newyorker--2020-09-19--The Republicans Are Planning a Shameless Supreme Court Heist to Fill Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s Seat

Following the announcement on Friday evening that the Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died , it took just hours for the White House and the Republican leadership in Congress to signal their intention to nominate and confirm a conservative replacement before the election , on November 3rd .
“ Americans reelected our majority in 2016 and expanded it in 2018 because we pledged to work with President Trump and support his agenda , particularly his outstanding appointments to the federal judiciary , ” the Senate Majority Leader , Mitch McConnell , said in a statement .
“ Once @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
President Trump ’ s nominee will receive a vote on the floor of the United States Senate.
” Even as McConnell was issuing this declaration of intent , allies of the President were going on Fox News and preparing the ground for what is to come .
“ I believe the President should move next week and nominate a successor to the Court , ” Senator Ted Cruz , of Texas , said to Sean Hannity .
“ This nomination is why Donald Trump was elected .
This confirmation is why the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Senate.
” Cruz went on to say that the vote in the Senate needed to be held before Election Day to insure a solid conservative majority on the Court and avoid the possibility of a tie in the event of a challenge to the election ’ s result .
“ We face a constitutional crisis if we don ’ t have a nine-Justice Supreme Court , ” he said .
Nobody should be surprised at the shamelessness of this maneuvering .
Trump doesn ’ t do shame , of course .
Neither @ @ @ @ @ @ @ denied hearings or a vote to Merrick Garland , whom President Barack Obama nominated to the Court nearly nine months before Election Day , following the death of Antonin Scalia .
But with Trump in the White House , McConnell has signalled all along that he would bring a Republican nominee to the Senate floor this year if a vacancy were to open shortly before the election .
The fact that Ginsburg ’ s passing came just forty-five days before Election Day was immaterial to the conscience-free Kentucky partisan .
On a night @ @ @ @ @ @ @ distressing thing of all was the manner in which the White House and its Republican allies sought to shower Ginsburg with verbal tributes even as they prepared to try to deny her deathbed wish , according to an NPR report , that she not be replaced until a new President was sworn in .
Speaking to reporters after attending a campaign rally in Minnesota , Trump called Ginsburg “ an amazing woman who led an amazing life.
” Kayleigh McEnany , the White House press secretary , said on Fox , “ She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ we honor her legacy .
.
.
.
We are praying for her .
We are holding her family close to our hearts.
” Setting aside the sick bag , for a moment , at least two questions arise : Will Trump and the Republicans succeed in this heist ?
And what impact will it have on the election ?
The answer to the first question depends on two fast-diminishing resources : the loyalty to the Democratic Party of Senator Joe Manchin , of West Virginia , and the fortitude of some supposedly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , of Maine ; Lisa Murkowski , of Alaska ; and Mitt Romney , of Utah .
With a majority of three in the upper chamber , the Republicans can afford to lose just three votes if the Democrats hold together , and if a vote on a nominee takes place before Election Day .
Should the process spill into the lame-duck session , McConnell might find himself with one fewer vote to spare if the Democrat Mark Kelly , who is leading in polls in Arizona ’ s special election , were @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In the final vote on the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh , in October of 2018 , Manchin broke with his colleagues and voted to confirm .
Murkowski , who ultimately voted “ present , ” was the only Republican senator to break ranks , and Kavanaugh prevailed .
Manchin praised Ginsburg on Friday night as a “ voice for the voiceless , ” but he didn ’ t say anything about a possible vote on her replacement .
Earlier in the day , before Ginsburg ’ s death was announced , Murkowski told @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t vote to confirm another Supreme Court Justice before next year ’ s Inauguration .
“ We are fifty-some days away from an election , ” Murkowski said , in response to what was then a hypothetical question .
Later in the day , she issued a statement that praised Ginsburg effusively but said no more .
Collins , who is embroiled in a tough reëlection campaign , issued a similar statement on Friday night , calling Ginsburg “ a role model to generations of women.
” Jonathan Martin , of the Times @ @ @ @ @ @ @ him last month she wouldn ’ t vote to seat a new Justice before the election , and would oppose confirming a Justice in the lame-duck Senate session after the election if Trump had lost .
As for Romney , CNN ’ s Manu Raju reported that the senator would not yet issue a comment on his intentions .
Romney ’ s communications director , meanwhile , disputed a tweet from a former Utah state senator that suggested Romney would not vote on a new Court nominee before Inauguration Day , calling it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in the Senate is as clear as mud , the immediate impact on the election campaign is more straightforward : it will supercharge activists on both sides .
In 2018 , the Kavanaugh hearings electrified the political world in the run-up to the midterms .
Another set of hearings just weeks , or days , before a Presidential election could prove even more incendiary .
On the Democratic side , the righteous outrage at McConnell ’ s power play will know no bounds .
If it were to succeed , conservatives would hold @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to come .
“ Let me be clear that the voters should pick the President , and the President should pick the Justice for the Senate to consider , ” Joe Biden said on Friday night .
“ This was the position the Republican Senate took in 2016 when there were almost ten months to go before the election .
That ’ s the position the United States Senate must take today.
” For the White House and the Republicans , another Supreme Court fight presents an opportunity to fire up conservatives and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nominate an opponent of abortion rights , such as Amy Coney Barrett , whom he sent to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit , in 2017 .
However , going down this route would risk further alienating an even bigger group of voters : women .
Already facing a large gender gap in the polls , Trump can hardly afford to lose more female voters , particularly ones residing in affluent suburban districts that were once solidly Republican but have recently moved toward the Democrats .
Whomever Trump picks as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ embrace a nomination fight as a way to distract from the coronavirus pandemic and alter the flow of other bad news that has circled around his Administration .
Trump is still trailing Biden in national polls by a significant margin , and this past week saw the publication of a series of new surveys from battleground states that offered him little encouragement .
The contest isn ’ t over—far from it .
But Trump badly needs to change the course of the race .
“ The battle will be pitched on Monday , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ who defended the President at his impeachment trial , told Hannity .
“ I don ’ t think there is any doubt about it.
” If there were any ambiguity about Trump ’ s intentions , he removed it on Saturday morning , when he tweeted at his fellow-Republicans : “ @ GOP We were put in this position of power and importance to make decisions for the people who so proudly elected us , the most important of which has long been considered to be the selection of United States Supreme Court @ @ @ @ @ @ @ without delay !
” The battle has already started .
Read More About the 2020 Election • Can Joe Biden win the Presidency based on a promise of generational change ?
• The fall and rise of Kamala Harris .
• When a sitting President threatens to delay a sacrosanct American ritual like an election , you should listen .
• To understand the path Donald Trump has taken to the 2020 election , look at what he has provided the executive class .
• What happens if Trump fights the election results @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to rein in Trump is looking riskier than ever .
• Sign up for our election newsletter for insight and analysis from our reporters and columnists .

