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The Prophets: Andrea Dworkin Louise Perry

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Illustration by Pablo Delcan for The Free Press (photo via Alamy)

Welcome back to The Prophets, our Saturday series about fascinating people from the past who foresaw our current moment. Last week, Thomas Chatterton Williams wrote about Allan Bloom, a professor who, long before campus cancel culture existed, warned that higher education was closing Americans’ minds.

Today, Louise Perry profiles second-wave feminist Andrea Dworkin who imagined—with uncanny clarity—how our world would be shaped by online pornography. 

In 1965, Andrea Dworkin appeared in The New York Times for the first time in her life as a “plump girl with black hair and dark eyes” who said she had been sexually assaulted. The 18-year-old Dworkin, a Bennington freshman, had been arrested during an anti–Vietnam War protest in New York and held in the Women’s House of Detention for four days. During her detainment, she had been subjected to a “brutal” pelvic exam by a leering male doctor that left her bleeding, and this teenage girl—still several years away from her feminist awakening—caused such a hullabaloo that a grand jury hearing was eventually held.  

This was at a time when certain kinds of sexual mistreatment of women not only went unmentioned—they were in practice unmentionable, since there was neither the vocabulary nor the ideological framework necessary to describe them. As Dworkin later wrote:

No one knew about battery then, including me. It had no public name. There were no shelters or refuges. Police were indifferent. There was no feminist advocacy or literature or social science. No one knew about the continuing consequences, now called post-traumatic stress syndrome, which has a nice dignity to it. 

Dworkin’s parents were mortified by her decision to publicly link herself with sexual shame. Harry and Sylvia Dworkin were a lower-middle-class couple from New Jersey, the children of Russian and Hungarian Jewish immigrants, and politically radical in their own way: Harry was a schoolteacher and a socialist; Sylvia believed in the necessity of legal abortion and contraception “long before these were respectable beliefs,” as Andrea later wrote. 

But they were not radical enough for their daughter (who was?). She experienced her suburban upbringing as intellectually and emotionally stifling, living in the shadow not only of her mother’s chronic ill health but also the family trauma of the Holocaust.

Bennington College student Andrea Dworkin shown here as she appeared for an interview with a television crew in 1965. (Bettmann/Getty Images)

Dworkin is remembered primarily for her writing on the nature of women’s suffering, but her first and most enduring focus was on the nature of Jewish suffering. “I have read Holocaust material, you might say compulsively, over a lifetime,” she wrote in her 2000 book, Scapegoat. “I have been doing that since I was a kid.” Recurrent violent nightmares began in childhood and never let up. 

Not long after the New York jail incident—and probably, in part, because of it—the young Dworkin fled the United States, first for Crete and then for the Netherlands, where she lived among anarchists and entered her first iteration of political activism. 

This was the late ’60s, half a century since first-wave feminists had endured jail and hunger strikes to ultimately succeed in getting the right to vote. The second wave of feminism—which addressed the widespread second-class legal and cultural status of women—had begun in the early ’60s. But the left in this new era was focused more on anti-colonialist and anti-capitalist ideologies, movements largely led by swaggering men.

Dworkin was sexually and physically abused by an anarchist man she married while in Amsterdam, who coerced her into prostitution. Their wedding photo shows the groom not with his hand on the waist of his 22-year-old bride but gripping her neck. When Dworkin wrote later about the treachery of leftist men, she was writing from experience. 

The second wave of the second wave of feminism, which Dworkin helped conceive, was concerned with intimate abuse, and with the inability of women to exercise control of their bodies. Her first book, Woman Hating: A Radical Look at Sexuality, published in 1974, proposed a new model of cultural history.

We begin with fairy tales, the first scenarios of women and men which mold our psyches, taught to us before we can know differently. We go on to pornography, where we find the same scenarios, explicitly sexual and now more recognizable, ourselves, carnal women and heroic men. We go on to herstory—the binding of feet in China, the burning of witches in Europe and Amerika. There we see the fairy-tale and pornographic definitions of women functioning in reality, the real annihilation of real women.” 

Dworkin saw misogyny as a thread running through it all, and her mission was to snap that thread. When a journalist asked her, many years later, how she would like her work to be remembered, Dworkin’s response was typically blunt: “In a museum, when male supremacy is dead. I’d like my work to be an anthropological artifact from an extinct, primitive society.”

