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    Night and Golden Stuff

    The Met on a cloudless Tuesday afternoon was not too crowded (the Vermeer room was empty for five minutes — a record, in my experience). We came to Rembrandt first. I entered his art with a helping of Malraux to guide me. He had written that Rembrandt was a brother to Dostoevsky and “one of…

    The War on Foreign Students

    When Rümeysa Öztürk, a 27-year-old Turkish student, was snatched off the street by masked plainclothes police officers and put in the back of an unmarked car, she wasn’t marching on the streets of Istanbul protesting Turkey’s authoritarian president, Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. She was walking in America in broad daylight, about to meet friends for dinner…

    The Other Obliteration: 
A Report from the West Bank

    In August of last year a video was posted on X by the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem in which four masked settlers, three of them wielding clubs, can be seen walking onto a Palestinian man’s land. One settler, wearing a sheet of white cloth tied around the lower part of his face, is recorded…

    Kulturkampf on the Potomac

    There is perhaps no more reliable measure of the health of a political order than the degree of autonomy that culture enjoys within it. Culture, high and low, may be construed as the sum total of the feelings and the values of a society as they are expressed by means of beauty (or by their…

    The Canary, the Historian, and the Ukrainian War

    I have a friend who takes other people’s suffering as her own, and almost physically. When she visited Babyn Yar — the place where Kyiv’s Jews, thirty-three thousand men, women, and children, were shot in the fall of 1941 — she described being torn by excruciating pain. Her experience reminds me of Simone Weil, who…

    Ominous Pieces

    A.D. My unchristian ancestors: for a lifetime they got along without God. Though something always happened that they had not foreseen. Two world wars, the downfall of their city, diseases, or what it is like to lose everything — freedom stripped from them, twice in a row. When unchristian beings (Hitler, Stalin) took this only…

    The Enlightenment, Then and Now

    What is the Enlightenment, for us? Are we its heirs, its continuers, its defenders? Or should we acknowledge our distance from it, and try to imagine a different sort of connection to this now-distant past? At the present moment, the temptation to identify with the Enlightenment is almost overwhelming. In dark times, after all, few…

    On Skin Color and the Individual

    In memory of Albert Murray I am what might be called an integrated black man. Many of my friends are white, and I live in a mostly white neighborhood; my long marriage is an interracial one, my grown children are biracial. I offer these facts neither as a lament nor as a boast. They are…

    It Takes So Little

    Thousands of minutes and hours, deeds and words, specifications, delusions, mistakes without end, longing, flesh — it takes so much to create a single person — that he be, that he survives, that he feels a hand on his shoulder, that others say to him “It is you.” And it is so easy for him…

    Haydn: Order and Contradiction

    It is well known that over the years the evaluation of Haydn underwent a number of changes. Towards the end of the eighteenth century, no one would have hesitated to call him the greatest of all composers. According to the Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung in 1802, “The inexhaustible spirit of his masterpieces is admired from Lisbon…

    The Missing Shade of White

    Would you rather see the world in black and white or live without music? This is one of my favorite questions. Most people tell me that they would give up color before giving up Bach and the Beatles and so on — except kids, who usually make the opposite choice. I’m with the kids, and…