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They Study Authoritarianism. And They’re Leaving the U.S.: Why Three Yale Professors Have Moved to U. Toronto

Three Yale pro­fes­sors—Tim­o­thy Sny­der, Jason Stan­ley and Mar­ci Shore–have spent their careers study­ing fas­cism and author­i­tar­i­an­ism. They know the signs of emerg­ing author­i­tar­i­an­ism when they see it. Now, they’re see­ing those signs here in the Unit­ed States, and they’re not sit­ting by idly. They’ve moved to the Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to where they can speak freely, with­out fear­ing per­son­al or insti­tu­tion­al ret­ri­bu­tion. Above, they share their views in the NYTimes Op-Doc. It comes pref­aced with the text below:

Legal res­i­dents of the Unit­ed States sent to for­eign pris­ons with­out due process. Stu­dents detained after voic­ing their opin­ions. Fed­er­al judges threat­ened with impeach­ment for rul­ing against the administration’s pri­or­i­ties.

In this Opin­ion video, Mar­ci Shore, Tim­o­thy Sny­der and Jason Stan­ley, all pro­fes­sors at Yale and experts in author­i­tar­i­an­ism, explain why Amer­i­ca is espe­cial­ly vul­ner­a­ble to a demo­c­ra­t­ic back­slid­ing — and why they are leav­ing the Unit­ed States to take up posi­tions at the Uni­ver­si­ty of Toron­to.

Pro­fes­sor Stan­ley is leav­ing the Unit­ed States as an act of protest against the Trump administration’s attacks on civ­il lib­er­ties. “I want Amer­i­cans to real­ize that this is a demo­c­ra­t­ic emer­gency,” he said.

Pro­fes­sor Shore, who has spent two decades writ­ing about the his­to­ry of author­i­tar­i­an­ism in Cen­tral and East­ern Europe, is leav­ing because of what she sees as the sharp regres­sion of Amer­i­can democ­ra­cy. “We’re like peo­ple on the Titan­ic say­ing our ship can’t sink,” she said. “And what you know as a his­to­ri­an is that there is no such thing as a ship that can’t sink.”

She bor­rows from polit­i­cal and apo­lit­i­cal Slav­ic motifs and expres­sions, argu­ing that the Eng­lish lan­guage does not ful­ly cap­ture the demo­c­ra­t­ic regres­sion in this Amer­i­can moment.

Pro­fes­sor Snyder’s rea­sons are more com­pli­cat­ed. Pri­mar­i­ly, he’s leav­ing to sup­port his wife, Pro­fes­sor Shore, and their chil­dren, and to teach at a large pub­lic uni­ver­si­ty in Toron­to, a place he says can host con­ver­sa­tions about free­dom. At the same time, he shares the con­cerns expressed by his col­leagues and wor­ries that those kinds of con­ver­sa­tions will become ever hard­er to have in the Unit­ed States.

“I did not leave Yale because of Don­ald Trump or because of Colum­bia or because of threats to Yale — but that would be a rea­son­able thing to do, and that is a deci­sion that peo­ple will make,” he wrote in a Yale Dai­ly News arti­cle explain­ing his deci­sion to leave.

Their motives dif­fer but their analy­sis is the same: ignor­ing or down­play­ing attacks on the rule of law, the courts and uni­ver­si­ties spells trou­ble for our democ­ra­cy.

To delve deep­er into their work, see Stan­ley and Sny­der’s respec­tive works: How Fas­cism Works: The Pol­i­tics of Us and Them and On Tyran­ny: Twen­ty Lessons from the Twen­ti­eth Cen­tu­ry.

Relat­ed Con­tent 

Actor John Lith­gow Reads 20 Lessons on Tyran­ny, Penned by His­to­ri­an Tim­o­thy Sny­der

Yale Pro­fes­sor Jason Stan­ley Iden­ti­fies 10 Tac­tics of Fas­cism: The “Cult of the Leader,” Law & Order, Vic­tim­hood and More

Umber­to Eco’s List of the 14 Com­mon Fea­tures of Fas­cism

The Sto­ry of Fas­cism: Rick Steves’ Doc­u­men­tary Helps Us Learn from the Hard Lessons of the 20th Cen­tu­ry

Toni Mor­ri­son Lists the 10 Steps That Lead Coun­tries to Fas­cism (1995)

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How Bob Dylan Kept Reinventing His Songwriting Process, Breathing New Life Into His Music

On his 84th birth­day this past Sat­ur­day, Bob Dylan played a show. That was in keep­ing with not only his still-seri­ous tour­ing sched­ule, but also his appar­ent­ly irre­press­ible instinct to work: on music, on writ­ing, on paint­ing, on sculp­ture. Even his occa­sion­al tweet­ing draws an appre­cia­tive audi­ence every time. The Bob Dylan of 2025 is not, of course, the Bob Dylan of 1965, but then, the Bob Dylan of 1965 was­n’t the Bob Dylan of 1964. This con­stant artis­tic change is just what his fans appre­ci­ate, not that they don’t still put on his ear­ly stuff with reg­u­lar­i­ty.

