Opinion
JENNIFER CALFAS
EDITOR IN CHIEF
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and DEREK WOLFE
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MANAGING EDITOR
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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Thursday, April 16, 2015
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala,
Aarica Marsh, Victoria Noble, Michael Paul, Anna Polumbo-Levy,
Allison Raeck, Melissa Scholke, Michael Schramm, Matthew Seligman,
Linh Vu, Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
T
he concept of choice is really
interesting, both in econom-
ics and its real-life implica-
tions. When you
eat out for lunch,
what makes you
choose one res-
taurant over the
other? It’s easy to
justify
decisions
like that by saying,
“It’s what I want-
ed.” But why did
you want it?
Basic economic
theory tells us that
human beings are rational and make
decisions that maximize their util-
ity, or benefit, from a purchase. This
makes a lot of sense and is pretty
intuitive. If you’re deciding between
an apple and an orange, if you want
the apple more, you’re going to pick it
because it provides you more utility.
But this model of human rational-
ity doesn’t always hold, and it only
leads us to wonder why we make the
purchases that we do.
Take, for instance, the paradox of
choice. This theory states that pro-
viding humans with more options can
actually hinder people from choosing
what they want the most. Traditional
economic theory assumes that a con-
sumer with more options will be able
to evaluate the utility of each option
and choose the one that’s best for
them. Since consumers have more
options, they should benefit through
having more options to maximize
their utility.
Contrary to this notion, a recent
study revealed that consumers with
just six options for jelly were more
likely to purchase one than those who
were offered 24. The intuition behind
this idea is that humans have a more
difficult time processing all the avail-
able options, and will therefore have
a harder time coming to a conclusion.
See how it can be much more
complicated
than,
“It’s
what
I wanted?”
Traditional economics fails to
incorporate human irrationality and
psychological functioning into its
model. This leads to a big problem,
in that it insinuates humans are stiff
in an unrealistically robotic manner.
We’re not robots.
Instead,
factors
outside
of
rationality mix with utility to explain
why we consume what we do.
Take, for instance, our capacity for
exerting energy. A robot is capable of
performing tasks with the same level
of energy and precision, but if we as
humans are constantly bombarded
with the need to make decisions,
we get tired. Choosing something
over something else requires energy.
At times when we must make
decisions in rapid succession, we
have the potential to lose the desire
to maximize our utility, and we just
want to be finished with a task.
I’ve certainly experienced this.
After winding through the aisles of
a grocery store, I’m ready to check
out. So when I get to the cheese sec-
tion, I’m ready to just throw in the
first pack of square dairy that I see,
whether it’s pepper jack or muenster.
We’re also susceptible to our
emotions influencing which decision
we believe maximizes our utility.
This is exemplified by the concept
of overconfidence, which states that
we’re more susceptible to purchase
something when we or others have
trust in it. It doesn’t matter whether
the product is actually trustworthy,
but rather, what’s important is that
consumers believe something is
trustworthy. For example, if you
grow up in a household that only
purchases Jif peanut butter, it’s
pretty likely that you’ll develop an
inherent trust in the product. If this
happens, you’ll have more trust in Jif
peanut butter, and likely purchase it,
whether or not it’s actually the brand
that you’d like the most.
So we’re not completely rational,
but economics can still help us
explain why we choose to consume
certain things over others. Though
the traditional model isn’t completely
accurate, when we incorporate what
we know about human irrationality,
we can adjust the model to account
for human emotion and psychology.
It’s important for us to recognize
the power of what these theories
can do for us. They have the power
to tell us why we consume what we
do, and what obstacles cause us to
make irrational decisions. Knowing
the intricacies of concepts like
paradox theory provide us a portal
into our own mindset and why we
choose to purchase what we do. If
we understand these theories, there’s
also a possibility that we can become
mindful of our irrationality, which
could lead us to force ourselves to
overcome our initial irrationality in
place for what maximizes our utility.
At the very least, when you have
24 options of grape jelly, make sure
to at least pick one. If you really can’t
decide, I’d recommend grape. And
don’t immediately pick the peanut
butter that you grew up eating. Try
some variety. Natural peanut butter
does wonders over regular in sticki-
ness value.
After writing this column, I’m
going to need a peanut butter and
jelly sandwich, whether it’s rational
to consume or not.
