Latest news with #Serene
New York Times
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
The Risky, Reality-Bending Thriller You Need This Summer
THE CATCH, by Yrsa Daley-Ward Here's a dilemma. Despite its mind-bending premise, I don't actually want to talk to you about what happens in 'The Catch,' Yrsa Daley-Ward's first novel after a poetry collection ('Bone') and two nonfiction projects ('The Terrible' and 'The How'). I want to talk about how it happens. 'The Catch' follows semi-estranged twin sisters, Clara and Dempsey. When they were infants, their mother, Serene, vanished, presumed to have drowned in the Thames. As a result, both sisters were adopted, but by different families. Clara was adopted first, by a wealthy family who said that she 'appeared special right from the beginning,' but they left behind Dempsey, who was 'wheezing and small.' Dempsey was adopted a year later by a councilor. Now adults in their 30s, the same age as their mother when she disappeared, the two have a strained relationship. Clara's a spiraling but newly famous author launching a big book; Dempsey does clerical work and data entry. Then Clara glimpses a woman who looks just like Serene. 'She is my mother,' Clara says, believing her to be Serene, come back. 'My very own mother.' Dempsey, however, sees this figure as a con woman out to manipulate her famous but disturbed sister. It gets weirder. This discovered Serene has not aged a day in the years she has been gone. Furthermore, the events that unfold in the sisters' lives after Serene's reappearance are the same events and language found in the writing that Serene left after her death as well as the same language and writing that appears in Clara's blockbuster book, 'Evidence,' large sections of which appear in 'The Catch' itself. That's the what of the novel. The how, though, is where the book reveals itself to be a rich and risky text. Daley-Ward uses a full complement of textures to weave this book. The surreal drips into the moments of assumed sobriety, shifting the world around us as we read. To unfurl the story, she reaches for dark comedy, for drama, for poetry, for the absurd. Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Scottish Sun
7 days ago
- Business
- Scottish Sun
Aldi's new £9.99 candle is said to be a dupe of The White Company's £65 version & there's two scents to choose from
Plus, the shopper-favourite diffusers that are back in the supermarket MAKES SCENTS Aldi's new £9.99 candle is said to be a dupe of The White Company's £65 version & there's two scents to choose from THE White Company candles have racked up a cult following, but they come with a hefty price tag. Thankfully Aldi has released a dupe for the £65 swanky candle - and it only costs £9.99. Advertisement 2 Aldi has dropped a £9.99 candle that's said to be a dupe of a White Company one Credit: Aldi 2 Similar candles from the White Company, with three wicks in a glass jar, cost £65 Credit: the white company Aldi's new Flat Ribbed Hurricane Candle is said to be a luxe-looking home fragrance that has three wicks. It comes in two scents - Pink Rhubarb and Floral Blanc - and is said to burn for up to 64 hours. The fresh Pink Rhubarb fruity scent is said to offer a 'unique combination of tartness and sweetness' and has 'a hint of sugar to invigorate while remaining comforting.' Meanwhile their 'elegant' Floral Blanc features white flowers for a 'clean' scent to make ' every day feel like a special occasion.' Advertisement The 700g candle has a sophisticated ribbed glass design, and according to Aldi 'smells far more expensive than it is.' At £9.99 you'll be saving around £55, representing a saving of 85 per cent. You won't have to wait to get your hands on the replica candle, as it is available in Aldi stores from today, May 29. The White Company dupe isn't the only item arriving in Aldi's home fragrance collection. Advertisement Returning to stores are the supermarket's 'shopper favourite' Revival Candles and Reed Diffusers. The 200g Revival Candle and 100ml Reed Diffuser cost £3.49 and come in three scents: Relax, Serene, and Peace. Aldi is selling a cheap $4.49 item that will transform your garden into a colorful summer paradise The wellness-inspired scents are made from 'eucalyptus and tea' for Serene and 'lavender and sage' for the Peace – which sounds ideal for a calm and cosy summer setup. Meanwhile, their Relax scent is made up of vanilla and rose with 'fresh florals', for a 'romantic and sophisticated' aroma. Advertisement Each scent is encased in a coloured glass, with the candles offering 40 hours of fragrances and the diffusers lasting up to eight weeks. Those looking to update the scents in their homes will need to hurry though, as with all Specialbuys, once they're gone, they're gone! What are the best Aldi beauty dupes? ALDI has become well-known for its affordable beauty dupes that often rival