Following the announcement on Friday evening that the Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg had died, it took just hours for the White House and the Republican leadership in Congress to signal their intention to nominate and confirm a conservative replacement before the election, on November 3rd. “Americans reelected our majority in 2016 and expanded it in 2018 because we pledged to work with President Trump and support his agenda, particularly his outstanding appointments to the federal judiciary,” the Senate Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell, said in a statement. “Once again, we will keep our promise. President Trump’s nominee will receive a vote on the floor of the United States Senate.”
Even as McConnell was issuing this declaration of intent, allies of the President were going on Fox News and preparing the ground for what is to come. “I believe the President should move next week and nominate a successor to the Court,” Senator Ted Cruz, of Texas, said to Sean Hannity. “This nomination is why Donald Trump was elected. This confirmation is why the voters voted for a Republican majority in the Senate.” Cruz went on to say that the vote in the Senate needed to be held before Election Day to insure a solid conservative majority on the Court and avoid the possibility of a tie in the event of a challenge to the election’s result. “We face a constitutional crisis if we don’t have a nine-Justice Supreme Court,” he said.
Nobody should be surprised at the shamelessness of this maneuvering. Trump doesn’t do shame, of course. Neither does McConnell. In 2016, he denied hearings or a vote to Merrick Garland, whom President Barack Obama nominated to the Court nearly nine months before Election Day, following the death of Antonin Scalia. But with Trump in the White House, McConnell has signalled all along that he would bring a Republican nominee to the Senate floor this year if a vacancy were to open shortly before the election. The fact that Ginsburg’s passing came just forty-five days before Election Day was immaterial to the conscience-free Kentucky partisan.
On a night of many sorrows, perhaps the most distressing thing of all was the manner in which the White House and its Republican allies sought to shower Ginsburg with verbal tributes even as they prepared to try to deny her deathbed wish, according to an NPR report, that she not be replaced until a new President was sworn in. Speaking to reporters after attending a campaign rally in Minnesota, Trump called Ginsburg “an amazing woman who led an amazing life.” Kayleigh McEnany, the White House press secretary, said on Fox, “She was a trailblazer for women. Tonight we honor her legacy. . . . We are praying for her. We are holding her family close to our hearts.”
Setting aside the sick bag, for a moment, at least two questions arise: Will Trump and the Republicans succeed in this heist? And what impact will it have on the election?
The answer to the first question depends on two fast-diminishing resources: the loyalty to the Democratic Party of Senator Joe Manchin, of West Virginia, and the fortitude of some supposedly moderate Republican senators, including Susan Collins, of Maine; Lisa Murkowski, of Alaska; and Mitt Romney, of Utah. With a majority of three in the upper chamber, the Republicans can afford to lose just three votes if the Democrats hold together, and if a vote on a nominee takes place before Election Day. Should the process spill into the lame-duck session, McConnell might find himself with one fewer vote to spare if the Democrat Mark Kelly, who is leading in polls in Arizona’s special election, were to defeat the Republican Martha McSally. In the final vote on the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh, in October of 2018, Manchin broke with his colleagues and voted to confirm. Murkowski, who ultimately voted “present,” was the only Republican senator to break ranks, and Kavanaugh prevailed.
Manchin praised Ginsburg on Friday night as a “voice for the voiceless,” but he didn’t say anything about a possible vote on her replacement. Earlier in the day, before Ginsburg’s death was announced, Murkowski told Alaska Public Media that she wouldn’t vote to confirm another Supreme Court Justice before next year’s Inauguration. “We are fifty-some days away from an election,” Murkowski said, in response to what was then a hypothetical question. Later in the day, she issued a statement that praised Ginsburg effusively but said no more.
Collins, who is embroiled in a tough reëlection campaign, issued a similar statement on Friday night, calling Ginsburg “a role model to generations of women.” Jonathan Martin, of the Times, said on Twitter that Collins told him last month she wouldn’t vote to seat a new Justice before the election, and would oppose confirming a Justice in the lame-duck Senate session after the election if Trump had lost. As for Romney, CNN’s Manu Raju reported that the senator would not yet issue a comment on his intentions. Romney’s communications director, meanwhile, disputed a tweet from a former Utah state senator that suggested Romney would not vote on a new Court nominee before Inauguration Day, calling it “grossly false.”
If the outlook in the Senate is as clear as mud, the immediate impact on the election campaign is more straightforward: it will supercharge activists on both sides. In 2018, the Kavanaugh hearings electrified the political world in the run-up to the midterms. Another set of hearings just weeks, or days, before a Presidential election could prove even more incendiary.
On the Democratic side, the righteous outrage at McConnell’s power play will know no bounds. If it were to succeed, conservatives would hold six seats on the Court for years to come. “Let me be clear that the voters should pick the President, and the President should pick the Justice for the Senate to consider,” Joe Biden said on Friday night. “This was the position the Republican Senate took in 2016 when there were almost ten months to go before the election. That’s the position the United States Senate must take today.”
For the White House and the Republicans, another Supreme Court fight presents an opportunity to fire up conservatives and evangelicals, especially if Trump were to nominate an opponent of abortion rights, such as Amy Coney Barrett, whom he sent to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Seventh Circuit, in 2017. However, going down this route would risk further alienating an even bigger group of voters: women. Already facing a large gender gap in the polls, Trump can hardly afford to lose more female voters, particularly ones residing in affluent suburban districts that were once solidly Republican but have recently moved toward the Democrats.
Whomever Trump picks as his nominee, he seems certain to embrace a nomination fight as a way to distract from the coronavirus pandemic and alter the flow of other bad news that has circled around his Administration. Trump is still trailing Biden in national polls by a significant margin, and this past week saw the publication of a series of new surveys from battleground states that offered him little encouragement. The contest isn’t over—far from it. But Trump badly needs to change the course of the race. “The battle will be pitched on Monday,” Jay Sekulow, the Republican lawyer who defended the President at his impeachment trial, told Hannity. “I don’t think there is any doubt about it.”
If there were any ambiguity about Trump’s intentions, he removed it on Saturday morning, when he tweeted at his fellow-Republicans: “@GOP We were put in this position of power and importance to make decisions for the people who so proudly elected us, the most important of which has long been considered to be the selection of United States Supreme Court Justices. We have this obligation, without delay!” The battle has already started.
Read More About the 2020 Election


newyorker--2020-09-20--Why a Never Trumper Changed Her Mind

Why a Never Trumper Changed Her Mind

On Monday , Danielle Pletka , a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute , published an op-ed in the Washington Post titled “ I never considered voting for Trump in 2016 .
I may be forced to vote for him this year.
” Pletka , who previously served as a staff member at the Senate Foreign Relations Committee , working for Senator Jesse Helms , had been a harsh critic of Donald Trump since the 2016 Republican primaries , declaring herself , in another Washington Post op-ed , both “ # NeverTrump ” and “ # NeverHillary.
” In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for Trump , and says that she fears his “ erratic , personality-driven decision-making.
” But , she adds , “ I fear the leftward lurch of the Democratic Party even more , ” on issues such as health care , immigration , and climate change , along with “ the growing self-censorship that guides many people ’ s every utterance.
” She concludes , “ Trump , for all his flaws , could be all that stands between our imperfect democracy and the tyranny of the woke left.
” I spoke with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ after her column sparked outrage and commentary .
( On Thursday , the conservative Times columnist David Brooks rebutted Pletka ’ s argument , writing that the Democratic Party still has “ a large , strong center that will keep it in the political mainstream , ” and that , unlike the Republicans , the Democrats still practice normal coalition politics . )
In talking with Pletka , I wanted to understand how Republicans in Washington who had been critical of Trump were assessing their choices in the run-up to the election , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ entrenched .
During our conversation , which has been edited for length and clarity , we discussed her concerns about a Biden Administration , whether Trump represents the Republican Party , and how she looks back on her time working with Senator Helms .
I read this not as a happy piece , but as a sad piece .
Can you talk more about that ?
Yeah .
I believe that everybody is better served by debate .
I believe that in my classroom , I believe that at work , I believe @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I really am crushed by this cancel culture , by the bullying , and by the transformation of American political discourse .
And , by the way , I have really been happy , actually , to in some ways blame Donald Trump for that .
It started with him .
What did Michelle Obama say ?
“ When they go low , we go high.
” That has not been the guiding principle here .
Trump is probably making cancel culture , however much significance you attribute to it , significantly worse @ @ @ @ @ @ @ surprised a little bit by the op-ed , because it seems like his defeat would be good for some of the things you ’ re worried about .
Yes , except for the fact that I think the ship has already sailed .
And you think Joe Biden is captaining the ship ?
You mentioned Michelle Obama , and he obviously served the Obama Administration , and has a long history as a moderate Democrat .
Yes .
He does have a long history .
I wish I felt more confident that he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ knew , and by that I don ’ t refer to the Joe Biden of the Obama Administration , because I think he didn ’ t play a terrific role in the areas that I focussed on in foreign policy .
The Joe Biden of the Senate , the Joe Biden who was a ranking member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee , who was a chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee , was a moderate .
I don ’ t think that he has much to do with that guy anymore @ @ @ @ @ @ @ importantly , that the Party left him behind , and he has had to race to catch up .
And the argument that people make—that no , no , no , no , no , you are wrong , because we chose him—I think is a little bit irrelevant .
Who was nominated is irrelevant , you mean ?
Yes .
I think that that choice was irrelevant , because I don ’ t think that those voters are the people who are steering the direction of the Party .
You write , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ nasties on a par with the violent protesters who have lately inflicted untold damage on many U.S. cities , businesses and lives ?
You bet .
These execrable gun-toting racists have received too much tacit encouragement from Trump.
” Would you say it ’ s tacit ?
Isn ’ t it more direct than tacit ?
I have to think about my answer .
I think Donald Trump has played an opposite and equal role in encouraging bad people in the destruction that we ’ ve seen this year .
I ’ m @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
And then what he said about Kyle Rittenhouse .
Well , again , Donald Trump ’ s reaction , for example , in the wake of Charlottesville was abhorrent .
I find an unwillingness on the part of many to condemn the destruction that takes place .
The shootings , the violence , the threatening that ’ s been taking place—I find that also extraordinarily troubling .
Now , is it incumbent upon the President to behave better ?
Damn , yes .
That is why , for the last three and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ done very little but condemn Donald Trump on these matters .
I try to be fair in calling balls and strikes , as I tried to be fair with Obama .
I ’ m a conservative , so my view of what a ball and a strike is is different from yours .
Nonetheless , those things are abhorrent .
The problem that I see and the problem that brought me to write this is that there is an almost equal and opposite reaction on the other side .
You follow up that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they do not represent the mainstream of the Republican Party or guide the choices of the vast mass of Republican members of Congress.
” Can you explain this a little bit more ?
I was slightly confused , because Trump is actually the President .
And so it feels like maybe that does represent the mainstream of the Party , since he is the nominee and extremely popular and the most powerful and important Republican .
It ’ s a reasonable question that you ask .
And all I can tell you is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ States Senate , when I look at the United States House , when I look at the people I know who are Republican—and I ’ ve been a conservative and I ’ ve been in Washington for many decades now—that does not represent who they are .
Are there people who find that every utterance , no matter how abhorrent I may think it is , is golden to their ears ?
You bet .
There are people within the Republican Party who believe that .
So you ’ re saying that , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ senators , they are as disgusted as you are by the things Trump says , and you see them as distinct from him ?
I think that they do not share his vision .
And I don ’ t think that they share his attitudes on these things .
Have all Republicans been as courageous as they should have been in standing up and saying that ?
No , absolutely not .
Nonetheless , when I talk about it , I say that I don ’ t believe that he represents the mainstream @ @ @ @ @ @ @ counter to that would be to say that how they act in public or what they refuse to condemn publicly would be more important than what they might say to you or other people in Washington .

