Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Harper's Magazine - January 2018
Harper's Magazine - January 2018
Letters 2
Cut Too Deep Sylvia Totah Calabrese, Mike Maturo
Easy Chair 5
Strandings Rebecca Solnit
Harper’s Index 9
Readings 11
The Digital Poorhouse Virginia Eubanks
Don’t Be Evil dismantling the tech dystopia
Can’t Touch This Taylor Swift does not shake off sexual harassment
Take Me Clarice Lispector
And . . . Elizabeth Bick, Phyllis Galembo, Alison Elizabeth Taylor,
and emoji coders prove to be harsh judges of character
Essay 27
THE FUTURE OF QUEER Fenton Johnson
A manifesto
From the Archive 35
The Castro Richard Rodriguez
Letter from Washington 37
SWAP MEET Andrew Cockburn
Wall Street’s war on the Volcker Rule
Letter from India 45
THE NEWLYWEDS Mansi Choksi
What’s at stake when you marry for love?
Annotation 54
WALK THE LINE Joshua Jelly-Schapiro
The unlikely origins of the US-Mexico border
Letter from Saudi Arabia 57
BODY POLITIC Sarah Aziza
Saudi women push for the right to exercise
Memoir 63
THE HUMAN FACTOR John R. MacArthur, Ludvík Vaculík
How I learned the real meaning of dissent
Story 71
MUNICH, 1938 Robert Harris
Reviews 81
NEW BOOKS Lidija Haas
AFTER THE REVOLUTION Yasmine Seale
Three novels of Egypt’s repressive present
MR. MAILER GOES TO WASHINGTON David Denby
The Armies of the Night fifty years on
Puzzle 95 Richard E. Maltby Jr.
Cover: © Gesche Jaeger/laif/Redux
Findings 96 (detail)
m a g a z i n e
LETTERS
John R. MacArthur, President and Publisher
Editor
James Marcus
Deputy Editor
Emily Cooke
Managing Editor
Hasan Altaf
Senior Editors
Katia Bachko, Giles Harvey,
Betsy Morais
Editor Emeritus
Lewis H. Lapham
Editor-at-Large
Ellen Rosenbush
Washington Editor
Andrew Cockburn
Art Director
Stacey Clarkson James
Poetry Editor
Ben Lerner
Web Editor
Joe Kloc
Associate Editors
Camille Bromley, Rachel Poser,
Matthew Sherrill
Associate Art Director
Kathryn Humphries
Assistant Editors
Winston Choi-Schagrin, Matthew Hickey,
Ava Kofman, Stephanie McFeeters
Assistant to the Editor Cut Too Deep Even today, it is a serious condition. In
Adrian Kneubuhl parts of Africa, women with fistulas
Editorial Interns
Claire Bryan, Emma Grillo, In “Monumental Error” [Essay, No- are often excommunicated and left to
Christian Kreznar, Karl Williams vember], J. C. Hallman unfairly skew- die. The lucky ones are treated by doc-
Contributing Editors
Andrew J. Bacevich, Kevin Baker, Dan Baum, ers J. Marion Sims, the “Father of tors using the same tools, techniques,
Tom Bissell, Joshua Cohen, John Crowley, Gynecology.” He attributes to Sims a and position that Sims pioneered.
Rivka Galchen, William H. Gass,
Gary Greenberg, Jack Hitt, Edward Hoagland, huge ego and the desire for fame, and Removing Sims’s statue would be
Scott Horton, Frederick Kaufman, highlights actions that are shocking the real monumental error. It should
Garret Keizer, Mark Kingwell, Walter Kirn,
Rafil Kroll-Zaidi, Gideon Lewis-Kraus, by modern standards but were com- remain in situ, with additional contex-
Clancy Martin, Duncan Murrell,
Vince Passaro, Francine Prose, monplace during the 1800s. For in- tual information on site.
Christine Smallwood, Zadie Smith, stance, Sims was from the South; Sylvia Totah Calabrese
Rebecca Solnit, Matthew Stevenson,
John Edgar Wideman, Tom Wolfe that he once owned slaves, a point New York City
Contributing Artists Hallman emphasizes, hardly makes
Olive Ayhens, Lisa Elmaleh, Lena Herzog,
Aaron Huey, Samuel James, Steve Mumford, him unique. Though he did practice
Richard Ross, Tomas van Houtryve, his operations on enslaved women, A Donkey in the Headlights
Danijel Žeželj
Vice President and General Manager
he did so only on those who needed
Lynn Carlson surgical intervention. He did not use In her investigation into the Demo-
Vice President, Circulation anesthesia during these procedures, cratic Party’s recruitment strategies
Shawn D. Green
Vice President, Public Relations as noted, but anesthesia was not [“Star Search,” Letter from Virginia,
Giulia Melucci widely available during his lifetime. November], Lisa Rab does not grasp
Vice President, Advertising
Jocelyn D. Giannini (Until 1986, in fact, infants younger the party’s need to first overcome the
Virginia Navarro, Assistant to the Publisher than fifteen months received no an- fear of its own liberal ideology, which
Kim Lau, Senior Accountant
Eve Brant, Office Manager esthesia during surgery at most has plagued it since the McGovern
Courtney Joyal, Marketing Assistant American hospitals.) era. While stronger candidates are
Advertising Sales: In addition, Hallman makes fistula, necessary for electoral success, a party
(212) 420-5760; Fax: (212) 260-1096
Natalie C. Holly, Advertising Sales Representative a common affliction treated by Sims, that continues to rally only around in-
Marisa Nakasone, Production Manager and Designer sound like minor bladder leakage. dividual personalities diminishes the
Sales Representatives
Chicago: Tauster Media Resources, Inc. importance of progressive policies.
(630) 858-1558; susant@taustermedia.com Harper’s Magazine welcomes reader response. US voters hate cowards, and sup-
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“Timely.”
—Ira Katznelson, The Atlantic
“Spellbinding and
engrossing.”
—Stephen Rohde,
Los Angeles Review of Books
“Startling.”
—Jeff Guo, Washington Post
“A breathtaking
excavation of America’s
shameful contribution
to Hitler’s genocidal
policies. . . .
A brilliant page-turner.”
—Laurence H. Tribe,
Harvard Law School
“Eerie. . . . [Whitman]
illustrates how German
propagandists sought
to normalize the Nazi
agenda domestically by
Cloth $24.95
putting forth the United
States as a model.”
—Brent Staples,
New York Times See our e-books at
press.princeton.edu
EASY CHAIR
Strandings
By Rebecca Solnit
T
he footage is eerie, a plunge ceeded into the tangle of islands at John Rae encountered an Inuit
through a dim world of lush North America’s frigid end. It was man wearing the band from what
seaweed, the underwater for- not unusual for ships to get locked appeared to be a British Navy offi-
ests of the treeless Arctic. Objects into the ice over winter and then sail cer’s cap. The man told Rae that he
swim into view: a bell, a small fish, a on after the thaw, but somehow the had heard from local seal hunters
stovepipe, the barnacled bow of the Terror and the Erebus never got that they had seen forty men drag-
ship itself. One of the discoverers loose. Things went wrong, and then ging a boat and sledges across the
said, “We spotted two wine bottles, wronger, though we don’t know ice. Native people in the region
tables and empty shelving. Found a much about how and why. had articles from the expedition,
desk with open drawers with some- According to a note scrawled by and Rae purchased some of them—
thing in the back corner of the two officers and placed in a metal monogrammed spoons and forks, a
drawer.” This ship, the Terror, sank canister buried in a cairn, Franklin star-shaped medal—as evidence of
sometime after 1848 and was found died in the summer of 1847, though the explorers’ fate. In the Polar Mu-
in 2016. It’s easy to see the discov- his body has never been found. The seum in Cambridge, England, I saw
ery as something far away and long ships were abandoned in the spring four of these pieces with Franklin’s
ago, but there is another story to be of 1848, the note in the cairn adds, family crest on them. They suggest
told about the ship’s role in the and the remnants of the crews set an unwarranted confidence about
scramble for the Arctic, which con- out on a bleak trek southward in who these men were and what they
tinues to shape the geopolitics of pursuit of a last chance at survival. were doing.
the world. By that time twenty-three others Soon after this discovery, Rae re-
The Terror and its sister ship, the had also perished. “H.M. ships Ere- ported what he had learned from his
Erebus, set out from Greenhithe, a bus and Terror were deserted on Inuit sources:
village on the Thames downstream the 22nd of April, five leagues
from London, on May 19, 1845. N.N.W. of this; having been beset From the mutilated state of many of
The expedition was headed by since 12th September 1846.” The the bodies and the contents of the
kettles, it is evident that our wretched
John Franklin, an explorer who final addition reads, “And start to- countrymen had been driven to the
hoped to find the Northwest Pas- morrow 26th for Back’s Fish River.” last dread alternative, as a means of
sage, a short route between the At- Beginning in 1850, several expe- sustaining life.
lantic and the Pacific that would ditions were launched to search for
benefit trade and assert British what had become a cause célèbre. This was a Victorian circumlocu-
dominance in the far north. Franklin’s wife, Elizabeth, who had tion for cannibalism. In 1981, ar-
The ships were equipped with been ambitious for his glory, insisted chaeologists discovered confirming
monogrammed silverware and three for years that he might be alive and evidence—a femur that had been
years’ worth of food, including half was furious when the British Navy hacked, other human bones scat-
a ton of mustard, a dozen tons of awarded her a widow’s pension. tered with the disarray of food
sugar, 9,450 pounds of chocolate, She financed the expedition that scraps rather than the orderliness of
and a mountain of canned goods, as found the note in the cairn, along a burial. Later research suggested
well as a sizable library and 2,700 with a couple of skeletons, a heavy that long bones were cracked to get
pounds of candles, and were piled boat on a sledge, and a pair of em- at the marrow; this is termed end-
with coal to burn. broidered slippers. stage cannibalism, the struggle to
They sailed up the west coast of In the Canadian Arctic in 1854, extract the last bits of nutrition
Greenland. From there, they pro- a fur trader and explorer named from a corpse.
EASY CHAIR 5
I
n the summer of 2008, Stephen years ago, laid the foundations of Putin’s motives were variously stated
Harper, then the prime minister of Canada’s Arctic sovereignty.” as sowing discord, weakening the
Canada, announced a partnership It seemed peculiar for Harper to United States, revenging himself on
with private explorers to find the Ere- claim Franklin as a legitimizing pre- Hillary Clinton, or undoing the
bus and the Terror. At the time, Harper decessor. As the Inuit politician Magnitsky sanctions imposed by
was working to assert Canada’s sover- Jack Anawak put it, “Honoring Congress in 2012 on members of the
eignty in the Arctic, not just over its somebody who’s a failure I don’t Russian elite. Oil and gas are major
own territory but all the way to the think is a good idea. I mean, he sources of wealth for Russia; it now
North Pole. It was a land grab, or rather failed at first at finding the North- rivals Saudi Arabia as the world’s
a water grab, since there’s no land west Passage, and secondly, failed at largest oil producer.
north of Canada. “Canada has a surviving in the North.” As the climate journalist Alex
choice when it comes to defending our When Justin Trudeau replaced Steffen argued last year, perhaps
sovereignty over the Arctic. Either we Harper in 2015, he charmed many Putin’s agenda during the election
use it or we lose it,” said Harper. Americans, yet he pursued the de- was not least—maybe most—about
His administration renewed in- velopment of the Alberta tar sands the Arctic and oil. For Putin,
terest in the Arctic. The polar re- a nd their attenda nt pipelines, Trump held the key to keeping pe-
gions have long been considered launched by the previous adminis- troleum valuable enough for long
international territory, but also tration. In doing so, he ignored enough to let Russian profit-making
sources of power and wealth. In the warnings from climate scientists, in- continue. Trump was the candidate
seventeenth century, fishing ships cluding James Hansen, who predict- to rubber-stamp fossil-fuel explora-
around Greenland and Svalbard, ed that fully exploiting the immense tion, to abandon the goals of the
the archipelago far north of Nor- reserves in the tar sands would lead Paris Climate Accord and throw out
way, were decimating the whale to runaway climate change. the Environmental Protection Agen-
population in the area. In 1613, a cy’s emissions regulations, and to be
O
fleet of British warships patrolled n September 3, 2016, the too incompetent and distracted to
the international waters of Sval- Terror was finally discovered, compete for power in the Arctic.
bard to defend British whalers and almost intact, in a bay of Not only was Trump endlessly ea-
drive off ships from Holland and King William Island. Several years ger to oblige the Putin regime,
Denmark. By the Cold War, the earlier, Sammy Kogvik of Gjoa Hav- members of his campaign team and
United States had built an enor- en, the sole settlement on the island, then his Cabinet were entangled
mous air base in northern Greenland, had been out hunting when he spot- with Rosneft, an oil and gas com-
less than a thousand miles from the ted the masts sticking out of the ice, pany majority-owned by the Rus-
North Pole. Later that decade, a but he had been quiet about it for fear sian government.
US Air Force colonel noted that of being disbelieved. His father-in- After the election, Trump ap-
“the Arctic is to us what the Mediter- law, reports Paul Watson in his book pointed Rex Tillerson as his secre-
ranean was to the Greeks and Ice Ghosts, had seen them, too, and tary of state, which couldn’t have
Romans—the center of the world.” remembered old stories of a sunken been better for Putin. In the past,
As prime minister, Harper vowed ship. Kogvik’s information eventually Tillerson had opposed sanctions
to make Canada an “energy super- led to the official discovery. against Russia. As ExxonMobil’s
power,” in part by exploiting the Al- Just the day before, Russian pres- CEO, he had led the world’s largest
berta tar sands through a vastly de- ident Vladimir Putin personally de- oil corporation as it acquired dril-
structive recovery process. He was a nied that Russia had hacked the ling rights to 63.7 million acres of
staunch opponent of climate-change Democratic National Committee. Russian land, much of it in the
research, but he was well aware that That fall, the connection between Arctic. After the election, Trump’s
global warming offered two opportu- the discovery of Franklin’s ship and pro-Russian rhetoric suggested a
nities. As the summer ice in the Russian interference in the Ameri- potential thaw in relations, lead-
Arctic melted faster and faster with can election was not explicit, but ing analysts to speculate about
each passing year, trade through the they were two points on the same ExxonMobil’s prospects in the Arc-
Northwest Passage would become a map. Four days after the Terror was tic. The corporation again filed for a
reality, and lucrative for whoever found, Obama’s defense secretary, sanctions exemption in April so
controlled it. In addition, the enor- Ashton B. Carter, warned Putin that it could begin Arctic drilling
mous oil reserves are currently worth against further meddling. The evi- with Rosneft, which plans to spend
hundreds of billions of dollars. dence of Russian interference piled more than $4 billion on exploration
When the first ship, the Erebus, up like wood for a bonfire, but some- in Arctic seas.
was discovered in 2014, Harper used how it never became a powerful
“S
it to bolster a claim to historical le- enough story to prompt the outgoing tranded” is a word that comes
gitimacy. “Franklin’s ships are an im- administration to act decisively or to up again and again in the his-
portant part of Canadian history,” he make urgent the question of whether tory of the Franklin expedition.
declared, “given that his expeditions, one candidate was colluding with a Ships like the Erebus and the Terror,
which took place nearly two hundred foreign power. frozen into the ice, became a recur-
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World Gone Mad and Mean
ROBERT REICH
Former U.S. Secretary of Labor Robert Reich
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HARPER’S INDEX
Percentage by which a marijuana user is likelier than others to eat fast food five or more times in a given week : 75
Amount the US pharmaceutical industry spent in 2016 on ads for prescription drugs : $6,400,000,000
Number of countries in which direct-to-consumer pharmaceutical ads are legal : 2
Percentage of moisturizers sold in the United States as “fragrance-free” that contain a fragrance : 45
Of moisturizers sold as “hypoallergenic” that contain a common allergen : 83
Estimated chance that a white woman in Washington, D.C., has a tanning-salon addiction : 1 in 5
Percentage change between 2005 and 2014 in the number of French people undergoing weight-loss surgery : +269
Factor by which an obese woman is less likely than other candidates in France to be offered a job interview : 6
Percentage of applicants for dog-walking jobs through the app Wag! who are successful : 5
Of recently graduated applicants for jobs at Goldman Sachs who are : 4
Percentage by which white job applicants in the United States were preferred over black applicants in 1989 : 36
In 2015 : 36
Percentage of black Americans earning less than $25,000 a year who say they have been called a racial slur : 40
Of black Americans earning more than $75,000 : 65
Percentage of US Latinos who would support a law criminalizing offensive speech about white people : 47
Of US whites : 26
Percentage of US whites who believe white Americans are discriminated against : 55
Who say they’ve experienced discrimination themselves : 21
Amount white supremacist Richard Spencer paid the University of Florida to give a speech last October : $10,564
Estimated amount the university paid for security : $600,000
Percentage of Asian-American doctors who have had a patient request a different physician because of their ethnicity : 22
Percentages of Democrats and Republicans who say workplace sexual harassment is a very serious problem in Hollywood : 55,58
In the rest of the country : 45,22
Percentage of news stories about Donald Trump during his first sixty days in office that were positive : 5
Percentage of 2016 Clinton voters who think it’s hard to be friends with Trump voters : 61
Of Trump voters who think it’s hard to be friends with Clinton voters : 34
Factor by which George W. Bush’s popularity among Democrats has increased since 2009 : 4
Average number of days the National Rifle Association waits to tweet after a major mass shooting : 6.3
Number of Texas inmates who donated money for Hurricane Harvey relief : 6,663
Number of days after the hurricane for which Texas prisoners lacked adequate food and water : 33
Portion of voting-age Floridians who have been disenfranchised because of felony convictions : 1/10
Percentage of youth library cards in New York City that were suspended due to overdue books before an October amnesty : 17
Total amount of debt that was forgiven : $2,250,000
Largest single fine : $1,422.69
Date on which New York City repealed a law requiring bars to have a license to allow dancing : 10/31/2017
Estimated percentage of bars that had such a license : 0.4
Amount a Canadian man was fined for singing “Everybody Dance Now” too loudly in his car : $117
Number of animated Jackie Chan Adventures episodes found on Osama bin Laden’s computer : 33
Of crocheting videos : 29
Figures cited are the latest available as of November 2017. Sources are listed on page 43.
“Harper’s Index” is a registered trademark.
HARPER’S INDEX 9
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READINGS
F
pressed and exploited populations bear a much
heavier burden of monitoring, tracking, and social
orty years ago, nearly all the major decisions sorting than advantaged groups.
that shape our lives—whether or not we are of- The most marginalized in our society face
fered employment, a mortgage, insurance, credit, higher levels of data collection when they access
or a government service—were made by human public benefits, walk through heavily policed
beings. They often used actuarial processes that neighborhoods, enter the health care system, or
functioned more like computers than people, but cross national borders. That data reinforces their
human discretion still prevailed. marginality when it is used to target them for
Today, we have ceded much of that decision- extra scrutiny. Groups seen as undeserving of so-
making power to machines. Automated eligibil- cial support and political inclusion are singled out
ity systems, ranking algorithms, and predictive for punitive public policy and more intense surveil-
risk models control which neighborhoods get lance, and the cycle begins again. It is a feedback
policed, which families attain needed resources, loop of injustice.
who is short-listed for employment, and who is Take the case of Maine. In 2014, under Repub-
investigated for fraud. Our world is crisscrossed lican governor Paul LePage, the state attacked
by information sentinels, some obvious and vis- families who were receiving cash benefits through
ible: closed-circuit cameras, GPS on our cell a federal program called Temporary Assistance
phones, police drones. But much of our informa- for Needy Families. TANF benefits are loaded
tion is collected by inscrutable, invisible pieces onto EBT cards, which leave a digital record of
of code embedded in social media interactions, when and where cash is withdrawn. LePage’s
applications for government services, and every administration mined data collected by federal
product we buy. They are so deeply woven into and state agencies to compile a list of 3,650 trans-
the fabric of social life that, most of the time, actions in which TANF recipients withdrew cash
we don’t even notice that we are being watched from ATMs in smoke shops, liquor stores, and
and analyzed. out-of-state locations. The data was then released
Even when we do notice, we rarely under- to the public.
stand how these processes are taking place. The transactions that were flagged as suspi-
There is no sunshine law to compel the govern- cious represented only 0.3 percent of the 1.1 mil-
ment or private companies to release details on lion cash withdrawals completed during that
READINGS 11
time period, and the data showed only where and reinforce the misleading narrative that those
cash was withdrawn, not how it was spent. But who access public assistance are criminal, lazy,
the administration disclosed the data to suggest spendthrift addicts.
that TANF families were defrauding taxpayers by This has not been limited to Maine. Across the
buying liquor, cigarettes, and lottery tickets. Law- country, poor and working-class people are being
makers and the professional middle-class public targeted by new tools of digital poverty manage-
eagerly embraced the misleading tale they spun. ment, and face life-threatening consequences as a
The Maine legislature introduced a bill that result. Vast networks of social services, law enforce-
would require TANF families to retain all cash re- ment, and neighborhood-surveillance technology
ceipts for twelve months, in order to facilitate state make their every move visible and offer up their
audits of their spending. Democratic legislators behavior for scrutiny by the government, corpora-
urged the state’s attorney general to use LePage’s list tions, and the public.
to investigate and prosecute fraud. The governor Automated eligibility systems in Medicaid,
introduced a bill to ban TANF recipients from TANF, and the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance
using their benefit cards at out-of-state ATMs. Program discourage families from claiming benefits
These proposed laws were patently unconstitu- that they are entitled to and deserve. Predictive
tional and unenforceable, and would have been models in child welfare deem struggling parents to
impossible to obey—but that was not the point. be risky and problematic. Coordinated entry sys-
Such legislation is part of the performative politics tems, which match the most vulnerable unhoused
governing poverty. It is not intended to work; it people to available resources, collect personal in-
is intended to heap stigma on social programs formation without adequate safeguards in place for
privacy or data security.
These systems are being integrated into human
and social services at a breathtaking pace, with
little or no discussion about their impacts. Tech-
nology boosters rationalize the automation of
[Catalogue] decision-making in public services—they say we
will be able to do more with less and get help to
CLASS MENAGERIE those who really need it. But programs that serve
the poor are as unpopular as they have ever been.
From a list of seventy-one types of US households, This is not a coincidence: technologies of poverty
as classified by Experian Marketing Services, the management are not neutral. They are shaped by
world’s largest credit data company. our nation’s fear of economic insecurity and hatred
of the poor.
The new tools of poverty management hide
Golf Carts and Gourmets economic inequality from the professional
Colleges and Cafés middle-class public and give the nation the eth-
Modest Metro Means ical distance it needs to make inhuman choices
Status-Seeking Singles about who gets food and who starves, who has
Footloose and Family-Free housing and who remains homeless, whose fam-
Settled and Sensible ily stays together and whose is broken up by the
Diapers and Debit Cards state. This is part of a long American tradition.
Babies and Bliss We manage the poor so that we do not
A
Kids and Cabernet have to eradicate poverty.
Digital Dependents
Full Pockets, Empty Nests merica’s poor and working-class people
Town Elders have long been subject to invasive surveillance,
Generational Soup midnight raids, and punitive policies that increase
Booming and Consuming the stigma and hardship of poverty. During the
Birkenstocks and Beemers nineteenth century, they were quarantined in
Progressive Potpourri county poorhouses. In the twentieth century,
Cul-de-Sac Diversity they were investigated by caseworkers who treated
True-Grit Americans them like criminals on trial. Today, we have
Countrified Pragmatics forged a digital poorhouse. It promises to eclipse
Red, White, and Bluegrass the reach of everything that came before.
American Royalty The differences between the brick-and-mortar
Tough Times poorhouse of yesterday and the digital one of today
Tight Money are significant. Containment in a physical institu-
tion had the unintended result of creating class
solidarity across the lines of race, gender, and
Only Castles Burning . . . , a mixed-media work by Alison Elizabeth Taylor, whose work was on view in December 2017 at James Cohan, in New
York City.
national origin. If we sit at a common table to eat Harry Laughlin proposed ending poverty by forc-
the same gruel, we might see similarities in our ibly sterilizing the “lowest one tenth” of the na-
experiences. But now surveillance and digital so- tion’s population, approximately 15 million
cial sorting are driving us apart, targeting smaller people. But Laughlin’s science fell out of favor
and smaller microgroups for different kinds of after its use in Nazi Germany.
aggression and control. In an invisible poorhouse, The digital poorhouse has a much lower barrier
we become ever more cut off from the people to expansion. Automated decision-making sys-
around us, even if they share our suffering. tems, matching algorithms, and predictive risk
In the 1820s, those who supported institution- models have the potential to spread quickly. The
alizing the indigent argued that there should be state of Indiana denied more than a million public
a poorhouse in every county in the United States. assistance applications in less than three years
But it was expensive and time-consuming to after switching to private call centers and auto-
build so many prisons for the poor—county mated document processing. In Los Angeles, a
poorhouses were difficult to scale (though we still sorting survey to allocate housing for the homeless
ended up with more than a thousand of them). that started in a single neighborhood expanded to
In the early twentieth century, the eugenicist a countywide program in less than four years.
READINGS 13
Models that identify children at risk of abuse and Eventually, however, those of us in the profes-
neglect are proliferating rapidly from New York sional middle class may very well end up in the
City to Los Angeles and from Oklahoma to Or- stickier, denser part of the web. As the working
egon. Once they scale up, these digital systems will class hollows out and the economic ladder gets
be remarkably hard to decommission. more crowded at the top and the bottom, the
Oscar Gandy, a communications scholar at the middle class becomes more likely to fall into
University of Pennsylvania, developed a concept poverty. Even without crossing the official pov-
called rational discrimination that is key to under- erty line, two thirds of Americans between the
standing how the digital poorhouse automates in- ages of twenty and sixty-five will at some point
equality. Rational discrimination does not require rely on a means-tested program for support.
class or racial hatred, or even unconscious bias, to The programs we encounter will be shaped
operate. It requires only ignoring bias that already by the contempt we held for their initial targets:
exists. When automated decision-making tools are the chronically poor. We will endure invasive
not built to explicitly dismantle structural inequal- and complicated procedures meant to divert us
ities, their increased speed and vast scale intensify from public resources. Our worthiness, behavior,
them dramatically. and social relations will be investigated, our
Removing human discretion from public ser- missteps criminalized.
vices may seem like a compelling solution to Because the digital poorhouse is networked,
discrimination. After all, a computer treats each whole areas of middle-class life might sud-
case consistently and without prejudice. But this denly be subject to scrutiny. Because the digital
actually has the potential to compound racial poorhouse serves as a continuous record, a
injustice. In the Eighties and Nineties, a series of behavior that is perfectly legal today but be-
laws establishing mandatory minimum sentences comes criminal in the future could be targeted
took away discretion from individual judges. for retroactive prosecution. It would stand us
Thirty years later, we have made little progress all in good stead to remember that an infatua-
in rectifying racial disparity in the criminal tion with high-tech social sorting emerges most
justice system, and the incarcerated population aggressively in countries plagued by severe
has exploded. Though automated decision-mak- inequality and governed by totalitarians, and
ing can streamline the governing process, and here, a national catastrophe or a political re-
tracking program data can help identify patterns gime change might justify the deployment of
of biased decision-making, justice sometimes the digital poorhouse’s full surveillance capa-
requires an ability to bend the rules. By transfer- bility across the class spectrum.
ring discretion from frontline social servants and We have always lived in the world we built
moving it instead to engineers and data analysts, for the poor. We created a society that has no
the digital poorhouse may, in fact, use for the disabled or the elderly, and therefore
T
supercharge discrimination. are cast aside when we are hurt or grow old. We
measure human worth by the ability to earn a
hink of the digital poorhouse as an invisi- wage, then suffer in a world that undervalues
ble web woven of fiber-optic threads. Each care, community, and mutual aid. We base our
strand functions as a microphone, a camera, a economy on exploiting the labor of racial and
fingerprint scanner, a GPS tracker, a trip wire, ethnic minorities and watch lasting inequalities
and a crystal ball. Some of the strands are sticky. snuff out human potential. We see the world as
Along the threads travel petabytes of data. Our inevitably riven by bloody competition and are
activities vibrate the web, disclosing our loca- left unable to recognize the many ways in which
tion and direction. Each of these filaments can we cooperate and lift one another up.
be switched on or off. They reach back into his- When a very efficient technology is deployed
tory and forward into the future. They connect against a scorned out-group in the absence of
us in networks of association to those we know strong human rights protections, there is enor-
and love. As you go down the socioeconomic mous potential for atrocity. Currently, the digital
scale, the strands are woven more densely and poorhouse concentrates administrative power in
more of them are switched on. the hands of a small elite. Its integrated data
When my family was erroneously red-flagged systems and digital surveillance infrastructure
for a health care fraud investigation in 2015, we offer a degree of control unrivaled in history.
had to wrestle only one strand. We weren’t also Automated tools for classifying the poor, left on
tangled in threads emerging from the criminal their own, will produce towering inequalities
justice system, Medicaid, and child protective unless we make an explicit commitment to forge
services. We weren’t knotted up in the histories another path. And yet we act as if justice will
of our parents or the patterns of our neighbors. take care of itself.
