newyorker--2020-02-10--Yuval Noah Harari Gives the Really Big Picture

As a camera crew set up , Harari affably told Pinker , “ The default script is that you will be the optimist and I will be the pessimist .
But we can try and avoid this.
” They chatted about TV , and discovered a shared enthusiasm for “ Shtisel , ” an Israeli drama about an ultra-Orthodox family , and “ Veep.
” “ What else do you watch ?
” Harari asked .
Harari had earlier told me that he prefers TV to novels ; in a career now often focussed on ideas about narrative and interiority @ @ @ @ @ @ @ stop at the observation that “ fictions ” have remarkable power .
Over supper in Israel , he had noted that , in the Middle Ages , “ only what kings and queens did was important , and even then not everything they did , ” whereas novels are likely “ to tell you in detail about what some peasant did.
” Onstage , at YES , he had said , “ If we think about art as kind of playing on the human emotional keyboard , then I think A.I .
will @ @ @ @ @ @ @ taped conversation began .
Harari began to describe future tech intrusions , and Pinker , pushing back , referred to the ubiquitous “ telescreens ” that monitor citizens in Orwell ’ s “ 1984.
” Today , Pinker said , it would be a “ trivial ” task to install such devices : “ There could be , in every room , a government-operated camera .
They could have done that decades ago .
But they haven ’ t , certainly not in the West .
And so the question is : why @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the government didn ’ t have that much of an interest in doing it .
Partly because there would be enough resistance that , in a democracy , they couldn ’ t succeed.
” Harari said that , in the past , data generated by such devices could not have been processed ; the K.G.B .
could not have hired enough agents .
A.I .
removes this barrier .
“ This is not science fiction , ” he said .
“ This is happening in various parts of the world .
It ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s happening now in my home country , in Israel.
” “ What you ’ ve identified is some of the problems of totalitarian societies or occupying powers , ” Pinker said .
“ The key is how to prevent your society from being China.
” In response , Harari suggested that it might have been only an inability to process such data that had protected societies from authoritarianism .
He went on , “ Suddenly , totalitarian regimes could have a technological advantage over the democracies.
” Pinker said , “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ just in the very nature of reality .
It has always faced us—even with much simpler algorithms , of the kind you could do with paper and pencil.
” He noted that , for seventy years , psychologists have known that , in a medical setting , statistical decision-making outperforms human intuition .
Simple statistical models could have been widely used to offer diagnoses of disease , forecast job performance , and predict recidivism .
But humans had shown a willingness to ignore such models .
“ My view , as a historian @ @ @ @ @ @ @ t a long time , ” Harari said .
When I later spoke to Pinker , he said that he admired Harari ’ s avoidance of conventional wisdom , but added , “ When it comes down to it , he is a liberal secular humanist.
” Harari rejects the label , Pinker said , but there ’ s no doubt that Harari is an atheist , and that he “ believes in freedom of expression and the application of reason , and in human well-being as the ultimate criterion.
” Pinker said @ @ @ @ @ @ @ seems to want “ to be able to reject all categories.
” The next day , Harari and Yahav made a trip to Chernobyl and the abandoned city of Pripyat .
They invited a few other people , and hired a guide .
Yahav embraced a role of half-ironic worrier about health risks ; the guide tried to reassure him by giving him his dosimeter , which measures radiation levels .
When the device beeped , Yahav complained of a headache .
In the ruined Lenin Square in Pripyat , he told Harari @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to die on me .
We ’ ve discussed this—I ’ m going to die first .
I was smoking for years.
” Harari , whose work sometimes sounds regretful about most of what has happened since the Paleolithic era—in “ Sapiens , ” he writes that “ the forager economy provided most people with more interesting lives than agriculture or industry do ” —began the day by anticipating , happily , a glimpse of the world as it would be if “ humans destroyed themselves.
” Walking across Pripyat ’ s soccer @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , he remarked on how quickly things had gone “ back to normal.
” The guide asked if anyone had heard of Call of Duty : Modern Warfare—the video game , which includes a sequence set in Pripyat .
“ Just the most popular game in the world , ” the guide said .
At dusk , Harari and Yahav headed back to Kyiv , in a black Mercedes .
When Yahav sneezed , Harari said , “ It ’ s the radiation starting.
” As we drove through flat , forested countryside @ @ @ @ @ @ @ his hatred of chess ; his nationalist and religious periods .
He said , “ One thing I think about how humans work—the only thing that can replace one story is another story.
” We discussed the tall tales that occasionally appear in his writing .
In “ Homo Deus , ” Harari writes that , in 2014 , a Hong Kong venture-capital firm “ broke new ground by appointing an algorithm named VITAL to its board.
” A footnote provides a link to an online article , which makes clear that , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ such board appointment , and that the press release announcing it was a lure for “ gullible ” outlets .
When I asked Harari if he ’ d accidentally led readers into believing a fiction , he appeared untroubled , arguing that the book ’ s larger point about A.I .
encroachment still held .
In “ Sapiens , ” Harari writes in detail about a meeting in the desert between Apollo 11 astronauts and a Native American who dictated a message for them to take to the moon .
The message , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ have come to steal your lands.
” Harari ’ s text acknowledges that the story might be a “ legend.
” “ I don ’ t know if it ’ s a true story , ” Harari told me .
“ It doesn ’ t matter—it ’ s a good story.
” He rethought this .
“ It matters how you present it to the readers .
I think I took care to make sure that at least intelligent readers will understand that it maybe didn ’ t happen.
” ( The story @ @ @ @ @ @ @ monologue . )
Harari went on to say how much he ’ d liked writing an extended fictional passage , in “ Homo Deus , ” in which he imagines the belief system of a twelfth-century crusader .
It begins , “ Imagine a young English nobleman named John .
.
.
” Harari had been encouraged in this experiment , he said , by the example of classical historians , who were comfortable fabricating dialogue , and by “ The Hitchhiker ’ s Guide to the Galaxy , ” by Douglas Adams @ @ @ @ @ @ @ much good philosophy.
” No twentieth-century philosophical book besides “ Sources of the Self , ” by Charles Taylor , had influenced him more .
We were now on a cobbled street in Kyiv .
Harari said , “ Maybe the next book will be a novel.
” At a press conference in the city , Harari was asked a question by Hannah Hrabarska , a Ukrainian news photographer .
“ I can ’ t stop smiling , ” she began .
“ I ’ ve watched all your lectures , watched everything @ @ @ @ @ @ @ later .
She said that reading “ Sapiens ” had “ completely changed ” her life .
Hrabarska was born the week of the Chernobyl disaster , in 1986 .
“ When I was a child , I dreamed of being an artist , ” she said .
“ But then politics captured me.
” When the Orange Revolution began , in 2004 , she was eighteen , and “ so idealistic.
” She studied law and went into journalism .
In the winter of 2013-14 , she photographed the Euromaidan protests , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ hundred people were killed .
“ You always expect everything will change , will get better , ” she said .
“ And it doesn ’ t. ” Hrabarska read “ Sapiens ” three or four years ago .
She told me that she had previously read widely in history and philosophy , but none of that material had ever “ interested me on my core level.
” She found “ Sapiens ” overwhelming , particularly in its passages on prehistory , and in its larger revelation that she was “ one of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ and didn ’ t make any impact and didn ’ t leave any trace.
” Upon finishing the book , Hrabarska said , “ you kind of relax , don ’ t feel this pressure anymore—it ’ s O.K .
to be insignificant.
” For her , the discovery of “ Sapiens ” is that “ life is big , but only for me.
” This knowledge “ lets me own my life.
” Reading “ Sapiens ” had helped her become “ more compassionate ” toward people around her , although less @ @ @ @ @ @ @ also spent more time on creative photography projects .
She said , “ This came from a feeling of ‘ O.K.
, it doesn ’ t matter that much , I ’ m just a little human , no one cares.
’ ” Hrabarska has disengaged from politics .
“ I can choose to be involved , not to be involved , ” she said .
“ No one cares , and I don ’ t care , too.
” ♦

