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What the Childless Among Us Leave Behind Kat Rosenfield
The most beautiful art museum I’ve ever visited is actually a garden called Brookgreen, founded on former plantation land in the marshy low country just north of Charleston, South Carolina. The place is filled with the country’s largest collection of American figurative sculptures, cast in bronze or chiseled from stone, running and dancing and peeking out from between the ponderous trunks of the live oaks that line the garden paths. It’s a remarkable place, created by a remarkable couple: he was Archer Milton Huntington, a wealthy scholar and philanthropist. She was Anna Hyatt Huntington, the sculptor whose equestrian Joan of Arc marks the 93rd Street entrance to Riverside Park on New York’s Upper West Side.
The Huntingtons originally envisioned Brookgreen Gardens as a home for Anna’s work, and many of her sculptures can still be found there. But what they ended up creating was something far grander and more enduring: nearly 10,000 acres, more than 2,000 sculptures, a wildlife preserve, and of course, the garden. The best time to visit is during the holidays, when they drape the oaks in glittering strands of light, line the paths with golden luminaria, and fill all the fountains and reflecting pools with votive candles that surround the sculptures like floating stars.
I have long been fascinated by Anna, who was already a successful working artist when she met and married Archer in 1923, three years shy of her fiftieth birthday, a thing I cannot think about without also thinking of that line from Sleepless in Seattle, about how it’s easier to be killed by a terrorist than to find a husband after the age of 40. (No, this isn’t true. But as the movie says, it feels true—and in the 1920s, I bet it felt even truer.) But I thought of her again last month, amid the discourse surrounding J.D. Vance’s now-infamous comments deriding the “childless sociopaths” on the left “who are miserable in their own lives and want to make the rest of the country miserable, too.”
The portrait Vance paints of people without kids is at once bleak and terrifying: they are loveless, directionless, visionless, unanchored, and to paraphrase H.L. Mencken’s famous quote about Puritanism, perpetually tormented by the possibility that someone, somewhere, may be both happy and voting Republican.
I doubt it was people like the prolific and philanthropic Huntingtons—who, unsurprisingly given Anna’s age, never did produce children—who Vance was thinking of as he railed in a recent fundraising email against those Americans who are “invested in NOTHING because they’re not invested in this country’s children.”
But as a woman who, like Anna, is happily married but childless, I hardly recognize myself in his description either. For one thing, unlike people with kids, I’m uniquely incentivized to forge meaningful connections within my community—if only so that when I inevitably die alone, someone finds my corpse before my cat eats it in its entirety. (This is assuming my husband predeceases me, but hopefully my efforts on this front will be useful no matter what, since I don’t particularly want his corpse to be eaten by the cat, either.)
Jokes aside, I’m also perplexed by the notion that I have no direct stake in America, a place in which I cautiously expect to be living for at least another few decades (and given that my last living grandparent only recently died just shy of her 105th birthday, it might be more like several). It’s not just that a functional government with a strong social safety net may be the one thing that stops me from spending my golden years eating Tender Vittles—or if I’m really lucky, Fancy Feast paté—in a cardboard box under an overpass; it’s that I think often about what the future holds, in a zoomed-out, abstract way, precisely because I have no children in whom a part of me will survive after I’ve turned to dust.
This is not a miserable idea—I’m not rending my clothing and setting myself on fire like Denethor in Lord of the Rings—but it is an existential one. What can I build with my own hands, in the span of my own lifetime, that will still be standing when I’m gone?
It strikes me that this question has always been a powerful force in the lives of those without children, who, despite Vance’s insistence to the contrary, have always played a vital role in bettering society for future generations. The history of human achievement is at least in part a history of childless people staking their lives on a dream bigger than themselves, and if some unknown number of those people ended up dying in very stupid ways as a result of their ambition, the ones who succeeded are the ones after whom brands and towns and even entire species are named.
These are our explorers, our inventors, our pioneers: unencumbered by family responsibilities, emboldened to take the sort of risks that parents understandably can’t, or won’t, or don’t want to. Nikola Tesla had no children, nor did Florence Nightingale, Amelia Earhart, or the Wright brothers. The most daring expeditions during England’s Age of Exploration were often populated by gay men for whom the dangers of life at sea were preferable to the confines of heterosexual family life. Two of America’s founding fathers, Washington and Madison, did not have children of their own. Surely they would have been bewildered by the notion that they had no stake in the future of the nation they’d risked their lives to create.
