I
t’s Monday night and I’m
wasting homework time by
way of my usual outlet for
laziness — the internet. When I
find
myself
wondering
about
the
recent
life
events of a friend I haven’t
spoken to in years, I’m
able — thanks to Facebook
— to search her name in
seconds. A slight wave of
envy sweeps over me as
my search results come up
empty; the realization that
she’s left this corner of the
virtual world is somehow
a little jealousy-inducing.
While millennials are often
criticized for their overuse of
social media platforms, these
internet outlets have become
favorites of older and younger
generations
alike.
Since
the
emergence of social media has
been labeled a primarily millennial
phenomenon by the public and
mainstream media, an antithesis
to fragmenting life into curated
snapshots has also surfaced in
this generation. The movement to
permanently delete social media
accounts has itself fostered a new
subcategory of elitism, foiling to a
more easily visible phenomenon of
internet snobbery.
This is by no means a jab at
the friend I attempted to softcore
Facebook stalk that night — I look
pretty foolish here because if I’d
truly wanted to know what she
was up to, I could’ve picked up the
phone and called her. In no way do
I wish to claim that anyone who
decides to rid themselves of social
media accounts should be placed
in the same category as those who
openly flaunt their less-connected
lifestyles, wearing their conscious
withdrawal from the internet like
an unnecessary patch on a high
school letterman jacket.
If an obvious downfall of social
media seems often attributed to
its publicity of otherwise private
or unnecessary information on
a widely accessible platform,
why shouldn’t the same logic be
applied in the opposite direction?
That is to say, why shouldn’t over-
aggressive proponents of “more
unplugged” lifestyles face the
same societal scrutiny as internet
over-sharers? This
double
standard
seems
to
stem
from the skeptical
eyes
of
older
generations
and
the association of
less technological
involvement with
a
purer
human
experience.
There
are
countless reasons
for the deletion of social media
accounts,
and
all
are
valid.
Constantly engaging with such
platforms can be psychologically
depleting
and
mind-numbing.
Some users are more prone to
social
media
addiction
than
others, so a decisive detachment
from
these
online
spaces
would especially benefit this
demographic.
Whatever
the
reason,
users-turned-non-users
frequently claim their removal
from internet profiles has allowed
them a heightened sense of
happiness and productivity in
their day-to-day lives.
For especially affected non-
users, unplugging is more of
a necessary individual choice
than a trend. This may be the
case for all non-users — but in
the openly boastful subcategory,
attitudes toward users can quite
easily
become
condescending
and demonstrate the fine line
between
lifestyle
choice
and
indulgence in the stereotypically
negative portrayals of millennial
engagement with social media.
As with all generalizations,
an
exaggerated
demonization
of social media masks most
of its positive attributes. For
example
—
though
riddled
with clickbait news titles and
advertising ploys — social media
is often an incentivized source
of social and political awareness
for those who aren’t looking to
seek these updates elsewhere.
Though users often remain on
social media for the benefits of
interconnectivity among friends
and family members, people also
love to assess what others are
doing and evaluate themselves
accordingly. This mechanism
of easy comparison is perhaps
even more “human” than its
less-connected
antithesis,
a
counterargument for those who
claim that technology disjoints
the human state.
It makes sense, then, that the
successful denial of this innate
urge should elicit a feeling of
hard-earned pride. However, with
the inherent benefits that exist
in a highly connected world, this
pride is not totally warranted.
Many argue that social media
enhances necessary competencies
of 21st century living, from the
encouragement of discourse and
information sharing to digital
citizenship and critical assessment
of subjective agendas.
This is not to suggest, however,
that a life without social media
platforms
is
always
socially
irresponsible. Over half of social
media users assess news articles at
mere face value: reading headlines,
a couple introductory sentences and
perhaps nothing else. To state the
obvious, social medi a platforms
themselves don’t seem to foster such
careful user attention to current
events. It’s not the possibility of social
irresponsibility, then, that seems
most bothersome from the more
boastful demographic of non-users.