— Michael Schramm can be
reached at mschramm@umich.edu.
Finding the peanut butter to your jelly
MICHAEL
SCHRAMM
The 2016 presidential campaign season
has just started up its proverbial engines, and
many see this election as simply a decision of
Republican versus Democrat as opposed to a
competition between two unique individuals
who happen to belong to their respective
political parties. As Paul Krugman wrote in a
recent New York Times article, regardless of
who our next president is, their platform will
be fairly predictable simply based on their party
label. This reality clearly has palpable effects
on our nation and its governing system — as
parties become more extreme and drift further
away from one another, it becomes increasingly
difficult to effectively govern a nation that
is yearning for some degree of action out of
Washington D.C.
Krugman wrote, “ … there has never been
a time in American history when the alleged
personal traits of candidates mattered
less.” To me, the personal characteristics
of an individual vying to become arguably
the single most important person on the
face of the planet should certainly have an
effect on voting tendencies. For instance, a
candidate may possess all the right ideas, but
if they cannot communicate those policies
or lack the necessary skill of conveying
those ideals to our nation’s policy makers,
then it would not be wise to put that person
in a position of considerable power. Or, if
a candidate is particularly divisive and is
unable to work cooperatively with other
members of government, then that person
is, similarly, likely unfit for office. Personal
traits can go a long way in alleviating many
of the issues that currently bottleneck our
governing system.
Recently, there have been several campaign
announcements — Ted Cruz, Rand Paul,
Hillary Clinton and Marco Rubio have all told
the world they will attempt to become the next
president of the United States. The fact remains
that all of these candidates carry their own
personal baggage, and both parties are already
churning out attack advertisements targeting
one another.
Thus, it is possible that we haven’t found
one uniting persona because of both parties’
immediate inclination to write off any member
of the opposing party as wholeheartedly
incorrect in their political assertions. Certainly,
part of campaigning involves juxtaposing
oneself with the other candidate with regards
to policy platforms. However, as Mr. Krugman
puts it, “(this) level of political polarization
(has) not (been) seen since the Civil War.”
What this country truly needs is an
individual who possesses not only a sound
mind able to advocate positive policy reforms,
but also the all-too-important quality of being
able to serve beyond their party label and
work alongside — in a friendly manner — those
across the aisle. Obviously, this type of person is
fairly hard to come by, but some of our greatest
presidents have been able to fit this description.
Names such as George Washington, Abraham
Lincoln, Franklin Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy
and others conjure up feelings of better times
in simpler eras.
Yet all of these men faced tremendous
adversity stemming from political opponents
— but their personal traits helped to guide the
nation through those times of peril.
Can we expect another legendary president
to ascend our nation’s political hierarchy
any time soon? We can only hope. For now,
however, it remains imperative that we elect
someone with a personality that will be more
than suitable for the White House. Moreover,
we must all work to collectively shed the
extreme labels of our political parties, and
try to once again form a government that
will cater to the true needs of an increasingly
anxious population.
Obviously, most of my rhetoric sounds
extremely idealistic and general in nature.
Nonetheless, I would contend that these ideals
aren’t necessarily at the conscious forefront
of some of those who occupy the highest
positions in our government. Hopefully this
message will be heard by our current leaders,
along with those who aspire to one day be in
government — even the presidency.
Benjamin Keller is an LSA freshman.
BENJAMIN KELLER | VIEWPOINT
Individuals, not parties
On March 8, when you saw a post on
Facebook,
Twitter
or
Instagram
with
#InternationalWomensDay or #IWD2015,
what did you do? Did you like or share the
photo? Did you try to figure out more about
International Women’s Day? Did you question
gender boundaries?
You, like me, probably did nothing. At most,
you read the content, sent out a quick response
or had a conversation about the topic, and
then moved on. Through talking about three
campaigns, I will show you that a human
rights social media campaign has no impact on
long-term change. These campaigns only raise
awareness for a short amount of time, and then
become erased in memory.
On International Women’s Day this year,
one of the most popular campaigns was the
#NotThere campaign. Social media users
removed their profile photos and replaced it
with the silhouette of a woman, showing that
there is a long way to go to achieve gender
equality. According to the New York Times, the
campaign also removed women’s faces from 40
advertisements — leaving blank spaces where
Scarlett Johansson was on the March cover of
W magazine and where Serena Williams was
on a billboard in Times Square.
