Digital Islamic
Studies Curriculum
Unraveling the
Arab Spring
Egypt since 2011
Panelists: Samer Ali, CMENAS director, U-M; Juan Cole, Richard P. Mitchell
Collegiate Professor of History, U-M; Jean Lachapelle, Weiser Emerging
Democracies Postdoctoral Fellow, U-M; Bassem Youssef, satirist
Moderator: Pauline Jones, DISC director
Free and open to the public
Co-sponsored by the Center for Middle Eastern & North African Studies,
Islamic Studies Program, and University Musical Society
digitalislam.umich.edu
Panel
Tuesday, November 7, 4 pm
1010 Weiser Hall
“Blocking a tank in Tahrir,” By Sherif9282
6A — Monday, November 6, 2017
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
DAILY SOCIAL MEDIA COLUMN
Spacey & the complexities
of online apologies
The epidemic of online apologies taking the place of personal ones
“I
meant
absolutely
no
disrespect.” “I apologize if you
guys were offended.” “I should
not have done this.” “I beg for your
forgiveness.”
People make stupid, awful
mistakes — and celebrities are
no exception. But when it comes
to living in the limelight, actors,
athletes, musicians and politicians
are much more vulnerable in
how
they
handle
themselves
underneath a cultural magnifying
glass.
Usually, whenever celebrities
do something wrong, be it an
illicit affair or an inappropriate,
regrettable soundbite, they address
it during awkward talk show
segments,
embarrassing
press
conferences and uncomfortable
TV interviews. Some apologetic
celebs are met with praise for their
honesty and conviction to learn
from their errors, though others
ultimately become shunned in
the public eye. Given how social
media offers a transparent virtual
platform for the famous to interact
with their fans, most apologies
from celebrities nowadays take
place through the Internet.
What exactly can be said of
the “online apology”? Is it better
or worse than an outright public
apology? Does it allow a celebrity
a better opportunity to articulate
themselves in their wrongdoings
or does it just makes things worse?
For Kevin Spacey (“House of
Cards”), attempting to apologize
online made things worse for
everyone involved. Last week,
the actor issued an apology on
his Twitter account for making a
sexual advance toward Anthony
Rapp (“Star Trek: Discovery”)
when Rapp was only 14-years-old.
The incident was brought to light
in a Buzzfeed article just a few days
before Spacey’s apology, in which
Rapp described his encounter with
Spacey in full detail
“If I did behave then as he
describes, I owe him the sincerest
apology for what would have been
deeply
inappropriate
drunken
behavior,” Spacey wrote in his
tweet. “I am sorry for the feelings
he describes having carried with
him all these years.”
In my mind, there is a correct
and incorrect way to apologize
to someone, period. This, folks, is
the incorrect way. Even if Spacey’s
sexual misconduct with Rapp
is
technically
considered
“an
allegation,” recusing oneself from
being involved in such a crime
seems like a rather insincere and
questionable gesture (i.e. saying
“if I did behave” rather than “I did
behave”).
What’s even more infuriating is
how later in the statement, Spacey
conflated his pedophilic actions
with his coming out, suggesting
the age-old homophobic trope that
homosexual men prey on young
boys. This particular moment
in his apology ignited immense
backlash from the Hollywood
community and the media at large,
and rightfully so.
It’s entirely possible Spacey and
his PR team managed to craft this
tweet as a “coming out” statement
in order to deflect the real problem
at hand, or that Spacey simply felt
the need to justify his actions by
coming clean about his sexual
orientation.
Thankfully,
online
users are quick to cut through the
bullshit, posting tweets and articles
about how we should amplify
the voice of the victim instead of
the perpetrator. This method has
worked to the users’ advantage.
Since Spacey’s apology, more young
men have come forward with
sexual assault allegations against
the actor, inevitably pressuring
Netflix to fire Spacey from “House
of Cards” and write out his
character for the upcoming sixth
and final season.
