Opinion JENNIFER CALFAS EDITOR IN CHIEF AARICA MARSH and DEREK WOLFE EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS LEV FACHER MANAGING EDITOR 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors. The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com 4 — Friday, April 17, 2015 Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Rabab Jafri, Ben Keller, Payton Luokkala, Aarica Marsh, Victoria Noble, Michael Paul, Anna Polumbo-Levy, Allison Raeck, Melissa Scholke, Michael Schramm, Matthew Seligman, Stephanie Trierweiler, Mary Kate Winn, Jenny Wang, Derek Wolfe EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS O n April 11, New York Times columnist David Brooks wrote a piece called “The Moral Bucket List.” In it, he alludes to the unfulfilling nature of exter- nal achievement. In other words, career success, recognition and money have afforded him little depth of spirit. The timing of this piece feels oddly perfect in that, as a senior embarking upon who knows what, I find myself incapable of defin- ing what I want success to mean. Suc- cess is subjective, but as we know it, it is defined by environment. And I can say, having been in a university environment for four years, that suc- cess in this environment is defined in terms of external achievement. I believe that in order to achieve personal success, a success defined by you and only you, you must dis- tance yourself from preconceptions, from the notion that to be happy is to be the best. What I’ll pose now is a distillation of life advice I’ve absorbed from friends, family, teach- ers, books and from myself in times of needed self-assurance. Hopefully, what this compilation of both gener- ic and what I believe to be original advice will do, is remind you that the formation of a good and honest self is what will aid you in your definition of success. And that success, the kind that comes from the inside, as Brooks suggests, is the kind that makes you happy. Maybe not happy as we know it, but happy in deeper terms. Happy to be living. Worthy of our lives. 1) You are not special. I have to say, I don’t like this one. I’m sure you have heard it before and have decided that it doesn’t apply to you because you are, in fact, special. Well, that’s just the point. You are special, and so am I, and so is your neigh- bor, and so is your super annoying classmate. We’re all special in our own rights, and therefore none of us are. Our grandparents’ genera- tion was taught to think that they were just cogs in a machine, and we, unlike that generation, have been taught to think that sunshine comes out of our asses. In the crud- est of terms, you have to make the sunshine spill out of your ass. Spe- cialness isn’t inherent. Talent can be, intelligence certainly is, but it doesn’t make one special. Special implies that you’re more deserv- ing, which you aren’t. It’s because we have opportunity and live in an insulated bubble that we think of ourselves as special. But I can say from the experience I have had vol- unteering within prisons, a forgot- ten place, that the people inside are truly special. They are as special as my friends, my family — maybe not to me but to their own families and to themselves. 2) As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods. They kill us for their sport. Thanks to John Rubadeau for introducing me to this quote and to William Shakespeare for writing it. Its meaning — that life happens for no other reason than that it does — is something I sit with often. Shitty things will happen to us in our lives. Shitty things have happened to us. But to dwell on those things, to con- stantly terrorize ourselves over the whys, is to miss out on time. All we can do is accept our stories, have our traumas become parts of our identi- ties and move on without question- ing our pasts, rather letting them shape us in ways we wouldn’t have necessarily imagined for ourselves. 3) Stop feeling guilt over your privilege. This advice is intended for my peers in the social justice world who so badly want to be good that they in fact put themselves and others down in the process. Privilege is a buzz- word of the time, but for good reason — it has prompted severe racial and social inequalities universally. How- ever, we have made privilege mean something bad, when it by definition means advantage. It’s not that we should wish to be disadvantaged, but rather wish advantages for everyone. We therefore don’t need to feel guilt about our own situations of privilege, constantly putting ourselves and oth- ers down due to our class and race based situations. Rather, we should fight for those who don’t have those same privileges, so that race and class no longer harbor such extreme weight. If you are white, you’re white. If you come from wealth, you did. You can’t relinquish your past or your identity because you’re embar- rassed or guilty. However, you can work toward a world in which those identities don’t create unjust barriers for others. 