Sometimes Things Change

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Inertia and vested interest , it seems to me , are the two forces that make changing the system for the better so rare .
Once things are as they are , some group benefits from them—and that group usually has more of a stake in maintaining the status quo than others have in changing it .
But , as I wrote last week , moments arise when the Zeitgeist is threatened—when what is considered normal , natural , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Right now , traditional policing seems less obvious than it did a month ago , and , though the police unions and the administrators will work hard to make that thought disappear , at least for the moment , the discipline and the passion of the people marching and organizing are actually overcoming the tendency for the focus to drift away .
And , as a result , all of a sudden the rest of us notice that a few people have been hard at work all along , imagining why it might @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into our cities to deal with the slight but inevitable tensions of living together in a society .
Here , for instance , is a series of interviews on CNN about how one might deal with speeders or drunk drivers without tickets or arrests .
When you first listen , you think , That ’ s different—would it really work ?
But that ’ s the good thing about moments like this : our minds are open to new possibilities in ways that they usually aren ’ t .
Inertia and interest are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been slow to change , even though rapid climate change represents the ultimate in imaginable violence , injustice , and chaos .
( Indeed , the evidence shows that , around the world , emissions are “ surging ” back to typical levels as societies emerge from the post-sheltering phase of the coronavirus pandemic . )
Sometimes , the efforts of vested interests are almost comical .
Consider , for instance , the fact that many of our homes have a large tank of flammable gas that we burn when we wish to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in global warming but also in levels of indoor air pollution that are often so high they would be illegal were they outside .
At some point in our history , this was perhaps an improvement over burning wood or dung .
But now we have easy-to-use and more affordable induction cooktops , which make far more sense ( at least in new homes , where there ’ s no sunk investment in cooktops and ranges ) .
Some jurisdictions have started mandating the installation of such electric appliances in new construction , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ technology .
I ’ ve written in this column before of the California gas-workers ’ union that , as the journalist Sammy Roth discovered , threatened a “ no-social-distancing ” protest in a town , at the height of the pandemic , in an effort to block such a law .
Now Rebecca Leber , writing in Mother Jones , reports that the natural-gas industry is systematically paying Instagram influencers to plug its product with a targeted audience of “ hispanic millennials , ” “ design enthusiasts , ” “ promising families , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ But inertia plays as large a role as interest , sometimes .
A couple of weeks ago , the Washington Post ran an excellent account of the effort to make the Empire State Building more energy efficient .
Aided by gurus from the Rocky Mountain Institute , who have been working on such projects for decades , the management changed out old lights , added insulating film to the building ’ s sixty-five hundred windows , stuck reflecting foil behind the radiators , and provided “ regenerative braking ” for the building ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ when they slow down , the extra electricity is returned to batteries .
These and other changes reduced the building ’ s electricity use not by five or ten per cent but by forty per cent .
Forty is a big number , considering that the tenants still get the same use from their offices , which are as well lit , warmed , cooled , and ventilated as before .
We obviously have to install a lot of solar panels and wind turbines in the next decade to meet climate goals , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ forty per cent we ’ d have to install far fewer .
That we haven ’ t done so is , I think , mostly a function of that inertia .
If you ’ re running a building , you have many jobs : finding tenants , collecting and raising rents , providing basic services and maintenance .
And business school might not have taught you about regenerative braking .
But now you may have to learn : last week , the Times reported that even institutions as sacred as the thirty-year mortgage @ @ @ @ @ @ @ figuring out they don ’ t want to be left holding properties that are literally underwater .
As the great poet James Russell Lowell once observed , “ New occasions teach new duties.
” The past seven years have been the hottest ever recorded , and , on Saturday , a spot on the Siberian coast became the northernmost place on Earth to record a temperature of a hundred degrees Fahrenheit ; this is a new occasion .
R. L. Miller is a California climate activist who , for some years , has @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which tries to elect candidates who are particularly eager to combat global warming .
( I ’ ve sat on the board of the group . )
She has also served as chair of the climate caucus in the California Democratic Party , and has just been elected by fellow California Party members to the Democratic National Committee , with the goal of making the climate a priority in the campaign .
What ’ s the strategy for the D.N.C.
?
Top priority right now is the platform !
I ran for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ transparency and accountability .
I was particularly fired up about the D.N.C .
leadership ’ s refusal to hold a climate debate .
The D.N.C .
Climate Council has released a bold , visionary set of policy recommendations .
I helped set up the council , and am on its advisory board , but can ’ t take credit for drafting the recommendations .
Check out the platform !
Separately , the Biden-Sanders unity task forces are finishing up their work and are due to release their recommendations soon .
I don ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ into the platform .
Everything has been done behind closed doors , and I ’ ve heard rumors that the recommendations may not be made public .
Having said that , there are some very good people on the climate task force , whom I trust to convey the urgency of the climate crisis .
Finally , there ’ s the official platform-drafting committee of the D.N.C .
Apparently , the Climate Council ’ s work has offended some old-school types at the D.N.C .
To be clear , I ’ ve been @ @ @ @ @ @ @ D.N.C.
!
If the official platform committee is doing anything at all , besides sniffing at insurgents , it ’ s not happening in public .
So I believe the D.N.C .
needs to be holding public hearings on the platform .
Poll after poll during primary season showed climate change was the top priority for young voters , and second only to health care for Democratic voters in general .
Do you sense that the Party is ready to make it a priority , too ?
What stands in the way ?

