnessing amazing street art, art projects, and interventions. We don’t know what’s going to come out of the dialogue. Government reform, police reform, new elections, autonomous regions?

I feel good, but it has been exhausting. We have good days and bad days. I feel emotionally drained, just working and working and working. Not really taking time to think. It’s been exhausting to live on a day by day space and time. So many doors have been opened!

Classes began at UNAN, the largest public university in the country, on Monday, May 7. Students organized a protest inside the university campus, staging a sit-in and then spending the night. This continued until the university shut down. UNAN is now occupied with an estimated 500 students inside. The students are organized as a commune with rotating personnel guarding the barricades, receiving aid, maintaining communications, re-painting old murals, and staffing a medical center. All the major roads towards the UNAN are barricaded and defended by students, causing major traffic congestion. Nevertheless, drivers cheer the students on as they pass the barricades.

The demands of the UNAN student groups are comparable to those announced by other student organizations: justice, peace, the completely restructuring of student unions, an immediate end to the repression carried out by police and Sandinista Youth, and university autonomy. Other universities, like UNA (the agrarian university), have already created their own student governments outside the state’s framework of legitimacy.

The student representatives of the Coalition of Students have announced that the students of each university should organize as best fits their local conditions, whether that means through the UNEN [the government-sponsored student union] or outside of it—whatever path will lead towards educational autonomy.

During the second week of May, police and Sandinista Youth carried out periodic attacks on UNAN each night, but people protected the entrances to the universities with cultural activities like music and singing; people spent the night at the gates of the university to secure the safety of the students inside. It’s now been about two weeks since the last major confrontations at UNAN involving police and Sandinista Youth.

In discussions with comrades who work and operate inside of UNAN, they report that they’ve never experienced this kind of togetherness and collectivity. They describe a union that transcends class, gender, and race, people united around the cause of justice and autonomy.

“Several contacts inside of UNAN advised me not to enter to conduct interviews, since it is likely that there are infiltrators from the Sandinista Youth inside the campus who would recognize me and might harass me outside.”

A map of the blockades around Nicaragua.

Managua experiences about fours marches every day, organized in different parts of the city. Each march has a different theme and a corresponding location. Marches have been connecting new historic places, like Camino de Oriente (where the revolt started) and Rotonda Jean Paul Genie (the new roundabout, which is not a memorial site) to places like UCA and Rotonda Ruben Dario that are in the center of the city.

We have witnessed marches organized by diverse sectors of the population: various colleges and high schools, alumni marches, marches of teachers and professors, marches organized by the private sector. Mothers and family members of the victims murdered by the police have also led their own marches.

At the same time, taxi drivers have created their own protests, mobilizing around the spike in the price of gasoline. You can see the phrase No + Alza (“stop the rise”) painted on windows of taxis, buses, and cars.

Nicaragua pays the most for gasoline despite having the strongest relationship to Venezuela. There is no transparency in this transaction. A general boycott of PETRONIC, the State-owned petroleum company, is also taking place.

Revolt in the streets.

The confrontations are now predominantly occurring outside Managua in smaller cities like Masaya, Sebaco, Matagalpa, Estelí, and Granada. These confrontations have led to looting and chaos in the streets as families try to protect their homes and businesses. Since the police and state officials are doing the absolute minimum, in some places there has been a push towards self-government and local assemblies. We have seen several small business sectors organize themselves to prevent looting and crime; at the same time, we have seen groups making deals with the local police to protect neighborhoods.

Most of these confrontations occur when the police disrupt protests, creating a state of emergency in a given locale. This gives looters an incentive to attack gas stations and supermarkets. Pro-government news sources then report the looting, blaming the protestors for everything. It is well-documented that the police have used live ammunition on protesters.

We can see the response to these confrontations on the walls of the city streets. Sin Justicia no hay Paz! “There is no peace without justice!” No eran delincuentes, eran estudiantes. “They were not thugs, they were students.” Se busca asesino with an image of Daniel Ortega: “Wanted Murderer!”

Fue el Estado (“it was the state”) is one of the most popular slogans we see spray-painted in every corner of the city. This slogan conveys the popular idea that the Orteguista government has corrupted the state, and the state is responsible for all the violence, destruction, and death. In this narrative, the solutions that are implied are oriented toward restructuring the state so that it will cease to be affiliated with a political party and more “neutral,” catering to the needs of the whole population, not just the Orteguistas. Obviously, this is not an anarchist analysis.

Solutions outside of the state are slowly emerging, but the process is not complete. Neighborhood assemblies, community patrols, student unions, trash collection schedules, and pirate transportation have emerged as necessities in practice: short-term solutions. As anarchists, it’s our task now to demonstrate that these can offer long-term possibilities for autonomous community-run participatory structures.

Live ammunition.

On Monday, May 14, it was announced that the “dialogue” between the state and the student movement plus the private sector and “civil society” [various NGOs and other groups] would occur on Wednesday, May 16. The student movements originally stated that they were willing to engage in dialogue, but that the ongoing police repression made it impossible. Nevertheless, a day later, a part of the student movement agreed that they would be at the dialogue table.

So far, two sessions of this dialogue have taken place; the next session is scheduled for Monday, May 21. Everyone expected the first session to turn out to be a trap against the students, but it turned out that it was a trap for the state. The church (the mediators of the dialogue), “civil society,” the private sector, and the campesino movement all supported the students in their demands that the government put a stop to the repression and recall all police personnel. For the first time in Nicaraguan history, a student interrupted the dialogue, stood up to face Daniel Ortega, and attacked him on account of his authoritarian and violent government. Daniel Ortega and Rosario Murillo never give interviews to the press, so it was amazing to see them so vulnerable.

The second session of the dialogue concluded with an agreement that the government would have their police and paramilitary forces stop attacking protestors in return for the students calling for the road blockades to be lifted. The road blockades have completely paralyzed the economy. Despite this agreement, the Agrarian University was attacked on the night of Saturday, May 19 and four students were injured. Consequently, the deal is off and the blockades are back up.

A key player in all of this is the CIDH (Commision Interamericana de Derechos Humanos, “Inter-American Commission for Human Rights”). They are currently compiling evidence and testimony to present a report on whether there have been human rights violations in Nicaragua. They will present this report later this week. This report could trigger international repercussions against the Ortegas. The CIDH, of course, is essentially a neoliberal organization answering to the Organization of American States.