On Monday, Danielle Pletka, a senior fellow at the American Enterprise Institute, published an op-ed in the Washington Post titled “I never considered voting for Trump in 2016. I may be forced to vote for him this year.” Pletka, who previously served as a staff member at the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, working for Senator Jesse Helms, had been a harsh critic of Donald Trump since the 2016 Republican primaries, declaring herself, in another Washington Post op-ed, both “#NeverTrump” and “#NeverHillary.” In her latest column, Pletka expresses contempt for Trump, and says that she fears his “erratic, personality-driven decision-making.” But, she adds, “I fear the leftward lurch of the Democratic Party even more,” on issues such as health care, immigration, and climate change, along with “the growing self-censorship that guides many people’s every utterance.” She concludes, “Trump, for all his flaws, could be all that stands between our imperfect democracy and the tyranny of the woke left.”
I spoke with Pletka on Wednesday, by phone, after her column sparked outrage and commentary. (On Thursday, the conservative Times columnist David Brooks rebutted Pletka’s argument, writing that the Democratic Party still has “a large, strong center that will keep it in the political mainstream,” and that, unlike the Republicans, the Democrats still practice normal coalition politics.) In talking with Pletka, I wanted to understand how Republicans in Washington who had been critical of Trump were assessing their choices in the run-up to the election, when partisanship tends to become even more entrenched. During our conversation, which has been edited for length and clarity, we discussed her concerns about a Biden Administration, whether Trump represents the Republican Party, and how she looks back on her time working with Senator Helms.
I read this not as a happy piece but as a sad piece.
That’s absolutely correct.
Can you talk more about that?
Yeah. I believe that everybody is better served by debate. I believe that in my classroom, I believe that at work, I believe that in everything I do. And I really am crushed by this cancel culture, by the bullying, and by the transformation of American political discourse. And, by the way, I have really been happy, actually, to in some ways blame Donald Trump for that. It started with him. What did Michelle Obama say? “When they go low, we go high.” That has not been the guiding principle here.
Trump is probably making cancel culture, however much significance you attribute to it, significantly worse. That’s why I was surprised a little bit by the op-ed, because it seems like his defeat would be good for some of the things you’re worried about.
Yes, except for the fact that I think the ship has already sailed.
And you think Joe Biden is captaining the ship? You mentioned Michelle Obama, and he obviously served the Obama Administration, and has a long history as a moderate Democrat.
Yes. He does have a long history. I wish I felt more confident that he would be the Joe Biden that I knew, and by that I don’t refer to the Joe Biden of the Obama Administration, because I think he didn’t play a terrific role in the areas that I focussed on in foreign policy. The Joe Biden of the Senate, the Joe Biden who was a ranking member of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, who was a chairman of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, was a moderate. I don’t think that he has much to do with that guy anymore. But I would say, more importantly, that the Party left him behind, and he has had to race to catch up. And the argument that people make—that no, no, no, no, no, you are wrong, because we chose him—I think is a little bit irrelevant.
Who was nominated is irrelevant, you mean?
Yes. I think that that choice was irrelevant, because I don’t think that those voters are the people who are steering the direction of the Party.
You write, “Are there problems on the right—horrible nasties on a par with the violent protesters who have lately inflicted untold damage on many U.S. cities, businesses and lives? You bet. These execrable gun-toting racists have received too much tacit encouragement from Trump.” Would you say it’s tacit? Isn’t it more direct than tacit?
I have to think about my answer. I think Donald Trump has played an opposite and equal role in encouraging bad people in the destruction that we’ve seen this year.
I’m asking because he talked about liberating Michigan. And then what he said about Kyle Rittenhouse.
Well, again, Donald Trump’s reaction, for example, in the wake of Charlottesville was abhorrent. I find an unwillingness on the part of many to condemn the destruction that takes place. The shootings, the violence, the threatening that’s been taking place—I find that also extraordinarily troubling. Now, is it incumbent upon the President to behave better? Damn, yes. That is why, for the last three and a half years, I’ve done very little but condemn Donald Trump on these matters. I try to be fair in calling balls and strikes, as I tried to be fair with Obama. I’m a conservative, so my view of what a ball and a strike is is different from yours. Nonetheless, those things are abhorrent. The problem that I see and the problem that brought me to write this is that there is an almost equal and opposite reaction on the other side.
You follow up that last quote by writing, “But they do not represent the mainstream of the Republican Party or guide the choices of the vast mass of Republican members of Congress.” Can you explain this a little bit more? I was slightly confused, because Trump is actually the President. And so it feels like maybe that does represent the mainstream of the Party, since he is the nominee and extremely popular and the most powerful and important Republican.
It’s a reasonable question that you ask. And all I can tell you is that when I look at the United States Senate, when I look at the United States House, when I look at the people I know who are Republican—and I’ve been a conservative and I’ve been in Washington for many decades now—that does not represent who they are. Are there people who find that every utterance, no matter how abhorrent I may think it is, is golden to their ears? You bet. There are people within the Republican Party who believe that.
So you’re saying that, when you meet members of Congress or senators, they are as disgusted as you are by the things Trump says, and you see them as distinct from him?
I think that they do not share his vision. And I don’t think that they share his attitudes on these things. Have all Republicans been as courageous as they should have been in standing up and saying that? No, absolutely not. Nonetheless, when I talk about it, I say that I don’t believe that he represents the mainstream of the Party.
I guess one counter to that would be to say that how they act in public or what they refuse to condemn publicly would be more important than what they might say to you or other people in Washington.
I think that’s a perfectly legitimate point of view. And one of the things I’ve tried to say to people who disagree is that disagreeing is totally fine. Seeing this differently is O.K. And I more than welcome that. What I don’t welcome is having my motives questioned. What I don’t welcome is being called a racist. What I don’t welcome is people who want to excommunicate me from society because of what I think.
Who called you a racist?
I have not shared my many joy-filled messages with you, nor what I have heard from people in debates that I’ve engaged in, in Washington, over the last couple of years. It’s not my job to give publicity to people who should have been brought up better by their mothers.
When they call you a racist, is that about Trump? Is that about you working for Jesse Helms? What’s the source of that?
No, it’s about the fact that I will not sign on wholesale to the notions that are being propagated.


newyorker--2020-09-20--John Cleese Discusses Creativity, Political Correctness, Monty Python, and Artichokes

I ’ d been Zooming with John Cleese for about an hour when he threatened to come over and smack my ears .
I had asked about his announcement , two years ago , that he was disenchanted with England and was relocating , at least temporarily , to the Caribbean island of Nevis .
There was much about contemporary England that Cleese had found irksome , compared to the “ calmer , more polite ” country that he grew up in .
But his “ particular beef , ” he said at the time , was with the state @ @ @ @ @ @ @ as with the scuttling of Leveson 2 , part of a government inquiry that grew out of the 2011 News of the World phone-hacking scandal and might have led to reforms of England ’ s aggressive tabloid culture , which has been the bane of many celebrities and royals .
Hours after our interview , Cleese complained on Twitter that “ some US journalists have been pressing me on statements I have not made , ” singling out my assumption that one of his reasons for his self-exile was the mindless level of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bad information , again , on the scurrilous British tabloids .
( In fact , I had got the Brexit impression from an interview that he gave to the BBC , in which he said , “ One of the most depressing things about this country was the standard of debate about Brexit.
” ) His 5.7 million followers would not have been surprised by his pique ; Cleese , who turned eighty last fall , has used Twitter to rail against political correctness , the “ wokes , ” climate-change deniers , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ bureaucrats ” at the BBC , and all manner of what he considers stupidity and nonsense .
Stupidity and nonsense , of course , were the prime targets of Monty Python , the anarchic comedy group that Cleese formed , in 1969 , with Eric Idle , Terry Gilliam , Terry Jones , Michael Palin , and Graham Chapman .
“ Monty Python ’ s goal , ” Dave Eggers wrote in The New Yorker , in 2004 , “ was not only to make audiences laugh but , just as important , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with extreme prejudice.
” Its début series , “ Monty Python ’ s Flying Circus , ” stepped like a giant , naked foot on the mannerly English culture that Cleese now reveres .
But Cleese ’ s career has stretched far beyond Monty Python , notably including the farcical sitcom “ Fawlty Towers ” and his Oscar-nominated screenplay for “ A Fish Called Wanda.
” He ’ s also written several books , including a best-selling memoir of his early years , “ So , Anyway .
.
.
, ” and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” which is billed as a “ short and cheerful guide.
” “ I wanted thirteen-year-olds to be able to read it in an hour , ” Cleese told me , when he appeared in our Zoom room .
He was speaking from—of all places—London , where he was passing through after shooting a movie in York .
( “ We were in a bubble , or whatever they call it.
” ) He had spent much of the pandemic Stateside , at a hotel in Bel Air , working on a musical @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stage adaptation of “ Monty Python ’ s Life of Brian.
” Next , he was off to Mustique with his wife , and after that—who knows ?
“ We ’ re lucky to be alive , really , ” he said , sitting in front of a picture of nuzzling zebras .
Before we got to his recent spate of political skirmishes , our conversation ( which has been edited and condensed ) began on the subject of his new book .
Some might see a guide to creativity as an oxymoron @ @ @ @ @ @ @ learned ?
You can learn the circumstances in which you are likely to become more creative .
A professor of psychology said to me once , “ If you ’ re sad , you have sad thoughts .
If you ’ re angry , you have angry thoughts.
” So , to be creative , you have to have creative thoughts .
You need to be in a creative mood .
How do you get in a creative mood ?
Well , a creative mood , by definition , is a playful one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ?
Because the parents are minding the shop .
The kids don ’ t have to worry about who ’ s making dinner .
So , if you want to play as an adult , you have to create a space where you get away from the ordinary responsibilities of everyday life .
You write a lot about a book by Guy Claxton , “ Hare Brain , Tortoise Mind.
” Can you explain the concept ?
It was a huge part of a jigsaw that I put together , because he pointed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ There ’ s the fast , default way , and then there is a slower , pondering kind .
In our society , we think that intelligence is always to do with quickness , which is wrong .
Quite wrong .
The more a problem is like a maths problem , where you know all the factors and you ’ re given the values of measurements , that ’ s ideal stuff for hare brain .
The more it becomes indefinite and about feelings and people , the more you need the slower @ @ @ @ @ @ @ this is the idea that the unconscious is so extraordinarily powerful , but it ’ s very , very difficult to control .
It ’ s a little bit like a woman .
You can ’ t order it about .
You have to coax it and be nice to it .
If you pursue it , it seems to get further away .
You write that “ much of our ‘ Tortoise Mind ’ work takes place in an atmosphere of uncertainty and gentle confusion.
” How do you get into that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t hit it with a stick .
What you do discover , when you ’ re not functioning very well and coming up with much , is that you do seem to be able to achieve a steady average .
Chapman and I could do fifteen to twenty minutes every week of good material , which is a little bit more than was needed for a “ Monty Python ” episode , with all the others contributing .
If it doesn ’ t come one day , you just stick at it .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ the food ’ s coming towards you on the fork , you can ’ t say , “ Well , that ’ s the good bit , and travelling back empty from your mouth to the plate is the bad bit.
” It ’ s all part of one process .
If you start beating yourself up , that doesn ’ t help .
It seems like you learned a lot about creativity from people you admired , like David Frost .
The person of my generation that everyone thought was a genius @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wonderful sketch writer and performer , and a mon—what do you call a man who does monologues ?
A monogamist !
I used to get my dear old vinyl record and play one of his sketches—like the man trying to teach ravens to fly underwater—and I would try to write it up from memory .
And then I would listen to the record again , until finally I had , on about the sixth draft , pretty much the script that I ’ d been listening to .
I was learning technique rather @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , they used to get artists to copy great master paintings .
Right .
One of the tips you give is to “ borrow ” from people you admire .
Yes !
Except , if you ’ re an artist , you say you were “ influenced.
” You know , “ I was much influenced by the work of Michael Schulman.
” Of course , if you just steal something in the present form and you don ’ t do anything to it , then that is stealing .
You learn nothing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ able to borrow a style from someone and use that , then it comes out as yours , because you ’ re doing it .
I don ’ t think Shakespeare ever thought up a plot in his life .
He just took other people ’ s stories .
He never seems to lose any marks for that .

