The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, unique in their sophisticated weaponry and surreal nation-building aspirations, surely demand their own brand of literature, a mode of writing that will capture, somehow, the careless brutality that the world’s most powerful country wrought on two fragile populations.
After the recent terrorist attacks in Paris and Brussels, online activists produced a jarring Internet meme, juxtaposing photos of the Islamic State’s atrocities with historical images of those of the Ku Klux Klan. However strained this connection may be, its visual impact is undeniably arresting.
From the early 1970s though 2005, I was a loyal member of the Republican Party and the libertarian wing of the conservative movement. When I signed on in the ’70s, the movement was very small; it was possible to know everyone in Washington who was a significant player. And I knew almost all of them,
Ghetto is one of those words that ring tinnily today. The put-down “He’s ghetto” implies that its target is low-class or unsavory—an association that only has meaning in the context of America’s poisonous culture of race. Back in the 1980s and ’90s, when social scientists fretted about a “ghetto
We are so surrounded by points of reference, deluged with streams, fully versed in TVTropes.org, that culture seems to arrive prechewed. It is all excessively hyperlinked, and revealed to us immediately.