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Republicans still try to claim Abe Lincoln’s heritage — that’s offensive and absurd

The challenge these days isn’t proving that the Republican Party has become a hotbed of racism and fascism. It’s figuring out where to start with the evidence. Do we begin with Donald Trump’s Hitler-esque Big Lie about the 2020 election? Should we focus on its attempts to suppress minority voters? Perhaps we should emphasize the way Trump used fascist tactics throughout his presidency, or go all the way back to when the Republican Party began its rightward shift in the middle of the 20th century?

I’ll pass on pinpointing exactly when the problem began and instead look at one of its most recent examples. Earlier this month, a flier promoting a proposed “America First” caucus in the House of Representatives sparked controversy because of its white nationalist language. The notional caucus would promote “common respect for uniquely Anglo-Saxon political traditions,” view mass immigration as a threat to “the long-term existential future of America as a unique country with a unique culture and a unique identity” and embrace the debunked claim that the 2020 election was stolen.

Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, the infamous Georgia Republican, later backed away from the proposed caucus and claimed that the flier had been written by an outside group, but the damage had been done. House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy felt the need to distance himself from the entire thing, tweeting that “the Republican Party is the party of Lincoln & the party of more opportunity for all Americans — not nativist dog whistles.”

Of course it’s true that Abraham Lincoln was the first Republican president, but the modern Republican Party has no right to cite the 16th president’s name. It is utterly impossible to reconcile his values with those of his successors 160 years later.

This hasn’t stopped those successors from trying. Take Fox News host Tucker Carlson, who has repeatedly embraced white nationalist talking points, most recently in denouncing the murder conviction of Derek Chauvin, the Minneapolis police officer who killed George Floyd.

Back in 2019, I interviewed Carlson about a monologue he delivered on his Fox News show urging Republicans to pursue more populist policies. I quoted him the passage from Lincoln’s 1861 State of the Union message in which he denounced the effort “to place capital on an equal footing with, if not above, labor in the structure of government.”

“Exactly!” Carlson said, interrupting me. I continued with another quotation from the same speech: “Labor is prior to and independent of capital. Capital is only the fruit of labor and could never have existed if labor had not first existed. Labor is the superior of capital and deserves much the higher consideration.”

“Hold on, I’m writing this down,” Carlson said. “I hadn’t read that. OK, first, God bless you for noticing that. You are like the only person noticing that part of the script, which to me was the essence.”

As the eminent Columbia University historian Eric Foner, author of “Free Soil, Free Labor, Free Men: The Ideology of the Republican Party Before the Civil War,” told Salon by email, Lincoln was articulating “what we call the free labor ideology — that labor is the source of wealth (a common idea in the 19th century, a society of small scale capitalism), that slavery denies the dignity of labor, and that opportunity for the laborer to rise in the social scale is essential for a good society and for economic growth.” 

Lincoln scholar Harold Holzer echoed this view, noting the link between Lincoln’s free labor ideology and his personal opposition to slavery. “I think they intersect (the word du jour in academia) — the pursuit and spread of free labor (aka limitless opportunity — what Lincoln called ‘a fair chance in the race of life’) meant ending slavery,” Holzer wrote to Salon. “And while he first envisioned the West as a place where white laborers did not have to compete with Black slave labor, he certainly made clear also, as he said in 1858, that a person of color had the right to eat the bread she makes with her own hands — that she had an equal opportunity to earn.”

Earlier, Holzer expressed the view that Lincoln’s formulation, “labor is prior to, and independent, of capital,” was “something of a clunker because Lincoln was always more effective talking about individual people than about political theory. But he tries hard to connect the dots — and those who understand Lincoln know what he’s getting at: opportunity for free labor.”

None of that implies that Republicans of Lincoln’s era were socialists (they were not) or abolitionists (most were not). That said, Lincoln evolved immensely in his views on race over the course of his lifetime, and never wavered in his disgust for slavery or his belief that people who labor for their livelihoods have a right to dignity and economic security. This is why he ultimately seized the opportunity to abolish slavery, and passed a number of laws that would be inconceivable in the laissez-faire Republican Party today.

“His vision of the Union meant opportunity for all — hence homestead acreage for the many,” Holzer explained, referring to the 1862 Homestead Act that made it easy for Americans to buy Western land at low prices. “It meant encouraging farming over hunting — independent farming to replace plantation aristocracies — hence [creating] the Agriculture Department.” He also noted that Lincoln, as a former member of the Whig Party, “had always passionately believed in infrastructure, including government investment in railroads, canals, and roads,” which is why he pushed for bills to construct the first transcontinental railroad.

From the moment Lincoln became president and until shortly before his assassination, everything he said and did occurred within the context of, first, trying to prevent the Civil War, and then trying to win it. Much as with Donald Trump’s insurrection attempt, the Civil War was sparked by dissatisfaction with the outcome of a legitimate election. In the 1860 election, Southern states left the Union because they believed a Republican president would bar slavery from the Western territories and ultimately lay the foundations for abolition. In the 2020 election, Trump became the first president to lose an election but refuse to accept the results, instead filing a series of ludicrous lawsuits and spreading misinformation to his supporters in hopes he could stay in power.

The Republican Party is, decisively, no longer the party of Lincoln. You cannot square Lincoln’s free labor ideology with a party that unanimously opposed President Joe Biden’s stimulus bill (and also opposed all of Barack Obama’s efforts to restart the economy during the Great Recession). You cannot square Lincoln’s support for labor in general with a party that actively ignores poor and working-class people and whose efforts at pandemic relief disproportionately aided the wealthy.

Similarly, you can’t square the modern party’s dehumanizing of immigrants, women, the LGBTQ community and people of color with Lincoln’s ideals. Lincoln was a man with many of the prejudices of his time, but his great redeeming quality was his ability learn from his mistakes and his willingness to overcome his limitations. Left to his own devices, he instinctively moved toward compassion and generosity. The modern Republican Party instinctively moves away from those things.

Finally, it’s impossible to square Lincoln’s prosecution of the Civil War with a party that refused to convict Trump for inciting the Jan. 6 riot and is now desperately trying to shove that insurrection attempt down the memory hole. First of all, Lincoln literally used military force to put down a rebellion sparked by unhappiness over an election result. In 1864, Lincoln was deeply worried he might lose to Democratic nominee George McClellan, his former commanding general, whom Lincoln feared would be unable to save the Union. Despite that, Lincoln never even considered whipping his supporters into a frenzy or rejecting the verdict of the voters if McClellan defeated him. He respected the importance of elections and democracy, even at the potential cost of his presidency and the nation itself.

Flawed as he was, Lincoln’s greatness lay in personal values worlds away from the cynical, know-nothing ideology of today’s Republicans. We could debate exactly when the Republican Party began to turn away from Lincoln, but it abandoned him entirely a long time ago.

Jim Acosta calls out Fox News during on-air rant: ‘Lies can kill’

CNN anchor Jim Acosta warned viewers of the danger posed by Fox News continuing to lie to push extremist politics.

“We need to hit the pause button and address what has been another mind-boggling week in disinformation,” Acosta said.

The host played clips of Fox News reporter John Roberts, Fox Business anchor Larry Kudlow, and Fox anchor Jesse Watters lying about President Joe Biden seeking to limit meat consumption.

Acosta noted the story had been debunked.

“But that didn’t matter to some on the far-right, the same bad-faith actors who are always peddling this bogus red meat,” he explained.

“What’s really sad is that even prominent Republicans are still repeating this even after the story was debunked. The top House Republican, Kevin McCarthy repeated the lie on Fox News after Biden’s speech to Congress.”

Acosta also noted lies against Vice President Kamala Harris pushed by the far right.

“That tale from the border didn’t just border on BS, this was USDA Grade-A bullsh*t. And the (NY Post) reporter who wrote the story resigned, claiming she was forced to make it up. But the damage was done, pumped out over the airwaves at the bullsh*t factory also known as Fox News,” he explained.

“Now you may want to laugh this off, as the old saying goes, while the truth is still lacing up its boots but the lies these days are moving at the speed of light while spreading so much darkness,” he explained.

“Remember, lies, big lies can have terrible consequences. Just four months ago we all witnessed the fallout about the ‘Big Lie’ about the election…and it should’ve served as an a lesson on how lies can kill,” Acosta reminded. “They travel at the speed of light and spread too much darkness.”

Watch below via CNN:

 

Why are Republicans so afraid of taxpayer-supported child care?

In other countries, universal resources are common. From daycare to healthcare and college, many countries have incorporated these benefits to assist citizens and now President Joe Biden is looking to do the same.

An op-ed published by The Guardian discusses Republicans’ resistance to universal daycare as if it were the plague. The American Families Plan, if passed, would contribute vastly to much-needed improvements for the United States’ childcare system. The piece of legislation would also provide billions in funding for three critical areas in the childcare system: universal preschool, paid family leave, and subsidized childcare.

Although a substantial number of Americans would likely approve of the plan, Republicans are not thrilled about it because there is one detail they are not thrilled about. The plan would be funded by the higher taxes that will be imposed on the wealthy 1%. For that reason, Republican lawmakers have no interest in the plan coming to fruition.

The author highlighted how the core of Republicans’ belief systems deeply contradicts their opposition to universal childcare. “Who wouldn’t support investing in children?” she wrote. “The party of “family values”, of course! The party that loves advocating for embryos but doesn’t seem quite so keen on helping kids.”

Referencing a survey that ranked the U.S. as the second-worst place to raise a family, she argued that the proposed plan could help to improve the country’s family-friendly ranking. Despite the obvious need for such a plan, Republicans are pushing back.

In fact, Charlie Shepherd also weighed in with a mindboggling rebuke of universal daycare arguing that the funding would harm”the family unit.” Shepherd said, “[A]ny bill that makes it easier or more convenient for mothers to come out of the home and let others raise their child, I don’t think that’s a good direction for us to be going.”

Sen. Marsha Blackburn (R-Tenn.) also tweeted a bizarre pushback against universal daycare. “You know who else liked universal daycare?” she tweeted along with a 1974 New York Times article on universal daycare in the Soviet Union.

Hillbilly Elegy author J.D. Vance also chimed in with bizarre opposing views. “‘Universal day care’ is class war against normal people,” Vance said.

His explanation for his perspective is that: “normal Americans care more about their families than their jobs, and want a family policy that doesn’t shunt their kids into crap daycare so they can enjoy more ‘freedom’ in the paid labor force.”

However, Republicans’ opposition, alone, may not be enough to block universal daycare.

 

Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos: the great escape

Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos want to colonize outer space to save humanity, but they couldn’t care less about protecting the rights of workers here on earth.

Musk’s SpaceX just won a $2.9 billion NASA contract to land astronauts on the moon, beating out Bezos.

The money isn’t a big deal for either of them. Musk is worth $179.7 billion. Bezos, $197.8 billion. Together, that’s almost as much as the bottom 40 percent of Americans combined. 

And the moon is only their stepping-stone.

Musk says SpaceX will land humans on Mars by 2026 and wants to establish a colony by 2050. Its purpose, he says, will be to ensure the continued survival of our species. 

“If we make life multiplanetary, there may come a day when some plants and animals die out on Earth but are still alive on Mars,” he tweeted.

Bezos is also aiming to build extraterrestrial colonies, but in space rather than on Mars. He envisions “very large structures, miles on end” that will “hold a million people or more each.” 

But Musk and Bezos are treating their workers like, well, dirt. 

Last spring, after calling government stay-at-home orders “fascist” and tweeting “FREE AMERICA NOW,” Musk reopened his Tesla factory in Fremont, California before health officials said it safe to do so. Almost immediately, 10 Tesla workers came down with the virus. As cases mounted, Musk fired workers who took unpaid leave. Seven months later, at least 450 Tesla workers had been infected. 

Musk’s production assistants, as they’re called, earn $19 an hour – hardly enough to afford rent and other costs of living in northern California. Musk is virulently anti-union. A few weeks ago, the National Labor Relations Board found that Tesla illegally interrogated workers over suspected efforts to form a union, fired one and disciplined another for union-related activities, threatened workers if they unionized and barred employees from communicating with the media. 

Bezos isn’t treating his earthling employees much better. His warehouses impose strict production quotas and subject workers to seemingly arbitrary firings, total surveillance and 10-hour workdays with only two half-hour breaks – often not enough time to get to a bathroom and back. Bezos boasts that his workers get $15 an hour, but that comes to about $31,000 a year for a full-time worker, less than half the U.S. median family income. And no paid sick leave. 

Bezos has fired at least two employees who publicly complained about lack of protective equipment during the pandemic. To thwart the recent union drive in Bessemer, Alabama, Amazon required workers to attend anti-union meetings, warned they’d have to pay union dues (untrue – Alabama is a “right-to-work” state), and threatened them with lost pay and benefits. 

Musk and Bezos are the richest people in America and their companies are among the country’s fastest growing. They thereby exert huge influence on how other chief executives understand their obligations to employees. 

The gap between the compensation of CEOs and average workers is already at a record high. They inhabit different worlds. 

If Musk and Bezos achieve their extraterrestrial aims, these worlds could be literally different. Most workers won’t be able to escape into outer space. A few billionaires are already lining up. 

The super-rich have always found means of escaping the perils of everyday life. During the plagues of the 17thcentury, European aristocrats decamped to their country estates. During the 2020 pandemic, wealthy Americans headed to the Hamptons, their ranches in Wyoming or their yachts. 

The rich have also found ways to protect themselves from the rest of humanity – in fortified castles, on hillsides safely above smoke and sewage, in grand mansions far from the madding crowds. Some of today’s super rich have created doomsday bunkers in case of nuclear war or social strife. 

But as earthly hazards grow – not just environmental menaces but also social instability related to growing inequality – escape will become more difficult. Bunkers won’t suffice. Not even space colonies can be counted on. 

I’m grateful to Musk for making electric cars and to Bezos for making it easy to order stuff online. But I wish they’d set better examples for protecting and lifting the people who do the work.  

It’s understandable that the super wealthy might wish to escape the gravitational pull of the rest of us. But there’s really no escape. If they’re serious about survival of the species, they need to act more responsibly toward working humans here on terra firma.

A spy in the house of my first love

In  HBO Max’s new dark comedy series “Made For Love,” the CEO of a technology company implants a microchip in his ex’s brain, making it nearly impossible for her to leave him. Years before GPS devises and the high-tech billionaire boom, I felt brainwashed by a boyfriend I couldn’t escape.

I was 14 when we met at a B’nai B’rith party in my Michigan hometown. He was an older man of 16 from Windsor, across the bridge. He had big shoulders, curly hair, and a silver Camaro whose cassette howled “everything about you is bringing me misery.” 

Local guys in Beach Boys and Seger T-shirts called me “bubbly,” having no idea I’d get stoned and scrawl Plath-like poetry into spiral notebooks until dawn. I dug that he nicknamed me his “old sea hag” with “violent eyes” and “breeder’s hips,” casting him as my Canadian Ted Hughes. Over five years, he turned me onto Dylan, Hawaiian weed and sex while remaining socially acceptable — a nice Jewish pre-med, like my father.  My parents met when my mother was 14, marrying when she was 19, a romantic timeline — and story — I hoped to repeat.

I was afraid rushing to college early would ruin us. But he visited weekends and we secretly trysted on my teen summer Israel trip. He may have been my only bed partner, but in my risqué diary, I was a femme fatale, the West Bloomfield Anaïs Nin stealing forbidden passion with a mysterious paramour. Exhilarating for a semi-nerdy bookworm.

Until my senior year in Ann Arbor, when I found myself knocked up. He offered marriage, though we were long distance, saying, “Move here while I finish university.” I just wanted it to go away. He paid, drove me home after, bringing me a pink can of Tab and a salami sandwich. Both devastated by the dramatic plot twist, we didn’t speak for months. When I tried phoning, he stopped returning my messages.

He wouldn’t talk to me, but I interpreted his letter with anguished lyrics in the mail (“like a corkscrew to my heart/Ever since we’ve been apart”) as a message he missed me too. In my ugly orange Cutlass, I sped 171 miles to his school in Ontario, excited to reunite at 2 a.m. I found he wasn’t alone. Someone else was asleep in his bedroom, he let me know, as we shared a last smoke in his living room. Driving home sobbing, I knew all the words to “Blood on the Tracks.”

Moving to New York for a graduate degree at 20, I was haunted by the shadowy girl in his bed who’d replaced me. They wed, a mutual friend said, and had two kids — a boy and a girl. I envisioned myself as a rebel devoted to art, not domesticity. Yet their young family made me feel like a failure for staying single and childless. Eager to erase the rejection, I slept with the wrong men, journaled, channeling my angst into purple poems and prose. In therapy, I struggled with addiction and guilt as my family detested everything I wrote. Landing a literary magazine job gave me hope. 

Yet hearing of the death of my ex’s infant son unnerved me. Unsettled, I sat on the ratty carpet of my studio, getting stoned and lighting a candle. My depressed, foggy brain inappropriately connected the child I’d denied to the one they lost. Was it guilt about eluding motherhood? My own mom, who’d been an orphan, had four kids she adored, while I longed to have books, not babies.

In creative circles, I gravitated to luminary mentors and critics, listening to my therapist’s warning: “Love doesn’t make you happy. Make yourself happy.” I did, with work. On a blind dinner date with a brilliant scriptwriter, he charmed me by quoting the weekly book column I did for a local paper, impressed when I shared my advance review copies. At 35, I wore black to our Soho wedding. My college roommate rushed up to the chuppah, whispering that my curly-haired groom was my first love’s clone — the older, taller, artistic urban version.

“You’re crazy,” I said. But he was, with better Dylan bootlegs.

Then infertility at 40 flung me back to the past. Deconstructing my obsessive relationships in a memoir about heartache, I begged my earliest ex to meet. “I’d rather take out my own appendix with a bottle of Jack and a dull spoon,” he replied, agreeing only to brief, unsatisfying emails in 2003. I quoted him, using the moniker “David Green” upon publication, “Eve” for his wife.

