I 
 

have had a smartphone since 
I was 13 years old. And before 
that, I had an iPod Touch that, 
with the will of a Wi-Fi connection, 
gave me consistent access to the 
Internet. So for at least the last eight 
years, I have been the owner of some 
type of smart device. And while I 
have always considered myself a 
responsible person and taken care 
of these devices, sometimes things 
happen outside of your control. For 
example, you could hypothetically 
fall down the stairs with your phone 
in your back pocket, affecting the 
already-cracked screen and causing 
the display to give out about a week 
later. Hypothetically.
But regardless of the many ways 
I could have hypothetically broken 
my phone, it happened. I went to 
pick it up, check the time and see if 
any new notifications had graced 
my screen, but was met with an 
unresponsive device. I got slightly 
irritated. And after 40 minutes of 
trying different methods of getting 
it to turn on, my frustration turned 
to panic and I borrowed a friend’s 
phone to call my parents.
I explained the situation quickly 
and with the anxious breath of 
someone in the midst of a crisis at 
12:30 a.m., my parents agreeing to 
figure it out in the morning. They 
did handle it, which I am extremely 
grateful for, but the process left 
me phoneless for two days. I was 
disconnected, apart from my old 
Dell laptop which, bless its soul, 
is on its last leg of life and needs to 
be constantly charging in order to 
work. And I know that two days 
may not seem like a long time, but 
try and give up your phone and 
Apple account for a few days to see 
the effects. It was just enough time 
to make me evaluate my technology 
use and the way that it has become 
central to the way I live.
I initially reflected on my reaction 
to breaking my phone in the first 
place. Imagine the feeling you have 
when you misplaced your phone 
for 10 minutes and are scouring the 
room for it, and amplify that by 10. 
I was filled with anxiety, as though 
I had just lost a hand. Phones and 
mobile communication have become 
so ingrained in and connected to us 
that any misplacement of the device 
is devastating to our day-to-day 
functionality and comfort. When it 
was taken away, I became acutely 
aware of this relationship.
I was quickly met with a set of 
challenges that I did not anticipate 
having. Without my phone I 

realized I did not have an alarm 
clock, affecting how I woke up for 
class over the next few days. I do 
not wear or even own a watch and 
have always used my phone as my 
personal tracker of time. For two 
days I only had a rough estimate 
of what time it was. Phones have 
pulled so many basic technologies 
together into one device, foregoing 
some uses that I did not even realize 
I frequently needed. This intensifies 
our tech reliance: So much of what 
we need and do is based on one 
device. Losing it is like losing what 
used to be 15 of your most useful 
objects.
I found myself on several 
occasions reaching for something 
that was not there. I would be 
studying and suddenly grab for 
the empty table to my right. Think 
about how many times you pick 
up your phone, even if you are not 
actively scrolling or using it. It has 
been reported that millennials 
check their phones 150 times a 
day. Something so habitual truly 
becomes essential to the way you go 
through your life, even when it is not 
necessarily beneficial to you.
Yet, in this disconnect I found 
that without minute breaks in my 
studying and working, I was more 
productive. My concentration was 
not interrupted by sending a quick 
message to a friend, or reading the 
headline that the New York Times 
sent to my notification center. 
This break in our concentration 
flow is proven to cause issues 
with productivity. However, I still 
missed my five-minute social media 
breaks. I was not Snapchatting or 
seeing the top new tweets on my 
feed. I felt like I was not expressing 
myself as regularly as I normally 
do, and I felt a distance from the 
people I frequently chat with. 
Communication has manifested 
itself in so many different ways in the 
age of social media, and a break from 
it felt isolating. While this cultural 
phenomenon of being “plugged in” 
all the time can have a distracting 
quality, it is the way that information, 
ideas and expression are shared 
in our society, so disconnecting 
can make us feel as if we are 
missing 
something. 
Managing 
and balancing our screen time is 
something that we could benefit 
from in practical ways, especially 
when tech usage manifests into 
insignificant scrolling and wasting 
time. But cutting it out completely 
or resisting its importance in our 
new communication system is an 

