Wednesday, April 15, 2026
The Israeli Payoff
The Never-Ending Tax-Filing Con Game
This tax season, as you wade through the absurdly expensive and complicated process of filing income taxes, remember to thank the Trump administration.
Filing taxes should be really easy and completely free. It is in most other developed countries. And in 2024, the Biden administration debuted a pilot program called Direct File that could have made tax filing easy and free for most American taxpayers, too.
President Trump killed it. He has destroyed things that are more important than Direct File, but this one sticks in my craw. It was a straightforward way to make life a little better for a lot of Americans. It was a step toward the kind of easy-to-use, efficient, high-tech government services that everyone claims to want. It worked. And now it’s gone.
Almost every president since Ronald Reagan has said that the government should create a simple electronic system for filing federal income taxes. The necessary technology has existed for decades. Many developed nations operate such tax filing systems. In countries including Japan and the Netherlands, the government handles the paperwork and then provides most taxpayers with a statement for review and approval.
Americans, by contrast, spend an average of 13 hours and $290 to file.
Why? Because tax preparation companies and Republican lawmakers have a shared interest in torturing taxpayers. The companies want to ensure that Americans remain dependent on their services. The Republicans want people to hate paying taxes.
In 2024, after decades of false starts, the Biden administration mustered the courage to defy that coalition. The Direct File program started small. It was limited to taxpayers with simple returns in a handful of states, processing 140,803 returns in its first year.
The Government Accountability Office, which audited the pilot, said it was a success that should be expanded.
Last year, the number of people using the program more than doubled. It processed 296,531 returns. An internal I.R.S. report concluded that Direct File “is beloved by its users.”
Unfortunately for American taxpayers, Direct File was not beloved by the tax preparation industry. Intuit, the maker of TurboTax, which dominates the industry, collected almost $5 billion last year from Americans who sought its help to file their income tax returns. The company fought to preserve that business. The Trump administration acquiesced.
In killing the Direct File program, the administration insisted it had been little used and expensive to operate. It assured that outcome by making no effort to publicize the program in its second year. While the cost per user was high, at about $138, that would have declined as more people used the program. And no matter the number, it is a cost that should be borne by the government, not individual taxpayers.
The Trump administration says it has a better alternative: A “Free File” partnership with eight private tax preparation companies that allows some taxpayers to use basic versions of their software at no charge.
It’s a new chapter in a long-running con game. The Free File program, which dates back to 2002, allows the industry to claim that it’s possible to file taxes free while working to ensure that most people keep on paying.
The bottom 70 percent of taxpayers ranked by income are eligible to use the Free File program. That’s about 100 million households. Only about three million use it each year. Instead, every year, millions of people eligible for Free File pay to use virtually the same software from the same companies.
Intuit’s behavior has been particularly egregious. ProPublica reported in 2019 that the company had concealed the landing page for the Free File version of its product so that it was invisible to Google and other search engines. It also created a stalking horse called TurboTax: Free Edition, which pushed users to pay for add-ons. After it got caught, the company abandoned the Free File program.
Filing taxes should be really easy and completely free. It is in most other developed countries. And in 2024, the Biden administration debuted a pilot program called Direct File that could have made tax filing easy and free for most American taxpayers, too.
Almost every president since Ronald Reagan has said that the government should create a simple electronic system for filing federal income taxes. The necessary technology has existed for decades. Many developed nations operate such tax filing systems. In countries including Japan and the Netherlands, the government handles the paperwork and then provides most taxpayers with a statement for review and approval.
Americans, by contrast, spend an average of 13 hours and $290 to file.
Why? Because tax preparation companies and Republican lawmakers have a shared interest in torturing taxpayers. The companies want to ensure that Americans remain dependent on their services. The Republicans want people to hate paying taxes.
In 2024, after decades of false starts, the Biden administration mustered the courage to defy that coalition. The Direct File program started small. It was limited to taxpayers with simple returns in a handful of states, processing 140,803 returns in its first year.
The Government Accountability Office, which audited the pilot, said it was a success that should be expanded.
Last year, the number of people using the program more than doubled. It processed 296,531 returns. An internal I.R.S. report concluded that Direct File “is beloved by its users.”
Unfortunately for American taxpayers, Direct File was not beloved by the tax preparation industry. Intuit, the maker of TurboTax, which dominates the industry, collected almost $5 billion last year from Americans who sought its help to file their income tax returns. The company fought to preserve that business. The Trump administration acquiesced.
In killing the Direct File program, the administration insisted it had been little used and expensive to operate. It assured that outcome by making no effort to publicize the program in its second year. While the cost per user was high, at about $138, that would have declined as more people used the program. And no matter the number, it is a cost that should be borne by the government, not individual taxpayers.
The Trump administration says it has a better alternative: A “Free File” partnership with eight private tax preparation companies that allows some taxpayers to use basic versions of their software at no charge.
It’s a new chapter in a long-running con game. The Free File program, which dates back to 2002, allows the industry to claim that it’s possible to file taxes free while working to ensure that most people keep on paying.
The bottom 70 percent of taxpayers ranked by income are eligible to use the Free File program. That’s about 100 million households. Only about three million use it each year. Instead, every year, millions of people eligible for Free File pay to use virtually the same software from the same companies.
Intuit’s behavior has been particularly egregious. ProPublica reported in 2019 that the company had concealed the landing page for the Free File version of its product so that it was invisible to Google and other search engines. It also created a stalking horse called TurboTax: Free Edition, which pushed users to pay for add-ons. After it got caught, the company abandoned the Free File program.
[ed. Old news, I know. The government has all the information it needs to do your taxes (or they wouldn't be able to audit you). What isn't old news (to me anyway) were the underhanded tactics Intuit used to conceal and kill free tax filing efforts. Happy Tax Day, April 15, 2026.]
Visual Cues and Valuation: Evidence from the Housing Market
Abstract
We examine the economic impact of non-consumable visual cues through home staging on
high-stakes housing transactions. Using hand-collected listing photos for 15,777 transactions and a machine-learning algorithm to detect furniture, we provide the first large-scale
evidence that staged homes sell for roughly 10% more and one week faster than comparable homes without furniture. Our pre-registered online experiment establishes causality
and uncovers mechanisms. We find that furniture clarifies spatial use, while decor enhances emotional attachment, jointly driving the higher willingness-to-pay. These findings
demonstrate how visual cues impact high-stakes decisions and systematically shape valuations in the largest asset market for households.
1. Introduction
Behavioral economics has advanced significantly in demonstrating how cognitive, psychological, and emotional factors systematically influence economic decision-making (Rabin (1998), Heath et al. (1999), Rabin and Schrag (1999), Kahneman (2003), Gneezy et al. (2014), Chang et al. (2016), and Hirshleifer (2020)). Yet, many foundational models of consumer choice still presume a high degree of rationality in high-stakes environments, where the sheer magnitude of the transaction, in theory, should discipline behavior and mitigate the impact of biases. This paper examines the economic impact of nonconsumable visual cues through staging, a common practice in the U.S. housing market, on high-stakes housing transactions.
House staging is the practice of furnishing and decorating a property for sale to create visual cues that help potential buyers imagine themselves living in the space. Importantly, the furniture and decor are classified as personal property, which consists of movable items that are typically not included in the sale unless explicitly stated in the contract. Standard asset pricing theory dictates that the value of a residential asset is a function of its fundamental hedonic characteristics (e.g., location, size, school quality, and structural condition), discounted by the user cost of capital (Sirmans et al., 2005; Poterba, 1984; Himmelberg et al., 2005). Rational agents should not price movable, non-consumable personal property (furniture and decor) into the value of the fixed asset, especially when such items convey no transactional value. However, the popularity of home staging, a common industry practice costly to the sellers or their agents, suggests a possible disconnect between theory and behavior. This disconnect gives rise to fascinating and largelyunanswered economic puzzles (Yun et al., 2021): Do homebuyers pay for things that they know they cannot consume? If so, what is the magnitude of this staging premium? In addition, what underlying mechanisms do these visual cues activate that lead to a higher willingness to pay? This paper aims to answer these questions by exploring homebuyer behavior in the largest asset market for most households.
Deviations from rational valuation can carry substantial financial consequences in the context of home buying. For the average U.S. household, purchasing a home is arguably the most significant financial decision: Zillow Home Value Index (ZHVI), a measure of the typical home value in the U.S., has grown to over $357,000 in the second half of 2022. The housing market also features high transaction costs, infrequent purchases, and the involvement of professional intermediaries such as real estate agents. These characteristics are commonly believed to mitigate the impact of behavioral biases. Hence, the housing market offers a real-world laboratory for testing the limits of market efficiency and rational decision-making.
An ideal experiment to establish the causal effect of house staging on prices would be to compare two identical houses in the same location: one staged and the other empty. Such an experiment would eliminate the confounding effect of location and unobserved house quality, allowing us to isolate the effect of staging on house prices. However, conducting such an experiment in a real-world natural setting is both financially and logistically prohibitive, if not impossible. One useful alternative that may convincingly approximate this experiment is to follow the historical transactions of each house and compare transactions with staged houses to empty ones, holding location and unobserved house quality constant. In particular, if prices are driven purely by location and unobserved differences in house quality, staging should have no effect on prices. In this paper, we start with the real-world transaction data by hand-collecting house listing images associated with each transaction for a set of houses across the U.S.3 We then complement our empirical analysis with an incentivized and preregistered randomized controlled trial (RCT) to disentangle the underlying mechanisms.
by Puja Bhattacharya, Sherry Xin Li, Yvonne Yu Wang, Cedric Wu, Xiang Zheng, SSRN | Read more (pdf):
[ed. Funny, I was always told the opposite - that potential buyers wanted open space to imagine their own living arrangements.]
What is Populism Actually Good For?
Why does yelling about “corrupt elites” seem to work in politics? From Donald Trump to Viktor Orbán to Marine Le Pen, politicians who rail against the establishment and claim to speak for “the real people” keep winning elections. The populist playbook, us versus them, the pure people against the rotten elite, appears to be one of the most effective strategies in modern democratic politics. But what if it isn’t?
I’ve spent the better part of a decade studying populist rhetoric with my co-author Yaoyao Dai, now at the University of Pittsburgh. We just published our third and latest paper on the topic, and I thought this was a good moment to reflect on what our research program has found. The short version: populism’s power is real, but much more limited than most people assume. And the reasons why it works are not what you’d expect.
What we mean by populism
Before getting into the findings, a quick definition. Political scientists generally follow Cas Mudde’s influential framework, which defines populism not as a full political program but as a simple worldview (or what Mudde calls a “thin ideology”). This worldview is based on three pillars: people-centrism (politics should reflect the will of “the people”), anti-pluralism (there is one authentic popular will, not many competing interests), and moralized anti-elitism (elites are not merely wrong but evil). This is what scholars call “thin” populism because it doesn’t tell you much about actual policy. A left-wing populist like Hugo Chávez and a right-wing populist like Trump share the same rhetorical structure, the people versus the elite, but disagree on virtually everything else.
This distinction between populism and its “host ideology” (the actual policy positions a politician holds) turns out to be crucial. Because when you peel them apart, something surprising emerges.
