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(11/01/18 9:48am)
As our taxi inched along, I watched all the students in their school uniforms, adults on their way to work and the countless Yaoundéens in the street, selling papayas, corrosols (my new favorite fruit), plantains, credit for telephone calls, fabric, tires and really anything you can imagine, and all I could feel was happiness. At 8 a.m., I arrived (surprisingly on time) and met up with my classmates for our étude de terrain or field trip, as if nothing had happened. We climbed into the bus with my professeur de géographie, and started off for the village of Okola, to walk around a cocoa plantation, talk to the Cameroonians working there, and of course, to suck on the sweet inside that envelopes the cocoa beans as we walked through the forest. The village was just a bit north of Yaoundé, the capital of Cameroon and the city of about three million people where I’ve been studying for more than two months now.
As we bumped around on the bus (you’d be hard pressed to find a street in Yaoundé without bumps and holes), it didn’t feel like I had just gotten off a plane at 4:30 a.m. from Casablanca, Morocco. It didn’t feel like I had just spent an entire week exploring Morocco, staying in Rabat and visiting the beautiful surrounding cities by train and bus. It didn’t feel like the country of Cameroon, situated between West and Central Africa, had just elected the same president, Paul Biya, for the seventh time, after having lived under his power for 36 years. Middlebury’s decision to send us to Morocco for a week felt like a dream. I understood the reasoning: the necessity to avoid possible election violence breaking out after the announcement of the results, which could have caused the airports to close and trap us inside the country.
When I first came to Cameroon, I never expected to be asked by my host parents: “Et toi? Tu as vécu pendant combien de conditions présidentielles aux États-Unis?” which is French for the question: how many American presidents have served during your lifetime? The answer for me is four. The answer for my host siblings, even my 25-year-old sister, is one. In the month leading up to the election, you could see the evidence of Paul Biya’s (and the state’s) power everywhere in the streets. The posters of his face were everywhere, on billboards, the walls of stores and houses. His face was on t-shirts, dresses, hats, backpacks, umbrellas and more, which people received for free at organized meetings. There were eight other candidates, but they were hardly visible.
The week before the election, we were told not to discuss politics in the shared taxis (the main form of public transportation) and on the streets. There was a rumor that people were positioned in Yaoundé, trying to find secessionists and stop their voices from spreading throughout the city. The secessionist movement in the country is part of the Anglophone crisis, a long-running conflict that intensified in Cameroon in 2016 between English-speaking separatists and a national government dominated by French speakers. The police presence grew in various locations. There was another rumor that a series of random arrests was going on throughout the city. When we went out, we had to carry copies of our passports with us. The phone connection went in and out, making communication harder. However, no violence or anything of significance occurred in Yaoundé leading up to Oct. 7, the jour de vote. Walking through the streets, I could feel in so many people the hunger and readiness for a change of power. On election day, the streets were eerily calm, especially for Yaoundé, a city of bustling disorder. It was said that it would take two weeks for the Supreme Court to officially announce the election results, on Oct. 22.
A week and three days after the election, the students of Middlebury’s School in Cameroon were abruptly told that we would be leaving for Morocco (a North African country that speaks Arabic and French) for a week, with the possibility that we wouldn’t be able to return. I was devastated. At the airport in Yaoundé, the program director told me, “Tu vas rentrer au Cameroun, Emily,” or, “You’re going to come back to Cameroon, Emily” and I took her words to heart. Luckily, she was right. We watched Paul Biya’s smiling face from Rabat, Morocco, as it was announced that he had won 71 percent of the vote (but who really knows how much of the vote he won given that the government also falsely claimed that Transparency International watched over the election process, according to a statement on the organization’s website). Following the results, there have been small incidences of violence in the Anglophone region, as well as a peaceful protest march in Douala, another major city, organized against fraud during the election.
It saddens me to imagine the future of Cameroon under the power of an 85-year-old president, who has failed to follow through on initiatives for his people in his 36 years of power. However, I know that this October’s election awakened the spirit of many Cameroonians. I’m sad for my adopted country and its questionable democracy, but I’m also a little bit hopeful. Now that I’m back, I just get to appreciate everything in Cameroon: my host family, my classmates, the markets, the rainy season and all the adventures, a little bit more.
Editor’s note: Cameroon held national elections on Oct.7. On Oct. 17, students participating in the college’s study abroad program in Yaoundé, Cameroon’s capital, were flown to Morocco on short notice amid concerns that the threat of violence following the announcement of election results would shutter airports and trap students in the country. All students returned safely to Yaoundé on Oct. 26. Yaoundé has not been stricken by election violence that other parts of Cameroon have seen, and the step to extract the students was precautionary. In this piece, Emily Ray ’20 reflects on this experience.
(10/25/18 10:00am)
Much like space travel itself, Damien Chazelle’s new film “First Man” (2018) is a venture into the unknown and an exploration of what is possible. Moving away from his previous films surrounding music, “Whiplash” (2014) and “La La Land” (2016), “First Man” is Chazelle’s first step towards a new genre of film, though it still holds true to the director’s roots of sound artistry. Although it is a film about space, and Neil Armstrong’s journey in particular, this film is primarily an experiment in pushing the limits of sound design; it comprises an experience that immerses its viewers through Justin Hurwitz’s carefully and meticulously crafted score, a symphony of beautifully contrasting swells and silences.
“First Man” follows astronaut Neil Armstrong (Ryan Gosling) through his hard-fought and embattled journey to be the first person to step foot on the moon. Everyone knows the end result, the famous words, but not everyone understands the work, the dedication, the long days and even longer nights that went into that walk on the moon. This film encapsulates that dedication and immerses the audience in such a way that they can, in some capacity, understand just how monumental an undertaking walking on the moon was. Now, looking back, we see it as a triumph of human will and a mark of success for American ideals. Before the moon walk, however, this grand achievement in human history was seen as a dangerous mission with seemingly little payoff.
For most space programs, especially those leading up to the Apollo mission in question, failure occurs far more often than success. “First Man” challenges its audience to view these astronauts as people, not simply as machines churning out mathematical answers.
During these moments in the film, after plans go awry, the score surges and the audience is forced to grapple with the repercussions of these monumental mistakes. Alarms shriek out into the theater, piercing the silence and forcing the viewers into attentiveness. The noises are jarring and unanticipated, causing the audience, with pounding hearts, to feel just as fearful as the astronauts. With every new flashing light and buzzing siren, the tension ratchets up, one notch at a time, until it simply ends with no warning into a serene yet unsettling silence. As the deafening silences cascade into gentle arrangements, the audience finds themselves alongside Armstrong, scrutinizing the screen for all of its incredible depth and detail.
Armstrong is a character marked by silence. Early in the movie, Chazelle establishes the death of Armstrong’s daughter Karen as a pivotal moment in his life. Throughout his daughter’s battle with cancer, Armstrong took meticulous notes, searching within the confines of the white notebook pages for answers to no avail. So, in the similar, seemingly impossible mission of landing on the moon, Armstrong will not allow himself to fail — not a second time. Such unyielding determination permeates every moment of the astronaut’s life. He simply cannot bear to fail, and when he does, he gets back up, just as energized as before.
For example, during the interview process for NASA, recruits partake in a series of trials and tasks in order to prove their ability to handle the difficulties of space. One of the most difficult tasks for astronauts is the 3-axis machine that spins astronauts in every direction imaginable, succumbing them to the G forces experienced in space. When Armstrong, the first recruit to use the machine, falls unconscious after his run, he does not simply leave the seat and lose the battle of will against the machine. He stays in the machine and demands a second go, a second chance to prove his tenacity.
Not only does Gosling’s stellar performance bring the character to life, it also adds a layer of depth. Armstrong was an astronaut, but also a father, who day in and day out had to leave his children at home with his wife and risk his life for the sake of the mission. Every morning he kisses his wife goodbye knowing full well that he may never return.
In the early morning hours, just as the sun is beginning to rise, Armstrong says goodbye to his wife and his two sons and embarks on the greatest exploration into the unknown the world has ever achieved.
The life of an astronaut is one of dedication and courage. Chazelle has crafted a film that achieves a raw and vulnerable understanding of the life of an astronaut, and it is precisely through his mastery of sound design that he does so. Hurwitz’s score is crucial to the success of this film and won’t soon be forgotten. Switching at will between the extremes of chaos and silence, the score at times instills courage, and fear at others. It makes the world of the film seem inhabited and robust, rather than one-dimensional and ungrounded. Whether it is a bombastic sea of noise or a tranquil melody that delights, “First Man” has a score that is sure to make any audience marvel.
(10/25/18 9:59am)
A group of students are circulating a petition to ban a local Crisis Pregnancy Center (CPC) from advertising and participating in on-campus activities.
CPCs, also known as Pregnancy Resource Centers, are nonprofit organizations that generally provide peer counseling related to pregnancy and childbirth, as well as financial resources and adoption referrals. The mission of these organizations is to advise women with unintended pregnancies against having an abortion, and offer adoption or parenting as alternative options. Historically, research has shown that 80 percent of CPCs provide misleading or factually inaccurate information regarding the physical and mental effects of abortions. Currently, there are an estimated 2,300 to 3,500 CPCs actively operating in the United States.
The local Pregnancy Resource Center of Addison County is located downtown at 102 Court Street, near Middlebury Union High School. Their mission statement is “Empowering Individuals to Make Informed Choices.” They operate without state or federal funding. In the past two years, the center has attended and advertised their services at the college’s fall student activities fair. Students at the college have also previously worked at or with the local CPC chapter, serving as on-campus representatives.
Toria Isquith ’19 and Kelsie Hoppes '18.5 started the petition to ban the CPC. Several of the students learned about CPCs in Gender, Sexuality, & Feminist Studies Professor Carly Thomsen’s Politics of Reproduction class last year. Isquith was ispired to take action when she saw the CPC’s booth at the activities fair .
“The booth had information about STDs, free flip flops, and business cards, but the CPC did not bring any of their information about abortion to campus,” Isquith said. “This struck me and other students as an effort by the CPC to misrepresent themselves on campus. I followed up with many of these students, who in turn spread the word to their friends and peers, and soon we had a group suggesting ideas for how to get the Middlebury CPC off our campus.”
“Our goal is to protect our peers from misinformation, bias and fear mongering,” Isquith added. “CPCs pose a tangible threat to students’ reproductive autonomy, and our goal is to protect this autonomy while also spreading awareness about CPCs and starting a larger conversation about them in Middlebury.”
[pullquote speaker="Toria Isquith '19" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]This struck me and other students as an effort by the CPC to misrepresent themselves on campus.[/pullquote]
Several college staff and faculty have signed the petition, including the Director of Chellis House Karin Hanta, who read over the petition and offered edits.
Thomsen led the only successful movement to ban CPCs from advertising on a college campus when she attended the University of California, Santa Barbara.
