newyorker--2020-01-14--The Many Lives of Roberto, a Soup

The Many Lives of Roberto, a Soup

For the past month or so , ten or twenty times a day , I ’ ll get a little alert on my phone from Instagram , telling me that I ’ ve been mentioned in someone ’ s Story .
In the three and a half years since Instagram introduced the Stories feature—a vehicle for candid snapshots and absurdist memes , all of which automatically delete after twenty-four hours—I ’ ve come to love it with a surprising intensity .
All social media is performance , but the performance that happens inside Instagram Stories is in situ , it @ @ @ @ @ @ @ social-media vérité : the room is messy , the face is blemished , the horizon line isn ’ t perfectly horizontal .
Instagram ’ s main feed is full of images so slick that they ’ re indistinguishable from ads , but the text and image tools in Stories are ( apparently by design ) blocky and inelegant .
It ’ s a perfect medium for recording the insipid mundanities of daily life , which is to say , it ’ s the perfect medium for recording what you ’ re having for @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the most part , I keep getting tagged in other people ’ s stories : they ’ re making Roberto .
Roberto is a soup .
It ( he ? )
was born during the winter , six or seven years ago , when I put together a quick dinner by sautéing some onion and garlic with a few links of spicy Italian sausage , dumping in a can of white beans and a can of crushed tomatoes , adding a few cups of chicken stock , and stirring in a fistful of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , but not quite good enough , so in went a flurry of grated Parmesan , for savory depth , and a shower of lemon juice , to lend some tart , shimmery brightness .
Almost no individual element of this was original—beans and greens have been the stuff of dinner since beans and greens began—and yet the gestalt had something to it , something unexpectedly right .
It was hearty , but not heavy ; it was warming , but not soporific .
The next night , we made it again .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ and after a few weeks of eating it nearly nonstop my husband said , wisely , “ This soup needs a name.
” With a wisdom far beyond my ken , he added that the soup ’ s name was Roberto .
And so it was .
A few years after that , in 2016 , I wrote about Roberto in a personal e-mail newsletter that I had started , back when everyone was starting personal e-mail newsletters .
The e-mail ’ s subject wasn ’ t Roberto itself but rather the notion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the recipe in a somewhat unconventional way , conversational and digressive and overly detailed , a voice meant to preëmpt any incoming questions about substitutions or techniques from my husband , who was as much a fan of making Roberto as he was of eating it , but who was ( at the time ) far less comfortable in the kitchen than I was .
That e-mail went out to a few hundred subscribers , a small handful of whom were moved to make Roberto and loved it the way I did , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
I sent my newsletter less and less , until I stopped sending updates altogether , as is the inevitable fate of all newsletters , though the online archives lived on .
Then , this winter , Roberto exploded .
I ’ m still not entirely sure why .
Maybe we ’ re all chronicling our dinner more than we used to , or maybe this year ’ s winter demands beans and kale more than other winters , or maybe the fickle gods of virality decided that , Hey , right now @ @ @ @ @ @ @ be really into this three-year-old soup recipe with a silly name , buried in a newsletter archive .
The end result , however we got here , is that , every day , people are telling me that they ’ ve made my soup , and that they really like it .
They ’ re mostly telling me on Instagram Stories , which makes it easy for me to take their Roberto pictures and share them with my own audience : a daily , collated folio of worldwide Roberto incarnations , points of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ collective whose individual expressions of happiness fill me , strangely and wondrously , with a pure and unfamiliar happiness of my own .
Instagram etiquette does not demand that I reshare other people ’ s Robertos , but it feels like the right thing to do .
The writer Julia Turshen ’ s Instagram Story is filled with re-shares of people making the Happy Wife , Happy Life Chocolate Cake from her cookbook “ Small Victories ” ; the “ Salt Fat Acid Heat ” author and Netflix star Samin Nosrat uses hers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ airy Ligurian focaccia and bronzed buttermilk chicken ; the whole month of December was full of the Los Angeles Times cooking columnist Ben Mims sharing homemade renditions of his gorgeous holiday cookies .
As far as I can tell , patient zero for this style of re-sharing is the cookbook phenom Alison Roman , who for years now has dropped regular carousels of fans making her chocolate-chip shortbread cookies , her coconut-turmeric stew , her citrus-tiled salmon fillet , her roasted chicken with olives .
The over-all effect of these posts is unexpectedly @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sort of warm , sappy sense of being part of something that makes me wonder if I maybe didn ’ t get enough sleep last night—a feeling of synchronicity , of emotional connection .
Internet experts and food-media talking heads spend a lot of time nattering on about the idea of “ community , ” which almost always ends up not actually meaning “ community ” at all but , rather , vituperative comment sections , or the same old dinner parties with one ’ s existing friends ( or , sometimes , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Story bursts—the visual evidence of dozens of people ’ s spontaneous actions , their joy in the creation and pleasure in the consumption—the sense of community is almost physically tangible .
Watching the real-time unfolding of so many people ’ s culinary undertakings feels , somehow , like real human connection .
Earlier this week I called Roman , to fact-check my memory that the phenomenon originated with her .
“ It feels a little weird and arrogant to say ‘ I came up with that , ’ but I do think I @ @ @ @ @ @ @ said , laughing .
In late 2017 , shortly after Roman ’ s first cookbook , “ Dining In , ” was published , her chocolate-chip shortbread cookies emerged as a wildly successful breakout recipe .
Roman is a bona-fide Instagram star , with some 344,000 followers , and , when her notifications exploded with people tagging her in their cookie-making efforts , they rolled in by the hundreds and thousands .
She started taking screenshots of people ’ s posts and stories and collecting them in a folder on her phone , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ post a bundle of other people ’ s successes on her own account : a rapid-fire montage of twenty or thirty home cooks from all over the world , all making the same one of her strikingly photogenic recipes .
“ I wanted to encourage everybody , ” Roman said .
“ And then it became this really cute online cookbook club .
People like feeling involved ; they like being seen ; they like being encouraged .
They ’ re , like , ‘ Oh !
That could be me !
’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ confirm , is exactly that .
For those few months after “ Dining In ” was published , every time I opened Instagram and checked Roman ’ s account , I was pummelled with images of cookie after cookie after cookie : some were beautiful , some were wonky ; some were lovingly bathed in sunshine , some were shakily snapped in the sallow glow of an oven .
All of them were overlaid with Roman ’ s messages of delight and encouragement , and among the names of the devoted original posters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , strangers .
The feeling grew in me subtly , steadily , over weeks , a slow intoxication that ended in full-body certainty : Of course I was going to make the cookies .
And I was going to tag Roman in a picture of them on Instagram .
And she was going to share my post , my cookie triumph , one more star in the constellation of cookie triumphs .
I did , and she did , and , by God , it felt terrific .
It ’ s thrilling to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and shown off—it ’ s proof that you were there , that you were part of something .
It ’ s a fifteen-second turn in the spotlight , like glancing up at the Jumbotron and seeing yourself on the Kiss Cam .
Re-shared posts beget more posts to be re-shared , and the circles widen until , eventually , they collapse—or we collectively move on to some other recipe .
It ’ s tempting to refer to these Instagram feedback loops as viral recipes , but the phrase doesn ’ t quite @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the term ‘ viral recipe , ’ ” Roman told me .
She pointed out that most things labelled “ viral recipes ” are actually just viral videos that happen to contain food , and that , generally , the foods they depict are fascinating only because of their monstrousness : fifteen types of meat piled on a teetering sandwich , or a pizza made out of fried chicken that ’ s then deep fried into a waffle taco and dipped in bucket of ranch dressing draped in edible gold .
These @ @ @ @ @ @ @ by a normal person at home , let alone actually consumed .
In these surprisingly lovely Instagram flurries , in contrast , the food is quiet and human-scale .
The photographs of Roman ’ s cookies or Turshen ’ s cake or my Roberto soup are just shorthand for the entire process of making the recipe , the hour or so ( or , in the case of Nosrat ’ s focaccia , sixteen hours ) that goes into assembling ingredients , following the steps , waiting , watching , hoping , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not just mindless replication : as with any act of creation , the end result reflects a piece of whoever made it .
I marvel , as the influx of Roberto photos flows around me , at people ’ s ingenuity and flexibility : spinach instead of kale , adding tortellini , using heirloom beans , swapping vegetarian sausage for the pork or turkey , poaching an egg in the pot , adding some anchovy paste , treating it like a pasta sauce .
The recipe isn ’ t mine anymore ; Roberto @ @ @ @ @ @ @ own , and it ’ s thrilling .
“ To spend your own money and time , to actually make the thing—it ’ s so different than just sharing or liking , ” Roman said .
“ It ’ s something on an entirely different level.
” Maybe this is the highest thing a person can hope for : I loved something , I shared it , and now I get to watch other people love it , too .
Olive oil 1 baseball-size onion , if you have one 2-4 cloves garlic @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the volume of your thumb ) Salt 1 lb .
hot Italian sausage , or a well-seasoned vegetarian sausage 1 28-oz .
can tomatoes ( diced , crushed , or whole ) 1 14-oz .
can of beans of any type ( kidney , great northern , garbanzo , etc . )
or a similar quantity of cooked dried beans 4 cups stock of any sort , or a mix of 1 cup dry red or white wine and 3 cups water 1 bunch kale or any other green Fresh-ground black pepper Hard @ @ @ @ @ @ @ pecorino One lemon Parsley , if you have any 1 .
Gather all your ingredients , and get out a large soup pot with a lid , and a wooden spoon .
If your sausage is in a casing , remove it from the casing , so it ’ s like a paste of ground meat with seasonings in it , which is mostly all that sausage is .
If you ’ re using vegetarian sausage or casing-free sausage , chop it into small pieces .
Peel the onion and chop it into @ @ @ @ @ @ @ finely mince it .
2 .
Put the olive oil and onions into the soup pot , and set it over medium heat .
Add a pinch of salt ( a pinch is about a quarter teaspoon ) and stir .
Slowly cook the onions until they start to become soft and translucent—this is usually about 4 minutes , but sometimes it takes as long as 7 .
Add the garlic and stir until you get hit with that nostalgic garlic-and-onion smell , about 1 minute .
Raise the heat to medium-high and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Stir , using your spoon to break up the sausage into pieces that could comfortably fit on a spoon .
It ’ s better to overcook the sausage than to undercook it .
For the best flavor , you want the pieces to begin to brown on the outside : they should look speckled with dark spots , like a leopard or a cute dog .
This will take as long as 10 minutes .
Be patient .
You don ’ t have to stir constantly—just check on it every few minutes .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ , open the can of tomatoes , and open and drain the can of beans .
Get your broth ready , or if you ’ re using water with wine , get that ready .
De-stem the kale and chop it into smaller-than-spoon-size pieces .
4 .
When the sausage is starting to brown and looks and smells delicious , dump in the tomatoes ( including all the liquid ) , the beans ( it ’ s O.K .
if there ’ s a little liquid left in the can and you add @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stock , and raise the heat to high in order to bring the whole thing to a simmer .
( If you ’ ve used canned whole tomatoes , use your wooden spoon to break them into smaller pieces by violently crushing them against the side of the pot .
You can not over-crush the tomatoes . )
5 .
Once the soup has reached a simmer , add the kale .
The pot will look extremely full , but don ’ t worry—the kale will collapse like an empty wedding gown as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , which you should do .
Once all the greens are in the pot , put the lid on , turn the heat down to medium-low , and let the whole thing simmer for about 5 minutes—or even longer if you want to , or if you have other things going on .
Use this time to grate some of the cheese into a bowl , which you can reuse later to eat soup out of .
You don ’ t need a lot of cheese—maybe a quarter cup , but it ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Remove the lid from the pot and stir the greens into the soup .
Taste the soup ( use the wooden spoon ; you ’ re less likely to burn your mouth ) and consider how much salt and black pepper you think it needs .
Then add half as much salt as you want to and twice as much pepper .
Add a little more pepper .
Dump in the shredded cheese and stir .
Taste it again and see if you need more salt .
( The secret is that the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 7 .
Ladle the soup , which is very hot , into individual bowls .
Buy some time for it to cool down by cutting a lemon into wedges and squeezing a wedge of juice into each bowl .
If any lemon seeds fall out into the bowls , gently fish them out .
Don ’ t drop the spent wedges into the bowls like they ’ re glasses of iced tea .
If you have extra cheese , you can sprinkle it on top , and if you have parsley and want @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it on top , it ’ ll be good , but it ’ s also pretty great without it .

