newyorker--2020-09-17--Highlights from Week One of the New York Film Festival

This year ’ s New York Film Festival ( which begins Thursday and runs through October 11th ) is taking place by way of online screenings and drive-in presentations .
The 2020 festival calendar has been thrown into disarray because of the pandemic—and because of ongoing closings of movie theatres and doubt over whether theatrical releases will be commercially viable when theatres reopen .
( Films that earn acclaim at the N.Y.F.F .
often open in theatres soon after ; this year , with most films , it ’ s unclear when or how they ’ ll be available after @ @ @ @ @ @ @ side of the festival is , of course , absent ; in a normal year , its public screenings and press screenings alike are meeting places , like an annual cinephiles ’ convention .
The festival ’ s very festivity is among the double-edged swords of cinematic experience : although at times an enormous celebration is whipped up around an artistic nonentity ( it happens every year ) , there ’ s also at times the joyful yet solemn sense of grand occasion when a new masterwork is unveiled—an occasion that renders the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , greeting friends long-unseen , there ’ s still a great impatience to get out into the night and walk alone to exult in the experience of the film , to keep it under pressure , to let it take root and grow .
This year ’ s festival , which will be watched mainly at home , will be different—though the differences will be distinct and unforeseeable for each film .
( I ’ ll be doing a short roundup for each of the festival ’ s three weeks . )
Two @ @ @ @ @ @ @ work intricately with time and do so to greater emotional effect , worldly insight , and artistic imagination than anything I ’ ve seen by Christopher Nolan .
( I haven ’ t seen “ Tenet ” —theatres aren ’ t open in New York , and I wouldn ’ t be inclined to go to one yet . )
One of these highlights is simply called “ Time ” ; it ’ s a documentary , by Garrett Bradley , about a couple , Sibil Fox Richardson and Robert Richardson , who @ @ @ @ @ @ @ store they owned , in Shreveport , Louisiana , was in danger of closing , took part in a bank robbery .
She was imprisoned for three and a half years ; he was sentenced to sixty years without parole .
The Richardsons are Black , and Sibil took clear and furious note of the cruelly excessive sentence that Robert received—and of the racist basis for it .
After her release , she devoted herself to raising their six sons , to restarting her professional life ( she became a successful auto dealer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ release of Robert—all the while video-recording her family life as if preserving it for Robert to experience should he get home .
Bradley and her crew draw on this footage and are present to record later stages of Sibil ’ s efforts , as Robert was coming up on twenty years in prison .
“ Time ” goes into the intricacies of the family ’ s bureaucratically nightmarish and financially ruinous confrontation with the judicial system , of the normalized horrors of incarceration and the destruction of family life that it entails , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ behalf of the abolition of a system that she—and not she alone—calls a new form of slavery .
It also details Sibil ’ s devoted work of atonement , her unsparing candor about the crime that wrenched the family apart , and her exertions to restore and sustain the family in Robert ’ s absence—and the love that sustains the couple despite his absence .
In the process , the movie opens vast political vistas on the deep-rooted and unchallenged forms of white supremacy at work throughout American society ( whether involving legal @ @ @ @ @ @ @ enormous depths of emotional strength , the daily heroism , that endurance demands .
The movie , in black-and-white , blends its mournful tones and its dramatic energies with a romantic ardor and a historic grandeur .
The prolific young Argentinian director Matías Piñeiro is Shakespeare-obsessed , which is to say that he ’ s also performance-obsessed and theatre-obsessed , and his new film , “ Isabella ” —centered on a planned production of “ Measure for Measure ” —leapfrogs through time , and through performances and productions , with a whimsically graceful @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( María Villar ) , a thirty-eight-year-old actress in Buenos Aires who ’ s seven months pregnant , auditions for the lead role of Isabella in a production of the play .
It ’ s a strange audition , for which she needs to deliver a personal monologue , which she builds around an incident that had occurred a while ago , in Córdoba , with her brother ( Pablo Sigal ) , and his so-called lover ( Agustina Muñoz ) , an actress who ’ s also auditioning for the role .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that ’ s about to be staged—a personal one , endowed with ingenious stagecraft ( its striking imagery figures in the movie throughout ) , centered on the problem of doubt and action , and regarding which she herself faces an ongoing doubt , as to whether she ’ ll act in it or ever act again .
Shattering Shakespeare into shards of personal experience , rhythmically repeating sequences and actions in a sort of cinematic music , and catching actors in highly inflected and extended closeups , Piñeiro fuses performance and daily @ @ @ @ @ @ @ psychological complexity .
Working with an extraordinary cast of many regulars in his films , he sustains a tensely balanced tone that , as in films by Éric Rohmer , reveals the piercingly intimate and passionate element of intellectual pursuits .
The festival includes eight programs of short films ; the eighth of those programs , “ New York Stories , ” features “ Object Lessons , or : What Happened Whitsunday , ” Ricky D ’ Ambrose ’ s historically resonant work of documentary drama—drama rooted in fictitious documents .
It ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who is murdered at a nature preserve in New Paltz , New York—on a site that was about to become an art complex showing the holdings of one late collector .
The killing became politicized , through the actions and claims of a right-wing anti-immigration activist planning to run for office .
( The story is loosely based on the killing of Kathryn Steinle , in 2015 , and its place in Donald Trump ’ s 2016 campaign . )
D ’ Ambrose tells the story with documents made for the film—faux newspaper @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and architectural plans , as well as film footage of the rustic site and other relevant venues .
With its allusions to rallies , Internet harassment , and the abuse of religious occasions , it ’ s a clear and subtly furious unfolding of the prime political pathology of the times .
Restorations and revivals are also a major part of the festival , and one of the best is in the first week .
Joyce Chopra ’ s 1985 drama “ Smooth Talk , ” based on a story by Joyce @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Dern as Connie , who lives with her parents ( Mary Kay Place and Levon Helm ) and older sister ( Elizabeth Berridge ) in a rustic home in Northern California , far from town .
Connie , who ’ s in the summer between her freshman and sophomore years of high school , is sneaking around with her friends , claiming to be going to movies when they ’ re actually trying to meet boys ( and she ’ s trying a little harder ) .
Tensions with her family are rising @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and supervise her time ; her encounters with young men grow increasingly tense and risky , and reach a crisis when she ’ s stalked and pursued to her home by a man ( Treat Williams ) whose smooth talk she rightly perceives as a threat of violence .
Chopra strikes an astoundingly tactile , intimate vision of Connie ’ s terror together with the burdens of self-doubt and silence that she endures—and that predators foster .
The film ’ s power is enormous throughout ; spare means ( long-held closeups , a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a drama that seems to have been filmed holding its breath .

