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