Tony Judt in the NYRB blog:

[Czeslaw] Milosz was born in 1911 in what was then Russian Lithuania. Indeed, like many great Polish literary figures, he was not strictly “Polish” by geographical measure. Adam Zagajewski, one of the country’s most important living poets, was born in Ukraine; Jerzy Giedroyc—a major figure in the twentieth-century literary exile—was born in Belarus, like Adam Mickiewicz, the nineteenth-century icon of the Polish literary revival. Lithuanian Vilna in particular was a cosmopolitan blend of Poles, Lithuanians, Germans, Russians, and Jews, among others (Isaiah Berlin, like the Harvard political philosopher Judith Shklar, was born in nearby Riga).

Raised in the interwar Polish republic, Milosz survived the occupation and was already a poet of some standing when he was sent to Paris as the cultural attaché of the new People’s Republic. But in 1951 he defected to the West and two years later he published his most influential work, The Captive Mind. Never out of print, it is by far the most insightful and enduring account of the attraction of intellectuals to Stalinism and, more generally, of the appeal of authority and authoritarianism to the intelligentsia.

Milosz studies four of his contemporaries and the self-delusions to which they fell prey on their journey from autonomy to obedience, emphasizing what he calls the intellectuals’ need for “a feeling of belonging.” Two of his subjects—Jerzy Andrzejewski and Tadeusz Borowski—may be familiar to English readers, Andrzejewski as the author of Ashes and Diamonds (adapted for the cinema by Andrzej Wajda) and Borowski as the author of a searing memoir of Auschwitz, This Way for the Gas, Ladies and Gentlemen.

But the book is most memorable for two images.

Over at Philosophy Bites:

Some philosophers believe that conceptual analysis will reveal the essence of mental states. Pat Churchland disagrees. In conversation with Nigel Warburton she explains how philosophers can learn from neuroscience and why some 'folk' psychological terms may need revision.

Listen to Pat Churchland on Eliminative Materialism

Our own Kris Kotarski in The Vancouver Sun:

It is not often that one can pinpoint the moment that a person, an organization or a profession loses its moral compass but, thanks to a study released by Harvard's Joan Shorenstein Center on the Press, Politics and Public Policy this April, we know that 2004 was the year that four of America's largest newspapers lost theirs.

The study, entitled Torture at Times: Waterboarding in the Media, details the use of the word “torture” by the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the Wall Street Journal and USA Today over the past 100 years when describing waterboarding, a form of torture made familiar by its use by American interrogators after 2002.

The study found that “for more than 70 years prior to 9/11, American law and major newspapers consistently classified waterboarding as torture.”

“From the early 1930s until the modern story broke in 2004, the newspapers that covered waterboarding almost uniformly called the practice torture or implied it was torture: The New York Times characterized it thus in 81.5 per cent (44 of 54) of articles on the subject and The Los Angeles Times did so in 96.3 per cent of articles (26 of 27). By contrast, from 2002-2008, the studied newspapers hardly ever referred to waterboarding as torture.”

More here.

How it Adds Up
…………………..
There was the day we swam in a river, a lake, and an ocean.

From The Telegraph:

At a house party at Boughton in the early Fifties, the publisher Jamie Hamilton and his wife encountered Hugh Trevor-Roper. “We found ourselves wondering if one so young and gifted ought to spend quite so much time hating people,” Hamilton reported back to the art historian Bernard Berenson. “He has hardly a charitable word for anyone, and seems to relish the discomfiture even of those he is supposed to like. A strange mixture, and rather a frightening one.”

But also an irresistible one. We are in the midst of a Trevor-Roper revival. Since his death in 2003, much of Lord Dacre’s arsenal of unfinished essays and biographies has finally come into print – alongside his stunning correspondence with Berenson, Letters from Oxford, edited by Richard Davenport-Hines. His was a compelling 20th-century life, complete with an enviable array of walk-on parts from Katharine Hepburn and Anthony Blunt to Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, President of Pakistan. But what Adam Sisman’s new biography, for all its scholarship and detail, fails to provide is the convincing answer for Trevor-Roper’s claims as one of our greatest historians.

More here.