I’d been Zooming with John Cleese for about an hour when he threatened to come over and smack my ears. I had asked about his announcement, two years ago, that he was disenchanted with England and was relocating, at least temporarily, to the Caribbean island of Nevis. There was much about contemporary England that Cleese had found irksome, compared to the “calmer, more polite” country that he grew up in. But his “particular beef,” he said at the time, was with the state of the British media, as well as with the scuttling of Leveson 2, part of a government inquiry that grew out of the 2011 News of the World phone-hacking scandal and might have led to reforms of England’s aggressive tabloid culture, which has been the bane of many celebrities and royals.
Hours after our interview, Cleese complained on Twitter that “some US journalists have been pressing me on statements I have not made,” singling out my assumption that one of his reasons for his self-exile was the mindless level of discourse over Brexit. He blamed my bad information, again, on the scurrilous British tabloids. (In fact, I had got the Brexit impression from an interview that he gave to the BBC, in which he said, “One of the most depressing things about this country was the standard of debate about Brexit.”) His 5.7 million followers would not have been surprised by his pique; Cleese, who turned eighty last fall, has used Twitter to rail against political correctness, the “wokes,” climate-change deniers, the Trump Administration, the “petty bureaucrats” at the BBC, and all manner of what he considers stupidity and nonsense.
Stupidity and nonsense, of course, were the prime targets of Monty Python, the anarchic comedy group that Cleese formed, in 1969, with Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, Michael Palin, and Graham Chapman. “Monty Python’s goal,” Dave Eggers wrote in The New Yorker, in 2004, “was not only to make audiences laugh but, just as important, to tear apart the medium of television with extreme prejudice.” Its début series, “Monty Python’s Flying Circus,” stepped like a giant, naked foot on the mannerly English culture that Cleese now reveres. But Cleese’s career has stretched far beyond Monty Python, notably including the farcical sitcom “Fawlty Towers” and his Oscar-nominated screenplay for “A Fish Called Wanda.” He’s also written several books, including a best-selling memoir of his early years, “So, Anyway . . .,” and a new handbook called “Creativity,” which is billed as a “short and cheerful guide.”
“I wanted thirteen-year-olds to be able to read it in an hour,” Cleese told me, when he appeared in our Zoom room. He was speaking from—of all places—London, where he was passing through after shooting a movie in York. (“We were in a bubble, or whatever they call it.”) He had spent much of the pandemic Stateside, at a hotel in Bel Air, working on a musical version of “Wanda” and a stage adaptation of “Monty Python’s Life of Brian.” Next, he was off to Mustique with his wife, and after that—who knows? “We’re lucky to be alive, really,” he said, sitting in front of a picture of nuzzling zebras. Before we got to his recent spate of political skirmishes, our conversation (which has been edited and condensed) began on the subject of his new book.
Some might see a guide to creativity as an oxymoron. Do you believe it can be learned?
You can learn the circumstances in which you are likely to become more creative. A professor of psychology said to me once, “If you’re sad, you have sad thoughts. If you’re angry, you have angry thoughts.” So, to be creative, you have to have creative thoughts. You need to be in a creative mood. How do you get in a creative mood? Well, a creative mood, by definition, is a playful one. Why can children play so naturally? Because the parents are minding the shop. The kids don’t have to worry about who’s making dinner. So, if you want to play as an adult, you have to create a space where you get away from the ordinary responsibilities of everyday life.
You write a lot about a book by Guy Claxton, “Hare Brain, Tortoise Mind.” Can you explain the concept?
It was a huge part of a jigsaw that I put together, because he pointed out those two ways of thinking. There’s the fast, default way, and then there is a slower, pondering kind. In our society, we think that intelligence is always to do with quickness, which is wrong. Quite wrong. The more a problem is like a maths problem, where you know all the factors and you’re given the values of measurements, that’s ideal stuff for hare brain. The more it becomes indefinite and about feelings and people, the more you need the slower way of thinking. And allied to this is the idea that the unconscious is so extraordinarily powerful, but it’s very, very difficult to control. It’s a little bit like a woman. You can’t order it about. You have to coax it and be nice to it. If you pursue it, it seems to get further away.
You write that “much of our ‘Tortoise Mind’ work takes place in an atmosphere of uncertainty and gentle confusion.” How do you get into that state of mind?
You can’t hit it with a stick. What you do discover, when you’re not functioning very well and coming up with much, is that you do seem to be able to achieve a steady average. Chapman and I could do fifteen to twenty minutes every week of good material, which is a little bit more than was needed for a “Monty Python” episode, with all the others contributing. If it doesn’t come one day, you just stick at it. When you’re eating, and the food’s coming towards you on the fork, you can’t say, “Well, that’s the good bit, and travelling back empty from your mouth to the plate is the bad bit.” It’s all part of one process. If you start beating yourself up, that doesn’t help.
It seems like you learned a lot about creativity from people you admired, like David Frost.
The person of my generation that everyone thought was a genius was Peter Cook. He was a wonderful sketch writer and performer, and a mon—what do you call a man who does monologues? A monogamist! I used to get my dear old vinyl record and play one of his sketches—like the man trying to teach ravens to fly underwater—and I would try to write it up from memory. And then I would listen to the record again, until finally I had, on about the sixth draft, pretty much the script that I’d been listening to. I was learning technique rather than creativity. In the old days, they used to get artists to copy great master paintings.
Right. One of the tips you give is to “borrow” from people you admire.
Yes! Except, if you’re an artist, you say you were “influenced.” You know, “I was much influenced by the work of Michael Schulman.” Of course, if you just steal something in the present form and you don’t do anything to it, then that is stealing. You learn nothing. But, if you are actually able to borrow a style from someone and use that, then it comes out as yours, because you’re doing it. I don’t think Shakespeare ever thought up a plot in his life. He just took other people’s stories. He never seems to lose any marks for that.
In “So, Anyway . . .,” you talk about the things that made you predisposed to creativity. You write, “So, creatively, I was doubly blessed: constant relocation and parental disharmony.” What do you mean by that?
If you grow up where there’s only one version of the truth and only one way of doing things, then you’re likely to think that that is the only version. If you grow up travelling a lot or hearing arguments between your parents, you discover there’s lots of different ways of living, lots of different ways of thinking, and you can compare the two and say, “I liked the last town better.” Comparing experiences, even if it’s with your mum and your dad, makes you think about other possibilities. Whereas with people who grow up in Iowa, there’s not a lot else on show, so that they’re not terribly good at imagining other scenarios.


newyorker--2020-09-20--Sunday Reading: The World of Alex Ross

Sunday Reading: The World of Alex Ross

Alex Ross is the most wide-ranging of culture critics .
In his more than two decades at The New Yorker , his subjects have ranged from the world of the classical-music conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen to the career and travails of Nirvana ’ s driving genius , the late Kurt Cobain .
Ross has published three books , including “ The Rest Is Noise ” and “ Listen to This.
” His latest is “ Wagnerism , ” a brilliant , magisterial work of cultural history that makes the case ( in the most elegant and fascinating terms ) that no @ @ @ @ @ @ @ era and the era that followed than the composer Richard Wagner .
( Ross also wrote about the topic in the magazine . )
This week , we ’ re bringing you a selection of Ross ’ s New Yorker pieces , and his immense versatility is immediately evident .
In “ Song of the Earth , ” Ross writes about the composer John Luther Adams , whose recent work has been inspired by the Arctic landscape .
In “ Love on the March , ” he reflects on the progress of gay @ @ @ @ @ @ @ In “ Secret Passage , ” he explores the complexities of Wagner ’ s masterpiece “ Ring ” cycle .
In “ The Wanderer , ” he profiles Bob Dylan in late career and on the road .
“ Othello ’ s Daughter ” is an acute examination of the Shakespearean actor Ira Aldridge .
In “ How American Racism Influenced Hitler , ” he chronicles how early-twentieth-century racial politics in the U.S. helped shape Nazi ideology .
Finally , in “ The Shadow , ” Ross recounts the highs and lows of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hope you ’ ll enjoy these glimpses of Alex Ross at work and at his very best .
Reflections on the gay community ’ s political progress—and its future .
Decades of Dylanology have missed the point—the music is the message .
The rich legacy of Ira Aldridge , the pioneering black Shakespearean .
Scholars are mapping the international precursors of Nazism .