Perhaps the most troubling part
is the denial of the double standard
created by this disconnected
image, the elitist rhetoric it
condones and the failure to
consider the beneficial effects of
social media on other individuals
— be it professionally, politically
or otherwise. It’s important to
recognize, in the age of human-
technology integration, there’s
no one-size-fits-all formula for
healthy social engagement.
T
his month, two remarkable
events
occurred
that
passed mostly under the
radar here on campus. First, to start
off the month, the University of
Michigan celebrated its bicentennial
with an entire week of climate
change-themed activities, called
MC2: Michigan & The Climate
Crisis. This event was organized
to explore the existential threat of
climate change and to reflect on
the University’s role in confronting
this crisis as we move into our next
100 years.
Second, only a few days after these
activities wrapped up, Scott Pruitt,
administrator of the Environmental
Protection
Agency,
announced
the organization’s commitment to
abandon all responsibility to uphold
the United States’s pledge to the
Paris agreement of 2015, which was
devised to lower carbon emissions
to a level that will keep the world’s
temperature below catastrophic
warming. The EPA has now
officially repealed the Clean Power
Plan, which was our country’s
framework to meet the goals of the
Paris agreement.
Meanwhile,
the
impacts
of
climate change have become all
too apparent, in the almost-routine
natural disasters that are occurring
worldwide. While these events
are not entirely caused by climate
change, their severity and frequency
most likely are. Indeed, the record
floods, droughts, fires and major
hurricanes are exactly what climate
models and scientists have been
predicting. The estimated cost of
these disasters in the United States,
this year alone, is over $300 billion
(not to mention the loss of human
life), which dwarfs the $33 billion
Scott Pruitt claims the Clean Power
Plan would have cost to implement.
In the face of this global crisis,
the federal government’s failure
has created an opportunity and an
imperative for other institutions to
lead. Across the country, churches,
business, universities, and local
and regional governments are
signing on in support of the Paris
climate accord. Many are doubling
down on their efforts to advance
renewable
energy
and
reduce
their carbon footprints. Colleges
and universities, including our
peers in the Big Ten, have laid out
substantive plans to tackle the
climate crisis on campus.
Our biggest rival, Ohio State
University, is far ahead of the
University of Michigan in its
climate commitment; it has the
capacity to generate 21 percent of
the main campus’s energy needs
from renewables. The University
of Maryland, another Big Ten rival,
has fully divested its endowment
from fossil fuels. Other prestigious
universities,
including
Yale
University, Stanford University and
the University of California, have
partially divested, while Harvard
University has at least frozen some
fossil fuel investments.
Considering
that,
it’s
disappointing
that
a
report
published by Bloomberg News
this summer revealed that the
University of Michigan has not
only failed to address fossil fuel
divestment, but that we have
actually increased our estimated
$1 billion worth of investments in
these climate-altering companies
by nearly 40 percent since 2015.
As MC2 speaker Stephen Mulkey
said, “It is ethically indefensible
that an institution dedicated to
the proposition of the renewal of
civilization would simultaneously
invest in its destruction.”
Though
some
from
the
University’s administration may
rebut that those new investments
are going into natural gas, which
is supposedly more sustainable,
recent scientific assessments have
revealed that because of methane
leaks during the fracking process,
natural gas use may actually be one
of the most carbon-intensive fossil
fuels around — potentially worse
than coal. The bottom line is, if
we want to solve the climate crisis
and avert catastrophe for human
civilization, we cannot continue to
burn fossil fuels.
The urgency to act is paramount.
As a new University of Michigan
study suggests, the window for
action may be closing — the longer
we wait, the worse climate change
will become and the harder it will
be to stop. That means action by
nonfederal U.S. institutions is
essential, because this country
contributes a huge proportion
of the world’s carbon emissions,
and we cannot afford to wait for
another presidential election to
change that.
Despite saying that “the threat
of climate change is one of the
great generational challenges of our
current and future students. We
remain steadfast in our commitment
to tackle that threat head-on at the
University of Michigan,” President
Mark Schlissel declined divestment
in 2015. I hope he will reconsider
this inaction, by taking the clear
first step in committing our
University to the Paris agreement
goals — a proposal that was drafted
by the Climate Blue student group
and jointly supported by the MC2
committee. Thereafter, so that our
commitment does not ring hollow,
I hope the University will begin
implementing plans to transform
our campus energy production to
renewables and will stop investing
in the very activity the Paris
agreement is attempting to curb.