The taped conversation began. Harari began to describe future tech intrusions, and Pinker, pushing back, referred to the ubiquitous “telescreens” that monitor citizens in Orwell’s “1984.” Today, Pinker said, it would be a “trivial” task to install such devices: “There could be, in every room, a government-operated camera. They could have done that decades ago. But they haven’t, certainly not in the West. And so the question is: why didn’t they? Partly because the government didn’t have that much of an interest in doing it. Partly because there would be enough resistance that, in a democracy, they couldn’t succeed.”
Harari said that, in the past, data generated by such devices could not have been processed; the K.G.B. could not have hired enough agents. A.I. removes this barrier. “This is not science fiction,” he said. “This is happening in various parts of the world. It’s happening now in China. It’s happening now in my home country, in Israel.”
Cartoon by Paul Noth Copy link to cartoon Copy link to cartoon Shop Shop
“What you’ve identified is some of the problems of totalitarian societies or occupying powers,” Pinker said. “The key is how to prevent your society from being China.” In response, Harari suggested that it might have been only an inability to process such data that had protected societies from authoritarianism. He went on, “Suddenly, totalitarian regimes could have a technological advantage over the democracies.”
Pinker said, “The trade-off between efficiency and ethics is just in the very nature of reality. It has always faced us—even with much simpler algorithms, of the kind you could do with paper and pencil.” He noted that, for seventy years, psychologists have known that, in a medical setting, statistical decision-making outperforms human intuition. Simple statistical models could have been widely used to offer diagnoses of disease, forecast job performance, and predict recidivism. But humans had shown a willingness to ignore such models.
“My view, as a historian, is that seventy years isn’t a long time,” Harari said.
When I later spoke to Pinker, he said that he admired Harari’s avoidance of conventional wisdom, but added, “When it comes down to it, he is a liberal secular humanist.” Harari rejects the label, Pinker said, but there’s no doubt that Harari is an atheist, and that he “believes in freedom of expression and the application of reason, and in human well-being as the ultimate criterion.” Pinker said that, in the end, Harari seems to want “to be able to reject all categories.”
The next day, Harari and Yahav made a trip to Chernobyl and the abandoned city of Pripyat. They invited a few other people, and hired a guide. Yahav embraced a role of half-ironic worrier about health risks; the guide tried to reassure him by giving him his dosimeter, which measures radiation levels. When the device beeped, Yahav complained of a headache. In the ruined Lenin Square in Pripyat, he told Harari, “You’re not going to die on me. We’ve discussed this—I’m going to die first. I was smoking for years.”
Harari, whose work sometimes sounds regretful about most of what has happened since the Paleolithic era—in “Sapiens,” he writes that “the forager economy provided most people with more interesting lives than agriculture or industry do”—began the day by anticipating, happily, a glimpse of the world as it would be if “humans destroyed themselves.” Walking across Pripyat’s soccer field, where mature trees now grow, he remarked on how quickly things had gone “back to normal.”
The guide asked if anyone had heard of Call of Duty: Modern Warfare—the video game, which includes a sequence set in Pripyat.
“No,” Harari said.
“Just the most popular game in the world,” the guide said.
At dusk, Harari and Yahav headed back to Kyiv, in a black Mercedes. When Yahav sneezed, Harari said, “It’s the radiation starting.” As we drove through flat, forested countryside, Harari talked about his upbringing: his hatred of chess; his nationalist and religious periods. He said, “One thing I think about how humans work—the only thing that can replace one story is another story.”
We discussed the tall tales that occasionally appear in his writing. In “Homo Deus,” Harari writes that, in 2014, a Hong Kong venture-capital firm “broke new ground by appointing an algorithm named VITAL to its board.” A footnote provides a link to an online article, which makes clear that, in fact, there had been no such board appointment, and that the press release announcing it was a lure for “gullible” outlets. When I asked Harari if he’d accidentally led readers into believing a fiction, he appeared untroubled, arguing that the book’s larger point about A.I. encroachment still held.
In “Sapiens,” Harari writes in detail about a meeting in the desert between Apollo 11 astronauts and a Native American who dictated a message for them to take to the moon. The message, when later translated, was “They have come to steal your lands.” Harari’s text acknowledges that the story might be a “legend.”
“I don’t know if it’s a true story,” Harari told me. “It doesn’t matter—it’s a good story.” He rethought this. “It matters how you present it to the readers. I think I took care to make sure that at least intelligent readers will understand that it maybe didn’t happen.” (The story has been traced to a Johnny Carson monologue.)
Harari went on to say how much he’d liked writing an extended fictional passage, in “Homo Deus,” in which he imagines the belief system of a twelfth-century crusader. It begins, “Imagine a young English nobleman named John . . .” Harari had been encouraged in this experiment, he said, by the example of classical historians, who were comfortable fabricating dialogue, and by “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy,” by Douglas Adams, a book “packed with so much good philosophy.” No twentieth-century philosophical book besides “Sources of the Self,” by Charles Taylor, had influenced him more.
We were now on a cobbled street in Kyiv. Harari said, “Maybe the next book will be a novel.”
At a press conference in the city, Harari was asked a question by Hannah Hrabarska, a Ukrainian news photographer. “I can’t stop smiling,” she began. “I’ve watched all your lectures, watched everything about you.” I spoke to her later. She said that reading “Sapiens” had “completely changed” her life. Hrabarska was born the week of the Chernobyl disaster, in 1986. “When I was a child, I dreamed of being an artist,” she said. “But then politics captured me.” When the Orange Revolution began, in 2004, she was eighteen, and “so idealistic.” She studied law and went into journalism. In the winter of 2013-14, she photographed the Euromaidan protests, in Kyiv, where more than a hundred people were killed. “You always expect everything will change, will get better,” she said. “And it doesn’t.”
Hrabarska read “Sapiens” three or four years ago. She told me that she had previously read widely in history and philosophy, but none of that material had ever “interested me on my core level.” She found “Sapiens” overwhelming, particularly in its passages on prehistory, and in its larger revelation that she was “one of the billions and billions that lived, and didn’t make any impact and didn’t leave any trace.” Upon finishing the book, Hrabarska said, “you kind of relax, don’t feel this pressure anymore—it’s O.K. to be insignificant.” For her, the discovery of “Sapiens” is that “life is big, but only for me.” This knowledge “lets me own my life.”
Reading “Sapiens” had helped her become “more compassionate” toward people around her, although less invested in their opinions. Hrabarska had also spent more time on creative photography projects. She said, “This came from a feeling of ‘O.K., it doesn’t matter that much, I’m just a little human, no one cares.’ ”
Hrabarska has disengaged from politics. “I can choose to be involved, not to be involved,” she said. “No one cares, and I don’t care, too.” ♦


newyorker--2020-02-10--Rona Jaffe’s “The Best of Everything” Is Still One of Our Sharpest Portraits of Female Desire

“ The Best of Everything , ” Rona Jaffe ’ s best-seller from 1958 , is what you would get if you took “ Sex and the City ” and set it inside “ Mad Men ” ’ s universe .
A novel about three young women who meet while working in the typing pool of a publishing house , it has the white-gloved , Scotch-swilling aesthetic of the fifties but also an unflinching frankness about women ’ s lives and desires—a combination that makes it feel radical , prescient .
In order to write it , Jaffe interviewed fifty @ @ @ @ @ @ @ about in polite company ” : losing their virginities , getting abortions , being sexually harassed .
“ I thought that if I could help one young woman sitting in her tiny apartment thinking she was all alone and a bad girl , then the book would be worthwhile , ” Jaffe wrote , in the foreword to the 2005 reissue of her novel .
Put simply , she wanted it to say , “ Me , too.
” “ The Best of Everything ” centers on Caroline Bender , April Morrison , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ self-possessed Radcliffe graduate who was engaged until her fiancé took a six-week trip to Europe and left her for the first familiar girl he ran into on the ship .
She has professional aspirations , which immediately earns her suspicion from her bosses .
April is a starry-eyed girl from Colorado who just wants to meet a nice boy but instead falls in with a handsome upper-crust cad who works at Merrill Lynch .
And Gregg is an actress who becomes infatuated with an emotionally unavailable theatre director .
“ Some people are @ @ @ @ @ @ @ says at one point .
“ Gregg is that type.
” The three become close , search for love , and navigate the indignities of being a woman in the workplace .
Chief among them is Mr. Shalimar , the editor-in-chief of one of the imprints at Fabian Publications and a serial abuser who would fit right in at Leslie Wexner ’ s Victoria ’ s Secret .
He asks April , on a night when he requested she work late , “ Tell me , what kinds of things do the young @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ” and later tries to kiss her in his office .
He teases Caroline with the possibility of a promotion and then puts his hand on her knee at after-work drinks .
And , most memorably , at the office Christmas party , Mr. Shalimar asks Barbara Lemont , an assistant editor at one of the publisher ’ s magazines , whether she has nice legs , and , when she doesn ’ t answer , he crawls under the table to appraise them .
“ You have beau-ti-ful legs , ” he @ @ @ @ @ @ @ leans in to kiss her , but she dodges him .
“ What did you think I wanted to do , rape you ?
” he cries .
“ You ’ re fired .
Don ’ t you dare come into this office on Monday.
” Refreshingly , Jaffe doesn ’ t treat this episode with cheerful permissiveness , doesn ’ t present it as having a kind of louche glamour .
Instead , she stays close to Barbara .
“ For the first time that evening her feelings were revealed completely on @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
‘ I need this job , ’ she said .
‘ He ’ s not going to take it away from me if I have to go to Mr. Fabian himself.
’ ” It ’ s no better outside of work , either .
On dates , which Barbara describes as “ hand-to-hand combat , ” men force themselves on the women .
At a wedding , the bride ’ s drunk uncle pinches their cheeks and squeezes their waists as they try to politely signal that they ’ d rather be @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of Everything ” imparts this vision with sly humor , top-notch banter , and a sudsy plot that made me gasp out loud .
The book still reads like a romance , still gets its propulsiveness from the question of whether the characters will find the love they desire and happiness therein .
Will Caroline ’ s fiancé come back to her ?
Will April ’ s socialite boyfriend commit to her ?
Will the married man whom Barbara Lemont is in love with leave his wife for her ?
And do we @ @ @ @ @ @ @ they all bad news ?
In fact , Jaffe uses the badness of men to raise the stakes for finding a good one ; love becomes a heroic quest rather than a doomed endeavor .
In this sense , “ The Best of Everything ” cunningly enacts a tragic irony : the worse men behave , the more fervently the characters turn to men to find exceptions to the rule .

“The Best of Everything,” Rona Jaffe’s best-seller from 1958, is what you would get if you took “Sex and the City” and set it inside “Mad Men” ’s universe. A novel about three young women who meet while working in the typing pool of a publishing house, it has the white-gloved, Scotch-swilling aesthetic of the fifties but also an unflinching frankness about women’s lives and desires—a combination that makes it feel radical, prescient. In order to write it, Jaffe interviewed fifty women about “the things nobody spoke about in polite company”: losing their virginities, getting abortions, being sexually harassed. “I thought that if I could help one young woman sitting in her tiny apartment thinking she was all alone and a bad girl, then the book would be worthwhile,” Jaffe wrote, in the foreword to the 2005 reissue of her novel. Put simply, she wanted it to say, “Me, too.”
“The Best of Everything” centers on Caroline Bender, April Morrison, and Gregg Adams. Caroline is a self-possessed Radcliffe graduate who was engaged until her fiancé took a six-week trip to Europe and left her for the first familiar girl he ran into on the ship. She has professional aspirations, which immediately earns her suspicion from her bosses. April is a starry-eyed girl from Colorado who just wants to meet a nice boy but instead falls in with a handsome upper-crust cad who works at Merrill Lynch. And Gregg is an actress who becomes infatuated with an emotionally unavailable theatre director. “Some people are made to be hurt,” Caroline says at one point. “Gregg is that type.” The three become close, search for love, and navigate the indignities of being a woman in the workplace.
Chief among them is Mr. Shalimar, the editor-in-chief of one of the imprints at Fabian Publications and a serial abuser who would fit right in at Leslie Wexner’s Victoria’s Secret. He asks April, on a night when he requested she work late, “Tell me, what kinds of things do the young boys do when they make love?” and later tries to kiss her in his office. He teases Caroline with the possibility of a promotion and then puts his hand on her knee at after-work drinks. And, most memorably, at the office Christmas party, Mr. Shalimar asks Barbara Lemont, an assistant editor at one of the publisher’s magazines, whether she has nice legs, and, when she doesn’t answer, he crawls under the table to appraise them. “You have beau-ti-ful legs,” he concludes. When he reëmerges, he leans in to kiss her, but she dodges him. “What did you think I wanted to do, rape you?” he cries. “You’re fired. Don’t you dare come into this office on Monday.”
Refreshingly, Jaffe doesn’t treat this episode with cheerful permissiveness, doesn’t present it as having a kind of louche glamour. Instead, she stays close to Barbara. “For the first time that evening her feelings were revealed completely on her face—resolution, fury, and desperation. ‘I need this job,’ she said. ‘He’s not going to take it away from me if I have to go to Mr. Fabian himself.’ ”
It’s no better outside of work, either. On dates, which Barbara describes as “hand-to-hand combat,” men force themselves on the women. At a wedding, the bride’s drunk uncle pinches their cheeks and squeezes their waists as they try to politely signal that they’d rather be left alone.
Yet “The Best of Everything” imparts this vision with sly humor, top-notch banter, and a sudsy plot that made me gasp out loud. The book still reads like a romance, still gets its propulsiveness from the question of whether the characters will find the love they desire and happiness therein. Will Caroline’s fiancé come back to her? Will April’s socialite boyfriend commit to her? Will the married man whom Barbara Lemont is in love with leave his wife for her? And do we even want them to? Or are they all bad news? In fact, Jaffe uses the badness of men to raise the stakes for finding a good one; love becomes a heroic quest rather than a doomed endeavor. In this sense, “The Best of Everything” cunningly enacts a tragic irony: the worse men behave, the more fervently the characters turn to men to find exceptions to the rule.