Here’s Dworkin on the meaning of pornography, from the 1991 documentary Pornography:

During her career, she was often dismissed as an anti-sex hysteric. If Dworkin, who died in 2005 at age 58, is remembered now, it is usually either as a figure of fun—the fat, angry dyke in dungarees—or as a historical curiosity. Following #MeToo, Dworkin became an unexpected figurehead for undiluted feminist rage, admired by some younger women for her uncompromising opposition to sexual violence. She acquired an edgy kind of status and, in 2019, a new anthology of her essays was published. But the harder side of Dworkin—the side that wanted not to critique porn but to actually ban it—remains deeply unfashionable. 

That Dworkin deserves our attention. Because what she foresaw, with uncanny clarity, was the damage that is done to both women and men who live in a culture drenched in pornography. We are living in that culture today. 


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Things Worth Remembering: ‘A Game Most Like Life’ Charles Lane

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It feels like only yesterday I called up my friend Douglas Murray with a strange idea: What if you wrote a column for us about poetry?

We had no idea if anyone would be interested in it. I still wasn’t sure many people would be interested in The Free Press itself. But I knew I didn’t want this institution we were building to focus solely on what was wrong with the world. As I wrote at the time: “If ours is an era of building and rebuilding, what things are worth saving?”

In the two years since this column began, the world has changed so much. We have a new president. One war has started—and perhaps is now ending. Another still rages.

The Free Press has covered it all. And so has Douglas himself, reporting from Israel and Ukraine, and speaking across the globe. Meantime, he has written nearly 100 editions of Things Worth Remembering—an unbelievable feat. Somehow he also found time to write a forthcoming book about the future of the West.

Given how much is on his plate, for the time being Douglas is stepping back from this incredible column he’s helped to build. He’ll continue to be a beloved contributor to, and friend of, The Free Press. And fear not: Things Worth Remembering will carry on every Sunday.

Over the years, fans of this column have said to me: “If I had to choose one thing worth remembering, it’d be. . . . ” It made me realize most writers have a poem they return to when they feel lost, a song they replay, or a snippet of some great book that materializes again and again. So we are expanding the column to bring in new voices and choices. I think you’ll love what they have to say.

Today, on Super Bowl Sunday, we start with our deputy editor, Charles Lane, who knows exactly what Americans should remember on this important date: a speech given multiple times, in the late ’60s, by the greatest football coach in the world, Vince Lombardi. It touches on a lot of things we care a lot about at The Free Press: courage, hard work, and excellence. I hope you like it as much as I do—don’t forget to leave your thoughts in the comments.

Happy Super Bowl Sunday, everyone!
—BW

“I sometimes wonder whether those of us who love football fully appreciate its great lessons,” said Vince Lombardi, in what friends and family called “the speech.”

The greatest professional football coach of the twentieth century, Lombardi tried and tested various versions of this talk as an in-demand public speaker during the late ’60s. The text quoted here is from “a representative version” of the speech, which his son Vince Jr. compiled and published in 2001. Lombardi’s words are undeniably magnificent, even to those who might have no interest in tonight’s Super Bowl.

Lombardi acknowledged that his was “a violent game,” suggesting that it would be “imbecilic” to play it otherwise. But this “game like war,” he believed, was also “a game most like life—for it teaches that work, sacrifice, perseverance, competitive drive, selflessness, and respect for authority are the price one pays to achieve worthwhile goals.”

Lombardi’s is not quite the household name it was—time does that to fame. To the extent he is remembered today it is often as the originator of a ruthless coaching doctrine—“Winning isn’t everything, it’s the only thing”—that someone else actually coined.

Still, every year the Super Bowl restores him, at least for a moment, to popular awareness: The winning team tonight will take home the Vince Lombardi Trophy, a brilliant 20.75-inch–high, seven-pound prize made out of pure sterling by Tiffany silversmiths.


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February 8, 2025 Heather Cox Richardson

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Yesterday the National Institutes of Health under the Trump administration announced a new policy that will dramatically change the way the United States funds medical research. Now, when a researcher working at a university receives a federal grant for research, that money includes funds to maintain equipment and facilities and to pay support staff that keep labs functioning. That indirect funding is built into university budgets for funding expensive research labs, and last year reached about 26% of the grant money distributed. Going forward, the administration says it will cap the permitted amount of indirect funding at 15%.

NIH is the nation’s primary agency for research in medicine, health, and behavior. NIH grants are fiercely competitive; only about 20% of applications succeed. When a researcher applies for one, their proposal is evaluated first by a panel of their scholarly peers and then, if it passes that level, an advisory council, which might ask for more information before awarding a grant. Once awarded and accepted, an NIH grant carries strict requirements for reporting and auditing, as well as record retention.

In 2023, NIH distributed about $35 billion through about 50,000 grants to over 300,000 researchers at universities, medical schools, and other research institutions. Every dollar of NIH funding generated about $2.46 in economic activity. For every $100 million of funding, research supported by NIH generates 76 patents, which produce 20% more economic value than other U.S. patents and create opportunities for about $600 million in future research and development.