The Midwestern brigade questioned my vanity for putting out more splashy confessional books. Moonlighting as a nonfiction professor, I taught fellow misfits to explore their obsessions, chronicle their humiliating secrets, harnessing the power of artful reinvention. “The first piece you write that your family hates means you’ve found your voice” was my rule. “Writing is a way to turn your worst obsessions into the most beautiful,” I promised.

In 2011, I emailed my ex that my debut book where he’d appeared was optioned for a film. He obviously bcc’d his spouse, since the response came from an address combining her last name and his, ending with “Sympatico.ca.” Unfamiliar with foreign portals, it seemed poetic. 

“Thx for keeping me in the loop about David Green. Congrats on all ur success w ur books,” she wrote me. “If ‘Eve’ is a character in the movie, I’d like Eva Mendez to play my part.”

Fascinated by the other woman in my inbox, I accepted her Facebook friend request. We were married, mature adults, so why not? Here’s why not: 

 “No offense, but maybe think about losing the bangs?” she said. “Ur gorgeous but darlin’ it’s aging u. P.S. Ur facebook entries suck. U write beautifully, but social networking, not so much. I ghost write. I’m available for 50 bucks an hour :)”

Clearly I wasn’t the only tempest in our teapot. This writer ghost using teen slang wanted to fix my profile? Really? Curious, I scanned hers. She looked like a cute camp counselor. Brunette like me, but thinner. No job talk. Just uplifting adages, selfies, photos of their now teenage son. The next day she apologized for being “bitchy and premenstrual.”

 Just as I’d been imagining her for so long, she had questions about me. 

“Why did you call me Eve in your book?”

“The Random House lawyer suggested pseudonyms,” I explained, vaguely recalling it had to do with him being my first love, before the fall.

“Why turn my dead daughter into a dead son?” she asked.

I didn’t realize she’d lost a baby girl. “I’m sorry. That was a mistake.” I felt guilty for appropriating her tragedy, but she didn’t seem offended. 

She confided that, during my calamitous college road trip, she’d been more in lust with her older Shakespeare professor.  So while my ex was breaking my heart, she’d almost broken his? It was riveting; her casual memory somehow rearranged my amorous history. 

“You looked thin and lovely on TV. He was thrilled being quoted in your book and O Magazine,” she told me.

 “He Googled me?”

“He ran out to get a copy. Maybe first time he was in a bookstore.”

I was stunned she’d make a joke at his expense to me, of all people. What an unexpected spy in the house of my first love! She was from my tribe, my age, also a cynical English major: my maple leaf alter ego.

 “Give me a subject to write. Will be one of ur ‘proteges,'” she requested.

How bizarro; the wife of my worst heartache was picking me as a mentor. I’d envied her marriage 20 years before. Did she now covet my career?

“Try chronicling this electronic tête-à-tête with your husband’s high school girlfriend,” I offered.

“Then he’d know we’re in touch,” she answered. 

He didn’t know?

Did I owe loyalty to the man who’d rejected me a quarter century ago? Transfixed by our illicit link, I couldn’t stop replying, double-crossing my ex with the woman I could have been.

“Why am I confiding in you?” she asked.

“A memoirist delving into unresolved pain holds a mirror,” I tried. “Maybe consider getting an MFA? Write about the baby you lost? As Robert Frost said, ‘no way out but through.'” 

“Re: my daughter, I already wrote about her in a memoir class. Only one who saw it is the teacher.”

I offered to read, critique or recommend editors. Sensing her desperation, I wanted to throw her a lifeline, unlock her the way I inspired my students. Or was I revising my erotic trajectory with a less pathetic ending?

“I’m not writing about my marriage, myself, or digging through,” she said. “I need to be neutral and non-personal.”

Unable to air dark feelings, she echoed the moralistic Midwest bravado I’d been force-fed, stuck in the kind of conservative, repressed milieu I’d escaped. While countless personal chronicles by men were deemed literary sensations, I recalled the many female authors pilloried for probing their inner worlds uncensored, labelled hedonists, narcissists, liars.

I told her how assignments from my classes led to countless bylines and shelves of books by my mostly female students tackling mental illness, abortion, addiction, losses, disabilities and sexual traumas. The only regrets I heard were for projects unfinished. I quoted Maya Angelou on the agony of keeping untold stories inside you, as if to coax her out of repression.

“Publishing provocative memoirs only increased my salary and stature. Only good things happened,” I said. “My shrink says to be happy, lead the least secretive life you can.”

 “Ur a real firecracker,” she answered. “How’s your marriage going?”

After I told her couples therapy really helped us, she revealed the worst confidence of all: She and her husband hadn’t been intimate in months.

Talk about TMI. Instead of victorious, I was overwhelmed with sadness.

“Have NO idea why I am sharing such personal things with u,” she wrote. “blame it on alcohol, heat wave, lack of impulse control.”

Something else we shared. Clean and sober, my new compulsion was emailing my first lover’s wife. She was the gift that kept on giving, generously offering  illuminating codas, clearing up lifelong misconceptions: Waiting a dozen years longer than she had to wed didn’t hurt me. It saved me, allowing time for therapy, graduate study to nail my voice and find an audience for my work, regardless of what my relatives thought.

Her drinking, darkness and dissing him sent up warning flares. Trying to be the perfect wife and mother was suffocating her, I worried. Meanwhile my mate, Mom, and shrink saw our addictive link as regressive. “This triangle can’t go anywhere good,” my therapist said, insisting I disconnect. “It took you years to get away from him, quit drugs and alcohol, marry a great guy. Going backwards is dangerous.” I reluctantly unfriended her, relieved she didn’t appear to notice.

Or did she? Weeks later, my ex emailed: “I’m in town.”

Had she pushed him to see me? It was cathartic to finally talk to him for an hour. But it was nowhere near as chaotically charged and compelling as my clandestine madness with his wife. She gave me the closure and liberation he couldn’t. 

When I learned (from my mom) they divorced not long later, I sent her sympathy. It was “amiable and old news,” she joked, “clearly the Jewish gossip network needs an upgrade.” She’d been in Manhattan with her new musician beau, she added, wishing she’d met me “to lay eyes.”

I imagined revamping our narrative arc as allies, erasing all traces of our ancient rivalry over a man. But she never contacted me again.

Four years later my mother texted, “Did you know she took her life? I heard she jumped from a bridge.”  

Feeling gutted, I couldn’t believe I’d been heartbroken twice: once by my ex, the other by his wife. I recalled Roethke’s poem to his late student: “I, with no rights in this matter,/Neither father nor lover.” I wasn’t even her teacher.  

Rushing to Facebook, I searched for her pictures of my ex and their son, now motherless in his twenties. But her page and our instant messages were gone. The electric letters I saved spanned five years, the same duration I’d dated him.  How superficial I’d been, anointing her the slimmer, prettier wife who won the husband prize. While she’d enjoyed my book’s depiction of our triangle, I feared my cavalier tone ignored the depth of her sorrow. For a second, I blamed myself for making her worse. Then I recalled she died four years after our final exchange. Looking up the last words she’d sent me, I saw how our need to escape had hooked us.

“GREAT on u for getting out of Michigan. Everyone in everybody’s business,” she’d written. “Think I wud kill myself if I had to live there.”

I considered sending condolences to my ex, but he barely knew we’d been in touch. Instead, I reread her weird, witty voice, quietly mourning my doppelgänger, the elusive woman he loved who was lodged inside my head too, though we never met.

If you are in crisis, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255 (TALK), or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741741.

Megan McCain defends fellow Republican scion Liz Cheney

One daughter of a prominent Republican politician defended another as Meghan McCain rushed to the defense of Liz Cheney on Saturday.

McCain’s comments came after an unnamed GOP lawmaker discussed Cheney’s prospects in an article published by The Hill.

“As we’re focused on unifying the Republican conference and our mission to win back the majority, she is focused on the past and proving a point,” the lawmaker said, apparently referring to her criticism of Trump inciting the January 6th insurrection at the U.S. Capitol.

“She is alienating herself from the conference, and I have to imagine if she doesn’t resign there will be a new vote in the near future and the result will be lopsided in the opposite direction of what it was before,” the lawmaker claimed, without attaching their name to the prediction.

“But they voted before and she had overwhelming support to stay in her leadership position!!” McCain noted.

She then dropped the hammer on the Trump supporters seeking to oust Cheney.

“What an insufferable group of sausage fest snowflakes these people are,” she wrote.

“Today’s Special” brings global cuisine — and chefs of color — to the table

The ongoing pandemic has meant canceled trips, halted travel plans and extensive time spent at home. It’s a time of confusion and frustration, and a time in which humans have tried to find renewed value in the comforts of home and the possibilities that exist within the confines of an unexpected lockdown.

It’s perhaps no better time for the release of “Today’s Special: 20 Leading Chefs Choose 100 Emerging Chefs,” a new book that leans on the knowledge of 10 leading chefs to highlight 100 emerging chefs from around the world and the vast, ever-expanding world of dining. Though developed and printed during a world that had yet be introduced to the painful realities of COVID-19, the book —  which highlights chefs and their ingenuity across race, class, gender and orientation — has perhaps never been so timely, both for a world desperate to create travel experiences in the kitchen and a world reckoning for racial inequity that has plagued every industry — including food and travel.

‘Today’s Special’ is a landscape of what is happening around the world,'” Phaidon publisher Emilia Terragni told me. “It doesn’t mean that these are the only 100 people who are interesting, but it’s really a way to look at what the younger generations are doing and what their approach is to gastronomy.”

Bringing the street food stalls and restaurants of Vietnam’s bustling neighborhoods, the diverse landscape of Houston’s dining community and the ancient traditions of Spanish cooking to bookshelves around the world, “Today’s Special” reminds lockdowned travelers of the joy and comfort that can still be found through food, as well as the delights that await hungry tourists in a newly opened world. Highlighting chefs from nearly every continent, the book explores the pivotal moments of culinary careers and the menus that have helped each chef’s restaurant become an essential component of their communities.

“We wanted to diversify the breadth of the book,” Terragni said. “We were very careful to choose 10 men and 10 women so we could have diversity in terms of gender and geographically spread.”

Phaidon’s 2010 predecessor, “Coco” aptly predicted the illustrious careers of then-emerging chefs like David Chang and Amaryll Schwertner. A product of the times, the book predominantly highlighted male and white chefs. “Today’s Special,” however, predicts a world in which women and chefs of color are both leaders and creators of the modern table. With selections from global culinary leaders like Selassie Atadika, José Andrés, Yotam Ottolenghi, Marcus Samuelsson and Margot Henderson, the book brings Mexican chef Luis Orellano’s huachinango empapelado (banana leaf-steamed red snapper); Italian chef Antonia Klugmann’s white turnip and quince; and Vietnamese chef Thi Le’s duck, rhubarb and leek kimchi to the table.

Paired with stories about the chefs’ restaurants and personal backgrounds, the book provides a culinary journey throughout the world by way of the chefs who are redefining the bounds of modern gastronomy. Featured chef Manoella “Manu” Buffara views it as an opportunity to highlight a lesser-known part of southern Brazil and offers a tempting invitation through her recipe for octopus, shiso and avocado.

manoella_buffara
Manoella Buffara, “Manu,” in Curitiba, Brasil. (Photo courtesy Henrique Schmeil/Phaidon)

“People, of course, come here and travel to eat,” Buffara said. “And it’s really important to be a part of something that helps us share how we live and how we eat and encourages people to come and visit us when they can.”

Across the ocean in Lagos, Nigeria, gifted chef Michael Elégbèdé shares his recipe for boli ati epa (roasted plantain with orange segments, peanut crumble and a peanut vinaigrette) — and his vision for the future of Nigerian cuisine.

“When people see our food, just like any other chef in the cultural space, the food becomes a gateway to a better understanding of who we are, our flavor profiles and our identity, because food is the core of an identity,” Elégbèdé said. “I want people to have an inquisitive mind. I want people to begin asking questions, ‘What is the heart of the meal? What are the spices that are used in our food?’ I want to trigger excitement. I want to trigger curiosity. In this feature for the book, I wanted to create more awareness that allows people to ask more questions about what it means to experience Nigerian and African food.”

Though Phaidon’s decadent recipes and immaculate visuals provide a welcome escape to destinations that travelers are eager to visit again, it also illuminates complex realities about how COVID-19 has altered, and in many cases, decimated parts of the restaurant community.

Suzanne Barr, the former head chef of True True Diner and a leading voice for marginalized restaurant workers and developing equitable practices in the restaurant industry, continues to bring her imaginative skill to Afro-Caribbean food in Canada — highlighted through her recipe for tender sweet and sour beef back ribs and oxtail — while also reflecting on the role True True Diner played in her Toronto community. 

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Chef Suzanna Barr. (Photo courtesy Phaidon)

“Our food has either been misunderstood or cheapened by folks just assuming that it’s one way — and that’s the only way — that it can be appreciated,” Barr said. “I really hope people take this book away and understand that the amount of talent and the amount of work that we as chefs do. We work collectively with incredibly talented individuals who make up these dining experiences, and we want you to remember that where you’re thinking of where to purchase your next meal and who to support.”

Barr is featured alongside True True Diner in the book, her former beloved restaurant in Toronto. However, like many restaurants around the world, especially those owned by women and people of color, True True Diner was forced to close during the pandemic (and after the book had already been finalized). Citing white privilege on behalf of former business partners and a lack of opportunities to save the restaurant, Barr is focused on healing after the restaurant’s closing, and she’s reflecting on the important role that True True Diner — and her own leadership — played in the Canadian dining community.

“We did impact — and we will continue to impact — the city through our food, through the messages that we were able to share and offer up,” Barr said. “We changed lives, we opened up doors, we opened up opportunities to young BIPOC students and individuals that were newcomers to this country by giving them their first job in the industry, by teaching, by sharing, by doing the work that I believe is some of the most important work for this industry in order to see it turn a corner. And, yes, I am proud to say that that’s what we were able to do. So if this book represents the memory of what we had started, then I’m OK with it.”

Expansive in scope, “Today’s Special” aims to capture a snapshot of what the future of dining around the world will look like. Comfort hasn’t exactly been at the forefront for many of us this past year, and the uncertain future ahead hasn’t been capturing comfort any easier. And yet, while our world is complicated, food has been one of the places in which many of us have found solace.

Through my exploration of “Today’s Special,” however, I don’t simply find comfort through the global recipes featured. I find comfort in the diversity of the chefs featured — and the freedom with which they are able to share their identities, stories and hopes through food. I hope to explore this comfort and food diversity in my new column here at Salon. Despite an ongoing pandemic and a restaurant world that’s forever changed, it’s clear that whatever the future of food holds, women and chefs of color will be leading the way, a comforting revelation indeed. 

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“Today’s Special” cover. (Photo courtesy Phaidon)

***

Elena Reygadas of Rosetta in Mexico City has brought a fresh, contemporary approach to Mexican cuisine. With a global resume and roots in Mexico City, her restaurant has reclaimed the beauty and possibility of Mexican ingredients, and demonstrates a cuisine that’s truly limitless. Her recipe for concha, a Mexican sweet bread, provides comfort, sweetness, and beauty.

Recipe: Concha 

Makes 4 conchas

For the vanilla crust:

  • 10 g all-purpose (plain) flour 
  • 10 g vegetable shortening 
  • 5 g sugar glass 
  • 5 g sugar
  • 0.5 g baking powder 
  • Pinch of salt 
  • Seeds from 1/2 vanilla bean

For the conchas:

  • 4 g fresh yeast 
  • 15 g whole milk 
  • 180 g wheat flour 
  • 25 g sugar 
  • 1 g fine sea salt 
  • 45 g eggs 
  • 40 g butter 
  • Egg wash

Make the vanilla crust:

  1. In a bowl, combine all of the ingredients and beat with an electric mixer at a low speed until well blended. Don’t overmix. Once the mixture is uniform, let stand at room temperature while you make the conchas.

Make the conchas:

  1. Dissolve the yeast in the milk. In a large bowl, combine the flour, dissolved yeast, sugar, salt, eggs, and butter and mix with your hands, making small circles. Once everything has blended together, knead the dough, lightly striking it against the surface until it becomes smooth and elastic.
  2. Place the dough in a covered container and let it sit at room temperature for 10 minutes. Divide the dough into 4 pieces and shape each into a ball.
  3. Divide the vanilla crust into 4 portions; they should be about 20 g. Form each portion into a ball and then use your palm to flatten it into a disk large enough to cover one of the dough balls.
  4. Glaze each ball of dough with egg and cover with a disk of vanilla crust. Press a shell-pattern mold into the crust or make the traditional pattern with a knife. Dip each concha in sugar and place on a baking sheet. Cover the conchas with a lightly floured cloth and let sit at room temperature for 1 1/2–2 hours, preferably in a humid environment between 70–75°F (20–25°C). 
  5. Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). Bake the conchas for 18 minutes.

This recipe has been reprinted by permission from Phaidon. Like it as much as we do? Click here to purchase a copy of “Today’s Special: 20 Leading Chefs Choose 100 Emerging Chefs.”

Giada De Laurentiis’ creamy pasta with sausage and veggies is ready to serve in 15 minutes flat

When you’re in a weeknight recipe rut, sometimes the easiest way to mix things up is to substitute an ingredient or two. Yet simple swaps remain an underutilized way to reinvent any staple that’s on your dinner rotation. 

A different type of noodle, a new variety of greens or any similar substitution — however small — can breathe new life into your go-to dishes. Giada De Laurentiis reminded us of this lesson when she recently shared a creamy, dreamy pasta recipe on social media that’s perfect for cooks of all skill levels.

The pasta dish in question uses tagliatelle, an underappreciated long, springy pasta with a smooth texture and beautiful ridges to soak up sauce. Per Giada’s recommendation, you’ve got one elegant meal on your hands if you pair these noodles with Italian sausage, ricotta, peas and fresh basil.

