This column definitely got the...most interesting reaction on the Daily website. Check out the comments here.
Published: Tuesday, April 7, 2009
As a resident assistant in a freshman residence hall last year, I had to make and put up name tags on each door before freshmen moved in. As move-in day approached and more upperclassmen arrived to help with orientation, I noticed that a few doors had something else posted next to the name tags that I had painstakingly created. On my floor these included welcome and invitation messages for international students, African-Americans, and Hispanics. The messages included encouragements for students to stop by the Africana Center or other locations for the respective groups and contact information for a potential mentor of a similar background.
At the time, I was curious but not really bothered by these messages. My thought was that it’s really not my place to pass judgment on overtures from and within communities that I don’t belong to and can’t identify with. Tufts people, including those mentioned above, have this need to belong — naturally. But the need here is more than just membership in a group of friends or even in a larger group with which they can identify.
Tufts people love belonging to a minority group or, at the very least, a group that at one point has been discriminated against. I’m going to call this a thirst for victimhood. Me? I tried pretty hard to find a maligned group that I could be a part of, but I’m a straight white male from Connecticut, I don’t identify with any religious sect, nor do I have particularly outrageous political views (although I have conservative friends who might disagree). I also wonder if there are some Republicans on this campus who are really moderates in disguise — political affiliation or beliefs can be an outlet for the thirst for victimhood too.
The interesting thing isn’t wanting to belong to a group of similar peers; psychologically and sociologically, it makes sense for a minority individual to seek out other minority group members within a larger group with whom they can identify. My concern is the self-segregation of these cliques, where groups typically don’t mix and “outsiders” aren’t welcome. We can have diversity, but it’s meaningless without social interaction.
I’m not talking about affirmative action or anything to do with admissions — it’s the orientation process and the Dean of Students’ Office’s explicit focus on encouraging cliques that concerns me. The Group of Six is comprised of the Africana Center, Asian American Center, International Center, Latino Center, Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender (LGBT) Center, and Women’s Center. The centers are under the auspices of Dean Reitman’s office and also receive funding directly from his office. In their defense, the Group of Six houses mainly hosts events that are at least nominally open to all members of the Tufts community regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, or sexual orientation. Sometimes this is true in practice, too — I’ve availed myself of the delicious food at several barbecues at the Africana and LGBT centers. But that isn’t really the point, is it?
Why is the Dean of Student Affairs pushing self-segregation within the student body? I applaud efforts from the Group of Six to make Tufts a welcoming environment for students from groups that have faced historical and often current discrimination, and I’m not trying to make an attack on these groups individually or the students involved. My problem, instead, is the compartmentalization and yes, segregation, albeit voluntary. What’s the benefit of diversity if everyone is separated?
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Column 3/31: Wingnuttery
Wingnuttery
Published: Tuesday, March 31, 2009
People at Tufts love thinking that they are the first to have an idea or hold a particular position, but if that’s not a tenable stance, Tufts people act this out by staking out extreme positions. This is particularly popular when it comes to politics. There aren’t a lot of moderate Democrats or conservative leaners, but there are lots of people who could be called radical. Conservatives at Tufts especially like to venture into wingnut territory.
Enter David Horowitz, wingnut extraordinaire, who came to campus on Monday to discuss ... well, since this column was submitted before his speech, I’m going to make up what he said, and feel free to fact-check me when I exaggerate or blatantly fabricate things (which is possible, but probably unnecessary given the subject matter*). The planned topic of his talk, given in Barnum 008 at 8:30 last night, was academic freedom. As a liberal peace and justice studies major, I have an odd feeling that he’s not that worried about my academic freedom.
You might remember Horowitz’s name from Islamo-Fascism Awareness Week, organized by Horowitz, which brought Daniel Pipes to campus. The gist of the week was not only to raise awareness of Islamic terrorism itself, but also to highlight what he perceived as leftist support for terror.
Besides nobly raising consciousness of the threat from Islamo-Fascism — a term that I don’t quite understand, to be honest — Horowitz has been working on academic freedom for years. When I hear “academic freedom,” I picture unfettered class discussions and a general atmosphere of open and unconditional exchange of ideas. Horowitz’s conception of the term is a bit different. In addition to blaming them for terrorism, he derides left-leaning academics for indoctrinating students rather than teaching them. For Horowitz, academic freedom means hewing to a strict conservative ideology.
To prove his claims of liberal bias in higher education, Horowitz probably told a story about a student at the University of Northern Colorado who was supposedly failed for refusing to write a paper arguing that George W. Bush was a war criminal. Well, as it turns out, the story is pure fantasy. The university disputes each piece of the story, including the assignment, the grade, and the reasons for the grade. He may have also talked about a Penn State biology class which showed Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) before the 2004 elections, with the professor hoping to influence his students’ votes. Later, he admitted that this story couldn’t be verified and maybe could be untrue — which is the best we can hope for from Horowitz.