Subscribers to The Climate Crisis newsletter received this piece in their in-boxes. Sign up to receive future installments.
Inertia and vested interest, it seems to me, are the two forces that make changing the system for the better so rare. Once things are as they are, some group benefits from them—and that group usually has more of a stake in maintaining the status quo than others have in changing it. But, as I wrote last week, moments arise when the Zeitgeist is threatened—when what is considered normal, natural, and obvious seems suddenly up for grabs. Right now, traditional policing seems less obvious than it did a month ago, and, though the police unions and the administrators will work hard to make that thought disappear, at least for the moment, the discipline and the passion of the people marching and organizing are actually overcoming the tendency for the focus to drift away. And, as a result, all of a sudden the rest of us notice that a few people have been hard at work all along, imagining why it might not make sense to send combat-ready troops into our cities to deal with the slight but inevitable tensions of living together in a society. Here, for instance, is a series of interviews on CNN about how one might deal with speeders or drunk drivers without tickets or arrests. When you first listen, you think, That’s different—would it really work? But that’s the good thing about moments like this: our minds are open to new possibilities in ways that they usually aren’t.
Inertia and interest are the main reasons our energy systems have been slow to change, even though rapid climate change represents the ultimate in imaginable violence, injustice, and chaos. (Indeed, the evidence shows that, around the world, emissions are “surging” back to typical levels as societies emerge from the post-sheltering phase of the coronavirus pandemic.) Sometimes, the efforts of vested interests are almost comical. Consider, for instance, the fact that many of our homes have a large tank of flammable gas that we burn when we wish to heat our food, resulting not only in global warming but also in levels of indoor air pollution that are often so high they would be illegal were they outside. At some point in our history, this was perhaps an improvement over burning wood or dung. But now we have easy-to-use and more affordable induction cooktops, which make far more sense (at least in new homes, where there’s no sunk investment in cooktops and ranges). Some jurisdictions have started mandating the installation of such electric appliances in new construction, threatening the power of the incumbent inflammable technology. I’ve written in this column before of the California gas-workers’ union that, as the journalist Sammy Roth discovered, threatened a “no-social-distancing” protest in a town, at the height of the pandemic, in an effort to block such a law. Now Rebecca Leber, writing in Mother Jones, reports that the natural-gas industry is systematically paying Instagram influencers to plug its product with a targeted audience of “hispanic millennials,” “design enthusiasts,” “promising families,” and “young city solos.”
But inertia plays as large a role as interest, sometimes. A couple of weeks ago, the Washington Post ran an excellent account of the effort to make the Empire State Building more energy efficient. Aided by gurus from the Rocky Mountain Institute, who have been working on such projects for decades, the management changed out old lights, added insulating film to the building’s sixty-five hundred windows, stuck reflecting foil behind the radiators, and provided “regenerative braking” for the building’s seventy-three elevators, so that, when they slow down, the extra electricity is returned to batteries. These and other changes reduced the building’s electricity use not by five or ten per cent but by forty per cent. Forty is a big number, considering that the tenants still get the same use from their offices, which are as well lit, warmed, cooled, and ventilated as before. We obviously have to install a lot of solar panels and wind turbines in the next decade to meet climate goals, but if we cut electricity use by forty per cent we’d have to install far fewer. That we haven’t done so is, I think, mostly a function of that inertia. If you’re running a building, you have many jobs: finding tenants, collecting and raising rents, providing basic services and maintenance. And business school might not have taught you about regenerative braking. But now you may have to learn: last week, the Times reported that even institutions as sacred as the thirty-year mortgage are under threat, as banks start figuring out they don’t want to be left holding properties that are literally underwater. As the great poet James Russell Lowell once observed, “New occasions teach new duties.” The past seven years have been the hottest ever recorded, and, on Saturday, a spot on the Siberian coast became the northernmost place on Earth to record a temperature of a hundred degrees Fahrenheit; this is a new occasion.
Passing the Mic
R. L. Miller is a California climate activist who, for some years, has run a PAC called Climate Hawks Vote, which tries to elect candidates who are particularly eager to combat global warming. (I’ve sat on the board of the group.) She has also served as chair of the climate caucus in the California Democratic Party, and has just been elected by fellow California Party members to the Democratic National Committee, with the goal of making the climate a priority in the campaign.
What’s the strategy for the D.N.C.?
Top priority right now is the platform! I ran for the D.N.C. on a platform of transparency and accountability. I was particularly fired up about the D.N.C. leadership’s refusal to hold a climate debate.
The D.N.C. Climate Council has released a bold, visionary set of policy recommendations. I helped set up the council, and am on its advisory board, but can’t take credit for drafting the recommendations. Check out the platform!
Separately, the Biden-Sanders unity task forces are finishing up their work and are due to release their recommendations soon. I don’t know whether those recommendations will play into the platform. Everything has been done behind closed doors, and I’ve heard rumors that the recommendations may not be made public. Having said that, there are some very good people on the climate task force, whom I trust to convey the urgency of the climate crisis.
Finally, there’s the official platform-drafting committee of the D.N.C. Apparently, the Climate Council’s work has offended some old-school types at the D.N.C. To be clear, I’ve been elected to the insurgent wing of the D.N.C.! If the official platform committee is doing anything at all, besides sniffing at insurgents, it’s not happening in public. So I believe the D.N.C. needs to be holding public hearings on the platform.
Poll after poll during primary season showed climate change was the top priority for young voters, and second only to health care for Democratic voters in general. Do you sense that the Party is ready to make it a priority, too? What stands in the way?
What stands in the way of making climate a priority is a lot of old-school Democrats—some in trade-union labor and some just plain establishment folk—who think that bold climate action will cost us key states. And they’re badly missing the point. Poll after poll after poll shows that the American people are hungry for bold climate action. People generally see the enormous job potential of a hundred-per-cent clean-energy transition.
And then there’s the scary part. What I’ll be taking to the D.N.C. is a very personal perspective on a climate-fuelled disaster. The Woolsey Fire, of November, 2018, came within five hundred feet of my home. I heard about it early enough, via Twitter, that I was able to evacuate my frail, elderly mother safely. I watched my children’s childhood memories burn down on national television: their preschool, their soccer fields, their neighborhood parks. I remain nervous and jumpy every October, when the hot Santa Ana winds blow. I don’t know if anyone else on the D.N.C. can say they’ve been directly affected by a climate disaster. But it changes one’s perspective.
You keep track of lots of congressional and local races around the country. Who are the candidates you’re watching most fondly?
Everyone who’s not focussed on the Presidential race is working hard on flipping the Senate. At Climate Hawks Vote, we’ve endorsed Mark Kelly, in Arizona, and Jaime Harrison, in South Carolina, both of whom were unopposed in their primaries. We stand with every other green group in the nation for Ed Markey, of Massachusetts, the co-author of the Green New Deal and countless other climate bills.
Probably the best race from a climate perspective is the Colorado Senate primary, on June 30th. Andrew Romanoff is running explicitly on a Green New Deal, and his initial climate ad went viral. Washington Democrats prefer John Hickenlooper, known unfondly as Frackenlooper. Romanoff has recently gained ground on Hickenlooper in the polls.
At the same time, there’s room for more real climate hawks in the House. Too many Democrats, still, pay lip service to the climate crisis, but witness how rank-and-file members of Congress have had to beg leadership for crumbs of clean-energy tax-credit extensions. We’ve endorsed Cathy Kunkel—yes, there are climate hawks in West Virginia—and Christy Smith, in California, and are planning more endorsements.
[I should note, for the record, that I’ve done events with the Kunkel and Romanoff campaigns as well.]
Climate School
Speaking of bracing challenges to business as usual, the invaluable Kate Aronoff offers an update on New York City activists’ plans to turn the fetid penal colony on Rikers Island into a solar farm. A quarter of the island’s real estate could provide enough energy to turn off the gas “peaker” plants scattered around the city, many of them in the communities housing the people of color who, at the moment, end up on Rikers in disproportionate numbers. An alternate plan? Another runway for LaGuardia, which would pretty much define business as usual.


newyorker--2020-06-24--Why Are Some Journalists Afraid of “Moral Clarity”?

What ’ s so terrible about moral clarity ?
A future historian of June of 2020—a year that , historians have joked , will spawn narrow chronological specialties—will have to answer this question .
The phrase has become central to a debate about the media and about the possibility of debate itself .
The journalist Wesley Lowery , who won a Pulitzer in 2016 , for reporting on the systematic nature of police killings of black people , used the phrase in a tweet earlier this month ; he was responding to a decision by the New York Times to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Cotton that advocated the use of military force to quell protests against racism and police brutality .
Lowery wrote , “ American view-from-nowhere , ‘ objectivity ’ -obsessed , both-sides journalism is a failed experiment .
We need to fundamentally reset the norms of our field .
The old way must go .
We need to rebuild our industry as one that operates from a place of moral clarity.
” Four days later , the Times ’ media columnist , Ben Smith , picked up the tweet , cementing the oppositional pair : @ @ @ @ @ @ @ male journalists versus young journalists of color , tradition versus an unknown new world .
After Smith , Andrew Sullivan wrote a column for New York magazine under the headline “ Is there still room for debate ?
” The notion that American society is systemically , foundationally racist is tantamount to a totalitarian ideology , according to Sullivan and others .
( The Soviet-born Izabella Tabarovsky made the same argument in a piece for Tablet . )
Sullivan leads with a reference to Václav Havel ’ s essay “ The Power of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ totalitarianism literature and a piece I have used extensively in my own work .
Sullivan seems to think that this is an essay about the use of tanks and terror to enforce compliance with totalitarian opinion .
In fact , as its title indicates , it ’ s an essay about the surprising power of noncompliance , of refusing to “ live within the lie , ” in Havel ’ s words .
In what Havel calls “ post-totalitarian ” society , and in what I would call late-stage-totalitarian society—a society that remembers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ obey the rules out of habit .
Havel conjures the hypothetical character of a greengrocer who puts a Communist sign in his store window , as everyone does : The greengrocer , under totalitarianism , doesn ’ t and can ’ t have an opinion ; the putting up of the sign doesn ’ t appear to be subject to debate .
But , Havel argues , if the greengrocer were to take the sign down , or not put it up , he would claim a kind of power that is distinct @ @ @ @ @ @ @ never be equal to it but nonetheless constitutes a threat to it : the power of the powerless .
To compare the changing of the ideological tide in the United States to totalitarian ideology is to fail to take account of the power differential .
Totalitarian ideology had the power of the state behind it .
The enforcers of totalitarian ideology—be they Central Committee members , Writers ’ Union leaders , or the distributors of store-window signs—had the power of state institutions behind them .
Protesters in the streets of American cities and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ backed by state or institutional power , but just the opposite : in every instance , they are in confrontation with it .
One of the questions they are asking is , How does a vastly powerful institution such as the Times use its power ?
Does it amplify the state in its most brutal expression , as it did in publishing the Tom Cotton piece ?
Or does it raise up voices that have been marginalized throughout history ?
If the paper opts to do both , should it try to compensate @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the marginalized voices more room and the state less ?
In his own Op-Ed for the Times , Lowery talks about black journalists , historically few and powerless , raising their own voices in the newsroom .
Here a comparison to the greengrocer may finally be appropriate : black journalists within mainstream publications are finally suggesting that they should have a say in how journalism is practiced .
In making editorial decisions , the Times defines what it sees as the sphere of legitimate controversy , a term coined by the historian Daniel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ suitable to publish .
Until recently , ideas such as defunding or abolishing the police fell outside the sphere of legitimate controversy—in Hallin ’ s terminology , they fell into the sphere of deviance , which meant that the papers did not amplify or even acknowledge them .
But the idea of using the military to crush protests used to seem deviant , too .
American mainstream media are actively redrawing the boundaries of the sphere of legitimate controversy , and the location of that boundary is , itself , a subject of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ clarity ?
The philosopher Susan Neiman , who wrote a book on the subject , says that it is not , in fact , a statically defined concept : it can be found only on a case-by-case basis .
“ Moral clarity , however , is about looking at each particular case , looking at all the facts , looking at all the context , and working out your answers , ” she stated in a lecture .
It should not be confused with moral simplicity : we may have clearly defined moral @ @ @ @ @ @ @ actual position of moral clarity is always complicated and specific to the circumstances .
For Lowery , moral clarity is , he wrote , “ first and foremost , about objective facts .
Nazis are bad—objective fact .
Black lives matter—objective fact .
Climate change is real—objective fact .
President Trump is a liar—objective fact.
” In his Times Op-Ed , Lowery added that moral clarity involves naming what we observe without resorting to euphemisms , which includes labelling the President a racist .
Moral clarity can also describe the journalist ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ matter .
“ So often the questions that get the best/most insightful answers are posed from a place of moral clarity , ” Lowery tweeted .
“ Questioning someone powerful from a place of ‘ neutrality ’ often , in practice , results in journalism that is inappropriately soft in its framing.
” In other words , moral clarity is a quest , guided by clear values and informed by facts and context , and clearly aligned with the original concept of journalistic objectivity .
In the early twentieth century , some visionary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ could strive to emulate science , with every article an experiment of sorts : the writer could lay out all of his evidence and the circumstances under which it was collected before drawing his conclusion—or , better yet , letting readers draw their own .
Like a scientific paper , a news article could be written in such a way that if someone else decided to replicate the experiment—go to all the same places and ask all the same people the same questions that the original author did—he would likely draw the same @ @