intractable mindset. 
The consistent access to and 
use of our phones, in combination 
with the fact that 77 percent of 
Americans now own a smartphone 
(95 percent owning some type of 
cell phone), keeps us connected to 
not only technology, but to each 
other. Mobile communication has 
given humanity, for the first time, 
instantaneous access to the people 
in our lives at any point. This is a 
new cultural phenomenon that is 
criticized but also indulged in by our 
society. While we may feel that we 
do not owe anyone a timely response 
to whatever they may need, due 
to the rapid nature of information 
that we are so accustomed to, we 
oftentimes expect it from others. 
My first phoneless day left many 
of my friends confused until they 
saw me in the evening. They were 
not given the typical daily updates 
of where I was and what I was 
doing. These interactions, while 
typically short, give us a constant 
access to one another that has never 
before existed. It also has created a 
certain level of anxiety about where 
people are and what they are doing. 
Without these habitual updates, 
loved ones can be sent into a frenzy 
of concern. When you do not check 
in, it implies that something is off or 
wrong. It’s crucial to maintaining 
interpersonal connections.
Millennials 
are 
the 
first 
generation to grow up in an age 
of mobile communication. This 
is reflected greatly in our use of 
technology and the importance that 
it plays in our daily lives. Phones 
have become an extension of us, 
both a useful tool for many day-to-
day functions and a way to intensify 
interpersonal communication. But 
alongside the growth of constant 
access to one another and the use 
of devices, tech reliance has also 
developed — a new dependence that 
people of other generations may not 
be able to understand. A reliance 
that should be better managed in 
order to inspire productivity.
After my parents brought me 
my new phone, I asked them how 
they used to make and keep plans, 
how they handled communication 
without cell phones. “Erin, we 
just did it!” And as with all new 
advancements, we just keep doing 
it. Cell phones are just the new “it.”

O 

n its surface, Netflix’s 
“Bojack 
Horseman” 
simply looks like an 
absurd cartoon about a celebrity 
horse, 
but 
anyone 
who 
has 
seen the show can attest that 
its themes extend far past just 
whimsical animal puns (though 
they are admittedly some of 
my favorite parts of the show). 
Despite centering around the lives 
of 
mostly 
anthropomorphized 
animals, “Bojack Horseman” is 
perhaps the most honest portrayal 
of the human condition currently 
on television, and its most recent 
season fearlessly explores the 
complex facets of addiction, the 
marginalization of women and 
the lack of accountability in our 
society.
Season 
five 
of 
“Bojack 
Horseman” follows Bojack as 
he balances a demanding acting 
job on the set of his new action 
drama “Philbert” with growing 
depression and drug addiction. 
This season focuses largely on the 
theme of accountability, or more 
specifically, a lack thereof. We 
get a taste of this early on with 
Vance Waggoner, a remorseless 
former “Hollywood” star who 
has a history of horrible behavior 
involving 
sexual 
harassment, 
assault and anti-Semitism. After 
a few years out of the spotlight, 
Vance lands a gig as Bojack’s 
co-star on “Philbert,” a role that 
is meant to revive the “reformed” 
actor’s career.
Though as viewers we can 
laugh at Vance’s excessively dark 
and endless transgressions, we 
must also recognize that Vance 
is just an exaggerated version of 
the celebrities and public figures 
whom we constantly forgive in 
our society. This cycle is one we 
all know far too well — a celebrity 
scandal 
breaks 
the 
celebrity 
apologizes and spends some time 
out of the public eye and shortly 
after, the public welcomes the 
“new-and-improved” 
celebrity 