In some cases, a subtext also exists to the accomplishments of childless people that this was not just a productive path, but perhaps the better one. This notion was memorably explored by Claire Dederer in a famous Paris Review essay about the art monster, an archetype diametrically opposed to that of the involved parent. The art monster, Dederer wrote, must “abandon the tasks of nurturing in order to perform the selfish sacraments of being an artist.” It is understood, in this paradigm, that some artists may nurture a child or nurture their talent, but not both, and certainly not very well. Edgar Allan Poe and Simone de Beauvoir never had kids, which might have been for the best. (Alice Munro did, and look how that turned out.) Even the most avid pronatalists among us must acknowledge that some people are profoundly unsuited to parenthood, and that when those people become parents, it’s their children who suffer most.
As for the notion of childless people as uniquely misanthropic and eager to see their misery reflected in the lives of everyone around them, this strikes me as an archetype more ubiquitous in fiction than real life. Miss Havisham, swanning around a crumbling mansion in her tattered wedding dress, forever trapped in the past and plotting the demise of random men by way of avenging her broken heart, is a creature of pure fantasy—and one created by an author whose own approach to family life was hardly worthy of emulation.
Of course, the specter of the embittered, blue-haired TikTok spinster—and her male counterpart, a keffiyeh-clad soyboy who spends his Saturdays protesting climate change by gluing himself to the floor—still looms large in the conservative imagination, just as the tiki torch–wielding white nationalist dudebro haunts the nightmares of the coastal liberal. As such, I understand why J.D. Vance would invoke this boogeyman, in the same way that I understood what Hillary Clinton meant when she made her infamous “basket of deplorables” comment. And granted, just as the right has its true dyed-in-the-wool white supremacists, the left is home to a certain number of nihilistic busybodies who want to dismantle the nuclear family and also refuse to have kids themselves, for silly and nihilistic reasons. But this is the ideology of childish people, not childless ones.
As for those of us who chose not to have kids—or those of us who wanted them, but couldn’t—there are other ways to grow up. There was a time when my dreams of the future included a child of my own. There was also a time when I had to accept that this future wasn’t going to happen, and that I would need to dream of something else.
My vision, I admit, is not especially grand. I will not be one of the adventurous types who breaks airspeed records, or cures cancer, or builds a world-class art collection in the marshes of South Carolina. I have written books, and hope to write more, and maybe people will still be reading these in ten or twenty or fifty years. But I also think it’s possible that my legacy, if I have one, may never extend much further than my own front yard.
There’s a climbing rosebush there—a cutting from the gardens at my childhood home. It was a tiny thing when I planted it; now it’s grown so big, so fast, that I can smell the roses halfway down the street when they’re in bloom. Sometimes, I’ve seen my neighbors lingering with their children on the sidewalk outside my house, looking at the flowers.
I think that there’s more than one way to populate the planet—if not with children, then with other things. With invention and discovery. With art and beauty. With lovely things that keep blooming, long after we’ve left the world behind.
Kat Rosenfield is a columnist at The Free Press and the author of five novels, including the Edgar-nominated No One Will Miss Her. Follow her on X @katrosenfield.
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Are U.S. Airlines ‘Playing Into Iran’s Game’? Jay Solomon
Iran’s Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, defines his campaign against Israel as being won as much through economics and psychological coercion as through victories on the battlefield. And nearly a year into the Jewish state’s war with Hamas, Iran’s military proxy in the Gaza Strip, Khamenei’s strategy appears to be advancing—with an assist from the U.S. airline industry.
For most of the past year, none of the three major American carriers—United Airlines, American Airlines, or Delta—have flown to Israel, citing the Gaza war and the security threats posed by Tehran and its military allies. And none of these airlines have offered definitive time frames for when their flights might resume. This has left Israel’s national carrier, El Al, as the only direct connection between the country and its closest ally and economic partner on the other side of the world, and has sent airfares between the U.S. and Israel skyrocketing.