This year’s New York Film Festival (which begins Thursday and runs through October 11th) is taking place by way of online screenings and drive-in presentations. The 2020 festival calendar has been thrown into disarray because of the pandemic—and because of ongoing closings of movie theatres and doubt over whether theatrical releases will be commercially viable when theatres reopen. (Films that earn acclaim at the N.Y.F.F. often open in theatres soon after; this year, with most films, it’s unclear when or how they’ll be available after the festival ends.) The social side of the festival is, of course, absent; in a normal year, its public screenings and press screenings alike are meeting places, like an annual cinephiles’ convention. The festival’s very festivity is among the double-edged swords of cinematic experience: although at times an enormous celebration is whipped up around an artistic nonentity (it happens every year), there’s also at times the joyful yet solemn sense of grand occasion when a new masterwork is unveiled—an occasion that renders the social side double-edged, too, when, greeting friends long-unseen, there’s still a great impatience to get out into the night and walk alone to exult in the experience of the film, to keep it under pressure, to let it take root and grow. This year’s festival, which will be watched mainly at home, will be different—though the differences will be distinct and unforeseeable for each film. (I’ll be doing a short roundup for each of the festival’s three weeks.)
Two of the festival’s main offerings work intricately with time and do so to greater emotional effect, worldly insight, and artistic imagination than anything I’ve seen by Christopher Nolan. (I haven’t seen “Tenet”—theatres aren’t open in New York, and I wouldn’t be inclined to go to one yet.) One of these highlights is simply called “Time”; it’s a documentary, by Garrett Bradley, about a couple, Sibil Fox Richardson and Robert Richardson, who, in 1997, when the clothing store they owned, in Shreveport, Louisiana, was in danger of closing, took part in a bank robbery. She was imprisoned for three and a half years; he was sentenced to sixty years without parole. The Richardsons are Black, and Sibil took clear and furious note of the cruelly excessive sentence that Robert received—and of the racist basis for it. After her release, she devoted herself to raising their six sons, to restarting her professional life (she became a successful auto dealer), and to working for the release of Robert—all the while video-recording her family life as if preserving it for Robert to experience should he get home. Bradley and her crew draw on this footage and are present to record later stages of Sibil’s efforts, as Robert was coming up on twenty years in prison. “Time” goes into the intricacies of the family’s bureaucratically nightmarish and financially ruinous confrontation with the judicial system, of the normalized horrors of incarceration and the destruction of family life that it entails, and of Sibil’s activism on behalf of the abolition of a system that she—and not she alone—calls a new form of slavery. It also details Sibil’s devoted work of atonement, her unsparing candor about the crime that wrenched the family apart, and her exertions to restore and sustain the family in Robert’s absence—and the love that sustains the couple despite his absence. In the process, the movie opens vast political vistas on the deep-rooted and unchallenged forms of white supremacy at work throughout American society (whether involving legal or economic inequality) and displays the enormous depths of emotional strength, the daily heroism, that endurance demands. The movie, in black-and-white, blends its mournful tones and its dramatic energies with a romantic ardor and a historic grandeur.
The black-and-white movie “Time” blends its mournful tones and its dramatic energies with a romantic ardor and a historic grandeur. Photograph courtesy Amazon Studios
The prolific young Argentinian director Matías Piñeiro is Shakespeare-obsessed, which is to say that he’s also performance-obsessed and theatre-obsessed, and his new film, “Isabella”—centered on a planned production of “Measure for Measure”—leapfrogs through time, and through performances and productions, with a whimsically graceful yet intimately passionate cinematic imagination. Mariel (María Villar), a thirty-eight-year-old actress in Buenos Aires who’s seven months pregnant, auditions for the lead role of Isabella in a production of the play. It’s a strange audition, for which she needs to deliver a personal monologue, which she builds around an incident that had occurred a while ago, in Córdoba, with her brother (Pablo Sigal), and his so-called lover (Agustina Muñoz), an actress who’s also auditioning for the role. Meanwhile, Mariel has written a play that’s about to be staged—a personal one, endowed with ingenious stagecraft (its striking imagery figures in the movie throughout), centered on the problem of doubt and action, and regarding which she herself faces an ongoing doubt, as to whether she’ll act in it or ever act again. Shattering Shakespeare into shards of personal experience, rhythmically repeating sequences and actions in a sort of cinematic music, and catching actors in highly inflected and extended closeups, Piñeiro fuses performance and daily life into a quietly mighty architecture of psychological complexity. Working with an extraordinary cast of many regulars in his films, he sustains a tensely balanced tone that, as in films by Éric Rohmer, reveals the piercingly intimate and passionate element of intellectual pursuits.
The festival includes eight programs of short films; the eighth of those programs, “New York Stories,” features “Object Lessons, or: What Happened Whitsunday,” Ricky D’Ambrose’s historically resonant work of documentary drama—drama rooted in fictitious documents. It’s the story of a young woman who is murdered at a nature preserve in New Paltz, New York—on a site that was about to become an art complex showing the holdings of one late collector. The killing became politicized, through the actions and claims of a right-wing anti-immigration activist planning to run for office. (The story is loosely based on the killing of Kathryn Steinle, in 2015, and its place in Donald Trump’s 2016 campaign.) D’Ambrose tells the story with documents made for the film—faux newspaper articles, a death certificate, maps, and architectural plans, as well as film footage of the rustic site and other relevant venues. With its allusions to rallies, Internet harassment, and the abuse of religious occasions, it’s a clear and subtly furious unfolding of the prime political pathology of the times.
“Object Lessons, or: What Happened Whitsunday” is a historically resonant work of documentary drama—drama rooted in fictitious documents. Photograph courtesy Ricky D'Ambrose
Restorations and revivals are also a major part of the festival, and one of the best is in the first week. Joyce Chopra’s 1985 drama “Smooth Talk,” based on a story by Joyce Carol Oates, stars a teen-age Laura Dern as Connie, who lives with her parents (Mary Kay Place and Levon Helm) and older sister (Elizabeth Berridge) in a rustic home in Northern California, far from town. Connie, who’s in the summer between her freshman and sophomore years of high school, is sneaking around with her friends, claiming to be going to movies when they’re actually trying to meet boys (and she’s trying a little harder). Tensions with her family are rising over their efforts to control her actions and supervise her time; her encounters with young men grow increasingly tense and risky, and reach a crisis when she’s stalked and pursued to her home by a man (Treat Williams) whose smooth talk she rightly perceives as a threat of violence. Chopra strikes an astoundingly tactile, intimate vision of Connie’s terror together with the burdens of self-doubt and silence that she endures—and that predators foster. The film’s power is enormous throughout; spare means (long-held closeups, a four-minute take of sisterly confessions) evoke a drama that seems to have been filmed holding its breath.


newyorker--2020-09-17--Are Voters Asking the Wrong Questions About the 2020 Elections?

In an election year , media coverage focusses overwhelmingly on federal elections—races for the Senate , House , and , @ @ @ @ @ .
But , in November , voters across the country will also cast their votes @ @ @ @ @ , officials who exercise enormous power over the lives of their constituents .
Daniel Squadron @ @ @ @ @ and the co-founder of Future Now , joins Dorothy Wickenden to discuss what to expect @ @ @ @ @ 2020 and their power to transform the country .

Photograph by Stephen Maturen / Getty
In an election year, media coverage focusses overwhelmingly on federal elections—races for the Senate, House, and, above all, the Presidency. But, in November, voters across the country will also cast their votes for governors and state legislators, officials who exercise enormous power over the lives of their constituents. Daniel Squadron, a former state senator and the co-founder of Future Now, joins Dorothy Wickenden to discuss what to expect from key state races in 2020 and their power to transform the country.


newyorker--2020-09-17--The 2020 National Book Awards Longlist: Nonfiction

This week , The New Yorker will be announcing the longlists for the 2020 National Book Awards .
So far , we ’ ve presented the lists for Young People ’ s Literature , Translated Literature , and Poetry .
Check back tomorrow morning for Fiction .
This year ’ s longlist for the National Book Award for Nonfiction includes two débuts that intersperse memoir with research and reportage .
At the center of Michelle Bowdler ’ s “ Is Rape a Crime ?
” is the horrific story of her own rape , in 1984 ; what follows is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s failures to investigate and prosecute sexual assaults .
“ The Undocumented Americans , ” by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio , is both an autobiographical project and a story that sweeps across the U.S. Other contenders for the award present frameworks that illuminate the workings of race and other vectors of power .
Isabel Wilkerson offers a new theory of American hierarchy—one that draws from her studies of India and Nazi Germany—in “ Caste : The Origins of Our Discontents.
” Frank B. Wilderson III , the author of “ Afropessimism , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ perpetual slavery , arguing that Black death is foundational to human society .
Two books on the longlist , both works of history , were excerpted in The New Yorker : “ The Dead Are Arising : The Life of Malcolm X , ” by the late journalist Les Payne and his daughter , Tamara Payne , and “ If Then : How the Simulmatics Corporation Invented the Future , ” by the New Yorker staff writer Jill Lepore .
The full list is below .
Jill Lepore , “ If Then : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company Les Payne and Tamara Payne , “ The Dead Are Arising : The Life of Malcolm X ” Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company Claudio Saunt , “ Unworthy Republic : The Dispossession of Native Americans and the Road to Indian Territory ” W. W. Norton & Company Jonathan C. Slaght , “ Owls of the Eastern Ice : A Quest to Find and Save the World ’ s Largest Owl ” Farrar , Straus and Giroux / Macmillan Publishers Jerald Walker , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Essays ” Mad Creek Books / The Ohio State University Press Isabel Wilkerson , “ Caste : The Origins of Our Discontents ” Random House / Penguin Random House The judges for the category this year are James Goodman , a professor at Rutgers University , New York , whose book “ Stories of Scottsboro ” was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize ; Yunte Huang , a professor at University of California , Santa Barbara , whose book “ Inseparable ” was a finalist for a National Book Critics Circle Award ; @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Loyalty Bookstores in Washington , D.C. , and Silver Spring , Maryland ; David Treuer , whose book “ The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee ” was a 2019 finalist for a National Book Award ; and Terry Tempest Williams , the author of “ Erosion : Essays of Undoing ” and a writer-in-residence at Harvard Divinity School .

This week, The New Yorker will be announcing the longlists for the 2020 National Book Awards. So far, we’ve presented the lists for Young People’s Literature, Translated Literature, and Poetry. Check back tomorrow morning for Fiction.
This year’s longlist for the National Book Award for Nonfiction includes two débuts that intersperse memoir with research and reportage. At the center of Michelle Bowdler’s “Is Rape a Crime?” is the horrific story of her own rape, in 1984; what follows is a damning examination of the justice system’s failures to investigate and prosecute sexual assaults. “The Undocumented Americans,” by Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, is both an autobiographical project and a story that sweeps across the U.S.
Other contenders for the award present frameworks that illuminate the workings of race and other vectors of power. Isabel Wilkerson offers a new theory of American hierarchy—one that draws from her studies of India and Nazi Germany—in “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents.” Frank B. Wilderson III, the author of “Afropessimism,” locates Black people in a state of perpetual slavery, arguing that Black death is foundational to human society.
Two books on the longlist, both works of history, were excerpted in The New Yorker: “The Dead Are Arising: The Life of Malcolm X,” by the late journalist Les Payne and his daughter, Tamara Payne, and “If Then: How the Simulmatics Corporation Invented the Future,” by the New Yorker staff writer Jill Lepore. The full list is below.
Michelle Bowdler, “Is Rape a Crime?: A Memoir, an Investigation, and a Manifesto”
Flatiron Books / Macmillan Publishers
Karla Cornejo Villavicencio, “The Undocumented Americans”
One World / Penguin Random House
Jill Lepore, “If Then: How the Simulmatics Corporation Invented the Future”
Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company
Les Payne and Tamara Payne, “The Dead Are Arising: The Life of Malcolm X”
Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company
Claudio Saunt, “Unworthy Republic: The Dispossession of Native Americans and the Road to Indian Territory”
W. W. Norton & Company
Jenn Shapland, “My Autobiography of Carson McCullers”
Tin House Books
Jonathan C. Slaght, “Owls of the Eastern Ice: A Quest to Find and Save the World’s Largest Owl”
Farrar, Straus and Giroux / Macmillan Publishers
Jerald Walker, “How to Make a Slave and Other Essays”
Mad Creek Books / The Ohio State University Press
Frank B. Wilderson III, “Afropessimism”
Liveright / W. W. Norton & Company
Isabel Wilkerson, “Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents”
Random House / Penguin Random House
The judges for the category this year are James Goodman, a professor at Rutgers University, New York, whose book “Stories of Scottsboro” was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize; Yunte Huang, a professor at University of California, Santa Barbara, whose book “Inseparable” was a finalist for a National Book Critics Circle Award; Hannah Oliver Depp, the owner of Loyalty Bookstores in Washington, D.C., and Silver Spring, Maryland; David Treuer, whose book “The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee” was a 2019 finalist for a National Book Award; and Terry Tempest Williams, the author of “Erosion: Essays of Undoing” and a writer-in-residence at Harvard Divinity School.