When politicians gamble on populism
Our first paper, “When Do Politicians Use Populist Rhetoric?“ published in Political Communication in 2022, asked a deceptively simple question: if populist rhetoric is so effective, why don’t all politicians use it all the time?
To answer this, we built the most comprehensive corpus of U.S. presidential campaign speeches at the time: 4,314 speeches from 1952 to 2016. We used a novel text analysis method combining active learning and word embeddings to measure how much populist rhetoric each candidate employed across the campaign trail. I (Alex) should say, thanks to the prowess of Yaoyao, we did all that fancy text analysis stuff before it was cool and before LLMs were even around.
The pattern was striking. Candidates who were trailing in the polls consistently used more populist rhetoric, regardless of whether they were Republicans or Democrats, incumbents or challengers. Populism, we argued, is a gamble: a high-risk, high-variance strategy that trailing candidates adopt because conventional campaigning isn’t working. If you’re already behind, why not shake things up?
Think of it like a football team that’s losing in the fourth quarter. You start throwing long passes not because they have a higher expected value, but because safe plays guarantee you lose. Barry Goldwater, George McGovern, and Donald Trump (in 2016, when most polls had him behind) all fit this pattern. They reached for populist rhetoric when they had little to lose.
The (in)effectiveness of populist rhetoric
But does the gamble actually pay off? Our second paper, published in Political Science Research and Methods in 2024, tested this directly with a survey experiment.
We presented U.S. respondents with pairs of realistic campaign messages from hypothetical primary candidates. The messages varied on two dimensions: populist features (people-centric language, anti-elite attacks, anti-pluralist framing) and substantive policy positions (on immigration and other issues). This design let us isolate the effect of populist rhetoric from the underlying policy content, something that is nearly impossible to do when observing real elections, where populism and policy positions come bundled together.
The result was unambiguous: none of the populist features had an independent effect on candidate choice. Not people-centrism, not anti-elitism, not anti-pluralism. Not individually, and not in combination. What did matter, enormously, were policy positions that aligned with voters’ own preferences. Voters chose candidates based on what they promised to do, not on how dramatically they framed the conflict between the people and the elite.
This finding is consistent with other experimental work. When researchers across multiple countries carefully separate populist style from policy substance, the style itself contributes very little to voter decisions.
So: if populist rhetoric doesn’t actually persuade voters, why does it seem to work? Why do populist candidates keep winning?
What populism is actually good for
This puzzle motivated our newest paper, our first ever registered report (where scholars publicly specify their hypotheses before running their experiment), now published at Research & Politics. We hypothesized that populism’s real contribution might not be persuasion but mobilization: getting people who already agree with you to actually show up and vote.
Previous studies, including our own, used what’s called a “forced choice” conjoint experimental design: respondents had to pick one candidate or the other. But in real elections, people can also stay home. To capture this, we ran a large-scale, preregistered survey experiment that added an “abstain” option, a seemingly small change that turns out to matter a lot.
What did we find? First, the basic persuasion result replicated: policy positions still dwarfed populist rhetoric in driving vote choice. Having a policy-congruent candidate increased the probability of voting by a massive 27 percentage points. Populist rhetoric, by contrast, had no meaningful persuasion effect.
But here is the twist: populist rhetoric did have a small but statistically significant mobilization effect. Having at least one populist candidate in a race was associated with a ~1.5 percentage point decrease in abstention. The effect was concentrated among voters who already held populist attitudes and encountered a candidate whose policy positions they liked. In other words, populist rhetoric didn’t convert skeptics; it energized true believers to get off the couch.
by Alexander Kustov and Yaoyao Dai, Popular by Design | Read more:
What we mean by populism
Before getting into the findings, a quick definition. Political scientists generally follow Cas Mudde’s influential framework, which defines populism not as a full political program but as a simple worldview (or what Mudde calls a “thin ideology”). This worldview is based on three pillars: people-centrism (politics should reflect the will of “the people”), anti-pluralism (there is one authentic popular will, not many competing interests), and moralized anti-elitism (elites are not merely wrong but evil). This is what scholars call “thin” populism because it doesn’t tell you much about actual policy. A left-wing populist like Hugo Chávez and a right-wing populist like Trump share the same rhetorical structure, the people versus the elite, but disagree on virtually everything else.
This distinction between populism and its “host ideology” (the actual policy positions a politician holds) turns out to be crucial. Because when you peel them apart, something surprising emerges.
When politicians gamble on populism
Our first paper, “When Do Politicians Use Populist Rhetoric?“ published in Political Communication in 2022, asked a deceptively simple question: if populist rhetoric is so effective, why don’t all politicians use it all the time?
To answer this, we built the most comprehensive corpus of U.S. presidential campaign speeches at the time: 4,314 speeches from 1952 to 2016. We used a novel text analysis method combining active learning and word embeddings to measure how much populist rhetoric each candidate employed across the campaign trail. I (Alex) should say, thanks to the prowess of Yaoyao, we did all that fancy text analysis stuff before it was cool and before LLMs were even around.
The pattern was striking. Candidates who were trailing in the polls consistently used more populist rhetoric, regardless of whether they were Republicans or Democrats, incumbents or challengers. Populism, we argued, is a gamble: a high-risk, high-variance strategy that trailing candidates adopt because conventional campaigning isn’t working. If you’re already behind, why not shake things up?
Think of it like a football team that’s losing in the fourth quarter. You start throwing long passes not because they have a higher expected value, but because safe plays guarantee you lose. Barry Goldwater, George McGovern, and Donald Trump (in 2016, when most polls had him behind) all fit this pattern. They reached for populist rhetoric when they had little to lose.
The (in)effectiveness of populist rhetoric
But does the gamble actually pay off? Our second paper, published in Political Science Research and Methods in 2024, tested this directly with a survey experiment.
We presented U.S. respondents with pairs of realistic campaign messages from hypothetical primary candidates. The messages varied on two dimensions: populist features (people-centric language, anti-elite attacks, anti-pluralist framing) and substantive policy positions (on immigration and other issues). This design let us isolate the effect of populist rhetoric from the underlying policy content, something that is nearly impossible to do when observing real elections, where populism and policy positions come bundled together.
The result was unambiguous: none of the populist features had an independent effect on candidate choice. Not people-centrism, not anti-elitism, not anti-pluralism. Not individually, and not in combination. What did matter, enormously, were policy positions that aligned with voters’ own preferences. Voters chose candidates based on what they promised to do, not on how dramatically they framed the conflict between the people and the elite.
This finding is consistent with other experimental work. When researchers across multiple countries carefully separate populist style from policy substance, the style itself contributes very little to voter decisions.
So: if populist rhetoric doesn’t actually persuade voters, why does it seem to work? Why do populist candidates keep winning?
What populism is actually good for
This puzzle motivated our newest paper, our first ever registered report (where scholars publicly specify their hypotheses before running their experiment), now published at Research & Politics. We hypothesized that populism’s real contribution might not be persuasion but mobilization: getting people who already agree with you to actually show up and vote.
Previous studies, including our own, used what’s called a “forced choice” conjoint experimental design: respondents had to pick one candidate or the other. But in real elections, people can also stay home. To capture this, we ran a large-scale, preregistered survey experiment that added an “abstain” option, a seemingly small change that turns out to matter a lot.
What did we find? First, the basic persuasion result replicated: policy positions still dwarfed populist rhetoric in driving vote choice. Having a policy-congruent candidate increased the probability of voting by a massive 27 percentage points. Populist rhetoric, by contrast, had no meaningful persuasion effect.
But here is the twist: populist rhetoric did have a small but statistically significant mobilization effect. Having at least one populist candidate in a race was associated with a ~1.5 percentage point decrease in abstention. The effect was concentrated among voters who already held populist attitudes and encountered a candidate whose policy positions they liked. In other words, populist rhetoric didn’t convert skeptics; it energized true believers to get off the couch.
by Alexander Kustov and Yaoyao Dai, Popular by Design | Read more:
Image: uncredited
Sinéad O'Connor
[ed. I didn't know she died, in 2023. How could I have missed it. This song from her stunning album I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got came out just around the time my own marriage was breaking up. It still resonates.]
Right and Left
No great American novel has ever emerged from the nation’s capital, Christopher Hitchens once observed. London had Dickens—Paris, Zola and Flaubert. And Washington, D.C.? A city cut out for genre fiction: dutiful historical reconstruction, or else cheap political thrillers, sold at airports with raised gold lettering. Evidently, the town’s bureaucratic processes and brutalist office architecture just cannot deliver an exhilarating prose style. Nor can the self-serious men and women, with their big egos and small ambitions, attract literary sympathies.
If literature is no place to turn, perhaps there exists some great work of art? It was 2025, and I had to escape a May Day protest on the Mall (grown men in FUCK TRUMP wifebeaters, a crimson Handmaid’s Tale girl zapped back from a fascist-lite era). So far 2025 had been no 1963, 1982 or even 2017. CSPAN-watching geriatrics waving cardboard signs on bridges felt at times like the only symbolic act fending off the wacko, dark-web authoritarianism radiating from Pennsylvania Avenue. When May Day turned to more “mayday, mayday!,” rather than going to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool to drown myself, I ended up in front of a painting in the American Wing of the nearby National Gallery.
Right and Left (1909) by Winslow Homer might be altogether disqualified from Great Washington Painting. For one, the work is not set on the banks of the Potomac but off the shore of Prouts Neck, Maine. Surely the craggy presidential faces in the Portrait Gallery or Gordon Parks’s solemn American Gothic (1942) would make for more obvious contenders. But the painting’s perfect, suggestive title, paired with the melancholic mood of the hunting scene, relaxed all critical judgment that afternoon, as I reached for something, anything, to explain a strange city in strange times.
Over gray waters, a pair of goldeneye ducks are tossed mid-flight like clown juggling pins. Distant waves carry the sportsman who has just fired on them. As if rendered by a Persian miniaturist, the diminutive scale of the shooter makes clear human motives are entirely incidental to the painting. The real drama, and damage, is in the foreground—the freakish, jack-o’-lantern yellow eye of the bird on the left, the terrible head-first plummet on the right. Both birds’ bodies are a cohesion of awkward, unnatural angles. The animals are alive and dead. The waves crest and fall. There is nothing romantic about the state of suspension: the setting sun, low and feeble, is a single orange stroke Homer has made over the indefinite horizon, like a pencil scratch on a doorframe marking the growth of a child.
In late January of last year, a quiet panic began rippling through the capital when the little figure skaters’ plane went down in the Potomac. This was around the time the government was purging tens of thousands of jobs that do things like keep planes in the sky. Countless entries follow in the region’s diary of a bad year. Authorities abducted a local Maryland man from an IKEA parking lot, to then erroneously deport him to a Salvadoran mega-prison. Gold-chained tech barons snapped up mansions in Massachusetts Avenue Heights as the welcome mat was laid out in the White House. A gunman mowed down embassy sweethearts in the streets; seventy-ton M1 Abrams tanks squeaked through a militarized birthday carnival. The clangor of dissent played out on pots and pans as the National Guard rolled into town. M4 semiautomatic rifles circled two-year-olds’ birthday parties in Capitol Hill’s Lincoln Park. Meanwhile, immigration authorities began quietly patrolling the District alongside the police, making more than triple the number of arrests in a month than in the first half of the year. Come fall, the president spent the longest government shutdown in U.S. history gussying up the White House, with such understated measures as razing a wing. The year rounded out with two shot National Guard members and a hydra-headed call for five hundred more on the ground: Christmases lost protecting deserted streets in camo and Santa hats.
