As an editorial staff, we
agree
with
the
University
that it is wrong for a student’s
educational opportunities to be
limited by the political stances
of an instructor, rather than
the merit of the student. The
academic success of students
should be a top priority for
universities, and the denial
of students’ recommendation
letters
on
account
of
professors’ personal beliefs
unfairly blocks students from
academic opportunities based
on
circumstances
outside
their control. The decision to
write a recommendation letter
or not should be based on
the student’s academic merit
and
performance
in
class,
independent of the educator’s
personal leanings.
However, on a campus that
welcomes free speech and
free thinking, the delineation
between
when
certain
personal and political views
can and cannot be expressed
on part of the professor is
a
blurry
line.
Professors
have the freedom to craft
their courses, design syllabi
and
work
on
independent
projects, research and other
scholarly work. The crossover
of this ideal of professors’
free
speech,
so
embedded
in the University, with their
relationships
with
classes
and students is often a point
of contention. Where do they
draw the line in expressing
their
views?
The
reaction
of the University this week
provided a stark answer. The
harsh disciplinary measures
taken
against
Cheney-
Lippold’s
statement
which
was, at its core, an expression
of free speech, gave some
clarity to this ever-blurred
line.
Yet,
what
remains
an
issue
is
whether
the
punishment was warranted
given the lack of precedent.
We believe it was not. Though
Cole alluded to the Senate
Advisory
Committee
on
University Affairs’s statement
condemning professors using
political
views
to
impede
“free pursuit of learning in

their students,” the University
has yet to adopt a concrete
policy regarding this matter.
The absence of precedent on
campus regarding the manner
in which professors should
or should not voice their
perspectives
and
political
leanings — a decision often
left up to the discretion of
the professor themselves —
warranted a less severe mode
of
discipline
on
Cheney-
Lippold.
The University should have
first expressed disagreement
with
the
exclusionary
behavior
Cheney-Lippold
presented towards a student
in an academic setting and
followed
with
a
public,
apolitical
warning.
This
would
help
express
the
University’s main philosophy,
which is to ensure academic
opportunities,
growth
and
support
for
students.
Additionally, this would set
a cautionary precedent for
future University instructors
who might consider doing the
same in the future. This form
of foreshadowing disciplinary
action
is
more
fair
and
effective than the immediate,
reactionary discipline shown
by the University.
Further,
whether
intentional
or
not,
the
swiftness
and
outspoken
nature of the University’s
action in this situation has
the power to isolate some
students on campus, namely
Palestinian
students
and
allies who have not seen the
University as proactive in
protecting
their
academic
freedom
and
safety
when
they have been systematically
targeted
and
harassed
online for their own speech
on the topic. Neutrality of
the University is of utmost
importance, as every student
should feel equally supported
by the University regardless
of their religious or political
beliefs.
We
would
hope
the
outspokenness
of
the
University on behalf of the
two students in protecting
their academic freedom is a

sentiment that will be echoed
for all students.
The
institution
of
a
university, at its core, is to be
a place of development and
thought — an environment
conducive to growing academic
interests, as well as personal
values and perspectives. Free
speech, then, is parallel to free
thinking. If we as students are
urged to, from day one, think
for ourselves and be challenged
by the theories, problems and
readings we encounter daily,
in an effort for us to leave
this campus more confident in
ourselves and beliefs, how can
this expectation not extend to
our professors? We recognize,
however, that at the same
time the students’ academic
freedom
was
also
limited
by the refusal of both the
graduate student instructor
and professor to write study
abroad
recommendation
letters.
These
recent
events
have exhibited the ongoing
tensions and hard questions
we must grapple with on
our campus. As a university
with
a
teeming
student
population, various schools
of focus and a slew of student
and political organizations,
national
and
international
issues
are
essentially
our
own. In the last few weeks,
we’ve
all
grappled
with
many of these conflicting
ideals.
In
addressing
the
issue directly this week, the
University tried to resolve
many of these conflicts, but
many questions remain. We
hope that the University’s
newly formed panel — faculty
who are aiming to address
when academic freedom and
political ideology come into
conflict — involves students,
and takes into account our
role in these instances. The
reverberating
effects
their
statement and disciplinary
measures had on students and
faculty alike will continue
to leave us questioning all of
our roles as part of a single
academic community.

