W
e’re graduating into
a world that is more
fractious than ever
before. This statement,
which
has
been
repeated for years, has
moved
from
insight
to truism to enduring
political reality. We can
put our heads in the
sand, drown out the
rest of the world with
Colbert clips and retreat
into our enclaves. Or we
can do something about
it. Personally, the last
six years of the Obama
administration lulled me into a
sense of complacency. We lived
under a divided government with
incremental social victories on the
national level by the left, like the
expansion of LGBTQ rights, and
by the right on the local level, like
restrictions on abortion access.
I often recall the quote by Martin
Luther King Jr.: “ the arc of the moral
universe is long but it bends toward
justice.” There’s inevitability to it.
But after watching the liberal (small
“l” Lockean liberal, not big “L”
Democrat liberal) world order tear
at the seams, I’ve begun to realize
that our future is not inevitable.
We must actively work to craft the
world in which we want to live.
This might sound obvious. I’m
sure that the Facebook commenters
will tear me a new one for sharing
such an obvious failing. But I would
seriously ask that everyone try
to find a way they can make the
world a better place. Even if you’re
working outside policy as a 9 to 5
(more realistically 9 to 9) business
consultant, find time to volunteer at
a food bank or tutor children on the
weekends. It’s too easy to become
complacent. Seriously reflecting
and finding the time to help make
the world a better place is part of our
duty to the American people.
Right now, the United States
is going through a period of deep
unrest, but I think we have an
opportunity.
Politics
is
often
defined as the art of the possible.
But what is possible seems to
have shrunk. Gone are the New
Deals, the Great Societies, even
the Contracts with America. I
don’t mean to sound like a Sanders
acolyte — I’m not
— but I really do
believe this is the time we need to
relitigate American truths. Why
can’t the United States have a
welfare state like the Netherlands?
Why can’t we have a universal
basic income, a policy that Nixon
privately supported?
Ross Douthat, The New York
Times’ token Republican, has spent
the past couple months writing
about policies that he believes
would be good for society but
politically impossible. I implore
each of my readers to think about
why their ideal world is “politically
impossible.” Social security seemed
impossible 100 years ago, and now
it’s a cornerstone of
our political reality.
With dedication, we
can expand the scope
of the possible.
Beyond legislative
goals, we need to
reflect on how to create
a truly inclusive civic
society. The sexual
revolution
liberated
millions of women.
But now evangelical
Christians are feeling
increasingly endangered by a more
sexual public sphere. Perhaps part
of this may be due to misogyny, but
part of it comes from a very real place
of having their values threatened.
How do we create a country that
caters to both groups? I don’t have
the answer, but I think there’s room
in the middle for both groups to find
common ground. Both a number of
feminist and religious conservatives
have criticized the prevalence of
pornography in our society, perhaps
for different reasons, but there’s
room for collaboration that could
help build a more inclusive society.
But there are basic values we
can’t compromise; they are too
essential for our democracy. We
must maintain a respect for open
participation.
Our
democracy
is better when more people
vote. However, this is at risk.
Voting identification laws have
consistently stifled the voices
of
the
most
marginalized
among
us.
Furthermore,
gerrymandering
has
been
used
by
Republicans
and
Democrats to make elections
more
difficult
to
contest.
Both tactics may be politically
expedient but they whittle our
democracy’s foundation.
We
also
must
have
compassion for the oppressed.
Listen with an open heart and
an open mind when a person
in pain tells you about their
struggles.
This
extends
to
people we wouldn’t traditionally
view
as
marginalized.
It’s
truly a privilege to attend the
University of Michigan, and
the critical thinking skills that
we’ve honed have been a blessing.
With this degree, we’re part of
the intellectual elites. With that
honor comes an obligation. Many
don’t have the luxury to learn
in the environment we have.
We need to learn how to talk to
those people. That means having
uncomfortable
conversations
with the archetypical racist
uncle or your teenage brother
when he makes offhand sexist
comments. That means standing
up for others even when it’s
difficult for you.
