newyorker--2020-03-04--Bernie Sanders’s Unsettling, Unfinished Super Tuesday

On Tuesday morning , Burlington , Vermont , was warm enough for short sleeves .
Bernie Sanders wore a suit jacket and drove his own car , a Subaru Forester , to his local polling place , a community and recreation center .
His wife , Jane , rode shotgun .
They walked inside the rec center and sat down to vote .
“ I think I ’ ll take a Democrat , ” Sanders quipped , to no one in particular .
“ Why not ?
” Then he walked out into a media scrum .
He gave an @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a question from a reporter about “ all the moderates endorsing Joe Biden , ” as he headed back to the Subaru .
Outside the polling place , a number of Sanders supporters had gathered to see him on Election Day , and I spoke with a thirty-seven-year-old named Ali Dieng , who held a Sanders sign and told me that he had come to the United States thirteen years ago , from Mauritania .
He ’ s now a city councilman .
When he was campaigning for the office , in 2017 @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s door and given him some campaign literature .
“ A senator !
” Dieng recalled .
“ He greeted me at his house and asked me great , wonderful questions.
” Sanders ended up endorsing him .
“ To me , ” Dieng went on , “ he ’ s almost like a prophet sent by God to make the world a better place.
” As for the state of the Democratic primary , Dieng suggested I check out the # PeteToBernie hashtag on Twitter .
A lot of people were switching @ @ @ @ @ @ @ feeling confident “ that Bernie is our guy to beat Trump.
” “ Ali , ” a middle-aged man , who was passing by , said .
“ Good to see you , boss.
” The man introduced himself as Kevin Stapleton , and said that he was an economist .
He had come with his seven-year-old daughter , to vote for Elizabeth Warren .
I asked him about the more moderate candidates—Pete Buttigieg , Amy Klobuchar , Beto O ’ Rourke—consolidating around Biden .
“ My most important consideration is beating Trump @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
“ And the quicker we consolidate the quicker that ’ s going to happen.
” Later , a retired construction worker named Mark Bird ambled past , with a bagel in hand .
He said he ’ d voted for Sanders every time Sanders was on a ballot .
“ My philosophy is : if you don ’ t vote , don ’ t bitch .
So I bitch.
” Medical care is a major concern of Bird ’ s .
“ I ’ ve had three seizures , ” he said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ little medical insurance.
” Did he think Bernie would beat Biden , and then Trump ?
“ Do I think he ’ ll win ?
” He thought for a moment .
“ I don ’ t know .
It costs my brain to think .
No thinking—I ’ ll just vote.
” In the evening , as the first results came in , I was at Sanders ’ s Super Tuesday party , in Essex Junction .
Two members of the jam band Phish were playing live music .
The early returns @ @ @ @ @ @ @ even more quickly than many pundits had anticipated .
Virginia was called for Biden as soon as the polls closed , then North Carolina was called for him , too .
Vermont went for Sanders , as did Colorado .
Other states , including delegate-rich Texas , were too close to call .
It was still early in California , which is known for counting its many votes rather slowly .
The results were “ like a bad flashback , ” one Sanders supporter told me .
Biden ’ s victories in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ performance in South Carolina , on Saturday , had propelled his sudden surge—evoked Hillary Clinton ’ s Southern dominance four years ago , when she was the establishment favorite going up against Sanders .
“ This is Phish ?
” Kathy Beinert said , as she sat down near me .
“ I ’ m an upper-middle-class , sixty-eight-year-old white woman who wants a revolution , ” she told me .
“ I know my taxes are gon na go up .
So will my fellow-man.
” I relayed some of the early @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of similar to what happened before , ” she said , referring to 2016 .
“ But I think there ’ s more people mobilized for Bernie this time .
It ’ s just gon na be a crap shoot.
” Beinert said that she would vote Biden if it came to that .
“ I ’ m not stupid , ” she said , adding , “ I ’ m worried about the young ones.
” A group of young people in their twenties were assembled near us .
A twenty-five-year-old named @ @ @ @ @ @ @ picture of Ron ( Pigpen ) McKernan , the Grateful Dead ’ s first keyboardist , on his overalls .
He told me he ’ d been following Sanders “ for fucking eight years now.
” “ Felt pretty robbed last time , ” he said , of 2016 .
“ I ’ ll tell you what was quite a bummer .
I voted for Hillary last time .
I couldn ’ t bear to see the state go red .
I knew there was a lot of people voting for Trump outside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ he said , he wasn ’ t likely to vote for a candidate he didn ’ t like .
“ I ’ ll write in Bernie Sanders the rest of my life.
” When Sanders took the stage , later in the evening , to a loud ovation , he declined to refer to any of the other candidates by name .
“ You can not beat Trump with the same old , same old kind of politics , ” he said , presumably referring to Biden , who has campaigned , in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Sanders said that his campaign could inspire “ the highest voter turnout in American political history , ” and that he wanted to run on “ a contrast in ideas.
” “ Another candidate , ” he said , meaning Biden , “ voted for the war in Iraq , ” and “ another candidate ” —Biden , again— “ voted for disastrous trade agreements.
” Sanders spoke for about ten minutes , and then ended by thanking Vermont for the “ years and years of love and support you have given @ @ @ @ @ @ @ declaring , “ Let ’ s go on to the White House .
”

On Tuesday morning, Burlington, Vermont, was warm enough for short sleeves. Bernie Sanders wore a suit jacket and drove his own car, a Subaru Forester, to his local polling place, a community and recreation center. His wife, Jane, rode shotgun. They walked inside the rec center and sat down to vote. “I think I’ll take a Democrat,” Sanders quipped, to no one in particular. “Why not?” Then he walked out into a media scrum. He gave an abbreviated stump speech and declined to answer a question from a reporter about “all the moderates endorsing Joe Biden,” as he headed back to the Subaru.
Outside the polling place, a number of Sanders supporters had gathered to see him on Election Day, and I spoke with a thirty-seven-year-old named Ali Dieng, who held a Sanders sign and told me that he had come to the United States thirteen years ago, from Mauritania. He’s now a city councilman. When he was campaigning for the office, in 2017, he had knocked on Sanders’s door and given him some campaign literature. “A senator!” Dieng recalled. “He greeted me at his house and asked me great, wonderful questions.” Sanders ended up endorsing him. “To me,” Dieng went on, “he’s almost like a prophet sent by God to make the world a better place.” As for the state of the Democratic primary, Dieng suggested I check out the #PeteToBernie hashtag on Twitter. A lot of people were switching candidates, he said. He was feeling confident “that Bernie is our guy to beat Trump.”
“Ali,” a middle-aged man, who was passing by, said. “Good to see you, boss.” The man introduced himself as Kevin Stapleton, and said that he was an economist. He had come with his seven-year-old daughter, to vote for Elizabeth Warren. I asked him about the more moderate candidates—Pete Buttigieg, Amy Klobuchar, Beto O’Rourke—consolidating around Biden. “My most important consideration is beating Trump in this election,” Stapleton said. “And the quicker we consolidate the quicker that’s going to happen.”
Later, a retired construction worker named Mark Bird ambled past, with a bagel in hand. He said he’d voted for Sanders every time Sanders was on a ballot. “My philosophy is: if you don’t vote, don’t bitch. So I bitch.” Medical care is a major concern of Bird’s. “I’ve had three seizures,” he said. “I’d like a little medical insurance.” Did he think Bernie would beat Biden, and then Trump? “Do I think he’ll win?” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It costs my brain to think. No thinking—I’ll just vote.”
In the evening, as the first results came in, I was at Sanders’s Super Tuesday party, in Essex Junction. Two members of the jam band Phish were playing live music. The early returns suggested that voters were consolidating their support even more quickly than many pundits had anticipated. Virginia was called for Biden as soon as the polls closed, then North Carolina was called for him, too. Vermont went for Sanders, as did Colorado. Other states, including delegate-rich Texas, were too close to call. It was still early in California, which is known for counting its many votes rather slowly.
The results were “like a bad flashback,” one Sanders supporter told me. Biden’s victories in the South—he also won Alabama, and his performance in South Carolina, on Saturday, had propelled his sudden surge—evoked Hillary Clinton’s Southern dominance four years ago, when she was the establishment favorite going up against Sanders.
“This is Phish?” Kathy Beinert said, as she sat down near me. “I’m an upper-middle-class, sixty-eight-year-old white woman who wants a revolution,” she told me. “I know my taxes are gonna go up. So will my fellow-man.” I relayed some of the early results. “It’s kind of similar to what happened before,” she said, referring to 2016. “But I think there’s more people mobilized for Bernie this time. It’s just gonna be a crap shoot.” Beinert said that she would vote Biden if it came to that. “I’m not stupid,” she said, adding, “I’m worried about the young ones.”
A group of young people in their twenties were assembled near us. A twenty-five-year-old named Brandon Hayden wore a pin bearing a picture of Ron (Pigpen) McKernan, the Grateful Dead’s first keyboardist, on his overalls. He told me he’d been following Sanders “for fucking eight years now.” “Felt pretty robbed last time,” he said, of 2016. “I’ll tell you what was quite a bummer. I voted for Hillary last time. I couldn’t bear to see the state go red. I knew there was a lot of people voting for Trump outside of my bubbles.” This time, he said, he wasn’t likely to vote for a candidate he didn’t like. “I’ll write in Bernie Sanders the rest of my life.”
When Sanders took the stage, later in the evening, to a loud ovation, he declined to refer to any of the other candidates by name. “You cannot beat Trump with the same old, same old kind of politics,” he said, presumably referring to Biden, who has campaigned, in part, on a return to normalcy. Sanders said that his campaign could inspire “the highest voter turnout in American political history,” and that he wanted to run on “a contrast in ideas.” “Another candidate,” he said, meaning Biden, “voted for the war in Iraq,” and “another candidate”—Biden, again—“voted for disastrous trade agreements.” Sanders spoke for about ten minutes, and then ended by thanking Vermont for the “years and years of love and support you have given me and my family,” and declaring, “Let’s go on to the White House.”