Q

uoting Martin Luther King
Jr., former President Barack
Obama often stated, “The
arc of the moral universe
is long, but it bends toward justice.”
Contrary to optimistic interpretation,
this statement does not attest to the
supposed inertia of justice or equality.
Indeed, history’s darkest moments
provide plentiful proof that apathy,
and the assumption of inevitable
righteousness that gives rise to it, can
preclude the march of progress, and at
times even reverse it. Sadly, we often
partake in this apathy by allowing
ourselves to forget the moments and
movements that precipitated great
instances of progress, be they equal
rights written into law or the inclusive
attitudes that breathe life into these
liberties.
This coming Tuesday, Oct. 16,
serves as a chance to remember one
such moment. It marks the 50th
anniversary of a silent protest that has
found a worthy complement in former
quarterback
Colin
Kaepernick’s
actions on the football field, one that
took place in a crowded stadium and
ultimately found itself at the center
of something much larger. Captured
forever in a photograph that embodies
the tempest of 1968 like no other
photograph can, the national anthem
protest by African-American U.S.
Olympians Tommie Smith and John
Carlos has solidified their legacy as one
of legitimate resistance.
The 1968 Summer Olympics in
Mexico City, like others before them,
were supposed to be exercises in
wholesome athletic competition, but
that did not exempt them from the
turbulence of that year. America’s
racial and domestic wounds were
still fresh four months after the
assassination of presidential candidate
Robert F. Kennedy and six months
after the assassination of civil rights
leader Martin Luther King Jr. The
violence seemed to follow American
athletes to the Olympics — just two
weeks before Smith and Carlos
would mount the podium, dozens
of students were ruthlessly gunned
down by Mexican soldiers following
weeks of protests.
It was still in America, however,
where Smith and Carlos had the least
to be happy about. As if systemic racial
prejudice was not enough, only slightly
more than half of African-American
adults held high school degrees in
1968, and less than a tenth had gone
on to earn bachelor’s degrees. These
despairingly low rates of educational
attainment, paling in comparison to
similar measures for whites, spoke
to the fallacy of an American Dream
for all.
Smith and Carlos wanted to do
something about it and demanded
better treatment for Black athletes
by organizing the Olympics Project
for Human Rights earlier that year.
They initially considered boycotting
the 1968 Olympics, but later decided
to compete in order to give their
campaign a more visible platform. At
a time when most white Americans
still winced at the very suggestion

of integrated neighborhoods, Smith
knew that sports gave minorities like
him and Carlos a real voice, reflecting
later that, “We had to be seen because
we couldn’t be heard.”
By today’s standards, the defiant
salute during the rendition of “The
Star-Spangled Banner” that Smith
and Carlos chose to protest these
grievances was a relatively passive
gesture. Even as they clenched their
fists and donned symbolic clothing to
convey their dissatisfaction with the
status quo, they made sure to stand
for the entire duration of the national
anthem. And, though it is probably
more a reflection of devolving
presidential
temperaments
than
anything else, then-president Lyndon
B. Johnson and then-presidential
candidate
Richard
Nixon
were
silent about the whole affair, while
Kaepernick’s anthem protests have
inspired rather undignified words
from President Donald Trump.
However, society’s standards have
evidently evolved since then. Smith
and Carlos would not be icons today
if their protest was well-received by
Americans. They were expelled from
the stadium and suspended from
the U.S. Olympic team following
the ceremony, and death threats
predictably followed. Life was not
made easy for them. Yet, to this day,
neither regrets the courageous actions
they took to show the public their
struggle at home. Whatever they
accomplished in Mexico City was
clearly worth it.
But what exactly was it that Smith
and Carlos accomplished with their
gesture? They did not articulate a
specific policy to alleviate the ills of
Black America, nor did they put forth
the funds to elevate their fellow, lower-
class African Americans, actions
often demanded of those who dare
to gripe about discrimination. Just
as they do not aspire for acceptance
in the mainstream, effective social
movements do not often set their
sights on an immediate redirection
of policy. At a time when even violent
dispersal of American protesters was
widely supported, gaining the support
of an American majority, especially for
an act of protest during the national
anthem, was grossly infeasible for
activists.
Instead, in democratic societies like
America, legitimate resistance against
unjust status quos has nearly always
relied on the ability of movements
to capture the complacency of the
uninterested majority and steer it
toward a path of liberalization. This
agitation, an inherent disruption and
inconvenience to the majority, is what
engenders a sense of injustice, and
demand for subsequent change, where
there was none before. When people
like Smith and Carlos turn what should
be a moment of personal pride into
one of complaining about America’s
problems at home — yes, complaining
— then the rest of the country begins to
see how real their anger must be, and in
doing so, embarks on a journey toward
increased tolerance and acceptance.
The work of Martin Luther King