The Mail

Democracy , Then and Now Jill Lepore ’ s report on the grassroots democracy debates that took place in the nineteen-thirties is a useful antidote to today ’ s widespread pessimism ( “ In Every Dark Hour , ” February 3rd ) .
But the question we must ask now is not what people might do to preserve democracy ’ s future but what democracy might do to preserve theirs .
The surge of citizen engagement inspired by the bicentennial of the American Revolution , in the nineteen-seventies , offers a model .
Communities from Maine to California gathered to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ localities to look in the year 2000 .
They considered issues such as environmental sustainability , land use , race , and poverty .
These conversations could have been the first steps toward a political culture of truly democratic exchange .
But after Ronald Reagan was elected , in 1980 , there seemed little point to crafting a common future in a world driven by radical individualism .
Nevertheless , any strategy for restoring faith in democracy after the Trump Presidency should involve ordinary citizens working together to envision and create a better @ @ @ @ @ @ @ of the last time the future of American democracy was in doubt .
As always , she shines light into dark corners of U.S. history .
But the piece disappoints insofar as Lepore , like many intellectuals , overrates the power of media to “ bring people together.
” She is correct , of course , that grownup discussion has deteriorated since the time when radio gave Americans “ a sense of their shared suffering , and shared ideals.
” Indeed , disinformation is now a major impediment to democratic life .
But @ @ @ @ @ @ @ tinkering with the programming on NPR or PBS is going to drag us back from the brink .
There are many equally grave institutional obstacles to democracy today , including the anti-democratic skew of the Senate and the Electoral College ; the rollback of voting rights by Republican politicians and courts ; the plutocratic bent of the Supreme Court , which enables corporate money to overwhelm public interests ; and Silicon Valley ’ s treatment of political speech as a commodity .
We need a full-on , democratic with a small “ d @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Lepore wrote about the schoolteachers and other citizens who took an active role in pro-democracy activities in the nineteen-thirties , when many people in the U.S. were turning to authoritarian systems for comfort and security .
It is worth noting that a large percentage of these teachers were women , who knew firsthand what it meant to live without agency in a developing democracy .
They had learned through their struggle for suffrage how to organize , mobilize , and , most important , educate .
It is no surprise that these teacher-led @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is , they subtly taught a diverse citizenship that democracies survive only when people are compelled to listen , learn , challenge , argue , and find common ground .
And , as Lepore points out , they ultimately helped move the U.S. against authoritarianism .
It is unclear whether we can again educate an anxious citizenship about the benefits of democracy , but we must try .
Letters should be sent with the writer ’ s name , address , and daytime phone number via e-mail to themail @ newyorker.com .
Letters @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and may be published in any medium .
We regret that owing to the volume of correspondence we can not reply to every letter .

Democracy, Then and Now
Jill Lepore’s report on the grassroots democracy debates that took place in the nineteen-thirties is a useful antidote to today’s widespread pessimism (“In Every Dark Hour,” February 3rd). But the question we must ask now is not what people might do to preserve democracy’s future but what democracy might do to preserve theirs. The surge of citizen engagement inspired by the bicentennial of the American Revolution, in the nineteen-seventies, offers a model. Communities from Maine to California gathered to discuss how they wanted their states or localities to look in the year 2000. They considered issues such as environmental sustainability, land use, race, and poverty. These conversations could have been the first steps toward a political culture of truly democratic exchange. But after Ronald Reagan was elected, in 1980, there seemed little point to crafting a common future in a world driven by radical individualism. Nevertheless, any strategy for restoring faith in democracy after the Trump Presidency should involve ordinary citizens working together to envision and create a better tomorrow.
Jeff Faux
Economic Policy Institute
Washington, D.C.
Lepore offers an astute accounting of the last time the future of American democracy was in doubt. As always, she shines light into dark corners of U.S. history. But the piece disappoints insofar as Lepore, like many intellectuals, overrates the power of media to “bring people together.” She is correct, of course, that grownup discussion has deteriorated since the time when radio gave Americans “a sense of their shared suffering, and shared ideals.” Indeed, disinformation is now a major impediment to democratic life. But let’s not kid ourselves that tinkering with the programming on NPR or PBS is going to drag us back from the brink. There are many equally grave institutional obstacles to democracy today, including the anti-democratic skew of the Senate and the Electoral College; the rollback of voting rights by Republican politicians and courts; the plutocratic bent of the Supreme Court, which enables corporate money to overwhelm public interests; and Silicon Valley’s treatment of political speech as a commodity. We need a full-on, democratic with a small “d” reconstruction.
Todd Gitlin
Professor of Journalism and Sociology
Columbia University
New York City
I was happy that Lepore wrote about the schoolteachers and other citizens who took an active role in pro-democracy activities in the nineteen-thirties, when many people in the U.S. were turning to authoritarian systems for comfort and security. It is worth noting that a large percentage of these teachers were women, who knew firsthand what it meant to live without agency in a developing democracy. They had learned through their struggle for suffrage how to organize, mobilize, and, most important, educate. It is no surprise that these teacher-led forums had a pedagogical function; that is, they subtly taught a diverse citizenship that democracies survive only when people are compelled to listen, learn, challenge, argue, and find common ground. And, as Lepore points out, they ultimately helped move the U.S. against authoritarianism. It is unclear whether we can again educate an anxious citizenship about the benefits of democracy, but we must try.
Eric J. Weiner
Educational Foundations Department
Montclair State University
Montclair, N.J.
•
Letters should be sent with the writer’s name, address, and daytime phone number via e-mail to themail@newyorker.com. Letters may be edited for length and clarity, and may be published in any medium. We regret that owing to the volume of correspondence we cannot reply to every letter.


newyorker--2020-02-10--“High Fidelity” and “Party of Five” Reboot Nineties Landmarks