In the ear­li­est of that ear­ly stuff, as music YouTu­ber David Hart­ley explains in the new video above, Dylan “wrote songs by rein­vent­ing tra­di­tion.” Using noth­ing but his voice, gui­tar, and har­mon­i­ca, the young Dylan “imi­tat­ed some of the most well-known folk melodies,” plac­ing him­self in that long Amer­i­can tra­di­tion of bor­row­ing and rein­ter­pre­ta­tion. But as dra­ma­tized in the recent film A Com­plete Unknown, he soon “went elec­tric,” and with the change in instru­men­ta­tion came a change in song­writ­ing method: “He would just come up with end­less pages of lyrics, some­thing he once called ‘the long piece of vom­it.’ ”

The advice to “puke it out now and clean it up lat­er” has long been giv­en, in var­i­ous forms, to aspir­ing artists every­where. One aspect worth high­light­ing about the way Dylan did it was that, despite writ­ing pop­u­lar songs, he drew a great deal of inspi­ra­tion from more tra­di­tion­al lit­er­a­ture, to the point that his notes hard­ly appear to con­tain any­thing resem­bling vers­es or cho­rus­es at all. Only in the stu­dio, with a band behind him, could Dylan give these ideas their final musi­cal shape — or rather, their final shape on that par­tic­u­lar album, often to be mod­i­fied end­less­ly, and some­times rad­i­cal­ly, over decades of live per­for­mances to come.

Hart­ley tells of more dra­mat­ic changes to Dylan’s music and his process of cre­at­ing. The motor­cy­cle crash, the Base­ment Tapes, the open E tun­ing, Blood on the Tracks: all of these now lie half a cen­tu­ry or more in the past. To go over all the ways Dylan has approached music since then would require more hours than all but the most rabid enthu­si­asts (though there are many) would watch. The video does include a 60 Min­utes clip from 2004 in which Dylan says that “those ear­ly songs were almost mag­i­cal­ly writ­ten,” and that he would­n’t be able to cre­ate them any­more. But then, nor could the Dylan of High­way 61 Revis­it­ed have record­ed Time Out of Mind, and nor, for that mat­ter, could the Dylan of Time Out of Mind have record­ed any of Dylan’s albums from this decade — or those that could, quite pos­si­bly, be still to come.

Relat­ed con­tent:

A Mas­sive 55-Hour Chrono­log­i­cal Playlist of Bob Dylan Songs: Stream 763 Tracks

How Bob Dylan Cre­at­ed a Musi­cal & Lit­er­ary World All His Own: Four Video Essays

Watch Bob Dylan Make His Debut at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val in Col­orized 1963 Footage

Hear Bob Dylan’s New­ly Released Nobel Lec­ture: A Med­i­ta­tion on Music, Lit­er­a­ture & Lyrics

Com­pare the “It Ain’t Me Babe” Scene from A Com­plete Unknown to the Real Bob Dylan & Joan Baez Per­for­mance at the New­port Folk Fes­ti­val

Bob Dylan Explains Why Music Has Been Get­ting Worse

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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George Orwell Reviews Salvador Dali’s Autobiography: “Dali is a Good Draughtsman and a Disgusting Human Being” (1944)

Images or Orwell and Dali via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

Should we hold artists to the same stan­dards of human decen­cy that we expect of every­one else? Should tal­ent­ed peo­ple be exempt from ordi­nary moral­i­ty? Should artists of ques­tion­able char­ac­ter have their work con­signed to the trash along with their per­son­al rep­u­ta­tions? These ques­tions, for all their time­li­ness in the present, seemed no less thorny and com­pelling 81 years ago when George Orwell con­front­ed the strange case of Sal­vador Dali, an unde­ni­ably extra­or­di­nary tal­ent, and—Orwell writes in his 1944 essay “Ben­e­fit of Cler­gy”—a “dis­gust­ing human being.”

The judg­ment may seem over­ly harsh except that any hon­est per­son would say the same giv­en the episodes Dali describes in his auto­bi­og­ra­phy, which Orwell finds utter­ly revolt­ing. “If it were pos­si­ble for a book to give a phys­i­cal stink off its pages,” he writes, “this one would.” The episodes he refers to include, at six years old, Dali kick­ing his three-year-old sis­ter in the head, “as though it had been a ball,” the artist writes, then run­ning away “with a ‘deliri­ous joy’ induced by this sav­age act.” They include throw­ing a boy from a sus­pen­sion bridge, and, at 29 years old, tram­pling a young girl “until they had to tear her, bleed­ing, out of my reach.” And many more such vio­lent and dis­turb­ing descrip­tions.