Jr. embodies this well: King did
not expect to see a drastic decrease
in
anti-miscegenation
sentiment
in his lifetime, nor did he directly
lobby legislators to mandate public
acceptance of interracial marriage.
But, the mere presence of his
“radical” calls for racial equality,
along with other, subtler attempts at
normalizing interracial relations in
the national discourse, helped make
that evolution in racial attitudes a
reality — contributing to an American
tradition of using expansive platforms
for meaningful speech.
By this measure, the decision
by former San Francisco 49ers
quarterback Colin Kaepernick in
2016 to refuse to stand for the national
anthem, since carried on by other NFL
players, is simply a continuation of
this tradition. Kaepernick’s kneeling
during the anthem at NFL games
was his way of using his platform for
political means, like Smith and Carlos.
In his case, it was to call attention to
what he views as disproportionate
police brutality towards African
Americans, certainly a sacrifice if one
takes into account his being effectively
blackballed from the NFL and
receiving death threats.
From the perspective of Kaepernick,
there is no platform better to project
dissatisfaction with the current state
of affairs than the national anthem,
our symbolic embodiment of the state
itself. This sentiment was clearly not
shared by Kaepernick’s employers or,
as of the latest polls, a majority of the
country as well.
Nevertheless,
Kaepernick
has
demonstrated his desire to respect the
men and women in uniform who have
reason to view the anthem as more
than a symbol. Instead of fixating on
the supposed patriotism of his kneeling,
we should ask ourselves whether his
gesture was any more disrespectful
than that of Smith and Carlos in 1968 at
the Olympics, which attracted similar
criticisms and backlash. For without
the actions of Smith and Carlos and the
like, the current atmosphere would not
even allow Kaepernick to take a knee,
and much less sit, for the anthem, nor
would it allow Nike to successfully use
his protest in a popular ad campaign.
That Kaepernick’s actions do not
immediately fix the attitudes he takes
issue with, or that he is generally
not viewed favorably by his fellow
athletes or Americans, is no reason
to dismiss his protest as empty or
unpatriotic. In fact, this view would
constitute a failure on our part to
recognize those who legitimately
resist injustices, injustices that might
not be solved by the next year or even
the next generation. By definition, the
Kaepernicks of the world do not often
find majority approval in the present,
but instead in the future. Tommie
Smith said it best when recalling his
controversial actions in Mexico City:
“We were not wrong. We were only
ahead of our time.”

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Friday, October 12, 2018

Emma Chang
Ben Charlson
Joel Danilewitz
Samantha Goldstein
Emily Huhman

Tara Jayaram
Jeremy Kaplan
Lucas Maiman
Magdalena Mihaylova
Ellery Rosenzweig
Jason Rowland

Anu Roy-Chaudhury
Alex Satola
Ali Safawi
Ashley Zhang
Sam Weinberger

DAYTON HARE
Managing Editor

420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com

Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.

