On May 6, the Dow Jones Industrial average was puttering along, trading in a range between 10,600 and 10,800 for most of the day. Then, suddenly around 2:30 pm, the index suddenly dropped 1,000 points in just a few minutes. Panic dulled, and the index perked right back up. But for a few minutes there, half a trillion dollars worth of value had been erased. The incident became known as "the flash crash.".
Regulators, investors, and the public all asked the same question, "WTF?!?" How could our vaunted markets be so brittle? Did anyone know what the hell was going on? All kinds of hypotheses were floated. Hackers! A buggy automated trading program! Something more sinister! No one knew quite what happened, but it was clear that computers trading stocks had something to do with it.
Several government bodies started investigations, including a joint effort between the Securities and Exchange Commission and the Commodities Futures Trading Commission. Of course, everyone was looking for a scapegoat, someone or something to blame. But the latter organization also took steps to address the deeper problems of our markets increasingly being driven by algorithmic, computerized trading.
"The past decade of fragmentation and automation has given rise to a whole new type of professional trading firm: one that uses sophisticated computer algorithms, often running on servers housed right next to exchanges' own machines, and high-speed market data feeds to buy and sell securities in rapid-fire fashion," wrote Michael Peltz in an in-depth investigation of algorithmic trading for Institutional Investor in June. "Some of these high frequency traders place hundreds of millions, even billions, of buy and sell orders a day, continually canceling and replacing them, and are likely to be on the other side of your trade. Not that you'd know who they are -- proprietary trading firms are not required to disclose their identity -- or recognize their names."
We'll be tracking that advisory committee as they go about their work, but what was the first substantive item on their agenda? The flash crash. And the saddest thing is that there is still no clear culprit in the case.
"It was not a fat finger. It was not a
hacker. It was not an algo gone wild," said Richard Gorelick CEO of RGM Advisors, one of those unnamed but important a high-frequency trading firms.
So if it wasn't one of those things, what was it? Gorelick didn't exactly point the finger at anything specific, so much as at complexity itself.
"Complex systems like markets
fail in very complex ways. They do not fail in simple ways because
the simple ways have been thought of," Gorelick said. "We see this not only in markets but in
oil rigs and plane crashes. There is usually a cascading effect of
multiple factors that were at fault."
Among the multiple factors were "real human panic" over the situation in Europe (i.e. Greece), problems at equity firms keeping up with the volume of trades, and slow responses from the stock exchanges.
Even as the Republican launches a purported African American outreach campaign 12 days before the election, his aides say their goal is to depress turnout in the bloc.
It would be unfair to call Donald Trump’s interaction with black voters a love-hate relationship, since there’s little evidence of African American enthusiasm for Trump. But the Republican campaign has pursued a Janus-like strategy on black voters—ostensibly courting them in public while privately seeking to depress turnout.
This tension is on display in the last 24 hours. On Wednesday, Trump delivered a speech in Charlotte, North Carolina, advertised as an “urban renewal agenda for America’s inner cities.” Trump told the audience, “It is my highest and greatest hope that the Republican Party can be the home in the future and forevermore for African Americans and the African American vote because I will produce, and I will get others to produce, and we know for a fact it doesn’t work with the Democrats and it certainly doesn’t work with Hillary.”
I generally enjoy milk chocolate, for basic reasons of flavor and texture. For roughly the same reasons, I generally do not enjoy dark chocolate. *
Those are just my boring preferences, but preferences, really, won’t do: This is an age in which even the simplest element of taste will become a matter of partisanship and identity and social-Darwinian hierarchy; in which all things must be argued and then ranked; in which even the word “basic” has come to suggest searing moral judgment. So IPAs are not just extra-hoppy beers, but also declarations of masculinity and “palatal machismo.” The colors you see in the dress are not the result of light playing upon the human eye, but rather of deep epistemological divides among the world’s many eye-owners. Cake versus pie, boxers versus briefs, Democrat versus Republican, pea guac versus actual guac, are hot dogs sandwiches … It is the best of times, it is the RAGING DUMPSTER FIRE of times.
Services like Tinder and Hinge are no longer shiny new toys, and some users are starting to find them more frustrating than fun.
“Apocalypse” seems like a bit much. I thought that last fall when Vanity Fair titled Nancy Jo Sales’s article on dating apps “Tinder and the Dawn of the ‘Dating Apocalypse’” and I thought it again this month when Hinge, another dating app, advertised its relaunch with a site called “thedatingapocalypse.com,” borrowing the phrase from Sales’s article, which apparently caused the company shame and was partially responsible for their effort to become, as they put it, a “relationship app.”
Despite the difficulties of modern dating, if there is an imminent apocalypse, I believe it will be spurred by something else. I don’t believe technology has distracted us from real human connection. I don’t believe hookup culture has infected our brains and turned us into soulless sex-hungry swipe monsters. And yet. It doesn’t do to pretend that dating in the app era hasn’t changed.