high-end brands in terms of quality and effectiveness. Here are some of the best Aldi beauty dupes that have garnered rave reviews: Lacura Healthy Glow Exfoliating Tonic Dupe for: Pixi Glow Tonic Price: £3.99 (compared to Pixi's £18) Description: This exfoliating tonic contains glycolic acid and works to gently exfoliate and brighten the skin. It's a fantastic, budget-friendly alternative to the popular Pixi Glow Tonic. Lacura Q10 Renew Anti-Wrinkle Day Cream Dupe for: Nivea Q10 Plus Anti-Wrinkle Day Cream Price: £1.45 (compared to Nivea's £10) Lacura Caviar Illumination Day Cream Dupe for: La Prairie Skin Caviar Luxe Cream Price: £6.99 (compared to La Prairie's £292) Lacura Hot Cloth Cleanser Dupe for: Liz Earle Cleanse & Polish Hot Cloth Cleanser Price: £3.99 (compared to Liz Earle's £17.50) Lacura Snapshot Ready Foundation Primer Dupe for: Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer Price: £5.99 (compared to Smashbox's £26) Lacura Miracle Cream Dupe for: Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour Cream Price: £3.99 (compared to Elizabeth Arden's £28) Lacura Ebony Rose Face Mask Dupe for: Fresh Rose Face Mask Price: £6.99 (compared to Fresh's £52) Lacura Charcoal Clearing Mudmask Dupe for: GlamGlow Supermud Clearing Treatment Price: £5.99 (compared to GlamGlow's £42) Lacura Velvet Touch Foundation Dupe for: Estée Lauder Double Wear Foundation Price: £5.99 (compared to Estée Lauder's £34) Lacura Tinted Lip Oils Dupe for: Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Tinted Oil Price: £3.99 (compared to Rare Beauty's £20) The White company was founded by Chrissie Rucker in 1994 and began as a 12-page mail-order catalogue from her partner's spare room. As of 2024, The White Company had 70 stores across the United Kingdom.
The Irish Sun
7 days ago
- Business
- The Irish Sun
Aldi's new £9.99 candle is said to be a dupe of The White Company's £65 version & there's two scents to choose from
THE White Company candles have racked up a cult following, but they come with a hefty price tag. Thankfully Aldi has released a dupe for the £65 swanky candle - and it only costs £9.99. 2 Aldi has dropped a £9.99 candle that's said to be a dupe of a White Company one Credit: Aldi 2 Similar candles from the White Company, with three wicks in a glass jar, cost £65 Credit: the white company Aldi's new Flat Ribbed Hurricane Candle is said to be a luxe-looking home fragrance that has three wicks. It comes in two scents - Pink Rhubarb and Floral Blanc - and is said to burn for up to 64 hours. The fresh Pink Rhubarb fruity scent is said to offer a 'unique combination of tartness and sweetness' and has 'a hint of sugar to invigorate while remaining comforting.' Meanwhile their 'elegant' Floral Blanc features white flowers for a 'clean' scent to make ' every day feel like a special occasion.' More on Aldi The 700g candle has a sophisticated ribbed glass design, and according to Aldi 'smells far more expensive than it is.' At £9.99 you'll be saving around £55, representing a saving of 85 per cent. You won't have to wait to get your hands on the replica candle, as it is available in Aldi stores from today, May 29. The White Company dupe isn't the only item arriving in Aldi's home fragrance collection. Most read in Fabulous Returning to stores are the supermarket's 'shopper favourite' Revival Candles and Reed Diffusers. The 200g Revival Candle and 100ml Reed Diffuser cost £3.49 and come in three scents: Relax, Serene, and Peace. Aldi is selling a cheap $4.49 item that will transform your garden into a colorful summer paradise The wellness-inspired scents are made from 'eucalyptus and tea' for Serene and 'lavender and sage' for the Peace – which sounds ideal for a calm and cosy summer setup. Meanwhile, their Relax scent is made up of vanilla and rose with 'fresh florals', for a 'romantic and sophisticated' aroma. Each scent is encased in a coloured glass, with the candles offering 40 hours of fragrances and the diffusers lasting up to eight weeks. Those looking to update the scents in their homes will need to hurry though, as with all Specialbuys, once they're gone, they're gone! What are the best Aldi beauty dupes? ALDI has become well-known for its affordable beauty dupes that often rival high-end brands in terms of quality and effectiveness. Here are some of the best Aldi beauty dupes that have garnered rave reviews: Lacura Healthy Glow Exfoliating Tonic Dupe for: Pixi Glow Tonic Price: £3.99 (compared to Pixi's £18) Description: This exfoliating tonic contains glycolic acid and works to gently exfoliate and brighten the skin. It's a fantastic, budget-friendly alternative to the popular Pixi Glow Tonic. Lacura Q10 Renew Anti-Wrinkle Day Cream Dupe for: Nivea Q10 Plus Anti-Wrinkle Day Cream Price: £1.45 (compared to Nivea's £10) Lacura Caviar Illumination Day Cream Dupe for: La Prairie Skin Caviar Luxe Cream Price: £6.99 (compared to La Prairie's £292) Lacura Hot Cloth Cleanser Dupe for: Liz Earle Cleanse & Polish Hot Cloth Cleanser Price: £3.99 (compared to Liz Earle's £17.50) Lacura Snapshot Ready Foundation Primer Dupe for: Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer Price: £5.99 (compared to Smashbox's £26) Lacura Miracle Cream Dupe for: Elizabeth Arden Eight Hour Cream Price: £3.99 (compared to Elizabeth Arden's £28) Lacura Ebony Rose Face Mask Dupe for: Fresh Rose Face Mask Price: £6.99 (compared to Fresh's £52) Lacura Charcoal Clearing Mudmask Dupe for: GlamGlow Supermud Clearing Treatment Price: £5.99 (compared to GlamGlow's £42) Lacura Velvet Touch Foundation Dupe for: Estée Lauder Double Wear Foundation Price: £5.99 (compared to Estée Lauder's £34) Lacura Tinted Lip Oils Dupe for: Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Tinted Oil Price: £3.99 (compared to Rare Beauty's £20) The White company was founded by Chrissie Rucker in 1994 and began as a 12-page mail-order catalogue from her partner's spare room. As of 2024, The White Company had 70 stores across the United Kingdom .
The Intercept
17-05-2025
- Politics
- The Intercept
Students and Teachers in Gaza: 'Education Itself Is a Form of Defiance'
In Gaza, where the echoes of conflict dominate daily life, education has become both a casualty and a symbol of resistance. Through shattered classrooms, broken internet connections, and the constant fear of displacement or death, students and teachers are striving to keep learning alive even when everything around them falls apart. Here, education is no longer a pathway to opportunity; it is a fight for survival. Since the escalation of the genocidal war in October 2023, schools and universities across Gaza have closed their doors, been bombed and destroyed, and become shelters for displaced Palestinians. The lives, dreams, and mental health of thousands of students and educators have been transformed. All of Gaza's universities have been leveled by airstrikes. More than 85 percent of schools in Gaza have been completely or partially destroyed, according to U.N. experts. According to the Euro-Mediterranean Human Rights Monitor, three university presidents and over 95 university deans and professors, including 68 holding professor titles, have been killed in Israeli airstrikes. Despite the destruction and genocide in Gaza, education is still resistance. And every student and teacher who dares to dream is a symbol of unbreakable hope. Here are four of their stories. Serene Nasrallah at her graduation ceremony from the Islamic University of Gaza on Aug. 8, 2023. Photo: Courtesy of Serene Nasrallah Serene Nasrallah, an assistant lecturer of English at the Islamic University of Gaza, says the war has reduced her role to that of a 'mediator' and has redefined what it means to teach. The most impactful challenge is lack of power and internet all over the Strip as she is teaching passive online courses. 'I can't reach my students easily,' and even communicating with fellow university staff has become difficult. She feels she shifted from being a lecturer to being only a coordinator between the course and the students 'I just share slides. I can't explain. I can't engage. I use my phone to manage everything — even grading.' Since the beginning of the war, Serene observed multiple challenges in her students. The focus has shifted from learning to getting through requirements. 'They are surrounded by anxiety, fear, and anticipation; their academic level is badly affected.' This war has robbed students of the time needed to focus and collect their mental capacity when needed. With no salary, minimal resources, and little emotional support, Serene presses on. She shares one tragic story that haunts her still: A student who suffered severe injuries and later died after requesting a delay for her final exam. 'I keep thinking of her,' Serene says. 'How can you ask someone to focus on grammar while they're burned and broken?' Despite her exhaustion, Serene continues teaching. 'I do it hoping this experience might one day help me get a scholarship or job overseas,' she admits. 'But mostly, I do it for the reward from Allah.' 'The most urgent need is not resources — it's security,' says Serene. 'Only when the bombs stop falling and the genocide ends can the learning truly begin.' Heba Alajouz volunteers at Al-Aqsa Hospital in Dei al-Balah, Gaza, on Feb. 15, 2023. Photo: Courtesy of Heba Alajouz Heba Alajouz, a third-year medical student at Al-Azhar University, has not given up on her studies. 'I've been trying to continue my education in medicine, but we stopped attending university. Professors are unreachable, and some have even been killed. Others are serving in overwhelmed hospitals. We're studying independently, clinging to any resource we can find online — when there's electricity or internet.' Heba's education has been on hold for about eight months. Her university is destroyed, and she often lacks access to essential learning materials or the internet. 