In a city being pulverized and remade seemingly daily, where even as recent of history as the Black Lives Matter plaza is jackhammered to oblivion, the sense of dread and unknown can bully one into a state of mental submission, or else frantic, desperate attempts to make sense of the nonsense—“rational delirium,” I underline in a hip novel I can’t finish. One of these disposable origami thoughts comes to me in the museum. It is futile surely as any other attempt to say something intelligent about such deeply stupid times. But there it is: like Homer’s bewildering birds, the targets in Washington have also been two. They have also been twinned. In this city, maybe no one has been thumped harder than undocumented workers from Central and South America, on the one hand, and federal public servants, on the other. Their red-alert existential terror—though quite incomparable in kind—might even be held within a single frame. Both perform types of labor deeply distasteful, or perhaps incomprehensible, to the administration: manual labor and public-serving work.
What I mean to say is, hardworking bricklayers and line cooks are being criminalized as hardened gangsters. Dedicated civil servants, meanwhile, are roasted as do-nothings, forced to correspond with HR black holes and polygraph machines. D.C. flags may have sold out across the city in protest of the paramilitary takeover, but Trump’s nostalgia for tough-on-crime 1970s New York increasingly feels like the sideshow. The real story of this past year, the story that will have the longer historical afterlife, is a quieter one. It is one of draining the intrinsic value from labor yoked to repetitive, inglorious and truly vital tasks: the maintenance of the civic home, on the one hand, and the literal home, on the other. (If you want to call these real, productive forms of labor feminized versus a masculine world of bullshit finance capital or big tech, I, for one, won’t object.)
In this bleak picture of 2025 Washington, both civil servants and undocumented workers were said to be living off ill-gotten gains. Both were targeted at the places of their work. Both, like the pair of mid-flight sea birds, found themselves in kinds of godless existential suspense. And both, I would argue in a more grandiose mood, if I could summon it, were subject to an elitist attack on the American work ethic. A work ethic that arrived in the rugged hills of New England with… the Puritans!
Leaving the museum, I retraced the perimeter of the protest on the National Mall, where it turned out I might have misunderstood the Calvinist commitments of the Handmaid girl whose outdated display had driven me away. Now sitting cross-legged, ringed by the roots of an American elm and the rim of her red dress, eyes closed, bodice pooling around her waist: She was topless? Stamp-sized leaves overlaid her nipples and inked across her chest in lipstick were the words “Non Violent Vibes.” (Two words, not one.)
The Puritans had their maypoles of Merry Mount and were, in reality, a band of certified neurotics (Max Weber’s description was always too somber). But even at this lefty protest, the Protestant work ethic—its seriousness, self-discipline, prudishness—appeared to be in somewhat dramatic retreat.
I supposed. Who the hell knew what was going on anymore. I was pregnant and needed to go home and lie down. [...]
In every other respect, the people of this city speak in a direct manner, so rarely a note of the ironical or bohemian. Washington can feel like inhabiting a LinkedIn hologram: transactional, oppressively chipper, neutered. At the tasteful, wood-paneled bistro, a young woman in athleisure sits alone reading Gung Ho! Increase Productivity, Profits, and Your Own Prosperity over a shrimp salad and pale coffee. (The endearing maître d’ who used to inhale drags of Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. behind the counter seems to have evacuated his post.) Steel yourself: the first question out of a new acquaintance’s month really might be “What d’you do?”...
Laments are often operatic, duly so, but from people whose professional life and manner are the definition of restraint. A physician running miraculous clinical trials described to me a Looney Tunes world this past winter: a futile Road Runner-Coyote chase sequence, until the latest cuts made by the DOGE kid stuffed in the utility closet inevitably get reversed. Another fed worker is witnessing his unit transform into a “tabloid operation,” he says, “a craven institution stewarding the demise of the nation.” He continues: “What do you do stuck in a job with career-preservationists in charge who bend 93 different ways a day?”...
An elder nanny sidles up at the library to tell me about more ICE sightings. Arrests of nannies at Turtle Park, now Macomb. “They called the parents to come get the child,” she says of yet another raid I cannot confirm. When I ask her where she is hearing these reports—that I think they really might in fact be false—she just points to her phone, to the WhatsApp-group rumor mills, like it is an investigative report published by the Washington Post. It doesn’t matter that she is a citizen, she says. “They don’t care who you are, what your status is. And they go right to us,” she says, pointing to her skin and pursing her lips. Other nannies in the area are forgoing Venmo or check payments. Cash only. “Soviet practices=best practices in this climate!” a Russian-American mom texts me.
No one can even pretend anymore that Americans will take over all these jobs, particularly in the realm of construction or farming, giving the lie to an “American-made” future. An artist acquaintance has been photographing housing construction sites to imagine what it would look like for the power tools and saws to go silent in an industry where undocumented workers constitute more than 20 percent of the workforce. In a film she is making, she interviews a worker who says in Portuguese: “That guy that makes the hole, that breaks things, gets on the roof, lays down brick—they [Americans] don’t want to do that.” He adds, lightly: “So that is why they have us.” I hear of another young woman’s Bolsonarista father in São Paulo finally turning on the Bolsonaro of the North: “Who will do the work?”
The tariffs on trade suppose we want our goods “American-made,” returning the old glory back to the American working-class and blue-collar jobs. But by treating undocumented laborers in the appalling manner we are, it sends the message, rather loudly, that the work done by these individuals does not confer one ounce of dignity or worth. In fact, it disqualifies one from living even a quiet life on the margins. Who wants to be the understudy to the guy who worked so hard he was rewarded with being disappeared to a country he doesn’t even come from?
Another South American living near Rock Creek Park tells me he woke up recently in the middle of the night to the cry of a rabbit shrieking, pursued by a fox, an owl, some kind of predator. It was the most chilling sound he had ever heard. “I feel like that,” he says, “like a chased animal.”
by Noelle Bodick, The Point | Read more:
If literature is no place to turn, perhaps there exists some great work of art? It was 2025, and I had to escape a May Day protest on the Mall (grown men in FUCK TRUMP wifebeaters, a crimson Handmaid’s Tale girl zapped back from a fascist-lite era). So far 2025 had been no 1963, 1982 or even 2017. CSPAN-watching geriatrics waving cardboard signs on bridges felt at times like the only symbolic act fending off the wacko, dark-web authoritarianism radiating from Pennsylvania Avenue. When May Day turned to more “mayday, mayday!,” rather than going to the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool to drown myself, I ended up in front of a painting in the American Wing of the nearby National Gallery.
Over gray waters, a pair of goldeneye ducks are tossed mid-flight like clown juggling pins. Distant waves carry the sportsman who has just fired on them. As if rendered by a Persian miniaturist, the diminutive scale of the shooter makes clear human motives are entirely incidental to the painting. The real drama, and damage, is in the foreground—the freakish, jack-o’-lantern yellow eye of the bird on the left, the terrible head-first plummet on the right. Both birds’ bodies are a cohesion of awkward, unnatural angles. The animals are alive and dead. The waves crest and fall. There is nothing romantic about the state of suspension: the setting sun, low and feeble, is a single orange stroke Homer has made over the indefinite horizon, like a pencil scratch on a doorframe marking the growth of a child.
In late January of last year, a quiet panic began rippling through the capital when the little figure skaters’ plane went down in the Potomac. This was around the time the government was purging tens of thousands of jobs that do things like keep planes in the sky. Countless entries follow in the region’s diary of a bad year. Authorities abducted a local Maryland man from an IKEA parking lot, to then erroneously deport him to a Salvadoran mega-prison. Gold-chained tech barons snapped up mansions in Massachusetts Avenue Heights as the welcome mat was laid out in the White House. A gunman mowed down embassy sweethearts in the streets; seventy-ton M1 Abrams tanks squeaked through a militarized birthday carnival. The clangor of dissent played out on pots and pans as the National Guard rolled into town. M4 semiautomatic rifles circled two-year-olds’ birthday parties in Capitol Hill’s Lincoln Park. Meanwhile, immigration authorities began quietly patrolling the District alongside the police, making more than triple the number of arrests in a month than in the first half of the year. Come fall, the president spent the longest government shutdown in U.S. history gussying up the White House, with such understated measures as razing a wing. The year rounded out with two shot National Guard members and a hydra-headed call for five hundred more on the ground: Christmases lost protecting deserted streets in camo and Santa hats.
In a city being pulverized and remade seemingly daily, where even as recent of history as the Black Lives Matter plaza is jackhammered to oblivion, the sense of dread and unknown can bully one into a state of mental submission, or else frantic, desperate attempts to make sense of the nonsense—“rational delirium,” I underline in a hip novel I can’t finish. One of these disposable origami thoughts comes to me in the museum. It is futile surely as any other attempt to say something intelligent about such deeply stupid times. But there it is: like Homer’s bewildering birds, the targets in Washington have also been two. They have also been twinned. In this city, maybe no one has been thumped harder than undocumented workers from Central and South America, on the one hand, and federal public servants, on the other. Their red-alert existential terror—though quite incomparable in kind—might even be held within a single frame. Both perform types of labor deeply distasteful, or perhaps incomprehensible, to the administration: manual labor and public-serving work.
What I mean to say is, hardworking bricklayers and line cooks are being criminalized as hardened gangsters. Dedicated civil servants, meanwhile, are roasted as do-nothings, forced to correspond with HR black holes and polygraph machines. D.C. flags may have sold out across the city in protest of the paramilitary takeover, but Trump’s nostalgia for tough-on-crime 1970s New York increasingly feels like the sideshow. The real story of this past year, the story that will have the longer historical afterlife, is a quieter one. It is one of draining the intrinsic value from labor yoked to repetitive, inglorious and truly vital tasks: the maintenance of the civic home, on the one hand, and the literal home, on the other. (If you want to call these real, productive forms of labor feminized versus a masculine world of bullshit finance capital or big tech, I, for one, won’t object.)
In this bleak picture of 2025 Washington, both civil servants and undocumented workers were said to be living off ill-gotten gains. Both were targeted at the places of their work. Both, like the pair of mid-flight sea birds, found themselves in kinds of godless existential suspense. And both, I would argue in a more grandiose mood, if I could summon it, were subject to an elitist attack on the American work ethic. A work ethic that arrived in the rugged hills of New England with… the Puritans!
Leaving the museum, I retraced the perimeter of the protest on the National Mall, where it turned out I might have misunderstood the Calvinist commitments of the Handmaid girl whose outdated display had driven me away. Now sitting cross-legged, ringed by the roots of an American elm and the rim of her red dress, eyes closed, bodice pooling around her waist: She was topless? Stamp-sized leaves overlaid her nipples and inked across her chest in lipstick were the words “Non Violent Vibes.” (Two words, not one.)
The Puritans had their maypoles of Merry Mount and were, in reality, a band of certified neurotics (Max Weber’s description was always too somber). But even at this lefty protest, the Protestant work ethic—its seriousness, self-discipline, prudishness—appeared to be in somewhat dramatic retreat.
I supposed. Who the hell knew what was going on anymore. I was pregnant and needed to go home and lie down. [...]