Dali’s litany of cru­el­ty to humans and ani­mals con­sti­tutes what we expect in the ear­ly life of ser­i­al killers rather than famous artists. Sure­ly he is putting his read­ers on, wild­ly exag­ger­at­ing for the sake of shock val­ue, like the Mar­quis de Sade’s auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal fan­tasies. Orwell allows as much. Yet which of the sto­ries are true, he writes, “and which are imag­i­nary hard­ly mat­ters: the point is that this is the kind of thing that Dali would have liked to do.” More­over, Orwell is as repulsed by Dali’s work as he is by the artist’s char­ac­ter, informed as it is by misog­y­ny, a con­fessed necrophil­ia and an obses­sion with excre­ment and rot­ting corpses.

But against this has to be set the fact that Dali is a draughts­man of very excep­tion­al gifts. He is also, to judge by the minute­ness and the sure­ness of his draw­ings, a very hard work­er. He is an exhi­bi­tion­ist and a careerist, but he is not a fraud. He has fifty times more tal­ent than most of the peo­ple who would denounce his morals and jeer at his paint­ings. And these two sets of facts, tak­en togeth­er, raise a ques­tion which for lack of any basis of agree­ment sel­dom gets a real dis­cus­sion.

Orwell is unwill­ing to dis­miss the val­ue of Dali’s art, and dis­tances him­self from those who would do so on moral­is­tic grounds. “Such peo­ple,” he writes, are “unable to admit that what is moral­ly degrad­ed can be aes­thet­i­cal­ly right,” a “dan­ger­ous” posi­tion adopt­ed not only by con­ser­v­a­tives and reli­gious zealots but by fas­cists and author­i­tar­i­ans who burn books and lead cam­paigns against “degen­er­ate” art. “Their impulse is not only to crush every new tal­ent as it appears, but to cas­trate the past as well.” (“Wit­ness,” he notes, the out­cry in Amer­i­ca “against Joyce, Proust and Lawrence.”) “In an age like our own,” writes Orwell, in a par­tic­u­lar­ly jar­ring sen­tence, “when the artist is an excep­tion­al per­son, he must be allowed a cer­tain amount of irre­spon­si­bil­i­ty, just as a preg­nant woman is.”

At the very same time, Orwell argues, to ignore or excuse Dali’s amoral­i­ty is itself gross­ly irre­spon­si­ble and total­ly inex­cus­able. Orwell’s is an “under­stand­able” response, writes Jonathan Jones at The Guardian, giv­en that he had fought fas­cism in Spain and had seen the hor­ror of war, and that Dali, in 1944, “was already flirt­ing with pro-Fran­co views.” But to ful­ly illus­trate his point, Orwell imag­ines a sce­nario with a much less con­tro­ver­sial fig­ure than Dali: “If Shake­speare returned to the earth to-mor­row, and if it were found that his favourite recre­ation was rap­ing lit­tle girls in rail­way car­riages, we should not tell him to go ahead with it on the ground that he might write anoth­er King Lear.”

Draw your own par­al­lels to more con­tem­po­rary fig­ures whose crim­i­nal, preda­to­ry, or vio­lent­ly abu­sive acts have been ignored for decades for the sake of their art, or whose work has been tossed out with the tox­ic bath­wa­ter of their behav­ior. Orwell seeks what he calls a “mid­dle posi­tion” between moral con­dem­na­tion and aes­thet­ic license—a “fas­ci­nat­ing and laud­able” crit­i­cal thread­ing of the nee­dle, Jones writes, that avoids the extremes of “con­ser­v­a­tive philistines who con­demn the avant garde, and its pro­mot­ers who indulge every­thing that some­one like Dali does and refuse to see it in a moral or polit­i­cal con­text.”

This eth­i­cal cri­tique, writes Char­lie Finch at Art­net, attacks the assump­tion in the art world that an appre­ci­a­tion of artists with Dali’s pecu­liar tastes “is auto­mat­i­cal­ly enlight­ened, pro­gres­sive.” Such an atti­tude extends from the artists them­selves to the soci­ety that nur­tures them, and that “allows us to wel­come dia­mond-mine own­ers who fund bien­nales, Gazprom bil­lion­aires who pur­chase dia­mond skulls, and real-estate moguls who dom­i­nate tem­ples of mod­ernism.” Again, you may draw your own com­par­isons.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2018.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

When The Sur­re­al­ists Expelled Sal­vador Dalí for “the Glo­ri­fi­ca­tion of Hit­ler­ian Fas­cism” (1934)

George Orwell Reviews Mein Kampf: “He Envis­ages a Hor­ri­ble Brain­less Empire” (1940)

How the Nazis Waged War on Mod­ern Art: Inside the “Degen­er­ate Art” Exhi­bi­tion of 1937

Tol­stoy Calls Shake­speare an “Insignif­i­cant, Inartis­tic Writer”; 40 Years Lat­er, George Orwell Weighs in on the Debate