The author’s recipe for a soup called Roberto has recently caught a wave of popularity on Instagram. Photograph by Jacob Pope
For the past month or so, ten or twenty times a day, I’ll get a little alert on my phone from Instagram, telling me that I’ve been mentioned in someone’s Story. In the three and a half years since Instagram introduced the Stories feature—a vehicle for candid snapshots and absurdist memes, all of which automatically delete after twenty-four hours—I’ve come to love it with a surprising intensity. All social media is performance, but the performance that happens inside Instagram Stories is in situ, it’s mumblecore, it’s social-media vérité: the room is messy, the face is blemished, the horizon line isn’t perfectly horizontal. Instagram’s main feed is full of images so slick that they’re indistinguishable from ads, but the text and image tools in Stories are (apparently by design) blocky and inelegant. It’s a perfect medium for recording the insipid mundanities of daily life, which is to say, it’s the perfect medium for recording what you’re having for dinner. This is why, for the most part, I keep getting tagged in other people’s stories: they’re making Roberto.
Roberto is a soup. It (he?) was born during the winter, six or seven years ago, when I put together a quick dinner by sautéing some onion and garlic with a few links of spicy Italian sausage, dumping in a can of white beans and a can of crushed tomatoes, adding a few cups of chicken stock, and stirring in a fistful of torn kale. The result was good, but not quite good enough, so in went a flurry of grated Parmesan, for savory depth, and a shower of lemon juice, to lend some tart, shimmery brightness. Almost no individual element of this was original—beans and greens have been the stuff of dinner since beans and greens began—and yet the gestalt had something to it, something unexpectedly right. It was hearty, but not heavy; it was warming, but not soporific. The next night, we made it again. And then again, and again, and after a few weeks of eating it nearly nonstop my husband said, wisely, “This soup needs a name.” With a wisdom far beyond my ken, he added that the soup’s name was Roberto. And so it was.
A few years after that, in 2016, I wrote about Roberto in a personal e-mail newsletter that I had started, back when everyone was starting personal e-mail newsletters. The e-mail’s subject wasn’t Roberto itself but rather the notion of recipe writing: I had written the recipe in a somewhat unconventional way, conversational and digressive and overly detailed, a voice meant to preëmpt any incoming questions about substitutions or techniques from my husband, who was as much a fan of making Roberto as he was of eating it, but who was (at the time) far less comfortable in the kitchen than I was. That e-mail went out to a few hundred subscribers, a small handful of whom were moved to make Roberto and loved it the way I did, which was validating. Time moved on. I sent my newsletter less and less, until I stopped sending updates altogether, as is the inevitable fate of all newsletters, though the online archives lived on.
Then, this winter, Roberto exploded. I’m still not entirely sure why. Maybe we’re all chronicling our dinner more than we used to, or maybe this year’s winter demands beans and kale more than other winters, or maybe the fickle gods of virality decided that, Hey, right now, we’re all going to be really into this three-year-old soup recipe with a silly name, buried in a newsletter archive. The end result, however we got here, is that, every day, people are telling me that they’ve made my soup, and that they really like it. They’re mostly telling me on Instagram Stories, which makes it easy for me to take their Roberto pictures and share them with my own audience: a daily, collated folio of worldwide Roberto incarnations, points of light from a far-flung and wide-ranging soup-making collective whose individual expressions of happiness fill me, strangely and wondrously, with a pure and unfamiliar happiness of my own.
Instagram etiquette does not demand that I reshare other people’s Robertos, but it feels like the right thing to do. The writer Julia Turshen’s Instagram Story is filled with re-shares of people making the Happy Wife, Happy Life Chocolate Cake from her cookbook “Small Victories”; the “Salt Fat Acid Heat” author and Netflix star Samin Nosrat uses hers to amplify home cooks who make her airy Ligurian focaccia and bronzed buttermilk chicken; the whole month of December was full of the Los Angeles Times cooking columnist Ben Mims sharing homemade renditions of his gorgeous holiday cookies.
As far as I can tell, patient zero for this style of re-sharing is the cookbook phenom Alison Roman, who for years now has dropped regular carousels of fans making her chocolate-chip shortbread cookies, her coconut-turmeric stew, her citrus-tiled salmon fillet, her roasted chicken with olives. The over-all effect of these posts is unexpectedly profound; it gives rise to the sort of warm, sappy sense of being part of something that makes me wonder if I maybe didn’t get enough sleep last night—a feeling of synchronicity, of emotional connection. Internet experts and food-media talking heads spend a lot of time nattering on about the idea of “community,” which almost always ends up not actually meaning “community” at all but, rather, vituperative comment sections, or the same old dinner parties with one’s existing friends (or, sometimes, both). But in these theme-and-variations Story bursts—the visual evidence of dozens of people’s spontaneous actions, their joy in the creation and pleasure in the consumption—the sense of community is almost physically tangible. Watching the real-time unfolding of so many people’s culinary undertakings feels, somehow, like real human connection.
Earlier this week I called Roman, to fact-check my memory that the phenomenon originated with her. “It feels a little weird and arrogant to say ‘I came up with that,’ but I do think I came up with that!” she said, laughing. In late 2017, shortly after Roman’s first cookbook, “Dining In,” was published, her chocolate-chip shortbread cookies emerged as a wildly successful breakout recipe. Roman is a bona-fide Instagram star, with some 344,000 followers, and, when her notifications exploded with people tagging her in their cookie-making efforts, they rolled in by the hundreds and thousands. She started taking screenshots of people’s posts and stories and collecting them in a folder on her phone, and every few days she’d post a bundle of other people’s successes on her own account: a rapid-fire montage of twenty or thirty home cooks from all over the world, all making the same one of her strikingly photogenic recipes. “I wanted to encourage everybody,” Roman said. “And then it became this really cute online cookbook club. People like feeling involved; they like being seen; they like being encouraged. They’re, like, ‘Oh! That could be me!’ ”
The effect, I can personally confirm, is exactly that. For those few months after “Dining In” was published, every time I opened Instagram and checked Roman’s account, I was pummelled with images of cookie after cookie after cookie: some were beautiful, some were wonky; some were lovingly bathed in sunshine, some were shakily snapped in the sallow glow of an oven. All of them were overlaid with Roman’s messages of delight and encouragement, and among the names of the devoted original posters I saw friends, enemies, celebrities, strangers. The feeling grew in me subtly, steadily, over weeks, a slow intoxication that ended in full-body certainty: Of course I was going to make the cookies. And I was going to tag Roman in a picture of them on Instagram. And she was going to share my post, my cookie triumph, one more star in the constellation of cookie triumphs. I did, and she did, and, by God, it felt terrific. It’s thrilling to see yourself seen, and lifted up, and shown off—it’s proof that you were there, that you were part of something. It’s a fifteen-second turn in the spotlight, like glancing up at the Jumbotron and seeing yourself on the Kiss Cam.
Re-shared posts beget more posts to be re-shared, and the circles widen until, eventually, they collapse—or we collectively move on to some other recipe. It’s tempting to refer to these Instagram feedback loops as viral recipes, but the phrase doesn’t quite fit. “I actually take issue with the term ‘viral recipe,’ ” Roman told me. She pointed out that most things labelled “viral recipes” are actually just viral videos that happen to contain food, and that, generally, the foods they depict are fascinating only because of their monstrousness: fifteen types of meat piled on a teetering sandwich, or a pizza made out of fried chicken that’s then deep fried into a waffle taco and dipped in bucket of ranch dressing draped in edible gold. These recipes are not destined to be made by a normal person at home, let alone actually consumed.


newyorker--2020-01-14--Democrats Demand That Giuliani Be Trump’s Lawyer at Impeachment Trial

WASHINGTON ( The Borowitz Report ) —Rudolph Giuliani ’ s offer to act as Donald J. Trump ’ s defense attorney at the President ’ s impeachment trial has received unanimous support from congressional Democrats , who are now demanding that he perform such a role .
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority Leader Charles Schumer told reporters on Tuesday that Giuliani ’ s participation as Trump ’ s lawyer during his Senate trial was , as far as they were concerned , “ nonnegotiable.
” “ Rudy Giuliani has demonstrated over the past three years that he can @ @ @ @ @ @ @ can , ” Pelosi said .
“ If he is not the President ’ s lawyer in the Senate , that would be a deal-breaker for me.
” Concurring with Pelosi , Schumer added , “ My Democratic colleagues in the Senate are prepared to pay Mr. Giuliani ’ s hourly fees , in cash , to make this thing happen.
” Pelosi indicated that Democrats were now willing to back off their earlier demands for witnesses at the trial .
“ No witnesses , ” she said .
“ Just Giuliani.
” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he was “ a little surprised ” by the Democrats ’ enthusiastic support , adding , “ Nancy Pelosi even offered to drive me to work every morning , which I thought was really nice.
” Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell did not answer reporters ’ questions about a possible role for Giuliani in the impeachment trial , nor would he confirm reports that he had given the Senate ’ s security desk a photo of Giuliani with instructions to bar his entry .

WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report)—Rudolph Giuliani’s offer to act as Donald J. Trump’s defense attorney at the President’s impeachment trial has received unanimous support from congressional Democrats, who are now demanding that he perform such a role.
House Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Senate Minority Leader Charles Schumer told reporters on Tuesday that Giuliani’s participation as Trump’s lawyer during his Senate trial was, as far as they were concerned, “nonnegotiable.”
“Rudy Giuliani has demonstrated over the past three years that he can represent the President as no one else can,” Pelosi said. “If he is not the President’s lawyer in the Senate, that would be a deal-breaker for me.”
Concurring with Pelosi, Schumer added, “My Democratic colleagues in the Senate are prepared to pay Mr. Giuliani’s hourly fees, in cash, to make this thing happen.”
Pelosi indicated that Democrats were now willing to back off their earlier demands for witnesses at the trial. “No witnesses,” she said. “Just Giuliani.”
Appearing on Fox News, Giuliani said that he was “a little surprised” by the Democrats’ enthusiastic support, adding, “Nancy Pelosi even offered to drive me to work every morning, which I thought was really nice.”
Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell did not answer reporters’ questions about a possible role for Giuliani in the impeachment trial, nor would he confirm reports that he had given the Senate’s security desk a photo of Giuliani with instructions to bar his entry.


newyorker--2020-01-15--At the Democratic Debate, a State of Stasis

There are less than three weeks until the Iowa caucuses , and it now seems likely that the vote will take place while the news is focussed on Iran and the Senate impeachment of President Trump , over his effort to solicit electoral interference from Ukraine .
The moderators of the Democratic Presidential debate in Des Moines , on Tuesday night , devoted the first hour to foreign policy , and in that hour the primary itself took on a slightly different tone .
CNN ’ s Wolf Blitzer opened the debate by announcing , perhaps a bit hyperbolically , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ brink of war , ” and the conversation that followed centered on Iran , troops , and trade .
These are topics that lend themselves to a Democratic consensus , and as Blitzer and his co-hosts , Abby Phillip and Brianne Pfannenstiel , quizzed the six candidates a mostly dutiful agreement emerged : everyone wanted strong labor and environmental conditions attached to trade deals , to pull many troops back from the Middle East , to take a more considered and less frankly frightening approach to Tehran than President Trump has .
Everyone @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Tom Steyer , who could only lean on his overseas business dealings .
( “ I travelled , ” he said . )
For most of 2019 , the story of the Democratic Party was of the conflict between its left and centrist wings , which seemed sometimes , from the heat of the rhetoric , nearly as sharp as that between the Democrats and Republicans .
But , as 2020 opened , different qualities moved to the fore—not vision but experience and judgment .
Something different was supposed to be on the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Sanders and Elizabeth Warren , who had mostly avoided arguing with each other .
Then , last week , Politico reported that Sanders volunteers were using a script that specifically criticized Warren ; Warren then claimed that , during a private conversation in 2018 , Sanders had told her that a woman could not become President .
Sanders denied making any such remark .
Then the camera settled on Warren , who deftly avoided a disagreement with Sanders while offering a counter-argument .
“ The only people on this stage who have won @ @ @ @ @ @ @ been in are the women , Amy and me , ” she said .
“ And the only person on this stage who has beaten the incumbent Republican anytime in the past thirty years is me.
” The camera cut to Amy Klobuchar , peripheral until tonight ( “ I ’ m strongly No .
5 , ” she said on CNN afterward ) , who , with Warren , was looking a little triumphant .
Warren ’ s composure lasted until just after the debate , when , with the microphones off @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out to shake Warren ’ s hand and instead they appeared to have an argument .
It was telling , and a little disappointing , that the only real conflict occurred on mute .
Only six candidates were onstage tonight : two progressives ( Warren , Sanders ) , two moderates ( Joe Biden , Pete Buttigieg ) , and Klobuchar between them ( and also Steyer , who was not given many chances to speak ) .
In the course of the evening , Klobuchar emerged as a more serious combatant , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a weapon .
“ This debate isn ’ t real , ” she said during a dispute over health-care plans , pointing out that Sanders ’ s promise of Medicare for All doesn ’ t have the support of the Party .
Two-thirds of the Democrats in the U.S. Senate , Klobuchar pointed out , “ aren ’ t on the bill you and Senator Warren are on.
” ( Sanders looked like he was tabulating votes in his head ) .
“ I want to hit reality here , ” Klobuchar said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ grow abstract , and recounted a visit to a plant in Crawfordsville , Iowa , that was shutting down because of the President ’ s trade war .
Klobuchar recalled that the plant was down to its final worker—a Lorax of industrial decline—and that he had brought out the uniforms of his friends .
“ And you could see their names embroidered on their uniforms : Derek .
Mark .
Salvador , ” she said .
“ These are real people hurt by Donald Trump ’ s trade war.
” A debate heavy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on political “ reality ” —Biden ’ s night , you might think .
Not really , at least not in any obvious way .
The front-runner was AWOL for long periods , and the themes that he tends to strike—the great good judgment of Barack Obama , the tragedy of the Midwest , the need for a steady hand—belonged equally to Buttigieg and Klobuchar .
Biden is the most likely nominee but also in some ways the least distinct one .
As the night wandered toward its end , I started to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hold a stage that is also occupied by Donald Trump ?
Probably not , at least based on the latest evidence of Tuesday ’ s debate .
The candidates all seemed most comfortable not when they had to explain their own vision but when they could simply , safely criticize Trump—his wantonness and his corruption , but most of all the promises he has broken .
This week , Nancy Pelosi will deliver the articles of impeachment to the Senate ; meanwhile , the President is falsely tweeting that he protected Americans from @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
The general election will be about him .
As for the other candidates , on Tuesday night , everyone left about where they came in .
What we got , instead , was the suggestion that the race in 2020 may look different than it did in 2019 , that the Democrats may no longer set the agenda .
There was stasis , laced with a little trepidation .

There are less than three weeks until the Iowa caucuses, and it now seems likely that the vote will take place while the news is focussed on Iran and the Senate impeachment trial of President Trump, over his effort to solicit electoral interference from Ukraine. The moderators of the Democratic Presidential debate in Des Moines, on Tuesday night, devoted the first hour to foreign policy, and in that hour the primary itself took on a slightly different tone. CNN’s Wolf Blitzer opened the debate by announcing, perhaps a bit hyperbolically, that America finds itself “at the brink of war,” and the conversation that followed centered on Iran, troops, and trade. These are topics that lend themselves to a Democratic consensus, and as Blitzer and his co-hosts, Abby Phillip and Brianne Pfannenstiel, quizzed the six candidates a mostly dutiful agreement emerged: everyone wanted strong labor and environmental conditions attached to trade deals, to pull many troops back from the Middle East, to take a more considered and less frankly frightening approach to Tehran than President Trump has. Everyone touted his or her experience, even Tom Steyer, who could only lean on his overseas business dealings. (“I travelled,” he said.) For most of 2019, the story of the Democratic Party was of the conflict between its left and centrist wings, which seemed sometimes, from the heat of the rhetoric, nearly as sharp as that between the Democrats and Republicans. But, as 2020 opened, different qualities moved to the fore—not vision but experience and judgment.
Something different was supposed to be on the menu: a decisive confrontation between Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, who had mostly avoided arguing with each other. Then, last week, Politico reported that Sanders volunteers were using a script that specifically criticized Warren; Warren then claimed that, during a private conversation in 2018, Sanders had told her that a woman could not become President. Sanders denied making any such remark. Then the camera settled on Warren, who deftly avoided a disagreement with Sanders while offering a counter-argument. “The only people on this stage who have won every single election that they’ve been in are the women, Amy and me,” she said. “And the only person on this stage who has beaten the incumbent Republican anytime in the past thirty years is me.” The camera cut to Amy Klobuchar, peripheral until Tuesday (“I’m strongly No. 5,” she said on CNN afterward), who, with Warren, was looking a little triumphant. Warren’s composure lasted until just after the debate, when, with the microphones off but the cameras on, Sanders reached out to shake Warren’s hand and instead they appeared to have an argument. It was telling, and a little disappointing, that the only real conflict occurred on mute.
Only six candidates were onstage Tuesday: two progressives (Warren, Sanders), two moderates (Joe Biden, Pete Buttigieg), and Klobuchar between them (and also Steyer, who was not given many chances to speak). In the course of the evening, Klobuchar emerged as a more serious combatant, using the word “real” as a weapon. “This debate isn’t real,” she said during a dispute over health-care plans, pointing out that Sanders’s promise of Medicare for All doesn’t have the support of the Party. Two-thirds of the Democrats in the U.S. Senate, Klobuchar pointed out, “aren’t on the bill you and Senator Warren are on.” (Sanders looked like he was tabulating votes in his head). “I want to hit reality here,” Klobuchar said, when the trade debate threatened to grow abstract, and recounted a visit to a plant in Crawfordsville, Iowa, that was shutting down because of the President’s trade war. Klobuchar recalled that the plant was down to its final worker—a Lorax of industrial decline—and that he had brought out the uniforms of his friends. “And you could see their names embroidered on their uniforms: Derek. Mark. Salvador,” she said. “These are real people hurt by Donald Trump’s trade war.”
A debate heavy on foreign policy, with an emphasis on political “reality”—Biden’s night, you might think. Not really, at least not in any obvious way. The front-runner was AWOL for long periods, and the themes that he tends to strike—the great good judgment of Barack Obama, the tragedy of the Midwest, the need for a steady hand—belonged equally to Buttigieg and Klobuchar. Biden is the most likely nominee but also in some ways the least distinct one. As the night wandered toward its end, I started to wonder, Can any of these figures hold a stage that is also occupied by Donald Trump?
Probably not, at least based on the latest evidence of Tuesday’s debate. The candidates all seemed most comfortable not when they had to explain their own vision but when they could simply, safely criticize Trump—his wantonness and his corruption, but most of all the promises he has broken. This week, Nancy Pelosi will deliver the articles of impeachment to the Senate; meanwhile, the President is falsely tweeting that he protected Americans from losing their insurance due to preëxisting conditions. The general election will be about him. As for the other candidates, on Tuesday night, they left about where they came in. What we got, instead, was the suggestion that the race in 2020 may look different than it did in 2019, that the Democrats may no longer set the agenda. There was stasis, laced with a little trepidation.