Photograph by Josh Goldstine
Alex Ross is the most wide-ranging of culture critics. In his more than two decades at The New Yorker, his subjects have ranged from the world of the classical-music conductor Esa-Pekka Salonen to the career and travails of Nirvana’s driving genius, the late Kurt Cobain. Ross has published three books, including “The Rest Is Noise” and “Listen to This.” His latest is “Wagnerism,” a brilliant, magisterial work of cultural history that makes the case (in the most elegant and fascinating terms) that no artist left a deeper influence on his era and the era that followed than the composer Richard Wagner. (Ross also wrote about the topic in the magazine.)
This week, we’re bringing you a selection of Ross’s New Yorker pieces, and his immense versatility is immediately evident. In “Song of the Earth,” Ross writes about the composer John Luther Adams, whose recent work has been inspired by the Arctic landscape. In “Love on the March,” he reflects on the progress of gay rights over the past several decades. In “Secret Passage,” he explores the complexities of Wagner’s masterpiece “Ring” cycle. In “The Wanderer,” he profiles Bob Dylan in late career and on the road. “Othello’s Daughter” is an acute examination of the Shakespearean actor Ira Aldridge. In “How American Racism Influenced Hitler,” he chronicles how early-twentieth-century racial politics in the U.S. helped shape Nazi ideology. Finally, in “The Shadow,” Ross recounts the highs and lows of the career of Orson Welles. We hope you’ll enjoy these glimpses of Alex Ross at work and at his very best.
—David Remnick
Photograph by Evan Hurd
A composer takes inspiration from the Arctic.
Reflections on the gay community’s political progress—and its future.
Illustration by Emmanuel Guibert
Decoding ten bars in Wagner’s “Ring.”
Photograph by Brian Rasic / Getty
Decades of Dylanology have missed the point—the music is the message.
The rich legacy of Ira Aldridge, the pioneering black Shakespearean.
Photograph from Hulton-Deutsch Collection / Corbis / Getty
Scholars are mapping the international precursors of Nazism.
A hundred years of Orson Welles.


newyorker--2020-09-20--Running a Virtual School on Chicago’s West Side

It is not just COVID-19 that afflicts the DePriest community .
This year is on pace to have the most murders in Chicago since the nineteen-nineties .
So far , five hundred and thirty-eight people have been killed in the city , an increase of forty per cent over the same period last year .
On August 19th , a nine-year-old boy and his mother were shot and seriously injured on a street eight blocks from the school , when two men stepped out of a car and fired into a crowd at lunchtime .
Chicago has also seen peaceful @ @ @ @ @ @ @ well as scattered nights of looting that have made national news .
“ Every morning , I look at my phone and look at the TV to make sure nothing has happened to one of our kids , ” Geverola told me .
“ If it did , I ’ m on e-mail.
” Geverola , who turned forty in March , attended Chicago Public Schools , and started her teaching career at DePriest .
( She moved to other roles within C.P.S .
before returning to DePriest , in 2013 , to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ She often thinks about the years of limited resources and low expectations in Austin , a long-suffering area that Lightfoot promised to help during her 2019 election campaign .
“ When you ’ re in an environment where you haven ’ t seen much success , it ’ s crippling , ” Geverola said .
“ I want them to be proud to know that this is their school.
” Chicago operates the nation ’ s third-largest public-school district , reaching more than three hundred and fifty thousand students in six hundred and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ many .
It is not unusual for Geverola to receive a dozen e-mails a day from the central office , describing policies and offering guidance .
And yet , despite the vastness of the system , or maybe because of it , principals have considerable autonomy .
Countless decisions on staffing , budgeting , and the shape of the curriculum are Geverola ’ s to make , and she knows that much of the blame will fall to her if things go sour .
Now in her third year in charge at DePriest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ volunteers , tutors , and funders to think creatively and deepen the school ’ s coffers .
Working with grant funding and shifting money among DePriest accounts , she has continued to increase the school ’ s stash of Chromebooks and iPads to several hundred .
One summer day , as she stood in a library storeroom among shelves stacked with copies of “ Charlotte ’ s Web , ” “ The Old Man and the Sea , ” “ The Hate U Give , ” and “ To Kill a Mockingbird , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ precious commodity for a school like DePriest .
“ My job , ” she said , “ is to figure out how to push these out to families and not panic if I don ’ t get them back.
” The abrupt shutdown of Chicago Public Schools , announced in March by the Illinois governor , J .
B. Pritzker , a Democrat , was messy from the start .
On any given day , barely half of the city ’ s students logged into their Google accounts for school , according to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ lowest for Black students .
Many children didn ’ t have pencils or notebooks .
Others didn ’ t have reliable Internet service or computers , although Chicago officials raced to deliver a hundred thousand devices to families .
Few parents had the luxury of supervising their children ’ s virtual educations all day .
This was particularly true in working-class Austin , where many parents were classified as essential workers and expected to report to their jobs .
Almost no one had taught online before or thought about how to virtually engage @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Suddenly doing so was “ a little scary , a little bit unreal , ” Vivian Billups , a teacher at DePriest , recalled .
With only one week off after the school year ended , she plunged into a summer class with what are called “ diverse learners.
” Several students had reading deficits , one had suffered a brain injury , another had severe vision problems .
One student was unable to connect to class with a computer , so Billups arranged for delivery of a work packet every two weeks @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supplies , she drew on donations from World Vision , a charity , and filled book bags with pens , notebooks , glue , pencils and sharpeners , paper clips , and coloring books .
She gave away books that belonged to her children and shared a YouTube recording of “ Bud , Not Buddy.
” Getting creative , she kept three computers running at a time .
The one in the living room was “ homeroom , ” which included the meeting room for third graders .
The one in the den @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on the patio was for fourth graders .
She walked among the real rooms and brought the students together in homeroom from time to time .
Billups , who grew up nearby , learned that structure and expectations were essential .
She started summer school at 8 A.M. sharp .
When students did not show up or failed to return from a break during the first week , she made sure that their parents knew .
A computer program allows her to monitor what students are doing on an assigned screen .
( @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” Billups : “ Why does the computer say you haven ’ t even opened the lesson ?
” ) Students missed their friends , but several told her that they could concentrate better at home and were glad not to have to worry about bullies or what to wear .
A summer student with poor vision turned out to be a voracious reader .
At home , she didn ’ t feel self-conscious about using a big magnifying glass .
Billups also often found it easier to talk about current events .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ of George Floyd , in Minneapolis , she asked her students , “ Do you know why they ’ re protesting ?
” They didn ’ t .
She pressed a few keys , found CNN , and shared interviews with Floyd ’ s relatives .
“ I was able to connect students with real events , ” she said .

It is not just COVID-19 that afflicts the DePriest community. This year is on pace to have the most murders in Chicago since the nineteen-nineties. So far, five hundred and thirty-eight people have been killed in the city, an increase of forty per cent over the same period last year. On August 19th, a nine-year-old boy and his mother were shot and seriously injured on a street eight blocks from the school, when two men stepped out of a car and fired into a crowd at lunchtime. Chicago has also seen peaceful protests against harsh police practices, as well as scattered nights of looting that have made national news. “Every morning, I look at my phone and look at the TV to make sure nothing has happened to one of our kids,” Geverola told me. “If it did, I’m on e-mail.” Geverola, who turned forty in March, attended Chicago Public Schools, and started her teaching career at DePriest. (She moved to other roles within C.P.S. before returning to DePriest, in 2013, to develop an International Baccalaureate program.) She often thinks about the years of limited resources and low expectations in Austin, a long-suffering area that Lightfoot promised to help during her 2019 election campaign. “When you’re in an environment where you haven’t seen much success, it’s crippling,” Geverola said. “I want them to be proud to know that this is their school.”
Chicago operates the nation’s third-largest public-school district, reaching more than three hundred and fifty thousand students in six hundred and forty-two schools. The administrative layers are many. It is not unusual for Geverola to receive a dozen e-mails a day from the central office, describing policies and offering guidance. And yet, despite the vastness of the system, or maybe because of it, principals have considerable autonomy. Countless decisions on staffing, budgeting, and the shape of the curriculum are Geverola’s to make, and she knows that much of the blame will fall to her if things go sour. Now in her third year in charge at DePriest, she has harnessed a network of volunteers, tutors, and funders to think creatively and deepen the school’s coffers. Working with grant funding and shifting money among DePriest accounts, she has continued to increase the school’s stash of Chromebooks and iPads to several hundred. One summer day, as she stood in a library storeroom among shelves stacked with copies of “Charlotte’s Web,” “The Old Man and the Sea,” “The Hate U Give,” and “To Kill a Mockingbird,” she explained that books are a precious commodity for a school like DePriest. “My job,” she said, “is to figure out how to push these out to families and not panic if I don’t get them back.”
“There are seven hundred people who depend on me,” Geverola said. “That can be scary.”
The abrupt shutdown of Chicago Public Schools, announced in March by the Illinois governor, J. B. Pritzker, a Democrat, was messy from the start. On any given day, barely half of the city’s students logged into their Google accounts for school, according to C.P.S. figures. The numbers were lowest for Black students. Many children didn’t have pencils or notebooks. Others didn’t have reliable Internet service or computers, although Chicago officials raced to deliver a hundred thousand devices to families. Few parents had the luxury of supervising their children’s virtual educations all day. This was particularly true in working-class Austin, where many parents were classified as essential workers and expected to report to their jobs.
Almost no one had taught online before or thought about how to virtually engage elementary-school children for an entire day. Suddenly doing so was “a little scary, a little bit unreal,” Vivian Billups, a teacher at DePriest, recalled. With only one week off after the school year ended, she plunged into a summer class with what are called “diverse learners.” Several students had reading deficits, one had suffered a brain injury, another had severe vision problems. One student was unable to connect to class with a computer, so Billups arranged for delivery of a work packet every two weeks. Finding that students did not have supplies, she drew on donations from World Vision, a charity, and filled book bags with pens, notebooks, glue, pencils and sharpeners, paper clips, and coloring books. She gave away books that belonged to her children and shared a YouTube recording of “Bud, Not Buddy.” Getting creative, she kept three computers running at a time. The one in the living room was “homeroom,” which included the meeting room for third graders. The one in the den was for fifth graders. The one on the patio was for fourth graders. She walked among the real rooms and brought the students together in homeroom from time to time.
Billups, who grew up nearby, learned that structure and expectations were essential. She started summer school at 8 A.M. sharp. When students did not show up or failed to return from a break during the first week, she made sure that their parents knew. A computer program allows her to monitor what students are doing on an assigned screen. (Student: “I’m working.” Billups: “Why does the computer say you haven’t even opened the lesson?”) Students missed their friends, but several told her that they could concentrate better at home and were glad not to have to worry about bullies or what to wear. A summer student with poor vision turned out to be a voracious reader. At home, she didn’t feel self-conscious about using a big magnifying glass. Billups also often found it easier to talk about current events. Amid the demonstrations that followed the killing of George Floyd, in Minneapolis, she asked her students, “Do you know why they’re protesting?” They didn’t. She pressed a few keys, found CNN, and shared interviews with Floyd’s relatives. “I was able to connect students with real events,” she said.