back with open arms.
Waggoner’s 
character 
holds 
obvious relevance to the #MeToo 
movement that has taken our 
society by storm. With so many 
once-beloved 
public 
figures 
shockingly exposed as sexual 
assaulters and harassers, a number 
of them have inevitably slipped 
through the cracks back into the 
public’s warm embrace. Perhaps 
most notably, Louis C.K., who just 
last year was at the center of the 
#MeToo movement, and has now 
already kickstarted a return to the 
stand-up stage. It is instances like 
these that reveal just how fickle the 
public is. Louis C.K. is funny and 
affable, so naturally, mere months 
after we discovered his history 
of sexual misconduct, we have 
already begun to forget.
Though 
Vance 
Waggoner’s 
character 
is 
a 
blunt 
social 
commentary on society’s inability 
to hold the rich and famous 
accountable, it is merely a precursor 
to the season’s much darker 
climactic 
ending. 
Throughout 
the season, we witness Bojack 
gradually spiraling out of control 
as his dependency on painkillers 
takes over his life. Eventually, his 
sense of self becomes so warped 
that he mistakes a scripted action 
scene for real life and violently 
chokes his co-star Gina while 
filming. Not wanting her best 
shot at a successful acting career 
to die in the shadow of such a 
massive scandal, Gina publically 
“clears things up” in an interview, 
covering her bruises with makeup 
and assuring the public that it was 
just good acting.
This 
interview 
scene 
is 
incredibly honest and powerful. 
Not only does Gina illustrate 
an 
often 
overlooked 
barrier 
to 
survivors 
of 
assault 
who 
contemplate coming forward, but 
the situation also represents a very 
real instance in which a powerful and 
destructive force once again escapes 
the consequences of his actions.

There 
is 
a 
scene 
in 
the 
10th episode in which Bojack 
rationalizes that everybody does 
regrettable things, that, “We’re all 
terrible, so, therefore, we’re all OK.” 
This quote embodies every reason 
our society habitually fails to hold 
people accountable. We adopt 
this mindset because it is easy. It 
is easy to believe that, “We’re all 
terrible, so, therefore, we’re all OK” 
because a lack of agency means 
that we never had any control over 
our actions in the first place. It 
means that we are not responsible 
for ourselves, so, therefore, our 
transgressions are not our fault. 
These rationalizations are simply 
coping mechanisms. But in this 
case, we cannot just cope — we 
must respond.
With the #MeToo movement in 
full force, I can only hope that we 
as a society have begun to realize 
that we must hold others as well as 
ourselves truly accountable. The 
trauma suffered by survivors of 
sexual assault is too painful for us 
to remain complacent. We cannot 
simply rationalize wrongdoings 
with the same old justifications 
like “Boys will be boys” or “It’s just 
locker room talk” because these 
excuses normalize attitudes and 
beliefs which should unequivocally 
be condemned. An apology is not 
enough to warrant forgiveness 
because redemption is not a binary 
state, but instead a gradual and 
continuous effort. Yes, we all do 
terrible things sometimes, but 
this fact is not some equalizer that 
justifies all wrongdoings.
Season 
five 
of 
“Bojack 
Horseman” closes on a hopeful 
note as Bojack checks himself 
into a rehabilitation facility for his 
addiction. He realizes the changes 
he himself must enact in order to 
be better — it’s time society does 
the same.

Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Wednesday, November 14, 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

ERIN WHITE | COLUMN

Our digital dependency

What society can learn from ‘Bojack Horseman’

AMANDA ZHANG | COLUMN

Erin White can be reached at 

ekwhite@umich.edu

Amanda Zhang can be reached at 

amanzhan@umich.edu.

