1960s Radicalism Research Articles

The Municipal Reference and Research Center is Born: New York’s Municipal Library in the late 1960s

Recently the news site Democracy Now! featured a story titled “NYPD Surveillance Unveiled: City Claims to Lose Docs on 1960s Radicals, Then Finds 1 Million Records.”1 The segment describes Baruch College professor Johanna Fernández’s efforts to access records of New York Police Department (NYPD) surveillance of radical organizations in the 1960s and 1970s. In the early 2000s, Fernández began her search for this material but encountered a major obstacle when the city of New York claimed it had lost them. Sixteen years later, the city contacted Fernández to inform her that these documents were in fact not lost and had been found with more than 520 boxes of related materials in a warehouse in Queens.

Ron Silliman’s Ketjak beyond programmatism

ABSTRACTRon Silliman’s long prose poem Ketjak (1978) is in part a swan song for 1960s radicalism, and the Fordist regime of capital accumulation undergirding that eras struggles for self-affirmation. In Ketjak Silliman develops what he comes to call ‘the new sentence’, which is meant to eschew narrative, along with the very referential mechanisms of capital, foregrounding instead word play and the organic, gestural labour of the author. This paper argues against the grain of Silliman’s poetics, demonstrating ways in which his innovative technique in Ketjak, rather than being autonomous from capital, ironises the regime of flexible accumulation emergent in the 1970s. The restructuring of capital–labour relations during this period has been compellingly theorised by Théorie Communiste as the last gasp of the programmatic workers movement, which sought to build a workers’ world in its own image. The labouring subject that Silliman is preoccupied with in his poetics becomes undermined through the very restructuring of capital that Ketjak harnesses towards its own imaginative ends. Spanning 100 pages, Ketjak’s length is read as an instance of Sianne Ngai’s aesthetic category of ‘the interesting’, which this paper considers as a critical response to hyper-financialisation’s attempt to foreshorten the duration of production cycles.

The Spirit of Vatican II: Western European Progressive Catholicism in the Long Sixties by Gerd-Rainer Horn

Reviewed by: The Spirit of Vatican II: Western European Progressive Catholicism in the Long Sixties by Gerd-Rainer Horn Hugh McLeod The Spirit of Vatican II: Western European Progressive Catholicism in the Long Sixties. By Gerd-Rainer Horn. (New York: Oxford University Press. 2015. Pp. x, 264. $90.00. ISBN 978-0-19-959325-5.) This is a sequel to the author’s The Spirit of ’68 (New York, 2007), a standard work on 1960s radicalism. Gerd-Rainer Horn notes that no reviewer commented on the absence of religion from the book. Yet, in his view, this was a serious lacuna. He argues that the ferment arising from the Second Vatican Council prepared Catholics to be active participants, and sometimes pioneers, in the social movements of the “red decade” from about 1966 to 1976. Moreover, the “utopian” dimensions of progressive theology mixed readily with the utopianism of the “early” Marx that was so influential at the time. The book is entirely about Catholics, although he notes similar developments among European Protestants. The principal focus is on Italy, but there are also substantial sections on Spain, France, and Belgium. Horn brings to this book a unique range of skills. He is the leading authority on “Left Catholicism,” and although primarily a social and political historian, he is well versed in theology and is able to draw on sources in seven languages. The book is written with an enthusiasm that energizes his narrative, without ever becoming uncritical. He has a keen eye for the local and for the role of particular personalities, while also placing these specifics in a wider political, social, and intellectual context. He begins with the Second Vatican Council and the theologians who were shaping the thinking of progressive Catholics, including both internationally renowned figures and those whose influence was more national, such as Ernesto Balducci in Italy and José María González Ruiz in Spain. Subsequent chapters focus on the renewed worker-priest movement and the organizations of radical priests that proliferated in the later 1960s; on base communities (especially numerous in Italy); on Catholic student organizations; and, in an outstanding chapter, on industrial militancy, in which the role of Catholics was especially important in Italy and, for a time, in Spain. In the conclusion he looks both at the reasons for the efflorescence of Catholic radicalism and at its decline in the later 1970s. Summing up, he claims that “in many countries throughout Western Europe, a large number of social movements—of which student movements were often only the most visible component—in the mid-to-late-1960s were animated to a significant degree by Catholics” (p. 254). As he shows, the familiar picture of the “secular Sixties” is a serious oversimplification insofar as many parts of Catholic Europe were concerned. In the early and middle years of that decade, levels of religious practice were high, and in the very specific atmosphere of the later 1960s the dense networks of Catholic organizations were readily mobilized for new causes. The Catholic activists of those years eventually moved in many different directions. Some are still living and still upholding the same ideals in a very different world; some moved into more secular forms of radicalism; some retreated, disillusioned as so many were by the defeat of their utopian hopes, into private life. Horn has not said the last word. There is room, for example, for a book that looks much more closely at the role of the Catholic hierarchy, including both those like Cardinal Michele Pellegrino [End Page 424] of Turin, who provided a relatively favorable environment for radical priests and laypeople, and those like Cardinal Ermenegildo Florit of Florence, who did his best to make life impossible for them. We have here the story as seen through the eyes of the activists, and it is a story that is both important and wrongly neglected (for reasons that Horn explains). But Horn’s impressive book will be the essential starting-point for all future work in this field. Hugh McLeod University of Birmingham (Emeritus) Copyright © 2016 The Catholic University of America Press

