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(02/13/13 10:44pm)
Technically speaking, I am not overseas. But every week, this section of the Campus features the exciting tales and fascinating challenges of our peers who are lucky enough to be abroad and it seems time to turn the tables on them and brief our traveling companions on our lives.
For starters, it continues to snow and then melt and then snow and then melt in Middlebury. So for any skiing enthusiasts bemoaning days missed at the Bowl, no worries.
What else? Winter Carnival is this weekend! Though given my aforementioned observation, it may prove to once again be an underwhelming affair. The biggest controversy on campus right now is whether to buy one of the exorbitantly priced tickets to the Winter Ball.
Any input from those studying abroad in Europe? What about you, African initiates? Have you gleaned valuable life lessons from your overseas experiences that can help us answer the ever-important question: will there be $20 worth of fun to be had at the Ball this weekend?
But, on a slightly more serious note, I think there are interesting realities regarding life on this campus when you have really good friends who are overseas. It’s a situation I’m sure we’ve all faced or will face during our time at Middlebury. The mixture of envy, vicarious excitement and smug pity.
Example: “Oh, you had a bad day? You got ripped off at the market again, and you got in a fight with your new abroad best friend, and you haven’t been able to Skype with your boyfriend in two weeks and you’re just feeling really far away from home and missing Middlebury?
“I’m so sorry. That must be so hard. Yeah, Middlebury is the same old, same old. Safe, fun, comfortable. Wait, what are you doing tonight? You’re going on a midnight river booze cruise where a famous local pop star will be performing? Ah, that’s amazing! You’re going to have so much fun! I’m so happy for you. That will turn your mood right around. I’m 95 percent happy for you and only five percent jealous. LOL. Don’t have too much fun without me.”
And then there’s the unique but still fairly common scenario in which you are a senior and your junior friends are abroad for the spring, or worse, the whole year, meaning that they will miss your graduation and you may not ever see them ever again. Well that will just ratchet up your resentment levels a few notches, won’t it?
Except that, you don’t really resent them at all. Having been abroad yourself, you know what’s to be gained and lost from the experience. You know that for all of the romanticization and rhetoric surrounding the whole study abroad thing, it is an experience with powerful potential.
I remember an overwhelming feeling: living in Mali for four months could change me. Followed by such searching and insightful questions such as, “should I let it change me?” or “will it change me for the better?” Let me revel in the nostalgia of my pretentious self-obsessions. Nevertheless, there is that anxiety about the possibilities of a life abroad and it is perhaps more scary than the life itself.
Do our overseas peers really want to know what’s happening at Middlebury right now? We’re missing you. But not in an incapacitating way and Middlebury remains recognizable in your absence so don’t let that stroke your ego too much. And we’re wishing you the best. And we hope that you get to spend the rest of the semester embracing the potential and enjoying the possibilities of your semester away from here, because that’s perhaps something we wished we’d been better at when were abroad.
Written by SARAH PFANDER
(02/13/13 3:40pm)
The Breakfast Club did it, Principal Duval in Mean Girls did it and now, Middlebury has done it too. Gather a bunch of students with various social identities, races, genders, sexualities, etc. and, basically, let them go at it: let them talk. Having participated in Middlebury’s first JusTalks event during winter term, I can (with some reservation) vouch for the virtue of this system.
Student generated and student run, JusTalks defines itself as “a forum dedicated to communication, thoughtful personal discourse, self-analysis, and leaning into discomfort.” JusTalks seeks to foster dialogue about underrepresented issues, namely, identity and diversity.
So, did it work? Did eight hours of activities cultivate insight about my arguably stereotypical identity and appreciation for the diversity (or lack thereof) on this campus? I’d say a solid, “Yes, but...”
Without doubt, I was reminded of my white, well- off, suburban Boston identity and all it’s fun (ha!) associations. I was reminded of the incredible obstacles many overcame to get to Middlebury. I was reminded of my intrinsic biases and the living, breathing presence of racism in 2013. I was reminded to not feel personally responsible for these bleak realities. I sincerely appreciated these reminders. However, as stressed, they were reminders: truths I may find nauseating and passionately wish to change, but truths I have nevertheless been exposed to on multiple occasions.
I do not mean to degrade the momentousness of this talk on race and socioeconomic diversity; such conversation is vital to a socially aware and activated student body. I’m also aware that a humanities background and big mouth prime my frequent participation in such conversation. I only mean to send a message to my peers who avoided JusTalks as they “didn’t need to be reminded of how white [black, brown, fill in the blank] they were,” or feel bad about it. First, I feel your desire to just live, unassociated from your skin, but so does every other human being — black, white or purple. It’s not easy, and it will never become a reality unless we all seriously consider the privileges, or lack thereof, reaped from our outer layer. Second, race talk can be really exhausting. I feel that too. Thankfully, race talk was not all I extracted from JusTalks; it wasn’t what I remembered most, and it wasn’t what I’ve been processing since.
What I remember concerns social dynamics at Midd. After large group activities, JusTalks participants were divided into five to 10-person “family groups,” which were randomly assigned and led by two student facilitators. My group of eight girls represented a range of academic classes and social identities. Present were reps for athletes, hipsters, Febs, LGBTQs and “somewhere in the middle, I-don’t-knows.” Whatever general social identity we most adhered to, what fascinated me is that we all agreed Midd social spheres are severely divided, and we were all quick (whether consciously or not) to attribute fault for this schism to the opposite group. Put simply, we were all guilty of the same crime. We all felt the need to “other,” or view/treat a person or group of people as intrinsically different from oneself, so as to bolster our own self-esteem and exempt ourselves from responsibility for the social segregation at Midd.
My group exposed some of the brutal realities of this othering. I think it’s worth throwing a few examples on the table. Athletes, as an inclusive whole, are spoiled products of extreme wealth that, along with their board-of-exec parents, preside over our campus with a conservative, hard-skinned white hand, unwilling to embrace physical imperfection and inhibiting artistic advances. Athletes intimidate because they can afford to, literally and theoretically. Hipsters are so obsessed with looking and acting “different” that they intentionally isolate themselves from social integration. Biddies are all anorexic and dumb, and international kids assume Americans are materialistic. The list goes on.
I do not consciously endorse any of these stereotypes, nor did my group members; however, all of us admitted to harboring at least one of them at some point, and none of us denied their presence on this campus. If there’s one reality I gleaned from JusTalks, it’s that without cross-group interaction, we all enable ourselves to perpetuate the very system we critique. I think the problem is less that we need to resolve our differences, but more that we need to admit our similarities. I honestly do not believe the majority of Midd Kids are closed-minded or unaccepting. However, the competitive nature of our environment primes us for survival in every way. This is why we seek out friendships with those who are seemingly similar and downplay those who are not: it’s safer. But if change is to come, if real integration is a hope, then we all, myself included, need to stop attributing personality traits and potential for friendship to an oversized flannel, a Lululemon headband, a Middlebury Lacrosse sweatshirt or a guy’s skin-tight cords.
My social psych professor drilled it into my head last semester that similarity leads to liking. I’d like to thank JusTalks for showing me we’re all really more the same than different.
Written by LEAH FESSLER '15 of Wellseley, Mass.
(02/13/13 3:37pm)
Dear first-year Febs,
I’m just a guy in his last semester that wants to welcome those in their first. I want to be an example of one of the many friendly (and weird) members of your college community. In the process, I would like to share a little about what I’ve learned and what treasures I’ve found while at Midd.
After 18-ish trips around the Sun, congratulations on finding your way to Middlebury College. That’s over 10 billion miles! Never mind 18 trips: the ingredients of you actually took about 14 billion years and traveled billions of light-years to form you and your arrival to college. Take a deep breath. Here you are. Again, congratulations.