Carl Zimmer in The New York Times:

Dr. Alexander Khoruts had run out of options. In 2008, Dr. Khoruts, a gastroenterologist at the University of Minnesota, took on a patient suffering from a vicious gut infection of Clostridium difficile. She was crippled by constant diarrhea, which had left her in a wheelchair wearing diapers. Dr. Khoruts treated her with an assortment of antibiotics, but nothing could stop the bacteria. His patient was wasting away, losing 60 pounds over the course of eight months. “She was just dwindling down the drain, and she probably would have died,” Dr. Khoruts said. Dr. Khoruts decided his patient needed a transplant. But he didn’t give her a piece of someone else’s intestines, or a stomach, or any other organ. Instead, he gave her some of her husband’s bacteria. Dr. Khoruts mixed a small sample of her husband’s stool with saline solution and delivered it into her colon. Writing in the Journal of Clinical Gastroenterology last month, Dr. Khoruts and his colleagues reported that her diarrhea vanished in a day. Her Clostridium difficile infection disappeared as well and has not returned since.

The procedure — known as bacteriotherapy or fecal transplantation — had been carried out a few times over the past few decades. But Dr. Khoruts and his colleagues were able to do something previous doctors could not: they took a genetic survey of the bacteria in her intestines before and after the transplant. Before the transplant, they found, her gut flora was in a desperate state. “The normal bacteria just didn’t exist in her,” said Dr. Khoruts. “She was colonized by all sorts of misfits.” Two weeks after the transplant, the scientists analyzed the microbes again. Her husband’s microbes had taken over. “That community was able to function and cure her disease in a matter of days,” said Janet Jansson, a microbial ecologist at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory and a co-author of the paper. “I didn’t expect it to work. The project blew me away.”

More here.

Quantum theory is known largely for being unknown — known, in other words, for how it departs from the world of common experience, how it cannot be explained or grasped, how it defies reason and intuition, and how it toys with the laws of classical physics. It is a science of head-scratching. Matter appears in two places at once. Light acts as a wave and a particle (both, and neither). Multiple possibilities superimpose on the same moment. Particles separated by miles seem directly connected. Electrons seem to act differently when they are watched up close. For most of us, these bewilderments must be taken nearly as an article of faith, bolstered by the men and women of science who explain the phenomena with broad strokes and clever thought experiments. To refine these illustrations into the actual theory is to point down a path — out of the cave, up the mountain, down the rabbit hole; take your pick — that few can follow. As a consequence, the fact that the universe is so mysterious has been more influential in popular culture than any of the particular mysteries that scientists have described. What has been really compelling is the credibility quantum physics lends to the bizarre. Nearly any pseudo-scientific craziness can seem to fall under the field’s umbrella by virtue of the gap separating it from common sense.

more from Jeremy Axelrod at The New Atlantis here.

The knees of the soldier from the Presidential Guard are pressing against my spine through the driver’s seat. When he shifts his position they roll across my back like the mechanism of an airport massage chair. It’s ten years since I first came to Zimbabwe. Back then I was on the trail of my great, great uncle, a maverick missionary called Arthur Cripps. For the last week on this return trip I’ve been staying in the Eastern Highlands with Arthur’s granddaughter, Mazzy Shine, a retired British paediatric nurse who’s come to Zimbabwe to set up a children’s home. We’re making the three-hour drive back to Harare in Mazzy’s car, a white four-door Toyota Starlet. Mazzy sits in the passenger seat next to me wearing a baseball cap, white T-shirt, combat trousers and bright red lipstick. Smoking a Winston cigarette out of the open window, she talks excitedly between draws about her plans for being back in the city – chasing down a hairdresser who owes her a haircut, being able to Skype and email again, having drinks with friends at the Book Cafe. The road ahead of us, straight and undulating, hazes into the distance between a scrubland veld scattered with msasa and acacia trees. Occasionally we pass an ancient bus offloading its passengers or an expensive-looking Mercedes or BMW will overtake us to speed away between the bottle stores and kraals of mud and brick rondavels.

more from Owen Sheers at Granta here.

