Break the news: Freedom of the press is among the most venerable and vulnerable of American institutions, but the threat to legacy media’s stability now comes from within. Following his dismissal over a controversial opinion article in 2020, former editorial page editor of The New York Times James Bennet diagnoses illiberalism as the source of journalism’s ills. The Harper Review’s editor in chief Elizabeth Eck reviews Bennet’s talk, “Is There a Mainstream Media?” hosted by the Program for Public Thinking at the University of Chicago, and identifies him as a victim of the shift in journalistic culture. Eck writes that Bennet’s importance lies not in his fall, but in his redemption as a critic of illiberal media. Bennet himself has risen above “the erosion of objectivity and open discourse in journalism.”
Brady Santoro, assistant editor
(Li)belling the cat: Cats deserve better. For much of their 10,00 year intercourse with humans, they have been reviled and persecuted. At various times in medieval and early modern Europe, they were the victims of vicious attacks organized by none other than the pope himself. Ailurophobia, the fear of cats, survives even today, as people continue to make cats the object of their darkest superstitions. (Hence, black cats are routinely and tragically passed over for adoption.) Too often, cats are consigned to a subaltern status when, by right, they should reign.
So argues Carl van Vechten in The Tiger in the House, his century-old engrossing and idiosyncratic cultural history of the cat. The cat, he writes, is truly “a god, a companion to sorceresses at the Witches’ Sabbath, a beast who is royal in Siam, who in Japan is called ‘the tiger that eats from the hand,’ the adored of Mohammed, Laura’s rival with Petrarch, the friend of Richelieu, the favorite of poets.” It is a mystical creature whose powers continue unabated, even if postmodern man, in his disenchantment, has lost his ability to marvel at them. Sometimes amusing, sometimes horrifying, and always fascinating, The Tiger in the House is an illuminating account of the outsized role this tiny mammal has played in human culture. More than that, it is a triumph of cultural research related with stylistic flair, a fitting monument to that most fey, mysterious, and elegant of creatures: the cat.
So argues Carl van Vechten in The Tiger in the House, his century-old engrossing and idiosyncratic cultural history of the cat. The cat, he writes, is truly “a god, a companion to sorceresses at the Witches’ Sabbath, a beast who is royal in Siam, who in Japan is called ‘the tiger that eats from the hand,’ the adored of Mohammed, Laura’s rival with Petrarch, the friend of Richelieu, the favorite of poets.” It is a mystical creature whose powers continue unabated, even if postmodern man, in his disenchantment, has lost his ability to marvel at them. Sometimes amusing, sometimes horrifying, and always fascinating, The Tiger in the House is an illuminating account of the outsized role this tiny mammal has played in human culture. More than that, it is a triumph of cultural research related with stylistic flair, a fitting monument to that most fey, mysterious, and elegant of creatures: the cat.
Will Dudley, contributing editor
Signaling authority: When a messenger brought bad news to King Tigranes II of Armenia in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives, the messenger was beheaded, speech was chilled, and Tigranes “sat while war was already blazing around him, giving ear only to those who flattered him.” As flatterers abound, the sobering messenger’s job becomes more precarious.
Editor in chief of The Atlantic Jeffrey Goldberg and journalist Anne Applebaum spoke at the New Orleans Book Festival about a recent example of such precarity. In late March, Goldberg published messages from a Signal chat to which he was accidentally added that contained senior Trump officials detailing plans for airstrikes in Yemen. Despite receiving major backlash for publishing the texts, Goldberg defended his decision to present the public with “the whole truth” so they could “make up their own minds about whether this is a serious breach of national security.” The goal was “to hold powerful people to account,” which meant, in this case, not giving editorial power to his sources in the Trump administration.