What’s so terrible about moral clarity? A future historian of June of 2020—a year that, historians have joked, will spawn narrow chronological specialties—will have to answer this question. The phrase has become central to a debate about the media and about the possibility of debate itself.
The journalist Wesley Lowery, who won a Pulitzer in 2016, for reporting on the systematic nature of police killings of black people, used the phrase in a tweet earlier this month; he was responding to a decision by the New York Times to run an opinion piece by Senator Tom Cotton that advocated the use of military force to quell protests against racism and police brutality. Lowery wrote, “American view-from-nowhere, ‘objectivity’-obsessed, both-sides journalism is a failed experiment. We need to fundamentally reset the norms of our field. The old way must go. We need to rebuild our industry as one that operates from a place of moral clarity.” Four days later, the Times’ media columnist, Ben Smith, picked up the tweet, cementing the oppositional pair: objectivity versus moral clarity, old white male journalists versus young journalists of color, tradition versus an unknown new world.
After Smith, Andrew Sullivan wrote a column for New York magazine under the headline “Is there still room for debate?” The notion that American society is systemically, foundationally racist is tantamount to a totalitarian ideology, according to Sullivan and others. (The Soviet-born Izabella Tabarovsky made the same argument in a piece for Tablet.) Sullivan leads with a reference to Václav Havel’s essay “The Power of the Powerless,” a classic of totalitarianism literature and a piece I have used extensively in my own work. Sullivan seems to think that this is an essay about the use of tanks and terror to enforce compliance with totalitarian opinion. In fact, as its title indicates, it’s an essay about the surprising power of noncompliance, of refusing to “live within the lie,” in Havel’s words.
In what Havel calls “post-totalitarian” society, and in what I would call late-stage-totalitarian society—a society that remembers state terror but no longer uses it—people obey the rules out of habit. Havel conjures the hypothetical character of a greengrocer who puts a Communist sign in his store window, as everyone does:
People ignore his slogan, but they do so because such slogans are also found in other shop windows, on lampposts, bulletin boards, in apartment windows, and on buildings; they are everywhere, in fact. They form part of the panorama of everyday life. . . . The greengrocer and the office worker have both adapted to the conditions in which they live, but in doing so, they help to create those conditions. They do what is done, what is to be done, what must be done, but at the same time—by that very token—they confirm that it must be done in fact. They conform to a particular requirement and in so doing they themselves perpetuate that requirement.
The greengrocer, under totalitarianism, doesn’t and can’t have an opinion; the putting up of the sign doesn’t appear to be subject to debate. But, Havel argues, if the greengrocer were to take the sign down, or not put it up, he would claim a kind of power that is distinct from the regime’s and will never be equal to it but nonetheless constitutes a threat to it: the power of the powerless.
To compare the changing of the ideological tide in the United States to totalitarian ideology is to fail to take account of the power differential. Totalitarian ideology had the power of the state behind it. The enforcers of totalitarian ideology—be they Central Committee members, Writers’ Union leaders, or the distributors of store-window signs—had the power of state institutions behind them. Protesters in the streets of American cities and the journalists who support them are not backed by state or institutional power, but just the opposite: in every instance, they are in confrontation with it. One of the questions they are asking is, How does a vastly powerful institution such as the Times use its power? Does it amplify the state in its most brutal expression, as it did in publishing the Tom Cotton piece? Or does it raise up voices that have been marginalized throughout history? If the paper opts to do both, should it try to compensate for the power imbalance, and give the marginalized voices more room and the state less? In his own Op-Ed for the Times, Lowery talks about black journalists, historically few and powerless, raising their own voices in the newsroom. Here a comparison to the greengrocer may finally be appropriate: black journalists within mainstream publications are finally suggesting that they should have a say in how journalism is practiced.
In making editorial decisions, the Times defines what it sees as the sphere of legitimate controversy, a term coined by the historian Daniel Hallin to describe what news outlets find suitable to publish. Until recently, ideas such as defunding or abolishing the police fell outside the sphere of legitimate controversy—in Hallin’s terminology, they fell into the sphere of deviance, which meant that the papers did not amplify or even acknowledge them. But the idea of using the military to crush protests used to seem deviant, too. American mainstream media are actively redrawing the boundaries of the sphere of legitimate controversy, and the location of that boundary is, itself, a subject of legitimate controversy.
So what is moral clarity? The philosopher Susan Neiman, who wrote a book on the subject, says that it is not, in fact, a statically defined concept: it can be found only on a case-by-case basis. “Moral clarity, however, is about looking at each particular case, looking at all the facts, looking at all the context, and working out your answers,” she stated in a lecture. It should not be confused with moral simplicity: we may have clearly defined moral values, but the quest for the actual position of moral clarity is always complicated and specific to the circumstances. For Lowery, moral clarity is, he wrote, “first and foremost, about objective facts. Nazis are bad—objective fact. Black lives matter—objective fact. Climate change is real—objective fact. President Trump is a liar—objective fact.” In his Times Op-Ed, Lowery added that moral clarity involves naming what we observe without resorting to euphemisms, which includes labelling the President a racist. Moral clarity can also describe the journalist’s own position in relationship to the subject matter. “So often the questions that get the best/most insightful answers are posed from a place of moral clarity,” Lowery tweeted. “Questioning someone powerful from a place of ‘neutrality’ often, in practice, results in journalism that is inappropriately soft in its framing.”
In other words, moral clarity is a quest, guided by clear values and informed by facts and context, and clearly aligned with the original concept of journalistic objectivity. In the early twentieth century, some visionary reformers of American journalism imagined that reporting could strive to emulate science, with every article an experiment of sorts: the writer could lay out all of his evidence and the circumstances under which it was collected before drawing his conclusion—or, better yet, letting readers draw their own. Like a scientific paper, a news article could be written in such a way that if someone else decided to replicate the experiment—go to all the same places and ask all the same people the same questions that the original author did—he would likely draw the same conclusions.
Over time, the assumptions underpinning the ideal of journalistic objectivity faded away. Conventions in approach and tone took over. Objectivity in journalism came to mean presenting both sides of an argument from a position of neutrality. But not every argument has two sides: some have more, and some statements should not be the subject of argument. There cannot be arguments about facts. Whether disinfectant should be used to treat the coronavirus, for example, cannot be portrayed as a matter of debate; we do not argue about whether murder should be allowed, unless we are talking about murder committed by the state.
Just a few years ago, the question of whether couples of the same sex should have the right to marry was up for discussion. Today, there would probably be an outcry if the Times decided to stage a pro-and-con debate on the issue, because the Supreme Court has ruled that marriage is a constitutionally protected right and because public opinion has shifted. Whether Americans should have access to universal, taxpayer-funded health care is currently subject to debate; with any luck, in ten years, it will not be.
Essentially, Sullivan and other opinion writers decrying what they see as a new orthodoxy are arguing that everything should be subject to debate, that the sphere of legitimate controversy ought to be boundless. Part of the bedrock of this argument is the absolute belief in the value of debate unto itself. This is where the spectre of totalitarianism appears. These writers fear that what they see as an emerging new political consensus challenges the primacy of traditional liberal values that should never be debated: freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and other individual rights.
Sullivan identifies what he sees as the core beliefs of the new consensus: that “America is systemically racist, and a white-supremacist project from the start,” and that “all the ideals about individual liberty, religious freedom, limited government, and the equality of all human beings were always a falsehood to cover for and justify and entrench the enslavement of human beings under the fiction of race. . . . The liberal system is itself a form of white supremacy—which is why racial inequality endures and why liberalism’s core values and institutions cannot be reformed and can only be dismantled.” He sees this reading of history as reductive and a rejection of America’s aspiration for justice and equality.
“This view of the world certainly has ‘moral clarity,’ ” Sullivan wrote. “What it lacks is moral complexity. No country can be so reduced to one single prism and damned because of it.” At the same time, no country should be seen solely through the prism of its achievements. He seems willing to allow a discussion of racism as an amendment, perhaps a footnote, to the narrative of America as a nation of freedom and justice. But he rejects the idea that this society’s sins are great enough to warrant a reappraisal of its entire character. If the story of the United States is told primarily as one of a nation of immigrants, the story of a society that, over time, enfranchised an ever great number of its members, and where the arc of history has bent toward justice, then the legacy of slavery and the apparently intractable nature of structural racism is obscured. Indeed, the heroic narrative of America is part of why structural racism is so immovable. But Sullivan and others don’t appear to see two competing historical narratives; rather, they see a challenge not to a story but to the truth, an eternal certainty, a natural state of things that the protests are threatening to destroy.
This is not only a shortsighted view but also an outdated one. Donald Trump has already dislodged the story of this country as a nation of immigrants on an inexorable path toward justice and equality, guaranteed by a commitment to individual liberties. For future historians of June, 2020, here is my hypothesis: the reason we seem to be witnessing the emergence of a new political consensus is that the old consensus had already withered. The new story, being shaped right now, is neither dogmatic nor simplistic. It is, however, based on a different set of assumptions than the old story—and this is a good thing, and a necessary thing, as is moral clarity.
Race, Policing, and Black Lives Matter Protests


newyorker--2020-06-24--Jamaal Bowman’s Likely Defeat of Eliot Engel Caps a Big Election Night for Progressive Democrats

