At least 39 people were killed when at least one gunman opened fire inside a popular Istanbul nightclub during New Year’s Eve celebrations Saturday night, Turkish Interior Minister Suleyman Soylu said. 16 of the fatalities were foreigners and another 69 people were reported injured. The incident took place at the Reina nightclub, a large and popular nightlife hotspot in Turkey’s largest city. The suspected assailant fled the scene shortly after the shooting and is still at large, Soylu told reporters. According to Hurriyet, a Turkish news agency, a police officer is among the fatalities. Further details about the attack are scarce. The Turkish government has imposed a media blackout on coverage of the incident, a common practice during mass shootings and other attacks. No groups have claimed responsibility. In a statement late Saturday night, President Obama condemned the shooting as a “horrific terrorist attack” and offered the United States’ assistance as necessary.
This is a developing story. We’ll update this article with more information as it becomes available.
Turkey Releases Wall Street Journal Reporter As Press Crackdown Widens
The Turkish government secretly detained Wall Street Journal reporter Dion Nissenbaum for two-and-a-half days this week, the newspaper reported Saturday. According to the Journal, Turkish police seized Nissenbaum from his apartment in Istanbul on Tuesday and released him from jail on Friday morning. He subsequently left the country to return to the United States. Nissenbaum is a 49-year-old American national security reporter based in Washington, D.C., who has extensively covered Turkey, ISIS, and the Syrian civil war. The Journal quoted an unnamed source who said the detention was related to the Turkish government’s ban on publishing photos from ISIS videos, but did not offer details. Nissenbaum’s detention comes amid a sweeping crackdown on Turkish press outlets by President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s government after a failed coup attempt against in July. International press organizations estimate at least 170 media outlets have been closed by Turkish officials and almost 2,500 journalists have lost their jobs. Hundreds more journalists are on trial or behind bars in what Human Rights Watch termed a “deepening assault on critical media.”
At least 28 people were killed and more than 50 others were wounded when two suicide bombings tore through a major Baghdad marketplace on Saturday morning. The twin blasts struck the popular al-Sinak market in the center of the Iraqi capital. Al-Jazeera reported two suicide bombers detonated belts filled with explosives minutes apart during the morning rush. The bombing is the latest of numerous attacks to strike Baghdad in recent months, causing hundreds of deaths and sparking security fears throughout the city. According to the New York Times, the Islamic State claimed responsibility for the attack through the Amaq news agency, its media affiliate.
My daughter-in-law is a wonderful young woman, but we do not see eye to eye on anything.
The trouble started soon after she and my son became engaged. Before the engagement, she acted like she wanted to be my new best friend or for me to be her “surrogate mom.” As soon as she had a ring, the switch flipped! She found fault with everything I said or did, and had my son call me and correct me for her, to the point of asking me to change my outward appearance and mode of clothing to suit her idea of how I should behave. According to her, via my son, I didn’t dress appropriately for my age, 50ish. So now I buy my clothes two sizes too big, and have sworn off glitter, rhinestones, and sequins, even though I love sparkly clothing. I have also toned down my otherwise sedate makeup routine.
In the face of government inaction, the country’s best chance at keeping the crisis from spiraling relies on everyone to keep caring.
In 2018, while reporting on pandemic preparedness in the Democratic Republic of Congo, I heard many people joking about the fictional 15th article of the country’s constitution: Débrouillez-vous, or “Figure it out yourself.” It was a droll and weary acknowledgment that the government won’t save you, and you must make do with the resources you’ve got. The United States is now firmly in the débrouillez-vous era of the COVID-19 pandemic.
The great “convergence” of the mid-20th century may have been an anomaly.
It may be time to stop talking about “red” and “blue” America. That’s the provocative conclusion of Michael Podhorzer, a longtime political strategist for labor unions and the chair of the Analyst Institute, a collaborative of progressive groups that studies elections. In a private newsletter that he writes for a small group of activists, Podhorzer recently laid out a detailed case for thinking of the two blocs as fundamentally different nations uneasily sharing the same geographic space.
“When we think about the United States, we make the essential error of imagining it as a single nation, a marbled mix of Red and Blue people,” Podhorzer writes. “But in truth, we have never been one nation. We are more like a federated republic of two nations: Blue Nation and Red Nation. This is not a metaphor; it is a geographic and historical reality.”
The pro-life movement needs to know that such culture wars result not in outright victory for one side but in reaction and compromise.
