7-Opinion
Opinion
I
rubbed the sleep out of
my eyes and reached
through the darkness for
my phone. It was 4 a.m. on a
March 2020 morning and the
screams coming from outside
my apartment were making
it impossible to sleep. I sat
up and looked down from my
second-story window to the
thin road below. Bathed in
the orange light of a street
lamp a group of people were
dancing in a circle, their
maniacal laughs and screams
echoing up and down the
otherwise silent street. While
this
alone
wouldn’t
have
made it a notable event on the
famously raucous Greenwood
Avenue, the fact that this
group of dancers was wearing
nothing but their smiles was
a little too crazy even for this
party-street. But I was hardly
surprised.
Ann Arbor had been abuzz
with massive parties for days
on end. After a student tested
positive for COVID-19 and
classes were canceled, many
rushed to party with their
friends and enjoy one final
week of college life before
returning home. Despite the
University and public health
experts telling us to remain
in our dorms and apartments,
on every block, from sunup
to sundown, a party seemed
to rage. Adding to the danger
of the situation, University
students had just returned
from spring break a week
earlier, likely bringing more
than
just
souvenirs
and
wicked hangovers back to
Michigan.
A
few
weeks
after
witnessing this naked dance
party in the middle of my
street, Michigan, particularly
Detroit, had already gained
the unwanted designation as a
dreaded COVID-19 “hotspot.”
Unlike most other American
metropolises,
citizens
of
the Motor City and other
communities
throughout
southeast
Michigan
were
uniquely vulnerable to this
new
respiratory
disease.
Like it had done in New
Orleans a few weeks prior, the
coronavirus took advantage
of the states’ glaring legacies
of racial and environmental
injustice.
While
many
nursing
and
senior living
facilities were devastated by
the disease, communities of
color
throughout
southern
Michigan
were
hit
even
harder.
Of
the
1,000,000
Black Michiganders tested for
COVID-19, an average of over
16,000 test positive. For white
people, the positivity rate
per million is only a fraction
of this, at less than 6,000.
Michiganders of color, as a
consequence of generations
of environmental racism, also
find themselves significantly
more likely to succumb to the
disease.
Heavily
polluting
industries, like the Marathon
Oil refinery and trash burning
facilities, have been allowed
to nestle their ways into
minority
communities
and
dirty the air with government
approval for decades. Filling
the
workplaces,
hospitals
and homes of Detroiters with
stinking, chemical-filled air
— unfit to breathe by anyone’s
standards
—
has
resulted
in higher rates of chronic
asthma. This, paired with
less access to green areas,
healthy foods and exercise
facilities, is linked to other
health problems later in life,
like obesity and diabetes,
which
Black
Michiganders
also
have
higher
rates
of.
The
prevalence
of
preexisting
conditions
in
these communities has had
devastating effects.
Black
Michiganders,
despite making up less than
14.5 percent of the state’s
population,
constitute
nearly half of the total death
count from COVID-19 and
are four times more likely
than
individuals
of
other
demographics to succumb to
the virus. While the pandemic
has shined an intense and
tragic light on the effects
of environmental injustice,
public health officials have
long been aware of them. Dr.
Anthony Fauci, director of the
National Institute of Allergy
and Infectious Diseases, said
that he hopes the pandemic
will be the wake-up call for
America
to
narrow
these
inequalities. “We will get
over Coronavirus, but there
will still be health disparities,
which we really do need
to address in the African
American community,” Fauci
said.
The University of Michigan’s
Michigan Medicine, one of
the most prestigious health
institutions
in
the
world,
could
play
an
essential
role in this mission. With
University
President
Mark
Schlissel himself a renowned
immunologist,
I
at
least
expected our University to
acknowledge the fact that
our nation is not ready for
in-person classes to resume.
My street alone is littered
with broken bottles, destroyed
furniture, beer cans and red
solo cups from the countless
parties I saw there in just a
two-day visit. The University
could have chosen to be the
role model on how to safely
and
innovatively
adapt
to
yet
another
surmountable
challenge
in
its
203-year
history. Instead, the school
has chosen to endanger the
very Michiganders it was
founded to serve.
With the pandemic still
increasing in intensity in
many parts of the country, the
responsible move would be to
make classes fully remote,
encourage students to stay
at home and avoid a highly
predictable
public
health
disaster. With students at
many universities calling for
tuition cuts for online classes,
and some opportunistic ones
even
suing
their
schools,
the University has instead
bucked common sense and
morality and has let greed
become its guide. In the
attitude of the multi-billion
dollar corporation it often
resembles, the University has
chosen to ignore the health
of Michiganders for money.