Your body made it here, but where will your mind go? I recommend some consideration of this cosmos. Courses in astronomy are offered in the physics department, and PHYS0101 (designed for the “non-science student”) covers some of the most fundamental aspects of nature. In particular, Carl Sagan and Richard Feynman (both dead, but my best teachers) might help the universe and science enter your soul.
No, that’s not a banana, it’s a harmonica in my pocket — but I’m also happy to see you. I take lessons from Mark LaVoie at the CFA. Music lessons at the CFA are half-price if you join a choir. LaVoie occasionally performs in the Gamut Room and at 51 Main — both cool places to check out. He has the biggest tone that you’ll ever hear from a harmonica; we’re lucky to have him teaching and performing on campus.
Meet (and perhaps befriend) Butch Varno. The connection between Varno and the College (see ESPN features) is a tradition that has lasted over 50 years, probably because he is so charming, funny and loving. Varno has cerebral palsy and lives in the Helen Porter nursing home. Roger Ralph ’63 says Varno “makes you feel like a million bucks.”
If you want a free bike, and if you want to learn how to build it and maintain it, check out the Bike Shop underneath the Adirondack House.
Partner dancing, in general, is good exercise. It is also intimate, soulful and an important life skill. Kind of like sex, except that having multiple partners in the same night and in the same room isn’t called an orgy: it’s called Swing Dance Club.
Check out the greenhouse on the sixth floor of BiHall. Plants are great friends, especially the Queen of the Night, whose flower is the most beautiful in sight and scent that I’ve ever encountered. That it blooms at night for only one night significantly adds to its allure. It blooms in the summer (yes, spend a summer here), and you might catch it in September.
Intend to go abroad? I didn’t study abroad, but I spent a summer in Puerto Jiménez, Costa Rica, a place that I now consider home. If you’re interested in extreme biodiversity and the rest of the “pura vida” culture, talk to me and/or check out livetheosa.com.
Miscellaneous words. I don’t like the word advice; you have to figure things out for yourself. However, here’s some perspective I can offer for your college experience: (1) Don’t pursue the practical over the passion — I learned the hard way. (2) Embrace community (e.g., get to know staff members, be an FYC [but only if you have the time and heart]). (3) You can learn more from your peers than from your professors. We’re limited to the number of classes we can take but not to the number of conversations we can have.
I hope to have many conversations with many of you.
Clear skies,
J. Putko
“[Astronomy] underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another — and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.” – Carl Sagen
Written by JOSEPH PUTKO '13 of The Big Bang
(01/24/13 12:53am)
Winter term is wonderful for so many reasons: more fun with friends, homework for only one class and ample time to plan elaborately themed parties, make a kickass broomball team or construct an igloo outside your dorm. These are the parts of winter term that we like to remember — the memories that give us those warm fuzzy feelings about college. However, there’s a darker, more sinister side to winter term that we conveniently forget. It strikes in the first two weeks, silently and painfully creeping its way through every nook and cranny on campus. It keeps people up at night, makes them scared to leave their dorms or enter the crowded dining hall. All we can do is sit by and watch, crossing our fingers that our immune system will hold its ground as our community turns into a scene from the movie Contagion. Trade your skis and hot cocoa for tissues and chicken noodle soup. The Middlebury epidemic has struck again.
Of my four years on campus, I have seen three of these unfortunate events. First, it was the swine flu. During its wrath, one-third of my freshman dorm was quarantined. My good friend and hallmate was left to wallow in an oppressively hot room with a broken heater that was stuck on high. She couldn’t come out and facilities couldn’t go in — an uncomfortable experience for everyone. There were rumors that a building was going to transform into an infirmary. While that never came to fruition, the swine flu was a solid introduction to the Middlebury epidemic’s potential.
Next came gastro. Swift departures from class, pale faces and crowded bathrooms — gastro is a fresh memory for many of us. Last J-term was as much about vomit and diarrhea as it was about, well, J-term. With everyone eating in the same dining halls and living in close quarters, gastro’s epic proportions were hardly a surprise.
This year, it is the flu. Only one week into winter term and it had already reared its ugly head. Half of my friends are out of commission. Events have been cancelled. The health center’s supply of flu vaccines is a hot commodity. We wash our hands more than usual, keep our water bottles close by and are grateful for the extra hours of sleep winter term affords. But we cannot get away from the inevitable reality that when you live with 2,400 friends — eating the same food, hugging, maybe kissing — things are bound to get messy. For many of us, that will mean getting sick.
If you happen to fall victim to this year’s small-scale epidemic, follow the usual protocol: drink plenty of liquids, sleep as much as you can, monitor your temperature, take it easy and limit your contact with others. The health center is there if you need it. Shamelessly ask for favors from your friends and use Hulu for all it is worth. The flu is uncomfortable and it is gross, and there is little you can do to avoid that reality.
While there are plenty of very valid reasons to dread the Middlebury epidemic’s arrival, it would be disingenuous for me to pretend that I hate all of it. I could certainly do without the fever, chills, headache, congestion and contagious friends. But in a strange way, it is during these most miserable times that we come together. There’s something profound about sharing a dismal experience with another person. We stockpile oranges for emergency consumption, bring ibuprofen and Gatorade to our friends’ bedside and make bets about who will drop next. Especially during my first year at Middlebury, it was the swine flu that brought me closer to my new friends than any Bunker dance party. Every year around this time, I get a refresher course in the positive effects the Middlebury epidemic has on our little community. The silver lining may not be apparent at first, but it is certainly there.
The flu hasn’t reached me yet this year. I am treating every moderately scratchy throat as a sign of its imminent arrival. I wake up and assess how my body feels. I eat oranges like it’s my job. I’m ready to take it on if I must. And though I am hoping to be spared from this bout of the Middlebury epidemic, I know that, regardless of my immune system’s heartiness, we will all get through it, together, one more time.
Written by ADDIE CUNNIFF '13 of Tucson, Ariz.
(01/24/13 12:47am)
Last week the Campus published an article on Room 404, a new student publication. They ran an early draft of the article that was largely inaccurate. If you’re interested in the publication, here are some notes to give you an idea of what it’s actually about.
Last week’s article stated that Room 404 “does not solicit submissions.” We definitely do solicit submissions — that’s where the content comes from. We are not, however, looking for completed work. We are looking for ideas for new projects, or perhaps projects that were started but never finished. All pieces in Room 404 are developed and edited collaboratively by multiple contributors, so completed work doesn’t fit the bill. Room 404 is a place to develop a project in collaboration with others.
The original article states that Room 404 emphasizes the creative process over making “flawless” pieces of work. While the publication is based on working in a collaborative creative community, that doesn’t entail sacrificing good or “flawless” products. In fact, we collaborate on all the pieces for the publication precisely in order to make the best work we can.
Lastly, the original article says to look around campus for copies of Room 404’s first issue . In fact, we are not distributing the publication by leaving it around campus. Email us at room404@middlebury.edu with your mailbox number (or mailing address if you live off campus) to get an issue, and we will deliver one to you.
The Campus has published a revised version of last week’s article online.
Written by MOSS TURPAN '14, co-editor of Room 404
(01/24/13 12:44am)
Are you ready to do the math? I am too ... but in the last few days, I’ve also been doing the history. Yes, doing the history, the history of social movements, and I’ve been asking: “What makes movements work?”
I’ve looked back to 1960, the year I was born, when four students from the Agricultural and Technical College of North Carolina sat down in a North Carolina Woolworths, ordered coffee and brought the fight for civil rights to new heights.
I’ve looked back to 1978, the year that I went off to college, when a handful of Harvard students challenged their president to do the right thing and divest from South African companies.