newyorker--2020-03-04--Super Tuesday: Joe Biden Carries the South, and the South Carries Joe Biden

It has been an astonishing seventy-two hours for the Democratic Party .
On Saturday night , after limping through the first three voting states , Joe Biden decisively won the South Carolina primary , propelled by black Democratic voters in the state .
By Monday night , Biden was standing shoulder to shoulder in Texas with three of his erstwhile rivals—Amy Klobuchar , Pete Buttigieg , and Beto O ’ Rourke—in a show of belated Democratic unity that caught the race ’ s front-runner , Bernie Sanders , by surprise .
A campaign that had been seen as flatlining was @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the polls suggested that support was swinging toward Biden in the Southern states that were voting .
In Virginia—where he had tanked in February , dropping from thirty per cent of support to eighteen per cent in less than a month , according to FiveThirtyEight ’ s voting average—he took the state by some thirty points .
Exit polls suggested that , as in South Carolina , Biden won a huge majority of the state ’ s black voters .
The story was much the same in North Carolina and Alabama .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , a state that Sanders took in 2016 .
( He won in Minnesota , too , which had likewise gone for Sanders four years ago . )
Biden ’ s victories in several of these states were so decisive that the races were able to be called , by the networks soon , after the polls closed .
As of this writing , the results in Texas and California , the two most populous states in the country , have yet to come in .
Sanders is expected to win California—the final @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for days—and he looks strong in Texas .
Colorado came in for him , too .
But the delegates that Biden racked up in the South make it likely that , even if he loses those states , he will emerge from Super Tuesday in a strong position , if not ahead in the delegate count .
In 2016 , Hillary Clinton beat Sanders across the South , too .
Whatever the outcome , this is more than just a tactical or numerical problem for Sanders .
Part of his pitch this year @ @ @ @ @ @ @ built reflects the diversity of the Democratic Party .
In Nevada , for instance , he won on the strength of his popularity among Latino voters .
But black voters in the South have undermined that argument in a way that can ’ t be easily explained away .
It will have to be reckoned with .
The night looked bleak for two other candidates in the race : Elizabeth Warren and Michael Bloomberg .
Warren looks like she may well end Super Tuesday having yet to win a single primary , including @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Massachusetts .
And Bloomberg , after dropping half a billion dollars since his late entry into the race , in November , had only a win in American Samoa to show for it .
There ’ s been much debate this past year about how and whether endorsements matter for modern Presidential campaigns .
But , from where we sit now , there ’ s a case to be made that two endorsements—Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez ’ s of Sanders , in October , after his heart attack , and Jim Clyburn ’ s of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Biden ’ s poor showings in Iowa , New Hampshire , and Nevada—have provided the two most pivotal moments in the race so far .
“ We know Joe , ” Clyburn said in his endorsement .
“ But more importantly , he knows us.
” Back in October , Ocasio-Cortez explained her Sanders endorsement to NPR by saying , “ This is about really creating a mass movement , a multiracial mass movement of working-class Americans to guarantee health care , housing , and education as rights for all.
” After Super @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the audiences they spoke to , will likely define the two-person race to come .

It has been an astonishing seventy-two hours for the Democratic Party. On Saturday night, after limping through the first three voting states, Joe Biden decisively won the South Carolina primary, propelled by black Democratic voters in the state. By Monday night, Biden was standing shoulder to shoulder in Texas with three of his erstwhile rivals—Amy Klobuchar, Pete Buttigieg, and Beto O’Rourke—in a show of belated Democratic unity that caught the race’s front-runner, Bernie Sanders, by surprise. A campaign that had been seen as flatlining was suddenly resuscitated.
Going into Super Tuesday, the polls suggested that support was swinging toward Biden in the Southern states that were voting. In Virginia—where he had tanked in February, dropping from thirty per cent of support to eighteen per cent in less than a month, according to FiveThirtyEight’s voting average—he took the state by some thirty points. Exit polls suggested that, as in South Carolina, Biden won a huge majority of the state’s black voters. The story was much the same in North Carolina and Alabama. Biden also won in Tennessee and Oklahoma, a state that Sanders took in 2016. (He won in Minnesota, too, which had likewise gone for Sanders four years ago.) Biden’s victories in several of these states were so decisive that the races were able to be called by the networks soon after the polls closed.
As of this writing, the results in Texas and California, the two most populous states in the country, have yet to come in. Sanders is expected to win California—the final results may not be known for days—and he looks strong in Texas. Colorado came in for him, too. But the delegates Biden racked up in the South make it likely that, even if he loses those states, he will emerge from Super Tuesday in a strong position, if not ahead in the delegate count. In 2016, Hillary Clinton beat Sanders across the South, too. Whatever the outcome, this is more than just a tactical or numerical problem for Sanders. Part of his pitch this year has been that the coalition he has built reflects the diversity of the Democratic Party. In Nevada, for instance, he won on the strength of his popularity among Latino voters. But black voters in the South have undermined that argument in a way that can’t be easily explained away. It will have to be reckoned with.
The night looked bleak for two other candidates in the race: Elizabeth Warren and Michael Bloomberg. Warren looks like she may well end Super Tuesday having yet to win a single primary, including the one in her home state of Massachusetts. And Bloomberg, after dropping half a billion dollars since his late entry into the race, in November, had only a win in American Samoa to show for it.
There’s been much debate this past year about how and whether endorsements matter for modern Presidential campaigns. But, from where we sit now, there’s a case to be made that two endorsements—Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s of Sanders, in October, after his heart attack, and Jim Clyburn’s of Joe Biden, last week, after Biden’s poor showings in Iowa, New Hampshire, and Nevada—have provided the two most pivotal moments in the race so far. “We know Joe,” Clyburn said in his endorsement. “But more importantly, he knows us.” Back in October, Ocasio-Cortez explained her Sanders endorsement to NPR by saying, “This is about really creating a mass movement, a multiracial mass movement of working-class Americans to guarantee health care, housing, and education as rights for all.” After Super Tuesday, those two statements, and the audiences they spoke to, will likely define the two-person race to come.


newyorker--2020-03-04--Democrats Abroad, Including Bernie Sanders’s Brother, Cast Their Primary Votes

While America was still sleeping on Tuesday morning , a line of voters formed beneath a cold English sky .
They were U.S. citizens who had gathered in Oxford to take part in the Super Tuesday Democratic primary , which , through a branch of the party called Democrats Abroad , extends around the world .
The polling station was in the Rothermere American Institute , which was opened by Bill Clinton , in 2001 , thirty years after he , perhaps , didn ’ t inhale at a nearby pub , and several years before another Rhodes Scholar , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ studies .
At 11 A.M. , the voting began .
Daniela Jones , a retired nurse from Hampshire , was first in line .
She had travelled forty miles to cast her vote in person .
Jones was born in Munich , the daughter of a German mother and an American serviceman .
Inspired by a relative in Arkansas who was relying on a GoFundMe to cover his health-care costs , she was voting for Bernie Sanders .
“ I ’ ve always gone with Bernie , ” she said .
“ I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a similar social safety net to what we have here.
” Although Jones had never lived in the U.S. , she was focussed on domestic American issues , and had read little about Sanders ’ s foreign policy .
“ I ’ ve concentrated on the domestic side , ” she said .
“ It ’ s pitiful .
I hate to see them like that.
” This was Jones ’ s second time voting in Oxford , a university town that is among a handful of British cities where Americans can cast @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is another . )
“ I was at the front of the line in 2016 , as well , ” she said .
“ I was so excited because it was the first time I could vote—but then I let Larry Sanders go first .
He doesn ’ t seem to be here today , though.
” Larry Sanders , the brother of the Vermont senator , is a spokesman for the U.K. ’ s Green Party , and has lived in Oxford for years .
In 2016 , when Bernie Sanders won @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Democrats Abroad Global Presidential primary , Larry attended the Democratic National Convention as a delegate .
If Sanders manages to appeal to voters in Europe , where progressive policies such as socialized health care are well received , Larry may do so again .
America ’ s domestic affairs can have as much international impact as its foreign policy , but , like many Americans , residents of other countries are typically limited in their political impact .
Still , a few million of those people—emigrés , children of citizens , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ absentee ballots in federal elections .
Most of them can do so even if , like Jones , they have never lived in the country .
The Democratic Party allows any adult U.S. citizen to vote in the primary run by Democrats Abroad , which is counted as a state party but which courts voters worldwide .
With around three million potential voters outside of the U.S. , its constituency is large and heterogenous , and could have vast , untapped potential come November .
Although overseas citizens vote in every state in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ only seven per cent .
Around eleven-thirty , Charlotte Finegold , a student en route to a law lecture , stopped by the American Institute to cast her vote , for Elizabeth Warren .
Though Warren had not won a delegate since the Iowa caucus , Finegold , who is halfway through a masters in migration studies , remained committed to the idealism of Warren ’ s immigration policy .
She was registered to vote in Pennsylvania , which Donald Trump won in 2016 .
“ I think Bernie would be a great @ @ @ @ @ @ @ And I could get behind him , if that ’ s how things turn out , but I ’ m standing by the idea , especially now , that in a primary you vote for the person that you believe would be the best President possible.
” Others were more pragmatic .
Heather Munro , an anthropology doctoral candidate from New Haven , Connecticut , had been following the news as Pete Buttigieg and Amy Klobuchar dropped out of the race .
“ With what happened in the last twenty-four hours , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I didn ’ t decide entirely until I sat down at the table today , ” she said .
Munro liked Warren a lot , but was worried about her chances .
“ In the end , I voted for Joe Biden , ” she said .
“ That ’ s because I bumped into , like , three people wearing Bernie stickers on the way in.
” She , too , would probably vote for Bernie if he got the nomination—defeating Trump was the top priority .
“ But I decided that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Biden accumulating more delegates , ” she said .
“ It ’ s a tactical vote .
And it has to do a lot with how my African-American friends feel .
I feel quite strongly that Biden is the better option than Sanders.
” Unlike any other in-person primary , the global contest runs for a week .
And , unlike most voters , Americans living outside the country can decide whether to take part in the primary in their home state or with Democrats Abroad .
( There is no equivalent Republican @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ballots as part of Democrats Abroad have a small but outsized effect .
Tallies are collected from Democrats around the world—the U.K. and Canada are the biggest contributors—and thirteen pledged delegates are selected .
The vote totals are small , but Party rules apportion delegates based on a combination of population and previous general-election turnout .
In 2016 , there were two and a half thousand votes per delegate for Democrats Abroad ; for California delegates , that number was closer to eleven thousand .
Given this , each vote cast overseas is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stake are a small fraction of the thousand nine hundred and ninety-one pledged delegates that a candidate needs to win outright , but , as the field has narrowed and the chances that Sanders , or anyone else , will win a majority have shrunk , every delegate counts .
Throughout the morning , a volunteer wearing a blue T-shirt reading “ RESIST , PERSIST , ENLIST ” stood outside , checking that potential voters had not already cast a ballot in another state .
Natasha Baranow and Charlie Tompkin had already thought @ @ @ @ @ @ @ home to Vermont once Baranow , a geography student , finished her masters thesis ; Tompkin , who runs a marina on Lake Champlain , needed to get back in time for the sailing season .
“ We were a little confused at first how voting abroad would really work , ” Baranow told me , “ But then , at a rally , we found out that we could vote here , in person , and that was so convenient for us.
” A supporter of the Green New Deal , she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Tompkin , for whom health care and student-debt relief loomed large .
“ This ended up being a lot more strategic for us , anyway , ” he said .
“ I think that Vermont is in the bag for him , so for us to cast our votes with Democrats Abroad made a lot more sense.
” At noon , Larry Sanders arrived , pursued by British reporters .
A volunteer at the registration table asked if he was a member of Democrats Abroad .
“ I joined a few years ago @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he posed with a model ballot box , and then went outside to talk to his brother ’ s supporters , who were huddled around a small campaign table laden with flyers and stickers .
A few Warren supporters held up signs reading “ WARREN HAS A PLAN FOR THAT ” and “ PERSIST , PERSIST , PERSIST.
” Nearby , mini American flags fluttered .
Red and blue balloons bounced in a chilly breeze .

