Media as Social Force

The first myth is that the media do not matter that much—that they merely reflect reality, rather than shape it,” writes media expert Robert W. McChesney in The Problem of the Media: U.S. Communication Politics in the 21st Century. “In fact,” he says, “media are a social force in their own right, and not just a reflection of other forces.”

Milton graduates active in the world of national print media use the force of their inquiry, writing and editing to shape ideas. They work to influence how we think about government, why we pay to see a movie, what we read, or who should become a hero.

J. Peter Scoblic ’92,
Acting Editor
The New Republic

At Brown University in the mid-’90s, Peter Scoblic helped found the Brown Journal of World Affairs. Establishing a student publication is not typically adequate training for leading one of America’s most thoughtful weekly magazines, except that the Brown Journal included contributors such as Madeleine Albright, John Shalikashvili, Lawrence Eagleburger, Al Haig and John Kerry—and it drew a national audience.

As acting editor of The New Republic (TNR) and former editor of Arms Control Today, a magazine covering efforts to prevent the spread of weapons of mass destruction, Peter speaks about nuclear proliferation in Asia, international treaties, and the danger of espionage among friendly nations with the understated assurance that comes from deep competence. Add to that an uncommon adherence to the truth—even when it is awkward—and Peter’s mission and style begin to emerge: “I’m not sure it’s my ‘best’ moment exactly, but I’m proud of how I handled an embarrassing mistake I made in an interview with John Bolton [former State Department under secretary and President Bush’s appointee as U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations] that I published in Arms Control Today.

“We ran a direct transcript of the interview, warts and all, and I had to write an editor’s note explaining that I had gotten a fact wrong in a question. I still cringe a little when I think about what readers may have thought,” Peter says. “The good news is that the thrust of my question was right, and Bolton’s answer revealed his desire to change U.S. policy on whether we’d ever nuke a non-nuclear country. The State Department was none too happy about that, but it provided a useful window into Bolton’s thinking.

“My priority is to put out the most intellectually provocative, intellectually honest magazine possible,” Peter says of his Washington, D.C.–based periodical, The New Republic. “We look to provide smart arguments, backed up by original reporting.”

This summer, Peter was in the midst of a nine-month stint as acting editor of TNR—he’s usually the magazine’s executive editor—when we talked with him: President Bush announced the nomination of Judge John Roberts to the Supreme Court on a Tuesday night, and TNR went to press on Wednesday night—with a package of four stories and an August 1 cover story dubbing Roberts, “The Chosen One.”

Just as Roberts, the man that Sandra Day O’Connor calls “perfect in every way, except that he’s not a woman,” is hard to label confidently, so TNR is a tough publication to categorize ideologically. “New Republic readers are an interesting lot,” Peter says. “Unlike many ‘media consumers,’ they either defy easy political categorization or they enjoy having their views challenged. They’re looking for a deeper level of analysis than what they’ll get on the op-ed pages or CNN or the blogs. We serve them by providing smart, well-written, tightly argued articles that inform, surprise and sometimes shock.”

For example, Peter wrote the August 8 cover story on the relationship between conservatism and nuclear terrorism: “The war on terrorism is, at some level, a war of ideas: To the extent that we can substitute democracy and liberal values for autocracy and Islamic fundamentalism, we will probably improve our security—and we should therefore try to do so. But freedom—as Richard Haass, Bush’s former director of policy planning at the State Department, has written—is not a doctrine.

“That is, the spread of freedom cannot be our guiding principle [as President Bush has suggested] in the war on terrorism, because the spread of freedom cannot protect us from all terrorist threats, particularly the immediate ones. In fact, in the short term, democratization appears to exacerbate, rather than ameliorate, terrorism.” Peter explains further that experts believe that the likelihood of a successful nuclear terrorist attack on U.S. soil in the next five to 10 years is between 30 and 50 percent or higher. This kind of attack could truly “change everything,” Peter writes, altering the economic and political landscape of our country.

“The Weekly Standard and National Review have a clearly conservative readership, The Nation a very liberal one. TNR is different in this regard—we’re generally considered left of center, but the magazine’s hawkish foreign policy stands have alienated a lot of liberals. We also publish a range of views. You might think this would make us appealing to a broader range of folks, but it actually makes us even more niche because the country’s political polarization has left relatively few people who take seriously opinions that dissent from their own.”