Halfway through the fourth episode of the Hulu television series “ High Fidelity , ” a new adaptation of Nick Hornby ’ s 1995 novel , Robin ( Rob ) Brooks , played by Zoë Kravitz , monologues to the camera as she stomps , dead-eyed and heartsick , down a Brooklyn block to her local bodega .
At the counter , the do-ragged clerk , young and brown , looks at her .
“ You ’ re wearing lipstick , ” he says .
“ No , ” Rob scoffs , pursing her lips , which are conspicuously red @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the sulky owner of the record store Championship Vinyl , who is on her way to meet an ex , a lesbian influencer named Kat , is more eager to please than she ’ d like others to believe .
But , as the lighting softens and the camera zooms in on Rob ’ s face , something else has happened , too .
The sequence has become a luxury advertisement .
I ’ d seen Kravitz lit and her mouth painted like that before , up and down my Instagram feed @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Beauty .
Was this a plug ?
What matters more is that it felt like one .
“ High Fidelity ” is look-book television—an accretion of interestingly composed set pieces that are designed to have second lives as mood-board fodder .
Hornby ’ s book was set in nineties London ; Stephen Frears ’ s 2000 film adaptation moved the action to Chicago .
The television series was shot in Brooklyn , and never has Greenpoint or Crown Heights looked so dreamily spruced .
Brooklynite viewers could play a drinking game called Spot @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the trailer dropped , shots of Kravitz on set were already populating Instagram fan accounts .
One featured her sitting on a brownstone stoop , eyes narrowed , wearing a pleated schoolgirl skirt and an oversized Dickies-logo T—a riff on the Dickies shirt and black pants worn by John Cusack as Rob Gordon in the movie .
On Cusack , the clothes illustrated Rob ’ s avoidance of style , which is its own mode of self-presentation ; a wannabe counterculturist , he compulsively catalogues women the way he does his records .
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ world view , one contemptuously defined in relation to the flow of the mainstream , Rob Brooks does not—not yet , at least .
On Kravitz , the outfit is the uniform of a street-style maven .
She also wears tiny sunglasses like his .
The new “ High Fidelity , ” like women-led reboots of other male-oriented franchises— “ Ghostbusters ” and “ Ocean ’ s Eight ” come to mind—is less a reinvention than a reverential kind of drag show .
The “ Ugly Betty ” creators Sarah Kucserka and Veronica @ @ @ @ @ @ @ credited as an executive producer and Scott Rosenberg , who co-wrote the film ’ s screenplay with Cusack , is a producer and writer .
Like the movie , the show opens with a closeup on Rob listing her top five heartbreaks straight to the camera .
( Where Cusack seethed , Kravitz weeps . )
Before she can tell us who is responsible for the fifth , the frame expands , and we meet him—Mac ( Kingsley Ben-Adir ) —as he prepares to leave her apartment , for good .
Other scenes @ @ @ @ @ @ @ rain , yelling up to Kat ’ s apartment ; Rob having delightfully rude interactions with customers—similarly have the feel of elaborate fan fiction .
In its staccato editing , and its occasional surreal turns—Debbie Harry makes a fun appearance in one of Rob ’ s fantasies— “ High Fidelity ” sometimes resembles a pastiche of recent New York City shows : “ Girls , ” “ Ramy , ” “ Search Party , ” and Natasha Lyonne ’ s “ Russian Doll.
” ( Lyonne directs Episode 6 of “ High Fidelity.
@ @ @ @ @ @ @ shows the city serves the plot , “ High Fidelity ” is too simpatico with privileged Brooklyn bohemia to satirize it more than intermittently .
Rob is notionally depressed ; she eats Indian takeout in the bathtub and sleeps with a Scottish musician ten years her junior .
( His counterpart in the film was Marie de Salle , played by Lisa Bonet , Kravitz ’ s mother . )
A smarter series would have worked with Kravitz ’ s utter inability to appear anything less than glamorous .
Instead , in Episode @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Cameron ( Rainbow Sun Francks ) , drunk and coked out , taunts his sister , who ’ s wearing a vintage Boy Scout shirt : “ You ’ re dressed like a little boy !
” As if all the hot girls in Brooklyn weren ’ t dressed like little boys .
At Championship Vinyl , Rob ’ s co-workers , Simon and Cherise , watch , bemused , as she embarks on a quest of tracking down her exes , to understand why they rejected her .
I became invested in @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Mac ; through its dissolution , we get a believable portrait of Rob ’ s cowardice .
The other breakups , explained through hectic flashbacks , were less compelling .
Still , I remained curious about the satirical possibilities of “ High Fidelity , ” the question of what it might mean for a young woman to define herself as a harridan who rails against pop culture .
Which phenomena would she endorse , and which would repulse her ?
Would she dismiss Billie Eilish as conformist ?
Is she too stuck up @ @ @ @ @ @ @ to know .
In Rob ’ s monologues , she speaks elegiacally of the thrill of record hunting , but the show ’ s musical references are hardly obscure .
The music supervisors ( and Questlove , who was a consultant for the series ) have Rob listening to Lauryn Hill one minute , David Bowie the next .
In a scene set at the Carlyle hotel , she chews out a fellow record enthusiast , an older white man , correcting him on the date of a Paul McCartney & Wings album @ @ @ @ @ @ @ revanchist manifesto—Rob Brooks upbraiding a Rob Gordon type—and her companion , a nice white-guy fling named Clyde ( Jake Lacy ) , eyes her expectantly , as if begging for the raging subtext to break the surface .
It never does .
Curiously , “ High Fidelity ” is unfashionably race-blind .
It tends to launch signifiers of racial awareness but backs away from giving Rob a racial consciousness .
Recalling her tumultuous relationship with Kat , she complains that Kat preferred white girls .
The fact that all but one of Rob @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , too , ends up engaged to a white woman , who posts photos of frosé on social media—is never explored .
Something simmers between Cherise ( Da ’ Vine Joy Randolph , who deserves better than her treacly arc ) and Rob , the show ’ s only two black women .
At one point , after Rob warns Cherise against “ talking smack ” to her , Cherise retorts with an intriguingly cutting barb .
“ ‘ Talking smack , ’ Robin ?
” she asks .
“ I bet you @ @ @ @ @ @ @ clearly springs from history , personal and otherwise , but , once again , the static instantly smooths .
I loved the eighth episode , “ Simon ’ s Top Five , ” written by the comedian Solomon Georgio , which takes its opening scene from Episode 7 , with Rob , Cherise , and Simon closing up shop—and then lets Simon ( David H. Holmes ) take over the narration .
Simon , we know , had been responsible for one of Rob ’ s heartbreaks ; since coming out to her @ @ @ @ @ @ @ supporter .
He is his own man .
“ Want to know about that knot in your heart , the putrid taste in your mouth that leaves you unable to speak ?
” he says to the camera , as he walks hurriedly to his apartment .
Then he lists his top five : the same name , five times—Ben , a lawyer whom we meet in tenderly written flashbacks .
The storytelling is confident and graceful .
“ I wish I ’ d known it wasn ’ t gon na last , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ ve enjoyed it more.
” Viewers will not yearn to dress like any of the five Acosta children in the Freeform remake of “ Party of Five , ” another nineties landmark , which débuted in early January .
Powerfully uncool—the kids wear flared jeans , tight Henley shirts , and shag haircuts—the reboot is justified instead by a kernel of social emergency ; Christopher Keyser and Amy Lippman , who created the original , started developing the new series in 2016 .
Whereas the original siblings , the middle-class white Salingers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ world after their parents are killed in a car accident , the Acostas , Mexican-Americans living in a city resembling Los Angeles , are made de-facto orphans after ICE agents descend on the family restaurant .

Halfway through the fourth episode of the Hulu television series “High Fidelity,” a new adaptation of Nick Hornby’s 1995 novel, Robin (Rob) Brooks, played by Zoë Kravitz, monologues to the camera as she stomps, dead-eyed and heartsick, down a Brooklyn block to her local bodega. At the counter, the do-ragged clerk, young and brown, looks at her. “You’re wearing lipstick,” he says. “No,” Rob scoffs, pursing her lips, which are conspicuously red. We are to understand that Rob, the sulky owner of the record store Championship Vinyl, who is on her way to meet an ex, a lesbian influencer named Kat, is more eager to please than she’d like others to believe. But, as the lighting softens and the camera zooms in on Rob’s face, something else has happened, too. The sequence has become a luxury advertisement.
I’d seen Kravitz lit and her mouth painted like that before, up and down my Instagram feed, as the face of Y.S.L. Beauty. Was this a plug? What matters more is that it felt like one. “High Fidelity” is look-book television—an accretion of interestingly composed set pieces that are designed to have second lives as mood-board fodder. Hornby’s book was set in nineties London; Stephen Frears’s 2000 film adaptation moved the action to Chicago. The television series was shot in Brooklyn, and never has Greenpoint or Crown Heights looked so dreamily spruced. Brooklynite viewers could play a drinking game called Spot the Bedford Avenue Establishment.
Months before the trailer dropped, shots of Kravitz on set were already populating Instagram fan accounts. One featured her sitting on a brownstone stoop, eyes narrowed, wearing a pleated schoolgirl skirt and an oversized Dickies-logo T—a riff on the Dickies shirt and black pants worn by John Cusack as Rob Gordon in the movie. On Cusack, the clothes illustrated Rob’s avoidance of style, which is its own mode of self-presentation; a wannabe counterculturist, he compulsively catalogues women the way he does his records. But while Rob Gordon possesses a complete world view, one contemptuously defined in relation to the flow of the mainstream, Rob Brooks does not—not yet, at least. On Kravitz, the outfit is the uniform of a street-style maven. She also wears tiny sunglasses like his.
The new “High Fidelity,” like women-led reboots of other male-oriented franchises—“Ghostbusters” and “Ocean’s Eight” come to mind—is less a reinvention than a reverential kind of drag show. The “Ugly Betty” creators Sarah Kucserka and Veronica West spearheaded the adaptation; Hornby is credited as an executive producer and Scott Rosenberg, who co-wrote the film’s screenplay with Cusack, is a producer and writer. Like the movie, the show opens with a closeup on Rob listing her top five heartbreaks straight to the camera. (Where Cusack seethed, Kravitz weeps.) Before she can tell us who is responsible for the fifth, the frame expands, and we meet him—Mac (Kingsley Ben-Adir)—as he prepares to leave her apartment, for good. Other scenes that mirror the film—Rob, in the rain, yelling up to Kat’s apartment; Rob having delightfully rude interactions with customers—similarly have the feel of elaborate fan fiction.
In its staccato editing, and its occasional surreal turns—Debbie Harry makes a fun appearance in one of Rob’s fantasies—“High Fidelity” sometimes resembles a pastiche of recent New York City shows: “Girls,” “Ramy,” “Search Party,” and Natasha Lyonne’s “Russian Doll.” (Lyonne directs Episode 6 of “High Fidelity.”) But, whereas in those shows the city serves the plot, “High Fidelity” is too simpatico with privileged Brooklyn bohemia to satirize it more than intermittently. Rob is notionally depressed; she eats Indian takeout in the bathtub and sleeps with a Scottish musician ten years her junior. (His counterpart in the film was Marie de Salle, played by Lisa Bonet, Kravitz’s mother.) A smarter series would have worked with Kravitz’s utter inability to appear anything less than glamorous. Instead, in Episode 7, Rob’s brother, Cameron (Rainbow Sun Francks), drunk and coked out, taunts his sister, who’s wearing a vintage Boy Scout shirt: “You’re dressed like a little boy!” As if all the hot girls in Brooklyn weren’t dressed like little boys.
At Championship Vinyl, Rob’s co-workers, Simon and Cherise, watch, bemused, as she embarks on a quest of tracking down her exes, to understand why they rejected her. I became invested in the finely sketched relationship between Rob and Mac; through its dissolution, we get a believable portrait of Rob’s cowardice. The other breakups, explained through hectic flashbacks, were less compelling. Still, I remained curious about the satirical possibilities of “High Fidelity,” the question of what it might mean for a young woman to define herself as a harridan who rails against pop culture. Which phenomena would she endorse, and which would repulse her? Would she dismiss Billie Eilish as conformist? Is she too stuck up for Saweetie?
It’s difficult to know. In Rob’s monologues, she speaks elegiacally of the thrill of record hunting, but the show’s musical references are hardly obscure. The music supervisors (and Questlove, who was a consultant for the series) have Rob listening to Lauryn Hill one minute, David Bowie the next. In a scene set at the Carlyle hotel, she chews out a fellow record enthusiast, an older white man, correcting him on the date of a Paul McCartney & Wings album. The exchange teases a sort of revanchist manifesto—Rob Brooks upbraiding a Rob Gordon type—and her companion, a nice white-guy fling named Clyde (Jake Lacy), eyes her expectantly, as if begging for the raging subtext to break the surface. It never does.
Curiously, “High Fidelity” is unfashionably race-blind. It tends to launch signifiers of racial awareness but backs away from giving Rob a racial consciousness. Recalling her tumultuous relationship with Kat, she complains that Kat preferred white girls. The fact that all but one of Rob’s exes are white—and that Mac, too, ends up engaged to a white woman, who posts photos of frosé on social media—is never explored. Something simmers between Cherise (Da’Vine Joy Randolph, who deserves better than her treacly arc) and Rob, the show’s only two black women. At one point, after Rob warns Cherise against “talking smack” to her, Cherise retorts with an intriguingly cutting barb. “ ‘Talking smack,’ Robin?” she asks. “I bet you feel extra black today.” The tension clearly springs from history, personal and otherwise, but, once again, the static instantly smooths.
I loved the eighth episode, “Simon’s Top Five,” written by the comedian Solomon Georgio, which takes its opening scene from Episode 7, with Rob, Cherise, and Simon closing up shop—and then lets Simon (David H. Holmes) take over the narration. Simon, we know, had been responsible for one of Rob’s heartbreaks; since coming out to her, he’s been her platonic supporter. He is his own man. “Want to know about that knot in your heart, the putrid taste in your mouth that leaves you unable to speak?” he says to the camera, as he walks hurriedly to his apartment. Then he lists his top five: the same name, five times—Ben, a lawyer whom we meet in tenderly written flashbacks. The storytelling is confident and graceful. “I wish I’d known it wasn’t gonna last,” Simon says. “I would’ve enjoyed it more.”
Viewers will not yearn to dress like any of the five Acosta children in the Freeform remake of “Party of Five,” another nineties landmark, which débuted in early January. Powerfully uncool—the kids wear flared jeans, tight Henley shirts, and shag haircuts—the reboot is justified instead by a kernel of social emergency; Christopher Keyser and Amy Lippman, who created the original, started developing the new series in 2016. Whereas the original siblings, the middle-class white Salingers of San Francisco, enter the adult world after their parents are killed in a car accident, the Acostas, Mexican-Americans living in a city resembling Los Angeles, are made de-facto orphans after ICE agents descend on the family restaurant.
With their parents violently removed from their lives, the children must keep the business afloat and learn to raise one another and their youngest brother, the baby, Rafa. Emilio, a DACA recipient and womanizing musician (the counterpart of Matthew Fox’s Charlie), straightens up, moves back home, and appoints himself the disciplinarian. The high-achieving Lucia starts acting out, throwing house parties. Beto, a block-headed athlete, skips classes to help run the restaurant. Valentina, the youngest sister, a precocious middle schooler, mimics adult talk in a way that is melancholic, imbued with tragic double meaning: “One of these days, I’ll be gone, and then what are you gonna do?” she asks a sibling.
It’s “issues” television—each episode imparts a moral lesson. There is way too much acoustic guitar. The Trump Administration is never mentioned. The closest thing to political commentary is provided by Lucia, who occasionally curses “this country.” Visiting her parents at the detention center shortly before they are deported, she begins to disintegrate, picking a fight with an agent. Her father reprimands her: “Dignity, mija!” The dynamic, though swiftly drawn, is an honest portrayal of so many immigrant families: the parent made obeisant by his circumstances; the daughter indignant and enlarged by her rage and relative entitlement. It won’t go viral, but “Party of Five” has heart. ♦