“In my class, we read academic articles about CPCs and watch related documentary films,” Thomsen said. “These texts provide useful tools for discussing many feminist studies concerns far beyond the topic of CPCs, including, for example, the state’s responsibility to counter misinformation deliberately circulated by activists.”
“These scholarly texts do not, of course, provide a simple road map for participating in political activism or for conducting their own research,” Thomsen continued. “This is what we are witnessing at Middlebury. Students are taking information learned in their GSFS courses and applying it in the world. This is happening in the form of circulating petitions, creating websites, writing op-eds and marching in the Homecoming parade.”
Joanie Praamsma, the director of the Pregnancy Resource Center, defended the center.
“The claim that we provide inaccurate information to our clients is categorically false,” Praamsma wrote in an email to The Campus. “Through our free services, our center is helping to build healthy and stable families.”
Praamsma described the center’s commitment to Christian faith and this influence on their health services.
“We make no secret of the fact that our center’s work is motivated by a Christian commitment to the dignity of every life and the preciousness of the family,” Praamsma said. “It is called faith, and it is a faith shared by millions of Americans.”
[pullquote speaker="Joanie Praamsma" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]...our center’s work is motivated by a Christian commitment to the dignity of every life and the preciousness of the family[/pullquote]
Isquith criticized the CPC in an op-ed published in The Campus in November 2017. She has also worked with former Middlebury students to create an interactive map providing information on abortion services in Vermont. For Isquith, the petition is the first step in raising awareness of the issue.
“Beyond this, I’m hoping that students, especially younger, will continue to partake in reproductive justice activism at Middlebury and in the broader community,” Isquith said. “I would love to collaborate with the Middlebury Union High School to educate students about the CPC, especially since they are located so close to the high school and pose a threat to younger students. But I am trying to tackle one project at a time.”
“That students are transforming academic material learned in their GSFS classes into activism and new research reflects the spirit of GSFS as well as Middlebury’s mission to create opportunities for students to ‘learn to engage the world,” Thomsen said.
Correction: an earlier version of this article mistakenly stated that faculty had helped circulate the petition, and misidentified the students who were involved in the effort.
(10/25/18 9:56am)
(10/25/18 9:56am)
(10/25/18 9:56am)
Hala Kassem ’19 began her introduction of André Aciman by thanking Tim Berners-Lee, the man who invented the World Wide Web.
Her gratitude is perhaps also owed to her own habit of procrastination. Late one night as she avoided homework, Kassem, a Film & Media Culture major, took to the Internet for distraction, researching films and other things she found interesting. On this particular night, she was researching the 2017 film “Call Me By Your Name” based on the 2007 novel of the same name by André Aciman.
As she researched Aciman’s life and career, Kassem discovered a personal connection with the writer: both have roots in Alexandria, Egypt.
“I too am ‘out of Egypt’ in a sense,” Kassem said in her introduction, “as Alexandria is the city my mum first flew to from China; it is the city where she met my dad, the city where their journey as partners began and subsequently mine, the city that generated the love that brought my two favorite people together and gave me the opportunity to be here doing what I love doing.”
Kassem emailed Aciman to thank him for his work and was surprised to find he had replied to her inquiry the next morning. What is more, he even offered to come to Middlebury so they could speak in person.
Kassem’s determination to see his promise through was the driving force behind his visit which Professor of English and American Literatures Robert Cohen called “hard to come by and expensive.”
Aciman was born in Alexandria in 1951. A few years later, Israeli, French and United Kingdom forces invaded Egypt during the Suez Crisis of 1956 in order to regain control of the Suez Canal.
Shortly thereafter, Aciman explained, “life changed radically for anybody who was not an Egyptian in Egypt. Essentially anyone who was French, English and ultimately Jewish was immediately expelled from Egypt.”
Being themselves Jewish, Aciman and his family were forced from the country in 1965, when he was only 14.
This exile was neither the beginning nor the end of Aciman’s struggle with his identity. He admitted he was surprised to discover his family was Turkish after so many years of hearing the country ridiculed. His father eventually disclaimed his Turkish citizenship, making himself and his family stateless. Later, his father bought an Italian passport and thereby became “a fake Italian.” Finally, Aciman immigrated to the U.S. and gained citizenship here despite not feeling like an American at all, considering the citizenship to be removed from any sense of identity with the country.
The struggles and confusion surrounding his identity reflect his attraction to the ambiguous.
“If I don’t find ambiguity,” he said, “I’m not interested.”
During much of his talk, Aciman described his attraction to and views on romance and the romantic in the modern sense of the word. For him, the most powerful part of attraction lay not in sexual or marital acts but in the build-up, in the dancing around the issues, in the moments when two people are talking about something without ever saying what they truly mean.
His 2007 novel, “Call Me By Your Name,” made famous by the 2017 film, greatly concerns itself with this idea of romance. Set in 1980’s Italy, “Call Me By Your Name” follows Elio, an introverted and intelligent teenager, and his attraction to Oliver, a graduate student working with Elio’s father over the summer.
Aciman read from the novel the scene when Elio attempts to verbalize his desires to Oliver, a scene that epitomizes Aciman’s quiet and equivocal romantic style.
Although he is most famous for this novel, Aciman’s first book was a memoir about his life and subsequent exile from his home country, “Out of Egypt.” Kassem described the work in her introduction as “a story about memory lost and regained.”
Her summary is an apt one for the memoir as well as for Aciman’s talk as a whole. He emphasized his view that writing is a way to resurrect, alter and remember the past with the purpose of understanding who we are and where we come from.
“I liked what [Aciman] said … about not settling on any one self-definition,” Cohen said in an email. “Keeping things mobile and in-play and unresolved (or rather acknowledging that they already are, and not falsifying that complexity): among other things it allows the writer to surprise him/herself, stay light on his/her feet.”
For Kassem, Aciman’s talk and body of work reflect this ambiguity she sees surrounding her own self-conception.
“I was born to a Chinese mum and an Egyptian dad and so the theme of identity was a constant in my life,” she wrote in an email. “As a little kid, I did not know what my identity was because my parents integrated me equally in both cultures, which is something I thank them for everyday.
“However, it brought me a sort of confusion about where I belong and whom I belong to,” she continued. “I always thought that I had to pick one side or to pick one identity and so I always found it challenging to answer the question ‘where are you from?’ My response to this question changed many times over the years. … This was my least favorite question and for the longest time I dreaded answering this question mainly because I did not know the answer myself.
It took me a while to accept that this aspect of my life would always be part of me and that it is what makes me myself. … It has offered me so many blessings that I would not want to have it any other way.”
Her connection with Aciman’s work and life inspired her to send a simple thank-you, a choice that culminated in Aciman’s visit to the college.
“Hala’s initiative [in bringing Aciman to the college] was instrumental in making this happen, and a very welcome and all too rare phenomenon for an undergraduate,” Cohen said. “It’s crucial, I think, to bring in working writers for the students to see up close and interact with, to get a sense of them as a particular sensibility with a particular set of aesthetic prejudices and preoccupations — not perfect or finished creatures but just bluffers like everyone else, trying to give voice to things that we’re not all accustomed to giving voice to.”
I asked him how he would advise other students who wish to bring writers or other artists to campus.
“I’d advise them to do it the same way Hala did,” he said, “boldly, thoughtfully, seize-the-day-ishly.”
(10/11/18 10:00am)
The hearings and subsequent confirmation of now-U.S. Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh sparked national outrage that resonated with many members of the college community over the past two weeks. Across campus, students and faculty publicly expressed their support for Dr. Christine Blasey Ford and survivors of sexual assault with signs, a “Walkout Against the Patriarchy” and chalked messages on pathways.
Signs Supporting Survivors
“WE BELIEVE SURVIVORS,” declared signs that surfaced across campus after the tumultuous Senate hearing addressing Dr. Ford’s sexual assault allegations against Justice Kavanaugh. The lead organizer of the postering campaign, who requested anonymity given her probation status from the Charles Murray protest, printed several posters and emailed the PDF file of the posters to multiple co-activists including Grace Vedock ’20 and Taite Shomo ’20.5.
“I wanted to do something to help make women and survivors feel supported on this campus. To help them feel heard. Believed. Safe. They were my motivation,” the student wrote in a message. “Beyond campus, my sisters were my motivation. My mom. My friends. My future nieces.”
However, responses have not all been positive. Certain signs, such as one posted outside of Proctor Dining Hall, were almost immediately ripped down. Throughout the next few days, additional signs were vandalized and restored. Soon after the initial incident, the Community Bias Response Team (CBRT) weighed in, condemning the vandalism in an all-school email and noting that it violated “the general principle of respectful behavior and community standards.”
A similar action took place outside the suite of Juliana Dunn ’19.5, Vee Duong ’19 and Nathan Nguyen ’19. In a Facebook post, Dunn shared that a student continued to erase the “WE BELIEVE CHRISTINE” text on the whiteboard outside their suite and remove similar paper signs. As of Tuesday evening, the messages had been collectively vandalized nine times.
[pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]Supporting survivors should be the norm, not a radical act.[/pullquote]
“As a suite we are unsurprised but still stung by the ripping down and erasing of our signs of solidarity; it felt particularly painful to those of us who are survivors,” the suite members collectively wrote in a message to The Campus. “Supporting survivors should be the norm, not a radical act. We want to expect more of our peers and the institution, but our experiences on campus have largely taught us to prepare for less.”
The primary organizer of the poster campaign also wrote “BELIEVE SURVIVORS” on the chalk message board next to the mail room, including the hotline for WomenSafe (800-388-4205). Throughout the twenty-minute setup process, dozens of women stopped to express their gratitude and identify themselves as survivors.
Protest Against Patriarchy
A “Walkout Against the Patriarchy” started small but grew to a crowd of about 40 professors and students outside of Proctor on Oct. 4. Participants gathered in front of the steps to the dining hall with signs protesting Justice Kavanaugh’s nomination and many passersby joined in after seeing what was occurring.
The mood was somber. Participants expressed their frustration at the Republican Party’s continued support of Justice Kavanaugh despite the accusations of sexual assault, and shared their belief that recent events put women across the nation at risk. Many said they were afraid that Justice Kavanaugh’s confirmation to the Supreme Court would threaten the right to abortion protected by Roe v. Wade.
Participants also discussed concrete ways to make a difference, such as voting and talking about uncomfortable issues with family members and friends. Some suggested that to create change, they would need to look outside of the “Middlebury bubble” and engage with the world at large.
The professors in attendance hoped that their students and their students’ generation as a whole would work hard to protect sexual assault survivors and improve the lives of all women.
Gender Studies professors Laurie Essig and Sujata Moorti, Writing and Rhetoric professor Catharine Wright and Director of Chellis House Karin Hanta arranged the event with help from other faculty members.
“It was last minute,” Essig said. “We got some posters up and put it on Facebook on Wednesday, the day before.”
