In the Name of What is Sacred

By Paul Barnett, Founder of the Enlightened Enterprise Academy

Acts of war, terrorism, environmental destruction, and systemic injustice are still carried out in the name of the sacred, often with fervent conviction. But beneath this tumult lies a contradiction too grave to ignore: the claim to defend what is sacred is often used to justify the desecration of life itself.

This article is not just an argument against violence cloaked in religious language. It is also not simply a plea for tolerance or an ethic of passive non-interference. Rather, it is a case for something deeper and more transformative: an ethic grounded in the inherent dignity of all that exists, and the recognition that sacredness and dignity are not separate ideas but two expressions of the same fundamental moral reality.

It is a logic that insists not merely on abstaining from harm, but on living with deep respect, acceptance, and reverence for all life, human and non-human alike.

The Universal Language of the Sacred

Despite their theological differences, the world’s great religious and philosophical traditions share an astonishing premise: life is sacred. This is not a trivial agreement. It speaks to a shared intuition across cultures and epochs, that life is not merely functional, but valuable in and of itself. That there is something in existence, in being, that calls for reverence.

• In Christianity, every human being bears the imago Dei, the image of God, a mark of divine worth that no worldly condition can erase.

• In Islam, the Qur’an affirms that the breath of God animates each person, and that to take one innocent life is as if to destroy all of humanity.

• In Judaism, the concept of pikuach nefesh, the saving of a life, supersedes almost all other religious obligations.

• In Hinduism and Jainism an intricate ethic of ahimsa, nonviolence is developed, which extends beyond humans to include all sentient life.

• In Buddhism ethics begin with the precept not to kill, emphasizing the interdependence of all beings.

• In countless Indigenous traditions, life is not only sacred it’s also relational. The Earth, animals, rivers, and ancestors are not objects or metaphors; they are kin, living members of a shared cosmology.

This deep reverence for life, for being itself, is not confined to religious belief. Secular moral traditions echo this understanding in different terms. Enlightenment humanism, though sceptical of religious metaphysics, affirms the dignity of the individual as a foundational truth.

In contemporary philosophy, thinkers speak of moral personhood, rights, or autonomy, but always with the underlying conviction that human life possesses an intrinsic, non-negotiable value.

And beyond the human, modern ecological thought, drawing from science, systems theory, and post-humanist ethics, asserts the interdependence and inherent value of all life forms. The biosphere is not a machine, nor a marketplace, it is a complex, living web. In this web, no creature exists in isolation, and none is dispensable without consequence.

Despite their different languages, a convergence emerges. There is a kind of worth that belongs to all living things simply by virtue of their existence, by their being, their role in the web of life, or their uniqueness.

This is the foundation of what we call dignity. And when dignity is extended universally, across borders, species, and systems, it becomes indistinguishable from the sacred.

Dignity as the Ethical Expression of the Sacred

If sacredness speaks to the idea that something has value simply because it exists, that it is inviolable, that its worth is not contingent on use, status, or function, then dignity is the ethical language we use to name and protect that value.

Dignity says: this being, this creature, this person, matters. Not because they are productive. Not because they are powerful. But because they exist. They are worthy of respect, of recognition, simply by virtue of their being. This is a radical concept.

To speak of dignity is to make a claim not only about what something is, but about how we must relate to it. Dignity implies responsibility. It draws boundaries around what we may and may not do, even if we are able.

In this sense, dignity is not earned. It is inherent. It is not a reward for good behaviour, nor a prize of legal citizenship. It is not limited to humans with full mental capacity, nor to those born in certain lands. It is not withdrawn in moments of vulnerability, poverty, illness, or cultural difference.

And this idea need not depend on religious doctrine. A secular person can affirm the dignity of a child, a river, a culture, or an animal without invoking divine law.

The concept of dignity becomes especially potent, and deeply rooted, when linked to sacredness. Dignity is the ethical expression of the sacred. It is how sacredness is lived, protected, and recognized in the everyday.

Sacredness, without dignity, becomes an abstract or ornamental idea, confined to temples and texts, invoked on holidays, ignored in daily action. Dignity, without sacredness, risks becoming procedural or transactional, another checkbox on a rights-based form. Together, they offer something more: a living ethic of reverence-in-action.

When we say that all that exists has inherent worth, by virtue of its being, its role in the web of life, or its uniqueness, we are saying that dignity and sacredness are inextricably linked. One cannot truly exist without the other.