newyorker--2020-02-10--Oscars 2020: “Parasite” ’s Best Picture Win Can’t Redeem the Academy’s Failings

It ’ s worth starting at the end : the South Korean director Bong Joon-ho ’ s film “ Parasite ” won the Oscar for Best Picture—marking the first time since the Academy Awards were established , in 1929 , that an international film has won the top prize .
It ’ s about time .
This happened a year later than I expected—I ’ d figured that Alfonso Cuarón ’ s “ Roma ” would win Best Picture last year—and it took me by surprise .
I predicted that “ 1917 ” would win , and , inasmuch as @ @ @ @ @ @ @ movie , I ’ m glad to have been wrong .
In a way , its victory attempts to right nearly a century of neglect .
( Ingmar Bergman ’ s film “ Cries and Whispers ” was one of the five nominees in 1973 , and lost to , of all things , “ The Sting.
” ) This year , the Oscars were political from the very start .
Some of the presenters and the winners offered noteworthy political remarks , though the one that struck me as most piercing wasn @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , the one that opened the broadcast : Janelle Monáe , enacting Fred Rogers ’ s routine of changing into his character ’ s costume on set , sang the “ Mister Rogers ” theme song , with its refrain , “ Won ’ t you be my neighbor ?
, ” to the overwhelmingly white audience and , by extension , to viewers at home .
The question , in Monáe ’ s voice , powerfully invoked the unchallenged and unredressed racism that extends far beyond the Oscar nominations and Hollywood ’ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ As Steve Martin and Chris Rock noted , in a bantering presentation immediately following Monáe ’ s introduction , the acting nominations included only one black performer ( Cynthia Erivo , for “ Harriet ” ) , and no female directors were nominated at all .
The omissions in the year ’ s roster of nominees were as conspicuous , from the start , as were its notable inclusions—such as the nomination of Antonio Banderas , for best actor , the nomination of the animated short film “ Hair Love , ” and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s “ The Irishman.
” Political anger is justly in the air at a time of gross misrule , unleashed hatred , abuse of power , and plutocratic plunder , and with this year ’ s Oscars—both in the particulars of the ceremony and the results that it delivered—Academy members faced up to their own symbolic part in the dire state of the nation .
Brad Pitt , accepting the award for best supporting actor , noted that he had forty-five seconds to speak—forty-five seconds more , he added , than John Bolton @ @ @ @ @ @ @ impeachment trial last week .
The great filmmaker Julia Reichert , whose “ American Factory ” won a well-deserved award for Best Documentary Feature , said that the lives of workers can improve only when “ workers of the world unite.
” Taika Waititi , the director of “ Jojo Rabbit , ” acknowledged the indigenous nations on whose homeland the Dolby Theatre is situated ; Gal Gadot , Sigourney Weaver , and Brie Larson , introducing the nominees for Best Original Score , spoke jokingly but passionately about the obstacles that women @ @ @ @ @ @ @ the political moments arose when Joaquin Phoenix , who won the best-actor award for “ Joker ” —a movie considered , by its defenders , to be some sort of substantive statement about inequality , stifled class rage , mental illness , and the health-care system—started to speak about racism , sexism , and humankind ’ s unwarranted plunder of nature .
I expected this last point to lead him to remarks about climate change—but , instead , Phoenix veered off into a pathos-laden , graphically detailed discussion of the oppression of dairy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ left behind the inhumanities of racial prejudice , misogyny , and abuse of power which plague his own industry and the country at large .
The victory of “ Parasite ” is a paradox .
I consider it a much better film than what I ’ d feared were the front-runners ( “ 1917 , ” “ Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood , ” and “ Jojo Rabbit ” ) , and a worse one than the best of the bunch ( “ The Irishman , ” “ Little Women , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
At the time of its theatrical release , last fall , it struck me not only for its extraordinarily clever dramatic twist , which is realized with a familiar and conventional aesthetic , but also for its potent , simple sociopolitical symbolism .
Its bold and confrontational display of the absurd contrasts between the lives of the rich and the poor has an impact that ’ s far more powerful than the methods by which it ’ s realized .
The film is utterly sincere , even passionately insistent , and this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ too perfectly , with a message that critics were apt to receive with enthusiasm .
The Academy agrees .
It ’ s not the first time in recent years that the industry and its critics have found themselves generally in agreement ; the same thing happened three years ago , with the victory of “ Moonlight.
” I wonder whether “ Moonlight ” could have won today—whether the very fact of its complexity , of its unresolved intricacy , would have counted against it .
What ’ s clear is that , this @ @ @ @ @ @ @ helped bar the way of the great : “ The Irishman ” had ten nominations and came away empty-handed .
Martin Scorsese did receive a generous tribute in Bong ’ s acceptance speech for best director , and Scorsese , as a result , received a standing ovation from the audience .
Scorsese ’ s “ The Wolf of Wall Street ” also had a raft of Oscar nominations ( five ) and no wins .
It seems as if the director has , in his own time , passed into a special @ @ @ @ @ @ @ would willingly acclaim as great , peerlessly great , but far fewer would willingly read .
I ’ d contend that “ The Irishman ” is a more radical political film than “ Parasite.
” I hope that the victory of Bong ’ s film opens the floodgates to the recognition of a wide range of international movies , rather than the exception that symbolically breaks the rule—the better to offer cover for other omissions by the Academy , now and later .
It ’ s worth noting , for instance , that @ @ @ @ @ @ @ group of female characters , “ Little Women ” and “ Bombshell , ” came away only with awards for Costume Design and Makeup and Hairstyling , respectively .
It ’ s as if the Academy were tacitly , even unconsciously , telling the world what it thought such movies were good for .
That ’ s why my satisfaction in the triumph of a good movie is balanced by concern—that its win may remain a gesture , rather than an acknowledgment of profound and desperately needed change .

It’s worth starting at the end: the South Korean director Bong Joon-ho’s film “Parasite” won the Oscar for Best Picture—marking the first time since the Academy Awards were established, in 1929, that an international film has won the top prize. It’s about time. This happened a year later than I expected—I’d figured that Alfonso Cuarón’s “Roma” would win Best Picture last year—and it took me by surprise. I predicted that “1917” would win, and, inasmuch as “Parasite” is a far better movie, I’m glad to have been wrong. In a way, its victory attempts to right nearly a century of neglect. (Ingmar Bergman’s film “Cries and Whispers” was one of the five nominees in 1973, and lost to, of all things, “The Sting.”)
This year, the Oscars were political from the very start. Some of the presenters and the winners offered noteworthy political remarks, though the one that struck me as most piercing wasn’t a speech but a song, the one that opened the broadcast: Janelle Monáe, enacting Fred Rogers’s routine of changing into his character’s costume on set, sang the “Mister Rogers” theme song, with its refrain, “Won’t you be my neighbor?,” to the overwhelmingly white audience and, by extension, to viewers at home. The question, in Monáe’s voice, powerfully invoked the unchallenged and unredressed racism that extends far beyond the Oscar nominations and Hollywood’s notables into society at large.
As Steve Martin and Chris Rock noted, in a bantering presentation immediately following Monáe’s introduction, the acting nominations included only one black performer (Cynthia Erivo, for “Harriet”), and no female directors were nominated at all. The omissions in the year’s roster of nominees were as conspicuous, from the start, as its notable inclusions—such as the nomination of Antonio Banderas, for Best Actor, the nomination of the animated short film “Hair Love,” and the ten nominations for Martin Scorsese’s “The Irishman.” Political anger is justly in the air at a time of gross misrule, unleashed hatred, abuse of power, and plutocratic plunder, and with this year’s Oscars—both in the particulars of the ceremony and in the results that it delivered—Academy members faced up to their own symbolic part in the dire state of the nation.
Brad Pitt, accepting the award for Best Supporting Actor, noted that he had forty-five seconds to speak—forty-five seconds more, he added, than John Bolton had at Donald Trump’s Senate impeachment trial last week. The great filmmaker Julia Reichert, whose “American Factory” won a well-deserved award for Best Documentary Feature, said that the lives of workers can improve only when “workers of the world unite.” Taika Waititi, the director of “Jojo Rabbit,” acknowledged the indigenous nations on whose homeland the Dolby Theatre is situated; Gal Gadot, Sigourney Weaver, and Brie Larson, introducing the nominees for Best Original Score, spoke jokingly but passionately about the obstacles that women confront in Hollywood. The strangest of the political moments arose when Joaquin Phoenix, who won the Best Actor award for “Joker”—a movie considered, by its defenders, to be some sort of substantive statement about inequality, stifled class rage, mental illness, and the health-care system—started to speak about racism, sexism, and humankind’s unwarranted plunder of nature. I expected this last point to lead him to remarks about climate change—but, instead, Phoenix veered off into a pathos-laden, graphically detailed discussion of the oppression of dairy cows, in a pro-vegan discourse that left behind the inhumanities of racial prejudice, misogyny, and abuse of power which plague his own industry and the country at large.
The victory of “Parasite” is a paradox. I consider it a much better film than what I’d feared were the front-runners (“1917,” “Once Upon a Time … in Hollywood,” and “Jojo Rabbit”), and a worse one than the best of the bunch (“The Irishman,” “Little Women,” and “Marriage Story”). At the time of its theatrical release, last fall, it struck me not only for its extraordinarily clever dramatic twist, which is realized with a familiar and conventional aesthetic, but also for its potent, simple sociopolitical symbolism. Its bold and confrontational display of the absurd contrasts between the lives of the rich and the poor has an impact that’s far more powerful than the methods by which it’s realized. The film is utterly sincere, even passionately insistent, and this quality seemed to mesh perfectly, perhaps too perfectly, with a message that critics were apt to receive with enthusiasm.
The Academy agrees. It’s not the first time in recent years that the industry and its critics have found themselves generally in agreement; the same thing happened three years ago, with the victory of “Moonlight.” I wonder whether “Moonlight” could have won today—whether the very fact of its complexity, of its unresolved intricacy, would have counted against it. What’s clear is that, this year, the virtues of the good helped bar the way of the great: “The Irishman” had ten nominations and came away empty-handed. Martin Scorsese did receive a generous tribute in Bong’s acceptance speech for Best Director, and Scorsese, as a result, received a standing ovation from the audience.
Scorsese’s “The Wolf of Wall Street” also had a raft of Oscar nominations (five) and no wins. It seems as if the director has, in his own time, passed into a special realm of classics—like Shakespeare, whom everyone would willingly acclaim as great, peerlessly great, but far fewer would willingly read. I’d contend that “The Irishman” is a more radical political film than “Parasite.” I hope that the victory of Bong’s film opens the floodgates to the recognition of a wide range of international movies, rather than the exception that symbolically breaks the rule—the better to offer cover for other omissions by the Academy, now and later. It’s worth noting, for instance, that the two dramatic features centered on a group of female characters, “Little Women” and “Bombshell,” came away only with awards for Costume Design and Makeup and Hairstyling, respectively. It’s as if the Academy were tacitly, even unconsciously, telling the world what it thought such movies were good for. That’s why my satisfaction in the triumph of a good movie is balanced by concern—that its win may remain a gesture, rather than an acknowledgment of profound and desperately needed change.