●
Around Washington, the flat, SSRI-pilled Zoomers wear shirts that read like floating signifiers or non sequiturs. A girl brandishes SOLD OUT across her sweatshirt in Capitol Hill. (She sold out? Her shirt is sold out?) MAIN CHARACTER traipses toward the zoo in Northwest. (Surely the pandas are the protagonists?) LET’S GO FOR A WALK crosses Penn Quarter, alone, as if the invitation has gone declined. I haven’t seen a slogan fit for the moment of deep unease in a city in which 20 percent of the workforce is federal, tens of thousands have left or been fired since February, and where the unemployment rate has been leading the nation for months. Why not say what we mean? CANNED, FURLOUGHED or PROBATIONARY. DAMNED. SAVED.In every other respect, the people of this city speak in a direct manner, so rarely a note of the ironical or bohemian. Washington can feel like inhabiting a LinkedIn hologram: transactional, oppressively chipper, neutered. At the tasteful, wood-paneled bistro, a young woman in athleisure sits alone reading Gung Ho! Increase Productivity, Profits, and Your Own Prosperity over a shrimp salad and pale coffee. (The endearing maître d’ who used to inhale drags of Arthur Schlesinger, Jr. behind the counter seems to have evacuated his post.) Steel yourself: the first question out of a new acquaintance’s month really might be “What d’you do?”...
Laments are often operatic, duly so, but from people whose professional life and manner are the definition of restraint. A physician running miraculous clinical trials described to me a Looney Tunes world this past winter: a futile Road Runner-Coyote chase sequence, until the latest cuts made by the DOGE kid stuffed in the utility closet inevitably get reversed. Another fed worker is witnessing his unit transform into a “tabloid operation,” he says, “a craven institution stewarding the demise of the nation.” He continues: “What do you do stuck in a job with career-preservationists in charge who bend 93 different ways a day?”...
An elder nanny sidles up at the library to tell me about more ICE sightings. Arrests of nannies at Turtle Park, now Macomb. “They called the parents to come get the child,” she says of yet another raid I cannot confirm. When I ask her where she is hearing these reports—that I think they really might in fact be false—she just points to her phone, to the WhatsApp-group rumor mills, like it is an investigative report published by the Washington Post. It doesn’t matter that she is a citizen, she says. “They don’t care who you are, what your status is. And they go right to us,” she says, pointing to her skin and pursing her lips. Other nannies in the area are forgoing Venmo or check payments. Cash only. “Soviet practices=best practices in this climate!” a Russian-American mom texts me.
No one can even pretend anymore that Americans will take over all these jobs, particularly in the realm of construction or farming, giving the lie to an “American-made” future. An artist acquaintance has been photographing housing construction sites to imagine what it would look like for the power tools and saws to go silent in an industry where undocumented workers constitute more than 20 percent of the workforce. In a film she is making, she interviews a worker who says in Portuguese: “That guy that makes the hole, that breaks things, gets on the roof, lays down brick—they [Americans] don’t want to do that.” He adds, lightly: “So that is why they have us.” I hear of another young woman’s Bolsonarista father in São Paulo finally turning on the Bolsonaro of the North: “Who will do the work?”
The tariffs on trade suppose we want our goods “American-made,” returning the old glory back to the American working-class and blue-collar jobs. But by treating undocumented laborers in the appalling manner we are, it sends the message, rather loudly, that the work done by these individuals does not confer one ounce of dignity or worth. In fact, it disqualifies one from living even a quiet life on the margins. Who wants to be the understudy to the guy who worked so hard he was rewarded with being disappeared to a country he doesn’t even come from?
Another South American living near Rock Creek Park tells me he woke up recently in the middle of the night to the cry of a rabbit shrieking, pursued by a fox, an owl, some kind of predator. It was the most chilling sound he had ever heard. “I feel like that,” he says, “like a chased animal.”
Image: Winslow Homer, Right and Left
Tuesday, April 14, 2026
Aesthetics As a Housing Barrier?
Will Americans want more housing if it looks prettier?
Patrick Collison’s YIMBY credentials are unimpeachable. He is a major backer of California YIMBY, the organization that has passed a stunning array of pro-housing bills in one of the most anti-development states in the nation. So it was interesting to see him claim that the movement has made a big mistake — or even been downright dishonest — by ignoring the aesthetics of apartment buildings:
For reference, here’s Sejong City in Korea, whose residential districts do indeed look rather bland and oppressive:
Some urbanists agreed, calling for regulatory reform that would allow American apartment buildings to look like the famous Haussmann buildings in Paris (depicted at the top of this post). So did some conservatives, which is unsurprising; intellectual conservatism has always called for a return to classical architecture and a rejection of modern styles. In fact, the idea that ugly building styles are a key reason that Americans disapprove of housing construction has been around quite a while, and it even has a name — “QIMBY”, meaning “quality in my back yard”.
I think that’s a good thing. Eliminating onerous building codes and regulations will kill two birds with one stone, making it easier to build housing even as it also makes it possible to build more of the European-style ornamentation that commentators always call for. And allowing American developers to experiment with ornamentation and alternative styles will help break up the sameness of an urban landscape dominated by endless forests of boxy 5-over-1 buildings.
But that said, I highly doubt that this — or any stylistic change — would move the needle on public acceptance of new apartment buildings.
First of all, I’m skeptical that regular Americans actually like the kinds of building styles that intellectuals often yearn for. If you plunk down old-looking European-style buildings in the middle of Houston or Seattle, people tend to ridicule them as cheesy and inauthentic. The typical insult is “pastiche”, a derogatory term for a style that jumbles and mixes old European styles (even though, as Samuel Hughes points out, mixing and matching older ideas is exactly how classic European building styles were created in the first place).
Many local design standards explicitly discourage old-style buildings. For example, Los Angeles’ planning department, in its design guide for Echo Park, writes: “Do not imitate historic architectural styles; a modern interpretation may be appropriate if architectural features are borrowed and replicated to a simpler form.”
Nor is it just old European-looking buildings that leave many Americans cold. Pietrzak and Mendelberg (2025) find that although people tend to dislike tall buildings, traditional brick facades fail to move the needle on support for housing. Alex Armlovich points out that when New York City came out with new limestone skyscrapers, only three were permitted. And Brooklyn Tower, a recently built art deco style skyscraper in Brooklyn, has drawn tons of criticism for its style.
And Elmendorf cautions that no one has yet managed to find a specific architectural style that Americans like enough to move the needle on their support for new housing: [...]
Texas builds them anyway, for much the same reason that the Koreans built Sejong City — they’re cheap and efficient, and the state needs them to support its rapid population growth.1 You do see a little experimentation with slightly more European-style apartments in a few places, but overall it’s just boxy and functional. The fundamental driver of housing abundance in Texas isn’t architectural beauty; it’s a culture and politics that values and seeks out economic growth.
Nor is ornamental architecture necessarily what makes people love a city. Traditionalists may sigh over old European styles, and urbanists may salivate over the superilles of Barcelona, but the city that has captured the hearts of Americans in recent years is Tokyo. Downtown Tokyo is a forest of electric lights, strung up along the sides of stubby concrete mid-rises called zakkyo buildings. There’s nary a fancy cornice to be found; instead, the beauty comes from the bright cheery emblems of commerce:
Tokyo’s residential neighborhoods have even less ornamentation. They often feature flat brown or white or tan facades, hanging power lines, and bare asphalt streets with no setbacks or lawns or even trees:
And yet these are absolutely enchanting places to live. Why? Not because of the architecture, but because of the design of the city itself. The small curving streets make perfect walking paths, undisturbed by zooming traffic. Mixed-use zoning gives the neighborhood a communal, lived-in feel. Plentiful public transit makes it easy and stress-free to get around, while Japan’s peerless public safety makes it fun to hang out on the street or in a park at any hour.
Americans who go to Japan have definitely noticed this:
It’s no coincidence, I think, that Japan is one of the best countries when it comes to building plenty of housing. Yes, most of its apartment buildings look like crap when evaluated in isolation on their pure architectural merits. But the urban system made up by those buildings is a wonderful place to live, and so Japanese people have few qualms about building up that system. And Americans go there and love it.
And if America built a bunch of Haussmann buildings instead of boxy 5-over-1s, it would probably only marginally improve the feel of the country’s cities. [...]
If you want American cities to look and feel so nice that Americans are willing to build housing in them, I think you have to do a lot more than give the buildings fancy facades. You have to do the hard work of putting in train lines, making side streets safe for pedestrians, rezoning for mixed use, and — perhaps most important — policing cities in order to ensure robust public safety. [prescriptions follow:]
[ed. I imagine people might feel differently if Japan's commercial ornamentation districts were exported to America and composed mostly of Taco Bell, McDonald's, and other corporate fast food signage. In fact, we already have that, and it sucks.]
For reference, here’s Sejong City in Korea, whose residential districts do indeed look rather bland and oppressive:
Some urbanists agreed, calling for regulatory reform that would allow American apartment buildings to look like the famous Haussmann buildings in Paris (depicted at the top of this post). So did some conservatives, which is unsurprising; intellectual conservatism has always called for a return to classical architecture and a rejection of modern styles. In fact, the idea that ugly building styles are a key reason that Americans disapprove of housing construction has been around quite a while, and it even has a name — “QIMBY”, meaning “quality in my back yard”.
Chris Elmendorf protested Patrick’s framing, arguing that YIMBYs have been active in pushing for reforms that would allow more beautiful buildings to be built in America: [...]
YIMBYs have been pushing for single-stair reforms that would allow more "Paris-like" buildings…The municipal design standards & reviews that YIMBY laws allow developers to bypass did not improve designs. Per [Arthur] Stamps's studies (the only relevant empirical evidence of which I'm aware), they made things worse…[T]he problem of housing aesthetics deserves more attention -- and is receiving more attention -- but it's not like YIMBYs broke something that was working.Elmendorf also pointed out that California YIMBY itself recently came out with a plan to encourage the building of more beautiful multifamily housing. The plan reads like exactly the kind of thing that Patrick might like: [...]
If California wants more European-feeling mid-rise development with courtyards, better daylight, shade, and balconies, it has to keep modernizing the [building] code…Too many building, electrical, and fire rules (in California and across the U.S.) [forbid] the buildings people actually like: bright cross-ventilated homes, true courtyard buildings, and mixed-use ground floors. All these requirements – egress, stairs, corridor, and elevator – often make projects bulkier and require much bigger lots, limiting where we can build new housing…[T]he web of building code regulations denies light, proportion, street connections, courtyards, greenspace – everything that makes buildings feel humane…Passing single-stair reforms and elevator reforms makes smaller mid-rise buildings possible, which fit on smaller lots, can be nestled into existing buildings, add variety to the streetscape, and reduce the pressure for larger, monotonous developments.So at least one prominent YIMBY organization — the one that Patrick supports — is already answering the call to focus on building aesthetics. Others are likely to follow.
I think that’s a good thing. Eliminating onerous building codes and regulations will kill two birds with one stone, making it easier to build housing even as it also makes it possible to build more of the European-style ornamentation that commentators always call for. And allowing American developers to experiment with ornamentation and alternative styles will help break up the sameness of an urban landscape dominated by endless forests of boxy 5-over-1 buildings.