Applebaum, a journalist and historian who has written extensively on authoritarian regimes, emphasized the attack on Goldberg during their exchange. Shooting the messenger is nothing new, and the tactic is perpetually employed by autocrats and dictators “in order to be able to create their own reality.” Vilifying the institution of journalism signals the fragility of American freedoms, just as the message leaks signaled the dangerous instability of our country’s leaders. Authoritarian leadership relies on control and compliance that is at odds with a free press. Those who attack the press reveal the power of truth in their attempts to mask it.
Editor in chief of The Atlantic Jeffrey Goldberg and journalist Anne Applebaum spoke at the New Orleans Book Festival about a recent example of such precarity. In late March, Goldberg published messages from a Signal chat to which he was accidentally added that contained senior Trump officials detailing plans for airstrikes in Yemen. Despite receiving major backlash for publishing the texts, Goldberg defended his decision to present the public with “the whole truth” so they could “make up their own minds about whether this is a serious breach of national security.” The goal was “to hold powerful people to account,” which meant, in this case, not giving editorial power to his sources in the Trump administration.
Applebaum, a journalist and historian who has written extensively on authoritarian regimes, emphasized the attack on Goldberg during their exchange. Shooting the messenger is nothing new, and the tactic is perpetually employed by autocrats and dictators “in order to be able to create their own reality.” Vilifying the institution of journalism signals the fragility of American freedoms, just as the message leaks signaled the dangerous instability of our country’s leaders. Authoritarian leadership relies on control and compliance that is at odds with a free press. Those who attack the press reveal the power of truth in their attempts to mask it.
Elena Eisenstadt, contributing editor
(Overly) controlled chaos: More Chaos is the newest smattering of tracks from Ken Carson, formerly Playboi Carti’s nepo baby, now Atlanta’s newest golden child. Ken’s 2023 effort A Great Chaos was such a joy to listen to because its relentless experimentation created a sound entirely alien to the listener. Each track was a cathartic cacophony of snarling ad-libs and ridiculously frenetic melodies only Carson could make.
More Chaos is, for better and for worse, an album entirely based on that sound. All experimentation is abandoned. Running over an hour, each song is catered to fans who heard A Great Chaos and wanted more. Did you like how the synths on “Pots” clipped into the mix like birds trapped in a cage? Here’s “Xposed,” “Dismantled,” and “2000.” Did you like how “Lose It” and “Hardcore” jacked the hi-hats into a Whiplash-esque tempo? Try “Money Spread,” “200 Kash,” or “Kryptonite.” Did you like how Carson smash cut the airy reverb of “Fighting My Demons” into a pit of deep bass, frying his voice into a seething apathy? Well, clearly Carson did, because he pulls the same trick again on three straight tracks.
I don’t dislike this record. It’s good, for the same reasons that made A Great Chaos trap’s most radically dynamic record since Future’s Monster. Carson found his cash cow and milked it into a record that will surely sell out arenas—the only problem is, that cow won’t live forever.
More Chaos is, for better and for worse, an album entirely based on that sound. All experimentation is abandoned. Running over an hour, each song is catered to fans who heard A Great Chaos and wanted more. Did you like how the synths on “Pots” clipped into the mix like birds trapped in a cage? Here’s “Xposed,” “Dismantled,” and “2000.” Did you like how “Lose It” and “Hardcore” jacked the hi-hats into a Whiplash-esque tempo? Try “Money Spread,” “200 Kash,” or “Kryptonite.” Did you like how Carson smash cut the airy reverb of “Fighting My Demons” into a pit of deep bass, frying his voice into a seething apathy? Well, clearly Carson did, because he pulls the same trick again on three straight tracks.
I don’t dislike this record. It’s good, for the same reasons that made A Great Chaos trap’s most radically dynamic record since Future’s Monster. Carson found his cash cow and milked it into a record that will surely sell out arenas—the only problem is, that cow won’t live forever.
Charlie Phelan, assistant digital editor
Image: James Bennet speaks to members of The Harper Review at the Quadrangle Club. Photo: Evgenia Anastasakos.