Furthermore,
because
we,
the students, faculty, staff and
alumni of the University, are its
essence, it is our responsibility to
urge President Schlissel and our
University administration to act on
climate change. We can sign the
Paris petition ourselves to show the
University leadership our support.
We can ask them to compete with
our rivals at Ohio State, to drop the
excuses and find a way to get solar
panels on top of every building on
campus. We can demand that the
University join other universities
and divest our endowment from
fossil fuels.
We can ask the University to
lead by offering scholarships to
students dedicated to fighting
climate change. We can insist that
they commit to a 100 percent
renewable energy campus. We,
ourselves, can directly engage at
the University by participating in
a climate action summit on Friday,
Oct. 27, for the inauguration of
the new School for Environment
and Sustainability.
Finally, we can call on the
University to live up to its creed
to be “Leaders and Best” by
actually taking the lead on climate
change. Otherwise, what will
future generations say when they
look back on the University of
Michigan’s third century?
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, October 25, 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
Climate action now
JONATHAN MORRIS | OP-ED
Antisocial media elitism
Carolyn Ayaub
Megan Burns
Samantha Goldstein
Caitlin Heenan
Jeremy Kaplan
Sarah Khan
Anurima Kumar
Max Lubell
Lucas Maiman
Alexis Megdanoff
Madeline Nowicki
Anna Polumbo-Levy
Jason Rowland
Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Ali Safawi
Sarah Salman
Kevin Sweitzer
Rebecca Tarnopol
Stephanie Trierweiler
Ashley Zhang
Josie Tolin can be reached at
jostolin@umich.edu.
ERIN WAKELAND | ERIN CAN BE REACHED AT ERINRAY@UMICH.EDU
A modern manical Leviathan
ISAIAH ZEAVIN-MOSS | COLUMN
I
n
my
Modern
Political
Thought
class,
we’re
reading, among other things,
Thomas Hobbes’s “Leviathan.”
Themes
in
the
book
reminded
me
of
thoughts
and feelings I’ve
experienced
under
Trump’s
administration,
so
I
decided
to
write
this
column.
Hobbes suggests
that the people will
sacrifice their own
“natural right” — that is, their
right to preserve their own life
— for the sake of the Sovereign, a
figure who has absolute power to
do as he wishes.
One thing to note: Hobbes uses
the male pronoun to describe the
Sovereign, illuminating a central
fact
of
Hobbes’s
philosophy,
namely that the only people who
were “free” were landowning
white patriarchs. I often think
about how normalized this kind
of patent exclusion and prejudice
was, and how that fundamentally
changes how legitimate any of
these philosophies are in the first
place. Essentially, these people
were living in a fantasy that
affirmed their own superiority
as
landowning
white
men
themselves. More on this later.
According to Hobbes, the
Sovereign literally cannot act
unjustly, since the Sovereign
creates the state and all its
institutions, laws and customs.
Hobbes defines an unjust act as
one that breaks the law; since
the Sovereign is creating the
very environment in which the
law is decreed and enforced, the
Sovereign cannot break the law.
We give this power to the
Sovereign in order to be protected
from, as Hobbes puts it, the
natural condition of war between
people. As everyone tries to
preserve their own life, conflicts
inevitably arise, and icky human
passions and desires take over.
To avoid this, we succumb and
submit to the Sovereign, who will
protect its citizens.
Hobbes
wrote
within
the
context of the English Civil
War, which happened between
the years of 1642 and 1651.
On one side, there were the
Parliamentarians (also known as
the “Roundheads”), led by Oliver
Cromwell — a name I had always
oddly revered but only now
learned about. And on the other,
the Royalists (or “Cavaliers”).
Cromwell and his cronies had
just taken over, which led to
the execution of Charles I and
the exile of his son — who, in a
shocking turn of history, is named
Charles II.