newyorker--2020-01-15--How to Make the Oscars Relevant Again

How to Make the Oscars Relevant Again

In the decade that I ’ ve been writing about the Oscars , I ’ ve made a fundamental assumption about their meaning that is , perhaps , not entirely justified by the terms under which they ’ re awarded .
I ’ ve long felt that what distinguishes the Academy Awards from the honors bestowed at other ceremonies , such as the Golden Globes , is the participation of Hollywood itself : the notion that the Oscars represent the American film industry ’ s idealized image of itself , the work that it collectively chooses to put forth as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
On the basis of this notion , the Oscars have an element of interest and significance that extends far beyond the ballyhoo and the choices , however misguided .
When the Academy was founded , in 1927 , its purpose wasn ’ t to give awards but to mediate disputes , and thereby preclude the formation of unions in the film industry .
The awards were an afterthought—the first ones were announced in 1929 .
The Academy ’ s founding thirty-six members were all employed and active in the film business at @ @ @ @ @ @ @ expanded to two hundred and thirty ) .
Of course , the business was different then .
It was a new industry , too new to count many retirees at all .
Also , it wasn ’ t , for the most part , a freelance industry but one in which artists and other staff tended to be under contract .
In the intervening years , the studio system collapsed ; most actors , directors , and technicians now work freelance , from film to film , thus leaving in doubt the notion @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are between projects are still working—but what of those who are “ between projects ” ? )
In the interest of diversifying its membership , the Academy has grown by nearly fifty per cent in the past three years ; it now has approximately nine thousand members , of whom thirty-two per cent are female and sixteen per cent are people of color .
As reported by Kristopher Tapley , in Variety , the Academy initially treated membership as a lifetime tenure , but it changed its bylaws in 1970 , to reserve @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the field .
Yet the Academy hardly enforced any such rules , and , in 2016 , when it announced plans to do so , and thereby put long-nonworking members on an inactive list , the outcry was extreme , with one long-inactive member ludicrously likening the proposal to a Nazi euthanasia program .
Soon thereafter , the Academy drastically backtracked , explicitly restoring the notion of lifetime voting privileges for many members and excluding retirement as grounds for non-voting status .
The Academy is wrong .
Enforcing an inactive list , and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the Academy ought to do .
No member should ever lose membership on the basis of inactivity—but voting should be limited to those who have worked in the business in some significant capacity in the past five years .
I don ’ t believe that the quality of the nominations and the awards will improve by the sheer fact of excluding the votes of members who are not working .
The point is not to diminish the ranks of older voters ; relatively younger ones would be affected , too .
I have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ older or younger—have worse taste or narrower perspectives than do those who are active in the film industry .
Busy people of any age have no monopoly on sound judgment .
However , winnowing the votes to center the Oscars on those who are currently in the field , rather than including the voices of those who merely at some time in the past worked on movies , would restore to the Academy its primordial significance : the current-day industry ’ s image of itself .
At the very least , Hollywood—the Hollywood @ @ @ @ @ @ @ its awards , face up to its judgments , and not hand-wave away the selection of such movies as “ Green Book ” and “ 1917 ” on the grounds of weird rules .
With a reduction of votes to a voting body of members presently or very recently working , the Academy will appear not merely symbolically representative of the industry but literally so .
That ’ s where the limit on voting would have an effect—a psychological one—on those who are currently working .
Would the Academy ’ s more exemplary @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I should hope so .
Currently , with many nonworking members exerting influence over the results , the nominations and awards are decided by people who have little personal stake in the outcome .
Who more than movie people , or artists at large , are alert to the effect that their ideas , their statements , their judgments have on those who pay attention to them ?
There ’ s something assertive , declarative , polemical about awards ; they ’ re criticism in action .
Votes by those removed from the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ are the equivalent of social-media judgments flung from behind a mask of anonymity .
At the moment , the Oscars reflect the Academy , but the Academy reflects nothing but its august name ; plausible deniability and the shunning of responsibility are built into the current system .
Paradoxically , counting only votes from members with a stake in the image of the industry put forth by the industry would cast onto the Oscars the sharp light of accountability , would be , in effect , a truth-in-awards program .
It would be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and its prizes an instant relevance—neither more nor less than that of Hollywood itself .

In the decade that I’ve been writing about the Oscars, I’ve made a fundamental assumption about their meaning that is, perhaps, not entirely justified by the terms under which they’re awarded. I’ve long felt that what distinguishes the Academy Awards from the honors bestowed at other ceremonies, such as the Golden Globes, is the participation of Hollywood itself: the notion that the Oscars represent the American film industry’s idealized image of itself, the work that it collectively chooses to put forth as the best that it has to offer. On the basis of this notion, the Oscars have an element of interest and significance that extends far beyond the ballyhoo and the choices, however misguided.
When the Academy was founded, in 1927, its purpose wasn’t to give awards but to mediate disputes, and thereby preclude the formation of unions in the film industry. The awards were an afterthought—the first ones were announced in 1929. The Academy’s founding thirty-six members were all employed and active in the film business at the time (and its ranks soon expanded to two hundred and thirty). Of course, the business was different then. It was a new industry, too new to count many retirees at all. Also, it wasn’t, for the most part, a freelance industry but one in which artists and other staff tended to be under contract. In the intervening years, the studio system collapsed; most actors, directors, and technicians now work freelance, from film to film, thus leaving in doubt the notion of present-tense employment. (Those who are between projects are still working—but what of those who are “between projects”?) In the interest of diversifying its membership, the Academy has grown by nearly fifty per cent in the past three years; it now has approximately nine thousand members, of whom thirty-two per cent are female and sixteen per cent are people of color.
As reported by Kristopher Tapley, in Variety, the Academy initially treated membership as a lifetime tenure, but it changed its bylaws in 1970, to reserve voting for people who were working in the field. Yet the Academy hardly enforced any such rules, and, in 2016, when it announced plans to do so, and thereby put long-nonworking members on an inactive list, the outcry was extreme, with one long-inactive member ludicrously likening the proposal to a Nazi euthanasia program. Soon thereafter, the Academy drastically backtracked, explicitly restoring the notion of lifetime voting privileges for many members and excluding retirement as grounds for non-voting status.
The Academy is wrong. Enforcing an inactive list, and doing so stringently, is exactly what the Academy ought to do. No member should ever lose membership on the basis of inactivity—but voting should be limited to those who have worked in the business in some significant capacity in the past five years. I don’t believe that the quality of the nominations and the awards will improve by the sheer fact of excluding the votes of members who are not working. The point is not to diminish the ranks of older voters; relatively younger ones would be affected, too. I have no reason to suspect that these people—whether older or younger—have worse taste or narrower perspectives than do those who are active in the film industry. Busy people of any age have no monopoly on sound judgment. However, winnowing the votes to center the Oscars on those who are currently in the field, rather than including the voices of those who merely at some time in the past worked on movies, would restore to the Academy its primordial significance: the current-day industry’s image of itself. At the very least, Hollywood—the Hollywood of today—will have to own up to its awards, face up to its judgments, and not hand-wave away the selection of such movies as “Green Book” and “1917” on the grounds of weird rules.
With a reduction of votes to a voting body of members presently or very recently working, the Academy will appear not merely symbolically representative of the industry but literally so. That’s where the limit on voting would have an effect—a psychological one—on those who are currently working. Would the Academy’s more exemplary role influence these voters’ choices? I should hope so. Currently, with many nonworking members exerting influence over the results, the nominations and awards are decided by people who have little personal stake in the outcome.
Who more than movie people, or artists at large, are alert to the effect that their ideas, their statements, their judgments have on those who pay attention to them? There’s something assertive, declarative, polemical about awards; they’re criticism in action. Votes by those removed from the state of the art and the business are the equivalent of social-media judgments flung from behind a mask of anonymity. At the moment, the Oscars reflect the Academy, but the Academy reflects nothing but its august name; plausible deniability and the shunning of responsibility are built into the current system. Paradoxically, counting only votes from members with a stake in the image of the industry put forth by the industry would cast onto the Oscars the sharp light of accountability, would be, in effect, a truth-in-awards program. It would be a severe test, rendering the Academy and its prizes an instant relevance—neither more nor less than that of Hollywood itself.
Read All of Our 2020 Oscar Spotlights:
The Academy is still navigating its place in Hollywood’s perennial tug-of-war between art and commerce.
All five directors’ movies are unmistakable in atmosphere: this one gritty and blood-spattered, that one sunny and blood-spattered. Come to think of it, they’re all blood-spattered.
It’s the rare year in which the men’s races feel juicier than the women’s.
Prognosticators will tell you that Renée Zellweger has the best-actress category in the bag, but there is always the chance of an upset.
Hollywood is notorious for its disregard of the art of screenwriting, so it’s some consolation that writing gets twice as many Oscars categories as directing does.


newyorker--2020-01-15--When Will Australia’s Prime Minister Accept the Reality of the Climate Crisis?

