I Was Judged Unfairly Quotes

I define myself by helping others. This is what I do. Those people who want me to abandon my husband are asking me to put myself first and to judge him. The poor man has been judged unfairly by others. Why would I abandon him in his greatest need?

Do you know about the spoons? Because you should. The Spoon Theory was created by a friend of mine, Christine Miserandino, to explain the limits you have when you live with chronic illness. Most healthy people have a seemingly infinite number of spoons at their disposal, each one representing the energy needed to do a task. You get up in the morning. That’s a spoon. You take a shower. That’s a spoon. You work, and play, and clean, and love, and hate, and that’s lots of damn spoons … but if you are young and healthy you still have spoons left over as you fall asleep and wait for the new supply of spoons to be delivered in the morning. But if you are sick or in pain, your exhaustion changes you and the number of spoons you have. Autoimmune disease or chronic pain like I have with my arthritis cuts down on your spoons. Depression or anxiety takes away even more. Maybe you only have six spoons to use that day. Sometimes you have even fewer. And you look at the things you need to do and realize that you don’t have enough spoons to do them all. If you clean the house you won’t have any spoons left to exercise. You can visit a friend but you won’t have enough spoons to drive yourself back home. You can accomplish everything a normal person does for hours but then you hit a wall and fall into bed thinking, “I wish I could stop breathing for an hour because it’s exhausting, all this inhaling and exhaling.” And then your husband sees you lying on the bed and raises his eyebrow seductively and you say, “No. I can’t have sex with you today because there aren’t enough spoons,” and he looks at you strangely because that sounds kinky, and not in a good way. And you know you should explain the Spoon Theory so he won’t get mad but you don’t have the energy to explain properly because you used your last spoon of the morning picking up his dry cleaning so instead you just defensively yell: “I SPENT ALL MY SPOONS ON YOUR LAUNDRY,” and he says, “What the … You can’t pay for dry cleaning with spoons. What is wrong with you?” Now you’re mad because this is his fault too but you’re too tired to fight out loud and so you have the argument in your mind, but it doesn’t go well because you’re too tired to defend yourself even in your head, and the critical internal voices take over and you’re too tired not to believe them. Then you get more depressed and the next day you wake up with even fewer spoons and so you try to make spoons out of caffeine and willpower but that never really works. The only thing that does work is realizing that your lack of spoons is not your fault, and to remind yourself of that fact over and over as you compare your fucked-up life to everyone else’s just-as-fucked-up-but-not-as-noticeably-to-outsiders lives. Really, the only people you should be comparing yourself to would be people who make you feel better by comparison. For instance, people who are in comas, because those people have no spoons at all and you don’t see anyone judging them. Personally, I always compare myself to Galileo because everyone knows he’s fantastic, but he has no spoons at all because he’s dead. So technically I’m better than Galileo because all I’ve done is take a shower and already I’ve accomplished more than him today. If we were having a competition I’d have beaten him in daily accomplishments every damn day of my life. But I’m not gloating because Galileo can’t control his current spoon supply any more than I can, and if Galileo couldn’t figure out how to keep his dwindling spoon supply I think it’s pretty unfair of me to judge myself for mine. I’ve learned to use my spoons wisely. To say no. To push myself, but not too hard. To try to enjoy the amazingness of life while teetering at the edge of terror and fatigue.

I judged you unfairly when I met you.” “But you still wanted to kiss me?” He shrugged, a smirk turning up the right corner of his mouth. “I’m a guy.

My mother’s English has remained rudimentary during her forty-plus years living in the United States. When she speaks Korean, my mother speaks her mind. She is sharp, witty, and judgmental, if rather self-preening. But her English is a crush of piano keys that used to make me cringe whenever she spoke to a white person. As my mother spoke, I watched the white person, oftentimes a woman, put on a fright mask of strained tolerance: wide eyes frozen in trapped patience, smile widened in condescension. As she began responding to my mother in a voice reserved for toddlers, I stepped in. From a young age, I learned to speak for my mother as authoritatively as I could. Not only did I want to dispel the derision I saw behind that woman’s eyes, I wanted to shame her with my sobering fluency for thinking what she was thinking. I have been partly drawn to writing, I realize, to judge those who have unfairly judged my family; to prove that I’ve been watching this whole time.

God is funny. He had a funny day when he made me. A funny, thoughtful, crazy day. He gave me a physique by which I would be so easily and so quickly judged, then gave me a mind by which I would so deeply magnetize, He put within me a heart with small, fast wings that I can hardly, barely handle, and then gave me a voice that hides behind everything in whispers. Oh, and also put a pen in my hand which writes me into madness! How can anyone possibly understand me? But I don't think God cared about that thought, when He made me! How ridiculously unfair!

Don’t judge. I have a theory that seventy percent of the global population wants to kiss you, and that’s a conservative estimate.” “But you’re the only one who gets to do it. Lucky you.

