Opinion

SHOHAM GEVA
EDITOR IN CHIEF

CLAIRE BRYAN 

AND REGAN DETWILER 
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS

LAURA SCHINAGLE
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 — Tuesday, January 26, 2016

T

he Flint water crisis dramati-
cally calls attention to the 
inherent dangers of Gov. Rick 

Snyder’s 
emer-

gency managers. 
But if you listen 
to Snyder, you 
might not realize 
that EMs even played a role in this 
crisis.

In his State of the State address, 

Snyder only mentioned emergen-
cy managers once. He said, “This 
crisis began in the spring of 2013 
when the Flint City Council voted 
7-1 to buy water from the Kare-
gnondi Water Authority. Former 
Flint Mayor Walling supported the 
move and the emergency manager 
approved the plan.”

This statement could mislead you 

in two ways. First, regarding the 
facts about emergency management 
that he strategically omitted, Snyder 
failed to mention that “[a]fter initial-
ly supporting the plan, the Flint City 
Council, reacting to public outrage 
over water quality, voted (in early 
2015) to return to the Detroit sys-
tem … EM Jerry Ambrose, the fourth 
person to hold that job in Flint, over-
ruled the vote of those elected offi-
cials, forcing residents to continue 
using river water.”

From Snyder’s statement, you 

might interpret the EM’s role as 
mostly advisory. But from the record 
assembled by journalists, such as the 
American Civil Liberties Union’s 
Curt Guyette (quoted above), the 
picture looks quite different. We see 
that EM Ambrose prevented local, 
elected officials from executing the 
will of their constituency. This is not 
the act of an adviser. It’s the act of an 
authoritarian.

Second, though the immediate 

crisis probably began when Sny-
der claims, his timeline limits our 
understanding of the problems in 
Flint to the relatively recent past. 
Likewise, from Snyder’s statements, 
the issues involved in the Flint 
water crisis appear highly specific 
and isolated, not systemic or struc-
tural. He is focused on solving the 
“lead problem” in Flint. For many 
of us, this is far too simple-minded. 

To us, the lead contamination is an 
especially painful and visible symp-
tom of the many diseases raging 
through the body of America today 
— e.g. white supremacy, global capi-
talism, economic terrorism, etc.

The anti-democratic history of 

Snyder’s emergency management 
policy helps us understand its cata-
strophic application in the case of 
Flint. In November 2012, Michi-
gan voters rejected Michigan’s first 
emergency manager law, Public Act 
4 of 2011, via referendum. Less than 
two months later, Snyder signed 
Public Act 436 of 2012, which was 
mostly similar to Public Act 4, 
except it included an appropria-
tion that made it immune to refer-
endum. At the time, Snyder hailed 
the replacement EM law, saying, 
“This legislation demonstrates that 
we clearly heard, recognized and 
respected the will of the voters … It 
builds in local control and options 
while also ensuring the tools to 
protect communities and school 
districts’ residents, students and 
taxpayers.”

As Snyder understands it, “the 

will of the voters,” as expressed in 
the referendum, is for laws immune 
to referendum, unlike the one 
they’d just rejected (via referen-
dum). Clearly, the voters want less 
direct say in the laws that govern 
them. In Snyder’s mind, there’s 
no question that the voters desire 
emergency management, since they 
cannot possibly be trusted to elect 
competent 
representatives. 
The 

people need a strong man, a patri-
arch, to “manage” them, temper-
ing their desires for basic resources 
such as fresh water with more seri-
ous concerns such as balancing the 
budget. We are too weak and meek 
to make the hard choice of auster-
ity, so we desire someone to impose 
it upon us. In these troubled times, 
democracy must be suspended.

Only such absurd, fascistic phi-

losophy could possibly explain 
the decision to impose emergency 
management and austerity in spite 
of the voters’ rejection of it. It’s 
blatantly disrespectful to our basic 
desire for autonomy and ignorant 

to the structural sources of Flint’s 
financial collapse.

One safety of municipal democ-

racy lies in the fact that elected 
representatives live in the commu-
nities they serve. They often direct-
ly experience the problems they 
seek to solve — like when they turn 
on the tap, they see brown water 
running. They are interpersonally 
tied to their constituency. On the 
other hand, emergency managers 
have none of these characteristics, 
and so, much like police officers 
employed outside their home com-
munities, they don’t have any direct, 
personal stake in the well-being of 
the communities they serve.