We challenged a single strand of the digital If there is to be an alternative, we must build
poorhouse and we prevailed. it purposefully, brick by brick and byte by byte.
“Los Americanos, Mexico,” a photograph by Phyllis Galembo, whose work was on view in November at the New Gallery of
Modern Art, in Charlotte, North Carolina.
READINGS 15
angela richter: We don’t have government, we Silicon Valley ideology is more dangerous than
have Googlement. the Islamic State, because, at a global level, it’s
sarah harrison: It’s not just that Google is be- so much more powerful.
ing used by the government or collaborating avila: The Islamic State wants to occupy territo-
with the government. Google has actually ry, control resources, and create a state. Their
been integrated with the government in a real- aim is very concrete and tangible. In the case
ly frightening way. of Silicon Valley, their domination is in our
richter: It’s totally in the open. I think that the minds. We have experimented with artificial
intelligence but have yet to experiment with
superintelligence, and these guys in Silicon
Valley will have in their hands the power to
control a machine that’s more intelligent than
humans. The people who will control this ma-
[Guidance] chine have a very specific ideology and set of
ethics. How will they govern the machine?
SECURITY QUESTION Then there’s the DeepMind project. I met
the guy behind DeepMind at a dinner party at
Google HQ in London. We had the inventor
From Ask Zelda, an advice column that ran in
of the web sitting on one side, parliamentari-
SIDtoday, an internal newsletter for National Secu-
ans from the UK government on the other,
rity Agency employees. This column appeared in July
some celebrities and musicians, and then
2014, a year after Edward Snowden leaked classified
Google executives at the rest of the table.
NSA documents, and was provided to Harper’s
The DeepMind guy gave the keynote speech.
Magazine in September in response to a Freedom of
He was bragging about how efficient his ma-
Information Act request.
chine was at eliminating targets, and how good
combat robots would be for the world because
Dear Zelda, they would reduce civilian casualties. A musi-
Nearly a year ago our lives changed because cian who was listening, horrified, said, “Yes,
of one “bad seed” employee who took it upon but this is still a killing machine, right?”
himself to share classified information with the richter: I read today that Google has stopped
world that he did not comprehend. Now Amer- using their old motto “Don’t be evil.” Over
icans are confused and have been misled. We the past year I started to interpret the motto
all continue to pay a price for his bad doing. I’d as referring to the public: “Don’t be evil and
like to know your suggestion on how we can you have nothing to fear”—like a directive to
bring trust back to the American people. the people.
Sincerely, avila: The problems that we had forty years ago
A loyal American we still have: racism, unequal distribution of
wealth, corrupt oligarchies. . . . Now we are just
Dear Loyal American, putting a layer of technology on top of that. It’s
Every time I think about what happened and not going to fix what’s underneath.
the ignorance of the people who are speaking joseph farrell: Can you give any examples of a
out against the agency, my circuits overheat. potential counterpower to Silicon Valley?
Normally a pacifist, I fantasized about creating richter: I think what we really need is to develop
a voodoo doll of Mr. Bad Seed. new models of utopia. This world is dominated
It has been a doggone nuisance for our work- by Silicon Valley’s ideology. At some point this
force. We have had to take time away from our brave new world will be revealed in all its emp-
important missions to research the leak, answer tiness. Silicon Valley’s ideology tells people
questions, and implement new measures that that they are superfluous and that machines
hamper us in doing our jobs. The issue is simi- will rule the world. Is this a utopia? No! It’s just
lar to heightened airport security in response to a slap in the face of humanity.
a terrorist attempt: everyone is inconvenienced harrison: People are too comfortable at pres-
and has to suffer because of one bad seed. ent. So many of these developments that we
A media storm is like a hurricane. When the find troubling, for 90 percent of people it’s not
worst is over, we have to survey the damage and their problem.
plan a way forward. When we rebuild, we make avila: It is good to dismantle the idea that the
things stronger to survive another storm. I have technological utopia will benefit all, that the
every confidence that the NSA of the future benefits of the digital age will reach everyone.
will be stronger and more secure than ever. We have to make the exclusion visible and un-
derstand how our rights are being progressively
eroded. For instance, we need to start educat-
READINGS 17
COURTESY THE ARTIST AND FOXY PRODUCTION, NEW YORK CITY
Institut->uncut peace since projects freshman, a painting by Petra Cortright, whose work was on view in October at Foxy Production, in New York City.
T
swift: I don’t have any feelings about a person
that I don’t know.
mcfarland: Let’s talk about the photo for a min- he boy is ugly. His mouth, for example, that
ute. You contend that this photograph shows open mouth; his receding lower and protruding
Mr. Mueller’s hand under your skirt grabbing upper jaw; and the lips more so: the lower lip
your bare butt as you’re trying to get away. short, or, more precisely, not short, but pressed,
swift: Yes. extruded into two fat bulges, accompanied by an
mcfarland: Yesterday we heard from your mom upper lip pulled upward like a tent on two strings,
that this dress is stiff like a lampshade, or spreading out sideways to shelter the corners of
something like that. the mouth. The boy looks stupid with his gaping
swift: Yes. lips—really stupid, more than just unbecoming:
mcfarland: Can you explain to me how, given dim-witted, a mean kind of dimwit with some-
the stiffness of this skirt—if Mr. Mueller’s thing awkward and boorish about him at the
hand is actually grabbing your bare cheek in same time, something of a spoiled brat thinking
this photograph, why isn’t the front of your only of himself. It is unpleasant, unsavory no less,
skirt someplace else? to imagine a kiss from him, no matter how readily
swift: Because my ass is located in the back of and easily we receive kisses from other children.
my body. There are children like that, five-year-olds who
mcfarland: But the skirt is stiff, so we just talk- still scratch blithely in their unwiped bum crease
ed about when you lift up one side, the whole and hold out their shit to you. This one has lost
skirt comes up like a lampshade. some paint precisely on the three fingers that
READINGS 19
“Cabrillo Highway at Pescadero Creek Road, Variation 1,” a photograph by John Chiara, whose work was on view in December at Haines
Gallery, in San Francisco. Chiara’s monograph California was published in October by Aperture and Pier 24 Photography.
he holds up in blessing, from the tips of his finger- “I’m standing right in front of him,” my friend
nails past the second knuckle. At first glance he whispered. He had no trouble finding the boy; he
seems about to stick his bent brown fingers down asked the first guard he saw where to find the ugly
your throat. Christ Child and was shown the way with a grin.
And how round he is—not fat in the sense of The motif of Jesus as a child did not appear in
overweight, but rounded, his nose wider than it is Catholic art until the thirteenth century, my
long, his skin rotund like blown-up balloons. His friend digresses, so the sculpture must be a very
cheeks look all the more spherical because the re- early, immature specimen. St. Francis in particular
tracted lower lip lifts up his ball-shaped chin. In loved the Christ Child, he explains, and female
total, his face consists of three—no, four—no, five mystics cherished him in contemplation and
balls, because his double chin and the tip of his nose rocked him in their arms, feeling themselves one
are also globular. The two breasts are likewise with the Mother of God.
round, like a woman’s, I notice, and the fat encircles “That snotface?” I ask.
his upper and lower arms, forming more balls. A “Well,” my friend whispers. The sculptor of this
cherub, a mother would call him, believing her particular piece, he supposes, which is perhaps less
child the most beautiful on earth even if he is a propitious to unio mystica, immortalized the fea-
paragon of hideousness to everyone else, especially tures, and probably the dense curls, of his patron,
an unbeliever or a believer of a different faith, like or his patron’s child.
me. My Catholic friend, whom I asked to go by the “Aha,” I say, just to say something in reply to
Bode Museum on his next visit to Berlin, conceded his explanation, which doesn’t entirely satisfy me.
on the phone that the last thing he would associate The years of Jesus’ childhood, when he was no
with the boy was beauty, grace, charm. longer an infant and not yet a youth, are omitted
“Did you see his fingers?” from Pope Benedict XVI’s Infancy Narratives.
20 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018 Photograph courtesy the artist and Haines Gallery, San Francisco
Benedict describes the annunciation of the birth, of a child, one who possessed miraculous powers
the birth itself, the visit of the three wise men, and yet used them with malice. Malice is an attri-
the flight into Egypt when Jesus was still a baby. bute that is ascribed to God, too.
Benedict then continues the story only when Jesus I wonder whether it was not by remembering
is nearing adolescence. There is, however, the with shame the loveless child he had been that
Infancy Gospel of Thomas. Although it was not Jesus became filled with love, ultimately an ec-
included in the canon, Christians gave it consid- static, enthusiastic, understanding man who em-
eration as a testimony for many centuries. phasized the good even in a felon, who praised
I always found the Infancy Gospel to be a very beauty even in what is ugly. This anecdote is a
realistic text precisely because it is disturbing, favorite of the Sufis, and also the one I love best:
because it deviates very unfavorably from the no- Jesus and his disciples come across a dead, half-
tion we form, believing or unbelieving, of the adult decayed dog, lying with its mouth open. “How
Jesus. For I never found the Infancy Gospel to be horribly it stinks,” say the disciples, turning aside
logically consistent with the beloved infant and in disgust. But Jesus says, “See how splendidly its
the so fiercely loving later man. Playing on the teeth shine!” Jesus might have been speaking not
bank of a stream, for example, the five-year-old only of the dog but also of the child he used to be.
diverts its rushing waters into little puddles by the But the mother—you couldn’t wish it on any
sheer power of his will. A neighbor boy takes a mother to have such a son: announced by angels,
willow switch and sweeps the water back into the exalted by kings, and then he turns out to be a
stream. The two boys quarrel, and up to here it spoiled brat brimming with supernatural power.
reads like a normal story: a scene between two The Infancy Gospel mentions Mary only at the
boys that could happen in any kindergarten. But very end, when Jesus is more than seven years
then Jesus cries out that the neighbor boy should old. She must have agonized over him, felt
wither up like a dead tree, never to bear leaves or ashamed of his misdeeds, and yet stood by him,
roots or fruit again. And immediately the neigh- loving her cherub unconditionally. That is his
bor boy withers up completely, which can only mother, the epitome of the mother: no matter
mean he dies, he dies a wretched death, plunging how the child is. That is her son, every son, who
his parents into sorrow, as the Infancy Gospel has to learn love from his mother. I wouldn’t
explicitly says. Jesus, unmoved, goes home. want to cradle this boy in my arms.
And the account continues, in exactly that style,
with those character traits: in the village, a boy
running by accidentally bumps Jesus’ shoulder.
What does Jesus do? Kill the boy with a single word.
And when the parents of this and the other boy,
and more and more people, complain to Joseph— [Fiction]
what does Jesus do? Strike them all blind. And
when his knowledge exceeds that of his teacher TAKE ME
Zacchaeus, he makes a laughingstock of the old
man in front of everyone; Zacchaeus despairs and By Clarice Lispector, from The Chandelier, a
wants to die on account of this child, who must be novel that will be published in March by New Direc-
a paragon of hideousness. tions. Lispector (1920–77) was the author of more
Perhaps Benedict XVI, and my Catholic than a dozen novels and story collections. Trans-
friend along with him, are too spellbound by the lated from the Portuguese by Magdalena Edwards
beauty they seem to find so important in Chris- and Benjamin Moser.
S
tianity, and hence in Jesus Christ, to see the
ugliness as well. I understand their persistence;
in a city like Berlin I need only attend a simple he was looking at herself in the mirror, her
Sunday service to concur with them that beauty white and delicate face lost in the half-light,
is sorely lacking in Christianity today. Poverty her eyes open, her lips without expression. She
alone can’t make a god great. But beauty can be was enjoying herself, liking that sleek, so sinuous
realized only together with its opposite. Jesus way about her, her shaded hair, her small and
himself said, or is said to have said, in a saying skinny shoulders. How lovely I am, she said. Who
transmitted by the church father Hippolytus, will buy me? Who will buy me?—she’d give a quick
“He who seeks me will find me in children from smooch to the mirror—who will buy me: agile,
seven years old.” That would seem to mean that funny, funny as if I were blond but I’m not
the Savior is not to be found in the five-year-old blond. I have lovely, cold, extraordinary brown
that the Infancy Gospel describes. It means that hair. But I want someone to buy me so much
even the Son must first become that which, in that . . . that . . . that . . . I’ll kill myself! she ex-
the canonical tradition, he is from the begin- claimed and peering at her face frightened by the
ning. Jesus may have been a snotface, a monster phrase, proud of her own ardor, she laughed a
READINGS 21
fake guffaw, low and shining. Yes, yes, she’d need To go beyond the limits of her life—it was a phrase
a secret life in order to be able to exist. From one without words that was rolling around her body like
instant to the next she was once again serious, nothing more than a push. To go beyond the limits
tired—her heart was beating in the shadow, slow of my life, she didn’t know what she was saying,
and red. A new element, foreign until now, had looking at herself in the mirror in the guest room.
penetrated into her body. Now she was learning I could kill them all, she was thinking with a smile
that she was good but that her goodness would not and a new freedom, staring childishly at her image.
impede her badness. This feeling was almost old; it She was waiting for an instant, watchful. But no:
had been discovered days ago. And a new desire nothing had been created inside herself with the
was touching her heart: to free herself still more. feeling provoked, neither joy nor fear. And where
had the idea been born to her?—ever since the
morning she spent in the basement questions were
arising easily; and at every moment she was head-
ing in what direction? Moving ahead learning
things whose beginnings all her life she hadn’t
[Poem] even felt. Where had the idea been born? From
her body; and if her body was her destiny . . . Or
WHO IS VENN was she inhaling thoughts from the air and giving
them back as if they were her own, forcing herself
By Alli Warren, from Little Hill, a chapbook that to follow them? . . . There she was in the mirror!
was published this month by the Elephant. Warren’s she screamed at herself, brutish and happy. But
previous collection of poetry, I Love It Though, was what could she and what couldn’t she do? No, she
published last year by Nightboat Books. didn’t want to await some condition in order to
kill, if she had to kill she wished it freely without
any circumstances . . . that would mean going be-
Depicted in this diagram is a baby contemplating yond the limits of her life, she didn’t know what
she was thinking. In a sudden exhaustion where
an egg there was a certain voluptuousness and well-being,
she lay down on the guest bed. And like a door
It does not seem to me to be a human egg that closes hurriedly and without noise, she quick-
ly fell asleep. And quickly dreamed. She dreamed
But what do I that her strength was saying loudly and to the ends
of the earth: I want to go beyond the limits of my
What have I ever known life, without words, only the dark power guiding
itself. A cruel and living impulse pushed her for-
Having never been inside my own body ward and she would have wished to die forever if
dying gave her a single instant of pleasure, such
Mutual exclusivity is an invention was the seriousness at which her body had arrived.
She would hand over her own heart to be bitten,
She says confidently she wanted to go beyond the limits of her own life
as a supreme cruelty.
It never occurred to me Then she walked outside the house and went
searching, searching with the most ferocious thing
Someone had to be the first to say it she had; she was looking for an inspiration, her
nostrils sensitive as those of a thin and frightened
I prefer the coextensive animal, but everything around her was sweetness,
and sweetness was something she already knew, and
I prefer languid feasts now sweetness was the absence of fear and danger.
She’d do something so beyond her limits that she’d
Feting what is insightful and generous and kind never understand it—but she didn’t have the
strength, ah, she couldn’t go beyond her own pow-
What’s the line? ers. She had to close her eyes for an instant and pray
to herself brutally with disdain until in a deep sigh,
“You should praise me” ridding herself of the final pain, forgetting at last,
she headed toward the sacrifice of destiny. Because
Who said that? if I am free, if with a gesture I can make everything
new again—she was heading through the field
I praise the sea beneath a whitish sky—then nothing keeps me
from making that gesture; that was the murky and
restless sensation.
“V
even a hat. She continued serenely. truth and scorned it.
Serenely she kept searching. She saw a man, a
man, a man. His long trousers were sticking to the irginia.”
wind, his legs, his thin legs. The man, the man Father was calling her from the parlor with
was mulatto. And his hair, my God, his hair was his voice that was never raised but could be
going gray. Trembling with disgust she headed heard throughout the house. In a difficult rem-
toward him between air and space—and stopped. iniscence she noticed that he had already called
He, too, halted, old eyes waiting. Nothing in her her while she was dreaming. She went down a
face would make him guess what was simply wait- few steps, stopped in the middle of the staircase:
ing to happen. She had to speak and didn’t know “Daddy, you called me?”
how to say it. She said: “Take me.” Esmeralda with her face wet with tears was
The mulatto man’s eyes opened. And before hesitating by his side, on her cheek the red outline
long, silhouetted against the pure air and the wind, of the palm of a hand—Mother was hovering on
against the light and dark green of the grass and the threshold without support staring her old rat’s
the trees, before long he was laughing, understand- dusky, slow gaze.
ing. He lifted her, mute, laughing, his hair graying, “Repeat what you . . . what we heard from that
laughing, and beyond the prairie was stretching person,” her father said to her.
beneath the wind. He lifted her, mute, laughing, “Daddy, Daddy.”
a smell of kept meat was coming from his mouth, “Repeat it.”
from his stomach through his mouth, a breath of “Daddy.”
blood; from his open shirt long and dirty hairs “Repeat it!”
were emerging and around them the air was lively, “I can’t.”
he lifted her by the arms and the sensation of ri- Father looked at everyone, victorious, old, sul-
diculousness was hardening her with ferocity—he len. In those moments of rage he seemed fatter
was dangling her in the air to prove that she was and shorter. “Then listen and confirm it: this slut
light. She pushed him with violence and he mute over here meets a male in the garden.”
laughing mute walked and dragged her and invin- Esmeralda sobbed: “But nothing happened this
cible kissed her. Yet he was still laughing when she time, nor ever . . . I already swore!”
stood and serenely, like the end of going beyond “God!” screamed Father with sudden eloquence.
the limits of her life, stepped with calm power on “What’s a poor man done in order to receive evil
his wrinkled face and spat on him while he, mute, spirits in his house for the second time! What has
looking, wasn’t understanding and the sky was a poor man done to see his life and that of the
lengthening in a single blue air. house he made brought low by his own daughter!
She awoke immediately and when she opened Punish me, Lord, but bring down thy punishment
her eyes she was almost standing, her face clear upon my own head!”
and anxious. Motionless she was feeling her own Virginia was watching him lucidly, her eyes
body all the way to the end, large, her muscles mobile and cunning. Her whole body was aching
meek and happy. She wasn’t feeling numbness but in anticipation. Her father brusquely calmed down,
a possibility of moving herself with balance. What turned toward her: “Confirm what you said.”
had happened? quickly she understood, for a sec- “She’s the one who told?!” Mother screamed.
ond she was confused, she thought she’d really left “No . . . no!” groaned Virginia, white, looking
the house, hesitated, returned to a vague good at Father. He hesitated for an instant with cloud-
sense. It had been a short dream, enough to let her ed and hot eyes: “It doesn’t matter who it was,
leave the limits of her life. Swollen and slow sensa- what matters is that this . . . ”
tions were broadening her body. Surprised as after Quick thoughts were crisscrossing inside her and
an act of sleepwalking, she headed toward the before anyone could expect it she let out a piercing
mirror: What was happening to her? scream and fell. Her father kept her from rolling
READINGS 23
down the stairs. Eyes closed, ears tensely on the she was connected to the stone in the garden.
lookout for whatever was happening, she felt carried What had existed in her life, untouched and
upward in a slow flight. She was smiling inwardly never lived, had raised her through the world. But
without knowing why amid the alert terror. The just after accomplishing some act—having one
effort she was making not to open her eyes and to day looked one more time at the sky? Having
stay lifeless was absorbing her so strongly that for watched the man who was walking? Or after a
several instants she stopped hearing and being simple instant?—after accomplishing some act
aware. When she cracked open her eyes she found impossible to refrain from, something fatal and
herself on the bed in the empty bedroom. A great mysterious, her power had ceased.
silence was enveloping the house, whispering Previously her most secure movement of life had
through every corner as on a Sunday. She stayed for been disinterested, she’d notice things she’d never
a few moments almost distracted pulsating sweetly. use, a leaf falling would intercept the path she had
In her body the blood was renewing itself. Stand- started out on, the wind would undo her thoughts
ing in a light thrust she was at the door, searching forever. In her being something had become more
through the air in order to find out where the serious and inflexible, a trembling brutality. Or
people were. Nothing could be felt, the mansion was she seeing it for the first time? Suddenly the
vast and naked. She felt herself smiling, brought her words from which she lived in childhood seemed
fingers to her lips but these were still closed and to have run out and she couldn’t find any others.
narrow and the smile had been only a thought. A She was experiencing a worried feeling of regret
thought without joy but that was making her smile: for living that moment, for being almost a young
her goodness wasn’t preventing her badness. She woman and for being the one to whom the instant
had committed a corrupt and vile act. Never was happening—she was seeming to feel that from
though had she seemed to have acted so freely and a deep untouchable freedom she could garner
with such freshness of desire. She needed to study strength in order to not allow herself. She was
herself in the mirror, yes, yes, she thought with looking at the silent and pale air of the room, an
urgency and hope. She was sensing that the guest instant immobile and without destiny.
room could be reached without anyone’s seeing her. How fatal it was to have lived. For the first time
She crossed the hallway rapidly, the steps of her bare she had aged. For the first time she was aware of a
feet muffled by the purple carpet, her time behind her and the restless notion of some-
S
heart beating violent and pale. thing she could never touch, of something that no
longer belonged to her because it was complete but
o there she was. Her face for an instant as if that she still clung to because of her incapacity to
eternal, her flesh devoutly mortal. There she was, create another life and a new time. Her childhood
then, her innocent eyes peering inside her own had been wrinkled by the cold air that hurt inside
degradation. She would never manage to repeat her nose with icy ardor; she was seeing herself as if
what she was thinking and what she was feeling was from far away, small, the dark shape in the fog al-
happening to her evanescently, so immaterial and ready gilded by the sun, looking on the ground at
fleeting that she couldn’t stop on any thought. something she could no longer name; now her own
Surprised, intimidated by her own ignorance, she breath was seeming to surround her with a tepid
was dangling for an instant, interrupting the move- atmosphere, her eyes were opening in wide color,
ment of her life and looking at herself in the mirror: her body was straightening into a human creature.
that shape expressing something without laughter She gave a little shout of joy and promise: ah!
but so inside itself that its meaning could never be But she was just barely thinking the surface of what
grasped. Looking at herself she wouldn’t be able to was happening to her in those instants and was
understand, only to agree. She was agreeing with paying attention to herself as if she were placing her
that deep body in shadows, with her silent smile, hand atop her beating heart and not being able to
life as if being born from that confusion. Now her touch it. She waited for an instant. Nothing was
permission for herself was seeming even more ar- happening then. Silence surrounded her and she
dent as if she were allowing her own future too. And calmed down, looked at the mirror somberly shin-
she was seeing the future . . . yes, in a glance made ing. Stubborn, she was staring at her face trying to
of seeing and hearing, in a pure instant the whole define its fleeting magic, the softness of the move-
future . . . Though she knew only that she was seeing ment of breathing that was lighting it and slowly
and not what she was seeing, just as all she could putting it out. The corruption was bathing her in
say about blue was: I saw blue, and nothing more. a sweet light. So there she was. So there she was.
What had existed in her life was an indistinct and There was no one who could save or lose her. And
infinite power, infinite and wild. But she could that’s how the moments were unfurling and dying
never have demonstrated the existence of that while her quiet face was floating in expectation. So
power as it would be difficult to prove that she had there she was. Even yesterday the pleasure of laugh-
the will to go on, that the color of the rose was ing had made her laugh. And ahead of her stretched
pleasing to her, that she was feeling strength, that the entire future.
THE FUTURE
OF QUEER
A manifesto
By Fenton Johnson
I
n the spring of 2017, for the first
time since publishing a memoir set at the height of San Francisco’s AIDS
epidemic, I summoned the nerve to teach a course on memoir—which is to
say, at least as I taught it, a course on the necessity of personal witness, a
course against forgetting. Mostly I avoided the subject of AIDS, not want-
ing to be the grizzled old veteran croaking war stories to a classroom of un-
dergraduates. But since AIDS memoirs are among the best examples of the
genre, I decided I had to foray into the minefields of those memories. I sur-
prised myself by choosing not one of several poignant memoirs but the edgy
anger of Close to the Knives, by the artist David Wojnarowicz, with its hus-
tler sex and pickup sex and anonymous sex on the decaying piers of Chelsea
and amid the bleak emptiness of the Arizona desert, one eye cocked at the
rearview mirror to watch for the cop who might appear and haul your na-
ked ass to the county jail, sixty miles of rock and creosote bushes distant.*
Wojnarowicz was thirty-seven years old when he died of AIDS in 1992.
My students were fascinated by Wojnarowicz’s raw frankness. One student,
a father of two, wrote that I had not provided enough context for the book,
teaching me that this history-changing event, the brutality and horror of
AIDS, was more foreign to my students than the Vietnam War, no matter that
the disease is still among us, no matter that his ignorance will become his
children’s ignorance, which may lead them to be the next generation of HIV-
infected. One student asked, “But how did they organize—I mean, without
social media?” So I showed documentary footage, the filmmaker’s version of
memoir, activists coming together in raucous planning meetings to orchestrate
the dumping of cremated ashes on the White House lawn or the carrying of
*
In 1990 Wojnarowicz was targeted by Donald Wildmon, the founder of the American
Family Association, who, according to Wojnarowicz’s attorney, “took 14 mostly gay por-
nographic images from small fragments of Wojnarowicz’s large collages, rephotographed
them stripped of their context and characterized them as Wojnarowicz’s art, financed by
the N.E.A. He then mailed the pamphlet to every member of Congress, more than 3,000
‘Christian leaders’ and more than 2,500 media outlets.” Wojnarowicz won a lawsuit
against Wildmon, the court finding that Wildmon had misrepresented the art. It enjoined
Wildmon from further distributing the pamphlets and ordered him to send a correction to
all 6,000 of the initial recipients.
Fenton Johnson’s most recent essay for Harper’s Magazine, “Going It Alone,” appeared
in the April 2015 issue. He is the author of six books of fiction and non-fiction, including
Everywhere Home: A Life in Essays and Geography of the Heart: A Memoir.
ESSAY 27
WHAT WE MET AND MARCHED a real dead body in an open coffin to the gates of the National Institutes of
Health. In my students’ curious, discomfited eyes, I understood that I might
AND DIED FOR WAS RADICAL have been showing films of creatures from another planet, so foreign was this
notion of working together to achieve change.
TRANSFORMATION. WHAT WE And perhaps to them we were creatures from another planet—acting up,
SETTLED FOR WAS MARRIAGE fighting back—so beaten down are they in the face of constant, implied
threats of lifelong unemployment from universities and corporations, so bal-
kanized are they by social media, so overwhelmed are they, in their early
twenties, by the student debt with which we, their elders, have saddled them
so as to leave them no time for introspection or collective action.