newyorker--2020-09-20--The Tragedy of the West Coast Wildfires

The Tragedy of the West Coast Wildfires

For more than a century , the Mount Wilson Observatory has looked down on Los Angeles from a peak five thousand seven hundred and fifteen feet above sea level , a height that once lifted it above the city ’ s smog .
The clear air allowed Edwin Hubble , in 1924 , to discover that what was then called the Andromeda nebula was not a smudge of stars in the Milky Way but a galaxy of its own , and , later , to find proof that the universe was expanding , leading to the formulation of the Hubble @ @ @ @ @ @ @ motion .
The observatory is a cherished monument and a site of ongoing research and discovery .
Last week , though , the sky above it was a sickly orange , as firefighters fought to save it , along with an array of television and communications towers that also sit on Mount Wilson , from the Bobcat Fire .
On Friday , they were struggling to hold the flames back with only a few hundred feet to spare .
The Bobcat Fire has raked across more than sixty thousand acres in the San @ @ @ @ @ @ @ residents of the foothill communities .
But it is only one of forty-one major fire complexes causing havoc in California , Oregon , and Washington .
More than five million acres have burned .
Some thirty people have died , and dozens are missing .
Breathing the air of Los Angeles , San Francisco , Portland , and Seattle has been not only unhealthy but , on some days , hazardous .
The threat to Mount Wilson is a single scene in that larger disaster , but it encapsulates a moment in which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ American life seem to be under assault .
Part of the attack is being led by Donald J. Trump .
The wildfire crisis is an aspect of the climate crisis : hotter temperatures and changing rainfall patterns have turned swaths of the West into a tinderbox .
But last Monday , in California , Trump told people to trust him that it will “ start getting cooler , ” and added , “ I don ’ t think science knows , actually.
” He used the trip to bestow the Distinguished Flying Cross @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deployed to fight the Creek Fire , which had scorched a quarter of a million acres in Fresno , Madera , and Mariposa Counties and , at the end of last week , was still mostly uncontained .
The crew members deserve the honor—they risked their lives to save more than two hundred people trapped by the fire—but the event was also a reminder of how , for Trump , pomp serves as a substitute for policy .
Of course , the policies he does pursue , such as renouncing the Paris climate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The contrast between Trump and Joe Biden , who spoke about the California fires on the same day , but with reason and urgency , was stark . )
The question is whether , in November , Trump and the Republican Party , which has long blocked action on the climate , will be held to account .
The signals are mixed .
Polls show that addressing the climate crisis remains a partisan issue .
That is a tragedy , particularly since Americans no longer have to guess whether climate change will affect @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the tracts of burnt-out homes and in the smoke rising in the West , which , last week , drifted far enough to turn skies in New England hazy .
They can register it in the length of time that Hurricane Sally lolled in the Gulf of Mexico before inundating Pensacola and other communities , while , at one point , four other named storms spun alongside it .
Last Friday , with more than two months to go in the storm season , the National Hurricane Center used up the last name @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
Greek letters come next , and Subtropical Storm Alpha was identified by early afternoon ; Beta followed within hours .
Now every year may be another 2020 , in terms of a pileup of calamities .
The Economist , in a survey of the climate factors contributing to the wildfires , concluded that “ people on America ’ s west coast will have to learn to coëxist with more , and more frequent , fires.
” Or they can move , and , indeed , many may be forced to do so @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ProPublica and the Times , if emissions are not cut drastically by mid-century—and , to an extent , even if they are—for an increasing number of days each year , some heavily populated areas of the country will be too hot or too humid , or both , for residents to venture safely outdoors .
These include parts of Texas and Arizona , but also of North Carolina , Missouri , and Illinois .
Meanwhile , cities and towns on the Eastern Seaboard and the Gulf Coast will confront rising sea levels that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ wealthiest places miserable or unsustainable .
Eventually , not even government-backed flood-insurance programs will be enough to keep people on land that is being lost to the sea .
Farm communities will face a reckoning as well , with many crop yields projected to fall .
As for the wildfires , models show them consuming ground not only in the West but in such disparate states as Florida and Minnesota .
Climate migrants will not only be leaving homes in the Global South ; they will include Americans crisscrossing the country .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at last , poised to change the map of American politics , because it will change the map of America .
Comparisons have been drawn to the Great Migration , when , from the nineteen-twenties to the nineteen-sixties , more than six million Black Americans settled in Northern states , a shift that reshaped urban politics and culture and gave support to the civil-rights movement .
But that analogy is inadequate .
Projections about the demographics of various states may be upended in ways that are impossible to predict .
People forced out @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , or a blue one , will not necessarily become green voters .
Mass dislocation might lead to an environmentalist awakening , or even mobilize Americans to confront issues of inequality , but it could also contribute to a politics of resentment .
One can too easily imagine a future demagogue—Trump may not be the last—exploiting domestic climate migrants ’ sense of betrayal and fear .
Yet the polls show , too , that voters who do care about the climate , including a majority of younger people , tend to be passionate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ potential to be an ever more powerful electoral force .
As with the battle to save the Mount Wilson Observatory , the climate crisis involves choices about what we value .
Politics and leadership , not to mention science , will matter , perhaps as never before , because of how very wrong things could go in the next decades , and how much upheaval there is likely to be .
As Edwin Hubble might have observed , everything is in motion .
There are few constants left .
♦

Illustration by João Fazenda
For more than a century, the Mount Wilson Observatory has looked down on Los Angeles from a peak five thousand seven hundred and fifteen feet above sea level, a height that once lifted it above the city’s smog. The clear air allowed Edwin Hubble, in 1924, to discover that what was then called the Andromeda nebula was not a smudge of stars in the Milky Way but a galaxy of its own, and, later, to find proof that the universe was expanding, leading to the formulation of the Hubble constant, which describes its rate of motion. The observatory is a cherished monument and a site of ongoing research and discovery. Last week, though, the sky above it was a sickly orange, as firefighters fought to save it, along with an array of television and communications towers that also sit on Mount Wilson, from the Bobcat Fire. On Friday, they were struggling to hold the flames back with only a few hundred feet to spare.
The Bobcat Fire has raked across more than sixty thousand acres in the San Gabriel Mountains and triggered evacuation warnings for residents of the foothill communities. But it is only one of forty-one major fire complexes causing havoc in California, Oregon, and Washington. More than five million acres have burned. Some thirty people have died, and dozens are missing. Breathing the air of Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, and Seattle has been not only unhealthy but, on some days, hazardous. The threat to Mount Wilson is a single scene in that larger disaster, but it encapsulates a moment in which both science and the everyday rhythms of American life seem to be under assault.
Part of the attack is being led by Donald J. Trump. The wildfire crisis is an aspect of the climate crisis: hotter temperatures and changing rainfall patterns have turned swaths of the West into a tinderbox. But last Monday, in California, Trump told people to trust him that it will “start getting cooler,” and added, “I don’t think science knows, actually.” He used the trip to bestow the Distinguished Flying Cross on two military-helicopter crews that had been deployed to fight the Creek Fire, which had scorched a quarter of a million acres in Fresno, Madera, and Mariposa Counties and, at the end of last week, was still mostly uncontained. The crew members deserve the honor—they risked their lives to save more than two hundred people trapped by the fire—but the event was also a reminder of how, for Trump, pomp serves as a substitute for policy. Of course, the policies he does pursue, such as renouncing the Paris climate accord, do real harm. (The contrast between Trump and Joe Biden, who spoke about the California fires on the same day, but with reason and urgency, was stark.) The question is whether, in November, Trump and the Republican Party, which has long blocked action on the climate, will be held to account.
The signals are mixed. Polls show that addressing the climate crisis remains a partisan issue. That is a tragedy, particularly since Americans no longer have to guess whether climate change will affect them: they can see it in the tracts of burnt-out homes and in the smoke rising in the West, which, last week, drifted far enough to turn skies in New England hazy. They can register it in the length of time that Hurricane Sally lolled in the Gulf of Mexico before inundating Pensacola and other communities, while, at one point, four other named storms spun alongside it. Last Friday, with more than two months to go in the storm season, the National Hurricane Center used up the last name (Wilfred) on its alphabetized list. Greek letters come next, and Subtropical Storm Alpha was identified by early afternoon; Beta followed within hours. Now every year may be another 2020, in terms of a pileup of calamities.
The Economist, in a survey of the climate factors contributing to the wildfires, concluded that “people on America’s west coast will have to learn to coëxist with more, and more frequent, fires.” Or they can move, and, indeed, many may be forced to do so. According to a joint project by ProPublica and the Times, if emissions are not cut drastically by mid-century—and, to an extent, even if they are—for an increasing number of days each year, some heavily populated areas of the country will be too hot or too humid, or both, for residents to venture safely outdoors. These include parts of Texas and Arizona, but also of North Carolina, Missouri, and Illinois.
Meanwhile, cities and towns on the Eastern Seaboard and the Gulf Coast will confront rising sea levels that may make living in all but the wealthiest places miserable or unsustainable. Eventually, not even government-backed flood-insurance programs will be enough to keep people on land that is being lost to the sea. Farm communities will face a reckoning as well, with many crop yields projected to fall. As for the wildfires, models show them consuming ground not only in the West but in such disparate states as Florida and Minnesota. Climate migrants will not only be leaving homes in the Global South; they will include Americans crisscrossing the country.
In short, the climate crisis is, at last, poised to change the map of American politics, because it will change the map of America. Comparisons have been drawn to the Great Migration, when, from the nineteen-twenties to the nineteen-sixties, more than six million Black Americans settled in Northern states, a shift that reshaped urban politics and culture and gave support to the civil-rights movement. But that analogy is inadequate. Projections about the demographics of various states may be upended in ways that are impossible to predict. People forced out of their homes in a red state, or a blue one, will not necessarily become green voters. Mass dislocation might lead to an environmentalist awakening, or even mobilize Americans to confront issues of inequality, but it could also contribute to a politics of resentment. One can too easily imagine a future demagogue—Trump may not be the last—exploiting domestic climate migrants’ sense of betrayal and fear.
Yet the polls show, too, that voters who do care about the climate, including a majority of younger people, tend to be passionate about the issue. They have the potential to be an ever more powerful electoral force. As with the battle to save the Mount Wilson Observatory, the climate crisis involves choices about what we value. Politics and leadership, not to mention science, will matter, perhaps as never before, because of how very wrong things could go in the next decades, and how much upheaval there is likely to be. As Edwin Hubble might have observed, everything is in motion. There are few constants left. ♦