When Prime Minister Scott Morrison took Australia ’ s top office , in August , 2018 , the leadership of his predecessor , Malcolm Turnbull , had been in question for months , if not years , by his coalition of right-leaning National and Liberal parties .
But the final blow came after Turnbull supported a national energy plan that would have moderately reduced the power sector ’ s reliance on fossil fuels , thereby cutting greenhouse-gas emissions and mitigating global climate change .
In an attempt to save himself , at the eleventh hour , Turnbull backed off enshrining @ @ @ @ @ @ @ it was too late .
Morrison was elected by Liberal lawmakers in a backroom coup , and quickly declared that Turnbull ’ s energy plan was dead .
His commitment to fossil fuels was already well known .
As recently as 2017 , when he was Australia ’ s treasurer—and when , according to the International Energy Agency , Australia exported more coal than any other country in the world—he brought a lump of coal to Parliament and presented it to his fellow-members as if they were primary-school students .
“ This is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ !
Don ’ t be scared !
Won ’ t hurt you , ” he said .
He did not mention that the coal had been shellacked to prevent his hands from getting dirty .
Morrison ’ s tenure as Prime Minister has since been marked by his refusal to acknowledge the scientifically confirmed link between the fossil-fuel industry and climate change .
Through the remainder of 2018 , a severe drought and record-setting heat waves led hundreds of thousands of flying foxes to fall dead from the sky .
That year , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , among many other terrifying climate impacts , that the Great Barrier Reef will die entirely if warming exceeds 1.5 degrees Celsius .
( Already it has seen extensive coral bleaching and death . )
The spring of 2019 was Australia ’ s driest on record .
But , instead of changing his stance , Morrison championed a pro-fossil-fuel policy that included plans for a new coal-fired power plant , and the allocation of ten million dollars toward a study assessing whether to revive a decommissioned coal plant in Queensland .
The Labor @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on a platform of greater climate action , including more aggressive emissions-reductions targets .
No one expected Morrison to win reëlection ; polls suggested that a majority of voters were concerned about climate change .
But low turnout and apathy due , in part , to the generally unstable nature of Australian politics—no Prime Minister has lasted a full term in more than a decade—contributed to a surprise victory for Morrison , in May of 2019 .
On Election Night , he told a crowd , “ I have always believed in miracles.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ that coal “ won ’ t hurt you , ” when , of course , it will .
Coal is the dirtiest , most carbon-intensive fossil fuel .
Shutting down all coal-power plants is imperative to limiting increases in global temperature , and eliminating coal , especially in O.E.C.D .
countries like Australia , is the lowest-hanging fruit in the transition to renewable energy .
( According to one report , O.E.C.D .
countries could conceivably end coal use entirely by 2030 . )
There is widespread scientific consensus that the increase in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ average of 1.1 degrees Celsius—has contributed to Australia ’ s terrifying , devastating fire season , by creating ever drier and hotter conditions .
But , as recently as November , Morrison threatened to outlaw climate activism , a day after protests at a mining conference in Melbourne led to skirmishes with police .
“ We are working to identify serious mechanisms , ” Morrison said , “ that can successfully outlaw these indulgent and selfish practices that threaten the livelihoods of fellow-Australians.
” In December , the country reached its highest national @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hovering around a hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit .
These conditions quickly created a hellscape of devastating bushfires that continue with no end in sight .
Thousands of homes have been turned to ash , several towns have been obliterated , and twenty-eight people have died .
Smoke from the fire has blanketed cities .
In December , the air quality in Sydney was eleven times the hazardous level ; on New Year ’ s Day , in Australia ’ s capital , Canberra , where Morrison lives in the official Prime Minister @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lodge , the air quality was more than twenty-five times the hazardous level .
Residents were advised to stay indoors .
The fires have killed as many as a billion animals , too , wiping out a third of the koalas in New South Wales , and possibly putting some species dangerously close to extinction , including the eastern bristlebird , the southern corroboree frog , and the mountain pygmy possum .
The fires have been so hot , and so widespread ( megafires were created when two fires joined ) , that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ including uncontrollable fire tornadoes , formed when spinning winds build massive columns of fires , ash , vapor , and debris .
Areas that almost never burn , including rain forests home to rare , endemic species , have alighted .
Even Australian climate scientists , who have known for years that global heating would increase the severity of the bushfire season , have been horrified by the fires ’ scale .
Virginia Young , an Australian forest expert , told the Washington Post that she believes the country is on the verge @ @ @ @ @ @ @ The Australian government , with Morrison at the helm , has not handled the crisis well .
Morrison ignored requests from a group of former firefighters for a meeting last spring , in which they planned to warn him of the need for more water bombers .
In December , despite the increasing intensity and speed at which many bushfires were spreading , he took a holiday to Hawaii , only prompted to return early after the death of two volunteer firemen .
During his first day back in the office , he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was still considering new coal-fired power plants .
“ You need the whole mix , ” he said .
“ I am quite agnostic , just as long as it is reliable and cheaper.
” He added , “ There ’ ll be lots of shouting noises elsewhere , but I tend to listen to those quiet , still voices.
” He has been heckled on visits to towns that were destroyed , with residents and firefighters refusing to shake his hand .
While touring the town of Cobargo , a town that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that he should be “ ashamed of himself , ” that he had “ left the country to burn.
” On Friday , hundreds of thousands of Australian citizens marched in the streets to protest his leadership , to oppose new coal mines—including the huge Carmichael coal mine , owned by India ’ s Adani Enterprises , which the federal government approved in June—and to demand policies that would reduce the nation ’ s fossil-fuel emissions .
They chanted “ Scomo has got to go , ” while online the mocking hashtag # @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his background working in marketing , including a stint as the managing director of Tourism Australia .
Morrison was unmoved .
On Sunday , after another volunteer firefighter had died overnight , Morrison , in an in-depth interview with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation , called this bushfire season , and the changing climate , “ the new normal , ” but gave no indication that he would change his policy stance and transition away from fossil fuels .
Instead , he called for a high-level inquiry into the government ’ s response to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is an easy way to make it seem like he cares without actually doing anything .
He also emphasized prevention and adaptation measures to deal with the impacts .
“ It isn ’ t just restricted to bushfires , ” he said .
“ It deals with floods .
It deals with cyclones .
It deals with the drought , which is affected by these broader issues .
Adaptation and resilience is key to that .
Building dams is key to that .
Native-vegetation management is key to that .
Land clearing is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ build homes is key to that.
” He added , “ That is as much a climate-change response as emissions reduction.
” Although it ’ s true that adaptation is necessary and urgent , it absolutely can not be all that any government does to prevent the worst effects of climate change .
For now , it seems , Australia will remain reliant on coal .
On Wednesday , Morrison told reporters in Canberra , “ Our resources industry is incredibly important to Australia.
” The country remains the world ’ s second-largest @ @ @ @ @ @ @ used to make electricity ) , after Indonesia .
In 2018 , the country sent two hundred million metric tons , worth twenty-six billion dollars , to China , Japan , and other countries in Southeast Asia .
That number is declining slowly , as China increasingly relies on its own domestic production , and both China and Japan move away from dirty coal .
But Australia still also gets a third of its own electricity from coal-power plants , making it one of the world ’ s largest carbon emitters per capita @ @ @ @ @ @ @ partly responsible , at the United Nations climate talks in December , for blocking negotiations on policies designed to advance global climate goals .
If countries like Australia continue to act like a dead weight on the energy transition , then all the adaptations Morrison mentioned—the entirety of his “ climate-change response ” —will be virtually inconsequential .
Warming will continue unabated , and great swaths of that continent , and the rest of the planet , will become uninhabitable .
Tragedies like these bushfires can no longer be considered natural disasters .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ funeral for Geoffrey Keaton , one of the firefighters who had died on the job .
At a press conference afterward , he was asked about his climate policies .
“ This is a natural disaster , ” he said .
“ We can not control the natural disaster , but what we can do is control our response .
”