The #NotThere campaign was great for a
one-day campaign: it drove over 100,000 people
to learn about gender equality by visiting the
Not There website and interacting with data
involving the status of women and girls. But I,
like journalist Mahvish Ahmed, believe many
readers and future activists needed to hear
more of the emotional stories to understand the
heart of the human rights issue instead of just
seeing the numbers. Now more than a month
after International Women’s Day, #NotThere
is literally not there and the data is no longer
publicized. #NotThere brought up gender
inequality issues for one day, allowing the
public to momentarily be more aware.
Beginning in late September 2014 and
ending on Dec. 15, 2014, the Occupy Central
conflict began in Hong Kong through protests.
According to an article in The China Journal by
Ian Scott, the campaign’s primary demand was
for citizens to directly nominate and elect the
chief executive of Hong Kong’s government,
instead of only having pro-Beijing chief
executives elected. Western and international
media quickly called these protests the
“Umbrella Revolution,” since protesters used
umbrellas to protect themselves against police
brutality by tear gas.
On social media, Occupy Central created
its own handle (@OCLPHR), which served as
a united front to update protesters and share
information. Content was released by protesters
and supporters through the #OccupyHK and
#UmbrellaRevolution hashtags. The social
media campaign encouraged those in Hong
Kong to unify and protest, and also allowed for
international recognition on the human rights
issue. Now, over six months after the Occupy
Central campaign, the Hong Kong government
has not budged, and requests for a complete
democracy have been ignored.
The final example of a human rights
social media campaign is the Human Rights
Campaign’s support for marriage equality
initiative. On March 25, 2013, the campaign
launched, asking supporters to change their
profile photo to a red-tinted version of the HRC
logo. The new logo symbolized supporting
marriage equality as the United States Supreme
Court debated California’s Proposition 8 and
the Defense of Marriage Act. Celebrities,
prominent brands, politicians and the American
public turned the Internet into a sea of red,
with over 2.7 million Facebook users updating
their profile photos. Many think this campaign
was successful due to mass awareness of the
marriage equality discussion and what was and
currently is at stake. Although there was mass
awareness, I do not think most people learned
more about human rights challenges facing
non-heterosexual couples. To me, the mass
awareness was more about everyone on social
media feeling the need to fit in for a 24-to-48
hour period instead of gaining knowledge
and advocating for long-term changes in
marriage equality.
The International Women’s Day #NotThere
campaign, Hong Kong’s Occupy Central
campaign
and
HRC’s
marriage
equality
campaign were all initiatives amplified by
social media over a relatively short amount of
time. In order for these campaigns to have any
sort of long-term impact, campaign organizers
must motivate social media users to understand
the core of the issue and then provide clear
action points to inspire change.
Keya Patel is an LSA senior.
KEYA PATEL | VIEWPOINT
Awareness doesn’t equal action
“All you guys do is bitch.”
“Michigan in Color is just a place
where people complain.”
“Whenever you all bring up race, I
can never win.”
Though they take many forms, I
often hear and read sentiments such
as these, expressed by white people,
when referring to people of color
talking about race. These white
readers speak of wanting to engage
in deep, meaningful exchanges
regarding skin-privilege in our
society, yet feel unfairly boxed out
by angry people of color.
Just yesterday, one of the MiC
editors received yet another of these
responses,
expressing
annoyance
with White-collar whiteness. He
said, “This is what I understand
when I read (the article): ‘I’m going
to bring up a topic and I want us to
have a productive conversation about
it. But in the course of this productive
conversation, I don’t want you to
argue, remain silent or leave. If you in
any way challenge my point of view, I
will suggest that you are either racist
or furthering racism.’
What that suggests to me is that
the author wants white-skinned
people to have “conversations” with
her that consist only of them nodding
their heads and saying, “uh-huh”
over and over again ... You cannot
respect someone with whom you
cannot be honest. This strategy
eventually translates to, “Don’t say
what you think, because you’ll hurt
my feelings if you do.”