As Christina Jewett and Sheryl Gay Stolberg of the New York Times explained, the authors of Project 2025 called for the cuts outlined in the new policy, claiming those cuts would “reduce federal taxpayer subsidization of leftist agendas.” Dr. David A. Baltrus of the University of Arizona told Jewett and Stolberg that the new policy is “going to destroy research universities in the short term, and I don’t know after that. They rely on the money. They budget for the money. The universities were making decisions expecting the money to be there.”

Although Baltrus works in agricultural research, focusing on keeping E. coli bacteria out of crops like sprouts and lettuce, cancer research is the top area in which NIH grants are awarded.

Anthropologist Erin Kane figured out what the new NIH policy would mean for states by looking at institutions that received more than $10 million in grants in 2024 and figuring out what percentage of their indirect costs would not be eligible for grant money under the new formula. Six schools in New York won $2.4 billion, including $953 million for indirect costs. The new indirect rate would allow only $220 million for overhead, a loss of $723 million.

States across the country will experience significant losses. Eight Florida schools received about $673 million, $231 million for indirect costs. The new indirect rate would limit that funding to $66 million, a loss of $165 million. Six schools in Ohio received a total of about $700 million; they would lose $194 million. Four schools in Missouri received a total of about $830 million; they would lose $212 million.

Lawmakers from Republican-dominated states are now acknowledging what those of us who study the federal budget have pointed out for decades: the same Republican-dominated states that complain bitterly about the government’s tax policies are also the same states that take most federal tax money. Dana Nickel of Politico reported yesterday that Republican leaders in the states claim to be enthusiastic about the cuts made by the Department of Government Efficiency but are mobilizing to make sure those cuts won’t hurt their own state programs that depend on federal money. Oklahoma governor Kevin Stitt told Nickel that governors can provide advice about what cuts will be most effective. “Instead of just across the board cutting, we thought, man, they need some help from the governors to say, ‘We can be more efficient in this area or this area, or if you allow block grants in this area, you can reduce our expenditures by 10 percent.’ And so that’s our goal.”

Yesterday, Tim Carpenter of the Kansas Reflector reported that Senator Jerry Moran (R-KS) is concerned about the Trump administration’s freeze on food distributions through the United States Agency for International Development (USAID). USAID buys about $2 billion in U.S. agricultural products a year, and farmers are already struggling with rising costs, low prices, and concern with tariffs.

Their spokespeople urge the continuation of USAID: the senior director of government affairs at the American Farm Bureau Federation said that “USAID plays a critical role in reducing hunger around the world while sourcing markets for the surplus foods America’s farmers and ranchers grow.” Moran added: “Food stability is essential to political stability, and our food aid programs help feed the hungry, bolster our national security and provide an important market for our farmers, especially when commodity prices are low.”

Meanwhile, federal employees are telling the stories of the work they’ve done for the country. Yesterday, a public letter whose author claimed to be an employee of the Federal Bureau of Investigation whose job is at risk in Trump’s purge of the agency wrote an amalgamation of the FBI agents being purged: “I am the coach of your child’s soccer team,” the letter read. “I sit next to you on occasion in religious devotion. I am a member of the PTA. With friends, you celebrated my birthday. I collected your mail and took out your trash while you were away from home. I played a round of golf with you. I am a veteran. I am the average neighbor in your community.”

But there is another side to that person, the author wrote. “I orchestrated a clandestine operation to secure the release of an allied soldier held captive by the Taliban. I prevented an ISIS terrorist from boarding a commercial aircraft. I spent 3 months listening to phone intercepts in real time to gather evidence needed to dismantle a violent drug gang. I recruited a source to provide critical intelligence on Russian military activities in Africa. I rescued a citizen being tortured to near death by members of an Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. I interceded and stopped a juvenile planning to conduct a school shooting. I spent multiple years monitoring the activities of deep cover foreign intelligence officers, leading to their arrest and deportation. I endured extensive hardship to infiltrate a global child trafficking organization. I have been shot in the line of duty.”

“[W]hen I am gone,” they wrote, “who will do the quiet work that is behind the facade of your average neighbor?”

Less publicly, Joseph Grzymkowski expressed on Facebook his pride in 38 years of service “with utmost dedication, integrity, and passion. I was not waste, fraud, and abuse,” he wrote. “Nor was I the “Deep State…. We are the faces of your Government: ordinary and diverse Americans, your friends and neighbors, working behind the scenes in the interest of the people we serve. We are not the enemy.”