In Spain earlier this month, the Catalonian assembly narrowly rejected a proposed ban on the Muslim burqa in all public places — reversing a vote the week before in the country’s upper house of parliament supporting a ban. Similar proposals may soon become national law in France and Belgium. Even the headscarf often causes trouble. In France, girls may not wear it in school. In Germany (as in parts of Belgium and the Netherlands) some regions forbid public school teachers to wear it on the job, although nuns and priests are permitted to teach in full habit. What does political philosophy have to say about these developments? As it turns out, a long philosophical and legal tradition has reflected about similar matters. Let’s start with an assumption that is widely shared: that all human beings are equal bearers of human dignity. It is widely agreed that government must treat that dignity with equal respect. But what is it to treat people with equal respect in areas touching on religious belief and observance? We now add a further premise: that the faculty with which people search for life’s ultimate meaning — frequently called “conscience” ─ is a very important part of people, closely related to their dignity. And we add one further premise, which we might call the vulnerability premise: this faculty can be seriously damaged by bad worldly conditions.

more from Martha Nussbaum at The Opinionater here.

by Ashley Mears

Coco Rocha in Bill Blass by Peter Som February 2008, Photographed by Ed Kavishe for Fashion Wire Press.jpg

(Photo: Coco Rocha in Bill Blass by Peter Som February 2008, Photographed by Ed Kavishe for Fashion Wire Press, and is licensed under creative commons.)

In 2002, a tall and skinny 14-year old girl competed in a dance contest in Vancouver, Canada. There she encountered a modeling agent, who asked her to consider going out for modeling jobs. Today, the 22-year-old Coco Rocha is celebrated as a “supermodel” (however little of its glamazon power the term retains these days), appearing on covers of Vogue and i-D magazines, on catwalks from Marc Jacobs to Prada, and as the star face for Dior, H&M, and Chanel. You might not recognize her name, but the chances are you’ve seen Coco Rocha in the past few years.

Coco is what economists would call a winner in a “winner-take all market,” prevalent in culture industries like art and music, where a handful of people reap very lucrative and visible rewards while the bulk of contestants barely scrape by meager livings before they fade into more stable and far less glamorous careers. The presence of such spectacular winners like Coco Rocha raises a great sociological question: how, among the thousands of wannabe models worldwide, is any one 14 year-old able to rise from the pack? What makes Coco Rocha more valuable than the thousands of similar contestants? How, in other words, do winners happen?

The secrets to Coco’s success, and the dozens of girls that have come before and will surely come after her, have much less to do with Coco the person (or the body) than with the social context of an unstable market. There is very little intrinsic value in Coco’s physique that would set her apart from any number of other similarly-built teens—when dealing with symbolic goods like “beauty” and “fashionability,” we would be hard pressed to identify objective measures of worth inherent in the good itself. Rather, social processes are at work in the fashion modeling market to bequeath cultural value onto Coco. The social world of fashion markets reveals how market actors think collectively to make decisions in the face of uncertainty. And this social side of markets, it turns out, is key to understanding how investors could trade securities backed with “toxic” subprime mortgage assets leading us into the 2009 financial crisis.

Read more »

Bunny Harvey. Damsel's View. 2009

Oil on panel.

More here and here.

Editor's Note: In the spirit of The New Yorker's popular caption contest, we will be presenting original cartoons done for 3QD by the very talented Robert Pichler. Unlike The New Yorker, we are not running a real contest, but just for fun, we encourage you to suggest captions in the comments area.

Charles Simic over at the NYRB blog:

The first instance of capital punishment on record in America was the shooting in colonial Virginia of George Kendall, accused of plotting to betray the British to the Spanish. If he had any parting quips, they were not written down. We have to wait for the execution of two Quakers, Marmaduke Stevenson and William Robinson, fifty years later, on October 27, 1659, for an account of the last words of the condemned. As one would expect, the two men, who were convicted and hung for disobeying banishment from the Massachusetts Bay Colony, reaffirmed their faith in God and reminded the spectators to mind the light that shone within them. Since then, as Last Words of the Executed, an enthralling book by Robert K. Elder, amply documents, there have been over sixteen thousand executions in this country and a vast record of final pronouncements taken from prison records, eyewitness statements, newspaper accounts, period diaries and written statements. Some of these are credibly attributable to the executed while others are of questionable origin or indisputably redacted.

Why this enormous interest in the final thoughts of men and women who were often guilty of committing horrific crimes? It must be the same morbid curiosity that brought huge crowds of Americans to public executions in the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries. Many considered these grim occasions so much fun they brought their families along. The spectators didn’t mind if the hanging they were watching was botched and the condemned struggled choking for a long while at the end of the rope, or if his body dropped headless to the ground, and greeted such horrors with “rude jests” and “rabid laughter.” They expected, as part of the program, to hear a public admission of guilt, expression of remorse, appeal for forgiveness from God and the assembled, and a warning about the evils of booze and company of loose women. They were rarely disappointed.