“I just happened to stumble upon the protest on my way home and stayed a bit to hear people’s thoughts and responses to the situation,” Melisa Topic ’19 said. “I appreciated the mixed student-faculty attendance because I believe it showed both unity and support from all sources on this campus, and demonstrated the diversity in individuals that are feeling some type of way about the Kavanaugh nomination.”
The next day, Feminist Action at Middlebury (FAM) and the Student Government Association (SGA) encouraged students to participate in a “blackout” by wearing black to show support for survivors of sexual assault and for Dr. Ford, Ramirez and Swetnick.
On Saturday, the Senate voted 50-48 to confirm Justice Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court. He was sworn in later that day.
Chalk in Solidarity
Using a rainbow of chalk, students scrawled messages of frustration, despair and support in response to Kavanaugh’s confirmation. Some of the messages were longer: “Men Need to Hold Other Men Accountable” and “Age Does Not Excuse Assault,” while others were simple and impactful: “Believe Survivors” and “We Believe Dr. Ford.”
The chalking was organized by Taite Shomo ’20.5 and executed on Monday and Tuesday.
“I happen to believe those allegations, but his appointment to the Court is much larger than just him. It’s a symbolic message to survivors of sexual assault and abuse that our experiences don’t matter,” Shomo said.
[pullquote speaker="Shomo '20.5" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]The idea that a person can inflict something so painful and traumatizing on another person with no consequences is devastating.[/pullquote]
“I was assaulted when I was 13, only a little younger than Dr. Ford when she was assaulted,” she said. “The idea that a person can inflict something so painful and traumatizing on another person with no consequences is devastating.”
Shomo wonders if she, or other survivors at Middlebury, may someday have to experience what Dr. Ford has gone through, and if they do, whether their story will even matter.
“Chalking campus felt like a cathartic and immediate way to channel some of the anger and sadness I’ve been feeling since Kavanaugh’s appointment in a constructive way” she said.
The purpose of the chalking was not only personal expression. Shomo also hoped to send a message to both survivors and assaulters on campus.
“There are people here who care about what survivors have been through and care about assaulters being held accountable for their actions — even if those actions took place in high school or college,” Shomo said.
Shomo described one moment of the chalking that was particularly rewarding. As she and her girlfriend were writing in front of Proctor, a student walked up to them and asked to borrow their chalk. The student scribed two powerful words: “Me Too.”
(10/11/18 9:59am)
The stage is set — or rather, it isn’t. The bare rug and single microphone frame a strikingly empty space. In the coming hours, this space will see death, love, fear, disappointment and a stoned man in the woods named Dave. This is Cocoon.
The show began with Sarah Asch ’19.5 and Elsa Rodriguez ’21 explaining the rules of this particular event, held Friday, Oct. 5 at the Mahaney Center for the Arts: storytellers have ten minutes to tell a story. And it must be true. Asch and Rodriguez, along with their co-organizers Adam Druckman ’19, John Schurer ’21, Zeinab Thiam ’21 and Mahaney Center Director Liza Sacheli, invited seven members of the greater Middlebury community, from students to a local farmer to a celebrity artist-in-residence and more, to speak to the night’s theme of “Origins.”
Asch and Rodriguez left the stage and so started the sometimes painful, sometimes joyous process of metamorphosing seven unknown faces into seven rich, disorienting, frightening, ecstatic narratives. That is to say, into seven very real lives.
Kyle Wright ’19.5 spoke of his starving, backcountry quest to grieve for his deceased younger brother. Jon Turner, of Wild Roots Farm, described his continual struggle with his father, exasperated by a long legacy of military involvement and his own experiences in the Gulf War. Maria Del Sol Nava ’18, now an admissions staff member, searched for her calling amid intense pressure to excel. Megan Job ’21 knew she could excel but struggled to maintain that conviction when her environment did not share it. Recent Middlebury retirees, Linda and Ira Schiffer, had to learn how to be parents while also being immigrants in Israel. François Clemmons, an artist-in-residence, sacrificed his love and sexuality for decades to protect “Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood,” weathering a family that rejected him and a failed marriage in the process.
Then, in the dark midst of these trials, there was a break in the clouds. Clemmons put on a wedding dress, raised a toast to himself, and shouted, “I’m finally the bride!” The Schiffer family returned from the Middle East, their children graduated (as Febs) and bravely traversed the world in two different circuses. Job burned the racism and discouragement she found as a freshman to fuel her powerful podcast “BLCKGRLMGC” (and she made the naysayers eat their words through her academic excellence). Del Sol Nava embraced the fire that her father and Rabbi Schiffer lit in her to continually pursue her passions. Turner left the army, fell in love, got married, started making peace with his now late father, and grew determined to give his kids the father he wished he’d had. Wright found that braving the elements in the woods could tell him how much he wanted a cheeseburger, but only coming home to his newborn sister would teach him how to boldly love despite a fear of loss.
In the end, we are our own stories. Struggles and victories define a person. Friday night, seven people — faces one might have seen on campus, driving down College Street, at Hannaford, or maybe never before — became real, four-dimensional people, struggling and rejoicing as much as anyone. It is rare to see another human, a stranger to most, in such completeness. The speakers at Cocoon communicated this completeness in only ten minutes. Ultimately, the event posed the question, “What is a life?” In doing so, the audience was led to ponder what events define their story and was reminded that everyone has just as complicated, messy and real a story as themselves. Life has no extras. These are, perhaps, points that ought to be posed more frequently, but at least one can thank Cocoon for making them in such an entertaining and emotional way as last Friday.
(10/11/18 9:59am)
ESME FAHNESTOCK
Before the Class of 2022 arrived on campus this year, they were sent and asked to read “The Origin of Others,” the latest work by Nobel Prize-winning writer Toni Morrison.
Having a common reading for all incoming students has been a facet of the first-year experience on and off since at least since 1961. That year, students were asked to read “Lord of the Flies” and a collection of essays entitled, “The World Crisis and American Responsibility.”
According to a short documentary from 1961 (you can find it on YouTube: “Vintage College Tour: The Story of Middlebury College”), a panel of faculty members would discuss the selection(s) in front of the first-year class and answer questions.
Luckily, that model was abandoned, replaced by intimate small group discussions often led by faculty members.
Not since 2015 has an incoming class been assigned reading.
The last book, “A Chant to Soothe Wild Elephants,” was a memoir by an alumnus detailing his journey from Middlebury College to ordained Buddhist monk.
While surely well-intentioned, the choice felt forced, as if the college were saying, “This is the kind of stuff Middlebury students should do after they graduate.” Many members of the Class of 2019 disliked the choice.
It is essential that the selected reading foster conversations and challenge students to think critically about new ideas in new ways. “A Chant to Soothe Wild Elephants” missed the mark.
“The Origin of Others,” on the other hand, was the perfect selection for the Middlebury of 2018. The book is Morrison’s reflection on her own life and work, and the themes that permeate both, including race, fear and “the desire for belonging.”
In other words, “The Origin of Others” deals with the very issues that we as an institution must continue to grapple with. Morrison’s work exemplified the community’s aspirational values of inclusivity, equity and social justice.
The choice also served as the foundation for the 2018 Clifford Symposium of the same name, which explored Morrison’s body of work and the overarching issue of racism in America.
The decision to connect the first-year reading with the symposium came after discussions between the symposium’s faculty organizers, Residential Commons Faculty Heads and the staff in charge of orientation. According to Larry Yarbrough, a professor of religion and one of the symposium organizers, all agreed that the book would serve as a significant step towards engaging first-years in pertinent issues.
In preparing to write this editorial, The Campus reached out to several first-year students and asked what they thought of the choice.
Many students appreciated receiving early exposure to rigorous discussions on difficult subject matter, the norm in college classrooms. Tying the book to the Clifford Symposium also lowered the barrier of entry into the potentially intimidating intellectual environment that a first-year may seek to avoid when choosing classes. Yarbrough said discussion leaders reported that a majority of incoming students were well-prepared for the conversations and most welcomed the opportunity to engage with the work.
Given the success of this year’s common reading, the administration should consider expanding the project to further incorporate the rest of the Middlebury community. Older students would benefit from having the option to participate, and it may help bridge divides between different class years.
In order to incentivize participation, the college might also consider including more than just books. Creating a shared experience worthy of academic discussion can also stem from listening to a thought-provoking podcast or watching a film.
No matter the form, the choice should center on the values and aspirations of the institution. This is what made “The Origin of Others” the perfect choice.
(10/11/18 9:57am)
MIDDLEBURY — Nestled between Otter Creek Bakery and Two Brothers Tavern, the Vermont Folklife Center occupies an ideal spot in downtown Middlebury to offer Vermont-focused exhibits to the public. Currently on display in the Vermont Folklife Center’s Vision and Voice Gallery is the “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” exhibit, a project that began four years ago as a way to showcase the local food movement in Vermont.
The “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” project presents the stories of organic, small-scale farmers in Rutland County. John Barstow, Development Director at the Vermont Folklife Center, explained that it was established in order to “try to get a handle on … the state of agriculture (‘ag’) in Vermont today,” with an emphasis on local farmers.
The project uncovered a system of farmers in Rutland County all connected to Greg Cox, a farmer well-versed in the ways of organic, small-scale farming. Cox “saw the need to help young people interested in ag get into farming,” Barstow said.
Cox rented land and machinery to new farmers and helped them learn more about sustainable agriculture in Vermont. Rather than resist competition at the Rutland farmers’ market, he offered the young farmers spots right next to him to sell their vegetables.
Cox spoke to the Vermont Folklife Center about those who doubted his ability to create a viable farm in Rutland. “We just didn’t argue the point. We said, ‘Well, we think we can.’ And with the folks in Rutland, we did it,” Cox said.
Perhaps due to the generosity and kind-heartedness of Greg Cox, a mentor for most of the farmers involved in the project, there was a common theme in the interviews that the Vermont Folklife Center conducted: they all strove to help others and protect the environment.
[pullquote speaker="ALISHA BRASWELL " photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]“I think people should keep farming ... it’s worth it.”[/pullquote]
Alisha Braswell, a relatively new farmer, expressed her doubts about the effectiveness of opposing the system of commercial farming around the world. “It’s such a big system to fight,” she said, “but I think people should keep farming and it’s worth it for sure.”
Another farmer, Ryan Yoder, emphasized the importance of local action to solve global issues. “If I actually want to make changes and see a better world, I have to do that myself,” he said.
Each of the farmers involved in the “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” project was part of an extensive process to capture true sentiments about the local food movement in Rutland County. The purpose of the Vermont Folklife Center, in the words of John Barstow, is to “help Vermonters understand each other better.” The Center accomplishes this goal through an ethnographic approach. Ethnography, Barstow describes, “is a method of understanding other people in their own words, their story, removing as much bias as possible.”
In their interviews with the Center, the farmers were able to individually express their commitment to improving their community through sustainable agriculture. The exhibit also includes an audio portion: the viewer can listen to clips of interviews with the farmers while perusing the gallery.
