When a newspaper denies a holocaust and underreports the Holocaust, when nameless millions lie alongside the victims of a crime without a name, when the souls of the dead feed the soil with their ashes, when a country is a cemetery with a flag and a former killing field on behalf of the twin banners of evil—when the land in question is Ukraine, we have every right to question or denounce the New York Times.
We must remember the silence of the Times during a time of Soviet conquest and Nazi invasion.
We must remember the religiosity of a true believer abroad and the lack of faith by a patriarch at home, of a foreign correspondent’s propaganda and a publisher’s cowardice involving the attempted extermination of a singular people.
We must remember a people whose covenant endures, whose endurance is a testament of hope, whose glory fills the pages of the Old Testament and the New, giving them what no man can destroy: an everlasting name.
And yet the Times continues to try to make history by rewriting it altogether.
The ritual it performs is an act of aggression, not atonement, in which the lash never misses, the flagellant never tires, the punishment never ceases. Not when the Times has an ocean of ink and a universe of light, of power in the form of print and pixels, where the size of the headlines vary but the story never changes: Impeach Trump, Repeatedly.
Unfit to print the news, the Times nonetheless searches the bloodlands for articles of impeachment.