If Peter could change something about his readership, he might add to its ranks. Many publications don’t reach their potential level of public discourse because only “the choir” read them. “[Don’t] confine your reading habits to publications that reflect your ideology—branch out,” Peter suggests.

The value in reading (or watching or listening) beyond your comfort zone is learning something new, or deepening your understanding. “The fact that, as of summer 2004, more than half of Americans still thought Iraq had weapons of mass destruction is indicative [of a knowledge deficit],” Peter says. “And of course the further you get from the events, countries, and phenomena that directly impact Americans, the worse their understanding of those things gets.

“Major changes have been less in what we consider news than in how we consider it and how it’s delivered to us. Obviously, there’s been an enormous acceleration in coverage—first with the 24-hour news channels, then with the Internet, and now, more specifically, with blogs,” Peter says. “This means that the narrative surrounding events develops very rapidly, as well as the arguments that various political interests make about the significance of those events. There are positive aspects to this, but really thoughtful analysis and opinion has definitely suffered for it. There’s less of what you might call long-form thinking—and its relative influence on the political discourse has declined.”

To get at what readers might want to know, TNR’s writers and editors gather at editorial meetings to deliberate the week’s news, Peter explains, and what the magazine ought to say about it. “I tend to find arguments about the magazine’s editorial position the most fun: we had a very animated series of discussions last year about whether the magazine had been wrong to support the Iraq war.

“We’re not audience-driven at all, in the sense that most magazines would use that term. We look for story ideas that interest us, that have a fresh and clever take. And, if they interest us, we think they’ll interest our readers.”

The simplicity of that editorial mission plays out in the magazine’s editorial rhetoric —naming what has happened, regardless of party politics, as when Peter railed against Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld: “Faced with soldiers asking for the bare minimum from their leadership—the tools with which to do their jobs [properly armored vehicles]—Rumsfeld managed to be at once callous, self- deluding, and dishonest,” Peter wrote in “Incorrect Answer,” a December 2004 TNR piece.

Peter’s work has appeared in the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Los Angeles Times, the Christian Science Monitor and other publications. He says that Jim Connolly (English department) “is one of very few teachers he’s known who could teach writing, while J. C. Smith cultivates the kind of smart analysis that TNR loves.”

Jeanne McCulloch ’75
Former Paris Review Managing Editor; Editorial Director of Tin House Books; and Novelist

Cocktails with the Grateful Dead in George Plimpton’s apartment sounds like the stuff of postmodern fantasy. For native New Yorker and writer-editor Jeanne McCulloch, such moments were familiar.

While at the Paris Review, Jeanne published the early stories of many young writers of her generation, including Jeffrey Eugenides, Susan Minot, Nancy Lemann, and Jay McInerny, while enjoying the salon of George Plimpton at his height of cultural importance.

Her path to the Paris Review and beyond is one that most aspirant writers only dream of: honors at Brown University, followed by an interview with former Vogue features editor Leo Lerman (known for always wearing purple). “Leo said to me, ‘I have a feeling about you,’” Jeanne recalls and he handed her a job as a Condé Nast rover—meaning that she helped out at whatever publication needed it at the moment—organizing shoes for a photo shoot at Self, for instance. Shortly after, Lerman moved Jeanne to features assistant, which allowed her to write short pieces as well as edit. Throughout her career, she’s enjoyed the good fortune of great mentors, she says.

Lerman also sent Jeanne to film screenings, to try out new restaurants and to literary events, opening wide New York’s cultural and social world to a 23-year-old young woman. At 24, Jeanne’s next break came when Vogue editor Amy Gross, now editor of O, The Oprah Winfrey Magazine, asked her to write one in a series of women’s essays. “I was 24, and suddenly I had clips,” Jeanne says. After graduate school in English literature at Columbia, Jeanne, who had long been interested in the more literary side of publishing, interviewed with the late George Plimpton, actor-writer, and editor and cofounder of the Paris Review, which he devoted to finding unknown authors and running interviews with authors such as Ernest Hemingway.

“During my interview, I told George that to me this job would feel like being in a sandbox with all the best toys.” Plimpton, noted for his sense of childlike adventurousness, appreciated the sentiment, and Jeanne moved from the world of glossy magazines to a new workspace: Plimpton’s basement.