And yes, I’ve looked back to January 2005, when in the Gamut Room, less than 100 yards from here, a few dozen Middlebury students put their heads together with Billy Parish and other young leaders and asked “How can we build this new climate movement?”
Jim Crow is no more! Apartheid is no more! So what can our movement learn from these histories? We can learn that young people don’t succeed on their own. On campuses like ours, young people need professors who don’t fear some two-dimensional caricature of activism but rather who understand that the best way to learn is to act in the name of a better world. Young people need administrators who are willing to listen and react and collaborate, administrators who believe in the possibility of finding common cause. And they need community members and allies from all over the world who are already rolling up their sleeves in solidarity, fighting for what is right.
From history, we can also learn that the search for social justice is not elementary. The search for social justice is complex and requires humility. Self-righteousness has no place in successful social movements; vilification of potential allies has no place in successful movements; hollow language has no place in successful movements. Movements need rebels, to be sure. We all need to be rebels at times. We need to thank rebels for getting things started. But rebelliousness on its own is no substitute for the hard, strategic work of building a better world, a world full of justice and joy.
So here at Middlebury, it’s time to do the math, and it’s time to do create history. It’s time for students and faculty and administrators and community members and allies from all over the world to carve out our own little piece of history. It’s time Middlebury. It surely is time.
Written by Professor of Economics JON ISHAM for Midd Does the Math
(01/17/13 1:06am)
It’s J-Term — a time to indulge in all Middlebury has to offer. One glorious month when students learn how to speak Swahili, go skiing from dawn to dusk, watch an entire season of Homeland (relatively) guilt-free and have time to do really fun things, like take surveys!
The SGA is always looking for ways to serve the student body, and the Arnowitz administration spent many long hours over break crafting the SGA Student Life Survey, an all-encompassing questionnaire that is designed to capture the current state of the student experience at Middlebury.
Why take the SGA Student Life Survey, you ask? The reasons are simple:
1) Are you serious? This will only take you 10 minutes. And it’s J-Term. You have all the time in the world.
2) Get a chance to say what you’ve been thinking all last semester. Do you have an opinion about anything at Middlebury? Anything? Stand up and express yourself! Do you care about how we invest our endowment? Are you sick of laundry machines that are always full? Do you want to see more Tavern dance parties? Do you want President Arnowitz to grow a beard? The possibilities are endless.
3) This is data that the SGA, College administrators and dozens of other on-campus groups will actually use. SGA is looking for new ideas and student input on a number of different initiatives and before we can move forward, we need to hear from you. If we get real data from the student body, we’ll be able to do so much more. In addition, we’ll be willing to share the results with any students or student organizations that might find it helpful, but it will only be as useful as the responses we receive. Be a responsible student! Take the Student Life Survey!
4) And if you don’t feel the need to express yourself or you don’t feel the need to do your civic duty and support your government, we’re willing to bribe you! We’ve already raffled off two $50 Amazon gift cards. See what apathy gets you? But don’t worry! There are still plenty of ways to win. We’re raffling off 10 $20 Amazon gift cards, two $20 College Bookstore gift cards, and $25 gift cards to American Flatbread, Storm Cafe, Sabai Sabai and Carol’s Hungry Mind. And if that’s not attractive enough, we’re offering OVER 40 NEW YORK TIMES DRAWSTRING BAGS! Want a bag that says, “I’m athletic and sporty, but I’m also intellectual, worldly and well-read?” Look no further! These bags are almost guaranteed to score you a date with your Proctor crush.
So, help us help you. Find that old email from sga@middlebury.edu, or keep an eye out for reminders in the coming week. Take those 10 minutes so that we can have the information we need to make this coming semester at Middlebury the best one yet.
Written by SGA Chief of Staff ANNA ESTEN '13 and Deputy Chief of Staff BRIAN CLOW '13
(01/17/13 1:03am)
Iaorana, Middlebury. As I sit in the communal kitchen of Anteres House in Woods Hole, Mass., a week and a half into the shore component of my SEA Semester, making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch, I cannot help but think of everything that went into making this sandwich possible. I also cannot help but think how different the mealtime experience here is as opposed to that of Ross, Proctor and Atwater.
After only knowing each other for about three hours, the nine of us living in A House had to sit down and make a grocery list with a budget of $400, taking into account all of our likes and dislikes, and plan meals for the week. We then made a trip to the local Shaw’s in hopes that we could make it out alive after arguing about produce and various deli meats. After our precarious shopping trip, which was in no way a drama-free experience (the gift card we were told had $400 on it really only had $290), we made it back home, stocked up the kitchen and prepared for our first day of classes.
Since then, every day at 12 p.m. myself and 23 other students rush down from the Madden Center after sitting through three hours of class to make lunch. There is no panini machine, no salad station and most importantly, no convenient little conveyor belt that takes your dirty dishes and lets you hurry off to afternoon class. It has been like getting an early introduction to post-grad life, where you have to budget groceries, do your own dishes, set up a chore wheel to clean the house that you share with eight other individuals and make all your own meals. Coming from Middlebury, where the dining halls provide numerous options per meal, both hot and cold, deciding everyday what you should make for lunch and dinner, and having to try and please a crowd at the same time, has definitely been an adjustment. As a picky eater, it has been a particularly difficult one.
With this change certainly comes some growing pains, and it was especially interesting for me since I have never shared a living space with three guys the same age as me. They eat a lot of food, do not always remember to do their dishes and do not necessarily think about the crumbs they leave behind on the counter and the floor. Their fabulous cooking skills sometimes allow me to forgive and forget.
It is precisely these challenges that are meant to prepare us for seven weeks on the Pacific Ocean, sharing a very small space and taking on the responsibility of each other’s safety. We are being prepared for life on the ocean, where thinking about oneself comes after one’s ship and shipmates. Where if one person is even a minute late relieving someone from watch at 3 a.m., it affects the safety of 34 other people. Slowly we are growing and learning together.
While I am missing J-term at Midd, trips to the beach every day after class to watch the sunset and bike rides around the beautiful Cape have proved to be activities we all enjoy and make missing Midd a little easier. We are becoming close friends already and have only been together for a week and a half. I know once we all board the Robert C. Seamans, in Papeete, Tahiti in two weeks time, we will be glad we got to know each other on land rather than at sea.
Written by MARISSA SHAW '14 from the Sea
(01/16/13 8:51pm)
The recent movie Zero Dark Thirty showed extremely clear visuals of Pakistan and I felt awkward sitting in a theatre in Boston watching my own country on screen. It has been two years since I have been to Pakistan. There is a longing to go back; it is as if the smell of rain, pakoras and chai beckon me to the motherland. Yet, I undergo a feeling of intense fear every time the thought of going back recurs.
Growing up in the posh areas of the dangerous city of Karachi as a girl was a bittersweet experience. On one side, I was the hip girl going to parties in the classy areas of Defence — an area in Karachi — and on the other, I was the covered, frightened girl dodging bullets as I made my way to my grandmother’s house in the dangerous outskirts of Karachi. Looking back at it now, it seemed as if I lived two entirely different lives. Under the surface of the Islamic society of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan lies a deeper more secretive society that is completely different from the side of Pakistan showed on the media. Shuffling between the two types of societies was confusing. I remember dressing up and then putting on a huge shawl on top because my mother was afraid of letting me out without it in front of the driver. I myself felt uncomfortable without it. I remember rushing back in a dress from my school play and changing into a decent shalwar kameez (Pakistani national dress) with a huge dupatta (cloth worn on top of the dress) to go for volunteer work in a remote area of Karachi. I remember the striking contrast between the environment inside my home and outside on the streets. When I stepped out of a house onto the streets, it seemed as if I had entered an entirely different world.