How can we read our politicians’ and university presidents’ drumbeat
emphasis on STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) at the same
time that they defund the arts and humanities as anything but pressure on
faculties to train a docile pool of drones? Deans and professors
promote the humanities as a training in critical thinking, but
critical thinking leads to criticism, the last student activity
university administrations want to encourage. I teach at such
a public institution, the University of Arizona, where arts and
humanities have sustained disproportionate cuts even as its
Board of Regents, in executive session, recently hired a new
president at a salary of just under $1 million annually, plus
perks, while simultaneously raising tuition. Meanwhile, the
university’s Freedom Center, founded with Koch brothers
money, receives a special appropriation from the Republican-
controlled state legislature.
Though I lived in San Francisco at the time, I did not join
the ACT UP activists who blocked the Golden Gate Bridge; I
stayed at my desk. Words, grammar, and syntax were my tools—
small, stainless-steel wedges I would use to split readers’ breast-
bones so that I might tenderly lift out their beating hearts and
display them to themselves, fully conscious, before restoring
them, with equal tenderness, to their chest cavities and sewing
up the wound. It is not my place to judge my success, but during
those years my self-declared goal was to make a stone weep,
because maybe the weeping of stones would bring about
change, real change—would make us understand that we have
no future in the rape of the world, that we have no future in
dividing and subdividing into nations and clans and fortified
mansions with manicured lawns and access codes, that we have
no future except through love.
Leaving my last class of the semester, I encountered a student
so lost in her texting, so oblivious to the living, breathing, gor-
geous, fragile world, that had I not stepped aside she would have
collided with me. For me, veteran of the AIDS era of terror and
anger and heartbreak, her oblivion precipitated the past into
the present. Not even Dante could have devised a punishment
so perfectly suited to the crime: the use of a weapon, to quote Cornel West,
of mass distraction; a device that, by robbing us of our need to remember,
facilitates forgetting.
T
What we met and worked and marched and wrote and died
for was radical transformation. What we settled for was marriage.
Self-portrait of David Wojnarowicz, 1983–84, by David Wojnarowicz with Tom Warren © The Estate
28 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018 of David Wojnarowicz. Courtesy the Estate of David Wojnarowicz and P•P•O•W, New York City
cocktail that turned HIV from a death sentence into a manageable ill-
ness was perfected in 1996; the assimilationists moved the battle for
THE EVOLUTION FROM ACT UP TO
state-sanctioned marriage to center stage in national politics during that STATE-SANCTIONED MARRIAGE IS
year’s presidential election.
In those early years, proponents presented same-sex marriage for what PRECISELY ANALOGOUS
it was: a right-wing initiative whose goal was to enable the Republican TO GENTRIFICATION
grandparents of Peoria to feel comfortable inviting their grandchild’s
same-sex lover to holiday dinners. At a forum on same-sex marriage held
in the late Nineties at New York’s Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Trans-
gender Community Center, several architects and engineers of the ini-
tiative to single out the legalization of marriage as the principal—
indeed, the only—issue of consequence for the LGBT community
argued that the legalization of same-sex marriage was an essentially con-
servative undertaking. State-sanctioned marriage would tame an impas-
sioned bunch of outlier renegades.
The crowd consisted almost entirely of white men; I saw only two black
men in the audience. Afterward I approached one of the speakers to
suggest that the demographics conveyed a message about the supporters
and primary beneficiaries of same-sex marriage. He dismissed my obser-
vation as irrelevant, saying that such audiences always skewed male. But
within the year the spin was changed, as evidenced by my encounter a
couple of years later in San Francisco’s Noe Valley with two young, white,
conventionally attractive lesbians, who brandished a clipboard and asked
whether I was willing to sign a petition to “legalize love.” In two years,
the pitch on same-sex marriage had gone from presenting it as a ticket
to the status quo—the ultimate insiders’ club—to a way to enable oth-
erwise conventional people to feel they were participating in the romance
of revolution.
The assimilationists have won, with state-sanctioned marriage as the
very mortar cementing the bricks of the wall of convention that separates
us from ourselves, from one another, from all that is unfamiliar, strange,
challenging, and thus from learning and growth. The assimilationists have
won, with the neocons building their Wonder Bread philosophies upon
the ashes of queers who laid their lives on the line in the fight for AIDS
visibility and treatment. The assimilationists have won, those men and
women whose highest aspiration was to be like everybody else, whose
greatest act of imagination was picturing matching Barcaloungers in front
of a flatscreen television and matching, custom-designed wedding rings.
The evolution from ACT UP and Zen Hospice to state-sanctioned
marriage is precisely analogous to gentrification—the creative outliers
do the heavy lifting, and when a certain level of safety has been
achieved, the assimilationists move in, raise prices, and force out the
agents of change. But while we recognize and make at least cosmetic
efforts to address the darker aspects of gentrification, we have forgot-
ten or marginalized the in-your-face, in-the-streets activists of the
LGBT left. So long as we, the outliers, insisted that we had something
to offer, that our world, where we formed enduring relationships out-
side the tax code and the sanction of church and state, where we creat-
ed and took care of families of lovers and friends and strangers alike—
so long as we insisted that this world was richer, more sustainable,
more loving in so many ways than the insular world of Fortress Mar-
riage, we got nowhere. Only when we exchanged our lofty ideals for
conventionality was our struggle embraced. Only when we sought to
exchange, in the words of the assimilationist attorney William Es-
kridge, “sexual promiscuity” for “the potentially civilizing effect” of
state-sanctioned marriage were we accepted—as if a community risk-
ing their lives to care for their own in the face of church and govern-
ment condemnation was not the very highest manifestation of civilized
behavior; as if marriage “civilized,” to offer one of countless examples,
Harvey Weinstein.
ESSAY 29
THE BACKLASH FROM THE State sanction of same-sex relationships conveys certain privileges—I
hesitate to call them rights—to a subset of the LGBT community even as
MARRIAGE VICTORY HAS DELAYED it mimics mainstream discrimination by reinforcing a hierarchy of affec-
tion. Once, loving same-sex relationships served as an obvious critique of
THE PASSAGE OF FEDERAL any necessary connection between love and marriage. Now the American
PROTECTIONS FOR LGBT PEOPLE Family Association and Lambda Legal are in agreement: serious relation-
ships lead to marriage. Everything else is just playing around.
The legalization of same-sex vows is another step in the monetization of
all human encounter. Under capitalism, love, like everything else that was
once sacred, has become inextricably entangled with Social Security perks
and property transfers and thirty-thousand-dollar weddings accompanied by
prenuptial agreements written in anticipation of divorce. When its advocates
spoke of marriage as a civil right, they were speaking not of love, which
remains mercifully and always indifferent to the law, but of property—its
smooth acquisition and tax-free disposition, the many advantages it affords,
one might say, to the married.
Popular culture has always created and sustained an elaborate myth
yoking love to marriage. Jane Austen, Henry James, and Zora Neale
Hurston, to name three novelists who come effort-
lessly to mind, were not so gullible. In their novels,
women are and understand themselves to be com-
modities and marriage the ultimate commodity trans-
action. Same-sex marriage extends that right, if it is
such, to any couple willing to submit their hearts to
the oversight of the law, though in the absence of the
economic inequality imposed on women I struggle to
understand why anyone undertakes such a course.
André Gide, among the first openly gay writers, offered
one clue—“The laws of mimicry,” he wrote in
L’Immoraliste:
I call them the laws of fear. People are afraid to find them-
selves alone, and so don’t find themselves at all. . . . You can’t
create something without being alone. . . . What seems differ-
ent in yourself: that’s the one rare thing you possess, the one
thing that gives each of us his worth; and that’s just what we
try to suppress. [Instead] we imitate.
30 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018 Photographs by John Paul Evans from his series ’Till Death Do Us Part © The artist
While he was still speaking to the people, behold, his mother and his
brothers stood outside, asking to speak to him. But he replied to the man
WHAT DEFINES QUEER IS NOT
who told him, “Who is my mother, and who are my broth-
T
WHAT ONE DOES IN BED BUT ONE’S
ers?” And stretching out his hand toward his disciples, he
said, “Here are my mother and my brothers!” STANCE TOWARD THE ANCIEN
RÉGIME, THE STATUS QUO
o turn the counterculture question on its head, can someone be
gay without being queer? Someone who, to adapt the words of Roy Cohn
in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America, understands himself as a conven-
tional man who fucks around with guys? Who puts what where is in fact
important, not because of the obsessions of the homophobes and misogy-
nists but because in sex the receptive partner is vulnerable, open, at great-
er risk. These, it turns out, are the essential qualities of love, the essential
qualities of queer. And so what defines queer, finally, is not what one does
in bed but one’s stance toward the ancien régime, the status quo, the way
things have always been done, the dominant mode, capitalism.
Speaking with James Baldwin late in his career, a television interviewer re-
marked, “When you were starting out as a writer, you were black, impoverished,
homosexual. You must have said to yourself, ‘Gee, how
disadvantaged can I get?’ ” To which Baldwin responded,
“Oh, no, I thought I hit the jackpot! It was so outrageous,
you could not go any further. So you had to find a way to
use it.”
To be born bent, however that manifested itself, was once
to be forced to look within—to explore and express, in
Gide’s words, “what seems different in yourself.” This em-
brace of the gift of our essential difference was the wellspring
of queer creativity—for evidence, read or look at Walt Whit-
man, Henry James, Sherwood Anderson, Carson McCullers,
Tennessee Williams, Virginia Woolf, Gloria Anzaldúa,
Marsden Hartley, Audre Lorde, Agnes Martin, Baldwin,
Baldwin, Baldwin, to name only a few of the eminently
civilized writers and artists who understood commitment as
well as or better than any people taking marriage vows with
the knowledge of no-fault divorce waiting in the wings.
Their lifelong, selfless practice rooted itself in their fecund,
uneasy difference: their queerness. These queer writers and
artists took unbreakable vows to their art, dedicating their
lives to showing us, their audience, the human condition.
Through their art they showed us that the solitude we so
fear, that we will do anything to escape, even marry—that
solitude is an illusion, a scrim preventing us from seeing how
we are all one, we are all in this boat together.
Today, so long as we live in certain states and work
for certain employers and have certain incomes and submit to received
conventions of dress and gait and accent and beauty, we can assume the
mantle of amnesia that is the prerogative of the powerful and prosperous.
Now to be LGB (T remains beyond the pale) is no longer to be forced to
look outside the norms, since our largely white, entirely prosperous lead-
ership has so enthusiastically embraced the norms. Now we
Y
can forget AIDS. Now we can get married. Now we are be-
come the suits.
ESSAY 31
THOSE OF US WHO HAVE cruel. I appreciated his frankness—none of this trickle-down, supply-side
folderol. One might think a truly civilized nation could acknowledge and
BEEN GIVEN CHOICES HAVE A ameliorate the cruelty, and yet since the Reagan years our government has
been hell-bent on restoring unfettered capitalism, with its reliance on con-
RESPONSIBILITY TO CHOOSE quest, extraction, and exploitation, to its late-nineteenth-century shrine.
THE HARDER PATH What can liberate us from this death spiral of consumption we have
created for ourselves? When I think of the vanishing species, the filth
and pollution we thoughtlessly dump onto Earth and our fellow crea-
tures, the rising desperation evident on all sides, and of us, the rich
who have grown fat and sleek by plundering the resources of people in
desperate places, hoarding our wealth, building walls, the whole mess
of pottage for which we have sold our birthright of clean air, clean wa-
ter, open space, a clear conscience—when I think of all that, I’m
drawn back to the blunt witness of Wojnarowicz:
Each and every gesture carries a reverberation that is meaningful in its diversity . . .
we have to find our own forms of gesture and communication. . . . With
enough gestures we can deafen the satellites and lift the curtains surrounding
the control room.
And yet if Pussy Riot can risk years in prison for defending the rights
of women and freedom of expression, then my challenge is to rise to the
model of their courage. Baldwin, our great twentieth-century prophet,
tells us, “Love has never been a popular movement. . . . The world is held
together—really it is held together—by the love and passion of a few peo-
ple.” I take issue with his last point, since every day I encounter
people—a lot of people, uncelebrated, unacknowledged—who are making
gestures to help one another and heal the planet. Our challenge is to
bring their love, reinforced with knowledge, to the forefront: to showcase
it as the true desire of the heart, to act out the biological fact that cre-
ation and civilization build themselves as much around cooperation as
around competition; to teach, in the most emphatic way, our young to be
queer, which, as every parent and teacher knows, is through example.
I do not ask that others do as I do, when at a moment’s thought I can
name a dozen, a hundred who live with more integrity. I’m saying that
those of us who have been given choices have a responsibility to
choose the greater challenge, the harder path—the freedom found
through wisdom and restraint. We do a little more than
I
we think we are capable of doing, in the place and mo-
ment where history has put us.
“I
our imaginations; we make commitments;
we take vows.
ESSAY 33
CAN WE AFFORD TO CULTIVATE I heed not, and have never heeded, either experience, cautions, majorities, nor
ridicule;
AND INHABIT AN AGE OF IRONY, And the threat of what is call’d hell is little or nothing to me;
And the lure of what is call’d heaven is little or nothing to me;
WITH OUR MINDS SEPARATED FROM . . . Dear camerado! I confess I have urged you onward with me, and still
urge you, without the least idea what is our destination,
OUR BODIES AND OUR WORLD? Or whether we shall be victorious, or utterly quell’d and defeated.
“ACT UP was an erotic place,” says one participant in the documentary
United in Anger: A History of ACT UP (2012). Another attributes the organi-
zation’s success to “that combination of serious politics and joyful living.” I
take hope from knowing that, though ACT UP’s anger and tactics were cru-
cial and can provide today’s activists with templates for action,
S
it is the hospice movement, cultivated and refined in the AIDS
wards of San Francisco, that has spread.
1 9 9 0
THE CASTRO
By Richard Rodriguez
From “Late Victorians,” which appeared in the October 1990 issue of Harper’s Magazine. The complete essay—along with the magazine’s
entire 167-year archive—is available online at harpers.org/fromthearchive.
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SWAP MEET
Wall Street’s war on the Volcker Rule
By Andrew Cockburn
F
or 173 years, the Stoneman which had been eligible for inclusion in lations, most of them incomprehensible
House stood peacefully in the the National Register of Historic Places, to the average observer, not to mention
Tuscarawas Valley on the out- enraged national and state regulators, the legislators who voted for them. But
skirts of Leesville, Ohio. The elegant who were further dismayed by toxic there was one reform that seemed sim-
two-story brick struc- ple to understand. It
ture was owned and was named for the man
occupied by just three who conceived it: Paul
families over successive Volcker, the venerated
generations, and when former chairman of the
the last of them died, in Federal Reserve.
2015, it was bought by In the early days of
Energy Transfer Part- the crisis, as the collaps-
ners, a Texas pipeline ing industry ran to the
company, which prom- federal government for
ised there would be “no bailouts, Volcker pro-
adverse effects” on the posed that commercial
historic site. The fol- banks should be forever
lowing year, ETP razed barred from proprietary
t he hou se to t he trading (referred to on
ground, causing Gold- Wall Street as prop trad-
man Sachs to lose ing)—meaning specula-
$100 million. tive bets with their own
The doomed man- capital. Nor should such
sion was located close to institutions be permit-
the projected path of ted to bankroll hedge
the Rover Pipeline, funds or other inher-
which was being built to ently risky ventures.
carry natural gas from His aim, Volcker told
the Marcellus Shale in me recently in a phone
Ohio, Pennsylvania, call from his office in
and West Virginia to Canada. Once the spills in protected wetlands and other Midtown Manhattan, was to change
$4 billion project was completed, Gold- environmental depredations. Rover was the “whole psychology” of the banking
man traders had calculated, the price of temporarily stopped in its tracks in May system. Is the primary function of
Marcellus gas would rise. They placed 2017. Instead of rising, Marcellus gas banks to “make loans and serve the
their bet accordingly. Their wager de- prices plummeted—and Goldman lost banking needs of their clients,” he
pended on the pipeline proceeding ac- its bet. asked, or are they “preoccupied with
cording to schedule. But the brazen Such wagers were meant to be a going off and making money with pro-
destruction of the beloved mansion, thing of the past. A decade ago, Wall prietary trades, which will often con-
Street was a roaring casino and a trad- flict with their customers’ interests?
Andrew Cockburn is the Washington editor
of Harper’s Magazine. He coproduced er could toss away $9 billion on a single That’s the issue involved here. They all
American Casino, a 2009 documentary bet. The financial crisis that followed talk about how the client comes first.
on the Wall Street crash. in 2008 generated a forest of new regu- They’ll say, ‘All our remuneration, all
T
Once he touched on the subject of he Volcker Rule was born of been “securitized”—that is, welded to-
prop trading, I brought up Goldman political expediency. Despite gether by financial engineers into in-
Sachs. “They want to trade every- his towering prestige as the vestment “products,” which were, in
thing, for God’s sake!” cried the man who stamped out the rampant turn, sold to other buyers. It was rarely
sharp-tongued nonagenarian, cutting inflation of the early 1980s, Volcker possible to track an individual sub-
me off. “They’ll trade the office rug and his plan were studiously ignored prime mortgage through the financial
that I’m looking at.” by President Obama and his advisers Cuisinart in which Wall Street trans-
As we spoke, Goldman, its second- until early in 2010. At that point, it formed such loans into profitable in-
quarter trading profits down (in part dawned on the administration that struments. Thus the eventual buyers
because of the losing Marcellus bet), the American people were outraged at had no idea whether the underlying
was leading an industry charge to the way the banks had crashed the mortgages were being paid or not.
make the Volcker Rule go away—not economy and then been bailed out. I was, however, able to follow one
by getting it repealed in Congress but Furthermore, popular anger was tak- such mortgage: a loan to Denzel
by adjusting the rules and regulations ing a dangerous turn, signaled by the Mitchell, a young African-American
through which it has been enforced.1 election of Scott Brown, a former Cos- high-school teacher, which passed
They were certainly assured of a sym- mo nude model running on an anti- through successive hands until Gold-
pathetic hearing from the Trump establishment platform, as a Republi- man Sachs blended it, along with
appointees now ensconced in the can senator in Massachusetts, presaging 3,061 others, into a $629 million bond
regulatory agencies, notably Keith called GSAMP 2006 HE–2 (Gold-
Noreika, a corporate lawyer and man Sachs Alternative Mortgage
frequent advocate for the banking
industry who currently serves as act-
“GOLDMAN WANTS TO TRADE Product Home Equity–2). In those
years before the crash, Goldman
ing comptroller of the currency, the EVERYTHING, FOR GOD’S SAKE!” was doing a roaring trade in
chief regulator of the banks. Mean- GSAMPs, selling them to credulous
while, the US Treasury, headed by VOLCKER CRIED. “THEY’LL TRADE institutions, many of them foreign,
the former foreclosure profiteer Ste- THE RUG THAT I’M LOOKING AT” that were either oblivious or indif-
ven Mnuchin, announced plans in ferent to the fact that the underly-
June for “improving” the Volcker ing loans were almost certain to
Rule, which the department chided for the rise of the Tea Party. Two days af- default. Such prop trades brought in
having “far overshot the mark.” Duly ter Brown’s victory, Obama sum- a river of cash for Goldman—more
encouraged, banking groups and their moned Volcker to the White House than $25 billion in net revenue in
lobbyists argued that the rule’s complex- and announced his support for the 2006—with commensurate payoffs
ity imposed unbearable burdens on Volcker Rule as a key component of for the traders who generated them.
bankers and had dried up liquidity, financial reform. That year alone, Gary Cohn, who
meaning that banks lacked sufficient Sponsoring enactment of the rule oversaw Goldman’s trading division,
funds to lend to deserving businesses. in the Senate were Carl Levin of garnered $53 million in total pay. The
I cited some of the lobbyists’ com- Michigan and Jeff Merkley of Ore- following year, he took home $70 mil-
plaints to Volcker. “They’re paid to do gon, both of them Democrats. Levin, lion. Today, he is Donald Trump’s
that,” he replied scornfully. “All I a veteran lawmaker, had a clear-eyed chief economic adviser.
know is that people stop me on the understanding of the way the banks But there was more to it than that.
street. Some of them are bankers, operated. Merkley was a freshman Back in 2005, at the peak of the sub-
who say, ‘Thank God for the Volcker senator, spurred, as he told me recent- prime boom, Wall Street traders had
Rule. It has changed the psychology ly, by having “seen firsthand the im- dreamed up the ABX index. By track-
of the trading operation in the bank.’ pact of predatory mortgages” on his ing a selected sample of mortgage-
I don’t know how many of these peo- constituents back in Portland. Now backed housing bonds, the index
ple are just being nice to me, but I he had the chance to do something would reflect the mortgage-backed se-
1
Goldman spokesman Michael DuVally in- about the system that was generating curities market as a whole, and by ex-
formed me that “Goldman Sachs takes all those loans: prop trading. There was tension, the American housing mar-
of its regulatory obligations seriously, in- no logic, he told me, in having a bank ket. Launched in January 2006, the
cluding those imposed by the Volcker Rule,” “that is designed to take deposits and ABX also offered the attractive op-
adding the general observation that “market
makers facilitate trades for clients looking make loans be placing high-risk bets tion of buying and selling index fu-
to buy or sell, thus providing liquidity when in a Wall Street casino.” tures. That is, traders could now place
there is an imbalance between clients look- By 2010, the crash in the hous- bets on the movement of the entire
ing to add to their exposures and clients ing market was tearing communi- housing market.
looking to reduce or hedge their exposures.”
DuVally avoided addressing why the bank, ties apart across the country, as Goldman was quicker than most to
rather than a client, took the loss on the millions of people faced foreclosure place negative bets, predicting that the
Marcellus gas trade. and eviction. Yet these hapless bor- housing market would tumble as more
V
indicated they can not open Monday.
one that had nine separate CDS bets olcker’s rule represented a par-
MS advised GS of that and GS is now
against it. Thus, if a $600 million panicked b/c feel that if MS does not tial resurrection of the Glass–
GSAMP collapsed because its loans open then GS is toast. Steagall Act, the Depression-
were worthless, those on the wrong side era law that had separated commercial
of the bets stood to lose multiples of that Washington rushed to shore up the banks from investment banks, effec-
sum: the single most important reason collapsing financial system. AIG, the tively banning prop trading. (It was
T
worth billions down the road. he Volcker Rule was hardly ate” requirements of the guidance,
“What’s interesting,” Gellasch told the only component of Dodd– the footnote stated:
me, “is that the complexities were Frank to be undermined by
added as a result of lobbying by the semi-covert means. Over the past two Requirements should not apply if a
firms that were going to be affected, years, the law professor and former non-U.S. swap dealer or non-U.S. MSP
as a way to mitigate the impacts.” regulator Michael Greenberger has [the counterparty, or person on the
other side of the trade] relies on a writ-
Now, he said, those complexities are been investigating another such ma- ten representation by a non-U.S. coun-
being viewed as regulatory millstones neuver, and an especially artful one. terpart that its obligations under the
by those same firms, whose reactions This was in connection with an effort swap are not guaranteed with recourse
he summarized as “Oh, my God, this to regulate swaps contracts, including by a U.S. person.
is so burdensome.” credit default swaps—“the killer that
The tactics were subtle, even in- caused the meltdown,” in Greenber- There it was, cloaked in bureaucra-
genious. For example, although the ger’s words—by requiring that the tese. All that was required to dodge
original act applied only to Ameri- bulk of them be traded on public ex- the regulation was to state that the
can institutions, major banks, in- changes, with deals recorded in a data- foreign subsidiary was “not guaran-
cluding JPMorgan and Morgan base available to regulators. In the teed.” Just one month after the CFTC
Stanley, lobbied the Federal Reserve run-up to the crisis, for example, no issued its edict, ISDA quietly rewrote
to extend the rule to any financial one had understood that AIG was on its boilerplate swaps contract. Ac-
firm with any kind of stake, even a the hook for bets it could not possibly cording to Greenberger, the organiza-
single branch, anywhere in the pay. Had such information been pub- tion simply put “amended contract
United States—the rationale being lic, the witless insurer’s rush to catas- language into the swaps agreement,
that American firms would other- trophe might have been stopped. where you checked the box and said
wise face a “competitive disadvan- The CFTC duly published a t he s u b sid i a r y w a s now d e-
tage” from their overseas counter- “guidance” in July 2013 stating that guaranteed.” On the basis of a single
parts. They then called on foreign any foreign affiliate of an American sentence in a single footnote, a major
embassies in Washington to say that bank “guaranteed” by its corporate component of the promised reform of
their banks back home, now limited parent (generally taken as a matter the Wall Street casino was “shred-
by the rule to buying only US Trea- of course, since no one would other- ded,” Greenberger said, “in a way no
suries, would consequently be wise do business with a subsidiary) one understands.” It was not until the
I
n April 2012, as regulators and operation, the investigators grilled blame for the fiasco. “All the deci-
Wall Street haggled over the executives and pored over thou- sions,” he told me, “were made miles
swaps trading regulations, news sands of documents. Their eventual away and far above my head.” In his
broke of a massive prop-trading report was damning. It flatly asserted view, the bank was circulating “com-
scandal. As initially reported by the that the bank’s Chief Investment plete crap about my role.”
Wall Street Journal and Bloomberg, Office had He had, he said, been pondering
JPMorgan was facing enormous losses the events over the past five years. He
thanks to a series of trades in the used bank deposits, including some that concluded that the whole mess could
synthetic credit portfolio. The group were federally insured, to construct a be traced to the fact that the bank’s
$157 billion portfolio of synthetic credit
had earlier done well dealing in Chief Investment Office was required
derivatives, engaged in high risk, com-
ABX futures and other derivatives. plex, short term trading strategies, and to keep its funds in readily available
It had won recent favor at headquar- disclosed the extent and high risk na- liquid investments. Instead, the CIO
ters because of a correct bet the pre- ture of the portfolio to its regulators parked its investments in highly illiq-
vious year that American Airlines only after it attracted media attention. uid swaps. In 2010, according to Iksil,
would go bankrupt, netting a Dimon and other senior executives
$400 million profit. The parent cor- Despite this, noted the report, had discussed this problem with the
poration had also funneled much of the bank’s management had insist- OCC regulator, at a time when public
a recent $100 billion inflow, entrust- ed they were obeying the regula- anger that not a single bank executive
ed by crash-panicked depositors to tions. The entire debacle, in Mi- had been charged in connection with
the “safe” JPMorgan, to SCP for fur- chael Greenberger’s words, was the the crisis was cresting. As Iksil put it
ther investment. “number one story showing the to me, “People were saying, ‘No prop
But in the early months of 2012, danger of naked credit default trading. No illiquid stuff.’ ”
SCP trader Bruno Iksil’s CDS bets swaps” and the vital necessity of It would certainly have been possi-
cratered. So huge were his losses that the Volcker Rule. ble, Iksil told me, to set aside a reserve
traders at other firms dubbed him against potential losses on these CDS
T
the London Whale. It appeared to hough generally perceived as investments, the latter amounting to
be a clear case of an irresponsible a case of a rogue trader risk- $40 or $50 billion. But that would
trader gambling away enormous ing gigantic sums of custom- have wiped out two years’ worth of
sums—the projected loss ultimately ers’ money, the JPMorgan meltdown earnings. Instead, the bank simply
amounted to $6.2 billion of taxpayer- of 2012 was no such thing. Senate plunged deeper into esoteric credit
insured deposits—and exactly the investigators concluded that the en- trades in the expectation that such
kind of action the Volcker Rule was tire strategy had been directed from hedges would lessen the risks associat-
designed to prevent. a high level, and that the traders, ed with the portfolio. However, the
2
Dimon did not help matters by tell- though ejected from their jobs and Asked to comment, JPMorgan referred
ing analysts that a multibillion-dollar facing jail time, were not to blame. me to its in-house report on the affair,
which states that the “direct and principal
loss was a “tempest in a teacup.” In As a former Senate investigator, who responsibility for the losses lies with the
any event, the bank claimed, this was asked not to be identified, confirmed traders who designed and implemented the
by no means a case of speculative to me recently, “Evidence shows the flawed strategy.”