newyorker--2020-09-17--Roger Angell Turns One Hundred

Roger Angell Turns One Hundred

In March , 1944 , The New Yorker published a very short story called “ Three Ladies in the Morning.
” The author ’ s byline , which came at the end of the piece in those days , was “ Cpl .
Roger Angell.
” Between then and now , a blink of an eye , that same corporal became a generalissimo , a writer , and an editor supremo .
And , on September 19th , we ’ ll put a hundred candles on his cake .
Happy birthday , Rog !
Roger ’ s accomplishment as a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Yorker have been wondrously wide-ranging .
As the magazine ’ s fiction editor , he nurtured talents as varied as William Trevor , Ann Beattie , and Donald Barthelme .
As our birthday mini-anthology makes plain , he is an every-position player .
Over the decades , he has published light verse , palindromes , humor pieces , Talk pieces , Profiles , short stories , book reviews , and personal essays .
He was also , for a stint , the fill-in movie critic at The New Yorker , instantly becoming the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Godard .
Above all , Roger Angell is best known as the bard of baseball ; he was honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame , in Cooperstown , in 2014—alongside his pal and source , Joe Torre .
He had a long career in the press box .
Around the time the Beatles were still playing the Cavern Club , Roger set off for Florida to cover his first spring training .
In those days , the players and managers were willing to spend hours explaining the intricacies of the game to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ what Roger did—at Fenway and Shea , in the Bronx and Chavez Ravine : he listened .
And Roger , a person as complicated as any other , created a fan ’ s voice , a joyous voice , full of exclamation and wonder .
He has always been an ace describer who could portray the great Red Sox starter Luis Tiant “ wheeling and rotating on the mound like a figure in a Bavarian clock tower.
” One thing seems almost unfair : as we celebrate our friend this week , we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gifts .
And some of the very best—some of the best of Roger Angell—is right here .
How do you get published in The New Yorker ?
After six thousand stories in print and a few hundred thousand rejections , our fiction editors are still looking for the answer .
In 1973 , Steve Blass was an extremely successful and useful big-league pitcher .
Then baseball suddenly stopped being fun for him .
The author ’ s début short story in The New Yorker , about two women who encounter a surprising scene @ @ @ @ @ @ @ restaurant .
For E. B.
White ’ s readers and family , a sense of trust came easily .
“ Fair readers , hail !
Now here ’ s a teaser : Who ’ s this pale , familiar geezer Appearing through the mists of time Atop a tow ’ r of creaky rhyme ?
”

Photograph by Neilson Barnard / Getty
In March, 1944, The New Yorker published a very short story called “Three Ladies in the Morning.” The author’s byline, which came at the end of the piece in those days, was “Cpl. Roger Angell.” Between then and now, a blink of an eye, that same corporal became a generalissimo, a writer, and an editor supremo. And, on September 19th, we’ll put a hundred candles on his cake. Happy birthday, Rog!
Roger’s accomplishment as a writer and his contributions to The New Yorker have been wondrously wide-ranging. As the magazine’s fiction editor, he nurtured talents as varied as William Trevor, Ann Beattie, and Donald Barthelme. As our birthday mini-anthology makes plain, he is an every-position player. Over the decades, he has published light verse, palindromes, humor pieces, Talk pieces, Profiles, short stories, book reviews, and personal essays. He was also, for a stint, the fill-in movie critic at The New Yorker, instantly becoming the favorite of the famously grumpy director Jean-Luc Godard.
Above all, Roger Angell is best known as the bard of baseball; he was honored by the Baseball Hall of Fame, in Cooperstown, in 2014—alongside his pal and source, Joe Torre. He had a long career in the press box. Around the time the Beatles were still playing the Cavern Club, Roger set off for Florida to cover his first spring training. In those days, the players and managers were willing to spend hours explaining the intricacies of the game to a sympathetic listener. And that is what Roger did—at Fenway and Shea, in the Bronx and Chavez Ravine: he listened. And Roger, a person as complicated as any other, created a fan’s voice, a joyous voice, full of exclamation and wonder. He has always been an ace describer who could portray the great Red Sox starter Luis Tiant “wheeling and rotating on the mound like a figure in a Bavarian clock tower.” One thing seems almost unfair: as we celebrate our friend this week, we, his readers, get the best gifts. And some of the very best—some of the best of Roger Angell—is right here.
Photograph by Mark Rucker / Transcendental Graphics / Getty
Boyhood memories of baseball.
How do you get published in The New Yorker? After six thousand stories in print and a few hundred thousand rejections, our fiction editors are still looking for the answer.
Photograph by Brigitte Lacombe
Life in the nineties.
Photograph from AP / Shutterstock
In 1973, Steve Blass was an extremely successful and useful big-league pitcher. Then baseball suddenly stopped being fun for him.
The author’s début short story in The New Yorker, about two women who encounter a surprising scene over their morning coffee at a hotel restaurant.
For E. B. White’s readers and family, a sense of trust came easily.
The game belongs to Bob Gibson.
Photograph by Ruven Afanador
The ultimate cocktail, down cold.
“Fair readers, hail! Now here’s a teaser:
Who’s this pale, familiar geezer
Appearing through the mists of time
Atop a tow’r of creaky rhyme?”


newyorker--2020-09-17--When James Baldwin Went South

When James Baldwin Went South

In 1979 , James Baldwin approached The New Yorker with an idea for a long essay : he would travel to the cities in the South that were central to the civil-rights struggle—Selma , Birmingham , Atlanta , and elsewhere—and consider what the fallen heroes of the movement , including Martin Luther King , Jr. , and Malcolm X , would make of the world that had and hadn ’ t emerged after their deaths .
The project soon swelled into a proposal for a book that would be called “ Remember This House , ” which Hilton Als refers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ does not want to write but knows he must write.
” Neither the essay nor the book was ever published .
Instead , what came out of Baldwin ’ s trip was the documentary “ I Heard It Through the Grapevine , ” directed by Dick Fontaine and Pat Hartley and released in 1982 , which tells a story not of the dead but of those who lived to see many of the gains of the movement undone by an increasingly punitive criminal-justice system and the rise of Reaganism .
( The Harvard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a digital release early next year . )
In the video above—which includes footage from the documentary—the filmmakers , along with the historians Jill Lepore , Elizabeth Hinton , and Eddie S. Glaude , Jr. , reflect on the conditions of the country in the early nineteen-eighties , and on Baldwin ’ s own somber summation of what he saw .
“ It is very bitter to have fought so hard for the vote , only to enter the system and realize there is nothing to vote for , ” Baldwin says at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that nobody wanted to see the film , ” Hartley says , of its initial release .
“ Nobody wanted to know that nothing was actually achieved.
” Yet , along with its sharply critical appraisal of the moment , the film contains sparks of fire , as when Baldwin meets with the activist Oretha Castle Haley , whose description of racist policing and the politics that enables it is especially resonant in our current era .
Or when Baldwin stands down a racist heckler , who attempts to prevent him from giving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will continue , even under the threat of violence or assassination .
Of Baldwin ’ s courage and resolve , Fontaine recalls , “ He would not be stopped by anything .
”

In 1979, James Baldwin approached The New Yorker with an idea for a long essay: he would travel to the cities in the South that were central to the civil-rights struggle—Selma, Birmingham, Atlanta, and elsewhere—and consider what the fallen heroes of the movement, including Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X, would make of the world that had and hadn’t emerged after their deaths. The project soon swelled into a proposal for a book that would be called “Remember This House,” which Hilton Als refers to as “a book that he does not want to write but knows he must write.” Neither the essay nor the book was ever published. Instead, what came out of Baldwin’s trip was the documentary “I Heard It Through the Grapevine,” directed by Dick Fontaine and Pat Hartley and released in 1982, which tells a story not of the dead but of those who lived to see many of the gains of the movement undone by an increasingly punitive criminal-justice system and the rise of Reaganism. (The Harvard Film Archive is restoring the documentary for a digital release early next year.)
In the video above—which includes footage from the documentary—the filmmakers, along with the historians Jill Lepore, Elizabeth Hinton, and Eddie S. Glaude, Jr., reflect on the conditions of the country in the early nineteen-eighties, and on Baldwin’s own somber summation of what he saw. “It is very bitter to have fought so hard for the vote, only to enter the system and realize there is nothing to vote for,” Baldwin says at one point. “You should know that nobody wanted to see the film,” Hartley says, of its initial release. “Nobody wanted to know that nothing was actually achieved.”
Yet, along with its sharply critical appraisal of the moment, the film contains sparks of fire, as when Baldwin meets with the activist Oretha Castle Haley, whose description of racist policing and the politics that enables it is especially resonant in our current era. Or when Baldwin stands down a racist heckler, who attempts to prevent him from giving a speech, and declares that he will continue, even under the threat of violence or assassination. Of Baldwin’s courage and resolve, Fontaine recalls, “He would not be stopped by anything.”