Though I am undoubtedly biased
(I am a Michigan in Color editor,
after all), I can understand the “you
all say you want an open dialogue
about race but then shut it down”
sentiment that some of our white
readers have shared. I can see how
it’s difficult to see the nuances of a
seemingly contradictory statement
that many of our contributors
express (and one that I personally
share)
when
you
don’t
know
what it feels like to have the same
conversations about race on a regular,
if not daily, basis. So I’ll explain.
Trying to have a conversation
about systemic racism with someone
who knows little about it invokes
similar frustrations in me (and, I
suspect, other people of color) as it
does to others when trying to discuss
March Madness brackets with me.
You see, I grew up in a household
where we didn’t really talk about
basketball. Because sports-minded
people were never in my social
circle, it has always been incredibly
normal to not think about — and
consequently not care about — sports
events that occur. Even when big
things like the Super Bowl and
NBA Playoffs are going on, athletics
are barely on my radar. I honestly
don’t understand why people in this
country want to talk about sports
so much, why they evoke so much
emotion and why people feel so
strongly about identifying with their
chosen teams.
When someone who likes sports
tries to talk about them with me,
I struggle to have an effective
conversation with them — at least
from their perspective. Not because
I don’t want to, and not because I’m
not willing to try to, but because I
am at a significant knowledge deficit.
The only things I can really speak to
are things I’ve either seen on TV (go
Duke?) or heard about from that one
local team I’m semi-familiar with
(yay Michigan!). Because I’ve said
things like, “I like that team because I
look good in their colors” and “I hope
they win because their quarterback
is cute” in the past, people who
had previously wanted to have a
conversation about sports with me
now roll their eyes and dismiss me
in frustration. It’s not as though my
opinion will always be unwanted, but
as of right now, it’s uninformed.
That
sense
of
irritation
is
whatI feel when trying to have an
intelligent conversation about race
with most white people. While I
don’t blame them for having limited
— or no — experiences with race,
it’s repetitive and unproductive to
talk about something so complex
with someone who often doesn’t
even know what modern-day racism
looks like. Because I’m Black, society
has forced me to see how race
colors our personal interactions and
social mobility. For me, it has been
inescapable. As a white person, it’s
easier to miss. This doesn’t mean you
won’t get a seat at the table; I want
you there with me. But at a table
where I so often don’t have a voice
and instead have my story told for
me, I need you to first listen.
I’m
not
going
to
have
conversations about race if your
main focus is on defending the
intent of a racist action, instead
of analyzing the impact it creates.
I am unwilling to discuss police
brutality if your working knowledge
of the topic started and ended with
Ferguson. I won’t have a dialogue
on the merits and drawbacks of
Affirmative Action if the bedrock
of your opinion is an Ivy-league
rejection letter. Maybe you view this
strategy as me saying: “Don’t say
what you think, because you’ll hurt
my feelings if you do,” but in reality,
I’m saying “Don’t say what you
think if you have unfounded opinions
because it is both offensive and a
waste of our time.” I do want to have
the conversation, but not if you don’t
know what you’re talking about.
I know that you will never truly
understand what it feels like to walk
in my shoes. I don’t expect you to. But
in the same way that I have ample
insight into a broad spectrum of
white people’s experiences — from
history classes, from TV shows,
from books, from magazines, from
commercials, from news reports,
from social media, from white
friends, from white boyfriends, from
white family members, from being
raised in a majority-white society —
I need you to have some insight into
the experiences of my people if we are
going to have the honest, respectful
conversation you say you desire.
You may consider this information
gathering to be “nodding (your)
heads and saying ‘uh-huh’ over and
over again,” but I view your learning
about the oppression of others as
helping get you up to speed. As I see
it, you cannot earnestly challenge
a perspective until you (at least
partially) understand it.
Of the white people in my life, a
good number share equal airtime
with me in conversations about
race. A larger number don’t. The
latter have yet to show me that
they’re willing to consider facts,
viewpoints
and
experiences
unfamiliar to them. You might see
that as “bitching” or “complaining,”
but for these exchanges to be
productive from my perspective,
I need to be met halfway. Maybe
it’s unfair that I won’t have truly
engaged conversations on race with
just anyone. Maybe it makes you
feel like you “can never win.” But
that’s one racial privilege you’ll
have to earn.
Ryan Moody is an Engineering
senior and a Michigan in Color editor.
RYAN MOODY | VIEWPOINT
All you guys do is bitch