But that said, I highly doubt that this — or any stylistic change — would move the needle on public acceptance of new apartment buildings.
First of all, I’m skeptical that regular Americans actually like the kinds of building styles that intellectuals often yearn for. If you plunk down old-looking European-style buildings in the middle of Houston or Seattle, people tend to ridicule them as cheesy and inauthentic. The typical insult is “pastiche”, a derogatory term for a style that jumbles and mixes old European styles (even though, as Samuel Hughes points out, mixing and matching older ideas is exactly how classic European building styles were created in the first place).
Many local design standards explicitly discourage old-style buildings. For example, Los Angeles’ planning department, in its design guide for Echo Park, writes: “Do not imitate historic architectural styles; a modern interpretation may be appropriate if architectural features are borrowed and replicated to a simpler form.”
Nor is it just old European-looking buildings that leave many Americans cold. Pietrzak and Mendelberg (2025) find that although people tend to dislike tall buildings, traditional brick facades fail to move the needle on support for housing. Alex Armlovich points out that when New York City came out with new limestone skyscrapers, only three were permitted. And Brooklyn Tower, a recently built art deco style skyscraper in Brooklyn, has drawn tons of criticism for its style.
And Elmendorf cautions that no one has yet managed to find a specific architectural style that Americans like enough to move the needle on their support for new housing: [...]
All this suggests that while some American intellectuals may pine for the cornices and mascarons of Haussmannian Paris, most Americans just think that style — and any old style — looks cheesy when it’s transplanted to an American context. This may be because Americans consciously think of their culture as a young one, more suited to modern styles than traditional ones. Or it may be because America’s artistic culture has always focused on critique and fault-finding. But whatever it is, it suggests that allowing — or even forcing — cities to build ornamented buildings will not garner a wave of popular support for new development.
Conversely, the places that do build a lot of housing tend not to build it in old, ornate European styles. Texas, which is one of the best states when it comes to building new housing, mostly constructs single-family homes with lawns. When it does build apartment buildings, they tend to look like this:
Conversely, the places that do build a lot of housing tend not to build it in old, ornate European styles. Texas, which is one of the best states when it comes to building new housing, mostly constructs single-family homes with lawns. When it does build apartment buildings, they tend to look like this:
Texas builds them anyway, for much the same reason that the Koreans built Sejong City — they’re cheap and efficient, and the state needs them to support its rapid population growth.1 You do see a little experimentation with slightly more European-style apartments in a few places, but overall it’s just boxy and functional. The fundamental driver of housing abundance in Texas isn’t architectural beauty; it’s a culture and politics that values and seeks out economic growth.
Nor is ornamental architecture necessarily what makes people love a city. Traditionalists may sigh over old European styles, and urbanists may salivate over the superilles of Barcelona, but the city that has captured the hearts of Americans in recent years is Tokyo. Downtown Tokyo is a forest of electric lights, strung up along the sides of stubby concrete mid-rises called zakkyo buildings. There’s nary a fancy cornice to be found; instead, the beauty comes from the bright cheery emblems of commerce:
Tokyo’s residential neighborhoods have even less ornamentation. They often feature flat brown or white or tan facades, hanging power lines, and bare asphalt streets with no setbacks or lawns or even trees:
And yet these are absolutely enchanting places to live. Why? Not because of the architecture, but because of the design of the city itself. The small curving streets make perfect walking paths, undisturbed by zooming traffic. Mixed-use zoning gives the neighborhood a communal, lived-in feel. Plentiful public transit makes it easy and stress-free to get around, while Japan’s peerless public safety makes it fun to hang out on the street or in a park at any hour.
Americans who go to Japan have definitely noticed this:
It’s no coincidence, I think, that Japan is one of the best countries when it comes to building plenty of housing. Yes, most of its apartment buildings look like crap when evaluated in isolation on their pure architectural merits. But the urban system made up by those buildings is a wonderful place to live, and so Japanese people have few qualms about building up that system. And Americans go there and love it.
And if America built a bunch of Haussmann buildings instead of boxy 5-over-1s, it would probably only marginally improve the feel of the country’s cities. [...]
If you want American cities to look and feel so nice that Americans are willing to build housing in them, I think you have to do a lot more than give the buildings fancy facades. You have to do the hard work of putting in train lines, making side streets safe for pedestrians, rezoning for mixed use, and — perhaps most important — policing cities in order to ensure robust public safety. [prescriptions follow:]
by Noah Smith, Noahpinion | Read more:
Images: Wyatt Simpson on Unsplash/X/Minseong Kim via Wikimedia Commons/ Kevin Doran on Unsplash/ Kentin via Wikimedia Commons/Karan Singh on Unsplash
Actors and Scribes; Words and Deeds
[ed. With all the propaganda, misdirection, and outright lies we've heard lately about our war with Iran (or non-war, per Congressional republicans); the upcoming mid-term elections; progress and effects of AI; immigration and deportation policies; the economy; future job security, etc. etc. it seems useful to consider on a basic level how all this information is being transmitted and received. After all, there's a gigantic media apparatus designed specifically for this purpose - to optimize engagement in one form or another. So, while some people might do their best to tune it all out (which would be a mistake, and probably hopeless), others sift through the noise for some semblance of truth, or to hear what they want to hear. This essay helps define some cognitive ground rules.]
***
There's "telling the truth," and then there's a more specific thing that's more obviously distinct from even Actors who are trying to make honest reports: keeping precisely accurate formal accounts...
Summary
Everyone agrees that words have meaning; they convey information from the speaker to the listener or reader. That's all they do. So when I used the phrase “words have meanings” to describe one side of a divide between people who use language to report facts, and people who use language to enact roles, was I strawmanning the other side?
I say no. Many common uses of language, including some perfectly legitimate ones, are not well-described by "words have meanings." For instance, people who try to use promises like magic spells to bind their future behavior don't seem to consider the possibility that others might treat their promises as a factual representation of what the future will be like.
Some uses of language do not simply describe objects or events in the world, but are enactive, designed to evoke particular feelings or cause particular actions. Even when speech can only be understood as a description of part of a model of the world, the context in which a sentence is uttered often implies an active intent, so if we only consider the direct meaning of the text, we will miss the most important thing about the sentence.
Some apparent uses of language’s denotative features may in fact be purely enactive. This is possible because humans initially learn language mimetically, and try to copy usage before understanding what it’s for. Primarily denotative language users are likely to assume that structural inconsistencies in speech are errors, when they’re often simply signs that the speech is primarily intended to be enactive.
Enactive language
Some uses of words are enactive: ways to build or reveal momentum. Others denote the position of things on your world-map.
In the denotative framing, words largely denote concepts that refer to specific classes of objects, events, or attributes in the world, and should be parsed as such. The meaning of a sentence is mainly decomposable into the meanings of its parts and their relations to each other. Words have distinct meanings that can be composed together in structures to communicate complex and nonobvious messages, or just uses and connotations. When you speak in this mode, it’s to describe models - relationships between concepts, which refer to classes of objects in the world.
In the enactive mode, the function of speech is to produce some action or disposition in your listener, who may be yourself. Ideas are primarily associative, reminding you of the perceptions with which the speech-act is associated. When I wrote about admonitions as performance-enhancing speech, I gave the example of someone being encouraged by their workout buddies:
Military drills are also often about disintermediating between a command and action. Soldiers learn that when you receive an order, you just do the thing. This can lead to much more decisive and coordinated action in otherwise confusing situations – a familiar stimulus can lead to a regular response.
When someone gives you driving directions by telling you what you'll observe, and what to do once you make that observation, they're trying to encode a series of observation-action linkages in you.
This sort of linkage can happen to nonverbal animals too. Operant conditioning of animals gets around most animals' difficulty understanding spoken instructions, by associating a standardized reward indicator with the desired action. Often, if you want to train a comparatively complex action like pigeons playing pong, you'll need to train them one step at a time, gradually chaining the steps together, initially rewarding much simpler behaviors that will eventually compose into the desired complex behavior.
Some uses of words are enactive: ways to build or reveal momentum. Others denote the position of things on your world-map.
In the denotative framing, words largely denote concepts that refer to specific classes of objects, events, or attributes in the world, and should be parsed as such. The meaning of a sentence is mainly decomposable into the meanings of its parts and their relations to each other. Words have distinct meanings that can be composed together in structures to communicate complex and nonobvious messages, or just uses and connotations. When you speak in this mode, it’s to describe models - relationships between concepts, which refer to classes of objects in the world.
In the enactive mode, the function of speech is to produce some action or disposition in your listener, who may be yourself. Ideas are primarily associative, reminding you of the perceptions with which the speech-act is associated. When I wrote about admonitions as performance-enhancing speech, I gave the example of someone being encouraged by their workout buddies:
Recently, at the gym, I overheard some group of exercise buddies admonishing their buddy on some machine to keep going with each rep. My first thought was, “why are they tormenting their friend? Why can’t they just leave him alone? Exercise is hard enough without trying to parse social interactions at the same time.”In the same post, I quoted Wittgenstein’s thought experiment of a language where words are only ever used as commands, with a corresponding action, never to refer to an object. Wittgenstein gives the example of a language used for nothing but military orders, and then elaborates on a hypothetical language used strictly for work orders. For instance, a foreman might use the utterance “Slab!” to direct a worker to fetch a slab of rock. I summarized the situation thus:
And then I realized - they’re doing it because, for them, it works. It's easier for them to do the workout if someone is telling them, “Keep going! Push it! One more!”
When I hear “slab”, my mind interprets this by imagining the object. A native speaker of Wittgenstein’s command language, when hearing the utterance “Slab!”, might - merely as the act of interpreting the word - feel a sense of readiness to go fetch a stone slab.Wittgenstein’s listener might think of the slab itself, but only as a secondary operation in the process of executing the command. Likewise, I might, after thinking of the object, then infer that someone wants me to do something with the slab. But that requires an additional operation: modeling the speaker as an agent and using Gricean implicature to infer their intentions. The word has different cognitive content or implications for me, than for the speaker of Wittgenstein’s command language.
Military drills are also often about disintermediating between a command and action. Soldiers learn that when you receive an order, you just do the thing. This can lead to much more decisive and coordinated action in otherwise confusing situations – a familiar stimulus can lead to a regular response.
When someone gives you driving directions by telling you what you'll observe, and what to do once you make that observation, they're trying to encode a series of observation-action linkages in you.
This sort of linkage can happen to nonverbal animals too. Operant conditioning of animals gets around most animals' difficulty understanding spoken instructions, by associating a standardized reward indicator with the desired action. Often, if you want to train a comparatively complex action like pigeons playing pong, you'll need to train them one step at a time, gradually chaining the steps together, initially rewarding much simpler behaviors that will eventually compose into the desired complex behavior.
Crucially, the communication is never about the composition itself, just the components to be composed. Indeed, it’s not about anything, from the perspective of the animal being trained. This is similar to an old-fashioned army reliant on drill, in which, during battle, soldiers are told the next action they are to take, not told about overall structure of their strategy. They are told to, not told about.