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newyorker--2020-02-10--Oscars 2020: The Year of Bong Joon-ho (and Cow Insemination)

At last .
Change is long overdue , and some thought that it would never come .
For too long , Hollywood has been stuck in a narrow rut , attending only to its own needs , and hardly daring to look upward and outward to everything that happens in the world beyond .
But now , finally , someone has had the courage , on behalf of the entire motion-picture industry , to remind us of what truly matters : the artificial insemination of cows .
You can always rely on Joaquin Phoenix .
If there ’ s a @ @ @ @ @ @ @ on it .
And thus it was that , freshly garlanded for his performance in “ Joker , ” he took the opportunity to decry our treatment of livestock , and to describe the moos of lamentation that follow the sundering of a bovine mother and child .
He ’ s not wrong about that , and he clearly believes , along with everyone else who gathered in the Dolby Theatre on Sunday night , that the raising of awareness feeds smoothly into the implementation of change .
Hence the evening ’ s @ @ @ @ @ @ @ sudden beaming-down of Greta Thunberg , say , caught in the middle of a Skype chat with David Attenborough , or the sartorial bravado of Sandra Oh , who seemed to have got into a nasty fight with a giant bunch of hydrangeas somewhere on Wilshire and lost .
The problem with any Oscar sermon , Phoenix ’ s included , is that the more urgent the plea the greater the mismatch with the immediate surroundings .
If we are , as Phoenix contends , “ disconnected from the natural world , ” @ @ @ @ @ @ @ that the most blazingly natural product on show was the half a million dollars ’ worth of rocks that encircled the wrist of Regina King ?
Is it up to Harry Winston to save the planet ?
As one TV commentator remarked , gazing down upon the red carpet , “ Lookin ’ icy !
” Billie Eilish , not to be outshone , arrived in a white , oversized Chanel shag jacket , with fingernails lacquered and lengthened into black razors .
Whether this made viewers feel reconnected to the Earth is @ @ @ @ @ @ @ a polar bear who just discovered punk .
The more seasoned pros , of course , took all of this—the “ glamorous chaos , ” as Oscar Isaac correctly described it—in their stride .
Julia Butters , for example , a standout in “ Once Upon a Time .
.
.
in Hollywood , ” batted back inquiries into her current state of elation with a courteous reply : “ This is truly a blessing , I can ’ t even tell you how much it means to me.
” She also paid @ @ @ @ @ @ @ my idol ” ) , whose designs she had always longed to wear— “ A lifelong dream , I love him so much.
” And what a long life it ’ s been .
( Butters is ten years old . )
She also gave us a sneak peak into her purse , adding , “ I don ’ t like some of the food here.
” Inside was a turkey sandwich .
She ’ s lucky that Joaquin Phoenix didn ’ t spot it .
He would have pinned her against the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ s full name and the details of its conception .
If your interests are more local than global—if , let ’ s say , you want to campaign for a fairer representation of women in the movie industry—then the red carpet is exactly the place to be .
Natalie Portman had the names of female directors embroidered onto her cape .
Neat .
One of those directors , deplorably overlooked this year , was Greta Gerwig , in olive Dior , accessorized with emeralds and a matching husband , Noah Baumbach .
She @ @ @ @ @ @ @ not a blip of resentment , and , if there is any justice , the time of her enthroning can not be far away .
But IS there justice ?
The call for it has gone unanswered for so long .
As Barbra Streisand once pointed out , when “ Yentl ” was released in 1983 and ignored by the Academy , “ In Hollywood , a woman can be an actress , a singer , a dancer .
But don ’ t let her be too much more.
” For Oscar watchers @ @ @ @ @ @ @ is to note the pleasure that guests appear to take in the success of others and to gauge how authentic , or grimly simulated , that pleasure is .
I may be wrong , but this year seemed strangely low on seething , and people were genuinely buoyed by Hildur Guðnadóttir , the Icelandic composer whose score for “ Joker ” bagged a statue .
Gerwig , likewise , flushed with unfeigned joy when the award for best costume design went to Jacqueline Durran , for “ Little Women.
” Quite right , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ dramatized , or even noticed , the barter economy of clothing that operates within a family , and it was startling , on Sunday night , to find the star of the movie , Saoirse Ronan , clad no longer in thick socks and waistcoats but in a Gucci outfit that reduced Brad Goreski , on E !
, to monosyllables of awe : “ That is a pep .
Lum.
” When asked about her participation in the project , Ronan , as usual , was laudably straightforward .
“ I really @ @ @ @ @ @ @ had a bunch of girls in it , ” she said .
As for the ceremony , well , it was—or felt—slightly less boggy and less trudging than in recent years .
Bernie Taupin , accepting his golden trophy alongside Elton John , spoke for millions when he declared , “ Wow .
This doesn ’ t suck.
” High praise , indeed .
There was plenty that did still suck , in compliance with Academy rules , not least the fantastically self-defeating notion of having pre-presenters introduce the actual presenters , thus @ @ @ @ @ @ @ affair instead of scrunching it down .
Most of the speeches , half of the musical numbers , and even some of the comic skits were enough to prove the enduring relevance of Johnny Carson ’ s advice , back in his hosting prime : “ For you people watching at home , this might be a good time to make some dip.
” Yet there was also a wealth of discomfiture in the Dolby Theatre for us to relish , beginning with Jeff Bezos ’ s horrified realization that he was to @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , whacked without mercy by Chris Rock .
Then came Eminem , and the delectable gulf that yawned , in the stalls , between those who knew both the words and the moves to “ Lose Yourself ” and those who , through no fault of their own , had never been trained to respond to the threat of rap .
Martin Scorsese , wise to most eventualities , dozed like an owl .
One woman bobbed her head from side to side like a kindergarten teacher listening to her pupils sing “ @ @ @ @ @ @ @ was happy to be uncool , and what could be cooler than that ?
In the end , though , this will go down as the year of the Bong .
Those of us who have been cheerleading for Bong Joon-ho since he directed “ The Host ” ( 2006 ) , still the finest film ever made about a vast rampaging tadpole , will feel that our investment has paid off .
What became evident on Sunday night , as “ Parasite ” carried off prize after prize , including the top @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ t have happened to a nicer fellow .
Just because you invite your team up to join you at the end of the show ( as now occurs on an annual basis at the Oscars ) doesn ’ t necessarily mean that you ’ re a team player ; in Bong ’ s case , however , the geniality struck a chord and resounded throughout the room .
“ I ’ m bloody ready to drink tonight , ” he said , dispensing briefly with the services of his interpreter .
What @ @ @ @ @ @ @ For one thing , Bong understands that the story of the age , the one that can be heard in every land , with varying degrees of rancor and alarm , is the story of the encounter between rich and poor .
It ’ s scarcely a new story ; Jean Renoir told it in “ Boudu Saved from Drowning ” ( 1932 ) , as did Gregory La Cava , four years later , in “ My Man Godfrey.
” But what was rambunctious in Renoir , and gilded with fashionable suavity @ @ @ @ @ @ @ subterranean for Bong .
Imagine , he asks us , if the rich didn ’ t know they were being invaded ?
The furtive tone , rather than the farcical , chimes with our present paranoia ; watching “ Parasite , ” you don ’ t know whether to laugh , shudder , or wince , and , as for taking sides in this cold war of the classes , forget it .
Here ’ s the big news : it took a director from South Korea , working in his own tongue @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .

At last. Change is long overdue, and some thought that it would never come. For too long, Hollywood has been stuck in a narrow rut, attending only to its own needs, and hardly daring to look upward and outward to everything that happens in the world beyond. But now, finally, someone has had the courage, on behalf of the entire motion-picture industry, to remind us of what truly matters: the artificial insemination of cows.
You can always rely on Joaquin Phoenix. If there’s a limb, he’ll go out on it. And thus it was that, freshly garlanded for his performance in “Joker,” he took the opportunity to decry our treatment of livestock, and to describe the moos of lamentation that follow the sundering of a bovine mother and child. He’s not wrong about that, and he clearly believes, along with everyone else who gathered in the Dolby Theatre on Sunday night, that the raising of awareness feeds smoothly into the implementation of change. Hence the evening’s other nods to environmental peril: the sudden beaming-down of Greta Thunberg, say, caught in the middle of a Skype chat with David Attenborough, or the sartorial bravado of Sandra Oh, who seemed to have got into a nasty fight with a giant bunch of hydrangeas somewhere on Wilshire and lost.
The problem with any Oscar sermon, Phoenix’s included, is that the more urgent the plea the greater the mismatch with the immediate surroundings. If we are, as Phoenix contends, “disconnected from the natural world,” does it or does it not help that the most blazingly natural product on show was the half a million dollars’ worth of rocks that encircled the wrist of Regina King? Is it up to Harry Winston to save the planet? As one TV commentator remarked, gazing down upon the red carpet, “Lookin’ icy!” Billie Eilish, not to be outshone, arrived in a white, oversized Chanel shag jacket, with fingernails lacquered and lengthened into black razors. Whether this made viewers feel reconnected to the Earth is open to question. She looked like a polar bear who just discovered punk.
The more seasoned pros, of course, took all of this—the “glamorous chaos,” as Oscar Isaac correctly described it—in their stride. Julia Butters, for example, a standout in “Once Upon a Time . . . in Hollywood,” batted back inquiries into her current state of elation with a courteous reply: “This is truly a blessing, I can’t even tell you how much it means to me.” She also paid tribute to Christian Siriano (“my idol”), whose designs she had always longed to wear—“A lifelong dream, I love him so much.” And what a long life it’s been. (Butters is ten years old.) She also gave us a sneak peak into her purse, adding, “I don’t like some of the food here.” Inside was a turkey sandwich. She’s lucky that Joaquin Phoenix didn’t spot it. He would have pinned her against the wall and asked for the turkey’s full name and the details of its conception.
If your interests are more local than global—if, let’s say, you want to campaign for a fairer representation of women in the movie industry—then the red carpet is exactly the place to be. Natalie Portman had the names of female directors embroidered onto her cape. Neat. One of those directors, deplorably overlooked this year, was Greta Gerwig, in olive Dior, accessorized with emeralds and a matching husband, Noah Baumbach. She was a model of queenliness, displaying not a blip of resentment, and, if there is any justice, the time of her enthroning cannot be far away. But IS there justice? The call for it has gone unanswered for so long. As Barbra Streisand once pointed out, when “Yentl” was released, in 1983, and ignored by the Academy, “In Hollywood, a woman can be an actress, a singer, a dancer. But don’t let her be too much more.”
For Oscar watchers, one of the more recherché games is to note the pleasure that guests appear to take in the success of others and to gauge how authentic, or grimly simulated, that pleasure is. I may be wrong, but this year seemed strangely low on seething, and people were genuinely buoyed by Hildur Guðnadóttir, the Icelandic composer whose score for “Joker” bagged a statue. Gerwig, likewise, flushed with unfeigned joy when the award for best costume design went to Jacqueline Durran, for “Little Women.” Quite right, too. Almost no one has previously dramatized, or even noticed, the barter economy of clothing that operates within a family, and it was startling, on Sunday night, to find the star of the movie, Saoirse Ronan, clad no longer in thick socks and waistcoats but in a Gucci outfit that reduced Brad Goreski, on E!, to monosyllables of awe: “That is a pep. Lum.” When asked about her participation in the project, Ronan, as usual, was laudably straightforward. “I really wanted to be in a film that had a bunch of girls in it,” she said.
As for the ceremony, well, it was—or felt—slightly less boggy and less trudging than in recent years. Bernie Taupin, accepting his golden trophy alongside Elton John, spoke for millions when he declared, “Wow. This doesn’t suck.” High praise, indeed. There was plenty that did still suck, in compliance with Academy rules, not least the fantastically self-defeating notion of having pre-presenters introduce the actual presenters, thus padding out the duration of the whole affair instead of scrunching it down. Most of the speeches, half of the musical numbers, and even some of the comic skits were enough to prove the enduring relevance of Johnny Carson’s advice, back in his hosting prime: “For you people watching at home, this might be a good time to make some dip.”
Yet there was also a wealth of discomfiture in the Dolby Theatre for us to relish, beginning with Jeff Bezos’s horrified realization that he was to be the honorary piñata for the night, whacked without mercy by Chris Rock. Then came Eminem, and the delectable gulf that yawned, in the stalls, between those who knew both the words and the moves to “Lose Yourself” and those who, through no fault of their own, had never been trained to respond to the threat of rap. Martin Scorsese, wise to most eventualities, dozed like an owl. One woman bobbed her head from side to side like a kindergarten teacher listening to her pupils sing “The Wheels on the Bus.” She was happy to be uncool, and what could be cooler than that?
In the end, though, this will go down as the year of the Bong. Those of us who have been cheerleading for Bong Joon-ho since he directed “The Host” (2006), still the finest film ever made about a vast rampaging tadpole, will feel that our investment has paid off. What became evident on Sunday night, as “Parasite” carried off prize after prize, including the top one, was that the triumph couldn’t have happened to a nicer fellow. Just because you invite your team up to join you at the end of the show (as now occurs on an annual basis at the Oscars) doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re a team player; in Bong’s case, however, the geniality struck a chord and resounded throughout the room. “I’m bloody ready to drink tonight,” he said, dispensing briefly with the services of his interpreter.
What can be read into this victory? For one thing, Bong understands that the story of the age, the one that can be heard in every land, with varying degrees of rancor and alarm, is the story of the encounter between rich and poor. It’s scarcely a new story; Jean Renoir told it in “Boudu Saved from Drowning” (1932), as did Gregory La Cava, four years later, in “My Man Godfrey.” But what was rambunctious in Renoir, and gilded with fashionable suavity by La Cava, grows cunning and subterranean for Bong. Imagine, he asks us, if the rich didn’t know they were being invaded? The furtive tone, rather than the farcical, chimes with our present paranoia; watching “Parasite,” you don’t know whether to laugh, shudder, or wince, and, as for taking sides in this cold war of the classes, forget it. Here’s the big news: it took a director from South Korea, working in his own tongue, to give voice to universal fears.


newyorker--2020-02-10--The Most Immediate, Unexpected Threat of Trump’s Middle East Peace Plan

Just two weeks after its release , the Trump Administration ’ s plan for Israeli-Palestinian peace has already been so widely discredited for its one-sidedness and its political deviousness that there is a risk of ignoring its most immediate threat—which is not to the Palestinians but to Jordan .
In Israel , the plan , or “ Vision , ” as the document unveiled at the White House calls it , has been received as an American warrant for the Israeli government to annex West Bank territory .
This could precipitate a crisis in the Hashemite kingdom of Abdullah II @ @ @ @ @ @ @ ’ s security , and to that of America ’ s regional allies , particularly in any effort to thwart Iranian forces in Syria , Iraq , and the Gulf .
On Tuesday , the former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert will meet with the Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas in New York , where they are expected to emphasize the need for reciprocal negotiations , which would never have produced this plan .
They will hold a joint press conference , Olmert told me , “ to remind people of what we almost @ @ @ @ @ @ @ way forward.
” But the plan has a collateral danger .
“ A one-sided annexation , ” he added , “ will risk a Jordanian reaction that is going to be very unfriendly , and seriously undermine our relations.
” Though often beneath the surface , those relations have been deep and long-standing .
Since 1970 , when King Abdullah ’ s father , Hussein , began driving Yasir Arafat ’ s guerrilla army out of Jordan and into southern Lebanon—and Israel intervened to protect Jordan from Syrian invasion—Israel ’ s eastern border @ @ @ @ @ @ @ , and the two nations have coöperated on security .
In 1973 , Hussein is even alleged to have flown to Tel Aviv to warn the government of an impending attack by Egypt and Syria .
In 1994 , during the brighter days of the Oslo Agreements , Hussein signed a formal peace treaty with the former Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin .
Yet the Israeli-Jordanian relationship has always been strained—largely because of the great number of Palestinian refugees that Jordan has taken in over the years , who become infuriated about the relationship @ @ @ @ @ @ @ whenever Israel ’ s occupation of the West Bank seems plainly cruel or likely permanent .
Jordan is home to more than ten million people , seven million of whom are citizens .
Ethnic Bedouins , like Abdullah ’ s Hashemite clan , are some thirty-five per cent of the population ; a displaced Iraqi bourgeoisie accounts for at least fifteen .
There are communities of Armenians and Circassians , and six hundred thousand refugees from the Syrian civil war .
The largest group , however , an estimated fifty per cent of @ @ @ @ @ @ @ origin or identity , having first arrived , in waves , during the 1948 and 1967 wars .
The state , desiring to reinforce a Jordanian national identity , does not record any citizens as Palestinians , so numbers are hard to confirm , but more than two million residents are registered as Palestinian refugees with the United Nations Relief and Works Agency ; most of them have citizenship .
Four hundred thousand live in refugee camps , most of which are situated in and around Amman , a city of more than @ @ @ @ @ @ @ refugees in the camps live below the poverty line , and the radical Islamist ideology of Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood is finding influence there .
For Jordan , Palestinian grievances are a domestic matter—especially in view of the peace treaty .
The Trump plan has many provisions that pander transparently to the Israeli right : it requires the Palestinian leadership to declare Israel the “ nation state of the Jewish people , ” even though Israeli Arabs constitute a fifth of the population , and the phrase could suggest a rabbinic theocracy @ @ @ @ @ @ @ specific than Israel ’ s basic laws ; and it would transfer the Arab cities of the so-called Triangle , in north-central Israel , whose youth are fourth-generation Hebrew-speaking citizens , to the Palestinian state—a blatant ploy to reduce Israel ’ s Arab population by three hundred thousand .
Meanwhile , sovereignty over the Old City and the Temple Mount , or Haram al-Sharif , would be assigned entirely to Israel , while Jerusalem ’ s Islamic Religious Endowments Authority , or Waqf , which is entirely funded by Jordan , would have @ @ @ @ @ @ @ none of these provisions make matters substantially worse for the Palestinians than the occupation of the West Bank does already .
( Last week , Israeli security forces shot and killed three Palestinians there , and Palestinians launched three attacks on the security forces . )
The part of the plan that is most provocative , especially to Jordan , pertains to the disposition of lands .
About thirty per cent of the West Bank , territory around Palestinian cities , and the western half of the Jordan Valley , through which the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ runs , would be assigned to Israeli settlers , who are protected by Israeli soldiers .
( The map of the future Palestinian state would look like an archipelago . )
Some reports suggest that the plan imposes a settlements freeze .
That is false .
It states only that Israel will not build in areas “ not contemplated by this Vision to be part of the State of Israel.
” Indeed , Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has taken this as a green light to immediately annex the Jordan Valley and other areas @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Jared Kushner , the plan ’ s impresario , has changed that light to a flashing yellow— “ The hope is that they ’ ll wait until after the election , ” he said .
David Friedman , the U.S .
Ambassador to Israel , tweeted that annexation must await “ a mapping process by a joint Israeli-American committee.
” But Netanyahu is pressing hard to apply Israeli law to at least some of the territory now , and his coalition partners are trying to force his hand ; the settler leader Yossi @ @ @ @ @ @ @ friends ” —the Americans— “ need to be put in their place.
” Netanyahu has no plausible strategic reason for the annexations , only a political one .
He was formally indicted in court on corruption charges on the same day that the plan was released , and rivals accused him of trying to retain a majority of hard-line voters in the upcoming election , scheduled for March 2nd , with another Trump-certified diplomatic coup .
Just before the April election , Trump signed a proclamation , obviously intended to boost Netanyahu , @ @ @ @ @ @ @ .
A new snap poll found that , unsurprisingly , two-thirds of Israelis favored the Trump plan as a whole , so even Netanyahu ’ s main rival , Benny Gantz , has tried to finesse annexation of the Jordan Valley , arguing for its necessity , but also for doing it “ in coördination with the international community ” —a position which another settler leader , the Jordan Valley Regional Council chairman David Elhayani , called “ a declaration of empty meaning.
” Gantz , a former chief of staff of the @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Valley as “ Israel ’ s eastern protective wall , ” which virtually no Israeli doubts .
The plan , too , claims that the annexations give Israel strategic depth—territory to absorb a surprise attack—in the event that pro-Iranian forces in Iraq and Syria somehow manage to approach its population centers .
But a stable Jordan mitigates that event , by keeping pro-Iranian forces out of its territory .
And a stable Jordan is what annexations of any kind will undermine .
Gilead Sher , who served as the chief of staff and @ @ @ @ @ @ @ Prime Minister Ehud Barak , told me that annexation “ would poke King Abdullah in the eye , put the peace treaty at risk , or at least reduce it to a meagre minimum .
”