Best of all? Everything comes together in 15 minutes flat, and your next dinner date will never catch on. That makes this the perfect new meal to add to your Monday-Friday line-up, especially since it’s easily customizable (aka you can keep things interesting). Giada writes on her website that you can use “any flat, wide noodle for this recipe!” Once you’ve tried this dish with tagliatelle, get ready to mix things up with fettuccine, pappardelle and the list goes on . . .

Start by cooking your pasta of choice until it’s al dente. When in doubt, always refer back to the instructions on the package. As with any good pasta dish, reserve a cup of pasta cooking water for later.

In a heavy skillet, simmer chopped garlic in olive oil over medium-high heat before adding the sausage. For this recipe, Giada suggests hot Italian sausage. If you’re looking for something leaner, chicken or turkey sausage would work just as well. 

Before combining all of the ingredients, toss the pasta in a cup of whole milk ricotta until it’s fully coated. This is where the reserved pasta cooking water comes in by adding moisture.

Once everything comes together, top your dish with basil, Pecorino Romano cheese and salt. In less than 20 minutes, it’s time dig into this creamy, savory dish. Full recipe here.

 

For more of our favorite recipes from Giada, check out: 

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6 macaron recipes for the perfect Parisian treat

Macarons, the incredibly beautiful Parisian cookie, are perhaps equally known for their impossibly smooth surface, delicate raised “foot,” and irresistibly chewy texture. As a baker, I see macarons as a bit of a rite of passage. Learning to execute these fluttery friends is a great test of a variety of baking skills: whipping a meringue, piping the perfect round, and getting the bake just right. But I also see them as an incredible opportunity to get creative. At their core, macarons are a simple cookie with a fairly short ingredient list: just almond flour, egg whites, and sugar. And since they are made with almond flour, they are naturally gluten-free. Best of all, the short ingredient list means that the cookie itself is neutral in flavor — meaning you can easily add a variety of different fillings and finishes to take your macarons to the next level.

In my newest episode of “Bake it Up A Notch,” I try to show off some of the many incredible things this cookie can do. While lots of macaron recipes play with adding different colors and filings, I want to encourage home bakers to also experiment with an array of sizes, presentations, and finishes, too! From the classic mini sandwich cookies to giant macarons decorated with royal icing, to a towering, sliceable layer “cake,” there’s a whole lot of ways to embark on your own macaron adventure. Here are the recipes to get you started.

Double Chocolate French Macarons

I originally developed this macaron recipe for my first book, The Fearless Baker. My goal was to have a macaron recipe that was as simple as it could possibly be, while still producing the ideal results. If you’re not sure where to start macaron-wise, this is a great recipe for you! It’s a crowd-pleasing combination of chocolate cookie (courtesy of a small amount of cocoa powder sifted into the dry ingredients), along with a basic ganache filling. I’ve also included instructions to alter this base recipe to make Vanilla, Fruity, or Spiced macarons, too.

Bakery-Style Vanilla Macarons . . .

One of the bakeries where I used to work sold large macarons. I loved these varieties because they were even chewier than their miniature counterparts. Classic macarons for sandwich cookies are around 1 1/2 inches wide, but these beauties are piped to a whopping 3 inches wide! This larger size makes them ideal for a whole number of things. Scoop some ice cream between two for a chewy, gluten-free take on a classic ice cream sandwich. Sprinkle some graham cracker crumbs on top before baking, then use them to make s’mores. Or my favorite, use the wider surface area as the perfect, smooth canvas for decorating with royal icing or buttercream (see my Piping 101 video for ideas)!

. . . With Strawberry Cheesecake Filling

Made from the aforementioned jumbo macarons of my dreams, these macarons are finished with a generous sprinkling of nonpareils — one of the easiest ways to finish any macaron that always looks picture perfect. In between the cookies, they boast an outer ring of smooth, tangy cream cheese frosting. Inside, they have a sweet core of strawberry jam. This same idea can be applied to other macarons to combine two flavors you love: like chocolate frosting with a peanut butter core or coffee frosting with a salted caramel center!

Neapolitan Macaron Towers

After baking, macaron cookies are typically chewy, but when they are sandwiched together with filling and refrigerated, they absorb some of the moisture from the filling to become beautifully soft. This concept can be used to make stacked macaron presentations, too. You can use multiple macarons of the same size, or opt for graduated sizes to produce a tower effect. Assemble the cookie towers by applying frosting to the surface of each macaron and stacking another on top. After refrigerating, these stacks will be soft enough to easily slide a fork through — making them a perfect make-ahead option for special occasions or dinner parties.

Sprinkle Macaron “Cake”

If you can make macarons in all sorts of sizes . . . and you can stack macarons to create a layered effect . . . then of course you can make a macaron-inspired “cake.” This funfetti-vibed creation starts by piping macaron batter into four 6-inch rounds and topping them with plenty of confetti-style sprinkles. The baked and cooled layers are stacked together with frosting to produce a beautiful naked-style cake fit for any celebration!

Peachy Macarons

While simple rounds are the most classic macaron shape, it’s possible to pipe them in an array of shapes. This takes a bit more skill to execute, so try your hand at some basic recipes first. Once you’ve gotten going, sky’s the limit — I’ve seen everything from cacti to pumpkins to hearts (which inspired my peach shape here). Just like classic macarons, you can trace your shapes ahead of time on your parchment to serve as a guide while you pipe them. Here, after baking, I added even more dimension by brushing a portion of each cookie with edible luster dust (this is optional, but another fun and simple way to add some flair to any macaron)! Filled with a peaches and cream sort of combination (creamy frosting outside, peach jam inside), they are finished with tiny mint leaves to make them look like they were plucked right off the tree!

Easter Egg Macarons with Malted Chocolate and Caramel Filling

My youngest niece is macaron-obsessed, and requests them each year for her birthday instead of cake! She was the inspiration for these macarons that hearken back to my favorite Easter candies. I dye the macaron shells delicate pastel colors and use a stiff-bristled brush to apply a splatter technique to give them the look of robin’s eggs. They are filled with whipped malted milk chocolate ganache with a gooey caramel core (but feel free to swap the caramel for another Easter favorite, marshmallow fluff).

Is Kentucky Derby anthem “My Old Kentucky Home” pro-slavery or anti-slavery?

Songwriter Stephen Foster‘s antebellum ballad “My Old Kentucky Home,” the state song of Kentucky, has been sung by crowds at the Kentucky Derby almost every year since 1936. Last year, because of pandemic crowd restrictions and protests of the song’s racism, track bugler Steve Buttleman intoned the melody in a somber performance shorn of the controversial words. According to Churchill Downs’ Darren Rogers, a moment of silence preceded the performance to “recognize the inequities that many in our nation still face,” and encourage “renewed hope.” In an effort to align the song with these sentiments, the television broadcast displayed abolitionist Frederick Douglass‘s assertion that Foster’s songs “awaken the sympathies for the slave, in which anti-slavery principles take root, grow and flourish.”   

Although Churchill Downs has yet to release specifics, this Saturday, May 1, the song will once again be performed at the Derby. But when asked about the ballad earlier this week, Kentucky Governor Andy Beshear opened the door to reviewing its status as state song. As reflection goes forward, it will be important to recognize that the song’s history is not as simple as having built sympathy for the anti-slavery movement. 

Written less than a decade before the Civil War, the lyrics avoided taking a concrete stance on slavery amid the violent partisanship of the day. The song imagines an enslaved man, nearing the end of his life, who has been sold away from his “old Kentucky home” to the Deep South and permanently separated from his loved ones. It depicts the horrors of slavery in its account of family separation and backbreaking labor in the Deep South, but the character also sings fondly of his earlier, idyllic life as an enslaved individual in Kentucky.

Is the song anti-slavery? Or pro-slavery? Does it condemn Kentucky slavery as inhumane? Or celebrate it as benevolent?   

Historians who contend Foster was on the right side of history often point out that his early drafts of “My Old Kentucky Home” refer to the main character as “Old Uncle Tom,” revealing that Harriet Beecher Stowe’s abolitionist novel “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” inspired him. In the days leading up to the Derby last year, Alex and Steven Lubet used this to defend the song, concluding that Foster was a “fellow traveler” with abolitionists and the song was originally an “anti-slavery pastorale.” Other Foster defenders, such as Joanne O’Connell, point out he was close friends with Charles Shiras, who edited an abolitionist newspaper in Pittsburgh.   

But Foster ultimately cut explicit references to Uncle Tom, preferring ambiguity about slavery. And although he was friends with Shiras, he was also surrounded by pro-slavery northerners. Every member of his family was in the slavery-aligned Democratic Party, not the Party of Lincoln. His vocally pro-slavery family members were fond of his music and celebrated it, but not for the same reasons Shiras did. That the songs resonated differently with different people in Foster’s social orbit indicates that the composer was aware of the songs’ political ambiguity, suggesting he consciously wrote them in ways that encouraged pro-slavery and anti-slavery factions to hear whatever messages they wanted.   

From the beginning, listeners heard vastly different messages in the song. Published at a time when the humanity of African Americans was contested, it portrays its enslaved character with a range of emotions, from joyous memories of family to intense sorrow at the thought of never seeing them again. Some of the first listeners and performers heard these songs as sympathetic, humanizing portrayals. Anti-slavery activists sang Foster’s music, and theater troupes inserted “My Old Kentucky Home” into theatrical productions of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.” The leveraging of the songs by abolitionists inspired Douglass to think of them as “allies.”    

After the Civil War, many people regarded the songs as intertwined with African Americans’ contributions to American culture. Black ensembles such as the Fisk Jubilee Singers performed them alongside spirituals, and many listeners took pride in Foster, whom they viewed as having built his fame by compassionately integrating Black music into his popular songs. W. E. B. DuBois claimed that Foster’s songs – in contrast to other minstrel songs – represented a bridge between the music of enslaved people and 20th century Black songwriters.  

But there was always a different view. Foster wrote “My Old Kentucky Home” for overtly racist blackface minstrel shows, where performers included it in demeaning enactments of racial difference from a white supremacist perspective. Immediately after Foster published the song, it was utilized by performers in stage adaptations of “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” that contorted Stowe’s text into alignment with slavery. In several of these pro-slavery “Uncle Toms,” enslaved characters (performed by white actors in blackface) return to the plantation having witnessed deplorable conditions in the North and state their preferences for remaining in bondage in the South, where they claim they are well treated by their enslavers. In this context, the performance of nostalgia in “My Old Kentucky Home” reinforced the “happy slave” stereotype that pro-slavery activists deployed to defend slavery as a benevolent institution.   

The perception of the song as expressing nostalgia for the Old South helped it remain a staple of minstrelsy long after the Civil War. As a symbol of white supremacy, it was sung by the United Daughters of the Confederacy and Ku Klux Klan. White students in Boston used it as a racist taunt toward their Black peers, eliciting a response from the NAACP that persuaded the Boston Public Schools to ban a book containing Foster’s music.   

In the 1950s, conservatives began to co-opt the view of Foster’s songs as progressive in order to protect their place in cultural life. In 1957, CBS and NBC jointly decided they would no longer broadcast words and phrases deemed offensive, including “darkey” in “My Old Kentucky Home.” The backlash was swift. An editorial in the Lexington Herald-Leader argued that “few men have had greater love for the Negro race than Stephen Foster, who drew from their life and customs the spirit of his songs.” Foster L. Barnes, superintendent of the Stephen Foster Memorial in White Springs, Florida, asserted, “None of Foster’s compositions in any way says anything detrimental about any race.” Kentucky state senator Frank Chelf introduced legislation to ban revised versions of songs, and NBC and CBS gave in, at least partially, agreeing to air only unaltered versions of official state anthems. The following year, Chelf admonished Dinah Shore when she sang a revised “My Old Kentucky Home” on NBC. The network apologized, claiming it was an “inadvertent oversight.”  

Today, many defenders of the song continue to assert that it is progressive, while opponents see it as an offensive, pro-slavery anthem. Who is right? There is no simple answer. Foster wrote his songs to be ambiguous about slavery. He navigated the politics of the 1850s – and maximized his sales – by encouraging people to hear different messages in his music. “My Old Kentucky Home” became one of the most published, arranged, performed and recorded songs in history, but it did this by appealing to people on different sides of violently contested issues.   

Last year the Derby stated that their “goal has always been that the Kentucky Derby and the way it is observed throughout the city should be inclusive of the entire Louisville community.” But “My Old Kentucky Home” was not written to mend divisions. It was written to capitalize on them.   

Former Sen. Harry Reid: I was told Lockheed Martin had UFO crash fragments

A government contractor may have fragments recovered from the U.S. crash site of a UFO, former Nevada Sen. Harry Reid revealed this week.

The claims were published as part of a lengthy report in The New Yorker Friday, titled, “How the Pentagon Started Taking U.F.O.s Seriously.” In the piece, Reid is quoted as saying he believes Lockheed Martin, the American aerospace firm, is in possession of such materials — but that he could not say for certain because he never got approval from the Pentagon to inspect the crash fragments himself, despite years of effort.

“I was told for decades that Lockheed had some of these retrieved materials,” he told the magazine. “And I tried to get, as I recall, a classified approval by the Pentagon to have me go look at the stuff. They would not approve that. I don’t know what all the numbers were, what kind of classification it was, but they would not give that to me.”

Reid was originally reported as making similar comments in a 2017 New York Times story on the Pentagon’s covert UFO program — though the newspaper was later forced to append a correction to the article softening the then-senator’s statement.

Salon published its own in-depth look into the claims made by various actors in the blockbuster Times report, which The New Yorker credits as legitimizing the national conversation surrounding UFOs.

Reid has been a longtime advocate for research into unidentified aerial phenomena, spearheading an effort which ran from 2007 to 2012 called the Advanced Aerospace Threat Identification Program. Pentagon watchers believe the program may still exist today, albeit in an informal manner. 

Military contractors made up the bulk of the program’s $20 million budget, in particular a firm called Bigelow Aerospace, run by billionaire and longtime Reid associate Robert Bigelow. One of The New Yorker’s primary sources (and author of the 2017 New York Times story), the investigative journalist Leslie Kean, also sits on the board of a Bigelow-founded venture called the “Bigelow Institute for Consciousness Studies” — a connection the magazine failed to disclose. 

As Salon’s Keith Spencer noted at the time, military contractors like Bigelow profit handsomely from perpetuating the worldview that the earth — and beyond — is a cold and dangerous place.

The New Yorker story comes in advance of a widely anticipated report from the federal government’s “Unidentified Aerial Phenomena Task Force” — an effort which was announced last summer as part of the COVID-19 relief bill signed by then-President Donald Trump.

The group’s findings are expected to be released sometime in June.

14 brands offering freebies for getting a COVID-19 vaccine

There are certain things you definitely should do after you’ve gotten your COVID-19 vaccine (like hanging onto your vaccination card) and things you definitely shouldn’t do (like abandoning your mask). And then there are things that you can do, but don’t have to. You can, for example, claim a free Krispy Kreme doughnut, or buy discounted tickets to Cincinnati Reds games.

Those aren’t the only two perks you qualify for after getting the vaccine—read on for all the best freebies.

1. Krispy Kreme

Flash your vaccination card to the Krispy Kreme cashier to get one free Original Glazed doughnut per day, no purchase necessary. You qualify as soon as you’ve received one dose of a COVID-19 vaccine.

2. Budweiser

As Food & Wine reports, Budweiser is offering $5 “Beer on Bud” vouchers to the first 10,000 people who upload a selfie snapped at their vaccination site, a picture of their “I Got Vaccinated” sticker, or a picture of their bandaged upper arm. (You don’t have to share a photo of your vaccination card, and you shouldn’t.) You will have to register for Budweiser’s free “My Cooler Rewards” program to claim your reward; and residents of Alabama, California, and Texas are unfortunately excluded from the promotion.

3. Sam Adams

Sam Adams is sponsoring a similar promotion for the first 10,000 participants—a $7 payment via Cash App. You can earn it by posting a photo of your vaccine sticker or bandage on Instagram or Twitter, hashtagging #ShotforSam, and tagging @samueladamsbeer. If you don’t have social media, you can email your photo to samadamssocial@bostonbeer.com. It’s worth looking over the extensive list of photo restrictions to make sure your pic is appropriate. (It can’t, for example, show any trademarks or copyrights that aren’t affiliated with Samuel Adams. It also can’t depict Santa Claus.)

4. Drop

Rewards app Drop is awarding points redeemable for gift cards to people who post an Instagram selfie with their vaccine sticker (or of them actually getting the shot, though other people can’t be in the photo). Your Instagram account has to be public, you have to geotag your location, and you have to include #DropCOVID and @JoinDrop to qualify. The first 10,000 people will get $50 in points, and the next 10,000 people will earn $20 in points.

5, 6 and 7. Staples, Office Depot, and Officemax

Staples, Office Depot, and OfficeMax are all offering free in-store lamination for vaccination cards. The deal at Office Depot and OfficeMax runs through July 25, 2021; you can view the coupon hereAccording toCBS Boston, Staples will end its promotion on May 1, and the coupon code is 81450.

8. So Good So You

Organic juice company So Good So You will mail you a voucher for a free probiotic juice shot if you’ve gotten your COVID-19 vaccine. The promotion ends June 30, and all you need to do to qualify is fill out a few personal details here.

9. Nathan’s Famous

If you live close enough to the Nathan’s Famous location at New York’s Coney Island to make it there the same day you get a vaccine dose, they’ll give you a free hot dog. Be sure to bring your vaccination card.

10. Junior’s Restaurant

From now through Memorial Day, you can bring your vaccination card to the original Junior’s Restaurant location in downtown Brooklyn, New York, to claim a free mini cheesecake.

11. Cincinnati Reds

The Cincinnati Reds are giving baseball fans the chance to purchase View Level tickets for just $10 if they bring their vaccination card to the ticket window at Great American Ball Park. The promotion applies to home games on Mondays through Thursdays in April and May.

12. Super Duper Burgers

At four locations in downtown San Francisco, Super Duper Burgers will hand you free fries if you show the cashier a social media selfie of you at your vaccination location. The post has to include the hashtag #COVIDVaccine.