After the switch from Lake 

Huron water to Flint River water, 
the people of Flint knew immedi-
ately that something was wrong: 
The water didn’t look right (it had 
a brown tinge), it didn’t smell right 
(kind of like rotten eggs) and it 
didn’t taste right (metallic). But 
such plebian methods of detecting 
problems, like using the cognitive 
faculties of sight, smell and taste, 
are, by our government’s stan-
dards, unreliable and cannot con-
stitute true knowledge. (Though 
brown 
water 
isn’t 
necessarily 

toxic, it’s a pretty good indicator 
of the need for further research; 
What’s more, it wouldn’t be toler-
ated in affluent white communi-
ties.) Thus, in turn, their voices 
were ignored and their collective 
will suppressed.

People 
calling 
for 
Snyder’s 

arrest and/or resignation specifi-
cally because of Flint’s lead con-
tamination should prepare for 
the criminal investigations not to 
return a smoking gun. The state 
bureaucracy will likely filter out 
any responsibility before it reaches 
the governor’s office, and then the 
people will not have their justice. 
Instead, we should recall Snyder 
because he has impeded democ-
racy and threatens to continue to 
impede democracy with his policy 
of emergency management.

—Zak Witus can be reached 

at zakwitus@umich.edu.

Emergency managed

Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan, 

Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, Payton Luokkala, Aarica Marsh, Anna Polumbo-

Levy, Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel, Melissa Scholke, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung, 

Stephanie Trierweiler, Mary Kate Winn, Derek Wolfe, Hunter Zhao

EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

I

f you were to text me right now, my 
response would likely show up on your 
iPhone as a green bubble. To some peo-

ple, that first text might be 
the last one they ever send 
me because, as it turns out, 
many people aren’t fond of 
green bubbles.

In case you are unaware, 

when an iPhone sends a mes-
sage to another iPhone, the 
responses will show up in 
blue bubbles. This indicates 
the messages being sent are 
iMessages, Apple’s propri-
etary 
messaging 
format, 

not standard SMS text mes-
sages. If an iPhone user were to send a message 
to an Android phone (like my Google Nexus 6P), 
the Android response would show up in a green 
bubble on the iPhone, indicating the messages 
are SMS. Unlike SMS, iMessages can be natively 
sent over Wi-Fi, traced as “read” or “unread,” and 
do not possess character limits. Technologically 
speaking, iMessages are superior to SMS.

Chances are you already knew all of that. 

Apparently, iPhones are popular. A walk through 
the Diag or a glance around an Angell Hall audi-
torium only confirms this fact. From my three 
years of experience at Michigan, it is very clear 
that we as a university do indeed bleed blue.

As a Michigan student, I realize the off-put-

ting nature of anything green. However, I never 
realized the extent to which many people out-
right hate receiving green bubbles. Beyond the 
common “Why don’t you just get an iPhone?” I 
get from my friends a few times a month, I have 
seen a number of top yaks pop up on Yik Yak diss-
ing those of us who choose the green bubbles. 
However, I figured occurrences such as these 
were the exception, not the norm. That is, until I 
read a recent piece by Paul Ford.

All you need to know about Ford’s piece can 

be found by doing a quick search on Twitter for 
“green bubble.” It turns out those top yaks were 
more of the norm than the exception after all.

As an Android user on a largely iPhone-based 

campus, I understand the technological com-
plaints about green bubbles. They’re slower, you 
can’t send them from your MacBook and they 
absolutely destroy any type of group text. You 
have a right to hate the underlying and dated 
technology that is the green bubble. You do not, 
however, have the right to hate the green bub-
ble in and of itself because, in some parts of the 
world, blue is synonymous with green.

In passing discussions, international students 

have told me of the messaging service What-
sApp. It operates in a similar fashion to iMessage 
and is technologically superior to SMS in pretty 

much every way. However, unlike iMessage, 
WhatsApp is cross-platform, meaning iPhones, 
Android phones and even Windows phones (yes, 
those do exist) can all reap its benefits. This is one 
of the many reasons WhatsApp is one of the most 
popular messaging services in the world.

To any of the hundreds of millions of 

WhatsApp users, green and blue bubbles are 
equal; they are not WhatsApp messages, so 
they are inferior. Like my iPhone-owning 
roommates hate my Android phone, What-
sApp users hate iMessage.

All of this hate can manifest into something 

real. While many people are merely joking, some 
of those tweets you might have found in your 
search reflect real people making real life choices 
to avoid those of the green bubble. Dates are can-
celed, friendships are strained, people clash.

A recent article from The Verge detailed how 

one of the publication’s writers suffering from 
depression purchased an iPhone in order to gain 
access into his friend groups’ iMessage chats, 
which he was previously excluded from as an 
Android user. To know such a minor feature 
could have such a profound effect on a person’s 
life really struck me. What if I’m missing out on 
my friends’ conversations because I’m green?