My friend looked at me confused. He laughed a little, then sighed, then teared up. “It’s true you’re bad at relationships,” I said, “but it’s also true you are good at them. They’re both true, old friend.” I reminded him of all the people who love him and all the people he’s loved. I told him I thought it was unfair for a man to be judged by a moment, by a season. We are all more complicated than that.

My short time on death row revealed that there was something missing in the way we treat people in our judicial system, that maybe we judge some people unfairly. The more I reflected on the experience, the more I recognized that I had been struggling my whole life with the question of how and why people are judged unfairly.

Ignorance has never been the problem. The problem was and continues to be unexamined confidence in western civilization and the unwarranted certainty of Christianity. And arrogance. Perhaps it is unfair to judge the past by the present, but it is also necessary. If nothing else, an examination of the past—and of the present, for that matter—can be instructive. It shows us that there is little shelter and little gain for Native peoples in doing nothing. So long as we possess one element of sovereignty, so long as we possess one parcel of land, North America will come for us, and the question we have to face is how badly we wish to continue to pursue the concepts of sovereignty and self-determination. How important is it for us to maintain protected communal homelands? Are our traditions and languages worth the cost of carrying on the fight? Certainly the easier and more expedient option is simply to step away from who we are and who we wish to be, sell what we have for cash, and sink into the stewpot of North America. With the rest of the bones. No matter how you frame Native history, the one inescapable constant is that Native people in North America have lost much. We’ve given away a great deal, we’ve had a great deal taken from us, and, if we are not careful, we will continue to lose parts of ourselves—as Indians, as Cree, as Blackfoot, as Navajo, as Inuit—with each generation. But this need not happen. Native cultures aren’t static. They’re dynamic, adaptive, and flexible, and for many of us, the modern variations of older tribal traditions continue to provide order, satisfaction, identity, and value in our lives. More than that, in the five hundred years of European occupation, Native cultures have already proven themselves to be remarkably tenacious and resilient. Okay. That was heroic and uncomfortably inspirational, wasn’t it? Poignant, even. You can almost hear the trumpets and the violins. And that kind of romance is not what we need. It serves no one, and the cost to maintain it is too high. So, let’s agree that Indians are not special. We’re not … mystical. I’m fine with that. Yes, a great many Native people have a long-standing relationship with the natural world. But that relationship is equally available to non-Natives, should they choose to embrace it. The fact of Native existence is that we live modern lives informed by traditional values and contemporary realities and that we wish to live those lives on our terms.

Naz starts to walk out but pauses in the doorway of the den. "A word of advice?" "Uh, sure." "Judge him by his actions and not your suspicions," he says. "Because if the only measure of a man's worth is what he does to make money, a lot of good men would be judged unfairly." "Like you?" "Not like me," he says. "Not sure how many times I have to tell you... I'm not a good man, Karissa, and try as I might, I probably never will be.

Any kind of art that seems to be just about normal people, it’s judged less by how good of a work of art it is, and more by how much the critic thinks that that is true to life. Which, you know, I think might be why something like Boyhood was so hugely praised, whereas something like Margaret was a little unfairly marginalized. There were people who said, “OK, well, I don’t relate to these characters,” or, “I think the way they speak is off from real-life” as opposed to saying, “Is what’s being expressed in it—is the emotional content true to life?” You can just look on Youtube and see clips into people’s real life very easily, so I’m actually more excited by that feeling of, I’m being immersed completely in this one guy’s view of the world. But, obviously, I get more excited talking about other people’s work than my own.

Finally, and most important, I told those gathered in the church that Walter had taught me that mercy is just when it is rooted in hopefulness and freely given. Mercy is most empowering, liberating, and transformative when it is directed at the undeserving. The people who haven’t earned it, who haven’t even sought it, are the most meaningful recipients of our compassion. Walter genuinely forgave the people who unfairly accused him, the people who convicted him, and the people who judged him unworthy of mercy. And in the end, it was just mercy toward others that allowed him to recover a life worth celebrating, a life that rediscovered the love and freedom that all humans desire, a life that overcame death and condemnation until it was time to die on God’s schedule.

O king of Ayodhya, you know I’m innocent, and yet, unfairly, you’re asking me to step into the fire. You offer me a tempting prize indeed—to live in happiness with you and my children. But I must refuse. Because if I do what you demand, society will use my action forever after to judge other women. Even when they aren’t guilty, the burden of proving their innocence will fall on them. And society will say,

I agree beauty must be appreciated. I also know not everyone can be the same. What I find unfair, though, is why did the world tell us we're all equal? Why does it behave as if we're living under equal conditions? If someone is to be measured against a yardstick, shouldn't the yardstick be something that can be overcome by effort? No one's appreciated me for anything I've done, I've only been judged on my looks.