When the former middle-school principal Jamaal Bowman , who is running for Congress in New York ’ s sixteenth district , which encompasses parts of the Bronx and southern Westchester , addressed a group of his supporters in Yonkers at about 11 p.m. on Tuesday night , it was becoming clear that this was a big Democratic primary night for progressive candidates .
In the neighboring seventeenth district of New York , which has a majority-white population and includes all of Rockland County and parts of Westchester , Mondaire Jones , a thirty-three-year-old black lawyer , was holding a big @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lowey , a veteran Democrat , who had held the seat since 1989 .
In the fifteenth district , which encompasses much of the Bronx , Ritchie Torres , a thirty-two-year-old member of the New York City Council , was leading in the race to replace Representative José Serrano , who is retiring for health reasons .
If Jones and Torres win their general-election contests , they will become the first openly gay black representatives in Congress .
Down in Virginia ’ s fifth district , which includes the city of Charlottesville , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ researcher who was a White House fellow in 2016 , was headed for a landslide win .
To the west , in Kentucky , Charles Booker , a thirty-six-year-old state assemblyman who is the youngest black politician to hold elected office in the Bluegrass State in nearly a century , was in a competitive race for the Democratic Senate nomination with his opponent Amy McGrath , a former fighter pilot who is known as a prolific fund-raiser .
( On Wednesday morning , only about ten per cent of precincts had reported results @ @ @ @ @ @ @ than five points .
With a large number of mail-in votes still in play , final results aren ’ t expected until next week . )
Riding a wave of enthusiasm , civic engagement , and racial awareness sparked by the protests against the police killing of George Floyd , the campaigns of these impressive candidates had surged in recent weeks .
But no contest encapsulated the political moment more vividly than Bowman ’ s pending victory over Representative Eliot Engel , a sixteen-term incumbent and the head of the House Foreign Affairs @ @ @ @ @ @ @ from Chuck Schumer and Hillary Clinton .
Like almost all progressives these days , Bowman , who is forty-four , campaigned as a supporter of Medicare for All , the Green New Deal , affordable housing , and reform of the immigration and criminal-justice systems .
He had the backing of Bernie Sanders , Elizabeth Warren , and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez .
But Bowman , who was born in Manhattan and spent part of his childhood living with his grandmother , in Harlem , also ran as an individual with a specific life experience @ @ @ @ @ @ @ politics and his understanding of the current moment .
“ I ’ m a black man in America , ” Bowman said in his victory speech , which was live-streamed .
“ You know , raised by a single mom , spent some time in the housing projects , lived in rent-stabilized apartments , went to public schools my entire life , grew up during the crack-cocaine epidemic which hurt and ravaged many parts of my family , as well as my friends ’ families.
” Once , when he was out at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ best friend called with the news that the friend ’ s brother had been shot and killed .
“ At a very young age , as a black man in America , you get to learn about death and homicide and suicide , and how it impacts not just you individually but your community and the rest of the country.
” It was these experiences that prompted Bowman to become an educator , he said .
After attending high school in New Jersey and graduating from the University of New Haven , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he started a public middle school in the Bronx , which he called Cornerstone Academy for Social Action .
“ As an educator , working for the Department of Education for twenty years , I ’ ve seen the impact of poverty on the lives of kids each and every day , ” Bowman said .
Contrary to what some people say , this poverty isn ’ t the result of a lack of hard work , he added .
“ Our children and families work as hard as anyone else .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ it ’ s rooted in a system that has been fractured and corrupt and rotten from its core , from the inception of America , especially over the last several decades.
” Bowman ’ s advocacy and experience attracted the attention of progressive groups like the Working Families Party and Justice Democrats , which encouraged him to challenge the seventy-three-year-old Engel , whose support for the Iraq War , Israeli-government policies , and financial deregulation has long alienated the left .
After making important strides inside the Democratic Party during recent years , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Presidential primary , which pitted Sanders against Warren .
It needed some wins .
Bowman appears on track to provide it with a big one , and he seems destined to become a leading figure in what he described as “ a movement designed to push back against a system that is literally killing us.
” “ It ’ s killing black and brown bodies disproportionately , but it ’ s killing all of us , ” he went on .
“ It ’ s killing us mentally , psychologically , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to live in a country and in a world where so many people are hopeless and have lost faith , not just in the political system but in each other .
But our movement is designed to restore that faith , to restore that hope , to bring back the belief in what is possible—to root our values in everything we do , values of equality , humanity , and justice.
” After issuing this uplifting message , Bowman returned to the politics of the now , and the immediate task ahead of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to say that he was a thorn in the side of Donald Trump , ” he remarked .
“ But you know what Donald Trump is more afraid of than anything else ?
A black man with power .
That is what Donald Trump is afraid of .
.
.
.
It will be our job to hold Donald Trump accountable , and to hold every elected official accountable that continues to be beholden to corporate interests , that continues to be beholden to the wealthy , and is not fighting for the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the working class in our country .
.
.
.
The results show that this district is demanding change .
This is what this district has been waiting for .
This is what this country has been waiting for.
” The ultimate impact of the Black Lives Matter movement will hinge on whether it brings about the sort of structural changes , including economic ones , that Bowman was talking about .
Changing policing and raising consciousness of racism , as vital as these things are , will not , by themselves , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ step in creating radical changes is electing politicians who favor them .
Even as Bowman was speaking , progressive activists were busy hailing the primary results .
“ The rage and mourning we ’ ve seen in the streets is making itself felt in elections from New York to Kentucky , ” Maurice Mitchell , the national director of the Working Families Party , said in a statement .
“ These Black progressive candidates are expanding the scope of the possible and laying the ground for the future of our work.
” Sean @ @ @ @ @ @ @ for Progress , tweeted , “ Very , very good night for progressives.
” Bowman , too , was ready to celebrate .
After thanking a long list of progressive organizations and individuals who had endorsed him , he stepped away from the dais and paused .
“ Turn on the music , ” he said .
“ Let ’ s dance .
”