Throughout Barack Obama’s
presidency,
I
was
relatively
uncritical of his mass surveillance
policies because I trusted him. Now
that President Donald Trump has
control over the National Security
Agency, I’ve become increasingly
concerned about what effects
mass data collection will have on
undocumented immigrants and
Muslims. In 1967, Noam Chomsky
warned about the danger of left-
wing intellectuals being co-opted
by the Johnson administration’s
imperialist
policies.
We
have
to remain critical of our own
government, even when candidates
we support hold the reins of power.
Lastly, there are dark fringes that
have moved increasingly center-
stage this past year. These are not
people with whom we negotiate.
We can’t debase ourselves by
acting as though the ideologies
that undergird the alt-right are as
legitimate as any other. This is not
a missive against the Republican
Party. Since I’ve come to attend
the Ford School of Public Policy,
I’ve come to respect a number
of
staunch
Republicans
and
understand that we have common
goals. For example, a number of
mainstream conservatives, such as
Marco Rubio and Newt Gingrich,
have recognized the reality of
racist policing. Let’s keep our eyes
and ears open for unexpected allies
outside of our own camp and build
new coalitions to achieve our goals.
However, we must remain
vigilant. While some populist
Democrats share Chief Strategist
Steve Bannon’s desire for a massive
infrastructure bill, working with
him further cements Bannon’s
power and political legitimacy. But
we need to distinguish between the
Steve Bannons and the Ben Sasses
of the world., between people who
are willing to stand up against the
bigotry in their own ranks and
those who will abuse our political
system for their nefarious ends.
With an enduring commitment
to our most important values and
constant questioning of the world
around us, we can really make the
world a better place. That’s really
the crux of public policy. When
you strip away all the trappings,
that’s why we all chose to study
our discipline. Borrowing from
Herman Cain, borrowing from
Pokemon, I would like to leave
everyone with these words of
wisdom: “Life can be a challenge.
Life can seem impossible. It’s
never easy when there’s so much
on the line. But you and I can
make a difference. There’s a
mission just for you and me … Just
look inside and you will find just
what you can do.”
I
f you told me a year
ago that in a year I’d
be writing about how
I love chemistry, I probably
would have laughed in your
face. Around that time, I was
miserably glued to Problem
Roulette, an online tool filled
with thousands of multiple-
choice questions from past
exams in Chemistry 130, the
University
of
Michigan’s
primary introductory general
chemistry course. I had done
well enough on the course’s
midterm exams by reviewing
past homework and doing
plenty of textbook problems.
But the finale of my studying
always required a trip to the
deep pits of Problem Roulette,
a tool that would test my
understanding of the material
while also giving me a flavor
of what I would find in 30
multiple-choice
questions
come exam day.
A
year
later,
I’m
not
approaching
my
second-
semester organic chemistry
final with the same dread
I felt a year ago. A lot has
changed
since
then:
I’ve
fully settled into the rhythm
of
college
studying,
I’ve
had a number of inspiring
chemistry
professors
and
graduate student instructors
and I’ve developed a good
support system among my
peers. But what has most
changed in my mind is how
I’ve been asked to approach
exams in organic chemistry.
Instead
of
bubbling
in
letters on a Scantron, organic
chemistry
exams
feature
questions
that
require
students to draw structures
and mechanistic arrows to
model
how
the
concepts
and
reactions
occur
and
work together. As such, my
studying has focused less on
integrating multiple aspects
of a problem into an A, B, C, D
or E answer and has focused
more on making sure I can
explain and draw out concepts
in a coursepack of old exams.
The difference in my attitude
toward the two classes could
not be starker: Instead of
worrying whether all my work
on a multiple-choice problem
boils down to a single correct
or
incorrect
answer,
I’m
studying by drawing reactions
to diagnose exactly what I
know and don’t know.
Multiple-choice
exams
have always received wrath
from the likes of standardized
test opponents and those who
claim that requiring students
to bubble in responses on
a
separate
Scantron
form
makes it too easy to make
a mistake. I’m not so sure I
oppose them outright, but I
do take issue with how they’re
used in introductory science,
technology,
engineering
and
mathematics
courses
such as general chemistry.