While America was still sleeping on Tuesday morning, a line of voters formed beneath a cold English sky. They were U.S. citizens who had gathered in Oxford to take part in the Super Tuesday Democratic primary, which, through a branch of the party called Democrats Abroad, extends around the world. The polling station was in the Rothermere American Institute, which was opened by Bill Clinton, in 2001, thirty years after he perhaps didn’t inhale at a nearby pub, and several years before another Rhodes Scholar, Pete Buttigieg, arrived for his own studies. At 11 A.M., the voting began.
Daniela Jones, a retired nurse from Hampshire, was first in line. She had travelled forty miles to cast her vote in person. Jones was born in Munich, the daughter of a German mother and an American serviceman. Inspired by a relative in Arkansas who was relying on a GoFundMe to cover his health-care costs, she was voting for Bernie Sanders. “I’ve always gone with Bernie,” she said. “I want the people over there to have a similar social safety net to what we have here.” Although Jones had never lived in the U.S., she was focussed on domestic American issues, and had read little about Sanders’s foreign policy. “I’ve concentrated on the domestic side,” she said. “It’s pitiful. I hate to see them like that.”
This was Jones’s second time voting in Oxford, a university town that is among a handful of British cities where Americans can cast ballots in the primary. (London is another.) “I was at the front of the line in 2016 as well,” she said. “I was so excited because it was the first time I could vote—but then I let Larry Sanders go first. He doesn’t seem to be here today, though.” Larry Sanders, the brother of the Vermont senator, is a spokesman for the U.K.’s Green Party, and has lived in Oxford for years. In 2016, when Bernie Sanders won more than two-thirds of the votes in the Democrats Abroad Global Presidential primary, Larry attended the Democratic National Convention as a delegate. If Sanders manages to appeal to voters in Europe, where progressive policies such as socialized health care are well received, Larry may do so again.
America’s domestic affairs can have as much international impact as its foreign policy, but, like many Americans, residents of other countries are typically limited in their political impact. Still, a few million of those people—emigrés, children of citizens, and people born within the United States—can cast absentee ballots in federal elections. Most of them can do so even if, like Jones, they have never lived in the country. The Democratic Party allows any adult U.S. citizen to vote in the primary run by Democrats Abroad, which is counted as a state party but which courts voters worldwide. With around three million potential voters outside of the U.S., its constituency is large and heterogeneous, and could have vast, untapped potential come November. Although overseas citizens vote in every state in the union, their 2016 turnout was only seven per cent.
Around eleven-thirty, Charlotte Finegold, a student en route to a law lecture, stopped by the American Institute to cast her vote, for Elizabeth Warren. Though Warren had not won a delegate since the Iowa caucus, Finegold, who is halfway through a master’s in migration studies, remained committed to the idealism of Warren’s immigration policy. She was registered to vote in Pennsylvania, which Donald Trump won in 2016. “I think Bernie would be a great candidate,” she said. “And I could get behind him, if that’s how things turn out, but I’m standing by the idea, especially now, that in a primary you vote for the person that you believe would be the best President possible.”
Others were more pragmatic. Heather Munro, an anthropology doctoral candidate from New Haven, Connecticut, had been following the news as Pete Buttigieg and Amy Klobuchar dropped out of the race. “With what happened in the last twenty-four hours, and with the unknown of it all, I didn’t decide entirely until I sat down at the table today,” she said. Munro liked Warren a lot, but was worried about her chances. “In the end, I voted for Joe Biden,” she said. “That’s because I bumped into, like, three people wearing Bernie stickers on the way in.” She, too, would probably vote for Bernie if he got the nomination—defeating Trump was the top priority. “But I decided that I would rather my vote go to Biden accumulating more delegates,” she said. “It’s a tactical vote. And it has to do a lot with how my African-American friends feel. I feel quite strongly that Biden is the better option than Sanders.”
Unlike any other in-person primary, the global contest runs for a week. And, unlike most voters, Americans living outside the country can decide whether to take part in the primary in their home state or with Democrats Abroad. (There is no equivalent Republican contest.) Voters who cast their ballots as part of Democrats Abroad have a small but outsized effect. Tallies are collected from Democrats around the world—the U.K. and Canada are the biggest contributors—and thirteen pledged delegates are selected. The vote totals are small, but Party rules apportion delegates based on a combination of population and previous general-election turnout. In 2016, there were two and a half thousand votes per delegate for Democrats Abroad; for California delegates, that number was closer to eleven thousand. Given this, each vote cast overseas is a prize. The thirteen delegates at stake are a small fraction of the thousand nine hundred and ninety-one pledged delegates that a candidate needs to win outright, but, as the field has narrowed and the chances that Sanders, or anyone else, will win a majority have shrunk, every delegate counts.
Throughout the morning, a volunteer wearing a blue T-shirt reading “RESIST, PERSIST, ENLIST” stood outside, checking that potential voters had not already cast a ballot in another state. Natasha Baranow and Charlie Tompkin had already thought it through. They would be going home to Vermont once Baranow, a geography student, finished her masters thesis; Tompkin, who runs a marina on Lake Champlain, needed to get back in time for the sailing season. “We were a little confused at first how voting abroad would really work,” Baranow told me, “But then, at a rally, we found out that we could vote here, in person, and that was so convenient for us.” A supporter of the Green New Deal, she had voted for Sanders. So had Tompkin, for whom health care and student-debt relief loomed large. “This ended up being a lot more strategic for us, anyway,” he said. “I think that Vermont is in the bag for him, so for us to cast our votes with Democrats Abroad made a lot more sense.”
At noon, Larry Sanders arrived, pursued by British reporters. A volunteer at the registration table asked if he was a member of Democrats Abroad. “I joined a few years ago,” he said. After voting, he posed with a model ballot box, and then went outside to talk to his brother’s supporters, who were huddled around a small campaign table laden with flyers and stickers. A few Warren supporters held up signs reading “WARREN HAS A PLAN FOR THAT” and “PERSIST, PERSIST, PERSIST.” Nearby, mini American flags fluttered. Red and blue balloons bounced in a chilly breeze.