Student involvement presents a unique facet of the “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” project. The project organizers hired Macaulay Lerman, a student who participated in the Traditional Arts Apprenticeship program at the Vermont Folklife Center, as the photographer for the “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” exhibit. Lerman used the technique of long exposure and worked with his subjects to best capture their personalities. Barstow had high praise for Lerman and his photographing technique.
“He thinks a lot about how they’re posed. He collaborates with them,” Barstow said, “so even the photographs are an ethnographic sort of achievement.”
[pullquote speaker="JOHN BARSTOW" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]“The future of agriculture is a big burning question in Vermont.”[/pullquote]
The “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” project is one example of the work that the Vermont Folklife Center does to improve our community in Middlebury and in all of Vermont. “There are many ways in which our work heightens awareness and understanding of differences,” Barstow noted. “If they heighten understanding, it’s not a difference that separates it, it’s a difference that contributes to a greater, stronger community.”
The “Growing Food, Growing Farmers” exhibit is on display in the Vision and Voice Gallery in the Vermont Folklife Center until Jan. 4, 2019. After that, the Center is hoping to take the exhibit on tour around Vermont, starting in Rutland.
Barstow welcomes visits by Middlebury students to the Center, especially those students interested in Environmental and Food Studies. As Barstow explained, “the future of ag is a big burning question in Vermont.”
(10/11/18 9:57am)
Whenever I meet someone new in Chile, I am inevitably asked the question: Where are you from?
I usually explain that I was born and raised in the United States, but my parents are from India and that’s why I look the way I do. Most people, unable to accept that I can be both, will question me until I give up the American aspect of my identity. They reason that I don’t seem like the stereotypical gringa (a term that in most Latin American countries is a condescending way to refer to people from the United States) and therefore can’t possibly qualify as a true American. I used to push back, but after these past two weeks, I don’t mind that Chileans can’t see my hyphen-Americanness.
Right now, I don’t want to see it, either.
I am studying on a human rights track at Universidad Alberto Hurtado, a private institution nestled in Chile’s capital city, Santiago. The program consists of two courses at the university, an internship and an independent project. Now nearly halfway through my semester abroad, I can confidently say that I feel truly immersed in and aware of the social justice issues around me. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel like a hypocrite. As the days go by, I find it increasingly ironic that I flew to a whole other continent to study human rights when there are so many violations happening back home in the States, in my own backyard.
Living abroad has its benefits. I can choose to be actively invested in American political affairs or shut them out completely. On days when I am emotionally overwhelmed with Chilean issues — like the fact that there are still hundreds of untraceable desaparecidos (missing persons) from Pinochet’s brutal dictatorship, or the ways in which Haitian-Chilean immigrants quietly stomach daily acts of racism — I go for the latter, shutting out the news entirely. Ignoring news from home is definitely easier said than done, so I compromise with an artificial time cap: twenty minutes to catch up on the latest in U.S. news, not a second more.
But ever since Dr. Christine Blasey Ford came forward to publicly accuse now-Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh of sexually assaulting her, that compromise went right out the window. For two weeks, my eyes were glued to my phone screen, obsessively refreshing news outlets for the latest on Judge Kavanaugh’s confirmation process. I read about Deborah Ramirez and then of Julie Swetnick, by which point I could not focus on much else. It was terrible timing — I was in the middle of an exam period, and had to submit three papers by the end of the week.
My host mother could tell something was off about me, so she timidly broached the topic one night as we were tomando once, or having the Chilean version of tea time. I tried my hardest to explain, but I found myself fumbling for words. I hadn’t been taught the words for sexual assault in my Spanish classes.
On Thursday, Sept. 23, the day of the Senate hearings, two of my close friends and I decided to camp out in a cafe, determined to finish our papers for a history class we shared. Instead, we completely broke the language pledge and started ranting to each other about everything that was going on, finally letting out days of pent-up emotions. It is hard enough to be abroad and immersed in a completely different culture — to be around people completely unaware of something that means the world to you is crippling. After a while of impassioned discussion, we tried to go back to writing, but ended up livestreaming the entirety of the Senate hearings. No papers were written that night.
The next day as I was taking the metro back home from university, I came across the video of Ana Maria Archila and Maria Gallagher confronting Arizona Republican Senator Jeff Flake in an elevator. Hearing them speak was immensely validating and exactly what I needed to hear, especially as someone that has also survived sexual violence. Against my best wishes, I began to cry uncontrollably in the train, drawing confused stares from the Chileans around me. An elderly woman tenderly tapped my shoulder on her way out of the train. Todo estará bien, she said. Everything will be alright.
She has a point. Yes, Brett Kavanaugh was officially confirmed to the Supreme Court this past Saturday. And yes, this is one more reason for me to be ashamed of the United States. But these past two weeks have also proven to us the overwhelming solidarity that exists among our communities.
There is power in our voices — and boy, are we screaming.
(10/11/18 9:55am)
This weekend, the Middlebury campus was graced by the iconic combination of Fred Rogers and François Clemmons, a duo that educated an entire generation of children. The Hirschfield International Film Series brought Academy Award winning director Morgan Neville’s Fred Rogers biopic, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor” to Middlebury, along with a special Q&A with former actor and Middlebury teacher François Clemmons. In this documentary, Neville pairs together first hand anecdotes from those closest to Rogers with behind the scenes footage of “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood,” the television show that helped Rogers become a household name.
Throughout his career, Fred Rogers spread messages of love, compassion and understanding to America’s children. He fought for what he believed in withsong rather than violence In one instance, which the film touches upon, Rogers goes before the U.S. Senate to testify on behalf of public broadcasting, in order to secure the $20 million that President Richard Nixon sought to reallocate. In what seemed a losing battle, Rogers simply sat in front of the microphone and spoke the words of one of his songs on control and anger. After he was finished, Senator John Pastore defied expectation and said, “I think it’s wonderful. Looks like you just earned the $20 million.” This was the power of Rogers that often went overlooked. He inhabited a soft-spoken courage that allowed him to turn a low-budget children’s program into a national phenomenon that taught children how to handle the complex emotions of life.
It is no accident that “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” stayed on air for 33 years and aired over 900 episodes. Rogers’ genius came from his remarkable and revolutionary understanding of children. Being an overweight child in his adolescence, Rogers was no stranger to bullying and strove to provide children with the much needed support and compassion that he lacked during his early years. Through the combination of his kind smile and the array of puppets he portrayed, Rogers was able to strike at the heart of his audience, tacking problems as simple as being angry, to as complex and difficult as the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. Children’s emotions are just as complex as those of adults; they just need someone like Mister Rogers to tell them that it is normal to feel the way they do and that there are ways to deal with their issues. The film encapsulates these ideals perfectly, capturing the true genius of Rogers and allowing the audience to understand fully how revolutionary a thinker he was.
In my opinion this film is one of the best of the year. It is a must-see for those who tuned into “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood” as a child as well as for those who didn’t. This film allows the audience to step inside the world Rogers created, a world birthed from a combination of Rogers’ mind and reality. This film encapsulates the emotional capacity of Rogers and reaches its hand out from the screen and touches its audience’s heart. Everyone can appreciate this film, and I think that it should be mandatory viewing. As Rogers remarks, everyone needs to hear that they are special, that they are perfect just for existing and don’t ever need to change. Some may think that this created an entitled generation, but that is just a misuse of Rogers’ philosophy. To truly understand this film is to love yourself and your neighbor, equally.
After the film was over, François Clemmons got up from his seat in the theater and walked onto the stage, opening the forum for questions from the audience. What resonated throughout his speaking was the fact that Rogers completely embodied the kind generous spirit that characterized his show. Clemmons spoke of how, even though Rogers would begin each episode by changing into the iconic sweater and lacing up his sneakers, he never had to change to become ‘Mister Rogers’ — he acted as he lived. Rogers became the paternal figure Clemmons had lacked in his life and never failed to be there for him. When Clemmons was sick, Roger would show up at his door. When Clemmons would sing, Rogers would sit in the front row to listen. This unending, unconditional love permeated Rogers’ life and also helped Clemmons become who he is today.
Though Rogers died in 2003, his kind spirit and generous soul can never be stopped. During his time at Middlebury, Clemmons sought to create a community in the vision of Rogers. At Thanksgiving, Clemmons would not only host a dinner for the students who couldn’t return home, he would host a dinner on Friday,Saturday and Sunday, and when it was time to leave, he would ensure that each student left with a bag full of leftovers. After the tragedy of September 11, Clemmons found himself standing on Battell Beach, singing. Clemmons had lived in New York for over 25 years, and the events had shaken him to his core. Though he started singing alone, Clemmons soon found himself surrounded by his fellow Middlebury community members, all singing and partaking in mourning. This is the kind of community that Rogers and Clemmons want, a community that shares in happiness and sorrow. A community built on the pillars of fellowship and kindness.
The film remarked on Rogers’s fondness of silence, and, as Rogers would do in every one of his speeches, allowed its interviewees as well as the audience to sit in pure silence for a full minute. Thus we sat, in a crowded room on a Saturday evening, surrounded by our parents and our brothers and our sisters. Mr. Rogers asked us to remember those whom we have loved and this who have loved us. As I sat there next to my mother, I couldn’t help but shed a tear, reminiscing on the people I had to leave behind on my journey to Middlebury, the people who showed me unconditional support and affection throughout my life, the people who guided me and protected me. This film has the power to do that, the power to make you remember what is essential in life, or more specifically who is essential in life.
(10/11/18 9:54am)
MAGNOLIA PICTURES
We are in another age of heroism. With every great struggle of each national and international drama, protest, activists and general outcry fill the air. Hope for a better future may seem, at times, in short supply, but the general rage at the current state of affairs is a reminder that people care and are actively working to fight for any and every small improvement. The #MeToo movement, to take one example, is surely a leaf on the same tree as the anti-war and the civil rights movements of earlier times. It is not unreasonable to wonder who will become the next Martin Luther King Jr. or Mahatma Gandhi.
In many ways, it will not be Fred Rogers. Rogers was not the man leading protests. He was not in the streets with angry signs. He did not use his celebrity status as a jumping board for political activism. His big political moment was when he won funding for PBS, not by yelling or politicking, but by reciting a children’s song about restraining one’s anger. Rogers was a wealthy, white Christian who grew up to be the soft-spoken, cardigan-wearing host of a children’s show. One director described his show as the opposite of everything that marks good television. Yet he was the subject of last Saturday’s film of the Hirschfield International Film Series, which attracted what many called the largest crowd seen at a such an event. There were tears in routinely dry eyes. At the film’s conclusion, François Clemmons, who portrayed Officer Clemmons on the program and was a friend of Rogers’ and of Middlebury, said through tears, “I have never before been speechless.”