13. Up-Down Bar and Arcade

The Midwest arcade chain will give you 20 free tokens if you bring your vaccination card to one of their six arcades (located in Iowa, Kansas, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Missouri, and Oklahoma) within three weeks of receiving your final dose. The program, called “Tokens for Poke’ns,” is open through July 2021.

14. The Greenhouse of Walled Lake

Now through April 30, you can stop by The Greenhouse in Walled Lake, Michigan, with your vaccination card (or other proof of vaccination) and claim a free pre-rolled joint, courtesy of cannabis company UBaked.

How the public misunderstands vaccine side effect statistics

It is a towering scientific achievement that there were multiple effective and safe vaccines against the novel coronavirus within fifteen months of its discovery. These vaccines have the potential to reduce the misery of the pandemic to a distant memory.

Yet two of the major vaccines are marred by rare yet troubling adverse side effects — something that scientists in the field call “safety signals.” Cerebral venous sinus thrombosis (CVST), a type of blood clot, was observed in some patients after they were given either the AstraZeneca COVID-19 vaccine or Johnson & Johnson’s. Despite the rarity of these side effects, and a lack of clarity over whether there was a causal link to the vaccine, such news threatens to undermine vaccine confidence worldwide.

Faced with uncertain data, a schism has emerged among regulators and scientists, who have two distinct schools of thought on the matter. The first, subscribed to by regulatory bodies like the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), quite reasonably insists that investigatory pauses born of an “abundance of caution” are crucial to maintaining public confidence. The other equally reasonable position, embodied by figures like American statistician Nate Silver, argue the opposite: that restrictions such as the recent “pause” of the Johnson & Johnson vaccine are damaging over-reactions to events that occur at most a handful of times per million.

The furor is a microcosm of a long-standing problem of how we convey risk, and the lurking disconnect between how risks are understood by scientists and the public. As these fears cannot be divorced from the context of a global pandemic that has killed millions and frozen the world in a terrible inertia, quantifying the extent of the issue is critical.

For  AstraZeneca’s vaccine, we know that of the 54 million doses administered in the EU and UK by early April, 223 cases of CVST blood clots were reported — an incidence of roughly 4 events per million doses. With background incidence of CVST ranging from 515 cases per million people per year, it is tempting to infer there is no significant elevation due to the vaccine. But emergent cases of post-vaccination CVST seem to coincide with low platelet count, an unusual combination potentially hinting at a deeper association.

Yet making a causal connection is a fraught affair. Both typical CVST and the vaccine-associated CVST are so vanishingly rare that even a handful of recorded events can skew interpretations, rendering estimates of their true incidence intrinsically uncertain. Incidence itself varies with age, sex, and other risk factors – the conceptive pill, for instance, is associated with a 7-fold increase in CVST risk for women aged 15-50. Available data is transient and subject to change: originally it was thought this condition might only affect females, a position which has evolved with growing evidence. Complicating things further, COVID-19 itself is associated with both increased risk of CVST and reduced platelet count. This in effect blurs the picture, making it less clear whether associations might be due to the vaccine or the pandemic itself.


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In this sound and fury, regulators have the unenviable task of trying to strike a pragmatic balance between hypothetical risk and the very real harms COVID-19 has already wracked on the world. The European Medicine Agency (EMA) has repeatedly insisted that the benefits of the AstraZeneca vaccine outweigh the risks. Yet even estimating potential harm is not straightforward, as it pivots on other rapidly changing factors, from age-profile to levels of COVID in the community. It is also entirely possible to fixate on the wrong aspects; current data suggests the youngest cohort (20-29) have the highest apparent incidence of post-vaccination CVST at roughly 11 in a million cases. Understandably concerning as this is, the fact remains that COVID kills an estimated 1/2500 people aged 25-44, or 400 in every million infected.

These comparisons, however, are not always obvious, and there is an emotive aspect underlying numbers that tends to confound us. Risk is rarely intuitive, and our collective innumeracy often tempts us siren-like towards spectacularly wrong inferences. The spectacle of risk intuition utterly failing us is something demonstrated repeatedly during the pandemic. A recurrent argument from anti-mask protesters and lockdown skeptics worldwide downplays the virus as relatively harmless, “only” killing 1% or so of those infected. Yet few would willingly go to sold-out events at Michigan stadium (capacity: 107,000) if 1,000 people randomly died each game. Even though this is roughly the same level of risk, the latter feels far more visceral to us.

Communicating risk too is supremely difficult, and scientists have a chequered history in their attempts to do so. Perhaps most infamous is the WHO’s International Agency for Research on Cancer (IARC), whose cancer risk classification system has been so misinterpreted by the public as to result in the spread of misinformation over things like red meat consumption and cell phone radiation.

The IARC has a laudable mission: to gauge the strength of evidence for cancer hazard from different substances. But IARC’s classification system is based not on degree of risk, but instead gauges strength of evidence for a risk. In other words, classifications do not convey how dangerous something might be; only our certainty that it might be dangerous.  A substance that yielded a hundred-fold increase in cancer risk could be classified Group 1 (strong evidence of risk), the same as a substance that only increased risk a negligible amount — if there were strong evidence that both were dangerous carcinogens.

This has caused wide-scale confusion. To wit: a 2015 IARC communique classifying processed red meat as a group 1 carcinogen was widely misunderstood, with headlines the world over mistakenly proclaiming it to be as much of a cancer risk as smoking and asbestos. In reality, the absolute risk increase in for bowel cancer in heaviest consumers of processed meat was only 1% relative to those who ate none at all (6.5% versus 5.5% lifetime incidence), not remotely comparable to highly carcinogenic agents like cigarette smoke. “Group 1” only implied that there was strong statistical evidence to quantify that the risk was real.

Things become even more nebulous with Group 2A and 2B agents, which are respectively “probably” and “possibly” cancer-causing. In practice, this translates to non-existent or ambiguous evidence, rendering this classification an inadvertent epidemiological dumping ground. This can be readily weaponized by bad-faith actors; classification of radiofrequency radiation as class 2B, for example, has been misrepresented by anti-5G campaigners to falsely imply cell communications cause cancer, despite this being completely at odds with scientific consensus.    

Such disingenuous tactics are grimly successful; public perception is highly malleable, and those hawking them have zero compunction over harnessing a faux-veneer of scientific legitimacy to push profoundly pseudoscientific narratives. 

Anti-vaccine activists have long stood at the apex of this mendacious pantheon; since the advent of the internet, they have proven themselves cynically adept at weaponizing social media. Exposure to anti-vaccine propaganda has a deeply negative impact on parental intentions to vaccinate, with the induced fear of phantom dangers often enough to blind people to the very real harms that vaccines prevent. Anti-vaccine propaganda has been so damaging to public health, in fact,  that in 2019, the dark renaissance of once nigh-on conquered diseases worldwide forced the WHO to declare vaccine hesitancy a top 10 threat to public health

This context is critical to understand Nate Silver’s lamentation that the FDA decision to suspend the J&J vaccine was “going to get people killed..and going to create more vaccine hesitancy.” Predictably, anti-vaccine activists are already twisting the transparency of regulators into their propaganda, presenting this as a proof-positive that all vaccines are dangerous.  In Europe, even after suspensions have been largely lifted, a miasma of doubt still lingers; perceptions that the AstraZeneca vaccine is subpar or dangerous has resulted in the vaccine being rejected in some instances by vulnerable cohorts.  Wrong-headed conceptions of danger threaten to nudge uptake dangerously in the wrong direction.

Yet to some extent, regulators are in an impossible position. Even if risk is virtually negligible and vastly exceeded by benefits, a failure to investigate a potential side-effect would be negligent and unethical. Several national regulators have invoked the “precautionary principle” as a rationale in temporarily suspending vaccine recommendations. But this is perhaps a misunderstanding of the concept, as such a course of action is not risk free; a misguided suspension of the cancer-preventing human papilloma virus (HPV) vaccine in Japan in 2013 led to a confidence crisis, which drove uptake down from 70% to less than 1% within a year —  a situation which will cost an estimated 11,000 lives.   

Suspending administration of COVID vaccines is thus not a zero-risk option. Quite aside from the potential for long-standing damage to public perception, suspensions leave vulnerable people unprotected from the virus, prolonging the pandemic. They also do nothing to mitigate the spread of COVID, nor stem the tide of hospital admissions and needless deaths the vaccine could prevent. Well-intentioned as it is, the precautionary principle is no substitute for evidence-based decision making.   Perhaps a more pragmatic approach is than outright pauses might be a fusion of both schools, a cautious vigilance where vaccinated individuals are monitored for warning signs of these rare CVSTs so that ill-effects can be circumvented without impeding vaccine drives.

The reality is that nothing is risk-free. Measures to mitigate one risk must be balanced with competing hazards; your car seatbelt may decapitate you in an accident, but it is far more likely to save your life. Risk can seem an abstract, nebulous concept, but it is vital perspective is maintained – and that our positions shift with emerging evidence. Risk can be reduced, but never eliminated – any attempt to do is a fool’s errand. But it would benefit all of us to better understand it, especially when a modicum of reflection might save a lot more lives than a knee-jerk reaction.

The one recipe Alice Waters can’t live without

Every week in Genius Recipes — often with your help! — Food52 Founding Editor and lifelong Genius-hunter Kristen Miglore is unearthing recipes that will change the way you cook.

* * *

Picture yourself at a backyard wedding celebration in Berkeley in 1987. (Feels good, right? Wait — come back.)

It’s a potluck, naturally. A simple loaf cake is passed around. “I took one mouthful and my jaw dropped,” Niloufer Ichaporia King told me. “It was one of those extraordinary moments in my tasting life.”

A textile artist named Ragnhild Langlet had baked the cake to share. (Since tasting it, King no longer bothers remembering what she brought.) Each slice was golden fluff, with a warm floral lilt occasionally interrupted by the coy pop of a whole cardamom seed. Langlet generously shared the recipe — “her modular cake,” as she called it, since it was easily multiplied in thirds — and King has found herself rarely able to make another for birthdays and dinner parties since.

“I must say, that cake was a life-changer — it’s become everyone’s favorite,” King told me. But in spite of the cake’s vaunted reputation, it’s as simple as any to make, and perhaps simpler, since the butter can be pulled from the fridge and melted, rather than waiting for it to be just soft enough — but not too soft — to cream. Without leaveners like baking powder or soda, an electric mixer will help fluff the eggs and sugar to ultimate glory, but a strong whisking arm (or four) can get you nearly as far.

The whole cardamom seeds in particular were a revelation to me, like hitting the jackpot in a pint of chocolate chip or chasing every pomegranate seed to the bottom of the salad bowl. Other places you might encounter them close to their natural form: Indian sweets like the flaky confection soan papdi and creamy gajar halwa, and the knotted Swedish buns kardemummabullar. (Let us know if you’ve seen others!)

In the decades since, King has taken the texture extremes further, morphing the cake from a sturdy loaf into a more festive 9-inch round, and added a crackly almond topping, simply by shaking sugar and sliced almonds into the bottom of the pan before smoothing in the airy batter. It can no longer pass for unassuming.

Although Langlet’s cake was Swedish in origin, King now considers it honorary Parsi, both because of the cardamom and perhaps how deeply linked it is to her own life. This is the version she included in her cookbook “My Bombay Kitchen” in 2007, and the one that her friend Alice Waters fell in love with.

In fact, when The Guardian asked Waters what one recipe she couldn’t live without, it wasn’t tender baby lettuces or nectarines just-plucked from a tree — it was this one. “To me, a cake has to be moist and it has to be interesting — Niloufer’s cake is both,” she wrote. “There is magic to it.”

Recipe: Cardamom Cake From Niloufer Ichaporia King

Note: Niloufer’s book “My Bombay Kitchen” was the first Parsi cookbook by a Parsi author published in the U.S. (In the video, Kristen failed to say “published in the U.S.”) To learn even more on Parsi cooking from authors worldwide, check out Niloufer’s bibliography in “My Bombay Kitchen.”

GOP leader hints Liz Cheney will be ousted from leadership role soon: report

On Saturday, Axios reported that some top Republicans are souring on Rep. Liz Cheney (R-WY), the chair of the House Republican Conference and the highest-ranking woman in House GOP leadership.

“The comments by Reps. Steve Scalise, the minority whip, and Jim Banks, chairman of the Republican Study Committee, carry weight because of their close relationship with House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (R-Calif.) — who is openly feuding with Cheney,” reported Jonathan Swan, Glen Johnson, and Alayna Treene. “Banks (R-Ind.), leader of the largest conservative caucus in the House, told Axios Friday that Cheney’s continued criticisms are ‘an unwelcome distraction,’ and he questioned whether she would retain her leadership role in a month.”

Cheney, despite a staunchly conservative voting record on policy, has faced discontent within her party ever since she became the highest-ranking House Republican to vote to impeach former President Donald Trump for incitement to insurrection — one of ten members who crossed the aisle to vote with Democrats.

Republicans subsequently voted to keep her in her position. However, her statement that she would not support a Trump 2024 run, and Trump’s attacks on her following reports she is considering a presidential run herself, have re-opened the wound.

The rise of female UFC fighters obscures profound exploitation, inequality

The mixed martial arts pay-per-view event UFC 261 features two bouts that would have been unheard of just 10 years ago.

Russian-born Valentina Shevchenko will fight Jessica Andrade, a Brazilian and an out lesbian, for the women’s flyweight title on April 24, 2021. That same night, Rose Namajunas, an American of Lithuanian descent, will square off against Zhang Weili, who has caused the popularity of the UFC to surge in her native China, for the women’s strawweight title.

The rise of women in mixed martial arts – which the late Sen. John McCain once derided as “human cockfighting” – is remarkable, and reflects the diversity and global appeal of the sport.

But as I write in my new book, “Fighting Visibility: Sports Women and Female Athletes in the UFC,” it’s important for fans and spectators to look beneath the sheen of gender parity.

While women may glow under the bright lights of the Octagon, exploitation and deep inequalities persist.

Ronda Rousey, trailblazer

In 2011, UFC president Dana White famously said that the promotion company would “never” include female fighters. However a year later, the UFC signed Ronda Rousey for a “six-month experiment” in women’s MMA.

It paid off.

Rousey became a star unparalleled in women’s combat sports history. By 2015, she was the UFC’s highest-paid athlete – male or female. Even though Rousey retired from MMA long ago, the UFC continues to court fans by promoting its women fighters.

Lawrence Epstein, the UFC’s chief operating officer, recently told sports business publication Sportico that female athletes are a “huge growth engine” that brings in different audiences for the company. He noted that featuring women had grown the “female fan base” in ways that have “been transformative to the UFC.”

The UFC’s interest in promoting women has been rare in a sporting landscape that regularly objectifies, trivializes or downright ignores sportswomen and their fans.

Selling a message of empowerment

The phrase “representation matters” is popular across an array of brands and platforms today, and consumers are ready to invest in companies that promote women’s and girls’ empowerment – including a stereotypically hypermasculine brand like the UFC.

The UFC has come to understand the power of promoting diverse female athletes for expanding their market and boosting profits. This doesn’t absolve them from the sexism, racism, xenophobia or transphobia that has characterized the promotion over the years. But it does show that the UFC is willing to give women a platform and sell a message of empowerment.

The promotion often depicts female fighters as heroines who, against all odds, have broken barriers in MMA and in sports more broadly.

Seeing women be successful in the sport gives an impression that anything is possible and all the challenges female fighters have faced are behind them.

So yes, representation matters, and female fighters have, relative to other sports, high levels of exposure, especially given that just 4% of all global sports media coverage features female athletes.

But, as retired UFC fighter Julie Kedzie recently told me, “It’s not enough to shatter the glass ceiling. You have to clear the glass.”

In other words, just because women are in the UFC, it doesn’t mean that they’re treated fairly.

Representation doesn’t end exploitation

The UFC likes to boast that it is unlike any other sport, because female athletes can make as much as men. However, when taking Ronda Rousey out of the equation, there is little evidence to support this.

The UFC isn’t a publicly traded company – at least not yet – so it doesn’t have to disclose athlete pay. Due to the difficulty of obtaining a full picture of fighter pay,the UFC can continue to make claims of parity.

However, most estimates put fighter pay at 10% to 20% of the UFC’s overall revenue, with the bulk of that distributed toward UFC champions and stars – most of whom are men. As a comparison, NFL and NBA players receive around 50% of revenue the leagues take in.

In my research, I obtained a snapshot of fighter pay from some state athletic commissions. Although the picture is incomplete because not all states or countries require the UFC to disclose fighter pay, the data made available to me suggest that the median payout for female fighters is 68% of what male fighters earn.

Fighting can be lucrative for some. But when compared with an MMA empire worth billions of dollars, the reward for individual fighters can seem minuscule – especially when taking into account the mental and physical toll of the sport.

A “climate of fear”

Part of the issue around pay inequality is that the UFC has successfully thwarted fighters’ efforts to unionize and create a path for collective bargaining.

The UFC saves a lot of money because their fighters are independent contractors. This means that fighters must pay for things leagues and teams typically cover in other sports. They fund their own training and coaching, health care, management, retirement investments, recovery therapies and taxes out of their UFC payouts or income from other jobs.

This means that outside of the handful of UFC stars, many fighters struggle to make ends meet.

In my book I interview former UFC fighters Leslie Smith and Kajan Johnson, who tried to organize fighters before the organization ended its relationships with both athletes. They contend that the UFC treats fighters as employees and incorrectly classifies them as independent contractors. For example, fighters have to submit to random drug testing and wear UFC partners’ apparel for their fights, which is atypical of contractual relationships. Smith and Johnson believe that unionization is the best chance fighters have to gain more agency, pay and health care.

Lucas Middlebrook, a labor attorney who advised Smith and Johnson, told me that despite the promise of unionizing, “UFC fighters are proving to be a really difficult group to organize.”

“The reason for that,” he continued, “is the climate of fear that’s been created by the UFC. The amount of control that the UFC exerts over these fighters has done just that. It has created this perfect storm of fear of retaliation.”

A union would benefit all UFC fighters, but women and people of color have historically gained the most from unionizing efforts because unions decrease pay gaps and work inequities.