This also means that to violate the dignity of another, human or non-human, is to perform a kind of moral desecration. It is not simply unkind. It is not merely unjust. It is a failure to recognize the sacred in another being. And that failure has consequences, not just for the victim, but for the world we build and the people we become.

Religious Violence as Sacred Betrayal

It is here, at the intersection of sacredness and power, that one of the greatest moral contradictions of our age is revealed.

Throughout history and into our present moment, acts of violence have been justified in the name of religion. From holy wars and inquisitions to modern terrorism and religious nationalism, the sacred has been weaponized, turned into a banner for conquest, punishment, and the domination of others.

But this inversion, using the sacred to justify the desecration of life, is more than a tragic misuse of spiritual language. It is a profound moral betrayal. To kill in the name of the sacred is to desecrate the sacred. To violate another’s dignity in the name of God is to betray the image of God in them.

Religious violence often claims to protect truth, uphold holiness, or defend a divine order. But if we take seriously the idea that sacredness resides in life itself, in the dignity of every person and in the vitality of the Earth, then no act of violence can ever be justified by appealing to the sacred.

Even within religious traditions that have developed just war theories or arguments for divine justice, such recourse to violence is framed as a last resort, bound by strict moral criteria and undertaken with grief, not pride. But religious fundamentalism, in its modern forms, bypasses those conditions altogether. It sanctifies violence, rendering cruelty into obedience and domination into divine duty.

This is not an expression of deep faith. It is its distortion. It is not reverence, it is idolatry. The idol in question is not God, but power, cloaked in sacred language.

Religious violence violates both the victims it targets and the traditions it claims to defend. It desecrates the core teaching found across spiritual lineages: that love, compassion, mercy, and justice, not fear or hatred, are the true expressions of sacred life.

What we confront here is not simply extremism. It is a failure to understand what sacredness demands. And it reveals why our moral discourse must return to this central insight:

If the sacred is real, it cannot be protected through desecration. If dignity is universal, then violence in the name of religion is always a lie.

Beyond “Do No Harm”: Toward Acceptance and Reverence

Faced with the horrors committed in the name of religion, many people retreat to a modest moral stance: do no harm. Live and let live. Tolerate difference. Respect privacy. This minimalist ethic has done much good. It has restrained violence, protected legal rights, and enabled coexistence in plural societies.

But tolerance alone is not enough. It creates space, but not relationship. It draws lines between people, but does not draw them together. Tolerance keeps the peace, but it does not make peace. It refrains from harm, but it rarely inspires love, solidarity, or reverence.

Sacredness and dignity together ask more of us than tolerance.

They call us not just to “do no harm,” but to live with deep recognition, respect, and care: Not just non-violence, but reverence. Not just tolerance, but acceptance. Not just abstention, but engagement.

To live as if life is sacred is to move through the world with awe, humility, and attentiveness. It means seeing others, human or non-human, not as resources or rivals, but as participants in a shared story of being. It means recognizing that every person carries a mystery, a vulnerability, a value that surpasses our understanding.

This sacred lens must extend beyond the human. A river has dignity, not merely because it provides water for human use, but because it has a life, a path, a role in the web of Earth. A forest has sacredness, not because it can be monetized, but because it breathes, shelters, remembers. The Earth is not a backdrop to human action, it is a sacred community of beings, each with its own integrity.

This logic is consistent: If we cannot kill in the name of the sacred, then we cannot exploit in the name of progress. We cannot desecrate in the name of economics. We cannot dominate in the name of civilization.

Reverence is not weakness. Acceptance is not passivity. These are not soft virtues, they are civilizational imperatives, rooted in the recognition that all life has inherent value and must be met not with control, but with care. And so we are called to a higher ethic than mere noninterference. We are called to one of active respect, of responsibility, of living as if the world is worthy of reverence because it is.

Where This Becomes Real

It is one thing to speak in moral abstractions: dignity, sacredness, reverence. But these words mean little unless they illuminate the world we actually live in, the choices we make, the politics we defend, the lives we touch or ignore.

So let us be clear about where this argument matters most. Let us name where the desecration of dignity and the betrayal of the sacred are unfolding daily, often quietly, sometimes triumphantly, and far too often with the blessing of religious rhetoric.

We live in a time when extreme economic inequality is tolerated, celebrated, even, as a sign of merit or divine favour. While a handful of people accumulate vast wealth, millions go without shelter, healthcare, or clean water. This is not only unjust. It is a violation of dignity. A refusal to recognize the sacred worth of every person, regardless of income. It is a silent, systemic violence dressed in the language of economics.