'I miss everything about university life: my friends, the atmosphere, the daily routine, and even the breaks we used to enjoy together,' she says with deep nostalgia. 'Every day brings a moment of hopelessness,' she confesses. 'Still, I hold on to faith and the belief that I have a duty to continue.' Heba expresses deep fear that she may not be able to complete her education. She says she is in a state of emotional denial and has yet to fully process the trauma she and her peers have endured. She recounts the trauma of multiple displacements — evacuating under fire without her personal belongings or textbooks. She has lost both close friends and family members: Her grandfather died due to lack of medical treatment, and her cousin was killed during the attacks. 'I miss the person I used to be.' 'There is no safe place here,' she states. The war has completely altered her perception of the future. The life and career she once envisioned have vanished, and she no longer makes plans for the future until the war ends. 'I miss the person I used to be — my emotions, my thoughts, my sense of safety, my health, and the colorful days of the past,' she reflects. She doubts those days will ever return. However, she draws inspiration from a saying of Prophet Muhammad: 'If the Hour (of Judgment) comes while one of you has a palm-cutting in his hand, let him plant it.' Even in the face of the end, one must strive to do good. That belief sustains her. 'I hope this war ends soon so we can study like students everywhere — safely and with dignity,' she says. Fatima Skaik pictured working on architectural plans. Photo: Courtesy of Fatima Skaik Fatima Skaik, a third-year architecture student at the Islamic University of Gaza, lost both her home and university and was displaced multiple times. She had hoped to freelance as an architect and eventually work in Dubai. She once dreamed of her graduation project, which focused on advancing technology in Gaza's architecture. 'Now, my only dream is to survive, finish my studies, and help rebuild Gaza,' she admits. 'Education itself is a form of defiance.' Fatima was forced to pause her studies from October 2023 until August 2024. 'Even access to the internet remains a major obstacle in continuing my education,' she says. Fatima's challenges include the lack of tools and spaces needed for architectural training. Yet she speaks with deep resilience: 'Our professors were kind. They would reach out when I disappeared due to internet outages. That kept me going. We Palestinians have an unbreakable will.' Read our complete coverage She longs for the life she once had: her home, her room, her drafting studio, campus outings, and nights spent working on submissions. Despite the loss, she draws strength from her belief in the power of education as a form of resistance. 'We resist not only with weapons but with knowledge, persistence, and resilience. Education itself is a form of defiance,' she emphasizes. 'We are strong, intelligent, and hard-working,' says Fatima. 'We just want to learn in peace,' she adds. 'We want to show the world that despite everything, we continue. We've become an inspiration to students who feel hopeless for reasons far less than war.' Nadera Moshtaha, center, with her team for the English department at the Islamic University of Gaza's Victorian Era Day Exhibition on July 10, 2023. Photo: Courtesy of Nadera Moshtaha Nadera Moshtaha, a senior English-language student at the Islamic University of Gaza, shares how the ongoing war has profoundly affected both her academic life and emotional well-being. She continues her studies online, but the war has had a severe impact. 'Our university has been destroyed, our friends have been killed, and we no longer attend classes on campus,' she says. She lives in constant anxiety, overwhelmed by continuous thoughts and worries. She and her family have been displaced multiple times, and she has lost relatives and friends, including her grandfather. 'There is no safe place in the entire city,' she says. 'Our dreams and plans are gone. But I'm still trying,' Nadera says. She misses her campus life deeply. 'I long for my friends, our laughs, and those vibrant mornings. The war has dried my tears. I don't cry anymore — not even at goodbyes,' she recounts. Power cuts and internet failures are a daily struggle. 'I can't study at night because of electricity cuts, and night is the only time I can focus,' she explains. When asked about her future, she replies with hesitation and fear: 'Honestly, I don't know. If there were no war, I could have answered where I see myself.' Yet, despite the devastation, she says, 'Hope still flies, even among death. I try to keep writing and learning because maybe I can help this city — even with my words.'