newyorker--2020-09-17--How Boeing and the F.A.A. Created the 737 MAX Catastrophe

The basic outlines of the Boeing 737 MAX tragedy are already well known—or should be well known .
Even so , a detailed new report that the House Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure released on Wednesday morning is a remarkable document .
In two hundred and thirty-eight pages of clearly written prose , it goes a long way toward explaining not only what went so wrong at Boeing but what has gone badly askew with the American corporation in general , and with American governance .
With the connivance of the Federal Aviation Administration , Boeing developed , built , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ were a potential danger to anyone who stepped onto them .
It wasn ’ t until after there had been two deadly crashes , which killed three hundred and forty-six people , that the U.S. government grounded these planes .
Even then , Boeing claimed it had done nothing wrong .
In fact , it had rushed an unsafe passenger plane into service , failing to alert its airline customers and their flight crews to the existence of a new piece of safety software that could override the pilots and push down the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as a Maneuvering Characteristics Augmentation System , or MCAS—was designed to head off possible stalls , but it also had the potential to cause a catastrophe .
Thanks to the official crash reports and some excellent investigative journalism , this much we already knew .
Based on an eighteen-month investigation , the new report adds a wealth of new details—and it points the finger in the right places .
It illustrates how Boeing ’ s management prioritized the company ’ s profitability and stock price over everything else , including passenger safety .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ shows how the F.A.A.
, which once had a sterling reputation for independence and integrity , acted as a virtual agent for the company it was supposed to be overseeing .
In 2011 , when Boeing ’ s board of directors approved the development of the 737 MAX , the company was racing to compete with Airbus ’ s A320neo , an innovative and fuel-efficient line of aircraft that had been launched the previous year .
Rather than developing a new plane from scratch , which is costly and time consuming , Boeing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the firm ’ s workhorse 737 , push its design features to the limit , and rush the refreshed model into production .
The pressure to match the A320neo “ resulted in extensive efforts to cut costs , maintain the 737 MAX program schedule , and avoid slowing the 737 MAX production line , ” the report says .
It also details several instances “ where the desire to meet these goals and expectations jeopardized the safety of the flying public.
” In 2013 , for example , a Boeing engineer suggested installing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 737 MAX ’ s single external speed sensor , the faulty operation of which is suspected of triggering the MCAS in the two deadly crashes : Lion Air Flight 610 , on October 29 , 2018 , and Ethiopian Airlines Flight 302 , on March 10 , 2019 .
The engineer ’ s request “ was rejected by Boeing management due to cost concerns and because adding synthetic airspeed could have jeopardized the 737 MAX program ’ s directive to avoid pilot simulator training requirements , ” the report says .
If Boeing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ need extensive retraining to fly the new planes , including instruction on how to react to an activation of the MCAS , the airlines might have been less eager to order them .
Not only did Boeing neglect to inform the airlines about the new feature , but it removed any references to the MCAS from the operations manual that pilots of the 737 MAX relied on .
One reason that the F.A.A .
and other regulatory bodies exist is to prevent the companies they oversee from cutting corners .
But the report @ @ @ @ @ @ @ installation of the MCAS and the reliance on a single speed sensor .
The agency also didn ’ t object to Boeing ’ s removing an explanation of the mcas from the 737 MAX operations manual .
“ As a result , 737 MAX pilots were precluded from knowing of the existence of MCAS and its potential effect on aircraft handling without pilot command , ” the report notes .
In the cases of the two deadly crashes , the pilots lost control of their aircrafts after the MCAS engaged .
How could @ @ @ @ @ @ @ errors ?
The report points to the agency ’ s practice of delegating some of its inspection functions to Boeing ’ s own engineers , noting that this structure “ creates inherent conflicts of interest that have jeopardized the safety of the flying public.
” It lambasts the F.A.A.
’ s top officials , saying they “ undercut the authority and judgment of its own technical experts and sided with Boeing on design issues that failed to adequately address safety issues and appear to have violated FAA regulations or guidance , in some @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the F.A.A .
allowed the 737 MAX to keep flying for another five months , even though an internal review concluded that “ without a fix to MCAS , during the lifetime of the 737 MAX fleet , there could potentially be 15 additional fatal crashes resulting in over 2,900 deaths.
” This looks like a classic case of regulatory capture , in which a powerful company came to dominate the agency that was supposed to be overseeing it .
The report quotes an internal F.A.A .
survey , which found that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ safety arm believed that its leaders were “ overly concerned with achieving the business-oriented outcomes of industry stakeholders.
” Ultimately , the F.A.A.
’ s leadership failed in its duty to protect the flying public .
Most culpable of all are Boeing ’ s top executives , who encouraged the managers of the 737 MAX project to rush the plane into production and service .
For many decades , Boeing was primarily an engineering company .
It dates back to 1915 , when William Boeing , the company ’ s founder , built @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Seattle .
Today , Boeing is a global holding company , based in Chicago , where it moved in 2001 ; the commercial-aircraft division is just one of three business units , all of which are financially driven .
Jerry Useem , a veteran business writer , argued in The Atlantic , last year , that the 737 MAX calamity can be traced back to Boeing ’ s move from Seattle , and the decision to “ divorce itself from the firm ’ s own culture.
” That diagnosis was right , as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ goes beyond Boeing .
The ultimate cause of the disaster was the drive to raise profits at any cost—and the cult of the stock price , to which so many venerable companies have conceded .
As is now standard in corporate America , Boeing ’ s top executives received vast compensation packages that were tied to the company ’ s profitability and stock price .
In 2018 alone , Dennis Muilenburg , who was then Boeing ’ s chairman and chief executive , took home $ 23.4 million in compensation , including $ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ $ 7.3 million in stock .
The mind-set of prioritizing the bottom line and the firm ’ s stock price permeated the top management .
As a reward for “ keeping to the MAX ’ s production schedule , Boeing gave Michael Teal , the former Chief Project Engineer on the 737 MAX program , restricted stock options after the airplane ’ s first flight in 2016 , ” the new congressional report notes .
In the spring of 2018 , when Boeing published its annual report for the previous year , it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ training aircraft and the tagline : “ 2017 Top Dow Performer.
” Months later , Lion Air Flight 610 plunged into the Java Sea .

The basic outlines of the Boeing 737 MAX tragedy are already well known—or should be well known. Even so, a detailed new report that the House Committee on Transportation and Infrastructure released on Wednesday morning is a remarkable document. In two hundred and thirty-eight pages of clearly written prose, it goes a long way toward explaining not only what went so wrong at Boeing but what has gone badly askew with the American corporation in general, and with American governance.
With the connivance of the Federal Aviation Administration, Boeing developed, built, and delivered hundreds of passenger jets that were a potential danger to anyone who stepped onto them. It wasn’t until after there had been two deadly crashes, which killed three hundred and forty-six people, that the U.S. government grounded these planes. Even then, Boeing claimed it had done nothing wrong. In fact, it had rushed an unsafe passenger plane into service, failing to alert its airline customers and their flight crews to the existence of a new piece of safety software that could override the pilots and push down the nose of the plane. This software—known as a Maneuvering Characteristics Augmentation System, or MCAS—was designed to head off possible stalls, but it also had the potential to cause a catastrophe.
Thanks to the official crash reports and some excellent investigative journalism, this much we already knew. Based on an eighteen-month investigation, the new report adds a wealth of new details—and it points the finger in the right places. It illustrates how Boeing’s management prioritized the company’s profitability and stock price over everything else, including passenger safety. Perhaps even more alarmingly, the report shows how the F.A.A., which once had a sterling reputation for independence and integrity, acted as a virtual agent for the company it was supposed to be overseeing.
In 2011, when Boeing’s board of directors approved the development of the 737 MAX, the company was racing to compete with Airbus’s A320neo, an innovative and fuel-efficient line of aircraft that had been launched the previous year. Rather than developing a new plane from scratch, which is costly and time consuming, Boeing’s top managers decided to enlarge the firm’s workhorse 737, push its design features to the limit, and rush the refreshed model into production. The pressure to match the A320neo “resulted in extensive efforts to cut costs, maintain the 737 MAX program schedule, and avoid slowing the 737 MAX production line,” the report says. It also details several instances “where the desire to meet these goals and expectations jeopardized the safety of the flying public.”
In 2013, for example, a Boeing engineer suggested installing a computer-based airspeed indicator to supplement the 737 MAX’s single external speed sensor. The engineer’s request “was rejected by Boeing management due to cost concerns and because adding synthetic airspeed could have jeopardized the 737 MAX program’s directive to avoid pilot simulator training requirements,” the report says. If Boeing had told airlines that their pilots would need extensive retraining to fly the new planes, including instruction on how to react to an activation of the MCAS, the airlines might have been less eager to order them. Not only did Boeing neglect to inform the airlines about the MCAS, but it removed any references to it from the operations manual that pilots of the 737 MAX relied on.
One reason that the F.A.A. and other regulatory bodies exist is to prevent the companies they oversee from cutting corners. But the report details how the F.A.A. approved the installation of the MCAS and the reliance on a single speed sensor. The agency also didn’t object to Boeing’s removing an explanation of the MCAS from the 737 MAX operations manual. “As a result, 737 MAX pilots were precluded from knowing of the existence of MCAS and its potential effect on aircraft handling without pilot command,” the report notes. In the cases of the two deadly crashes, the pilots lost control of their aircrafts after the MCAS engaged.
How could the F.A.A. have made such egregious errors? The report points to the agency’s practice of delegating some of its inspection functions to Boeing’s own engineers, noting that this structure “creates inherent conflicts of interest that have jeopardized the safety of the flying public.” It lambasts the F.A.A.’s top officials, saying they “undercut the authority and judgment of its own technical experts and sided with Boeing on design issues that failed to adequately address safety issues and appear to have violated FAA regulations or guidance, in some instances.” After the first crash, the F.A.A. allowed the 737 MAX to keep flying for another five months, even though an internal review concluded that “without a fix to MCAS, during the lifetime of the 737 MAX fleet, there could potentially be 15 additional fatal crashes resulting in over 2,900 deaths.”
This looks like a classic case of regulatory capture, in which a powerful company came to dominate the agency that was supposed to be overseeing it. The report quotes an internal F.A.A. survey, which found that many employees of the agency’s safety arm believed that its leaders were “overly concerned with achieving the business-oriented outcomes of industry stakeholders.” Ultimately, the F.A.A.’s leadership failed in its duty to protect the flying public.
Most culpable of all are Boeing’s top executives, who encouraged the managers of the 737 MAX project to rush the plane into production and service. For many decades, Boeing was primarily an engineering company. It dates back to 1915, when William Boeing, the company’s founder, built a hangar beside Lake Union, in Seattle. Today, Boeing is a global holding company, based in Chicago, where it moved in 2001; the commercial-aircraft division is just one of three business units, all of which are financially driven. Jerry Useem, a veteran business writer, argued in The Atlantic, last year, that the 737 MAX calamity can be traced back to Boeing’s move from Seattle, and the decision to “divorce itself from the firm’s own culture.”
That diagnosis was right, as far as it went, but this goes beyond Boeing. The ultimate cause of the disaster was the drive to raise profits at any cost—and the cult of the stock price, to which so many venerable companies have conceded.
As is now standard in corporate America, Boeing’s top executives received vast compensation packages that were tied to the company’s profitability and stock price. In 2018 alone, Dennis Muilenburg, who was then Boeing’s chairman and chief executive, took home $23.4 million in compensation, including $13.1 million in profit-related incentive payments and $7.3 million in stock. The mind-set of prioritizing the bottom line and the firm’s stock price permeated the top management. As a reward for “keeping to the MAX’s production schedule, Boeing gave Michael Teal, the former Chief Project Engineer on the 737 MAX program, restricted stock options after the airplane’s first flight in 2016,” the new congressional report notes.
In the spring of 2018, when Boeing published its annual report for the previous year, it displayed on the cover two of its training aircraft and the tagline: “2017 Top Dow Performer.” Months later, Lion Air Flight 610 plunged into the Java Sea.
A previous version of this piece misidentified the sensor responsible for triggering two crashes involving Boeing 737 MAX aircraft.