ALEXA ST. JOHN
Editor in Chief
ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY AND
ASHLEY ZHANG
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

ELLERY ROSENZWEIG | COLUMN

A column about the column
L

ast week, after I shared my
column about accepting my
fat, curvy body on Facebook,
I
was
flooded
with
support
and
recognition from my
friends, family, teachers
and
even
strangers.
Everyone
was
kind
and
thoughtful
in
ways I never imagined.
Reading some of the
comments brought me
to tears. I recognized
how difficult it is to talk
about insecurities, and
there isn’t much space or a platform
where people feel comfortable to do
this.
I’m still humbly surprised by the
amount of attention l received from
my community. And I’m happy I was
able to be there for my fellow bigger-
bodied people — helping share our
experiences for those who were not
aware. But I am still exploring notions
of body acceptance and positivity,
notions I was not able to cover in just
one column.
I try to live my life like an open
book — I keep very few things to
myself. As an extrovert, I normally
tell people things without them even
asking because I need to process my
thoughts out loud with my friends or
really anyone who is around. After
releasing so many closed-off thoughts
for my whole community to see, I was
emotionally drained. Whether it was
reliving the fatphobia I wrote about
as everyone was reading it, having
conversations about my body every
day for almost two weeks, or trying

to keep up with all of my school work
and other commitments, I did not have
much time for myself.
Last Tuesday, skipping
class and procrastinating
an assignment, as usual, I
began listening to a new
podcast
called
“Pretty
Big Deal” by supermodel
and body activist Ashley
Graham. I have been
looking
up
to
Ashley
Graham
ever
since
I
watched her Ted Talk
about being a plus-size
model and accepting her
body. In the podcast, she was telling
her interviewee, Kim Kardashian,
how sometimes it is exhausting to
always have to talk about her body, but
it is a part of her job as a model, activist
and just being herself. I was relieved
to find that this emotional exhaustion
was normal. That is, another woman
like me had felt the same way and were
out there sharing their experience.
As I’m continuing to express
vulnerability and write about my
experiences, I’m making myself open
to having more conversations with
people about my body. Even though
this is something that is new to me and
once scared me, I hope talking about
it becomes normal and comfortable
with time. With all of this in mind,
I still need to be kind to myself and
allow time to recharge, reflect and
rest. This way I’m not too emotionally
exhausted and can continue spitting
truths.
Another topic discussed in the
podcast that piqued my interest was
the privilege and platform white

curvy woman have in today’s market.
Curvy, larger bodies are not a new
type of body. There have always been
fat, curvy, thick women, but recently,
the fashion industry has allowed for
primarily white women to represent
this population. This is incredibly
misleading, as there are fat, large
people of all identities who need
representation as well.
Looking back at my article, I
shared several accounts of body
activists who were curvy, full women
but most of them were white women
with hourglass figures. As a white
woman, I’m aware of the privilege
that people of my race and size are
receiving representation. With this
in mind, I want to share accounts
led by women of color I follow that
have amazing content, like one of my
favorite musical artists, Lizzo. She is
incredibly authentic in her music and
posts about how much she loves her
body. Also, check out model Sonny
Turner, because she posts bomb
unedited photos and is a hair icon.
In addition, you should look at body
advocate
@p.skaguya’s
beautiful
pictures and videos of her photo
shoots and everyday life.
I’m not sure if I was entirely ready
to release my column when I did, but
I definitely learned a lot about myself
and the fact that I have a new platform
to advocate for beautiful, fat, thick and
curvylicious people. If you want to
chat about this more, reach out to me.

I’m more than happy and ready to dive
deeper with all of you.

Legitimate resistance

ETHAN KESSLER | COLUMN

Ellery Rosenzweig can be reached at

erosenz@umich.edu.

Ethan Kessler can be reached at

ethankes@umich.edu.

EMILY WOLFE | CONTACT EMILY AT EWOLFE@UMICH.EDU

FROM THE OPINION EDITORS

When academic freedoms collide
T

he sometimes contentious relationship between free speech and
academic equity at the University of Michigan came to a head this
week. In a letter to the University community, University President
Mark Schlissel and Provost Martin Philbert stated that two instructors —
who recently denied letters of recommendation for study abroad programs
in Israel due to their own support for the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions
movement — did not meet University expectations for the behaviors of
instructors. Separately, The Michigan Daily and The Detroit News obtained
a letter from Interim LSA Dean Elizabeth Cole, informing one of the
instructors, John Cheney-Lippold, associate professor in the Department of
American Culture, that his actions violated University policy, and he would
be disciplined with loss of a merit raise and delay of his planned sabbatical.

ELLERY

ROSENZWEIG