Indeterminacy of translation
It’s conceivable that having what appears to be a language in common does not protect against such differences in interpretation. Quine also points to indeterminacy of translation and thus of explicable meaning with his "gavagai" example. As Wikipedia summarizes it:
Indeterminacy of reference refers to the interpretation of words or phrases in isolation, and Quine's thesis is that no unique interpretation is possible, because a 'radical interpreter' has no way of telling which of many possible meanings the speaker has in mind. Quine uses the example of the word "gavagai" uttered by a native speaker of the unknown language Arunta upon seeing a rabbit. A speaker of English could do what seems natural and translate this as "Lo, a rabbit." But other translations would be compatible with all the evidence he has: "Lo, food"; "Let's go hunting"; "There will be a storm tonight" (these natives may be superstitious); "Lo, a momentary rabbit-stage"; "Lo, an undetached rabbit-part." Some of these might become less likely – that is, become more unwieldy hypotheses – in the light of subsequent observation. Other translations can be ruled out only by querying the natives: An affirmative answer to "Is this the same gavagai as that earlier one?" rules out some possible translations. But these questions can only be asked once the linguist has mastered much of the natives' grammar and abstract vocabulary; that in turn can only be done on the basis of hypotheses derived from simpler, observation-connected bits of language; and those sentences, on their own, admit of multiple interpretations.Everyone begins life as a tiny immigrant who does not know the local language, and has to make such inferences, or something like them. Thus, many of the difficulties in nailing down exactly what a word is doing in a foreign language have analogues in nailing down exactly what a word is doing for another speaker of one’s own language.
Mimesis, association, and structure
Not only do we all begin life as immigrants, but as immigrants with no native language to which we can analogize our adopted tongue. We learn language through mimesis. For small children, language is perhaps more like Wittgenstein's command language than my reference-language. It's a commonplace observation that children learn the utterance "No!" as an expression of will. In The Ways of Naysaying: No, Not, Nothing, and Nonbeing, Eva Brann provides a charming example:
Children acquire some words, some two-word phrases, and then no. […] They say excited no to everything and guilelessly contradict their naysaying in the action: "Do you want some of my jelly sandwich?" "No." Gets on my lap and takes it away from me. […] It is a documented observation that the particle no occurs very early in children's speech, sometimes in the second year, quite a while before sentences are negated by not.First we learn language as an assertion of will, a way to command. Then, later, we learn how to use it to describe structural features of world-models. I strongly suspect that this involves some new, not entirely mimetic cognitive machinery kicking in, something qualitatively different: we start to think in terms of pointer-referent and concept-referent relations. In terms of logical structures, where "no" is not simply an assertion of negative affect, but inverts the meaning of whatever follows. Only after this do recursive clauses, conditionals, and negation of negation make any sense at all.
As long as we agree on something like rules of assembly for sentences, mimesis might mask a huge difference in how we think about things. It's instructive to look at how the current President of the United States uses language. He's talking to people who aren't bothering to track the structure of sentences. This makes him sound more "conversational" and, crucially, allows him to emphasize whichever words or phrases he wants, without burying them in a potentially hard-to-parse structure. As Katy Waldman of Slate says:
For some of us, Trump’s language is incendiary garbage. It’s not just that the ideas he wants to communicate are awful but that they come out as Saturnine gibberish or lewd smearing or racist gobbledygook. The man has never met a clause he couldn’t embellish forever and then promptly forget about. He uses adjectives as cudgels. You and I view his word casserole as not just incoherent but representative of the evil at his heart.Of course, Waldman is being condescending and wrong here. This is not word salad, it's high context communication. But high context communication isn't what you use when you are thinking you might persuade someone who doesn't already agree with you, it's just a more efficient exercise in flag-waving. The reason why we don't see a complex structure here is because Trump is not trying to communicate this sort of novel content that structural language is required for. He's just saying "what everyone was already thinking."
But it works. […]
Why? What’s the secret to Trump’s accidental brilliance? A few theories: simple component parts, weaponized unintelligibility, dark innuendo, and power signifiers.
[…] Trump tends to place the most viscerally resonant words at the end of his statements, allowing them to vibrate in our ears. For instance, unfurling his national security vision like a nativist pennant, Trump said: But, Jimmy, the problem – I mean, look, I’m for it. But look, we have people coming into the country* that are looking to do tremendous harm…. Look what happened in Paris. Look what happened in California, with, you know, 14 people dead. Other people are going to die, they’re badly injured, *we have a real problem.
Ironically, because Trump relies so heavily on footnotes, false starts, and flights of association, and because his digressions rarely hook back up with the main thought, the emotional terms take on added power. They become rays of clarity in an incoherent verbal miasma. Think about that: If Trump were a more traditionally talented orator, if he just made more sense, the surface meaning of his phrases would likely overshadow the buried connotations of each individual word. As is, to listen to Trump fit language together is to swim in an eddy of confusion punctuated by sharp stabs of dread. Which happens to be exactly the sensation he wants to evoke in order to make us nervous enough to vote for him.
But while Waldman picked a poor example, she's not wholly wrong. In some cases, the President of the United States seems to be impressionistically alluding to arguments or events his audience has already heard of – but his effective rhetorical use of insulting epithets like “Little Marco,” “Lying Ted Cruz,” and “Crooked Hillary,” fit very clearly into this schema. Instead of asking us to absorb facts about his opponents, incorporate them into coherent world-models, and then follow his argument for how we should judge them for their conduct, he used the simple expedient of putting a name next to a descriptor, repeatedly, to cause us to associate the connotations of those words. We weren't asked to think about anything. These were simply command words, designed to act directly on our feelings about the people he insulted.
We weren't asked to take his statements as factually accurate. It's enough that they're authentic.
This was persuasive to enough voters to make him President of the United States. This is not a straw man. This is real life. This is the world we live in.
You might object that the President of the United States is an unfair example, and that most people of any importance should be expected to be better and clearer thinkers than the leader of the free world. So, let's consider the case of some middling undergraduates taking an economics course.
by Ben Hoffman, Compass Rose | Read more:
Monday, April 13, 2026
Why Your Job’s Complexity Level May Affect Your Risk of Dementia
Getting an education is important for a lot of reasons, but there might be one reason you haven’t heard — it could lower your risk of dementia later in life. Decades of research have supported this claim, with one study showing that each additional year of formal education lowers the risk of Alzheimer’s disease or other types of dementia by 7 percent.
Now, a growing body of evidence suggests that the jobs we hold throughout our lives may matter just as much or more than years of education. Having a job that involves high levels of decision-making or creativity, rather than repetitive or manual tasks, could help keep the mind sharp and active.
“Many studies suggest that, if people are working in complex jobs during their lifetime, they have a lower likelihood of developing dementia in later life,” said Jinshil Hyun, assistant professor of neurology at Albert Einstein College of Medicine.
Roles like managers, teachers, lawyers and doctors are considered high complexity jobs, while clerical, transportation and assembly line work have lower complexity. The findings are consistent with the idea that taking part in mentally stimulating activities throughout the lifespan can help preserve late-life brain health and boost cognitive reserve — the brain’s ability to cope with age- or disease-related changes.
But don’t worry if your job doesn’t meet the criteria — there are other things that you can do to improve your cognitive reserve, such as reading, socializing and volunteering.
Why work might be linked to dementia risk
“We spend most of our day in work, at least eight hours a day. So that’s like, a third of our time engaged in work, sometimes more,” said Naaheed Mukadam, professor of psychiatry at University College London. “That’s a large part of what our brain is engaged in and therefore will have a large contributory effect on cognitive reserve development.”
In a recent study, Mukadam and her colleagues investigated which factors could be influencing education’s protective effect against dementia. Their analysis included 384,284 participants and took note of health behaviors like drinking, smoking and exercise; medical conditions like hypertension and diabetes; occupational complexity; and income. The results uncovered that occupational complexity is actually the biggest reason more education tends to lower your risk of dementia, accounting for more than 70 percent of that link.
“We found that occupational complexity explained the biggest proportion of that relationship between education and dementia,” she said. “People who have more education tend to get into better paid, more complex jobs. Then, the benefits for their physical and cognitive health compound in that way.”
Multiple studies have found that those with higher income have a lower risk of dementia, and the researchers speculate that job complexity likely plays a major role in that relationship as well.
Similarly, Hyun and her colleagues found in a 2021 study that occupational complexity is predictive of later-life dementia, independent of education. They looked at the effects on dementia-free survival time, or how many years a person lived before being diagnosed with dementia, in 10,195 participants from six countries. As expected, high school graduates had a 26 percent increase in dementia-free survival time compared to people who only completed middle school or less.
After controlling for education, high occupational complexity, compared to low occupational complexity, was associated with a 19 percent increase in dementia-free survival time. Hyun speculates that the greater mental stimulation of a complex job builds cognitive reserve, which helps people resist cognitive decline and stay mentally sharp for longer, even in the presence of harmful plaques seen in Alzheimer’s-affected brains.
“The cognitive reserve hypothesis suggests that, if people are doing cognitively enriching activities, then their brain has a more efficient network,” Hyun said.
by Meeri Kim, The Washington Post/Seattle Times | Read more:[ed. Or just develop a life long love of learning. Eric Hoffer would be a good example (longshoreman/philosopher). What'll happen when more people offload their thinking to an AI assistant?]
Now, a growing body of evidence suggests that the jobs we hold throughout our lives may matter just as much or more than years of education. Having a job that involves high levels of decision-making or creativity, rather than repetitive or manual tasks, could help keep the mind sharp and active.
Roles like managers, teachers, lawyers and doctors are considered high complexity jobs, while clerical, transportation and assembly line work have lower complexity. The findings are consistent with the idea that taking part in mentally stimulating activities throughout the lifespan can help preserve late-life brain health and boost cognitive reserve — the brain’s ability to cope with age- or disease-related changes.
But don’t worry if your job doesn’t meet the criteria — there are other things that you can do to improve your cognitive reserve, such as reading, socializing and volunteering.
Why work might be linked to dementia risk
“We spend most of our day in work, at least eight hours a day. So that’s like, a third of our time engaged in work, sometimes more,” said Naaheed Mukadam, professor of psychiatry at University College London. “That’s a large part of what our brain is engaged in and therefore will have a large contributory effect on cognitive reserve development.”
In a recent study, Mukadam and her colleagues investigated which factors could be influencing education’s protective effect against dementia. Their analysis included 384,284 participants and took note of health behaviors like drinking, smoking and exercise; medical conditions like hypertension and diabetes; occupational complexity; and income. The results uncovered that occupational complexity is actually the biggest reason more education tends to lower your risk of dementia, accounting for more than 70 percent of that link.
“We found that occupational complexity explained the biggest proportion of that relationship between education and dementia,” she said. “People who have more education tend to get into better paid, more complex jobs. Then, the benefits for their physical and cognitive health compound in that way.”
Multiple studies have found that those with higher income have a lower risk of dementia, and the researchers speculate that job complexity likely plays a major role in that relationship as well.
Similarly, Hyun and her colleagues found in a 2021 study that occupational complexity is predictive of later-life dementia, independent of education. They looked at the effects on dementia-free survival time, or how many years a person lived before being diagnosed with dementia, in 10,195 participants from six countries. As expected, high school graduates had a 26 percent increase in dementia-free survival time compared to people who only completed middle school or less.