The immediate demands presented to the government include justice for the 63 people who have been murdered in the course of the repression. This would involve a trial of the government and police officials responsible for their deaths. Through such a trial, there would also be a push towards separating the police from the Orteguista party, as originally stipulated by the constitution. A more far-reaching reform of the police could also happen. Through this reform, people will also push for a complete change in the system of government, including educational autonomy and separation between the Orteguista Party and public institutions.

The Autoconvocados (“Self-Assembled”) movement controls the streets with the power to mobilize hundreds of thousands in Managua, enjoying the freedom to protest for the first time in over ten years. Any negative response or suspicious activity of the government will be received with public demonstrations.

No justice, no peace.

Improvised munitions.

On Horizontal Organizing

The Autoconvocados movement is an umbrella term that can be used by everyone, but only some events are approved and legitimized by the Autoconvocado committee, a group of about 10 organizers that run the official Autoconvocados Twitter account, among other things, to which they post official events. This group operates through consensus and has no leaders.

The Student Coalition is the group representing the students in the dialogue with the rest of the State. This coalition includes representatives of major universities all over the country. It is a coalition of five different student groups, operating horizontally and through consensus. According to the media, two leaders have emerged; this is how the media attempts to create leadership. In fact, the organizing is very much horizontal. This student coalition has the capacity to rally hundreds of thousands of people, setting the tone for the discussion and reaction. One part of the coalition is the Coordinadora Universitaria Por la Justicia y la Paz; out of those with delegates in the dialogue, they have been the closest to a feminist perspective.

All the other public affinity groups that have emerged, like the Artistas Autoconvocados and Arquitectos Autoconvocados (artists and architects), are basically different sectors that are organizing themselves non-hierarchically to set up actions and promote events. There are no public leaders in these movements, only delegates and representatives.

Overall, the most obvious aesthetic of the opposition is nationalism. It is under this banner that all the solidarity and direct action has happened.

All the same, there is a lot that is horizontal about this movement. Small affinity groups organize through social media to deliver medical supplies, food, and resources to communities that have suffered from rioting and looting. Basically, these horizontal organizations are promoting a culture of participation and consensus. A culture of listening and suggesting. A culture of face-to-face politics. A culture of solidarity and inclusivity. A culture of direct action. All things we would have never learn through “party system” politics.

In terms of the future, it is this practice that is creating the theory for the short-term goals. Practices come first. First, we need people in the streets to react to the immediate actions of the government. But in this situation practice cannot create long-term goals. For that, we will need theory.

Text Messages from the Uprising

“Today was the happiest day of life.”

“I’m at the safehouse making bulletproof shields out of garbage cans.”

“They are killing us with snipers, send help send help”

“I’m on my way to Costa Rica. There were people outside my house telling me that they were going to burn down the house and kill me.”

“A tree of life fell on top of E——!”

“There are barricades surrounding your neighborhood, you can’t get in.”

“I have a group of 70 gang members ready to fight, just let us know where to go.”

“We need to occupy the Central American University.”

“Your meme made the national newspaper!”

“Friends, just got out of a meeting, our TV show has been canceled, it was too radical.”

“They’ve burned two trucks in front of my house. And the house behind mine is on fire. I need to get out of here.”

“I’m outing pro-government supporters on Tinder.”

“Don’t, worry V—– sent a drone to check out the situation.”

“Friends, I made this new group because I think there were infiltrators in the other group.”

“VICE wants an interview, what should we tell them?”

“To go fuck themselves.”

A roadblock.

Further Reading

Nicaragua, Ortega, and the Student Movement

Capitalist Development in Nicaragua and the Mirage of the Left

[ceci-n-est-pas-un-chat]

Makers of History: Sophie Scholl

“How can we expect righteousness to prevail when there is hardly anyone willing to give himself up individually to a righteous cause? Such a fine, sunny day, and I have to go, but what does my death matter, if through us, thousands of people are awakened and stirred to action?”

These are the last words of Sophie Scholl, just before she was executed for high treason by the guillotine in 1943, aged twenty one, after being caught distributing pamphlets encouraging passive resistance to the Nazis. Known as a symbol for anti-Nazism since the 1970s, Sophie’s role in The White Rose, a non-violent resistance group to Hitler’s government based around active intellectual opposition to the regime, was a stand against the horrors of Nazi Germany. But what about the girl herself? What sort of girl would face martyrdom so calmly at the tender age of twenty one? Here are five points of interest about her life, that perhaps might shed some light on the girl behind the name.

WARNING: What follows discusses in detail actions of the Nazis, such as the Holocaust, euthanasia and homophobia, that some readers may find upsetting.

[source: The White Rose (Life time: 1943) - Original publication: 1942]

Even in secondary school, Sophie was critical of the Nazis

For those of you who don’t know, secondary school is from the ages of 11 to 18, and in Nazi Germany, the curriculum was full of pro-Nazism indoctrination. For example, young children used to be taught how to recognise Jews from their facial features alone as an attempt to introduce them to eugenics and to teach them that the Jews were inferior to the German Aryan ideal. Initially, Sophie was quite enthusiastic to join the Bund Deutscher Mädel (The League of German Girls) aged twelve, the female wing of the Hitler Youth, which her brother Hans was a member of:

'But there was something else that drew us with mysterious power and swept us along: the closed ranks of marching youth with banners waving, eyes fixed straight ahead, keeping time to drumbeat and song. Was not this sense of fellowship overpowering? It is not surprising that all of us, Hans and Sophie and the others, joined the Hitler Youth? We entered into it with body and soul, and we could not understand why our father did not approve, why he was not happy and proud. On the contrary, he was quite displeased with us.’

- Inge Scholl, Sophie’s sister

However, the disillusionment of her friends and family - even Hans eventually, after the Nazis began to target him over a same-sex relationship he had aged 16 - led to her turning against the Nazi Party. She almost didn’t graduate secondary school because she had lost any interest in participating, but she did in the end with an essay titled “The Hand that Moved the Cradle, Moved the World.” Again, Sophie found difficulty in applying to university as it required her to partake in Reichsarbeitsdienst (National Service) - she originally hoped she could teach in kindergarten as an alternative, but this was not accepted and a year later she became a nursery teacher in the auxiliary war service for six months. During this time she was again dismayed by the things she learnt about the operation of the Nazi Party.

