Opinion
SHOHAM GEVA
EDITOR IN CHIEF
CLAIRE BRYAN
AND REGAN DETWILER
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LAURA SCHINAGLE
MANAGING EDITOR
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The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Monday, March 28, 2016
Claire Bryan, Regan Detwiler, Caitlin Heenan,
Jeremy Kaplan, Ben Keller, Minsoo Kim, Payton Luokkala,
Kit Maher, Madeline Nowicki, Anna Polumbo-Levy,
Jason Rowland, Lauren Schandevel, Melissa Scholke,
Kevin Sweitzer, Rebecca Tarnopol, Ashley Tjhung,
Stephanie Trierweiler, Hunter Zhao
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
D
uring
Hillary
Clinton’s
victory
speech
after
winning the South Carolina
primary
on
February 27, she
went bold:
“I
know
it
sometimes
seems
a
little
odd for someone
running
for
president these
days,
in
this
time, to say we
need more love
and kindness in
America,”
she
said. “But I’m telling you from the
bottom of my heart, we do. We do.”
This wasn’t the first time I had
heard about Clinton’s desire to talk
about needing to instill love and
kindness in America. BuzzFeed’s
Ruby Cramer wrote a lengthy
feature titled “Hillary Clinton
wants to talk to you about love and
kindness” at the end of January,
and it’s worth a read. But this
speech was the first time I had seen
Clinton discuss love and kindness
on a national stage.
We could argue for hours as to
whether Clinton is the right person
to be delivering this message. After
all, she did vote for the unjustified
Iraq War, doesn’t support the total
abolishment of the death penalty
across the nation and once referred
to kids in gangs, presumably Black,
as “super predators.” Of course I’m
setting aside many of the efforts
she’s made to bolster the rights
of minority communities, but it’s
hard to argue these three things
represent decisions made with
love and kindness. To me, these
instances represent a failure to
value humanity.
But no matter what you think
about Clinton, her message of love
and kindness is one we all need to
hear — and internalize. I know I’m
not breaking this news, but anger
and
nastiness
has
permeated
every corner of this election. It’s
simply out of hand.
The
venom
tossed
by
(gag)
Republican
front-runner
Donald
Trump, who I’m sure has proclaimed
himself to be the nicest man in
the world, is gross, despicable and
disheartening (feel free to insert your
own adjective). The violence at his
rallies, which he absolutely incites —
don’t let him tell you otherwise — has
me questioning what exactly is going
on in America.
And
the
other
remaining
Republican
candidates
besides
Ohio
Gov.
John
Kasich
are
contributors to this problem. And
to a lesser extent, the angry tone
of Bernie Sanders’ message can be
exhausting to listen to sometimes
(the #BirdieSanders moment was
pretty awesome, though).
People have a right to be angry
about the current realities of the
United States. In fact, they should
be. Our economy is rigged to
favor those at the top. We aren’t
doing enough for lower-income
communities. Institutional racism
is alive and well. It’s a disaster that
we don’t have paid family leave and
equal pay for women. Our campaign
finance system is out of control. I
could go on, but the point remains:
These are legitimate issues to lose
sleep over and have steam coming
out of ears.
And it’s not that I need Barney or
Big Bird to explain these outrages
in song and dance. But at a certain
point, the presidential candidates
and the people of the United States
need to recognize the limitations
of anger. This isn’t me saying that
the protests should stop, because
given how much traction Trump
is gaining by winning one primary
after another, they’re still needed.
I just think we have to realize that
when it’s time to write the policy
and fix our wrongs, anger won’t
solve these problems. Anger only
identifies them. And nastiness?
There’s no place for it (I’m talking
to you, Big Donald).
The funny (actually not that
funny) thing is that love and
kindness aren’t ingrained in the
United States’ values. After all,
we were founded on violence.
We owned slaves for hundreds of
years where plenty of places today
are actively trying to bury that
part of our history. Lawmakers
actively wrote policy to damage
minority communities. And we’ve
committed plenty of war crimes.