& Others
PREFACE BY
ROY BLOUNT JR.
EDITED BY
MATTHEW STEVENSON & MICHAEL MARTIN
STORE.HARPERS.ORG
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Order online at store.harpers.org or call (212) 420-5754
L E T T E R F R O M I N D I A
THE NEWLYWEDS
What’s at stake when you marry for love?
By Mansi Choksi
O
n the night of No- Dawinder helped her haul
vember 27, 2016, her four suitcases over a low
Dawinder Singh wall, and after the last one,
dropped a bottle of sleeping she hoisted herself to the
pills outside his neighbor’s other side. Then they ran:
door. He had a soft, cheerful through the narrow lane
face, a head of woolly curls, where they first saw each
and a tendency to laugh at other, past the cowshed
the wrong times. Everyone where she used to hide to
in Kakheri, his village in the take his calls, past their
northern Indian state of school and her father’s fire-
Haryana, believed him to be wood shop. Finally, they
gone, perhaps abroad. But reached the car.
here he was, a handkerchief There was a thick blanket
tied over his mouth as if he of fog in the air when the
were a bandit, fleeing to the cousin behind the wheel
bus stop. began driving. In the back
Inside the house, Neetu seat, Dawinder slipped a
Rani, the birdlike beauty set of twenty-one bangles
he’d grown up adoring, was around Neetu’s wrists: reds
waiting for her parents to and golds stacked between
finish their soap opera. whites and silvers. This
Neetu was trim and stylish, was her choora, the marker
and talked about Bolly- of a new bride. If she wore
wood actors as though they were her of sleeping pills are these?” Her parents it for a year, Dawinder would be guar-
next of kin. When her mother and had finished bowls of laced beans and anteed a long life. He tied a mangalsutra,
father went to bed, she went outside rice but were still shuffling around the a thread of small black beads, around her
to retrieve the pills. house. Dawinder asked her to be patient. neck, and painted the part in her hair
Two nights later, Dawinder returned After an hour, she called again, re- with vermilion. Neetu was now his wife,
in a car with a couple of his cousins, porting that she had shaken her mother, he announced. She thought that their
whom he’d recruited by making them pretending to be scared of the dark, and love story was just like in the movies,
watch romantic movies. When they there had been no response. Dawinder only without nice costumes.
reached Kakheri, they parked on an got out of the car and hurried to her As the car sped onto the highway,
empty road and waited. At one in the house. She had told him not to come Neetu began to grasp her new reality.
morning, his phone rang. It was Neetu, barefoot, but knowing that he would Outside the window, rice fields flew past.
scolding him in whispers: “What kind anyway, earlier in the day she had She felt herself floating through space.
Mansi Choksi lives in Mumbai, India, and cleared the yard of branches and razor- Suddenly her stomach churned, and she
Dubai, United Arab Emirates. rimmed leaves from the babul tree. realized that she needed to vomit. The
A photograph of Sanjoy Sachdev, the chairman of the Love Commandos. Photographs from
New Delhi by Max Pinckers, from his series Will They Sing Like Raindrops or Leave Me LETTER FROM INDIA 45
Thirsty © Max Pinckers
car screeched to a halt; she climbed out With his wrestler’s physique and with their humiliation. This is a com-
to throw up. A few miles ahead, she pencil-thin mustache, Kala looked mon view: according to the latest count
needed to stop again. And again. like the villain from the Maha- released to the public, 251 honor kill-
Three hours and five episodes of bharata, the Hindu epic in which ings occurred in India in 2015.
retching later, the cousins dropped the each character is meant to embody a Neetu and Dawinder’s match should
couple at a bus stop in the town of trait that is supremely good or evil. have been unthinkable. When they
Rajpura, about seventy miles from Sudesh Rani, Neetu’s mother, sat met, in 2005, her family had just
home. When the bus came, they found in her kitchen, sobbing. Friends gath- moved up the street. She was nine, he
seats by the window. Neetu rested her ered to commiserate: a runaway was twelve. After school, Dawinder
head on Dawinder’s shoulder and de- daughter was as good as dead. Women would play video games with Neetu’s
scribed the agony of waiting for her in rural Haryana are required to cov- brother, Deepak, and Neetu would
parents to drift off to sleep. “Who er their heads and fade into the play house with Dawinder’s sister, Jas-
knows when they will be able to eat or background in the presence of men; bir. They all got along well for a few
rest again,” she said. young girls are expected to stay years, until one afternoon, when
The sun was rising when the bus home until they are transferred to a Deepak grabbed Dawinder’s neck dur-
rolled through a traffic jam outside husband through an arranged mar- ing an argument. Kala, who was
New Delhi. Dawinder saw a big, heav- riage. Neetu had disgraced her family known to have a short fuse, broke
ing city whose crowds could swallow not only by eloping but by doing so them up and slapped Dawinder, who
them up and provide the anonymity can still recall the sharp pain of the
they needed to survive. Neetu’s eyes blow. The families stopped speak-
watered from the pollution. Dawin-
der called his aunt Kulwant, who he
BABLI’S PARENTS SAW ing. Besides, the children were en-
tering their teens, and it was not
suspected would be the only one MURDERING THEIR DAUGHTER AND proper for girls and boys their age
able to receive the news of his mar- to spend time together.
HER HUSBAND AS THE ONLY
riage without collapsing. She asked A year later, Dawinder noticed
to speak to Neetu. “Don’t betray him SUITABLE PUNISHMENT Neetu looking at him on the walk
now,” Kulwant said. Neetu promised home from school. When he got to
that she would not. his house, he made himself a cup of
They hailed a rickshaw, which with the short, slow-witted son of a tea and climbed onto a stool in his
bobbed in and out of potholes and neighbor. According to custom, men parents’ room, curious whether he
squirmed through waves of pedestri- and women of the same village are could see her from the window. She
ans. Neetu saw a storefront that dis- considered to be siblings—the rule was out on her terrace, still watching
played red, blue, and yellow bras; in serves to maintain a separation of him from a distance. Feeling bold, he
her village, she’d been able to buy the sexes—which put Neetu and raised his glass to her. She responded
them only in white. They rode past Dawinder’s relationship under the by bursting into laughter.
cheap hotels that offered rooms by the umbrella of incest. Worse, Dawinder Dawinder was sure that this girl was
hour, places where married men took was a Sikh, from the Mehra caste of trying to get him into trouble. But
their mistresses. Dawinder clutched palanquin bearers and boatsmen. His every day after that, Neetu would daw-
her hand and told her to trust him. father, Gurmej Singh, was a truck dle on the way home so that the two
The rickshaw stopped outside a driver turned farmer. Neetu was a of them could talk. If no one else was
rusted gate. They looked up at a crum- Hindu of the Panchal caste, a rank around, they would run into a shed on
bling building covered in lime plaster, of goldsmiths, stonemasons, and car- their block so they could be close. On
scaffolding, and saris hung to dry. penters. Kala, a landlord with a fire- Karva Chauth, the Hindu festival in
Outside, men were smoking and star- wood shop, was an important man in which married women fast until sun-
ing. Dawinder had seen videos of this the community. down for the safety of their husbands,
place, but in person it looked nothing Across the Indian countryside, ro- Neetu refrained from eating to show
like he had expected. It was too late mantic relationships can easily be- Dawinder that she’d taken him as hers.
to turn back now—they had saved up come ensnared by taboos. Sometimes, Within a year, the relationship was
ten thousand rupees ($150) to reserve the consequences are fatal. In 2007, discovered. One night after dinner,
a space. He took out his cell phone. the bodies of Manoj and Babli, lovers assuming that her parents were asleep,
“Hello, Love Commandos,” the from the same village and the same Neetu sneaked into Dawinder’s house.
voice on the line said. gohtra—believed to be descendants of The two had hardly a moment togeth-
“We have come,” Dawinder said. a common ancestor—were found in er before Sudesh thundered in and
“We have been waiting for you.” gunnysacks dumped in a canal not far dragged her out. She warned Dawinder
from Kakheri. Babli’s family, which was that if he wanted to live, he should leave
I
n Kakheri, the news of Neetu and wealthier, had forced her to drink pes- Kakheri immediately. Neetu wept all
Dawinder’s disappearance broke ticide; they strangled Manoj to death. night, begging her mother to believe
with the sunrise. Neetu’s father— With support from leaders in their that she would never see him again.
Gulzar Singh, known as Kala— village, Babli’s parents saw the murders Sudesh cried, too, stopping only to pum-
walked around the village, crazed. as the only punishment commensurate mel Neetu’s back or pull her hair. Days
Pinky and Satchin (left) and Bhaskar and Pooja (right), recently
married couples at the Love Commandos shelter LETTER FROM INDIA 47
W
hen Neetu and Dawinder The Love Commandos operated like entered and lost a local election, and
arrived at the Love Com- a family, Sachdev said, so couples were finally became a journalist. But he
mandos shelter, a dog to call him Baba, or grandfather. (He sensed that he was meant for a larger
named Romeo sniffed them for guns was a youthful fifty-six.) There were purpose. One Valentine’s Day, a col-
and explosives. A young man led three other commandos, who lived in league in the newsroom told him about
them past a double gate and into a the building next door and were to be the Hindu-nationalist groups that
three-bedroom apartment. There was addressed as Papa. Each of them had his roamed parks and college campuses to
a minifridge and a wall shrine of as- particular responsibility: Harsh Mal- protest the Western corruption of In-
sorted Hindu deities. He brought hotra, a former interior decorator and dian values. They beat up couples, cut
them to one of the bedrooms, which local politician, coordinated rescue op- their hair, sprayed them with chili
was cluttered with newspapers, ash- erations for couples in distress. Sonu powder, and pronounced them brother
trays, and biscuits. An older man, Rangi, a former volunteer for the and sister. Hearing of the victims suf-
dressed in a tracksuit, was sitting in a Hindu-nationalist Shiv Sena party, or- fering for their love, Sachdev thought,
plastic lawn chair in front of a com- ganized weddings. Govinda Chand, a “Who were these people to poke their
puter. This was Sanjoy Sachdev, the college student, paid bills and assisted dirty nose in between?”
organization’s chairman. He looked with other work. Sachdev oversaw the In 2010, when a court verdict on the
unwashed and reeked of cigarettes, registration of marriages. Manoj-Babli honor killing was making
but everything he uttered sounded to Before starting the Love Comman- national headlines, he got the idea to
Neetu and Dawinder like poetry. He dos, Sachdev had tried to open a poul- create the Love Commandos. He
told them that even the Hindu deities try farm, a sweetened-milk company, didn’t like the term “runaways,” so he
Shiva and Parvati had married and a factory for car parts; all those referred to his clients as “people leav-
against caste tradition. Neetu and businesses tanked. He worked briefly ing parental homes for the unification
Dawinder felt a rush of confidence. as a consultant to Indian Railways, of the love family.” He wanted them
48 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018 A woman’s choora, the bracelets signifying that she is a new bride
to relish their freedom. “This country exchanged garlands and circled a holy riage, which identify the tradition at
is sitting on a volcano,” he said. “This fire. A photograph was taken as evi- the root of the crime.
is a country of six hundred and fifty dence, and two witnesses, acquain- On their advisement, Kirti Singh, a
million young people. Each young tances of Rangi’s, signed a religious Supreme Court lawyer in New Delhi,
person has a heart that is burning with marriage certificate. The last step was drafted the Prevention of Crimes in
a flame called love.” to submit the certificate to the govern- the Name of Honor and Tradition, a
As it turned out, Sachdev had never ment marriage registrar to make their bill that would hold accountable families
been in love himself—it was only his wedding legally binding. Sachdev that act alone, or with khaps, to punish
work. “I didn’t have time to fall in would take care of that. people who enter love marriages. She
love,” he said, “because I was busy also sought to end collusion between
U
solving other people’s problems.” nder the authority of the state, vengeful families and the police. “The
When he was twenty-eight, he had an love marriages are permitted in police don’t act for the couple,” Singh
arranged marriage. His wife, whom he India; according to tradition, told me. “Instead, they act for the girl’s
described as a dutiful woman, now they are forbidden. In villages across the family. Because they themselves come,
lived in his hometown, thirty miles north, khap panchayats, councils of un- I suppose, from a society and a way of
from New Delhi, and took care of his elected wealthy elders, resolve local thinking that believes there shouldn’t
father. Sometimes Sachdev would go disputes, issue diktats about daily life, be choice marriages, particularly in
to see her, but months might pass be- and enforce the caste system above the cases where it’s an intercaste mar-
tween visits; planning trips depended rule of law. Each caste has its own khap riage.” The bill stipulated that if a
on his mood. They had four children, to represent its interests. couple tells a public servant that they
who were grown, and had given want to be together, the police can-
him what he described as “an eter- not process a family’s complaint
nal feeling of love.”
Sachdev served Neetu and
“EACH YOUNG PERSON HAS against them. That would counter
a common tactic in which families
Dawinder cups of tea and told them A HEART THAT IS BURNING WITH file false cases of kidnapping and
the rules of the shelter: no sex, no rape against the groom.
A FLAME CALLED LOVE,”
afternoon naps, and no contact Singh delivered her draft legisla-
with the outside world. Couples SANJOY SACHDEV SAID tion to the Law Commission of
were required to surrender their cell India, an executive body tasked
phones so that their location could with legal reform. Two years later,
not be traced. They were also expected Following the Manoj-Babli honor however, the commission released its
to pay for their wedding ceremonies. killing, a khap leader was convicted of own version of the bill, Prevention of
Neetu and Dawinder were so grateful murder. But that ruling was soon over- Interference with the Freedom of
that, without being asked, they hand- turned, and khaps have continued to Matrimonial Alliance. The revision
ed over Dawinder’s ATM card and told facilitate acts of violence, thanks in maintained that khap intervention in
Sachdev the PIN. part to the complicity of politicians marriage should be criminalized, but
Sachdev thanked them and brought who rely on them for votes. “If you say, it did not account for the roles of
them to their room. It had no win- ‘I’m a Brahman,’ then even the poorest families and police officials. For that
dows, and the walls were chipping of Brahmans will vote for you,” Ran- bill to become law, it would require
with pistachio-green paint. On the jana Kumari, the director of the Cen- input from representatives of every
floor were three tattered mattresses— tre for Social Research, a gender state and union territory, along with
they would sleep beside the two other equality group in New Delhi, told approval by three national ministries,
couples lodging there. Neetu was sur- me. While India is still debating how before it could be presented to a
prised; she had assumed that the much sway khaps should hold in mod- standing committee, which would
young man who had escorted them in, ern society, khap leaders appear on tele- then consider it for parliamentary
and others she’d seen in the kitchen, vision threatening anyone who crosses debate. Yet today, five years later, the
were domestic help. them. If nontraditional marriages are proposed legislation has not been
Sachdev told them that they had ten socially sanctioned, they argue, the cleared by the ministries. “This bill
minutes to freshen up. Neetu changed fabric of Indian culture will unravel. will never be a priority for the gov-
into a shalwar kameez, Dawinder threw In 2010, women’s rights activists ernment,” Ravi Kant, another Su-
on a clean shirt. Rangi took them to a began lobbying for a law to crimi- preme Court lawyer, told me. “The
nearby building, where, above shops nalize honor killings, seeking to government doesn’t want to put its
selling spare motorcycle parts and bat- penalize the full gamut of associated hand somewhere it can get stuck.”
teries, they stepped into an apartment offenses—harassment, intimida- One afternoon, Jagmati Sangwan,
that had been converted into an Arya tion, economic sanctions, social an activist with the All India Demo-
Samaj temple. (Arya Samaj, a boycotts—that can endanger cou- cratic Women’s Association, a femi-
nineteenth-century movement that sup- ples, their families, and anyone har- nist group, took me to a government
ports caste system reform, facilitates in- boring them. In their approach, the safe house for couples at an aban-
tercaste marriage.) As a priest chanted activists sought to emulate India’s doned school in Rohtak, a town in
Vedic scriptures, Neetu and Dawinder laws against dowry and child mar- Haryana. Her organization had scored
I
n January 2017, I visited Neetu and tor, a hulking man with a short tem- eight for the secret shelters—but he
Dawinder at the shelter. Neetu per. Whenever he rang a bell, they still refused to show me where they
told me that all her dreams had were to gather on the balcony to re- were, or to introduce me to any cou-
been coming true: first, they got mar- ceive instructions. He’d have them ples who had stayed at them.
ried in a big city; then, on New Year’s go out to buy him a pack of ciga- Sometimes marriages needed to be
Eve, they slow-danced. She sat on the rettes and a bottle of whiskey, play registered in tatkal (“at short no-
floor in Sachdev’s room and read from cricket with his nephew, mop, sweep, tice”), Sachdev went on, which re-
her diary, in which she noted the im- or walk Romeo. The women stayed quired a government fee of another
portant events in her life—the first inside to clean and cook. ten thousand rupees ($150). There
time she and Dawinder kissed, the Prospective donors, many of them were couples who could not afford
morning they showered together, the from the West, routinely came to visit. their own wedding ceremonies, so
night they spoke on the phone for al- The biggest contributors were an on- that meant ghee, sandalwood, the
most eight hours. Sachdev was sitting line matchmaking service and Björn priest’s tip, garlands, and sweets.
nearby, drinking a glass of water and Borg, a Swedish clothing company. In Certain couples needed to be res-
trying to keep a straight face, but fi- his pitch, Sachdev would describe his cued, and that required cars, walkie-
nally he started laughing so hard that lofty ideas about freedom and choice talkies, and emergency funds. Pho-
he spat out of his mouth. and ask the runaways to talk about tocopying and notarizing documents
“What did you talk about for so how he had saved their lives. He would cost money. And even though the
long?” he asked. tell guests that he was protecting hun- Love Commandos operated within
“I keep telling her, Baba, ‘How much dreds of couples in a network of eight the law, Sachdev said, gifts had to be
will you talk?’ ” Dawinder said. His face shelters across the country, but he sent during the festivals of Diwali
crumpled with embarrassment. never divulged any details, saying that and Holi to “speed up” officials he
O
ne afternoon, Sachdev tion they would need to book
coordinated a rescue an appointment for court reg-
mission from his bed. istration. If they left, he said,
The daughter of a government he would call Neetu’s family
official in Bareilly, a town in the and they would be killed. “But
northern state of Uttar Pradesh, we did not get scared,” Neetu
had been kidnapped by her wrote in her diary.
relatives while returning home At the door, the commandos
from work in New Delhi, where inspected their bags. Dawinder
she lived with her husband, who asked for their cell phones—
was from a lower caste. Sachdev, there were three, which he’d
horizontal and smoking a ciga- brought from his cousin’s shop.
rette, tweeted at the state’s chief Sachdev returned only two.
minister, and by the next morn- “Go, run,” he told them.
ing, the couple was at the shel- “You’re not getting this one.”
ter. Immediately, he inspected Neetu grabbed the last phone
their papers, which included from his hand and slammed
a religious certificate but not the door behind them.
a court-issued license, and start-
N
ed their legal registration. eetu and Dawinder
Later that day, Dawinder went to stay with Af-
shouted at Neetu for eating sana and Malkit at
sweets that the newcomers had Malkit’s family’s apartment in
brought. She was so angry that she but when he and Neetu discussed it, he the city. By some miracle, their parents
removed her choora, throwing the would cry, “We are poor, no one is listen- had grown tired of the hostility and
bangles to the ground. “Dav said that ing to us, we are runaways. What will decided to support their relationship.
he will drop me to my house tomor- we do?” He was afraid that Sachdev A few days later, Dawinder’s parents
row,” she wrote in her diary that night. might refuse to hand over their marriage arrived. Gurmej had brought his sav-
“I forgave him for the twenty-fifth documents, as he had done to others. ings in a plastic bag; he was now willing
time. Now I have to stop keeping Without valid IDs, registration might to pay for his son’s marriage license. At
count.” Moonlight poured into the never be possible, and they would risk a lawyer’s office, he explained that they
bedroom from the street through a being separated. Dawinder wondered were poor and desperate. After some
vent. Everyone appeared to be asleep, whether they had left one oppressive negotiation over her fee, she took them
but then Neetu noticed a couple rock- system for another. to a temple, where Neetu and Dawin-
ing under a mountain of quilts. She By the end of January, they decided der were married yet again. They were
knew how elusive privacy was at the that they’d waited long enough. registered by the court that afternoon.
shelter, but she could not keep herself Whenever Sachdev stepped out of The lawyer took ten thousand rupees
from laughing. Dawinder, rousing at his room, Dawinder secretly scanned ($150), less than a fifth of the amount
the sound of her voice, looked up, and their paperwork as Neetu kept that Neetu and Dawinder had paid the
soon he sank his head into the pillow, watch. Sneaking around made them Love Commandos.
laughing, too. both nervous, and they continued to In the evening, the family went to
The extended stay in such tight snap at each other. Dawinder would a gurdwara, a Sikh temple, where
quarters had been wearing on them. tell Neetu of the Love Commandos, they would spend the night. Gurmej
Pooja and Rajnish, another recently married couple at the Love Commandos shelter LETTER FROM INDIA 51
carried Neetu’s bags. Sukhwinder Chandigarh. He arrived at dawn, af- ened from a nightmare in which she
Kaur, Dawinder’s mother, doted on ter taking three buses overnight, and saw herself at Dawinder’s feet, beg-
her, kissing her palms and calling her waited under a tree until the court ging him not to leave her and return
daughter. The next evening, Neetu opened. For a fee, a stenographer to his parents. She kept telling him
and Dawinder left for Aunt Kul- typed up his grievance letters to po- that she would die without him, and
want’s; they figured that only harm lice officials and the chief minister; then he walked away.
awaited them in Kakheri. Dawinder’s Gurmej received no response. Kala It was only a dream. But living
parents went home, with the inten- and his family continued to roam the with Kulwant, Neetu had become
tion of selling their house. Someday, village freely. Gurmej and Sukhwind- miserable. In the absence of Dawin-
they told one another, they would all er, too afraid to return home, lived der’s mother, Kulwant had taken it
go far away and live together in peace. out in a shed in their fields. upon herself to make Neetu a good
A little more than a month later, One afternoon, Dawinder and daughter-in-law. She demanded to
on March 20, Neetu and Dawinder Neetu joined his family to visit the be called Mummy and forbade Nee-
were sitting down for dinner when offices of Muhammad Akil, the tu to use a cell phone or step out-
the phone rang. His parents had re- state chief of police in Haryana. In side without her head covered. At
turned home from visiting a relative the waiting room, Neetu rose to get mealtimes, Neetu was required to
and found the place in ruins. The a drink of water, and she was sum- eat after the men. If Dawinder and
doors had been busted open, the moned by the officer’s secretary. Neetu went up to talk after dinner,
jambool tree in the courtyard was The secretary told her that she had Kulwant would press her ear against
slashed, trunks full of clothes and read her petition. She asked Neetu their door to listen. A girl like Nee-
valuables were empty, and an entire why she had eloped and ruined so tu could not be trusted, Kulwant
wall was missing. Neighbors gath- many lives. “Parents always have the told me, since she had not been loy-
ered outside to survey the damage. best interests of their children in al to her own parents.
Gurmej sensed that something worse mind,” she told her. Neetu nodded, Not long after they’d moved in,
was about to happen, so he jumped holding back tears. She couldn’t Neetu discovered that she was preg-
on his motorcycle and rode to the think of anything to say that would nant. The celebrations were eclipsed,
police station. convince this person that her however, by fallout from the attack
In the two hours he was gone, choices were justified. on her mother-in-law. “Love = De-
Neetu’s family came back. Kala had The family expected to leave stroy life of many people who belong
an axe, his brothers had knives and with nothing; appealing to the po- to you,” Dawinder texted me one
bamboo sticks, Sudesh was carrying a lice chief was a shot in the dark. If evening. Later, another message
sickle, and Ruksana, Neetu’s younger low-ranking officers did not have came in: “What is the point of any
sister, wielded an iron rod. Sukhwin- patience for them, why would Akil of this?”
der hid in her son’s room, but Kala bother? But to their surprise, he di- Despite the joyous news, Dawin-
and his brothers dragged her out by rected his officers to arrest Kala der seemed dour. If Neetu took too
her hair. They took her to the center and his brothers. Dawinder’s par- long to bring him food, he would
of town, where they kicked and beat ents were given police escorts. scream. When Kulwant lashed out
her until she vomited. Spectators The next day, Gurmej headed into at her for sleeping in, he stayed si-
huddled around. “Kala told me, ‘We town along with two policemen. On lent. One day, she stepped outside
will make you drink our piss,’ ” Sukh- his way, he passed Sudesh. She stared in a sleeveless top, and he tore it in
winder recalled. Eventually she him down and said that Kala would a fit of rage, saying it was inappro-
passed out, her face in the dirt. Kala be back for revenge: his family would priate. The romantic songs that
and the family kept at it until some- be killed even if they were hiding in Neetu once adored now sounded
one in the crowd suggested that she hell. Satish Kumar, one of the police absurd; she asked him to play one
might already be dead. escorts, told me that he advised her to for her, and an argument erupted. “I
Gurmej spent the next few weeks shut up and leave. He did not arrest started crying in the room upstairs,”
trying to get the police to take action, her, because the warrant against her she wrote in her diary. “I felt as if
but it became clear to him that for a family did not include women. there is no one in this world that is
poor man in India, justice was elusive, After two weeks, the policemen mine.” The same man who only
especially if your son eloped with a assigned to accompany Dawinder’s months earlier had performed sit-
woman in violation of tradition. He parents stopped coming to work. ups in a room full of people at the
spent days in the waiting rooms of po- Kala and his brothers were released shelter just to make her smile could
lice stations, begging officials. His own on bail. Gurmej couldn’t sell his no longer understand her.
son had created this mess, they told house—no one wanted to inherit Dawinder was overwhelmed with
him. Only after he obtained a medical the site of a community feud. guilt. He got a job delivering mobile
report detailing Sukhwinder’s injuries minutes cards to shops around
O
were charges filed. But a month passed, ne morning in the spring, town; when I accompanied him on
and the police did nothing. Neetu was sitting on her bed, his route, he told me that he har-
In April, Gurmej went to the High in a pajama set, looking like bored doubts about what his rela-
Court of Punjab and Haryana, in she had seen a ghost. She had awak- tionship was worth. His parents
WALK TH
The unlikely origins of
By Joshua Je
Donald Trump became president promising to build a “big and
beautiful wall” between the United States and Mexico. Now it
seems his plans have been forestalled: members of his own
party view the wall as a colossal waste of money (the most recent
estimate is $21 billion over three years), and people living near
the border are refusing to give up their land for a project they
see as harmful and inane. About a third of the two-thousand-
mile frontier between San Diego and Brownsville, Texas, already
has some sort of constructed boundary—often cement, corru-
gated metal, or steel mesh—and the desert terrain acts as a deter-
rent along the rest. But Trump’s proposal was always more rhe-
torical than real. Those who would “Make America Great
Again” by walling off Mexico want to believe that the border is
a natural and meaningful divide rather than the recent product
of human accident and endeavor.
For much of the 1850s, the most prominent figure on the US Boundary Commission was Major William
H. Emory, a mustachioed graduate of West Point. Emory was versed in the surveying techniques of his
day—he used zenith telescopes to determine location by the position of the stars—and he relished the
idea of expanding the United States. His Mexican counterpart was José Salazar Ilarregui, who was ap-
pointed to the commission just a few years after graduating from Mexico’s College of Mining. Whereas
Emory looked to the heavens, Salazar had mastered the surveyor’s craft of triangulation—measuring
distance by drawing triangles from fixed points across the land. Lending those skills to an endeavor that
would cost Mexico half its soil must have troubled him, but he was also a nationalist who wanted to ensure
that his country’s borders were clearly marked and defensible. Emory and Salazar were responsible for
turning the language of the treaty into a real dividing line, marked every so often with a marble obelisk
or a simple pile of stones.
