Quiddities

July 9, 2026

I once asked the Berkeley anthropologist Alexei Yurchak, whose Everything Was Forever, Until It Was No More is the definitive book on the late Soviet period, what he thought of the social category of the sovok. He bristled at the question. A card-carrying social scientist focused on culture and its systems of meaning, Yurchak believed that encapsulating the Soviet person in a catch-all category was absurd. There is indeed something derogatory about the term which refers to a person who expects the state to provide for them, and who labors to get ahead in the deeply bureaucratic, often poorly functioning USSR. Nonetheless, the concept seems useful to address many of the pathologies of the Soviet Union in its “normal” phase after Stalin’s death.

The historian Sergey Radchenko assays similar late Soviet territory in his examination of a new book by Mark Smith, Exit Stalin: The Soviet Union as a Civilization, 1953-1991. Smith argues that the post-Stalin USSR was neither a frozen dictatorship nor a society in terminal decay, but a functioning and distinctive civilization with its own social order and everyday rhythms. Stephen Kotkin, in his peerless tome Magnetic Mountain: Stalinism as a Civilization, came to this terrain first, but his focus was largely the 1930s. Can the civilizational concept also be of utility after the war? 

Arash Azizi has a special place in his political heart for the self-styled democratic communists of yesteryear, above all the great Italian leader Enrico Berlinguer. And rightly so. Azizi offers a remembrance of a significant but largely forgotten current of 20th-century communism—mislabeled, in his view, as Eurocommunism—that was genuinely committed to pluralist democracy and peaceful political change, breaking from the authoritarianism that marked Moscow. What do we lose, he wonders, by misrepresenting this history?

Next up is Peter Kuras, a writer and translator in Berlin, who takes the measure of Germany’s recent wave of plagiarism scandals and related moral controversies. Germany is a strange country these days. Kuras is less interested in the genuine ethical violations than the nation’s deeper cultural dynamics, which are shaped by what he terms a “cold” political culture. 

Finally, a palate cleanser by José Natanson, a music maven and editor of Le Monde Diplomatique Southern Cone Edition. Natanson judges two prominent styles of Argentine popular music: rock and trap. He asserts that the history of Argentine music mirrors the country’s social history: rock rose from the middle class, while trap reflects a more unequal and precarious Argentina. The shift from rock to trap is not just a musical fashion change, but a sign of social transformation. What does this illustrate about the cultural condition of Argentina?

Our curated section kicks off with a lovely essay from our friends at The Dial. Short dramas have become the rage in China, built on brief, addictive episodes that are only around two minutes long, and a business model optimized for engagement rather than prestige. Lavender Au writes that these shows have gone from an underdog phenomenon to a massive industry shaped by audience feedback and AI generation.

Then Rúrion Melo for the São Paulo-based Revista Rosa takes on Habermas (hope you’re not Habermas’d out). He is presented here as one of the most important critical theorists of modern politics. Melo traces the great man’s career from his Frankfurter days to his legendary theory of communicative action and normative defense of democracy.

I am glad to hand over the musical selection to José Natanson, who writes: “This issue’s music recommendation is one of the songs mentioned in my article on the shift from rock to trap as a reflection of Argentina’s social transformation. The song, “Ana no duerme,” (Ana Doesn’t Sleep) was composed in 1969 by Luis Alberto Spinetta, perhaps the most important figure in Argentine rock. Rich with multiple meanings, it tells the story of a girl who wants to get out from where she is, even though she doesn’t know exactly where to. It’s a fine example of Spinetta’s lyrical depth and musical genius.”

—Leonard Benardo, vice president at the Open Society Foundations