newyorker--2020-03-04--Why Terry McAuliffe Endorsed Joe Biden

Why Terry McAuliffe Endorsed Joe Biden

Joe Biden won the vast majority of states that voted on Super Tuesday , among them Texas , Minnesota , North Carolina , and Virginia , establishing himself as the front-runner for the Democratic nomination for President .
In the days before the primaries , Biden had received a remarkable series of endorsements from current and former Democratic elected officials , including his former rivals Pete Buttigieg , Amy Klobuchar , and Beto O ’ Rourke , as well as Virginia ’ s former governor , Terry McAuliffe , who has spent his life in Democratic politics , previously serving @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Committee and as a close adviser to Bill and Hillary Clinton .
McAuliffe , a CNN commentator , spent Tuesday night on the air with the cable network .
I spoke by phone with him early on Wednesday morning to discuss the results , his relationship with Biden , and how the Democratic establishment united around the former Vice-President so quickly .
Our conversation , which has been edited for length and clarity , is below .
Terry McAuliffe : Isaac , how are you , buddy ?
Isaac Chotiner : Governor , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tired of talking , but I will do it for you , buddy .
[ Laughs . ]
You have been in politics for a long time .
How do you understand the consolidation around Joe Biden in the last seventy-two hours ?
Well , I think tonight is nothing short of shocking .
I have never in my life seen anything like what we have seen with the momentum coming out of South Carolina .
I mean , Isaac , he is going to win Texas .
We never thought that would @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had no resources .
No staff , really , in any of these states .
But I think what happened is that , after South Carolina , voters wanted someone who they believed could beat Trump , help them win control of the Senate , and help them win the House .
And they looked around , and shopped around for a lot of different candidates , and , once Joe showed that he would win a majority of the African-American community , and could win in rural and urban parts of South @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is who we need to rally behind.
” Many people didn ’ t think Bernie could beat Trump , and they wanted to find the alternative , and they found Joe after South Carolina .
O.K.
, but why didn ’ t this consolidation happen earlier ?
You have been in the back rooms of Democratic politics a long time .
And you yourself didn ’ t endorse until recently .
Well , first of all , as to why it didn ’ t happen earlier , Isaac : they all thought they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is pretty front-loaded , and it is pretty quick .
So , obviously , everybody was going to stay in for Iowa or New Hampshire , and stay in the first four because they have spent a year investing in the first four , making relationships and building infrastructure .
So it made no sense to get out before the first four .
I think John Delaney got out before Iowa , but , for the other candidates , I think the reason they didn ’ t consolidate is that everybody thought they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thought they had a shot .
And then , of course , Super Tuesday , with this giant constellation of states , with a tremendous amount of money , and that was the process that really forced people ’ s hands because you just plain run out of money .
My process was : I was going to run for President .
I spent a lot of time with Joe Biden .
I went over in early April and had a three-hour dinner with him .
He showed me all of his data @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and I looked at that and they needed help in Virginia , and I decided I could better help Virginians by coming back and taking charge of the legislative elections we had last year .
So , my wife signed on with Joe immediately .
I thought the best role I could play as a former chairman of the national Party , who had worked on many campaigns , was to be a senior statesman on television , trying to drive the message of the Democratic Party , by telling candidates what they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it .
That is a role I enjoyed doing , and then it became clear to me that the Party needed consolidation .
We just couldn ’ t let this go on forever and let everybody tear each other apart .
We have an incumbent President who is going to have two billion dollars , and a tremendous amount of data technology , and we had to get this party ready for a general election , and so I made my decision .
Did you speak to President Obama or other people in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
Listen , my decision , Isaac , was : I have had a forty-year relationship with Joe Biden .
It wasn ’ t ever a question who I was going to go with .
My point was that I could better serve the Party doing what I was doing on television , and then we got close to Iowa and New Hampshire , and Joe really got pummelled in those first two contests .
After that , and he is an old friend , I told him right after New Hampshire I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s figure out the correct timing for it .
McAuliffe aide : Hey , Isaac , one quick point .
One of the things the governor was adamant with me for the longest time—and , Governor , just correct me if I am wrong here—is that he wanted African-American voters to have their say , and , once they had their say , considering they have been the backbone of the Party , it was easier for him to say , “ This is what I wanted to see , now I have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ so demonstrably in Joe Biden ’ s favor.
” McAuliffe : Well , the point I kept making on television , Isaac , was that I wanted to see who could build a coalition .
Listen , I have raised the argument for a long time to get rid of Iowa and New Hampshire .
They are not states that our party should start with .
When you win ninety-five per cent of the African-American community and seventy per cent of the Latino/Hispanic community , why do we start with one state that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ other state that is ninety-four per cent , white ?
I also think we should get rid of the caucuses .
My whole point was that I want to know who can win the African-American community .
Bernie Sanders did well in Iowa and New Hampshire .
Can he expand his coalition , and can he expand his base and attract African-American voters , who are the absolute backbone of our party ?
And , in South Carolina , he couldn ’ t do that .
So , if Bernie had done well @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have endorsed him ?
[ Laughs . ]
If Joe had gotten blown out in South Carolina , there would have been no need to do it , because the campaign would have been over , as you know .
He put his firewall there .
So did you talk to Obama ?
I don ’ t ever reveal any conversations with former or current Presidents .
I talk to everybody , Isaac .

Joe Biden won the vast majority of states that voted on Super Tuesday, among them Texas, Minnesota, North Carolina, and Virginia, establishing himself as the front-runner for the Democratic nomination for President. In the days before the primaries, Biden had received a remarkable series of endorsements from current and former Democratic elected officials, including his former rivals Pete Buttigieg, Amy Klobuchar, and Beto O’Rourke, as well as Virginia’s former governor, Terry McAuliffe, who has spent his life in Democratic politics, previously serving as the head of the Democratic National Committee and as a close adviser to Bill and Hillary Clinton.
McAuliffe, a CNN commentator, spent Tuesday night on the air with the cable network. I spoke by phone with him early on Wednesday morning to discuss the results, his relationship with Biden, and how the Democratic establishment united around the former Vice-President so quickly. Our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, is below.
Terry McAuliffe: Isaac, how are you, buddy?
Isaac Chotiner: Governor, how are you?
I’m tired of talking, but I will do it for you, buddy. [Laughs.]
You have been in politics for a long time. How do you understand the consolidation around Joe Biden in the last seventy-two hours?
Well, I think tonight is nothing short of shocking. I have never in my life seen anything like what we have seen with the momentum coming out of South Carolina. I mean, Isaac, he is going to win Texas. We never thought that would happen. And, remember, Joe had no resources. No staff, really, in any of these states. But I think what happened is that, after South Carolina, voters wanted someone who they believed could beat Trump, help them win control of the Senate, and help them win the House. And they looked around, and shopped around for a lot of different candidates, and, once Joe showed that he would win a majority of the African-American community, and could win in rural and urban parts of South Carolina, people said, “That is who we need to rally behind.” Many people didn’t think Bernie could beat Trump, and they wanted to find the alternative, and they found Joe after South Carolina.
O.K., but why didn’t this consolidation happen earlier? You have been in the back rooms of Democratic politics a long time. And you yourself didn’t endorse until recently.
Well, first of all, as to why it didn’t happen earlier, Isaac: they all thought they were going to win. This calendar is pretty front-loaded, and it is pretty quick. So, obviously, everybody was going to stay in for Iowa or New Hampshire, and stay in the first four because they have spent a year investing in the first four, making relationships and building infrastructure. So it made no sense to get out before the first four. I think John Delaney got out before Iowa, but, for the other candidates, I think the reason they didn’t consolidate is that everybody thought they were going to win and they all thought they had a shot.
And then, of course, Super Tuesday, with this giant constellation of states, with a tremendous amount of money, and that was the process that really forced people’s hands because you just plain run out of money.
My process was: I was going to run for President. I spent a lot of time with Joe Biden. I went over in early April and had a three-hour dinner with him. He showed me all of his data, and his path to victory, and I looked at that and they needed help in Virginia, and I decided I could better help Virginians by coming back and taking charge of the legislative elections we had last year. So, my wife signed on with Joe immediately. I thought the best role I could play as a former chairman of the national Party, who had worked on many campaigns, was to be a senior statesman on television, trying to drive the message of the Democratic Party, by telling candidates what they need to do and how to frame it. That is a role I enjoyed doing, and then it became clear to me that the Party needed consolidation. We just couldn’t let this go on forever and let everybody tear each other apart. We have an incumbent President who is going to have two billion dollars, and a tremendous amount of data technology, and we had to get this party ready for a general election, and so I made my decision.
Did you speak to President Obama or other people in the Party before you made your decision?
Listen, my decision, Isaac, was: I have had a forty-year relationship with Joe Biden. It wasn’t ever a question who I was going to go with. My point was that I could better serve the Party doing what I was doing on television, and then we got close to Iowa and New Hampshire, and Joe really got pummelled in those first two contests. After that, and he is an old friend, I told him right after New Hampshire I would endorse him, and let’s figure out the correct timing for it.
[An aide cuts in.]
McAuliffe aide: Hey, Isaac, one quick point. One of the things the governor was adamant with me for the longest time—and, Governor, just correct me if I am wrong here—is that he wanted African-American voters to have their say, and, once they had their say, considering they have been the backbone of the Party, it was easier for him to say, “This is what I wanted to see, now I have seen it, and they have spoken so demonstrably in Joe Biden’s favor.”
McAuliffe: Well, the point I kept making on television, Isaac, was that I wanted to see who could build a coalition. Listen, I have raised the argument for a long time to get rid of Iowa and New Hampshire. They are not states that our party should start with. When you win ninety-five per cent of the African-American community and seventy per cent of the Latino/Hispanic community, why do we start with one state that is ninety-one per cent, and the other state that is ninety-four per cent, white? I also think we should get rid of the caucuses. My whole point was that I want to know who can win the African-American community. Bernie Sanders did well in Iowa and New Hampshire. Can he expand his coalition, and can he expand his base and attract African-American voters, who are the absolute backbone of our party? And, in South Carolina, he couldn’t do that.
So, if Bernie had done well with the African-American vote, you would have endorsed him?
[Laughs.] If Joe had gotten blown out in South Carolina, there would have been no need to do it, because the campaign would have been over, as you know. He put his firewall there.
So did you talk to Obama?
I don’t ever reveal any conversations with former or current Presidents. I talk to everybody, Isaac.
Representative James Clyburn, whose endorsement made a huge impact in South Carolina—
Huge!
—said he was concerned about the organization of the Biden campaign. You said you had seen some of Biden’s data, but is this something you have any concern about, going forward?


newyorker--2020-03-04--Where All That Bloomberg Campaign Money Went

“ Michael R. Bloomberg dropped out of the presidential race on Wednesday , just over three months after he began @ @ @ @ @ by his vast fortune .
.
.
.
In an unprecedented effort to self-finance a @ @ @ @ @ as an attempt to buy the White House—Mr .
Bloomberg ’ s bid cost him @ @ @ @ @ dollars in advertising alone.
” —New York Times