The difficult thing, though,
about an online apology is that
a celebrity may be deemed lazy
and cowardly whether or not they
publish an apologetic tweet or a
Facebook post. If they don’t say
anything, then they’re an asshole.
If they apologize on TV, then they
come off as self-righteous. If they
apologize something online, then
they seem impersonal, as if they’re
purposefully hiding behind social
media to help maintain their
credibility. No matter the context,
a celebrity will always have to
confront the idealized expectations
of the public, especially when their
mistakes aren’t super harmful to
begin with.
Take,
for
example,
Oscar-
winning actress Jennifer Lawrence
(“Passengers”). Late last year, she
caught flak for wiping her butt on
sacred Hawaiian rocks and then
joking about it on TV. She posted
an apology on Facebook and since
then, her reputation hasn’t been
totally destroyed — Lawrence
starred in this year’s “mother!”
and recently guest hosted on
Jimmy Kimmel’s talk show. A few
months before that, Noah Galvin
(“The Real O’Neals”) apologized
on Twitter for several egregious
remarks he made about the queer
community in Hollywood during a
Vulture interview. Like Lawrence,
Galvin is continuing to thrive in
his relatively young career. Though
“The Real O’Neals” was cancelled
after two seasons, Galvin is
scheduled to replace Ben Platt
in the lead role of “Dear Evan
Hansen” after Platt’s Broadway
run ends later this month.
At the time, these kinds of faux
paus may have been insensitive.
But do we really expect celebrities
like Jennifer Lawrence or Noah
Galvin to be perfect all the time?
Had they not apologized at all,
then maybe it would seem fair to
hold a grudge against them. But
having the capacity to apologize
for their blunders in the first place
seems like a good first step toward
attaining forgiveness.
That
being
said,
everyone
should
be
held
accountable
for the mistakes they make,
regardless the magnitude of one’s
actions. Should all celebrities be
held to a higher standard than
everyone else? Not really, unless
you happen to be the President
of the United States. But does a
celebrity deserve attention if their
actions holds much greater weight
when they involve something as
horrible as harassment or even
rape?
Absolutely.
Considering
the
powerful
ripple
effect
enacted
from
the
series
of
sexual harassment and assault
allegations against Hollywood
producer Harvey Weinstein, a
celebrity who has committed
similar offenses must deal with
intense retribution. It may ruin
their careers and livelihoods, but
if they hadn’t done such horrible,
irrevocable things in the first
place, then they wouldn’t be in
such a situation.
Whether you’re famous or not,
we can all learn from how people
present themselves in public and in
private, and how they approach the
people they hurt. It seems rather
simple, but an apology, let alone
an online one, is not just enough
to rectify the repercussions of
one’s actions. One has to work
hard to make right what they did
wrong. If that means educating
yourself on systemic racism after
making a racist remark, so be it. If
that means working at a women’s
clinic or a trauma center after
sexually harassing and assaulting
someone, so be it. An apology isn’t
just a statement or a promise; it’s a
responsibility.
SAM
ROSENBERG
NETFLIX
Jason Bateman directs and stars in Netflix’s ‘Ozark’
Beating the heat with the
visually stunning ‘Ozark’
Recounting a summer love affair with the Netflix original series
Hot. Humid. Muggy.
Whatever term you use to
describe the weather when it’s
unbearably hot outside, that’s
what my past summer was like
in Washington, D.C. Interning
on Capitol Hill, I spent my days
schlepping across the scorching
city twice a day. My days began and
ended with cramped, overheated
bus rides across K Street, a
commute which usually clocked
in at 45 minutes. That sweaty
daily trip left me exhausted by
the time I returned home to my
cozy Georgetown abode. I needed
something to cool off. I needed
Netflix’s “Ozark.”
Initially, I was hesitant to wade
into the waters of “Ozark.” Despite
all of its acclaim, I couldn’t get over
my fears about having first-time
director Jason Bateman (“Horrible
Bosses”) at the helm of the series.
