He started writing it in the late ’80s, churning out dozens of verses as he pondered the impact of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Tiananmen Square protests.
The press kit for the album on which the song originally appeared stated:
These are the final days, this is the darkness, this is the flood. What is the appropriate behavior in a catastrophe, in a flood? You know, while you’re cleaning out your orange crate in the torrent and you pass somebody else hanging on to a spar of wood. What do you declare yourself? “left wing” “right wing” “pro-abortion” “against abortion”? All these things are luxuries which you can no longer afford. What is the proper behavior in a flood?
Gaiman fans will no doubt thrill to hear that unmistakable accent gamely tackling such lyrics as “the homicidal bitchin’ that goes down in every kitchen,” but for my money, the most memorable phrase is the description of this country as “the cradle of the best and of the worst.”
Ayun Halliday is an author, illustrator, theater maker and Chief Primatologist of the East Village Inky zine. Her play Zamboni Godot is opening in New York City in March 2017. Follow her @AyunHalliday.
We’re well into the backlash cycle of the post-election outrage over “fake news,” as commentator after commentator calls this phrase into question and celebrates the fall of the gatekeeper media. Taking a phrase from Tom Wolfe, Matthew Continetti at the conservative Commentary argues that “the press… is a Victorian Gentleman, the arbiter of manners and fashion, the judge of right conduct and good breeding.” We should not lament this gentleman’s loss of a “liberal, affluent, entitled cocoon.” He had long ago “changed his job description and went from telling his readers what had happened to telling them what to think.”
Likewise, The Intercept has shown how fake news panic produced a “McCarthyite Blacklist” of independent organizations lumped together by “shoddy, slothful journalistic tactics” of the kind used by “smear artists” and peddlers of disinformation. Politics aside, what we should at least gather from this firestorm is that the story of “fake news”—or of deliberate hoaxes, lies, and propaganda—is much older than the Internet, though the speed at which it spreads has increased exponentially with the dominance of social media. We’re left wondering how we might reclaim some orientation toward the truth in any media. If everything is potentially fake news, what can we trust?
With the professional vetting of information in crisis, we are thrown back on the popularization of Darwinism advanced by “British defender of capitalism” Herbert Spencer, who—writes Timothy Snyder in his New York Times bestseller Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning—described the market as “an ecosphere where the strongest and best survived.” In our information ecosystem, “strongest and best” is often determined not by natural forces, nor by expert adjudication of merit, but by algorithms… and cash. And as journalists at The Independent and elsewhere discovered last week, Google’s algorithms have decided that the best, most helpful answer to the question “did the holocaust happen?” comes from neo-Nazi hate site Stormfront, in a piece glibly titled “Top 10 reasons why the Holocaust didn’t happen.”
It should go without saying—and yet it must be said—that no serious historian of the period considers the systematic mass murder of millions of Jews and other “undesirables” to be an open historical question. The horror of the 30s and 40s, writes the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum, is “one of the best documented events in history” and denials and distortions of these events “are generally motivated by hatred of Jews.” (See their video explaining denialism at the top.) There’s no question that’s the motive in Google’s top search result for Holocaust denialism. Google admits as much, writing this past Monday, “We are saddened to see that hate organizations still exist. The fact that hate sites appear in search results does not mean that Google endorses these views.”
And yet, writes Carole Cadwalladr at The Guardian, the search engine giant also “confirmed it would not remove the result.” Cadwalladr details how she displaced the top result herself “with the only language that Google understands: money.” Lilian Black, the daughter of a Holocaust survivor, compared the tech giant’s response to “saying we know that the trains are running into Birkenau, but we’re not responsible for what’s happening at the end of it.” But they should bear some responsibility. Google, she says, shapes “people’s thinking… Can’t they see where this leads? And to have a huge worldwide organization refusing to acknowledge this. That’s what they think their role is? To be a bystander?”
The question forces us to confront not only the role of the press but also the role of the new gatekeepers, Google, Facebook, Twitter, etc., who have displaced Victorian systems of managing information and knowledge. The loss of status among academics and professional journalists and editors may have salutary effects, such as a democratization of media and the emergence of credible voices previously confined to the margins. But what can be done about the corresponding rise in deliberate misinformation published by hate groups and propaganda organizations? Moral considerations carry no weight when the figurative “marketplace of ideas” is reduced to the literal market.
Danny Sullivan, a search engine expert Cadwalladr cites, suggests that the reason the Stormfront result rose to the top of Google’s search may be nothing more than populism for profit: “Google has changed its algorithm to reward popular results over authoritative ones. For the reason that it makes Google more money.” The rising popularity of hate sites presents a growth opportunity for Google and its competitors. Meanwhile, racist hate groups spread their messages unimpeded, ordinary citizens are badly misinformed, and so-called “self-radicalized” individuals like mass killer Dylann Roof and Tommy Mair—who murdered British MP Jo Cox this past summer—continue to find the “strongest and best” cases for their homicidal designs, no matter that so much of the information they consume is not only fake, but designedly, malevolently false.