“Michael R. Bloomberg dropped out of the presidential race on Wednesday, just over three months after he began a campaign that was fueled by his vast fortune. . . . In an unprecedented effort to self-finance a presidential campaign—which some rivals derided as an attempt to buy the White House—Mr. Bloomberg’s bid cost him more than half a billion dollars in advertising alone.” —New York Times


newyorker--2020-03-04--How South Korea Lost Control of Its Coronavirus Outbreak

On February 24th , Ha Tae-kyung , a South Korean National Assembly member and a co-chairman of the New Conservative Party , was on a high-speed train to Seoul from Busan , the country ’ s second-largest city , when he heard that the assembly had cancelled that day ’ s session and shut down .
A participant in the previous week ’ s parliamentary forum had tested positive for COVID-19 , and several politicians were now undergoing a medical screening .
“ A virus wouldn ’ t discriminate if it ’ s a Parliament , the Blue House , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ told me in a phone interview .
“ But it was the first time in my career that I experienced the parliament closing for such a reason.
” The coronavirus epidemic , which was first detected in Wuhan , China , is having a rapidly intensifying political impact on neighboring countries .
In Japan , Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has been harshly criticized for his government ’ s handling of a cruise-ship outbreak that has resulted in at least six deaths and seven hundred infections .
In South Korea , which has reported @ @ @ @ @ @ @ infections—the highest number after China—the virus is threatening the Presidency of Moon Jae-in .
This matters because of who Moon is and what his Presidency means for South Koreans .
In 2017 , Moon , a former human-rights lawyer and Democratic Party candidate , was elected in an emergency election following the impeachment and removal of President Park Geun-hye , a conservative who is now serving a twenty-five-year prison sentence for abuse of power and corruption .
Public anger , which culminated in massive street protests by millions of Koreans , had roots @ @ @ @ @ @ @ M.V .
Sewol , in which nearly three hundred teen-agers drowned .
The accident revealed fundamental failures in the Korean governmental system and neglect by the head of state , who was absent in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy .
The National Assembly held hearings to investigate President Park ’ s whereabouts during what they called “ the golden time ” when lives might have been saved .
During his campaign , Moon pledged that a President and the Blue House must serve as the “ control tower ” during national disasters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
On January 26th , three days after China ’ s lockdown on Wuhan , the Korean Medical Association , the country ’ s largest association of doctors , urged the government to temporarily bar entry to all travellers arriving from mainland China .
Moon ’ s government did not heed that warning .
Instead , it donated a million and a half face masks to China .
Moon ’ s defenders point out that the World Health Organization does not recommend a travel ban for virus prevention , but Dr. Choi Jae-wook @ @ @ @ @ @ @ University and the chairman of the K.M.A.
’ s scientific-verification committee , told me that countries must adapt when facing a potential pandemic .
“ In South Korea , there were fewer than ten infected back then and they had all come through China , ” Dr. Choi said .
“ At the time , there were seventy thousand people coming from China per day .
Sure , they can check for any sign of fever at the airport , but many show no symptoms , and some get sick only afterward .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ is to stop contagion , and the most basic solution in this case was a restriction.
” Four days later , on January 30th , the W.H.O .
declared a global health emergency , and several countries , including the United States and Australia , placed a temporary ban on travellers from China .
Other nearby countries , including Russia , Mongolia , Kazakhstan , Vietnam , Taiwan , the Philippines , and Singapore , quickly did so as well .
As of today , more than seventy nations have imposed a temporary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ faced his “ control-tower ” moment , the brief “ golden-time ” window when his response might have limited the country ’ s outbreak .
He declined to impose a full travel ban .
Japanese Prime Minister Abe declined as well .
Both leaders had plans in place for spring summit visits by Chinese President Xi Jinping .
China is South Korea ’ s largest trading partner , and Chinese make up about half of the seventeen million tourists who visit the country annually .
On February 4th , five days after the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Korea enacted a limited ban , which barred entry by any foreigners who had visited China ’ s Hubei Province in the previous two weeks .
( Due to China ’ s lockdown of the province , no one was travelling in and out of Hubei anyway . )
Moon ’ s critics dismissed the limited step as an empty gesture to placate Koreans demanding a full ban .
On February 13th , as the official count of infections in China approached sixty thousand , Moon announced that the virus had been contained @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ disappear before long.
” He urged Koreans to return to their normal lives .
A week later , on February 20th , in a thirty-minute phone call with Xi , Moon pledged South Korea ’ s unending support for China ’ s fight against the coronavirus , saying that “ China ’ s difficulties are our difficulties ” and reconfirming the upcoming summit with the Chinese President .
That same day , Moon and his wife hosted a chapaguri party ( the instant noodle combination made famous by the Oscar-winning film “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the film ’ s director and cast ; photos of the festivity circulated widely on social media .
By that afternoon , the number of infections in South Korea had doubled from fifty-one to a hundred and four , and the first COVID-19-related death in the country was reported .
Within thirty-six hours , five more Koreans died from the virus , and the number of infections grew to more than six hundred .
On February 23rd , Moon finally raised the coronavirus alert to the highest level and declared a voluntary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ but the virus had already spread across the entire country .
In a speech , Moon blamed the outbreak in South Korea on members of Shincheonji Church of Jesus , a religious group widely considered to be a cult , whose adherents make up more than half of those infected with COVID-19 .
“ The before and after situations of the group infection among the Shincheonji followers , which is occurring at a huge scale , presents completely different circumstances , ” Moon said .
In January , the group had held several @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s fourth-largest city .
Attendees included members who had recently visited the group ’ s branch in Wuhan , China , and the virus appears to have spread among participants .
Three years after Moon campaigned on a promise of governing more effectively during an emergency than Park , the incumbent ’ s response to one has resembled that of his predecessor .
After the ferry disaster , Park blamed the tragedy on the ship ’ s owner , a founder of a different religious group also considered a cult .
After @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for the ferry owner , he went into hiding .
Eventually , he was found dead , an apparent suicide .
On March 1st , the city of Seoul , whose mayor , like Moon , is a member of the Democratic Party , asked prosecutors to charge Lee Man-hee , the founder of the Shincheonji Church , and the religious group ’ s other leaders for murder for their alleged role in spreading COVID-19 .
That afternoon , Lee held a press conference , got down on his knees , bowed twice @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s role in the outbreak , which he said was accidental .

On February 24th, Ha Tae-kyung, a South Korean National Assembly member and a co-chairman of the New Conservative Party, was on a high-speed train to Seoul from Busan, the country’s second-largest city, when he heard that the assembly had cancelled that day’s session and shut down. A participant in the previous week’s parliamentary forum had tested positive for COVID-19, and several politicians were now undergoing a medical screening. “A virus wouldn’t discriminate if it’s a Parliament, the Blue House, or a City Hall,” Ha told me in a phone interview. “But it was the first time in my career that I experienced the parliament closing for such a reason.”
The coronavirus epidemic, which was first detected in Wuhan, China, is having a rapidly intensifying political impact on neighboring countries. In Japan, Prime Minister Shinzo Abe has been harshly criticized for his government’s handling of a cruise-ship outbreak that has resulted in at least six deaths and seven hundred infections. In South Korea, which has reported thirty-five deaths and more than fifty-six hundred infections—the highest number after China—the virus is threatening the Presidency of Moon Jae-in.
This matters because of who Moon is and what his Presidency means for South Koreans. In 2017, Moon, a former human-rights lawyer and Democratic Party candidate, was elected in an emergency election following the impeachment and removal of President Park Geun-hye, a conservative who is now serving a twenty-five-year prison sentence for abuse of power and corruption. Public anger, which culminated in massive street protests by millions of Koreans, had roots in the 2014 sinking of the ferry M.V. Sewol, in which nearly three hundred teen-agers drowned. The accident revealed fundamental failures in the Korean governmental system and neglect by the head of state, who was absent in the immediate aftermath of the tragedy. The National Assembly held hearings to investigate President Park’s whereabouts during what they called “the golden time” when lives might have been saved. During his campaign, Moon pledged that a President and the Blue House must serve as the “control tower” during national disasters. That promise now haunts his Presidency.
On January 26th, three days after China’s lockdown on Wuhan, the Korean Medical Association, the country’s largest association of doctors, urged the government to temporarily bar entry to all travellers arriving from mainland China. Moon’s government did not heed that warning. Instead, it donated a million and a half face masks to China. Moon’s defenders point out that the World Health Organization does not recommend a travel ban for virus prevention, but Dr. Choi Jae-wook, professor of Preventive Medicine at Koryo University and the chairman of the K.M.A.’s scientific-verification committee, told me that countries must adapt when facing a potential pandemic. “In South Korea, there were fewer than ten infected back then and they had all come through China,” Dr. Choi said. “At the time, there were seventy thousand people coming from China per day. Sure, they can check for any sign of fever at the airport, but many show no symptoms, and some get sick only afterward. The foremost priority for any infectious disease is to stop contagion, and the most basic solution in this case was a restriction.”
Four days later, on January 30th, the W.H.O. declared a global health emergency, and several countries, including the United States and Australia, placed a temporary ban on travellers from China. Other nearby countries, including Russia, Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Vietnam, Taiwan, the Philippines, and Singapore, quickly did so as well. As of today, more than seventy nations have imposed a temporary ban. In South Korea, Moon faced his “control-tower” moment, the brief “golden-time” window when his response might have limited the country’s outbreak. He declined to impose a full travel ban. Japanese Prime Minister Abe declined as well. Both leaders had plans in place for spring summit visits by Chinese President Xi Jinping. China is South Korea’s largest trading partner, and Chinese make up about half of the seventeen million tourists who visit the country annually. On February 4th, five days after the W.H.O. declared an emergency, South Korea enacted a limited ban, which barred entry by any foreigners who had visited China’s Hubei Province in the previous two weeks. (Due to China’s lockdown of the province, no one was travelling in and out of Hubei anyway.) Moon’s critics dismissed the limited step as an empty gesture to placate Koreans demanding a full ban.
On February 13th, as the official count of infections in China approached sixty thousand, Moon announced that the virus had been contained in South Korea and predicted it would “disappear before long.” He urged Koreans to return to their normal lives. A week later, on February 20th, in a thirty-minute phone call with Xi, Moon pledged South Korea’s unending support for China’s fight against the coronavirus, saying that “China’s difficulties are our difficulties” and reconfirming the upcoming summit with the Chinese President. That same day, Moon and his wife hosted a chapaguri party (the instant noodle combination made famous by the Oscar-winning film “Parasite”) at the Blue House for the film’s director and cast; photos of the festivity circulated widely on social media. By that afternoon, the number of infections in South Korea had doubled from fifty-one to a hundred and four, and the first COVID-19-related death in the country was reported. Within thirty-six hours, five more Koreans died from the virus, and the number of infections grew to more than six hundred.
Opposition leaders are vowing to make President Moon Jae-in’s response to the coronavirus a central issue of the upcoming midterm-election campaign. Photograph from South Korean Presidential Blue House / Getty
On February 23rd, Moon finally raised the coronavirus alert to the highest level and declared a voluntary lockdown of affected cities and provinces, but the virus had already spread across the entire country. In a speech, Moon blamed the outbreak in South Korea on members of Shincheonji Church of Jesus, a religious group widely considered to be a cult, whose adherents make up more than half of those infected with COVID-19. “The before and after situations of the group infection among the Shincheonji followers, which is occurring at a huge scale, presents completely different circumstances,” Moon said. In January, the group had held several large services in Daegu, South Korea’s fourth-largest city. Attendees included members who had recently visited the group’s branch in Wuhan, China, and the virus appears to have spread among participants.


