by Abigail Akavia

A few years ago I taught an undergraduate seminar on Euripides’ tragedy Iphigenia in Aulis and late 20th century adaptations of the play. Halfway through the quarter, a student confided in me that she was a sexual assault survivor, and that the content we were dealing with in class was bringing the traumatic experience back to her. I was caught off guard. I do not wish here to get into the fraught questions of whether or not trigger warnings are appropriate in higher education, or of whether or how instructors should attend to students’ emotional needs when dealing with potentially triggering subject-matters; this was not the point of the conversation with my student, nor was she trying to excuse herself from any assignment or to modify her participation in the seminar. (Indeed, she was one of the students whose contribution to class was most consistent and significant.) Our conversation was and still is momentous for me because I had not realized until then that a statement like “this play evokes rape” is an appropriate preface to a discussion of Iphigenia in Aulis.
This conversation was pivotal for my understanding of Euripides’ play; it changed the way I see my role as a teacher in general and a teacher of classical texts in particular. So focused was I on the ancient version of Iphigenia’s story, even when reading its reformulations in contemporary texts, that I failed to acknowledge the centrality of gender-based violence to this story. This, despite the obvious importance of the topic in one of the modern adaptations of Iphigenia we read, Caridad Svich’s 2004 Iphigenia Crash Land Falls on the Neon Shell that was Once her Heart. Something about my experience and my training allowed me to go on thinking that Euripides’ play is not really about assault; after all, Iphigenia is not raped in any conventional sense of the term (some might say: nor in any sense of the term). But once I had met that student–truly met her–it became clear to me that Euripides’ play is, indeed, “about” sexual violence against women. The next realization, following close on its heels, was a gestalt switch, at once radically transformative and absolutely obvious. Of course it is about sexual violence against women: isn’t most of Greek tragedy and classical myth about that? Read more »


The main job of ‘culture’ in a modern society seems to be shielding people from the demands of morality. In its intellectual role it justifies inequality between citizens. In its national history role it gives citizens a delusional sense of their country’s significance and entitlement, followed by a dangerous sense of grievance when this isn’t sufficiently recognised by the rest of the world. In its identitarian role it deflects demands for justification into mere proclamations of fact: ‘Why do we do this or that awful thing?… Because shut up. It is who we are.’
On July 5 The Nation published a 14 line poem by Anders Carlson-Wee entitled “
sickness was constantly diagnosed for the once powerful idea. And still, after the impressive Sanders campaign of 2016, the electoral success of Jeremy Corbyn in the 2017 general election, as well as the – for many – surprising victory of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez in the democratic primary in New York, writers continue to assure us that the idea is, if not dead, having serious problems. In any case, the idea of socialism seemed until recently a relic of the industrial past with little to say about contemporary society.
First came the books describing just how much worse economic inequality had become over the past 20 years, with all the dramatic political implications now impossible to ignore. Then there were the tomes about globalization (including my own, I admit), detailing the West’s unfettered pursuit of neoliberal policies that abetted all this unfairness.
In a paper published today in the journal
When I got to Walter Benjamin Platz, I figured I was in the wrong place. It wasn’t that I was lost, or had failed to follow the map correctly—it was that the place was wrong.
It is Friday afternoon and a lively and diverse crowd starts to gather under a blazing August sun on the banks of the Tigris River, just metres away from al-Mutanabi Street, the Iraqi capital’s historic bookselling centre.
One day in March 2010, Isak McCune started clearing his throat with a forceful, violent sound. The New Hampshire toddler was 3, with a Beatles mop of blonde hair and a cuddly, loving personality. His parents had no idea where the guttural tic came from. They figured it was springtime allergies. Soon after, Isak began to scream as if in pain and grunt at his parents and peers. When he wasn’t throwing hours-long tantrums, he stared vacantly into space. By the time he was 5, he was plagued by insistent, terrifying thoughts of death. “He would smash his head into windows and glass whenever the word ‘dead’ came into his head. He was trying to drown out the thoughts,” says his mother, Robin McCune, a baker in Goffstown, a small town outside Manchester, New Hampshire’s largest city. Isak’s parents took him to pediatricians, therapy appointments, and psychiatrists. He was diagnosed with a host of disorders: sensory processing disorder, oppositional defiance disorder, and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). At 5, he spent a year on Prozac, “and seemed to get worse on it,” says Robin McCune. The McCunes tried to make peace with the idea that their son might never come back. In kindergarten, he grunted and screamed, frightening his teachers and classmates. “He started hearing voices, thought he saw things, he couldn’t go to the bathroom alone,” Robin McCune says. “His fear was immense and paralyzing.”
In
Is capitalism immoral? Bill Gates, the second-richest man in the world, doesn’t believe that it has to be. In a recent interview, Gates argued that anyone with money has an ethical responsibility to do something positive with it. “Once you’ve taken care of yourself and your children, the best use of extra wealth is to give it back to society.” Gates himself lives this approach, recently giving away $4.6 billion in Microsoft shares to his philanthropic organization, the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation. “We are impatient optimists,” its webpage declares, “working to reduce inequity.”
The awful news that all but two penguin chicks have starved to death out of a
Arguably the most alarming thing about the war against Jones is the fact that media leftists have been so quick to boast about the activist role they played in getting him silenced. In years past, the “mainstream” press always took a position of “We just report, we don’t influence,” like they’re bound by Jor-El’s stern proscription against influencing human history. And sure, they “influenced,” they just never admitted it. But these days, “respectable” journos are openly 