After controlling for education, high occupational complexity, compared to low occupational complexity, was associated with a 19 percent increase in dementia-free survival time. Hyun speculates that the greater mental stimulation of a complex job builds cognitive reserve, which helps people resist cognitive decline and stay mentally sharp for longer, even in the presence of harmful plaques seen in Alzheimer’s-affected brains.
“The cognitive reserve hypothesis suggests that, if people are doing cognitively enriching activities, then their brain has a more efficient network,” Hyun said.
by Meeri Kim, The Washington Post/Seattle Times | Read more:
Image: iStock
Arby’s Reclassifies Their Food As Entertainment
via: The Onion
'Get Them All'
Why are WA farmers blindsided by an ICE crackdown?
It looks like farmers are starting to have some buyer’s remorse.
“ICE raids rattle Washington farmers who backed Trump’s immigration promises,” read one headline.
“A Republican farmer relies on immigrant work. He sees his party erasing it,” read another.
Randy Kraght is one such farmer. He runs a berry farm in Ferndale, in far northwest Washington, close to the Canadian border. Recently he emerged on a radio show in Bellingham, called “The Farming Show,” to tell how immigration agents had nabbed two of his longtime workers and sent them to the Tacoma detention facility.
“They’re my two main guys, unfortunately,” he said on KGMI on March 28. “Really good guys. Squeaky clean. Don’t drink. Not even a traffic ticket, none of that stuff.
“That’s why I didn’t worry too much about it, this whole crackdown thing,” he added. “All of a sudden you come to find out you’re wrong.”
Kraght said he had believed rhetoric from the Trump administration that it was targeting criminals, not workers. He said as a right-winger himself who backed Donald Trump — in 2020 he also gave $500 to the Loren Culp for governor campaign — that he’s “ended up really disappointed.”
What should those of us who are not farmers make of stories like this?
The crowd on social media was not sympathetic.
“You voted for this,” said one. “Haul your butt out there and work the fields yourself.”
“You just thought Trump would hurt other people,” said another.
“What did you think ‘mass deportation’ meant?” asked a third.
That last one was my reaction as well. At the GOP convention in 2024 the delegates waved “Mass Deportation Now!” signs. Trump pledged “the largest deportation operation in the history of our country.” Rally crowds chanted “send them home, send them home.”
It couldn’t have been clearer, could it?
Trump also talked of deporting up to 20 million people, which is thought to be more than 100% of all the people in the country illegally. It’s true Trump has also emphasized removing “the worst of the worst.” But he has canceled past directives that ordered ICE to focus its enforcement on criminals.
“He wanted mass deportation, rather than targeted deportation,” summed up the libertarian think tank the Cato Institute.
The director of a local farming advocacy group told me he thinks it’s unfair to say farmers should have known better.
“I don’t think farmers are simply cherry-picking what they want to hear,” said Ben Tindall, executive director of Save Family Farming in Whatcom County. “They have been told repeatedly that the workers on their farms who have been with them for years are not the targets.
“While Trump may have promoted one narrative at times during his campaign, what farmers and Americans more broadly have been told over and over and over again this past year and a half is something very different.”
A Tri-City Herald editorial decrying recent arrests on farms in Central Washington made a similar case.
“On the campaign trail, President Donald Trump said that immigration enforcement would primarily target undocumented immigrants who had committed violent crimes,” the paper wrote. “In practice, ICE has cast a wide net, capturing anyone who lacks the right papers and even some who have them.”
That’s not what I heard. On the campaign trail, Trump said immigrants in the country illegally were “poisoning the blood of our country.” He put that in writing. He wasn’t talking just about people with criminal records. Being in the country illegally isn’t a crime by itself anyway; it’s a civil violation, like a traffic ticket.
A year before the 2024 election, in November 2023, the media outlined what Trump planned to do. “Sweeping raids, giant camps and mass deportations: Inside Trump’s 2025 immigration plans,” The New York Times reported.
Did people not hear this — are we all in information silos? Did they not expect it to happen?
Or did they rationalize it, as the commenter up above said, as something that would only happen to others. You’d think farmers who employ undocumented immigrants would be less prone to this empathy deficit, if for no other reason than immigration is central to their business interests.
Or maybe this is one of those instances where some people take Trump literally, while others process the gist.
Recently the Trump administration’s border czar, Tom Homan, appeared at the Conservative Political Action Conference and discussed this exact issue.
“I see there’s a lot of language out there that President Trump’s backing off on mass deportation,” Homan said. “No, he’s not … The Biden administration, he told ICE you can’t arrest an illegal alien unless he’s convicted of a serious offense. President Trump says, ‘Get all. Get them all.’ And that’s what we’re doing.”
There’s not much wiggle room in “get them all.”
Immigration arrests in Washington state are up 73% through the first 14 months of Trump’s term. Less than half had any criminal record or charge. Some were following green card or asylum rules and got detained anyway. A national analysis this past week found that arrests of people without criminal records is up eightfold.
[ed. At least annual farm subsidies will help some. But workers will lose an entire season's pay.]
It looks like farmers are starting to have some buyer’s remorse.
“ICE raids rattle Washington farmers who backed Trump’s immigration promises,” read one headline.
“A Republican farmer relies on immigrant work. He sees his party erasing it,” read another.
“They’re my two main guys, unfortunately,” he said on KGMI on March 28. “Really good guys. Squeaky clean. Don’t drink. Not even a traffic ticket, none of that stuff.
“That’s why I didn’t worry too much about it, this whole crackdown thing,” he added. “All of a sudden you come to find out you’re wrong.”
Kraght said he had believed rhetoric from the Trump administration that it was targeting criminals, not workers. He said as a right-winger himself who backed Donald Trump — in 2020 he also gave $500 to the Loren Culp for governor campaign — that he’s “ended up really disappointed.”
What should those of us who are not farmers make of stories like this?
The crowd on social media was not sympathetic.
“You voted for this,” said one. “Haul your butt out there and work the fields yourself.”
“You just thought Trump would hurt other people,” said another.
“What did you think ‘mass deportation’ meant?” asked a third.
That last one was my reaction as well. At the GOP convention in 2024 the delegates waved “Mass Deportation Now!” signs. Trump pledged “the largest deportation operation in the history of our country.” Rally crowds chanted “send them home, send them home.”
It couldn’t have been clearer, could it?
Trump also talked of deporting up to 20 million people, which is thought to be more than 100% of all the people in the country illegally. It’s true Trump has also emphasized removing “the worst of the worst.” But he has canceled past directives that ordered ICE to focus its enforcement on criminals.
“He wanted mass deportation, rather than targeted deportation,” summed up the libertarian think tank the Cato Institute.
The director of a local farming advocacy group told me he thinks it’s unfair to say farmers should have known better.
“I don’t think farmers are simply cherry-picking what they want to hear,” said Ben Tindall, executive director of Save Family Farming in Whatcom County. “They have been told repeatedly that the workers on their farms who have been with them for years are not the targets.
“While Trump may have promoted one narrative at times during his campaign, what farmers and Americans more broadly have been told over and over and over again this past year and a half is something very different.”
A Tri-City Herald editorial decrying recent arrests on farms in Central Washington made a similar case.
“On the campaign trail, President Donald Trump said that immigration enforcement would primarily target undocumented immigrants who had committed violent crimes,” the paper wrote. “In practice, ICE has cast a wide net, capturing anyone who lacks the right papers and even some who have them.”
That’s not what I heard. On the campaign trail, Trump said immigrants in the country illegally were “poisoning the blood of our country.” He put that in writing. He wasn’t talking just about people with criminal records. Being in the country illegally isn’t a crime by itself anyway; it’s a civil violation, like a traffic ticket.
A year before the 2024 election, in November 2023, the media outlined what Trump planned to do. “Sweeping raids, giant camps and mass deportations: Inside Trump’s 2025 immigration plans,” The New York Times reported.
Did people not hear this — are we all in information silos? Did they not expect it to happen?
Or did they rationalize it, as the commenter up above said, as something that would only happen to others. You’d think farmers who employ undocumented immigrants would be less prone to this empathy deficit, if for no other reason than immigration is central to their business interests.
Or maybe this is one of those instances where some people take Trump literally, while others process the gist.
Recently the Trump administration’s border czar, Tom Homan, appeared at the Conservative Political Action Conference and discussed this exact issue.
“I see there’s a lot of language out there that President Trump’s backing off on mass deportation,” Homan said. “No, he’s not … The Biden administration, he told ICE you can’t arrest an illegal alien unless he’s convicted of a serious offense. President Trump says, ‘Get all. Get them all.’ And that’s what we’re doing.”
There’s not much wiggle room in “get them all.”
Immigration arrests in Washington state are up 73% through the first 14 months of Trump’s term. Less than half had any criminal record or charge. Some were following green card or asylum rules and got detained anyway. A national analysis this past week found that arrests of people without criminal records is up eightfold.
It seems completely predictable that any mass deportation scheme will increasingly snatch up the “squeaky clean,” as farmer Kraght described his workers.
The second-guessing of this farmer, and others who suddenly are speaking out, is human nature.
Some empathy is called for as well.
Farming is in a tough spot right now, with tariffs and energy prices soaring. Tindall of Save Family Farming said adding immigration raids on top of all that, without any effort at reform of the system with permits or legal pathways, is threatening the farm system and potentially the food supply. As well as the due process rights of migrant workers and their families — something “farm owners have become deeply concerned about.”
Farm country is Trump country. It can’t be comfortable for this group, or this farmer, to cross that red line. Farmer Kraght didn’t have to tell his story or acknowledge being wrong. Or to suggest some of his workers were undocumented, a reality farmers sometimes gloss over.
Political change comes in many ways, from small gatherings in living rooms to mass street protests. This is one of the ways, when one by one, the scales begin to fall from people’s eyes.
The second-guessing of this farmer, and others who suddenly are speaking out, is human nature.
Some empathy is called for as well.
Farming is in a tough spot right now, with tariffs and energy prices soaring. Tindall of Save Family Farming said adding immigration raids on top of all that, without any effort at reform of the system with permits or legal pathways, is threatening the farm system and potentially the food supply. As well as the due process rights of migrant workers and their families — something “farm owners have become deeply concerned about.”
Farm country is Trump country. It can’t be comfortable for this group, or this farmer, to cross that red line. Farmer Kraght didn’t have to tell his story or acknowledge being wrong. Or to suggest some of his workers were undocumented, a reality farmers sometimes gloss over.
Political change comes in many ways, from small gatherings in living rooms to mass street protests. This is one of the ways, when one by one, the scales begin to fall from people’s eyes.
by Danny Westneat, Seattle Times | Read more:
Image: Matt Rourke / The Associated Press
Tragedy and the Common Man
In this age few tragedies are written. It has often been held that the lack is due to a paucity of heroes among us, or else that modern man has had the blood drawn out of his organs of belief by the skepticism of science, and the heroic attack on life cannot feed on an attitude of reserve and circumspection. For one reason or another, we are often held to be below tragedy-or tragedy above us. The inevitable conclusion is, of course, that the tragic mode is archaic, fit only for the very highly placed, the kings or the kingly, and where this admission is not made in so many words it is most often implied.
I believe that the common man is as apt a subject for tragedy in its highest sense as kings were. On the face of it this ought to be obvious in the light of modern psychiatry, which bases its analysis upon classific formulations, such as Oedipus and Orestes complexes, for instances, which were enacted by royal beings, but which apply to everyone in similar emotional situations.