2) Sophie was religious

Sophie was discovered to have sent her boyfriend, Fitz Hartnagel, two volumes of the Catholic John Henry Newman’s sermons when he was sent to the Eastern Front. Sophie and Fitz discussed in great depth the ‘theology of conscience’ in their letters to each other, and this greatly impacted how she viewed the political situation in Germany at the time. Catholic Bishop Clemens August Graft von Galen also influenced her, especially his outcry against the Nazis’ euthanasia policies that were intended to ‘protect the gene pool’. Sophie was horrified by what Hartnagel told her of Soviet POWS being shot into mass graves, and when he passed on what he had learnt about the extermination of the Jews in death camps. The euthanasia policies in particular prompted her to distribute Graft von Galen’s sermon as the first leaflet before the official establishment of the White Rose.

[Bishop Graft von Galen: Domkapitular Gustav Albers († 1957) - Bildersammlung des Bistumsarchivs Münster, des Erbnehmers der Urheberrechte ]

"We know by whom we are created, and that we stand in a relationship of moral obligation to our creator. Conscience gives us the capacity to distinguish between good and evil."

- Fitz Hartnagel to Sophie Scholl

Fritz was evacuated from Stalingrad in 1943, but sadly this was after Sophie’s execution. He went on to marry her older sister, Elisabeth. 

3) The fact that she was a woman proved invaluable to her work as part of The White Rose

Not only did the fact that Sophie was a woman mean she was much less likely to be stopped by the SS, thus making her useful for distributing leaflets, but it also meant that when she was arrested, the Gestapo (specifically the interrogator Robert Mohr) originally thought her innocent. It was only after her brother, Hans, confessed to the crime that she assumed full responsibility in the hopes that her brother and other fellow members of the White Rose would he protected.

4) Sophie’s brother was also involved in The White Rose

It was Hans involvement, in fact, which introduced Sophie to the movement. Sophie, after realising that Hans was an author of one of the anti-Nazi pamphlets being distributed around her university, joined him in The White Rose, despite his initial reluctance at her risking her safety. They were both arrested after an incident in the University of Munich in 1943, along with their friend and fellow member, Christoph Probst. Sophie and Hans had been distributing pamphlets throughout the university, but once the bell rang to dismiss class, they discovered that they still had some left over. In an attempt to rid herself of some, Sophie Scholl threw them from the upper level into the atrium, but was spotted by the caretaker, and was reported to the Gestapo along with her brother. Hans attempted to eat his remaining pamphlets before they could be found on him, but the Gestapo retrieved them from his stool and were able to piece them together. One of the pamphlets was authored by Probst, thus incriminating him as well, and all three were executed.

[Hans Scholl: source]

5) Her work left an important legacy

In 2003, Germans voted for Sophie and Hans Scholl as the fourth greatest Germans to ever live. Had the vote taken into account just the votes of people under 40, then they would have come first, over Einstein, Bach and Bismark. At the time, the sixth pamphlet was smuggled into the United Kingdom, and Allied planes in 1943 dropped copies over Germany under the title ‘The Manifesto of the Students of Munich’, thus making all of Germany aware of the actions of The White Rose. Unfortunately however, this did not lead to a great revolt against the totalitarian regime. The White Rose has had more influence post-war.

So, what are your impressions of the courageous Sophie Scholl? Do feel free to drop me an ask and let me know, or correct me if you think I got something wrong! (Politely, of course).

Well, that’s it for now from Makers of History! This may be the last installment, not because I want to stop, but because this new-fangled Article 13 being proposed by the EU means I may have to delete my blog if it passes. So if I do have to, know that it’s been great fun making these, and I’m sorry to go <3

As always, my sources are WIKIPEDIA.

I’m not doing anything special, just trying to get people interested in history!

Until we meet again,

Aurelia x

[cbroadus9]

undefined

Shailene Woodley and I spoke about the importance of joining the march for our lives Los Angeles. That conversation inspired me to involve Revolt of the Youth and the Snoop League to experience and be apart of it with me. Through the support if Kenneth Cole and aunty @ relly_rellzz & Miss Nykauni we made it happen. "

[thisdaynews]

MY EFFORT:Nigeria safer today than 2015 –Buhari

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/my-effortnigeria-safer-today-than-2015-buhari/

MY EFFORT:Nigeria safer today than 2015 –Buhari

President Muhammadu Buhari has engaged Nigerians, particularly the world class, to be reasonable in their reactions of his organization.

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An assertion by Special Adviser to the President on Media and Publicity, Femi Adesina, said Buhari made the allure when he got in crowd Rev. Yakubu Pam, leader secretary of the Nigeria Christian Pilgrims Commission.

The President stated: “Those censuring the organization ought to be reasonable as far as pondering where we were before we came, where we are presently and what assets are accessible to us and how we have managed the restricted assets.

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“We needed to battle paying obligations, putting resources into street fixes and remaking, to patch up the rail and attempt to get power. This is the thing that I trust the first class, when they need to censure will use to share any useful info.”

On the security circumstance particularly in the North East, the president stated: “What was the circumstance when we came? Attempt to ask individuals from Borno, Adamawa besides Yobe. What was the condition before we came and what is the condition now? In any case, there are issues in Borno and Yobe, there are infrequent Boko Haram issues, however they know the distinction, on the grounds that a ton of them moved out of their states and moved to Kaduna, Kano and here (in Abuja). We were not saved of the assaults all at once. The public authority is giving a valiant effort and I trust that ultimately, our best will be adequate.”

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As the nation denotes the 2021 Armed Forces Remembrance Day today, the Presidency additionally pronounced that the exercises of Boko Haram radicals have been debilitated contrasted with what acquired in 2015.

This is even as it said that in excess of 2,403 lawbreakers, including psychological militants, desperados, ruffians and crooks of different sorts, were apparently dispensed with by the Nigerian Armed Forces, in composed tasks the nation over between March 18 and December 30, 2020.

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In any case, blended responses have followed the cases.

As indicated by the Middle Belt Forum (MBF), the assertion is a great joke and an affront on the insight of Nigerians who know that the security circumstance in the nation has deteriorated significantly.

“Whoever said the security circumstance is better since it was in 2015 can’t be serious. We are not being political, what we are stating is an assertion of reality. Before this organization dominated, Boko Haram was so exhausted to the level that they couldn’t hold any state since previous president, Goodluck Jonathan, worked really hard of that and guaranteed decisions occurred wherever simultaneously. Recollect that around then, grabbing, particularly in the north was not the standard; it was just Boko Haram playing its tricks in the North East. Be that as it may, presently, abducting has overwhelmed the whole nation,” Pogu said.