As managing editor at Paris Review for five years and editor at large for another five, Jeanne calls those days working at “a special place at a special time.” She interviewed playwright Sam Shepard and became great friends with novelist Mona Simpson. And Plimpton was always near, helping the Paris Review staffers—and the world—look at the world upside down and sideways.

“Crazy extracurricular events kept happening there. When George was writing his novel on Sidd Finch, the fictional baseball player, the plot called for someone to drop a ball from a blimp to the ground to clock how fast Finch could throw. George wanted to go up in a blimp and describe what it felt like, what the dashboard looked like, how it landed, et cetera. He invited us along,” Jeanne says. And then there were the drinks with the Dead: “George came in one day and said, ‘I met the Grateful Dead backstage after their concert last night, and they are all coming over for a drink.’” When Plimpton wanted pieces from the “Writers at Work” series to be online free of charge, he spoke of “the guy in Bangladesh” who might want to read them. He asked his editors to appreciate good writing even if it wasn’t in their own style or voice.

Jeanne left the Paris Review to focus on writing rather than intense editing work. She then began teaching fiction-writing at the New School in New York. In 1998, publisher Win McCormack called Jeanne from Portland, Oregon, wanting her advice in how to start a literary magazine, Tin House. “I wasn’t interested at that time in doing another lit magazine; instead, Win hired one of my colleagues, Elissa Schappell, and her husband, Rob Spillman, to do the job. I went on as contributing editor to Tin House.”

A few years later, when Jeanne was on bed rest while pregnant with her second child, she got a call from Tin House to edit an especially tough 80-page interview with Edward Said, after which she joined the staff more formally as a senior editor.

Karen Rinaldi, editorial director of Bloomsbury Publishing and a longtime friend, helped Jeanne establish a Tin House book imprint at Bloomsbury. Under that imprint, Jeanne first edited a full-length memoir by AJ Albany, daughter of Joe Albany, jazz musician, a father of bebop and a drug addict.

Now, Jeanne has just finished a book of her own—a novel—and she’s at work on an oral biography of George Plimpton, whom she credits with teaching her to edit an interview. He also taught her, she says, to be a good listener and to get writers and others to talk about their craft. “Fiction writers work in mysterious ways,” she says, recalling that E.L. Doctorow conceived of Ragtime as he stared intensely at the wall of a house, considering the era when it had been built. On the opposite side of the desk, Jeanne talks of editing as developing the ability to see the sculpture within the big, rough block.

Jeanne’s favorite magazines are The New Yorker, Granta, Tin House, Harper’s and the Paris Review. She thinks that the big problem for small circulations, even though the readership is generally committed, is that their publication is often reliant on grants or university funding. “I would call [literary magazines] a triumph of idealism over commerce,” she says.

When Jeanne wrote the piece on success for Vogue shortly after graduating from Brown, she contrasted her 24-year-old self—toting manuscripts in her bag—with the Jeanne of two years before, toting school books. She talked about success as measured by enlightened women of the ‘80s: friends, career and motherhood way down the road.

“I guess it was about how one little word could have so much meaning, so many different meanings. What it really means is that you’re fulfilling your dreams.”
That idea of success has shifted throughout Jeanne’s career; her next possible moment of success will be hearing what publishers might be interested in her just-completed novel: “It’s about becoming an adult, about reestablishing ‘home’ when you can’t go home again, or, to paraphrase Elvis Costello, when home isn’t where it used to be,” Jeanne says.

Ty Burr ’76
Film Critic
Boston Globe

Boston Globe film critic Ty Burr calls the late 1960s and the 1970s the golden age of film. Directors took chances and artistic vision was, of necessity, valued above special effects. Remember that John Schlesinger’s Midnight Cowboy won an Oscar for best picture, he says. Then along came Jaws and Star Wars, and the blockbuster was born.

“On one level what I do is a service job,” Ty says. “People want the market report. ‘Should I spend my nine dollars to see this movie?’” In July 2005 alone, Ty delivered more than 20 such “consumer reports.” But thanks to former New Yorker film critic Pauline Kael, who revolutionized the art, film criticism now rivals literary criticism in its sophistication and cultural significance.