newyorker--2020-09-20--The Cryptic Crossword: No. 84

The Cryptic Crossword: No. 84

Some clues have been edited for clarity .
Subscribers can find explanations of the original puzzle ’ s answers in @ @ @

Some clues have been edited for clarity. Subscribers can find explanations of the original puzzle’s answers in our archive.


newyorker--2020-09-21--“Residue,” Reviewed: A Prodigal Filmmaker’s Wrenching Return

The genre of films about filmmakers is both hackneyed and immensely stimulating .
It places stringent demands on filmmakers because it foregrounds their ideas about their art along with their practice of it , and invites self-aggrandizement along with self-reflection .
Merawi Gerima ’ s first feature , “ Residue ” ( which appeared on Netflix on Friday ) , is a notable new entry in the genre , because of the deeper , fuller grid of experience and history onto which it maps the protagonist ’ s—and Gerima ’ s own—activity , and because of the severe self-questioning that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s the story of a Black filmmaker who has been living in California and who returns to his home town of Washington , D.C. , to make a film set in his former neighborhood .
( Gerima , studied film at the University of Southern California before returning to D.C. , where he grew up , to make “ Residue.
” ) “ Residue ” is a notable exception in part because it belongs to another genre , the prodigal ’ s return—more specifically , the you-can ’ t-go-home-again subgenre—and , here , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ both intimate and broad , at once personal and societal and cinema-centric .
The protagonist , Jarell ( Obinna Nwachukwu ) , whom everyone calls Jay , arrives in his family ’ s D.C. neighborhood after many years away and finds that things have changed .
Jay , who ’ s Black , sees the effects of gentrification at once—he sees white people on streets where he ’ d never seen any while growing up .
Driving a white pickup truck , Jay reaches the apartment where he ’ ll be staying and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , who threatens to call the police on him ; he finds persistent real-estate agents and investors offering cash—in person , on flyers , by phone—to Black residents , including his parents , for their homes .
( His parents—played by Melody A .
Tally and Ramon Thompson—are renting out a room to a young white man . )
Jay has come back to his old neighborhood in order to make a film about the people he knows there , about the Black community that he ’ s from and that ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ influx of wealthier white residents .
Even before his arrival , he ’ s haunted with doubts ( expressed in voice-over ) about the usefulness of his project ; after he gets to town , he finds his plans , even his very presence , far more complicated than he ’ d expected .
Despite the warm welcome that he soon receives—from older men who ’ d known him as a child , and from his childhood friends , especially Delonte ( Dennis Lindsey ) , who hasn ’ t left the neighborhood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ taken as something of an outsider who doesn ’ t know , who can ’ t know , what things have been like for those he left behind and lost contact with .
What ’ s more , he ’ s viewed with suspicion , which is aroused primarily by his earnest , insistent questions about his former best friend , Demetrius , who isn ’ t there and about whom nobody ’ s very willing to talk .
Is Jay intrusive ?
Insensitive ?
The police ?
The movie is conceived with @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s prominent from the start ; Gerima films with wide-screen images ( the cinematographer is Mark Jeevaratnam ) that are filled with city buildings and vistas and that , with canny framings and choice of lenses , either hold characters in those spaces or detach them from their surroundings .
Far from merely telling the story of Jay and his neighborhood , “ Residue ” creates , for its characters and its setting , a distinctive cinematographic identity , one that unites the crafts of movies and reveals the unity of direction , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s a subjective film that delves deep into Jay ’ s memories of growing up , by way of footage , from what looks like home videos and home movies , showing scenes of his childhood—his friends , his family , the sense of community , and also the gang violence and police oppression that ravaged it—and with inner voices and imagined events , too .
Gerima ’ s storytelling , as Jay makes his way through his neighborhood and attempts to renew lost connections , has a similar fusion of the intensely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sharing an apartment with his girlfriend , Blue ( Taline Stewart ) , from whom he ’ s seemingly been separated for a while , but the warmth and the intimacy of their relationship ( also distinctively depicted ) has no backstory attached to it .
Neither , for that matter , does the over-all matter of Jay ’ s long-term absence ; his seemingly slender contact with the community in which he was raised , including with his parents ; and the general breakdown of the thread of local updates about family @ @ @ @ @ @ @ render Jay a figure of poignant paradox .
He ’ s an uprooted man whose memories are deep and strong , who works to honor the people who inhabit them , but whose sense of the present day is something of a tabula rasa—and whose blanks of up-to-date knowledge are as much an inevitable part of whatever film he ’ ll make as they are an inevitable part of the failure that he ’ s forced to confront .
While averting explanations of basic practicalities , “ Residue ” thrusts other specifics—of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from the periphery to the center—to the foreground .
Jay learns that one longtime friend , Mike ( Derron Scott ) , is newly released from prison and struggling with the lure of gang life , and that Delonte , unbeknownst to Jay , had endured horrors in childhood from which he still hasn ’ t recovered .
Yet , if there ’ s something blank about the slate with which Jay arrives in town , there ’ s a strong suggestion that it ’ s due to his own efforts at erasure @ @ @ @ @ @ @ moving subplot involving another childhood friend named Dion ( Jamal Graham ) , which nearly takes over the film and expands its purview into daringly expressive realms of fantasy while considering , with bitter directness , the calculatedly cruelty of the carceral system .
Jay returns home , to make his film , with a well-intentioned innocence that ’ s revealed to him , in all its presumptuousness , in a series of scenes that also reflect Gerima ’ s fierce cinematic imagination .
A nighttime reunion with Delonte , from opposite sides @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by a visit from a local policeman , who ’ s never seen but whose aggressive questioning is met by Jay and Delonte in drastically different ways , which suggest the men ’ s drastically different places in the community and its presumptive pecking order .
Delonte skeptically questions Jay about his plans for the movie , and reacts with quiet derision to Jay ’ s earnest answer : “ Just trying to give a voice to the voiceless , man.
” Delonte responds , derisively , “ Who ’ s voiceless ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ more scathing view of Jay ’ s intentions and character , in a scene that ’ s written , performed , and filmed with an awe-inspiring power .
Throughout , Jay witnesses a community that ’ s being torn apart from within .
The pressures of white supremacy from society at large have , in effect , moved in , and the aggressions and assumptions of new neighbors who are often anything but neighborly ( and whose occasional attempts at being neighborly are equally dubious ) are constant sources of inner tension and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ violence—the self-destructive turmoil of a community that ’ s isolated , deprived , and besieged—persist .
And , when Jay returns home , it isn ’ t only his blanked-out consciousness that gets filled in—it ’ s a seemingly suppressed rage that ’ s only exacerbated by the revelation of his own inadequacy , artistic impotence , and emotional failures .
Jay endures , subtly but critically , the destruction of his self-image , which , he discovers , was built on a void , and which is mirrored by the voiding , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ which his identity was founded .
The furious and mind-wrenching tensions that Jay faces—and that Gerima evokes as his own—are inseparable from those of his neighborhood , of the community at large , of American society over all .
The failures built into a film such as the one that Jay plans—and of which Gerima essentially accuses himself—aren ’ t those of filmmakers alone .
“ Residue ” ’ s subject is , inescapably , ongoing collective failures of an enormous , historical scope .