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Responding, the Supreme Council for Shariah in Nigeria (SCSN), said 2021 security circumstance could be supposed to be better on the off chance that it was about revolt alone.

“However, different types of culpabilities, for example, kidnappings are more regrettable at this point. Prior to 2015, particularly in the North, the hazard of barricades were sufficient difficulty for the general population, yet today it’s set of experiences. Our expectation is the weakness in Nigeria will one day be history also,” Kaduna State secretary of SCSN, Abdurahaman Hassan said.

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For the prompt past Secretary General of Arewa Consultative Forum (ACF), Mr. Anthony Sani, in the event that we thought about exercises of Boko Haram before 2015 to what in particular acquires now, one could state there has been significant improvement.

“This system has prevailing with regards to pushing the exercises of the uprising to edges of North East, if not Borno State…

“Obviously, episodes of banditry, grabbing and equipped burglary have increased not long after appointment of 2019 which have tried the mind and limit of the system because of scarcity of assets and coordinations. In any case, from the reports one is understanding now, there are trust that the public authority would manage the circumstance.”

Be that as it may, Alaigbo Development Foundation (ADF) and International Society for Civil Liberties and Rule of Law (Intersociety), blamed the president.

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While ADF said more northern states have been involved by psychological militants and criminals, the Intersociety said more Nigerians were presently executed on regular schedule.

ADF’s representative, Abia Onyike said Nigeria was really in an issue.

“Nigeria is in a situation. We are as of now seeing what resembles a common war and President Muhammadu Buhari seems to have run out of thoughts,” Onyike expressed.

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Administrator, Board of Trustees of Intersociety, Emeka Umeagbalasi, stated: “Genuinely, there are more Jihadist bunches now than in 2015, at that point numbering just three however now numbering 21 fundamental and splinter gatherings. Today, more Nigerians put in any event 30, 000 have been killed by Jihadists than 22,000 killed as at May 2015. At least 3,000 vulnerable residents have been slaughtered by troopers and police dissimilar to approach zero figure recorded as at May 2015. The rundown is long to be completely referenced, ” Intersociety expressed.

Colonel Hassan Stan-Labo (retd) MD/CEO, Hakes and Partners Limited, said banditry, capturing and others were not as terrible in 2015.

“Today, ranchers can’t go to ranches in light of the dread of being assaulted, today Nigerians are living in dread that once it is getting to 5pm, individuals are running back to their homes. The police are adequately not to police the nation and the military is exhausted and overpowered. Today individuals are calling for private military to come and tackle occupation of the ordinary security powers.”

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In his response, Mr Bone Efoziem, MD/CEO Street Guard Security, stated: “The president will address us dependent on the preparation he gets from these administration bosses. Taking a gander at the security design since he took over administration, we will see that he had depended on four, five men and at whenever he is giving data that there is uncertainty in the nation, it will normally mean they are requiring their expulsion.”

Straight to the point Odita, Commissioner of Police (retd) additionally blamed the president as he said it wasn’t right to make a sweeping evaluation on the security circumstance as appraisal would “consistently contrast from individual to individual.”

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Dr. Muda Yusuf, Director-General, Lagos Chamber of Commerce and Industry (LCCI), said the rising degree of frailty had critical ramifications on food creation, youth joblessness, speculation and monetary development.

“Nigeria was confronted with raised degree of weakness in year 2020 with rates of killings, seizing, defacement of public and private properties, ethno-strict clashes, and desperado assaults. No normal financial specialist would submit their assets in an unreliable climate,” he said.

[dfroza]

Our courage in this life originates in grace

which is where our freedom is found. because this world tries to restrain the True nature of eternal things, yet in Today’s reading of the Scriptures we see from Paul that “the Word of God can never be chained!”

Today’s reading is chapter #2 of 2nd Timothy:

[Grace to Overcome]

Timothy, my dear son, live your life empowered by God’s free-flowing grace, which is your true strength, found in the anointing of Jesus and your union with him! And all that you’ve learned from me, confirmed by the integrity of my life, pass on to faithful leaders who are competent to teach the congregations the same revelation.

Overcome every form of evil as a victorious soldier of Jesus the Anointed One. For every soldier called to active duty must divorce himself from the distractions of this world so that he may fully satisfy the one who chose him.

An athlete who doesn’t play by the rules will never receive the trophy, so remain faithful to God!

The farmer who labors to produce a crop should be the first one to be fed from its harvest.

Carefully consider all that I’ve taught you, and may our Lord inspire you with wisdom and revelation in everything you say and do. But make Jesus, the Anointed One, your focus in life and ministry. For he came to earth as the descendant of David and rose from the dead, according to the revelation of the gospel that God has given me. This is the reason I am persecuted and imprisoned by evildoers, enduring the suffering of these chains—but the Word of God can never be chained! I endure all these hardships for the benefit of the chosen ones in Christ so that they may also discover the overcoming life that is in Jesus Christ, and experience a glory that lasts forever!

You can trust these words:

If we were joined with him in his death, then we are joined with him in his life! If we are joined with him in his sufferings, then we will reign together with him in his triumph. But if we disregard him, then he will also disregard us. But even if we are faithless, he will still be full of faith, for he never wavers in his faithfulness to us!

Be committed to teach the believers all these things when you are with them in the presence of the Lord. Instruct them to never be drawn into meaningless arguments, or tear each other down with useless words that only harm others.

Always be eager to present yourself before God as a perfect and mature minister, without shame, as one who correctly explains the Word of Truth.

And avoid empty chatter and worthless words, for they simply add to the irreverence of those who converse in that manner. For the words of Hymenaeus and Philetus are like gangrene, they have already spread their poison to many. They are lost to the truth and teach gross error when they teach that the resurrection of the dead has already passed. They are guilty of subverting the faith of some believers.

But the firm foundation of God has written upon it these two inscriptions: “The Lord God recognizes those who are truly his!” and, “Everyone who worships the name of the Lord Jesus must forsake wickedness!”

In a palace you find many kinds of containers and tableware for many different uses. Some are beautifully inlaid with gold or silver, but some are made of wood or earthenware; some of them are used for banquets and special occasions, and some for everyday use. But you, Timothy, must not see your life and ministry this way. Your life and ministry must not be disgraced, for you are to be a pure container of Christ and dedicated to the honorable purposes of your Master, prepared for every good work that he gives you to do.

Run as fast as you can from all the ambitions and lusts of youth; and chase after all that is pure. Whatever builds up your faith and deepens your love must become your holy pursuit. And live in peace with all those who worship our Lord Jesus with pure hearts.