“Movies don’t take place in a vacuum,” Ty explains. “They’re informed by all sorts of cultural assumptions, whether they’re brain-dead Hollywood product or intellectual art house fare. In fact, I’d argue that mainstream studio movies say more about how our society views itself—socially, politically, sexually—than independent movies do, if only because studio films take such assumptions for granted and aren’t aware of them. But I am: It’s my job, among others, to pick apart the strands of movies and examine what they say about the people who made them, about the audiences that watch them. This is especially important given how successful American movies are around the world.

“I think this country’s most effective import, for better and for worse, is its popular culture. But what does it say about us? That’s both fun and necessary to figure out on a movie-by-movie basis,” Ty says.

Ty says that he learned to write and analyze at Milton—think Kay Herzog, A. O. Smith and Paul Monette and, later, at Dartmouth and New York University’s film school, he continued his preparation for his role as cultural critic.

“It’s silly to compare a movie like Sideways or Vera Drake to a big-budget entertainment like Wedding Crashers or Batman Begins. I try to judge any movie against the movie that it wants to be. This seems only fair: Is Wedding Crashers as good a no-brainer fratboy farce as it aspires to? (No, but mighty close.) Is Vera Drake effective both as drama and pro-choice provocation? (Yes.) At the same time, you have to indicate to the reader that while honest entertainment tastes better, artistic and/or narrative ambition is more filling.”

In a December 2004 column, Ty points to an interesting cultural phenomenon: political polarization in choosing films. A microcosm of the now well-noted polarization of the country appears in audiences of Hollywood: He notes how anyone who didn’t swallow The Passion of Christ was deemed godless, while anyone who didn’t buy all of Fahrenheit 9/11 was considered hopelessly conservative. He argues that we’re missing out by choosing sides.

“Not only did it become possible in 2004, even acceptable, to avoid completely points of view other than your own, the rise of partisan forms of media made it simpler to do so. Real liberals don’t listen to talk radio; true conservatives don’t go to the Coolidge [arts cinema in Brookline, Massachusetts]. Religion, politics, what about the eternal verities of the heart? Could we at least believe in love?” That, too, is hard in movieland, but Ty gives examples such as Million Dollar Baby as remarkable attempts.

In a July 15, 2005, column, Ty goes well beyond his customary 700 or so words to praise Tim Burton’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. His praise for films is far from universal, however. He bashed 2003’s The Cat in the Hat, lamenting that bad reviews don’t always kill bad movies: The Cat in the Hat grossed over $100 million, even after Ty deconstructed it: “At one point in The Cat in the Hat, the Cat, played by Mike Myers, is mistaken for a piñata by a group of children at a birthday party. One by one, they line up to smack him, and the scene culminates with a husky lad swinging a baseball bat directly into the unfortunate feline’s cojónes.

“That’s a remarkably precise metaphor for what this movie does to the memory of Dr. Seuss. If the producers had dug up Ted Geisel’s body and hung it from a tree, they couldn’t have desecrated the man more,” Ty wrote.

“I can’t say that I have a favorite review—the job is mostly a case of 20-20 hindsight. I’m extremely glad when I’m able to get people to a movie they might not otherwise see and that might challenge their ideas of what movies and life are for, Broken Flowers, Before Sunset, movies like that.

“I’m glad when I touch a nerve and get readers to think twice about something—

I called out the recent Stealth for what I perceived as an extremely callow portrayal of war during a time of war, and got a pile of email in response. Half was positive, half was negative, and the one that meant the most was from an army intelligence officer saying I’d nailed it.

“In a sense, I’m most proud of an interview I did for the New York Times with director Godfrey Reggio about how much trouble he was having getting his final film in his Koyaanisqatsi trilogy made. The article was read by director Steven Soderbergh (sex, lies, and videotape, Ocean’s 11), who immediately picked up the phone and offered Reggio 100 percent funding. Having been the link that got a film made is arguably more satisfying than writing any review.”

The prominence and professionalism of criticism has risen but, Ty wrote in a July 2005 column, the number of bodies in seats at the cinema has dwindled. When considering why Americans shun cinemas, Ty wonders what could replace the experience: “How would movies make that necessary mass-market splash before fragmenting onto DVD, cable, and on-demand? More critically, what would we do as a society without the shared narrative experience? Since before we started taking notes and calling it history, human beings have felt a yearning to sit in a crowd of ecstatic strangers and be awed by the bigness of stories. DVDs and a $4 bag of M&Ms aren’t going to make that need disappear.”