Even worse, the effects of this
dangerous choice will be felt
disproportionately by Black
communities. In wake of the
Black Lives Matter movement,
and
with
Michigan
State
University canceling classes
two weeks ago, the fact the
University is trying to feign
ignorance that this choice
will put thousands of Black
lives at risk is inexcusable.
By
beckoning
students
back to Ann Arbor with this
“hybrid semester,” the most
brilliant minds in Michigan
are tempting an explosion
of coronavirus cases. With
a
massive
student
body,
the Black communities of
not only Ann Arbor and
neighboring cities are at risk
but all of southern Michigan.
While it is impossible to
say
if
Michigan
students
will
resist
the
partying
and irresponsible behavior
that they fell prey to at the
beginning of the pandemic,
it’s difficult for me to get
those glistening buttcheeks
from March out of my head.
Why in-person classes are a racist mistake
RILEY DEHR | COLUMNIST
E
ditor’s Note: The author
of this op-ed is a staff
member at the University
of Michigan. They have been kept
anonymous due to their fear of
retaliation.
Listening to the University
of Michigan’s President Mark
Schlissel for the last five months, I
am shocked by the degree to which
a Trump-like disregard for truth
has overpowered our institution. In
Donald Trump’s America, obvious
lies are told without consequence,
and unwelcome truths are silenced
to avoid confronting inconvenient
or
unprofitable
inevitabilities.
Watching Schlissel mislead and
lie to reopen the campus, I’ve
asked myself: has truth become
meaningless here, too?
The answer is yes. For the
past four years, I’ve held out
hope that our institution could
serve as a respite from the
madness of Trumpian rule. I
believe that despite its flaws,
the university remains the most
important institution in society
for its contributions to freedom,
democracy and reason. But I was
wrong to believe we could avoid the
deterioration and rot that has run
through our country. Now Schlissel
runs our college like Trump runs
America: with dishonest impunity,
at grave risk to us all.
President
Schlissel
often
reminds us that he is a scientific
authority. He told us we could
reopen
in-person
“while
maintaining the same level of
safety we’d be experiencing if we
were fully remote” and bragged
that he has “the best research.”
But he ignored requests from
thousands of faculty, staff and
students to see this “best research.”
He refused to share the science
behind his decision to call 30,000
students from all corners of the
world back to campus in the middle
of an uncontrolled pandemic, even
after admitting we lack sufficient
testing capacity.
President Schlissel said testing
played a harmful role in the AIDS
crisis, so we shouldn’t pursue
more testing now. But a legendary
AIDS activist called this the most
egregious lie he’s heard this year.
President Schlissel demeaned
worker demands for widespread
testing as “science fiction” that
was “not essential.” But a study
out of Harvard and MIT said there
was no way to prevent a near-
total outbreak without testing
everyone on campus every two
days. Another Harvard expert said
Schlissel showed “a fundamental
misunderstanding of the purpose
of testing.”
President Schlissel proclaimed
the
University’s
efforts
were
informed by our top public health
experts. But a U-M respiratory
infectious disease expert told
The Michigan Daily that none of
the colleagues she’s spoken with
believe the University’s reopening
plan is safe, and top experts
nationwide
harshly
criticized
Schlissel’s “lack of commitment to
keep[ing] everybody safe.”
President
Schlissel
blamed
students for forgetting their ethical
responsibility to our community.
His office placed culpability for
controlling the virus’s spread
squarely on their shoulders — if
they didn’t avoid hooking up
altogether, the outbreak would be
their fault. But in July, his office
failed to release a report from its
own COVID-19 Ethics Committee
that expressed “with urgency”
that the U-M administration’s
plans to reopen were unsafe and
the negative consequences were
predictable.
The
suppressed
report leaked on social media in
late August, after most students
returned to campus.
President
Schlissel
lists
diversity, equity and inclusion
among his top priorities. But
U-M’s Chief Diversity Officer sat
on that ethics committee, and the
suppressed
report
emphasized
that “communities of color and
other vulnerable people will be
the hardest hit” by the University’s
actions.
President Schlissel spoke of
reducing law enforcement. But
he supported a new policing
program that formalized a city-
wide anonymous snitch system
and expanded the mandate of the
AAPD, which has still not been
properly investigated for killing
Aura Rosser. Similar programs
elsewhere
have
been
applied
disproportionately on communities
of color.