If you tune into the Weili vs. Namajunas or Shevchenko vs. Andrade bouts, you’ll see an MMA master clinic from women who wouldn’t have been allowed in the UFC a decade ago.

But will Shevchenko get paid to win what Jorge Masvidal – a male athlete also fighting for a title – would be paid to lose?

I wouldn’t bet on it.

Increased visibility of female athletes is important. But the feel-good mantra of “representation matters” cannot hide the fact that female fighters – and male fighters, for that matter – deserve better working conditions and pay in the UFC.

Jennifer McClearen, Assistant Professor of Media Studies, University of Texas at Austin

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

Bill Maher: Giuliani raid “unprecedented” — but so were Trumpworld’s actions

Bill Maher reflected Friday evening on the “unprecedented” nature of a federal raid this week on the home of former New York City Mayor and personal attorney to former President Donald Trump Rudy Giuliani, adding at one point that the actions of Trump and his associates were likely to blame for the historic move.

“This is unprecedented for one of two reasons: Is it political payback, and this is politics?” Maher said on his HBO show, “Real Time with Bill Maher. “Or is it because what Giuliani and Trump did was unprecedented? I would say that.”

He opened the segment by jokingly referring to it as “Giuliani time,” a reference to an alleged 1997 incident in which police officers said “It’s Giuliani time” before brutally beating and sexually assaulting a suspect, Abner Louima, at a Brooklyn precinct house (though Louima later recanted his statement about the phrase). It was also the title of a subsequent documentary which explored the incident and the repercussions of the controversial “Stop and Frisk” policing policies Giuliani implemented during his time as mayor, which have been repeatedly shown to disproportionately affect Black and Latino youth.

When one of Maher’s guests, the author and historian Thomas Frank, pointed out that political cronyism and corruption are time-honored American traditions made famous by the crimes of the Nixon administration, Maher responded, “But did they involve themselves with other countries?”

“Yes, we play dirty politics, but we used to always have one rule: no ringers. Keep it in the family. Do what you do, but don’t bring in the guy from Russia.”

You can watch the full clip below via YouTube:

Conservatives claim to hate “cancel culture” — but it’s the heart of the right-wing agenda

You know who’s not canceled? The endless parade of conservative pundits and politicians complaining about “cancel culture.” You know who is canceled? George Floyd is canceled. Breonna Taylor is canceled. Ma’Khia Bryant is canceled. Andrew Brown Jr. is canceled. They are the true victims in America’s longest-running culture war. Anyone who tells you different is just gaslighting. You want “cancel culture”? America is plagued with cancel culture. And no one is more American than conservatives, as they never cease reminding you.

Despite earlier boutique appeal, the term “cancel culture” had only faintly registered with the broader public before the July Fourth holiday last year (Google trends), when then-President Donald Trump gave a speech at Mount Rushmore, warning of “a growing danger that threatens every blessing our ancestors fought so hard for,” and saying that his opponents’ “political weapons” included ”cancel culture’ — driving people from their jobs, shaming dissenters, and demanding total submission from anyone who disagrees.” 

It was a ludicrous accusation coming from the man who’s signature line — “You’re fired!” — was the quintessential  expression of actually-existing cancel culture. More recently, Trump had been the main driver of the cancellation of NFL Colin Kaepernick, demanding not just that the NFL quarterback be fired, but driven from the country. That absurdity prompted CNN fact-checker Daniel Dale to post a list of people or institutions Trump had called out to cancel on Twitter over the years, ranging from corporations like AT&T, Apple and Macy’s to newspapers like the Dallas Morning News and the Arizona Republic to liberal commentators like Paul Krugman and Touré and even conservatives like Karl Rove, Rich Lowry, Charles Krauthammer and Jonah Goldberg. 

But now that Trump himself has been canceled by the votes of 81,268,924 Americans, “cancel culture” has become a go-to weapon of choice for Trumpian conservatives, fueled by a branded string of stories in conservative media, including the New York Post, Breitbart, the Daily Caller and the Daily Wire. With Trump himself no longer dominating news cycles 24/7, there’s a huge void to fill. Conservative “cancel culture” panic helps fill that void by providing a shared cookie-cutter framework to both fuel and give shape to that panic — which is in fact a genuine cultural panic about the white right’s loss of power to impose its worldview, and resulting judgments, on others. To hold onto power, conservatives are committed to building the “cancel culture” narrative, casting themselves as victims — along the lines of my December Salon story on perceived victimhood

A meaningfully meaningless term

As Media Matters editor Parker Malloy argues, regarding the terms “cancel culture,” “woke” and “identity politics”: “Whatever real definitions these words had before they were co-opted by the right have been diluted to the point of meaninglessness.” For conservatives, that meaninglessness is a feature, not a bug. Those words mean whatever a right-wing accuser needs them to mean in the moment. They are talismanic terms, representing the very cultural power the right feels itself losing in today’s rapidly changing world. “Cancel culture” in particular has a profound Orwellian or even Nietzschean power: a transvaluation of values, transforming a moment of existential loss into one of triumph, at least for as long as we let them get away with it. 

There are, however, two modest constraints on meaning we can observe: the notions that cancel culture is something new, and that it comes exclusively from the left. The reality is exactly the opposite. For as long as culture has been changing, conservatives have tried to stop it by suppressing or demonizing anything that challenges their worldview. Not all conservatives, of course, and not in all ways. But this has been a central thrust of conservative thought, not just in the modern political era, when the terms “liberal” and “conservative” emerged, but as far back as ancient Greece, as Eric Alfred Havelock showed in “The Liberal Temper in Greek Politics.” 

In American history we can see dramatic examples of conservative cancel culture in the Alien and Sedition Acts, in the 4,743 post-Civil War lynchings to terrorize and suppress black political power, in the post-World War I Palmer Raids, in which 10,000 were arrested and 556 deported, in the McCarthy era, during which hundreds were imprisoned and 10,000 to 12,000 Americans lost their jobs — including the long-neglected anti-gay Lavender Scare — and in the FBI’s COINTELPRO Program, which targeted the 1960s civil rights and anti-war movements, labelling Martin Luther King Jr.’s SCLC as a Black nationalist “hate group.” Trump’s obsession with canceling people he fears fits squarely within this historical tradition. After all, his political mentor and second father-figure was Joe McCarthy’s lead investigator, Roy Cohn. We shouldn’t be the least bit surprised or confused by the cancel culture hysteria being promoted today as a front for the same evils it pretends to be fighting against. 

Still, the term itself is new compared to this centuries-long history, so it warrants clarification. In early April, the Washington Post’s Clyde McGrady provided an excellent guide, “The strange journey of ‘cancel,’ from a Black-culture punchline to a White-grievance watchword.” McGrady offers a concise cultural history, from legendary songwriter/producer Nile Rodgers’ experience with a bad date, rendered into the 1981 Chic song “Your Love Is Cancelled” to its appearance in “New Jack City” a decade later to 2000s songs “Hustler’s Ambition” by 50 Cent and “I’m Single” by Lil Wayne and finally to Black Twitter.  

“Declaring someone or something ‘canceled’ on Twitter was not really an attempt to activate a boycott or run anyone from the public square,” McGrady explains. “Saying someone was ‘canceled’ was more like changing the channel — and telling your friends and followers about it — than demanding that the TV execs take the program off the air.” 

It’s worth highlighting that Rodgers’ bad-date experience at the root of all this sprang from his working-class common man rejection of tossing his cultural weight around:

[A]t heart, he was still a humble kid whose parents had struggled with drug addiction and who felt fortunate to have made it as far as he did. So, when his date asked the maître d’ to remove people from a table so they could sit there instead, Rodgers bristled. … 

Her attempt to use his celebrity to push people around was a dealbreaker. “No, no, no, I don’t do that,” Rodgers remembered explaining. “I don’t play that card.”

In short, canceling everyday people in the way that conservatives portray “cancel culture” to work was the exact opposite of what motivated Rodgers to coin the term in the first place, as well as how it’s been used on Twitter. Think about that anytime you hear the term used.

You should also think of everything conservatives are doing — or trying to do — right now to cancel the views of those they disagree with. The following are just a few prominent examples. In each case, it’s about those who wield power “canceling” — or at least trying to cancel — those who would challenge them. Their efforts to cancel democracy at the ballot box (with 361 bills in 47 states as of March 24) and in the streets (81 anti-protest bills in 34 states as of April 21) are deadly serious threats to American democracy.

But the right’s most persistent, long-running cancel-culture attacks center on education. As Fairness and Accuracy In Reporting noted on William F. Buckley’s death, “Buckley’s career began in 1951 with the publication of ‘God and Man at Yale,’ an attack on his alma mater that urged the firing of professors whom he felt were insufficiently hostile to socialism and atheism.” 

Cancel culture in education

In March, Boise State University abruptly suspended all 52 sections of a required general education course, “Foundations of Ethics & Diversity,” citing “allegations that a student or students have been humiliated and degraded in class on our campus for their beliefs and values.” Suspending 52 sections of a required course without investigation for perhaps a single student complaint is of course wildly out of bounds, as pointed out by John K. Wilson at the Academe blog

Even if one instructor had done something terrible in one class, that would only justify (in the most extreme cases) suspending that instructor temporarily and finding a substitute to continue the class. It could not justify suspending all 52 classes in which there was no evidence of any misconduct.

Shedding light on the over-reaction, The Foundation for Individual Rights in Education reported, “The cancellation of the classes comes after more than a year of lawmakers’ efforts to rein in classes at Idaho universities and colleges.” But the legislature wasn’t acting on its own, as Wilson made clear:

The Idaho legislators are being pressured by right-wing nonprofits who demand censorship of liberal ideas on campus. A December 2020 report from the right-wing Idaho Freedom Foundation and the Claremont Institute declared that “eliminating social justice initiatives at Idaho’s universities is necessary for meaningful reform, as well as disrupting their ability to provide stable careers for social justice advocates.” The report called for the state legislature to act by “penalizing universities that continue to emphasize social justice education.” This report urged the state legislature to violate academic freedom and ban classes it deemed too liberal: “Direct the University to eliminate courses that are infused with social justice Ideology.” Leading right-wing think tanks are actively demanding a ban on courses based on their ideology. This is an example of conservative cancel culture far more extreme than anything pushed by left-wing activists. 

The report doesn’t just call for eliminating individual courses, however. It calls for the elimination of five whole departments — Gender Studies, Sociology, Global Studies, Social Work and History — that it claims are infused with “social justice” ideology. (A sixth blacklisted department has since been added: Criminal Justice.) Eight other departments (later updated to nine) are on a watch list of sorts, judged to be “social justice in training.” What conservatives want here is strikingly similar to what Viktor Orbán has done in Hungary, where he’s just announced the privatization of 11 public universities, to be run by political allies. 

Boise State’s recklessly illegal actions are just the tip of the iceberg. On April 15, Education Week reported that Republican lawmakers in eight states (including Idaho) have drafted bills restricting how teachers can discuss racism and sexism. “The bills use similar language as an executive order former President Donald Trump put in place to ban diversity trainings for federal workers,” it reported. 

Georgetown political scientist Donald Moynihan saw all this coming years ago. In a New York Times op-ed just before Trump took office, Moynihan — then at the University of Wisconsin — focused attention on what was really happening where he worked.

“At least three times in the past six months, state legislators have threatened to cut the budget of the University of Wisconsin at Madison for teaching about homosexuality, gender and race,” his article began. All the discussions focused on the dangers of “political correctness” (the buzzword of choice before “cancel culture”) bore no relation to his own experience teaching at public universities in three states over 14 years. “Students can protest on the campus mall, demanding that policies be changed; elected officials can pass laws or cut resources to reflect their beliefs about how a campus should operate,” he wrote. “One group has much more power than the other.” 

I asked Moynihan about how he came to write that piece when he did. Here’s what he said: 

I was first engaged on speech issues when the then-governor of Wisconsin, Scott Walker, proposed to remove “the search for truth” from my university’s mission statement. (He would later claim it was a typo.) He then reduced tenure protections for faculty and new policies that would have made it easier to bring guns on campus. Republican politicians would talk about free speech on campus, but seemed to be intent on eroding the conditions to protect such speech. Politicians were also willing to target faculty members. The chair of the Assembly Higher Education committee started monitoring faculty syllabi and calling for the firing of faculty whose courses he did not like. 

That was when I spoke out…. It seemed deeply unfair that state officials would so blatantly use their power to determine what was, and what was not, acceptable speech. …

Soon after a Ben Shapiro talk was interrupted for about 10 minutes the legislature proposed and the conservative Board of Regents adopted a new set of policies that they said protected free speech but effectively forced campuses to punish students for protest. Our Board of Regents was almost uniformly conservative appointees who seemed to see it as their job to attack the institution they had been appointed to represent.

I’ll have more to say about Shapiro’s role below. But it’s part of a broader campaign. “Conservatives have been successful at demonizing the people who work on campus — faculty, staff and students — as threats to free speech,” Moynihan told me. “Attacking universities became a staple of the far right, propelled by an entire ecosystem of media funded by donors like the Koch or DeVos families, such as Campus Reform. [More on them below, too.] Tucker Carlson had a themed segment called ‘Campus Craziness.'”

 Worse than that, Moynihan said: 

The mainstream media bought it. It wasn’t just on the right. Journalists at the Atlantic or writers in the New York Times told us that students were becoming dangerously intolerant, and faculty were brainwashing them. My op-ed in the Times was one of the few that pushed against that general narrative. The dominant narrative, even in places like the New York Times, was that conservative speech was being suppressed, and the students and faculty were the villains. Someone counted this! They found that over an 18-month stretch, there were 21 op-eds about the suppression of conservative speech but just three, including mine, on conservative threats to speech.

Remember: Moynihan’s op-ed ran just days before Trump took office, having made complaints about “political correctness” a recurrent campaign theme.  

“Once the general narrative was established, even trivial examples — students at Oberlin complaining about food names – were presented as serious and representative threats to speech,” Moynihan continued. “There were also a series of college tours by people like Milo Yiannopoulos, Ann Coulter and Ben Shapiro who said offensive things designed to enrage people, and then generated protests and interruptions that embellished their brands as fearless free-speech champions.” 

In March 2018, Sanford Ungar reported on results from the Georgetown Free Speech Tracker:

[M]ost of the incidents where presumptively conservative speech has been interrupted or squelched in the last two or three years seem to involve the same few speakers: Milo Yiannopoulos, Ben Shapiro, Charles Murray, and Ann Coulter…. In some instances, they seem to invite, and delight in, disruption.

At Vox, Zack Beauchamp put a finer point on it:

What Ungar is suggesting here is that the “campus free speech” crisis is somewhat manufactured. Conservative student groups invite speakers famous for offensive and racially charged speech — all of the above speakers fit that bill — in a deliberate attempt to provoke the campus left. In other words, they’re trolling. 

Trolling takes other forms as well, as Alice Speri reported for the Intercept in early April. Her story carried the subhead, “Campus Reform and its publisher, the Leadership Institute, are siccing armies of trolls on professors across the country.” Campus Reform purports to expose “liberal bias and abuse on the nation’s college campuses,” but regularly relies on misrepresentation, first to elicit faculty comments and then to mis-report them, making them seem as sinister as possible.  “Over the last several years, Campus Reform has targeted hundreds of college professors,” Speri reported, “leading to online harassment campaigns, doxxing, threats of violence, and calls on universities to fire their faculty.” 

A Trinity College assistant professor, Isaac Kamola, “has tracked more than 1,570 stories posted on Campus Reform since 2020 and surveyed the 338 individuals they targeted.” He “found that at least 40 percent of respondents received ‘threats of harm’ following a Campus Reform article, mostly via email and social media.” She goes on to say, “Less than half the people surveyed by Kamola reported receiving support from their universities’ administrations, and more than 12 percent reported facing disciplinary action as a result of a Campus Reform story. Three people said they lost their jobs.”

In short, they were canceled. And no one put them on national TV to talk about it. That’s just one more way in which conservative gaslighting about cancel culture advances the very thing conservatives claim to be concerned about. 

“Having created the narrative of the intolerant liberal campus as a problem, conservative politicians could propose a solution,” Moynihan continued. “They could make a case for why their policing of speech on campus was actually protecting free speech. They effectively persuaded many that politicians should be trusted to monitor speech on campus, more than the people who lived on campus and have historically done a pretty good job of protecting speech.”

But none of this matched reality. “Wisconsin has a long history of protest and counter-protest on campus, some of it quite violent. The idea that students had suddenly become aggressive seemed clearly wrong to me,” Moynihan recalled. “These terms I kept hearing just did not fit with my experience with the students I engaged with. The gap between my lived experience on campus and what was being portrayed in the media was large.” 

At the same time, “I looked around the world and saw a very disturbing trend: Authoritarian governments in places like Hungary, Turkey and China were policing speech on campus as part of their effort to stifle dissent, using many of the same tools that U.S. state legislatures are adopting,” Moynihan said. “For example, a bill in Florida encourages students to record and monitor their professors to expose their views. What could be more chilling to speech in the classroom? This is the same tool that China uses to control universities: Student informers report any dissent against the party.”

Canceling democracy at the ballot box

Trump’s refusal to accept his defeat in the 2020 election was the epitome of attempting to cancel democracy. But it was only an intensification of processes already underway. Republicans have only won the popular vote for president once in eight elections since 1988. They have not represented a majority of voters in the Senate since 1996. Their $30 million REDMAP project in 2010 created the most sweeping partisan redistricting of the House in US history, as former Salon editor in chief David Daley recounted in “Ratf**ked.” Baseless claims of voter fraud have been repeatedly invoked in justifying and motivating voter suppression efforts. More broadly, a new study of state-level democratic backsliding since 2000 found that “Republican control of state government, however, consistently and profoundly reduces state democratic performance during this time period.”