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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The “Dark Relics” of Christianity: Preserved Skulls, Blood & Other Grim Artifacts

Chris­tian­i­ty often man­i­fests in pop­u­lar cul­ture through cel­e­bra­tions like Christ­mas and East­er, or icons like lambs and fish. Less often do you see it asso­ci­at­ed with vials of blood and dis­em­bod­ied heads. Yet as the new Hochela­ga video above reveals, the most famed Chris­t­ian arti­facts do tend toward the grue­some. Take one par­tic­u­lar­ly renowned exam­ple, the Shroud of Turin: hear the name, and you imag­ine a cloth bear­ing the image of Jesus Christ. But think about it a moment, and you remem­ber that it’s the blood­stained wrap­ping of a cru­ci­fied body — that is, if the tales told about it are true in the first place.

As with any reli­gious relics, you have to decide for your­self what to believe about all of these. If you pay a vis­it to the Basil­i­ca of St. Antho­ny in Pad­ua, you’ll see on dis­play the pre­served jaw of that holy fig­ure — which does, at least, look like a real human jaw. In south­east­ern France, at the basil­i­ca of Saint-Max­imin-la-Sainte-Baume, you’ll find a skull pur­port­ed to be that of Mary Mag­da­lene.

And we cer­tain­ly can’t rule out that it real­ly is, spec­u­la­tive though the evi­dence may be. The sit­u­a­tion grows some­what more com­pli­cat­ed with the head of John the Bap­tist — or rather, the heads of John the Bap­tist, four of which have been claimed in dif­fer­ent places so far.

“Dur­ing the Mid­dle Ages, relics were in high demand, and there were always peo­ple will­ing to sup­ply them,” explains Hochela­ga cre­ator Tom­mie Trelawny. “It’s often joked that, if you gath­ered all the alleged frag­ments of the true cross, you’d have enough wood to build a small for­est.” Even the Shroud of Turin has come under unfor­giv­ing scruti­ny. Radio­car­bon dat­ing has placed it in the mid-four­teenth cen­tu­ry, imply­ing a forgery, but more recent X‑ray tests sug­gest that its linen was made in the first cen­tu­ry, between the years 55 and 74: close enough to what we under­stand as the time of Jesus’ bur­ial. Debates over the authen­tic­i­ty of all these arti­facts will con­tin­ue for cen­turies — and quite pos­si­bly mil­len­nia — to come, but their pow­er­ful embod­i­ment of both “the deeply dis­turb­ing and the haunt­ing­ly beau­ti­ful” won’t fade away any time soon.

Relat­ed con­tent:

How Our Depic­tion of Jesus Changed Over 2,000 Years and What He May Have Actu­al­ly Looked Like

The British Muse­um is Full of Loot­ed Arti­facts

Europe’s Old­est Intact Book Was Pre­served and Found in the Cof­fin of a Saint

Did Psy­che­del­ic Mush­rooms Appear in Medieval Chris­t­ian Art?: A Video Essay

The Real Sto­ry of East­er: How We Got from the First East­er in the Bible to Bun­nies, Eggs & Choco­late

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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How Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd & Jethro Tull Financed the Making Monty Python and the Holy Grail

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail isn’t a big-bud­get spec­ta­cle, and nobody knew that bet­ter than the Pythons them­selves. Neces­si­ty being the moth­er of inven­tion, they turned the pro­jec­t’s finan­cial con­straints into one of its many sources of humor, fash­ion­ing mem­o­rable gags out of every­thing from coconut shells sub­sti­tut­ing for hors­es to the sud­den shut­down of film­ing that ends the “sto­ry.” But, as explained in the Canned His­to­ry video above, putting togeth­er even the mod­est sum with which they had to work was hard­ly a straight­for­ward endeav­or. Turned down by stu­dios, the Pythons sought out the only financiers like­ly to pos­sess both suf­fi­cient wealth and suf­fi­cient belief in an absur­dist TV com­e­dy troupe mak­ing their first prop­er film: rock stars.

This was the mid-nine­teen-sev­en­ties, recall, when a group with a few hit albums could find them­selves mak­ing, quite lit­er­al­ly, more mon­ey than they knew what to do with. Such was the case with Pink Floyd, for exam­ple, after releas­ing The Dark Side of the Moon in 1973.

Mon­ty Python, for their part, had put out not only three sea­sons of their BBC series Mon­ty Python’s Fly­ing Cir­cus, but also a vari­ety of pur­chasable goods like books and LPs. The lat­ter made them the music-indus­try con­nec­tions that they could use to enlist the likes of not just the Floyd, but also Led Zep­pelin, Jethro Tull, as well as record labels like Island, Charis­ma, and Chrysalis. As Eric Idle tweet­ed much lat­er, Zep­pelin con­tributed £31,500, Pink Floy­d’s com­pa­ny £21,000, and Jethro Tul­l’s Ian Ander­son £6,300: £627,000 in more recent val­ue, or near­ly $850,000 in U.S. dol­lars.

