Strange as Croatia's "Cravat Day" on October 18 may sound to an American, this celebration actually commemorates an element of national heritage. Croatia, after all, claims to have pioneered that most ubiquitous of modern accessories: the necktie.
"Croat" and "cravat," in fact, are etymologically linked, according to the Oxford English Dictionary. They were originally different variations of the same word: "The troops are filled with Cravates and Tartars, Hussars and Cossacs," reads a sentence by David Hume in 1752. Or take the even more comical statement from Daniel Defoe in 1720 (highlighting the alternate spelling, with a "b"): "We fell foul with 200 Crabats."
The cravat apparently came to Western Europe in the 17th century, courtesy of Croatian mercenaries. Perhaps appropriately, the modern Cravat Day has an origin of similarly mixed cultural-commercial flavor. In 1990, Croats Marijan Bušić and Zlatko Penavić founded the Zagreb-based company Potomac D.O.O. According to the company's website, it was intended to fulfill Bušić's high school dream of "creating an authentic medium which would act as a mediator in the presentation of Croatia to the world." The medium Bušić settled on, after partnering with trade-savy Penavić, was the necktie. Accordingly, in 1997 the firm founded the non-profit Academia Cravatica. "By spreading the truth about the cravat," the Academia Cravatica proclaims, "we improve Croatia's image in international public. The fact that Croats invented the Cravat makes us proud to be Croats."
On the other hand, by acknowledging the role of the French people in [the] cravat's history (who had recognised this ornament on Croatian soldiers), the role of the English people (who had spread it across the world) and the role of other nations which had embraced the cravat, we want to promote partnership between the Croats and other nations as well.
Accordingly, Cravat Day debuted on October 18, 2003, when Bušić and the Academia Cravatica undertook to wrap a giant red necktie around the Roman arena in Pula. The installation proved popular enough that the team has promoted Cravat day on each October 18 since, with some spontaneous commemorations across Croatia lending momentum to the project. In 2008, the Croatian Parliament unanimously declared October 18 the "Day of the Cravat."
Opponents of so-called Hallmark holidays, make of this what you will. At the very least, there's an element of genuine national heritage here. Also, there are some rather pretty horses. Below, a few images of Cravat Day in 2003 and a traditional guard exchange ceremony just prior to Cravat Day in 2010, which staged similar ceremonies.
An image of the installation "A Cravat Around the Arena" on October 18, 2003. (Courtesy of Academia Cravatica)
Soldiers in traditional uniforms participate in a changing of the guard ceremony in St. Mark's Square in Zagreb in 2010. The traditional dress includes a bright red cravat. (Nicola Solic/Reuters)
Further traditional military uniforms for the guard exchange. Aren't you glad it's the necktie, rather than the cap on the horseman, that's become traditional business apparel? (Nicola Solic/Reuters)
Soldiers in traditional uniform march past spectators in 2010. Cravat Day celebrations include a ceremony of military units wearing cravats. (Nicola Solik/Reuters)
After Donald Trump became the Republican nominee, he was asked on Fox News about his views on NATO and other American alliances. He gave his familiar “they’re freeloaders” answer:
The fact is we are protecting so many countries that are not paying for the protection. When a country isn’t paying us and these are countries in some cases in most cases that have the ability to pay, and they are not paying because nobody is asking….
We’re protecting all of these countries. They have an agreement to reimburse us and pay us and they are not doing it and if they are not going to do that. We have to seriously rethink at least those countries. It’s very unfair.
In a unique, home-spun experiment, researchers found that centripetal force could help people pass kidney stones—before they become a serious health-care cost.
East Lansing, Michigan, becomes a ghost town during spring break. Families head south, often to the theme parks in Orlando. A week later, the Midwesterners return sunburned and bereft of disposable income, and, urological surgeon David Wartinger noticed, some also come home with fewer kidney stones.
Wartinger is a professor emeritus at Michigan State, where he has dealt for decades with the scourge of kidney stones, which affect around one in 10 people at some point in life. Most are small, and they pass through us without issue. But many linger in our kidneys and grow, sending hundreds of thousands of people to emergency rooms and costing around $3.8 billion every year in treatment and extraction. The pain of passing a larger stone is often compared to child birth.
All the nominee had to do at the first debate was appear polite and reasonable for 90 minutes. He failed.
HEMPSTEAD, N.Y.—Before this week’s first presidential debate, it was common for Donald Trump’s television surrogates to predict it would echo the sole 1980 encounter between Jimmy Carter and Ronald Reagan.
It turned out, to borrow from another famous debate moment, Donald Trump was no Ronald Reagan.
On the surface, the analogy appeared reasonable. Like Hillary Clinton today, Carter in 1980 bet most of his chips on personally disqualifying Reagan. Carter painted his opponent as unqualified, ill-informed, extreme, and dangerous—an aging entertainer who might trigger a nuclear war through ignorance and belligerence.
For months, enough voters feared Carter might be right to keep him close in the polls, despite enormous dissatisfaction with his job performance. But when Reagan in the debate presented himself as composed, reasonable, and genial (swatting away even accurate Carter recitations of his most outrageous earlier statements with a jaunty “There you go again”) the doubts softened, Carter’s support crumbled, and the Gipper rolled to a landslide.
A new study looks at rates of lethal violence across a thousand species to better understand the evolutionary origins of humanity’s own inhumanity.