S

ignatories 
to 
the 
recent 
statement 
criticizing 
the 
University 
of 
Michigan’s 
decision to discipline Prof. John 
Cheney-Lippold for refusing to 
support a student who wanted to 
study in Israel framed the issue 
solely in terms of freedom of 
speech. In fact, two principles were 
in contention: a professor’s right to 
express his views and a student’s 
right to study at an institution of 
her choosing. Since the University 
believes its primary commitment 
must be to students, and since 
Cheney-Lippold’s 
freedom 
in 
other contexts is unaffected, the 
University chose to support the 
undergraduate. The signatories, 
however, 
ignored 
the 
student 
entirely. Their statement mentioned 
the professor’s free speech rights 
four times — the young woman’s 
thwarted academic aspirations, not 
once.
I suspect, moreover, that the 
signatories’ commitment to freedom 
of speech is not absolute, but 
conditional and qualified. Suppose a 
professor refused to write for a woman 
who wanted to study physics because 
women can’t do science. Or suppose he 
refused to write for a student seeking 
to attend a Muslim university because, 
in his view, Muslims are terrorists. Or if 
no letter were provided for an African 
university because, in the professor’s 
opinion, African universities are 
academically inferior. All such actions 
are examples of free speech. But, if the 
University penalized the offending 
professor, I seriously doubt we’d see 
an outraged protest. Most signatories 
probably would stay silent or demand 
the administration chastise their 
ignorant colleague.
Insofar as this is true, the central 
issue is not freedom of speech at all, 
but political and historical analysis. 
 
Not all, but certainly many signatories 
support Prof. Cheney-Lippold because 
they share his sympathy for the 
Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions 
movement.
If the political claims of the BDS 
movement are central to the entire 
debate, what then can be said about 
their credibility? In all my classes, and 
especially my course on the Arab-
Israeli conflict, I go to great lengths 
to introduce divergent views and 
historiographic debates. But, it is 
precisely because I oppose simplistic, 
politically inspired interpretations 
that I now critique the BDS narrative. 
I hasten to add that I would do 
exactly the same if faculty petitions 
circulated in support of an ahistorical, 
exclusively pro-Israel perspective.
The BDS movement makes two 
chief claims. First, it says that Israel 
must be boycotted because it violates 
international norms of human rights. 
Indeed, in demanding sanctions 
against only one country, BDS 
suggests that Israel has the world’s 
worst human rights record. 
To be sure, within Israel, which 
defines 
itself 
as 
an 
expressly 
Jewish state, Arabs are second-
class citizens, with lower per capita 
funding and a pervasive sense of 
marginalization. 
Unfortunately, 
however, in privileging one ethnic 
or religious group, Israel resembles 
a great number, probably a majority, 
of U.N. member states. And if we 
consider not merely ethnic relations, 

but the totality of civic rights, Israel 
does far better than most. Arguably, 
the most respected global survey of 
minority rights and democracy is the 
Democracy Index compiled by the 
U.K.-based Economist Intelligence 
Unit. In this survey, which ranks 
countries from No. 1, most democratic 
(Norway), to No. 167, least democratic 
(North Korea), Israel ranks No. 30. 
Israel is in the same cohort as the U.S. 
(No. 21), France (No. 29), Belgium 
(No. 32), etc.
No other Middle East country 
ranks lower (i.e., better) than No. 
69, and the great majority come in 
at No. 100 or worse. The Palestinian 
territories, No. 108, have been 
condemned by Human Rights Watch 
for systematically torturing political 
prisoners. Neither the West Bank 
under the Palestinian Authority 
nor Gaza under Hamas offers any 
semblance of free elections, freedom 
of the press or tolerated dissent.

