SIGN IN to access Harper’s Magazine
1. Sign in to Customer Care using your account number or postal address.
2. Select Email/Password Information.
3. Enter your new information and click on Save My Changes.
Subscribers can find additional help here. Not a subscriber? Subscribe today!
The Bush Administration, entering into its last, lame-duck year, has the usual difficulties finding qualified help. Add to that public approval levels as low as have ever been seen. And consider finally what must be the least desirable place to work in the entire administration: Alberto Gonzales’s Department of Justice.
Truly Gonzales has performed an act of remarkable alchemy. He inherited what was arguably the most highly respected agency in the U.S. Government. For decades, the best and brightest law school graduates of any generation would battle over the handful of openings at main Justice and with various U.S. attorneys offices. No longer. Today, association with the Gonzales Justice Department is feared as a taint on any lawyer’s résumé. And here’s the best evidence I have seen of this so far. When asked if he would take Paul J. McNulty’s slot as Deputy Attorney General, the man who ran the Office of Legal Policy for John Ashcroft, Viet Dinh, has an instant response: “I’d rather trade places with Jose Padilla,” he says, referring to a man who was tortured and placed in solitary confinement in the Naval brig in South Carolina.
More from Scott Horton:
Six Questions — October 18, 2014, 8:00 pm
Nathaniel Raymond on CIA interrogation techniques.
On a Friday evening in January, a thousand people at the annual California Native Plant Society conference in San Jose settled down to a banquet and a keynote speech delivered by an environmental historian named Jared Farmer. His chosen topic was the eucalyptus tree and its role in California’s ecology and history. The address did not go well. Eucalyptus is not a native plant but a Victorian import from Australia. In the eyes of those gathered at the San Jose DoubleTree, it qualified as “invasive,” “exotic,” “alien” — all dirty words to this crowd, who were therefore convinced that the tree was dangerously combustible, unfriendly to birds, and excessively greedy in competing for water with honest native species.
In his speech, Farmer dutifully highlighted these ugly attributes, but also quoted a few more positive remarks made by others over the years. This was a reckless move. A reference to the tree as “indigenously Californian” elicited an abusive roar, as did an observation that without the aromatic import, the state would be like a “home without its mother.” Thereafter, the mild-mannered speaker was continually interrupted by boos, groans, and exasperated gasps. Only when he mentioned the longhorn beetle, a species imported (illegally) from Australia during the 1990s with the specific aim of killing the eucalyptus, did he earn a resounding cheer.
Percentage of Britons who cannot name the city that provides the setting for the musical Chicago:
An Australian entrepreneur was selling oysters raised in tanks laced with Viagra.
A tourism company in Australia announced a service that will allow users to take the “world’s biggest selfies,” and a Texas man accidentally killed himself while trying to pose for a selfie with a handgun.
Subscribe to the Weekly Review newsletter. Don’t worry, we won’t sell your email address!
“Shelby is waiting for something. He himself does not know what it is. When it comes he will either go back into the world from which he came, or sink out of sight in the morass of alcoholism or despair that has engulfed other vagrants.”