Sublime

mean anything at all. On the front page of the gray old Times, I’m liable to encounter a chatty article about frying with propane gas. CNN lavished hours of airtime on a runaway bride. The magisterial tones of Walter Cronkite, America’s rich uncle, are lost to history, replaced by the ex-cheerleader mom style of Katie Couric. One reason the notion

in the absence of skin in the game, journalists will imitate, to be safe, the opinion of other journalists, thus creating monoculture and collective mirages.

For the British after 1857, the Indian Muslim became an almost subhuman creature, to be classified in unembarrassedly racist imperial literature alongside such other despised and subject specimens, such as Irish Catholics or “the Wandering Jew.”

I was a teenager attending the funerals of classmates.

As news organizations scrambled to correct their coverage, for instance, traders at Manifold determined that the IDF probably hadn’t been responsible for whatever had happened on that particular night at the Gaza hospital.[*19] But the bigger concern I have,

The New York Times was built with a very different standard in mind than the one embraced by the creators of The 1619 Project, who look at truth as a malleable substance, a “construct,”