4) Be alone. Don’t jump into relationships just because. Don’t constantly seek out company because you don’t want to sit with your own thoughts. Those thoughts will be the ones that make you understand what you need from a partner or a friend. If you don’t know yourself before being with someone, you’ll never know your- self. And settling right now is no option at all. It’s like the Michigan winter causing you to appreciate the summer so much more. Being alone, at least for some time, will make you appreciate the benefits of real love, like a beautiful, perfect summer that needs waiting for. 5) Don’t define yourself or anyone else by the worst thing you’ve ever done or the worst thing about you. Recently, when discussing incar- ceration with a group of thoughtful, kind people, one woman said about incarcerated people: “Why are they defined by the worst thing they’ve ever done? We aren’t.” It was reve- latory. I have been working with incarcerated populations for over two years, and I hadn’t been able to articulate that thought so suc- cinctly. It’s revelatory because no one should be defined by the worst thing they’ve done, and this is because we don’t measure ourselves by that same standard. We naturally define ourselves by our best quali- ties. But to define others by their worst qualities, sometimes a natural inclination, is to make the playing field uneven. You can’t judge some- one by their worst qualities and by the worst things they’ve ever done while judging yourself by your best qualities and the best things you’ve ever done. Instead, we should define ourselves and everyone around us by our goodness. I hope that one of these points speaks to just one of you, even if just for a moment. These abstract, life- style choices won’t make you a living or find you a passion. But perhaps if you follow one of these guidelines, intended to quiet the self, you’ll start to understand what you define as success. And that will give you peace, I believe. As it goes, I’m still waiting for it, but it’s coming. — Abby Taskier can be reached at ataskier@umich.edu. Advice on defining your own success and quieting the self ABBY TASKIER “Would you still want to travel to that coun- try if you could not take your camera with you?” — a question of appropriation, Nayyirah Waheed You have seen the images and heard the stories. You may have liked these posts or posted a few statuses of your own. Unbe- knownst to you, you’re supporting a dehu- manizing production — the exploitation of human narratives, the perpetuation of suf- fering, the continuation of neo-colonialism — the white-savior industrial complex. I entered a community that was not my own without invitation. I “helped” myself to the people — bought more kente cloth than my bag could hold, ate more jollof than I could actually stomach and cried for every child I deemed neglected, impoverished or underprivileged. I was the unconscious and yet unconscionable oppressor; ignorant to the way I imposed my beliefs on the community I desired to help. I had honest intentions, truly, but I didn’t fully understand the history of humanitarian aid and development like I do now. I am now beginning to see the correla- tion and resulting parallels between histori- cal Western aid programs in the Global South and my own summer trip. The staging of voluntourism images is reminiscent of colonial photography. Melanie Tanielian, a human rights scholar, discussed the dangers of colonial images and their attempt to convey “the scope of humanitar- ian activity on the ground.” She argued that human aid has turned abstract bodies into a nameless source and only particular indi- viduals have the privilege of being named. The same framework is present in images uploaded by volunteers. How many uploaded photos include the names of all photo partici- pants? Think of the children who go nameless — leaving only their eyes to speak. Why must they continue to go unacknowledged? Just as Tanielian demonstrated colonial photog- raphy was no more than a way to “show the scope of humanitarian activity, provide facts and figures, and fulfill the body count,” the voluntourism pictures are harmful, demoral- izing and full of misplaced sympathies. There’s a great and urgent need for mil- lennials to understand the perpetuation of damaging and dangerous depictions of “African life.” Playing the savior destroys the agency and autonomy of those you are attempting to help. Carrie Kahn’s NPR article, “As Voluntourism Explodes, Who Is It Helping Most?” presents an alternative perspective. She mentions, “More and more Americans are no longer taking a few weeks off to suntan and sightsee abroad. Instead they’re working in orphanages, building schools and teaching English.” She cites an estimated 1.6 million volunteer tourists are spending about $2 billion dollars on this new traveling trend. For recent gradu- ates, the voluntourism industry is great for establishing a foundation in aid organiza- tions and obtaining relevant work experience to add to graduate applications and resumes. However, servicing a community has to go further than temporary fixes and shallow promises. Ask yourself, is a five-day, 10-day or 14-day trip creating self-sustaining mod- els of development that can be implemented