Just two weeks after its release, the Trump Administration’s plan for Israeli-Palestinian peace has already been so widely discredited for its one-sidedness and its political deviousness that there is a risk of ignoring its most immediate threat—which is not to the Palestinians but to Jordan. In Israel, the plan, or “Vision,” as the document unveiled at the White House calls it, has been received as an American warrant for the Israeli government to annex West Bank territory. This could precipitate a crisis in the Hashemite kingdom of Abdullah II, whose stability is critical to Israel’s security, and to that of America’s regional allies, particularly in any effort to thwart Iranian forces in Syria, Iraq, and the Gulf. On Tuesday, the former Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert will meet with the Palestinian leader Mahmoud Abbas in New York, where they are expected to emphasize the need for reciprocal negotiations, which would never have produced this plan. They will hold a joint press conference, Olmert told me, “to remind people of what we almost achieved in 2008, and signal a way forward.” But the plan has a collateral danger. “A one-sided annexation,” he added, “will risk a Jordanian reaction that is going to be very unfriendly, and seriously undermine our relations.”
Though often beneath the surface, those relations have been deep and long-standing. Since 1970, when King Abdullah’s father, Hussein, began driving Yasir Arafat’s guerrilla army out of Jordan and into southern Lebanon—and Israel intervened to protect Jordan from Syrian invasion—Israel’s eastern border, its longest, has been quiet, and the two nations have coöperated on security. In 1973, Hussein is even alleged to have flown to Tel Aviv to warn the government of an impending attack by Egypt and Syria. In 1994, during the brighter days of the Oslo Agreements, Hussein signed a formal peace treaty with the former Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin.
Yet the Israeli-Jordanian relationship has always been strained—largely because of the great number of Palestinian refugees that Jordan has taken in over the years, who become infuriated about the relationship, and so with the King, whenever Israel’s occupation of the West Bank seems plainly cruel or likely permanent. Jordan is home to more than ten million people, seven million of whom are citizens. Ethnic Bedouins, like Abdullah’s Hashemite clan, are some thirty-five per cent of the population; a displaced Iraqi bourgeoisie accounts for at least fifteen. There are communities of Armenians and Circassians, and six hundred thousand refugees from the Syrian civil war. The largest group, however, an estimated fifty per cent of Jordanian citizens, consider themselves Palestinian by origin or identity, having first arrived, in waves, during the 1948 and 1967 wars. The state, desiring to reinforce a Jordanian national identity, does not record any citizens as Palestinians, so numbers are hard to confirm, but more than two million residents are registered as Palestinian refugees with the United Nations Relief and Works Agency; most of them have citizenship. Four hundred thousand live in refugee camps, most of which are situated in and around Amman, a city of more than four million people. Almost half the refugees in the camps live below the poverty line, and the radical Islamist ideology of Hamas and the Muslim Brotherhood is finding influence there. For Jordan, Palestinian grievances are a domestic matter—especially in view of the peace treaty.
The Trump plan has many provisions that pander transparently to the Israeli right: it requires the Palestinian leadership to declare Israel the “nation state of the Jewish people,” even though Israeli Arabs constitute a fifth of the population, and the phrase could suggest a rabbinic theocracy; it requires constitutional underpinnings for a Palestinian state much more specific than Israel’s basic laws; and it would transfer the Arab cities of the so-called Triangle, in north-central Israel, whose youth are fourth-generation Hebrew-speaking citizens, to the Palestinian state—a blatant ploy to reduce Israel’s Arab population by three hundred thousand. Meanwhile, sovereignty over the Old City and the Temple Mount, or Haram al-Sharif, would be assigned entirely to Israel, while Jerusalem’s Islamic Religious Endowments Authority, or Waqf, which is entirely funded by Jordan, would have authority over only the mosques. Yet none of these provisions make matters substantially worse for the Palestinians than the occupation of the West Bank does already. (Last week, Israeli security forces shot and killed three Palestinians there, and Palestinians launched three attacks on the security forces.)
The part of the plan that is most provocative, especially to Jordan, pertains to the disposition of lands. About thirty per cent of the West Bank, territory around Palestinian cities, and the western half of the Jordan Valley, through which the border between Jordan and the West Bank runs, would be assigned to Israeli settlers, who are protected by Israeli soldiers. (The map of the future Palestinian state would look like an archipelago.) Some reports suggest that the plan imposes a settlements freeze. That is false. It states only that Israel will not build in areas “not contemplated by this Vision to be part of the State of Israel.” Indeed, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has taken this as a green light to immediately annex the Jordan Valley and other areas of Jewish settlement with U.S. consent. Jared Kushner, the plan’s impresario, has changed that light to a flashing yellow—“The hope is that they’ll wait until after the election,” he said. David Friedman, the U.S. Ambassador to Israel, tweeted that annexation must await “a mapping process by a joint Israeli-American committee.” But Netanyahu is pressing hard to apply Israeli law to at least some of the territory now, and his coalition partners are trying to force his hand; the settler leader Yossi Dagan said that “sometimes even dear friends”—the Americans—“need to be put in their place.”
Netanyahu has no plausible strategic reason for the annexations, only a political one. He was formally indicted in court on corruption charges on the same day that the plan was released, and rivals accused him of trying to retain a majority of hard-line voters in the upcoming election, scheduled for March 2nd, with another Trump-certified diplomatic coup. Just before the April election, Trump signed a proclamation, obviously intended to boost Netanyahu, recognizing Israeli sovereignty over the Golan Heights. A new snap poll found that, unsurprisingly, two-thirds of Israelis favored the Trump plan as a whole, so even Netanyahu’s main rival, Benny Gantz, has tried to finesse annexation of the Jordan Valley, arguing for its necessity, but also for doing it “in coördination with the international community”—a position which another settler leader, the Jordan Valley Regional Council chairman David Elhayani, called “a declaration of empty meaning.”
Gantz, a former chief of staff of the Israeli Defense Forces, described the Jordan Valley as “Israel’s eastern protective wall,” which virtually no Israeli doubts. The plan, too, claims that the annexations give Israel strategic depth—territory to absorb a surprise attack—in the event that pro-Iranian forces in Iraq and Syria somehow manage to approach its population centers. But a stable Jordan mitigates that event, by keeping pro-Iranian forces out of its territory. And a stable Jordan is what annexations of any kind will undermine. Gilead Sher, who served as the chief of staff and policy coördinator to Israel’s former Prime Minister Ehud Barak, told me that annexation “would poke King Abdullah in the eye, put the peace treaty at risk, or at least reduce it to a meagre minimum.”
That’s because Abdullah’s problems do not end with a restive Palestinian population. The economy is in trouble: almost forty per cent of Jordanians work either for the government or in education; only about ten per cent work in manufacturing; the average annual income is less than five thousand dollars. In recent years, growth has slowed to under three per cent, while the government’s debt burden has ballooned. In 2016, Abdullah imposed austerity measures. Yet, owing to the bloated public sector, maintained in part to support loyal Bedouin tribes, there are many opportunities for officials to embezzle state funds. In the past two years, there have been large demonstrations against corruption, which forced Abdullah to replace his Prime Minister; last spring saw sit-ins near the royal palace, denouncing austerity measures and demanding jobs, political reform, and even limits on the King’s powers.
At times, the demonstrations have turned specifically on Jordan’s economic relations with Israel. Since 2013, the two countries have been in negotiations to share desalinated water from Jordan’s Red Sea port of Aqaba, and to pump saline water from the Red Sea to the depleted Dead Sea. That project was nearly dropped in the summer of 2017, when, at an annex of the Israeli Embassy in Amman, which Israeli diplomats use as a residence, an Israeli security officer shot and killed a young Jordanian carpenter who had stabbed him with a screwdriver. The Israeli officer also accidentally killed the building’s landlord, a physician, at the scene. Tensions were already high, because of an Israeli decision to put metal-detection devices at entrances to the Haram al-Sharif. Protests erupted in Amman, prompting the Israeli Embassy staff to leave, and Abdullah insisted that Israel replace its Ambassador. The metal detectors were removed, and a new Ambassador was finally named in late 2018, when Israel paid five million dollars in compensation to the families of the Jordanians who had been killed. But the water deal has not progressed. More recently, there have been protests against the King’s agreement to buy natural gas from Israel’s new Mediterranean fields—some forty-five billion cubic metres over fifteen years.