The pattern of economic growth is, historically, a startlingly recent development.
In April, 1968, a consequential meeting took place in the Villa Farnesina, a stately Roman home built for Pope Julius II’s treasurer and adorned with frescoes by Raphael. The conveners were Alexander King, a Scottish chemist who directed scientific affairs for the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development, and Aurelio Peccei, an Italian industrialist who simultaneously held executive positions at the automaker Fiat, the typewriter manufacturer Olivetti, and a large consulting firm. Like many modern friendships, King and Peccei’s was cemented by a shared deep-seated anxiety. They gave the object of their concern a grand name: the “world problématique,” meaning the interrelated cultural, political, and environmental conflicts that threatened humanity. But the organization they launched came to be known, more simply, as the Club of Rome. Its mission, in Peccei’s words, was to “rebel against the suicidal ignorance of the human condition.”
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Esta historia es de la edición June 03, 2024 de The New Yorker.
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YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”
COLLISION COURSE
In Devika Rege’ first novel, India enters a troubling new era.
NEW CHAPTER
Is the twentieth-century novel a genre unto itself?
STUCK ON YOU
Pain and pleasure at a tattoo convention.
HEAVY SNOW HAN KANG
Kyungha-ya. That was the entirety of Inseon’s message: my name.
REPRISE
Reckoning with Donald Trump's return to power.
WHAT'S YOUR PARENTING-FAILURE STYLE?
Whether you’re horrifying your teen with nauseating sex-ed analogies or watching TikToks while your toddler eats a bagel from the subway floor, face it: you’re flailing in the vast chasm of your child’s relentless needs.
COLOR INSTINCT
Jadé Fadojutimi, a British painter, sees the world through a prism.
THE FAMILY PLAN
The pro-life movement’ new playbook.
President for Sale - A survey of today's political ads.
On a mid-October Sunday not long ago sun high, wind cool-I was in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, for a book festival, and I took a stroll. There were few people on the streets-like the population of a lot of capital cities, Harrisburg's swells on weekdays with lawyers and lobbyists and legislative staffers, and dwindles on the weekends. But, on the façades of small businesses and in the doorways of private homes, I could see evidence of political activity. Across from the sparkling Susquehanna River, there was a row of Democratic lawn signs: Malcolm Kenyatta for auditor general, Bob Casey for U.S. Senate, and, most important, in white letters atop a periwinkle not unlike that of the sky, Kamala Harris for President.