Still, what’s happening now goes considerably further. A majority of Republicans refuse to believe Biden legitimately won the election, leading to an avalanche of new voter suppression bills — 361 bills in 47 states as of March 24, according to the Brennan Center, which reported:

Most restrictive bills take aim at absentee voting, while nearly a quarter seek stricter voter ID requirements. State lawmakers also aim to make voter registration harder, expand voter roll purges or adopt flawed practices that would risk improper purges, and cut back on early voting. 

Sharply underscoring the cancel culture motivations — the conflict between established state power and shifting public opinion — the report continued: “The states that have seen the largest number of restrictive bills introduced are Texas (49 bills), Georgia (25 bills), and Arizona (23 bills). Bills are actively moving in the Texas and Arizona statehouses, and Georgia enacted an omnibus voter suppression bill last week.”

The most infamous aspect of the Georgia law is its restriction on giving water to people waiting in long lines to vote. But as election law expert Rick Hasen explained in a New York Times op-ed, there’s something even more sinister involved, a “new threat of election subversion” that “represent[s] a huge threat to American democracy itself.” Specifically, “The Georgia law removes the secretary of state from decision-making power on the state election board,” which is aimed at Brad Raffensperger, who refused to “find” 11,780 votes to overturn Biden’s victory. “But the changes will apply to Mr. Raffensperger’s successor, too, giving the legislature a greater hand in who counts votes and how they are counted,” Hasen explained. 

It’s hardly an isolated case, he noted: “According to a new report by Protect DemocracyLaw Forward and the States United Democracy Center, Republican legislators have proposed at least 148 bills in 36 states that could increase the chances of cooking the electoral books.” More precisely, the press release says: 

Many of the bills would make elections more difficult to administer or even unworkable; make it more difficult to finalize election results; allow for election interference and manipulation by hyper-partisan actors; and, in the worst cases, allow state legislatures to overturn the will of the voters and precipitate a democracy crisis. If these bills had been in place in 2020, they would have significantly added to the turmoil of the post-election period, and raised the prospect that the outcome of the election would have been contrary to the popular vote.

This is what a real cancel culture crisis looks like. And it’s 100% conservative from top to bottom. There are of course some individual conservatives who strongly object — but nowhere near enough.

Canceling democracy in the streets

But democracy doesn’t begin and end at the polls. The First Amendment protects basic freedoms that make meaningful democracy possible, including “the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” Republicans have been busy trying to cancel our democracy on this front as well, with 81 anti-protest bills introduced in 34 states during the 2021 legislative session, “more than twice as many proposals as in any other year, according to Elly Page, a senior legal adviser at the International Center for Not-for-Profit Law,” the New York Times reported on April 21. (Those laws are tracked here.) 

“Republican legislators in Oklahoma and Iowa have passed bills granting immunity to drivers whose vehicles strike and injure protesters in public streets,” the Times reported. But that’s just the tip of the iceberg. “We’ve seen at least 15 bills introduced that would create new immunity for drivers who hit protesters with their cars,” Page’s colleague Nick Robinson told Democracy Now! on April 26. That just one of many objectionable features in a recently-passed Florida bill that Gov. Ron DeSantis signed while claiming it was as “anti-rioting.” The ACLU of Florida characterized it instead as “anti-protest.” Just three people would be enough to constitute a “riot” and 26 would constitute an “aggravated riot,” potentially facing long prison sentences.

“Under this new bill, let’s say you just go to a protest, and a handful of people kick over a trash can. Just by being part of that crowd, you can be arrested and prosecuted for rioting and face a felony,” Robinson explained. “Actually, under the law, no one actually has to commit any violence at all. If there’s just a danger to property, then people can be arrested for rioting.” 

In short, this a naked governmental power grab, meant to squelch popular protest, and aimed specificallyat Black Lives Matter protesters. How do we know? Florida lawmakers said as much, and they included a provision blocking any Florida city or county from cutting police budgets without explicit permission from the state. 

Conservative anti-protest cancel culture is nothing new, of course. The Palmer Raids were supposed to head off a Russian Revolution-style violent uprising, but only turned up a total of four pistols from thousands of arrests. More recently, Republican state lawmakers have focused on criminalizing climate activism, as the Brennan Center reported in March:

Since 2016, 13 states have quietly enacted laws that increase criminal penalties for trespassing, damage, and interference with infrastructure sites such as oil refineries and pipelines. At least five more states have already introduced similar legislation this year. 

The laws are based on post-9/11 national security legislation to protect vital physical infrastructure, “but most state critical infrastructure laws focus more narrowly on oil and gas pipelines,” the Center noted. “While protecting critical infrastructure is a legitimate government function, these laws clearly target environmental and Indigenous activists by significantly raising the penalties for participating in or even tangentially supporting pipeline trespassing and property damage, crimes that are already illegal.”

And there’s one final conservative cancel culture twist: the question of who’s calling the shots: 

Many laws are modeled on draft legislation prepared by the American Legislative Exchange Council, also known as ALEC, a powerful lobbying group funded by fossil fuel companies like ExxonMobil and Shell.

Cancel culture In Congress

Those are three broad areas where conservative cancel culture is both widespread and deeply dangerous to democracy. But that’s hardly the whole story. Consider what’s happened with two key Biden appointments, Vanita Gupta, for Associate Attorney General, and Kristen Clarke to head the DOJ Civil Rights Division. Both were subject to dishonest, racist right-wing smear campaigns, as CNN reported, and Gupta was confirmed 51-49, with just one Republican vote (Sen. Lisa Murkowski of Alaska) on April 21. Both were relentlessly portrayed as dangerous extremists, when they’ve actually been leaders of mainstream civil rights organizations — the Leadership Conference on Civil and Human Rights (Gupta) and Lawyers’ Committee on Civil Rights Under Law (Clarke). Both were attacked for supposedly being anti-police (no racial stereotyping there, right?) even though both had been endorsed by police organizations, including the Fraternal Order of Police (Gupta) and the Major Cities Chiefs Association (Clarke). 

The attacks on them were part of a broader pattern of attacks on nominees who are women and/or people of color, including Xavier Becerra (Health and Human Services), Deb Haaland (Department of Interior) and Neera Tanden (Office of Management and Budget). Becerra was confirmed 50-49 — with Sen. Susan Collins of Maine as his only GOP vote — while Tanden’s nomination was withdrawn. 

All this is simply accepted as normal now, but it’s prima facie evidence of a concerted conservative cancel-culture effort to stifle the voices of key Democratic constituencies. It’s visible in the broad reach of voter suppression efforts, of protest suppression efforts and curriculum suppression efforts as well. They’ve all but given up on advancing anything like a governing agenda. At the Atlantic, Ron Brownstein observed:

With their opposition to President Joe Biden’s infrastructure plan, Republicans are doubling down on a core bet they’ve made for his presidency: that the GOP can maintain support among its key constituencies while fighting programs that would provide those voters with tangible economic assistance. 

To accomplish that, they have to cancel reality itself. No problem — Republicans have been doing that for decades. The only difference now is that they’ve stopped doing anything else.

Nigella Lawson: “Cook for yourself. No one else is going to judge you.”

She gained fame in the era of restaurant-trained, bad-boy celebrity chefs, but Nigella Lawson was never going to be the person yelling at hapless cooks on TV or swaggering on about how exotic and adventurous her appetites are. Nor, however, was she ever the picture of submissive feminine perfection — the “Domestic Goddess” thing was meant to be cheeky.

For those who’ve actually read her bestselling cookbooks and watched her numerous TV series, Lawson has endured because she is that ally you want in your kitchen — the person who sincerely is curious about food and loves it, who doesn’t want to pick a fight over how you cut an onion or what you like on your pizza.

Lawson’s first book, “How to Eat,” was inspired in part out of the sound of the sobs of a dinner party host weeping in the other room and her empathetic sense that there’s no use crying over unset creme caramel. Lawson’s new book, “Cook, Eat, Repeat,” is in many ways a throwback to her star-making early books, a collection of recipes, yes, but also a meditation on the connective act of cooking and the alchemy inherent within a recipe. It’s also very much the story of this moment in time, a reflection on what it means to put food on the table and who we bring with us, if only in memory.

Salon spoke to Lawson recently for a “Salon Talks” about pleasure, pandemics and the case for brown food. To learn more, read or watch our conversation below.

This transcript has been lightly edited for clarity and length.

You have been cited in The Guardian as the only English celebrity we can describe just by her first name and know who she is.  Nigella, welcome.

Thank you so much. I have to say though, I didn’t need to use a surname when I was at nursery school or daycare because it’s an odd name, so I don’t think, I’m afraid, it’s any testament to great fame. It’s just the ludicrousness of my name, but I’ve got used to it now.

You’re being modest, but if you had been named Jennifer, maybe it would be just a little bit different.

Exactly. 

This book is a unique for you after all of these years. Tell me about what you wanted to say in this one, because it does feel very different.

Well, without absolutely having made the decision, it is a slight return or it draws on the style more of my very first book. There is a lot of writing in it, but it seems to me that one of the great pleasures in food is reflecting on all the ways it enhances our life or speaks about things that are outside the domain of food. Connections and attitudes towards food can be very much inculcated in us from childhood onwards, and then as you get older, you clarify your own thoughts and responses. In a way I feel that cooking and the food you like is so related to personality, to temperament, to experiences we’ve had. I wanted to write about that, but initially I had two thoughts.

One was to want to write about ingredients that meant a lot to me and how they could be used in cooking in a very versatile way. So, not just giving recipes but also suggestions and thoughts on why these particular flavors seem to be powerful.

I also wanted to write a bit about what cooking is about and to me. It’s a very dynamic marriage between the endless, repeated tasks — chopping and stirring — that really form the framework of nearly every dish we make and because of those familiar patterns, the things that you can be spontaneous about. What spice am I going to add? Do I want this to have a bit more zing? Am I going to add lime juice to it or am I happy with orange juice?

I wanted to talk a bit about the way things are in relation to one another. People feel the drudgery, if you want to call it that, but it can feel like that sometimes, the drudgery of cooking. They think it often so diametrically opposed to that free-flowing creativity. But to me, they depend upon one another, and that means in a way you’ve always got your hand held when you’re cooking, because so much of what you’re doing is essentially you’ve done before.

Of course it’s not the same if I were trying to be cooking the tradition of some pioneering French restaurant chef, but I wouldn’t be able to do that and it wouldn’t suit the sort of life I have. So, those moments of creativity are important, but I wanted to talk about the lure of cooking. Many things are just the same — chopping or stirring — there’s not really much else you’re doing apart from those two things in cooking. But also while you cook, your intelligence has to leave your brain to some extent. You have to stop thinking and you make decisions because of the smell of something, how it tastes the feel of it in your hands. That’s tremendously relaxing when we’ve all been so trapped by that fidgety brain because it’s been a very worrying time.

Now, I was writing about this before it happened. Believe it or not, “Cook, Eat, Repeat” is a pre-pandemic project and title, but I certainly feel that when everyone was feeling so threatened by what was going on outside, that potting about in the kitchen and having control over your environment, really reminds you of how important cooking is. It isn’t just about the eating — that’s important — but days have been very baggy and amorphous. And yet somehow you’re given structure, you’re given sustenance, and cooking provides moments of such uplifting beauty.

I often think, just the beautiful colors of orange peel as your preparing something, the leeks as you cook them and their green suddenly goes slightly more intense before it fades again, all these things, these snatches of beauty, they make such a lot of difference. Now particularly because we’re not traveling, we’re seeing the same sky all the time and somehow if you can find joy in those small things that you need to do every day, your life is going to improve. It has to, and it is those small things that make all the difference in life.

It feels to me, reading this book, that there is a continuation of your origin story in some ways — the anecdote of a dinner host  crying in the kitchen over a pudding and that sense of, “It shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t be this scary. It shouldn’t be this stressful.” It’s 23 years later and many of us still have this anxiety, walking into that kitchen, facing that food again and feeling it has to be perfect, it has to be beautiful. 

And that it has to be more like restaurant food, which it doesn’t. Home cooking is the sort of food that tells a story, either of the families we come from or conversely, the person we are in contradistinction to the families we come from, and that food is not about technique and it’s not about  tap dancing your way into applause. It’s a way of finding ease and creating ease for other people. Of course this year, it’s been particularly important because so many people, myself included, just had ourselves to feed. What changed in the book for me perhaps is, there are more recipes for one or notes as to how to change a recipe to be for one. There’s a huge treat you give yourself just by cooking for yourself and by concentrating on what would give you pleasure. You actually make ourselves more alive to pleasures generally.

I have a chapter here called “Pleasures,” which stems from my irritation at all times, about it being presumed that so much of what we eat constitutes a guilty pleasure. For me, pleasure in eating, as in so many other things, is not about guilt. It’s about gratitude. To feel hammered by guilt is in a way an act of ingratitude, and I think this is important. It’s so important. It’s about saying, “I deserve pleasure and I deserve to keep myself alive and in happy and good condition.” And that’s a huge thing. If it’s always reduced to what you should be eating or what you shouldn’t be eating, whether it’s for reasons of body image or reasons of status, I disapprove of that. You like the food you like. I think truthfully, you can’t lie about what food you like eating and nor should you ever have to.

And of course the concept of guilty pleasures is not just about food. We see it in everything. You can’t watch a movie or read a book without that.

Yes, or you’re embarrassed.The guilty pleasure is an awkward distancing approach to say, “I know I shouldn’t like this but I do.” Maybe it’s ironic or maybe it’s for another reason. It’s almost like saying, “I don’t have permission,” and you can’t wait for other people to give you permission. I mean, I’m very gladly a bestower of permission but that’s immaterial. Everyone has to give themselves permission to enjoy what they enjoy and not apologize for it and not worry about the judgment of others, because it’s so pointless.

The two things that are very difficult to have a debate about are whether there’s a flavor you like or don’t like, or whether you find a joke funny or not. These things come from right inside us. You can learn to taste differently and be adventurous if you want to be but even then, that only works if you give yourself permission not to like something if you try it. It’s very tiresome to say to people, “No, try it, try it, try it. You will like it this time.” Maybe you won’t. Not everyone can like the same thing. The practice of allowing yourself to take pleasure is the same process, however different the flavors might be, or indeed whether it’s cooking or reading or watching films.

And that demand for austerity is felt more deeply by women.

Well, women are policed more than men are, so often women also are worried that people are thinking, “Oh, she shouldn’t be eating that.” You sort of mock yourself before you feel someone else is going to do it. That’s a very harmful way to live, and self-consciousness is so inhibiting. One of the wonderful things about cooking I’ve found is that we grow up often because of our families or how we fit in or it could be an experience at school that you feel, I’m not the sort of person who can do that because everyone’s always said, “Oh you’re clumsy,” or “Don’t, you’ll knock that over,” or “This isn’t what you’re good at.” But left alone, you are good at it.

That’s why I always say to people, “Cook for yourself. No one else is going to judge you. Your shoulders will lower, you’ll learn what you like and what you don’t like away from that feeling of judgment.” I do feel everything translates to something else so that once you get yourself out of that little tight tunnel of, “I have to be this person or I’m not that person. I was always told I couldn’t do that,” you think, “Well, what can I translate it to?” Because fear is so self perpetuating, sometimes you just have to think, “I know I’m frightened of that but I’m going to do it.” But you don’t want to do it with an audience.

In your first book you talk about the fact that you can be a great eater and not a very skilled cook, but it is very difficult, if not impossible, to be a good cook and not love food. That concept of pleasure is connected with our ability to cook and our ability to go for it with the kinds of flavors we want, to really just feel uninhibited with the way we want to cook. 

I was brought up in a very food focused family and my mother was an instinctive and very good cook, but she didn’t eat properly herself. It was a trap I didn’t want to fall into, and it seemed such a tremendous pity. She died young without much time to know beforehand. Two weeks before, she said, “This is the first time I’ve been able to eat without worrying about it or feeling guilty.” I just thought, “You cannot wait until you’re terminally ill before you can take pleasure from food, this is so wrong.” Even if I don’t consciously think it all the time, that can’t help but inform everything I do to feel that it’s a way of curtailing your life before it even is curtailed. That’s no way to go.

We live in such a polarized world. Everyone thinks that means I’m saying, “Eat everything nonstop. Get a jug of cream. And I’m not. I’m saying if you stop policing yourself, your body balances. It tells you what it wants to eat, it knows, and that’s important. You have to have a relationship with your body and your appetites.

You also make a case in this book about what it means to be aesthetically pleasing. I love that you make an argument for brown food, because this is a moment where everything has to be so beautifully styled, and, “Why would you make something if you’re not going to photograph it?” Yet sometimes the most delicious things in the world are the most humble and not the most photogenic.

No, they’re not the most photogenic. There are times when you just want food that has got the sort of uncontained texture that just goes all over the place. And the texture is what people don’t like the look of, but actually when it’s in your bowl, you’re not expecting it to look picture postcard pretty but it has a beauty of its own. It’s just not perhaps sort of, “Oh, grab me, look at me now,”

Also, I wanted a chapter to talk about the sort of food that while deeply delicious, is not high-octane, because everything now is supposed to draw attention to itself. But actually, some food doesn’t need to draw attention to itself. It just has to be there, and there are certain moods when you just want something that tastes good but it doesn’t demand something of you. You don’t have to be equal to it. It’s there to sooth and to comfort and to bolster.

There’s a story that you have been telling all along, which is to not be afraid in the kitchen. But I wonder, having been at this a long time, do you feel that we as cooks are actually changing and have that perspective of confidence? I look around and I’m not sure. I feel in some ways we’ve regressed in terms of our ability to get in the kitchen and feel like, “I know what I’m doing,” because there are so many voices telling us, “No, you don’t. Do it my way.”

Because we live in an era of clickbait there’s this proliferation of articles that say, “You’ve been cooking scrambled eggs wrong all your life,” as if there’s ever one way to cook anything, or one way to eat scrambled eggs. If one person wants them as dry curds and the other person wants it more or less as a drink, fine.

