Articles

Indignez-vous! Indignez-vous!

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Feb 17, 2011 / Stephane Hessel

The Outrage Deficit

The Outrage Deficit The Outrage Deficit

After years of fraying, the US social compact is in danger of coming apart altogether. Will Americans fight back?

Feb 17, 2011 / The Editors

The Great Arab Revolt

The Great Arab Revolt The Great Arab Revolt

Is the Middle East swinging back into a new liberal period?

Feb 17, 2011 / Juan Cole

Noted. Noted.

John Nichols on Wisconsin’s war on workers, Molly O’Toole on the launch of US Uncut

Feb 17, 2011 / Various Contributors

Egypt’s Workers Rise Up

Egypt’s Workers Rise Up Egypt’s Workers Rise Up

Egyptians’ aspirations to democracy and social justice will depend on workers’ willingness to take to the streets.

Feb 17, 2011 / Joel Beinin

The Upside of Censorship

The Upside of Censorship The Upside of Censorship

Sometimes the censor is art’s best friend.

Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / JoAnn Wypijewski

Ronald Reagan Superstar Ronald Reagan Superstar

Reagan proved that deficits don't matter—and truth doesn't either.

Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Eric Alterman

Selling History Short in Mississippi Selling History Short in Mississippi

Why is Haley Barbour so eager to turn Mississippi into a civil rights tourist attraction?

Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Gary Younge

Where Hunger Goes: On the Green Revolution

Where Hunger Goes: On the Green Revolution Where Hunger Goes: On the Green Revolution

Nick Cullather’s The Hungry World teaches us that US agricultural assistance in Asia during the cold war was a Green Counterrevolution.

Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / David Rieff

Spring Spring

Larvae harden into adults, into the complexity of distinct anatomy— windowed wings, legs like stitches—tossing off the sodden blanket of the soft body,   their innocence lisping over the pig, oomphs and fizzes forming a transcript of triumphs, but what does it mean to win, out here?   Spring’s raffle: who will live, who’ll become distressed and wish for a place to climb in.   I’m watching the air fill with the born-again, resting on the corpse of the rotted oak. Tomorrow I’ll drag it, chain-sawed to thick tablets, into the woods.   No tragedy to watch it go. The insects have broken from that burrow into warm air. Snow has melted from bark and pooled. With nowhere to turn.

Feb 17, 2011 / Books & the Arts / Paula Bohince

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