Stay away from all the foolish arguments of the immature, for these disputes will only generate more conflict. For a true servant of our Lord Jesus will not be argumentative but gentle toward all and skilled in helping others see the truth, having great patience toward the immature. Then with meekness you’ll be able to carefully enlighten those who argue with you so they can see God’s gracious gift of repentance and be brought to the truth. This will cause them to rediscover themselves and escape from the snare of Satan who caught them in his trap so that they would carry out his purposes.

The Letter of 2nd Timothy, Chapter 2 (The Passion Translation)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is the closing chapter of the book of 2nd Kings that documents the seige of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar:

[Chapter 25]

The revolt dates from the ninth year and tenth month of Zedekiah’s reign. Nebuchadnezzar set out for Jerusalem immediately with a full army. He set up camp and sealed off the city by building siege mounds around it. The city was under siege for nineteen months (until the eleventh year of Zedekiah). By the fourth month of Zedekiah’s eleventh year, on the ninth day of the month, the famine was so bad that there wasn’t so much as a crumb of bread for anyone. Then there was a breakthrough. At night, under cover of darkness, the entire army escaped through an opening in the wall (it was the gate between the two walls above the King’s Garden). They slipped through the lines of the Babylonians who surrounded the city and headed for the Jordan on the Arabah Valley road. But the Babylonians were in pursuit of the king and they caught up with him in the Plains of Jericho. By then Zedekiah’s army had deserted and was scattered. The Babylonians took Zedekiah prisoner and marched him off to the king of Babylon at Riblah, then tried and sentenced him on the spot. Zedekiah’s sons were executed right before his eyes; the summary murder of his sons was the last thing he saw, for they then blinded him. Securely handcuffed, he was hauled off to Babylon.

In the nineteenth year of Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon, on the seventh day of the fifth month, Nebuzaradan, the king of Babylon’s chief deputy, arrived in Jerusalem. He burned The Temple of God to the ground, went on to the royal palace, and then finished off the city—burned the whole place down. He put the Babylonian troops he had with him to work knocking down the city walls. Finally, he rounded up everyone left in the city, including those who had earlier deserted to the king of Babylon, and took them off into exile. He left a few poor dirt farmers behind to tend the vineyards and what was left of the fields.

The Babylonians broke up the bronze pillars, the bronze washstands, and the huge bronze basin (the Sea) that were in The Temple of God and hauled the bronze off to Babylon. They also took the various bronze-crafted liturgical accessories used in the services of Temple worship, as well as the gold and silver censers and sprinkling bowls. The king’s deputy didn’t miss a thing—he took every scrap of precious metal he could find.

The amount of bronze they got from the two pillars, the Sea, and all the washstands that Solomon had made for The Temple of God was enormous—they couldn’t weigh it all! Each pillar stood twenty-seven feet high, plus another four and a half feet for an ornate capital of bronze filigree and decorative fruit.

The king’s deputy took a number of special prisoners: Seraiah the chief priest, Zephaniah the associate priest, three wardens, the chief remaining army officer, five of the king’s counselors, the accountant, the chief recruiting officer for the army, and sixty men of standing from among the people. Nebuzaradan the king’s deputy marched them all off to the king of Babylon at Riblah. And there at Riblah, in the land of Hamath, the king of Babylon killed the lot of them in cold blood.

Judah went into exile, orphaned from her land.

Regarding the common people who were left behind in Judah, this: Nebuchadnezzar king of Babylon appointed Gedaliah son of Ahikam, the son of Shaphan, as their governor. When veteran army officers among the people heard that the king of Babylon had appointed Gedaliah, they came to Gedaliah at Mizpah. Among them were Ishmael son of Nethaniah, Johanan son of Kareah, Seraiah son of Tanhumeth the Netophathite, Jaazaniah the son of the Maacathite, and some of their followers.

Gedaliah assured the officers and their men, giving them his word, “Don’t be afraid of the Babylonian officials. Go back to your farms and families and respect the king of Babylon. Trust me, everything is going to be all right.”

Some time later—it was in the seventh month—Ishmael son of Nethaniah, the son of Elishama (he had royal blood in him), came back with ten men and killed Gedaliah, the traitor Jews, and the Babylonian officials who were stationed at Mizpah—a bloody massacre.

But then, afraid of what the Babylonians would do, they all took off for Egypt, leaders and people, small and great.

When Jehoiachin king of Judah had been in exile for thirty-seven years, Evil-Merodach became king in Babylon and let Jehoiachin out of prison. This release took place on the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth month. The king treated him most courteously and gave him preferential treatment beyond anything experienced by the other political prisoners held in Babylon. Jehoiachin took off his prison garb and for the rest of his life ate his meals in company with the king. The king provided everything he needed to live comfortably.

The Book of 2nd Kings, Chapter 25 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for Wednesday, december 30 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament of the Bible, along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A post by John Parsons that illuminates our human condition in Light of the eternal:

There is a gap between the “real” and the “ideal,” between our present sense of exile and our hope that one day we will be in our heavenly home; there is an inherent and ongoing dualism we experience as we sojourn through our days. On the one hand, if we make time to reflect on what is "real," we will eventually encounter the "Parmenidean" realm of "being," that is, the totality of sheer existence, the inescapable presence that surrounds and pervades any "thing" whatsoever: the "ground" of existence; the timeless sense of unity, perfection, and so on. The heart's response to this awareness is humble acceptance - to surrender to all that is -- in wonder over the miracle of consciousness and the sheer gift of life itself. The "real" is what "is" and that is a monolithic mystery...

On the other hand we encounter the everyday "Heraclitean" flux of life, the experience that all things flow (πάντα ῥεῖ ), and that we are all part of the endless river. The only “universal” is change itself, or the inscrutable process of becoming. The heart's response is to engage life, to learn to swim, and to go with the flow, however, since everything is in process, fighting injustice and seeking good outcomes are essential, and therefore there is a duty to refuse to passively be carried away in the drift, indifferent to the suffering and needs of others. We seek stability within the ongoing flux by identifying "universals" or principles, and it becomes our responsibility to improve the world, to lessen suffering, and to hold to whatever ultimately "is" -- the substance (or substratum) of everything, is good and worthy of our struggle...

