2-News
I
t’s incredibly odd to be a freshman
right now. Instead of having animated
discussions
sitting
on
lawns
and
benches around campus, we occasionally
send necessary texts through GroupMes and
Discords. Instead of exploring and getting
used to a new campus, we navigate our
university online.
Newcomers don’t have a place, a community
or an understanding of the University of
Michigan in its regular workings. Instead, we
traverse through the “Zoom-Zone.”
It’s a term I picked up from Connor Greer,
the phenomenal ENG 223 writing instructor.
“Zoom-Zone” (or “ZOOM-ZONE,” as he says)
refers to the virtually built environment in
which most of our interactions exist. The
“Zoom-Zone” has replaced the University’s
physical environment, i.e. walking around
from class to class, attending social gatherings
or exploring campus. Now, we meet people
and visit places on a screen, often from inside
our childhood bedrooms. When our campus
shut down last semester, students transitioned
from in-person to virtual learning. Now, we
know the University in a different form— for
many freshmen, the only way we’ve ever
known the University is through emails,
online classes and group chats.
Zoom itself is a wondrous thing — two
people (from opposite corners of the planet, if
need be) can reach out through space and time
and see each other’s faces. However, centering
all of one’s social interactions in Zoom can
feel exhausting. Many experience Zoom
fatigue. Online interaction isn’t the same as
in-person interaction — without nonverbal
cues, it’s more challenging to focus. Speaking
through the “Zoom-Zone” can feel like a
performance and a puzzle simultaneously.
One is trying to deduce the other person’s
feelings while attempting to appear friendly
and in control, without nonverbal social cues.
Because attending Zoom calls can often
feel like charades, first-year students might
not be as eager to participate in classes and
organizations online as they are in person.
Thus, no one knows each other, except vaguely,
in a digital context. There’s barely a sense of
togetherness for the freshman class, apart
from our sparingly active Facebook group.
Additionally, the “Zoom-Zone” has a
funny way of flattening power structures —
sometimes, almost inverting them. While
Zoom discussions can feel more democratic
(which can be a good thing), they lead to some
chaotic situations. Often, in class, students
are technology-adept, while instructors can
sometimes struggle. With multiple people
speaking at once, it’s more challenging to keep
a class in order.
The chat feature in Zoom, especially,
completely changes the dynamic of classes,
where people can send a text without being
seen or heard. In one of my courses last semester
(a large, 180-person class), the chat was so active
that it was turned off every class, especially
when students had complaints about the
course. Students are given much more power
in online classes. While sometimes beneficial,
it can be odd for freshmen, who can be unsure
how to act in their classes and otherwise.
Like many others, I find myself reminiscing
about life before COVID-19. In November 2018,
I went to my first ever Michigan football game.
Surrounded by more people than I could ever
imagine now, I laughed, whooped, yelled
and chanted. Periodically, the crowd would
get up and perform the fight song, ending
with 100,000 voices yelling out “Go Blue!” in
unison. Completely enamored, I couldn’t
stop fantasizing about my future college
experience at the University: Ideas of freedom,
parties and football games swirled together
in my mind. I couldn’t wait to know the fight
song, back-to-front, and chant “Go Blue!”
Now, the only time freshmen come across
the phrase is when we see a halfhearted “Go
Blue” at the end of an email offering COVID-
19 updates. It’s important to note why campus
life is changed — the relentless spread of
COVID-19, especially spurred by those who
go about their lives as if there’s no virus.
People who choose to party are prolonging the
situation. They’re making everyone’s lives —
including their own — much harder and more
dangerous.
The lack of response from the institution
and the introduction of new COVID-19
variants in Ann Arbor only exacerbates the
problem. While people continue to disregard
their communities, it seems unlikely that the
pandemic will slow down anytime soon.
What’s
confusing
is
the
different
predictions of when society will return to
“normal.” Sources contrast each other, with
some claiming the pandemic will be around
for the next few years, while some are
claiming the situation will be better by July.
Will we ever leave this purgatory and find our
place in the community? Will we ever mature
past our high school selves? Will we ever
get the so-called college experience? More
importantly, will we and our communities
make it through the pandemic?
It’s overwhelming. The idea of the typical
college experience feels too good to be true —
hopefully, we’ll get to see it for ourselves in the
future. Currently, it all feels unclear. As the
freshmen’s connection to the university feels
weak, we float around, alone, untethered in
the “Zoom-Zone,” unsure of what comes next.