So instilling love and kindness into
our national mindset would actually
be a radical idea.
Now, of course, we all have
different definitions of what love
and kindness means. I’ll start by
giving mine. Love and kindness is a
belief in the humanity of all people,
that we are all capable of success
given the opportunity. Love and
kindness is a belief in the power
of community — the belief that in
order to have a just society, we have
to look out for each other’s needs
and not just our own.
I know what I’ve laid out is
idealistic, and frankly there are
plenty of times when toughness is
absolutely needed. But at the simplest
level, love and kindness is another
way of saying, “Let’s not screw each
other over.”
You may have a definition that
doesn’t quite jive with mine. Or at all.
But I’m sure whatever it is, it’d
be a lot better than what we have
right now.
—Derek Wolfe can be reached
at dewolfe@umich.edu.
A little more love and kindness
Clinton’s message of
love and kindness is
one we all need to
hear and internalize.
D
espite my opposition, the University of
Michigan announced two weeks ago
that former New York City mayor and
uber-capitalist
Michael
Bloomberg will speak at
Spring
Commencement
and receive an honorary
degree.
In
their
proposal,
University
President
Mark
Schlissel
and
the
Honorary
Degree
Committee wrote, “Mr.
Bloomberg … you are
a role model for civic
leaders,
students,
and
others who aspire to be
agents of change. The
University of Michigan celebrates your
storied career and contributions to business,
philanthropy, and effective government,
and is proud to present to you the honorary
degree, Doctor of Laws.”
Following
the
announcement,
The
Michigan
Daily
published
an
article
elaborating
the
argument
behind
the
University’s
above
claims
(e.g.,
that
Bloomberg is “a role model for civil leaders,”
etc.). The article described Bloomberg’s
business accomplishments, such as founding
the
major
Wall
Street
data-tracking
company, Bloomberg L.P., as well as his
political accomplishments, such as creating
a $4.4 billion budget surplus during his
mayoralty. Though the article briefly noted
that Bloomberg and the New York Police
Department’s stop-and-frisk practice was
“received with controversy,” it failed to
explore the reasons for the controversy.
Readers of the Daily have not received the
benefit of any sort of dissident reporting on
this issue, such as hearing the opinions of
students and faculty who might be opposed
to Bloomberg’s invitation, and/or reviewing
the problematic portions of Bloomberg’s
record. Journalists, even on the small scale
of a college newspaper, have a responsibility
not to simply support those in power (e.g., the
University administration, Board of Regents,
etc.), but rather to check their authority with
reporting that complicates, problematizes
and, when appropriate, contradicts the
establishment narrative.
Until now, the paper has not published any
article or op-ed exploring why Bloomberg
might not be a good choice for commencement
speaker and honorary degree recipient. The
reasons that form this dissenting opinion
abound, but they are apparently uninteresting
to my colleagues.
When we choose to model ourselves after
someone, we presumably already resemble
this person to some extent. Paying attention
to his personal identity, we notice that
Bloomberg is a super-rich, old white man, an
identity that literally no University students
share. The University esteems Bloomberg as a
role model because he resembles the rich, old
white men who have run this University since
the time of its inception.
In our white supremacist patriarchal
capitalist society, a role model is by
definition a person with an identity like
Bloomberg’s. Hence, within the University’s
consciousness, a working-class woman of
color, for example, cannot qualify as a role
model, and hence isn’t invited to speak at
commencement. So despite its incessant
protestations that it highly values diversity,
the University decided not to actualize
that supposed principle, opting instead to
continue its long history of supporting the
voices of rich, old white men over the voices
of young people, women, people of color and
poor and working classes.
I also find it incredible that anyone
familiar with Bloomberg’s record as mayor
of New York City could see fit to honor him
with a “Doctor of Laws” degree. The Daily’s
article noted that Bloomberg served three
terms as mayor of New York City, but it didn’t
note that Bloomberg changed the term-limit
law during his second term as mayor so that
he could serve for a third.