Atlantic
07-02-2025
- Business
- Atlantic
The Ultrarich Weren't Always This Selfish
In the early 1500s, an unknown wealthy patron is said to have commissioned Leonardo da Vinci to produce the Salvator Mundi, a striking ecclesiastical masterpiece in which Jesus is shown blessing humanity with his right hand while holding an orb representing the Earth in his left. The patron's identity has been lost to history, and whether da Vinci actually painted it is still debated among scholars, but such commissions were common during the medieval and Renaissance periods: Medici-like benefactors, uncomfortable with the potential sinfulness of their extravagant wealth, sought to offset their guilt and enhance their prestige by sponsoring magnificent works of art and architecture for the public to enjoy. Da Vinci's Salvator Mundi changed hands countless times through the ensuing centuries. Mistaken as a comparatively commonplace artwork, it was owned by a 17th-century heir to the Scottish crown who was later beheaded, passed to the illegitimate son of an 18th-century duke, and then languished in obscurity for more than a century. An unknown buyer acquired the painting at auction for £45, or about $1,300 today, and it ended up in Houston. The painting later passed to Basil Clovis Hendry Sr., who ran a Baton Rouge, Louisiana, sheet-metal company. Then, in 2005, on suspicion that there was more to the painting than met the untrained eye, an art consortium bought the painting for just over $1,000. Years of restoration, cleaning, research, and speculation yielded a shocking announcement: The painting was Da Vinci's lost Salvator Mundi. What happened to the tableau after that is a good illustration of just how little today's superrich resemble the public-spirited patrons of the past. Yves Bouvier, an art dealer who is currently accused of evading $800 million in taxes, bought the work for $83 million, then sold it the following day for nearly $50 million more to Dmitry Rybolovlev, a Russian oligarch and superyacht enthusiast who, according to the leaked Panama Papers, set up a shell company to hide artwork assets from his ex-wife during divorce proceedings. Finally, in a 2017 auction at Christie's, Saudi Arabian Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman used a little-known proxy to purchase the Salvator Mundi for $450.3 million, the highest price paid for a single artwork in history. In 2021, The Wall Street Journal broke the news that the priceless painting had been kept on private display aboard bin Salman's superyacht, Serene, a 439-foot-long, half-billion-dollar boat that had recently run aground in a navigational accident. A fragile, irreplaceable object of significance to the shared cultural history of all humanity was being kept in a hot, humid environment for the private enjoyment of one royal billionaire and his ultrarich guests. (In another room, Serene was also equipped with state-of-the-art snow machines that could produce four-inch-deep flurries on demand.) The journey of one painting charts a profound shift in modern societies. The role of the ultra-wealthy has morphed from one of shared social responsibility and patronage to the freewheeling celebration of selfish opulence. Rather than investing in their society—say, by giving alms to the poor, or funding Caravaggios and cathedrals—many of today's plutocrats use their wealth to escape to private islands, private Beyoncé concerts, and, above all, extremely private superyachts. One top Miami-based 'yacht consultant' has dubbed itself Medici Yachts. The namesake recalls public patronage and social responsibility, but the consultant's motto is more fitting for an era of indulgent billionaires: 'Let us manage your boat. For you is only to smile and make memories.' In 1908, the English writer G. K. Chesterton observed that 'the poor man really has a stake in the country. The rich man hasn't; he can go away to New Guinea in a yacht. The poor have sometimes objected to being governed badly; the rich have always objected to being governed at all.' Chesterton's observation was astute for the modern era, but for much of Western history, it was only half true. In his 2023 book, As Gods Among Men, the economic historian Guido Alfani chronicles the role of the ultra-wealthy from antiquity to the era of cryptocurrency. The superrich have always wielded inordinate economic and social power and, as such, have plenty of historical ills to answer for. But the affluent of many past periods also invested in the shared betterment of society, understanding that doing so