In recent days, the cost of a round trip economy flight to Tel Aviv from New York on El Al is around $2,500, according to Israeli travel agencies, up from around $899 before October 7, 2023. United, American, and Delta previously all had at least one daily flight to Israel from New York or Newark, and together served Israel three times a week from Boston, Dallas, Miami, Chicago, and Washington D.C.
The suspension of the American flights is feeding into the economic and diplomatic isolation that Iran’s leaders are seeking, according to Israeli political and business leaders. “The American carriers are playing into Iran’s game,” said Eyal Hulata, who served as national security adviser to two Israeli prime ministers, Naftali Bennett and Yair Lapid, from 2001–2003.
Jerusalem’s allies in Washington are urgently seeking to establish clearer U.S. government guidelines for when U.S. airlines should halt traffic to Israel, and when it can resume. If not, they warn, American carriers risk bolstering, even unwittingly, the economic coercion that Iran and Israel’s critics in the West are pursuing, often under the banner of the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions movement, or BDS.
“In my view, unless there’s an objective process put in place to prevent the politicization of air travel, I predict that in the future the BDS movement will try to weaponize air travel as a new means of boycotting Israel,” U.S. Rep. Ritchie Torres (D-New York) told The Free Press. “And a travel ban has the potential to be the most potent weapon in BDS’s war against the Jewish state.”
Torres wrote the presidents of American, Delta, and United in August asking them to map out the guidelines they followed in deciding to suspend their routes to Israel. None of the three airlines issued an official response to Torres’ letter, and his staff says they have communicated with the U.S. carriers’ government affairs teams, but didn’t disclose the result of these discussions.
Current and former Israeli officials told The Free Press they’re particularly confused by the U.S. airlines’ decisions as a number of Middle Eastern, African, and European carriers are currently flying to Tel Aviv despite these security threats. That includes three airlines from the United Arab Emirates—Etihad Airways, FlyDubai, and Wizz Air Abu Dhabi—whose government only normalized diplomatic relations with Israel in 2020 as part of the Trump administration’s Abraham Accords. These pacts seek to integrate Israel economically and diplomatically into the wider Arab world.
“They should fly to Israel exactly like the Gulf countries and others do,” said Hulata, the former national security adviser. “And if they don’t do this because they are scared of rockets, then there’s something fundamentally wrong in their decision making.”
Hulata, who now serves as a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies in Washington, added: “There hasn’t been a rocket anywhere close to the airport for months.”
The three major U.S. carriers initially halted air travel to Israel last October 7 after Hamas militants crossed the country’s southern border and slaughtered 1,200 people, mostly civilians. The airlines’ decisions weren’t ordered, however, by the U.S.’s airline regulator, the Federal Aviation Administration. The FAA only cautioned American carriers against flying to Israel at the time.
The FAA’s position was actually much more restrained than in the summer of 2014. Then, Hamas rocket strikes close to Israel’s Ben Gurion Airport—the primary international hub near Tel Aviv—caused the airline authority to briefly suspend all outbound U.S. flights. Israeli officials were incensed, arguing the ban amounted to an assault on the country’s economy. American supporters of Israel, including former New York mayor Michael Bloomberg, flew to Tel Aviv on El Al flights to show solidarity.
The three U.S. airlines have said in public statements that their decisions on Israel are tied solely to the security threats posed to their crews and passengers. United and Delta briefly resumed flights to Tel Aviv in June, but then suspended them in August in the wake of the assassination of Hamas’s political leader, Ismail Haniyeh, in Iran—an attack Tehran blamed on Israel and vowed to avenge.
The Iranian military and its proxies launched a barrage of missiles and drones at Israel in April in response to an Israeli strike on an Iranian compound in Syria. But they were almost all intercepted by Israel, U.S., European, and Arab air defenses. The Israel Defense Forces and Pentagon remain on high alert for another Iranian reprisal.
At present, Delta says its flights remain canceled through October 31; American Airlines cites March 2025 as a potential resumption date; and United Airlines says its services to Israel remain on hold indefinitely. “Our flights to Tel Aviv remain suspended—we look forward to resuming flights as soon as it’s safe for our customers and crew,” a United spokesperson told The Free Press.