Alto­geth­er, Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail’s bud­get came to £282,035 in 1974 pounds: by no means a king’s ran­som, but just enough to put togeth­er a com­ic take on Arthuri­an leg­end. No more con­ven­tion­al investors than the Pythons were con­ven­tion­al film­mak­ers, the rock stars and oth­er music-indus­try fig­ures involved made no vis­its to the set, nor offered any “notes” on the work in progress. One sus­pects that they were hap­py just to sup­port a Mon­ty Python project, and even more so to receive the tax break offered for films pro­duced in the U.K. In the event, of course, they all made their mon­ey back many times over, with a cut of the Broad­way musi­cal adap­ta­tion Spa­malot to boot. The film’s imme­di­ate and out­sized suc­cess can’t have been far from the mind of George Har­ri­son — that great ene­my of the tax­man — when Idle called him up a few years lat­er, ask­ing for the mon­ey to make Life of Bri­an.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Stream Online Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Free on Its 50th Anniver­sary

Ter­ry Gilliam’s Lost Ani­ma­tions from Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Are Now Online

Mon­ty Python’s Eric Idle Breaks Down His Most Icon­ic Char­ac­ters

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Cen­sor­ship Let­ter: We Want to Retain “Fart in Your Gen­er­al Direc­tion”

Mon­ty Python and the Holy Grail Re-Imag­ined as an Epic, Main­stream Hol­ly­wood Film

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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60 Free Film Noir Movies You Can Watch Online, Including Classics by John Huston, Orson Welles & Fritz Lang

Dur­ing the 1940s and 50s, Hol­ly­wood entered a “noir” peri­od, pro­duc­ing riv­et­ing films based on hard-boiled fic­tion. These films were set in dark loca­tions and shot in a black & white aes­thet­ic that fit like a glove. Hard­ened men wore fedo­ras and for­ev­er smoked cig­a­rettes. Women played the femme fatale role bril­liant­ly. Love was the surest way to death. All of these ele­ments fig­ured into what Roger Ebert calls “the most Amer­i­can film genre” in his short Guide to Film Noir.

If you head over to this list of Noir Films, you can find 60 films from the noir genre, includ­ing some clas­sics by John Hus­ton, Orson Welles, Fritz Lang and Ida Lupino. The list also fea­tures some cin­e­mat­ic leg­ends like Humphrey Bog­a­rt, Peter Lorre, Bar­bara Stan­wyck, Edward G. Robin­son, and even Frank Sina­tra. Hope the col­lec­tion helps you put some noir enter­tain­ment into 2025!

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent 

The 5 Essen­tial Rules of Film Noir

The Essen­tial Ele­ments of Film Noir Explained in One Grand Info­graph­ic

Roger Ebert Lists the 10 Essen­tial Char­ac­ter­is­tics of Noir Films

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1980s Metalhead Kids Are Alright: Scientific Study Shows That They Became Well-Adjusted Adults

In the 1980s, The Par­ents Music Resource Cen­ter (PMRC), an orga­ni­za­tion co-found­ed by Tip­per Gore and the wives of sev­er­al oth­er Wash­ing­ton pow­er bro­kers, launched a polit­i­cal cam­paign against pop music, hop­ing to put warn­ing labels on records that pro­mot­ed Sex, Vio­lence, Drug and Alco­hol Use. Along the way, the PMRC issued “the Filthy Fif­teen,” a list of 15 par­tic­u­lar­ly objec­tion­able songs. Hits by Madon­na, Prince and Cyn­di Lau­per made the list. But the list real­ly took aim at heavy met­al bands from the 80s — name­ly, Judas Priest, Möt­ley Crüe, Twist­ed Sis­ter, W.A.S.P., Def Lep­pard, Black Sab­bath, and Ven­om. (Inter­est­ing foot­note: the Sovi­ets sep­a­rate­ly cre­at­ed a list of black­balled rock bands, and it looked pret­ty much the same.)

Above, you can watch Twist­ed Sis­ter’s Dee Snider appear before Con­gress in 1985 and accuse the PMRC of mis­in­ter­pret­ing his band’s lyrics and wag­ing a false war against met­al music. The evi­dence 40 years lat­er sug­gests that Snider per­haps had a point.

A study by psy­chol­o­gy researchers at Hum­boldt State, Ohio State, UC River­side and UT Austin “exam­ined 1980s heavy met­al groupies, musi­cians, and fans at mid­dle age” — 377 par­tic­i­pants in total — and found that, although met­al enthu­si­asts cer­tain­ly lived riski­er lives as kids, they were nonethe­less “sig­nif­i­cant­ly hap­pi­er in their youth and bet­ter adjust­ed cur­rent­ly than either mid­dle-aged or cur­rent col­lege-age youth com­par­i­son groups.” This left the researchers to con­tem­plate one pos­si­ble con­clu­sion: “par­tic­i­pa­tion in fringe style cul­tures may enhance iden­ti­ty devel­op­ment in trou­bled youth.” Not to men­tion that heavy met­al lyrics don’t eas­i­ly turn kids into dam­aged goods.