When Prime Minister Scott Morrison took Australia’s top office, in August, 2018, the leadership of his predecessor, Malcolm Turnbull, had been in question for months, if not years, by his coalition of right-leaning National and Liberal parties. But the final blow came after Turnbull supported a national energy plan that would have moderately reduced the power sector’s reliance on fossil fuels, thereby cutting greenhouse-gas emissions and mitigating global climate change. In an attempt to save himself, at the eleventh hour, Turnbull backed off enshrining any emissions reductions into law, but it was too late. Morrison was elected by Liberal lawmakers in a backroom coup, and quickly declared that Turnbull’s energy plan was dead. His commitment to fossil fuels was already well known. As recently as 2017, when he was Australia’s treasurer—and when, according to the International Energy Agency, Australia exported more coal than any other country in the world—he brought a lump of coal to Parliament and presented it to his fellow-members as if they were primary-school students. “This is coal. Don’t be afraid! Don’t be scared! Won’t hurt you,” he said. He did not mention that the coal had been shellacked to prevent his hands from getting dirty.
Morrison’s tenure as Prime Minister has since been marked by his refusal to acknowledge the scientifically confirmed link between the fossil-fuel industry and climate change. Through the remainder of 2018, a severe drought and record-setting heat waves led tens of thousands of flying foxes to fall dead from the sky. That year, the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change found, among many other terrifying climate impacts, that the Great Barrier Reef will die entirely if warming exceeds 1.5 degrees Celsius. (Already it has seen extensive coral bleaching and death.) The spring of 2019 was Australia’s driest on record. But, instead of changing his stance, Morrison championed a pro-fossil-fuel policy that included plans for a new coal-fired power plant, and the allocation of ten million dollars toward a study assessing whether to revive a decommissioned coal plant in Queensland. The Labor party, meanwhile, campaigned against him on a platform of greater climate action, including more aggressive emissions-reductions targets. No one expected Morrison to win reëlection; polls suggested that a majority of voters were concerned about climate change. But low turnout and apathy due, in part, to the generally unstable nature of Australian politics—no Prime Minister has lasted a full term in more than a decade—contributed to a surprise victory for Morrison, in May of 2019. On Election Night, he told a crowd, “I have always believed in miracles.”
Perhaps that is why Morrison insisted that coal “won’t hurt you,” when, of course, it will. Coal is the dirtiest, most carbon-intensive fossil fuel. Shutting down all coal-power plants is imperative to limiting increases in global temperature, and eliminating coal, especially in O.E.C.D. countries like Australia, is the lowest-hanging fruit in the transition to renewable energy. (According to one report, O.E.C.D. countries could conceivably end coal use entirely by 2030.) There is widespread scientific consensus that the increase in temperatures that we have already seen—a global average of 1.1 degrees Celsius—has contributed to Australia’s terrifying, devastating fire season, by creating ever drier and hotter conditions. But, as recently as November, Morrison threatened to outlaw climate activism, a day after protests at a mining conference in Melbourne led to skirmishes with police. “We are working to identify serious mechanisms,” Morrison said, “that can successfully outlaw these indulgent and selfish practices that threaten the livelihoods of fellow-Australians.”
In December, the country reached its highest national average temperature ever, with some places hovering around a hundred and fifteen degrees Fahrenheit. These conditions quickly created a hellscape of devastating bushfires that continue with no end in sight. Thousands of homes have been turned to ash, several towns have been obliterated, and twenty-eight people have died. Smoke from the fire has blanketed cities. In December, the air quality in Sydney was eleven times the hazardous level; on New Year’s Day, in Australia’s capital, Canberra, where Morrison lives in the official Prime Minister’s residence, known as the Lodge, the air quality was more than twenty-five times the hazardous level. Residents were advised to stay indoors. The fires have killed as many as a billion animals, too, wiping out a third of the koalas in New South Wales, and possibly putting some species dangerously close to extinction, including the eastern bristlebird, the southern corroboree frog, and the mountain pygmy possum. The fires have been so hot, and so widespread (megafires were created when two fires joined), that they have generated their own weather, including uncontrollable fire tornadoes, formed when spinning winds build massive columns of fires, ash, vapor, and debris. Areas that almost never burn, including rain forests home to rare, endemic species, have alighted. Even Australian climate scientists, who have known for years that global heating would increase the severity of the bushfire season, have been horrified by the fires’ scale. Virginia Young, an Australian forest expert, told the Washington Post that she believes the country is on the verge of a “major ecological shift.”
The Australian government, with Morrison at the helm, has not handled the crisis well. Morrison ignored requests from a group of former firefighters for a meeting last spring, in which they planned to warn him of the need for more water bombers. In December, despite the increasing intensity and speed at which many bushfires were spreading, he took a holiday to Hawaii, only prompted to return early after the death of two volunteer firemen. During his first day back in the office, he told a Sydney radio station that he was still considering new coal-fired power plants. “You need the whole mix,” he said. “I am quite agnostic, just as long as it is reliable and cheaper.” He added, “There’ll be lots of shouting noises elsewhere, but I tend to listen to those quiet, still voices.” He has been heckled on visits to towns that were destroyed, with residents and firefighters refusing to shake his hand. While touring Cobargo, a town that was scorched, a protester told Morrison that he should be “ashamed of himself,” that he had “left the country to burn.” On Friday, tens of thousands of Australian citizens marched in the streets to protest his leadership, to oppose new coal mines—including the huge Carmichael coal mine, owned by India’s Adani Enterprises, which the federal government approved in June—and to demand policies that would reduce the nation’s fossil-fuel emissions. They chanted “Scomo has got to go,” while online the mocking hashtag #scottyfrommarketing was trending, a reference to his background working in marketing, including a stint as the managing director of Tourism Australia.
Morrison was unmoved. On Sunday, after another volunteer firefighter had died overnight, Morrison, in an in-depth interview with the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, called this bushfire season, and the changing climate, “the new normal” but gave no indication that he would change his policy stance and transition away from fossil fuels. Instead, he called for a high-level inquiry into the government’s response to the fires, what some observers said is an easy way to make it seem like he cares without actually doing anything. He also emphasized prevention and adaptation measures to deal with the impacts. “It isn’t just restricted to bushfires,” he said. “It deals with floods. It deals with cyclones. It deals with the drought, which is affected by these broader issues. Adaptation and resilience is key to that. Building dams is key to that. Native-vegetation management is key to that. Land clearing is key to that. Where you can build homes is key to that.” He added, “That is as much a climate-change response as emissions reduction.” Although it’s true that adaptation is necessary and urgent, it absolutely cannot be all that any government does to prevent the worst effects of climate change.
For now, it seems, Australia will remain reliant on coal. On Wednesday, Morrison told reporters in Canberra, “Our resources industry is incredibly important to Australia.” The country remains the world’s second-largest exporter of thermal coal (the kind used to make electricity), after Indonesia. In 2018, the country sent two hundred million metric tons, worth twenty-six billion dollars, to China, Japan, and other countries in Southeast Asia. That number is declining slowly, as China increasingly relies on its own domestic production, and both China and Japan move away from dirty coal. But Australia still also gets a third of its own electricity from coal-power plants, making it one of the world’s largest carbon emitters per capita, and Morrison’s government was partly responsible, at the United Nations climate talks in December, for blocking negotiations on policies designed to advance global climate goals. If countries like Australia continue to act like a dead weight on the energy transition, then all the adaptations Morrison mentioned—the entirety of his “climate-change response”—will be virtually inconsequential. Warming will continue unabated, and great swaths of that continent, and the rest of the planet, will become uninhabitable. Tragedies like these bushfires can no longer be considered natural disasters. On January 2nd, Morrison attended the funeral for Geoffrey Keaton, one of the firefighters who had died on the job. At a press conference afterward, he was asked about his climate policies. “This is a natural disaster,” he said. “We cannot control the natural disaster, but what we can do is control our response.”
A previous version of this piece misstated the number of protesters against Morrison.


newyorker--2020-01-15--What to Make of the Dispute Between Warren and Sanders at the Democratic Debate?

