Rev. ed. of: Ancient evidence for the life of Jesus. Includes bibliographical references and index.

In the face of conflict and despair, we often console ourselves by saying that history will be the judge. Today’s oppressors may escape being held responsible for their crimes, but the future will condemn them. Those who stand up for progressive values are on the right side of history. As ideas once condemned to the dustbin of history—white supremacy, hypernationalism, even fascism—return to the world, threatening democratic institutions and values, can we still hold out hope that history will render its verdict? Joan Wallach Scott critically examines the belief that history will redeem us, revealing the implicit politics of appeals to the judgment of history. She argues that the notion of a linear, ever-improving direction of history hides the persistence of power structures and hinders the pursuit of alternative futures. This vision of necessary progress perpetuates the assumption that the nation-state is the culmination of history and the ultimate source for rectifying injustice. Scott considers the Nuremberg Tribunal and South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which claimed to carry out history’s judgment on Nazism and apartheid, and contrasts them with the movement for reparations for slavery in the United States. Advocates for reparations call into question a national history that has long ignored enslavement and its racist legacies. Only by this kind of critical questioning of the place of the nation-state as the final source of history’s judgment, this book shows, can we open up room for radically different conceptions of justice.

General Ulysses S. Grant is best remembered today as a war-winning general, and he certainly deserves credit for his efforts on behalf of the Union. But has he received too much credit at the expense of other men? Have others who fought the war with him suffered unfairly at his hands? General Grant and the Verdict of History: Memoir, Memory, and the Civil War explores these issues. Professor Frank P. Varney examines Grant’s relationship with three noted Civil War generals: the brash and uncompromising “Fighting Joe” Hooker; George H. Thomas, the stellar commander who earned the sobriquet “Rock of Chickamauga”; and Gouverneur Kemble Warren, who served honorably and well in every major action of the Army of the Potomac before being relieved less than two weeks before Appomattox, and only after he had played a prominent part in the major Union victory at Five Forks. In his earlier book General Grant and the Rewriting of History, Dr. Varney studied the tempestuous relationship between Grant and Union General William S. Rosecrans. During the war, Rosecrans was considered by many of his contemporaries to be on par with Grant himself; today, he is largely forgotten. Rosecrans’s star dimmed, argues Varney, because Grant orchestrated the effort. Unbeknownst to most students of the war, Grant used his official reports, interviews with the press, and his memoirs to influence how future generations would remember the war and his part in it. Aided greatly by his two terms as president, by the clarity and eloquence of his memoirs, and in particular by the dramatic backdrop against which those memoirs were written, our historical memory has been influenced to a degree greater than many realize. It is beyond time to return to the original sources—the letters, journals, reports, and memoirs of other witnesses and the transcripts of courts-martial— to examine Grant’s story from a fresh perspective. The results are enlightening and more than a little disturbing.

Today, war is considered a last resort for resolving disagreements. But a day of staged slaughter on the battlefield was once seen as a legitimate means of settling political disputes. James Whitman argues that pitched battle was essentially a trial with a lawful verdict. And when this contained form of battle ceased to exist, the law of victory gave way to the rule of unbridled force. The Verdict of Battle explains why the ritualized violence of the past was more effective than modern warfare in bringing carnage to an end, and why humanitarian laws that cling to a notion of war as evil have led to longer, more barbaric conflicts. Belief that sovereigns could, by rights, wage war for profit made the eighteenth century battle’s golden age. A pitched battle was understood as a kind of legal proceeding in which both sides agreed to be bound by the result. To the victor went the spoils, including the fate of kingdoms. But with the nineteenth-century decline of monarchical legitimacy and the rise of republican sentiment, the public no longer accepted the verdict of pitched battles. Ideology rather than politics became war’s just cause. And because modern humanitarian law provided no means for declaring a victor or dispensing spoils at the end of battle, the violence of war dragged on. The most dangerous wars, Whitman asserts in this iconoclastic tour de force, are the lawless wars we wage today to remake the world in the name of higher moral imperatives.

The theme of divine judgement has often been treated, but usually with a concentration on one it its two main aspects: either that which is seen in the present life and in history or that which is believed to occur only after death. This new study seeks to combine the two aspects. It also tries to cover the whole spectrum of the ancient religions. Special attention is given to Israel, Greece, and Egypt. Israel's neighbours are also considered, and there are discussions of Judaism, Christianity, and Zoroastrianism. In several areas, notably in Egypt and Israel, it is shown that punishment in this life is sometimes presented as a fate that man brings upon himself rather than as one imposed by God, though always against a moral background derived from religion. The origins of judgement after death in the Judaeo-Christian tradition are examined in some detail and elements are traced to Egyptian, Zoroastrian, and Judaic sources.

The arrest, trial and execution of Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in 1951 mesmerised an America coming to grips with the early Cold War and the anxiety aroused by the Soviet Union's testing of the atomic bomb. However, in 1965, Walter Schneir famously presented evidence that the Rosenbergs were innocent and had been framed by the FBI - a case which was brought into question in 1995 when the FBI released 3000 Soviet intelligence documents. This prompted Schneir to continue his research, which has lead to surprising and revelatory results.