HE LINE
the US-Mexico border
elly-Schapiro
The American and Mexican boundary commissions were supposed to
conduct independent surveys, but the two teams frequently found it
advantageous to share the work. Determining the azimuth—a straight
line over the curving earth—was one thing on paper; it was quite an-
other to track its course across peaks and deserts. Working from faulty
old maps, the teams were often forced to compromise about the border’s
route. For example, they discovered that “the town called Paso” (now
Ciudad Juárez) was dozens of miles from where the treaty said it should
be—a discrepancy so great it required a second treaty to resolve. Then
there was the challenge of the Rio Grande, whose snaking course made
up one section of the route. The surveyors, balancing precariously in
rowboats, had to lower weighted strings into the rushing current to find
the river’s deepest channel, where the border was meant to run. In 1851,
several members of the American team caught yellow fever in what is
now Big Bend National Park—then a terra incognita of canyons and
thorns. Another man drowned in the river. In the end, the Rio Grande’s
tendency to change its course, especially after heavy rains, guaranteed
that legal conflicts over the “true” border would continue for a century.
Map by William H. Emory, 1857. Courtesy the David Rumsey Historical Map Collection ANNOTATION 55
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L E T T E R F R O M S A U D I A R A B I A
BODY POLITIC
Saudi women push for the right to exercise
By Sarah Aziza
M
y body was draped are-you? Are you fine? Yeah?
head to toe in Amazing, alhamdulillah.”
black, but I still The women kept up a play-
felt naked. I have spent ful mood, but the gathering
years living and working in was an act of defiance.
Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, yet In Saudi Arabia, where
now, for the first time, I was women’s activities are re-
alone on a secluded street stricted by a complex set of
near the Red Sea, unes- laws and informal rules, the
corted in public after sun- sidewalk is the domain of
down. Across the road, cab men. Women are mostly rel-
drivers in loose white robes egated to domestic, indoor
squatted against a concrete spaces, and when they do go
wall, smoking cigarettes out in public, they wear
and eyeing me with open loose abayas that fully cov-
interest. I set my face with er the body. Nearly all
practiced indifference as I women—including me—
glanced quickly up and cover their hair, and many
down the street. Then I screen their faces with full
saw them: two dozen wom- veils. Buildings that serve
en power walking, their both sexes, such as banks
limbs synchronized in the and mosques, typically
grainy yellow glow from maintain separate entranc-
the streetlights. es, while restaurants parti-
Out f ront wa s May tion men from women and
Aboulfaraj, a forty-year-old families. Offices sometimes
fashion designer. In lieu of have separate rooms to ac-
the other women’s tradi- commodate a single female
tional black abayas, she employee. Many families
wore a custom jumpsuit made of light- hijab. She greeted me with a brisk also adhere to the Islamic concept of
weight purple cloth and decorated kiss on the cheek. “You missed warm- mahram, which stipulates that women
with reflective tape and iron-on emoji up! Yalla, let’s go.” be escorted by a male chaperone while
decals. As she waved to me, her Aboulfaraj founded Bliss Run, a in public.
sleeves fanned out, creating the sil- women’s running club, with three Under Saudi law, women are de-
houette of a flying squirrel. The tip of other women in 2016. Her collabora- pendent on a wali, a male guardian,
her ponytail danced beneath a green tors, also in their forties or fifties, from birth to death. The wali, usually
bandanna—a sporty substitute for a were dressed in their own custom a woman’s father, husband, brother, or
Sarah Aziza lives in New York City and the jumpsuits. They welcomed me warm- adult son, has the power to deny her
Middle East. ly. “Salaam, hi-hi habibti, love. How- access to travel, medical care, and
I
t was almost ten o’clock by the that she has dem khafeef—“light display. In 2014, Abdullah al-Dawood,
time I returned home, to the blood,” or good humor. a conservative author with nearly one
apartment of Umm Musa, a family Her doctor feels differently. Umm hundred thousand Twitter followers,
friend. She met me at the door dressed Musa is five foot two, and her weight warned that allowing girls to partici-
in a loose robe and light-pink head- f luctuates between 170 and 190 pate in fitness and sports was a product
scarf, her brow furrowed behind wide- pounds, putting her somewhere be- of “Westernization” and would lead to
framed glasses. As I peeled off my tween “overweight” and “obese.” She “infidelity and prostitution.” Sheikh
abaya, she began chiding me. “Ya bint! is at risk for diabetes and osteoporosis, Abdullah al-Maneea, a member of the
Girl, what are you doing out all night? and her blood pressure is well above Supreme Council of Religious Schol-
Who drove you back?” Smiling, I ex- the healthy range. ars, has said that allowing virgins to
plained Uber to her for a third time. Umm Musa’s case is alarmingly exercise is dangerous, claiming that
She shook her head. “Not safe!” typical: Saudi Arabia has seen a activities like running and jumping
Umm Musa pulled me down the surge in obesity and related illnesses cause damage to the hymen.
hall and into a windowless, sponge- over the past few decades, and today As I finished my kebab with
painted sitting room. Her husband, 70 percent of the total population is Umm Musa, Mohammed roused
Mohammed, a stocky contractor with overweight. Yasmin al-Twaijri, an ep- himself. “Women are always worried
a salt-and-pepper beard, dozed in idemiologist at King Faisal Specialist about getting fat,” he said, chuck-
front of a muted television. Small ta- Hospital and Research Centre in Ri- ling. “Of course my wife is fat—she
bles heaped with dates and sugar- yadh who is one of the nation’s doesn’t do anything!”
dusted cookies were within arm’s leading obesity researchers, attri- Umm Musa grinned and swatted
reach of every seat. Umm Musa drew butes this trend to the usual chang- away his comment with a gold-
up one of the tables, cleared away the es that accompany modernization: bangled arm. “I do more than you, ya
sweets, and set two plates of food in labor-saving technology, sedentary sheikh!” She reminded Mohammed
front of me—I had missed both daily routines, and an abundance of that he had grown heavier over the
lunch and dinner, so she’d saved me cheap processed foods. (In Saudi years, too.
some of each. A r abia, McD onald’s deliver s.) “Alhamdulillah, praise God,” he re-
She resumed her interrogation. Among the middle and upper class- plied, thumping his belly in an un-
When I explained that I’d been out es, the problem is compounded by conscious imitation of his wife.
running with a group of Saudi the country’s two-tiered economy, On occasion, Umm Musa would
women, Umm Musa’s eyes widened. in which most physical labor is suggest that they take a daily walk
“They’re doing what?” She frowned shunted onto migrant workers. at the edge of their neighborhood. “I
as I described the jumpsuits, the Though many Western countries used to try to exercise, a little bit,” she
makeshift hijabs, the dim, secluded are also experiencing accelerating said. “But I don’t like the way men
route. I reminded Umm Musa that obesity rates—Americans overall are looked at me, sometimes shouted at
T
here are hundreds of men’s vate gymnastics, dance, and martial correct breaches of form. “There,”
gyms throughout Saudi Ara- arts lessons taught by expats in gated she said to me when I tried to skimp
bia, including international compounds. Her experience was on my lunges, tapping a spot farther
chains such as Fitness Time and unusual—physical education for girls out on the floor. Sondos, a cheerful,
Gold’s Gym, but the government has been prohibited in the public overweight consultant in her late
has for years refused to make per- school system since the Ministry of twenties, sprinted in a tight loop,
mits available for gyms that serve Education first expanded to include gasping for breath. But her reward
women. In the past decade, however, female students in 1960. At eighteen, was sweet: at the end of the interval,
an underground network of unli- al-Hamrani left to attend the Univer- al-Hamrani gave a single nod and
censed fitness centers has appeared, sity of California, San Diego, where said, “Yes.”
led by female athletes and trainers. she joined the women’s rowing team. When the final timer rang, Son-
By 2016, there were about a hundred Later, she began practicing CrossFit. dos flopped onto a mat, laughing,
of these illicit gyms in the kingdom, After graduation, when she returned her long hair fanning across the
ranging from multistory enterprises to Jeddah and struggled to find a job, floor. She had started at FlagBoxing
officially registered as “retail shops” her mother suggested that she try eight months earlier in an effort to
to makeshift basement studios ad- personal training. “It was the one lose weight, but the classes soon be-
vertised only on social media or by thing that I really loved, and she came a kind of therapy. Now she
word of mouth. thought maybe I could make a busi- came to al-Hamrani’s studio every
One of the best-known figures in ness of it,” al-Hamrani said. She day. “I need the endorphins so bad,”
the underground fitness scene is bought a few free weights and a she told me. “I was really unhappy.
Halah al-Hamrani, a forty-year-old punching bag and started teaching My life was just work, home, stress,
kickboxing instructor who started kickboxing to friends. and I was gaining more and more
her company, Fight Like a Girl When she began coaching, al- weight. Now I have an outlet, some-
Boxing (Flag Boxing), out of her Hamrani was struck by how many of thing to look forward to at the end of
parents’ pool house in 2003. Since her clients lacked basic physical coor- the day.” She waited until her sweat
then, it has grown into a full-time dination and strength. Some strug- dried enough for her to pull on her
operation with a $60,000 studio, a gled to do a single push-up. “Think abaya, then headed toward the door.
line of at hletic clot hing, a nd about it: for the first thirty, forty “See you tomorrow!” she said. Al-
20,000 Instagram followers. “For a years of their lives, they never moved Hamrani gave a mock salute.
long time, the market for women’s their bodies, so lots of them have no After everyone left, al-Hamrani
fitness here was really small,” she muscle memory, no sense of balance.” pulled up a bench across from me.
told me. “It’s just the past three, She now has about a hundred clients Seated, her body remained in mo-
four years that things have started and coaches several classes each day. tion, the white sneakers she wore
to blow up.” Al-Hamrani is aware A drop-in session costs 250 riyals during class tapping the rubber floor.
that with a growing clientele comes ($60), which she admits is expensive. Interest in women’s fitness has be-
the risk of government scrutiny; for “I am in a bit of a bubble,” she told come mainstream in the Middle East,
other women’s gyms, that attention me. “I mostly get the more educated, she said, and multinational compa-
has forced them to close. wealthy Saudis. Those are also the nies have picked up on the new mar-
I met al-Hamrani on a weekday ones who are accepting of who I am, ket. Last year, al-Hamrani was ap-
afternoon at her studio in Jeddah, as a woman athlete.” proached by Pepsi to be featured in
which she runs out of a ground- The afternoon session I attended an ad alongside Amal Baatia, a Saudi
f loor apartment that has tinted was sold out, with ten students be- female CrossFit coach, and several
windows and a camera-equipped tween the ages of seventeen and high-profile male athletes. Nike re-
buzzer. She opened the door in bare forty-five. They arrived in private cently launched an athletic hijab.
feet and cutoff sweatpants, her hair cars and discarded their abayas in Her business, she sensed, could ex-
swept up in a frizzy ponytail. I fol- lockers by the door, revealing pastel pand dramatically—as long as she
lowed her to a large workout area leggings and pristine sneakers. Al- could protect it from the hard-liners.
outfitted with imported CrossFit Hamrani clapped her hands. “Posi- Al-Hamrani doesn’t identify as an
rigs, ten punching bags, and half a tions!” The women arranged them- activist, but in a country where wom-
dozen benches. Mirrors covered ev- selves into two rows. The workout, en’s bodies are routinely treated with
ery wall. A set of gymnastics rings al-Hamrani explained, would rotate contempt, creating a space for wom-
dangled from the ceiling. through eight exercises that included en to exercise becomes an affirma-
O
ne afternoon, I flew to Riyadh and disabled athletes. Since then,
to meet Princess Reema, the several federations, including those of
head of women’s and commu- golf, fencing, and tennis, have added Check out our weekly
nity sports for the General Sports Au- female members. take on the news,
thority (GSA), at her home. Beyond a Most notably, Reema persuaded delivered to your inbox
long driveway, an expansive garden, the ministry of education to start a
and clusters of luxury cars, the villa’s physical education program for girls. FREE every Tuesday.
white walls glowed pink in the fading PE has a long and fraught history in
sunlight. Inside, a butler showed me to Saudi politics; in the gender- VISIT HARPERS.ORG
an airy sitting room. Cupcake, the segregated public school system,
princess’s cat, joined me, curling up which serves 85 percent of the coun- TO SIGN UP TODAY!
into my lap and covering my abaya try’s children, boys attend gym class
with tufts of orange fur. several times a week, yet girls have
After a moment I was shown into been forbidden on religious grounds.
Reema’s office. The princess, who is In 2015, Nora al-Fayaz, a former dep-
forty-two, was wearing a business uty minister of education, was fired in
skirt, a navy blouse, and black heels. what many saw as retribution for her
She stood over a table stacked with outspoken advocacy for girls’ gym
papers, deep in discussion with a se- classes. Reema’s victory was unex-
nior member of the Saudi Arabian pectedly smooth. The brief statement
Olympic Committee. After he left the ministry released in July about
the room, she exhaled and flashed me the new PE program did not specify
a smile. “Do you mind if I take off my which activities would be deemed ap-
shoes and put on my slippers?” She propriate, however, and it remains to
gestured to a pair of cream-colored, be seen what forms these classes will
woolly slip-ons next to her chair. “I’ve take. Considering the absence of fit-
been an adult all day, and I need to ness facilities in girls’ schools and the
put on my slippers before I cry.” lack of qualified female instructors, it
Even in slippers, Reema exuded may take many years for the pro-
poise. She speaks English with an easy grams to be conducted at a standard
fluency, polished by years of living in equivalent to boys’ PE.
the United States as the daughter of This past summer, Reema scored
the kingdom’s ambassador. Before her most significant victory. Perhaps
entering the government, she was recognizing the gravity of its obesity
the head of the luxury department crisis—and the expense; all Saudi
store Harvey Nichols’s franchise in citizens receive free health care—the
Saudi Arabia, where she hired first- government launched an online
time female workers and advocated license-application system for gym
publicly to advance women seeking owners. Because of Reema’s lobbying
careers. (Although a growing minority efforts, for the first time, licenses
of Saudi women have taken jobs out- would be made available to fitness fa-
side the home, they account for only cilities for women.
about 20 percent of the workforce, de- So far, thirty-two women’s gyms
spite making up more than half of the have been approved. Leejam Sports
nation’s university students.) Reema Company, the largest operator of
caught the attention of senior officials men’s gyms in the kingdom, plans
in 2015, when she led a breast cancer over the next six years to open about
awareness campaign that culminated a hundred facilities for women,
in a thirteen-thousand-woman rally in which they expect will attract hun-
Riyadh, setting a Guinness world re- dreds of thousands of new members.
cord for the largest “human ribbon.” Reema predicts that “a cascade of
A
fter nearly forty Nevertheless, I’ve in-
years of engag- creasingly come to doubt
ing with politi- my political and journal-
cal journalism—writing istic credo—my some-
investigative reports, what black-and-white
opinion columns, and devotion to “reality.” I
straight news, as well as mean no disrespect to
publishing other peo- Harrison Salisbury, Mar-
ple’s work—I confess t ha Gell hor n, a nd
that I’m discouraged. I. F. Stone, who remain
Catastrophic events such my heroes, but none of
as Bill Clinton’s bombing their Vietnam reporting
of Belgrade, purportedly made an impression on
in the interest of human- me equal to the finest
itarian relief, and George fiction, poetry, or literary
W. Bush’s invasion of essay. Graham Greene’s
Iraq, which was predi- novel The Quiet Ameri-
cated on lies, have recon- can, published in 1955,
firmed my opinion that endures as the most
storytelling in the service compelling, most truth-
of destructive ambition ful argument against
can easily overwhelm American intervention
truth. More recently, as in Southeast Asia. To
the author of a book get to the heart of the
about the social and economic damage from legitimate sources contributes to matter (the title of another of his nov-
caused by NAFTA and free-trade pro- deeper understanding and to a greater els), Greene told stories from his imagi-
paganda, I’ve begun to think that the good; that every journalist’s attempt to nation, and maybe the literary approach
greatest beneficiary of my attempts at speak out against corrupt authority to truth matters more to the heart than
reporting fact and recording dissent brings us closer to the truth; that the any objective fact or principle can ever
may be Donald Trump, champion of cause of freedom is best served by hard mean to the brain. Maybe literature is
the anti-fact, teller of the tallest tales, fact and clear rhetoric. The first impor- what really causes revolutions.
liar to the core. tant historical and journalistic lesson
I
I still believe that history can be of my life was realizing—along with n September 1983, my future wife
revised as it’s happening—altered, hundreds of other hyperpoliticized re- and I boarded a night train in Par-
even—and that authentic information porters of my generation—that the is bound for Prague, the capital of
John R. MacArthur is the publisher of Harp- Vietnam War and the domino theory what was then Communist Czechoslo-
er’s Magazine and the author of four books, that was its rationale were based on vakia. Back home, everyone was talking
including The Selling of “Free Trade.” false information and opaque analysis. about the human rights movement in
A confrontation between Soviet troops and protesters, Prague, 1968 © Sovfoto/UIG/Getty Images MEMOIR 63
the Soviet bloc. By then, the idea that with the victims of Communist oppres- in the Eastern bloc. As Renee and I
some form of universal civil rights sion. But I also harbored fantasies, fed departed Paris’s Gare de l’Est on the
should extend across national borders by John le Carré novels, of penetrating night of Friday, September 16, I was
was an old one, but enlisting the prin- the Iron Curtain and daring the au- entirely ignorant of something very
ciple of human rights as a popular po- thorities to act, well, authoritarian. dangerous brewing between the two
litical tool against Soviet Communist We had to travel overland, by train, superpowers—the American war
oppression was something new. With with the attendant tension one might game called Able Archer 83, which
the signing of the Helsinki Accords in expect at the border crossing. Renee some historians believe nearly led to
1975, the Russians had agreed, broadly was game, having already voyaged with nuclear war.
speaking, to respect human rights, and her adventurous parents all over the In my visa application to the
Western anticommunists—many of Soviet Union and Eastern Europe in Czechoslovak Embassy in Washing-
them liberals who had opposed the war the 1960s. So we made our plans, even ton, I had lied that we wanted to visit
in Vietnam—were emboldened. If no booking a room at the Alcron, the as tourists, but the Czechoslovak of-
one really believed that the Russians hotel in Prague where Renee’s family ficials weren’t stupid. They informed
would embrace democracy, or even ease had stayed in June 1968, in the midst me that besides needing to speak with
up on control of their Eastern European of the Prague Spring and not long be- me on the phone to get “information
satellites within the Warsaw Pact, at fore Soviet-led tanks crushed Alexan- concerning your magazine,” they
least Moscow could be formally moni- der Dubcek’s
ˇ attempt at a peaceful wanted ten dollars (Communist gov-
tored and challenged when it cracked liberalization of Czechoslovak society. ernments were always in need of hard
down on the civil liberties of spe- Western currency) to pay for the
cific people in specific countries. cable costs of a further inquiry into
When Helsinki Watch, a private,
New York–based group, was founded
WE TRIED TO ACT LIKE the matter, presumably with their
bosses back in Prague. My more
in 1978, Americans finally had an NORMAL TOURISTS AND NOT important communication had
independent, nongovernmental ve- been with the old United States
ATTRACT ATTENTION TO A
hicle for supporting Soviet bloc in- Information Agency, until 1999
tellectuals who were fighting for free MEETING WITH DISSIDENT WRITERS the propaganda arm of the State
speech and freedom of movement, Department and the office that
often suffering imprisonment and could hook me up with glamorous
worse for their audacity. Thus did the As for the dissident writers, it Czech and Slovak dissidents, espe-
Russian word samizdat become fashion- wasn’t difficult to get the State De- cially Havel. It’s hard to believe that
able, at least in the Western media, to partment to set up a meeting, espe- the Czechoslovak security services
describe the typewritten carbon copies, cially during the anticommunist Rea- were unaware of my real intentions,
sometimes bound into books, that gan Administration. The Cold War but we got our visas anyway, and
spread by hand the underground writ- had recently hardened in part be- found ourselves in a sleeping com-
ing of notable dissident intellectuals cause of the ascension, in 1982, of partment on an overnight train from
such as the Polish essayist Adam Mich- Yuri Andropov to the Soviet premier- West to East, from bourgeois freedom
nik, the Russian physicist Andrei ship. When he was the Soviet ambas- to police-state tyranny.
Sakharov, and the Czech playwright sador to Hungary, Andropov had par- After passing through West Ger-
Václav Havel. Within the New York ticipated in the suppression of the many at night, we arrived at the
intelligentsia, these men had become 1956 anticommunist uprising there, Czechoslovak frontier—in the pre-
celebrities, and from January 1977 on, and while the head of the KGB in the dawn darkness, I recollect—where a
especially after the manifesto of Char- Sixties and Seventies he had taken a couple of armed policemen boarded
ter 77 was published in Prague by 242 tough line against political dissidents. our train and knocked on our com-
Czech and Slovak intellectuals demand- Moreover, he was deeply suspicious of partment door. When one of them
ing freedom, it seemed that hardly a Reagan and NATO’s intentions, fear- asked in broken English for my “pa-
week passed without my reading some- ing a preemptive military or even nu- pers,” he seemed briefly concerned
thing by them, or about them, in The clear strike. The air in those days was about my connection with a maga-
New York Review of Books or the New filled with the American president’s zine, but my assurance that publisher
York Times. So when Renee and I anti-Soviet bluster—“The march of just meant “businessman” seemed to
planned our trip, it seemed appropriate freedom and democracy . . . will leave mollify him. The romance of train
that as the publisher of Harper’s Maga- Marxism-Leninism on the ash heap travel mixed with the slight fear of ar-
zine, on my way to Switzerland to visit of history”—and Reagan was putting rest or deportation made for a frisson
my Paris-based brother, I should call on big money behind his declarations, of excitement, and our journey had
some heroic dissident writers in Prague. notably in the form of the Strategic hardly begun.
Political principle and sound publish- Defense Initiative, better known as Upon check-in at the Alcron, as if
ing played a part in my decision—I Star Wars, and the planned deploy- on cue, the smiling, obsequious desk
certainly hoped to get a piece of writ- ment of Pershing II nuclear missiles in clerk informed us that we had no res-
ing from Havel, or an interview, or at Western Europe. It wasn’t the ideal ervation there and that, in fact, we
least to demonstrate public solidarity time to be playing liberal publisher were booked at the Hotel Jalta. That
66 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018 Photograph of Ludvík Vaculík (detail) © Josef Horazny/CTK/Alamy
1983, just a month after Havel was the boarding stairs toward freedom. I ments are part of our raison d’être.
released from prison: didn’t feel calm until we had been in The full transcript of the forum was
the air for a few minutes. never returned to me—Hruby could
I am not, never have been, nor do I Back in New York, I passed along not find it thirty-three years later
want to become a politician, a revolu-
my samizdat to Michael Pollan, at the when I inquired about it. All that
tionary, or a professional dissident. I
am a writer. I write what I want and time a senior editor at Harper’s Maga- remains are the excerpts, unpublished
not what others want from me. If I get zine. A translator, Suzanne Hruby, until now in English, that she ini-
involved in anything other than my was hired to work on the transcript tially prepared from “Reflections on
literary work, I do this simply because I of the literary forum of Czech dissi- the State of Czech Literature,” includ-
see there a natural human obligation dents. But Pollan was doubtful that ing some trenchant remarks by Milan
and civic duty which, when all is said the conversation among writers Jungmann, once the editor of a pres-
and done, flows directly from my posi- would be compelling enough for the tigious literary magazine, who wound
tion as a writer—that is, of a man who editor whose department it would up working as a window washer when
is in the public eye and is thus duty have fallen into. “This looks very in- he ran afoul of the government:
bound to speak up on certain subjects
teresting,” he wrote to me in a memo.
in a louder voice than one who is not. It might seem that politics is all-
Not because this man is more impor- “I’ll show it to Mark [Danner], as a
possible forum, but I suspect he’ll find permeating and that in Bohemia all hu-
tant or more clever than others, but man life and the most authentic expres-
simply, whether he likes it or not, be- it too limited, and lacking in major
sions of human life are fascinated with
cause he is in a different position box office stars (Kundera, etc.).”
political power. But really that is only
which carries with it a different kind However, “I think it could work well the way it appears. Recently some
of responsibility. world-renowned Czech artists—Nobel
laureate poet J. Seifert, playwright
I had carried a copy of the inter-
view with me to Prague, but I didn’t
I CAN’T REMEMBER WHO HANDED V. Havel, and novelist M. Kundera—
have frequently pointed out that they
have the presence of mind to quote ME THE FIRST SHEETS OF PAPER— are not professionally interested in poli-
it then. tics. They do not consciously engage in
SAMIZDAT—BUT THEY LOOKED politics and they do not make an effort
R
enee and I didn’t take any to become at all involved in its “game.”
JUST AS I HAD EXPECTED
But it is the fate of this small country
chances with our samizdat—
that every person with integrity and his
she hid the texts under her own ideas about the world, who bases
sweater in case our bags were too thor- as a Reading.” But what about money? his attitudes, actions, and creative work
oughly searched. It was a smart precau- We had only a partial translation and on those moral commitments, must col-
tion with a decidedly romantic angle: a synopsis from Hruby, and translat- lide with politics in one way or another.
smuggling dissident writing out from ing the entire text would be expen- Every once in a while he will stumble in
behind the Iron Curtain had a certain sive, he said. Would we have to pay its pitfalls. To a superficial observer,
savor to it. At the Prague airport, the fees to others, presumably the partici- therefore, it may seem that Czech un-
search of our luggage was uneventful, pants and their foreign publishers? derground literature is also fascinated
and nobody tried to search us physi- To my discredit, I did not insist. with politics and cannot rid itself of
politics. In reality . . . Czech literature is
cally. Of course, if they had, all they Of course we could have afforded
concerned with trying to understand
would have found was a sort of anti- it—that is, if I had encouraged Pol- man and the meaning of human life,
political discussion about literature . . . lan to spend the money. True, with defending his dignity against de-
and a feuilleton. Harper’s was at the time making its humanizing forces, and with protecting
At the gate, through the window long climb back to health after him against everything that threatens
of the terminal, we saw that our nearly folding in 1980, but I appar- the nation’s moral health.
Czechoslovak Airlines flight to Zu- ently allowed that to be the excuse
rich was surrounded on the tarmac by to let the matter drop. As for Vacu- According to Hruby’s summary, the
uniformed officers carrying automatic lík’s feuilleton, there’s no record that four other participants—Klíma, the
weapons. I had never seen such a we ever discussed it, even though novelists Karel Pecka and Jan Trefulka,
thing before and have not since. The someone—the text I had in my files and the dramatist Milan Uhde—were
officers appeared to be limiting access all these years is unsigned—had evi- divided on the effects of being a dissi-
to the plane, in case anyone made a dently translated the whole piece for dent: “Literary life in both the official
break for it from the terminal, and me. Ignorant as I was of Vaculík’s and the unofficial ghetto has suffered,
seemed quite prepared to shoot. To- importance, and his courage, I was according to Klíma,” she wrote:
talitarian rule was a serious business, probably still disappointed that
and I owed something to the writers Havel, the box office draw, hadn’t Writers are excluded from entire ave-
nues of social life and then cannot
whose work Renee was carrying. We shown up at Kiehl’s apartment. communicate freely with their readers
boarded the plane the old-fashioned Reasonable people often disagree and critics. However, Uhde argues
way, descending to the tarmac, walk- sharply about the value of literary that he enjoys more creative freedom
ing to the plane, and passing the gov- texts and writers. At serious maga- now than when his plays were pub-
ernment gunmen as we walked up zines such as Harper’s, these argu- lished. . . . He suggests that although
MEMOIR 67
Czech writers cannot break through
the ghetto surrounding them they can
and must break through the ghetto
within themselves.