Locating American Experience

For Cavell, American transcendentalism and film share the capacity to provide an education in taking an interest in one’s experience. The results of such interest are for him ultimately political, allowing for self-cultivation and hence for mutual progress; an aspiration both romantic and liberal. However, the meeting of an experiential focus with political hopes extends beyond Cavell, and the wider fact of this convergence allows us to conceive his project as part of a broader milieu. One way to think Cavell historically is to consider some of the contexts in which his voice was forged. Although he sometimes alludes to it, we don’t readily associate Cavell with 1960s radicalism, the counterculture, or the New Left. His sensibility and concerns seem more abstract than this, and operate on other planes than activism or polemic. His voice also unmistakably belongs to both a disciplinary training in philosophy (specifically, a 1950s analytic context) and to an earlier generation. Yet granting the unmistakable significance of these, we can still observe that despite his originality, and his anomalousness as an analytic philosopher, Cavell is not an a-contextual voice in American letters. He is not alone in exploring the value of attention to (American) experience as a resource for improvement, a fact to which he himself draws notice. Further, he anticipates certain developments in our critical present centred around the possibilities for a tone of hope and optimism with more than personal implications.

Mabou Mines: Making Avant-Garde Theater in the 1970s by Iris Smith Fischer (review)

Reviewed by: Mabou Mines: Making Avant-Garde Theater in the 1970s by Iris Smith Fischer Cindy Rosenthal Mabou Mines: Making Avant-Garde Theater in the 1970s. By Iris Smith Fischer. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2011. pp. 266. $60.00 cloth, $29.95 paper. Iris Smith Fischer’s monograph fills a significant gap in experimental performance history, as it is the first text dedicated exclusively to examining the work of Mabou Mines, one of the most important avant-garde theatre groups in the United States. Although the New York–based company received its first Obie (Off and Off-Off Broadway Theater) Award in recognition of its work in 1974, Mabou Mines came to prominence in the 1980s with groundbreaking productions such as A Prelude to Death in Venice (1980), script and direction by Lee Breuer, and Dead End Kids (1980), conceived and directed by JoAnne Akalaitis. Beginning with a clearly written and insightful introduction, the book is organized chronologically in five chapters, ending with a brief epilogue. Mabou Mines: Making Avant-Garde Theater in the 1970s also includes a section of excellent production photographs and a useful appendix with a timeline of members’ activities and company achievements, from 1957 to 1980. Writing about a group that “set out to create indescribable performance” (v), Smith Fischer carefully documents the first and lesser-known decade of Mabou Mines’s production history, beginning in 1970, when the company was supported in its first three years by Ellen Stewart, director of La MaMa Experimental Theatre, and then, over a ten-year period, by Joe Papp of the Public Theater. Smith Fischer weaves together accounts of core members’ artistic backgrounds as she tells the story of how Mabou Mines’s multidisciplinary performances came about. In her introduction Smith Fischer states that detailing company members’ biographies is not her intent here. Her focus is on the “coming together” of the multitalented founders, JoAnne Akalaitis, Lee Breuer, Philip Glass, Ruth Maleczech, and David Warrilow, and the group’s rehearsal processes and productions. Actors Frederick Neumann and Bill Raymond joined the group in 1971; Terry O’Reilly joined in 1973. Smith Fischer also suggests why some members had moved apart or left the group by the end of the 1970s. Smith Fischer argues that Mabou Mines rejected the notion of the actor as an interpretative artist, and instead, performers were seen as “creative agents” (1). This company of individual artists—“Co-Artistic Directors”—sometimes with disparate visions, often struggled with collaboration as they consistently “made new” and often provocative work together. The group ultimately evolved into what Smith Fischer describes as a “company of directors,” with Breuer [End Page 154] acknowledged as the “first” director and Akalaitis as “the second director” with a “sensibility and vocabulary of her own” (120). In the introduction, Smith Fischer situates Mabou Mines’s work in the 1970s within the context of longer, ongoing conversations in theater and performance studies about the avant-garde—or avant-gardes. In Smith Fischer’s analysis, the idea of and adherence to the “Avant Garde as Community” is crucial to an understanding of how Mabou Mines functions: members support each other through their efforts to create and foster a common language and techniques and through sharing responsibility (organizing childcare within the group is but one example). In the first chapter, “Coming Together,” Smith Fischer charts the complex movements of