The Lokasenna (Loki's taunts): Njorth, you were sent from the west as a hostage for the gods. The daughters of Hymir used your mouth as a urinal, and you’ve tasted plenty of piss. ... Freyja, you are a witch, and have dealt out many curses. I hear the gods found you lying with your brother, and that you farted then. ... “Tyr, or don’t you know your own wife had a son by me? You poor fool, I’ll never pay you a penny in compensation for that. ... “Sif, I alone know how you were unfaithful to your husband Thor— and I was the one you slept with. ... And you, Odin, you always judge battles unfairly for humans. You have often given defeat to the better side, when you shouldn’t have. And Odin said: “Even if I did judge unfairly, and made the better side lose, I know that you, for eight years, lived on the earth down below as a cow in milk, and as a woman, and you’ve given birth to children— I call that a pervert’s way of living!

When I visited her, she would hug me so tightly I could barely breathe. After a little while, she would ask me, "Bryan, do you still feel me hugging you?" If I said yes, she'd let me be; if I said no, she would assault me again. I said no a lot because it made me happy to be wrapped in her formidable arms. She never tired of pulling me to her. "You can't understand most of the important things from a dis-tance, Bryan. You have to get close," she told me all the time. The distance I experienced in my first year of law school made me feel lost. Proximity to the condemned, to people unfairly judged; that was what guided me back to something that felt like home.

If it seemed like he was selling something it was because his enjoyment of that thing depended on a diversity of people participating. The number of available sexual partners for the Relationship Anarchist is probably limited, and assuming one of the draws of Relationship Anarchy is weird sex with a variety of people, that limitation may cripple the point. There are social obstacles to doing things differently: People get mad at you. They worry you’re judging them and suspect deep down you might be right; they become stubborn and defensive. You need backup, reassurance, affinity. You’d have to be a real believer to keep going, is what I’m saying, so I thought maybe my rush to characterize him as a charlatan was unfair. Though this is also the rationale of multilevel marketing schemes.

The book argues that even though many cases have been held up as classic examples of modern American “witch hunts,” none of them fits that description. McMartin certainly comes close. But a careful examination of the evidence presented at trial demonstrates why, in my view, a reasonable juror could vote for conviction, as many did in this case. Other cases that have been painted as witch-hunts turn out to involve significant, even overwhelming, evidence of guilt. There are a few cases to the contrary, but even those are more complicated than the witch-hunt narrative allows. In short, there was not, by any reasonable measure, an epidemic of “witch hunts” in the 1980s. There were big mistakes made in how some cases were handled, particularly in the earliest years. But even in those years there were cases such as those of Frank Fuster and Kelly Michaels that, I believe, were based on substantial evidence but later unfairly maligned as having no evidentiary support.

Two seconds went by before I got a response. Lenny: The offer stands, bish. Lenny: You’re the best person I know, fyi. I smiled down at my phone. Me: I love you too Lenny: [eye rolling emoji] Lenny: I was texting you because Grandpa G is making margaritas and he was asking where you were. Me: Tell him I love him. Lenny: I will. You find Rip? Me: I’m watching him. Lenny: Stalker Me: He’s standing in front of me, I can’t help it. Lenny: Pretty sure that’s what every stalker thinks. I chanced another glance at the man and held back a sigh. Me: Sometimes I don’t understand why him. Lenny: Because he looks like he’s been in jail and that’s about as far away from what every jackass you’ve ever dated looks like? Lenny: Grandpa G says he loves you too and to come over and bring the girl with you if she’s around. I didn’t tell him you’re at the bar, otherwise he’d want to invite himself. You know how that man gets in public. I almost laughed at the first comment and definitely laughed at the second one. Rip did look like he’d done time. That was unfair, but it was the truth. For all I knew, he probably had. Then again, I was probably judging him by a face he had no say in. For all I knew, he had a marshmallow heart and rescued and rehabilitated small animals when he wasn’t at work. Deep down, he might have a caring and loving disposition that he only shared around very few people—people who had won his trust. You never knew. The idea of that put a small smile on my face and kept it there as I typed a message back, leaving the first comment alone. Me: I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here, but if I leave soon, I’ll drop by. Tell Grandpa G that the girl is working tonight. You’re all coming for the graduation, right? Lenny: Yes. I’m legit ready to cry this Saturday. Lenny: I’ve got the blow horn ready by the way. TOOT TOOT, bish. She wasn’t the only one preparing herself to cry this weekend, and that made me happy for some reason.

What we don’t say is: of course not all men hate women. But culture hates women, and men who grow up in a sexist culture have a tendency to do and say sexist things, often without meaning to. We aren’t judging you for who you are, but that doesn’t mean we’re not asking you to change your behaviour. What you feel about women in your heart is of less immediate importance than how you treat them on a daily basis. You can be the gentlest, sweetest man in the world and still benefit from sexism, still hesitate to speak up when you see women hurt and discriminated against. That’s how oppression works. Thousands of otherwise decent people are persuaded to go along with an unfair system because changing it seems like too much bother. The appropriate response when somebody demands a change in that unfair system is to listen, rather than turn away or yell, as a child might, that it’s not your fault. Of course it isn’t your fault. I’m sure you’re lovely. That doesn’t mean you don’t have a responsibility to do something about it.