newyorker--2020-09-17--Trump Claims Dog Ate His Health-Care Plan

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Donald J. Trump ’ s promise to release a long-delayed health-care plan hit a snag when his dog ate the only existing copy of the plan , the President disclosed .
“ I left the plan on my desk , and somehow the dog got up there and ate it , ” he said .
“ It ’ s a bad dog , quite frankly.
” Trump ’ s explanation met with raised eyebrows from the White House press corps , none of whom had been previously aware that the President had a dog @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Trump said , “ It has , you know , paws , and fur , and that head that dogs have .
It ’ s a very basic dog that you would see.
” Pressed to reveal the dog ’ s name , Trump said , “ I didn ’ t name it , because I don ’ t name dogs unless they do a good job .
I ’ m not like Obama , who named every dog he got .
I wish Obama ’ s dog had eaten Obamacare .
We @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” The White House press secretary , Kayleigh McEnany , later announced that Trump ’ s dog would be taking an indefinite leave of absence .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Donald J. Trump’s promise to release a long-delayed health-care plan hit a snag when his dog ate the only existing copy of the plan, the President disclosed.
“I left the plan on my desk, and somehow the dog got up there and ate it,” he said. “It’s a bad dog, quite frankly.”
Trump’s explanation met with raised eyebrows from the White House press corps, none of whom had been previously aware that the President had a dog.
Asked to describe the dog, Trump said, “It has, you know, paws, and fur, and that head that dogs have. It’s a very basic dog that you would see.”
Pressed to reveal the dog’s name, Trump said, “I didn’t name it, because I don’t name dogs unless they do a good job. I’m not like Obama, who named every dog he got. I wish Obama’s dog had eaten Obamacare. We wouldn’t be in this mess.”
The White House press secretary, Kayleigh McEnany, later announced that Trump’s dog would be taking an indefinite leave of absence.


newyorker--2020-09-17--The 2020 National Book Awards Longlist: Poetry

This week , The New Yorker will be announcing the longlists for the 2020 National Book Awards .
On Wednesday , we presented the lists for Young People ’ s Literature and Translated Literature .
Check back this afternoon for Nonfiction .
“ The Age of Phillis , ” a poetry collection by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers , reimagines the life of Phillis Wheatley , a Black poet who achieved literary stardom as an enslaved young woman in colonial Boston .
Though Wheatley , who died in 1784 , left behind a sizable body of work , much of her biography @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Margaretta Matilda Odell—a white woman who claimed to be a descendant of Susanna Wheatley , the woman who enslaved the poet .
“ The Age of Phillis , ” the product of several years of research in Massachusetts archives , “ undoes the whitewashing of Phillis ’ s story , ” Elizabeth Winkler writes .
“ In some of the poems , language is bracketed and crossed out—a way of representing , through style , Phillis ’ s elisions , everything she could not say.
” “ The Age of Phillis ” is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s National Book Award in Poetry .
It is one of several contenders that observes the violence of empire and excavates histories that have been forgotten or erased .
Anthony Cody investigates omissions in the historical record in his collection “ Borderland Apocrypha , ” Natalie Diaz subverts a traditional form in “ Postcolonial Love Poem , ” and Don Mee Choi uses translation as a tool for disobedience in “ DMZ Colony , ” a collection that explores the Korean Demilitarized Zone .
The full list is below .
Tommye Blount , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Four Way Books The judges for the category this year are Rigoberto González , a former Guggenheim Fellow who directs the creative-writing M.F.A .
program at Rutgers-Newark ; Diana Khoi Nguyen , whose collection “ Ghost Of ” was a finalist for the 2018 National Book Award ; Elizabeth Willis , whose collection “ Alive ” was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize ; John Hennessy , who directs the undergraduate creative-writing program at the University of Massachusetts , Amherst ; and Layli Long Soldier , whose collection “ Whereas ” was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Award .

This week, The New Yorker will be announcing the longlists for the 2020 National Book Awards. On Wednesday, we presented the lists for Young People’s Literature and Translated Literature. Check back this afternoon for Nonfiction.
“The Age of Phillis,” a poetry collection by Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, reimagines the life of Phillis Wheatley, a Black poet who achieved literary stardom as an enslaved young woman in Colonial Boston. Though Wheatley, who died in 1784, left behind a sizable body of work, much of her biography has been recovered from the memoir of Margaretta Matilda Odell—a white woman who claimed to be a descendant of Susanna Wheatley, the woman who enslaved the poet. “The Age of Phillis,” the product of several years of research in Massachusetts archives, “undoes the whitewashing of Phillis’s story,” Elizabeth Winkler writes. “In some of the poems, language is bracketed and crossed out—a way of representing, through style, Phillis’s elisions, everything she could not say.”
“The Age of Phillis” is on the longlist for this year’s National Book Award in Poetry. It is one of several contenders that observes the violence of empire and excavates histories that have been forgotten or erased. Anthony Cody investigates omissions in the historical record in his collection “Borderland Apocrypha,” Natalie Diaz subverts a traditional form in “Postcolonial Love Poem,” and Don Mee Choi uses translation as a tool for disobedience in “DMZ Colony,” a collection that explores the Korean Demilitarized Zone. The full list is below.
Rick Barot, “The Galleons”
Milkweed Editions
Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, “A Treatise on Stars”
New Directions
Lillian-Yvonne Bertram, “Travesty Generator”
Noemi Press
Tommye Blount, “Fantasia for the Man in Blue”
Four Way Books
Victoria Chang, “Obit”
Copper Canyon Press
Don Mee Choi, “DMZ Colony”
Wave Books
Anthony Cody, “Borderland Apocrypha”
Omnidawn Publishing
Eduardo C. Corral, “Guillotine”
Graywolf Press
Natalie Diaz, “Postcolonial Love Poem”
Graywolf Press
Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, “The Age of Phillis”
Wesleyan University Press
The judges for the category this year are Rigoberto González, a former Guggenheim Fellow who directs the creative-writing M.F.A. program at Rutgers-Newark; Diana Khoi Nguyen, whose collection “Ghost Of” was a finalist for the 2018 National Book Award; Elizabeth Willis, whose collection “Alive” was a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize; John Hennessy, who directs the undergraduate creative-writing program at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst; and Layli Long Soldier, whose collection “Whereas” was a finalist for the 2017 National Book Award.


newyorker--2020-09-17--College Dean’s Message About Last Night’s Heavy-Breathing Party

It has come to my attention that , last night , a large group of first-years selfishly put at risk the very thing that so many of you want from Ponderosa University—namely , an in-person , residential college experience .
We knew there ’ d be risks returning to campus during a pandemic , and that ’ s why you all signed the updated Code of Conduct , which enumerates our latest safety protocols .
However , it seems that the administration didn ’ t adequately anticipate the full range of possible student recreational activities .
So let me be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , all so-called heavy-breathing parties are officially banned .
Although a few decades have elapsed since I graced the hallowed pathways of Ponderosa U. as a student , it was still quite a shock to learn that heavy breathing in close proximity to one ’ s peers could be considered a pleasurable pastime .
The very notion that first-year students would find it fun to gather in a small room , stand very close to one another , and , as campus security described the scene , “ rapidly breathe back and forth @ @ @ @ @ @ @ confounds me .
Then again , I don ’ t get TikTok , either .
But I do get this : breathing so fast in someone else ’ s face that you hyperventilate might be fun in the short term to some , but it presents a long-term risk to all .
Regrettably , I received a second report , about how , after the heavy-breathing party was shut down , an additional group of first-year students gathered on the quad to participate in a game of “ Share the Backwash.
” I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the details of this game ’ s bizarre rules ; suffice it to say that any drinking game which involves an entire keg of beer and thirty students but somehow only one red Solo cup is a severe safety violation .
For the love of hygiene , I am begging you to control yourselves .
And , yes , I must also address the other incident that occurred even later in the evening with an even larger group of first-year students in an even smaller space .
Our investigation into who organized the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Party ” in the basement of Quenton Hall is ongoing .
That basement is not well ventilated , even at the best of times .
Turning it into a moist environment where people are shouting song lyrics into a shared microphone ?
Totally irresponsible .
You would have been better off just sharing a beer bong .
( Speaking of which , please stop sharing beer bongs .
I may be old , but I know how to search # SharedBeerBongChallenge on Instagram . )
We are also preëmptively banning the following activities @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , manual beach-ball-inflation relays , two-lick touch football , and improv-comedy troupes ( not because of COVID-19—it ’ s just time ) .
Given what we saw on campus last night , I am strongly considering making classes online only and sending you all home .
But , for now , I ’ ll leave it at this : a stern warning , which is the harshest type of warning that our Board of Overseers allows me to give .

