I’m not one for complaining about stuff you should expect. If you watch an old Western, you shouldn’t complain about a the fact that indians are pictured as the bad guys. That’s just how things were, and if you don’t want to see that, then don’t watch old westerns. Likewise, if you watch a Reifenstahl documentary, complaining that it’s full of Nazi imagery is just a bit stupid.
In much the same vein, if you don’t like a highly liberal (and progressive) viewpoint, don’t read The New Yorker.
So now I’m going to contradict myself and complain about The New Yorker from November 4, 2019 for being… you guessed it, excessively progressive.
Now, a bad New Yorker isn’t something I can just shrug off, mainly because I only get the magazine occasionally, as it doesn’t get delivered to Argentina (due to a combination of imbecilic protectionism, dishonest post office employees and mafia-like action by the newsstand owners union, getting foreign magazines here has become impossible). So I need to enjoy each one.
And I don’t mind the US-style progressive lean. I agree with some of it, disagree with other bits and don’t have a position on the rest. It isn’t like the editors are raving extremists with an axe to grind.
At least not normally. The first half of this issue made it seem like a reevaluation of my opinion might be needed. If you let yourself be guided by this issue, there are precisely two critical human questions in the world: gender and race.
While I agree that these are important questions -and they define some people’s lives – they are by no means exclusive, nor are they universally the most important. Other people might find other questions more significant, and that is as it should be. But this issue, explicitly (by speaking about the subjects) or implicitly (by focusing on diversity in the arts to the exclusion of anything non-diverse) ignores all the other important subjects.
This level of tunnel vision might be fine for certain types of publication with a specific political and propaganda focus (I’d never read that, even if the politics were precisely my own), but for The New Yorker, it’s utterly unforgivable. It’s supposed to be a journal catering to intelligent people with wide-ranging cultural interests, which means that this kind of narrow-mindedness is precisely what the readers would hate.
Fortunately, a little neutrality creeps in in the second half of the magazine (one specific article on cyber-security is very professional), and the article about Ukraine’s leader is pretty decent (even though, for marketing reasons, the title is a Trump bashing one).
But that’s not enough to save an issue that, in the future, will likely be pointed to as an example of what The New Yorker shouldn’t represent. We get it, Americans are obsessed about the culture wars. But TNY should be above that adolescent squabble and able to focus on everything truly important, not just what the college professors are getting their panties in a bunch about.
We expect more from them.
Gustavo Bondoni is a novelist and short story writer whose literary fiction is collected in a book of linked short stories entitled Love and Death (now THOSE are important subjects!). It follows the intertwined lives of several individuals across generations in the most important moments of their lives. You can check it out here.