As a matter of practical living, this dualism shows up in our hearts as a disposition or temperament that arises when we encounter seemingly pointless suffering in our lives (or in the lives of others). Even if our theology encourages us to "see through" the dark cloud of suffering and accept its ultimate resolution, misery and chronic pain defy our best explanations, often leaving us speechless, in the whirlwind of mystery and confusion, hoping to find the will to believe despite our inner fracture or the crucifixion of our world...

Friedrich Nietzsche once said that he could accept any "what" of suffering if he had a "why," though that dialectic is never really finished, since the faith to regard suffering as purposive or pointless is an ongoing, and ultimately terminal, struggle... Of course having a sense of meaning, a "story" that accounts for your suffering is important, yet it is a story being told as you live it, and you will have days of fortitude as well as days of weakness... As Kierkegaard once said: “Truth is not something you can appropriate easily and quickly. You certainly cannot sleep or dream yourself to the truth. No, you must be tried, do battle, and suffer if you are to acquire the truth for yourself. It is a sheer illusion to think that in relation to the truth there is an abridgment, a short cut that dispenses with the necessity for struggling for it.”

The question as to whether suffering and death are "essential" to what is real or merely "accidental" is an academic one, but when the issue comes up-close and personal through intimate afflictions, the question becomes a matter of the heart answered by how we choose to respond, especially when our best explanations (or rationalizations) fail us... For most people this “answer” to the problem of suffering is to deny there is any problem at all, as Blaise Pascal once ironically noted: "Being unable to cure death, wretchedness, and ignorance, men have decided, in order to be happy, not to think about such things" (Pensees). Such collusion to deny the reality of suffering is ironically exposed in our addictions, our obsessions, and in our constant use of various “tools of distraction.” Denying the reality of death is ultimately foolish, however, since it makes a deal with the devil to become "comfortably numb" at the expense of our very souls... “This your last chance. After this there is no turning back. You take the blue pill, the story ends. You wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to. You take the red pill, you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember, all I'm offering is the truth. Nothing more” (The Matrix: 1999). The ancient sage Socrates would unhesitatingly have swallowed the red pill: "It is better to be a human being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the fool, or the pig, is of a different opinion, it is only because they only know their own side of the question" (J.S. Mill: Utilitarianism, 1861).

Another response to the problem of mortal suffering is to try to "fix" or circumvent it through various medical technologies. Instead of accepting the age-old struggle of learning to suffer (and to die) well, the modern world creates another layer of denial - pretending that death and disease are a problem that can be resolved by palliative technology and science. At the very least, medical technologies supply "end of life" care that is engineered to hide the truth from the culture at large... The rise of "trans-humanism" is a romantic idealization of this view.

A characteristically spiritual approach seeks to transform suffering and death to be the means of sanctification - a sorrowful yet necessary prelude to deliverance and ultimately to salvation. Suffering is the price we pay for the blessing of existence, and God uses it to educate or rectify the soul for the perfections of heaven. Now while such a "soul building" theodicy may rationalize some of the common hardships of life in this world, it rings a bit hollow when we consider certain forms of suffering, such as the death of a very young child or the unjust and senseless murder of a bystander in a bad neighborhood... It makes a mockery of the pain we feel in grief, by acts of terrorism, through political tyranny, and so on.

Often enough these different approaches to suffering are intermixed within the heart, as, for example, when a person receives a terminal medical diagnosis but then wrestles through accepting what is happening yet also doing whatever is possible to fight for life. This struggle arises when the intellectual "problem of evil" becomes a mystery of the heart, and the person both surrenders and yet wrestles over God's role in the darkness of their unknown. This is a sacred place , the "garden of pain," where we face the essential truth of our own vulnerability and mortality, our suffering and our fear, and yet it is precisely there that we cry out to God for the strength to accept his will without hatred and despair...

Intellectually we may be tempted to regard our suffering as the way to reconcile our sins with God's justice (karma), but this is not the message of the gospel, of course, which proclaims Yeshua was made "sin for us" to bring us forgiveness and life (Rom. 4:5; 1 Pet. 3:18; 2 Cor. 5:21; Rom. 8:1). Indeed Yeshua sacrificed on our behalf "reconciles" God's justice with the truth of his love (Psalm 85:10; 89:14). That said, we return again to the realm of paradox, since though we are not forensically punished so that we are made good, we are "corrected" by our Heavenly Father as we partake of suffering to be conformed to the image of Messiah (Heb. 12:5; Col. 1:24; Rom. 8:17; 8:29; 1 Cor. 15:49, etc.). The divine exchange given at the cross is the miracle of substitutionary atonement - and yet we still suffer in this life, we still might wonder if there be a hidden message of rebuke -- even while we are assured that all things (including our afflictions) work together for our ultimate good and for the glory of God.

It is an "already-not-yet" mode of existing, friend, as we partake of the heavenly gift and promise and yet await its consummation in the future... Meanwhile while God does not take away those pains and fears common to all men in this fallen world, he does impart courage produced by the Holy Spirit that yields conviction of His love and presence. Even if the world totters and shakes we find comfort because the LORD is near.

There is always a gap between what we are and what we could be, between the "is" and the "ought," and between the real and the ideal in our lives... Our conversion imparts to us a new spiritual nature, but we still must struggle through our deep inadequacies so that we might learn to truly love God and others (Shema). God graciously saves us by faith, and he sanctifies us the selfsame way, though in the latter case this means learning to keep focus, to persevere, and persist in hope - despite the shortfall of our lives. So where are you going today? Are you keeping faith in God's promises for your life? Are you catching up with the miracle of what God has done for you?

This dualism of life shows up within our hearts as we wrestle with our faith and with our "double-mindedness," that is, the ambivalence that results from not having our minds made up. On the one hand, we need to confess the truth of our radical sinfulness, our depravity, our brokenness, and so on, while on the other we must learn to know ourselves as the "beloved" and to find faith that God’s blessing indeed belongs to us -- that Yeshua gave his life for us -- despite ourselves. We have to be willing to take God’s new name for us and believe that God has transformed our deepest nature for eternal good. We have to be renamed from “Jacob” to “Israel,” and yet we know ourselves as both... In other words, we must learn to “put on” the new nature and to “put off” the carnal reasoning of our former life. The answer for us is found in the word "miracle," as God in great mercy and compassion regenerates us, comforts us, and then guides our way back to the truth of his salvation.