I couldn’t shake the image of
Bateman as the hilarious Michael
Bluth in “Arrested Development,”
and I refused to believe that
he could produce any sort-of
competent drama. Well, I’m not
afraid to say it now: I was totally
and utterly wrong.
My love affair with Netflix’s
“Ozark” started after a typical
Monday of shuttling back and
forth between Capitol Hill and
Georgetown. Since I’d missed my
bus that day, I was forced to wait
another half-hour for the next
one to arrive, meaning I only got
home around 8 o’clock that night.
Utterly exhausted, I did what most
Michigan students do — I ordered
Domino’s and settled into bed
as I eagerly waited for my piping
hot pizza. As I scrolled through
Netflix’s recommendations and
new releases, I got a text from my
brother instructing me to “watch
Ozark right fucking now.” His blunt
endorsement, coupled with my
need to kill time, finally got me over
my mental hump, and I switched
on “Ozark.”
With the lights dimmed and
my personal home theater set up,
my eyes remained comfortably
glued to the gorgeous, blue-
filtered Missouri vistas of “Ozark.”
Although I was dazzled by its
visuals, I didn’t enjoy the show
itself. I couldn’t figure out exactly
what Bateman’s character, Marty
Byrde, did, and the entire plotline
of Byrde laundering money for a
Mexican drug cartel just seemed
too “out-there” and unrealistic.
As confused as I was by
Marty, I didn’t have any issue
understanding his wife’s character,
Wendy
(Laura
Linney,
“The
Truman Show”). Playing the role
of a mere jaded housewife on the
surface, Linney excels at providing
depth to her character and showing
that this label is deceiving. Linney
stars in the series, but her ruthless
nature makes me glad I’m not one
of her kids Charlotte (Sofia Hublitz,
“Louie”) or Jonah (Skylar Gaertner,
“Daredevil”).
Maybe it was because I was a
bit hangry, or maybe I just didn’t
understand “Ozark”’s pilot, but
once armed with my Domino’s and
the series’ second episode, I quickly
started to like the show. Over the
course of that second episode,
“Blue Cat,” I turned from being one
of Marty’s biggest critics to one of
his most loyal supporters. I couldn’t
help but love the way Marty
managed
to
garner
universal
respect for his investment acumen,
almost like a young, criminal
version of Warren Buffett.
With
his
savvy
business
maneuvers, I started to see Marty
less as a wannabe Walter White
(Bryan Cranston, “Breaking Bad”),
as I initially viewed him, and closer
to the real deal. Both brilliant
money launderers with a penchant
for talking their way out of near-
death situations, I noticed shades
of White in Marty, though, to
Cranston’s credit, his performance
was
incredible
enough
that
Anthony Hopkins (“Silence of the
Lambs”) — of all people — called it
“the best acting I have seen - ever.”
Following that brilliant second
installment in the series, I had to
use all of my willpower to compel
myself to go to bed, rather than
screen the next episode. Still, I
would get to episode three, “My
Dripping Sleep,” soon enough, as
I found myself with a few spare
minutes at lunch the next day at
the office. Once I noticed the extra
time I had, there was about a half-
second delay before I pulled up
the Netflix app on my phone and
started “My Dripping Sleep.”
And so began a weekday
tradition. Each morning, I’d watch
a few minutes of “Ozark” before I
boarded the bus into Capitol Hill,
then screen more of the episode
at lunch. Later, I’d finish the
episode from the friendly walls of
my Georgetown red-brick, before
repeating the cycle all over again
the next day. It may have been 90
degrees outside, but I didn’t care
— in my mind I was constantly
cooling off in the shimmering
waters of Lake “Ozark.”
Unfortunately,
like
a
good
house party, my tradition ended
far too soon. Due to my daily
binge-watching, I finished the
entire season in four days — I was
done by the time Friday rolled
around. Without “Ozark” to sate
my appetite for stellar television,
my workdays lost a bit of their
luster. I had returned to the muggy
confines of Washington, D.C., but,
for some reason, it didn’t feel quite
as hot anymore.