newyorker--2020-03-04--The Strange Terror of Watching the Coronavirus Take Rome

Two weeks ago , I sent an e-mail from Rome , where I had been enjoying a sabbatical semester of research and writing , to a Chinese friend who lives in one of those small cities of five or six million inhabitants , very far from Wuhan , the original epicenter of the coronavirus epidemic .
In my note , I said that I was sure that she was safely distant from the current crisis , but that , all the same , I was thinking of her and beaming her my warmest wishes .
She replied politely that she @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a lovely sabbatical .
As for her , however , though she was in good health , her life and the lives of everyone around her were turned topsy-turvy .
The streets in her city were empty ; places of work were all closed ; she and her family were confined at home ; one of them per day might receive permission to go out , masked , to shop for food and supplies ; everyone lived in fear .
I was suitably embarrassed by my e-mail ’ s ridiculous insouciance , but @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grasp the extent of my stupidity .
I get it now , thanks to the unfolding events in Italy .
The initial reports of an outbreak , in a few towns in the north of the country , were alarming enough , but it remained news coming from far away .
With astonishing rapidity , the situation worsened : in quick succession , whole communities were quarantined ; schools and churches closed their doors ; museums , galleries , and palaces were shuttered ; concerts were cancelled .
If anyone hadn ’ t @ @ @ @ @ @ @ situation , two further occurrences made it overwhelmingly apparent : parts of Milan Fashion Week , the crown jewel of one of Italy ’ s greatest economic successes , were closed to the public , and , still more ominously , the soccer game between Inter Milan and a rival was played before an eerily empty stadium .
As any Italian knows , soccer , far more than religion , is sacred ; denying fans access to the match was an even more drastic signal than temporarily closing Milan Cathedral to tourists and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ virus had not yet surfaced , and there were very few signs of alarm , apart from a run on hand sanitizer .
But , as the constant reports in the newspapers and on television accumulated , the mood altered .
The news from the north , we began to say to one another , resembled the thud of artillery shells exploding in a battle somewhere across the mountains , out of sight but no longer so far distant as to be inaudible .
And then steadily the enemy moved across Lombardy and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Where were our defenders ?
If we were to continue the military metaphor , we had to concede that Venice was gravely threatened , then Bergamo , then Florence .
Rome would fall soon .
But , as our conversations about the virus continued—and it was increasingly impossible to talk about anything else—the image of an approaching army gave way to other attempts to understand what was happening .
Of course , even in the popular press , there was no end of epidemiological articles , often quite serious and detailed ones @ @ @ @ @ @ @ familiar lists of advice : wash your hands , don ’ t touch your face , clean all surfaces , keep washing your hands , move away from people who are coughing , avoid crowds , try to stay at least one metre away from everyone else .
But , however informative all of this is—and we consumed a vast amount of it in only a few days—in situations of stress , it is , as usual , literature that offers the most powerful ways of grasping what is happening or may come @ @ @ @ @ @ @ biological sense but in its narrative unfolding .
So our conversations turned to Saramago ’ s “ Blindness , ” Camus ’ s “ The Plague , ” Defoe ’ s “ A Journal of the Plague Year , ” Manzoni ’ s “ The Betrothed , ” and , above all—the greatest of these fictional depictions—the opening chapter of Boccaccio ’ s “ Decameron.
” The problem is that , as brilliant as these accounts are , they depict cultures in the grip of epidemic disease as collapsing into chaos , violence @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
But this is not at all what we were reading about in the newspapers or experiencing for ourselves .
In China , if the accounts are accurate , there is something like the opposite : an extraordinary intensification of social order , figured in the software with which the government tracks many citizens ’ health and movement .
In Italy , there has been no comparable intensification—quite apart from the technology , such control is quite alien to the national character—but instead the marked presence of the warmth and kindness that make @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the country ’ s notorious political dysfunction .
It is as if people instinctively sense , even as their anxiety levels rise and their economy sinks , that their version of social order rests on good humor , patience , inventiveness , and flexibility .
The mother and son who run the fruit and vegetable stand at the outdoor market , the local genius who concocts wildly implausible flavors of gelato , the clerk at the nearby gym who somehow remembered ( or pretended to remember ) that I had a temporary membership @ @ @ @ @ @ @ fee—all seem , under the pressure of the crisis , somehow to hold onto their innate sweetness .
It is a different narrative—and a different literary model—that helps to explain why I am writing these paragraphs not in Rome but on a plane back to the United States .
Living on the top of a high hill , in a neighborhood not frequented by tourists , at first I had not noticed anything strange , but then I walked through the historic center , and it hit me : in the past few @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the city emptied out .
The crowds lining up to enter the Colosseum or visit the Forum have thinned ; the mobs throwing coins in the Trevi Fountain or climbing the Spanish Steps have all but vanished ; restaurants and bars usually overflowing with patrons are almost vacant .
It is customary , of course , to lament the phenomenon of mass tourism in Italy ; even the tourists themselves grumble and dream ( as I do ) of how nice it would be to visit the Sistine Chapel in solitary splendor .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ out , at least for the current reason , is terrifying .
Three nights ago , going to a friend ’ s house for dinner at 8 P.M. , we walked through the Piazza Navona , the most beautiful square in the world , and were completely alone .
The literary model here is not “ Decameron , ” with porters bearing planks piled high with corpses and survivors torn between secluding themselves in closed-up houses and indulging in riotous excess .
Instead , it is Thomas Mann ’ s “ Death in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , madly in love with the beautiful boy , failing to notice that all the other guests in the hotel have fled the cholera epidemic .
Of course , the locals who run the hotel do not flee ; it is their city , and they have no choice but to stay .
But poor Aschenbach could have gone home .
Perhaps the plague would have followed him there , but at least he would have reëntered his own world , as I am about to do when my plane lands .