O
n a warm August afternoon in the
Law Quadrangle, my boyfriend and
I finally had the dreaded talk about
our exes. Beaming with pride, he revealed
that he was still friends with many of his exes,
with some of them comprising his group of
best friends. I suppressed an eye roll as I told
him that I wasn’t in contact with most of mine,
with a few even being blocked on social media.
Eyebrows raised, he looked at me with the
all-too-familiar smirk of superiority that
I’ve become accustomed to receiving from
those who take pride in staying friends
with their exes.
My lack of contact with my exes isn’t
necessarily due to bad relationships, messy
breakups or even miscommunication. I simply
believe that the period after a relationship ends
is prime time for personal growth and that
afterward, you shouldn’t be around somebody
who reminds you of a past version of yourself.
In addition, I think that more often than
not, the decision to stay friends with an ex is
precipitated by a desire to hold on to a person
who was once a big part of your life. This is a
completely natural impulse, but resisting it
allows you to become the person you really
want to be without being imprisoned by the
shackles of your past.
I won’t stand on a soapbox and preach
at you, though. Last year, after breaking up
with my long-term high school boyfriend, I
immediately launched myself into a series of
flings and hookups, quickly finding myself
entrapped in strange love triangles and
awkward run-ins. A few weeks of backsliding
with my ex eventually gave way to another
period of no-contact, during which he blocked
me on social media. Months later, I asked if we
could be friends, but once we began talking
again, I quickly realized that friendship with
him was unnecessary for both of us — nothing
more than a remnant of the past few years
that was determined to linger forever if
we allowed it.
Friendships with exes can also easily
become toxic, be it for yourself, a new
relationship or even mutual friends. Research
suggests that friendships between exes
generally have more negative aspects
than other cross-sex platonic friendships.
Additionally, exes are often used as emotional
substitutions for a new partner when that
new relationship takes a turn for the worse.
Exes can cause feelings of jealousy and
territorialism in a new partner, creating
unnecessary tension and chaos in the early
stages of a relationship.
This is not to say that it’s impossible or even
useless to be friends with an ex. My boyfriend
has a successful, healthy friendship with one
of his exes, where they are both assets to each
other’s lives. That said, most other ventures
at friendships with ex-significant others do
not go as swimmingly, which can serve as a
detriment to personal growth. Friendship
with an ex isn’t inherently a sign of
maturity and often can belie an inability to
think critically about the people who are
allowed in your life.
There is power in being able to know
when to close a chapter of your life and
move on without attachments. Studies
show that adolescents who are able to
reevaluate their friendships had stronger
exploration, and therefore firmer identities
compared to peers who didn’t frequently
engage in this reassessment.
Knowing when to leave someone behind
gives you the power to decide which parts
of yourself to leave behind with them.
I think about my exes still. Sometimes,
when I see a funny Snapchat memory
with my ex from senior year of high
school or walk past their apartment
complex on my way to class, I have the
urge to text them just to let them know I
was thinking about them.
My exes have become a part of me in
some way or another and I am grateful for
the experiences I’ve had because of them, but
there’s a reason that they’re memories. I’ve
learned a lot from them, which allows me to
cuddle up on the couch with my boyfriend
this Valentine’s Day, watch “To All The
Boys I’ve Loved Before 3” and revel in
being in the present.
12 — Wednesday, February 17, 2021
Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
MRINALINI IYER | COLUMNIST
ILANA MERMELSTEIN | COLUMNIST
Meera Kumar can be reached at kmeera@
umich.edu.
N
ot
long
ago,
a
2018
Facebook post from U.S.
Rep.
Marjorie
Taylor
Greene, R-Ga., resurfaced. In it, she
attributed the California wildfires to
a space laser controlled by the Pacific
Gas and Electric Company, which
is owned by Rothschild Inc., and
indicated that the land was burned
in an elaborate scheme to construct
a high-speed rail project.
Her beliefs are unfortunately just
another iteration of the “all-powerful
Jews will do anything to make a buck”
trope. Granted, it’s a pretty funny
iteration. Many Jewish Twitter users
posted about the theory, joking about
the blatant anti-Semitism. After all,
how could a secret Jewish space laser
truly remain a secret with Jewish
mothers everywhere wanting nothing
more than to brag about their children?