CONNOR GRADY
Daily Arts Writer
COMMUNITY CULTURE PREVIEW
Benedict brings ‘Wolf
Season’’s pointed gaze
Columbia professor aims to broaden the genre of war narratives
“We need to grow…”
“There’s been this huge sort of
burst of Iraq and Afghanistan war
literature,” said Helen Benedict in
an interview with The Michigan
Daily. “99.9 percent of it has been
written by White men, most whom
have MFA degrees. Those have
really, really good novels among
them, but if you think about it from
a larger perspective, it’s a very, very
narrow way to look at this war.”
Benedict, a professor at the
Columbia
University
Graduate
School of Journalism, has made it
her mission broaden the identities
and experiences represented in
the literary narrative of war, one
that has been dominated by the
perspective of the White male
American
veteran.
Benedict’s
“Sand
Queen,”
a
Publisher’s
Weekly
“Best
Contemporary
Novel,” became the first book about
the Iraq war written from a female
viewpoint whose leading character,
Kate Brady, is an American soldier.
Following “The Lonely Soldier,”
a nonfiction account of five women
who fought in the Iraq war between
2003 and 2006, Benedict’s release
of “Wolf Season” marks the third
work in her succession of books
representing female viewpoints of
modern war in the Middle East.
“‘Wolf Season’ is mostly about
the aftermath of war… how they
bring the war home,” Benedict said.
And Benedict is bringing her
account of the effects of war to our
home of Ann Arbor this coming
Tuesday. Literati will welcome
Benedict to share an excerpt
of “Wolf Season,” speak on her
extensive research to “explore the
effects of war on the human heart”
and open a dialogue with the
audience to answer questions.
After the U.S invasion in Iraq in
2003, Benedict embarked on three
years of research into the effects of
war, first by interviewing veterans
from the Iraq war — male and
female — and going on to expand
the reach of her research to include
those perspectives of Iraqis who
had fled to the United States in
search of refuge.
“My interviewees would go
deep deep deep in their stories
and memories, and sometimes
they would hit a wall where they
reached a memory that was … too
painful to say aloud
or even to remember,”
Benedict said. “I came
to realize it was in
those silences, in that
territory … where the
real people couldn’t
go, that the true inner
experience of the war
lay, like what it does
to your heart and
your soul … that’s the territory of
fiction.”
Rin, an Iraq veteran, Naema,
a doctor who fled Iraq with her
wounded son and Beth, a wife
whose husband is deployed in
Afghanistan,
represent
female
viewpoints from three different
conditions of war experience. After
a hurricane devastates their small
upstate New York community, the
events that follow expose the ways
that war has affected these women
and their community.
In the fictitious domain of
“Wolf Season,” the story of these
three women communicate the
emotions and experiences of war
that real people can’t –– the kinds of
feelings and memories that caused
Benedict’s interviewees to fall
silent.
“If we read fiction that takes
us deep into their hearts … we
understand them the way we
understand
friends,”
Benedict
explained.
It is in this way that Benedict
believes that an understanding of
the havoc war wreaks on the human
heart can be made more accessible
for those to whom
the effects of war
are less visible in
everyday life.
“It’s an integral
part of our lives even
if we don’t realize it,”
she said.
Benedict
reminded me that
we have a say in war,
too. With our right to vote, we elect
the politicians who make strategic
military moves and who approve
our country’s defense budget, and
we should be conscious of our voice
in war.
“The way we react to war is a
reflection of who we are in many
deeper ways,” Benedict said. “War
is so dramatic and so awful … it
really exposes the human heart,
and it exposes our morality in a
way that almost nothing else does
… In the end it’s not about war, it’s
about human beings, what it is to be
human and what it is to be moral.”
The best way to make moral
choices is to understand the
experiences of others. And fictional
literature like “Wolf Season” can
take us to a heightened level of
understanding about the experience
of war.
ALEX SUPPAN
For the Daily
TV NOTEBOOK
Fiction at Literati:
Helen Benedict
Literati Bookstore
Tuesday, November
7th @ 7 P.M.
Free