What is the solution to this problem? In the-

ory, iMessage on Android would fix your group 
chats in an instant. But this is unlikely to happen, 
as iMessage is a defining feature of iPhones, and 
the societal pressure to adhere to the blue bubble 
is a powerful economic force. It is, after all, the 
only reason I’ve ever legitimately contemplated 
getting an iPhone.

A second solution would be for the entire 

world to use WhatsApp or any similar service 
like we all once used SMS. Given that many 
friend groups have a tough time finding a restau-
rant in Ann Arbor on which they can all agree, 
deciding on one messaging platform is an ideal 
but unlikely solution, at least in the near future.

A final solution would be for us all to just 

live in harmony — blue, green, WhatsApp and 
more. In the short run, we miss out on some of 
the benefits of living in a unified, all-iMessage 
or all-WhatsApp world. But in the long run, we 
allow important societal and individual charac-
teristics, such as a person’s moral fiber, devotion 
to friendship or general personality dictate our 
relationships, not a silly colored bubble.

After all, I am green. Your grandmother 

with a flip phone is green. Your friend who 
goes to Michigan State is green. It would be a 
shame to let something as trivial as the color 
of our bubbles on your phone dictate our rela-
tionships with people like you.

—Elliott Rains can be reached 

at erains@umich.edu.

Green and blue bubbles

In our world, I believe progress often happens 

slowly. I believe the path to significant, ideologi-
cal change is rooted in dedication, conversation 
and activism; in listening to those with perspec-
tives and stories that differ from your own; and in 
programs like the one I was able to participate in 
this year on Martin Luther King Jr. Day.

I spent last Monday in Detroit taking part in 

a daylong, thought-provoking program honoring 
King and his work, examining the modern-day 
civil rights struggle and working on a handful of 
service projects in the southwest neighborhood 
of the city. Our cohort consisted of teens and 
young adults from various youth groups, high 
schools, universities and communities — each 
individual hailing from a unique background and 
bringing a unique voice to the table.

The majority of my time was spent talking 

to someone who, over the course of the day, I 
would come to know as one of the most passion-
ate and driven people I have ever had the plea-
sure of meeting. She was a senior in high school, 
a Detroiter and a self-proclaimed lover of history 
and advocate for social justice. We made signs 
for the Martin Luther King Jr. march downtown 
(posters with messages ranging from “#Black-
LivesMatter” to “Water 4 All”) and dove deeply 
into conversation about race, privilege and 
power. We talked about the issues that persist in 
our country in and around the modern-day civil 
rights movement openly and honestly — topics 
that are incredibly important, yet all too often 
deemed as “taboo” or left unacknowledged by 
our society. She gave me new ideas, new vocabu-
lary and a new perspective — and I like to believe 
I offered her the same.

When the day had come to an end, my mind 

was racing. It was easy to recognize that our con-
versation was far from complete. In fact, it had 
really only just begun.

This realization — that our discussion about 

systemic social issues was not nearly finished 
and that the ideas we were sharing were hardly 
fleshed out in full — made me view this program 
as more than just a gift of fate. I began to see it 
as more than just an educational opportunity or a 

way of bringing diverse individuals and commu-
nities together. I started to think of the program, 
and of Martin Luther King Jr. Day in general, as 
an invitation: an invitation to begin and continue 
to participate in a conversation that has been 
going on for centuries, that analyzes every diffi-
cult and uncomfortable aspect of our society and 
that we should be having all the time.

I believe that where there is dialogue, there 

is power; where there are people coming 
together with open minds and open hearts, 
there is room for opportunity and societal and 
ideological change. The conversations that mil-
lions of Americans have on Martin Luther King 
Jr. Day each year (in Detroit, in Ann Arbor and 
all over the country) should not cease to exist 
when the march ends, when Martin Luther 
King Jr. Symposium keynote lecturer Naomi 
Tutu leaves the stage, when the group dispers-
es or even when a new day begins. The ideas 
and concepts we all think about so critically 
and carefully in honor of King should continue 
to be considered the following morning; they 
should be thought about daily and manifested 
into conversation regularly.

If you have not already received it, I want to 

extend the invitation I was presented with in 
Detroit last Monday to all of you now. I want to 
challenge our community — here on campus, in 
Ann Arbor and beyond — to continue these con-
versations past the scope of Martin Luther King 
Jr. Day, to continue to seek out spaces where open 
and respectful discussions about the most press-
ing issues in our country are being had and to ask 
others to do the same. I want to encourage us all 
to speak out against injustice in any and all forms 
and to never shy away from the conversations 
our communities and our nation need the most. 
Doing so is not an end-all solution to the large-
scale social injustices that persist in our country 
by any means; rather, it is a step along the way, 
one that is absolutely imperative in order for us to 
create a brighter future filled with light and love 
as King once so famously dreamed.