Unlike him, I have no problem with anyone speaking on campus — academic freedom, what it actually means, allows Horowitz to have a voice here. Good for him. But maybe we should warn him: His arch-nemesis Noam Chomsky was here this past Friday, speaking to a peace conference. In April 2005 at Columbia University, Horowitz distributed pamphlets portraying Chomsky, a linguistics professor at MIT, with a turban and long beard and the heading “The Ayatollah of Anti-American Hate.” I’ve met Noam Chomsky — he has extreme political views, certainly, but he’s really a nice, mild-mannered guy, and he’s certainly not a Muslim — not that there’s anything wrong with that. What point is Horowitz trying to make by dressing his foe in Middle Eastern garb? Unlike Horowitz, Chomsky doesn’t rely on theatrics or overblown rhetoric to make a point, and he doesn’t engage in attacks based on race or ethnicity — something else I bet you heard from Horowitz on Monday. That kind of “academic freedom” has no place at Tufts
Published: Tuesday, March 31, 2009
People at Tufts love thinking that they are the first to have an idea or hold a particular position, but if that’s not a tenable stance, Tufts people act this out by staking out extreme positions. This is particularly popular when it comes to politics. There aren’t a lot of moderate Democrats or conservative leaners, but there are lots of people who could be called radical. Conservatives at Tufts especially like to venture into wingnut territory.
Enter David Horowitz, wingnut extraordinaire, who came to campus on Monday to discuss ... well, since this column was submitted before his speech, I’m going to make up what he said, and feel free to fact-check me when I exaggerate or blatantly fabricate things (which is possible, but probably unnecessary given the subject matter*). The planned topic of his talk, given in Barnum 008 at 8:30 last night, was academic freedom. As a liberal peace and justice studies major, I have an odd feeling that he’s not that worried about my academic freedom.
You might remember Horowitz’s name from Islamo-Fascism Awareness Week, organized by Horowitz, which brought Daniel Pipes to campus. The gist of the week was not only to raise awareness of Islamic terrorism itself, but also to highlight what he perceived as leftist support for terror.
Besides nobly raising consciousness of the threat from Islamo-Fascism — a term that I don’t quite understand, to be honest — Horowitz has been working on academic freedom for years. When I hear “academic freedom,” I picture unfettered class discussions and a general atmosphere of open and unconditional exchange of ideas. Horowitz’s conception of the term is a bit different. In addition to blaming them for terrorism, he derides left-leaning academics for indoctrinating students rather than teaching them. For Horowitz, academic freedom means hewing to a strict conservative ideology.
To prove his claims of liberal bias in higher education, Horowitz probably told a story about a student at the University of Northern Colorado who was supposedly failed for refusing to write a paper arguing that George W. Bush was a war criminal. Well, as it turns out, the story is pure fantasy. The university disputes each piece of the story, including the assignment, the grade, and the reasons for the grade. He may have also talked about a Penn State biology class which showed Fahrenheit 9/11 (2004) before the 2004 elections, with the professor hoping to influence his students’ votes. Later, he admitted that this story couldn’t be verified and maybe could be untrue — which is the best we can hope for from Horowitz.
Unlike him, I have no problem with anyone speaking on campus — academic freedom, what it actually means, allows Horowitz to have a voice here. Good for him. But maybe we should warn him: His arch-nemesis Noam Chomsky was here this past Friday, speaking to a peace conference. In April 2005 at Columbia University, Horowitz distributed pamphlets portraying Chomsky, a linguistics professor at MIT, with a turban and long beard and the heading “The Ayatollah of Anti-American Hate.” I’ve met Noam Chomsky — he has extreme political views, certainly, but he’s really a nice, mild-mannered guy, and he’s certainly not a Muslim — not that there’s anything wrong with that. What point is Horowitz trying to make by dressing his foe in Middle Eastern garb? Unlike Horowitz, Chomsky doesn’t rely on theatrics or overblown rhetoric to make a point, and he doesn’t engage in attacks based on race or ethnicity — something else I bet you heard from Horowitz on Monday. That kind of “academic freedom” has no place at Tufts
Column 3/24
Organic food
Published: Tuesday, March 24, 2009
With Michael Pollan coming to campus today to give the Richard E. Snyder lecture, I decided it was time to address a glaring gap in knowledge that many Tufts people seem to have. It's about food. Organic food. Michael Pollan will almost certainly shed some light on this issue, and more intelligently than I ever could, but since the Daily comes out before the lecture, I get first dibs.
Lots of people assume that organic food is healthier, more ethical, better for the environment and, in nearly every way, superior to food without that organic label. But what does organic really mean? If you're walking through Shaw's or any other grocery store, how do you make a decision between the bananas with the organic sticker and those without? They look the same and taste the same to me; to most consumers, the only noticeable difference is the price and that sticker.
Organic food, according to the USDA, is free of chemical fertilizers and insecticides, does not contain genetically modified ingredients and is free of hormones and antibiotics. Well, mostly. In fact, food that carries the USDA organic label is only required to be 95 percent organic; that is, a product can display the label if everything in it is organic except a small amount. Products with between 70 and 95 percent organic ingredients can display an alternate label that promises "made with organic ingredients."