You can read the report, Three Decades Lat­er: The Life Expe­ri­ences and Mid-Life Func­tion­ing of 1980s Heavy Met­al Groupies here. And, right above, lis­ten to an inter­view with one of the researchers, Tasha Howe, a for­mer head­banger her­self, who spoke yes­ter­day with Michael Kras­ny on KQED radio in San Fran­cis­co.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in July 2015.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Dev­il­ish His­to­ry of the 1980s Parental Advi­so­ry Stick­er: When Heavy Met­al & Satan­ic Lyrics Col­lid­ed with the Reli­gious Right

Sovi­et Union Cre­ates a List of 38 Dan­ger­ous Rock Bands: Kiss, Pink Floyd, Talk­ing Heads, Vil­lage Peo­ple & More (1985)

Watch Heavy Met­al Park­ing Lot, the Cult Clas­sic Film That Ranks as One of the “Great Rock Doc­u­men­taries” of All Time

A Blue­grass Ver­sion of Metallica’s Heavy Met­al Hit, “Enter Sand­man”

The Hu, a New Break­through Band from Mon­go­lia, Plays Heavy Met­al with Tra­di­tion­al Folk Instru­ments and Throat Singing

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Watch Pablo Picasso’s Creative Process Unfold in Real-Time: Rare Footage Shows Him Creating Drawings of Faces, Bulls & Chickens

Pablo Picas­so was born not long before the inven­tion of the motion pic­ture. With a dif­fer­ent set of incli­na­tions, he might have become one of the most dar­ing pio­neers of that medi­um. Instead, as we know, he mas­tered and then prac­ti­cal­ly rein­vent­ed the much old­er art form of paint­ing. That said, cin­e­ma did seem to have been fas­ci­nat­ed by both Picas­so’s work and the man him­self. He made a cameo appear­ance in Jean Cocteau’s Tes­ta­ment of Orpheus in 1960, a few years after play­ing the title role in Hen­ri-Georges Clouzot’s doc­u­men­tary Le Mys­tère Picas­so. The short clip from the lat­ter above shows how Picas­so could cre­ate an expres­sive face with just a few strokes of a pen.

By the time he made Le Mys­tère Picas­so, Clouzot was already well estab­lished as a direc­tor of ele­vat­ed genre films, hav­ing just made Le salaire de la peur or (The Wages of Fear) and Les dia­boliques (or Dia­bolique), which would turn out to be one of his defin­ing works.

To film­go­ers fol­low­ing his career, it may have come as a sur­prise to see him fol­low those up with a doc­u­men­tary about a painter: a genius, yes, but one whose work had already seemed famil­iar. But Clouzot took as his task not telling the sto­ry of Les Demoi­selles d’Av­i­gnon or Three Musi­cians or Guer­ni­ca, but cap­tur­ing Picas­so (whom he’d known since his teenage years) in the act of cre­at­ing new works of art — works nev­er to be seen except on film.

That was the idea, in any case; though most of the 20 paint­ings and draw­ings cre­at­ed just for Le Mys­tère Picas­so were destroyed, some weren’t. One such sur­vivor, a chick­en-turned-dev­il­ish-vis­age that emerges in one of the film’s more tense sequences (an inter­sec­tion of Clouzot and Picas­so’s artis­tic instincts), was actu­al­ly restored a few years ago for inclu­sion in the Roy­al Acad­e­my of Arts’ exhi­bi­tion Picas­so and Paper. He could also work on glass, as evi­denced by the clip just above from Vis­it to Picas­so, a 1949 doc­u­men­tary short by the Bel­gian film­mak­er Paul Hae­saerts. In it he paints — in less than 30 sec­onds, with the cam­era run­ning just on the oth­er side of the pane — an evoca­tive image of a bull, demon­strat­ing that, no mat­ter how ful­ly he was embraced by the Fran­coph­o­ne world, a Spaniard he remained.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Thou­sands of Pablo Picasso’s Works Now Avail­able in a New Dig­i­tal Archive

What Makes Picasso’s Guer­ni­ca a Great Paint­ing?: Explore the Anti-Fas­cist Mur­al That Became a World­wide Anti-War Sym­bol

Pablo Picasso’s Mas­ter­ful Child­hood Paint­ings: Pre­co­cious Works Paint­ed Between the Ages of 8 and 15

14 Self-Por­traits by Pablo Picas­so Show the Evo­lu­tion of His Style: See Self-Por­traits Mov­ing from Ages 15 to 90

Pablo Picas­so Pos­es as Pop­eye (1957)

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The PhD Theses of Richard Feynman, Marie Curie, Albert Einstein & Others, Explained with Illustrations