More simply, when the question of tragedy in art is not at issue, we never hesitate to attribute to the well-placed and the exalted the very same mental processes as the lowly. And finally, if the exaltation of tragic action were truly a property of the high-bred character alone, it is inconceivable that the mass of mankind should cherish tragedy above all other forms, let alone be capable of understanding it.
As a general rule, to which there may be exceptions unknown to me, I think the tragic feeling is evoked in us when we are in the presence of a character who is ready to lay down his life, if need be, to secure one thing-his sense of personal dignity. From Orestes to Hamlet, Medea to Macbeth, the underlying struggle is that of the individual attempting to gain his "rightful" position in his society.
Sometimes he is one who has been displaced from it, sometimes one who seeks to attain it for the first time, but the fateful wound from which the inevitable events spiral is the wound of indignity and its dominant force is indignation. Tragedy, then, is the consequence of a man's total compulsion to evaluate himself justly.
In the sense of having been initiated by the hero himself, the tale always reveals what has been called his "tragic flaw," a failing that is not peculiar to grand or elevated characters. Nor is it necessarily a weakness. The flaw, or crack in the characters, is really nothing - and need be nothing, but his inherent unwillingness to remain passive in the face of what he conceives to be a challenge to his dignity, his image of his rightful status. Only the passive, only those who accept their lot without active retaliation, are "flawless." Most of us are in that category.
But there are among us today, as there always have been, those who act against the scheme of things that degrades them, and in the process of action everything we have accepted out of fear of insensitivity or ignorance is shaken before us and examined, and from this total onslaught by an individual against the seemingly stable cosmos surrounding us - from this total examination of the "unchangeable" environment-comes the terror and the fear that is classically associated with tragedy. More important, from this total questioning of what has previously been unquestioned, we learn. And such a process is not beyond the common man. In revolutions around the world, these past thirty years, he has demonstrated again and again this inner dynamic of all tragedy. [...]
The quality in such plays that does shake us, however, derives from the underlying fear of being displaced, the disaster inherent in being torn away from our chosen image of what and who we are in this world. Among us today this fear is strong, and perhaps stronger, than it ever was. In fact, it is the common man who knows this fear best.
Now, if it is true that tragedy is the consequence of a man's total compulsion to evaluate himself justly, his destruction in the attempt posits a wrong or an evil in his environment. And this is precisely the morality of tragedy and its lesson. The discovery of the moral law, which is what the enlightenment of tragedy consists of, is not the discovery of some abstract or metaphysical quantity.
The tragic right is a condition of life, a condition in which the human personality is able to flower and realize itself. The wrong is the condition which suppresses man, perverts the flowing out of his love and creative instinct. Tragedy enlightens - and it must, in that it points the heroic finger at the enemy of man's freedom. The thrust for freedom is the quality in tragedy which exalts. The revolutionary questioning of the stable environment is what terrifies. In no way is the common man debarred from such thoughts or such actions.
Seen in this light, our lack of tragedy may be partially accounted for by the turn which modern literature has taken toward the purely psychiatric view of life, or the purely sociological. If all our miseries, our indignities, are born and bred within our minds, then all action, let alone the heroic action, is obviously impossible.
And if society alone is responsible for the cramping of our lives, then the protagonist must needs be so pure and faultless as to force us to deny his validity as a character. From neither of these views can tragedy derive, simply because neither represents a balanced concept of life. Above all else, tragedy requires the finest appreciation by the writer of cause and effect.
No tragedy can therefore come about when its author fears to question absolutely everything, when he regards any institution, habit or custom as being either everlasting, immutable or inevitable. In the tragic view the need of man to wholly realize himself is the only fixed star, and whatever it is that hedges his nature and lowers it is ripe for attack and examination. Which is not to say that tragedy must preach revolution.
The Greeks could probe the very heavenly origin of their ways and return to confirm the rightness of laws. And Job could face God in anger, demanding his right and end in submission. But for a moment everything is in suspension, nothing is accepted, and in this sketching and tearing apart of the cosmos, in the very action of so doing, the character gains "size," the tragic stature which is spuriously attached to the royal or the high born in our minds. The commonest of men may take on that stature to the extent of his willingness to throw all he has into the contest, the battle to secure his rightful place in the world.
There is a misconception of tragedy with which I have been struck in review after review, and in many conversations with writers and readers alike. It is the idea that tragedy is of necessity allied to pessimism. Even the dictionary says nothing more about the word than that it means a story with a sad or unhappy ending. This impression is so firmly fixed that I almost hesitate to claim that in truth tragedy implies more optimism in its author than does comedy, and that its final result ought to be the reinforcement of the onlooker's brightest opinions of the human animal.
For, if it is true to say that in essence the tragic hero is intent upon claiming his whole due as a personality, and if this struggle must be total and without reservation, then it automatically demonstrates the indestructible will of man to achieve his humanity.
The possibility of victory must be there in tragedy. Where pathos rules, where pathos is finally derived, a character has fought a battle he could not possibly have won. The pathetic is achieved when the protagonist is, by virtue of his witlessness, his insensitivity, or the very air he gives off, incapable of grappling with a much superior force.
Pathos truly is the mode for the pessimist. But tragedy requires a nicer balance between what is possible and what is impossible. And it is curious, although edifying, that the plays we revere, century after century, are the tragedies. In them, and in them alone, lies the belief-optimistic, if you will, in the perfectibility of man.
It is time, I think, that we who are without kings, took up this bright thread of our history and followed it to the only place it can possibly lead in our time - the heart and spirit of the average man.
I believe that the common man is as apt a subject for tragedy in its highest sense as kings were. On the face of it this ought to be obvious in the light of modern psychiatry, which bases its analysis upon classific formulations, such as Oedipus and Orestes complexes, for instances, which were enacted by royal beings, but which apply to everyone in similar emotional situations.
As a general rule, to which there may be exceptions unknown to me, I think the tragic feeling is evoked in us when we are in the presence of a character who is ready to lay down his life, if need be, to secure one thing-his sense of personal dignity. From Orestes to Hamlet, Medea to Macbeth, the underlying struggle is that of the individual attempting to gain his "rightful" position in his society.
Sometimes he is one who has been displaced from it, sometimes one who seeks to attain it for the first time, but the fateful wound from which the inevitable events spiral is the wound of indignity and its dominant force is indignation. Tragedy, then, is the consequence of a man's total compulsion to evaluate himself justly.
In the sense of having been initiated by the hero himself, the tale always reveals what has been called his "tragic flaw," a failing that is not peculiar to grand or elevated characters. Nor is it necessarily a weakness. The flaw, or crack in the characters, is really nothing - and need be nothing, but his inherent unwillingness to remain passive in the face of what he conceives to be a challenge to his dignity, his image of his rightful status. Only the passive, only those who accept their lot without active retaliation, are "flawless." Most of us are in that category.
But there are among us today, as there always have been, those who act against the scheme of things that degrades them, and in the process of action everything we have accepted out of fear of insensitivity or ignorance is shaken before us and examined, and from this total onslaught by an individual against the seemingly stable cosmos surrounding us - from this total examination of the "unchangeable" environment-comes the terror and the fear that is classically associated with tragedy. More important, from this total questioning of what has previously been unquestioned, we learn. And such a process is not beyond the common man. In revolutions around the world, these past thirty years, he has demonstrated again and again this inner dynamic of all tragedy. [...]
The quality in such plays that does shake us, however, derives from the underlying fear of being displaced, the disaster inherent in being torn away from our chosen image of what and who we are in this world. Among us today this fear is strong, and perhaps stronger, than it ever was. In fact, it is the common man who knows this fear best.
Now, if it is true that tragedy is the consequence of a man's total compulsion to evaluate himself justly, his destruction in the attempt posits a wrong or an evil in his environment. And this is precisely the morality of tragedy and its lesson. The discovery of the moral law, which is what the enlightenment of tragedy consists of, is not the discovery of some abstract or metaphysical quantity.
The tragic right is a condition of life, a condition in which the human personality is able to flower and realize itself. The wrong is the condition which suppresses man, perverts the flowing out of his love and creative instinct. Tragedy enlightens - and it must, in that it points the heroic finger at the enemy of man's freedom. The thrust for freedom is the quality in tragedy which exalts. The revolutionary questioning of the stable environment is what terrifies. In no way is the common man debarred from such thoughts or such actions.
Seen in this light, our lack of tragedy may be partially accounted for by the turn which modern literature has taken toward the purely psychiatric view of life, or the purely sociological. If all our miseries, our indignities, are born and bred within our minds, then all action, let alone the heroic action, is obviously impossible.
And if society alone is responsible for the cramping of our lives, then the protagonist must needs be so pure and faultless as to force us to deny his validity as a character. From neither of these views can tragedy derive, simply because neither represents a balanced concept of life. Above all else, tragedy requires the finest appreciation by the writer of cause and effect.
No tragedy can therefore come about when its author fears to question absolutely everything, when he regards any institution, habit or custom as being either everlasting, immutable or inevitable. In the tragic view the need of man to wholly realize himself is the only fixed star, and whatever it is that hedges his nature and lowers it is ripe for attack and examination. Which is not to say that tragedy must preach revolution.
The Greeks could probe the very heavenly origin of their ways and return to confirm the rightness of laws. And Job could face God in anger, demanding his right and end in submission. But for a moment everything is in suspension, nothing is accepted, and in this sketching and tearing apart of the cosmos, in the very action of so doing, the character gains "size," the tragic stature which is spuriously attached to the royal or the high born in our minds. The commonest of men may take on that stature to the extent of his willingness to throw all he has into the contest, the battle to secure his rightful place in the world.
There is a misconception of tragedy with which I have been struck in review after review, and in many conversations with writers and readers alike. It is the idea that tragedy is of necessity allied to pessimism. Even the dictionary says nothing more about the word than that it means a story with a sad or unhappy ending. This impression is so firmly fixed that I almost hesitate to claim that in truth tragedy implies more optimism in its author than does comedy, and that its final result ought to be the reinforcement of the onlooker's brightest opinions of the human animal.
For, if it is true to say that in essence the tragic hero is intent upon claiming his whole due as a personality, and if this struggle must be total and without reservation, then it automatically demonstrates the indestructible will of man to achieve his humanity.
The possibility of victory must be there in tragedy. Where pathos rules, where pathos is finally derived, a character has fought a battle he could not possibly have won. The pathetic is achieved when the protagonist is, by virtue of his witlessness, his insensitivity, or the very air he gives off, incapable of grappling with a much superior force.
Pathos truly is the mode for the pessimist. But tragedy requires a nicer balance between what is possible and what is impossible. And it is curious, although edifying, that the plays we revere, century after century, are the tragedies. In them, and in them alone, lies the belief-optimistic, if you will, in the perfectibility of man.
It is time, I think, that we who are without kings, took up this bright thread of our history and followed it to the only place it can possibly lead in our time - the heart and spirit of the average man.
by Arthur Miller, NY Times | Read more:
Image: Laurie Metcalf and Nathan Lane in “Death of a Salesman”. Sara Krulwich/The New York Times[ed. See also: A Cold, Perfect ‘Death of a Salesman’ for Our Time (NY Times).]
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