As for everyone else, there have been cases when I have felt taken advantage of…when people have taken from me without giving back. I have felt wronged and have judged those people as unfair. And it has bothered me. I have asked myself: What should I do? Should I refrain from being generous? Should I change? And every time I have considered this, I have realised that there are certain situations, generally seen as difficult, sad, or unfair, that allow us to express our higher self. I aspire to be more than my biology. I can choose. I am endowed with reason. My death is certain and my time limited, but I can choose how to live. What would make me into someone I can be proud of, someone who counts among the heroes of my own life? Would it be a person who practises calculated goodness or one who strives to be good for its own sake? And if goodness is to be my demise, given that a demise is unavoidable, is it still not better to die loving than to succumb in any other way? …I don’t know…. I’m not sure I’ve made much sense…. I am still searching for the answers. All I have right now are glimpses and intuitions.

Just as no two people are exactly the same in their choice of diet or have the same capacity for the consumption of food, sexual tastes and appetites vary from person to person. No person or society has the right to set limitations on the sexual standard or the frequency of sexual activity of another. Proper sexual conduct can only be judged within the context of each individual situation. Therefore, what one person considers sexually correct and moral may be frustrating to another. The reverse is also true; one person may have great sexual prowess, but it is unjust for him to belittle another whose sexual capacity may not equal his own, and inconsiderate for him to impose himself upon the other person, i.e., the man who has a voracious sexual appetite, but who wife's sexual needs to not match his own. It is unfair for him to expect her to enthusiastically respond to his overtures; but she must display the same degree of thoughtfulness. In the instances when she does not feel great passion, she should either passively, but pleasantly, accept him sexually, or raise no complaint if he chooses to find his needed release elsewhere - including auto-erotic practices.

sure what happened after the accident was client-protected,” he told Mazzone. By their silence, “Markham and Gargan were taking the big fall to protect Ted Kennedy.” Paul Redmond doubted the lawyer-client issue would even arise at the inquest. “People were walking around Boston whaling the bee-jesus out of Paul Markham and Joe Gargan for not reporting the accident—that was so unfair. Here were two guys, good lawyers and fine men, made to look like stooges or worse by the press.” Gargan had told him he could not have reported an accident in which a driver faced a possible manslaughter charge, Redmond said. “It’s no secret Joe was a dear friend. When I left the U.S. Attorney’s office, Paul Markham took my spot.” A week before the inquest, Redmond bumped into Gargan in the elevator of the building in which both had law offices. The Boiler Room girls were “upstairs,” Redmond said. “They haven’t seen you in a long time. I think they’d like to say hello.” Gargan went straight to Redmond’s office for “a nice reunion, a pleasant chat. Very friendly.” There was no discussion about the inquest. Gargan did not want to become involved in the preparation of anybody else’s testimony. As one of two persons at the party who wasn’t “a bit bombed,” Gargan’s memory of the occasion was “clear as a bell.” So it was Gargan’s description of the party that, along with the Senator’s two public versions of the accident, would provide the scenario for inquest testimony. If Gargan testified to the Senator’s attempt to cover up his involvement in the accident as the reason he had failed to report it until the next day, he could blow the entire lid off the case. But that prospect became moot when a writ of certiorari was filed on Tuesday, September 2, asking the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court to determine whether “errors of law” had been made in Judge Boyle’s ruling on the conduct of the scheduled inquest in re: Mary Jo Kopechne. Justice Paul Reardon scheduled a hearing for three o’clock. Notified an appeal had been filed,

Okay, Parker. Enrapture us once again with your dullness.” “You mean, my evil courthouse.” Giving a mock shudder, Parker lounged comfortably back on the bed. “Evil judge. Unfair convictions. Botched hangings. Judge swings from rafters and dies a slow, painful death. Judge gets exactly what he deserves. Nothing we don’t already know.” Ashley was clearly annoyed. “That’s it?” “What else do you want?” “Some historical facts would be nice.” “Like what?” “Well, tell us something about the prisoners. What kinds of crimes did they commit?” “I don’t know anything about the prisoners. Why would I need to know that?” “Parker!” “Come on, crime is crime. You got murder. Stealing. Murder. Treason. Murder. Oh, and did I mention murder?” “That’s incredibly historical.” Roo’s stare was bland. “And incredibly descriptive. Wow. I feel like I was there.” Parker grimaced. “Okay, fine. Let me run through the prisoners for you. Murderers. Thieves. Murderers. Spies. Murderers. Oh, and did I happen to mention killers, too?” Frowning, Ashley shook her finger at him. “I will say this one more time. If you mess up our project--” “Miranda!” Parker broke in quickly. “Update us on your dashing, see-through soldier!” “Parker Wilmington, shame on you. Don’t call him that. And Miranda has enough on her shoulders right now without you being so insensitive.

I try not to judge people. It's wrong and unfair and a terrible way to go about being a human.