Introductory
courses
exist
to teach important concepts
to a wide audience, but they
also
should
inspire
and
excite
students
about
the
possibilities in a field. Using
multiple-choice exams as a
primary method of assessment
takes this seemingly primary
goal of inspiring and exciting
students about STEM and
makes it secondary.
Take this example of how
a
core
concept
could
be
assessed
through
multiple
methods:
Intramolecular
interactions
underpin
everyday life, from the boiling
point of liquids to ensuring
your stomach enzymes have
the correct shape to digest
specific proteins into their
subcomponent
amino-acids.
A
multiple-choice
question
in general chemistry might
assess this concept by listing
a number of molecules and
asking which one does not have
an
intramolecular
interaction
affecting boiling point, while
a non-multiple-choice problem
might ask a student to draw
the specific interactions that
stabilize a molecule.
Both
questions
assess
practically the same thing.
But the feedback the second
question provides makes it
more
valuable.
A
student
who gets the multiple-choice
question wrong just knows
that they lack some piece
of
understanding
about
intramolecular
interactions.
In contrast, a non-multiple-
choice
question
shows
students
immediately
what
they understood and missed
and can award a range of credit
depending on the completeness
of the answer. Needless to say,
the ability to guess correctly
without understanding seldom
exists on non-multiple-choice
questions.
Multiple-choice
exams
simply tell students whether
they answered correctly or
incorrectly, regardless of if
they understood 0 percent or
90 percent of the problem.
While
the
differences
in
feedback may be addressed
with the help of an instructor,
students who are not always
inclined to immediately seek
out help from an instructor
will feel demoralized if they
thought they understood most
of the concept and lost points
on the full question because
of a small error. I feel grateful
that I came to college having
had terrific mentors in high
school who encouraged me
to pursue a path in STEM.
But I worry that when just
a few dozen multiple-choice
problems determine most of
a grade, those who are just
testing the waters of STEM
can
become
demoralized
by how the exam format of
courses like Chemistry 130
treat their progress, and may
leave the field all together,
as STEM fields have high
attrition rates.
Some
may
deride
this
call
for
assessments
that
recognize
the
multiple
aspects of an answer as a call
for “participation trophies”
for answers that aren’t 100
percent
correct.
Multiple-
choice tests are a terrifically
simple and low-effort way
to separate an “A” student
from a “B” student from
a “C” student. But should
that be the only goal of an
assessment in an introductory
class? Introductory classes,
especially
in
STEM,
are
supposed to teach and assess,
but also should paint students
a picture of the road ahead if
they pursue a STEM path.
While using non-multiple-
choice
exams
in
large
introductory classes requires
an increase in grading effort
and costs, in my mind, the
benefits make them worth it.
While by no means a panacea
to all of STEM education’s
difficulties,
non-multiple-
choice exams provide students
with honest feedback about
their performance instead of
just a simple score.
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4 — Tuesday, April 18, 2017
REBECCA LERNER
Managing Editor
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
EMMA KINERY
Editor in Chief
ANNA POLUMBO-LEVY
and REBECCA TARNOPOL
Editorial Page Editors
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.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
STEM should think beyond the bubble
JEREMY KAPLAN | OP-ED
Dear Ford Class of 2017
ROLAND DAVIDSON | COLUMN
Roland Davison can be reached at
mhenryda@umich.edu.
Jeremy Kaplan is a senior opinion
editor.
ROLAND
DAVIDSON
JOE IOVINO | CONTACT JOE JIOVINO@UMICH.EDU
N
obody’s
perfect.
It’s
an
age-old
mantra that lets us
find a bit of comfort in our
shortcomings. Our mothers,
friends, teachers and coaches
have hammered this basic
pillar of humanity into our
brains. Imperfections, we are
taught, are universal and part
of what make us human.
It is a shame, then, that we
have begun to view perfection
more as a choice and less
as
a
pipe
dream.