We Jewish people tend to joke
about
widespread
anti-Semitic
conspiracy theories because, frankly,
if we don’t laugh, we’ll cry. Greene’s
theory is just one of many that draw
on age-old stereotypes about Jewish
people to villainize them. While quite
laughable, it isn’t much crazier than
the anti-Semitic beliefs of many other
holders of public office. We shouldn’t
be surprised by politicians’ rampant
bigotry, but we should be fighting it.
Anti-Semitism has a long and dark
history in the United States, primarily
beginning in the late 19th century.
Many Jews immigrated from Europe
to the U.S. at the end of the 1800s
and at the beginning of the 1900s,
arriving in America as propertyless
immigrants. However, they quickly
adjusted and advanced professionally,
angering many Americans who were
less successful.
At this point, the stereotype was
born in America that Jews controlled
all
the
money
and
exploited
government systems for their own
financial gain. Needless to say, this
belief pervaded American society
and it continues to rear its ugly head,
even today.
Unfortunately,
the
American
political system is not immune to
the widespread anti-Semitism in
the U.S. Government officials on
both the right and left have targeted,
and continue to target, Jewish
people, using the money-controlling
stereotype to redirect the blame for
economic and governmental failures.
Sen.
Mitch
McConnell,
R-Ky.,
released
a
YouTube
advertisement
during
his
reelection campaign in which he
claimed that the Democrats “have
liberal billionaires like George
Soros and Mike Bloomberg,” two
individuals who happen to be
Jewish. In doing so, he furthered
the previously discussed trope
that Jews control the money
and use their financial power to
control the government. Similarly,
former Sen. David Perdue, R-Ga.,
published
an
advertisement
featuring
his
Democratic
opponent, Jewish Sen. Jon Ossoff,
D-Ga., with an enlarged nose. In
the video, Ossoff appeared with
Sen. Chuck Schumer, D-N.Y., also
Jewish, while a voiceover claimed
that the Jews were planning to
“buy Georgia.”
Of course, one cannot discuss
anti-Semitism in American politics
without referencing QAnon, a
conspiracy theory in which Rep.
Taylor Greene is a believer. One
element of the QAnon theory is the
Great Replacement.
Supposedly, Jewish people are
organizing a mass migration of
people of color into predominantly
white
countries
to
eliminate
and
replace
primarily
white
populations.
Ironically,
Pew
Research Center’s 2013 study
found that 90% of American Jews
identify as non-Hispanic white.
While this finding does not speak
to the racial identity of Jews
around the world, it is interesting
that a presumably largely white
ethnic group would orchestrate the
elimination of white populations.
But hey, Jews have all the power,
right? If they want it, they’ll find a
way to make it happen.
At the end of the day, it’s all
the same. Jewish people are
scapegoated
for
the
country’s
troubles, the reasoning being that
they control the money and thus
the world. This same anti-Semitic
trope appears over and over again
in American politics, so why is
anyone surprised by Rep. Taylor
Greene’s outlandish space laser
theory? What is it, if not a more
creative way of saying the same
thing similar politicians have been
saying for years: Jewish people
control the money, and they use
their wealth to make anything they
want to happen?
While
conspiracy
theories
like this are humorous, they are
indicative of a much bigger issue.
Anti-Semitic attacks are on the rise
in the U.S. Non-violent acts of anti-
Semitism are becoming acceptable
in
the
American
political
system:
anti-Semitic
campaign
advertisements, social media posts
and conspiracy theories. We as
American people are normalizing
anti-Semitism, and as an American
Jew, it’s scary.
Fortunately, there are things
we can do to put an end to the
rampant anti-Semitism in the U.S.
When voting, we must focus not
only on policy but on candidates’
character. Have they made bigoted
posts on social media? Have
they supported other bigoted
candidates? These are questions
we must ask before voting. We
must also call out anti-Semitism
when we see it and educate our
peers on the dangers associated
with anti-Semitism.
Taylor
Greene’s
“Jewish
space lasers” conspiracy theory
is not itself the problem, but is
rather a symptom of the bigger
issue of anti-Semitism. We, as
Americans, have allowed for its
spread, but we, as Americans,
can promote its end.
Floating through the Zoom-Zone
The reality of the ‘Jewish space lasers’
We can still be friends, but should we?
Design by Melissa Lee
Ilana Mermelstein can be reached
at imerm@umich.edu.
Mrinalini Iyer can be reached at
iyermili@umich.edu.