What did Fred Rogers ever do to earn such reverence? His show was, admittedly, unique in many regards. Yet this reverence transcends artistic independence. Rogers did something truly revolutionary. Rogers told children that, no matter who they are, they deserve to be loved. And he believed it.
That message lost no power as it traveled through half a century and a black and white projection to the audience in the Dana Auditorium. One has to wonder if the overwhelming emotion the audience felt was for Rogers or for themselves, having been told for the first time in who-knows-how-long that they are unique, special, lovable and loved. It makes one wonder what sort of world we would live in if everyone was reminded of that fact more often. That is precisely what Mr. Rogers was doing.
Can it really be that simple? It’s one thing to say you love someone, even if you say it slowly with some emotion and conviction behind it. But could that actually have such an effect on people? On grown adults as well as children? They should know that they’re loved without needing constant reminders, right? The Hirschfield event showed the powerful necessity of those three words. (Fun fact: Fred Rogers weighed exactly 143 pounds for years, which to him represented the number of letters in each word of “I love you.”). Not only was Dana Auditorium packed at 3 p.m. on a Saturday during the event-filled Fall Family Weekend, but there was a noticeable energy buzzing silently through the theatre during Clemmons’ Q&A. This was not a film that people enjoyed so much as one they didn’t know that they needed.
There is no doubt that the world needs, now as much as ever, those dynamic, exuberant social figures and forces such as Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr. and #MeToo, but perhaps we should also remember the unimaginable power of simply loving each other. If we start with love, and end with love, maybe we can bring people that much closer together. Could there be a bigger need to bring people together than now when our campus and our country is often diametrically divided? It’s as simple as saying, “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?”
(10/04/18 10:00am)
Their slogans are catchy, jeans are bleached and their health is progressively deteriorating. Robin Campillo’s award-winning 2017 movie “Beats Per Minute” (“120 Battements Par Minute”) follows the Parisian activist group Act Up in their battle against HIV/AIDS in the 1990s. The screening was co-sponsored by the French department as part of the Hirschfield International Series.
The story begins following activist Sean Dalamazo’s (Nahuel Pérez Biscayart) difficult personal struggle with the disease as he falls in love with new member Nathan (Arnaud Valois).
We are introduced to Act Up at their weekly meeting in a lecture hall and are accompanied by Fabien’s (Jean-François Auguste) forceful words of advice: regardless of your true status, as an activist you have to now get used to being seen as HIV-positive. What follows is a series of awkward protest scenes, bass-driven parties with bizarre biological animations and a lot of medical jargon. Though somewhat quirky, Campillo’s portrayal of Act Up is oddly refreshing: it is not a dumbed-down, sanitized and perfumed version of social movements. Instead we are allowed to experience the group and their messiness in first person.
Despite taking place almost three decades ago, the events of the film feel contemporary. Were it not for Thibault’s (Antoine Reinartz) Gameboy in the hospital and the lack of laptops in the meeting room, the film could easily be set in 2018. The group’s passionate discussions about the inclusion of marginalized groups in their work and their constant struggle with corporate representatives bear a striking resemblance to issues which continue to color social activism as we know it today. As the group storms a high school to distribute condoms and flyers, the headmaster exhibits the same conservative attitude towards students’ sexuality which we still see in American sexual education today. Whether that says something about the stagnancy of Western social development can be debated.
Yet “BPM” is not all protest and debate. Judging by the number of people who were shrinking in their seats, the film’s boldest moments are found in its sex scenes. Biscayart and Valois’ captivating chemistry gets to shine as the camera appears to glide over their skin. With every vertebra and skin crease on display, the audience almost feels like an intruder. As Sean reluctantly tells Nathan about an affair with a teacher that led to his infection and the lesions on his skin, the heaviness of the atmosphere in the auditorium was palpable.
The film also proves its relevance to current debates by showing physical intimacy in a rather progressive way: sex in “BPM” is communicative and light-hearted throughout, all while never losing its spark. Plus: points for the consistent emphasis on protection — just please do not rip condoms open with your teeth like Sean does.
Although the stories presented by individual characters are generally insightful and well-developed, supporters of the Bechdel test may find themselves getting frustrated.
In its treatment of gay and lesbian women as accessories, “BPM” reflects the tendency of queer popular culture to pay disproportionate amounts of attention to gay men. Campillo feels entitled to throw around the derogatory word “dyke” for its shock factor yet gives little to no space for the development of female characters with strong presences like Sophie (Adèle Haenel), Eva (Aloïse Sauvage) and Hélène (Catherine Vinatier). While even characters with significantly less screen time, such as Germain (Médhi Touré) and Markus (Simon Guélat), get to vocalize their personal experiences with HIV, we are left to speculate what might have led the women to Act Up.
As the majority of the film is spent closely following Sean and Nathan’s relationship, some may say that this observation is irrelevant. Yet such a view fundamentally misunderstands the film’s function. “BPM” is at its core a political film and thus deserves to be discussed in political terms. Hence, its downfalls in creating an accurate portrayal are important: the HIV/AIDS epidemic may have primarily affected men, yet women certainly were (and are) not immune to it. In its current form, “BPM” remains complicit in reproducing misconceptions about the insignificance of women in the movement against HIV. Even a slight expansion of this angle could have given the film a dimension which few have explored.
As I walked out of the Dana Auditorium amidst viewers who, like me, tried hard to rub the marks of the film’s last half hour off their eyes, I found myself hyper-aware of my surroundings. Arnaud Rebotini’s soundscape and Campillo’s intricate cinematography force your mind to recalibrate.
Sean may have been joking as he described the vividness which his HIV-status added to his life, but to the viewer that illusion is very much present. In its essence, “BPM” is what one would want a film about a personal struggle like AIDS to be. It is tender, it is unapologetic, it is raw and most definitely worth your time.
(10/04/18 10:00am)
As Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testified against Supreme Court Nominee Brett Kavanaugh early Thursday afternoon, dozens of students, professors and Middlebury residents gathered across the street from Shafer’s Market as part of a cross-country display of support for the California professor.
The demonstrators congregated around noon, many of them carrying signs bearing the hashtag #BelieveChristine and the words “I Believe” — slogans of a protest movement organized by and for survivors of sexual assault that took hold across the nation in the days leading up to Ford’s testimony.
“It felt like a really important moment of solidarity,” said Sophie Taylor ’20, who participated in the demonstration. “If just one of the women who shared their experience with sexual assault got something out of being able to share it in a space that they felt safe, then I think it was really successful.”
College professors Tara Affolter, Laurie Essig and Marion Wells organized the demonstration through the Women’s March online forum, which people across the country used to plan similar events.
Affolter and Essig gave opening statements as demonstrators gathered and invited survivors of sexual assault to share their experiences. After two women had told their stories, the demonstrators walked to the roundabout in the downtown where they joined others across the country in a minute of silence at 12:30 p.m.
Thursday’s demonstrations were the culmination of weeks of national anticipation that led up to Thursday’s hearings.
[gallery ids="40213,40215,40216,40217"]
Ford said on Sept. 16 that she would testify publicly to the Senate Judiciary Committee about the sexual assault she alleged Kavanaugh committed against her at a high school house party in Maryland in 1982.
Then on Sept. 23, The New Yorker broke the story of Deborah Ramirez, who accused Kavanaugh of assaulting her when they were students at Yale. Conversations about male privilege, drinking culture on college campuses and systemic challenges faced by accusers in Ford’s position dominated national news cycles approaching Thursday morning.
At the Middlebury demonstration, the emotion that drove people across the country to demonstrate was palpable.
“The pain that so many people are feeling in this moment is two-fold….[we are experiencing this] as survivors of sexual assault but also as [people] living in a state where our bodily integrity is not of the state’s concern,” Essig said. “Hopefully these gatherings around the country reminded survivors and women that we do matter even when that is not recognized by our representatives.”
Others said that raw frustration with a political establishment that seems to be overlooking Kavanaugh’s past drove them to join the demonstration.
“The absurdity of this spectacle that we’re seeing is the first thing that brought me out here today,” Affolter said. “The notion that someone is entitled to one of the highest positions of power in our country, and the idea that what that person has done in the past doesn’t matter, that’s absurd.”
Conversations also turned towards parallels between the party culture described from Kavanaugh’s high school and college years, and student life at Middlebury today. Though close to 30 years have elapsed since the incident Ford described last Thursday, Middlebury’s community can still learn from those parallels, Affolter said.
“In so many cases these accusations are explained away as if ‘that was college and I was drunk and I was young,’” Affolter said. “I think that institutions like Middlebury or any undergraduate institution really have to ask ourselves, how are we preparing and supporting young people to be responsible for their actions?”
Most of the demonstrators who gathered Thursday were college students, but town residents joined the event as well. Community members have joined forces with college protesters in the past, like in March when hundreds of Middlebury Union High School students joined college students and professors in a walkout for increased gun control after the Parkland shooting.
[pullquote speaker="Sophie Taylor ’20" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]I think that the power in numbers and silent support and connection with one another was palpable.[/pullquote]
According to Affolter, it was important to her and the other organizers that Thursday’s demonstration be accessible to the town as well as the college community.
Joanna Colwell, owner of Middlebury’s Otter Creek Yoga Studio, helped the professors spread word of the demonstration around town.
“I just really love it when we get town people and campus people together during moments like these,” Colwell said. “I don’t think it happens enough and I’d like to see it happen more.”
Though Essig posted the event to the Women’s March action forum on Tuesday, just two days before the demonstration, the crowd that gathered Thursday was substantial. Thursday’s event didn’t attract the same level of student attention as past protests like the Parkland walkout did, those who went were struck by the intensity of the connection with fellow protesters that they felt during the demonstration.
“I really liked the minute of silence,” Taylor said. “I think that the power in numbers and silent support and connection with one another was palpable.”
(10/04/18 10:00am)
MIDDLEBURY — Middlebury resident Amy McAninch hopes town legislature will soon pass a bill that would prohibit local retailers from providing customers with single-use plastic bags at checkout. With the help of roughly a dozen volunteers, McAninch has successfully completed a town petition as of September, bringing her proposal one step closer to being voted on in Middlebury’s annual town meeting in March of next year.
The initiative began last spring, when McAninch realized other New England towns were passing similar bans on plastic products, specifically plastic grocery bags. She described the somewhat epiphanic moment she experienced after reading a letter to the editor in a local paper on the subject.
“What’s the matter with Vermont? We should be doing this,” McAninch said.
Soon after McAninch started organizing the petition, Amelia Miller, now a junior at Middlebury College studying environmental science, stumbled into McAninch’s project through a research assignment in her Environmental Policy class.
She said the initiative was right up her alley. “My parents hate shopping with me, because I refuse to use plastic bags,” Miller said. “I will carry things out with my hands.”
Miller was able to connect with McAninch through her professor, and things just felt right after that, Miller said. The two began working in tandem to formulate a town petition and spread word of their efforts. Their specific request? To halt retailers in town from providing bags with a thickness of less than four mils, or .0004 inches. Typical single-use plastic bags are one to two mils thick.