Noam Chomsky, now 88 years old, made his career studying linguistics at MIT. Harry Belafonte, 89, became the “King of Calypso,” popularizing Caribbean music in the 1950s. Yes, the two men come from different worlds, but they share something important in common–a long commitment to social justice and activism. Belafonte used his fame to champion the Civil Rights movement and Martin Luther King Jr., and also helped organize the March on Washington in 1963. Chomsky protested against the Vietnam War, putting his career on the line, and has since become one of America’s leading voices of political dissent.
On Monday, these two figures appeared onstage for the first time together. Speaking at Riverside Church in NYC, before a crowd of 2,000 people, Chomsky and Belafonte took stock of where America stands after the election of Donald Trump. Naturally, neither man looks forward to what Trump has to bring. But they’re not as glum about the future as many other voters on the left. Chomsky especially reminds us that America has made great strides since 1960. The United States is a far more civilized country overall. And it’s much easier–not to mention less dangerous–to effect change today than a half century ago. It’s just a matter of getting out there and putting in the hard work. Meanwhile, Belafonte urges us to have a “rebellious heart” and leaves with this spirited reminder, “there’s still some ass kicking to be done!”
Tweets came and went throughout the weekend. But, if you’re keeping score at home, none outfunnied this tweet from Jeremy Noel-Tod. We’re suckers around here for Brechtian humor.
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When Mike Pence entered the Richard Rodgers Theatre to see Hamilton Friday night, the crowd booed him.
When the play ended, the cast sent Pence off with a special message. Speaking for the cast, Brandon Victor Dixon, the actor who plays Aaron Burr, said this:
You know we have a guest in the audience this evening. Vice President-elect Pence I see you walking out but I hope you will hear us just a few more moments.
There is nothing to boo here ladies and gentlemen, we are all sharing a story of love. We have a message for you sir, and we hope you will hear us out…
Vice President-elect Mike Pence we welcome you and we truly thank you for joining us here at Hamilton, an American Musical.
We, sir, we are the diverse America who are alarmed and anxious that your new administration will not protect us, our planet, our children, our parents or defend us or uphold our inalienable rights, sir. But we truly hope this show has inspired you to uphold our American values and to work on behalf of all of us.
We truly thank you for sharing this show, this wonderful American story told by a diverse group of men and women of different colors, creeds and orientations.
Trump and Pence came to office exploiting racial, national and ethnic resentments across America. They’re now putting figures like Steve Bannon and Jeff Sessions (both tarnished by allegations of racism) in positions of power. And we’re seeing hate crimes on the rise. (701 reported cases since the election.) It’s no surprise that the new government is getting taken to task. It’s free speech in action, democracy being the sometimes raucous, in your face thing it can be.
Fortunately Pence seems to have a finer appreciation of the role dissent plays in our country: He has since told The Hollywood Reporter, “I did hear what was said from the stage, and I can tell you, I wasn’t offended by what was said.” “It was a real joy to be there. When we arrived, we heard a few boos and a few cheers, and I nudged my kids and reminded them, ‘That’s what freedom sounds like.” Kudos to him.
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It makes sense that Superman would take a tolerant view of immigrants and other minorities, given that he himself arrived on Earth as a refugee from the planet Krypton.
“…and remember, boys and girls, your school – like our country – is made up of Americans of many different races, religions and national origins, so … If YOU hear anybody talk against a schoolmate or anyone else because of his religion, race or national origin – don’t wait: tell him THAT KIND OF TALK IS UN-AMERICAN. HELP KEEP YOUR SCHOOL ALL-AMERICAN!”
In other words, citizens must steel themselves to take action, because you can’t always count on a superhero to show up and make things right.
(Perhaps President Elect was too young to receive a copy. The back of the cover includes a grid for filling in one’s class schedule and he was but four years old at the time.)
Superman could not survive Doomsday, but the Anti-Defamation League, planet Krptyon to the illustration’s original distributer, continues to uphold the values he promotes above.
Already there have been troubling signs of a spike in hate crimes in the days after the election. As we look ahead, ADL will be vigilant against extremism and relentlessly hold the new administration accountable. You can expect ADL to be unwavering in its commitment to fighting anti-Semitism, racism and bigotry. We will monitor developments and speak out.
And wherever and whenever Jews, minority groups, immigrants, and others are marginalized or our civil liberties are threatened, ADL vigorously will defend those rights … We will not shrink from the fight ahead regardless of where it takes us.