I could be judging unfairly, but all the people I've met who've really changed from unhealthy to healthy have a story, a story about hitting rock bottom, realizing what they were doing wrong, and radically changing the way they live so they don't repeat their mistakes. Characters only change when they live through a story.

Given the great human longing for power—our dry-throated thirst for control, our teeth-baring fury to protect even the feeblest charge over the most limited domain—I have always been baffled by the effort people devote to getting out of jury service. For many of those summoned to the courthouse, it is not an exaggeration to say that being impaneled is the greatest authority they will wield in their entire lives. Not only do jurors get to decide guilt or innocence, to command the resources of the state to change the direction of a person’s life, but they also enjoy the seemingly supernatural ability to determine history after it has already occurred. Serving on a jury means getting to decide what happened. Jurors are the authors of the facts. And you, who just last night got in a heated argument with your wife over who got to manage the volume on the television remote, gave it all up by lying to a judge, no less, about your “very serious” back pain.

I think empirically the reason people might think that wouldn’t work is they are going to ask, how could anybody ever agree on having a fair judge? They would always just want the judge that was going to be sympathetic to their perspective. But we just see that’s not true. Empirically it does work. There is private arbitration. Companies, when they have disputes with their employees and so forth, and they have clauses in the contracts saying “private arbitration,” they go to these people. It’s not like there are widespread allegations of unfairness. If there is a market for arbitration services, the way you stay in business is by having a reputation of doing a fair job of it.

I cannot believe you would take such an unpardonable risk!"  cried Charles, leaping to his feet.  "When I bade Juliet to come here should anything happen to me, I thought you, not Gareth would be responsible for her!  Gareth can't even be responsible for buckling his own shoes for God's sake, let alone a wife and baby!" Lucien had been previously content to suffer Charles's anger, but now his expression hardened.  "You are judging your brother most unfairly, Charles, and I will not tolerate your abusing him in this manner.  He would be much wounded if he were to hear you speak of him so.  I know that Gareth was once irresponsible and dissolute, but he has made much of himself, Charles.  He is a loving husband and a playful, adoring father, and his days of debauchery are far behind him.  Go ahead and be angry, as you have every right to be, but do not be angry with him.  If you must assign blame to anyone, assign it where it is due.  That is, assign it to me." "Yes, you and your infernal meddling!  I hope you're damned proud of yourself!" "I was — until I got your letter saying you were not dead, after all.  But really, Charles.  Even you must admit that Gareth, with his light heart and carefree spirit, is much better suited to Juliet, who is as serious-minded as you are.  My only regret is that something has reduced you to this pathetic wreckage I see standing before me, and I was not there to help you.  But as sorry as I feel for you, Charles, I will tell you this.  If you do anything to sabotage your brother's and Juliet's newfound happiness, I assure you I will be most irate indeed.

Piers Morgan Piers Morgan is a British journalist best known for his editorial work for the Daily Mirror from 1995 through 2004. He is also a successful author and television personality whose recent credits include a recurring role as a judge on NBC’s America’s Got Talent. A controversial member of the tabloid press during Diana’s lifetime, Piers Morgan established a uniquely close relationship with the Princess during the 1990s. “What’s been the most upsetting thing you’ve had to read about yourself?” “Well, those pictures the other day of my supposed cellulite upset me a lot actually. It really hurt me. It was too painful, too personal. It’s my body everyone was talking about, not just my face. I felt invaded because they put the cameras deliberately onto my legs.” Diana’s relationship with the paparazzi was obviously complex. She professed to hate them: “I know most of the paparazzi and their number plates. They think I am stupid but I know where they are. I’ve had ten years practice. I would support an antistalking bill tomorrow.” Then she took me to the window and started showing me the various media cars, vans, and motorbikes lurking outside. But when I asked why she doesn’t go out of one of the ten other more discreet exits, she exposed her contrary side: “I want to go out the front like anyone else. Why should I change my life for them?” “Because it would make your life easier?” I said. William was equally upset by the constant prying lenses: “Why do they have to chase my mother around so much? It’s unfair on her.” I was torn between genuine concern for the young man protecting his mum so gallantly, and a sense of foreboding for him that one day it would be him, not his mother, who would be chased just as aggressively. How do you explain to a thirteen-year-old boy that he sells papers and therefor he’s a valuable commodity to photographers and editors like me?

I’m not sure of what all you’ve done,” I said to my friend. “And I know some people hate you. But I think you’re pretty good at relationships.” My friend looked at me confused. He laughed a little, then sighed, then teared up. “It’s true you’re bad at relationships,” I said, “but it’s also true you are good at them. They’re both true, old friend.” I reminded him of all the people who love him and all the people he’s loved. I told him I thought it was unfair for a man to be judged by a moment, by a season. We are all more complicated than that.