When the former middle-school principal Jamaal Bowman, who is running for Congress in New York’s sixteenth district, which encompasses parts of the Bronx and southern Westchester, addressed a group of his supporters in Yonkers at about 11 p.m. on Tuesday night, it was becoming clear that this was a big Democratic primary night for progressive candidates.
In the neighboring seventeenth district of New York, which has a majority-white population and includes all of Rockland County and parts of Westchester, Mondaire Jones, a thirty-three-year-old black lawyer, was holding a big advantage in the contest to replace Nita Lowey, a veteran Democrat, who had held the seat since 1989. In the fifteenth district, which encompasses much of the Bronx, Ritchie Torres, a thirty-two-year-old member of the New York City Council, was leading in the race to replace Representative José Serrano, who is retiring for health reasons. If Jones and Torres win their general-election contests, they will become the first openly gay black representatives in Congress.
Down in Virginia’s fifth district, which includes the city of Charlottesville, Cameron Webb, a black physician and researcher who was a White House fellow in 2016, was headed for a landslide win. To the west, in Kentucky, Charles Booker, a thirty-six-year-old state assemblyman who is the youngest black politician to hold elected office in the Bluegrass State in nearly a century, was in a competitive race for the Democratic Senate nomination with his opponent Amy McGrath, a former fighter pilot who is known as a prolific fund-raiser. (On Wednesday morning, only about ten per cent of precincts had reported results, and McGrath was leading by less than five points. With a large number of mail-in votes still in play, final results aren’t expected until next week.)
Riding a wave of enthusiasm, civic engagement, and racial awareness sparked by the protests against the police killing of George Floyd, the campaigns of these impressive candidates had surged in recent weeks. But no contest encapsulated the political moment more vividly than Bowman’s pending victory over Representative Eliot Engel, a sixteen-term incumbent and the head of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, who had recently received endorsements from Chuck Schumer and Hillary Clinton. Like almost all progressives these days, Bowman, who is forty-four, campaigned as a supporter of Medicare for All, the Green New Deal, affordable housing, and reform of the immigration and criminal-justice systems. He had the backing of Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. But Bowman, who was born in Manhattan and spent part of his childhood living with his grandmother, in Harlem, also ran as an individual with a specific life experience that served as the grounding for his politics and his understanding of the current moment.
“I’m a black man in America,” Bowman said in his victory speech, which was live-streamed. “You know, raised by a single mom, spent some time in the housing projects, lived in rent-stabilized apartments, went to public schools my entire life, grew up during the crack-cocaine epidemic which hurt and ravaged many parts of my family, as well as my friends’ families.” Once, when he was out at a club, he recalled, his best friend called with the news that the friend’s brother had been shot and killed. “At a very young age, as a black man in America, you get to learn about death and homicide and suicide, and how it impacts not just you individually but your community and the rest of the country.”
It was these experiences that prompted Bowman to become an educator, he said. After attending high school in New Jersey and graduating from the University of New Haven, he became a public-school teacher. In 2008, he started a public middle school in the Bronx, which he called Cornerstone Academy for Social Action. “As an educator, working for the Department of Education for twenty years, I’ve seen the impact of poverty on the lives of kids each and every day,” Bowman said. Contrary to what some people say, this poverty isn’t the result of a lack of hard work, he added. “Our children and families work as hard as anyone else. Poverty is by political design, and it’s rooted in a system that has been fractured and corrupt and rotten from its core, from the inception of America, especially over the last several decades.”
Bowman’s advocacy and experience attracted the attention of progressive groups like the Working Families Party and Justice Democrats, which encouraged him to challenge the seventy-three-year-old Engel, whose support for the Iraq War, Israeli-government policies, and financial deregulation has long alienated the left. After making important strides inside the Democratic Party during recent years, the progressive movement was deeply divided by the Presidential primary, which pitted Sanders against Warren. It needed some wins. Bowman appears on track to provide it with a big one, and he seems destined to become a leading figure in what he described as “a movement designed to push back against a system that is literally killing us.”
“It’s killing black and brown bodies disproportionately, but it’s killing all of us,” he went on. “It’s killing us mentally, psychologically, and spiritually. It’s forcing us to live in a country and in a world where so many people are hopeless and have lost faith, not just in the political system but in each other. But our movement is designed to restore that faith, to restore that hope, to bring back the belief in what is possible—to root our values in everything we do, values of equality, humanity, and justice.”
After issuing this uplifting message, Bowman returned to the politics of the now, and the immediate task ahead of him. His opponent Engel “used to say that he was a thorn in the side of Donald Trump,” he remarked. “But you know what Donald Trump is more afraid of than anything else? A black man with power. That is what Donald Trump is afraid of. . . . It will be our job to hold Donald Trump accountable, and to hold every elected official accountable that continues to be beholden to corporate interests, that continues to be beholden to the wealthy, and is not fighting for the poor, and is not fighting for the working class in our country. . . . The results show that this district is demanding change. This is what this district has been waiting for. This is what this country has been waiting for.”
The ultimate impact of the Black Lives Matter movement will hinge on whether it brings about the sort of structural changes, including economic ones, that Bowman was talking about. Changing policing and raising consciousness of racism, as vital as these things are, will not, by themselves, eradicate deep-seated inequality. But an important step in creating radical changes is electing politicians who favor them. Even as Bowman was speaking, progressive activists were busy hailing the primary results. “The rage and mourning we’ve seen in the streets is making itself felt in elections from New York to Kentucky,” Maurice Mitchell, the national director of the Working Families Party, said in a statement. “These Black progressive candidates are expanding the scope of the possible and laying the ground for the future of our work.” Sean McElwee, the executive director of Data for Progress, tweeted, “Very, very good night for progressives.”
Bowman, too, was ready to celebrate. After thanking a long list of progressive organizations and individuals who had endorsed him, he stepped away from the dais and paused. “Turn on the music,” he said. “Let’s dance.”


newyorker--2020-06-24--Can the N.B.A. Exist in a Bubble?

Can the N.B.A. Exist in a Bubble?

There was a time—a different era , about a month ago—when the N.B.A .
was considering housing more than fifteen hundred players , coaches , trainers , and league officials in one place , where all remaining regular-season games and the entire postseason would be played , and the players ’ predominant concern , back then , seemed to be that the plan was too onerous .
How long would they be separated from their families ?
Wasn ’ t regular COVID-19 testing by nasal swab painful ?
How would their whereabouts be controlled ?
How would the rules be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ particularly loaded for a league that is made up predominantly of African-American players and white team owners and executives .
“ Are we going to arm guards around the hotel ?
” Michele Roberts , the executive director of the N.B.A .
Players Association , wondered in an interview with ESPN ’ s Ramona Shelburne .
“ That sounds like incarceration to me.
” The league ’ s commissioner , Adam Silver , is sensitive to optics , and , in a call with owners and executives , in May , about developing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would be to create a “ campus environment.
” There would be no barbed wire .
There would be golf .
When the details finally emerged , on June 16th—in a hundred-and-thirteen-page document that detailed the rules and health and safety protocols for the rest of the season and the playoffs , which would be played at the Walt Disney Resort—the pretense of a relaxed , collegiate atmosphere was largely abandoned .
Staff members are required , and players are encouraged , to wear an alarm that beeps if they come within six @ @ @ @ @ @ @ core group.
” They can also wear rings capable of tracking their health .
There are rules about discarding packs of cards following games of poker .
Players are free to leave—there are , in fact , no armed guards—but the consequences for leaving are steep : quarantining , a fine .
There is an anonymous hotline to report rule violations .
From an epidemiological perspective , the appeal of a bubble is clear : shielding those involved from the outside world decreases the likelihood that the people inside will become sick , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ test , track , and trace any spread of the virus .
Every situation that can be controlled has been .
But not every situation can be controlled , and the environment outside the bubble has become steadily more toxic .
COVID-19 is spiking in Florida , averaging more than three thousand new cases a day .
The ratio of positive to negative tests—considered a leading indicator of how controlled the spread of the virus is—has been climbing .
Several sports teams training in Florida have announced a rash of positive tests , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ deep cleaning .
Still , Florida ’ s governor has resisted requiring masks statewide , or rolling back the reopening .
If the league ’ s rules are followed closely , players will not come into contact with Disney employees—players ’ rooms , for instance , will be cleaned only once a week , and not when they are present—but those employees will be going home at the end of the day , and will likely not receive regular testing , according to the reporting of Tom Haberstroh , of NBC Sports .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ Spencer Dinwiddie suggested this would defeat the purpose of the bubble , and several other players described themselves as “ confused.
” Once the playoffs start , a limited number of family members or friends will be allowed to enter , after a short period of quarantine and testing .
“ This isn ’ t a bubble , ” an N.B.A .
executive told Haberstroh .
“ This is a mesh hat.
” N.B.A .
players know how infectious the coronavirus is : a number of them tested positive for it in March @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Rudy Gobert , whose positive test triggered the suspension of the N.B.A .
season , which accelerated the shutdown of society at large .
On Tuesday , the Los Angeles Lakers guard Avery Bradley told ESPN that he would not be playing because he did not think that his oldest child , who has had respiratory illnesses , would be medically cleared to enter the bubble in Orlando .
Some players are concerned about the risk of injury after such a long layoff—the Washington Wizards ’ Davis Bertans , who is entering free @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will not be playing ; others have reportedly discussed insurance policies with the league .
But the most serious concern of many players is not medical at all .
In the wake of the killing of George Floyd , by a police officer in Minneapolis , a number of players have joined those marching in the streets , demanding an end to police brutality and systemic racism .
And , after the outlines of the plan to resume play at Disney World were approved , some players , led by the Nets ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ at the moment , basketball would serve as a distraction from the ongoing fight against racism and injustice .
( One of the players joining Irving in this concern is Bradley , who , when announcing his decision not to play on account of his son , added , “ I will use this time away to focus on the formation of projects to help strengthen my communities.
” ) The league , during Silver ’ s tenure as commissioner , has been proud of its progressive positions on racial equality , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the playoffs to promote social-justice initiatives .
“ It ’ ll be an opportunity for N.B.A .
players in the greater community to draw attention to the issues , ” he said , of resuming play , on ESPN , “ because the world ’ s attention will be on the N.B.A .
in Orlando if we ’ re able to pull this off.
” He added , “ What should this league that may have a unique opportunity as compared to almost any other organization in the world be doing in response @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to endemic racial issues in society ?
I ’ ve heard this loud and clear.
” This is the standard case that people make about the political value of sports : popular leagues provide a platform , which players can use to express their beliefs .
But something different has happened in the past few weeks .
“ It ’ s something that none of us have experienced in our lifetime , ” the Portland Trail Blazers point guard Damian Lillard said on the ESPN special “ The Return of Sports , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to the pandemic , and the shutdown , but he quickly pivoted to the protests .
“ I think it ’ ll be difficult , to say the least , ” he said , referring to the prospect of playing in this moment , “ because a lot of our hearts are with our people.
” Earlier this month , Lillard linked arms with Black Lives Matter protesters in Portland .
He wasn ’ t there as an athlete , and he wasn ’ t on a platform .
“ Once you hear @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sincere and how passionate they are about the message that they ’ re pushing , and what they ’ re fighting for , they get you to follow them .
And I was following them !
” Lillard , who has been giving a number of interviews as he promotes two new hip-hop singles , told GQ .
“ I was there , and I believe in what they were saying .
And it ’ s not about getting famous people and celebrities out there , it ’ s the fact that we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and not recognized .
That ’ s what you ’ re seeing , and that ’ s why it ’ s making a lot of noise .
”

