Word: eying
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...photos and murals of his father and predecessor Hafez Assad, still festooned throughout Syria, are leavened by the confident gaze and beneficent smile possible only for a dictator in total control. Bashar, however, stares off into the middle distance, working hard to convey vision and strength but avoiding direct eye contact with his subjects. Indeed, the younger Assad, an ophthalmologist by trade who became heir apparent only when his older brother was killed in an automobile crash, remains something of a mystery to just about everyone. "The question is, Is he really in charge?" a U.S. intelligence expert told...
...increasingly, people in Northern Ireland are no longer willing to turn a blind eye. "The people are trying to tell the I.R.A. they want them to go away," says Michael McConville, whose mother was killed by the group in 1972. "They're starting to stand up to them. Years ago, they would never have stood up to them." Let down by the movement they once expected to protect their rights, republican communities are beginning to rediscover their own power to protect themselves...
...time of that first Wall Street Journal story, Summers was dipping his toes into politics for the very first time—quietly stepping into the public eye as an economics advisor to the Michael S. Dukakis presidential campaign. Dukakis lost to George H.W. Bush, of course, but in 1991, Summers nevertheless decided to turn his back on academia and take a job in Washington as chief economist of the World Bank. “Brilliant” and “phenomenal,” the papers called him, and under such generous spotlights, Summers began to develop into...
Summers’ seemingly authoritarian style and supposed “closet conservatism” only added another unfavorable layer to his public personality. Although most of the damage that his reputation suffered in the public eye can be attributed to individual anecdotes rather than actual trends, reporters says Summers’ true character was essentially revealed in these incidents...
It’s getting darker, and a crowd of dressed-up scenesters queues. Lame kids, admittedly. A skinny-tied Scandinavian joins the end of the 100-person line. He has a black eye and is shouting into his mobile phone in broken English. Some kid had hit him in the street and run off. I hug the cracked plaster frame to the entrance and tell Jack to hurry up and sell his extra...