Dear students,
It has come to my attention that, last night, a large group of first-years selfishly put at risk the very thing that so many of you want from Ponderosa University—namely, an in-person, residential college experience. We knew there’d be risks returning to campus during a pandemic, and that’s why you all signed the updated Code of Conduct, which enumerates our latest safety protocols. However, it seems that the administration didn’t adequately anticipate the full range of possible student recreational activities. So let me be very clear: from this point onward, all so-called heavy-breathing parties are officially banned.
Although a few decades have elapsed since I graced the hallowed pathways of Ponderosa U. as a student, it was still quite a shock to learn that heavy breathing in close proximity to one’s peers could be considered a pleasurable pastime. The very notion that first-year students would find it fun to gather in a small room, stand very close to one another, and, as campus security described the scene, “rapidly breathe back and forth into each other’s mouths” confounds me.
Then again, I don’t get TikTok, either. But I do get this: breathing so fast in someone else’s face that you hyperventilate might be fun in the short term to some, but it presents a long-term risk to all.
Regrettably, I received a second report, about how, after the heavy-breathing party was shut down, an additional group of first-year students gathered on the quad to participate in a game of “Share the Backwash.” I don’t need to go into the details of this game’s bizarre rules; suffice it to say that any drinking game which involves an entire keg of beer and thirty students but somehow only one red Solo cup is a severe safety violation. For the love of hygiene, I am begging you to control yourselves.
And, yes, I must also address the other incident that occurred even later in the evening with an even larger group of first-year students in an even smaller space. Our investigation into who organized the combination “Screaming Karaoke Plus Foam Dance Party” in the basement of Quenton Hall is ongoing. That basement is not well ventilated, even at the best of times. Turning it into a moist environment where people are shouting song lyrics into a shared microphone? Totally irresponsible. You would have been better off just sharing a beer bong. (Speaking of which, please stop sharing beer bongs. I may be old, but I know how to search #SharedBeerBongChallenge on Instagram.)
We are also preëmptively banning the following activities: mud-pit kissing booths, face-to-face streaking, manual beach-ball-inflation relays, two-lick touch football, and improv-comedy troupes (not because of COVID-19—it’s just time).
Given what we saw on campus last night, I am strongly considering making classes online only and sending you all home. But, for now, I’ll leave it at this: a stern warning, which is the harshest type of warning that our Board of Overseers allows me to give.
Sincerely,
P. James Radkowski
Dean of First-Year Student Life


newyorker--2020-09-17--Zoom Fatigue and the New Ways to Party

Zoom Fatigue and the New Ways to Party

Many months ago , when Zoom had just become a verb ( I Zoom ; you Zoom ; we all Zoom ) , I learned several unflattering things about myself at once .
First , I found my own face on Zoom calls riveting .
Second , I missed gossip .
Not malicious gossip , necessarily , just the friendly , meet-me-in-the-kitchen , eyebrows-raised-over-a-drink kind .
The socialite Jordan Baker , an expert slinker in “ The Great Gatsby , ” put it best : “ I like large parties .
They ’ re so intimate.
” At a Zoom @ @ @ @ @ @ @ kitchen , and everything said must be sanctioned by the group .
( The chat function doesn ’ t cut it . )
There are no whispered asides and no eavesdropping .
You can ’ t slink on Zoom .
You can ’ t sidle up to someone and say , “ Bachelor ” -style , “ Can I steal him for a sec ?
” Even a large party on Zoom has no intimacy , and little to no intrigue .
Like “ social distancing , ” “ flatten the curve , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the past several months , “ Zoom fatigue ” has joined our pandemic lexicon .
Jeremy Bailenson , the founding director of the Virtual Human Interaction Lab at Stanford University , was one of the first to write about it , way back in April , in a Wall Street Journal editorial titled “ Why Zoom Meetings Can Exhaust Us.
” California had been in lockdown for a few weeks , and he found himself on Zoom calls eight or nine hours a day .
At the end of the week , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ journalist .
“ I ’ ve done interviews for the BBC for two decades , probably a couple dozen of them , and I ’ ve never once had anyone ask for a Skype call—we ’ ve always done audio only , ” he told me recently .
“ Halfway through the interview , I said , ‘ Why are we using Zoom for this ?
’ ” We were speaking , at Bailenson ’ s request , over Zoom .
He had answered my call as he often answers video calls these @ @ @ @ @ @ @ place of a live image of his face .
Bailenson ’ s avatar has brown hair and wide , expressive eyes .
He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks , and smiled politely at me .
“ I really like this for a few reasons , ” Bailenson ’ s avatar said .
“ I can talk to you right now and it ’ s tracking my smiles , and I can look at you , and I can nod and have all my real gestures.
” The avatar spread his hands @ @ @ @ @ @ @ moment when I just want to listen , I can go into what we like to call ‘ listen mode.
’ ” His avatar suddenly became even more attentive , bobbing his head and blinking sympathetically .
I felt I could tell him anything .
Then Bailenson switched to normal video , revealing himself in a T-shirt and shorts , reclined dramatically in his office chair .
“ I ’ m actually listening to you and paying attention , ” he said , “ but I ’ m freed from this prison of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an hour straight , hunching my back over.
” Bailenson has argued that Zoom and other video platforms cause users to experience “ nonverbal overload.
” On video calls , faces appear much larger than they would in real life , creating the impression that you are very close—too close—to one another .
( Everyone ’ s a close talker on Zoom . )
Then there ’ s the fact , often remarked upon , that on Zoom you ’ re always on .
In real life , when members of a group @ @ @ @ @ @ @ re looking at the speaker , “ or they ’ re looking down , or they ’ re looking at their notes .
What they ’ re not doing is staring at you the whole time , ” Bailenson said .
“ On Zoom , every single person gets stared at for one hundred per cent of the time .
Do you realize what an insane design decision that is ?
” ( I recalled a Zoom birthday party during which I had guiltily turned off my camera for a few minutes to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ So , how do you throw a virtual party that isn ’ t a bust ?
Several apps are trying to solve this problem .
Bailenson ’ s well-mannered avatar comes from Loom.ai , a company founded by former Hollywood animators .
There are also virtual-reality worlds , like VRChat , Rec Room , and Mozilla Hubs , where you can wander around , play games , and generally exist in a metaverse .
( This year , in response to covid-19 , Burning Man moved online , to AltspaceVR , where designers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Temple , and a globally distributed Man Burn.
” Its Web site reads , “ You ’ re encouraged to think of the multiverse as multiple parallel realities , splintered off by the hammer of circumstance.
” ) Then , there are programs that try to replicate group dynamics in other ways .
Clubhouse , a predictably clubby , invite-only app full of celebrities and networking venture capitalists , lets users drop into different audio conversations .
( Recently , on Clubhouse , the productivity guru Tim Ferriss participated in a discussion about @ @ @ @ @ @ @ new platform , has branded itself “ the world ’ s first fully virtual coffee shop ” and randomly pairs people from Twitter—mostly tech workers—for one-on-one video chats .
( A “ founder ” might meet a “ maker , ” for instance . )
In “ Together mode ” on Microsoft Teams , cutouts of each user are placed side by side in a virtual auditorium , meeting room , or café , like highly collaborative paper dolls .
One recent launch that has gained some traction is High Fidelity , an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I heard about it from Richard Swan , the director of London City Voices , a community choir in London .
Members of the choir normally meet several evenings a week to sing ; afterward , they ’ ll go to a local pub .
But Swan ’ s choir hasn ’ t met in person since March .
Their rehearsals now take place , creakingly , over Zoom , and then they switch to High Fidelity for a drink or two .
“ It ’ s the closest thing to a proper @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to have , ” he told me .
In June , he threw a birthday party on High Fidelity for forty guests , with tinkling piano music , effusive greetings , and awkward goodbyes .
“ It ’ s like being in a pub !
” someone said .
Users on High Fidelity appear as colored dots .
The standard background is a bird ’ s-eye view of a large villa , complete with dining room , pool , cozy sofa area , and dance floor .
( There are other backgrounds—an outdoor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for instance—and you can create your own . )
You move your dot around the space using a mouse or your laptop ’ s arrow keys .
The delightful part is the audio : it ’ s 3-D and spatialized .
This means that , as you navigate a crowded High Fidelity space , you ’ ll hear different groups talking at the same time and at different volumes , depending on your location .
You can speak to someone privately , by the pixelated hedges , or join a group of three @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in theory , tell a witty anecdote in the lounge , and then repeat the same one in the garden , and no one would know .
The other day , I met Philip Rosedale , the co-founder of High Fidelity , in the platform ’ s virtual villa .
His dot included a tiny photo of himself smiling ; we settled , as much as a dot can settle , into cream-colored armchairs .
“ You sound great , ” he told me .
Rosedale is best known as the creator @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which launched in 2003 .
In it , users appear as Sims-style avatars and have an enormous amount of freedom .
You can purchase land , enroll in a course , open a clothing shop , or dance the Charleston in an elaborate replica of nineteen-twenties Berlin .
Six years ago , Rosedale began working on High Fidelity , which he imagined would take place in virtual reality and require a V.R .
headset .
As it turned out , V.R .
headsets never quite caught on ( “ They were just bad @ @ @ @ @ @ @ High Fidelity scrapped everything but the sound in January , 2019 .
Then the pandemic hit , and interest in the platform ballooned ; they released a free beta version in May .