Often the only prayer we have is "Help, LORD!" (עזור לי יהוה). I use this one on a daily basis, that is, whenever I am confronted with the truth of my condition... Living in the "already-not-yet" state of redemption is a soul-building venture that helps us to acquire the precious middah (quality) of patience: "In your patience possess ye your souls" (Luke 21:19). Testing produces endurance (Rom. 5:3), but God surely is faithful "to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy" (Jude 1:24). May He come speedily, and in our day. Amen. [Hebrew for Christians]

https://hebrew4christians.com/

12.29.20 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research

December 30, 2020

Wonder at the Word

“Thy testimonies are wonderful: therefore doth my soul keep them.” (Psalm 119:129)

Josiah was eight years old when he became king of Judah. His grandfather was Manassah and his father Amon, both evil kings. While it seemed Josiah would follow the same path, he didn’t. “He did that which was right in the sight of the LORD, and walked in the ways of David his father, and declined neither to the right hand, nor to the left” (2 Chronicles 34:2). What made such a difference?

As the text above testifies, Josiah found wonder in God’s Word. When Josiah was a young man (age 26), a godly leader read to him the law (torah), which engaged his soul.

And the king stood in his place, and made a covenant before the LORD, to walk after the LORD, and to keep his commandments, and his testimonies, and his statutes, with all his heart, and with all his soul, to perform the words of the covenant which are written in this book. (2 Chronicles 34:31)

Such was the case of the psalmist. The earlier portions of Psalm 119 declare the good that he had done, but now his soul was motivated. He longed (v. 131) and cried for direction and help from the Lord: “Look thou upon me, and...Order my steps in thy word....Deliver me from the oppression of man....Make thy face to shine upon thy servant” (vv. 132-135).

These unselfish prayers were each coupled with a promise to obey. With his heart and correct behavior involved, the psalmist wept for those who “keep not thy law” (v. 136). When the hearts of God’s people break because of sin, revival comes (2 Chronicles 7:14). HMM III

[brdnjulia]

THE MISTS OF TIME

-a short story by Julia Mae O. Berdon

It’s that time of the year again. Streets will be filled with people of different ages; laughter and joy of the people savouring the moment, lights will be lit up so bright to the point where you can see every corner of the streets and the usual festival activities are going to happen, which by the way last for several days. But the one thing that I always look forward to is the much-awaited highlight of the festival – the play; there I get to see Macario Sakay. Yes him, the one who has spent his youth as a barber and a tailor and now the very famous stage actor. Then a couple of moments later my companion arrived, “Kaibigan, nandito na siya!” he says. Funny to hear about that because I was just thinking about him, what a coincidence! With that, we scurried down the dusty streets not wanting to miss any single part of the play.

I see him from afar. He still has the same features. His rugged looks and his signature long hair has always been there, which by the way at some point have also made me want to grow out my hair too. But hence, I still admire him for he’s a great man and you can say I have been also a great follower of him too. I’ve always thought about being like him someday, and that thought has always crossed my mind. Transferring from one town to another, doing these plays and witnessing how people lit up their faces. I have always wanted to be like that, where I feel like I have a purpose and I can sense the people’s appreciation and applause.

Going back to the moment of where we are right now, there were marches, loud martial music, battle formations, lively choreography and stylized steps, colourful costumes, and clashes between Christians and Moros – to be concise, the moro-moro play is being performed right now. And there he is a part of the play, still getting the same amount of admiration by the townspeople.

Once the play ended, people flocked around him and wanted to initiate a conversation with him. A few moments later, me and my companion decided to go back home. On the way home, we heard people talking at a short distance and I can say that they were a lot of them gathering around a single person. Out of curiosity, we decided to go near them and tried to eavesdrop. But when we reached behind the bushes, I suddenly stepped on to something – though I feel like it was a branch, which made a sound thus making those people stop talking and looks to where we’re at. 

Before they saw us, we have already overheard some parts of their conversation, though all that I could make out of it was “pagkakaisa, paghihimagsik, at kalayaan”.  And when the person they were crowding at turned around, I was in plain shock. I didn’t know what to think about. It was Macario Sakay, the actor that I’ve always looked up to my entire life. All this time I thought everything seems fine, but behind those smiles in their faces I can sense deep down their plot against the government – the colonizers.

They questioned me and my companion of what we were doing and asked if we heard their conversation. But all the words that are muttered under my breath are, “Sasali ako.” That was very bold of me to decide about that on the spot, all of a sudden. My friend looked at me questioning my sudden decision, yet my mind has already been made up, I didn’t look back straight into his eyes, only to those in front of me having a fierce look plastered in my face.

One of them said, “Talaga ba? Parang ang bata-bata mo pa ah?” But that made me wanted to join more. After a few moments, I finally made them believe that I wanted to join, not out of curiosity but as for my love for it more than anything. Well, they couldn’t do anything though because as what I’ve heard they are in need of more recruits, so it wasn’t that hard to convince them.

So at the early years of me being 21, I am now a member of the Kataastaasang Kagalang-galang Katipunan ng mga Anak ng Bayan (KKK), being a recruit of Macario Sakay under the leadership of Andres Bonifacio. A few months have passed by, we’ve been transferring from one province to another in order to gather more recruits who are willing to be part of the planned revolt to oppose the Spanish rule. And with that we’ve made several chapters of the Katipunan aside from Manila.

 It’s now August 19, 1896, this past year has made me keep track of the time more. Hence there has been a turn of events because a Spanish friar has found out about the secret society – us, the Katipuneros. And I knew from that moment the revolution began. It started on the evening of August 29th, when hundreds of our comrades attacked the Civil Guard garrison in Pasig, just as hundreds of other comrades, including me, personally led by Bonifacio. We were amassing in San Juan del Monte, carrying our bolo knives, bamboo spears and a few firearms, and the Spaniards were outnumbered and fought a delaying battle until reinforcements arrived. Once reinforced, the Spaniards drove our forces back with heavy casualties. It was a defeat in the Battle of San Juan del Monte.

But despite the defeat of the first attack, we were also fighting alongside Bonifacio in the battles of Montalban, Marikina, and San Mateo which has all led to victory. It was a tough one, a bloody mess. We have had unsuccessful revolts and lost a lot of our comrades but aside from that we were somehow one step closer to success, well I thought it would be. But after several reverses, we retreated to Cavite only to find out that there was a new general, Emilio Aguinaldo, who turned the tide and defeated Andres Bonifacio in a power struggle.  Sakay and our fellow troops dropped off the radar during Aguinaldo’s revolutionary government though we continued Bonifacio’s legacy.  We continued to go from town to town in order to form Katipunan chapters.