There was a time—a different era, about a month ago—when the N.B.A. was considering housing more than fifteen hundred players, coaches, trainers, and league officials in one place, where all remaining regular-season games and the entire postseason would be played, and the players’ predominant concern, back then, seemed to be that the plan was too onerous. How long would they be separated from their families? Wasn’t regular COVID-19 testing by nasal swab painful? How would their whereabouts be controlled? How would the rules be enforced? The issue of agency is particularly loaded for a league that is made up predominantly of African-American players and white team owners and executives. “Are we going to arm guards around the hotel?” Michele Roberts, the executive director of the N.B.A. Players Association, wondered in an interview with ESPN’s Ramona Shelburne. “That sounds like incarceration to me.” The league’s commissioner, Adam Silver, is sensitive to optics, and, in a call with owners and executives, in May, about developing plans, he stressed that the goal would be to create a “campus environment.” There would be no barbed wire. There would be golf.
When the details finally emerged, on June 16th—in a hundred-and-thirteen-page document that detailed the rules and health and safety protocols for the rest of the season and the playoffs, which would be played at the Walt Disney Resort—the pretense of a relaxed, collegiate atmosphere was largely abandoned. Staff members are required, and players are encouraged, to wear an alarm that beeps if they come within six feet of someone not in their “core group.” They can also wear rings capable of tracking their health. There are rules about discarding packs of cards following games of poker. Players are free to leave—there are, in fact, no armed guards—but the consequences for leaving are steep: quarantining, a fine. There is an anonymous hotline to report rule violations.
From an epidemiological perspective, the appeal of a bubble is clear: shielding those involved from the outside world decreases the likelihood that the people inside will become sick, and sequestering players makes it easier to test, track, and trace any spread of the virus. Every situation that can be controlled has been. But not every situation can be controlled, and the environment outside the bubble has become steadily more toxic. COVID-19 is spiking in Florida, averaging more than three thousand new cases a day. The ratio of positive to negative tests—considered a leading indicator of how controlled the spread of the virus is—has been climbing. Several sports teams training in Florida have announced a rash of positive tests, and some facilities have been closed for deep cleaning. Still, Florida’s governor has resisted requiring masks statewide, or rolling back the reopening.
If the league’s rules are followed closely, players will not come into contact with Disney employees—players’ rooms, for instance, will be cleaned only once a week, and not when they are present—but those employees will be going home at the end of the day, and will likely not receive regular testing, according to the reporting of Tom Haberstroh, of NBC Sports. On Twitter, the Brooklyn Nets guard Spencer Dinwiddie suggested this would defeat the purpose of the bubble, and several other players described themselves as “confused.” Once the playoffs start, a limited number of family members or friends will be allowed to enter, after a short period of quarantine and testing. “This isn’t a bubble,” an N.B.A. executive told Haberstroh. “This is a mesh hat.”
N.B.A. players know how infectious the coronavirus is: a number of them tested positive for it in March, starting with the Utah Jazz center Rudy Gobert, whose positive test triggered the suspension of the N.B.A. season, which accelerated the shutdown of society at large. On Tuesday, the Los Angeles Lakers guard Avery Bradley told ESPN that he would not be playing because he did not think that his oldest child, who has had respiratory illnesses, would be medically cleared to enter the bubble in Orlando. Some players are concerned about the risk of injury after such a long layoff—the Washington Wizards’ Davis Bertans, who is entering free agency, has already announced that he will not be playing; others have reportedly discussed insurance policies with the league.
But the most serious concern of many players is not medical at all. In the wake of the killing of George Floyd, by a police officer in Minneapolis, a number of players have joined those marching in the streets, demanding an end to police brutality and systemic racism. And, after the outlines of the plan to resume play at Disney World were approved, some players, led by the Nets’ Kyrie Irving, wondered aloud whether, at the moment, basketball would serve as a distraction from the ongoing fight against racism and injustice. (One of the players joining Irving in this concern is Bradley, who, when announcing his decision not to play on account of his son, added, “I will use this time away to focus on the formation of projects to help strengthen my communities.”) The league, during Silver’s tenure as commissioner, has been proud of its progressive positions on racial equality, and has promised to use the platform of the playoffs to promote social-justice initiatives. “It’ll be an opportunity for N.B.A. players in the greater community to draw attention to the issues,” he said, of resuming play, on ESPN, “because the world’s attention will be on the N.B.A. in Orlando if we’re able to pull this off.” He added, “What should this league that may have a unique opportunity as compared to almost any other organization in the world be doing in response to George Floyd’s death, to endemic racial issues in society? I’ve heard this loud and clear.”
This is the standard case that people make about the political value of sports: popular leagues provide a platform, which players can use to express their beliefs. But something different has happened in the past few weeks. “It’s something that none of us have experienced in our lifetime,” the Portland Trail Blazers point guard Damian Lillard said on the ESPN special “The Return of Sports,” on June 15th. He was referring to the pandemic, and the shutdown, but he quickly pivoted to the protests. “I think it’ll be difficult, to say the least,” he said, referring to the prospect of playing in this moment, “because a lot of our hearts are with our people.” Earlier this month, Lillard linked arms with Black Lives Matter protesters in Portland. He wasn’t there as an athlete, and he wasn’t on a platform. “Once you hear the leaders speak and you hear how sincere and how passionate they are about the message that they’re pushing, and what they’re fighting for, they get you to follow them. And I was following them!” Lillard, who has been giving a number of interviews as he promotes two new hip-hop singles, told GQ. “I was there, and I believe in what they were saying. And it’s not about getting famous people and celebrities out there, it’s the fact that we’re all out there. Recognized and not recognized. That’s what you’re seeing, and that’s why it’s making a lot of noise.”
That’s also why Silver’s argument, that the league can call attention to social justice, feels so unpersuasive. People are already calling attention, loudly. The question is how long, and how carefully, others will listen. The obvious truth is that the game is, fundamentally, entertainment, and much of its particular pleasure has always been, to quote Silver—who is perhaps trying to have it both ways—that it offers a “respite” from “the enormous difficulties people are dealing with in their lives right now.” The idea that sports can be an escape, that they float, bubble-like, above the dirt of politics, was dreamed up long before Disney. And this is true, in its way, not just for fans but for athletes, who often find a kind of solace or sanctuary in focussing on their craft. But there are times when escaping feels wrong. “That’s hard, to go out there and be your best self, or the best version of yourself as an athlete, when something isn’t sitting right with you personally,” Lillard said on ESPN. The players who head to Florida will be confined to luxury hotels: Gran Destino Tower, the Grand Floridian, the Yacht Club. If there are protests happening, they will not be able to attend them, unless they’re willing to risk not playing again this year. Is it possible to play inside a bubble while insuring that the game doesn’t become one? “That’s something that’s not just going to go away,” Lillard said, referring to the feeling that something—and he could have been speaking of many things—wasn’t sitting right. “So we’re not sure how it’s gonna go. But we’re gonna see when we get there.”
Race, Policing, and Black Lives Matter Protests


newyorker--2020-06-24--How Your Enemies Spent Quarantine

How Your Enemies Spent Quarantine

Sarah from Accounting made seventeen loaves of gluten-free bread .
Some have nuts ; some don ’ t .
Some are frosted ; some are savory .
Honestly , once she started , she just couldn ’ t stop !
The guy you went on three dates with just played eighteen straight hours of Red Dead Redemption and ended up getting pink eye .
Your stepmother , Mary Louise , just finished a thousand-piece puzzle of a Degas painting and is hopping onto her Zoom book club to shame everyone for not reading enough Alice Munro .
Your neighbor ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ waiting until your meditation class to start yelping and howling .
That bartender , the one who always smirks at your drink choice , is concocting his signature beguiling cocktail , an espresso martini he claims his grandfather invented , before enjoying it with a forty-year-old Cuban cigar .
Your college roommate has written four novellas .
You ’ re going to love them .
They ’ re part autobiographical and part fiction !
In fact , you might recognize yourself !
Anna has seen four documentaries on acid rain in Poland and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ before it ’ s too late .
Your boss , Claire , has made a bird feeder for the neighborhood—it ’ s gigantic , and she calls it “ The Avian Mansion.
” Your ex-brother-in-law , Teddy , has mowed “ I MISS YOU JANET ” in the grass , hoping his ex-wife will see .
Your co-worker Max and his girlfriend have created a Web series about living together which has several episodes but very few views .
It ’ s .
.
.
goofy .
Your cousin Lisa has been doing @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in her being in the “ best shape of her life ” and , honestly , “ loving it.
” Your landlord , Carl , has finally watched all of “ Game of Thrones ” and has a few bones to pick as far as realism goes .
Those fur costumes in that snow ?
Anyway , you can read it all on his Wordpress .
.
.
.
Your aunt Debbie is making her own cheese .
And butter .
She has an old-fashioned churn and everything .
You can visit her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” but don ’ t forget to sign the virtual guest book .
; ) Your old college professor ( he failed you in oceanography ) has found a late-in-life passion for anime .
Your sister-in-law , Naomi , is really enjoying homeschooling her four beautiful children .
Duolingo ?
More like MUCHO-lingos—the kids are picking up languages like blocks : EASILY .