Raise your chil­dren with a love of sci­ence, and there’s a decent chance they’ll grow up want­i­ng to be like Richard Feyn­man, Marie Curie, Albert Ein­stein, or any num­ber of oth­er famous sci­en­tists from his­to­ry. Luck­i­ly for them, they won’t yet have learned that the pur­suit of such a career will almost cer­tain­ly entail grind­ing out a PhD the­sis. But it’s also lucky for you that they con­se­quent­ly won’t ask you to explain the sub­jects of their idols’ the­ses. Maybe you tell them about quan­tum elec­tro­dy­nam­ics, radi­a­tion, and even the the­o­ry of rel­a­tiv­i­ty, but what can you recall of “The Prin­ci­ple of Least Action in Quan­tum Mechan­ics,” “Research on Radioac­tive Sub­stances,” or “Eine neue Bes­tim­mung der Moleküldimen­sio­nen”?

Per­haps “recall” isn’t quite the word. But if you want to get a han­dle on these papers, which con­sti­tute impor­tant parts of the foun­da­tion of the research that would ulti­mate­ly make their authors famous, you could do much worse than begin­ning with the expla­na­tions of sci­ence YouTu­ber Toby Hendy. In recent years, while build­ing up an ever-larg­er audi­ence with her chan­nel Tibees, she’s occa­sion­al­ly reached into the archives and pulled out a notable sci­en­tist’s PhD the­sis.

We’ve assem­bled all of her videos in that series into the playlist above, which also includes Hendy expla­na­tions of the­ses writ­ten by fig­ures not pri­mar­i­ly known to the pub­lic for their research: Carl Sagan and Neil DeGrasse Tyson, and Bri­an Cox (the physi­cist, not the Suc­ces­sion star), whose media work has inspired gen­er­a­tions of fans to go into sci­ence.

Though a young woman, Hendy has mas­tered old-school teach­ing tech­niques, such as draw­ing on a trans­paren­cy placed on an over­head pro­jec­tor, that may trig­ger Prous­t­ian mem­o­ries of sci­ence class, at least in those of us of a cer­tain age. With her calm­ness and clar­i­ty (not to men­tion her will­ing­ness to admit when she her­self strug­gles with the mate­r­i­al) she’d sure­ly have ranked among any of our favorite teach­ers, and if you intro­duce her chan­nel to your kids, she’ll prob­a­bly become one of theirs. Whether they go on to earn a sci­ence PhD is, of course, down to their own incli­na­tion and efforts. Like so many young peo­ple these days, they may ulti­mate­ly come away with a stronger desire to become a YouTu­ber — which, after all, is what Hendy quit her own PhD to do.

Relat­ed con­tent:

Marie Curie’s Ph.D. The­sis on Radioac­tiv­i­ty — Which Made Her the First Woman in France to Receive a Doc­tor­al Degree in Physics

John Nash’s Super Short PhD The­sis: 26 Pages & Two Cita­tions

Queen Gui­tarist Bri­an May Is Also an Astro­physi­cist: Read His PhD The­sis Online

Stephen Hawking’s Ph.D. The­sis, “Prop­er­ties of Expand­ing Uni­vers­es,” Now Free to Read/Download Online

Albert Einstein’s Grades: A Fas­ci­nat­ing Look at His Report Cards

This Is What an 1869 MIT Entrance Exam Looks Like: Could You Have Passed the Test?

Based in Seoul, Col­in Marshall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and cul­ture. His projects include the Sub­stack newslet­ter Books on Cities and the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les. Fol­low him on the social net­work for­mer­ly known as Twit­ter at @colinmarshall.

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The Secret Link Between Jazz and Physics: How Einstein & Coltrane Shared Improvisation and Intuition in Common

Sci­en­tists need hob­bies. The gru­el­ing work of nav­i­gat­ing com­plex the­o­ry and the pol­i­tics of acad­e­mia can get to a per­son, even one as laid back as Brown Uni­ver­si­ty pro­fes­sor and astro­physi­cist Stephon Alexan­der. So Alexan­der plays the sax­o­phone, though at this point it may not be accu­rate to call his avo­ca­tion a spare time pur­suit, since John Coltrane has become as impor­tant to him as Ein­stein, Kepler, and New­ton.

Coltrane, he says in a 7‑minute TED talk above, “changed my whole research direc­tion… led to basi­cal­ly a dis­cov­ery in physics.” Alexan­der then pro­ceeds to play the famil­iar open­ing bars of “Giant Steps.” He’s no Coltrane, but he is a very cre­ative thinker whose love of jazz has giv­en him a unique per­spec­tive on the­o­ret­i­cal physics, one he shares, it turns out, with both Ein­stein and Coltrane, both of whom saw music and physics as intu­itive, impro­visato­ry pur­suits.