One of the stranger moments in Tuesday night ’ s Democratic Presidential debate , in Des Moines , came during an exchange between one of the moderators , Abby Phillip , of CNN , and Senator Elizabeth Warren , of Massachusetts .
The backdrop was a dispute between Warren and Senator Bernie Sanders , of Vermont , about what Sanders had said to Warren at a private dinner that the two of them had in December , 2018 , when both were on the verge of entering the Presidential race .
On Monday , CNN ran a story , attributed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ with the meeting or had spoken to Warren soon after it , claiming that Sanders had told her that a woman could not win the Presidential election .
That would , of course , be the kind of undermining , sexist thing that women with ambitions hear all the time .
But Sanders strongly denied that he had said it .
In fact , he said in a statement , it was “ ludicrous ” to think that he would tell Warren such a thing ; instead , the statement read , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that Donald Trump is a sexist , a racist and a liar who would weaponize whatever he could.
” ( That is almost a truism . )
Sanders added that it must be that “ staff who weren ’ t in the room are lying about what happened.
” This inference was , at least , undiplomatic and , perhaps , reckless .
( There is a concurrent dispute about whether people on Sanders ’ s staff had coached volunteers to suggest to voters that Warren ’ s appeal was narrow and concentrated @ @ @ @ @ @ @ people.
” ) Warren then came out with her own statement , which included this description of what each of them had said in the December meeting : “ I thought a woman could win ; he disagreed.
” Neither of them left much room for the possibility that the truth was somewhere in between , or that , for example , Sanders might have sent a message that went beyond his words .
Neither did CNN .
Phillip simply asked Sanders , “ Why did you say that ?
” “ Well @ @ @ @ @ @ @ I didn ’ t say it , ” Sanders replied .
“ And I don ’ t want to waste a whole lot of time on this , because this is what Donald Trump and maybe some of the media want .
Anybody knows me knows that it ’ s incomprehensible that I would think that a woman can not be President of the United States.
” He cited a raft of evidence , including statements he had made decades ago , his own willingness to defer to Warren if she had decided @ @ @ @ @ @ @ 2016 , and Hillary Clinton ’ s popular-vote victory that year ( when , after losing the Democratic nomination , he vigorously campaigned for her ) .
The expression on Warren ’ s face as he spoke—CNN went with a split screen—was one of studied indifference punctuated by brief sidelong glances that seemed to convey bemusement .
“ Senator Sanders , I do want to be clear here , ” Phillip said .
“ You ’ re saying that you never told Senator Warren that a woman could not win the election ?
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ correct.
” Phillip , without missing a beat , said , “ Senator Warren , what did you think when Senator Sanders told you a woman could not win the election ?
” It was as though he hadn ’ t denied it , or as if there were no need to grapple with a different view .
The audience , anyway , laughed , and Warren , after a flash of a smile , said , “ I disagreed.
” With that , she closed the loop of a story in which @ @ @ @ @ @ @ unquestioned fact .
It was not Warren ’ s job , of course , to be conciliatory , when Sanders himself had said that her account was false .
He might also have allowed for more ambiguity and wondered , for example , whether the effect of his words had been very different from what he ’ d intended ; he can be inflexible .
At the same time , his acknowledgement that he did speak about the particular challenges a woman would face went part of the way toward a middle ground @ @ @ @ @ @ @ shut off .
After noting that she wasn ’ t there to “ fight with Bernie , ” who , she said , is a friend , Warren spoke in spirited terms about how women can and do win—and ended up in another odd tiff with Sanders .
“ So , can a woman beat Donald Trump ?
” Warren asked .
“ Look at the men on this stage .
Collectively , they have lost ten elections .
The only people on this stage who have won every single election that they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ : Amy and me.
” “ So true !
” Senator Amy Klobuchar , of Minnesota , said .
In Klobuchar ’ s case , that includes two victories in races for the Hennepin County Attorney and three for the Senate , in a purple state .
Warren has won twice , for the Senate , the first office she sought .
She seems to have arrived at the number of losses for the men by including the former Vice-President Joe Biden ’ s two failed Presidential runs .
( He hasn ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ one for the County Council in Delaware , in 1970 , which he followed with seven Senate victories and two as Barack Obama ’ s running mate . )
Tom Steyer , the businessman who is still , somehow , in the race , has never won or lost an election .
Warren also seemed to tally not only Pete Buttigieg ’ s failed run for state treasurer of Indiana , in 2010 , but also his unsuccessful bid to become chair of the Democratic National Committee ; he was elected mayor of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ gay before his reëlection .
The balance of the ten seems to consist of six Sanders losses : five , in the nineteen-seventies and eighties , as a third-party or independent candidate for various offices in Vermont and the one to Clinton .
Warren had another number to throw out : “ And the only person on this stage who has beaten an incumbent Republican any time in the past thirty years is me.
” ( Perhaps that was meant to emphasize that she has an edge over Klobuchar . )
Sanders corrected @ @ @ @ @ @ @ incumbent , too .
“ That ’ s how I won , beat a Republican congressman.
” This is true ; in 1990 , Sanders , who was then the mayor of Burlington and openly socialist , ran for Congress , as an independent , and won—defeating the Democratic nominee , too .
Warren wasn ’ t having it .
“ Wasn ’ t it thirty years ago ?
” she said firmly .
She added , “ I said I was the only one who ’ d beaten an incumbent Republican in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Well , thirty years ago is 1990 , as a matter of fact.
” He was right about the math ; the election of 1990 was on November 6th , twenty-nine years and a couple of months ago .
But , in the blur of the debate , it might have struck some viewers that he wasn ’ t listening to Warren , or was spuriously correcting her , or maybe just that he was old , winning an election before many of them had been born .
( He is seventy-eight ; @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the small but perhaps telling matter of whether Warren slipped in the “ thirty years ” to exclude that election , and whether she or her staff got the math wrong or just figured that it was close enough for cable and Twitter .
Little in this exchange bodes well for Democratic unity .
After the debate ended , Warren either did not register or declined Sanders ’ s outstretched hand ; they exchanged words that were not picked up by the microphones , but their demeanor did not telegraph conciliation .
Previously @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have been in synch , and they still are in terms of their larger policy goals .
At the Democratic debate in October , Warren described tax plans as an expression of “ values , ” then said , “ My question is not , Why do Bernie and I support a wealth tax .
It ’ s , Why is it—does everyone else on this stage think it is more important to protect billionaires than it is to invest in an entire generation of Americans ?
” Klobuchar had the strongest response @ @ @ @ @ @ @ an accusation of bad faith on the part of Warren ’ s opponents .
“ I want to give a reality check here to Elizabeth , because no one on this stage wants to protect billionaires .
Not even the billionaire wants to protect billionaires !
” ( She meant Steyer . )
Klobuchar continued , “ We just have different approaches .
Your idea is not the only idea.
” Whatever one thinks of Klobuchar ’ s tax plan , or about her and Warren ’ s passion for addressing inequality—or , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and dismissiveness that women face at every level of politics , including , at times , from people who imagine themselves as their allies—there is an undercurrent in Warren ’ s rhetoric that some Democrats might well be wary of .
The Iowa primary is on February 3rd .
The Real Clear Politics polling average puts Biden and Sanders in an effective tie for first place , followed by Buttigieg and then Warren .
But they are within a few points of one another .
( Klobuchar is holding on , in the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , no doubt , have been listening to what the candidates have to say about a dozen other issues that were covered at the debate .
Some were examined in depth , such as the misuse of dated authorizations for the use of military force , and the pros and cons of the United States-Mexico-Canada trade agreement .
One issue that received surprisingly little attention was impeachment , which the moderators turned to toward the end of the debate , even though Trump ’ s Senate trial will begin in the coming days @ @ @ @ @ @ @ will , as senators , serve as jurors weighing the President ’ s guilt .
And , on that verdict , they are bound to agree .

One of the stranger moments in Tuesday night’s Democratic Presidential debate, in Des Moines, came during an exchange between one of the moderators, Abby Phillip, of CNN, and Senator Elizabeth Warren, of Massachusetts. The backdrop was a dispute between Warren and Senator Bernie Sanders, of Vermont, about what Sanders had said to Warren at a private dinner that the two of them had in December, 2018, when both were on the verge of entering the Presidential race. On Monday, CNN ran a story, attributed to people who were “familiar” with the meeting or had spoken to Warren soon after it, claiming that Sanders had told her that a woman could not win the Presidential election.
That would, of course, be the kind of undermining, sexist thing that women with ambitions hear all the time. But Sanders strongly denied that he had said it. In fact, he said in a statement, it was “ludicrous” to think that he would tell Warren such a thing; instead, the statement read, “What I did say that night was that Donald Trump is a sexist, a racist and a liar who would weaponize whatever he could.” (That is almost a truism.) Sanders added that it must be that “staff who weren’t in the room are lying about what happened.” This inference was, at least, undiplomatic and, perhaps, reckless. (There is a concurrent dispute about whether people on Sanders’s staff had coached volunteers to suggest to voters that Warren’s appeal was narrow and concentrated among “highly educated, more affluent people.”) Warren then came out with her own statement, which included this description of what each of them had said in the December meeting: “I thought a woman could win; he disagreed.” Neither of them left much room for the possibility that the truth was somewhere in between, or that, for example, Sanders might have sent a message that went beyond his words.
Neither did CNN. Phillip simply asked Sanders, “Why did you say that?” “Well, as a matter of fact, I didn’t say it,” Sanders replied. “And I don’t want to waste a whole lot of time on this, because this is what Donald Trump and maybe some of the media want. Anybody knows me knows that it’s incomprehensible that I would think that a woman cannot be President of the United States.” He cited a raft of evidence, including statements he had made decades ago, his own willingness to defer to Warren if she had decided to run for the White House in 2016, and Hillary Clinton’s popular-vote victory that year (when, after losing the Democratic nomination, he vigorously campaigned for her). The expression on Warren’s face as he spoke—CNN went with a split screen—was one of studied indifference punctuated by brief sidelong glances that seemed to convey bemusement.
“Senator Sanders, I do want to be clear here,” Phillip said. “You’re saying that you never told Senator Warren that a woman could not win the election?” He replied, “That is correct.” Phillip, without missing a beat, said, “Senator Warren, what did you think when Senator Sanders told you a woman could not win the election?” It was as though he hadn’t denied it, or as if there were no need to grapple with a different view. The audience, anyway, laughed, and Warren, after a flash of a smile, said, “I disagreed.” With that, she closed the loop of a story in which her version of the meeting was an unquestioned fact.
It was not Warren’s job, of course, to be conciliatory, when Sanders himself had said that her account was false. He might also have allowed for more ambiguity and wondered, for example, whether the effect of his words had been very different from what he’d intended; he can be inflexible. At the same time, his acknowledgement that he did speak about the particular challenges a woman would face went part of the way toward a middle ground and offered Warren an opening that she shut off.
After noting that she wasn’t there to “fight with Bernie,” who, she said, is a friend, Warren spoke in spirited terms about how women can and do win—and ended up in another odd tiff with Sanders. “So, can a woman beat Donald Trump?” Warren asked. “Look at the men on this stage. Collectively, they have lost ten elections. The only people on this stage who have won every single election that they’ve been in are the women: Amy and me.”
“So true!” Senator Amy Klobuchar, of Minnesota, said. In Klobuchar’s case, that includes two victories in races for the Hennepin County Attorney and three for the Senate, in a purple state. Warren has won twice, for the Senate, the first office she sought. She seems to have arrived at the number of losses for the men by including the former Vice-President Joe Biden’s two failed Presidential runs. (He hasn’t lost any other races since winning one for the County Council in Delaware, in 1970, which he followed with seven Senate victories and two as Barack Obama’s running mate.) Tom Steyer, the businessman who is still, somehow, in the race, has never won or lost an election. Warren also seemed to tally not only Pete Buttigieg’s failed run for state treasurer of Indiana, in 2010, but also his unsuccessful bid to become chair of the Democratic National Committee; he was elected mayor of South Bend twice and came out as gay before his reëlection. The balance of the ten seems to consist of six Sanders losses: five, in the nineteen-seventies and eighties, as a third-party or independent candidate for various offices in Vermont and the one to Clinton.
Warren had another number to throw out: “And the only person on this stage who has beaten an incumbent Republican any time in the past thirty years is me.” (Perhaps that was meant to emphasize that she has an edge over Klobuchar.) Sanders corrected her: he had beaten a Republican incumbent, too. “That’s how I won, beat a Republican congressman.” This is true; in 1990, Sanders, who was then the mayor of Burlington and openly socialist, ran for Congress, as an independent, and won—defeating the Democratic nominee, too.
Warren wasn’t having it. “Wasn’t it thirty years ago?” she said firmly. She added, “I said I was the only one who’d beaten an incumbent Republican in thirty years.” Sanders replied, “Well, thirty years ago is 1990, as a matter of fact.” He was right about the math; the election of 1990 was on November 6th, twenty-nine years and a couple of months ago. But, in the blur of the debate, it might have struck some viewers that he wasn’t listening to Warren, or was spuriously correcting her, or maybe just that he was old, winning an election before many of them had been born. (He is seventy-eight; Warren is seventy.) That misses the small but perhaps telling matter of whether Warren slipped in the “thirty years” to exclude that election, and whether she or her staff got the math wrong or just figured that it was close enough for cable and Twitter. Little in this exchange bodes well for Democratic unity. After the debate ended, Warren either did not register or declined Sanders’s outstretched hand; they exchanged words that were not picked up by the microphones, but their demeanor did not telegraph conciliation.
Previously, of course, Warren and Sanders have been in synch, and they still are in terms of their larger policy goals. At the Democratic debate in October, Warren described tax plans as an expression of “values,” then said, “My question is not, Why do Bernie and I support a wealth tax? It’s, Why is it—does everyone else on this stage think it is more important to protect billionaires than it is to invest in an entire generation of Americans?” Klobuchar had the strongest response to what was, in effect, an accusation of bad faith on the part of Warren’s opponents. “I want to give a reality check here to Elizabeth, because no one on this stage wants to protect billionaires. Not even the billionaire wants to protect billionaires!” (She meant Steyer.) Klobuchar continued, “We just have different approaches. Your idea is not the only idea.” Whatever one thinks of Klobuchar’s tax plan, or about her and Warren’s passion for addressing inequality—or, for that matter, about the scorn and dismissiveness that women face at every level of politics, including, at times, from people who imagine themselves as their allies—there is an undercurrent in Warren’s rhetoric that some Democrats might well be wary of.
The Iowa primary is on February 3rd. The Real Clear Politics polling average puts Biden and Sanders in an effective tie for first place, followed by Buttigieg and then Warren. But they are within a few points of one another. (Klobuchar is holding on, in the high single digits.) Iowans will, no doubt, have been listening to what the candidates have to say about a dozen other issues that were covered at the debate. Some were examined in depth, such as the misuse of dated authorizations for the use of military force, and the pros and cons of the United States-Mexico-Canada trade agreement. One issue that received surprisingly little attention was impeachment, which the moderators turned to toward the end of the debate, even though Trump’s Senate trial will begin in the coming days. Sanders, Warren, and Klobuchar will, as senators, serve as jurors weighing the President’s guilt. And, on that verdict, they are bound to agree.