Which mammal is most likely to be murdered by its own kind? It’s certainly not humans—not even close. Nor is it a top predator like the grey wolf or lion, although those at least are #11 and #9 in the league table of murdery mammals. No, according to a study led by José María Gómez from the University of Granada, the top spot goes to… the meerkat. These endearing black-masked creatures might be famous for their cooperative ways, but they kill each other at a rate that makes man’s inhumanity to man look meek. Almost one in five meerkats, mostly youngsters, lose their lives at the paws and jaws of their peers.
Gómez’s study is the first thorough survey of violence in the mammal world, collating data on more than a thousand species. It clearly shows that we humans are not alone in our capacity to kill each other. Our closest relatives, the chimpanzees, have been known to wage brutal war, but even apparently peaceful creatures take each other’s lives. When ranked according to their rates of lethal violence, ground squirrels, wild horses, gazelle, and deer all feature in the top 50. So do long-tailed chinchillas, which kill each other more frequently than tigers and bears do.
A man’s life hinges on the Supreme Court’s evaluation of racist testimony during his sentencing.
The island of Minorca is now part of Spain. Roughly 270 square miles in area, it basks in the sunny Mediterranean some 75 miles east of its larger sibling, Mallorca.
Minorca is also, however, located entirely within the Ward of Cheap, a district covering the half-mile between Farringdon Street and Old Jewry within the City of London.
You could look it up.
The island was magically imported into Cheap by the English Court of Common Pleas in 1774. This ludicrous geographical fiction was the only way the court could assert jurisdiction over a claim by a Minorca resident that the British royal governor had assaulted and falsely imprisoned him.
Like the wandering island, most legal fictions grow up because they allow the law to do things more easily.
For decades, the candidate has willfully inflicted pain and humiliation.
Donald J. Trump has a cruel streak. He willfully causes pain and distress to others. And he repeats this public behavior so frequently that it’s fair to call it a character trait. Any single example would be off-putting but forgivable. Being shown many examples across many years should make any decent person recoil in disgust.
Judge for yourself if these examples qualify.
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In national politics, harsh attacks are to be expected. I certainly don’t fault Trump for calling Hillary Clinton dishonest, or wrongheaded, or possessed of bad judgment, even if it’s a jarring departure from the glowing compliments that he used to pay her.
But even in a realm where the harshest critiques are part of the civic process, Trump crossed a line this week when he declared his intention to invite Gennifer Flowers to today’s presidential debate. What kind of man invites a husband’s former mistress to an event to taunt his wife? Trump managed to launch an attack that couldn’t be less relevant to his opponent’s qualifications or more personally cruel. His campaign and his running-mate later said that it was all a big joke. No matter. Whether in earnest or in jest, Trump showed his tendency to humiliate others.
It looked likelier than ever at this week’s “Super Bowl of climate law.”
WASHINGTON—There’s a commonplace when writing about climate change, a juxtaposition so familiar it almost deserves a name. It resembles CSPAN, but directed by Michael Bay. First, a speaker points to the prospect of 21st century ecological collapse: sloshing waves, ravenous forest fires, fathers weeping as their crops succumb to a drought.
Then, the camera reveals the rooms where people make climate-change policies today. They are wood-paneled, document-strewn, and full of briefcases. Compared to the Hollywood blockbuster that preceded them, they seem boring. They are boring. But then the punchline: In this room—this bureaucratic, tedious room—the fate of the whole planet is decided.
The films touted for consideration this year include prestige projects like Martin Scorsese’s Silence and festival hits like Barry Jenkins’s Moonlight.
With the main film festivals of the fall (Telluride, Venice, and Toronto) now concluded, and Martin Scorsese finally confirming that his much-anticipated drama Silence will come out at the end of the year, the next three months will bring a calendar loaded with prestige releases. Among them are films that better reflect the wide range of faces and voices in America (and around the world), which have recently been severely under-represented on Oscar night. Audiences and critics will be paying especially close attention to the works and actors the Academy chooses to recognize, after the awards were condemned this year for nominating only white performers two years in a row.
The question, as always, is which films will be able to stand out once studios begin their awards campaigns in earnest. A lot can happen in a few months; after all, the season has already seen its earliest anointed front-runner practically disappear from the race. The former Best Picture favorite was the big story out of Sundance: The Birth of a Nation(October 7), a searing depiction of Nat Turner’s 1831 slave rebellion in Virginia written and directed by Nate Parker. The film won the festival’s Grand Jury Prize just as the conversation over the largely white Oscar nominations was at its loudest. The movie was acquired by Fox Searchlight for a record $17.5 million, with the studio promising a huge publicity campaign in the fall to help push it for awards contention.
It appears the virus was spread through the tears or sweat of a patient with a particularly severe infection.
Utah’s mystery Zika case has been solved, and the answer, as with so many revelations about Zika, is something never before seen with this virus. Someone seems to have gotten Zika through only casual physical contact with an infected person—the first such case that’s been documented.
In July, after a 73-year-old patient who’d contracted Zika while traveling to Mexico died (a rare occurrence in itself), a second person came down with the virus. The second patient had visited the first man in the hospital, but had not traveled to any Zika-infected areas or had sex with anyone who had. So with the two known methods of transmission—mosquito bites and sexual transmission—out of the running, it was unclear just how this second person had managed to get infected.