I
translation that has been moldering can’t get even a sentence down doesn’t work, though. Even the blue
in a file folder all these years. on paper from the whirlwind of sky itself is losing its confidence. Yes,
The reader may prefer to contem- thoughts in my mind. All I can it was summer. Then comes winter.
plate “On a Plane” without my com- do is walk the floor, and my feet are Then, with any luck, a new summer
mentary. Published here in English already hurting, so instead I go lie again . . . but what of it? How and
for the first time, and translated down. I try to read but can’t follow where do I pry out the truth? Again
anew by Alex Zucker, it was written the lines in the order they are writ- contemplating the blank sheet of
the month of my visit to Prague and ten, so I turn out the lights. Yet do- paper, I wonder how many things I
first published in Czech in Obsah, a ing that is like switching on a de- still need to close up, square away,
samizdat journal founded by Vaculík vice that arranges the unruly waves secure in place, before I set out to get
and others. Politics does appear, in into an image. A plane hangs sus- there. How should I say goodbye?
the allusion to the victims of Korean pended in space, bulky and inert. I pick up my heavy typewriter and
Air Lines Flight 007. But Vaculík’s Then, suddenly, the image begins to carry it down the steps, through the
voice drowns it out with humanity twist and fall apart. It’s both comi- garden, and into the summerhouse.
and irony. I’m sorry I didn’t publish cal and sinister at once. I can’t even Inside, it smells of wood, a wreath of
the essay in 1983, and I regret that I really quite grasp it in a single garlic, a pick and a shovel, phenol
can’t discuss it with him, since he screening, so I run it over and over, and pears. The typewriter sits firmly
died in 2015. Among other things, I like a naughty boy tormenting an on a little white wooden table
would have liked to talk to him innocent animal, until I can tell jammed into a corner between two
about what role the human factor what happened. Who did it and windows. Through the window in
plays in politics and journalism, and why? echoes the horrified question, front of me I see the fire pit, a circle
about the best path toward the truth, but I know. I can answer it with a of rough stones filled with loose ash.
which I mostly missed that night in profile as old as the hills themselves: The window on my left gives onto a
Cold War–era Prague, populated it was a killer, by nature and nur- hall of green, vaulted with the
though it was with freethinkers of ture, by wish and command, and a branches of a walnut tree, a spotted
great warmth and intelligence. And gleam of joy lit up his dreary life the woodpecker hacking away at its
I would have thanked him for this moment he heard the order for trunk. I roll in a new sheet of paper
sentence from “On a Plane”: “I will which his father unwittingly fucked that knows nothing, just looking
never know the truth anyway, and if him into being, and his offspring forward to whatever comes next.
I were, accidentally, to stumble upon will be programmed killers, too. Over the edge of the sheet I stare
it, wandering in the night, they In the morning, however, I see it thoughtfully out the window into
would kill me.” can’t be true. The report will be re- the ash. A fresh, healthy stump,
MUNICH, 1938
By Robert Harris
T
he Regina Palast was an im- “I’m sorry to be a bore,” Wilson Wilson even more determined to keep
mense, monumental gray stone had said, “but I’m afraid I’m going to him away from the German delegation.
cube of a hotel, built in 1908, have to ask you to stay in the hotel Indeed, there was something about Sir
with Versailles-style reception rooms, a for the duration of the conference.” Horace Wilson’s manner—a vague
Turkish bath in the basement, and “The entire duration?” hard shape lurking beneath the oily
three hundred bed- surface—that sug-
room s a r ra nged gested to him that
over seven floors, of the prime minister’s
which the British chief adviser al-
delegation had been ready had a shrewd
allotted twenty. idea of what he had
These ran along come to do.
the front of the ho- So all he said
tel on the third was, “Of course, sir.
floor, with views I’ll make a start
across the trees of right away.”
Maximiliansplatz The suite desig-
to the distant twin nated for the prime
Gothic spires of the minister included a
Frauenkirche. bedroom with a
After the prime four-poster bed and
minister and his a Louis XVI draw-
team had left for ing room with gilt
the start of the chairs and French
conference, Hugh windows that
Legat spent the opened onto a bal-
next ten minutes cony. “It is the finest
walking up and down the dimly lit “Yes. Someone needs to get an of- room in the hotel,” the under‐manager
carpeted corridor in the company of fice set up and running, establish an assured him. The next‐best rooms Legat
the hotel’s assistant manager. He open line to London, make sure it’s awarded to Wilson, Strang, Malkin,
found it hard to hide his frustration. I permanently manned. You’re the ob- Ashton-Gwatkin, and the two diplo-
might as well have been a bloody ho- vious choice.” The dismay must have mats from the Berlin embassy, Hender-
telier, he thought. His first task, given shown on Legat’s face, because Wil- son and Kirkpatrick.
to him by Horace Wilson, was to al- son went on smoothly: “I understand The large double-aspect room in
locate a room to each member of the it’s a disappointment for you not to be the southeast corner had been set
British party and then to make sure at the main show . . . but it simply aside as the delegation’s office. A tray
the porters delivered the correct lug- can’t be helped. So sorry.” of open-faced sandwiches and some
gage to the right room. For a moment Legat had considered bottles of mineral water had been
Robert Harris’s novel Munich, from which confiding in him why he was in Mu- provided for lunch. It was here that
this story is excerpted, was published this nich in the first place. But instinct the two secretaries set up their
month by Knopf. warned him that it might only make typewriters—two Imperials and a
A
of sulfur. Almost immediately the t the Führerbau, they waited. trade nearest the British delegation’s
phone rang. He jumped up to answer Each delegation had been al- room. He rested his hands on the cold
it: “Yes?” Over the voice of the hotel lotted its own area. The Ger- marble, leaned casually against it, and
operator informing him that he was mans and the Italians shared the looked down into the lobby. He risked
connected to London he could just long open gallery that was next to a surreptitious glance at the British.
make out the exasperated tone of the the Führer’s study; the British and Suddenly there was a noise behind
telephonist in Downing Street repeat- the French occupied the two recep- him. The door to Hitler’s study
edly asking what extension he re- tion rooms at the far end of the cor- opened and Chamberlain appeared.
quired. He had to shout to make him- ridor that faced it. Paul von Hart- He looked much grimmer than he
self heard. It was another minute mann positioned himself in an had a couple of hours earlier. After
before the principal private secretary armchair in the gallery that afforded him came Wilson, then Daladier and
came on the line. him a clear view between the pillars Léger. Daladier, patting his pockets,
“Cleverly.” across the wide, open space to where pulled out a cigarette case. At once,
“Sir, it’s Legat. We’re in Munich.” the Allied officials sat in silence, the British and French delegations
“Yes, I know. It’s running on the reading and smoking. Both delega- streamed out from their respective
newswires.” Cleverly’s voice was very tions had left their doors open in rooms to meet them. As they hurried
faint and hollow. There was a series of case they were needed. He could see past him, Hartmann heard Cham-
faint clicks on the line. That would be them moving around, casting hope- berlain call out, “Come on, gentle-
the Germans listening, thought Legat. ful, anxious glances toward the big men, we’re leaving,” and the two
Cleverly said, “It sounds as though corner study where the Führer’s door groups walked along the gallery to
you—” The robot‐voice was lost in a remained firmly shut. the far staircase and began to de-
crackle of static. Still Legat did not come. scend. A minute later, Hitler and
“I’m sorry, sir. Could you repeat One hour passed, and then anoth- Mussolini emerged and stalked off in
that?” er. From time to time, a Nazi the same direction, with Ciano trail-
“I said, it sounds as though you chieftain—Göring, Himmler, Hess— ing behind. Hitler’s expression was
had quite a reception!” wandered by with his attendants, oc- still one of irritation. He was ges-
“We certainly did, sir.” casionally stopping to exchange a few ticulating at Il Duce, muttering to
“Where’s the PM?” words with the Germans. The boots him angrily, his right hand making
“He’s just left for the conference. of the SS adjutants rang on the mar- sweeping gestures as if he wished to
I’m at the hotel.” ble floor. Messages were whispered. consign the entire business to obliv-
“Good. I want you to stay there The atmosphere was that of a big, ion. The glorious possibility occurred
and make sure this line stays open.” hushed institution—a museum per- to Hartmann that perhaps the whole
“With respect, sir, I think I would haps, or a library. Everyone watched thing had collapsed.
be more useful if I were actually in everyone else.
L
the same building as the PM.” From time to time, Hartmann egat was at the desk in the Re-
“No, absolutely not. Do you hear reached inside his jacket and touched gina Palast office, sorting
me? I want—” Another burst of static, the metal of the gun, warmed by the through the contents of the
like gunfire. The line went dead. heat of his body, then slid his hand red boxes and putting aside the docu-
“Hello? Hello?” Legat pressed the down the side of his shirt and felt the ments annotated by the prime minis-
lever on the cradle half a dozen times. outline of the envelope. Somehow he ter requiring urgent action, when he
“Hello? Damn!” He hung up and would have to get it into the hands of heard the crowd begin to cheer. He
looked at the apparatus with hatred. the British delegation, and sooner got to his feet and looked down into
For the next two hours Legat made rather than later—there was no point Maximiliansplatz. An open Mercedes
repeated attempts to establish a line to in leaving it until a deal was agreed had drawn up outside the hotel.
London. It proved impossible. Through- on. Legat, it seemed, was out of the Chamberlain was climbing out, ac-
out all this, in the garden opposite the picture: why, he did not know. But if companied by Wilson.
hotel, the crowd kept growing. There not Legat, who? He locked the boxes and went out
was a holiday atmosphere, the men in It would take him less than half a into the corridor. At the far end the
leather shorts, the women in floral minute to saunter over to the British elevator bell rang softly. The doors
dresses. Much beer was being drunk. delegation’s room. Unfortunately, he opened and the prime minister
L
was a risk the whole thing might egat spent the next hour in
break up in acrimony—I proposed the office, translating the
we adjourn for an hour so that we text of the Italians’ draft
could consult with our respective agreement from German into En-
delegations about Mussolini’s draft.” glish. It wasn’t very long—fewer
“And the Czechs?” than a thousand words. As he fin-
“Let’s wait and see. By the end ished each page he gave it to a sec-
Hitler had a face like thunder. He’s retary to type. At various points,
taken Mussolini and Himmler back the members of the British delega-
to his apartment for lunch—I can’t tion trooped into the office to read
say I envy Musso that particular so- over his shoulder.
cial engagement!”
1. The evacuation will begin on Octo-
I
ber 1st.
n the Führerbau, the German and
2. The United Kingdom, France and
Italian officials had drifted back Italy guarantee that the evacuation
toward the room where the buffet of the territory shall be completed
lunch had been laid out. The two by October 10th . . .
groups didn’t mingle. The Germans
felt themselves superior to the Ital- And so it went on, eight paragraphs
ians. The Italians thought the Ger- in all.
mans vulgar. Over by the window, a It was Malkin, the Foreign Office
circle formed around State Secretary lawyer, sitting in an armchair in the
Ernst von Weizsäcker and Dr. Schmidt, corner, reading through the pages and
the foreign ministry’s chief interpreter. puffing on his pipe, who suggested that
Hartmann collected a plate of food “guarantee” be replaced with “agree”—a
and joined them. Weizsäcker was clever stroke, seemingly trivial, that
showing the group a document typed completely altered the tenor of the
in German. He seemed very pleased draft. Wilson took it along the corri-
out of the room. As Wilson turned opened a large metal door, and stepped
to follow him, Legat decided to make into the heat of the afternoon.
one last appeal. “I really think I It was the car park at the back of
would be more useful at the actual the building. A dozen black Mer-
conference, sir, rather than hanging cedeses were drawn up in a line. A
around here. There’s bound to be couple of the drivers were smoking.
further translating to be done.” Faintly in the distance he heard
“Oh, no, no—the ambassador and cheers and shouts of “Sieg heil!”
Kirkpatrick can handle that. You He turned around and went back
man the fort here. Really, you’re do- inside. An SS man appeared from
ing a splendid job.” He patted Legat’s the guardroom. “What are you do-
arm. “You need to get onto Number ing? Hurry up, man! Can’t you hear Jewelry shown full size. Made in USA.
Ten straightaway and read them the the Führer is returning?” Add $9 handling per order.
text of our revised draft. Ask them Hatmann pushed past him and
to make sure it’s circulated to the started climbing the staircase. He trot- Shop davidmorgan.com
Foreign Office. Well—here goes.” ted up the steps quickly. His heart felt
He hurried after the prime minister. too full for his chest. He emerged more or request our catalog
Legat returned to the office, picked up or less exactly where he had been
the telephone, and once again booked a standing when the first session of the #N32080N #KB-354-PIN
call to London. This time, to his sur- conference broke up. There was a
prise, it went through. flurry of activity. Aides were moving
hastily into position, straightening
F
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draft agreement changed every- hair, looking along the corridor. Hitler
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bend themselves to smoothing over ing side by side. Behind them came Akubra® Hats from Australia
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STORY 75
Hitler stamped on regardless, followed Legat walked toward them. “I am Instead we have been forced to re-
by the German delegation. English! Can I help?” main here. It is an outrage!”
At the entrance to his study he The man called out, “Thank God! The Gestapo officer was standing
halted and turned to look down the I am Dr. Hubert Masarik, chef de in the doorway, listening. “As I
length of the building. Hartmann, no cabinet of the foreign minister of have explained, they are not al-
more than ten paces away, saw the ir- Czechoslovakia! These men are from lowed to participate in the confer-
ritation in his face. He began to rock the Gestapo and they are holding me ence. My orders are that they are to
up and down on the balls of his feet. and my colleague, the Czech minis- wait in their hotel room until fur-
From outside came a burst of even ter in Berlin, Dr. Vojtek Mastny, im- ther instructions have been issued.”
louder applause, and shortly afterward prisoned in this room!” “Therefore we are under arrest!”
Chamberlain appeared at the top of He was about forty, distinguished- “Not at all. You are free to return
the far staircase, followed by Daladier. looking in a pale-gray suit with a to the air port and f ly back to
They began to confer, standing to- handkerchief in his breast pocket. His Prague whenever you wish.”
gether beside a pillar. Hitler watched long, high-domed head was flushed. At Legat said, “May I ask who issued
the two democratic leaders for a min- some point his round tortoiseshell this order?”
ute. Suddenly he wheeled around, lo- spectacles had been knocked awry. The Gestapo officer stuck out his
cated Ribbentrop, and gestured an- Legat said, “May I ask who is in chest. “I believe it comes from the
grily at him to go and fetch them. He charge here?” Führer himself.”
disappeared into his study and Hart- One of the Gestapo men swung “An outrage!”
mann felt a rush of renewed optimism. around. He was broad-faced with a Mastny put his hand on his
The professional diplomats might hard tight mouth and badly pitted younger colleague’s arm. “Calm your-
imagine the deal was already done, cheeks, as though he had suffered self, Hubert. I am more used to life in
but nothing could be settled until Hit- smallpox in his youth. He looked Germany than you are. There is no
ler willed it, and he still looked as ready for a fight. “And who are you?” point in shouting.” He turned to Le-
though he would like nothing more “My name is Hugh Legat. I am gat. “You are the private secretary to
than to send them all packing. the private secretary to Prime Min- Mr. Chamberlain? Perhaps you might
ister Chamberlain.” speak to the prime minister on our
I
t must have been after five when The Gestapo officer’s attitude behalf, and see if this unfortunate
Legat finished dictating the final changed at once. “There is no situation can be resolved?”
clause to the stenographer in question of imprisonment, Herr Le- Legat looked at the two Czechs,
Downing Street. gat. We have merely asked these and then at the Gestapo man, who
“ ‘The Czechoslovak Government gentlemen to wait in their room for was standing with his arms folded.
will, within a period of four weeks their own security while the con- “Let me go and see what I can do.”
from the date of this agreement, re- ference is in progress.”
T
lease from their military and police “But we are supposed to be ob- he crowd in the park opposite
forces any Sudeten Germans who servers at this conference!” Masarik the hotel was still large. They
may wish to be released, and the adjusted his spectacles. “I appeal to watched Legat leave without
Czechoslovak Government will the representative of the British interest: yet another official in a suit;
within the same period release Sude- government to allow us to do what a nobody. He walked quickly, his
ten German prisoners who are serv- we were sent here to do.” head down.
ing terms of imprisonment for politi- “May I?” Legat gestured to be al- Max‐Joseph‐Straße was quiet and
cal offence.’ Have you got all that?” lowed to pass. The three other Ge- lined with cherry trees flanked in turn
“Yes, sir.” stapo men looked to the officer. He by handsome apartment blocks of red
He tucked the receiver under his nodded. They stood aside. Legat and white stone. There was a smoky
chin and began gathering together shook hands with Masarik. “I’m mellowness in the air. Pushing
the pages of the draft. In the distance very sorry about this. Where is through the autumn drifts in the
he heard raised voices. The door had your colleague?” warm late-afternoon light reminded
been left half-open. There was some He followed Masarik into the bed- him of Oxford. Two well-dressed elder-
kind of argument going on in the cor- room. A professorial figure in his six- ly women exercised their dogs. A uni-
ridor. “Engländer!” a man was shout- ties, still wearing his overcoat, was formed nanny pushed a pram. It was
ing in a thick accent. “Ich verlange, seated on the edge of the bed, hold- only after he had been walking for
mit einem Engländer zu sprechen!” ing his hat between his knees. He about five minutes—after he had
Legat went out into the corridor. stood as Legat entered. He looked ut- passed the obelisk in the center of the
At the far end of the passage, near terly dejected. “Mastny.” He held out roundabout and gone a little way to-
the back of the hotel, a figure was his hand. ward Königsplatz—that he sensed that
gesticulating, trying to push his way Masarik said, “We landed from at some point, without noticing, he
past a group of four men in suits. Prague less than an hour ago and had crossed an invisible frontier into a
They kept moving to block his path. were met by these people at the air- darker and less familiar world. What
“An Englishman! I demand to speak port. We assumed we were being he remembered as a park had become
to an Englishman!” taken directly to the conference. a parade ground. In a pagan temple, a
H
suit. His hair had been receding artmann thought that the
when he was at Oxford but now he passage of six years had
was almost entirely bald. His hand- barely changed Legat at all.
some head was cocked as he lis- He might have been crossing the
The Neck and Shoulder
tened to his companion. He looked quad at Balliol. There was the same Heat Wrap
stooped, strained, weary. Yet for all odd combination of age and youth: This is the
that, something of the old aura still the thick, dark, boyish hair flicked heated wrap that
hung around him, even at a dis- back on his forehead and the pale simultaneously
tance. He spotted Legat over the gravity of his expression; the lightness soothes sore
other man’s shoulder, registered of his movements—he had been a muscles in
him with a slight widening of his runner at Oxford—encased in those the neck and
violet eyes, and gave a barely per- stiff old‐fashioned clothes. The sight of shoulders.
ceptible shake of his head. Legat him caused Hartmann to briefly lose Unlike typical rectangular heating
walked on. track of what Weizsäcker was saying. pads that do not provide ideal
Through the open door he could He failed to notice Schmidt hurrying coverage or contact, this wrap
see Strang and Dunglass. The Brit- toward them. reaches from the front of the
ish party looked up as he walked “Herr von Weizsäcker and Signor shoulders to the middle of
in. They had spread themselves Attolico—” Schmidt nodded to the back. A tethered controller
around the large room. Henderson the state secretary and beckoned to adjusts the temperature and the
was reading a German newspaper. the Italian ambassador—“excuse wrap’s polyester microplush is
Kirkpatrick had his legs stretched me, gentlemen: the Führer would soft against skin. Magnetic front
out and his eyes closed. Malkin had like you to join the talks.” closure. Plugs into AC.
some papers on his lap. Ashton- The men sitting nearest them over-
Gwatkin appeared to be reading a heard. Heads turned. Weizsäcker nod- $69.95
FRE
volume of Japanese poetry. Strang
said sharply, “Hugh? What are you
ded as if he had been expecting this.
“Does he want anyone else?”
#84437 SHI
PPIN E
G
doing here? I thought you were sup- “Only the British and French
posed to stay at the hotel?” ambassadors.”
“I was, sir, but something’s come up. “I’ll fetch them,” volunteered Hart-
Use code #601025
The Czech delegation have arrived at mann. Without waiting for approval
the Regina Palast and they’re being he set off toward the two delegations. by 2/28/18.
prevented from leaving their room.” He entered the French room first. hammacher.com/wrap
1-800-543-3366
STORY 77
“Monsieur Francois‐¸ Poncet?” The bou- study. The door had already closed Hartmann went inside. A minute
levardier’s face, with its old-fashioned again. Hartmann said, “Let us hope later, Legat did the same.
wax mustache, swung around to look some progress is being made.” He
I
at him. “Forgive me, Your Excellency, stopped. “I shall look forward to t was the end of the workday. The
the leaders would like their ambas- seeing you later. If you’ll excuse me, bar was crowded, mostly with
sadors to join them.” Even before gentlemen?” He inclined his head workers from the nearby govern-
Francois‐Poncet
¸ was on his feet, Hart- graciously, turned to his left, and ment offices to judge by the look of
mann was striding next door. “Sir Ne- began to descend the service stairs. them. There were a lot of brown Party
vile, a request from the Führer’s study— Legat continued on his way with uniforms. He peered around for Hart-
would you please be good enough to Ashton-Gwatkin for a few more paces, mann through the clouds of cigarette
join the heads of government?” then he, too, halted. “I’m sorry, I’ve smoke and saw his bald head in the
Strang said, “Only Sir Nevile?” just remembered there’s something I corner. He was sitting at a table with
“Only Sir Nevile.” need to tell Strang.” The ploy seemed his back to the room but facing a mir-
“At last!” Henderson folded his so obvious it embarrassed him, but ror so that he could watch what was
newspaper and placed it on the ta- Ashton-Gwatkin merely raised his happening. Legat slipped into the seat
ble. He stood and checked his but- hand in farewell—“Later, dear boy”— opposite him. Hartmann’s wide mouth
tonhole in the mirror. and carried on walking. Legat re- split into his familiar vulpine grin.
Kirkpatrick said, “Good luck.” traced his steps. Without a backward “Well,” he said, “here we are again, my
“Thanks.” He sauntered out of the glance he followed Hartmann down friend,” and Legat remembered that for
room. the stairs. Paul there was always amusement to
“Does this mean there’s been a He couldn’t see him but he could be had in any situation, even this one.
breakthrough?” hear the soles of his shoes ringing on Then Hartmann added, more seri-
“I fear I am only the messenger, the steps. He expected him to stop ously, “Were you followed?”
Mr. Strang.” Hartmann smiled and at the ground floor; instead the clat- “I don’t know. I don’t think so.
bowed slightly. He glanced around. ter of leather on stone continued for I’m not exactly used to this sort of
“Are you comfortable in here? Is another two f lights until Legat thing.”
there anything you need?” found himself emerging into a base- “Welcome to the new Germany,
“We’re fine, thank you, Herr—” ment passage just in time to catch a my dear Hugh! You’ll find one has
Strang paused. gleam of daylight to his right and to get used to it.”
“Hartmann.” the sound of a door slamming shut. The man at the next table was in
“Herr Hartmann, of course, excuse He preferred not to think of the an SA uniform. He was reading Der
me.” Hartmann waited pointedly and absurdity of the figure he must cut— Stürmer. A vile caricature of a Jew
Strang found himself obliged to intro- the Whitehall civil servant in his with the tentacles of an octopus
duce his colleagues. “This is Lord dark suit and watch chain hurrying dominated the front page. Legat
Dunglass, the prime minister’s parlia- along the subterranean service cor- hoped the noise from the bar was too
mentary private secretary. Sir William ridor of the Führer’s private palace. loud for them to be overheard.
Malkin of the Foreign Office. Frank Legat passed a guardroom—empty, He said quietly, “Is it safe here?”
Ashton‐Gwatkin, also of the Foreign he was relieved to see—opened the “No. But safer than staying where
Office. Ivone Kirkpatrick from the heavy steel door, and stepped out into we were. We will order two beers.
Berlin embassy I expect you know . . . ” daylight and a courtyard full of black We will pay for them and take them
“Indeed, Mr. Kirkpatrick. Very Mercedeses. At the far end, Hart- out into the garden. We will con-
good to see you again.” Hartmann mann was waiting. He waved and tinue to speak entirely in German.
went around the room shaking hands. hurried toward him. But Hartmann We are two old friends, meeting after
“And this is Hugh Legat, one of the immediately set off again, turning a long interval, with a great deal to
prime minister’s private secretaries.” right and vanishing from view. catch up on—this much is true. Lies
“Mr. Legat.” From then on Hartmann kept are always best when mostly true.”
“Herr Hartmann.” about a hundred yards ahead. He led He signaled to the waiter. “Two
Hartmann held on to Legat’s Legat past the two Temples of Honor beers, please.”
hand a fraction longer than he had with their motionless guards and “You haven’t changed much.”
the others’ and tugged it gently. wavering flames, past another monu- “Ah!” Hartmann laughed. “If
“Well, do let me know if I can be of mental white‐stone Nazi building only you knew!” He pulled out a
any assistance.” identical to the Führerbau, then out lighter and a pack of cigarettes, of-
Legat said, “I should get back to of Königsplatz altogether and into a fered one, leaned over, and lit Le-
the hotel.” wide street with big office blocks gat’s first and then his own. They
“And I suppose I should talk to festooned with swastikas. He glanced sat back and smoked in silence for a
the poor old Czechos,” said Ashton‐ over his shoulder. Nobody seemed to while. Occasionally Hartmann
Gwatkin wearily, “assuming I can be following him. Ahead was an ugly looked at him and shook his head
find a telephone that works.” modern building that looked like the as if he couldn’t believe it.
The three men went out into the entrance to a railway station but Legat said, “Won’t they be won-
corridor and walked toward Hitler’s advertised itself as the Park Café. dering where you are?”
“One or two will no doubt be Translated from the French by Jordan Stump Translated from the Greek by Karen Emmerich
Translated from Italian by Richard Dixon
Translated from Hebrew by Raymond P. Scheindlin
archipelago books
can’t be helped.”
Legat continued to look around
the bar. The unfamiliar tobacco Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
E
Louis Couperus
Mahmoud Darwish
E L I N E V E RE
Why Did You
NE
Leave the Horse Alone?
his throat. He felt horribly exposed.
E E
“Let’s hope they don’t finish the
talks before we get back.”
“I don’t think that’s likely, do you? K ONUNDRUM
H a lld ó r L a xness
Wayward Heroes
Even if there’s an agreement, they’re
SELECTED PROSE OF FRANZ KAFKA
through the smoke. His large eyes were Josep Maria de Sagarra
Guillermo Cabrera Infante
“No.” WO L F H U N T
Ivailo Petrov
INCEST
Christine Angot
ANGEL OF
I N P R A I S E O F D E F E AT
Poems by Abdellatif Laâbi
Magdalena Tulli
Cockroaches MOVI NG P AR TS
Magdalena Tulli
Nest in the Bones
Stories by Antonio Di Benedetto
NOVALIS
The Novices of Sais
H A NNE ØRS TAVIK
OBLIVION
man money. Hartmann put a hand-
With illustrations by Paul Klee
R I C E C
your Stürmer, might I take it?” outer ring: 1. pun; 25. *;
T E
G
A
M
E
R
A
C
H
Z
A
A
N J
L
M
E R
S S I F K T
“My pleasure.” The man handed 26. dopp(elg*)anger*.