Meanwhile, a full color version of the 66-year-old illustration has been making the rounds on social media. Let us consider it a placeholder. Eventually someone will surely take it back to the drawing board to add more girls, children with disabilities, and children of color.
Ayun Halliday is an author, illustrator, theater maker and Chief Primatologist of the East Village Inky zine. Her play Zamboni Godot is opening in New York City in March 2017. Follow her @AyunHalliday.
Dave Chappelle hosted SNL last nightand gave us the comic relief we needed. And also a few heartfelt thoughts about what a Trump presidency means for our imperiled nation. The most poignant part comes at the very end:
You know, before I go, I do want to say one thing, and this is not a joke. But I think it’s important that I say this, ’cause they’re marching up the street right now as we speak.
A few weeks ago I went to the White House for a party. It was the first time I’ve been there in many years and it was very exciting. And BET sponsored the party, so everyone there was black. And it was beautiful. I walked through the gates — you know, I’m from Washington, so I saw the bus stop, or the corner where the bus stop used to be, where I used to catch the bus to school and dream about nights like tonight.
It was a really, really beautiful night. At the end of the night everyone went into the West Wing of the White House and it was a huge party. And everybody in there was black — except for Bradley Cooper, for some reason.
And on the walls were pictures of all the presidents, of the past. Now, I’m not sure if this is true, but to my knowledge the first black person that was officially invited to the White House was Frederick Douglass. They stopped him at the gates. Abraham Lincoln had to walk out himself and escort Frederick Douglass into the White House, and it didn’t happen again, as far as I know, until Roosevelt was president. Roosevelt was president, he had a black guy over and got so much flack from the media that he literally said, “I will never have a n—-r in this house again.”
I thought about that, and I looked at that black room, and saw all those black faces, and Bradley, and I saw how happy everybody was. These people who had been historically disenfranchised. It made me feel hopeful and it made me feel proud to be an American and it made me very happy about the prospects of our country.
So, in that spirit, I’m wishing Donald Trump luck. And I’m going to give him a chance, and we, the historically disenfranchised, demand that he give us one too. Thank you very much.
And for any educated white liberal, this skit will surely hit home:
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Just last month, the U.K. announced the so-called “Turing Law,” a policy U.K.’s justice minister Sam Gyimah describes as pardoning “people convicted of historical sexual offenses who would be innocent of any crime today.” The law is named for Alan Turing, the brilliant gay computer scientist whose work on A.I. gave the artificial intelligence test its name.
Turing was also instrumental in breaking the Nazi Enigma code, and the Ministry of Justice’s press release identifies Turing only as an “Enigma codebreaker,” suggesting that his patriotic duty may have made him something of an official martyr; Turing was one thousands of men unjustly convicted over many decades. But “does pardoning those men unlucky enough to get caught,” asks Jonathan Cooper, “actually address the trauma to which the British state subjected LGBT people?”
I couldn’t possibly say. But the “unlucky ones” who were arrested, convicted, and imprisoned for crimes of “gross indecency” have left often poignant records of their mistreatment, and of the psychological toll it took on them. Turing wrote a very pained letter to a friend, Norman Rutledge, after his conviction (hear Benedict Cumberbatch read it here).
Around sixty years earlier, an even more well-known convict, one of the first to be convicted of “gross indecency” laws, Oscar Wilde, left an even more profound expression of his emotional turmoil. Called De Profundis (from the depths) and addressed to his lover Lord Alfred Douglas, the hundred-page document, with its lengthy digressions and ruminations, cannot solely be read as a letter, although it contains a wealth of tender and angry expressions for Douglas.
De Profundis, writes Colm Tóibín, “cannot be read for its accurate account of their relationship, nor taken at its word.” This is in part because Wilde had no other choice but to write a letter, or write nothing at all. The succession of prisons in which he was held between 1895 and 1897 allowed no writing of plays, novels, or essays.
Over the last four months of Wilde’s incarceration, he and the governor of Reading prison came up with a scheme. Since “regulations did not specify how long a letter should be,” Wilde would be given pen and ink each day and be allowed compose correspondence as long as he liked. The letter would then be his personal property when he left. Despite its literary density, the letter remains, writes Tóibín, “one of the greatest love letters ever written.”
Reading prison has just been opened to the public for the first time this year. Since July, artists, writers, and performers have gathered with audiences inside the prison to celebrate and commune with the spirit of Wilde. Among the events have been readings of De Profundis by Tóibín, who read the letter in its entirely last month, as did Patti Smith.
At the top of the post, you can see an excerpt of Smith’s reading. “The edited version of De Profundis” from which she reads “was the first one to be published in 1905, in a limited edition of 200, five years after Wilde’s death.” In-between clips of her reading, there are interviews with a Reading prison caretaker and others, and voice-over narration telling us Wilde’s tragic story of imprisonment, as well as the general outlines of those who left no record of their persecution.
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