Wth his statement, Grzymkowski posted a magazine clipping from 1996, when he was a Marine Analyst working in the Marine Navigation Department for the National Imagery and Mapping Agency (NIMA), located in Bethesda, Maryland—now known as the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency (NGA) in Springfield, Virginia. That office provides maritime intelligence for navigation, international obligations, and joint military operations.

On January 6, 1996, a historic blizzard dumped snowfalls of 19 to 31 inches on the East Coast. Stranded alone in the station when his relief couldn’t get through the snow to work, Grzymkowsky stayed at the radio. “I realized there were mariners who needed navigation safety messages delivered, and I wasn’t about to jeopardize the safety of life or cargo at sea simply because we were experiencing a blizzard,” he told a journalist. “One doesn’t leave a watch on a ship until properly relieved, and I felt my responsibility at the watch desk as keenly as I would have felt my responsibility for the navigation on the bridge of a ship.”

For 33 hours, he stayed at his desk and sent out navigation safety messages. “I had a job to do and I did it,” he recalled. “There were ships at sea relying on me, and I wasn’t going to let them down. It’s nothing that any other member of this department wouldn’t do.”

Notes:

https://grants.nih.gov/grants-process

https://crsreports.congress.gov/product/pdf/R/R43341/45

https://report.nih.gov/nihdatabook/report/20

https://www.nih.gov/about-nih/what-we-do/budget

https://www.unitedformedicalresearch.org/nih-in-your-state/alabama

https://www.nih.gov/about-nih/what-we-do/impact-nih-research/serving-society/direct-economic-contributions

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/07/us/politics/medical-research-funding-cuts-university-budgets.html

https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2025/02/06/trump-usaid-money-american-farms/

https://kansasreflector.com/2025/02/07/kansas-moran-davids-sound-alarm-on-delay-of-usaid-food-aid-to-starving-people-worldwide/

https://www.politico.com/news/2025/02/07/republican-state-doge-budget-013596

https://southfloridareporter.com/a-trump-policy-change-will-restrict-billions-in-funding-for-medical-research-programs-at-universities/

https://docs.google.com/document/d/12HuhGA67_QPIibLa6nB32BtepQR3zQE_DvDTDGrZ5dU/edit

Grzymkowski article is from a 5th Anniversary Special Edition (1996–2001) of NIMA’s Edge magazine, an authorized, internal information publication published for the National Imagery and Mapping Agency personnel and its customers.

https://msi.nga.mil/

https://msi.nga.mil/whats-new

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The Pot of Gold at America’s Western Edge A.M. Hickman

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The boughs of the pomegranate bush clattered in the morning wind, branches drooping with heavy, frost-bruised fruits. The bush lilted her morning greeting to the rows of olive and grapefruit and palm, nodding to the yerba santa and the blue oaks. My own eyes seemed to be covered in a golden gauze as I rose to survey the variegated domain of fertile hills sprawling out before me. Everything was yellow with the spicy nicotine and ocher diamonds of the impossible California skies.

For those who have never been to California before, picture this: a heady sabbatical in Tuscany with Dr. Seuss. Everything in this westernmost state seems to ebb and flow in brief fits and starts through manicured vineyards, blossoming pastures, ranch roads, and hazardous gravel switchbacks slung high above dusty, half-filled reservoirs. It is America’s shimmering Eden, her promised land, the trophy of our young Republic that stands proudly as proof that every ounce of westerly motion was worth it.

To the pioneers, it was the end of the road. It was as far as a wagoneer could travel, cresting high over the infamous Donner Pass, if they had not yet succumbed to madness or scrofula, nor to hunger, smallpox, or cannibalism. Catching sight of the Pacific Ocean, the good earth bowed for the pioneers and did her curtsy. God Himself was the conductor of this symphony of holy life and sun-kissed valleys and endless deep-green ridgelines—and at the end of His great rhapsody, a frontiersman would build his fence lines and furrows and aqueducts.

In some sense, California is the mother of the very particular, feverishly intense, and unstoppable optimism that makes the United States what it is. All Americans are Californians at heart. We are, at our best, a fanatically optimistic sort of people—who might push for a half-year’s time across rough country just to see if the rumors of gold might be half true.

And in the case of California, the rumors were true: There was a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. From the earliest “salad days” of these western farmers to the oil booms, the mining frenzies, the rise of Los Angeles and San Francisco, and later, the heady madness of Silicon Valley’s technological revolution. The incredible winnings of California’s early settlers course through the blood of Americans the whole country over, whether they have each seen California for themselves or not.

It all began the first moment that the pioneers caught sight of the poppies along the Sacramento River.


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