Political, social, and demographic forces in the battleground of North Carolina promise a reckoning with its Jim Crow past.
In 1901, America was ascendant. Its victory over Spain, the reunification of North and South, and the closing of the frontier announced the American century. Americans awaited the inauguration of the 57th Congress, the first elected in the 20th century. All the incoming members of Congress, like those they replaced, were white men, save one.
Representative George Henry White did not climb the steps of Capitol Hill on the morning of January 29 to share in triumph. The last black congressman elected before the era of Jim Crow, White, a Republican, took the House floor in defeat. He had lost his North Carolina home district after a state constitutional amendment disenfranchised black voters—most of his constituents. That law marked the end of black political power in North Carolina for nearly a century.
A century ago, widely circulated images and cartoons helped drive the debate about whether women should have the right to vote.
It seems almost farcical that the 2016 presidential campaign has become a referendum on misogyny at a moment when the United States is poised to elect its first woman president.
Not that this is surprising, exactly.
There’s a long tradition of politics clashing spectacularly with perceived gender norms around election time, and the stakes often seem highest when women are about to make history.
Today’s political dialogue—which often merely consists of opposing sides shouting over one another—echoes another contentious era in American politics, when women fought for the right to vote. Then and now, a mix of political tension and new-fangled publishing technology produced an environment ripe for creating and distributing political imagery. The meme-ification of women’s roles in society—in civic life and at home—has been central to an advocacy tradition that far precedes slogans like, “Life’s a bitch, don’t elect one,” or “A woman’s place is in the White House.”
Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump prepare for the final sprint to Election Day.
It’s Thursday, October 27—the election is now less than two weeks away. Hillary Clinton holds a lead against Donald Trump, according to RealClearPolitics’ polling average. We’ll bring you the latest updates from the trail as events unfold. Also see our continuing coverage:
A dustup between Megyn Kelly and Newt Gingrich shows why Donald Trump and the Republican Party are struggling to retain the support of women.
The 2016 presidential campaign kicked off in earnest with a clash between Megyn Kelly and Donald Trump over gender and conservatism at the first GOP debate, and now there’s another Kelly moment to bookend the race.
Newt Gingrich, a top Trump surrogate, was on Kelly’s Fox News show Tuesday night, jousting with her in a tense exchange stretching over nearly eight minutes. Things got off to a promising start when Gingrich declared that there were two “parallel universes”—one in which Trump is losing and one in which he is winning. (There is data, at least, to support the existence of the former universe.) After a skirmish over whether polls are accurate, Kelly suggested that Trump had been hurt by the video in which he boasts about sexually assaulting women and the nearly a dozen accusations lodged against him by women since. Gingrich was furious, embarking on a mansplaining riff in which he compared the press to Pravda and Izvestia for, in his view, overcovering the allegations.
The best treatment for obsessive-compulsive disorder forces sufferers to confront their fears. But for many patients, the treatment is far out of reach.
Some days, Molly C.’s brain insists she can’t wear her work shirt. She realizes this is irrational; a uniform is required for her job at a hardware store. Nevertheless, she’s addled by an eerie feeling—like, “If you wear this shirt, something bad will happen today.” Usually she can cope, but a few times she couldn’t override it, and she called in sick.
She can’t resist picking up litter whenever she spots it; the other day she cleaned up the entire parking lot of her apartment complex. Each night, she must place her phone in an exact spot on the nightstand in order to fall asleep. What’s more, she’s besieged by troubling thoughts she can’t stop dwelling on. (She asked us not to use her last name in order to protect her privacy.)
At the turn of the century, some women sued stenographers for seducing their husbands. An Object Lesson
In January of 1909, Una Goslin sued her husband’s stenographer, Anna Irene Magher, for “alienating her husband’s affections.” This particular premise for a lawsuit—stealing someone’s affections—fell under the umbrella of a larger body of civic legislation known as “heart balm.”
Heart balm sounds like a product for inconsolable teens weathering the fallout of their first breakups, or a late-night infomercial product made of extracts from rare flowers or pungent barks. However, heart balm is not an ointment or a salve, or even a balm. It’s not a product at all, but a legal tort of the turn of the 20th century commonly invoked by housewives against young, female stenographers.
They were essentially saying: If I were a man, I might have earned my paycheck by now.
On Monday, around 2:38 PM, thousands of women left work early and headed to Austurvollur square in the Icelandic capital of Reykjavik. Punctuality mattered: They were trimming a typical 9-to-5 workday by precisely two hours and 22 minutes, or around 30 percent. Thirty percent also happens to be the gap in average annual income for men and women in Iceland; for every dollar a man makes, a woman makes 72 cents (other ways of measuring the gender wage gap in Iceland yield smallerpercentages, and the gap narrows when considering men and women who do the same sort of work). Those assembled at Austurvollur shouted Ut, or “Out,” to discrimination against women. They were essentially saying: If I were a man, I might have earned my paycheck by now, so I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off and demanding change.