Last summer, I moved from Harlem to Morningside Heights, a neighborhood around Columbia. It was the first neighborhood I'd ever lived in that was not majority black, and one of the few that could not properly be termed a "hood." It has bars and restaurants on every corner, two different farmers' markets, and a supermarket that's open 24 hours and stays stocked with fresh vegetables. The neighborhood represents my new, fully cosmopolitan life.
I had spent the past two years in voracious reading about the Civil War. Repeatedly, I found myself confronting the kind of white Americans--Abraham Lincoln, Ulysses Grant, Adelbert Ames--that black consciousness, with some merit, would have dismissed. And yet I found myself admiring Lincoln, despite his diatribes against Negro equality; respecting Grant, despite his once owning a slave and his advocacy of shipping African Americans out of the country. If I could see the complexity in Grant or Lincoln, what could I see in Malcolm X?
One of the best things about my foray into the Civil War is that it's really forced me to face people who I once dismissed in all of their fullness. There is a debate team approach to history which allows you to say "Thomas Jefferson was just a hypocritical white slave-holder." Or it allows you to rummage through Lincoln's public statements, find him saying something racist, and declare "He didn't free the slaves!" As I've said before, I think that approach is limiting.
Learning to see Lincoln as more than hypocrite, learning to see Grant as more then an anti-Semite, has really taught me something about myself. Personally, I'm not really big on revolutionaries and radicals. It just doesn't fit my disposition. And while recognizing Malcolm X is often credibly be put in those two categories, I see him as I see Lincoln, as I see Grant, as I see Robert Penn Warren. I see him as a Walker, as a person willing to do the hard work of reassessment, of growth and change. I don't just apply that to the latter stages of his life. I apply that to his reincarnation in prison, where he read Kant and Du Bois and joined the debate team.
I don't know how I could extend the sort of broad reading that this country routinely offers to its patriots, and not offer that same courtesy to my own private patriots.
The candidates are back on the campaign trail, following the third, and final, debate on Wednesday night.
It’s Thursday, October 20—the election is now less than three weeks away. Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton are returning to the campaign trail to deliver their final pitch to voters, ahead of Election Day. We’ll bring you the latest updates from the trail, as events unfold. Also see our continuing coverage:
A gender-studies professor explains how the industry works.
Humans have been creating images of sex and genitalia for millions of years, but it is only in the past few centuries—since the 1600s, according to historians—that these representations started meeting academics’ preferred definition of pornography, which involves both the violation of taboos and the intention of arousal. The first efforts to make money off of this new endeavor could not have come long after that.
With the publication of Playboy and Hustler in the mid-20th-century, porn started going corporate, and the industry has since bloomed into an enterprise so vast that people have a hard time estimating its size. Like any other industry, porn has its shady qualities—labor abuses, content piracy, and a blemished supply chain, to name a few. But unlike nearly any other industry, these unseemly features are allowed to thrive, mostly unchecked, behind the curtain of social taboo.
Science says lasting relationships come down to—you guessed it—kindness and generosity.
Every day in June, the most popular wedding month of the year, about 13,000 American couples will say “I do,” committing to a lifelong relationship that will be full of friendship, joy, and love that will carry them forward to their final days on this earth.
Except, of course, it doesn’t work out that way for most people. The majority of marriages fail, either ending in divorce and separation or devolving into bitterness and dysfunction. Of all the people who get married, only three in ten remain in healthy, happy marriages, as psychologist Ty Tashiro points out in his book The Science of Happily Ever After, which was published earlier this year.
Social scientists first started studying marriages by observing them in action in the 1970s in response to a crisis: Married couples were divorcing at unprecedented rates. Worried about the impact these divorces would have on the children of the broken marriages, psychologists decided to cast their scientific net on couples, bringing them into the lab to observe them and determine what the ingredients of a healthy, lasting relationship were. Was each unhappy family unhappy in its own way, as Tolstoy claimed, or did the miserable marriages all share something toxic in common?
Narcissism, disagreeableness, grandiosity—a psychologist investigates how Trump’s extraordinary personality might shape his possible presidency.
In 2006, Donald Trump made plans to purchase the Menie Estate, near Aberdeen, Scotland, aiming to convert the dunes and grassland into a luxury golf resort. He and the estate’s owner, Tom Griffin, sat down to discuss the transaction at the Cock & Bull restaurant. Griffin recalls that Trump was a hard-nosed negotiator, reluctant to give in on even the tiniest details. But, as Michael D’Antonio writes in his recent biography of Trump, Never Enough, Griffin’s most vivid recollection of the evening pertains to the theatrics. It was as if the golden-haired guest sitting across the table were an actor playing a part on the London stage.
“It was Donald Trump playing Donald Trump,” Griffin observed. There was something unreal about it.
As the group sheds territory, its propaganda wing has been forced to come up with a new storyline.