helped justify the existence of wealth inequality. Today's ultrarich, by Alfani's telling, are uniquely selfish, and by abdicating the philanthropic role, they are 'fuelling resentment and leaving their place in society uncertain.' The social contract that imposed certain civic responsibilities on the rich emerged after the Black Death decimated nearly half the population of medieval Europe. The dominant Christian theology of the Middle Ages held that wealth was inherently sinful in a world where most people toiled in terrible poverty. But as the continent recovered from the plague, a new, pragmatic arrangement emerged. The surviving wealthy would be expected to use their wealth to provide public goods. This echoed the norms of antiquity; the historian Paul Veyne has noted that in ancient Rome, for example, the belief was widespread that any defects in civic life directly reflected on the virtues of the city's elite. The barons of medieval society would serve two important functions, Alfani recounts: 'making the city splendid in everybody's interest by means of their 'magnificence' and acting as private reserves of financial resources into which the community could tap in times of crisis by means of taxation or of extraordinary contributions.' In other words, wealth inequality was tolerated because it provided a useful social function. The wealthy were expected to spend lavish sums on transforming cities by building shared public spaces. They were also meant to come to the rescue with their largesse in the case of a public crisis or calamity. Cosimo de' Medici did precisely that, saving Florence from bankruptcy in 1434. Benefactors did not necessarily serve these functions out of uncomplicated generosity. From their 'magnificence' they could expect personal glory, political favor, and perhaps a pathway to eternal salvation. The savvy used patronage to expand, not drain, their wealth. Some patrons participated in history's great crimes, from the Crusades to the slave trade. Nonetheless, as Alfani convincingly argues, even the most self-interested and amoral among them often wound up doing some good. The 15th-century archbishop of Florence called this norm the 'public theology of magnificence.' But it also required enforcement. When the rich refused to fulfill their social obligations, governments imposed taxes, extraordinary war levies, or, in the case of 16th- and 17th-century Spain, mandatory loans (called secuestros). The wealthy were not allowed to simply hoard their wealth, park it in an offshore haven, and escape catastrophe by sailing away from a collapsing society on a superyacht. Even in Gilded Age America, with all its injustices, and where the pursuit of wealth was hardly condemned as sin, society's richest members were expected to use their riches to benefit the public in times of crisis. J. P. Morgan bailed the United States out in 1907, acting as a banker of last resort. A decade later, the U.S. government pressed financiers and tycoons to invest in Liberty Bonds for World War I, a bad bet that worsened their financial positions considerably. During World War II, the top American marginal tax rate reached an eye-popping 94 percent. Over time, however, the norms eroded. An ethos of what historians call 'munificence,' a belief that the rich should be generous, but only if they wish, replaced the theology of obligatory magnificence. This subtle difference had profound implications: Patronage and public benefit were no longer assumed to be duties, but bonuses that wealthy individuals could provide out of the goodness of their hearts. The coronavirus pandemic ushered in even more grotesque inequality. Elon Musk's net worth surpassed $400 billion. The world's economies ground to a halt, and public coffers were crushed with debt, but superyacht sales surged by 46 percent. The public, especially the poor, suffered; the rich, like those of G. K. Chesterton's caricature, escaped. During the early coronavirus lockdowns, the billionaire media mogul David Geffen hunkered down on his 454-foot-long superyacht, Rising Sun, which included a private basketball court and wine cellar among its 82 rooms. He posted a stunning photo of a Caribbean sunset to Instagram at the height of the pandemic, with the caption 'Isolated in the Grenadines avoiding the virus. I hope everybody is staying safe.' What people spend their money on, beyond hard-nosed investments, sends a social signal. For example, the drivers of Priuses and Cybertrucks are sending rather different signals, as their visible purchases likely reflect different