Life is not about fairness or unfairness. It is often unjust, claiming the good and the innocent as its victims. Life is about making certain choices: between one action and another, between generous self-giving and selfish holding back; and it is also about what we make of the harsh, unlooked-for blows that come to us all: sickness and pain, grief and old age. None of us dare judge the life of another: that is God's prerogative, and his judgement is matched by his mercy. Those who become embittered or lose their faith or take their own life in despair may have had the dice loaded against them from the start, and none of us know whether we should have survived if we had been in their place. All I would dare claim is that it is good if we learn from our own experience of suffering or bereavement, and as a result are wiser, more tolerant, above all more compassionate. There are those who are able to use their sickness, their pain, even their dying as a time for growth and a new-found trust in the God who holds us in death as in life and will not let us go. And perhaps they are not as rare as we think.

I used to get mad at guys who’d made the mistakes my friend has made. Their lives seemed so dark and even evil that I wanted to distance myself from them. I felt that way about those guys until an acquaintance made a similar mistake and was shunned, and right about the time we all forgot about him the news broke about his suicide. Who was I to judge? When my friend Bob called to encourage me because of the relational mistakes I’d made, he didn’t call to condemn. There was plenty of that in my life. But Bob called to be a crack of light in a dark room, something to crawl toward. So I told my friend something like Bob told me. “I’m not sure of what all you’ve done,” I said to my friend. “And I know some people hate you. But I think you’re pretty good at relationships.” My friend looked at me confused. He laughed a little, then sighed, then teared up. “It’s true you’re bad at relationships,” I said, “but it’s also true you are good at them. They’re both true, old friend.” I reminded him of all the people who love him and all the people he’s loved. I told him I thought it was unfair for a man to be judged by a moment, by a season. We are all more complicated than that.

Fourth and finally, I must point out that any philosophical view is unlikely to gain wide acceptance among either philosophers or the wider public. This is especially true of a view like cognitivist misanthropy. Human beings excel at ignoring or denying unpleasant ideas, regardless of strong evidence in their favor—climate change, racism, evolution, heliocentrism, and so on. The idea that one’s own species is bad is especially unpleasant, so it is untenable to think that human beings would adopt the misanthropist view at any appreciable scale. To take an analogy, we might consider the epistemic standards of the home crowd at any sporting event. When judging the quality of the officiating, the crowd relies on the standard of whether or not the officials’ calls favor the home team. The crowd approves of calls that are to the benefit of its favored team while disapproving vehemently of calls that are to that team’s detriment. It matters not to the crowd whether the officials’ calls are, in fact, correct. Even if video replay clearly shows that the home team violated one of the rules of the game, the crowd will repudiate the officials’ “unfair” treatment of its team. I suspect that the public’s estimation of cognitivist misanthropy would be similar, in the unlikely event that anyone outside academia learns of it. The view would be rejected because it is unpleasant or perhaps because it does not fit with preconceptions. In that case, there is virtually no chance for cognitivist misanthropy to cause harm, because there is virtually no chance that it will be accepted by more than a few people. One might object that my analogy is unfair. The behavior of a crowd at a sporting event should not be taken too seriously. It is merely in good fun that the crowd abandons reasonable epistemic standards for a few hours, and surely the individuals who comprise such crowds return to reason when it comes to serious matters. I wish that were true, but the analogy seems apt to me, at least in many arenas of human life. Politics is an obvious example. It is very difficult to look at elections, for example, as involving much in the way of epistemic reasonableness. Support or opposition to some candidate or policy seems to depend on cultural commitments to a far greater extent than considerations of facts, coherence, plausibility, the content of a candidate’s platform, and so on. For instance, when asked by pollsters, a high proportion of supporters of Donald Trump claim to believe many obvious falsehoods. This is puzzling if we assume that the respondents are behaving as genuine epistemic agents who seek to understand reality. How could persons capable of running their own lives believe in absurd conspiracy theories, for example? If we instead assume that the respondents are behaving as supporters of their favored “team,” their behavior makes much more sense. When it comes to politics and social issues, many people simply do not care very much about the truth. Instead, they are invested in promoting the “right” candidate, value, idea, or institution. This is not limited to false views.

I hope you will be treated unfairly- So that you will come to know the value of justice. I hope you will be betrayed- So that you will know the importance of loyalty. I hope you will be lonely- So that you will know the value of a true friend. When you lose, I hope your opponent will gloat- So you will understand the importance of sportsmanship. I hope you will be ignored- So you will learn the importance of listening. I hope you will have just enough pain that you will understand the importance of compassion. Whether you wish for these things or not, they are all going to happen to you. But whether you benefit from them, or not, will depend upon you.