We live in a time when immigrants and refugees are not only marginalized, but dehumanized. People fleeing war, climate collapse, poverty, or persecution are met not with compassion, but with suspicion, barbed wire, and bureaucratic cruelty. They are treated as threats, burdens, or tools in political theatre. But if we take seriously the idea that sacredness is not conferred by passport or birthplace, then this treatment is a moral obscenity.

We live in a time when populist and authoritarian movements have found fertile ground by preaching division, fear, and grievance. Around the world, and acutely in the United States, leaders and movements claim religious legitimacy while violating the most basic principles of the sacred: humility, compassion, truth, and care for the vulnerable.

In particular, white Christian nationalism has emerged as a potent and dangerous force. It wraps itself in scripture and flag, but its gospel is not one of love, it is one of power. It seeks to preserve cultural dominance under the guise of faith. It elevates scapegoating and resentment over reconciliation. It champions cruelty toward the poor, the migrant, the queer, the non-Christian, while insisting it acts in God’s name.

Let us be clear: a theology that blesses hatred is not sacred, it is sacrilege. A politics that thrives on blame is not righteous, it is desecration. This is not simply a political crisis, it is a moral and theological crisis.

When religious institutions sanction the violation of dignity, when pulpits echo the language of supremacy and fear, when sacred texts are weaponized instead of revered, the result is not the defence of tradition. It is the corruption of what is most holy.

And here, the language of dignity and sacredness is not sentimental, it is diagnostic. It allows us to name clearly what is otherwise obscured: A society that desecrates the dignity of the poor, the refugee, the outsider, or the earth itself cannot be called righteous, no matter how loudly it prays.

This is where the argument becomes real. Not in theory, but in the daily habits of politics, economics, ecology, and belief. The sacred is not preserved by words, it is revealed in deeds.

A Declaration

To say that “all that exists has inherent worth, by virtue of its being, its uniqueness, or its role in the web of life” is not a sentimental statement. It is not a poetic flourish or spiritual nicety. It is a moral foundation, and a political one. It is a call to reconsider everything we justify, defend, or ignore. This simple idea contains radical implications:

• Violence in the name of the sacred is a moral impossibility.

• Dignity is not the privilege of the few, but the birthright of all.

• Reverence is not optional, it is the appropriate, necessary response to existence itself.

• If something has inherent worth, because it exists, because it is unique, because it belongs, then no power, no religion, no nation, no ideology can authorize its desecration.

These principle applies to people, but also to rivers, to animals, to ancestral lands, to future generations. It applies to the forests being razed and to the cultures being erased. It applies to the sacred within us and the sacred beyond us. It compels us to build societies that reflect not just justice, but reverence. Economies that serve life, not the other way around. Cultures that do not reduce beings to data, tools, or threats. And spiritualities that do not serve as armour for cruelty, but as doorways to humility.

This is not a new ethic. It echoes through the teachings of prophets, poets, mystics, sages. It lives in the ceremonies of Indigenous elders and the whispers of the Earth. It pulses through the Declaration of Human Rights and through ecosystems that thrive on mutual nourishment. But it is time, now, to name it clearly, to claim it publicly, and to live by it daily.

All that exists has dignity. What has dignity is sacred. And what is sacred must never be violated. This is not doctrine. It is a compass.

Recovering the Sacred

In a world that has grown cynical of the sacred, and weary of the ways religion has been misused, perhaps it seems naïve, even dangerous, to speak of sacredness again. But the problem has never been reverence. The problem has been forgetting what reverence requires.

To speak of the sacred is not to return to superstition or to impose a single truth. It is to remember that the world is not ours to own, but to be in relationship with. That each being, human and non-human, carries a depth and value beyond measure. That life is not a resource, but a gift.

To reclaim the sacred is not to police belief, but to transform how we see and live: to see the face of the sacred in a stranger. To hear the voice of dignity in the cry of the Earth. To honour the mystery that dwells in the ordinary. The sacred, rightly understood, is not a call to arms. It is not a weapon of purity or conquest. It is a call to humility, to responsibility, to wonder.

In this call lies our hope. Not a naive optimism, but a grounded faith that we can, still, reorient ourselves. That we can live in ways that honour the worth of all beings, not merely in word, but in structure, in system, in soul. Let that be the faith we defend, not the faith of dominance or division, but the faith that sacredness and dignity belong to all. And from that faith, let us build a world worthy of the sacred and divine.

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