 
—Emily Zonder is an LSA freshman.

Beyond MLK Day

EMILY ZONDER | OP-ED

ZAK 
WITUS

CONTRIBUTE TO THE CONVERSATION

Readers are encouraged to submit letters to the editor and op-eds. Letters should be 
fewer than 300 words while op-eds should be 550 to 850 words. Send the writer’s full 

name and University affiliation to tothedaily@michigandaily.com.

ELLIOTT 
RAINS

I

t wasn’t until the second day 
of Math 115 my first semes-
ter here that I realized I was 

in way over my 
head. After hav-
ing rushed into 
class, my back-
pack 
unzipped 

in 
a 
manner 

that screamed “frantic freshman” 
and my graphing calculator buried 
under a pile of notebooks and fold-
ers, I sat down next to a group of 
students, all discussing their future 
academic plans. Wide-eyed, I lis-
tened to each individual recount 
their aspirations to major in STEM 
fields and how this class was just 
their “easy” step before ultimately 
conquering the heights of Calculus 
II and III. In contrast, I only need-
ed one quantitative reasoning cred-
it, and since I liked calculus in high 
school, I figured this class would 
be the reasonable answer … right? 
As the future engineers continued 
to prattle on about topics I did not 
understand, I quickly realized I had 
never doubted my academic prow-
ess more.

I’ve experienced these feelings 

of doubt not only in academics, but 
also in athletics. My first day of col-
legiate cross-country camp, after 
getting back from what was sup-
posed to be a relatively comfort-
able seven-mile run (that left the 
freshmen gasping for air), I pan-
icked. Thoughts raced through my 
head such as “these people are all 
so much more talented than me,” “I 
don’t deserve to be here” and ulti-
mately “am I just going to make a 
big fool out of myself?” As the days 
passed, these negative thoughts 
continued to stir in the back of my 
mind, slowly but surely eating away 
at my self-confidence.

Unfortunately for myself and 

many others, this sinking feeling of 

self-doubt and total unworthiness is 
all too common — especially at a uni-
versity such as this one where thou-
sands of bright students are brought 
together to learn. Just recently, I 
realized this feeling has a name. In 
1978, psychologists Pauline Clance 
and Suzanne Imes coined the term 
“imposter syndrome” to describe 
the tendency of highly successful, 
highly intelligent people to believe 
their accomplishments are the result 
of luck, and that they are essentially 

total frauds. This description has a 
flair for the dramatic, but just think 
of the numerous times you have 
downplayed your past successes or 
doubted your abilities (despite pal-
pable results) based on the thought 
that the people around you are so 
much more qualified or intelligent.

This phenomenon occurs not only 

in calculus class or in a varsity sport 
— but in the real world as well, from 
job interviews to acting in films to 
publishing critically acclaimed nov-
els. Maya Angelou, of all people, said, 
“I have written 11 books, but each 
time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going 
to find out now. I’ve run a game on 
everybody, and they’re going to find 
me out.’ ”

I’m no Maya Angelou, but I can’t 

even count the number of times I’ve 
passed on submitting works of writ-
ing or applying for positions because 
I think I’m simply not good enough. 
Yet, by counting myself out from 
the get-go, I’m not being humble, 
I’m just being a coward and have no 
chance of ever achieving my dreams. 
Maybe it’s not inadequacy that we 
fear, but what lies beyond the vast 
expanses of our greatest potential.

I’m in no way telling you to be 

an obnoxious narcissist or to start 
believing you’re qualified to run this 
country, but just give yourself some 
credit. You made it here, you’re fig-
uring things out and you’re still the 
same kick-butt person you were 
when you received your admis-
sion letter and laughed and danced 
around your kitchen — giddy at the 
idea of the numerous opportunities 
and dreams finally in your grasp.

Yes, I am on a team surrounded 

by some of the most talented girls 
in the nation, which can be intimi-
dating, but it can also be incred-
ibly motivating. I still doubt myself 
sometimes, but as the days wear on, 
I realize that I (along with all of my 
teammates) am here for a reason. It’s 
a definite adjustment, but that’s just 
the nature of life.

As for calculus? It was tough, but 

I made it through — just the same 
as everyone else. I soon realized 
that the future engineers who had 
so intimidated me at the beginning 
of the term were extremely help-
ful whenever I needed a problem 
explained or help with team home-
work. I struggled, but so did many 
people. My early feelings of inad-
equacy did not make me an “impos-
ter” or “unqualified,” but simply 
human.

—Kaela Theut can be reached 

at ktheut@umich.edu.

KAELA 
THEUT

Not an imposter, but human

 “You made it here, 

you’re figuring things 

out and you’re still 

the same kick-butt 

person you were when 

you recieved your 

admission letter.”