underlying behaviors and beliefs. At the extremes, the wealthy may go to great lengths to display their affluence. For example, in potlatch ceremonies among Indigenous communities of the Pacific Northwest, individuals showcase their riches by engaging in the ritualized destruction of expensive objects. In The Patron's Payoff, Jonathan K. Nelson and Richard J. Zeckhauser argue that historical patronage was a form of pragmatic signaling, conveying virtues such as religious devotion and civic duty. But it also provided benefits to the wealthy, who became part of an elite club and were able to use their patronage for personal glory and social advancement. Today the signaling of wealth has shifted from public-facing duties to efforts to provoke private envy. When the Saudi crown prince pays half a billion dollars for an invaluable artwork and then displays it for ultrarich elites on his private superyacht, he is engaging in a form of signaling, but not one aimed at the public. Instead, the 'haves' and 'have yachts' play a status game only for the benefit of the rich themselves. Cathedrals were beautifying public icons that often served the poor; yachts are designed to hide their splendors from the prying eyes of the riffraff. One of the great wealthy villains of modernity, Martin Shkreli, didn't just buy a coveted piece of cultural heritage—the notorious Wu-Tang Clan album —for his own private consumption. He said he would destroy it, potlatch-style. This kind of signaling is a far cry from the one that centered on civic virtue and religious devotion. The U.S. government has facilitated the ultrarich in their abdication of social responsibility. For example, Charles B. Johnson—the former CEO of Franklin Templeton Investments, a Republican megadonor, and a part owner of the San Francisco Giants—purchased the opulent Carolands chateau, a 46,000-square-foot Gilded Age estate with 98 rooms. According to a ProPublica investigation, Johnson received a $38 million tax break because he pledged to turn Carolands into a museum open to the public 40 hours a week. He didn't keep that promise—Carolands allows small tours only on Wednesdays at 1 p.m.—but he got the tax break all the same. Some among the American ultrarich openly deride philanthropy as an ineffective use of money. The tech mogul Marc Andreessen has argued that charitable giving is less useful than investing in tech companies, because 'technological innovation in a market system is inherently philanthropic.' (One in 12 people globally lives in extreme poverty, defined as earning less than $2.15 a day; it's hard to imagine how they have benefited more from Ning, Andreessen's social-media platform, than they would from, say, food and medicine.) The billionaires Larry Page and Peter Thiel have expressed similar views. Thiel concentrates his philanthropy on what he designates to be breakthrough technology. He has donated to the Seasteading Institute, which says it is 'reimagining civilization with floating communities' and 'significant political autonomy'—as though the superyachts and offshore tax havens aren't enough. Why not live offshore, bobbing in a libertarian commune free from burdensome social obligations, such as taxes? Some billionaires have maintained the notion of magnificence by pouring money into solutions to social problems, such as treatments for malaria or children's hospitals. The Gates Foundation, for example, has made tremendous progress against scourges of public health. But by and large, the notion that wealthy individuals will marshal their resources to alleviate social crises has come to seem quaint in today's world. In 2008, President Barack Obama proposed that the income of private-equity-fund managers be treated as ordinary personal income rather than capital gains—and ran afoul of the billionaire Stephen Schwarzman, who later compared the president's proposed tax-policy changes to 'when Hitler invaded Poland in 1939.' Evading social responsibility, even during crises, carries risks for the ultrawealthy. Their opulence compared with the standard of living of their co-citizens becomes harder to justify, and widespread resentment, seemingly inevitable. Some appear to understand that such inequality is unsustainable, but that hasn't inspired them to become keepers of social wealth for times of shared crisis. Rather, if society collapses, billionaires may just escape onto the waves. A select few are making their contingency plans in rocket ships—as though no longer seeking favor with God but hoping to abscond to the heavens just the same.