Having to survive the Revolution against Spain, Sakay, at the beginning of the Philippine Resistance to the US, tried to reactivate the Katipunan. We’ve had a lot of sleepless nights trying to organize every single commandos and intelligence, sabotage units, and guerrilla tactics. It was like a loop, it’s like the same thing was going to happen again. When General Aguinaldo was captured in 1901, our resistance didn’t stop there and that is because our force remained at large reaching from thousands of troops. And all of a sudden an event has flustered us; Sakay was arrested and jailed by the US authorities and the rest of us took the path leading to the hills to get away from them in order to not be capture too.

It’s now July 1902, how the time flies by so fast. We just received the news that Sakay was being released under the general amnesty. We felt so relieved, his arrival made us breathe a fresh air. Once he arrived, he organized huge guerrilla forces which operated on several provinces - Rizal, Cavite Laguna, Batangas and the foothills of Mt. Banahaw. On May 6, Sakay proclaimed himself General and President of the Tagalog Republic. Our government had a flag, a system of taxation, a disciplined army consisting of regular battalions and regiments of infantry, artillery, engineer and medical corps with separate commands in full uniform. At this exact month, our troops has declared an open resistance to the US and conducted guerrilla raids that lasted for several years.

After years of fighting, we went back up to the hills, our meeting ground, and took a good amount of rest, gaining more strength while it lasts for a few moments. Later that day, Dr. Dominador Gomez, a known compatriot, approached our camp. Says he was authorized by Governor-General Henry Clay Ide and that he has something to talk about, a message from the Americans. He says, “The American governor-general has promised to create a national assembly of our countrymen elected by the people where our leaders can be trained for eventual self-government. As soon as we prove ourselves capable, we shall be granted independence.”

But is it really that way? Why all of a sudden? Have they just given up on fighting us? But that would be impossible and suspicious at the same time!  I started to keep all the questions to myself because I’m just too inconsiderate about this given situation that’s happening. Days later, I still didn’t raise any concerns to them and in a few hours we’ll be now heading to a reception that will be held in Cavite, an invite that we received from the Americans as they say.  After long treks to Tanay we, along with 9 other principal lieutenants, came to Manila on a safe-conduct pass from the Americans. Dressed in rayadillo uniforms, carrying pistols and daggers, our long hairs neatly combed, we came on foot with hundreds of overjoyed townspeople showering us with food and other gifts, guitar music and singing.

July 17 1906, we’re now attending the town fiesta in Cavite. But as I walked near the centre of the town, I can sense something else. I told my companion, yes the one that I mentioned in the first because like me he also joined the movement, that we’ll take a different path and we’ll just tell the rest that we are going to catch up. Once we’ve split up with the pact, we went to a more unnoticeable path. But upon arriving at the building where the feast is being held, I see the rest of our troops and Sakay was among them. They were being held on by the US officers with a pistol carrying on their hands, unable to fight because they were disarmed. The place was surrounded by Filipino Contabulary officers. What are they doing? Aren’t they supposed to help their fellowmen? There’s nothing me and my companion can do, we just stood there noticing their every action and how every single word came out of their mouth.

Back to where we are, Gen. Villafuerte, one of the principal lieutenants, shouted, “We have been betrayed and we are trapped. Doctor, what is the meaning of this?” I see from afar Dr. Gomez stepping forward saying, “There’s no use fighting.” Sakay’s eyes were bloodshot. He said, “Tell the Americans to face us in the open field, in honorable battle.” And to the Filipino Constabularios, he remarked, “Aren’t you ashamed of what you are doing?” After Sakay’s last statement, they were being arrested and dragged on to a boat.

And in an instance we fell into a trap, we were deceived, we were fooled. The Americans have succeeded in capturing some of us – the most patriotic individuals. Never was it known that Dr. Gomez was an American symphatizer, I knew all this time that something’s not right yet I didn’t do anything about it. How foolish of me!

After that incident, me and my companion hurriedly went to the base camp in order to relay what happened during the feast. Then, that was the last time that I’ve ever seen them again. But occasionally we’ve received news about them – different sorts of news. One of our troops says that 300 members of the Sakay forces were secretly hanged inside Bilibid and 100 more were injected with lethal serum, another news is that Sakay and the rest of the men were being accused of all sorts of crime - robbery, murder, rape, summary executions, arson and kidnapping; and one of the troops even said that they will be convicted and sentenced to death if they wouldn’t plead as guilty. Listening to those were a handful, it took me some time to process and couple more and couple more, I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe the fact that we’ve reached this point, it seems surreal.

September 13, 1907, a month has passed by; we couldn’t believe the news that has arrived in our camp. In order to catch up, we hurriedly went down the hills and went straight to the front of the Bilibid Prison, hiding near the trees in order to not be seen. A big crowd surrounds the area, feeling unusual and emotional. We stood there witnessing in front of us how Macario Sakay will be executed. But before it, we get to hear him uttering his last words, “Death comes to all of us sooner or later, so I will face the LORD Almighty calmly. But I want to tell you that we are not bandits and robbers, as the Americans have accused us, but members of the revolutionary force that defended our mother country, the Philippines! Farewell! Long live the Republic and may our independence be born in the future! Long live the Philippines!” And a few minutes after that, he was hanged. Instead of looking straight to his lifeless body, I just looked at gallows and nowhere else. I couldn’t stand looking at him after all the things that we’ve been through. It kind of didn’t make any sense, it’s like time has been fast forwarded at some point that I couldn’t intake everything all at once.

Sakay's patriotism and dedication to the Katipunan has made him, far from being a bandit - a glorious die-hard, incredibly brave and tenacious, and a heroic hold-out for Philippine Independence. Though he remains a brigand in the eyes of many, but for me he will forever be one of my heroes for he has led me unto the right path and not to those who were too blinded by the truth.

Standing in front of his tomb, a year has already passed since Macario Leon Sakay’s death. At this very time, memories I wish to not remember – the execution, have been brought back to life. Though above that, all I could ever think about the past months was his last few words that have been on repeat in my mind. “Farewell! Long live the Republic and may our independence be born in the future!” I kneeled in front of the tomb uttering the words I want to say. “Don’t worry, I will continue to step unto this path and finish what you and the rest have started. I’ll continue to live on and share all the things that you have done for our fellowmen and our country to my fullest extent and pass on this tale so that you and the rest of the members of the force whose lives have been taken will always be remembered.  I will cherish each and every one of this, up until the day when I die.”

  THE END