American declined to comment and Delta said it is “continuously monitoring the evolving security environment and assessing our operations based on security guidance and intelligence reports and will communicate any updates as needed.”
This travel ban has forced Americans needing to go to Israel to either pay higher El Al fares or find more time-consuming routes through Europe. One U.S. defense expert who needed to meet Israeli security officials in Jerusalem this month to discuss the Iranian threat told The Free Press it took weeks to arrange a flight. No seats on El Al flights were available, and he eventually went via Paris on Air France. “It’s stunning how hard it was to get there,” he said.
Still, the outspokenness of a number of U.S. airline unions against travel to Israel has raised concerns among members of Congress and the Israeli government that politics may also be factoring into the flight ban.
A day after the October 7 attack, the president of the Allied Pilots Association, Captain Ed Sicher, ordered the union’s 16,000 members to refuse any requests from American Airlines to fly to the Jewish state. “As noted in APA’s initial update yesterday regarding the safe evacuation of working American Airlines crewmembers from Tel Aviv, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has announced that the country is now ‘at war.’ The Israeli security cabinet weighed in today, declaring that the country is in a ‘state of war,’ ” he wrote APA members. “Until further notice, if you are scheduled, assigned, or reassigned a pairing into Israel, refuse the assignment by calling your Chief Pilot or IOC Duty Pilot.”
In February, the Association of Flight Attendants-CWA joined six other major American unions in calling for a formal U.S. ban on military supplies to Israel until Netanyahu agrees to a cease-fire with Hamas. “It is clear that the Israeli government will continue to pursue its vicious response to the horrific attacks of October 7 until it is forced to stop,” reads the statement from the AFA-CWA and six other unions. The spokeswoman for the AFA-CWS, Taylor Garland, has also regularly posted and reposted items on social media demanding a Gaza cease-fire and criticizing the military tactics of the Israel Defense Forces.
Garland and the AFA-CWA declined to respond to numerous requests from The Free Press to comment on Israel and whether the organization backs a U.S. flight ban if the Netanyahu government doesn’t agree to a cease-fire with Hamas. Other airline unions, trade associations, and pilots, however, downplayed the idea that politics were driving decisions, but rather cited security and basic economics. A number noted that insurance costs for the U.S. carriers rise in conflict zones, while the overall demand for flights decrease. Also, the length of U.S. flights to Israel require overnight stays for American pilots and crews, something that’s not normally an issue for European or Middle East carriers.
“Our number one concern as pilots, no matter where we’re flying—it doesn’t have to be to Tel Aviv, it can be to Toledo—it’s got to be safe and secure,” said Dennis Tajer, spokesman for the APA. “We didn’t make that call, but American Airlines did. Oftentimes, they will bring in a third layer, and that’s commercial interests.”
One pilot from a major U.S. carrier told The Free Press he regularly signs up to fly to Tel Aviv when the ban appears set to be lifted. But then the airline again cancels, following a new security assessment. “It hurts us financially, but the decision is really down to our security department,” said the airman.
The suspension of U.S. flights to Israel has contributed to a broader shock to the Israeli economy since the war with Hamas erupted last October. Israel’s calling up of 360,000 reservists after the Hamas attack, roughly 4 percent of the population, has placed a particular strain on the economy. The country’s growth contracted 1.4 percent during the second quarter of 2024 from the year earlier, according to Israel’s Central Bureau of Statistics, and its exports of goods and services dropped 8.3 percent. The Israeli economy experienced a double-digit contraction in the months directly preceding the Hamas attack.
“Aviation has a big impact on our country because we’re like an island,” said Professor Nicole Adler, dean of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem’s Business School. “I know that we have Syria and Egypt and so on around us. But most traffic is coming in via airlines, and it’s very sad that this war has gone on for as long as it has.”
Since October, Iran and its proxies across the region have made no secret of their desire to constrict international trade and passenger traffic going into and out of Israel. According to Iranian officials, this will both drain Israel’s economy and impose a psychological toll on the broader populace.