The culture war raged most hotly from the ’70s to the next century’s ’20s. It polarized American society, dividing men from women, rural from urban, religious from secular, Anglo-Americans from more recent immigrant groups. At length, but only after a titanic constitutional struggle, the rural and religious side of the culture imposed its will on the urban and secular side. A decisive victory had been won, or so it seemed.
The culture war I’m talking about is the culture war over alcohol prohibition. From the end of Reconstruction to the First World War, probably more state and local elections turned on that one issue than on any other. The long struggle seemingly culminated in 1919, with the ratification of the Eighteenth Amendment and enactment by Congress of the National Prohibition Act, or the Volstead Act (as it became known). The amendment and the act together outlawed the manufacture and sale of alcoholic beverages in the United States and all its subject territories. Many urban and secular Americans experienced those events with the same feeling of doom as pro-choice Americans may feel today after the Supreme Court’s overturning of Roe v. Wade.
After the fall of Roe, some abortion opponents think it’s time to focus on expanding America’s social safety net. Will the rest of their movement join them?
Paying pregnant women’s bills was not exactly part of Nathan and Emily Berning’s life plan—until they realized that doing so actually helped dissuade women from getting abortions. One of the first was Atoria Foley, who was living in her car when she found out that she was pregnant. Atoria had scheduled an abortion and the Bernings sprang to action. They flew to Sacramento, California, where she lived, and put her up in a hotel. What Atoria needed—groceries, gas, car payments—they covered, sometimes with their own money. They signed her up for every government benefit they could. When Atoria finally canceled her abortion appointment, the Bernings were elated. Her son, Kiahari, turned 2 years old in March.
“The very first symptom of the general collapse was an old one: nothing worked.” The sentiment is old—it comes from Doris Lessing’s 1969 novel, The Four-Gated City—but it’s hard to think of a better epitaph for the economic vibes of 2022. From the oil markets to the baby-formula markets to the general sense of safety and disorder, the U.S. seems to suffer from chronic Nothing Works Syndrome.
The latest victim of acute NWS is air travel. Around the world, security lines are getting brutally long and cancellations and delays are spiking. The major carriers JetBlue, American Airlines, and Delta canceled nearly 10 percent of their flights last weekend, creating mayhem at major airports.
The term social distance has come to characterize our times, with fewer chances to socialize and make friends. But for many, opportunities for friend-making and socialization have always been limited—veiled by the subjective rules of social inclusion.
In the post-social-distancing era, some of us can’t remember how to make a new friend. But for many, making friends has always been a challenge—left as an unfulfilled desire without any clear course of action.
In this episode of How to Start Over, we explore the barriers to friendship formation in adulthood, how to navigate conflict, and why starting over as a better friend begins with getting out of our own heads.
This episode was produced by Rebecca Rashid and is hosted by Olga Khazan. Editing by A.C. Valdez and Claudine Ebeid. Fact-check by Ena Alvarado. Engineering by Matthew Simonson.
Norma McCorvey, the plaintiff in Roe v. Wade, never had the abortion she was seeking. She gave her baby girl up for adoption, and now that baby is an adult. After decades of keeping her identity a secret, Jane Roe’s child has chosen to talk about her life.
Nearly half a century ago, Roe v. Wade secured a woman’s legal right to obtain an abortion. The ruling has been contested with ever-increasing intensity, dividing and reshaping American politics. And yet for all its prominence, the person most profoundly connected to it has remained unknown: the child whose conception occasioned the lawsuit.
Roe’s pseudonymous plaintiff, Jane Roe, was a Dallas waitress named Norma McCorvey. Wishing to terminate her pregnancy, she filed suit in March 1970 against Dallas County District Attorney Henry Wade, challenging the Texas laws that prohibited abortion. Norma won her case. But she never had the abortion. On January 22, 1973, when the Supreme Court finally handed down its decision, she had long since given birth—and relinquished her child for adoption.
The Supreme Court majority’s undead constitutionalism is transforming right-wing media tropes into law.
The Supreme Court’s decision overturning Roe v. Wade, allowing state governments to force women to give birth, is the result of decades of right-wing political advocacy, organizing, and electoral victory. It is also just the beginning of the Court’s mission to reshape all of American society according to conservative demands, without fear of public opposition.
Justice Samuel Alito’s opinion in Dobbs v. Jackson contains a classic Alito disclaimer—an explicit denial of the logical implications of his stated position. In this case, Alito declares that “nothing in this opinion should be understood to cast doubt on precedents that do not concern abortion,” even as he argues that when it comes to rights “not mentioned in the Constitution,” only those “deeply rooted in this Nation’s history and tradition” are protected. If you’re asking yourself who decides which rights can be so described, you’re on the right track.