Today, violence is blaring in the faces of moderate Muslim Karachiites. It is still hard to imagine: how did it get so bad? It seemed while we were living our perfect lives, with our one-dish Eid parties and expensive, grand dinners, the world outside was changing and we failed to realize it. Deaths were happening in the Northwest Frontier region, there was a war going on in Swat, but Karachiites did not seem involved. Even if target killings were happening, the victims were usually some gang members or party members. It was always somewhat removed from us. Apart from the fear of not appearing modest enough in the public sphere of the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, there was no actual fear for a Karachiite woman of being a victim of targeted killings.
The deaths have come closer to home now. They are no longer detached from us. They are happening to people in our circle of friends — people we actually know. The recent killing of Shahzeb Khan, a young Pakistani college student studying in the United States who was shot by sons of a feudal lord in Karachi, seems to have jolted the young generation of Karachi who now realize that it can happen to any of us. We hear an average of five targeted deaths every week in Karachi. Violence seems to be getting out of hand. In addition to the already present fear, Rahman Malik, the interior minister of Pakistan, says attacks will be carried out in Karachi during Jumaa prayers. There seems to be no end to the troubles.
I am scared. A girl was recently raped and dumped naked on the sidewalk in Delhi, India. Hundreds of sexual assault and rape cases in Karachi go unreported every month. Let’s be honest: my friends and I have all experienced some degree of assault and we are girls from the classy area of Defence. I cannot imagine what girls living in other areas of Karachi and Pakistan have to go through every day. The Taliban has started targeting specific women that they deem harmful to their beliefs and preaching. Recently six female volunteers were murdered in cold blood by the Taliban in different cities of the country. The attack on Malala Yousufzai highlights the tactics that the Taliban are now employing: the targeting of young female activists. Young women who dare to raise their voices have become a threat to the Taliban, and the only way they can keep blocking any sort of change from taking place is to eliminate these specific women.
Yes, I am scared to return. I do not know what my fate will be when I return to volunteer for an NGO in Karachi this summer. I do not know how many more assaults I will experience, or how many power outages I will have to sit through. I do not know how many bullets I will dodge and how many more men I will hate. I do know one thing though: growing up in Karachi has taught me to be stronger than titanium. Karachiites are people filled with courage and patriotism. I know deep down, there is hope for Karachi and Pakistan because its people are committed, patriotic and do not give up easily. The pride and the stories of struggle during Pakistan’s Independence in 1947 by our ancestors are too strong in our hearts to give up on Pakistan. We will not allow the world to call it a failed state. I believe in staying safe, but I also believe in fate and I know death will come when it has to come — at least I would have done my share to change the world just that little bit when it does come. As Malala truly said “No, I’m not afraid of anyone.” So I will be returning to Pakistan this summer to work with an NGO in Karachi to conduct workshops for Pakistani women’s vocational training, and to once again experience what it feels like to be a woman in Karachi.
The author notes that the opinions expressed in this article are the views of the sole writer only, and in no way represent the entire society of women from Karachi, Pakistan.
Written by RABEYA JAWAID '16 of Karachi, Pakistan
(01/16/13 8:47pm)
In an article published on the front page of the Dec. 6, 2012 edition of the Campus (Panel Discusses Racial Diversity), my position on affirmative action was described this way: “Dry, an opponent of affirmative action, suggested that affirmative action does not have a place in college admissions and instead the focus ought to be on the educational disparity among different races.”
In fact, I never expressed my opposition to affirmative action in admissions, and that is not my position. I did express my opposition to affirmative action in faculty hiring, and I did that only after another panelist, responding to a question on the subject, expressed her unconditional support for it. As for the latter part of the reporter’s description of my position, here are the final two sentences of my prepared remarks: “My own view is that colleges and universities would be well advised to focus on reducing the achievement gap between the races, thereby reducing the need for such programs, which will always be controversial in America. And students would be well advised to forget about how they got admitted and focus on making the best use of these four academic years of a leisurely study of the things that are most worth knowing.”
I stand by that position. Frankly, I do not even think it should be controversial.
If any reader of the Campus doubts my account of what I in fact said, in my prepared remarks or afterwards, he or she can consult the transcript of the entire proceeding.
Written by the Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science MURRAY DRY
(01/16/13 8:39pm)
I could not focus as I clicked through the questions. While I was supposed to select answers, it did not seem there could possibly be any.
Twenty beautiful elementary school students were brutally massacred on the day I sat for my examination to be certified to teach elementary school.
When I awoke on that morning of Dec. 14, I imagined my future classroom full of inquisitive and creative minds. I envisioned students imagining a just world and acting to bring it about.
I imagined chairs, desks and books. I did not imagine a pool of blood. Yet, as the day progressed, I could not help from drowning in this thought.
Sure, I was still breathing. But it seemed that any breath could be my last. My heart pumped with urgency as I pondered that ultimate question: for what will our existence be remembered in the books of “herstory?”
What crossed my mind was grim — which is not surprising so long as we ensure death and destruction around the globe.
After the murders at Sandy Hook, the president of Middlebury College sent his condolences to the campus community. Yet, concerning those who are less rich and white than those from the “ideal” Middlebury feeder community of Newtown, Conn., President Ronald D. Liebowitz has acted differently. In an all-campus email concerning the divestment, he urged us to consider “both [the] pro and con” of the consequences of divestment. In other words, he urged us to consider “both [the] pro and con” of funding murder.
Only a man with so many degrees could possibly make such an outlandish request. This is why I am attracted to elementary school, why I am so dedicated to being an elementary educator.
Because, see, in elementary school we still have a heart. In elementary school we still have a brain. In elementary school we ask questions when things are wrong. In elementary school we understand the importance of acting with urgency to right them.
It is no surprise that the dedicated and courageous people who educate our children are also capable of following such logic. When California teachers discovered that their pensions were invested in the very company that manufactured the weapons used at Sandy Hook, they stood up.
While Connecticut may be on the opposite coast of this country from California, the two were intimately intertwined on that horrific December mo(u)rning.
These teachers knew that regardless of the compassion they taught in their classroom, their money was teaching something else: that compassion does not matter, that murder is perfectly okay.
California teachers did not debate “both pro and con” of murdering children. They acted firmly to denounce it by divesting the largest teacher pension fund in the country from firearms.
Throughout my certification exam I did not think there could possibly be any answers. For hours I clicked the mouse, each click triggering a lethal shot in my mind — shots leading to deaths that had no answer.
Yet, as I clicked to submit my test, a score sheet spit out of the printer. I had passed.
This is not where this story ends. I am literally choking up right now, with tears flowing down my face. They are not tears of joy.
I am crying because Middlebury did not pass. Middlebury has failed. We as a community fund murder and in our hesitation to act, we teach that supporting murder is okay. We actively contribute towards shaping and upholding a violent culture — the catalyst for Sandy Hook.
California teachers have taught us that there are answers. Learning not to cry is most certainly not one of them. Because once one forgets how to cry, one learns how to believe there could possibly be a pro to murdering children.
I love elementary school because students there still know how to cry.
It is time for us to act so courageously. It is time for us to exhibit the compassion we espouse. It is time for us to cry for all of those who have been killed. It is time for us to stop killing children. Mr. President, there is no pro to murder. Divest now from death and destruction.
Written by JAY SAPER '13 of East Lansing, Mich.
(01/16/13 8:36pm)
I believe in a strong correlation between rules and the game of sweet or sour. If you have ever played the game — and with a mom who rolled around the carpool circles in a station wagon, I have played my fair share of sweet or sour — you know that in theory it’s very simple: wave equals sweet, no wave equals sour. The same simplicity goes for rule making: bad equals rule against it, good equals rule for it or an assumption of innate human benevolence and no mention of it.