Many months ago, when Zoom had just become a verb (I Zoom; you Zoom; we all Zoom), I learned several unflattering things about myself at once. First, I found my own face on Zoom calls riveting. Second, I missed gossip. Not malicious gossip, necessarily, just the friendly, meet-me-in-the-kitchen, eyebrows-raised-over-a-drink kind. The socialite Jordan Baker, an expert slinker in “The Great Gatsby,” put it best: “I like large parties. They’re so intimate.” At a Zoom cocktail party, there’s no kitchen, and everything said must be sanctioned by the group. (The chat function doesn’t cut it.) There are no whispered asides and no eavesdropping. You can’t slink on Zoom. You can’t sidle up to someone and say, “Bachelor”-style, “Can I steal him for a sec?” Even a large party on Zoom has no intimacy, and little to no intrigue.
Like “social distancing,” “flatten the curve,” and “covidiot,” in the past several months “Zoom fatigue” has joined our pandemic lexicon. Jeremy Bailenson, the founding director of the Virtual Human Interaction Lab at Stanford University, was one of the first to write about it, way back in April, in a Wall Street Journal editorial titled “Why Zoom Meetings Can Exhaust Us.” California had been in lockdown for a few weeks, and he found himself on Zoom calls eight or nine hours a day. At the end of the week, he had a Zoom interview with a BBC journalist. “I’ve done interviews for the BBC for two decades, probably a couple dozen of them, and I’ve never once had anyone ask for a Skype call—we’ve always done audio only,” he told me recently. “Halfway through the interview, I said, ‘Why are we using Zoom for this?’ ”
We were speaking, at Bailenson’s request, over Zoom. He had answered my call as he often answers video calls these days: with a 3-D avatar in place of a live image of his face. Bailenson’s avatar has brown hair and wide, expressive eyes. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and smiled politely at me. “I really like this for a few reasons,” Bailenson’s avatar said. “I can talk to you right now and it’s tracking my smiles, and I can look at you, and I can nod and have all my real gestures.” The avatar spread his hands wide. “But, in a moment when I just want to listen, I can go into what we like to call ‘listen mode.’ ” His avatar suddenly became even more attentive, bobbing his head and blinking sympathetically. I felt I could tell him anything. Then Bailenson switched to normal video, revealing himself in a T-shirt and shorts, reclined dramatically in his office chair. “I’m actually listening to you and paying attention,” he said, “but I’m freed from this prison of having to sit near the camera for an hour straight, hunching my back over.”
Bailenson has argued that Zoom and other video platforms cause users to experience “nonverbal overload.” On video calls, faces appear much larger than they would in real life, creating the impression that you are very close—too close—to one another. (Everyone’s a close talker on Zoom.) Then there’s the fact, often remarked upon, that on Zoom you’re always on. In real life, when members of a group aren’t speaking, they’re looking at the speaker, “or they’re looking down, or they’re looking at their notes. What they’re not doing is staring at you the whole time,” Bailenson said. “On Zoom, every single person gets stared at for one hundred per cent of the time. Do you realize what an insane design decision that is?” (I recalled a Zoom birthday party during which I had guiltily turned off my camera for a few minutes to gobble a piece of pizza.)
So how do you throw a virtual party that isn’t a bust? Several apps are trying to solve this problem. Bailenson’s well-mannered avatar comes from Loom.ai, a company founded by former Hollywood animators. There are also virtual-reality worlds, like VRChat, Rec Room, and Mozilla Hubs, where you can wander around, play games, and generally exist in a metaverse. (This year, in response to covid-19, Burning Man moved online, to AltspaceVR, where designers built “eight Universes, a virtual Temple, and a globally distributed Man Burn.” Its Web site reads, “You’re encouraged to think of the multiverse as multiple parallel realities, splintered off by the hammer of circumstance.”) Then there are programs that try to replicate group dynamics in other ways. Clubhouse, a predictably clubby, invite-only app full of celebrities and networking venture capitalists, lets users drop into different audio conversations. (Recently, on Clubhouse, the productivity guru Tim Ferriss participated in a discussion about psychedelic-assisted psychotherapy.) Cuppa, another new platform, has branded itself “the world’s first fully virtual coffee shop” and randomly pairs people from Twitter—mostly tech workers—for one-on-one video chats. (A “founder” might meet a “maker,” for instance.) In “Together mode” on Microsoft Teams, cutouts of each user are placed side by side in a virtual auditorium, meeting room, or café, like highly collaborative paper dolls.
One recent launch that has gained some traction is High Fidelity, an audio-only platform made for group gatherings. I heard about it from Richard Swan, the director of London City Voices, a community choir in London. Members of the choir normally meet several evenings a week to sing; afterward, they’ll go to a local pub. But Swan’s choir hasn’t met in person since March. Their rehearsals now take place, creakingly, over Zoom, and then they switch to High Fidelity for a drink or two. “It’s the closest thing to a proper meetup that we’ve been able to have,” he told me. In June, he threw a birthday party on High Fidelity for forty guests, with tinkling piano music, effusive greetings, and awkward goodbyes. “It’s like being in a pub!” someone said.
Users on High Fidelity appear as colored dots. The standard background is a bird’s-eye view of a large villa, complete with dining room, pool, cozy sofa area, and dance floor. (There are other backgrounds—an outdoor wedding reception area on a cliff, for instance—and you can create your own.) You move your dot around the space using a mouse or your laptop’s arrow keys. The delightful part is the audio: it’s 3-D and spatialized. This means that, as you navigate a crowded High Fidelity space, you’ll hear different groups talking at the same time and at different volumes, depending on your location. You can speak to someone privately, by the pixelated hedges, or join a group of three gossiping by the pool. You could, in theory, tell a witty anecdote in the lounge, and then repeat the same one in the garden, and no one would know.
The other day, I met Philip Rosedale, the co-founder of High Fidelity, in the platform’s virtual villa. His dot included a tiny photo of himself smiling; we settled, as much as a dot can settle, into cream-colored armchairs. “You sound great,” he told me. Rosedale is best known as the creator of the virtual world Second Life, which launched in 2003. In it, users appear as Sims-style avatars and have an enormous amount of freedom. You can purchase land, enroll in a course, open a clothing shop, or dance the Charleston in an elaborate replica of nineteen-twenties Berlin. Six years ago, Rosedale began working on High Fidelity, which he imagined would take place in virtual reality and require a V.R. headset. As it turned out, V.R. headsets never quite caught on (“They were just bad,” Rosedale said), and High Fidelity scrapped everything but the sound in January, 2019. Then the pandemic hit, and interest in the platform ballooned; they released a free beta version in May.
“covid is such a bizarre experiment,” Rosedale said. In my headphones, his voice sounded warm and intimate, as if we were sitting a little too close on a sofa. I moved my dot backward, slightly. “It has been so weird and fascinating to see science fiction unfold right in front of me and to have people forced to use virtual worlds,” he said. The pandemic has approximated the conditions of his most dire fantasies. In November, he ran a thought experiment with his team. “I said, ‘Imagine there’s a nuclear war that Trump causes, you know, through his incompetence,’ ” he told me. “Everyone would be online and have no way to communicate face to face because everyone’s kind of hiding out.” (He called this exercise After the Fall.) “What we’ve really lost with covid is the public commons,” he went on. “We’ve lost the ability to be among a crowd—among a lot of people, maybe some of them friends but some of them strangers.”


newyorker--2020-09-16--In a Historic Wildfire Season, It’s Time to Follow the Lead of Young Campaigners