Before writing for the Globe, Ty wrote for HBO and Entertainment Weekly. He began writing about the movies when he began watching them: While at Milton, he filled his journal with essays about his experience as a movie-watcher. Despite his adoption of a critical language and his academic study of Hollywood, Ty says, “I have to watch a movie the way most people do. I can’t overthink it.”

Vick Boughton ’73
Senior Editor
People Magazine

In a trivia game, before becoming a senior editor at People magazine, Vick Boughton was the only player to know that Mia Farrow, as F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Daisy Buchanan, was on the inaugural 1974 cover of People. Vick’s affinity for celebrity news, she says, began as a student at Wellesley and continued at Oxford University, where she scoured England for her favorite magazine and remembers being “crushed” when People was no longer imported.

As a leader of the magazine’s “specials” sections—she helps manage a staff of 25—Vick is happily immersed in celebrity and America’s fascination with it. Vick’s graduate work at Oxford was in ethnology, and she says that that background has some bearing on her current work.

“My sense is that readers think of the magazine’s coverage of celebrity-studded events, fashion and even beauty as entertainment. I hope so—it is entertaining. But, of course, one hallmark of People is that along with the glossy fun stuff, there are stories about real people going through difficult or interesting or joyous times. Some aren’t household names, but their stories resonate with us. They educate us, infuriate us, inspire us. Who doesn’t want to be involved with or feel a connection to the subject they’re reading about? Other-wise, why bother?”

Life inside People is also engaging. Vick points to Oscar night—during which staffers watch the broadcast and work for at least 18 straight hours—as a highlight. “You haven’t lived until you’ve experienced Oscar night around here,” says Vick. “You have all these smart, funny people in one room making hilarious observations. It’s the ultimate Oscar party.”

Vick’s department, separate from but working in tandem with the People staff who develop weekly news and human-interest stories, produces the issues that focus on a special topic (hence, “specials.”) While they might put out an issue focused on anything from a hot television show such as “Desperate Housewives” to a “how-to” holiday entertaining guide, most magazine-buyers will recognize “Sexiest Man Alive” and “50 Most Beautiful People” or “Best and Worst Dressed” or “50 Hottest Bachelors” as among the favorite special issues. Orlando Bloom was last year’s hottest bachelor, in case you missed that one.

Vick says that while many top picks are entertainers or athletes of note—Johnny Damon, who Vick says has the “best hair in baseball,” made the cut last year, and having a recent notable project helps one’s chances—not all of the men featured are rich and famous. (She says that for someone to earn a “sexiest man alive” designation, however, it really “has to be the guy’s moment.”)

The magazine also likes to introduce fresh faces, according to Vick. She tells of one of the “regular guys” who made the list recently. Last year, a top aide of Condoleezza Rice was featured among the bachelors. The piece quoted the now-Secretary of State as saying that her aide should spend more time out of the office having a little fun.

“We think a lot about our audience—what we feel we owe readers, what we think they should know about,” says Vick. With a readership of nearly 40 million, which surpasses that of Newsweek or Time, People’s audience clearly likes the magazine’s mix of news, features and celebrity tattle.

“Our celeb coverage offers readers a lot to chew over. I think a lot of people can relate, say, to Jennifer Aniston’s recent breakup with Brad Pitt. Theirs appeared to be the perfect marriage, they seemed devoted to one another, they were both huge stars with plenty of work on their plates. And yet, things ultimately fell apart,” Vick says. “They’re human—they go through crises like the rest of us. Again, there’s that engagement, that involvement along with the entertainment.”

Besides her tenure at People, Vick is a 13-year veteran of Sports Illustrated, where she worked as a reporter and senior editor. Later, she enjoyed stints at Working Woman and Child magazines, all in preparation for her study of celebrity and writing “the snappy, punchy, creative” copy that makes it come alive.

“It’s particularly gratifying to be paid to talk about the things people talk about anyway. We’re also lucky in that we have the Time, Inc., reputation working for us,” Vick says. “Readers trust that we have our facts straight; what we print has been researched and carefully checked for accuracy by fact-checkers as well as by correspondents in any one of our eight news bureaus here and abroad.” (Several of the larger Time, Inc., magazines rely on bureaus for research, reporting and interviews; writers and editors in New York then pull stories together.)