in multiple settings? Furthermore, consider the space you occupy and the power you have within your assigned tasks. For example, when you impose your language on a non- native speaker or train locals to adminis- ter medical treatment in a way influenced by Western-centric ideals, you’re being an aggressor. You are inflating your self-worth while simultaneously conflating many of the complex problems faced by African nations into one singular, problematic image. This behavior must stop. To those who fail to see the voluntourism industry’s dangerous connection to neo-colo- nialism, I offer you this: I was once someone who didn’t understand the politics of speech, imagery and power in this setting. I was naïve — looking to do good, not exactly know- ing how. Yet, I now adhere to the old saying, “Leave something better than you found it.” Ron Krabill, author of “American Sentimen- talism and the Production of Global Citizens”, clarifies that, “The White Savior Industrial Complex is not about justice. It is about hav- ing a big emotional experience that validates privilege.” Use your privilege to inform oth- ers of all the joys of Africa, a beautiful con- tinent of 54 diverse nations, each with a rich history and culture. Tell your friends of the scenery, weather, music and food. Educate them on culture, community and the kind- ness of strangers. But please, in all that you do, leave your camera at home. Jayla Johnson is an LSA senior. JAYLA JOHNSON | VIEWPOINT Africa isn’t a spectator sport SAM MYERS | VIEWPOINT Michael Brown. Eric Garner. Now Walter Scott. With yet another instance in which a white police officer has killed an unarmed Black man, and amid growing concerns about racial tensions between citizens and police and the Department of Justice’s report that found the Ferguson Police Department to be guilty of sustaining systemic racism, it is safe to say that we have reached a crisis in our country. Simply put, on average, we have overwhelm- ingly white police departments in charge of protecting communities of color. But they don’t seem to be doing much protecting. As an undergraduate here, I took courses in American history and Black studies primar- ily. My thesis was on the 1967 Detroit “riot.” I put quotation marks around “riot,” because my research concluded that the civil unrest and violence in 1967 transpired because of police agitation and abuse, and longstand- ing racial divides and hostility between the 95 percent white department and the more than 50 percent Black citizenry. This is a view shared by many in the fields of Black studies and American (especially Detroit) history. In fact, Illinois Gov. Otto Kerner and the other 10 members of the investigative commission, whom President Lyndon Johnson charged with understanding the bloody conflict in Detroit, initially forwarded this view in 1967. The racial divide in Detroit, between the white police officers with guns and the Black citizens generally without them, was potent enough to cause a conflict that resulted in tens of deaths and millions of dollars in damage. The police department in Ferguson is dis- proportionately white. According to The New York Times, the police department in North Charleston is 80 percent white while the population there is 47 percent Black. Histori- cally speaking, it is not all that surprising that there are instances of extreme violence in these places. The fact that this has continued, more than 50 years after the Kerner Commis- sion pointed out this problem, is incredibly difficult to stomach. What are we to do? First, it is probably best to have this discussion and to point out the consistencies in these police-caused conflicts. Hopefully, that can bring about an effort to construct police departments that more accurately reflect the constituencies that they’re intended to protect. Police need to be familiar with and respectful of their communities — not afraid, like Eric Garner’s killers admitted to being. There must be more of an emphasis on community policing. But second, and because that first movement will take a long time to implement (assuming peo- ple are on board), it is important that we learn to assess, criticize and hold accountable our police departments. Evident in the endless acquittals and not- guilty verdicts in Garner and Brown’s cases — don’t forget that George Zimmerman was found not guilty — the police simply have too much power with too little oversight. And really, who can hold the police accountable? I’ve had interactions with police, and during them all I’ve felt totally powerless and at the mercy of someone who clearly felt superior and like he had total authority over me. I can only imagine what it must be like to be a Black man interacting with a white police officer. Not only do the police assume authority and superiority over Black people — especially men — but they assume legal use of lethal force with impunity. Walter Scott’s case, for which the police officer is charged with mur- der, is an exception for now — we shall see what verdict comes — but there is too much evidence on the other hand. And people continually