G
C
O
M A S U
N
S
L
F
R
E L R
I
A
R
C
E R I A
it over, nodded to them affably, and second ring: 27. S-ain’t-ex-up-éry*; U
N I
D
N V
I
O
T
E V A S E
E
U
O
C W
E
K T
S
A I U
left. 28. rev.; 29. two mngs.;
G
E R T
T
A V R E S
N
Y R K
A
“You see?” said Hartmann. “They’re 30. two mngs.; 31. *. A
A
C
D O A
L
E
C
L L O R D L
third ring: 32. uni[t]-quest; T C E
E
quite charming when you get to know 33. out-flan-[ma]king; 34. pun; R P
T
I
L
Z
I
H
P E
them. Bring your beer. We’ll go out- 35. *; 36. a-maze. U
O D
E
S
R
side.” He stubbed out his cigarette. fourth ring: 37. *; 38. reap-pear-
There were metal tables on a gravel ance*-s[ugar]; 39. mount-E-bank-
Eries; 40. hidden.
surface beneath bare trees. The sun fifth ring: 41. cinna-moned*; 42. pun.
had gone. It would soon be dusk. The inner ring: 43. steeple-chase.
beer garden was as busy as the bar—
men in lederhosen, women in dirndls. radial clues: 1. pun; 2. hum-aniz*-E; 3. two definitions; 4. creep-sin; 5. *; 6. [da]d-I(cent)RA;
Hartmann led him over to a small 7. en-Cyclop[s]-edia(rev.); 8. e.g.-0-man-i[s]-a; 9. *; 10. geolog*-I-C; 11. hidden; 12. [l]otta-vino; 13. love
handles; 14. *; 15. strait(homophone)-jack-et; 16. cake-walk; 17. hide-Y(our-f)-ace; 18. rel(ease)e*; 19. *;
table beside a bed of lavender. Beyond 20. up-to-date; 21. homophone; 22. *; 23. UN-commercial; 24. ter(razz)o*.
it was a botanical park. The neat paths
STORY 79
and flower beds, the specimens of treaty? Appeasement is simply an at- lanterns suspended between ornate
trees, seemed familiar. Legat said, tempt to redress those same wrongs.” wrought-iron poles. They glowed in
“Haven’t we been here before?” “Yes, and I stand by every word!” the gathering dusk.
“Yes, we sat over there and had Hartmann leaned across the table and Hartmann said, “So you will not
an argument. You accused me of continued in an urgent whisper. “And help me?”
being a Nazi at heart.” there is a part of me—yes, my dear “If you’re asking me to arrange a
“Did I? I’m sorry. Sometimes, to Hugh, I admit it—that rejoices that private meeting with the prime min-
an outsider, German nationalism you and the French have finally had ister, then I have to say no—it is im-
didn’t sound that much different to come crawling on your hands and possible. On the other hand, if
from Nazism.” knees to put it right. The trouble is, there’s some proof of Hitler’s ambi-
Har tma n n f licked his ha nd. you’ve left it too late! Overturning tions that we ought to be aware of,
“Let’s not get into all that. There Versailles—that’s nothing to Hitler then yes, if you give it to me now, I’ll
isn’t time.” He pulled out a chair. anymore. That’s just the prelude for undertake to make sure he sees it.”
The steel legs scraped on the gravel. what is to come.” “Before he signs any agreement
They sat. Legat refused another ciga- “And this is what you want to in Munich?”
rette. Hartmann lit one for himself. tell the prime minister?” Legat hesitated. “If there’s an op-
“So. Let me go straight to the point “Yes, and not just tell him—I want portunity, yes.”
of it: I would like you to arrange for to show him proof. I have it here.” He “Will you give me your word that
me to meet with Chamberlain.” patted his chest. “You look amused?” you’ll try?”
Legat sighed. “They told me in “No, not amused—I just think “Yes.”
London that was what you wanted. you’re naïve. If only things were
H
I’m sorry, Paul, it’s just not possible.” that simple!” artmann stared at Legat for
“But you are his secretary. Secre- “They are simple. If Chamber- several seconds. Finally, he
taries arrange meetings.” lain refuses tonight to continue to picked up the Stürmer from
“I’m the most junior of his secre- negotiate under duress, then Hitler the table. It was a tabloid, easy to
taries. I fetch and carry. He’d no will invade Czechoslovakia tomor- hold in one hand. He shielded him-
more listen to me than he would to row. And the moment he issues self with it. With the other hand he
that waiter over there. And besides, that order, everything will change, began unfastening the buttons of his
isn’t it rather too late for meetings?” and we in the opposition, in the shirt. Legat twisted on the hard metal
Hartmann shook his head. “Right army and elsewhere, will take care chair and looked around the beer gar-
now, at this very moment, it is still of Hitler.” den. Everyone seemed preoccupied
not too late. It will only be too late Legat folded his arms and shook his with their own amusement. But in
after your prime minister has signed head. “It is at this point that I’m afraid the undergrowth around them any
this agreement.” you lose me. You want my country to number of eyes could be watching.
Legat cupped the beer glass in his go to war to prevent three million Hartmann folded the paper and slid it
hands and bowed his head. He remem- Germans joining Germany, on the off back across the table to Legat.
bered this absurd stubbornness, this re- chance that you and your friends can He said, “I should go now. You
fusal to abandon a chain of reasoning then get rid of Hitler? Well, I have to stay and finish your beer. It would
even when it had demonstrably started say, from what I’ve seen today, he looks be best if from now on we did not
from a false premise. They might have pretty well entrenched to me.” acknowledge each other.”
been arguing in the taproom of the He stopped himself from going on, “I understand.”
Eagle and Child. “Paul, I promise you, although there was plenty more he Hartmann stood. It was suddenly
there’s nothing you can say to him that could have said. He could have asked important to Legat that things were not
he hasn’t considered already. If you’re whether it was true that Hartmann left like this. He stood as well. “I do
going to warn him that Hitler’s a bad and his friends—as their emissaries in appreciate—we all appreciate—the risks
man—save your breath. He knows it.” London had made clear over the that you and your colleagues are taking.
“Then why is he making this summer—intended to hang on to If things become dangerous and you
deal with him?” Austria and the Sudetenland even if need to leave Germany, I can promise
“For all the reasons of which you’re Hitler was deposed, and if it was also you that you will be well looked after.”
aware. Because on this issue Germany true that their aim was to restore the “I am not a traitor. I will never leave
has a strong case, and the fact that it’s kaiser, in which case what should he Germany.”
being put by Hitler doesn’t make it any whisper to his father, lying in an ocean “I know. But the offer is there.”
weaker.” He remembered now why he of white stone crosses in a war ceme- They shook hands.
had accused Hartmann of being a Nazi: tery in Flanders, the next time he “Finish your drink, Hugh.”
his main objection to Hitler always visited him? He felt a spasm of irrita- Hartmann turned and walked across
seemed to be snobbish—that he was a tion. Let’s just sign the bloody agree- the gravel toward the café, his tall figure
vulgar Austrian corporal—rather than ment, get back on the plane, fly out of moving awkwardly among the tables
ideological. “I must say you’ve changed here, and leave them to get on with it. and chairs. There was a brief glow from
your tune! Weren’t you always going on The electric lamps were coming the interior as he opened the door, then
about the injustices of the Versailles on—strings of pretty yellow Chinese it closed and he was gone. Q
NEW BOOKS
The city and all its glass—it was all
inside the apartment. Just standing in
that room would take a radical adjust-
ment of one’s equilibrium. It was like
By Lidija Haas standing on the wing of a plane.
C
lose your eyes and picture the comes next is the dreamy part, and to account of Hurricane Katrina’s after-
American dream. At the turn appreciate it fully you need to be on math and an indictment of US policy
of the millennium, Mokhtar board with capitalism. during the Bush era, suffers from a
Alkhanshali, the scion of Yemeni im- Against tremendous odds, Mokhtar certain allergy to moral ambiguity.
migrants, is growing up in a tiny one- finds a way to export high-end coffee (Though perhaps it’s fairer to call it
bedroom San Francisco apartment out of Yemen. Soon a bunch bad luck when one’s male
sandwiched between two sex shops. of farmers and workers lead—a family man who
Outside, the streets are mean: sirens there are thriving as stayed behind during
shriek and so do residents, dealers deal never before—aside, the storm rescuing
in the open 24/7; the day his family that is, from the neighbors in a ca-
moves in, Mokhtar sees a guy shitting America n-made noe only to be
on the hood of a Mercedes. By his bombs the Saudis wrongfully arrested
early twenties he’s lucky to have a job are raining down as a terrorist—later
as a lobby ambassador (that’s doorman on them and the attacks his wife
to you) in a fancy tower block called blockade that is with a tire iron.)
Infinity B, even though the “arrhyth- causing dire short- There was an un-
mic” rattle of gentrification beyond ages of food and comfortable disso-
the glass doors makes it hard to focus medicine—and US nance between the
on his second attempt to get through consumers are learning cheerful tone of Monk
Das Kapital. I’m guessing he doesn’t something adorably non- and my own overriding feel-
finish it this time either, because what drone-related about Mokhtar’s ing while reading it, which was a
Top: A military training area destroyed in air strikes conducted by the Saudi Arabian–led
coalition, Sanaa, Yemen, September 7, 2015 © Lorenzo Meloni/Magnum Photos. Bottom:
A photograph from the series Fingerprints of Drinkable Culture © William LeGoullon REVIEWS 81
“One helluva team of
writers has produced a dread akin to that I might feel on trate as much when he describes
book you’ll be dipping seeing a child totter into oncoming Mokhtar heading for Yemen all
traffic. Or the kind you might feel were aglow about his startup. Naturally,
into for years.” I to announce at this juncture that I’ve Mokhtar, as a Yemeni American,
— Jim Bouton, author of Ball Four decided to head over to Yemen to start has some awareness of the region’s
a little import-export business. Granted, troubles and the United States’ role
I don’t speak Arabic, have no local in them. (He even joins a Yemeni-
connections, and lack the persuasive American group invited to visit the
RULES OF THE GAME fast talk that Mokhtar picked up in White House in 2011 after the
THE BEST SPORTS the Tenderloin, where “if you sounded Arab Spring, though the awkward
ignorant, you got taken.” But then “matter of the drone strikes was one
WRITING FROM Mokhtar doesn’t always inspire the that the delegation couldn’t agree
reader’s confidence, either: like a car- on how to address,” so they leave
HARPER’S MAGAZINE toon innocent abroad, he’s the kind of that out of their speech.) Given this
Preface by Roy Blount Jr. guy who will inadvertently drop a knowledge, and the State Depart-
loaded handgun into a bag of coffee ment’s travel warnings, it’s remark-
beans before mailing it to Ethiopia. able how taken aback he seems
Initially ignorant of the ancient his- when his plan to roam around the
Rules of the Game: The tory of Yemeni coffee, he seems country in a caravan with two
Best Sports Writing from wonder-struck to discover that coffee Western coffee experts starts to
grows out of the ground at all. look less than viable.
Harper’s Magazine uncov- This zany naïveté must be inten- Leaving Yemen with his beans in
ers funny, touching, excit- tional on Eggers’s part, and proba- 2015 proves tricky after Saudi bombs
ing, intriguing stories of the bly on Mokhtar’s too. Like the destroy the airport in Sanaa, amid
preppy Rupert Bear clothing he ad- clashes between Houthi and govern-
sporting life, both profes- opted as a teenager to smooth his ment forces and attacks by Al Qaeda.
sional and amateur. These way with the adults around him, it Luckily, though, he talks his way out
essays show that how we ensures that even nervous readers of a hostage situation, escapes on a
play and write about sports will embrace our impoverished skiff across the Red Sea, and high-
Muslim protagonist. Many pages of tails it, in the nick of time, to a trade
reflects and celebrates our cutesy high jinks go by before Eg- conference in Seattle. Once we’re
nation’s character. gers introduces anything too diffi- safely back in the United States, it
This collection includes cult or potentially threatening, takes some emotional acrobatics to
such as Mokhtar’s unspoken irrita- sympathize with Mokhtar’s troubles
some of the most well-known tion at Infinity residents who brag running his fledgling business. Eggers
and respected writers of about their expensive china or sees the problem: “The UN consid-
the past century, including have “lewd sexual conversations” ered Yemen on the brink of famine.
in the lobby, and his sense that No one was prioritizing the export of
Mark Twain, Tom Wolfe, having to leap smilingly to his feet coffee to international specialty
Shirley Jackson, Lewis H. and open the door for every person roasters. . . . It was difficult sometimes
Lapham, Gary Cartwright, who enters, rather than simply to see all this as essential.” Still, he
push the button by his desk, is “a explains, Mokhtar has to get that
A. Bartlett Giamatti, Pete self-evident outrage and an assault coffee out of the country because
Axthelm, George Plimpton, on his pride.” “there was a lot of money at stake.”
and Rich Cohen. Here is the business end of the Mokhtar has investors now, and gosh
American dream. As well as giving darn it, he can’t let them down!
hope to immig ra nt families My interpretation of Mokhtar as
Edited by Matthew Stevenson crammed into one-bedrooms, it re- a specifically American hero is evi-
and Michael Martin assures those who have already dently the intended one. US citi-
made (or inherited) it that their zens like him “bravely embody this
Order today through
doorman, waiter, or driver has no nation’s reason for being, a place of
store.harpers.org reason to seethe with resentment: radical opportunity and ceaseless
Published by Franklin Square Press he’s en route to the big time, if he welcome,” Eggers writes, before
ISBN 978-1-879957-58-9 wants it enough. In other words, closing his prologue with a rousing
Softcover $14.95 this dream often relies on an im- call to arms about
FRANKLIN pressive degree of bad faith, oblivi-
S Q UA R E ousness, or both. The same applies a blended people united not by stasis
PRESS tenfold to America’s relationship and cowardice and fear, but by irratio-
with the rest of the world, and it’s nal exuberance, by global enterprise
almost as if Eggers wants to illus- on a human scale, by the inherent
T
he NYU sociologist Patrick munity quarterback” philanthro-
Sharkey takes a darker view pists like the Atlanta real estate ty-
of inner-city childhoods. coon Tom Cousins, who poured
UNEASY PEACE: THE GREAT cash into the East Lake neighbor-
CRIME DECLINE, THE RENEWAL hood, as well as its ruined golf
OF CITY LIFE, AND THE NEXT course, and is now trying to scale
WAR ON VIOLENCE (W. W. Nor- that experiment with some mil-
ton, $26.95) reexamines the evi- lionaire pals under the sinister-
dence for the dramatic drop in vio- sounding name of Purpose Built
lent crime in so many American Communities. “There was contro-
cities after the 1990s. He credits it in versy along the way,” Sharkey ad-
part to concerted efforts by local or- mits of the East Lake project, “and
ganizations such as Concerned Citi- some of the original residents had
zens of South Central Los Angeles their lives uprooted against their MY LIFE IN THE SERVICE
and Alianza Dominicana, in New will.” Nonetheless, he continues,
York, as well as to more troubling “the central lesson . . . is not about FEATURES A FACSIMILE OF
factors, like aggressive policing. a white philanthropist, an exclusive THE DIARY GEORGE MCGOVERN
Sharkey often puts his readers in golf course, the demolition of public KEPT FROM HIS FIRST DAYS OF
quite a bind: he’ll note that some housing, or the establishment of
tactic is “controversial” but that the charter schools.” (It’s-not-about- BASIC TRAINING TO THE END OF
numbers suggest it worked—in this-but-about-that is a bit of a THE WAR. HASTILY JOTTED IN
which case, wouldn’t we agree that Sharkey tic.) The real lesson is that HIS EXACTING HAND (A TYPED
fewer deaths and assaults is a good sustained investment is the only
thing? It’s not just the Wall Street way to change anything, and Shar- TRANSCRIPTION IS INCLUDED),
swells now fearlessly walking their key ends his book on the thought THE PAGES CONVEY THE
dalmatians in Central Park at ten that if, as seems likely, the federal
IMMEDIACY OF MCGOVERN’S
o’clock (though he does give that ex- government doesn’t want to open
ample). While those who’ve lived for its coffers, private money may prove WARTIME EXPERIENCES.
many years in the D.C. neighbor- the best hope for American cities.
hood of Shaw may, he concedes, be Yet the awkward, contradictory
“justifiably concerned” about the situation he describes, in which ex- INTRODUCTION BY
yuppie restaurants taking over, “two treme poverty remains and inequality ANDREW J. BACEVICH
decades ago the same residents of increases but public space is much CONTRIBUTING EDITOR
Shaw were worried about being shot safer for rich people and the businesses
while shopping for groceries.” Public they patronize—that’s not an acci- OF HARPER’S MAGAZINE
schools, he writes, are safer now. dent; it’s called getting what you paid
Where levels of violent crime have for. The fact that the most disadvan-
fallen the most, the class and racial taged (those who’ve managed to avoid STORE.HARPERS.ORG
gaps in educational achievement ap- incarceration, that is) have also ben-
pear to have narrowed. Life expec- efited from a less violent environment, FRANKLIN
SQUARE
tancy has increased for African- and have at times benefited more, PRESS
American men, and though their since things were so much worse for
fear of assault by the police may be them beforehand—that seems to me
unabated, at least their fear of one the real unintended consequence.
another has eased. There are obvious reasons why certain
Distributed by
Midpoint Trade Books
REVIEWS 83
private entities might find it worth a
considerable outlay to, say, turn parts
of Los Angeles from a danger zone
into a tourist-friendly playground.
Having achieved that, it’s not clear
why they’d keep spending without
hope of further reward—or rather,
why they could be persuaded to do out
of goodwill what the government
won’t. Still, easy for me to say.
What’s strange is that Sharkey oc-
casionally appears to share my other,
less fair prejudice against his book,
which has to do with a perhaps inevi-
table problem of form. Here and there
he expresses frustration at the limita-
tions of social science, a wish to
“make the statistics on crime and
violence more human. Violent crime
is about bodies torn apart and disfig-
ured, about mothers and friends crying
out, and about bloodstained city
streets.” Glancing wistfully in the di-
rection of neuroscience, he soon finds
(or I did) that talk of glucocorticoids
and norepinephrine doesn’t help and brutal contradictions of Western of stone and glass some giant bird
much. Maybe, he seems to suggest at liberal centrism (and Sharkey apolo- dropped on its flight.” Like the Infinity’s
one point, we should put his number- getically shrugs that there is no alter- doormen, the men who construct this
crunching, bet-hedging book down native), Mukherjee looks straight at building never get to see what it looks
and watch the video of a teenage boy’s the ugliest parts of an unequal society like inside. The contrast here is stark
murder instead. But Sharkey does now and uses what he finds to construct and unforgiving, unleavened by the
and then hit on an arresting image. something beautiful. fantastical meritocracy of Mokhtar’s
Inspired by a study of “predator stress,” The book is divided into five stylis- story, in which poverty never seems to
he asks, “If rats perform worse when tically disparate parts—ranging from
they’re exposed to a nearby cat, what an urbane first person to omniscient
happens to children if they are as- narration to hurtling stream of
sessed just days after a homicide down consciousness—that look in on tan-
the street?” This is not a question that gentially connected lives. A man brings
needs answering, but it is, unfortu- his six-year-old back to India from the
nately, one that sticks in the mind. United States for a visit that turns dark
and dreamlike, filled with disturbing
N
ovelists have several advan- animal omens and other people’s pov-
tages over social scientists— erty and abjection, at which he feels
especially in the study of “horror, shame, pity, embarrassment,
poverty, violence, fear, the longing repulsion.” Returning from London to
for escape—and in A STATE OF stay with his parents in Mumbai, an-
FREEDOM (W. W. Norton, $25.95), other man finds himself subtly tied in
Neel Mukherjee exercises all of his to knots about the servants: he judges his
the full. The book is in part an artful well-to-do parents for their unenlight-
homage to one of V. S. Naipaul’s most ened views yet continually encounters
surprising works, In a Free State. his own desire to enjoy the fruits of his preclude finding someone to lend you
Without announcing his experimen- position even while disavowing it. Two a few grand if you’ve got a good enough
tal intent too loudly, Mukherjee rips village girls are separated when one of idea. From its opening pages, Mukher-
the meat of the novel (imagery, inci- them must leave school to work as a jee’s narrative has an eerie, haunted
dent, social insight, feeling, mood) maid; the other takes up with a Maoist quality. The most comfortable lives
from the bones (narrative and char- guerrilla group. here are lived surrounded by disquiet-
acter development in the usual sense) While several characters live in ing, spectral presences. It’s an unac-
and feeds his readers only the richest shacks or slums, a tall building not un- customed form of realism, one that
pieces. Where Eggers pastes a manic like Mokhtar’s Infinity tower makes captures much of what Eggers and
grin over the increasingly evident cameo appearances, a hotel “like a box Sharkey leave out. Q
I
was in a classroom in Turkey Three new novels from Egypt, where
recently, explaining the word the revolutionary hope of 2011 has
utopia. From u and topos: “no- given way to a society in which things
place,” possibly a pun on eu-topos, are, by many accounts, worse than ever,
“good place.” See also: dystopia. That, hold up a black mirror to the present.
too, is a place that doesn’t exist, but— “The future is now. And it stinks, I tell
“Oh,” someone interrupted, “it you.” That’s Bassam Bahgat, the narra-
exists.” tor of Ahmed Naji’s Using Life. He’s
My students were Syrian refugees, writing twenty years after the Catastro-
and they were taking no lessons on phe, a series of violent natural events
where the border lay between the real that leave Cairo buried under a tsunami
and the unthinkable. They knew that of sand and result in the building of New
not all dystopias are fictional, that one Cairo on its outskirts. (This is not very
person’s nightmare is another’s dark far from reality—sandstorms blow
norm. For them, survivors of tyranny through Cairo every spring, and the
and war, it was no great leap to imagine government is planning a new capital
a place in which, as the OED defines the in the desert; China has already pledged
word, “everything is unpleasant or bad.” $35 billion.) Dystopia is often linked to
Dystopian literature has its repre- natural disaster, but here the novelist’s
sentative figures and their defining device seems to function less as a warn-
specters—Orwell, rule by fear; Huxley, ing than as a coping mechanism for
rule by consumerism—and their de- somber times: if politics get you down,
scendants have opened up the genre to lie back and think of Armageddon.
a strangely thrilling variety of possible Nakba (“catastrophe”) and naksa (“set-
hells. Hell tends to be another word for back”)—references to the Arab defeats
“dehumanization,” and the key insight of 1948 and 1967—are now only short-
of this recent flowering is that there are hand for the Storm. By commandeering
as many ways to dehumanize as there the political obsessions of the old order,
are humans to write them. Whatever this brave new world seems to have done
the threat in question—climate melt- away with history itself.
down, runaway mutants, an all-knowing Not that Bassam has much time for
state—these works are usually under- regret. He’s suspicious of nostalgia,
stood as cautionary tales. The alternate which he sees as a form of amnesia: disaster in and of itself. As if abandon-
worlds they present are supposed to ing it to such a sorry state long before
shock us into repairing this one. Their For several years after the event, many the naksa, and the devolution of its hu-
implied tense is the future perfect: this made desperate attempts to save what man residents into soulless beasts, were
they could. The Egyptian people were not the real tragedy.
is what will have happened, they warn, joined in the perpetuation of this farce
if we don’t pay attention. But they also by UNESCO and the people of the Behind this snub, we are given to
serve as reminders that for many, the world. “Humanity faces a catastrophe.” understand, lurks a complicated affec-
world is already a dystopia. “Our heritage is threatened with ex- tion. Using Life is an old man’s letter to
tinction.” To hell with all of it, really. his youth, a bittersweet portrait of
Yasmine Seale lives in Istanbul. As if Cairo’s very existence were not a Cairo before it was destroyed. This
I
f Naji’s dystopia has the low- fully and insistently woven into the girls raped by a homeless man—one
stakes lightness of a dream, Mo- pattern of the novel that it cannot could be forgiven for not standing to
hammad Rabie’s Otared is an be senseless; something else, we applaud its basic conceptual trick.
unadulterated nightmare. The nov- come to suspect, must be at work. One part of the nightmare, however,
el begins with a cannibal crime And so it is. One of the longer roll contains the seed of something
scene of rare ghoulishness and gets calls of the dead provides a hint that brighter. The chapters set in 2011 re-
steadily grimmer. Our guide to this Otared’s killing spree might not be volve around a man, Insal, who
underworld is Ahmed Otared, good quite what it seems: adopts a little girl after her parents
cop turned partisan. It’s 2025, and disappear. The girl, Zahra, develops a
East Cairo has been occupied for And I killed a southerner called Gow- strange ailment that causes her eyes,
har, dressed in a broad-sleeved robe. I
two years by the armies of the ears, and mouth to seal themselves
shot him in the neck with a single bul-
Knights of Malta, land pirates with let, and he took to his heels, bleeding, shut until she is nothing but a
no territory of their own who speak and I let him go because I knew he’d die smooth lump of flesh that has to be
“Arabic like Tunisians, and English in a few minutes and that nobody fed through a tube, cut off from the
in many different dialects.” The in- would be able to help him. . . . And I world of the senses. Eventually she is
vasion was as swift and total as it looked for Samira al-Dahshuri. She’d be reunited with an aunt who suffers
was unopposed; only a lionhearted walking beneath the overpass, I knew, from the same affliction. That Zah-
few still hold out. The bourgeois is- and I swept the area through my scope, ra’s character should be one of the
land of Zamalek has become the eye and when I saw her I fired without hesi- few not only to survive the novel but
of the resistance. From the top of a tation into her liver. It had been cir- to experience a moment of connec-
rhotic for years, and maybe she felt the
tower in its midst, Otared, a match- tion comes as a poignant relief.
bullet ripping through it and killing
less sniper, looks out over the di- her. Maybe that is why she hunched
vided city (the West remains free) over and peered at the spot as she died. Zahra kept running her hand over her
and trains his scope on the enemy, aunt’s cheek. Slow, even passes, test-
cold-blooded behind his mask. “I What kind of a sniper is this, and why ing out her favored sense: touch. At
was an ancient Egyptian god with a is he blessed with a total, transcen- the nasal openings, she stopped, lifted
her head, and stuck the tips of her
borrowed face, whose true features dent awareness of his victims’ lives? first and middle fingers into the holes.
no man could ever know. . . . A Why, at the moment of their death, There was a momentary lull, then the
Greek god, full of contempt for the does he describe them with some- aunt released a sudden blast from her
world that he’d created.” thing close to love? nose and Zahra snatched her hand
Whatever one thinks of the le- Another clue lies in the novel’s away in feigned alarm. The aunt
gitimacy of armed struggle, it does cyclical structure: some sections pan rocked her head back, as did the girl,
REVIEWS 87
then the two foreheads met once is taken to the government-run hospital interactions have been painfully cir-
more. They were laughing. and sees people around him dying of cumscribed and stripped of trust;
bullet wounds, he realizes that a gas- bleakness is related to bleach. This is a
lighting operation is under way: study of totalitarian logic with the
T
he drama of dystopia is that it plainness of a Kafka parable—and,
The doctor asserted that the high mor-
rarely succeeds completely; tality rate was due to the fact that these unlike Naji’s and Rabie’s novels, it
these novels draw much of rioters were simply too sensitive. Upon pulls off its unnerving effect without
their power from the resilience of the hearing one another’s harsh words, resorting to the degradation of wom-
human. In other words, embedded in they’d succumbed automatically, their en’s bodies. (A scene of harassment on
dystopia is the possibility of miniature hearts having stopped before the ambu- the metro ends with the offender be-
utopias, clearings of solidarity or au- lances even arrived. Others had stum- ing beaten with a handbag and de-
tonomous thought. Basma Abdel bled upon the grisly scene and were so camping in fright.) Nothing human is
Aziz’s The Queue may be named after traumatized by it that they froze, and alien to it; see how compassion has
a hallmark of authoritarian states (it then they collapsed, too, falling one af- sharpened, not softened, the prose:
ter another like dominoes.
shares its title with Vladimir Sorokin’s With practiced care, Yehya slowly bent
1983 Soviet saga), but its real subject is Another doctor is willing to help, his right knee, leaned his torso to the
the queuers and their stubborn fellow but nothing, not even surgery, can right, too, and then lowered one side of
feeling. We are in a parallel world of be done without permission from his skinny bottom onto the edge of the
Brechtian simplicity, where the high- the Gate. So Yehya joins the queue wooden chair. He let the pain swell to
way is marked Public Road, scripture is and its economy of frail hope. It is its full magnitude for a moment, until
the Greater Book, and the only news- a microcosm of Egyptian life: it he knew he could bear it without
paper is the Truth. The Gate is both a ought to be a utopia, or at least a groaning or crying out, and then slid
place—a door set in an octagonal great leveling. his whole rear end onto the rough-
fortress—and the source of all author- Thrown into cohabitation, people edged wooden seat, stretching his left
leg out a bit.
ity; it came to power after a popular pray together, work, sleep, roast sweet
uprising was crushed many years be- potatoes, propose marriage. A conser- A healthy man might take three words
fore. (The phrase “winds of change,” vative preacher is forced to reckon to sit down; a man in pain takes
often heard in 2011, marks out the re- with the opinionated young woman seventy-seven. Abdel Aziz, a psychia-
volt as a reference to that one.) No as- standing next to him. But as the queue trist who treats torture victims in Cai-
pect of life falls outside its jurisdiction: grows, inertia creeps over the crowd. ro, knows how wounded bodies move.
the Gate announces the arrival of Though they stand together, day after Dystopia is the putrefaction of uto-
winter and decides who is entitled to day, fear keeps them suspicious and pia; it is the promise of perfection
phone lines. Even window-shopping is strips them slowly “of everything, even turned sour. After the uprising that is
taxed. When a group rises up against the sense that their previous lives had now a distant memory, “the Gate and
the reigning injustice, this, too, is bru- been stolen from them.” its guardians had prevailed, and they
tally put down. As punishment for Another obstacle to Yehya’s opera- emerged stronger than before.” The
these Disgraceful Events, the Gate tion is that his bullet does not officially Queue was written before the mili-
closes, and outside forms an ever- exist. It cannot be mentioned, let tary coup that put Abdel Fattah al-
lengthening queue, which threatens alone removed, being evidence of the Sisi in power, but it has proved pro-
to replace society itself: state-led crackdown on the Events. phetic. Since 2013, cases of death by
(Here too reality is catching up: the torture have soared, and tens of thou-
So many shopkeepers spent so long in
the queue that they couldn’t buy or sell
2011 revolt has been expunged from sands have been imprisoned without
anything or supervise their employees, the history curriculum in Egyptian charge. Many have disappeared. The
and so they decided to get rid of their schools.) Radiology wards are shut crackdown on noncompliance has led
merchandise. . . . No one knew when down, their equipment confiscated; X- to a war on writers; Egypt is now the
rush hour was anymore; there were no rays circulate like samizdat. As the third-largest jailer of journalists on
set working hours, no schedules or rou- hospital becomes a battleground in the earth. Last June, a few months after
tines. Students left school at all sorts of war on truth, conversations in the his release from prison, Ahmed Naji
times, daily rumors determined when queue are mysteriously reflected in wrote in a blog post about the fate of
employees headed home, and many people’s medical files, which seem to revolutionary art:
people had chosen to abandon their be updated in real time. It turns out
work completely and camp out at the Day after day, things seem to be drifting
Gate, hoping they might be able to
that nothing of the queuers’ lives es-
capes the Gate, not even the hour of to their pre–January 25 status quo, with
take care of their paperwork that had some even believing that they are be-
been delayed there. their death.
coming worse. . . . Only a minuscule
Elisabeth Jaquette’s limpid transla- number of attempts remain, trying to
The novel is organized around a sin- tion achieves the spare, sterilized qual- continue under Egypt’s ever-increasing
gle medical file, that of Yehya Gad el- ity that medical prose and the com- scrutiny and censorship.