In practice however, it seems unfair to deem a fellow traveler sour simply because they happened to be looking at the car in front of them and not at the eight-year old kid wearing headgear in the trunk of the car a lane over. To accommodate the range of possibilities, I added two new categories: weirdos and nose-pickers. In the running tally that came to span almost four pages in my Lisa Frank notebook, weirdos were always the clear leader. Later analysis of the data explains the disproportionate amount of weirdos on the road from my house to the swimming pool. The weirdos were the default bunch. If your mouth was moving and your head had the misfortune of being in between your cell phone and me: automatic weirdo. Head-banging to the music you can hear but I can’t? Weirdo.
In the same way that these unassuming Saabs and Hondas drove past my car, ideas float around in an atmosphere free of judgment, not ascribed as good or bad. They exist in this neutral environment until they are plucked and placed into an earthly book of rules. Everyone has their own rule book; some may be more heavily influenced by authorities than others. In the government’s rule book, for example, alcohol gets a yes and marijuana gets a no. Pharmaceuticals say yes to Oxycodone and no to heroin. Because human existence can be a cruel, cruel thing, we are forced to live with zillions of other people each toting around their personalized law books. My latest clash took place in a movie theater.
There was a lady behind me who tapped my shoulder to inform me that the movie I was staring at was starting and asked if the unique sitting-on-lap seating arrangement was going to last. Apparently, she found the 2:1 person to chair ratio that I thought was reasonable deeply offensive. Instead of launching into a sincere lamentation on why people in movie theaters don’t scoot to the center of the rows when it results in a theater peppered with sad loner seats that I can only imagine would be the bane of any movie-loving Siamese twins’ existence, I politely asked if she could not see. I would have been happy to move if this was the case, although it would have meant parting with the bag of popcorn my sister and I were sharing. She turned to her friend whose position behind me made her the more qualified theater etiquette enforcer anticipating a tag team dismantling of my radical behavior.
I would imagine it going like, “Yeah, you’re blocking my view of Bradley Cooper’s dreamy face.”
“Yeah, my friend paid good money to see Bradley Cooper’s dreamy face so she has the right to see it.”
“Yeah, scram you two-headed freak.”
“Yeah, scram.”
If I was a real stickler, I would have informed her that I too paid good money to see Bradley Cooper’s dreamy face and it was not my job to make sure she did the same. What if I had a giant afro? Or what if I was Yao Ming? I would use this tangible line of questioning to showcase the inevitable potential for disturbance that seeing a movie with 100 other people (and their accompanying rule books) poses.
The tag team fell flat when her friend shrugged in her arms crossed, slouched, I’m-not-about-to-miss-the-essential-exposé-of-this-Oscar-nominee-of-a-film-so-you-can-tear-apart-the-bonds-of-sisterhood position. “I can see,” she said. And I win.
I proceeded to thoroughly enjoy “Silver Linings Playbook” with my 21 year-old sister perched on my lap. The movie dealt with a lot of truths and lies, offering numerous cues for me to turn around and tell the sister-hater my true thoughts and maybe add on that I hope she gives birth to Siamese twins, but I refrained.
Her law book is different than mine. Her sweet is my sour. I accepted her status in the wonderfully ambiguous weirdo category and moved on.
Written by MEREDITH WHITE '15 of Orinda, Calif.
(12/05/12 11:05pm)
Congratulations on finishing another semester at Midd! The end of the year is a time for reflection. I am proud of the hard work that all the members of the Student Government Association have done this year — their hard work gives me confidence that none of them will get coal in their stockings and/or menorahs and/or secular candelabras this year.
The Senate and Cabinet have been hard at work, tackling numerous initiatives to improve student life at the College. We’ve addressed a wide range of issues: everything from the endowment to our laundry system, from access to athletic trainers to student input in academic departments, from sexual assault resources on campus to affirmative action. We’ve also worked hard to keep the SGA running smoothly, which has included allocating funds to and approving the formation of student organizations, delivering newspapers and running break buses, creating a new SGA website, working with numerous groups and committees to create real campus change and improving communication with the student body to make SGA work better for all of us.
We’ve got more planned for the rest of the year and we’re on track to get it done. We’re working on implementing student advisory committees for each academic department, reforming the cultural distribution requirements, getting more printers on campus, and getting SGA’s finances in order to create a more sustainable future.
We are proud of all the work we’ve done so far, but we want to accomplish more. As we all settle in to drink eggnog with awkward uncles and watch showings of It’s a Wonderful Life, the SGA is looking to think bigger and broader. But we need your help.
During winter term, we will be issuing SGA’s first all-student survey in an effort to better understand the wants and needs of students across campus. This is a comprehensive effort to address a wide range of topics, and is designed to give students a voice on issues that range from residential life, dining, endowment policy, access to healthcare, diversity and everything in between. This will serve both as a tool for the SGA in finding further initiatives to pursue, and will also be useful for administrators and other college stakeholders in gauging student views on a whole host of issues.
This major undertaking will only be useful to the extent that students take a few minutes to complete it. As I wrote in my last column, it is vitally important that we all engage in institutional policy. In this case, clicking a couple of buttons is an easy way to do so. So, take the survey! We will have many cool prizes for you to win, of course, but most importantly, it’s your civic duty.
Best of luck with finals! Happy holidays, and wishing you a happy and healthy 2013.
Written by SGA President CHARLIE ARNOWITZ ’13
(12/05/12 10:56pm)
The verb "to love" is expressed in Hindi as "pyar karna" – directly translated, it means "to do love," rather than "to love." In the three months and change that I've spent in India, the distinction between these two expressions has grown increasingly clear to me.
New Delhi is not a place that you could wake up loving one day, just like that. At first glance (and second, third and fourth glance), it is loud, dirty and unfamiliar. Bodily functions, from peeing on down, are sidewalk affairs. Every rickshaw meter in Delhi is mysteriously broken, leaving the drivers free to charge you more than twice the meter rate to take you to your destination – and New Delhi is not a walking city. I have had my heart broken over and over by children begging through the sides of rickshaws, have wandered through unfamiliar neighborhoods aimlessly for hours, unable to understand people's directions, and have been frustrated to tears by the fact that, no matter how well I grow to know the city, I will never be able to blend in here. The learning curve of New Delhi is steep and unending – even now, mere days from the end of my time here, I find myself lost in space or translation, unable to consider myself "good" at Delhi.
It is hard to get past the fact that, no matter the situation, leaving the house means exposing yourself to the inevitable inconveniences of day-to-day life in Delhi. If I hadn't been lucky enough to spend my last month of my semester completing an independent study project in New Delhi, it is a very real possibility that I would have left this city with a casual fondness for it, at best. And that would have been a shame, because at fifth glance (and sixth, seventh and eighth glance), I started to see beyond the rickshaws, poverty and language barriers. New Delhi is a layered, nuanced and complicated city – and with its immense cultural, religious, archeological and political history, it has every right to be.
Freed from the inhibiting time-constraints of daily classes, it only took me a few days to feel ashamed of how much I'd underestimated Delhi. There are beautiful, laughable and enjoyable experiences to be had in New Delhi, but they will not come to you. It was by venturing blindly to an unknown subway stop with my friend, asking every person we encountered where we could find the “kuwa, neeche” or "well, under" (in an attempt at communicating "stepwells"), and putting our faith in an advantageous but kind rickshaw driver that I found my favorite place in Delhi – the Agrasen ki Baoli, an immensely old, absurdly under-visited stepwell, just a 10 minute walk from Connaught Place, one of the commercial centers of Delhi.