“Four mils is the difference between single-use plastic and reusable bags,” Miller said. Miller and McAninch hope that with a thickness minimum at four mils, any plastic bags that retailers can supply will be too expensive to be single-use, and will incentivize customers to use their own reusable bags. However, the ruling would not inhibit retailers from providing plastic packaging as part of a product, nor the sale of plastic bags and other plastic products. Although the ban would only knock out a specific moment in which one type of plastic product is used, McAninch and Miller believe a plastic ban of any magnitude could have larger implications.
“The goal is not to solve the plastic problem. Everything is plastic. We live in a plastic world,” Miller said. “The ban will create a conversation about how plastic is used in all aspects of our lives.”
Maggie Eaton, a volunteer for the initiative, agreed that this project is about “protecting downstream damage that these bags do.” She decided to volunteer her time for the proposal because of how much she sees the effects of plastic-product waste daily, even in Vermont.
For McAninch, a ban of this scope would show our plastic-product dependency. “There’s no doubt it’s convenient. It’s too convenient,” she said. “It takes effort to wean yourself off.”
Since their initial introduction last spring, McAninch and Miller have collected signatures from over 5 percent of town voters, the amount needed in order to receive a spot on the town ballot. To collect signatures, McAninch and Miller’s strategy involves standing outside the Middlebury Foods Co-op on Washington Street, attending public town events and holding a booth at the Middlebury Farmers’ Market on Saturday mornings.
McAninch said the reception has been quite positive, and estimated that 85-90 percent of all Middlebury residents she asked have signed the petition. She guessed that she currently has over 300 signatures. Eaton said the next step is contacting merchants and letting them know there is a possibility of a plastic ban in an act of “preparation.”
Middlebury is now added to the list of Vermont towns where residents have or are attempting to ban single-use plastic bags from retail locations. This list includes Brattleboro, the first Vermont town to enforce a similar ban on plastic bags, which went into effect this July. McAninch hopes that with more towns banning these bags, it will put an impetus on Montpelier to pass legislation. Pertinent bills addressing plastic usage have been floating around the Vermont State House for a few years now.
As for herself, McAninch will keep collecting signatures until her petition is filed, and is looking toward March 2019, when the proposal has a chance to be voted on by residents.
“I just feel outraged — we’re just drowning in this,” she said. “It seems to me there just has to be some quantum leap in our conscience about what we’re doing to the Earth.”
(10/04/18 10:00am)
“these are not men who are scared in the way that we are scared”
By CHARLOTTE FRANKEL
When I came up with the idea for this column, my hope was to create a space for rather banal silliness to exist outside of the relative garbage can fire that is today’s political climate. I still hold true to this intention and will continue to hold fast to this mission in the coming weeks. However, I have also been gifted with a platform, and I would be remiss if I didn’t use it this week to write on the Brett Kavanaugh hearings and the subsequent responses I’ve seen from the media to friends’ deeply personal reflections.
I am a woman. I know, big shocker! Alert the presses (which I am doing right now!) Anything I write here about watching Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testify in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee has probably already been said or written by the various women in your lives. The lack of originality in what I’m about to say shouldn’t make you feel anything other than angry and sad. To watch Dr. Ford testify about her experiences of assault and have her testimony essentially summarily dismissed in favor of political gain was more than disheartening. It was heartbreaking.
To be frank, I didn’t expect to have such an emotionally visceral reaction to the hearing. The end result was exactly what I had expected. I had prepared myself for the outcome. But to actually see Dr. Ford sit in front of those men and watch them disregard her account of her assault broke me. Furthermore, it forced me to once again consider the ways in which I, a woman, and others like me, have been taught to accept some behavior from men as normal, or just par for the course of existing in the world as a woman. This was further cemented by the numerous posts on Facebook by my female friends reacting to the decision by the Committee and Dr. Ford’s testimony, recounting their own stories of abuse.
[pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]There was nothing funny about the complete lack of care expressed by some members of the Senate Judiciary Committee to her testimony.[/pullquote]
I am a woman, and I have been followed for blocks by a man on a bicycle in New York City. I have been asked lewd questions by multiple male taxi drivers, forcing me to throw whatever cash I had at them and run out of the car at a stop, praying they wouldn’t follow me in anger. I have been followed down Main Street in Middlebury by a man who continually confronted me and a friend for some perceived slight. When I was 16, a drunk boy walked up to me at a party and took his time clawing his hand across my chest. No words were exchanged. He walked away as if nothing had happened.
Each of these stories I have told and retold; I don’t think I have ever once told them seriously. This is to say, I treated them all as a joke. These things happen every day to women just like me, so why should I consider my experiences anything special? It was funny. It was funny that some man with control of the locks on the car thought it was appropriate to ask me whether or not I had a boyfriend and what his penis looked like. It was funny that this strange boy thought it was OK to touch me in a possessive, frightening way without my consent. And it was so funny that every woman I told the story to could relate in some way. We’d all laugh and move on with our lives in the shadows of these ‘everyday assaults.’
I usually think that almost anything can be made funny. After all, as the classic formula states, tragedy + time = comedy. There was nothing funny about Dr. Ford’s testimony. There was nothing funny about the complete lack of care expressed by some members of the Senate Judiciary Committee to her testimony. And I can’t help but feel that there was really nothing funny about Judge Kavanaugh’s testimony as well, which was mined for jokes by every late night talk show out there.
[pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]I’m angry that I was in no way surprised by this.[/pullquote]
Humor is often used as a coping mechanism. But as I looked at the men who dominate late night give monologues about Judge Kavanaugh’s overuse of the word “beer,” his almost-crazed demeanor and his detailed calendars, I couldn’t help but think that these are not men who are scared in the way that we are scared. This is not to say that they are not empathetic or understanding of what Dr. Ford and many women have gone through. This is to say that they are limited in what they can joke about, and we are forced to hear the same recycled lines over and over again, because, where are we?
Shows like The Rundown with Robin Thede and The Break with Michelle Wolf, both showcases for female comedians of color, have been cancelled by their respective networks/streaming services. The only female late night talk show host currently on air is Samantha Bee, whose show has a shorter runtime than her compatriots. Seth Meyers often allows his female writers (of whom Wolf was one) tell jokes that he “can’t” tell, which is a step, but there is a complete lack of visibility when it comes to women in late night, where many of my friends actually gather their news from.
I guess I’m just angry. I’m angry that Dr. Ford’s testimony wasn’t enough to convince some senators to cross party lines and delay the nomination process, and I’m angry that I was in no way surprised by this. I’m angry that it feels like women are constantly shut down for telling their stories. This is not a commentary at all on the merits of these late night talk show hosts or their humor. Rather it is a statement of anger against women being systematically denied a platform to tell these kinds of jokes and cope with abuses of power through humor.
Well, that’s all for now. Tune in next week when I genuinely will get smushed between the stacks in the bowels of the Davis “FAMILY” Library (I still have yet to see a ‘family’ studying together).
“they waited until she was gone to open their mouths”
By LUCY GRINDON
In 1982, Brett Kavanaugh sexually assaulted Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I believe it, and if you watched her testify last Thursday before the Senate Judiciary Committee, it’s difficult for me to imagine you don’t believe it too.
Her voice sometimes shook, often she held back tears, but the truth of her words was as clear as water. So many women have opened up and written about their long-hidden traumas over the course of the #MeToo movement; watching Dr. Ford recount her assault in her own voice, in real time, she seemed to be the ultimate embodiment of this era.
I wonder if any Republican senators could have been moved had they actually spoken with her. Instead, they waited until she was gone to open their mouths. They claimed to have hired outside prosecutor Rachel Mitchell to question Dr. Ford because they wanted the hearing to be coherent and methodical. Of course, we know the real reason — they wanted to avoid looking aggressive and disrespectful towards women before the upcoming midterm elections. The most depressing and grave reality, however, is not their implied inability to treat a woman with respect, but their collective refusal to engage with anyone who might disrupt their view of Brett Kavanaugh as a victim.
Many men in our society, including some of the affluent, white, educated men who occupy government positions, can’t seem to imagine any greater suffering than to be denied something they see as rightfully theirs, whether it’s sex, a gun, or a seat on the Supreme Court. Our culture of entitlement can turn male-female friendships into the “friend zone,” young men into violent “incels,” and freedom of speech into a prerogative to spread racism, sexism, or incitements to violence without facing opposition or criticism.
The stories of those who have suffered at the hands of entitled men are the strongest challenge to the dangerous idea that men who don’t get what they want are victims. Dr. Ford told powerful men how one of their own had hurt her, and the only way they could reassert Kavanaugh’s victimhood was by undermining her legitimacy as a witness.
During the latter half of the hearings, South Carolina Senator Lindsey Graham did not question Dr. Ford’s honesty or the strength of her memory. Instead, he tried to delegitimize her by casting her as nothing more than a political tool. In a furious tirade accusing senate Democrats of power-hungry political maneuverings, he said to Kavanaugh, “She’s as much of a victim [of the Democrats] as you are.”
Dr. Ford has certainly suffered. She has sacrificed her anonymity, her privacy and even her family’s safety. But she was no one’s victim in that hearing room. Everything she has said and done over the past several weeks has been her choice. “I am a fiercely independent person. I am no one’s pawn,” she declared in her opening testimony.
Brett Kavanaugh already made Dr. Ford into a victim once, when she was 15. Graham’s effort to re-victimize her in the eyes of the country was a despicable attack on her personal agency and a denial of her heroism.
Despite intense fear, she stood up for the sake of truth, justice and duty, inspiring more people to come forward and hold sexual abusers accountable. Perhaps equally heroic was the way her testimony exposed the fraudulence of privileged men’s victimization masks — the ones they accessorize with dramatic pauses and tears and indignant shouting.
On Friday, Ana Maria Archila and Maria Gallagher, two survivors of sexual abuse, confronted Arizona Senator Jeff Flake with their pain in an elevator. “Don’t look away from me,” Gallagher demanded as she spoke. Injustice, abuse, and exploitation are too common, and one person’s emotional trauma is not more significant than anyone else’s, but U.S. senators and men who are nominated to the Supreme Court are not typically the world’s great sufferers. When people in positions of power and privilege are faced with that truth, they must not be allowed to turn away.
“Dr. Ford made those watching her want to be better people,
to emulate her bravery”
By MATT SMITH
Last Thursday, Dr. Christine Blasey Ford sat in front of some of the most powerful people in our country — the Senate Judiciary Committee — and she spoke her truth plainly.
She was honest when she could not remember something; she was “terrified” to be there and yet she felt it was her “civic duty” to testify. She spoke with such honesty and eloquence that it was hard to watch at times. Quite simply, Dr. Ford made those watching her want to be better people, to emulate her bravery.