The genre of films about filmmakers is both hackneyed and immensely stimulating. It places stringent demands on filmmakers because it foregrounds their ideas about their art along with their practice of it, and invites self-aggrandizement along with self-reflection. Merawi Gerima’s first feature, “Residue” (which appeared on Netflix on Friday), is a notable new entry in the genre, because of the deeper, fuller grid of experience and history onto which it maps the protagonist’s—and Gerima’s own—activity, and because of the severe self-questioning that the movie modestly embodies. It’s the story of a Black filmmaker who has been living in California and who returns to his home town of Washington, D.C., to make a film set in his former neighborhood. (Gerima, studied film at the University of Southern California before returning to D.C., where he grew up, to make “Residue.”)
“Residue” is a notable exception in part because it belongs to another genre, the prodigal’s return—more specifically, the you-can’t-go-home-again subgenre—and, here, too, Gerima’s vision is both intimate and broad, at once personal and societal and cinema-centric. The protagonist, Jarell (Obinna Nwachukwu), whom everyone calls Jay, arrives in his family’s D.C. neighborhood after many years away and finds that things have changed. Jay, who’s Black, sees the effects of gentrification at once—he sees white people on streets where he’d never seen any while growing up. Driving a white pickup truck, Jay reaches the apartment where he’ll be staying and gets hassled by a young white man, who threatens to call the police on him; he finds persistent real-estate agents and investors offering cash—in person, on flyers, by phone—to Black residents, including his parents, for their homes. (His parents—played by Melody A. Tally and Ramon Thompson—are renting out a room to a young white man.)
Jay has come back to his old neighborhood in order to make a film about the people he knows there, about the Black community that he’s from and that’s dwindling, being dispersed—seemingly being occupied—by an influx of wealthier white residents. Even before his arrival, he’s haunted with doubts (expressed in voice-over) about the usefulness of his project; after he gets to town, he finds his plans, even his very presence, far more complicated than he’d expected. Despite the warm welcome that he soon receives—from older men who’d known him as a child, and from his childhood friends, especially Delonte (Dennis Lindsey), who hasn’t left the neighborhood and has led a troubled life—Jay is taken as something of an outsider who doesn’t know, who can’t know, what things have been like for those he left behind and lost contact with. What’s more, he’s viewed with suspicion, which is aroused primarily by his earnest, insistent questions about his former best friend, Demetrius, who isn’t there and about whom nobody’s very willing to talk. Is Jay intrusive? Insensitive? The police?
The movie is conceived with space in mind, and it’s prominent from the start; Gerima films with wide-screen images (the cinematographer is Mark Jeevaratnam) that are filled with city buildings and vistas and that, with canny framings and choice of lenses, either hold characters in those spaces or detach them from their surroundings. Far from merely telling the story of Jay and his neighborhood, “Residue” creates, for its characters and its setting, a distinctive cinematographic identity, one that unites the crafts of movies and reveals the unity of direction, editing, and dramaturgy. It’s a subjective film that delves deep into Jay’s memories of growing up, by way of footage, from what looks like home videos and home movies, showing scenes of his childhood—his friends, his family, the sense of community, and also the gang violence and police oppression that ravaged it—and with inner voices and imagined events, too.
Gerima’s storytelling, as Jay makes his way through his neighborhood and attempts to renew lost connections, has a similar fusion of the intensely particular and the fragmentary. Jay is sharing an apartment with his girlfriend, Blue (Taline Stewart), from whom he’s seemingly been separated for a while, but the warmth and the intimacy of their relationship (also distinctively depicted) has no backstory attached to it. Neither, for that matter, does the over-all matter of Jay’s long-term absence; his seemingly slender contact with the community in which he was raised, including with his parents; and the general breakdown of the thread of local updates about family and friends. The effect is to render Jay a figure of poignant paradox. He’s an uprooted man whose memories are deep and strong, who works to honor the people who inhabit them, but whose sense of the present day is something of a tabula rasa—and whose blanks of up-to-date knowledge are as much an inevitable part of whatever film he’ll make as they are an inevitable part of the failure that he’s forced to confront.
While averting explanations of basic practicalities, “Residue” thrusts other specifics—of the sort usually left out or overshadowed, from the periphery to the center—to the foreground. Jay learns that one longtime friend, Mike (Derron Scott), is newly released from prison and struggling with the lure of gang life, and that Delonte, unbeknownst to Jay, had endured horrors in childhood from which he still hasn’t recovered. Yet, if there’s something blank about the slate with which Jay arrives in town, there’s a strong suggestion that it’s due to his own efforts at erasure, as seen in a remarkable, moving subplot involving another childhood friend named Dion (Jamal Graham), which nearly takes over the film and expands its purview into daringly expressive realms of fantasy while considering, with bitter directness, the calculatedly cruelty of the carceral system.
Jay returns home, to make his film, with a well-intentioned innocence that’s revealed to him, in all its presumptuousness, in a series of scenes that also reflect Gerima’s fierce cinematic imagination. A nighttime reunion with Delonte, from opposite sides of a chain-link fence, is punctuated by a visit from a local policeman, who’s never seen but whose aggressive questioning is met by Jay and Delonte in drastically different ways, which suggest the men’s drastically different places in the community and its presumptive pecking order. Delonte skeptically questions Jay about his plans for the movie, and reacts with quiet derision to Jay’s earnest answer: “Just trying to give a voice to the voiceless, man.” Delonte responds, derisively, “Who’s voiceless?” Later, he offers a much more scathing view of Jay’s intentions and character, in a scene that’s written, performed, and filmed with an awe-inspiring power.
Throughout, Jay witnesses a community that’s being torn apart from within. The pressures of white supremacy from society at large have, in effect, moved in, and the aggressions and assumptions of new neighbors who are often anything but neighborly (and whose occasional attempts at being neighborly are equally dubious) are constant sources of inner tension and reckless provocation. Gun violence and gang violence—the self-destructive turmoil of a community that’s isolated, deprived, and besieged—persist. And, when Jay returns home, it isn’t only his blanked-out consciousness that gets filled in—it’s a seemingly suppressed rage that’s only exacerbated by the revelation of his own inadequacy, artistic impotence, and emotional failures. Jay endures, subtly but critically, the destruction of his self-image, which, he discovers, was built on a void, and which is mirrored by the voiding, through gentrification, of the community on which his identity was founded. The furious and mind-wrenching tensions that Jay faces—and that Gerima evokes as his own—are inseparable from those of his neighborhood, of the community at large, of American society over all. The failures built into a film such as the one that Jay plans—and of which Gerima essentially accuses himself—aren’t those of filmmakers alone. “Residue” ’s subject is, inescapably, ongoing collective failures of an enormous, historical scope.


newyorker--2020-09-21--An Election in Peril

An Election in Peril

This Presidential race is a battle for the soul and the future of the country—on this much , both parties @ @ @ @ @ the election process are vast .
David Remnick runs through some of the risks to @ @ @ @ @ of staff writers : Sue Halpern , on the possibility of hacking by malign actors @ @ @ @ @ the contention around mail-in voting and the false suspicions being raised by the President ; @ @ @ @ @ prospect of an avalanche of legal challenges that could delay the outcome and create a @ @ @ @ @ Jelani Cobb , on the danger of violence in the election ’ s aftermath .

Download a transcript.|||
Photograph by Joseph Prezioso / AFP / Getty
This Presidential race is a battle for the soul and the future of the country—on this much, both parties agree—and yet the pitfalls in the election process are vast. David Remnick runs through some of the risks to your vote with a group of staff writers: Sue Halpern, on the possibility of hacking by malign actors; Steve Coll, on the contention around mail-in voting and the false suspicions being raised by the President; Jeffrey Toobin, on the prospect of an avalanche of legal challenges that could delay the outcome and create a cascade of uncertainty; and Jelani Cobb, on the danger of violence in the election’s aftermath.


newyorker--2020-09-21--Looking at a Tree

Looking at a Tree

There are two trees that have changed my life .
The first was in Riverdale , the Bronx .
It was in Henry Hudson Park , which was behind our building .
My mother took me to the public library .
Big windows , light pouring in .
I was able to take books out to the park .
I am eight years old or so , sitting in the tree in the park and reading “ Pippi Longstocking.
” In my memory , I was alone .
The book was about a girl bursting with self-confidence and force .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ with madcap humor and a touching sense of kindness .
This was me .
And in those decisive , enchanted moments , I decided that I would write stories .
When I was nineteen , I spent the summer in England , travelling with a friend and knocking about .
We found ourselves in Ayot St. Lawrence , a little village outside of London .
We were walking somewhere and passed a field with an immense tree in it .
Maybe it was not far from a church or cemetery .
Maybe I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ cream .
At any rate , it took my breath away .
No tree since has made me feel that way .
I have met many trees that I adore and admire .
But that particular tree , on that particular day , has become one of the images in my life-is-good column .
Painting trees has always been very difficult .
Like drawing hands .
But these past few years some of the fear has vanished , and I have been able to approach them .
The formidable task seems like a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ thing is that a tree is a subject that will never diminish in appeal .
And , as old as I get , it requires nothing more than looking at a tree and then sitting at a table and painting .

There are two trees that have changed my life. The first was in Riverdale, the Bronx. It was in Henry Hudson Park, which was behind our building. My mother took me to the public library. Big windows, light pouring in. I was able to take books out to the park. I am eight years old or so, sitting in the tree in the park and reading “Pippi Longstocking.” In my memory, I was alone. The book was about a girl bursting with self-confidence and force. No parents in sight. A fantasy with madcap humor and a touching sense of kindness. This was me. And in those decisive, enchanted moments, I decided that I would write stories.
When I was nineteen, I spent the summer in England, travelling with a friend and knocking about. We found ourselves in Ayot St. Lawrence, a little village outside of London. We were walking somewhere and passed a field with an immense tree in it. Maybe it was not far from a church or cemetery. Maybe I had just finished eating scones with clotted cream. At any rate, it took my breath away.
No tree since has made me feel that way. I have met many trees that I adore and admire. But that particular tree, on that particular day, has become one of the images in my life-is-good column.
Painting trees has always been very difficult. Like drawing hands. But these past few years some of the fear has vanished, and I have been able to approach them. The formidable task seems like a challenge well worth taking. The nice thing is that a tree is a subject that will never diminish in appeal. And, as old as I get, it requires nothing more than looking at a tree and then sitting at a table and painting.