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)
Trump’s supporters backed a time-honored American political tradition, disavowing racism while promising to enact a broad agenda of discrimination.
THIRTY YEARS AGO, nearly half of Louisiana voted for a Klansman, and the media struggled to explain why.
It was 1990 and David Duke, the former grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, astonished political observers when he came within striking distance of defeating incumbent Democratic U.S. Senator J. Bennett Johnston, earning 43 percent of the vote. If Johnston’s Republican rival hadn’t dropped out of the race and endorsed him at the last minute, the outcome might have been different.
Was it economic anxiety? The Washington Post reported that the state had “a large working class that has suffered through a long recession.” Was it a blow against the state’s hated political establishment? An editorial from United Press International explained, “Louisianans showed the nation by voting for Duke that they were mad as hell and not going to take it any more.” Was it anti-Washington rage? A Loyola University pollster argued, “There were the voters who liked Duke, those who hated J. Bennett Johnston, and those who just wanted to send a message to Washington.”
How did Andrew Anglin go from being an antiracist vegan to the alt-right’s most vicious troll and propagandist—and how might he be stopped?
On December 16, 2016, Tanya Gersh answered her phone and heard gunshots. Startled, she hung up. Gersh, a real-estate agent who lives in Whitefish, Montana, assumed it was a prank call. But the phone rang again. More gunshots. Again, she hung up. Another call. This time, she heard a man’s voice: “This is how we can keep the Holocaust alive,” he said. “We can bury you without touching you.”
When Gersh put down the phone, her hands were shaking. She was one of only about 100 Jews in Whitefish and the surrounding Flathead Valley, and she knew there were white nationalists and “sovereign citizens” in the area. But Gersh had lived in Whitefish for more than 20 years, since just after college, and had always considered the scenic ski town an idyllic place. She didn’t even have a key to her house—she’d never felt the need to lock her door. Now that sense of security was about to be shattered.
How leaders lose mental capacities—most notably for reading other people—that were essential to their rise
If power were a prescription drug, it would come with a long list of known side effects. It can intoxicate. It can corrupt. It can even make Henry Kissinger believe that he’s sexually magnetic. But can it cause brain damage?
When various lawmakers lit into John Stumpf at a congressional hearing last fall, each seemed to find a fresh way to flay the now-former CEO of Wells Fargo for failing to stop some 5,000 employees from setting up phony accounts for customers. But it was Stumpf’s performance that stood out. Here was a man who had risen to the top of the world’s most valuable bank, yet he seemed utterly unable to read a room. Although he apologized, he didn’t appear chastened or remorseful. Nor did he seem defiant or smug or even insincere. He looked disoriented, like a jet-lagged space traveler just arrived from Planet Stumpf, where deference to him is a natural law and 5,000 a commendably small number. Even the most direct barbs—“You have got to be kidding me” (Sean Duffy of Wisconsin); “I can’t believe some of what I’m hearing here” (Gregory Meeks of New York)—failed to shake him awake.
The mass murderer, who died on Sunday at 83, turned one following into another.
“All of us are excited by what we most deplore,” Martin Amis wrote in theLondon Review of Books in 1980, reviewing Joan Didion’s The White Album. In the title piece in that collection, Didion’s second, the essayist recalls sitting in her sister-in-law’s swimming pool in Beverly Hills on August 9, 1969, when the phone rang. The friend on the line had heard that across town there had been a spate of murders at a house rented by the director Roman Polanski, on Cielo Drive. Early reports were frenzied, shocking, lurid, and incorrect. “I remember all of the day’s misinformation very clearly,” Didion writes, “and I also remember this, and wish I did not: I remember that no one was surprised.”
The killings orchestrated that summer by Charles Manson, who died on Sunday at the age of 83, after spending the past 48 years in prison, occupy a unique space in the American cultural psyche. All of the elements of the Tate–LaBianca murders, as they came to be known, seemed designed for maximum tabloid impact. There was the actor Sharon Tate, luminously beautiful and eight months pregnant, who was stabbed to death with four others at a rental home in Hollywood. There were the killers—young women,Manson acolytes corrupted by a sinister cult figure. There were the drugs, abundant both on the Manson Family ranch and at the house on Cielo Drive. There was the nebulous chatter about satanism and witchcraft and race wars ready to erupt. And, as Didion captured, there was a sense that something was rotten from the Hollywood Hills to Haight-Ashbury—that the Summer of Love had long since curdled into paranoia and depravity.
The second reason is subtler, but perhaps equally significant. To pay for a permanent tax cut on corporations, the plan raises taxes on colleges and college students, which is part of a broader Republican war on higher education in the U.S. This is a big deal, because in the last half-century, the most important long-term driver of wage growth has arguably been college.
Wearing, showing, and sharing the many things that make up your personal presence helps you understand yourself.
“Surely you don’t believe in that nonsense.”