When it looked like a fellow NYC
billionaire might obstruct Bloomberg’s
effort
to
maintain
power,
Bloomberg
promised his would-be opponent a seat on
an influential board in exchange for his
consent. It worked, and Bloomberg revised
the term-limit law and was eventually
elected for a third term — a problematic
twist in Bloomberg’s “storied career” as a
“civic leader,” but maybe one inconvenient
for the University as they coronate him an
honorary doctor of the law. (Maybe the
more apt honorary degree for Bloomberg
would be “surgeon of the law.”)
Perhaps the most glaring blemish on
Bloomberg’s mayoral record is the New York
Police Department’s stop-and-frisk practice
(aka stop-question-frisk), whereby police
officers who suspect someone (usually an
African-American or Hispanic person) of
committing a crime may stop, question and
then frisk them. Critics of stop-and-frisk
emphasize, like I just did, how this policing
practice disparately impacts people of color,
both in the number of stops and consequent
arrests, arguing that stop-and-frisk codifies
racial profiling and amounts to a campaign of
harassment against Black and brown people.
Bloomberg has defended the practice by
pointing out that Blacks and Hispanics are
far more likely to commit crimes, suggesting
that racial profiling might therefore be
a legitimate policing practice. This is an
example of institutional racism and an
instance of the law and its police oppressing
people of color while in fact rhetorically
denying their oppressiveness. Stop-and-frisk
should disqualify Bloomberg as a doctor of
the law, assuming that a doctor of the law
should value things like civil rights and
oppose things like institutional racism.
Lastly, one might confusedly conjecture
that the University ought, to some degree,
express the will of the state it supposedly
serves. But alas, no. In the very same month
that the majority of Michigan’s Democratic
primary voters chose Sen. Bernie Sanders (D
–
Vt.), the staunch opponent of the billionaire
class, as their party’s nominee, the University
invited Bloomberg, a multi-billionaire Wall
Street capitalist. The University could’ve
chosen someone fighting against the current
political-economic establishment, the one
that many graduating seniors will soon
suffer under full time as young, debt-rich
wage slaves. Instead, the University chose
to invite a fierce market fundamentalist
firmly embedded within this country’s (not
to mention the world’s) politico-economic
establishment.
In sum, we might have serious reservations
about Michael Bloomberg as this year’s
Spring Commencement speaker, not to
mention reservations about lauding him
as our role model for civic leadership and
affecting change.
When
the
University
administration
writes that “The University of Michigan
celebrates
(Bloomberg’s)
storied
career
and contributions to business,” and then
the Daily corroborates their argument as
for why, dissenting opinions like mine (i.e.,
the opinions of University students who
decidedly do not celebrate Bloomberg’s
career or contributions but instead condemn
them) are erased. Maybe these dissident
opinions are, on the whole, wrong, but they
deserve some consideration, as do the less
flattering aspects of Bloomberg’s record.
—Zak Witus can be reached
at zakwitus@umich.edu.
In opposition to Bloomberg
ZAK
WITUS
DEREK
WOLFE
M
arch 10, 2014, will be a
day I never forget. After
waiting four years to see
my favorite band,
Arcade
Fire,
perform
live,
they were finally
coming to play
at The Palace of
Auburn Hills for
a stop on their
Reflektor
tour.
My friend Ethan
and
I
bought
tickets
and
I
drove so fast to
the Palace after
school
that
I
broke my record time driving there
by 15 minutes. However, because I
accidentally bought the wrong ticket,
I wasn’t able to get one of those yellow
wristbands that allowed you to stand
on the floor, looking up on the stage.
I told Ethan to go have the time of
his life, and he descended toward the
stage while I settled with the most
expensive ticket in the lower bowl.