the couples, Breuer and Malaczeck and Glass and Akalaitis, from coast to coast in the United States and throughout Europe, where they encountered English actor David Warrilow. The five determined to make New York City’s downtown arts scene their base. In this section and throughout the volume Smith Fischer clarifies the connections and the distinctions between Mabou Mines and experimental theatre troupes associated with 1960s radicalism— the Living Theatre, the Open Theatre, the Performance Group, and the San Francisco Mime Troupe. Mabou Mines in the 1970s “was not political” (in Akalaitis’s words): “There was no ideal about politics, or what theatre should be, could be, or how we wanted to change it. . . . [The ideal was] excellence, and finding a performing technique that was American—one that was personal, yet very stylized and technical” (35). Working...

NAACP Youth and the Fight for Black Freedom, 1936–1965 by Thomas L. Bynum (review)

Reviewed by: NAACP Youth and the Fight for Black Freedom, 1936–1965 by Thomas L. Bynum Lee Sartain (bio) NAACP Youth and the Fight for Black Freedom, 1936–1965. By Thomas L. Bynum. (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2013. Pp. 226. $49.00 cloth) Any mention of African American youth in the civil rights struggle will evoke images of the sit-ins of 1960 and the Freedom Rides of 1961. Rarely (if ever) is the NAACP involved in this popular history [End Page 532] of youth activism because, as an organization, it is often considered staid and legalistic. In this respect, Bynum’s monograph on NAACP youth groups is an important historiographic development that places youth activism into the long civil rights history and shows that 1960s radicalism was but part of a tradition of youth activism dating back to the 1930s. Bynum has inserted NAACP youth members into the civil rights narrative in a comprehensive manner, although his book builds on the work of Rebecca De Schweinitz (If We Could Change the World [2009]) while having none of her legal or philosophical depth. Indeed, Bynum’s book has a broad approach and often misses nuance that local or state studies can give. Indeed, the very concept of youth required further examination as De Schweinitz does in her research. For example, the debate that the NAACP undertook on who exactly is youthful is mentioned in a footnote (p.155, n21). The concept of teenager had to be invented in a materialistic age and the debate of the delineation between childhood, young person, and the transition to adult was ongoing. Did the concept of youth in society change from the 1930s to the 1960s and was that reflected in NAACP organizing? There is little practical or structural deliberation given to the fact that organizational youth leadership was regularly decapitated through the aging process. NAACP college chapters had perennial problems of summer holidays and students who undertook paid work and studied rather than being activists. Sometimes the youth abandoned NAACP groups due to its conservatism and control by the adult branch, but often they just got older and moved on. However, the idea that young people contain special talents and are free from the constraints reserved for adults certainly required further acknowledgement. There is little development of gender or leadership theory and, therefore, the book feels somewhat old fashioned at times. The author highlights major female leaders of the NAACP youth wing, such as Juanita Jackson and Ruby Hurley, but does not explain why they were able to exert their leadership. Was it unique to the NAACP that women could become major organizational leaders? Was it youth [End Page 533] activism that allowed young and single women to pursue leadership? Interesting and important characters are often introduced, yet very little is made of their contribution beyond reporting with scant detail. For example, Muriel Gregg, a promising leader who joined the NAACP field staff in 1955, followed a familiar pattern for women by resigning to get married. Bynum states that Herbert Wright, NAACP youth secretary, “commented that the association needed someone as efficient as Gregg but with a better personality” (p. 69). This is quite a statement and really needs analysis. Was Gregg rejected by the NAACP due to being a strong female leader in a patriarchal organization? Similarly Herbert Wright, whose career went from student activist to NAACP leader, is underdeveloped in these pages as a major personality who developed the youth councils during the 1950s and seemed to have an intuitive understanding of how to build up a youth movement. Overall, this is a standard text that reports on an important aspect of neglected history. Its strength is in its focus on generational conflict between youth and adult members of the NAACP. However, there was so much more to be considered. Lee Sartain LEE SARTAIN is a senior lecturer in American history at the University of Portsmouth, England. He is the author of Invisible Activists (2007), Borders of Equality (2013) and co-editor of Long is the Way and Hard: 100 Years of the NAACP (2009). He is currently working on black youth movements of the 1940s and 1950s and also...