When Vick was at Milton, she served as the co-editor of Milton’s student paper. “I always enjoyed writing,” she says. “As an editor, I get to shape ideas and think about how best to package a story.”

Evan Hughes ’94
Assistant to the Editor
New York Review of Books

In conversation with Heather Sullivan, associate editor of Milton Magazine.

HS How would you describe your job and how you got there?

EH The two editors who founded The New York Review of Books in 1963, Robert Silvers and Barbara Epstein, are still at the top of the masthead, and I am Barbara’s assistant. Because the editorial staff is small—around 12—and jobs here are sought after, mine is not really an entry-level position, as editorial assistant jobs are at book publishers and some other magazines. Prior to working here, I was an editor for two years at The New Leader, a political magazine small enough that I was given a considerable amount of experience editing and working with writers. Now, in addition to handling Barbara’s correspondence, faxing proofs to our writers and taking corrections from them, ordering review copies of books, etc., I edit some pieces (by writers you probably know about) and play a large role in sorting through the many books that come in to us—sometimes 100 a day—and deciding what we ought to review and to whom we should assign it. My job is an editorial one, not a writing one, but I have just completed in off hours my first piece for the magazine, which should be published this fall. It’s about a novelization of the Patty Hearst saga, Christopher Sorrentino’s Trance. Other recent work includes a review of James Frey’s two memoirs of addiction and recovery and a piece about the sexual politics of the lap dance. Seriously.

HS From whom have you learned the most about your craft?

EH My boss at The New Leader, Mike Kolatch, was a stern instructor, to put it rather mildly, but I learned a great deal from him about the way sentences ought to work. Much of what I know about writing, though, came from my teachers in Milton’s English and creative writing departments, more so than Yale’s. Many thanks are owed, not just by me, to David Britton, Kay Herzog, Doug Fricke, J. C. Smith, Rick Hardy and the creative writing golden god, Jim Connolly. The man who hired most of them, former English chair Guy Hughes, had some additional influence on my life and education. He’s my dad.

HS My impression is that you’re a writer first and editor second. Can you comment on the relationship between those two selves?

EH I write and edit both, and hope to continue to do so, but I’d like to add more writing to the mix. Sometimes one finds the two roles battling. It’s hard to write freely with a critic and editor staring over your shoulder.

HS This issue of Milton Magazine focuses on the media. Do you think that more literate periodicals face pressures similar to those of mainstream media (e.g., consolidation, fewer resources, etc.), or are they outside of that fray?

EH Most intellectual publications are money-losing operations and face great pressure to improve the bottom line, particularly when they are owned by larger (and publicly held) corporations. The New York Review is independently owned and, remarkably, is a profitable enterprise, from what I understand. I’m not privy to the math, but I think our success owes something to our crossover appeal to the academic world. Many professors read it to keep up with new work in their fields.

HS What are some of your favorite newspapers or magazines, and what makes them valuable to you?

EH I’m addicted, despite reservations, to the New York Times. I don’t know what I’d do if they tripled the price. My other priorities are The New Yorker, Harper’s, and The Atlantic, although employed people who say they read them all every issue are lying.

HS Career highlights?

EH Highlights of my short career mostly involve talking to people I’ve long admired from afar. A few articles the NYRB has published since I’ve been here (two years) have been particularly exciting for me, though I played no role in editing them: Two of these were Michael Massing’s “Now They Tell Us,” about the press’s failures in Iraq, and Tony Judt’s “Israel: The Alterna-tive.” The feisty letter exchanges that followed each were a kick.

HS I’m reading The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins. In it, a character always turns to the text of Robinson Crusoe when he needs guidance or inspiration. Is there a book, story or poem that functions that way for you?

EH I don’t know about guidance, but for inspiration: Joan Didion’s justly famous personal essay about being young and in New York, “Goodbye to All That.” Can I go on? Robert Lowell’s Collected Poems. Then there’s David Foster Wallace’s essay about going on a cruise, “A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again.” In its sometimes cruel way, it is probably the funniest thing I’ve ever read.

Heather Sullivan

 

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