This, contrasted with Judge Brett Kavanaugh’s visceral anger and belligerence in his opening statement and in his answers to the Democratic members of the committee, displays the ridiculous double-standards that were evident in Thursday’s hearing.
Speaking first, Dr. Ford was questioned by the Republican majority’s prosecutor (hired so they wouldn’t accidentally say something misogynistic) and by Democrats about the specifics of her story and the strongest memories of the night.
She did her best to answer every question directly and honestly, admitting when there were lapses in her memory. Conversely, Judge Kavanaugh spent his time denouncing the hearing as “revenge on behalf of the Clintons” and avoided answering nearly every question posed to him.
The Republican majority, after a tirade by Senator Lindsey Graham, a Republican from South Carolina, spent their time attacking both the Democrats on the committee and the hearing itself as being unjust.
Indeed, what they thought was unjust was the “good man” being made to go through the “most unethical sham in politics.”
[pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]Our Senate now lives by an "eye for an eye" doctrine.[/pullquote]
Imagine for a moment that Dr. Ford yelled at the committee members (which her emotions must have compelled her to do) and Judge Kavanaugh had stayed quiet, calm, and tried to be as helpful and honest as possible, in keeping with the behavior of a Supreme Court justice. There would be no question of his confirmation.
And so, I watched a hearing that started as a profound moment for the #MeToo movement disintegrate into a bitter partisan fight, led by an all-male group of senators. While criticizing the Democrats for not joining their investigations, they refused to call further witnesses, subpoena documents, or ask for further FBI investigation.
And yet while Republicans repeatedly avoided doing their job Thursday, it’s hard not to acknowledge that both parties have larger motives: Democrats want to delay until the midterms, Republicans want to push this nominee through as quickly as possible.
Our Senate now lives by an “eye for an eye” doctrine. Republicans filibuster President Barack Obama’s Federal Court nominees, so now-retired Senator Harry Reid reduces the vote requirement to confirm those nominees.
Then Republicans refuse to speak to former Supreme Court nominee Merrick Garland, so Democrats withhold Dr. Ford’s letter until the last moment to try and derail a nominee.
And now Republicans refuse Dr. Ford and the other accusers a proper investigation, and so the cycle continues. At what point do we say, “Enough. What’s right is right”? [pullquote speaker="" photo="" align="center" background="on" border="all" shadow="on"]We have a responsibility to do more than hope.[/pullquote]
Even the successful and admirable attempts of Senator Jeff Flake, a Republican from Arizona, to have the FBI investigate have been constrained by an arbitrary one-week time limit and a narrow scope. Doesn’t Dr. Ford deserve more than that? Don’t we deserve more than that?
In just the past few days, three women whom I am close to have spoken for the first time about assaults in their pasts. They volunteered their stories when asked about their opinion on Judge Kavanaugh’s confirmation.
One said this: “the person who assaulted me would not remember my name or what happened – it meant nothing to him and forever changed me.”
Judge Kavanaugh has issued a categorical denial of all accusations directed at him of ever being blackout drunk, all the while admitting that there were times when he “drank too much.”
I ask then, is it not possible that Judge Kavanaugh did not remember this event because it meant nothing to him, because he was drunk at the time? Is it not possible that “it meant nothing to him and forever changed” her? In light of Dr. Ford’s extremely compelling testimony, that seems the most likely outcome.
We can hope that this week’s FBI investigation will shed more light on the allegations, we can hope that a man who has caused lifelong suffering will never sit in judgement of others.
Yet, we have a responsibility to do more than hope; we have a responsibility to vote for candidates who will believe and respect survivors. We deserve senators who won’t congratulate themselves on giving Dr. Ford a fair hearing and call her testimony “the most unethical sham in politics” not an hour later.
It is very, very easy to fall into a partisan vortex. It’s easy to fight with each other until we forget how much we have in common. Yet we all deserve a Supreme Court, conservative or liberal, that has members of sound moral integrity, who have led lives of virtue.
Can we not, at this moment in history, say to each other simply “What’s right is right, and we all deserve better than this?”
“why am I even here?”
By SOPHIE CLARK
On Friday I had a fully-fledged, borderline comical, breakdown. Swollen red face, giant tears, the whole deal.
All over a Supreme Court nominee.
Because it was not just a nomination process. It was a blatant, full bodied, laugh in the face to any woman who is trying to accomplish anything in her life. Dr. Christine Blasey Ford is everything Trump’s America could possibly want in a woman. From the outside, she is white, upper-middle class, non-threateningly middle-aged. From the inside, she has worked her entire life to receive an education, to earn a PhD and to become a professor.
And she wasn’t believed.
She wasn’t taken seriously. What does that mean for the rest of us? I went through the rest of that day feeling like a zombie. Passing from class to class questioning at every moment, “Why am I even here?”
Twenty-seven years ago, Anita Hill was hauled up in front of the same panel and treated with the utmost disrespect for all of the world to see. Treated so disturbingly in fact that it inspired a new generation of female candidates to run for office — to change things. It’s been 27 years, however, and what has changed? Why should we even bother?
To me, this hearing screamed: what is the point of getting a Middlebury education when in the eyes of this country, no matter what I do, I will never be enough?
I’m lucky my attacker is not a particularly ambitious guy, but many attackers are. And in twenty years when those men are up for promotions that they are seen as “entitled” to, will their victims be taken seriously? Will anything change?
Other generations are quick to criticize millennials for being overly emotional, too attached to issues — but this is not just an emotional response to the pain of survivors (although I am perfectly entitled to that). This is an objective understanding that those in power shunt half of its population to the side with ease. So why should we bother? Why should we contribute? Why should we get educated, or speak up?
What pushed me out of this rut was the enormous strength I witnessed in other people. I saw the two women who confronted Arizona Senator Jeff Flake bare everything I was feeling and too scared to show to the world. I saw my own peers grapple with their pasts and chose to fight back against what I chose to bury. It gave me hope that there is still a force for change, that women are told “No” time and time again and that we are not giving in until we are given a chance to speak up and be listened to.
Emotional responses matter. Feeling utterly despondent and alone matters. Because I will never forget feeling that way and will forever look for ways to stop it from ever happening again.
(10/04/18 9:55am)
As students experience the seasonal and academic transformations this time of year brings, this Friday’s storytelling event, Cocoon, will offer even more opportunity for metamorphosis.
The sixth-annual live performance event will feature six storytellers speaking to the theme of “Origins” on Friday, Oct. 5 at 8:00 p.m. in Robison Hall at the Mahaney Center for the Arts (MCA). The community-wide event is organized in conjunction with the MCA and the Middlebury Moth-Up, a student storytelling organization. Guitarist and MCA Technical Director Mark Christensen will provide musical interludes, and a reception will follow the event.
Cocoon will present a diverse cast of storytellers. Two students, Megan Job ’21 and Kyle Wright ’19.5, were selected to speak, along with alumna and admissions staffer Maria Del Sol Nava ’18 and community member Jon Turner of Wild Roots Farm. Recent Middlebury retirees Linda and Ira Schiffer will also present a joint story. Also telling his story will be François Clemmons, a lauded actor, singer and writer best known for playing Officer Clemmons on the TV series, “Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.”
“We’re trying to engage the community in as broad a way as possible,” said Liza Sacheli, a staff organizer and the director of the MCA. “This event succeeds because we have a really interesting group of storytellers every year. We try to balance some students, some alumni, some faculty/staff, some community members, so there is really a diversity of voices, and hopefully that relates to a diversity of audience members as well.”
In the past, Moth-Up and Cocoon events have had a variety of themes ranging from “Blood” to “Arrival.” Although the storytellers might interpret the theme very differently, the theme serves as a common thread, linking the collection of stories together to some degree.
“The theme ‘origins’ asks our storytellers, and to an extent our audience, to think about deep and personal questions,” said Sarah Asch ’19.5, president of the Middlebury Moth-Up and co-organizer.
“Where do I come from? What do I represent? Who I am? How do I tell that to the world? From what I have seen so far these musings are going to turn into some truly awesome stories,” she said. “It is a theme that asks a lot of the storytellers, the producers and the audience, but I think that the show will prove very rewarding.”
Job’s story will reflect on her transition from her hometown in Brooklyn, N.Y. to Middlebury. It will be her first performance.
“I think that the spoken word and storytelling is very powerful,” Job said. “I think that they are very moving for the speaker and the person who is watching it.”
This will be former Cook Commons Coordinator Linda Schiffer’s second time performing at a Moth-Up affiliated event. Her husband, Ira, is a rookie performer to the organization, but he has public speaking experience having delivered sermons as the former Associate Chaplain/Rabbi of Middlebury College. The duo will recall a significant moment that shaped the lives of their family.
“This story, for us, was compelling, and we are hoping that others find kernels of truth of themselves in it,” Ira said. “I’m hoping it’s a story that will get people thinking, reconsider world views, reconsider biases, reconsider life trajectories.”
“And I’m going to pick up on the life trajectories,” Linda said, “and hope that people will be less locked into given situations, and know that there’s more out there, and that when given the opportunity to take a different path, they’ll have the spirit, the courage, to say, ‘yes, I’ve wanted to try that; I’m going to take the chance and do that.’ And recognize that whatever happens down that path — it’s not a failure. It’s a learning experience.”
Cocoon is inspired by the national sensation The Moth, a group dedicated to the craft of live storytelling that has become a popular live event, radio show and podcast. The Middlebury Moth-Up evolved from the national organization in 2010 and is a monthly event that features a handful of storytellers, generally students. Both Cocoon and the Moth-Up have two rules: all stories must be true and no notes are allowed.
Sacheli refers to Cocoon as “The Moth on steroids.”
“What we’ve done is take the successful model that the students did for their monthly Moth [Up] gatherings,” Sacheli said, “and we said, ‘What would happen if we put this on a more formal stage, and we put a few production values behind it? If we had live musicians, we had lights, we sold tickets and had a reception after it? What would happen if we added some pizazz to the already-perfect recipe that the Moth [Up] was serving up?’”
The formula has worked, and according to Sacheli, there will have been a total of over 30 storytellers and 1500 audience members after this year’s event. The Moth phenomenon seems to have struck a chord in its audience members, as evidenced by its widespread popularity nationally and at overflowing Middlebury Moth-Up events.
“Everyone likes different stories, or rather, everyone notices different things about the same story,” said Asch. “We all bring our own experiences to the table as audience members and that impacts how we react to stories on stage. For me, what I really value in storytellers is vulnerability. I admire storytellers who are able to transport the audience emotionally, to really give us a slice of what they are feeling ... The stories that I always remember, even years later, are the stories where the emotion came through loud and clear.”
Tickets can be bought at Middlebury’s online arts page or at go/boxoffice.
(10/04/18 9:53am)
Border of Lights (BOL), an organization founded by the college’s Writer-in-Residence Emerita Julia Alvarez, will be holding a spiritual gathering on campus on Oct. 5 to mark the 81st anniversary of the Parsley Massacre.
