Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4— Tuesday, September 12, 2017
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A
recent article in The
Atlantic is titled, “Why
Won’t Trump Call Out
Radical White Terrorism?”
Another from Fortune states,
“The
Charlottesville
Car
Attack Was Terrorism. It’s
Dangerous to Call It Anything
Else.” Even Jeff Sessions said,
“It (Charlottesville) does meet
the definition of domestic
terrorism in our statute.”
Repeatedly over the week
after
the
Charlottesville
attack,
where
white
supremacists came to protest
the removal of a Confederate
statue that eventually led
to violence, Republican and
Democratic politicians were
quick to condemn the “both
sides” narrative by President
Donald Trump during his
press conference. Some minds
were especially angry that he
couldn’t condemn domestic
terrorism.
Across
the
spectrum, these attacks were
seen as terrorism, but most
were baffled by the fact that
others were unable to condemn
the acts immediately. Even
among those who eventually
did see James Alex Fields
Jr. drive into the crowd of
counterprotesters, it still took
even longer to realize that in
fact, this was an act of terror.
Domestic
terrorism
isn’t
new. It occurred early in our
nation’s history, and even
as recently as Aug. 6, when
writer Wajahat Ali tweeted:
“A Minnesota mosque was
bombed. That’s terrorism. You
won’t see it on the headline
news.
It’s
not
trending.
Wonder why.” This lack of a
clear definition of terrorism is
more common than we might
think, but instead of being
dumbfounded and irate on this
lack of action against domestic
terrorism in Charlottesville,
I stepped back and began to
ask questions. Moreover, I
asked why we struggle with
defining domestic terrorism,
be it perpetuated by white
supremacy
or
other
hate
groups. In my introspection,
I found issues of legal debate.
But more importantly, I think
that there is a nuance that
we seem to be missing in our
collective analysis of our legal
system and we aren’t delving
into a psychological issue in
America’s conscience.
In the Patriot Act, domestic
terrorism is defined as any
act “dangerous to human life”
or actions that “appear to
be intended to intimidate or
coerce a civilian population;
to influence the policy of a
government by intimidation
or coercion; or to affect the
conduct
of
a
government
by
mass
destruction,
assassination, or kidnapping.”
This
language
seems
to
obviously
describe
the
behavior
of
the
white
supremacists
in
Charlottesville, but I think
this phrasing is a bit broad.
Now I know many people
would
say
otherwise,
but
uniquely, there is noticeably
not a specific group being
targeted in this language.
With regards to international
terrorism,
this
is
defined
significantly clearer. In the
wake of 9/11, a joint resolution,
titled the “Authorization for
Use of Military Force,” came
into effect. It reads that the
“President is authorized to use
all necessary and appropriate
force against those nations,
organizations,
or
persons
he
determines
planned,
authorized,
committed,
or
aided the terrorist attacks
that occurred on September
11, 2001.”
We
know
what
groups
(al-Qaida and the Taliban) and
individuals (Osama bin Laden)
perpetrated the attacks on
9/11.
We
understand
the
actions and ideologies that
those entities support. And
we are quick to define it in
our legal code. Though the
“Authorization
for
Use
of
Military Force” has broad
language as well, this glaringly
shows
we
have
an
issue
recognizing, discussing and
naming domestic terrorism,
be it white supremacists or
any other hate group.
More importantly, domestic
terrorism is actually not a
crime in the United States.
Why?
Because
domestic
terrorism as a charge does
not
exist.
Almost
always,
such acts are charged as
hate crimes, which in most
states are felonies. However,
this furthers the issue that
we
can’t
define
domestic
terrorism
because
it
isn’t
technically a crime in the first
place — it’s never specifically
stated as such. Nonetheless,
these issues in our legal code
I think guide us to the real
issue. This broad language
is the byproduct of a deeper
problem, and we as humans
are not cognizant enough to
recognize this flaw.
Humans, on a psychological
basis,
love
to
mentally
categorize. It is how our
memory
works.
Robert
Sapolsky,
a
Stanford
neuroendocrinologist,
explains
that
putting
explanations,
facts
and
opinions
into
clean,
established
boxes
has
advantages:
We
can
remember the content of those
explanations and opinions.
But as humans, we struggle
with
realizing
that
those
“walls” of categorization are
highly arbitrary. Once some
arbitrary
boundary
exists,
we often become enamored
with its importance, impeding
our
ability
to
question,
contemplate,
debate
and
challenge those explanations.