From Textbooks to Tea Parties: An Appalachian Antecedent of Anti-Obama Rebellion

The excitement over a new radio documentary about a 1974 curriculum dispute in Kanawha County, West Virginia, blended with the excitement over anti-Obama administration tea party gatherings in the summer of 2009. By fall of that year, people were listening to “The Great Textbook War of 1974” on West Virginia Public Radio and declaring that “Kanawha County Held the First Tea Party 35 Years Ago.” 1 This essay argues that the famous textbook controversy was one among many precursors to the current conservative rebellion, and warns against romanticizing or demonizing West Virginia protesters whose links to national organizers and conservative supporters, which are often overlooked, strengthen their likeness to today’s tea partiers. Drawing from more extensive arguments in Reading Appalachia from Left to Right: Conservatives and the 1974 Kanawha County Textbook Controversy, this essay situates the conflict in the evolving right-wing dis courses of the times, as well as in the context of cultural assumptions about Appalachia. 2 Doing so helps acknowledge the influence of the West Virginia dispute on today’s uprisings without reducing the multiple issues and variety of protesters involved then and now to a simplistic, dualistic feud. Quick Comparisons At first glance, there are some compelling similarities between the Kanawha County textbook controversy and tea party protests. For instance, the earliest objections to the controversial language arts curriculum were made in 1974 by Alice Moore, a white conservative Christian woman whose maternity functioned as de facto moral authority. Tea party hero and 2008 vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin bears a striking historical resemblance to her in terms of conservative agendas and controversy surrounding their gender. The Charleston Gazette implied a connection when it reported in 2010 that “at the age of 69, [Moore] paid $560 to cheer Sarah Palin at the National Tea Party Convention at Nashville. Moore told reporters that troubles arose because 1960s radicals became schoolteachers

Piecing Memories Together after State Terror and Policies of Oblivion in Uruguay: The Female Political Prisoner's Testimonial Project (1997–2004)

The Southern Cone's Cold War-era dictatorships in the 1970s and 1980s unleashed state violence in the region through forced disappearance, political imprisonment, torture, blacklisting and massive exile unparalleled in its modern history, justified under the US-led neo-colonial ideology of National Security Doctrine. Region-wide state repression in this period emerged in response to the rise of the 1960s radical movements against structural economic reforms and privatizations and for agrarian public reforms and public programs. This period was followed by US-led neoliberal ideologies and economic reform programs of ‘structural adjustment’ in the 1980s, programs which needed authoritarian governments to take control of radical oppositional politics and serve the special needs of elites and corporate power. In Uruguay, such neoliberal political and economic arrangements helped shape a transitional politics of silencing and obliteration of the former regime's human rights abuses. Such policies silenced ordinary people's capacity to collectively remember and transmit their experiences of political repression and solidarity. Among them, women's experiences of state terror in Uruguay were particularly invisible. This article documents, discusses and offers a case study of the emergence, development and gendering of memory in a women's testimonial project that grew to resist Uruguayan ‘policies of oblivion’ and brought women's previously silenced experiences of the dictatorship back into public discussion.