President Schlissel claimed he
“didn’t know how to interpret”
Gov. Gretchen Whitmer’s call to
all state universities to close their
campuses and tell students to stay
home. But her words were clear.
President Schlissel called U-M
a “family.” But he admitted that
the University may fire its most
vulnerable staff members and
dismissed the idea of using the
$10 billion endowment to protect
workers,
asserting
that
new
construction projects will take
precedence over existing staff.
All of this provides plenty of
reason to worry, but we now come
to perhaps the most troubling
development
of
all.
President
Schlissel
said
he
is
guided
by U-M’s values as a public
institution. But when the decision
was made to reopen, U-M’s Board
of Regents was chaired by one of
Ann Arbor’s largest landlords,
Ron Weiser — a billionaire Trump
megadonor who has given more
than $100M to U-M in the last
six years. He closed a new $30M
gift within days of U-M’s decision
to reopen. In one of the biggest
conflicts of interest imaginable
between
public
health
and
private wealth, Weiser’s company
McKinley, which he founded and
of which he is majority owner,
stands to take a financial hit if
students didn’t come back and
pay rent.
To sum things up, President
Schlissel said this would be
a
“public
health
informed
in-residence
semester,”
but
the public health experts are
upset and afraid. Thousands of
community members are upset
and afraid. And our megadonor
landlord regent is satisfied that
he’ll profit from the students told
to return to campus by President
Schlissel.
People will soon begin dying
avoidable deaths from COVID-
19 and the University will be
culpable. Why did it come to this?
Thousands of us were shouting
warnings
and
demanding
answers all summer, but we were
ignored, silenced, made to feel
powerless in our isolation.
Authoritarianism
happens
wherever an institution lacks
the
safeguards
to
hold
its
leadership accountable to facts.
I would tell you we stand at the
edge of authoritarianism, but
the truth is we have crossed
that line. In front of our noses,
a tiny group that is supposed to
serve us has consolidated power
over the largest public research
university in the world, rendered
truth meaningless and led us
into an avoidable public health
disaster. To point out the obvious
invites
harsh
punishment,
so this editorial is published
anonymously. Many of you will
be too afraid to even share it
publicly; such is the culture of
fear these rulers have created.
If we learn anything from this,
I hope it’s that the current
leadership model has and will
continue to fail us when we need
it most.
Perhaps in hindsight, this
public health failure is not so
different
from
the
repeated
failures
to
diversify
the
university. Or the failures to
contribute positively in Detroit.
Or the failures of allowing
top offices to be occupied by
sexual predators. If we ousted
President
Schlissel
tomorrow
but did nothing to change the
increasingly privatized model
of public education, we should
not be surprised when history
repeats itself with even more
devastating consequences.
We are out of time to save
our community from the most
immediate
consequences
of
President
Schlissel’s
public
health lies, but I still hold out
hope for a better future. This
university is composed not only
of a few powerful people at the
top, but of tens of thousands of
committed students, faculty, staff
and
surrounding
community
members who care passionately
about
education,
intellectual
freedom,
truth
and
justice.
We can run the University
collectively
and
sustainably
by
forming
representative
stakeholders’ associations that
prevent anyone from making
major
decisions
without
justification or accountability.
Together, we can better serve
the interests of our students, our
workers and our society.
Another university is possible.
The necessity of building it has
never been clearer.
ERIN WHITE
Managing Editor
Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
ELIZABETH LAWRENCE
Editor in Chief
BRITTANY BOWMAN AND
EMILY CONSIDINE
Editorial Page Editors
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS
Riley Dehr can be reached at
rdehr@umich.edu.
ANONYMOUS | OP-ED
The University’s summer of lies
Zack Blumberg
Brittany Bowman
Emily Considine
Elizabeth Cook
Jess D’Agostino
Jenny Gurung
Cheryn Hong
Krystal Hur
Min Soo Kim
Zoe Phillips
Mary Rolfes
Gabrijela Skoko
Joel Weiner
Erin White
Stanford Lipsey Student Publications Building
420 Maynard St.
Ann Arbor, MI 48109
tothedaily@michigandaily.com
Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890.
ELIZABETH LAWRENCE
Editor in Chief
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
The school
has chosen to
endanger the very
Michiganders it
was founded to
serve.
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Wednesday, September 2, 2020 — 7
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