Two weeks ago, I sent an e-mail from Rome, where I had been enjoying a sabbatical semester of research and writing, to a Chinese friend who lives in one of those small cities of five or six million inhabitants, very far from Wuhan, the original epicenter of the coronavirus epidemic. In my note, I said that I was sure that she was safely distant from the current crisis, but that, all the same, I was thinking of her and beaming her my warmest wishes. She replied politely that she was happy that I was having such a lovely sabbatical. As for her, however, though she was in good health, her life and the lives of everyone around her were turned topsy-turvy. The streets in her city were empty; places of work were all closed; she and her family were confined at home; one of them per day might receive permission to go out, masked, to shop for food and supplies; everyone lived in fear. I was suitably embarrassed by my e-mail’s ridiculous insouciance, but at the time I did not fully grasp the extent of my stupidity.
I get it now, thanks to the unfolding events in Italy. The initial reports of an outbreak, in a few towns in the north of the country, were alarming enough, but it remained news coming from far away. With astonishing rapidity, the situation worsened: in quick succession, whole communities were quarantined; schools and churches closed their doors; museums, galleries, and palaces were shuttered; concerts were cancelled. If anyone hadn’t already taken in the gravity of the situation, two further occurrences made it overwhelmingly apparent: parts of Milan Fashion Week, the crown jewel of one of Italy’s greatest economic successes, were closed to the public, and, still more ominously, the soccer game between Inter Milan and a rival was played before an eerily empty stadium. As any Italian knows, soccer, far more than religion, is sacred; denying fans access to the match was an even more drastic signal than temporarily closing Milan Cathedral to tourists and the faithful.
In Rome, the virus had not yet surfaced, and there were very few signs of alarm, apart from a run on hand sanitizer. But, as the constant reports in the newspapers and on television accumulated, the mood altered. The news from the north, we began to say to one another, resembled the thud of artillery shells exploding in a battle somewhere across the mountains, out of sight but no longer so far distant as to be inaudible. And then steadily the enemy moved across Lombardy and Veneto and south into Tuscany and Umbria. Where were our defenders? If we were to continue the military metaphor, we had to concede that Venice was gravely threatened, then Bergamo, then Florence. Rome would fall soon.
But, as our conversations about the virus continued—and it was increasingly impossible to talk about anything else—the image of an approaching army gave way to other attempts to understand what was happening. Of course, even in the popular press, there was no end of epidemiological articles, often quite serious and detailed ones written by experts, along with the familiar lists of advice: wash your hands, don’t touch your face, clean all surfaces, keep washing your hands, move away from people who are coughing, avoid crowds, try to stay at least one metre away from everyone else. But, however informative all of this is—and we consumed a vast amount of it in only a few days—in situations of stress, it is, as usual, literature that offers the most powerful ways of grasping what is happening or may come to pass, not in the precise biological sense but in its narrative unfolding. So our conversations turned to Saramago’s “Blindness,” Camus’s “The Plague,” Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year,” Manzoni’s “The Betrothed,” and, above all—the greatest of these fictional depictions—the opening chapter of Boccaccio’s “Decameron.”
The problem is that, as brilliant as these accounts are, they depict cultures in the grip of epidemic disease as collapsing into chaos, violence, and the rupturing of social bonds. But this is not at all what we were reading about in the newspapers or experiencing for ourselves. In China, if the accounts are accurate, there is something like the opposite: an extraordinary intensification of social order, figured in the software with which the government tracks many citizens’ health and movement. In Italy, there has been no comparable intensification—quite apart from the technology, such control is quite alien to the national character—but instead the marked presence of the warmth and kindness that make ordinary life here so agreeable, notwithstanding the country’s notorious political dysfunction. It is as if people instinctively sense, even as their anxiety levels rise and their economy sinks, that their version of social order rests on good humor, patience, inventiveness, and flexibility. The mother and son who run the fruit and vegetable stand at the outdoor market, the local genius who concocts wildly implausible flavors of gelato, the clerk at the nearby gym who somehow remembered (or pretended to remember) that I had a temporary membership four years ago and waived the initiation fee—all seem, under the pressure of the crisis, somehow to hold onto their innate sweetness.
It is a different narrative—and a different literary model—that helps to explain why I am writing these paragraphs not in Rome but on a plane back to the United States. Living on the top of a high hill, in a neighborhood not frequented by tourists, at first I had not noticed anything strange, but then I walked through the historic center, and it hit me: in the past few weeks, as the virus spread, the city emptied out. The crowds lining up to enter the Colosseum or visit the Forum have thinned; the mobs throwing coins in the Trevi Fountain or climbing the Spanish Steps have all but vanished; restaurants and bars usually overflowing with patrons are almost vacant. It is customary, of course, to lament the phenomenon of mass tourism in Italy; even the tourists themselves grumble and dream (as I do) of how nice it would be to visit the Sistine Chapel in solitary splendor. But the actual effect of the emptying out, at least for the current reason, is terrifying. Three nights ago, going to a friend’s house for dinner at 8 P.M., we walked through the Piazza Navona, the most beautiful square in the world, and were completely alone.
The literary model here is not “Decameron,” with porters bearing planks piled high with corpses and survivors torn between secluding themselves in closed-up houses and indulging in riotous excess. Instead, it is Thomas Mann’s “Death in Venice,” with the doomed hero, madly in love with the beautiful boy, failing to notice that all the other guests in the hotel have fled the cholera epidemic. Of course, the locals who run the hotel do not flee; it is their city, and they have no choice but to stay. But poor Aschenbach could have gone home. Perhaps the plague would have followed him there, but at least he would have reëntered his own world, as I am about to do when my plane lands.
A Guide to the Coronavirus
How much of the world is likely to be quarantined?
Donald Trump in the time of coronavirus.
The coronavirus is likely to spread for months, if not more than a year, before a vaccine could be widely available.
We are all irrational panic shoppers.
How pandemics change history.


newyorker--2020-03-04--A Photographer’s Parents Wave Farewell

A Photographer’s Parents Wave Farewell

At the end of their daughter ’ s visits , like countless other mothers and fathers in the suburbs , @ @ @ @ @ stand outside the house to send her off while she got in her car and @ @ @ @ @ in 1991 , she thought to photograph them in this pose , moved by a @ @ @ @ @ years would not last forever .
Dikeman ’ s mother wore indigo shorts and a @ @ @ @ @ ; her father , in beige slacks , lingered behind her on the lawn , @ @ @ @ @ a maple tree .
The image shows their arms rising together in a farewell wave @ @ @ @ @ years , during every departure thereafter , Dikeman photographed her parents at the same moment @ @ @ @ @ window and aiming her lens toward their home .
Dikeman ’ s mother was known @ @ @ @ @ her incessant photography .
“ Oh , Deanna , put that thing away , ” @ @ @ @ @ Both parents followed her outdoors anyway .

At the end of their daughter’s visits, like countless other mothers and fathers in the suburbs, Dikeman’s parents would stand outside the house to send her off while she got in her car and drove away. One day in 1991, she thought to photograph them in this pose, moved by a mounting awareness that the peaceful years would not last forever. Dikeman’s mother wore indigo shorts and a bright pink blouse that morning; her father, in beige slacks, lingered behind her on the lawn, in the ragged shade of a maple tree. The image shows their arms rising together in a farewell wave. For more than twenty years, during every departure thereafter, Dikeman photographed her parents at the same moment, rolling down her car window and aiming her lens toward their home. Dikeman’s mother was known to scold her daughter for her incessant photography. “Oh, Deanna, put that thing away,” she’d say. Both parents followed her outdoors anyway.


newyorker--2020-03-04--“Portrait of a Lady on Fire” Is More Than a “Manifesto on the Female Gaze”

Last year , the British publisher Fitzcarraldo re-issued “ L ’ événement ” ( “ Happening ” ) , a memoir by the French writer Annie Ernaux .
Ernaux , who is seventy-nine years old , is not well known outside of France , but in her native country she is considered something of a literary lioness , for her stouthearted willingness to mine material from her own life .
She has written books about her extramarital affair , the death of her mother , and a brush with breast cancer .
But “ L ’ événement , ” in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ illegal abortion she had in 1963 , at the age of twenty-three , may be her most aching work .
In it , she mourns the lack of great works of art that affirm or even depict her experience .
“ I do not believe there exists a ‘ Workshop of the Backstreet Abortionist ’ in any museum in the world , ” she writes .
This line made an impression on the French filmmaker Céline Sciamma , who cited it recently as the inspiration for one of the most striking scenes in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a Lady on Fire.
” The movie is a lesbian love story , set on a remote shore in Brittany , in the eighteenth century .
After premièring last May , at Cannes , where it won Best Screenplay and the Queer Palm , it was released wide in the United States in February .
( It shares a distributor with “ Parasite , ” and has attracted similar levels of buzz ; according to Deadline , its U.S. début was one of the strongest of any French film since “ Amelie.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ women lounge together on a bed inside a drafty country estate , their faces warmed by a crackling fireplace .
One of them , Héloïse ( Adèle Haenel ) , is the sheltered but willful daughter of the house , betrothed to a wealthy Italian courtier whom she has no desire to marry .
Another , Marianne ( Noémie Merlant ) , is the Parisian artist hired to paint Héloïse ’ s portrait , who has also become her lover .
The third , Sophie ( Luàna Bajrami ) , is the house @ @ @ @ @ @ @ recuperating from an abortion that she received , at the home of a local herbalist , earlier that morning .
Suddenly , Héloïse has an idea .
Does Sophie feel well enough to get out of bed ?
Héloïse drags the mattress the women had been resting on to the ground , tells Sophie to lie down upon it , then positions herself in the same stance that Sophie ’ s abortionist had assumed hours before , reënacting the procedure .
“ We are going to paint , ” she tells Marianne , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sliver of spare canvas .
Sciamma—who has directed five films in France since 2008—has called “ Portrait of a Lady on Fire ” a “ manifesto about the female gaze , ” and it ’ s true that at every turn her film subverts the male perspective in favor of feminine ways of looking .
There are hardly any men in the movie at all , and , when they do appear , they often have their backs turned or their faces out of focus ; when we finally do see a man @ @ @ @ @ @ @ like an intrusion .
The film makes unusually expressive use of costumes without glamorizing its stars : each protagonist appears in a single , simple dress for the majority of the film .
Sciamma builds her story out of glances and stares , of women ’ s faces illuminated by candlelight or the harsh white sun on the beach , of mirrored surfaces that invite careful looking ; the opening shots are closeups of the faces of young girls as they look at Marianne , their instructor in a drawing class some years @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ( The story is told as a flashback . )
But “ manifesto ” seems too didactic a term for “ Portrait of a Lady on Fire ” ’ s finespun romance and delicate , transfixing tableaux , and “ female gaze ” —a scholarly term worn out from overuse—is inadequate shorthand for its thorough exploration of the entanglements between artistic creation and burgeoning love , between memory and ambition and freedom .
The film is about the erotic , electric connection between women when they find their desire for creative experience fulfilled @ @ @ @ @ @ @ equally about the powers of art to validate , preserve , and console after a romance is over .
Even without showing men onscreen , Sciamma depicts the myriad ways in which the patriarchy constricts the lives of her female protagonists .
Héloïse is set to marry the rich Italian man because her older sister escaped the same fate—by falling , or more likely leaping , off the craggy cliffs near their house .
Héloïse had spent time living with Benedictine nuns ( “ Equality is a pleasant feeling , ” she says @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Comtesse ( Valeria Golino ) , has brought her back home , and locked her inside to make sure that she doesn ’ t follow her sister ’ s lead and ruin the family ’ s fortunes .
A lover of music and literature , Héloïse has never seen an orchestra play .
Marianne , who arrives at the house alone , after a rough boat ride and a rocky climb from the shore , has known more freedom in her life : she is set to inherit her father ’ s portrait @ @ @ @ @ @ @ has spent time outside her native country .
But , we learn , she often submits her best pieces to salon exhibitions under her father ’ s name , in order to have her work shown .
She secures the gig to paint Héloïse ’ s portrait—a gift for the Italian , to seal their betrothal—only after a male painter comes first , and Héloïse refuses to pose for him .
There is , from the outset , a sportive tension to the relationship between the two women .
To win Héloïse ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Comtesse tells Marianne to lie and say that she is at the house to serve as Héloïse ’ s walking companion .
Marianne must work on her portrait at night , then , stealing only a few furtive glances at her source material : Héloïse ’ s face , when it ’ s not hidden behind a large hooded cape ( a garment left over from the convent ) ; her hands , folded in her lap on the beach .
When Marianne confesses her true project , Héloïse demands to see the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ how it smooths out her sharp features and makes them plain , and pronounces it deeply lacking .
( Haenel , it should be said , has one of the most compelling faces in the current cinema , her smile lines and a groove between her eyebrows etching traces of emotion into even her passive expressions . )
The dialogue between the two women is provocative , pithy , laced with mutual understanding and mutual challenge .
“ I didn ’ t know you were an art critic , ” Marianne says , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I didn ’ t know you were a painter , ” Héloïse shoots back .
Héloïse wants Marianne to know that she is not like the other subjects she has painted ; she ’ s not docile , and certainly not domesticated .
When Héloïse agrees to sit for a second portrait , she reminds Marianne that , though she is the subject and Marianne the painter , Marianne is not the only one doing the scrutinizing .
She is willing to be appraised , but she also intends to do the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a period lesbian romance might emphasize the taboos of same-sex love , Sciamma is less interested in shame or shock as she is in the force of the genuine bonds that form .
Her filming of sex and nudity ingeniously sidesteps titillating cinematic conventions : the only intercourse shown involves fingers in an armpit , and the only time we see Héloïse ’ s full nude form , she is stretched on a bed , a small mirror blocking her pubis as Marianne gazes at her own reflection , sketching a self-portrait .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , in part , like a rebuke to another acclaimed French lesbian romance , 2013 ’ s “ Blue Is the Warmest Color , ” whose male director included a six-minute sex scene that the female stars later said they found demeaning to film .
( In an offscreen protest against the film-industry patriarchy , Sciamma and Haenel recently walked out of the César Awards , France ’ s version of the Oscars , when Roman Polanski , a convicted rapist , was announced as a winner . )

