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 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