This mental processing does
not exclude our collective
American conscience. It is
much easier to build these
capricious
mental
walls
externally,
but
examining
our internal walls can be
unpleasant. This is exactly the
root of the issue.
The
“Authorization
for
Use of Military Force” clause
describes
this
ability
to
“externally
define”
quite
well. When there is an enemy,
often across an ocean and a
continent,
the
boundaries
are clear. It’s us versus them.
Borders
aren’t
necessarily
arbitrary, but the belief that
human
psychology
varies
vastly across countries is,
in
my
view,
false.
When
confronted with issues about
our own well-being, too often
we can’t seem to describe our
problems. This is due to the
fact that we put boundaries
around
our
nation’s
conscience so as to insulate
its
importance,
rendering
our ability for a collective
introspection
divisive
and
combative. It is almost as if
we, as a country, act as one
person. It’s much easier to
notice the flaws and positives
around us (the United States
vs. the world), but requiring
us
to
question
our
own
individual “greatness” is far
more arduous.
When defining the actions
against
a
mosque
in
the
United States, or the attack
in
Charlottesville,
these
despicable
events
occur
within our “walls.” When
senators and representatives
from both sides commented
that Trump easily utters the
words “radical Islamic terror”
but
struggles
to
declare
domestic terrorism, I know
he isn’t alone. Many struggle
with these comments, mostly
due to the fact that when
recognizing a flaw in the
societal
conscience,
it
is
tedious and painful. We can’t
think about why domestic
terrorism charges don’t exist,
but international terrorism
charges do. We can’t analyze
why it’s easy to “preach” on
terrorism
abroad,
but
not
internally. Only when we, as a
nation, can mutually recognize
our illogical boundary, can we
define white supremacy as a
terrorist group, in addition to
being a group simply of hate.
Naming white supremacy
DAVID KAMPER | COLUMN
David Kamper can be reached at
dgkamper@umich.edu.
T
he rise of the internet
has
ushered
in
an
age
of
enhanced
interconnectedness.
New
innovations
like
social
media and smartphones link
individuals in ways previously
unimaginable.
Advances
in
technology have allowed us to
connect digitally across states,
countries and continents. With
social media and smartphones,
the
American
people
can
share opinions, debate issues
and
achieve
unprecedented
progress. But we’re failing to
take advantage of it, as we’re
more divided now than ever.
A
Pew
Research
Center
report in January found that
95 percent of Americans now
own a cellphone, and 77 percent
carry around a smartphone —
up from 35 percent in 2011. The
proportion of internet users
in the United States is even
higher: currently at 88 percent
and rising every year.
The
digitalization
of
the
United States has completely
shifted
its
socioeconomic
landscape, and it has brought
people
together
like
never
before. High school classmates
used to wait 10 years to catch up
after graduation; now, they can
learn about one another’s lives
daily through Facebook. The
iPhone makes texting easy; a
quick conversation with a cousin
on the other side of the country
is only a few clicks away. And
these examples are old news
— innovations like driverless
cars and the cloud will pull
Americans even closer together.
In
fact,
it’s
unlikely
the
accelerating
pace
of
connectivity will slow down.
According to Moore’s law, which
states the power of microchips
doubles every two years, it is
only going to keep speeding up.
Moore’s law is why we’re in this
moment right now, and it’s why
we’re going to continue on a
breakneck rate of digitalization
— and connectivity — for the
foreseeable
future.
High-
powered
computing
means
high-speed
communications
with
significantly
more
people. So what’s the use of
digitalization and its greatest
outcome, connectivity?
At a conference in 1994, the
late historian William H. McNeill
expressed his belief that the
primary engine of history is contact
with strangers holding unfamiliar
skills and notions. He believed in
the importance of “our capacity
to invent new ideas, practices and
institutions.” Further, he said
invention “… flourished best when
contacts with strangers compelled
different ways of thinking. ...”
McNeill’s hypothesis has a
renewed gravity in 2017: There
has never been a better time
for new inventions and new
ideas, because there has never
been a period in human history
steeped in so much contact with
strangers — the kind of contact
that induces new and different
thinking. In short, digitalization
breeds
connectivity,
and
connectivity
drives
history
through new ideas.