I do feel people are also beginning to feel that they could be the judge of whether they want something that has more spice and fire in it or whether they don’t. People do need to be reassured that they are allowed to make up their own mind because often that is undermined. I feel that there are so many home cooks out there who derive tremendous pleasure out of cooking and are ready to carry on playing in the kitchen and getting that feeling of quiet satisfaction, that’s sustaining themselves. In the end, no one has to cook all the time. If you want to get takeout, no one’s going to stop you but you do need to feel that you can keep yourself going, and I like that.

I find pleasure [in the] deliberation and then the pottering about and cooking and then knowing sometimes I’ve got leftovers in the fridge. If I’m reduced to a mere consumer — that happens a bit in the before times, if I were on tours, say — that can be fascinating, but to me it minimizes the pleasure.

But I’m not judgmental. Buying good cheese and enjoying it, having great tomatoes and making a salad, I don’t think it’s any lesser if you haven’t created everything you’re going to eat all the time because that’s not realistic. 

It’s ridiculous but I do think, “Ah, they look so beautiful in the bowl and now I’m going to put a bit of lemon zest on.” That endless wanting to be part of it, it’s that. I like being part of it. There are certain ways of cooking that I find alienating so I don’t do them a lot, like pressure cooking. They’re fantastic, pressure cookers and an Instant Pot, it’s really great. But I feel locked out of the whole exercise. I will do it sometimes but most of all, I like it when I can lift a lid and have a bit of a stir and then go lie on the couch again and read a bit more of a book and then come back and taste it. I love that, I like it being part of my life.

In everything you’re talking about, whether it’s a recipe for a cheesecake or it’s just about anchovies on toast, it’s about having that time in your life to just sit with food and be part of it and your relationship with it.

And savoring the moment and the memories and the hopes for the future. So, it’s rather wonderful. It exists in the continuum.

“Shrek” at 20: celebrating the film’s unique brand of animated anarchy and sardonic irreverence

While Pixar’s groundbreaking “Toy Story” often achieves plaudits for the shot in the arm it gave Hollywood animation in the mid-1990s, it’s impossible to ignore the influence of DreamWorks’ 2001 computer-animated hit “Shrek.” The grubbier and more sarcastic sibling to Woody and Buzz, “Shrek” was a milestone for American cartoons that paved the way for a unique brand of animated anarchy and sardonic irreverence that still holds sway across the industry today.

Back in 2001, animation’s digital revolution was slowly but surely gaining momentum. In the U.S. alone, the first “Toy Story” in 1995 was followed by Pixar’s insect-themed epic “A Bug’s Life” three years later, and then a second outing for Woody and the gang in “Toy Story 2” in 1999. There was also a handful of other features, from “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” (2001) to “Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius” (2001), which further tested the possibilities of computer-generated (CG) characters to varying degrees of success. And then came “Shrek.”

DreamWorks had already dipped its toes into the digital waters with its CG debut “Antz” in 1998. A film about an underground ant colony, it seemed to gazump rival feature “A Bug’s Life,” which would appear in cinemas only a month later.

The competition between the two films was further stoked by the fact that DreamWorks co-founder Jeffrey Katzenberg had been fired from Walt Disney in 1994 by then-president and CEO Michael Eisner. Katzenberg, it seemed, had beaten Disney to the punch.

“Antz” grossed a healthy US$171.8 million internationally (though roughly half of “A Bug’s Life”‘s US$363.3 million). It was next followed by the studio’s brief forays into traditional animated production with “The Prince of Egypt” and “The Road to El Dorado.”

However, it was the commercial and critical success of “Shrek” that really announced Katzenberg’s DreamWorks as a major force in a blossoming U.S. animation industry. The film earned a whopping US$488 million internationally, cementing DreamWorks as a serious competitor for animation audiences and posing the first recognised threat to Pixar’s CG supremacy.

Beyond “Once Upon a Time . . .”

Adapted from William Steig’s 1990 picture book of the same name, the animated “Shrek” set the template for a particular kind of adult-oriented cartoon. Magic kingdoms were firmly out, and mud baths and swamps were very much in.

The film’s ironic distance, scornful approach to its fairy tale subject matter, smattering of literary and film references, as well as its broader pop culture literacy, have all since impacted the tone of several blockbuster animated features.

The “tech” of “Shrek” also marked a step-up for computer graphics. This included the sophisticated digital rendering of fire and water, and the illusion of convincing human characters.

Behind-the-scenes, “Shrek” was no less revolutionary in the handling of its A-list celebrity voice cast. Animation studios have a longstanding history of casting bankable stars to voice their cartoon creations. However, actors Mike Myers, Cameron Diaz, Eddie Murphy and John Lithgow were positioned front and center as part of the film’s advertising campaign in ways not seen before in the marketing of mainstream animated features.

Continuing the Legacy

“Shrek”‘s appeal since its original release in April 2001 has steadily increased. This has been thanks to a profitable franchise, including a cycle of big-screen sequels (three between 2004 and 2010) and spin-offs like 2011’s “Puss in Boots,” and Christmas and Halloween TV specials. There have also been video game adaptations, a stage musical on Broadway and a theme park ride. All have preserved and expanded the “Shrek” mythology.

As the original film hits its 20th anniversary, accompanied by the hashtag #Shrek20thAnniversary, numerous animators and artists have been vocal across social media in their praise for the film. Previously unseen artwork have been shared alongside storyboards, early CGI test material and even audio footage of comedian Chris Farley’s original performance as Shrek” (Farley died in December 1997 having recorded a substantial portion of the role, only to be replaced by Myers).

The Hollywood trade press has also got in on the act of championing “Shrek”‘s legacy. Variety recently heralded “Shrek”‘s soundtrack as a “millennial cultural touchstone,” explaining how its turn towards contemporary music instead of original songs marked a first for popular animated features (the soundtrack featured on the Billboard 200 and also achieved a Grammy nomination).

“Shrek”‘s signature hit – Smash Mouth’s “All Star” which served to introduce the bad-tempered ogre in the film’s opening sequence – was certainly a departure from Disney’s “A Whole New World” and “Circle of Life.” Yet its bombastic tone once again fitted the film’s playful anti-Disney sensibility. “Shrek”‘s frequent aims at the Mouse House’s recognisable narrative formula and saccharine sentimentality were deemed a pointed dig at Katzenberg’s former employers too.

The future of “Shrek” on the big screen remains unresolved. A fifth film has been in the works for years, cancelled, revived, and then cancelled again. The current word is that Shrek, Donkey and Fiona might yet appear in another instalment.

For fans of the iconic “Shrek,” it’s definitely not ogre yet.

Christopher Holliday, Lecturer in Film Studies, Department of Liberal Arts, King’s College London

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

MSNBC anchor rips West Virginia governor on air over anti-trans law

MSNBC’s Stephanie Ruhle delivered blow after blow when she shredded West Virginia Gov. Jim Justice’s (R) futile argument in defense of the state’s newly-passed anti-trans bill that restricts transgender girls and women from competing on athletic teams.

On Friday, April 30, when Justice appeared on the show with Ruhle, she asked if he could identify one isolated incident where a transgender child attempted to gain an unfair athletic advantage. The Republican governor failed to provide a solid answer.

“I can’t really tell you one, but I can tell you this, Stephanie, I’m a coach and I coach a girl’s basketball team and I can tell you, we all know — we all know what absolute advantage boys would have playing against girls,” he reasoned, misgendering transgender girls. “We don’t need that.”

Ruhle fired back at Justice by asking him why he chose to sign a bill into law when he had no actual evidence to support a prioritized need for it. She went on to offer Justice details about more pressing issues in his state with a brief overview of poor statistics about his governing state as she criticized him for prioritizing the wrong initiatives.

“Let’s talk about other things I can give you examples of in your state,” she said. “According to U.S. News & World Report, West Virginia ranked 47th in health care, 48th in the economy, and 50th in infrastructure. If you cannot name one single example for me of a child doing this, why would you make this a priority? I named four things that would seem to me like a much bigger priority.”

Watch the entire clip below via YouTube:

Justice insisted that he did not view the bill as a priority, but Ruhle appeared unimpressed with his response.

“It just came to me and I actually signed it because I believe from the standpoint of a coach, I believe that girls worked so hard to obtain Title Nine, and I do not have any idea now why we are trying to disadvantage them in participating in a sport that they put so much into,” he replied. ” I don’t know why we’re doing that. This is not like it’s a big priority to me.”

After doubling down on the fact that the bill was not a priority, he admitted that there are probably no more than a dozen transgender children across the entire state of West Virginia. However, he still felt the need to incorporate a statewide measure.

“I mean for crying out loud, Stephanie, I sign hundreds of bills, hundreds of bills,” Justice added. “This is not a priority to me. But with all of that, I would say, I think that it would impose an unfair disadvantage on the girls. So, from that standpoint, I support it.”

Before concluding the interview, Ruhle added, “I can show you evidence of how ranking that low in education is disadvantaging young women and men in West Virginia.”

 

New paleontology find reveals that tyrannosaurs hunted in packs

Among all the dinosaurs, the Tyrannosaurus rex holds a special place in human culture. The fearsome predator is one of the most iconic dinos, well-represented in film and literature. In the classic 1993 movie “Jurassic Park,” T. Rex appeared as a solitary monster, hunting the protagonists and other dinosaurs with bloodthirsty gusto.

Now, it turns out the stereotype of the tyrannosaur as a “lone wolf” predator may be a misconception. 

A new study published in the scientific journal PeerJ, based on a paleontology discovery of a number of tyrannosaurs of the species Teratophoneus, reveals that those tyrannosaurs hunted in packs. Perhaps, then, “Jurassic Park” and its sequels were wrong: in real life, tyrannosaurs may have had plenty of help from their friends in stalking their prey.

The academic paper is based on a 2014 paleontological find in Utah’s Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument, one that yielded fossils of a group of tyrannosaurs from the species Teratophoneus. After studying chemical and physical elements at the site, the researchers determined that a group of four or five of the animals died at the same time during a flood. Their remains were washed into a lake, where they were turned into bones before being moved by a river that eventually evaporated.

One of the main takeaways from this is that, at least for this group of tyrannosaurs, they likely hunted in packs rather than on a solitary basis. It is unclear why they would have evolved to do this, although one possible explanations is that it could have made it easier for them to compete for food and resources against herbivorous (plant-eating) dinosaurs.

“It turns out reality is almost always more complicated than we imagine it,” Dr. Alan J. Titus, paleontologist for U.S. Bureau of Land Management’s Paria District and the corresponding author of the study, told Salon by email. “In the case of tyrannosaurs (like T-rex), our take-home message is these animals were almost certainly more complex (and probably smarter) than most people would think.”

He compared tyrannosaurs to birds, noting that scientists are currently reevaluating their views on avian intelligence and adding that “birds can be incredibly smart, and birds are dinosaurs.”


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Likewise, while the animals discovered in Utah are related to the iconic T. Rex, Teratophoneus curriei are not quite the same. The two species had different sizes and lived during different periods of history.

“They are related, but because of the size differences alone, they may have had different behavior (e.g. T. Rex may not have been as social as an adult),” Titus pointed out. “What we’ve done is demonstrate that this pattern of finding intergenerational groups of tyrannosaurs (generic term for the family) killed and buried at the same time is widespread in North America. No other large predatory dinosaur shows this pattern. Therefore, we conclude it was their behavior that keeps creating these mass death sites, not the environment.”

This argument, while already accepted for certain types of dinosaurs “is still a bit contentious among tyrannosaur specialists,” Titus observed. “Skeptics to the social hypothesis feel tyrannosaurs lacked the intelligence to hunt cooperatively, which is really the only reason predators form social groups.”

The most challenging aspect of this study was, as Titus explained, proving that the tyrannosaurs in question died at both the same time and in the same location. 

“Because the site’s history was complicated by the tyrannosaur skeletons being dug up and reburied, it was a difficult task that required very sophisticated techniques like mass-spectroscopy, x-ray crystallography, and scanning electron microscopes,” Titus told Salon. “Although we could never be 100% sure, in the end we concluded a very high probability that they had in fact all died together as a group.”

That, in turns, increases the likelihood that they had lived as a group — and, as a word of caution for anyone dreaming of building a time machine to the dinosaur era, hunted as a group.

Immigrant workers are essential to America’s future — and we need a new paradigm for justice

You probably haven’t heard of Saul Sanchez. But you know his story. It’s been told millions of times in the history of the United States, with endless variations on the same themes. When Saul was a young, married father living in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, his daughter Patty became seriously ill. Even though Saul had a good job managing pharmacies, he couldn’t pay for her medical treatment. So he came to the U.S. in the early 1970s, in hopes of saving Patty’s life. He traded in a necktie for a shovel, working a series of landscaping jobs. He and his wife raised their six children in Colorado. And eventually, Saul found another job, in one of America’s toughest industries: meatpacking.

Industrial meat processing has never been glamorous work. It’s physically demanding, repetitive and dangerous. Workers stand side-by-side for long hours at fast-moving belts, wielding sharp knives and saws, performing the same motions over and over — all to put food on our tables. 

That’s the work Saul was doing when, at 78 years old, he caught COVID-19 last March. On April 7, he died in the hospital. He had kept working at the meatpacking plant until he became too sick to continue. Like so many victims of the pandemic, his wife and children couldn’t be at his side when he took his last breath. But Patty was there — because she’s now a nurse, working in the same hospital.

As a meatpacking worker, Saul was at an elevated risk of contracting COVID-19. When the pandemic exploded in the United States last year, infections almost immediately skyrocketed within meatpacking plants. State by state, month by month, the number of meatpacking workers sick and dying of COVID-19 stacked up with the same brutal efficiency as the lines they work on. At least 570 workers sick from one plant in North Carolina. At least 929 sick from one plant in South Dakota. At least 522 sick from one plant in Iowa. All told, more than 58,000 meatpacking workers have contracted COVID-19, and nearly 300 have died.

This suffering was avoidable. The Trump administration could have stepped in to protect workers — for instance, by issuing emergency safety rules under the Occupational Safety and Health Act (OSHA) to enforce distancing and physical barriers between workers, and to require companies to provide personal protective equipment and universal COVID-19 testing, as the United Food and Commercial Workers union called for repeatedly. Not only did the administration fail to take those steps, it did the opposite, issuing emergency rules that actually allowed companies to speed up production lines — making an already dangerous industry even more so.

The Biden administration finally issued a COVID-19 emergency OSHA standard for meatpacking facilities in February, and many states have prioritized food processing workers for vaccines. But even without a pandemic, meatpacking has long been an industry rife with worker abuses. Injury rates in meatpacking have been stubbornly higher than in other industrial manufacturing jobs for years. Earlier this year, a liquid nitrogen leak at a poultry plant in Georgia that had been repeatedly fined by OSHA killed six people, two of whom were immigrants from Mexico.

Immigrants just like Saul. Immigrants who are caught in a double bind — first, by an antiquated immigration system that keeps workers marginalized and exploited, and again by woefully inadequate enforcement of our nation’s bedrock labor laws.

And when immigrant workers are hurt, all workers suffer. 

* * * 

For decades, the political debate around immigration in the United States has been primarily focused on the question of legal status — who gets it, when and how.

The dominant Trump wing that has taken over the Republican Party wants to slam the door on virtually all immigrants, and especially to immigrants of color, restricting people’s ability to migrate to the U.S. based on their faith, race and wealth. 

Meanwhile, pro-immigrant reformers — like me — have focused overwhelmingly on advocating for pathways to citizenship for the approximately 11 million undocumented community members who consider the U.S. their home. The place where they are raising their families, starting small businesses, working to fulfill their potential and achieve a better future for themselves and their loved ones — all the while contributing to our economy and society. 

We know that immigrants are essential to who we are as a nation. But what Saul’s story shows — what the stories of the workers who have died of COVID, and the six killed in Georgia, and the countless others who have been injured or maimed or killed on the job over the decades all show — is that a path to citizenship for immigrant workers is necessary, but not nearly sufficient.

Citizenship hasn’t kept Black and brown men and women safe from police brutality. It hasn’t resulted in equal pay for women, or for men of color. It hasn’t stopped worker pay from stagnating, or benefits from being slashed. It hasn’t protected women — including famous and powerful women — from being sexually harassed or assaulted on the job. It hasn’t stopped systematic efforts to undermine employment protections, from the rise of gig-work platforms that insist workers are independent contractors to diminishing budgets for enforcement of state and federal labor laws. 

That’s why we must strive for full citizenship for all. A citizenship where people are free from harassment and violence, in our communities and in our workplaces. A citizenship that values every person’s contributions — women as well as men and trans people, Black and Asian American and Pacific Islanders as well as Latinx and white, immigrant as well as native-born. And to get there, we need a new paradigm of worker justice — and the policies to realize it. 

These economic trends, and the profound harm they cause to American workers, aren’t inevitable. They are the result of deliberate policy choices that cut across industries, and are made plain, again, in meatpacking. You might have learned about Upton Sinclair’s “The Jungle” in high school history class, depicting the brutal and often unsanitary conditions in Chicago’s meatpacking facilities. In the years that followed, a substantial unionization push for both Black and white workers led to nearly 90 percent of workers in the meatpacking industry being covered by collective bargaining agreements, with guaranteed wages and overtime. A 1952 Department of Labor study of 50 such agreements in the industry found “virtually every worker in the study” received three weeks of paid vacation, as well as paid sick days. For a while, “The Jungle” was tamed, and meatpacking jobs started becoming middle-class jobs.

But this progress didn’t last. It was deliberately picked apart over several decades. First, companies began moving meatpacking plants into rural areas, where unions didn’t have as much support. By being the biggest fish in a smaller pond, management could more easily frighten workers and elected officials with the specter of layoffs. States began passing laws that undercut unions’ ability to organize workers. Then the industrial meat manufacturers began consolidating, squeezing out competition and gaining even more power to keep down wages and cut corners on worker safety — because workers had fewer places to look for jobs. 

Yet who do the corporations and the politicians and conservative commentators blame for the sorry state of affairs for America’s workers? Immigrants. If only immigrants weren’t taking all the jobs, they say, then everything would be different. If only immigrants weren’t undercutting American workers, of course wages would be higher.