In 1937 Dominican troops slaughtered over 13,000 Haitians under the orders of Dominican dictator Rafael Trujillo. The event became known as the “Parsley Massacre,” because one’s pronunciation of the spanish word for parsley – perejil – indicated whether they were native to the Dominican Republic or secondary Spanish speakers from Haiti. Though the massacre would fuel Haitian-Dominican strife for several more decades, it went largely undocumented and is not even a commonly known event in the Haitian community.
In attempt to raise awareness about this tragedy and retroactively heal, Alvarez founded BOL in 2012. BOL annually commemorates victims of the Parsley Massacre and leads community projects to mend the residual ethnic tensions between Haiti and the Dominican Republic.
“The reason we call it Border of Lights is because we are not looking to erase the differences, but show that there are spaces for illumination, connection, curiosity, and care.” Alvarez said.
She warned that as much as borders act as the foundation for national identity and culture, one must also look beyond them to uncover the true power of community.
“When does a border become a fortress?” she asked. “There is a connection and synergy that can only happen when we step outside of our safe spaces. How else can we survive on a planet with diminishing resources if we do not find mutuality and understanding?”
Each year in October, BOL organizes a vigil where Haitians and Dominicans can meet at their border. While there, participants light candles as a symbol of remembrance and solidarity and place them on the barb wire fence. Since its inception six years ago, the organization has grown significantly in scale. Alvarez attributed the success of BOL to its younger participants.
“The second year we marched to the border there were big barracks erected,” she said. “(The government) didn’t want us to go but the young Border of Lights people said ‘well, a group of us will go symbolically and get as close as we can, take a selfie, and then make it an online vigil…’ What ended up happening was that instead of hundreds showing up [in person], there were thousands for the online vigil.”
The campus vigil will begin at 7 p.m. outside of Old Chapel and participants will walk up the hill toward Mead Chapel. Following the procession there will be an open mic at the Gamut Room’s Amphitheater, where Alvarez along with Haitian and Dominican students will pay tribute to the massacre victims. The event is open to the community and all are invited to speak, perform or contribute to the event’s altar built to promote peace, community and healing.
This year’s vigil will be held in collaboration with Chellis House and the Anderson Freeman Resource Center.
*If you would like to participate in the online vigil, you may post photos of yourself with a candle on Oct. 6 between 7-9 p.m. using this link:
https://www.facebook.com/events/702906540072319/
Amanda Rodriguez contributed reporting.
(09/24/18 3:16am)
In September 2015, the Environmental Protection Agency disclosed that the German automaker Volkswagen (VW) had installed devices in 11 million cars that cheated emissions testing, permitting their cars to emit hazardous nitrogen oxide. The reporting of Jack Ewing, Germany correspondent for the New York Times, led to Volkswagen paying a more than $20 billion settlement. Ewing’s 2017 book “Faster, Higher, Farther: The Volkswagen Scandal” digs deeper into the corporate scandal, tracing it back to the company’s history since the Nazi era and its top-down management culture.
Ewing will discuss the topic this week in a lecture organized by the college's Environmental Studies program. His talk will take place on Tuesday, Sept. 25, at 4:30 p.m. in The Orchard, Franklin Environmental Center 103.
Last Friday, Ewing spoke with The Campus by phone about his book, lessons to be learned from the scandal and role of journalists covering the corporate world today. The interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
Yvette Shi (YS): When and how did you start to realize the role played by the company’s corporate culture?
Jack Ewing (JE): I had dealings with Volkswagen off and on for years, and I was already aware that it was a very kind of rigid, authoritarian type of company culture, and I knew who some of the leaders of the company were and sort of how they operated. So I think that was from the very beginning — not obvious — but I immediately had a feeling that the corporate culture certainly played a role.
And then we looked at the way the company responded to the scandal, and how close they were and how long it took them to confront it, to start investigating. And then when I started to develop sources inside the company or people that have worked at Volkswagen. At last, it just became clear pretty quickly that it was the kind of company where you couldn’t admit failure, you couldn’t say no to somebody above you and where there was not a strong moral underpinning or strong moral standard that people believe they are supposed to adhere to.
YS: Do you think that this sort of top-down culture is typical for large corporations?
JE: I think it’s certainly not uncommon. I think it exists to some degree almost in every big corporation. I think Volkswagen was the particularly extreme example, but at the same time I think it’s definitely the case that it’s something that can happen at any company. If you look at other scandals, like Enron, going back that’s been more than a decade, or Wells Fargo Bank in California, you know they were defrauding their clients on a massive scale, you always have this ingredient. The main ingredients are that you have a culture where people don’t feel they have any recourse when they are asked to do something unethical, and where you have top management setting extremely ambitious goals, and making it clear that if you fail, you are going to be fired.
So to that extent, and there’s lots of companies that operate that way, where they are constantly asking more and more employees and if you don’t deliver, your job is in danger. And that’s just an invitation for people to start to commit wrongdoing, because most people, even if they know that they can get caught in two years or five years, they’ll still try to hang on to their jobs for as long as they can.
YS: How do you think this kind of culture was formed in the first place?
JE: That’s a good question. I’m not sure I can totally answer that, but it definitely came from one person. The original Beetle was designed by Ferdinand Porsche for Adolf Hitler. Many years later, his grandson, who was named Ferdinand Piëch, in the early nineties became the chief executive of Volkswagen, which at that time was at its crisis. He turned around the company, but he himself was a very authoritarian figure. Brilliant engineer, but very, very hard on people and was very out-front about the fact when people don’t deliver, he’ll fire them.
So he was the one that really created that culture beginning in the nineties, and he was the chief executive for about a decade, and then he became chairman of the supervisory board, which is technically an oversight position, where you are overseeing the operational management. But he was still very involved and still the dominant person in the company up until just a couple months before the scandal became public. So it definitely came from him. To what extent it was already there, I’m not sure I’ve totally figured that out. That’s a hard thing to pin down.
YS: You talked about having sources inside the company. What was that process like? What were the challenges that you faced?
JE: That’s always difficult with a corporation. It’s particularly difficult with a company like Volkswagen. Volkswagen has over 300,000 employees. The first thing was to figure out the people we should concentrate on. What we did is that we found academic papers, where they have talked about their mission and technology, the engineers who have published papers in journals, and we found some papers that have names of engineers on them. Also we looked at patent registries that list the names of the people who get credit as inventors, and also helpfully their home addresses.
Then we just set about contacting those people. We did the usual thing, trying to call them a couple times, knocking on their doors — that wasn’t successful. I had the most success actually writing letters. So I would write people letters, tell them why I thought it would be in their interest to talk to me. I probably sent at least 50 [letters], and a much smaller number got back to me, but a number of people did get back to me who wanted to talk, and that was sort of the beginning where I was able to then figure out how the whole thing happened, the process with the whole illegal software being developed and then deployed over many years.
I guess the other thing was the lawsuits also had a fair amount of useful information. When the lawyers started filing lawsuits, they had some access to documents that I didn’t, which they then described in the lawsuits.
YS: What do you think motivated you when you were writing the book?
JE: The short answer is just that when the story broke, it’d been only about two weeks, and then the editor of Norton Books sent me an email saying “would you be interested in doing a book.” For a journalist, the chance to write a book is always a good thing. So I said yes, and we pretty quickly worked out a deal with the help of an agent. So the short answer is: I wrote the book because they asked me to write it.
But also, it was the topic that I just found very fascinating — it has so many aspects to it and it touches so many things, environment, corporate culture, technology. It’s an interesting cast of characters, interesting legal story. So I never got bored with the subject matter, I’m not sure “enjoy” is the word because writing is always hard, but it was a satisfying story to do. I never got bored with it.
YS: What can students interested in entering the corporate world after school can learn from the scandal?
JE: I think that you are going to learn a lot from the scandal. If you work in a corporation, there’s tremendous pressure to conform, people will possibly be asked to make moral compromises, and companies do not always help you to know when you are being asked to step over a line. I think that the clear message is that you have to maintain your own sense of what is right and wrong, independent of what your employer might be telling you. And if you feel that that’s being violated, you have to take action, you can’t just go along, you have to have moral courage.
I think that the people that were involved in this, a lot of them, their careers are ruined and in some cases they might go to jail. Also, a lot of them were fairly idealistic. They originally went into emissions technology because they wanted to make cleaner air, and then wound up being part of this fraud. So I think that the message is that you have to have the courage and the strength to stand up when you are being asked to do something like this.
One thing that I still find amazing is that at the very end there were a couple Volkswagen employees who went to the California regulators and said this is what’s really going on that’s wrong. But this is after they hid [the device] in cars for ten years. And the whole time, nobody went to authorities and said that there’s something really big illegal going on. Volkswagen would have been better off if they had. Everybody would have been better off. But nobody did that.
YS: And they are also now trying to have a whistleblower program in the company.
JE: Yeah, they have to — that’s part of the settlement with the United States. The question is whether it will be effective, because they had it on but it’s been a program where you’re supposed to be able to go for complaints, but nobody trusted it. People have to believe that if they blow the whistle that they will be listened to, that there will be action taken, that they and their career will not suffer. You have to be very careful the way you set these things up, so that they really do some good. There was just this case involving Goldman Sachs where somebody went to the whistleblower, but then instead of taking action, they went to somebody on the board and the person lost their job. That’s not the kind of whistleblower program you want to have if you are really sincere about preventing wrongdoing.
YS: What challenges do you think journalists today who are trying to cover the corporate world face?
JE: Corporations are rich, so they can hire a lot of people whose job is basically to keep you from finding things out. So that’s a constant challenge, and we are pretty much at permanent war with corporate PR industry. And people are afraid to talk to reporters. It’s hard to get beyond the PR department when you are trying to find out what’s going on, and that’s always one of the biggest challenges. At Volkswagen, you can do it but it takes a lot of work.
YS: What would you say is the role that a journalist should have there?
Traditionally I think that journalists were very focused on government and what government was doing right or wrong, but these days corporations have such influence on our lives, maybe even more influence than government — if you look at Facebook, Google — just how much they know about us and how much we depend on them. It’s really, really important to hold those companies accountable that takes a lot of resources, so I think that’s just an incredibly important thing for journalists at the moment.
YS: Is there anything else that you would like to add?
I guess the one thing that I always like to try to get across about this book is that some people think it’s a car book, and it’s not. I really tried to write it for people who don’t care about cars, don’t know about cars. My editor John Glusman, before we started working, he said: “Jack, you know, I really don’t care about cars at all.” And he doesn’t even know the difference between an automatic and a manual transmission. So he says: “You’re going to write a book that I’m gonna want to read.” So that’s really what I tried to do.
I sometimes hear from people, “I don’t really want to read a car book,” and what I always try to get across to people is that it’s not a car book, it’s about people and people’s weaknesses, ethics and bigger issues than just emissions.