Hobbes’s
text
responds to the ongoing
debate between these
two
factions.
The
Royalists, since being
deposed, decried the
new
government
as
illegitimate.
But
for
Hobbes,
these
calls
were hapless and held
no ground, since the
Parliamentarians were
the ones in legitimate control.
They were the Sovereign.
We can use Hobbes’s work as
a foundation for understanding
Donald Trump’s emergence, and
that of the far right in general.
Donald
Trump,
I
think,
understands himself in similar
terms to those of Hobbes’s
Sovereign. According to Trump,
he can do whatever he wants to
because of the power he holds.
This has always been true. It’s
what’s allowed him to sexually
assault women, deny housing
to Blacks, publicly shame every
demographic that is not his own,
run a campaign based on his
persistent disobeying of customs
in the electoral process and get
away with it all.
And now he is our president.
Every time he shatters another
custom, defies what we expect of
him with some gaffe that no longer
can be described that way because
of how frequently it occurs, I think
Trump tries to fundamentally
change how much power we give
him, our collective understanding
of our nation’s customs, what is
normal, the boundaries of the
American discourse and how
much we sacrifice for the sake of
his regime.
By aligning with the Ku
Klux Klan, for example, Trump
has brought white nationalists
into the mainstream political
discourse.
Richard
Spencer
and Charles Murray are being
invited to college campuses in
the name of discourse, when, in
fact, these are men promoting
specifically
racist,
hateful
agendas. The blurring of this
line — between hate speech and
free speech — has been one of the
most sweeping consequences of
Trump’s presidency thus far.
He is trying to reset the terms
by which he can legitimately rule,
the threats he can make to our
very way of life — with respect
to the environment, to North
Korea and to his conspicuous
respect for white nationalist hate
groups — while still remaining
in office. And this is how he ran
his campaign; by the time of the
actual election, he had thoroughly
reduced the individual impact of
each new headline detailing some
new disgusting act.
We can see instances of
Hobbes’s
notion
that
the
Sovereign is always legitimate in
contemporary discourse as well.
In Ann Arbor, for example, in
the days after Trump’s election,
I heard some of his supporters
dismissing the outraged, crying
students — mostly students of
color — with the logic that these
people should “get over it,” that
Trump won fair and square and
that there was nothing to do but
“move on.”
But today, so many of those
people who voted for him are
discovering the hollowness and
deception of Trump’s messages.
They’ve been blindsided by the
fact they themselves surrendered
their own sovereignty — just as
Hobbes describes — for the sake
of this new leader, a leader who
would reclaim the United States
as they knew it, or as they wanted
to know it.
Because
unlike
Hobbes’s
Sovereign, Trump is not trying
to
protect
his
constituents,
to
preserve
their
lives
and
livelihoods. Instead, Trump uses
his power for his own nefarious
goals: to push an agenda of
derision, violence and hatred.
He is, in fact, openly combative
when marginalized communities
express dissent and anger. For
example,
he
blamed
Puerto
Ricans themselves for the level
of destruction they faced in the
wake of Hurricane Maria. Like
his supporters before him, this is
Trump saying, “I have won. I am
the legitimate power-holder. Get
over it. Fend for yourself.”
Hobbes wrote in a time
when dissenters were routinely
hanged or drawn and quartered.
A time when, as I mentioned
earlier,
everyone
besides
landowning patriarchs was, as
custom, regarded as sub-human
or subservient.
The
possibility
of
this
comparison, between Hobbes’s
imagined leader, one who has
absolute
sovereign
power,
and our actual one, who we,
as a nation, elected in 2016,
ought to make us confront our
contemporary social society in a
new, skeptical light.
Isaiah Zeavin-Moss can be reached
at izeavinm@umich.edu.
Jonathan R. Morris is part of
the planning committee for the
MC2: Michigan & the Climate Crisis
Bicentennial event and is a research
associate in the School for Environment
and Sustainability.
JOSIE TOLIN | COLUMN
ISAIAH
ZEAVIN-MOSS
JOSIE
TOLIN