Katy Fishell, Amy Silverberg, Madeleine Connors

Sarah from Accounting made seventeen loaves of gluten-free bread. Some have nuts; some don’t. Some are frosted; some are savory. Honestly, once she started, she just couldn’t stop!
The guy you went on three dates with just played eighteen straight hours of Red Dead Redemption and ended up getting pink eye.
Your stepmother, Mary Louise, just finished a thousand-piece puzzle of a Degas painting and is hopping onto her Zoom book club to shame everyone for not reading enough Alice Munro.
Your neighbor’s dog, Otter, is patiently waiting until your meditation class to start yelping and howling.
That bartender, the one who always smirks at your drink choice, is concocting his signature beguiling cocktail, an espresso martini he claims his grandfather invented, before enjoying it with a forty-year-old Cuban cigar.
Your college roommate has written four novellas. You’re going to love them. They’re part autobiographical and part fiction! In fact, you might recognize yourself!
Anna has seen four documentaries on acid rain in Poland and would like you to sign a petition before it’s too late.
Your boss, Claire, has made a bird feeder for the neighborhood—it’s gigantic, and she calls it “The Avian Mansion.”
Your ex-brother-in-law, Teddy, has mowed “I MISS YOU JANET” in the grass, hoping his ex-wife will see.
Your co-worker Max and his girlfriend have created a Web series about living together which has several episodes but very few views. It’s . . . goofy.
Your cousin Lisa has been doing twenty twenty-minute workouts a day, resulting in her being in the “best shape of her life” and, honestly, “loving it.”
Your landlord, Carl, has finally watched all of “Game of Thrones” and has a few bones to pick as far as realism goes. Those fur costumes in that snow? Anyway, you can read it all on his Wordpress. . . .
Your aunt Debbie is making her own cheese. And butter. She has an old-fashioned churn and everything. You can visit her Instagram, “The Urban Farm,” but don’t forget to sign the virtual guest book. ;)
Your old college professor (he failed you in oceanography) has found a late-in-life passion for anime.
Your sister-in-law, Naomi, is really enjoying homeschooling her four beautiful children. Duolingo? More like MUCHO-lingos—the kids are picking up languages like blocks: EASILY.


newyorker--2020-06-25--A Day at the Church of White Guilt

A Day at the Church of White Guilt

A large crowd files into the cathedral .
The parking lot is so full that people have to park on the grass .
The cars have bumper stickers that say “ White Racism=Not Cool.
” There ’ s a sign outside that identifies the place as the Holy Church of White Guilt .
The announcement section reads “ I AM COMPLICIT.
” Anxious-looking white people stand in a line that stretches out the door and over the hills .
It ’ s so long , you can ’ t see the end—they ’ re awaiting their turn for confession .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ absolution for their microaggressions .
Instead of a priest , there ’ s a phone with which they can call their only black friend to apologize : “ Hello ?
It ’ s me , Eric .
I ’ m sorry I asked if that was your real hair .
I shouldn ’ t have said that in the board meeting.
” “ Ummm , O.K .
.
.
.
I forgive you ?
I ’ m eating breakfast right now.
” Somehow , they always call during breakfast .
The parishioners finish @ @ @ @ @ @ @ water—the tears of white people who cried watching “ The Blind Side ” and “ The Help.
” Once cleansed , they sit in the pews .
They sing the only hymn they know : “ Imagine , ” by John Lennon , led by their choir director , Gal Gadot .
They sing it over and over for thirty minutes straight .
Afterward , it ’ s time for communion .
They partake of His blood ( the mimosa ) and His body ( the avocado toast ) in a holy eucharist @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just an excuse to eat brunch .
The sermon commences .
The priest is some white guy wearing a kente-cloth dashiki whose qualifications include exactly one African-American Studies class as an undergrad and a 23andMe result saying he ’ s two-per-cent West African .
He ’ s not the smartest , but he does have the most Twitter followers , so he gets to speak .
Nothing he ’ s saying is necessarily wrong , but it feels weird coming from him .
“ Let the guilt be with you , ” he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ And also with you.
” He reads to them passages from their holy book , “ White Fragility , ” by Robin DiAngelo .
After the service , as the congregation begins to disperse , a hush falls over the crowd .
A black person enters .
They weren ’ t expecting this .
She speaks .
“ Did you really just spend all that time in this big-ass church just to make yourselves feel worse ?
Why not just spend that time helping black people , instead ?
It ’ ll @ @ @ @ @ @ @ look at one another , considering what she has said .
One man speaks up : “ You ’ re right .
I ’ m sorry.
” In unison , the congregation echoes his sentiment : “ We are so sorry.
” The congregation humbly accepts their own apology .

A large crowd files into the cathedral. The parking lot is so full that people have to park on the grass. The cars have bumper stickers that say “White Racism=Not Cool.” There’s a sign outside that identifies the place as the Holy Church of White Guilt. The announcement section reads “I AM COMPLICIT.”
Anxious-looking white people stand in a line that stretches out the door and over the hills. It’s so long, you can’t see the end—they’re awaiting their turn for confession. Inside the booth, they can seek absolution for their microaggressions. Instead of a priest, there’s a phone with which they can call their only black friend to apologize:
“Hello? It’s me, Eric. I’m sorry I asked if that was your real hair. I shouldn’t have said that in the board meeting.”
“Ummm, O.K. . . . I forgive you? I’m eating breakfast right now.”
Somehow, they always call during breakfast.
The parishioners finish confession and are baptized in their holy water—the tears of white people who cried watching “The Blind Side” and “The Help.”
Once cleansed, they sit in the pews. They sing the only hymn they know: “Imagine,” by John Lennon, led by their choir director, Gal Gadot. They sing it over and over for thirty minutes straight.
Afterward, it’s time for communion. They partake of His blood (the mimosa) and His body (the avocado toast) in a holy eucharist of brunch. All of which is just an excuse to eat brunch.
The sermon commences. The priest is some white guy wearing a kente-cloth dashiki whose qualifications include exactly one African-American Studies class as an undergrad and a 23andMe result saying he’s two-per-cent West African. He’s not the smartest, but he does have the most Twitter followers, so he gets to speak. Nothing he’s saying is necessarily wrong, but it feels weird coming from him.
“Let the guilt be with you,” he intones.
And the people answer: “And also with you.”
He reads to them passages from their holy book, “White Fragility,” by Robin DiAngelo.
After the service, as the congregation begins to disperse, a hush falls over the crowd. A black person enters. They weren’t expecting this. She speaks.
“Did you really just spend all that time in this big-ass church just to make yourselves feel worse? Why not just spend that time helping black people, instead? It’ll make you feel better.”
The people look at one another, considering what she has said.
One man speaks up: “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
In unison, the congregation echoes his sentiment: “We are so sorry.”
The congregation humbly accepts their own apology.


newyorker--2020-06-25--A Community’s Struggle to Protect Itself from Land Mines in the Colombian Amazon