Review Essay: The Challenges of Contemporary Criticism: Two Recent Studies of August Wilson

The Dramatic Vision of August Wilson by Sandra D. Shannon. Washington: Howard UP, 1996. $17.95 paper With the publication and performance of Jitney/(1979), Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (1985), Fences (1987), Joe Turner's Come and Gone (1988), The Piano Lesson (1990), and Two Trains Running (1992)--as well as several apprentice and shorter works--August Wilson has become the best-known contemporary African American playwright. The past few years have seen a groundswell of publishing concerning his work. Given the success of his plays, the depth of his cultural commitment, and the breadth of his artistic vision, it is clear that the time is ripe for serious scholarship ,on his work. Kim Pereira's August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey and Sandra D. Shannon's The Dramatic Vision of August Wilson are two of the most recent contributions to this discussion about the meaning and value of Wilson's work. Distillations of African American folk traditions, the blues, and 1960s radicalism, Wilson's plays are potent reminders that the past, present, and future of African American lives matter, that the fact of the black presence in the United States is fundamental to the very existence and prominence of the nation. In this respect, Wilson's works are the very stuff of the American Dream; they are celebrations of history, endurance, and achievement. Indeed, Wilson has placed his works in close connection with a complex of African American cultural forms and figures: African American folk wisdom, the blues, Amiri Baraka, Romare Bearden. In addition, Wilson has developed a plan to dramatize a black perspective on each decade of the twentieth century. Much criticism about Wilson reflects the close interaction between history and African American experience that is a fundamental feature of Wilson's plays. Both Kim Pereira in August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey and Sandra D. Shannon in The Dramatic Vision of August Wilson make Wilson's articulated intention to re-examine history and retrieve culture the starting point for their readings of the plays. Pereira performs a strong, traditional reading of Wilson, while Shannon constructs a biography-based investigation into the origins and practices of Wilson's work. In both studies, Wilson emerges as an extraordinary artist, and yet the sum of that creative strength is not entirely identified. Both works succeed in claiming more critical space for Wilson, and yet both works leave more complex, less duty-bound readings for others to attempt. Kim Pereira's August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey asserts a traditional reading of Wilson's works based on the proposition that the significance of the plays lies in their relationship to American history. Pereira traces the outline of what he calls the African American through three phases: separation, migration, and reunion. Appropriately, these phases can be superimposed comfortably onto his readings of Wilson's plays. The movement of conflict and resolution in Pereira's hands becomes a cultural which each play re-enacts in one way or another. Conscientiously laying a foundation for his historical analysis with references to the work of Eric Foner, Sterling Stuckey, and Ralph Ellison, Pereira links his conception of the African American to large-scale historical, cultural moments: the removal from Africa, the cultural disruptions caused by slavery; as well as the migrations from South to North. Such a historical/cultural reading allows Pereira to focus sharply on the articulations of odyssey in the plays he reads. The disadvantages of this approach, however, are also clear. Such flatly-defined, starkly-drawn lines of inquiry--while well approved amongst many commentators on Wilson--lend a quality of inflexible determinism and repetitiveness to the study. Treating Wilson's four major plays--Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (the 1920s), Fences (the 1950s), Joe Turner's Come and Gone (the 1910s), and The Piano Lesson (the 1930s)--Pereira suggests that the plays are examinations of the effects of separation, migration, and reunion on the descendants of slaves who migrated from the rural South to the urban North. …

The Way the Wind Blew: A History of the Weather Underground.

The arrest and subsequent imprisonment of Silas Bissell, former heir to the rug-cleaning fortune who was discovered living near Eugene, Oregon, in 1987, drew a line under one of the most spectacular and bizarre episodes in the history of the American New Left, for it marked the official end of the Weatherman. The product of splits within the anti-war movement during the late 1960s, the Weatherman Underground would become synonymous with violent, clandestine resistance to the racism and imperialism in the United States and, for some, a symptom of how the movement went wrong. This comprehensive history of the Weatherman covers the origins, development and ultimate demise of the organization: its emergence from the Students for a Democratic Society; its leadership role in the famous Days of Rage in Chicago during October 1969; its decision to go underground; the various actions it staged - and in some cases bungled - during the 1970s; its role as goad to other left organizations to sustain the struggle against racism and imperiliasm; and, finally, its disintegration, as various members were either captured or surrendered. Drawing on an array of documents, interviews with participants, and a knowledge of the history of the New Left, Jacobs gives an objective assessment of US 1960s radicalism.