By contrast, Arab citizens of 
Israel have exactly the same civic 
and political rights as Jews. An 
Arab party is the third largest in 
parliament. Arabs serve on the 
Israeli Supreme Court, in the cabinet 
and in the army high command. 
They have equal access to all public 
institutions. Christian Arabs have 
higher rates of university enrollment 
and lower poverty rates than Jews. 
None of this remotely resembles 
apartheid South Africa, to which BDS 
leaders routinely compare Israel. So 
why does BDS single out Israel for 
censure, rather than Middle Eastern 
autocracies? I say nothing about 
the truly appalling human rights 
records of China, Russia, Sri Lanka, 
Venezuela, the Philippines, etc.
The second BDS claim is that 
outside Israel proper, in the West 
Bank 
and 
Gaza, 
settlements 
and security controls constitute 
outrageous abuses of an innocent 
population. I readily agree that 
Israel’s 
ongoing 
expansion 
of 
West Bank settlements is morally 
offensive and politically myopic.
Palestinians 
themselves, 
however, 
bear 
significant 
responsibility for these conditions. 
Their leaders have had many 
opportunities to end the conflict. 
But for almost a century, a 
combination of chronic political 
fragmentation 
and 
deep-seated 
popular anger over the Zionist 
intrusion into Arab lands has 
made it impossible for any leader 
to accept a permanent Jewish state 
without risking his political, indeed 
physical, demise. 
All told, from 1937 to 2014, 
eight international proposals to 
end the conflict were made. All 
would have given Palestinians 
control over substantial parts, 
in one case 100 percent, of the 

territories 
comprising 
modern 
Israel and Palestine, but all would 
have required compromise. Jews, 
not because they were more moral 
but because demographic realities 
curbed their appetite, accepted at 
least six, possibly seven, of these 
proposals. Most of what Palestinians 
now claim they want — including a 
West Bank state with its capital in 
East Jerusalem — was offered in 
these proposals. But opponents of 
any substantial Jewish presence 
rejected all eight proposals and 
accompanied those rejections with 
military and terrorist attacks. Jews 
responded with military measures 
designed to prevent fresh attacks. 
Those responses and the ensuing, 
progressive deterioration in the 
Palestinians’ territorial and political 
position only deepened Palestinian 
bitterness, which inspired fresh 
rounds of violence, which led to 
further Israeli restrictions in a 
downward spiral to which no end 
is in sight.
As a result, virtually everything of 
which Palestinians now complain — 
refugees in 1947-49, the West Bank 
occupation from 1967, settlements 
after 1977, the 2002 security wall, the 
post-2007 Gaza blockade — came 
in direct response to Arab-initiated 
violence whose instigators, with 
extensive popular support, were 
expressly committed to destroying the 
Jewish state.
Gaza illustrates this dynamic 
all too well. Despite the blockade, 
Gaza Hamas has managed to inflict 
considerable financial and political 
damage. But, the West Bank is 15 times 
larger than Gaza, far closer to Israel’s 
heartland and far more open to Iranian 
troops and weapons. Israelis fear that 
if they withdrew from the West Bank, 
Hamas — which is allied to Iran, sworn 
to Israel’s extermination and arguably 
the most popular Palestinian party — 
would take control of the West Bank 
just as they seized Gaza after Israel 
left. A Hamas-dominated West Bank, 
with Iranian troops and weapons 
next door to Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, 
would threaten Israel’s very existence. 
No Israeli government — right or 
left — could ever countenance such 
a possibility. More than religious or 
ideological imperatives, this deep-
rooted existential fear now drives 
Israeli settlement expansion and 
suspicion of a two-state solution.
To be sure, Zionism presented the 
Arabs of Palestine with an extremely 
painful dilemma: In effect, they were 
asked to pay the price for European 
anti-Semitism for which they bore 
no responsibility. Nonetheless, faced 
with hard choices, Palestinians during 
the last hundred years responded in 
ways that often proved profoundly 
self-destructive. To accept the BDS 
image of Palestinians as victims 
of entirely gratuitous repression 
is to caricature history. And to 
single out Israel from among 193 
U.N. members as the country 
whose human rights record is most 
deserving of boycott is to defy 
impartial logic.

VICTOR LIEBERMAN | OP-ED
Freedom of speech and partisan enthusiasm

Victor Lieberman is the Raoul 

Wallenberg Distinguished University 

Professor of History and Professor of 

Asian and Comparative History in the 

College of Literature Science and the 

Arts

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The central issue is not 
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political and historical 
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