Our founders—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and other eminences of their day—had only one vehicle for sharing their ideas: the printed journal.
Today, manifests itself in print, in digital, in video, in live events, and in podcasts.
In 2001, Goldberg was appointed the Syrkin Fellow in Letters of the Jerusalem Foundation, and in 2002 he became a public-policy scholar at the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars in Washington, D. My next three goals are related to the first: to make sure we publish journalism that honors our history; to guarantee, by extension, that we provide you, our readers, with journalism that helps you become more informed; and finally, to ensure that , which celebrates its 160th birthday this November, will reach its bicentennial year as a thriving, self-sustaining business with global reach and clear purpose.
I come from a print background, but I believe that for our journalism to thrive, it should appear on as many platforms as possible.
In late 1861, a New England abolitionist named Julia Ward Howe, moved by the sight of thousands of blue coats massing outside Washington, D. He agreed to publish it, and he paid her for her effort.
For this, we must go back in time—back before the Reddit-flavored subtweets, before the bizarre earnings-call outbursts, before the supervillain cosplaying.
It is, as our executive editor, Matt Thompson, says, our theme song.
So it only seemed right that we would use this theme song as the music for our first podcast, ’s, to reimagine a 19th-century battle song for a 21st-century magazine, he said yes with alacrity and then produced a work of genius, one you will hear if you subscribe to our podcast.
I believe that the founders would be able to locate these values in our print magazine, on our website, at our events, and in our documentaries.
(I also believe that they would be confused by our Instagram account.)Today, on the 160th anniversary of the conception of It’s late on a Friday afternoon in March, and I’m sitting across from Stephen Miller in his spacious, sunlit West Wing office, trying to figure out whether he’s trolling me. A provocateur as skilled as Miller doesn’t just announce when he’s saying something outlandish to get a rise out of you—he tries to make you think he means it. The fleeting half-smirk when he refers to himself as a “conservative social-justice warrior” early in the conversation.