August Wilson and the African-American odyssey

August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey by Kim Pereira. Urbana and Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1996. $12.95 paper. With the publication and performance of Jitney/(1979), Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (1985), Fences (1987), Joe Turner's Come and Gone (1988), The Piano Lesson (1990), and Two Trains Running (1992)--as well as several apprentice and shorter works--August Wilson has become the best-known contemporary African American playwright. The past few years have seen a groundswell of publishing concerning his work. Given the success of his plays, the depth of his cultural commitment, and the breadth of his artistic vision, it is clear that the time is ripe for serious scholarship ,on his work. Kim Pereira's August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey and Sandra D. Shannon's The Dramatic Vision of August Wilson are two of the most recent contributions to this discussion about the meaning and value of Wilson's work. Distillations of African American folk traditions, the blues, and 1960s radicalism, Wilson's plays are potent reminders that the past, present, and future of African American lives matter, that the fact of the black presence in the United States is fundamental to the very existence and prominence of the nation. In this respect, Wilson's works are the very stuff of the American Dream; they are celebrations of history, endurance, and achievement. Indeed, Wilson has placed his works in close connection with a complex of African American cultural forms and figures: African American folk wisdom, the blues, Amiri Baraka, Romare Bearden. In addition, Wilson has developed a plan to dramatize a black perspective on each decade of the twentieth century. Much criticism about Wilson reflects the close interaction between history and African American experience that is a fundamental feature of Wilson's plays. Both Kim Pereira in August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey and Sandra D. Shannon in The Dramatic Vision of August Wilson make Wilson's articulated intention to re-examine history and retrieve culture the starting point for their readings of the plays. Pereira performs a strong, traditional reading of Wilson, while Shannon constructs a biography-based investigation into the origins and practices of Wilson's work. In both studies, Wilson emerges as an extraordinary artist, and yet the sum of that creative strength is not entirely identified. Both works succeed in claiming more critical space for Wilson, and yet both works leave more complex, less duty-bound readings for others to attempt. Kim Pereira's August Wilson and the African-American Odyssey asserts a traditional reading of Wilson's works based on the proposition that the significance of the plays lies in their relationship to American history. Pereira traces the outline of what he calls the African American through three phases: separation, migration, and reunion. Appropriately, these phases can be superimposed comfortably onto his readings of Wilson's plays. The movement of conflict and resolution in Pereira's hands becomes a cultural which each play re-enacts in one way or another. Conscientiously laying a foundation for his historical analysis with references to the work of Eric Foner, Sterling Stuckey, and Ralph Ellison, Pereira links his conception of the African American to large-scale historical, cultural moments: the removal from Africa, the cultural disruptions caused by slavery; as well as the migrations from South to North. Such a historical/cultural reading allows Pereira to focus sharply on the articulations of odyssey in the plays he reads. The disadvantages of this approach, however, are also clear. Such flatly-defined, starkly-drawn lines of inquiry--while well approved amongst many commentators on Wilson--lend a quality of inflexible determinism and repetitiveness to the study. Treating Wilson's four major plays--Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (the 1920s), Fences (the 1950s), Joe Turner's Come and Gone (the 1910s), and The Piano Lesson (the 1930s)--Pereira suggests that the plays are examinations of the effects of separation, migration, and reunion on the descendants of slaves who migrated from the rural South to the urban North. …

Academia at the Crossroads

A plenary session—no, several plenary sessions—on the holy trinity of "class, race, and gender" at a national criminology conference! Maybe it's true that, as Alan Bloom, Dinesh D'Souza, Roger Kimball, and the countless critics of "political correctness" have been telling us, the 1960s radicals have become the tenured ruling class of academia in the 1990s.This article can also be found at the Monthly Review website, where most recent articles are published in full.Click here to purchase a PDF version of this article at the Monthly Review website.