In late 2018 , Adiela Jinet Mera , a soft-spoken member of the Siona indigenous group , who has lived her whole life in the western corner of the Amazon rain forest , decided it was time to “ heal the territory ” where she grew up , and which her ancestors have inhabited for millennia .
The Siona territory and its surroundings had been marred with land mines planted during the Colombian civil war of the past half century .
She joined the Colombian Campaign to Ban Landmines ; her task would be to identify explosive devices that rebel @ @ @ @ @ @ @ “ I know this is not an easy path , ” she said in a recent speech to her community about the group ’ s mission .
“ But it ’ s not impossible.
” Tom Laffay ’ s documentary “ Siona ” offers a ten-minute closeup look into the courageous demining work that Mera and her group are undertaking for the well-being of the Siona people .
“ Our elders say that our territory is our food , our medicine , our life , ” Mera says while one of those elders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ her .
He is blowing tobacco and an herbal liquid behind her head .
Laffay , who is also working on a feature-length film with the Siona , recently followed Mera and ten other deminers on a mission to clear nine land mines from a thirty-one-square-foot area .
“ As Siona people , we cultivate the jungle , and now , unfortunately , our land is contaminated , ” Mera explains .
Clearing the mines makes these areas of the forest once again safe to use .
With enough demining , the group @ @ @ @ @ @ @ population who have left Siona territory over the years .
The Siona indigenous territories are located in the state of Putumayo , which has , since the nineteen-sixties , been the crossroads of a war between the Colombian Army , right-wing paramilitary groups , and a left-wing guerrilla organization known as the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia , or FARC , which planted thousands of mines in many Colombian states , including Putumayo .
After guerrilla leaders signed a peace accord in 2016 , many of their rank-and-file members demobilized , and the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ in areas that were previously too dangerous for them to reach .
“ The Siona areas are the most affected ones in the Amazon region in terms of land mines , ” Álvaro Jiménez , the director of the C.C.B.L.
, told me .
In just one year , the N.G.O.
, which operates with funding from the Norwegian government , the U.S. State Department , and private donations , managed to clear thirty-seven land mines from the Siona territories .
A successful demining process , Mera explains , is usually done in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , comprising members of the community , identifies areas where mines are hidden .
The first mines that Mera found were near the farm of an indigenous elder who was forced to leave when the rebels took over his home .
When she visited , suspicious cables could be seen near a path by his place .
“ I was surprised , because several people walked often by that path , ” Mera recalls .
Luckily , in this case , the land mines were destroyed before anyone stepped on one .
In @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the individual ordnance and isolates the dangerous area , and , in a last step , a technical team destroys the homemade land mines , by detonating them in a controlled explosion , soaking them with highly pressurized water to render them inert , or other means .
In the past thirty years , more than eleven thousand Colombians have been injured or killed by land mines , and more than three hundred of them were members of indigenous groups .
A young man and an elderly woman triggered mines last year in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of deminers could reach their area .
The man ’ s hand was amputated , and the woman was killed .
The Colombian government keeps an open database with the details of each of the victims of land mines , with grimly matter-of-fact descriptions of their injuries ( “ amputation of left foot ” ; “ burned face , near the eye ” ) , but the state ’ s effort to demine indigenous lands has been extremely slow .
Since the coronavirus pandemic hit the Amazon rain forest , in March , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ community from outsiders ; so far , there have been no confirmed cases of the virus in their territory .
This successful preventive measure also means that the deminers from the C.C.B.L .
can ’ t enter the territories—for now , their work is on hold .
New armed groups , however , have taken advantage of the health crisis to expand their presence in rural areas of Putumayo .
FARC dissidents who have rearmed , plus a drug-trafficking group known locally as “ the mafia , ” have been trying to take @ @ @ @ @ @ @ reservations .
According to a Siona lawyer who represents the community , “ Armed members are threatening to kill those who would have COVID-19 symptoms , as their way to control the pandemic in the Putumayo state.
” The Siona now must protect themselves and their territory , not just from land mines and the coronavirus but also from new confrontations among the armed groups that once again surround them .
As an indigenous elder told Laffay , in 2019 , when fires were ravaging the eastern areas of the rain forest , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but not only with flames .
In Colombia .
.
.
those who fight for the defense of our territory are burned by bullets.
” When I spoke to Adiela Mera , last Friday , she said she was concerned that armed groups would also start recruiting young kids in the Siona community .
Mera has been a committed teacher since 2012 .
During the making of Laffay ’ s documentary , he filmed her giving a lecture to a young group in a public school .
“ As you already know @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , ” she warns the students , who are growing up near the minefields .
Mera then invites them to play a special game , with a set of blue cards with written questions , in which the winning team is the one giving the right answers .
“ What should you do if you find a sunken spot in the middle of the path ?
” one of the kids reads from the card he picked .
“ We should back up , let one of the elders know , or the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a girl responds .
Correct .
The girl wins a round of applause .
It ’ s a wrenching scene , in which the smiling students are having fun guessing the correct answers , but the viewers already know that their survival right now depends on how well they learn to play the game .
“ One day , when I am old , I dream that our young people will defend our territory , ” Mera told Laffay , anticipating the day when she will become one more among the wise elders @ @ @ @ @ @ @ old enough to continue the mission to heal the Siona territories from a decades-long war .

In late 2018, Adiela Jinet Mera, a soft-spoken member of the Siona indigenous group, who has lived her whole life in the western corner of the Amazon rain forest, decided it was time to “heal the territory” where she grew up, and which her ancestors have inhabited for millennia. The Siona territory and its surroundings had been marred with land mines planted during the Colombian civil war of the past half century. She joined the Colombian Campaign to Ban Landmines; her task would be to identify explosive devices that rebel groups planted in two indigenous reservations. “I know this is not an easy path,” she said in a recent speech to her community about the group’s mission. “But it’s not impossible.”
Tom Laffay’s documentary “Siona” offers a ten-minute closeup look into the courageous demining work that Mera and her group are undertaking for the well-being of the Siona people. “Our elders say that our territory is our food, our medicine, our life,” Mera says while one of those elders performs a spiritual cleansing ritual to protect her. He is blowing tobacco and an herbal liquid behind her head. Laffay, who is also working on a feature-length film with the Siona, recently followed Mera and ten other deminers on a mission to clear nine land mines from a thirty-one-square-foot area. “As Siona people, we cultivate the jungle, and now, unfortunately, our land is contaminated,” Mera explains. Clearing the mines makes these areas of the forest once again safe to use. With enough demining, the group hopes to bring back some of the population who have left Siona territory over the years.
The Siona indigenous territories are located in the state of Putumayo, which has, since the nineteen-sixties, been the crossroads of a war between the Colombian Army, right-wing paramilitary groups, and a left-wing guerrilla organization known as the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia, or FARC, which planted thousands of mines in many Colombian states, including Putumayo. After guerrilla leaders signed a peace accord in 2016, many of their rank-and-file members demobilized, and the C.C.B.L. was able to start working in areas that were previously too dangerous for them to reach. “The Siona areas are the most affected ones in the Amazon region in terms of land mines,” Álvaro Jiménez, the director of the C.C.B.L., told me. In just one year, the N.G.O., which operates with funding from the Norwegian government, the U.S. State Department, and private donations, managed to clear thirty-seven land mines from the Siona territories.
A successful demining process, Mera explains, is usually done in three stages. First, a team, comprising members of the community, identifies areas where mines are hidden. The first mines that Mera found were near the farm of an indigenous elder who was forced to leave when the rebels took over his home. When she visited, suspicious cables could be seen near a path by his place. “I was surprised, because several people walked often by that path,” Mera recalls. Luckily, in this case, the land mines were destroyed before anyone stepped on one. In the second phase, the group marks the individual ordnance and isolates the dangerous area, and, in a last step, a technical team destroys the homemade land mines, by detonating them in a controlled explosion, soaking them with highly pressurized water to render them inert, or other means.
In the past thirty years, more than eleven thousand Colombians have been injured or killed by land mines, and more than three hundred of them were members of indigenous groups. A young man and an elderly woman triggered mines last year in the Siona territory, before the team of deminers could reach their area. The man’s hand was amputated, and the woman was killed. The Colombian government keeps an open database with the details of each of the victims of land mines, with grimly matter-of-fact descriptions of their injuries (“amputation of left foot”; “burned face, near the eye”), but the state’s effort to demine indigenous lands has been extremely slow.
Since the coronavirus pandemic hit the Amazon rain forest, in March, the Siona people have been isolating the community from outsiders; so far, there have been no confirmed cases of the virus in their territory. This successful preventive measure also means that the deminers from the C.C.B.L. can’t enter the territories—for now, their work is on hold. New armed groups, however, have taken advantage of the health crisis to expand their presence in rural areas of Putumayo. FARC dissidents who have rearmed, plus a drug-trafficking group known locally as “the mafia,” have been trying to take back control of lands near the Siona reservations. According to a Siona lawyer who represents the community, “Armed members are threatening to kill those who would have COVID-19 symptoms, as their way to control the pandemic in the Putumayo state.” The Siona now must protect themselves and their territory, not just from land mines and the coronavirus but also from new confrontations among the armed groups that once again surround them. As an indigenous elder told Laffay, in 2019, when fires were ravaging the eastern areas of the rain forest, “The Amazon is burning right now, but not only with flames. In Colombia . . . those who fight for the defense of our territory are burned by bullets.”
When I spoke to Adiela Mera, last Friday, she said she was concerned that armed groups would also start recruiting young kids in the Siona community. Mera has been a committed teacher since 2012. During the making of Laffay’s documentary, he filmed her giving a lecture to a young group in a public school. “As you already know, there are marked areas around here,” she warns the students, who are growing up near the minefields. Mera then invites them to play a special game, with a set of blue cards with written questions, in which the winning team is the one giving the right answers. “What should you do if you find a sunken spot in the middle of the path?” one of the kids reads from the card he picked. “We should back up, let one of the elders know, or the community, to warn them,” a girl responds. Correct. The girl wins a round of applause. It’s a wrenching scene, in which the smiling students are having fun guessing the correct answers, but the viewers already know that their survival right now depends on how well they learn to play the game. “One day, when I am old, I dream that our young people will defend our territory,” Mera told Laffay, anticipating the day when she will become one more among the wise elders, and her young students will be old enough to continue the mission to heal the Siona territories from a decades-long war.