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Sign up to receive future installments .
The numbers shock , of course : these past weeks , West Coast fires have burned an area the size of New Jersey .
The smoke has thickened the air to the point where the pollution is literally off the E.P.A.
’ s existing charts .
Five of the ten largest fires in California history are currently burning .
But it ’ s the color that I think will linger in our minds—the orange not of flames but of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tints San Francisco an eerie mango and turns the glorious Yosemite views that Ansel Adams imprinted on our brains into something haunted and grim .
In that terrifying glow , what do we do ?
One answer might be : give up .
These fires are an illustration of the power that we ’ ve already unleashed ; there is no question that they represent a new baseline and that , as the climate scientist Peter Kalmus and the fire ecologist Natasha Stavros explain in the Los Angeles Times , they ’ re @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as President Trump blithely observed on Monday afternoon , to California ’ s secretary for natural resources , “ It ’ ll start getting cooler , you just watch.
” ( Trump added , “ I don ’ t think science knows , actually.
” ) And the blazes along the blue Pacific are probably not even the most dangerous burning on the planet right now : an article in Nature this week makes it clear that the vast Siberian fires are burning into the Arctic peatlands , which hold truly massive stores @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a large-scale feedback loop .
But giving up is generational aggression : it consigns the planet ’ s young people ( and all future generations ) to an ever-grimmer planet .
And that would be wrong , because there ’ s still much that we can do—if not to prevent global warming then to prevent it from getting so bad that civilizations like the ones we ’ ve known are no longer an option .
So this is the moment—maybe the last moment—to pay full attention to what young people are telling us @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of weeks now since Ed Markey came back from seventeen points down to crush Joseph Kennedy III in the Massachusetts Democratic Senate primary , but it ’ s worth looking back at that race .
That huge swing resulted almost entirely , I think , from young people adopting the seventy-four-year-old Markey as one of their own .
First , it was the Sunrise Movement , the post-college climate champions who brought us the Green New Deal and are now emerging as a potent political force .
Then came Students for Markey , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the “ Markeyverse.
” Many were too young to vote , but they could meme : soon Markey was way cooler than Kennedy , which is amazing , since , as Marshall McLuhan once noted , Kennedy ’ s great-uncle was the coolest politician America ever saw .
And Markey ’ s coolness was rooted mostly in his support for climate action .
It ’ s crucial that young people vote this time around—groups like NextGen America are mobilizing campuses like never before .
But it ’ s probably even more crucial that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ parents and grandparents to vote differently .
Young people overwhelmingly favor Joe Biden , so they ’ re in the perfect position to create a permission structure that allows their elders to act in a way they otherwise might not .
If you ’ re undecided , why not do what the kids want ?
In a country where most Americans sense that things are going very wrong , a strong nudge from young people may be what it takes to convince some older ones to break long-held political habits .
In 2008 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ schlep to Florida to make sure that their grandparents voted for Barack Obama .
Travel ’ s less likely this fall , but even those of us with gray hair have Zoom pretty much down at this point .
And , of course , it helps this effort each time Biden sharpens his message around climate and race , the issues of deepest concern to the next generation—or at least when he makes clear that he intends to put people with sharp minds and sharp messages to work in his Administration .
It @ @ @ @ @ @ @ coalesced around Bernie Sanders or Markey , and not around Pete Buttigieg or Kennedy , even though Pete and Joe were explicitly running on the need to pass the torch to a new generation .
The authenticity of Sanders ’ s or Markey ’ s politics trumps their chronological age .
If everything ’ s on fire , thank heaven , at least , that wonky honesty is cool .
Jennifer Francis , who works at the Woodwell Climate Research Center , in Falmouth , Massachusetts , has done pioneering work on one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : What happens to the rest of the world as the result of the rapid melting of the Arctic ?
As a young woman , she circumnavigated the planet by sailboat , which may help explain her almost uncanny feel for the way that the earth ’ s forces connect .
( It also persuaded her to shift her career plans away from dentistry . )
The Arctic has changed faster than anywhere on earth , but the Arctic is a long way away from me , so why should I care ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Arctic affect us all .
Not only is it warming rapidly there but all three forms of what used to be called “ permanent ice ” are disappearing : sea ice ( frozen ocean water ) , land ice ( glaciers and ice sheets ) , and permafrost ( frozen soils ) .
In only the past forty years , about half of the sea-ice coverage during summer and three-fourths of the sea-ice volume have vanished .
White ice and snow reflect most of the sun ’ s energy , so losing this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ absorbs more sunshine .
This extra heat has made global warming twenty-five- to forty-per-cent worse than it would be otherwise .
That extra heat melts more ice , which exposes more dark ocean , which absorbs more sunshine , creating a vicious cycle that causes further warming and melting .
Land ice is also melting ever faster , accelerating the pace of sea-level rise .
And permafrost is thawing deeper and farther north , which activates microbes that devour ancient organic matter trapped in the soil , releasing more heat-trapping carbon dioxide and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cycle .
Are the effects of that melt settling in as a new weather regime , or should we expect ongoing big change ?
In addition to accelerating sea-level rise and permafrost thaw , rapid Arctic warming is disrupting weather patterns all around the Northern Hemisphere , where billions of people live .
The connection is through the jet stream , a fast river of wind that encircles the mid-latitudes at high altitudes where jets fly .
The jet stream exists because of the difference in temperature between the cold Arctic and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ difference is large , the jet is strong and blows relatively straight from west to east .
As the Arctic warms faster than elsewhere , the north-south temperature difference decreases , causing the jet winds to weaken .
A weaker jet stream is more easily deflected from its eastward path by mountain ranges and other obstacles , and instead takes large swings north and south more often .
Those larger waves mean that warm air can penetrate farther north , and frigid air farther south .
Those large jet waves also tend to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in a particular location to stagnate and cause droughts , flooding , and prolonged heat waves and cold spells .
As greenhouse gases continue to accumulate , and the Arctic continues to melt rapidly , persistent and extraordinary weather regimes will become ever more ordinary .

Subscribers to The Climate Crisis newsletter received this piece in their in-boxes. Sign up to receive future installments.
The numbers shock, of course: these past weeks, West Coast fires have burned an area the size of New Jersey. The smoke has thickened the air to the point where the pollution is literally off the E.P.A.’s existing charts. Five of the ten largest fires in California history are currently burning. But it’s the color that I think will linger in our minds—the orange not of flames but of the shroud of particulates and fog, which tints San Francisco an eerie mango and turns the glorious Yosemite views that Ansel Adams imprinted on our brains into something haunted and grim.
In that terrifying glow, what do we do? One answer might be: give up. These fires are an illustration of the power that we’ve already unleashed; there is no question that they represent a new baseline and that, as the climate scientist Peter Kalmus and the fire ecologist Natasha Stavros explain in the Los Angeles Times, they’re going to get worse. Unless, as President Trump blithely observed on Monday afternoon, to California’s secretary for natural resources, “It’ll start getting cooler, you just watch.” (Trump added, “I don’t think science knows, actually.”) And the blazes along the blue Pacific are probably not even the most dangerous burning on the planet right now: an article in Nature this week makes it clear that the vast Siberian fires are burning into the Arctic peatlands, which hold truly massive stores of carbon, threatening to set off a large-scale feedback loop.
But giving up is generational aggression: it consigns the planet’s young people (and all future generations) to an ever-grimmer planet. And that would be wrong, because there’s still much that we can do—if not to prevent global warming then to prevent it from getting so bad that civilizations like the ones we’ve known are no longer an option. So this is the moment—maybe the last moment—to pay full attention to what young people are telling us. It’s been a couple of weeks now since Ed Markey came back from seventeen points down to crush Joseph Kennedy III in the Massachusetts Democratic Senate primary, but it’s worth looking back at that race. That huge swing resulted almost entirely, I think, from young people adopting the seventy-four-year-old Markey as one of their own. First, it was the Sunrise Movement, the post-college climate champions who brought us the Green New Deal and are now emerging as a potent political force. Then came Students for Markey, Ed’s Reply Guys, and the “Markeyverse.” Many were too young to vote, but they could meme: soon Markey was way cooler than Kennedy, which is amazing, since, as Marshall McLuhan once noted, Kennedy’s great-uncle was the coolest politician America ever saw. And Markey’s coolness was rooted mostly in his support for climate action.
It’s crucial that young people vote this time around—groups like NextGen America are mobilizing campuses like never before. But it’s probably even more crucial that young people persuade some percentage of their parents and grandparents to vote differently. Young people overwhelmingly favor Joe Biden, so they’re in the perfect position to create a permission structure that allows their elders to act in a way they otherwise might not. If you’re undecided, why not do what the kids want? In a country where most Americans sense that things are going very wrong, a strong nudge from young people may be what it takes to convince some older ones to break long-held political habits. In 2008, Sarah Silverman asked young people to schlep to Florida to make sure that their grandparents voted for Barack Obama. Travel’s less likely this fall, but even those of us with gray hair have Zoom pretty much down at this point.
And, of course, it helps this effort each time Biden sharpens his message around climate and race, the issues of deepest concern to the next generation—or at least when he makes clear that he intends to put people with sharp minds and sharp messages to work in his Administration. It’s noteworthy that these young activists coalesced around Bernie Sanders or Markey, and not around Pete Buttigieg or Kennedy, even though Pete and Joe were explicitly running on the need to pass the torch to a new generation. The authenticity of Sanders’s or Markey’s politics trumps their chronological age. If everything’s on fire, thank heaven, at least, that wonky honesty is cool.
Passing the Mic
Jennifer Francis, who works at the Woodwell Climate Research Center, in Falmouth, Massachusetts, has done pioneering work on one of the crucial questions of our time: What happens to the rest of the world as the result of the rapid melting of the Arctic? As a young woman, she circumnavigated the planet by sailboat, which may help explain her almost uncanny feel for the way that the earth’s forces connect. (It also persuaded her to shift her career plans away from dentistry.)
The Arctic has changed faster than anywhere on earth, but the Arctic is a long way away from me, so why should I care?
The monumental changes under way in the Arctic affect us all. Not only is it warming rapidly there but all three forms of what used to be called “permanent ice” are disappearing: sea ice (frozen ocean water), land ice (glaciers and ice sheets), and permafrost (frozen soils). In only the past forty years, about half of the sea-ice coverage during summer and three-fourths of the sea-ice volume have vanished. White ice and snow reflect most of the sun’s energy, so losing this much ice means that the earth now absorbs more sunshine. This extra heat has made global warming twenty-five- to forty-per-cent worse than it would be otherwise. That extra heat melts more ice, which exposes more dark ocean, which absorbs more sunshine, creating a vicious cycle that causes further warming and melting. Land ice is also melting ever faster, accelerating the pace of sea-level rise. And permafrost is thawing deeper and farther north, which activates microbes that devour ancient organic matter trapped in the soil, releasing more heat-trapping carbon dioxide and methane into the atmosphere: another vicious cycle.
Are the effects of that melt settling in as a new weather regime, or should we expect ongoing big change?
In addition to accelerating sea-level rise and permafrost thaw, rapid Arctic warming is disrupting weather patterns all around the Northern Hemisphere, where billions of people live. The connection is through the jet stream, a fast river of wind that encircles the mid-latitudes at high altitudes where jets fly. The jet stream exists because of the difference in temperature between the cold Arctic and the warmer areas farther south: when the difference is large, the jet is strong and blows relatively straight from west to east. As the Arctic warms faster than elsewhere, the north-south temperature difference decreases, causing the jet winds to weaken. A weaker jet stream is more easily deflected from its eastward path by mountain ranges and other obstacles, and instead takes large swings north and south more often. Those larger waves mean that warm air can penetrate farther north, and frigid air farther south. Those large jet waves also tend to linger in place, causing weather conditions in a particular location to stagnate and cause droughts, flooding, and prolonged heat waves and cold spells. As greenhouse gases continue to accumulate, and the Arctic continues to melt rapidly, persistent and extraordinary weather regimes will become ever more ordinary.