Alexan­der describes his jazz epiphany as occa­sioned by a com­plex dia­gram Coltrane gave leg­endary jazz musi­cian and Uni­ver­si­ty of Mass­a­chu­setts pro­fes­sor Yusef Lateef in 1967. “I thought the dia­gram was relat­ed to anoth­er and seem­ing­ly unre­lat­ed field of study—quantum grav­i­ty,” he writes in a Busi­ness Insid­er essay on his dis­cov­ery, “What I had real­ized… was that the same geo­met­ric prin­ci­ple that moti­vat­ed Einstein’s the­o­ry was reflect­ed in Coltrane’s dia­gram.”

The the­o­ry might “imme­di­ate­ly sound like untestable pop-phi­los­o­phy,” writes the Cre­ators Project, which show­cas­es Alexander’s physics-inspired musi­cal col­lab­o­ra­tion with exper­i­men­tal pro­duc­er Rioux (sam­ple below). But his ideas are much more sub­stan­tive, “a com­pelling cross-dis­ci­pli­nary inves­ti­ga­tion,” pub­lished in a book titled The Jazz of Physics: The Secret Link Between Music and the Struc­ture of the Uni­verse.

Alexan­der describes the links between jazz and physics in his TED talk, as well as in the brief Wired video fur­ther up. “One con­nec­tion,” he says, is “the mys­te­ri­ous way that quan­tum par­ti­cles move.… Accord­ing to the rules of quan­tum mechan­ics,” they “will actu­al­ly tra­verse all pos­si­ble paths.” This, Alexan­der says, par­al­lels the way jazz musi­cians impro­vise, play­ing with all pos­si­ble notes in a scale. His own impro­vi­sa­tion­al play­ing, he says, is great­ly enhanced by think­ing about physics. And in this, he’s only fol­low­ing in the giant steps of both of his idols.

It turns out that Coltrane him­self used Einstein’s the­o­ret­i­cal physics to inform his under­stand­ing of jazz com­po­si­tion. As Ben Ratliff reports in Coltrane: The Sto­ry of a Sound, the bril­liant sax­o­phon­ist once deliv­ered to French horn play­er David Amram an “incred­i­ble dis­course about the sym­me­try of the solar sys­tem, talk­ing about black holes in space, and con­stel­la­tions, and the whole struc­ture of the solar sys­tem, and how Ein­stein was able to reduce all of that com­plex­i­ty into some­thing very sim­ple.” Says Amram:

Then he explained to me that he was try­ing to do some­thing like that in music, some­thing that came from nat­ur­al sources, the tra­di­tions of the blues and jazz. But there was a whole dif­fer­ent way of look­ing at what was nat­ur­al in music.

This may all sound rather vague and mys­te­ri­ous, but Alexan­der assures us Coltrane’s method is very much like Einstein’s in a way: “Ein­stein is famous for what is per­haps his great­est gift: the abil­i­ty to tran­scend math­e­mat­i­cal lim­i­ta­tions with phys­i­cal intu­ition. He would impro­vise using what he called gedanken­ex­per­i­ments (Ger­man for thought exper­i­ments), which pro­vid­ed him with a men­tal pic­ture of the out­come of exper­i­ments no one could per­form.”

Ein­stein was also a musi­cian—as we’ve not­ed before—who played the vio­lin and piano and whose admi­ra­tion for Mozart inspired his the­o­ret­i­cal work. “Ein­stein used math­e­mat­i­cal rig­or,” writes Alexan­der, as much as he used “cre­ativ­i­ty and intu­ition. He was an impro­vis­er at heart, just like his hero, Mozart.” Alexan­der has fol­lowed suit, see­ing in the 1967 “Coltrane Man­dala” the idea that “impro­vi­sa­tion is a char­ac­ter­is­tic of both music and physics.” Coltrane “was a musi­cal inno­va­tor, with physics at his fin­ger­tips,” and “Ein­stein was an inno­va­tor in physics, with music at his fin­ger­tips.”

Alexan­der gets into a few more specifics in his longer TEDx talk above, begin­ning with some per­son­al back­ground on how he first came to under­stand physics as an intu­itive dis­ci­pline close­ly linked with music. For the real meat of his argu­ment, you’ll like­ly want to read his book, high­ly praised by Nobel-win­ning physi­cist Leon Coop­er, futur­is­tic com­pos­er Bri­an Eno, and many more bril­liant minds in both music and sci­ence.

Note: An ear­li­er ver­sion of this post appeared on our site in 2016.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Physics Cours­es

The Musi­cal Mind of Albert Ein­stein: Great Physi­cist, Ama­teur Vio­lin­ist and Devo­tee of Mozart

CERN’s Cos­mic Piano and Jazz Pianist Jam Togeth­er at The Mon­treux Jazz Fes­ti­val

Bohemi­an Grav­i­ty: String The­o­ry Explored With an A Cap­pel­la Ver­sion of Bohemi­an Rhap­sody

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

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