The Brooklyn Rail

Dear Friends and Readers

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
–Walt Whitman

As geopolitical crises continue to escalate on numerous fronts, from the ever-intensifying rivalry between the US and China; the partnerships with fellow autocratic states including Russia, North Korea, Hungary, etc.; China’s relationship with Taiwan, whose population identifies themselves as Taiwanese, not as Chinese; and the increasing instability in the Middle East; how are we to mediate the ever-more complex and growing suspicion of globalism and nativism? We ask ourselves: is it yet another competition between West against East, as we have experienced before?

How can we reconcile the remarkable differences between our fellow beings alike? This is to say what is above cannot exist without what lies below; there is no left without right; no West without the East. Picture Christ, crucified on the cross, and bleeding from his head, hands, and feet while half-naked—the most dramatic image ever created and most significant symbol of individualism in the West; as opposed to the Buddha, sitting under the bodhi tree attempting to reach Nirvana, which similarly is symbol of collectivism in the East. As our world grows smaller, due in part to our globalized economy and the fact that there is almost no place on Earth left unexplored, in addition to our technology which gives us that same impression, we ask ourselves: while acknowledging these intense differences, why should we grow more insular in our thinking and what we make?

The closed and secretive society, ruled by dictators for whom everyday life is an existential crisis, is in opposition to the free and open society, characterized by respect for the rule of law, human rights, and democratically elected governments. The pursuit of a free and open society is the very reason why my family, like many others’ who experienced political oppression, left the old country to adopt the US as their new home. For many, the new country implies the beginning of a new life with safety and new opportunities, from which they can achieve the American dream through hard work. Others, like myself and many fellow creatives, such as Francesco and Alba Clemente, Shirin Neshat, Shoja Azari, Aleksandar Duravcevic, Tony Bui, Monique Truong, An-My Lê, Julie Mehretu, Shahzia Sikander, Tomas Vu, Danh Vo, Rirkrit Tiravanija, and countless others, have come to realize that we belong to neither the old nor the new country, but rather exist in the mediated space in-between; hence our true home is culture. Our ambition is to explore this freedom, however complex it may be in this country, for the sake of what we make, and to materialize the transformation of opinion into knowledge. As Ralph Waldo Emerson once remarked, “There is properly no history, only biography.” Here, we ponder what it is in the American spirit that prevails whenever our liberal democracy is under threat.

As America is poised to commemorate and celebrate the 250th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence next July, many of us were transfixed by The American Revolution, the ever-timely landmark documentary by Ken Burns, Sarah Botstein, and David Schmidt that aired on PBS this past month. We were reminded that it was simultaneously a war for independence, a war of conquest, a civil war, and a world war, fought by neighbors on American lands and between global adversaries, and prior to our realization of being a maritime superpower. It’s hard to imagine, but all thirteen colonies along the Atlantic coast united in their rebellion, won their independence, and established a republic that still endures.

Within the mere 250-year history of this young nation, there have been two presidents, namely Andrew Jackson and Donald J. Trump, who exercised imminent threats to our liberal democracy, and they share many similar attributes. Trump identifies with Jackson as a man and a leader, whose personality thrives on the confrontational, hypermasculine, and brash attitude that pushed the executive power to the extreme limits. Here we find great comfort in Walt Whitman’s declaration in a notebook in 1859: “Comrades! I am the bard of Democracy.”

As we think of our journey toward this historic milestone, let us take this time as an opportunity to pause and reflect on our nation’s past, honor the contributions of all Americans, and look ahead toward the future we want to create for the next generation and beyond. America isn’t bound together by emotion. It’s bound together by endless self-invention and remarkable creations that transcend emotion, by rules of law, and respect for rights, by ideas of freedom and justice that need constant re-articulation and re-correction. It is therefore the task of criticism to establish principles; to improve opinion into knowledge. Whatever way we can elevate criticism, in Dr. Samuel Johnson’s words, “reduces those regions of literature under the dominion of science, which have hitherto known only the anarchy of ignorance, the caprices of fancy, and the tyranny of prescription.” America sees itself as a constant experiment, a constant becoming, with the certainty of success projected onto the future.

Happy holidays with love, courage, and cosmic optimism as ever,

Phong H. Bui

P.S. This issue is dedicated to our friends and mentors Alison Knowles (1933–2025), Hal Sirowitz (1949–2025), Tom Stoppard (1937–2025), whose lives and works had expanded the boundaries of art, poetry, and theater into greater heights and experimentation. We’re thrilled to welcome the phenomenal art historian Pepe Karmel to be an editor-at-large. Lastly, as the Rail celebrates its twenty-five-year anniversary, please consider supporting our annual winter campaign—however small or large—for we’re nothing without our community.