Array Replace Quotes

Nonviolent action, the Negro saw, was the way to supplement—not replace—the process of change through legal recourse. It was the way to divest himself of passivity without arraying himself in vindictive force.

The Marxist prediction that capitalism would ultimately collapse and be replaced by socialism (Khrushchev’s tactless ‘We will bury you!’) had been a comfort to Soviet Communists as they struggled against Russia’s historical ‘backwardness’ to make a modern, industrialised, urbanised society. They made it, more or less, by the beginning of the 1980s. Soviet power and status was recognised throughout the world. ‘Soviet man’ became a recognisable animal, with close relatives in the Soviet bloc in Eastern Europe, more problematic relatives in China and North Korea, and admirers in the Third World. Then, in one of the most spectacular unpredicted ‘accidents’ of modern history, it was Soviet ‘socialism’ that collapsed, giving way to what the Russians called the ‘wild capitalism’ of the 1990s. An array of fifteen new successor states, including the Russian Federation, emerged blinking into the light of freedom – all, including the Russians, loudly complaining that in the old days of the Soviet Union they had been victims of exploitation.

My Mother was amazed about the availability and abundance of all that food; about chickens without feathers; about borscht in a jar. I was astounded about the variety of foods in a super market, about the packaging, about the great array of fruits and vegetables available so readily in autumn. There were many kinds that I had never seen before. To my surprise, I was told that everything could be had all year round. I was struck by the idea of washing machines. It had not occurred to me that human hands could be replaced even to that extent. The highways and the bridges astonished my Father greatly, especially the bridges.

Security was, though, an ongoing rock-paper-scissors match between technologies that all seemed to want different things. The lobby of the building, its elevators and stairwells, and its exterior belts of walkways and gardens had all been covered by security cameras from the very beginning of Zula and Csongor’s tenancy. In those days a security guard would sit all day behind a reception desk in the lobby, keeping an eye on the main entrance, glancing down from time to time at an array of flat-panel monitors that showed him the feeds from those cameras. But the desk had been torn out some years ago and replaced with a big saltwater aquarium. The building still employed a security firm. But those guards who were human, and who were actually on site, spent most of the day up on their feet, strolling about the property while keeping track of events in wearable devices. Some of the “guards” were just algorithms, analyzing video and audio feeds for suspicious behavior, recognizing faces and cross-checking them against a whitelist of residents, friends, and neighbors, and a blacklist of predators, stalkers, and ex-husbands. Anything ambiguous was forwarded to a Southeast Asian eyeball farm.

There is naturally much inter-marriage among Zionists, and in times of trouble families are united, those with even the most attenuated blood connections arraying themselves with their kith and kin. The dispute over Harbuttle and his offers of marriage, therefore, grows into a miniature war of the roses. In no time, the classroom is filled to overflowing with a crowd of angry, milling women, pushing each other about, afraid to smite hard but resorting to jostling, charging, thrusting and pulling tactics and using arms, elbows, bosoms, hindquarters and knees like battering rams. The noise is appalling. Speech flows freely and angry, vulgar words rush forth in torrents. Place, dignity, decorum are all forgotten in this release of pent-up feelings. The saintly, peace-loving women who one by one thrust themselves in the doorway of the room hoping in some way to calm the storm, are unwillingly sucked into the maelstrom and, before they know where they are, are rampaging with the rest. The men, dumbfounded and nonplussed, hang back, knowing that once they intrude, the bloody masculine forms of combat may supervene and replace the more dishevelled and shrill, but less deadly feminine type.

When Arrays Are Pointers The C standard has the following to say about the matter. Rule 1. An array name in an expression (in contrast with a declaration) is treated by the compiler as a pointer to the first element of the array1 (paraphrase, ANSI C Standard, paragraph 6.2.2.1). 1. OK nitpickers, there are a few minuscule exceptions that concern arrays treated as a whole. A reference to an array is not replaced by a pointer to the first element when: • the array appears as the operand of sizeof()—-obviously you want the size of the whole array here, not just a pointer to it. • the array’s address is taken with the & operator. • the array is a string or wide-string literal initializer. Rule 2. A subscript is always equivalent to an offset from a pointer (paraphrase, ANSI C Standard, paragraph 6.3.2.1). Rule 3. An array name in the declaration of a function parameter is treated by the compiler as a pointer to the first element of the array (paraphrase, ANSI C Standard, paragraph 6.7.1).

One of the most important – and sudden – changes in politics for several decades has been the move from a world of information scarcity to one of overload. Available information is now far beyond the ability of even the most ordered brain to categorise into any organising principle, sense or hierarchy. We live in an era of fragmentation, with overwhelming information options. The basics of what this is doing to politics is now fairly well-trodden stuff: the splintering of established mainstream news and a surge of misinformation allows people to personalise their sources in ways that play to their pre-existing biases.5 Faced with infinite connection, we find the like-minded people and ideas, and huddle together. Brand new phrases have entered the lexicon to describe all this: filter bubbles, echo chambers and fake news. It’s no coincidence that ‘post-truth’ was the word of the year in 2016. At times ‘post-truth’ has become a convenient way to explain complicated events with a simple single phrase. In some circles it has become a slightly patronising new orthodoxy to say that stupid proles have been duped by misinformation on the internet into voting for things like Brexit or Trump. In fact, well-educated people are in my experience even more subject to these irrationalities because they usually have an unduly high regard for their own powers of reason and decision-making.* What’s happening to political identity as a result of the internet is far more profound than this vote or that one. It transcends political parties and is more significant than echo chambers or fake news. Digital communication is changing the very nature of how we engage with political ideas and how we understand ourselves as political actors. Just as Netflix and YouTube replaced traditional mass-audience television with an increasingly personalised choice, so total connection and information overload offers up an infinite array of possible political options. The result is a fragmentation of singular, stable identities – like membership of a political party – and its replacement by ever-smaller units of like-minded people. Online, anyone can find any type of community they wish (or invent their own), and with it, thousands of like-minded people with whom they can mobilise. Anyone who is upset can now automatically, sometimes algorithmically, find other people that are similarly upset. Sociologists call this ‘homophily’, political theorists call it ‘identity politics’ and common wisdom says ‘birds of a feather flock together’. I’m calling it re-tribalisation. There is a very natural and well-documented tendency for humans to flock together – but the key thing is that the more possible connections, the greater the opportunities to cluster with ever more refined and precise groups. Recent political tribes include Corbyn-linked Momentum, Black Lives Matter, the alt-right, the EDL, Antifa, radical veganism and #feelthebern. I am not suggesting these groups are morally equivalent, that they don’t have a point or that they are incapable of thoughtful debate – simply that they are tribal.

Writing a part with the talents of a particular actor in mind is the method most likely to result in ephemeral plays: for, once that actor is dead, it will not be easy to find an identical replacement. This system gives and author without creative talent the advantage of a ready-made model whose muscles he can flex as he chooses. Really, the actor (with a minimum of education) might just as well talk about himself and say whatever he liked. The weakness of this system is most obvious in the tragedies of Racine, which are not really plays, but rosaries of roles. It is not "stars" that are needed, but a homogeneous array of somber masks: docile silhouettes.