Last year, the British publisher Fitzcarraldo re-issued “L’événement” (“Happening”), a memoir by the French writer Annie Ernaux. Ernaux, who is seventy-nine years old, is not well known outside of France, but in her native country she is considered something of a literary lioness, for her stouthearted willingness to mine material from her own life. She has written books about her extramarital affair, the death of her mother, and a brush with breast cancer. But “L’événement,” in which she tells the story of an illegal abortion she had in 1963, at the age of twenty-three, may be her most aching work. In it, she mourns the lack of great works of art that affirm or even depict her experience. “I do not believe there exists a ‘Workshop of the Backstreet Abortionist’ in any museum in the world,” she writes.
This line made an impression on the French filmmaker Céline Sciamma, who cited it recently as the inspiration for one of the most striking scenes in her new film, “Portrait of a Lady on Fire.” The movie is a lesbian love story, set on a remote shore in Brittany, in the eighteenth century. After premièring last May, at Cannes, where it won Best Screenplay and the Queer Palm, it was released wide in the United States in February. (It shares a distributor with “Parasite,” and has attracted similar levels of buzz; according to Deadline, its U.S. début was one of the strongest of any French film since “Amelie.”) In the aforementioned scene, three women lounge together on a bed inside a drafty country estate, their faces warmed by a crackling fireplace. One of them, Héloïse (Adèle Haenel), is the sheltered but willful daughter of the house, betrothed to a wealthy Italian courtier whom she has no desire to marry. Another, Marianne (Noémie Merlant), is the Parisian artist hired to paint Héloïse’s portrait, who has also become her lover. The third, Sophie (Luàna Bajrami), is the house’s young maid, who is recuperating from an abortion that she received, at the home of a local herbalist, earlier that morning. Suddenly, Héloïse has an idea. Does Sophie feel well enough to get out of bed? Héloïse drags the mattress the women had been resting on to the ground, tells Sophie to lie down upon it, then positions herself in the same stance that Sophie’s abortionist had assumed hours before, reënacting the procedure. “We are going to paint,” she tells Marianne, who grabs her oils and a small sliver of spare canvas.
Sciamma—who has directed five films in France since 2008—has called “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” a “manifesto about the female gaze,” and it’s true that at every turn her film subverts the male perspective in favor of feminine ways of looking. There are hardly any men in the movie at all, and, when they do appear, they often have their backs turned or their faces out of focus; when we finally do see a man’s face clearly, it feels like an intrusion. The film makes unusually expressive use of costumes without glamorizing its stars: each protagonist appears in a single, simple dress for the majority of the film. Sciamma builds her story out of glances and stares, of women’s faces illuminated by candlelight or the harsh white sun on the beach, of mirrored surfaces that invite careful looking; the opening shots are closeups of the faces of young girls as they look at Marianne, their instructor in a drawing class some years after the love affair takes place. (The story is told as a flashback.) But “manifesto” seems too didactic a term for “Portrait of a Lady on Fire” ’s finespun romance and delicate, transfixing tableaux, and “female gaze”—a scholarly term worn out from overuse—is inadequate shorthand for its thorough exploration of the entanglements between artistic creation and burgeoning love, between memory and ambition and freedom. The film is about the erotic, electric connection between women when they find their desire for creative experience fulfilled in each other, but it is equally about the powers of art to validate, preserve, and console after a romance is over.
Even without showing men onscreen, Sciamma depicts the myriad ways in which the patriarchy constricts the lives of her female protagonists. Héloïse is set to marry the rich Italian man because her older sister escaped the same fate—by falling, or more likely leaping, off the craggy cliffs near their house. Héloïse had spent time living with Benedictine nuns (“Equality is a pleasant feeling,” she says); now her mother, the Comtesse (Valeria Golino), has brought her back home, and locked her inside to make sure that she doesn’t follow her sister’s lead and ruin the family’s fortunes. A lover of music and literature, Héloïse has never seen an orchestra play. Marianne, who arrives at the house alone, after a rough boat ride and a rocky climb from the shore, has known more freedom in her life: she is set to inherit her father’s portrait studio; she speaks fluent Italian and has spent time outside her native country. But, we learn, she often submits her best pieces to salon exhibitions under her father’s name, in order to have her work shown. She secures the gig to paint Héloïse’s portrait—a gift for the Italian, to seal their betrothal—only after a male painter comes first, and Héloïse refuses to pose for him.
There is, from the outset, a sportive tension to the relationship between the two women. To win Héloïse’s coöperation in the portrait-making, the Comtesse tells Marianne to lie and say that she is at the house to serve as Héloïse’s walking companion. Marianne must work on her portrait at night, then, stealing only a few furtive glances at her source material: Héloïse’s face, when it’s not hidden behind a large hooded cape (a garment left over from the convent); her hands, folded in her lap on the beach. When Marianne confesses her true project, Héloïse demands to see the painting. She studies the likeness, how it smooths out her sharp features and makes them plain, and pronounces it deeply lacking. (Haenel, it should be said, has one of the most compelling faces in the current cinema, her smile lines and a groove between her eyebrows etching traces of emotion into even her passive expressions.) The dialogue between the two women is provocative, pithy, laced with mutual understanding and mutual challenge. “I didn’t know you were an art critic,” Marianne says, wounded by Héloïse’s judgment. “I didn’t know you were a painter,” Héloïse shoots back. Héloïse wants Marianne to know that she is not like the other subjects she has painted; she’s not docile, and certainly not domesticated. When Héloïse agrees to sit for a second portrait, she reminds Marianne that, though she is the subject and Marianne the painter, Marianne is not the only one doing the scrutinizing. She is willing to be appraised, but she also intends to do the appraising.
Where many other directors of a period lesbian romance might emphasize the taboos of same-sex love, Sciamma is less interested in shame or shock as she is in the force of the genuine bonds that form. Her filming of sex and nudity ingeniously sidesteps titillating cinematic conventions: the only intercourse shown involves fingers in an armpit, and the only time we see Héloïse’s full nude form, she is stretched on a bed, a small mirror blocking her pubis as Marianne gazes at her own reflection, sketching a self-portrait. The film’s relative modesty feels, in part, like a rebuke to another acclaimed French lesbian romance, 2013’s “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” whose male director included a six-minute sex scene that the female stars later said they found demeaning to film. (In an offscreen protest against the film-industry patriarchy, Sciamma and Haenel recently walked out of the César Awards, France’s version of the Oscars, when Roman Polanski, a convicted rapist, was announced as a winner.)


newyorker--2020-03-04--Trump Screams at Pence for Not Praying Hard Enough to Make Biden Lose

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —A harrowing scene unfolded at the White House on Tuesday night as Donald Trump screamed at Mike Pence for “ not praying hard enough ” to make Joe Biden lose the Super Tuesday primary contests , sources said .
Witnesses to the vituperative dressing-down of the Vice-President reported that the evening started badly after Trump saw the returns from Virginia , which Biden won handily .
“ Mike , you were supposed to tell God to make Sleepy Joe lose , ” Trump snapped .
“ A lot of good your ‘ praying ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Pence grew in ferocity after Biden romped to victory in state after state , a string of victories that Trump blamed squarely on Pence ’ s inadequate praying efforts .
“ They ’ re still voting in California , ” Trump barked at Pence around midnight .
“ Get down on your knees and get to work , you loser.
” According to White House sources , Trump ’ s insistence that Pence pray for Biden ’ s failure has pushed the Vice-President “ to the breaking point.
” “ He ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the stock market to go up , ” one source said .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—A harrowing scene unfolded at the White House on Tuesday night as Donald Trump screamed at Mike Pence for “not praying hard enough” to make Joe Biden lose the Super Tuesday primary contests, sources said.
Witnesses to the vituperative dressing-down of the Vice-President reported that the evening started badly after Trump saw the returns from Virginia, which Biden won handily.
“Mike, you were supposed to tell God to make Sleepy Joe lose,” Trump snapped. “A lot of good your ‘praying’ did.”
Trump’s tirade against Pence grew in ferocity after Biden romped to victory in state after state, a string of victories that Trump blamed squarely on Pence’s inadequate praying efforts.
“They’re still voting in California,” Trump barked at Pence around midnight. “Get down on your knees and get to work, you loser.”
According to White House sources, Trump’s insistence that Pence pray for Biden’s failure has pushed the Vice-President “to the breaking point.”
“He’s already spending hours every day praying for the stock market to go up,” one source said.