EVAN STERN | COLUMNIST
Biden’s executive orders break his promise
of unity in first weeks of presidency
T
ime and again on the
campaign trail, President
Joe
Biden
pledged
to
Americans that despite running as a
“proud Democrat,” he would “govern
as an American president.” In a
time where political divisiveness
has reached unprecedented levels,
millions of Americans who voted for
Biden entrusted him with healing
our wounded nation.
But after only a few days in the
Oval Office, Biden seemed to put his
plans for unity on the back burner by
issuing executive orders at a record
pace. Before the end of January alone
— in the first two weeks of his term —
Biden signed a startling 25 executive
orders.
By
comparison,
former
President Donald Trump signed only
seven orders in the same time frame
during his first term; former President
Barack Obama signed only nine.
Allies of the Biden administration
rushed to defend the 46th president,
noting the orders have fulfilled
a myriad of Democratic policy
priorities,
including
action
on
the
environment,
immigration
and
health
care.
Nevertheless,
Biden’s executive actions stand in
stark contrast to his own words
throughout a hard-fought campaign
that seemed to signal he would work
across the aisle with legislators, not
unilaterally with just the stroke of a
pen. At an ABC News town hall event
in October, Biden said that instead of
issuing executive orders, “I’ve gotta
get the votes (in Congress). We are a
democracy. We need consensus.”
He also stated some specific
policy proposals can’t be passed
“by executive order unless you’re a
dictator,” such as raising taxes on
corporations and wealthy people.
To be fair, that town hall
appearance has been misconstrued
by some — namely, conservatives
who
have
accused
Biden
of
neglecting his own unity claims. But
at the end of the day, Biden’s flurry of
executive orders clearly contradicts
his promise to see not “blue or red
states but United States.” Even the
New York Times Editorial Board
sounded the alarm.
From the moment Biden entered
the White House, I hoped he would
immediately begin reaching across
the aisle to solve some of the most
pressing issues facing our nation.
But the incoming president has
wasted a precious opportunity to
begin the process of healing our
nation so desperately needs. The
current occupant of the White
House is undoubtedly a welcome
departure from the divisive Trump
administration, but he needs to do
more to bring together our fractured
country.
Take his executive actions on the
environment, for instance. On the
first day of his administration, Biden
wasted no time canceling the permit
for the controversial Keystone XL
pipeline. If completed, the pipeline
would have transported oil from
Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. This
project increases our reliance on
fossil fuels for energy and has been
attacked by environmentalists for
years. However, simply eliminating
the
Keystone
pipeline
without
working with state or federal
lawmakers disregards the system of
government our founders outlined
more than 200 years ago, which calls
for checks and balances.
While canceling the permit for
the Keystone pipeline has removed
an environmental hazard and the
encroachment on the indigenous
communities that inhabit the area, it
is detrimental to the local economy
surrounding the proposed pipeline
and the thousands of people who
depended on the project to put
food on the table. Shutting down
the pipeline isn’t necessarily a bad
move, but Biden should have worked
with elected representatives before
eliminating it on his own.
In the end, what distinguishes
the U.S. from countries around the
globe is that no one figure holds too
much power. After the American
Revolution, our founders put forth
the Constitution in order to give equal
influence to the legislative, executive
and judicial branches. There’s no
problem with executive actions for
small matters, but Biden’s executive
orders are equivalent to legislating
from the White House, which is not
what Americans elected the current
president to do. At the same time,
allowing a president to unilaterally
implement sweeping policy changes
sets a dangerous precedent for future
administrations.
From
the
moment
Biden
secured
the
presidency
in
November, there was renewed
hope across America that our
country could finally turn the page
on this bitter and divisive time.
This only became more urgent
after the attempted insurrection
on the U.S. Capitol building last
month. But the prospects of this
actually happening have grown
smaller in light of Biden’s far-
reaching executive actions.
As the president of the United
States, Biden must resort to
executive orders sparingly and
only when that type of action
is warranted. It’s clear that
with a narrowly-split House of
Representatives and an even closer
Senate, Biden’s policy proposals
will encounter more resistance in
Congress. But the 46th president
took an oath to defend our
Constitution — and promised
millions of Americans he would be
the unifier we all need. That starts
with putting his pen down and
working with the legislature, the
body our founders actually tasked
with creating the laws.
Evan Stern can be reached at
erstern@umich.edu.
MEERA KUMAR | COLUMNIST