and unequivocally come to the defense of police departments in this country, as if they, the ones with guns, are the people in danger, and not the people, overwhelmingly Black, who are shot and killed daily it now seems. Police do take great risks in their jobs, but it increasingly seems that they are not more at risk than people. There are no police for the police, only we, the people. If we do not speak up against police misdeeds — which are often criminal misdeeds — and wrest some of the power that they hold, then instances like these will con- tinue. If they continue, it will not only be a blemish in the history of the United States, but it will be a piece of evidence in the argu- ment that our great nation is descending into the likes of a police state. Sam Myers is an LSA senior. Don’t be afraid to criticize the police I lost my last good pair of head- phones the other day. I don’t really know where they went. At one point they were in my ears, and then in my pocket along with my phone and then at a later moment in neither place. I might have kicked them under my bed accidentally. Maybe left them somewhere on a table in the Law Library. If you’re currently reading this while listening to music through some black Klipsch earbuds, then they are mine and you should prob- ably give them back to me. I didn’t even notice I had lost them until I stepped outside to walk to class, went to go plug the invis- ible headphones into my phone in my sleepless stupor and then real- ized that my hands were grasping at nothing and I should probably go to bed before three in the morn- ing. I had another pair lying around somewhere, but they went through the wash sometime in the past and I wasn’t really in the mood to listen to music playing into only my left ear. So I embarked on the journey to class without anything in my ears, and immediately noticed the unnerving silence. I’ve grown up with portable music players as a normal part of my life. The iPod was released when I was in ele- mentary school, and I still remember standing at my safety guard post at the street corner before school listen- ing in awe on my friend’s new iPod to the entire album of Songs About Jane as my friend endlessly showed off how cool this thing called the click wheel was. Ever since then, whenever there was some time to be spent traveling between two places, or really any time spent not directly talking to someone else, the space was filled with some unnatural soundtrack. Walking outside without the nor- mal buffer of headphones is imme- diately unusual. The sounds are different. The entire scene feels dif- ferent. There’s nothing between me and the outside world, no playlist to absorb myself into during the trek. I watch squirrels scamper around and up and down trees as a means to dis- tract myself, becoming not so differ- ent from the squirrels themselves. I get a few blocks before my phone vibrates; someone else has announced they’re running for presi- dent. So I pull up the news story and walk with my head down while crossing a few streets because this is Ann Arbor and as a pedestrian I am untouchable. And at this moment, any type of diversion from the quiet walk is better than being forced to actually acknowledge the silence. Silence can be uncomfortable. Because on that walk to class with- out headphones, there is nothing left to do but to think. To think of mean- ingless things like what sandwich I’ll order at Jimmy John’s when I get sidetracked on my walk to class. Of slightly more important things like the exam I have later that night I’m not sure if I had enough time to study for. Of the looming prospects of pre- paring for whatever life after gradu- ation might look like. The 15-minute walk usually accompanied by explo- rations of the New Releases section of Spotify was quickly replaced with more introspective explorations. The Digital Age, or whatever cli- ché term is being used to describe it, brings with it the consequence that such moments are rare. The math stu- dent in me likens it to statistical noise, the random variations that get in the way of what is trying to be measured. Such is the noise that we have thrown into our world, in media and in other forms, which prevents us from the moments we just get to think. Some- thing else had to get in the way of the usual routine, that being losing my headphones, just to find this out. I never ended up getting a new pair of headphones. I never needed to. I learned to enjoy the moments, the walks, the only time in days not filled with studying and meetings and occasionally sleep. The space in my pocket once used for head- phones replaced with a rosary, lyrics replaced with time of serenity, any- thing to enjoy the fleeting moments of calmness in the life of a college student. The silence that was once unsettling is no longer so. — David Harris can be reached at daharr@umich.edu. Silence DAVID HARRIS Love giving your perspective to others? Want to complement your summer internship with something that’s actually cool? Apply to be a summer opinion columnist! For more information, e-mail Melissa Scholke at melikaye@umich.edu.