They have designed and conducted a misinformation campaign that pins the blame on people like Saul for an economic system they themselves created — as though a 78-year-old working an intensely physical, low-paying job is somehow behind four decades of wage stagnation, skyrocketing income inequality and a systematic effort to undercut worker protections. They use race and immigration status to divide workers against each other, all to support a predatory form of capitalism that makes the rich richer and leaves the rest of us behind.  

It’s time for Americans to stop buying these lies. It’s time for workers across race, national origin, class and immigration status to join together to fight for our future — the same way we did when we won better wages, safer workplaces, and civil rights advances in the 20th century. 

Just as our society is judged by how we treat the least among us, we must judge our employment laws by how well they protect our most vulnerable workers. And by that measure, all workers are losing out in today’s economy — no matter their industry, income, race, gender, national origin or immigration status.

We urgently need policy change at the federal, state and local levels to put real teeth back into America’s labor laws. We need more funding for enforcement, increased penalties on employers who violate the law and measures to restore and strengthen the right of all workers to organize and collectively bargain. We need policies that will empower and encourage undocumented workers and guest workers to fight back against abusive employers — because allowing bad employers to go unchecked undermines workplace protections for all workers, citizens and non-citizens alike, and gives those abusive employers an unfair economic advantage over the majority of companies that do play by the books.

If we hope to actually accomplish any of this, those of us working for change need to stop talking about immigrant workers from a defensive posture. Organizers, researchers, activists and progressive politicians should speak not only to how immigration reform will help immigrants, but how it will also help all workers; not only to how labor reforms will help unions, but also how all Americans — including aspiring citizens — will benefit. 

The facts are on our side — and so, too, is the more powerful American story. As the late Sen. Paul Wellstone used to say, “We all do better when we all do better.”

* * *

America’s economy is built on labor exploitation. At first, that labor was forced, and highly racialized — the work of enslaved people of African and Indigenous descent. After the Civil War, that labor became exploitative in more subtle ways — the economy of sharecroppers and Jim Crow, of factory workers at the mercy of their bosses, of seasonal migrants and, indeed, of immigrants. For most of the last two centuries, immigration and labor in the United States have been entwined, as in a dance — two steps forward, one step back.

Corporations brought in Chinese laborers to build railroads to connect the West — and once that work was done, lawmakers passed the Chinese Exclusion Act. Southern and Eastern European immigrants came in droves to work in factories and sweatshops, powering the Second Industrial Revolution — and then lawmakers passed strict quotas capping annual immigration by nationality.

When tens of thousands of workers rallied in Haymarket Square in Chicago in support of an eight-hour workday and a bombing killed several policemen, it was German immigrants who were wrongfully accused and ultimately put to death. Chicago police cracked down on labor organizers, destroying their meeting places and arresting and beating people in the streets. 

The international labor community commemorates the Haymarket Affair by celebrating May Day, May 1. Since 2006, immigrant workers have adopted this day to demonstrate that immigrants’ rights are workers’ rights and calling for just and humane immigration reforms. 

Most Americans don’t realize that until 1986 — when the last major U.S. immigration reform law was signed by Ronald Reagan — it was perfectly legal for businesses in the United States to knowingly employ undocumented workers. In enacting the Immigration Reform and Control Act, Congress allowed nearly three million undocumented workers to obtain legal status — and, in exchange, began policing civil immigration violations like criminal activities, though increased detention and deportation, along with militarization of the U.S.-Mexico border. The 1986 law also created the I-9 system, which requires that employers verify the workers they hire are eligible to work in the U.S.

In theory, I-9 — and the electronic “E-Verify” update that some policymakers have pushed in recent years — is a system of “employer sanctions.” But instead, employers factor in I-9 fines as a cost of doing business, and for the last 35 years, it’s often only employees themselves who have been sanctioned. That’s because the 1986 law gives abusive employers a powerful tool to use against undocumented workers.

In non-unionized workplaces, any employee who comes forward to report abuse — whether it’s unpaid overtime, a dangerous piece of equipment, sexual harassment or even rape — is taking a risk. The law is supposed to protect those workers from retaliation. But in practice, unscrupulous employers can and frequently do punish workers who report labor law violations: by reassigning them to different tasks, giving them less-desirable shifts, cutting their hours, or even escalating the harassment and abuse that they reported in the first place. Workers’ rights to organize and bargain collectively are similarly protected by federal law, but in more than 40 percent of union organizing drives in recent years, employers were charged with violating those laws — including illegally firing workers in one of every five such cases.

On paper, the laws that protect workers in the United States from employer abuse don’t discriminate based on immigration status. That’s because no matter who you are, your employer has more power than you do as a worker. Even in 1986, Congress understood it was necessary to ensure that undocumented workers were considered covered “employees” under labor and employment laws, so employers did not have an incentive to hire them over U.S.-born workers and make conditions worse for all workers. But undocumented workers face all the same risks that U.S. citizens do, plus the possibility of exile, should their employer decide to report them to immigration authorities for speaking up. 

That’s obviously bad for undocumented workers, who can be forced to endure brutal conditions to make ends meet. But it’s also bad for U.S. citizen workers and immigrants with work authorizations, many of whom work side-by-side with undocumented workers.  

Workplace complaints rely on corroboration. If one worker’s rights are being violated, it’s likely that other workers’ rights are being violated, too. But if undocumented workers have reason to fear their employers will report them to immigration authorities, they’re less likely to feel safe backing up an employment law complaint filed by a worker with legal status. During union drives, undocumented workers face a heightened risk of being retaliated against, including being fired or reported to immigration authorities. So it’s no surprise that workplace abuses are so common in places that employ undocumented workers. One study found that of 184 workplaces in New York City investigated for immigration violations, 102 were also being investigated separately for employment-law violations.

One of the first plaintiffs I ever represented taught me how employers can game the I-9 system to retaliate against workers. Silvia Contreras was a bilingual secretary at a California company that sold trucking insurance. After her employer failed to pay her — or paid her with checks that bounced — for many months, she finally quit her job and courageously filed a claim with the California Labor Commissioner. Her employer retaliated by calling the Social Security office to inquire about the Social Security number Silvia had used on her paperwork — and then called the immigration authorities. 

When I learned that Silvia spent a week in detention simply for trying to recover the wages she was owed, we filed a federal lawsuit against her employer for retaliation under the Fair Labor Standards Act (FLSA). The thing is, the FLSA doesn’t discriminate based on your immigration status. If you work in this country, your employer has to pay you. If your job qualifies for overtime, same thing. Again, the I-9 system is supposed to punish employers who break the law, not the workers. Ultimately, the court found in Silvia’s favor, and she was awarded $40,000 in damages. But she never saw a dime of that — because her former employers declared bankruptcy, in part to get out of paying her what she was owed. 

Silvia’s courage did, however, establish a groundbreaking legal precedent, clarifying that undocumented workers are protected from retaliation under the FLSA. Her case has been used since then to benefit countless other workers who have suffered similar exploitation and retaliation at the hands of bad-actor employers who use the I-9 system to try to circumvent labor laws and depress working conditions for all. 

* * *

While bad employers and their political allies manipulate our nation’s labor laws to get away with exploiting immigrant workers, the truth is that our country wouldn’t function without them. Undocumented immigrants are part of our families and communities. They are our neighbors, classmates and students. And they are workers fully integrated into the U.S. economy. Of about 7 million undocumented people in the U.S. workforce, three in every four are working in industries deemed “essential” during the COVID-19 pandemic, including some 225,000 health care workers and 389,000 farmworkers and food processors. Millions more are employed in food service, delivery, warehouses and manufacturing. Undocumented workers in “essential” industries pay $47.6 billion in federal taxes and $25.5 billion in state and local taxes each year, and hold $195 billion in spending power — which means money they put back into the economy by paying for goods and services in local communities.

A path to citizenship for undocumented workers would further unlock their economic potential — allowing them to leave abusive employers, bargain for higher wages and better working conditions, organize and join unions — and raise the floor on standards for all workers. The 700,000 people who voluntarily applied for temporary relief from deportation through the Obama-era Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) policy — commonly known as Dreamers — paid $4 billion in taxes in 2017. The libertarian Cato Institute estimated that, had the Trump administration succeeded in ending DACA, it would have cost the U.S. $60 billion in lost revenue over 10 years — to say nothing of lost opportunity.

That’s because for virtually any economic challenge facing the U.S. today, immigrants are a key part of the solution. If you’re concerned about Amazon destroying the mom-and-pop economy, it’s worth noting that more than 1 in 5 small businesses in the U.S. are immigrant-owned. If you’re fretting about the U.S. falling behind on innovation and entrepreneurship, you should take heart in the fact that 30 percent of new entrepreneurs in the U.S. in 2017 were immigrants. If the pandemic served as a wake-up call about shortages of health care and home care workers, then you should celebrate that more than one in four doctors in the U.S. were born in another country, and about one million home care workers are immigrants. 

And if you’re bemoaning stagnant wages and poor working conditions, you shouldn’t blame immigrants this May Day — you should harness their power, and call on Congress to finally recognize them under the law. 

* * *

That’s what the Fight for $15 movement has done. Growing out of a 2012 walk-out of about 200 fast-food workers in Manhattan, Fight for $15 has succeeded in raising the minimum wage in eight states and the District of Columbia, and the goal was embedded in the Democratic Party platform. 

One of the movement’s earliest successes came at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. A diverse coalition of native-born and immigrant workers of all races, many different job descriptions and multiple national origins banded together. Rather than let airport management mislead or threaten the immigrant workers, Fight for $15 organizers proactively educated them on their rights. Ultimately, a ballot initiative to raise the wage at Sea-Tac passed by just 77 votes — and quickly created momentum to raise the wage in Seattle proper.

Fight for $15 is an encouraging model, not just for raising the wage, but for creating and building worker power across a host of issues — and creating a more just economy for all. We need bold goals and smart organizing, workers standing together shoulder-to-shoulder and policymakers who have their backs. That’s how we’ll get real, measurable results. 

A path to citizenship for undocumented immigrants is absolutely necessary to strengthen the economy for all workers, and it would help make it harder for bad employers to undercut labor protections on the job. It’s good that President Biden’s U.S. Citizenship Act breaks the decades-old cycle of advancing opportunities for citizenship in exchange for increasing militarization of the U.S.-Mexico border, and instead proposes a vastly more humane and economically competitive immigration system. 

But we can do more to support all workers, immigrant and native-born alike. 

Passing the POWER Act, which is included in President Biden’s immigration reform proposal, would create new whistleblower protections for undocumented workers and guest workers who come forward to report labor law violations, like wage theft or sexual harassment — just like Silvia Contreras did. The Biden administration could take a whole-of-government approach and ensure that the Department of Homeland Security take administrative action to protect undocumented workers who report workplace abuses, for instance, by protecting workers from deportation as they collaborate with federal investigations and labor law enforcement efforts.

Without remedies, legal protections aren’t meaningful. Instead of continuing to allow exploitive employers to weaponize the I-9 system against undocumented workers, we should focus on sanctioning employers under the federal and state labor laws whose mission is to protect all workers. That’s why Congress needs to increase funding for staffing and robust enforcement at the Department of Labor, the National Labor Relations Board and the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission. States and localities with stronger worker protections can follow suit, too, by enacting additional penalties on employers who violate labor and employment laws, and by working with the Biden administration to ensure protections, including deferred action, to workers who are retaliated against based on their immigration status. 

And we need to raise the floor for all workers — including by raising the federal minimum wage and by striking back against the decades-long effort to undermine workers’ rights to organize and bargain collectively. That’s why Congress must pass the PRO Act, which would put new penalties in place against employers who illegally retaliate against workers, including undocumented workers, who are participating in union organizing drives. The law would also prohibit employers from using manipulative tactics, like mandatory anti-union meetings, to coerce or threaten workers.

But policy change won’t happen on its own. We also need to change the story we tell ourselves about our economy, and the role immigrant workers play in it. No more fighting from our back foot. We should celebrate the foundational role immigrants play in our society. We should reject the narrative of big corporations and conservative politicians who want us to believe that America is a zero-sum game in which any time someone else gets a benefit, it comes at our expense. 

That’s never been how our society works when we are living up to our values — and it’s not how our economy worked when it was at its strongest. 

We all do better when we all do better. Raising the minimum wage means workers have more money to spend taking care of their loved ones, which means more demand for goods and services, which means more jobs. Protecting workers from getting COVID-19 at work means they can stay on the job and contribute to our collective health and well-being. Stopping bosses from bullying or threatening undocumented workers over their immigration status means safer workplaces and higher working standards for everyone.

It’s all a part of a greater whole — the policies that ladder up, the legal frameworks that enable abuses by the powerful and depress working conditions for all, the overlooked lives and deaths of people like Saul Sanchez. If we want to not simply celebrate the many ways immigrants contribute to our society, culture and economy, but ensure that immigrants are finally recognized as essential to who we are, that they are valued in our laws, workplaces and communities, then we must start by telling their stories. It is brave workers like Silvia Contreras who help level the playing field so that all workers have stronger protections. Without wavering. Without apology. That’s how we can not only change the narrative around immigrants and immigration, but change our country for the better. 

After a decade of failures, Washington state passes a cap on carbon emissions

Rejected ballot measures. Legislation that couldn’t muster up enough votes. For more than a decade, Washington state has been trying — and failing — to put a price on carbon. That changed this weekend, when the state legislature finally managed to pass a cap-and-trade bill before the legislative session ended, at nearly the last possible moment, signaling that carbon pricing might not be as dead as you’ve read on Twitter. 

If Governor Jay Inslee signs the bill as expected, Washington will become the second state after California with a comprehensive cap-and-trade system. Washington’s plan would go into effect in January 2023, provided that the legislature approves a new transportation-spending package by then, according to the bill’s stipulations.

The cap-and-trade program would require Washington to set a statewide “cap” on greenhouse gas emissions that steadily lowers over time. It also creates a market for businesses to buy and “trade” pollution allowances that will become increasingly expensive — an incentive to cut emissions. The revenue raised will go toward renewable energy projects, reducing emissions from buildings and transportation, and adapting to the effects of climate change — such as supporting the relocation of tribes as the sea rises. In an unusual move, the bill also establishes a regulatory program to reduce air pollution in areas where people are breathing particularly unhealthy air.

The Washington Legislature has also set an ambitious carbon-cutting target. While California’s cap-and-trade system commits to reducing emissions by 80 percent compared to 1990 levels by 2050, Washington aims for a 95-percent cut by the same year. “There’s not another state that is committed to this and has adopted requirements that so comprehensively phase out emissions from our economy,” said Vlad Gutman-Britten, the Washington director for the regional nonprofit Climate Solutions. In recent years, the state has passed a suite of climate policies, including a commitment to 100 percent clean electricity by 2045. The legislature also just passed a clean-fuels standard.

Previous attempts to tax or otherwise put a price on carbon all went up in flames. In 2009, one of Washington’s early attempts — a cap-and-invest bill — fizzled, even after it was stripped of most of its substance. That didn’t stop legislators from trying again, resulting in a pile-up of failed bills over the years. Efforts then turned to the ballot. Voters rejected two high-profile carbon-tax initiatives, first in 2016 and then again in 2018. Across the border in Oregon, carbon pricing proposals have met a similar fate. Republican state senators actually went into hiding to avoid voting on a cap-and-trade bill, effectively quashing it — twice

The Pacific Northwest, seen as a progressive beacon despite its redder rural areas, has often been cited as a reason that carbon pricing was politically unviable. Washington’s cap-and-trade victory complicates that narrative. Plus, eleven states in the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic, including New York and Massachusetts, already participate in a regional cap-and-trade system launched in 2008.

So why did cap and trade succeed now? Proponents of the bill chalk it up to Washington’s decade of efforts — a “practice makes perfect” mentality — as well as the growing urgency of the climate crisis. Gutman-Britten sees Washington state’s recent progress on other fronts —  clean building standards and phasing out super-pollutants like HFCs — as part of the reason that this legislation is headed to Inslee’s desk. A broad coalition backed the measure, with support from big environmental groups, the Quinault Indian Nation, and the oil giant BP.

“I don’t think we would have passed it this year, had we not demonstrated to the legislature that we can make progress,” he said. “All of those things are essential, and they made it possible for the legislature to see themselves as a body that acts on climate, and then the stars aligned.”

“It’s the political moment,” said David Mendoza, the director of advocacy and engagement for The Nature Conservancy. “There’s been a building crescendo of the need for immediate climate action.”

Washington state’s legislation would allow it to link up with California’s cap-and-trade program, launched in 2013. Some studies show that over that time span, pollution in low-income communities and communities of color actually increased, as environmental justice advocates had warned would happen. But the data didn’t show that cap and trade caused that growth, leading to confusion over whether cap and trade was helping or harming the state’s most vulnerable people. 

Washington tried to preempt those debates by building environmental justice measures into its cap-and-trade program. The new bill establishes a system to monitor and regulate air pollution in the state, locating the communities that are “overburdened” with pollution and work to close the gap. The air quality program is “the critical aspect of ensuring environmental justice concerns are met,” Mendoza said. Washington’s cap-and-trade bill is the “best version” of carbon pricing Washington has seen yet, Mendoza said, and he thinks that a similar air quality program should be a “mandatory component of any carbon pricing legislation from moving forward.”

The bill also stipulates that at least 35 percent of the program’s investments be made in vulnerable communities, with an additional 10 percent for tribal lands. It also incorporates input from an environmental justice council. “Lots of folks have been like, ‘I’m skeptical about carbon pricing,'” Mendoza said, but then supported the bill after they saw the details around air quality and investments. Some justice groups still oppose the measure, calling it a “false promise” and arguing that the bill caters to industry.

Of course, there are still some more details to be worked out. Washington’s bill only covers 75 percent of the state’s total greenhouse gas emissions, omitting certain so-called “nonpoint sources,” like those from agriculture. Gutman-Britten said those concerns eventually need to be addressed. But he says the measure is “historic.”

“This was the result of 15 years of effort, where the policy has been perfected and has developed into a place where it’s really solving problems that people have been identifying for a very long time.”