Human
error, polluted by agendas,
politicking and biases, has
slowly warped into a tool
that
perpetuates
division.
What’s
more
disheartening
is that, more often than not,
the
imperfections
that
we
see in others or in ourselves
are irrelevant in context. We
are quick to judge but slow to
empathize. With this line of
thinking, shortcomings are not
seen as human error — they
are seen as inexcusable. Worse
is that they are used as false
equivalencies in the hope of
invalidating things that come
to our attention.
Take
the
latest
public
relations faux pas, courtesy
of United Airlines. In the age
of social media, it did not take
long for videos to surface of Dr.
David Dao being dragged down
the aisle of a plane by United
Airline’s security and the bloody
aftermath. Nor did it take long
for United Airline’s stock prices
to tumble or for the boycott
sirens to ring after United
Airline’s President Oscar Munoz
doubled down on the company’s
self-vindication. But even as
most of the world criticized
United Airline’s handling of
the whole fiasco, a different
narrative began to emerge in
other enclaves of the media.
Dao, the headlines read,
had his own personal demons.
Information swirled that Dao
had his medical license revoked
in 2005 after being convicted
of
drug-related
offenses.
With this new information,
the story shifted away from
the growing injustices levied
by corporations like United
Airline’s to the culpability of
the victim – never mind the
irrelevance of a nonviolent drug
offense 12 years ago to being
manhandled out of a purchased
seat. The fallacy of the defense
that “he was no angel” is that
it overplays any prior mishaps
of the victim. It provides
unnecessary
context
to
a
situation as a false equivalence
to
sidestep
the
underlying
problem. Through the wealth
of information available at our
fingertips, we have jumped the
gun in trying to play both sides.
This
way
of
approaching
controversial situations has come
to be known as “whataboutism.”
Whataboutism
is
the
name
given
by
The
Economist’s
Edward Lucas to describe a
propaganda technique birthed
by the Soviet Union to deflect
criticisms from the Western
world by asking “What about …
?” followed by an event in the
Western world. Whataboutism
is dangerous because it makes
us so hyper-focused on human
error
or
imperfection,
even
when
inapplicable
to
the
overall context, that we neglect
to
acknowledge
the
initial
wrongdoing. In Dao’s case, his
own mishaps over a decade
ago created the false sense that
there was more to the story than
United Airline’s wrongdoing.
But whataboutism has not
just popped up in isolated
circumstances. Its resurgence
in the United States has been
steady and widespread not just
in social situations, but also in
politics. President Donald Trump
has used whataboutism to avoid
implicating
Russian
Prime
Minister Vladimir Putin for the
crimes he has committed against
people who oppose him. Trump’s
response
to
MSNBC’s
Joe
Scarborough’s point that Putin
“kills journalists that don’t agree
with him,” was, “Well, I think
that our country does plenty
of killing also.” In a February
interview with Fox News’ Bill
O’Reilly, in which O’Reilly said,
“Putin’s a killer,” Trump replied,
“There are a lot of killers. We’ve
got a lot of killers. What, do you
think our country’s so innocent?”
Trump’s
whataboutism
implies
that
Russia’s
transgressions are less evil
because the U.S has its own
faults. But when Trump uses
the faults of the U.S as reasons
to not denounce the mishaps
of other countries, there is no
accountability to prevent future
catastrophes on the global stage.
This reasoning makes us prone
to disaster.
The fallacious whataboutism
that is used to justify matters like
Dao’s forceful removal from his
flight and Trump’s foreign policy
toward Russia is a dangerous race
to the bottom. When we use one’s
past to question the legitimacy of
their victimization, we ignore the
real issue at hand. Justice should
not be limited to people who have
clean records.
Whataboutism distracts from justice
LUCAS MAIMAN | OP-ED
Lucas Maiman is an editorial board
member.
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
Samantha Goldstein
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Anurima Kumar
Ibrahim Ijaz
Max Lubell
Lucas Maiman
Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Ali Safawi
Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Stephanie Trierweiler