In my time here, I have grown accustomed to the ceaseless honking of traffic, the cows lounging on the medians of the highways and telling people “I am a student, not a tourist!” I have learned to use a squat toilet like it ain’t no thang, and am dreading going back to a country with no rickshaws … go figure.
I found that, once I started peeling back the layers of the city, each new thing I found to visit, learn about or experience stuck to my heart. I don't love New Delhi – that implies that what I feel for this place is a frozen state, confined solely to myself. I am continuously, actively inflicting the feeling of love on this city, even as it inflicts its own crazy self right back on me.
Written by RACHEL NUNEZ ’14 from New Delhi, India
(12/05/12 6:53pm)
Have you ever wished to relive the glory of your middle school years? Whether you were a confident kid or one who kept your eyes cast downward while walking in the hallway between classes, middle school was a difficult time. Sister-to-Sister (STS) mentors, however, revel in the opportunity to be 13 again.
Sister-to-Sister is a club that invites girls from the immediate Middlebury area for monthly fun activities and exposes them to new experiences, such as log-rolling, zumba and international cooking. The College Sisters focus on discussing topics that are pertinent to the girls including body issues, relationships and self-defense. The grins and laughter of the girls are priceless.
Ninja + pumpkin carving + apple cider = October STS Event! On the warm Saturday in October when the event was held, the middle school students dug their hands deep into pumpkin guts on the back porch of Chellis House. The Sisters and girls just chatted. Sister-to-Sister emphasizes a comfortable, open environment for the girls to talk and be themselves.
Just before Thanksgiving break, Sister-to-Sister had its keystone activity of the year: the Summit. The Kevin P. Mahaney ’84 Center for the Arts was teeming with young girls and college mentors, and energy levels were high. The day was filled with workshops, discussions, food and friendship bracelets.
In the morning, I joined a few girls at the Poor Form Poetry workshop. As we sat on top of the conference table in the middle of a CFA classroom, the girls and I were entranced by the beat of the performed poems. When it was our turn to write down our thoughts, I was impressed by the girls’ confidence and willingness to share personal stories with people that they had just met.
Other girls cooked up delectable sustainable treats at Self-Reliance, made beautiful melodies with the Mischords or “zenned out” with yoga. Later, Professor of Dance Christal Brown had us jiggling, hopping and stepping across the dance studio. While many girls felt uncomfortable at first, everyone participated with smiles.
In more serious discussions with the students, the college mentors talked about the pressures of friendships and self-empowerment as we sat cross-legged in a circle. It was humbling to see these young women take these conversations seriously and share about their tribulations at home and at school.
My favorite part of the Summit was the warm and fuzzies wall. Throughout the day, everyone writes Post-It notes to others that they met and sticks them on a wall. The white wall was covered in yellow, hot pink and blue notes by the afternoon. This year, the college mentors received a special note saying: “Dear college students: Thank you. It was fun!” These notes warm our hearts and make all of the planning worthwhile.
The end of the day was bittersweet as we watched a slideshow of the day’s happenings. Two girls arrived as strangers in the morning and became best friends by 4 PM. Each girl leaves with a CD of “girl power” music and hopefully a bit more confidence.
I stumbled across Sister-to-Sister when one of the faculty advisors encouraged me to attend a meeting. I am forever thankful for my experiences. Not only have I enjoyed spending time with young girls, who are going to accomplish great things, I have met many inspirational people on this campus. The Sisters are my family.
Written by KELLY SURALIK '13
(12/05/12 4:39pm)
Dear my fellow students: I encourage you to lay down your passions, lay down the issues you care about and learn to take no for an answer. I have seen all this “so-called activism” around campus, and yet it is clear that the administration is unwilling to change — accept it. The administration has not responded to your demands in public, and behind closed doors with Investure they say they will never divest. Isn’t that clear enough? It is clear that all you need to do is get over your ego-driven selves and accept that these issues are clearly not important, just as our administrators have told us time and time again.
Most importantly, accept that you have no power — there is a reason that administrators were hired, to make the decisions for us! Let them do their jobs. Moreover, how dare you uppity college kids think that you know better than President Ronald D. Liebowitz, who is being paid $750,000 for his work. Once you accept that you have no power to change anything, then you can get on with realizing that your ideals of “protecting human and planetary life” through “divestment” are also worthless. So, moral of the story, 1) sit down; 2) get over yourselves; and 3) give up.
The following was submitted to the Investment Committee of the Board of Trustees, the Treasurer of the College and the President of the College over three weeks ago. None have responded.
Title: Middlebury College Ethical Endowment Resolution
Whereas, in his address to the Middlebury community, the Dalai Lama stated, “You are the people that will shape the new world, [...] This century should be the century of peace;”
Whereas, the college mission statement reads: “The College’s Vermont location offers an inspirational setting for learning and reflection, reinforcing our commitment to integrating environmental stewardship into both our curriculum and our practices on campus. Yet the College also reaches far beyond the Green Mountains;”
Whereas, the College “reaches far beyond the Green Mountains” in both its community and its investments;
Whereas, the College has a long-standing “commitment to integrating environmental stewardship into both our curriculum and our practices” through our pledge to become carbon neutral by 2016 as well as dozens of sustainability initiatives on campus;
Whereas, we recognize that investments in fossil fuel companies undermine the College’s commitment to carbon neutrality and do not reflect our mission statement in “integrating environmental stewardship into both our curriculum and our practices;”
Whereas, Middlebury College supports numerous projects for peace around the globe every year, serves as the world headquarters for the Davis Projects for Peace, and is consistently ranked among the top colleges that send students on to work in the Peace Corps after graduation;
Whereas, we recognize that being invested in companies that make weapons and engage in war undermines Middlebury College’s commitments and efforts to create peace in the world;
Whereas, divestment is a proven strategy for implementing an institution’s values and standing against unethical practices around the globe, divestment has been used in the 1980’s at Middlebury College to stand against South African Apartheid and in 2006 to stand against genocide in Darfur, and other liberal arts colleges have already divested from companies involved in the destruction of the planet and human life;
Whereas, Middlebury College’s endowment is currently invested in armament manufacturers, fossil fuel industries and companies that support war efforts;
We, the Investment Committee of the Middlebury College Board of Trustees, hereby resolve that we will commit to screening our endowment to ensure that the College’s investments are in line with its mission and values;
We, the Investment Committee of the Middlebury College Board of Trustees, hereby resolve that we will ensure by March of 2013 that Middlebury College is no longer invested in fossil fuel companies, companies that produce weapons or companies whose products are used directly in perpetuating violence and conflict.
Respectfully submitted,
Dalai Lama Welcoming Committee
We have become exceptionally good at taking no for an answer. Or maybe. Or we’ll see. Or we’ll hold a panel to discuss the issue. Or come to my next office hours to discuss the issue further. In fact, we have become exceptionally good at it because we got to Middlebury not because of our ability to challenge authorities, the status quo or hypocrisies, but rather to listen to what we’re told, fly straight between the lines and excel at whatever we are told to do. So when administrators tell us to hold a panel, we rock that panel. When teachers tell us to write assignments, that’s no problem because we have already figured out exactly what they want to hear. Moreover, when we have ideas that challenge the status quo, we have become exceptionally good at shutting up and taking no for an answer. Or maybe it’s time to realize that we need to hold us all accountable to the professed ethics of our institution.
Written by SAM KOPLINKA-LOEHR '13 of Ithaca, N.Y.
(12/05/12 4:25pm)
The first op-ed I ever wrote for the Campus was titled “Keep Affolter.” Her anti-racist protest at last week’s affirmative action panel, however, “pushed [me] overboard.” I am “done beating around the bush.” It was a “destructive demonstration of [a professor] hijacking what could have been a constructive conversation and turning it into something isolating and embarrassing.”
“Enough is enough.”