Initially I was frustrated that I
couldn’t let Win Butler’s guitar burst
my eardrums from up close, but I was
even more anxious that I was around
so many people. I was surrounded
by strangers with no one to talk to.
The band asked that everyone wear
either a costume or formal attire to
the show. I took my coat off revealing
a Where’s Waldo outfit and saw
everyone else in dresses and dress
clothes. How ironic it was that I
wanted someone to find me.
Once Arcade Fire started to play,
I couldn’t help but sing along. These
were the songs that my heart had
been humming for years (I know
all 69 of their songs by heart). But
my mind was hesitant to dance
when my body wanted to cut loose.
I looked next to both sides of me
and saw two women in their late
20s and a middle-aged man looking
back at me. We danced and lost our
voices singing and I felt awesome
being able to be myself around
complete strangers.
I thought that was the moment
I broke out of my shell, but the
reality is that I’m still in the
process of emerging out of it.
Like my hesitancy to dance at
the concert, I have a hesitancy to be
fully myself, displaying my complete
personality around people I don’t
know as well. The people I know well
and feel I can completely trust see my
inner layers — the layers that express
my religion, show how I convey
feelings through poetry and do weird
things like churn out fake details
about a beverage after wafting it
like a sommelier (“oak after-tones,
French, from the southern Rhône
valley, circa 1985”).
If the people I am close to enjoy
peeling away at these layers and
learning more about me, I should
be able to do this easily around
everyone I meet. But I have
struggled with thinking what I
have to say won’t be worthwhile.
The introverted parts of me have
caused me to be quiet, sometimes
making me feel out of place around
a lot of people, the inner dialogue
I’m having with myself giving
me more anxiety because I’m not
speaking.
I’ve always thought that getting
to know people is a process, and it
is. But I’ve been thinking about it
in the wrong way. I’ve saved more
of my personality for closer friends,
presenting
a
held-back
version
of myself to others that is more
reserved, quieter and less prone to
sharing my emotions. I have always
wanted to share the deeper parts of
my life with people until I know them
very well — as I should. But there’s
nothing wrong with letting other
people see the wannabe-sommelier,
air-guitaring, dance-loving me.
Sure, if I reveal more of who
I am initially, people may think
I’m weird, but the reward far
outweighs the risk. If I don’t
allow my mind to be so reserved
and watered down, I have more
opportunities to build friendships
and show people that I am
interested in what they have to
say. I enjoy getting to know people,
hearing about what intrigues and
excites them, but sometimes that
doesn’t come across because I
don’t speak up.
I may have missed out on
opportunities to learn more about
others, but there will be plenty
more. As I’m breaking out of my
shell, I’m attempting to be more
outgoing and let go of the reins
that have slowed me down. I don’t
want to filter myself so much.
I want to go on adventures and
try new things. I want to say yes
instead of saying no and retreating
to being by myself.
Just over two years have passed
since the Arcade Fire concert.
Instead of being a high schooler next
to two women in their late 20s and
a middle-aged man, I’m in college,
surrounded by extroverts, and I want
to be outgoing and free like them.
The process won’t be easy, and I’ll
always be introverted in a sense, but
I’m confident that I can start saying
what’s on my mind no matter who is
around because that’s what I want
to do. I want to be the same person
whether I’m next to my best friend or
an acquaintance.
We introverts can still take time
to recharge. But if we’re having
trouble being outgoing, we have the
freedom to and can be ourselves
without fear. It can be very out of
our comfort zones, but I believe we
can learn the most about ourselves
from and by being around others as
opposed to alone.
I’ve felt alone and different in
a crowd of people. But this at this
time in my life, I won’t dress up like
Waldo. Instead, I’ll always try to just
be my real self.
—Chris Crowder can be
reached at ccrowd@umich.edu.
Not Waldo anymore
As I am breaking
out of my shell, I’m
attempting to be more
outgoing and let go of
the reins.
CHRIS
CROWDER
ANNIE TURPIN/ Daily