DIVORCE ABROAD When a couple can be divorced in more than one country serious legal problems can develop. British nationals who live abroad can decide whether to be divorced at home or abroad. What matters is where it makes most sense for them to be divorced, and they should work out which jurisdiction is equally fair to both parties. One of the factors that will determine where the divorce takes place is who puts a petition in first. This will carry some weight when everything else is finely balanced. So if there is jurisdiction in Britain and another country and you would be better off in Britain, start proceedings quickly. But if the English courts would favour the husband more than the wife, a judge would be likely to tell them to use the jurisdiction that would be fairest to both. It creates a bad impression on a judge if you, as petitioner, have deliberately opted for the jurisdiction most favourable to you. One English woman, who had lived in France and was married to a Frenchman, decided to file her petition in the UK. Her husband was able to have the proceedings stopped completely, however, because the judge believed that justice would be served better in France. An American couple who were married in Italy but had lived in the UK for six years and wanted to divorce could have their case heard in any of the three countries. They could go to the States because they were still domiciled there (in the sense that that was where they came from and where they were both likely to die), but they could also use the English or Italian courts because in the first instance this would their country of residence and in the second this would be where their assets were. However, even if they had lived in Britain for a few years, if most of their assets were still in Italy it would be more sensible for the divorce to take place there. Under Moslem law a man divorces his wife simply by saying ‘I divorce you’ three times, and his liability to his wife is only five gold coins. That is patently unfair for a British woman or, say, an Iranian or an Iraqi living in Britain. While the British courts accept the divorce, it does not preclude the woman from gaining some settlement from her husband’s assets in Britain, provided, of course, he has not taken everything he owns out of the country. British courts can make orders for financial provision when a divorce or separation has taken place abroad, provided permission has been granted by a High Court judge. The judge will only give the go-ahead if he or she considers that the circumstances warrant it – if, for example, the person making the application now lives in Britain. When a divorce takes place abroad, provided that it was recognized the country which granted it, it will always be recognized in the UK. This is not always the case in reverse: if a couple were married in a Catholic country (which does not recognize divorce) and they came to live in the UK and subsequently divorce there, UK legislation would only cover them, their dependants and assets in the UK. We pointed out in Chapter 8 that when assets are held abroad, UK courts have only limited powers to make a husband transfer a share if his assets to his wife, or vice versa, particularly when the money is tied up in the Middle or Far East.

A leaf and you! A leaf from tree, in Autumn fell, It had a story to tell, As it swayed in the lap of air, Nobody noticed the act unfair, For it alone fell, The rest clung to the branches and didn’t experience hell, Which they all would someday, Few early, few later, few did yesterday and the leaf that just fell, experienced it today, It did not shout, it did not scream or yell, As it thought of moments, few lived in agony and few lived so well, Finally it rested on the surface of the bare ground, And every natural force leapt on it like a famished hound, To consume it in their own ways, For death has a game that it with all plays, So time kissed it, life forsook it, gravity constricted it; and finally it was lost, there was nothing left of it, Just a memory of a falling leaf that everyone consumed bit by bit, bit by bit, Surprising that time sometimes moans its departure, Because it had reared it in its lap with love and composure, Alas time the greatest force of all, is the most cursed of all, For in the end it loses everything to its own existential virtues, and kills us all, Then it lies there moaning the loss, Whenever a beautiful corner of life that it loved it does happen to pass, Just like the leaf that fell and was forever lost, There on the branch a moment of time hangs still seeking the past, For it loved the leaf, but it had duty to perform as well, So it mournfully stood there as the leaf fell, It buried it too, And then it hurried too, For it had new leaves to tend, A new leaf to break and bend, To keep gravity happy, who blames time for all crimes, But it is someone else who in shadows creates these moments of depraved times, And lays the blame on time, the eternal subject of everyone's hate, But time has a companion who shares this blame, we all know it as fate, However, the real force lies in the shadows always plotting to bend and break a leaf, And blame it all on time, the eternal and infamous thief, Who actually steals nothing, because it is always losing a part of it, Whenever present becomes past, it loses its own precious bit, It always has been so, and maybe it will always be so, until time has nothing to spare any more, Then the Universe shall fall apart because then it shall not be needed anymore, And a new order shall rise, a new leaf shall emerge and grow, Then time shall rule every place high and low, Then my darling Irma, I will love you again, and again, Because then my love, a moment of love, shall be a lifelong gain, Where every kiss shall be remembered and felt again and again, And you shall not hurt me, and I shall not have the power to cause you any pain, Because now time will be judging us all in the present, A gift that indeed is the precious moment in the present, So my love Irma, love me now, but love me true, Before another leaf falls and as long as the sky is still happy and blue!

Pronin had them fill in the blank spaces: Emily Pronin et al., “You Don’t Know Me, But I Know You: The Illusion of Asymmetric Insight,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 81, no. 4 (2001): 639–56, APA PsychNET. I quoted part of Pronin’s conclusion. But the whole paragraph is worth considering: The conviction that we know others better than they know us—and that we may have insights about them they lack (but not vice versa)—leads us to talk when we would do well to listen and to be less patient than we ought to be when others express the conviction that they are the ones who are being misunderstood or judged unfairly. The same convictions can make us reluctant to take advice from others who cannot know our private thoughts, feelings, interpretations of events, or motives, but all too willing to give advice to others based on our views of their past behavior, without adequate attention to their thoughts, feelings, interpretations, and motives. Indeed, the biases documented here may create a barrier to the type of exchanges of information, and especially to the type of careful and respectful listening, that can go a long way to attenuating the feelings of frustration and resentment that accompany interpersonal and intergroup conflict.