Rab Saeed, a man in his late thirties muniqués of overbearing states have
with a bullet lodged in his body. This he in common. This economy of style is These novels are among them, and
acquired during the Events, but when he integral to a world in which human they are reasons for hope. Q
I
to this in the old days, a sorrow; in
n the fall of 1967, at the height of grievously out of fashion, but in Febru-
the pinch of their cheeks was the kind
the Vietnam War, 70,000 protest- of abnegation and loneliness which ary the Library of America is bringing
ers gathered at the Lincoln Me- spoke of what was tender and what out a two-volume set of his work from
morial, in Washington. Some 50,000 was lost forever. So they had their the Sixties, one volume devoted to
then marched across the Memorial dignity. Now the hollows in their fiction, the other to essays and jour-
Bridge to Arlington, Virginia, to “in- faces spoke of men who were rabid nalism, and Mailer may be due for
vest” the Pentagon—to surround it, and toothless, the tenderness had reappraisal and revival. Armies is a
shame it, disdain it. When they ar- turned corrosive, the abnegation had grief-stricken and joyous work, a great
rived at the American fortress, they been replaced by hate, dull hate, garrulous American book that comes
saw that the building was being cloud banks of hate, the hatred of fail- within hailing distance of Whitman’s
ures who had not lost their greed.
guarded by a mass of government poetry and James Agee’s text for Let
forces. Norman Mailer, who was Collective physiognomy is no doubt Us Now Praise Famous Men. A New
among the demonstrators, noticed a unfair. Still, considered as poetic evoca- Yorker with endless curiosity, Mailer
group of US Marshals, a collection of tion, Mailer’s bitter lines may offer the went to Washington, engaged with
mainly white Southern men: best description of a certain kind of many kinds of Americans, and got
David Denby is the author, most recently, of Trump voter ever written—and written himself arrested. He used this minor
Lit Up. fifty years before the fact too. Who has adventure as a way of interrogating
Left: Norman Mailer at the March on the Pentagon, October 21, 1967 © Fred W. McDarrah/Getty Images
Right: Pentagon Peace Demonstration, Washington, D.C., October 1967 © Elliott Landy/Magnum Photos REVIEWS 89
both the moral destiny of the nation than cranky. Another protest—what suited observer out of the jumpy pieces
and his own courage, producing the was the point? He wasn’t much at- he assembled for The Kandy-Kolored
best portrait we have of the mythic tracted to virtue; he was attracted to Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby (1965).
and sensational side of the Sixties—its power, which he had celebrated in But Mailer made himself the center
earnest indignation, its wild humor, its “Superman Comes to the Supermar- of the story, no doubt a terrible prec-
lyricism and fantasy. And Mailer per- ket,” a stunning article in Esquire edent for journalists, and terrible in-
ceived something new, a widening about John F. Kennedy and the 1960 tellectual manners in general, but in
divide: “The two halves of America Democratic National Convention. No his hands a strategic and expressive
were not coming together, and when one since H. L. Mencken had written move. As he explains,
they failed to touch, all of history about American politics with such Mailer is a figure of monumental dis-
might be lost in the divide.” He an- brio and malice, or evoked in such proportions and so serves willy-nilly
ticipated the current contempt shoot- juicy detail the bodies and faces, the as the bridge—as many will say the
ing across class, regional, and cultural clothes and manners of the people pons asinorum—into the crazy house,
lines, and he made a brave effort to who gathered around a political the crazy mansion, of that historic
understand it. After fifty years, his event—the kind of data, Mailer be- moment when a mass of the
work remains entirely contemporary. lieved, that was far more significant citizenry—not much more than a
In 1965, Lyndon Johnson and his than political rhetoric, which, at best, mob—marched on a bastion which
military advisers rapidly expanded would be American bland. symbolized the military might of the
the size of the American forces in In the end Mailer did go to Washing- Republic, marching not to capture it
but to wound it symbolically. . . . It is
Vietnam and began intensive bomb- ton, and when he got home, he realized fitting that any ambiguous comic hero
ing of the North. The United States he had a story to tell. Scott Meredith, of such a history should be not only
was waging technological war— his agent, and Willie Morris, the editor off very much to the side of the histo-
including the use of napalm, a flesh- of Harper’s Magazine, negotiated the ry, but that he should be an egotist of
burning compound, and the defoli- then-munificent fee of ten thousand the most startling misproportions,
ant Agent Orange—against Asian dollars. Mailer retreated to his house in outrageously and often unhappily self-
peasants, and the opposition to it Provincetown, Massachusetts. He assertive, yet in command of a de-
grew fierce. Teach-ins became regu- worked thirteen or fourteen hours a day; tachment classic in severity (for he
lar campus events; newsstands and he didn’t drink. Morris, in his memoir was a novelist and so in need of study-
bookstores overflowed with broad- New York Days (1993), recounts that as ing every last lineament of the fine,
the noble, the frantic, and the foolish
sheets, “citizen white papers,” redun- the deadline was approaching, he and in others and in himself).
dant psychedelic rags—a pre-internet executive editor Midge Decter flew up
tumult of antiwar analysis and anger. to the Cape and discovered the pages of He needed to escape the clumsiness
By the time of the march on the Pen- an immense manuscript, written in of repeating “I saw” and “I thought”
tagon, almost 450,000 Americans pencil, with many interpolations. Some without excising anything he saw or
were fighting in Vietnam, and the of it had yet to be typed. Swallowing thought, so he created a character
opposition had moved from protest to hard, Morris cleared out the March is- called Mailer, who was both a record-
resistance—from “Hey, hey, LBJ, how sue and published the text—ninety ing angel and a performing devil, be-
many kids did you kill today?” to thousand words—in its entirety. At the having well, behaving badly, yet always
“Hell no, we won’t go,” combined time, it was the longest article ever to taking in everything around him. This
with scattered attempts to shut down appear in an American magazine. “Mailer” has a complicated mind
draft induction centers. formed by history, politics, and love of
W
Mailer nearly missed the show. As as it fiction, journalism, country. He calls himself a “Left Con-
a writer, he had had an extraordinary history, a mix of the three? servative,” by which he means that “he
beginning (with the war novel The Mailer certainly uses the tried to think in the style of Marx in
Naked and the Dead, from 1948). His resources of fiction—conjuring atmo- order to attain certain values suggested
fiction thereafter was less successful; sphere, testy exchanges, interior by Edmund Burke.” In practice, he
he struggled with voices, modes, strat- thoughts, the play of bodies and tem- hated the Vietnam War yet was a pa-
egies, writing non-fiction, appearing peraments. But his intention was not triot given to many traditional loyalties.
on television, running for office, mak- to write fiction; his intention was to He echoed Whitman in believing
ing movies. The critical heavyweights re-create actual events, using his eyes, America could become a special place
worried over him and, by 1967, he his gut, his desires, his apprehension that allowed men and women to realize
himself wondered if his career was in of the mood, moment by moment. He themselves as never before. At the same
decline. Affable and attentive in most wanted to shame journalism as much time, he allied himself (consciously or
personal encounters, in public he as the Pentagon. To that end, he vio- not) with such dour left analysts as
drank heavily and then become ma- lated many conventions of the trade, Theodor Adorno and C. Wright Mills
niacally bellicose, especially if other including the canons of that proud in disliking the mass society that
big-deal writers were around. When Sixties invention, the New Journal- America had actually become.
an old friend, the writer and activist ism. Truman Capote removed himself His mind was also formed by
Mitchell Goodman, invited him to from the narrative of In Cold Blood abundant physical needs. He was
come to the march, he was no better (1966); Tom Wolfe kept his white- forty-four years old, married, with
T
maybe not even that, maybe he was he United States was waging a In these animadversions, the “Left
just a fool. In early middle age, for all war fueled by theological anti- Conservative” may have been moved
his accomplishments and fame, he communism, throwing its by a vision of organic life in some
was jangled, out of tune with him- vast technological resources and the pastoral nineteenth-century America
self. Like Henry David Thoreau, who bodies of its young men into what was that existed only in fantasy. When
was jailed for refusing to pay the essentially a Vietnamese civil con- Mailer evokes, as he does, a sane, rural
Massachusetts poll tax in the 1840s flict. Of course, the official rhetoric life before television and strip malls,
as a protest against slavery and the insisted that we were containing I’m not sure what positive elements in
Mexican War, Mailer needed to flout Chinese expansionism in Southeast that life he’s thinking of—or whether
authority in order to understand— Asia, preventing dominoes (Laos, he would have actually wanted to live
and demonstrate—who he was. He Cambodia, and others) from falling there. Still, he makes a game effort at
wasn’t sure he wouldn’t run away to the Reds. America could not be describing moral stupidity—the in-
when faced with armed soldiers. seen as losing to Communists, even comprehension and delusion that pre-
At first, the fool acted out. Arriving in a tiny, backward country. But if our vented so many Americans from see-
in Washington, he behaved rudely at a leaders had read history, they might ing what we were doing in Southeast
party given by liberal academics; he have discovered that Vietnam had Asia. Moral stupidity was produced by
drank too much, and carried a mug of long been wary of China, and, in the fear (the Commies are taking over), by
bourbon into the Ambassador Theater, end, history played an ironic game demeaning enemies, by alienation
where some of the young protesters had with American ignorance: after we from any notion of the common good,
gathered for a kind of pre-march pep left, the Vietnamese, all by them- by hyperorganization and economies
talk. Onstage, he made an excruciating selves, repelled the Chinese in a of scale that reduced choice and self-
speech, in which he admitted that a few short, brutal war in 1979. Commu- hood. The country, Mailer says, sepa-
minutes earlier he had pissed on the nism triumphant? No one could have rated in its daily routines from mean-
floor of a darkened men’s room. In a foreseen this in 1967, but what was ing and accountability, had slipped
tortured redneck accent, heard, or mis- eventually to break out in Asia was into waking madness and lost its
heard, twenty years earlier from Texans not Communism but capitalism. moral grounding.
in his platoon in the Pacific, he an- How, Mailer wanted to know, was a
C
nounced himself as “Lyndon Johnson’s genocidal war against peasants mor- ould there be redemption of
little old dwarf ego,” which means, I ally possible? How could it be accepted some sort in the march? Or at
suppose, that he recognized in himself by so many Americans? He was ob- least the beginning of a new
bad impulses and self-aggrandizing sessed with concentrated and possibly resistance?
wishes similar in kind to but lesser in corrupt power—the Mafia, the CIA, The day after LBJ’s dwarf ego ap-
degree than the president’s. the FBI, the media networks. But cor- peared at the Ambassador Theater,
It seems a woefully embarrassing ruption of a more pervasive sort, he Mailer, seriously hungover but not
way to begin an epic narrative, even a thought, was built into American mo- chastened, tagged along as hundreds
mock-epic narrative. But then con- dernity, and it was spilling out in ex- of young men turned in their draft
sider the shame-ridden episodes in treme militarism and moral apathy. cards at the Department of Justice.
great confessional works—St. Augus- The evil lay in the encompassing role Mailer had been unresponsive to stu-
tine stealing pears and enjoying the of technology and corporate domina- dent protest, and contemptuous of
sin itself, not the fruit; Rousseau steal- tion, the repetitive exercise of control the Old Left with its “sound-as-
ing a trinket and then throwing sus- through “banks of coded knowledge.” brickwork logic of the next step”—an
picion onto a chambermaid. The au- (This was well before big data and the echo of his brief youthful fling, in the
thor rides down to the bottom of his sanctification of tech.) There was a Forties, with Trotskyite factions wres-
soul, airing misdeeds, humiliations, bland authoritarianism built into post- tling over actions never taken. He
and malevolent thoughts. In that war life. As other evidence of malaise, thought that all of them—Old Left,
place, he might find inspiration and he looked to architecture—the post- liberal academics, earnest students—
strength to rise. “We believe in our- war prisons, airports, and schools, were much too adept at losing. But
selves as we do not believe in others,” which resembled one another in their the young men turning in their draft
Emerson wrote. “We permit all things depressing mediocrity. He was exas- cards—that was something else. As
to ourselves, and that which we call perated by the pleasant nullity, the an Army vet and a celebrated war
sin in others, is experiment for us.” tyranny of niceness, wrought by con- novelist, he was both dismayed and
This experiment may lead to what sumerism, Fifties and Sixties sitcoms, impressed. The young men were
REVIEWS 91
risk-takers, they had rejected safety Some of these goings-on may now a tiny group—no more than twenty-
and compromise. (Of course, he is seem little more than giddy, but in five—actually made it into the halls of
talking only of the educated Ameri- 1967 despair created new forms of the Pentagon, where they were sub-
can young; he was yet to encounter moral logic. The general feeling in dued and taken away.
the working class.) the antiwar movement was that the Eager to be arrested himself, Mail-
But Mailer’s newfound respect for government was behaving senselessly er startled the military police by
militant and spontaneous youth left and that rational argument against abruptly rushing forward, a bourgeois
him uneasily altered in his attitude the war had failed. The protesters in projectile alarmingly in motion:
toward himself. Washington wanted to dissolve the Dark pinstripe suit, his vest, the ma-
claims of authority right in authori- roon and blue regimental tie, the part
A deep modesty was on its way to
him, he could feel himself becoming ty’s lap. Burning draft cards was one in his hair, the barrel chest, the early
more and more of a modest man as he kind of response to slaughter; carni- paunch. He must have looked like a
stood there in the cold with his val and satire were another. Guer- banker himself, a banker gone ape!
hangover, and he hated this because rilla theater, karmic invocation, hal-
T
modesty was an old family relative, lucinatory or erotic celebration—all horeau, who did not look like a
he had been born to a modest family, were good, as long as they were anti- banker, also challenged the
had been a modest boy, a modest military in spirit. In ecstatic cata- state and was arrested. Both
young man, and he hated that, he logues worthy of Whitman, Mailer men spent a night in jail, and wrote up
loved the pride and the arrogance and described the foolishness as an Amer- their experiences with the proud as-
the confidence and the egocentricity
ican awakening. The party of youth sumption that a personal record of acts
he had acquired over the years.
liberated itself from mass-market pop and convictions might stir the nation.
The march itself offered the possi- by making a pop culture of its own. Yet no odder couple could be imagined.
bility of risk. As Mailer, side by side The politicized hippies were “gotten The author of “Civil Disobedience”
with the poet Robert Lowell, the es- up like Arab sheiks, or in Park Ave- lived in Concord, Massachusetts, at the
sayist Dwight Macdonald, and the nue doormen’s greatcoats.” Among intellectual heart of the baby republic;
linguist Noam Chomsky (imagine a the guises there were Mailer, in the frenzied media and fi-
political protest led by writers) walked nancial capital of the global super-
soldiers in Foreign Legion uniforms,
across the Memorial Bridge, he felt a and tropical bush jackets, San Quen- power. One was disciplined, self-
nervous exhilaration: the novelist was tin and Chino, California striped denying to the point of austerity, the
stimulated to create a precise delinea- shirt and pants, British copies of other a Falstaffian mass of appetite and
tion of forces and terrain, as if he were Eisenhower jackets, hippies dressed semi-larcenous impulse.
describing the battle at Antietam. He like Turkish shepherds and Roman “Simplify, simplify.” So goes Tho-
even evokes the Union dead, subject senators, gurus, and samurai in dirty reau’s famous cry from Walden. Well,
of Lowell’s famous poem. The sym- smocks. They were close to being as- yes, simplifying one’s life, and in
bolic attack, for Mailer, suddenly ap- sembled from all the intersections be- particular avoiding marriage and
peared in a line with the most stirring tween history and the comic books, parenthood, makes it easier to con-
between legend and television, the
moments in American history. biblical archetypes and the movies.
ceive and sustain dissident moral
Mailer’s army had many kinds of passions. To his credit, Thoreau ad-
troops, not just sobersided liberal pro- The earnest adults, the hippies, and mits, in “Civil Disobedience,” that
fessionals, academics, and students. the serious politicized youth, some of withholding tax payments might
Veteran ban-the-bomb groups were them members of Students for a Dem- cause the state to seize one’s proper-
there; the American Nazis (they are ocratic Society, assembled and faced ty. But he provides a ready solution
always with us) showed up, as well as the government forces. Many of them to this difficulty: “You must hire or
American partisans of the Vietnamese wanted to be arrested, a few may even squat somewhere, and raise but a
National Liberation Front (i.e., the have wanted to be beaten. Their idea small crop, and eat that soon”—an
Vietcong), carrying blue-and-gold was to delegitimize “the system” by unattractive proposal that makes
Communist flags. In the Pentagon forcing it to behave violently: they some of us wonder whether Thor-
parking lot, hippies in junk-Hindu re- could better combat injustice, as Tho- eau could have been much inconve-
galia joined a New York rock group reau would have said, by experiencing nienced by his night in a bare cell.
called the Fugs in an exorcism of the it in their own person, or perhaps, in By contrast, Mailer in jail admits
Pentagon, an attempt, that is, to en- some complex Christian transfer of that he misses the downy comforts
circle the building, levitate it three guilt—the emotions are mysterious— of the Hay-Adams Hotel. Thoreau’s
hundred feet in the air, and chase away by taking the sins of violence onto question in Walden is “What is nec-
its bad spirits. “Out, demons, out!” the themselves. The protesters went limp, essary to life?” The answer—food,
crowd cried. The mood turned euphor- and many were clubbed anyway. The clothes, shelter—would, I imagine,
ic. Young women, standing before women, Mailer observes, were beaten satisfy many of us less than Mailer’s
frightened and bewildered military po- the worst—that sexual taunting of list of necessaries, which, if he had
lice, opened their blouses, inserted young soldiers and military police did been asked, would have included
flowers in the soldiers’ gun barrels, and not go unpunished. More than six women, children, houses, friends,
said, “Join us.” hundred protesters were arrested. Only enemies, literature, money, religious
D
death by your father, making it in rum- espite Mailer’s exaltations, advertisement. The advertiser assumes complete
bles with a proud street gang, living at the March on the Pentagon, liability for the content of and all replies to any
war with the educational system, and many marches and pro-
knowing how to snicker at the employ- advertisement and for any claims made against
tests like it, did not stop the war,
er from one side of the mouth, riding a which continued for another eight Harper’s Magazine as a result thereof. The
bike with no hands, entering the Gold-
en Gloves, doing a hitch in the Navy,
years, producing around 38,000 more advertiser agrees to indemnify and hold Harper’s
or a stretch in the stockade, and with it American deaths (58,000 in all) and
all, their sense of élan, of morale, for killing as many as 3 million Viet- Magazine and its employees harmless from all
buddies are the manna of the working namese. The violence and incoher- costs, expenses (including reasonable attorney
class: there is a God-given cynical in- ence of the conflict chewed up lives
difference to school, morality, and job. and nearly caused the country to fall fees), liabilities, and damages resulting from or
caused by the publication placed by the advertiser
REVIEWS 93
or any reply to any such advertisement.
apart. In 1968, the year that Armies a form of truth-telling. The wide-
was published, Martin Luther King spread belief in official lies that out-
Jr. and Robert Kennedy were assas- raged Mailer has been replaced by a
sinated, and the Democratic con- corrosive, three-dimensional cyni-
vention in Chicago was torn apart cism in which almost nothing is be-
by protesters and police brutality. lieved, with our mock president as
Lyndon Johnson thought the pro- the Lord of Confusion presiding over
testers were part of an international a right-wing counterculture. Vice
Communist conspiracy. Richard now pays tribute to vice—while
Nixon won the election in the fall those who oppose Trump struggle to
Dr. Winnifred Cutler and implied that they were traitors. sustain their sense of reality. Moral
In 1967, in front of the Pentagon, stupidity takes some of the same
BIOLOGIST'S FORMULAS the middle-class children repeatedly forms—fear (of Muslims), dislike of
taunted the soldiers, and now, after the other (Mexican immigrants),
INCREASE AFFECTION fifty years of economic and cultural and an even greater alienation from
change, the situation of mutual ig- any notion of the common good. But
norance and scorn has only grown it takes a new form, too—a detesta-
worse: the middle-class, college- tion of people with ethical standards,
educated boys (and now girls, too), and the desire to pull them down
have become “symbolic analysts” into a common run of vulgarity and
working for Mailer’s loathed corpo- self-interest.
ration. And the working-class adults, Mailer is missed: LBJ’s dwarf alter
many of them, feel abandoned— ego would now be Trump’s alter ego.
for women tm for men made to feel like losers as old-line In Mailer’s fantasies, he was always
unscented fragrance additives industrial and small-farm life di- running for president himself. He
♥ Peggy (NY) “I am 53 and since I started minishes in status a nd power. knew about egotism, and both glo-
using Athena 10:13, I have begun to date Those Trump voters took revenge ried in it and was shamed by it; he
frequently and currently have 2 attractive in November 2016. knew this man (knew him internal-
men so interested in me! It is amazing!” Mailer was enraged by the bland- ly), and he would have repelled his
♥ Julio (NJ) “I have bought 10X regularly from ness cloaking an immoral war—the nature, and the virulence of his sup-
Athena over the years. Women tell me how neutrally phrased official lies and hy- porters, with a loving comprehension
good I smell and really do notice. Recently I
have noticed other companies telling about
pocrisy of the Pentagon and the State and poetic eloquence that no one is
pheromone discoveries and how good their Department, the national public con- now capable of. And he would have
products are. But I recognize they all are cern for propriety and order while cheered any brave signs of revolt.
describing Dr. Cutler, President of Athena, children were burning in Vietnam. The young lawyers rushing to air-
and her work! I am not confused; I want Well, Donald Trump and his support- ports with their laptops to help refu-
Athena Pheromones.”
ers aren’t bland, and if hypocrisy is gees after the immigrant ban, in
PROVEN EFFECTIVE IN 3 the tribute that vice pays to virtue, January 2017, could be the antiwar
they cannot be accused of hypocrisy. kids of fifty years ago. But if we don’t
DOUBLE BLIND STUDIES Lying, ridicule, false accusations, and have Mailer, we have, in Armies of
Created by Winnifred Cutler, Ph.D. in biology intimidation are now gleefully out in the Night, his gifts of observation and
from U. of Penn, post-doc at Stanford.
Co-discovered human pheromones in 1986 the open and celebrated as attacks on imagination, which turn out to be
(Time 12/1/86; and Newsweek 1/12/87). “political correctness”—celebrated as splendid armor for our own time. Q
Call (610) 827-2200 or order online
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Vial of 1/6 oz. added to 2-4 oz. of your fragrance New York, N.Y. 10012. Tel: 212-420-5720. Andrew J. Bacevich, Chairman; John R. MacArthur, President;
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94 HARPER’S MAGAZINE / JANUARY 2018
PUZZLE
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
COMBINATION 11 12
LOCK 13 14
By Richard E. Maltby Jr.
15 16
21
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Contest Rules: Send completed diagram with name and address to “Combination Lock,” Harper’s Magazine, 666 Broadway, New York, N.Y.
10012. If you already subscribe to Harper’s, please include a copy of your latest mailing label. Entries must be received by January 12. The sender
of the first correct solution opened at random will receive a one-year subscription to Harper’s Magazine (limit one winner per household per year).
The winner’s name will be printed in the March issue. The winner of the November puzzle, “Triplets,” is John Gregory, Natick, Mass.
PUZZLE 95
FINDINGS
P sychopathy may be an evolutionary complement to
altruism in that it allows one group member to sacrifice
plained why unseen holes feel larger when probed with
a tongue than with a finger. Chinese-Canadian chil-
another for the greater good. People who feel they are dren trained to differentiate black people’s faces exhibit
disadvantaged are likelier to support populism and to less racial bias. German researchers hypothesized that
exhibit national narcissism. Narcissism among US col- psychogenic autobiographical amnesia protects sub-
lege students was found to have declined between the jects by “offering the mechanism to exit a life situation
1990s and the 2010s. The returns of hedge fund man- which appears to them unmanageable or adverse.” De-
agers who exhibit psychopathy, narcissism, and Machia- scriptions of children being sexually abused elicit lower
vellianism are 1 percent lower than their peers’. In Italy, moral-outrage activation in the brains of pedophiles.
for every 1 percent increase in the number of unmar- Autistic boys are likelier than non-autistic boys to en-
ried female immigrants, an additional 5 percent of joy Schoenberg and Albinoni. Modern life may
marriages fail. Heterosexual bromances may threaten be withering the hippocampus.
straight marriage. Nearly half of American young
adults act conspicuously heterosexual to counteract
perceived doubts about their being straight. Scientists
A new city of gloomy octopuses was discovered off
the coast of Australia, and octopuses were walking
suggested that mass whole-genome sequencing may re- out of the sea and dying in Wales. Captive orcas’
veal humans who were created by parthenogenesis. teeth are poorly cared for and are often ground down
Breastfeeding increases maternal attachment later in when the whales chew steel and concrete out of bore-
childhood, even when maternal neuroticism is con- dom and anxiety. Corals eat plastic not because it
trolled for. The placenta is not a superfood. looks like prey but because it is delicious. Pumping
“This satisfying spread of essays, while an excellent tasting menu of the many-faceted
relations between Americans and their foodstuffs, serves as a clear journal of ways in which
we have done our eating right, and of course, how we have burnt the toast to a crisp.”
— Nick Offerman, actor, Parks and Recreation