Much of Tehran’s efforts have centered on the Red Sea, where the Iranian-backed Houthi militia has launched hundreds of attacks on tankers and other maritime vessels transiting through the Suez Canal—some on their way to Israel. Just this month, the Yemeni militants launched six missile strikes on international maritime traffic, including on Panamanian- and Saudi-flagged oil tankers.
On Sunday, the Houthis successfully launched a long-range missile at central Israel for the first time. Israeli defense officials said their air defense system largely destroyed the projectile, though some fragments landed on agricultural land and near a railway station.
This, combined with the reduced air traffic, has prompted self-congratulatory comments from Iranian officials, including Ayatollah Khamenei, that their multifront war against the Jewish state is working. Since becoming Iran’s Supreme Leader in 1989, the 84-year-old cleric has made clear that the path toward liberating Palestine will be achieved as much through making Israel unlivable to its Jewish residents as through open warfare.
“Four million people will leave Israel. [This means] reverse migration,” Khamenei told a television audience during a June 3 speech marking the death of the Islamic Republic of Iran’s founder, Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini. “In other words, the level of perplexity, confusion, and panic among Israeli officials has reached this degree. Pay attention to this! This is very important!”
Jay Solomon is an investigative reporter for The Free Press and author of The Iran Wars. Follow him on X at @jaysolomon, and read his last piece “How Close Is Iran to the Bomb?”
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To the Woman Who Trashed Me on Twitter Kat Rosenfield
Back when Donald Trump was last running for election, as the Great Awokening made its speech-chilling sweep through the American media, a small number of writers and public intellectuals admitted to not being entirely onboard with the new orthodoxy of privilege checking, sensitivity reading, racial affinity groups for 8-year-olds, and so on. These people were, depending on who you ask, either very brave or very stupid.
In public, and especially on Twitter, this cohort became objects of loathing and derision, excoriated by peers for refusing to “read the room.” But behind the scenes, we were inducted into a weird little priesthood of the unorthodox—mostly via Twitter DMs, which served as a sort of backchannel confessional for fellow writers who agreed that things appeared to be going off the rails, but were too afraid of being canceled to admit as much on main.
The first time I received one of these messages, it was from a woman named Jane. She was a colleague—we both had permanent freelance gigs at the same online teen magazine—and wanted me to know that she shared my concerns about the increasing hostility to free expression in progressive spaces.
“I’m trying to tell myself every day that this censorship, hypersensitivity etc is the natural exuberance of a new movement still feeling out its own limitations,” she wrote to me once, early on. “I spend so much time every day now wondering if my peers *actually* want to suspend the 1st amendment or are just angry/emotional/posturing.”
Jane would pop into my DMs every time a new censorship controversy erupted in our little corner of the internet, which is to say, we chatted frequently. When I wrote my first investigative feature about how the world of young adult fiction had been overtaken by campaigns to shame and censor authors in the name of diversity, she sent me effusive praise; when she worried aloud about her career, I offered advice and sent her leads on paid writing opportunities. When she wanted to vent about cancel culture, she always started by apologizing. She hated to burden me, she said; she just didn’t have anyone else to talk to.
Five years later, I had just published an article about the Covid-era campaign to eject Joe Rogan from Spotify when my friend Zac sent me one of those messages that almost invariably means someone is talking shit about you online: “Sorry,” he wrote, “but I thought you should probably know about this.” When I clicked on the link he’d sent, I discovered that I was being mocked via screenshot by a prominent podcaster who has always hated me for unknown reasons; what Zac wanted me to see was one of the first replies.
“I used to work with this person,” it read. “She was not always like this, but this particular strain of contrarianism is like heroin—there are very few casual users.”
The writer of this comment was Jane.
I thought of this incident recently while reading Kat Timpf’s book, which came out last week, I Used to Like You Until. . . A reflection on, per the subtitle, How Binary Thinking Divides Us, the book’s opening chapters are dedicated to describing the social liabilities of being employed at Fox News, where Timpf is a regular panelist on the late-night talk show Gutfeld! Her politics are more libertarian (small L) than conservative, and her brand of commentary more Phyllis Diller than Bill O’Reilly (she also does stand-up comedy), which makes her a bit of a misfit—if not on Fox News itself, then certainly in the minds of people who equate the network with a particular brand of shouty, Trumpy Republicanism.
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