newyorker--2020-01-15--Spinning in Des Moines After the Democratic Debate

Maybe it was the blood-red carpet laid down for the occasion , but the “ spin room ” that followed the Democratic debate in Des Moines , on Tuesday night , was a surprisingly muted place .
The room—not a room , actually , but half of the requisitioned gymnasium that CNN , the debate ’ s co-host , had borrowed from Drake University—was filled with journalists both milling about and ready to pounce .
In one corner , CNN ’ s post-debate panel sat in a semicircle of high chairs .
People on cable news always sound like they @ @ @ @ @ @ @ distance of only twenty yards or so , the panel ’ s conversation was only a murmur , and an observer could see only the gentle nodding of heads .
Last June , at the first primary debate of this cycle , in Miami , which took place over two nights , the spin rooms had been raucous .
Almost all of the then two dozen candidates , and their surrogates and spokespeople , had come out to face the breathless questions of packs of reporters .
I remember Elizabeth Warren being completely @ @ @ @ @ @ @ boom mikes .
That was when the campaign was still arguably new , and the possibilities were still arguably endless .
Now that the field is reduced to no more than half a dozen candidates , everyone at the debate site—candidates , staff , reporters—seemed to be quietly waiting for the voting to finally start .
On Tuesday night , many of the reporters had wandered over to the spin room from the adjacent filing center as the candidates were giving their closing statements .
( The press doesn ’ t sit in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a live feed from rows of tables kitted out with power strips and cards bearing Wi-Fi information . )
Few of them had seen the moment that was blowing up on Twitter and being analyzed on the networks : after the debate , Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders exchanged words but not a handshake before they left the stage .
Word of the moment was getting around quickly .
This week ’ s spat between Warren and Sanders—over what exactly he told her in 2018 about a woman candidate ’ s prospects in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ media obsession , even by people in that room .
But those people were talking about it anyway .
The news can be both big and small at the same time .
In the spin room , each of the six candidates had a volunteer holding a placard with their candidate ’ s name on it .
The crowd descended on Warren ’ s placard first , as Julián Castro , who until recently was himself running for President , came out to speak on behalf of the Massachusetts senator , whom he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ last year had been legitimately punchy .
After the September debate , one story line was whether Castro , who had appeared to take a jab at Joe Biden ’ s cognitive health , had been too mean .
In June , Kamala Harris had challenged Biden , too , on his record on race .
On Tuesday night , Castro did his best to keep things positive in his new role as campaign surrogate .
When someone asked about Warren ’ s plans to “ deëscalate this fight with Bernie Sanders , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ throughout this campaign has been focussed on what matters to families out there in our country .
She has been laser-focussed this entire campaign on the things that matter to every American family.
” A few feet away , Nina Turner , a former state senator from Ohio , who is one of Sanders ’ s most effective surrogates , had attracted her own small crowd .
She , too , seemed reluctant to discuss the confrontation between Sanders and Warren .
“ Go back and watch the clip , ” she said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ out .
You just shake your colleague ’ s hand .
But , again , we ’ re getting caught up on this.
” Three of Biden ’ s spokespeople were also out in the crowd : Kate Bedingfield , his deputy campaign manager ; Anita Dunn , who served a stretch as the interim White House communications director during the Obama Administration ; and Symone Sanders , the up-and-coming Washington operative who worked for Bernie Sanders during the 2016 cycle .
The three took turns offering their thoughts , nodding at one @ @ @ @ @ @ @ spent an uneventful night on stage , and they seemed content with that .
“ I think you heard him make very clear that , in a Biden Presidency , any trade agreement will have an eye toward labor protections , will have an eye toward environmental protection , but will be built around the idea that working people in this country should get a fair shake , ” Bedingfield said .
None of those three candidates—Biden , Sanders , Warren—made an appearance themselves .
The other three candidates—Amy Klobuchar , Pete Buttigieg @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Reporters thronged as the candidates walked from the CNN setup over to MSNBC ’ s booth , on the opposite wall .
Klobuchar stopped to speak for a bit after she spoke to CBS , but Steyer and Buttigieg seemed content to take in the attention .
Outside the room , leftists were fighting over how to parse the conflict between Warren and Sanders .
Some small amount of people on Twitter were busy tweeting snake emojis at Warren .
A larger group , on- and offline , was remembering that this long @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the range of Democratic Party thought , is going to end , very soon , with winners and losers .

Maybe it was the blood-red carpet laid down for the occasion, but the “spin room” that followed the Democratic debate in Des Moines, on Tuesday night, was a surprisingly muted place. The room—not a room, actually, but half of the requisitioned gymnasium that CNN, the debate’s co-host, had borrowed from Drake University—was filled with journalists both milling about and ready to pounce. In one corner, CNN’s post-debate panel sat in a semicircle of high chairs. People on cable news always sound like they’re shouting. But at a distance of only twenty yards or so, the panel’s conversation was only a murmur, and an observer could see only the gentle nodding of heads. Last June, at the first primary debate of this cycle, in Miami, which took place over two nights, the spin rooms had been raucous. Almost all of the then two dozen candidates, and their surrogates and spokespeople, had come out to face the breathless questions of packs of reporters. I remember Elizabeth Warren being completely swallowed in a swarm of cameras and boom mikes. That was when the campaign was still arguably new, and the possibilities were still arguably endless. Now that the field is reduced to no more than half a dozen candidates, everyone at the debate site—candidates, staff, reporters—seemed to be quietly waiting for the voting to finally start.
On Tuesday night, many of the reporters had wandered over to the spin room from the adjacent filing center as the candidates were giving their closing statements. (The press doesn’t sit in the actual debate hall; reporters watch a live feed from rows of tables kitted out with power strips and cards bearing Wi-Fi information.) Few of them had seen the moment that was blowing up on Twitter and being analyzed on the networks: after the debate, Elizabeth Warren and Bernie Sanders exchanged words but not a handshake before they left the stage. Word of the moment was getting around quickly. This week’s spat between Warren and Sanders—over what exactly he told her in 2018 about a woman candidate’s prospects in a Presidential race—was being dismissed as a media obsession, even by people in that room. But those people were talking about it anyway. The news can be both big and small at the same time.
In the spin room, each of the six candidates had a volunteer holding a placard with their candidate’s name on it. The crowd descended on Warren’s placard first, as Julián Castro, who until recently was himself running for President, came out to speak on behalf of the Massachusetts senator, whom he has endorsed. Some of the debates last year had been legitimately punchy. After the September debate, one story line was whether Castro, who had appeared to take a jab at Joe Biden’s cognitive health, had been too mean. In June, Kamala Harris had challenged Biden, too, on his record on race. On Tuesday night, Castro did his best to keep things positive in his new role as campaign surrogate. When someone asked about Warren’s plans to “deëscalate this fight with Bernie Sanders,” Castro replied, “Elizabeth Warren throughout this campaign has been focussed on what matters to families out there in our country. She has been laser-focussed this entire campaign on the things that matter to every American family.”
A few feet away, Nina Turner, a former state senator from Ohio, who is one of Sanders’s most effective surrogates, had attracted her own small crowd. She, too, seemed reluctant to discuss the confrontation between Sanders and Warren. “Go back and watch the clip,” she said. “Senator Sanders put his hand out. You just shake your colleague’s hand. But, again, we’re getting caught up on this.”
Three of Biden’s spokespeople were also out in the crowd: Kate Bedingfield, his deputy campaign manager; Anita Dunn, who served a stretch as the interim White House communications director during the Obama Administration; and Symone Sanders, the up-and-coming Washington operative who worked for Bernie Sanders during the 2016 cycle. The three took turns offering their thoughts, nodding at one another’s answers. Biden had spent an uneventful night on stage, and they seemed content with that. “I think you heard him make very clear that, in a Biden Presidency, any trade agreement will have an eye toward labor protections, will have an eye toward environmental protection, but will be built around the idea that working people in this country should get a fair shake,” Bedingfield said.
None of those three candidates—Biden, Sanders, Warren—made an appearance themselves. The other three candidates—Amy Klobuchar, Pete Buttigieg, Tom Steyer—did, sort of. Reporters thronged as the candidates walked from the CNN setup over to MSNBC’s booth, on the opposite wall. Klobuchar stopped to speak for a bit after she spoke to CBS, but Steyer and Buttigieg seemed content to take in the attention. Outside the room, leftists were fighting over how to parse the conflict between Warren and Sanders. Some small amount of people on Twitter were busy tweeting snake emojis at Warren. A larger group, on- and offline, was remembering that this long primary season, this long airing of the range of Democratic Party thought, is going to end, very soon, with winners and losers.