While parents like Cyndi Paul find it heartbreaking to start imposing discipline, children react well when reprimands are delivered briefly, calmly, and consistently, according to Susan O’Leary, a psychologist who has spent long hours observing toddlers and parents. When parents are inconsistent, when they let an infraction slide, they sometimes try to compensate with an extra-strict punishment for the next one. This requires less self-control on the parents’ part: They can be nice when they feel like it, and then punish severely if they’re feeling angry or the misbehavior is egregious. But imagine how this looks from the child’s point of view. Some days you make a smart remark and the grown-ups all laugh. Other days a similar remark brings a smack or the loss of treasured privileges. Seemingly tiny or even random differences in your own behavior or in the situation seem to spell the difference between no punishment at all and a highly upsetting one. Besides resenting the unfairness, you learn that the most important thing is not how you behave but whether or not you get caught, and whether your parents are in the mood to punish. You might learn, for instance, that table manners can be dispensed with at restaurants, because the grown-ups are too embarrassed to discipline you in public. “Parents find it hard to administer discipline in public because they feel judged,” Carroll says. “They’re afraid people will think they’re a bad mother. But you have to get that out of your head. I’ve had people stare at me when I take a child out of a restaurant for being rude, but you can’t worry about that. You have to do what’s right for the child, and it really is all about being consistent. They have to grow up knowing what’s appropriate and inappropriate behavior.

People in general, and the intelligentsia in particular, are extremely arrogant, egotistic animals, considering themselves smarter than anyone else in the world, and certainly smarter than their governments. I can think of no occasion on which the intelligentsia admitted that it had been wrong, especially when it came to disputes with the lawful authority. The reason for this is probably the intelligentsia’s belief that its real abilities remain unwanted. Terrible. After all, they are the elite, and that means that they should rule the world or, at least, rule people’s minds. But life, that unfair judge, has condemned them to more humble pursuits: teaching children the alphabet, curing our aches and pains, studying bacteria through a microscope, being bored in provincial courtrooms, or giving communion to parishioners and listening to their endless complaints about the injustice of life. And all around, out in the big world, completely different people make important decisions that determine the fate of mankind. Moreover, those people are not brighter, better educated, or morally worthy. How can one accept that? So a member of the intelligentsia cannot simply force himself to do his job without contrivances and pretensions. He cannot just teach children to read and write—no, he has to “raise future generations”; he cannot just prescribe pills for a patient and ease his suffering—no, he needs to concern himself with the health of all mankind. A priest, meanwhile, is convinced that God Himself has put him in the pulpit for the salvation of one and all.

the past, I have been accused of hating the police. And I do. Such an admission may be taken to mean that I hate each police officer as an individual whom I have judged unfairly on the basis of their occupation. But I hate the police the same as I hate any institution that exists as an obstruction to justice.

I believe the answer lies in taking two decisive steps. First, commit or release the person who has sinned against you to God, letting God take care of that person rather than insisting that you pay him back for the wrongful action. The Scriptures teach that vengeance belongs to God, not to man. (See Romans 12:19.) The reason for this is that God alone knows everything about the other person, not only his actions but his motives. And God alone is judge. So the person who is eaten up with bitterness toward another who has treated him unfairly is to release that person to an all-knowing heavenly Father who is fully capable of doing what is just and right toward that person. The apostle Paul demonstrated this when he said to young Timothy, “Alexander the coppersmith did me much harm, but the Lord will judge him for what he has done. Be careful of him, for he fought against everything we said” (2 Timothy 4:14–15). Not only had Paul not forgiven Alexander because Alexander had not repented, but Paul warned Timothy to be on his guard because Alexander may also treat him unjustly. Paul did not whitewash the matter by offering an easy forgiveness to Alexander. Instead, he did the responsible thing by turning Alexander over to God. After Paul made this decision, I don’t think he lost any sleep over Alexander. His anger was processed by the conscious act of turning the offender over to a just and merciful God.

Eileen Joy, in particular, has been repeatedly accused of publicly naming graduate students “in order to extract confessions” over imagined grievances. “She puts Bernard Gui to shame,” said one academic I spoke to who insisted his name not be used. (This is slightly unfair—to Gui. Church inquisitors believed in giving accused heretics the chance to prove themselves innocent before they passed judgment, unlike many secular judges, and Eileen.)

I learned very quickly who was safe to confide in. Which friends would judge, flee, insist on calling my parents or the police. Which would listen, tell me they loved me, let me crash on their couch, without getting me in trouble. Maybe it's unfair—to sometimes need someone to confide in while also needing that person to take no drastic action in response to that confidence. But, again and again, that's where I found myself.