It was intended as a rhetorical question, uttered with an implied wink and a smirk. The speaker, an ardent skeptic who prided himself on his rational approach to life, meant no offense. He was merely surprised to find that I, a lover of science, tote a battered key chain embossed with my astrological sign: Taurus. I’ve carried it with me for twenty years, like a personal totem.
It was perfectly reasonable for my skeptical inquirer to assume my key chain says something about me. He was employing cue utilization. We all rely on cues to make snap judgments when we meet new people, and those judgments can often be accurate, at least in broad strokes. Physical attractiveness, race, gender, facial symmetry, skin texture, or facial expressions and body language are all factors that contribute to how we form our impressions of people. Those cues may also include our “stuff”: our choices in fashion, jewelry, tattoos, and key chains all provide clues about who we are, whether we intend them to do so or not.
The Facebook founder has discussed "community" more than 150 times in public. A close reading reveals his road map for the platform’s future.
There’s a story that Mark Zuckerberg has told dozens of times over the years. Shortly after he’d launched Facebook in February 2004, he went to get pizza with Kang-Xing Jin, a coder friend who would become a Facebook executive, at a place around the corner from his dorm.
In one telling, Zuckerberg says he was thinking, “this is great that we have this community that now people can connect within our little school, but clearly one day, someone is going to build this for the world.”
But there was no reason to expect that this kid and his group of friends would be the people who would build this for the world. “It hadn’t even crossed my mind,” he said in 2013. They were technically gifted, but as Zuckerberg tells it, they had basically no resources or experience at a time when there were already massive technology companies trying to create social networks from MySpace to Microsoft, Google to Yahoo.
The eighth annual panoramic photo competition has just come to a close, and the winning images and honorable mentions have been announced.
The top-scoring panoramic photos entered in the eighth annual Epson International Pano Awards have just been announced. The contest is meant to showcase the best work of panoramic photographers around the world. Organizers reported that they received 5,377 entries from 1,322 photographers in 71 countries this year, competing for the top spots in five categories, for several special awards, and for some of the $50,000 in cash and prizes offered. Contest organizers were kind enough to share some of the winners and top scorers here, and I invite you to enjoy these wide images of our natural and human-built worlds on the largest screen available to you.
President Trump’s lawyer thinks the special counsel will conclude his work shortly after Thanksgiving and clear the president.
This week is a time for being thankful, and the president has both instructions for others and his own thanks to give. Whatever difficulties special counsel Robert Mueller is causing the White House, administration staffers were reportedly relieved that former National-Security Adviser Michael Flynn has thus far escaped indictment. Furthermore, Trump attorney Ty Cobb believes the investigation is nearly complete.
“It is my hope and expectation that shortly after Thanksgiving, all the White House interviews will be concluded,” Cobb told CNN, and The Washington Post reports that he’s telling West Wing staffers that the investigation overall will conclude soon, exonerating President Trump.
That’s a long way from the conventional wisdom, especially since the indictments of Paul Manafort and Rick Gates and guilty plea from George Papadopoulos late last month. Each of those looked like a bad sign for the Trump administration: the first two because they suggested Mueller was trying to flip Manafort, and was carefully delving into financial crimes, and the second because Papadopoulos’s admissions, alongside testimony from Carter Page, further confirm that at least some members of the Trump campaign were indeed colluding with the Russian government.
More comfortable online than out partying, post-Millennials are safer, physically, than adolescents have ever been. But they’re on the brink of a mental-health crisis.
One day last summer, around noon, I called Athena, a 13-year-old who lives in Houston, Texas. She answered her phone—she’s had an iPhone since she was 11—sounding as if she’d just woken up. We chatted about her favorite songs and TV shows, and I asked her what she likes to do with her friends. “We go to the mall,” she said. “Do your parents drop you off?,” I asked, recalling my own middle-school days, in the 1980s, when I’d enjoy a few parent-free hours shopping with my friends. “No—I go with my family,” she replied. “We’ll go with my mom and brothers and walk a little behind them. I just have to tell my mom where we’re going. I have to check in every hour or every 30 minutes.”
Those mall trips are infrequent—about once a month. More often, Athena and her friends spend time together on their phones, unchaperoned. Unlike the teens of my generation, who might have spent an evening tying up the family landline with gossip, they talk on Snapchat, the smartphone app that allows users to send pictures and videos that quickly disappear. They make sure to keep up their Snapstreaks, which show how many days in a row they have Snapchatted with each other. Sometimes they save screenshots of particularly ridiculous pictures of friends. “It’s good blackmail,” Athena said. (Because she’s a minor, I’m not using her real name.) She told me she’d spent most of the summer hanging out alone in her room with her phone. That’s just the way her generation is, she said. “We didn’t have a choice to know any life without iPads or iPhones. I think we like our phones more than we like actual people.”