I must retract the words I penned two years ago by pejoratively using her first name and advocating for the opposite.
Fire Tara.
My “major issue is not the message [she] was sending, but the means by which [she] chose to do it: [she] used a platform that was not [hers] from which to preach and showed zero respect for an opinion that differed from [her] own.” This “self-proclaimed” visiting professor has warped the notion of standing up for justice “into something contrary to its spirit.”
“True activism should (and must) come from a place of love: of love for a people or a nation or a place or a community … from a deep and intense desire to not only change the mindset of a group of people, but to change with them, to grab hands and dive into something new together.” Tara stole the microphone from the person circulating it to those patiently waiting to make well reasoned remarks, stood up, and indoctrinated the audience. She had no desire to change with those she was speaking against.
“In this great community we have cultivated, we are pushed to believe that our solution is the only solution and that those who argue otherwise are not simply of a different opinion — they are wrong.” We must stand against professors perpetuating this notion. She disrupted the panel to step onto a soapbox where she sermonized that it was not necessary for admissions to choose between social justice and families that valued books when considering applicants of color.
Her statement was a clear refusal to “grab the hands” of the panelist who was speaking when she hijacked the event. Her actions “alienate an incredible swath of people on this campus … [and] do far more damage than they do good.”
“There is a place for dialogue and action, a place for pushing one another to challenge the status quo and there is a place for constructive criticism. However, there is no place for the kinds of disrespectful [anti-racist] activism that has been demonstrated by [Tara] this semester. [She] do[es] not listen, [she] do[es] not attempt to push or challenge or grow with the community; instead, [she] demand[s] attention and villainize[s] anyone who stands in [her] way.”
Let it be known that we as a community will not tolerate this. Tara’s contract is set to expire at the end of the year; a fact we certainly must cheer. However, unfortunately, her department has selected her as one of three finalists for a tenure track position. We must stand strong to ensure she is not selected. “To waste that opportunity” to fire her would be “an affront to our community and an embarrassment to our college.”
Tara will be giving a lecture today at 4:30 in the Twilight Auditorium titled “Tell Them You Saw Me: Invisibility, Race and Racism in the Liberal Arts Classroom.” Let us show up and use her tactics on her. Let us make our message clear: at Middlebury College, if you are going to make us feel uncomfortable to examine our own privilege and challenge the marginalization of people at this bastion of liberal consciousness, while unrelentingly advocating against oppression, even when it means disrupting white males espousing and practicing racism in our community, we are going to be against you.
[Thanks to my fellow community members, including those who composed the brilliant op-ed for Middblog, “Enough is Enough: Reflections on Campus Activism,” from which I quote extensively. Your keen anti-activist insight has provided tremendously influential in pushing me to stand for order over justice and paternalistically set the timetable for another person’s freedom, as King derided. Abiding by a mythical concept of time has inspired me to recognize that human progress rolls in on the wheels of inevitability and that those disrupting unjust order simply knock the wheels out of their tracks. I look forward to working with each of you to get those wheels back where they are comfortable; to rid this community of those who are not simply sated at being “lucky [to be] here at Middlebury.” Language is a forte of our College. It is time that Tara learns to expand her vocabulary. Instead of merely stating “no” to injustice, she should learn how to say “thank you” for the four years we have allowed her to stay here. We will all be able to collectively mirror that phrase, sighing a “thank you” of relief, when the department courageously decides that after four years, enough is enough.]
Written by JAY SAPER '13 of East Lansing, Mich.
(12/05/12 4:18pm)
[The following regards conversations on campus surrounding divestment, activism and diversity, which all directly relate to corporatization. It links newspaper reporting, silencing of oppressed voices and investing in unethical companies, while advocating for free and just existence on earth, an aim achieved through de-corporatizing our means and methods.]
The Campus is preoccupied playing referee in a public debate between legitimate voices, assuming anyone attempting to disrupt public order to get their message in the paper is by definition illegitimate. Accordingly, when an audience member calls out a transnational corporate executive for supporting the execution of activists (the indigenous Ogoni 9 who refused displacement of their communities in the name of oil addiction and increasing returns for Shell), the Campus reported the corporate representative was interrupted “with accusations against Shell of human rights violations.” It didn’t report the activist’s actual words.
The paper drowns the voices of activists with those of their critics. The defense of corporate crimes is forefronted, further marginalizing those most affected. The job of the corporate public relations office is done for them, without ever having to pass along a check to the paper. As anthropologist David Graeber describes in Direct Action, the reigning editorial logic is that to reproduce the hecklers’ actual words would allow them to “hijack” the media; it would make the newspaper partially responsible if anyone acted similarly in the future.
Also, our established media has lightened the activist toolbox to corporately approved means: educational panels, screenings, appeals to figures of authority. When there is a dispute between contested authority and protesters, Graeber explains most newspapers do what they always do in such contexts — try to appear even-handed by staking out an editorial position somewhere in the middle. Consequently, challenging an unjust status quo is authoritatively de-legitimized.
Last March, we learned that the College invests in arms manufacturing and big oil, but, as a community, we did not act. The formation of SRI, as a sub-group of Student Investment Committee (SIC) six years ago, demonstrates this knowledge was nothing new.
As Olav Ljosne so successfully taught us, “transparency” is a PR tactic, used to either vanish or sustain insurgency under corporate supervision. Indeed, [President of the College Ronald D.] Leibowitz recently confirmed in an all-campus email – Investure has revealed that some $32 million and $6 million of our endowment are directly invested in fossil fuels and arms manufacturing respectively. One percent invested in death is one percent too many. In a press release, 350.org ignored the information [President of the College Ronald D. Liebowitz] revealed and disregarded the percentage invested in weaponry, encouraging us to go “fossil free” while leaving us more to invest in war.
So, why do students keep propagating corporate interests? Our very own SIC voted last week to invest in BP Oil. SIC has also invested in Exxon Mobil, which, by the way, “recruited, paid, supplied and managed sections of the Nigerian military and police.” This phenomenon is so warped it’s worth closer examination.
The Board of Trustees founded SIC as an educational project in 1987, relinquishing $100,000 of the endowment for play. SIC’s portfolio has performed very well. One needn’t studymacroeconomics to know the rule(s) of finance — maximum returns by all means necessary. SIC states in its mission: “‘The only reason you should play poker is to make money.’ The same rule applies to investing.”
Today, SIC has approximately $325,000 of the endowment to play with. Having learned how to “play poker” by successfully investing in arms manufacturing and environmental degradation, SIC alumni go on to top Wall Street jobs. It’s like giving children guns to play with before they get drones, F16s and cluster bombs in the “real” world.
This is not a personal attack. I see these atrocities as collective responsibilities. I remember the words of a friend of mine who is in the Israeli military. He confessed he doesn’t want to talk about politics because it destabilizes him; it makes him question decisions he’s struggling to be happy about. He is not alone.
Many Israeli Defense Force soldiers, corporate reporters and finance managers display sympathy to activist causes. Analogously, the corporate behavior exemplified by our student body is not entirely due to personal bias — it is structural. So long as SIC reproduces actual investment portfolios and the Campus emulates the structure of corporate newspapers, we will see corporate trends regardless of members’ opinions: “Individual opinions are not really that important [...] within an institutional structure that renders their opinions irrelevant (Graeber).”
During the talk on socioeconomic diversity last week, a student asked our Associate Director of Admissions whether we admit students based on the likelihood of them donating after graduation, which can be modeled while remaining “need blind.” She both confirmed this practice of the College and explicitly denounced it as unfair. Little action is possible within the structure she submits to in that office.