On the morning of October 17, Iraqi Prime Minister Haider al-Abadi announced the launch of the operation to recapture the Iraqi city of Mosul from the Islamic State. In the hours that followed, Kurdish Peshmerga claimed to have seized no fewer than nine villages and 200 square kilometers of territory. By lunchtime on day two, the spokesman for the U.S.-led coalition went as far as to say that the offensive was “on or ahead of schedule.”
Unsurprisingly, the Islamic State’s version of events read very differently. While its official media team conceded that the group had faced a large attack near Mosul on Monday morning, that was about all its propaganda shared with the mainstream news narrative. Indeed, while the peshmerga were counting up their captured kilometers at the end of the first day, the Islamic State’s Amaq News Agency was claiming that the reports were all false, and that it had, contrary to the lies peddled by the “crusader” media, managed to “absorb the momentum” of the encroaching forces before subsequently “repelling” them.
Rarely have presidential nominees declared, without qualification, that it’s a woman’s right to choose.
Even in a presidential campaign that has become so intensely focused on gender, there was something surreal about watching Hillary Clinton’s response to a question about abortion in Wednesday night’s debate.
Here was the first woman nominated by a major party for the United States presidency, standing on the debate stage in “suffragette white,” and talking in no uncertain terms about her strong commitment to protecting a woman’s right to “make the most intimate, most difficult in many cases, decisions about her health care that one can imagine.”
Democrats are expected to support abortion rights, of course, but that support is often couched with carefully hedged language. This is an understandable impulse, given how divisive the issue of abortion remains.
The conservative thinker’s work is a reminder of how intellectually self-satisfied politicians and cable-news have become.
William F. Buckley Jr. could have made Donald Trump quiver with impotent rage. This is a guy who sent Ayn Rand postcards in liturgical Latin just to make her mad, and then bragged about it in her obituary. In part because of his trollish panache, the founder of National Review and longtime host of the television show Firing Line was a conservative mascot in life, and he has become mythologized in death. The 2016 election has made it clear that no one quite like Buckley is working in media today: Republicans are hurting for a cocksure slayer of pseudo-conservative invaders.
No wonder two Buckley retrospectives have come out this October. Open to Debate, by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology media-studies professor Heather Hendershot, examines Buckley’s tenure on Firing Line and the diverse ideologies represented on the show. A Torch Kept Lit, edited by the Fox News correspondent James Rosen, chronicles notable obituaries written by WFB, as Buckley’s fans often call him. Both indulge nostalgia in their own way, but their yearning points to something real: In American politics, and specifically in political media, quality debate has seemingly withered. The presidential election has been an 18-month-long series of lows for civil discourse, culminating in the insult-laden, nearly-impossible-to-follow presidential debates.
With two and a half weeks to go, the debate phase of the competition is at last at its end. In real time last night I did an endless tweet-storm commentary whose beginning you can find here and that wound up this way:
Most of what I thought, I said at the time. But to summarize:
1) Predictability. To my relief, most of the expert forecasts I quoted in my debate preview piece matched what actually occurred.
The match-up really did turn out to be an extreme contrast at every level—intellectual and rhetorical styles, bearing on stage, what each candidate talked about and didn’t. The things Jane Goodall foresaw about Trump’s primate-dominance moves actually took place, when he was free to roam the stage in debate #2. As his fallen rivals from the Republican primaries had predicted, Trump faced much greater challenges in these head-to-head debates than he had in the crowded-podium prelims. Back then, he could chime in with an insult whenever he wanted and otherwise just stay quiet and roll his eyes. In the head-to-head round, especially the last debate, he struggled to fill his allotted time with details on any topic and fell back on slogans from his stump speech. Also predictably, Hillary Clinton was as prepared as she could be and barely put a foot wrong.
“Imagine what would happen if we don’t stand and fight [ISIS],” he said:
If we didn’t do that, you could have allies and friends of ours fall. You could have a massive migration into Europe that destroys Europe, leads to the pure destruction of Europe, ends the European project, and everyone runs for cover and you’ve got the 1930s all over again, with nationalism and fascism and other things breaking out. Of course we have an interest in this, a huge interest in this.
Tristan Harris believes Silicon Valley is addicting us to our phones. He’s determined to make it stop.
On a recent evening in San Francisco, Tristan Harris, a former product philosopher at Google, took a name tag from a man in pajamas called “Honey Bear” and wrote down his pseudonym for the night: “Presence.”
Harris had just arrived at Unplug SF, a “digital detox experiment” held in honor of the National Day of Unplugging, and the organizers had banned real names. Also outlawed: clocks, “w-talk” (work talk), and “WMDs” (the planners’ loaded shorthand for wireless mobile devices). Harris, a slight 32-year-old with copper hair and a tidy beard, surrendered his iPhone, a device he considers so addictive that he’s called it “a slot machine in my pocket.” He keeps the background set to an image of Scrabble tiles spelling out the words face down, a reminder of the device’s optimal position.