So
why
then
are
we
becoming
more
politically
divided? Political parties are
racing to the extremes, and
Americans
are
following,
hurdling toward the far left or
the far right and dismissing any
opportunities for compromise
and understanding. How could
this be?
Much has been said about
social
media’s
apparently
negative impact on society.
Prof.
Edward
Mendelson
of Columbia University has
written about the internet’s
role in making our lives more
public but less authentic and
connected. Virginia Heffernan,
in her book “Magic and Loss,”
postulates that social media
has become a platform for
celebrating
ourselves
rather
than starting a dialogue. Even
former President Barack Obama
has weighed in on the pitfalls of
social media. Just before the
election he said Facebook and
Twitter have served to deepen
political divisions.
These theories, though valid,
simply define the dilemma. Our
task is to use our newfound
connectivity to actually connect.
Need another reason to think
we have to start embracing
connectedness?
The
Islamic
State group lives and breathes
on it; the terror group likely
wouldn’t be relevant if it didn’t
take advantage of digitalization
— particularly through social
media — to inspire jihadists
around the globe. ISIS, unlike
al-Qaida and the terror groups
before it, deploys a strategy
dependent less on control and
more
on
rousing
potential
terrorists to do damage. Thus,
jihadists have employed the
digital age better than we have.
Terrorists have adapted. The
American people haven’t.
We
need
to
embrace
the
opportunity
that
interconnectedness
presents.
In a country that has worked
to fight racism, sexism and
homophobia (and made great
strides in each of those battles,
notwithstanding
different
setbacks), one of our biggest
issues now is that we can’t be
around people who disagree
with us. We’re stuck in silos,
even
though
digitalization
makes building bridges easier
than ever before.
The
choice
between
coming together and running
apart will help define our
country’s
standing
in
an
increasingly
digital
world.
With
globalization
at
full
speed, doing nothing will only
cause the United States to fail.
Silencing the opposition by
muting, blocking or unfollowing
on social media won’t make us
any better at understanding
and compromising. We need
social media to act as our
friend: Facebook and Twitter
should
be
geared
toward
conversation and the collective
construction of ideas. After all,
this is the purpose of the age
in which we’re living — one of
newfound influences, networks
and platforms. This is the Age
of Connectivity. It’s time we
start taking advantage of it.
I
n the Statement article,
“Free Speech in the Ivory
Tower,” the author states
“According
to
University
spokesperson Rick Fitzgerald,
the University has a high bar for
when to intervene in protests,
and has not done so in recent
memory.” This is untrue. On
Nov. 30, 2006, the University
violently intervened in a protest
of a speech at the Michigan
League by Raymond Tanter, a
proponent of regime change in
Iran. The University brought in
Ann Arbor Police Department
to assist. Officers injured three
people. One person required
transport to the University
of
Michigan
Emergency
Department with a head injury
after being thrown to the floor
and nearly asphyxiated. As
with many high-profile cases,
such as that of Eric Garner,
the protester would call out,
“I
can’t
breathe,”
before
becoming unconscious. Had
I, as a physician on the scene,
not spoken up to persuade
the
University
officers
to
stop, the protester could have
been yet another victim of
fatal positional asphyxiation
by cops. Emergency medical
technicians were summoned
and administered inappropriate
and punitive measures, causing
me again to speak up to get
them to stop. This provoked
a violent assault by an Ann
Arbor Police Department cop,
reminiscent of a recent attack
on a nurse for trying to protect
a patient. Cops arrested three
protesters that night and went
on to bring criminal charges
against five. Although four
agreed to plea bargains, this
writer struggled to prove her
innocence and after a six-day
trial was acquitted. The city of
Ann Arbor eventually settled
my first and fourth amendment
case against the AAPD officer
who assaulted me. Fitzgerald’s
above
statement
misleads
readers to believe that the
University would never violate
the constitutional right to free
expression. The violent attack
on political protesters on Nov.
30, 2006, and its aftermath
prove otherwise.
Police violence versus free speech
CATHERINE WILKERSON | LETTER TO THE EDITOR
Catherine Wilkerson is a alum of the
University of Michigan School of Public
Health
SARAH NEFF | CONTACT SARAH AT SANE@UMICH.EDU
Our great American opportunity
BILLY STAMPFL | COLUMN
Billy Stampfl can be reached at
bstampfl@umich.edu.
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It is much easier
to build these
capricious mental
walls externally.