These are sad prospects for the College and the world. But all hope is not lost. This is not the end of history. Capitalism was preceded by feudalism. It will be succeeded. As active actors within capitalist order, we must ask ourselves how to subvert our authoritative positions in order to build the egalitarian foundations of the new society, within the crumbling structures of the old.
Education or corporation? Liebowitz’s response is a result of our collective actions, indicating that we can re-imagine the world as we want to see it, without making concessions. I can’t quote Desmond Tutu enough. It’s time to stand up to our values. Remaining neutral is taking the side of the oppressor. Let’s start with a 100 percent ethically invested endowment.
Written by AMITAI BEN-ABBA '15.5 of Jerusalem
[EDITOR'S NOTE: When quoting the Campus, Ben-Abba originally wrote that an article stated that the corporate representative was "interrupted for alleged human rights violations." This quote was inaccurate: in the editorial which Ben-Abba is referencing, "The Nuances of Free Speech on Campus," the Campus reported that the corporate representative was interrupted "with accusations against Shell of human rights violations." The correction has been added above, and the Campus regrets this error.]
(11/29/12 12:03am)
I left the U.S. this Thanksgiving break. France granted me access into their country sans glitch. I glided through their customs saying my bonjours, mercis and je suis americaines in all the right places, and so what if they lost my suitcase.
Fast forward through some crepe consumption, oui-oui-ing and the Mona Lisa and I’m at the Philadelphia airport, which I’ve now decided to be the worst airport in the world, but maybe it’s just the most American airport in the world.
I entered the battlefield of customs. It turns out my passport was mistakenly reported stolen, a mistake I could understand because it was actually my passport card that I had reported missing this past summer after a particularly frivolous and forgetful day at a music festival. The fat jarhead man at the secondary inspection desk wouldn’t hear any of this. His blue latex-gloved hands told me when I could approach his desk, when I had to sit down and that my passport now belonged to them. Jarhead-glovehands then shooed me out of his office and I was off to security, armed with nothing but a photocopied version of my allegedly stolen passport to prove my U.S. citizenship.
Once I got to the front of the initial security check line I had to explain the whole ordeal to some more jarheaded personnel who then redirected me to another guy, this one with slightly more hair and a mustache. In addition to having more hair than his coworkers, he also seemed to have more understanding that his job did not entitle him to a power trip big enough to compensate for an entire childhood of being bullied. But then he winked and told me he had to put his “number” on my boarding pass before I could proceed. I was thankful for the hairy misogynist because he let me skate by, but what if I had stolen my passport? Did I really just sail through the globe’s prickliest security check with a photocopy of a stolen passport because I was an innocent-looking girl? Maybe some feminist wore off on me in France, but for a second I wished I had actually stolen my passport and he would be the guy face-palming himself when U.S. Airways flight #755 to Burlington kamikazed into Lake Champlain because some French terrorist under the name of Meredith White hijacked the plane.
I stood behind my American kinsman sporting their recent tropical vacation-wear with funky corn-rows and their loose parenting style with their kid pawing around on the floor. If I squinted my eyes a little and looked at those shiny arches of the security check that loomed ahead, it was like being at the foot of the 21st century’s Statue of Liberty. Welcome to America, the TSA gates say. The airport personnel serve as our modern day militia. They constitute our seemingly bygone civilian army, combatting 8.5 oz. tubes of toothpaste and pennies left in pockets. How did we become the police capital of the world? With a masterpiece of a constitution and a Statue of Liberty, it seems to be the inevitable fate of our ambitious young nation who bit off more than it could chew. Now we have to overcompensate. It’s the same story as the small kid who was bullied in middle school and then grows up to be a big bad airport security official who confiscates passports. Our security reveals our insecurity.
Written by MEREDITH WHITE '15 of San Francisco, Calif.
(11/28/12 11:58pm)
I am a Canamerican — one of the truest. Oh, and in the somewhat likely event that portmanteaus are not your bag, kind reader, allow me to elaborate: I am a dual citizen of Canada and America, and can’t for the life of me discern which country deserves my undivided national pride. Indeed, I’ve recently come to the realization that my sovereign heart — beautifully, tragically — will have to remain divided. I, as if the protagonist in some outlandish romantic comedy, find myself immersed in a frantic and impassioned love affair with a set of conjoined sisters who, after years of fraternal bickering, have now settled for a healthy relationship marked by occasional banter. I can only thank God that Mexico isn’t in the picture: I can salsa about as well as I can speak Spanish. Entonces.
My select identity as a citizen of Americanada is a double-sided coin. I face blushing ridicule for my country’s comely affinity for hockey and mounted police officers, while at the same time defending my country’s liberty-swathed rock-em-sock-em affinity for itself. But more importantly, I’ve been able to fashion a relatively objective lens through which to view both countries. And Thanksgiving in Ireland is like a whole new prescription for my American glasses.
The perspective I’ve been granted by virtue of being a Canamerican abroad has made me acutely aware of one thing: we’re making a mockery of freedom in America. I think we’re in the process of taking the most important human right — the highest moral good — and turning it into a meaningless platitude, a mere unit of propaganda.
Freedom in American has become inextricably linked with an unrelenting desire to consume — and leave the rest. Freedom is now synonymous with low taxes. Take the libertarian party for example: noble goals, respectable earnestness and a healthy spoonful of intellectual dishonesty. They claim that all our problems will be solved by a more negligible presence of government. In fairness, this dishonesty is probably not a product of conscious design on the part of modern party members, but is rather that of a few generations of Cold War and communist witch-hunts.
America has good reason to fear communism in its Marxist-Leninist forms. But Marx and Engels had some really profound and important insights about capitalism —insights we seem to have forgotten. Namely that, unfettered, capitalism looks something like England and Ireland at the beginning of the industrial revolution (I don’t even care to describe these conditions, because Engels wrote a book about them, and they’re horrible). And while the complete absorption of a nation’s means of production by a totalitarian government is admittedly inane, the realization that the free market isn’t a divine organism was a damn good one. Under pure capitalism, workers are treated like commodities and are compensated accordingly. I call that exploitation, but I suppose freedom works too.
Socialism is merely the recognition that the working class of a capitalist society is under-compensated for the work it does. Socialism is the realization that the prosperity of a nation is owed not just to its “job-creators,” but also to every member of its economic structure — top to bottom. Hence, the progressive tax system. More importantly, it is about freedom — and I mean real freedom. Freedom is the ability to define yourself. A free country would be one in which people have the opportunity to educate themselves and to live in moderate comfort as long as they try to contribute to society. But instead, many Americans reject the basic idea of national welfare; they’d prefer to live in a country where if you don’t rise, you drown. Today, 40 percent of Americans combined have less money than six members of the Walton family. Today, if people take advantage of government programs, the intuition is to eliminate government rather than to develop more efficient programs. We’ve forgotten why we developed welfare in the first place: up until the Cold War, we recognized that it was the cornerstone of free society.
So what should the Libertarian party be concerned with? Yes, less military interventionism. Yes, the legalization of drugs. Yes, the removal of legislation that allows the President to arrest US citizens without trial. But fewer taxes? The reason we pay taxes is to improve our society.
But the profound distinction between our socialism (and don’t kid yourself, America is a socialist country), and the Soviet Union’s, is that we have a representative government. Ideally, we choose where our tax money goes. So then, again, what should the Libertarian party (and indeed every party) be most concerned with? Keeping America democratic.
And today, that means getting rid of super-PACs. In fact, it means the elimination of private campaign funding. It means no gerrymandering, and it means operating an accountable government free of corruption and free of legislation written to satisfy grumbling lobbyists and corporate interests. If America is to embody the freedom it professes so fervently, the political debate should not be about wealthy people keeping their cash, it should be about reinstating a democracy that allocates said cash effectively.
Mohan Fitzgerald '14