Prufrock’s image of the day: solar boat.

Subscribe to Prufrock, the daily arts & culture newsletter of The American Conservative.

“Israel does not have a strategy for settling the conflict. It has a strategy, good or bad, for managing the conflict within its current contours. Israel is fighting to preserve the status quo.”

Every day at The American Conservative, we highlight several pieces of interest to our readers in our Of Note section. Here’s what others are saying about conservatism and culture today.

  1. A Shattered School in Gaza (image)
    Amy Davidson, The New Yorker
  2. Rand Paul Tries to Limit the State’s License to Steal
    Jacob Sullum, Reason
  3. Tyler Cowen on Inequality and What Really Ails America
    Eduardo Porter, The Upshot
  4. The Twilight of Conservatism?
    Aaron Taylor, Ethika Politika
  5. Libertarians and Reformers
    Ross Douthat, Evaluations

Found something else our readers should know about? Tell us about it!

If you use social media or have a smartphone, chances are you’ve encountered facial recognition technology. FRT allows computers to recognize pixel patterns that suggest human faces, allowing selfie-taking cameras to mugshot-filled databases alike to distinguish when they are looking at human faces. Even though it is fairly commonplace, some would rather avoid it, leading to one journalist’s experiment with clownish black-and-white makeup on the streets of D.C.

Read more: Selfies for Uncle Sam

newyorker:

Dan Rockmore on Salman Rushdie and digital archiving: http://nyr.kr/1mZFMyq

“The influx of digital written material has presented a challenge to archivists: Outside of just setting a computer on a table like some sort of oversized paperweight, how does one present a writer’s computer to the public?”

Photograph by Erik S. Lesser/The New York Times/Redux.

“That was the first I saw of the racket.”

For Matthew Hoh, a former Marine, government official, and civilian contract overseer in Iraq, seeing “the racket” for the first time was a turning point that eventually led him to turn his back on a successful and heady career in Washington. He became a whistleblower by decrying a failing strategy in Afghanistan, and for a while, was a bone fide cause célèbre. But like others who have made similar leaps of conscience, Hoh has found out the hard way that Washington does not forgive.

“Certainly I couldn’t find work for anything,” he told TAC in a recent interview. “I went for something like 24 months out of 36 months without a paycheck. I couldn’t get temporary work or [work] driving a town car… I was selling cars.”

The Washington national security and foreign policy establishment is apparently closed to Hoh now, no matter how right he was. Starting over, as fellow whistleblower Tom Drake pointed out, can be an emotionally crippling experience, especially when you know you it was your own decision to take the path that brought you to this point.

Read more: “Washington Doesn’t Forgive Whistleblowers”

Prufrock’s image of the daybutterflies.

Subscribe to Prufrock, the daily arts & culture newsletter of The American Conservative.

designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”


designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!


Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”

designsbyfranklloydwright:

Taliesin Tuesday!

Study nature, love nature, stay close to nature; it will never fail you.

Frank Lloyd Wright told his apprentices. The master heeded that principle at Taliesin, the house he built for himself in Spring Green, in rural Wisconsin. Begun in 1911 and rebuilt after fires in 1914 and 1925, it is as much a part of the hillside as the rock outcroppings and the mature trees that shade it. The name means “shining brow” in Welsh—the language of Wright’s mother’s forebears—and alludes to its placement below the crest of the hill. In contrast to Falling water, the masterpiece it inspired, Taliesin has no one, iconic image. Its drama is muted and demands a spirit of quiet contemplation. It emerges from dense foliage as a rambling, picturesque composition of limestone walls, sand-colored stucco balconies and shingled roofs, and it reveals itself slowly, a piece at a time. Even so, James E. Goulka, president and CEO of the Frank Lloyd Wright Foundation, calls it “the most important work he did,” and Boston Globe architecture critic Robert Campbell considers it “the greatest single building in America.”

Rod Dreher invites discussion over at his blog: ”Which form of contemporary Christianity is best suited to living out the time of exile that is fast approaching American Christians?”

What do you think?

Every day at The American Conservative, we highlight several pieces of interest to our readers in our Of Note section. Here’s what others are saying about conservatism and culture today.

  1. The Children of Silicon Valley (image)
    Robert Pogue Harrison, The New York Review of Books
  2. Another Sign of Life in the GOP
    Michael Brendan Dougherty, The Week
  3. The Middle Class Is 20 Percent Poorer Than It Was in 1984
    Matt O’Brien, Wonkblog
  4. Are the ‘Star’ Architects Ruining Cities?
    Room for Debate, The New York Times
  5. Did Libya Prove War Hawks Right or Wrong?
    Conor Friedersdorf, The Atlantic

Found something else our readers should know about? Tell us about it!

“We’re supposed to accept that Israel’s government mustn’t be faulted for what it’s doing, because Israeli forces are inflicting death and destruction that predictably redounds to Hamas’ political benefit. According to this view, Hamas is the only one to be blamed for the consequences of the military overreaction that has stupidly given Hamas an unwelcome boost. This is little better than the foreign policy equivalent of saying ‘the devil made me do it,’ as if it that made everything all right.”

Alexandria’s battle to preserve something small and traditional amid the burgeoning sprawl of the nation’s capital region is a struggle with obvious parallels to the efforts of traditionalist conservatives around the country—those who believe in creative preservation, not just creative destruction. But there’s more at stake here, too: a future for American urbanism that doesn’t just hold onto the best of the past but makes it a viable, enlivening pattern for the 21st century as well. Redevelopment must be handled with a delicate touch, careful not to stretch or tear the precious fabric that makes a town a place.

-Gracy Olmstead on Alexandria, Virginia and its struggle to balance developers’ plans for growth with city tradition.

“Both for our culture’s sake and our own, conservatives should learn to stop worrying and love the city.”

As our New Urbanism project kicks off, Michael Hendrix encourages conservatives to love the city:

Conservatives may prefer the rural life because they’re more likely to have more kids, as some have suggested. But that’s not the driving factor behind conservative distaste towards city living, for it’s not as if liberals have such dramatically lower rates of family formation that 46 percent of them prefer to live in cities.

No, the right’s distaste for cities is a deeper and less circumstantial sentiment. Many still see cities in the light of Gotham and Gomorrah. They are cut from the cloth of Thomas Jefferson, who once said, “The mobs of great cities add just so much to support of pure government as sores do to the strength of the human body.” This overwhelming antipathy toward cities is just as real today as it was in Jefferson’s time. And this feeling will, absent change, effectively marginalize conservatives.

Now, don’t get me wrong: rural living is a beautiful thing. Americans of all kinds are welcome to live wherever they please. But to have so many conservatives so deeply reject the city sidelines conservatism from politics, culture, and the economy at a critical time, while discouraging those who might otherwise have used their voices for good in the city.