This still sounds good, right? Organic food is good for a number of purposes -- if you want your food to be friendlier to the environment, for example, organic seems like the way to go. No pesticides or insecticides means organic food must be great for the environment, right? Sort of. If you really hope to reduce the carbon footprint from your diet, experts agree that locally grown food is the best way to go. Likewise, a vegetarian or vegan diet would have a significantly lower impact on the environment than even an organic, locally grown omnivore diet.
Perhaps you eat organic food because you're concerned about the way animals are treated before they are slaughtered. I'm not a vegetarian, but it occurs to me that if you are concerned about cruelty to animals, you probably shouldn't be eating steak at all -- even if the beef is organic. But organic meat isn't necessarily raised in a more humane way than other types of meat. Animals must be given time outdoors; how much time is left up to the farmers. And, interestingly enough, much controversy has arisen over the organic labeling process itself. Inspections are contracted out by the USDA, and oversight is minimal at best.
This begs the question: Is organic food safer or better for you? This is the third and arguably final potential reason for selecting organic products. Around the beginning of February, there was an outbreak of salmonella in peanut products. The contamination was traced back to factories in Texas and Georgia that were found to be totally unsanitary but, according to the USDA, organic. Some of your favorite organic companies like Clif Bar and Cascadian Farm had items that were contaminated with salmonella and pulled from shelves.
So should you buy organic? Sure, if you can afford it. Organic food is generally safer, though not always, and the label does require all-natural fertilizers and pesticides, which is good. But if you have the choice, buy local AND organic. Try to limit the meat you eat in order to improve health and reduce your carbon footprint. And lastly, as Michael Pollan will surely explain, stop eating processed food-like substances and stick to fresh produce as much as possible.
Being Busy
Next column
Being busy
Will Ehrenfeld
Published: Tuesday, March 10, 2009
OMG! It's the week before spring break, and I can't believe how much work I have to do in one week! This is so ridiculous; I don't even understand how any five professors in the world could assign so much work in such a short period of time. Don't they know that I have 32 club meetings and a study group to go to this week? I am crazy busy and it's out of control!
Just kidding. I'm only a little busy, but as a Tufts student, I feel this strange urge to act busy all the time. Don't get me wrong, I often have a lot of work and meetings and rehearsals and -- you know -- other stuff, and my life gets as hectic as anyone's ... but I deal with it. I have a hard time understanding how so many of my friends and acquaintances at this school manufacture ways to keep busy. It's shocking, really, because I love having free time. I was busy this weekend, though. Between waking up at noon, watching television, playing online poker, picking up dinner and stopping by a few parties, Saturday was an extremely full day. But you don't hear me complaining.
My housemate Kevin is a perfect example. He is up and out of the house before me every morning -- not a difficult feat by any stretch of the imagination -- and he's never home before 9 p.m. He doesn't sleep, either. I don't know exactly what classes he takes or all the clubs he's involved in; we talk about being busy more than anything substantive. What does he do all day and night? I can't figure it out exactly, but my guess is that he's either a drug mule or a horse whisperer (what a great movie), or possibly a combination of the two. The point is that he, like so many of our peers, invents ways to be busy and fill all 24 hours of the day with activity, even if it's meaningless -- not that drug smuggling and horse whispering aren't worthwhile pursuits.
Tufts people are also excellent at one-upping each other about the amount of work they have. I have stopped talking to other students entirely about my workload, because it just makes me feel like I'm not working very hard (and I've always taken 4.5 to 5.5 credits).
Oh, you've got a test and a 20-page paper due this week? Well, your friend has three tests and an Arabic composition. And that's not all: I know a girl who has two 15-page papers, a math test and a quiz in econometrics. I imagine Kevin has twice that much work anyway, so she shouldn't get a big head about her workload, either.
I'm not sure if it's some sort of sadistic characteristic or just the underground competitiveness of Tufts shining through in a curious way, but this is a ridiculous part of this school that I can't wrap my head around. Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe if you keep running around like a chicken with your head cut off, you won't actually have to worry about the real problems you have. Perhaps talking about having a lot of work is another method for procrastination -- if you're talking about midterms, you certainly aren't studying for them. Of course, this is counterproductive and, in fact, exacerbating the problems of constantly being busy because you're wasting time talking about being busy. It's ironic, really. I have a feeling, though, that this is one part of most students' schedules that won't get skipped over in favor of more work or studying.
Being busy
Will Ehrenfeld
Published: Tuesday, March 10, 2009
OMG! It's the week before spring break, and I can't believe how much work I have to do in one week! This is so ridiculous; I don't even understand how any five professors in the world could assign so much work in such a short period of time. Don't they know that I have 32 club meetings and a study group to go to this week? I am crazy busy and it's out of control!
Just kidding. I'm only a little busy, but as a Tufts student, I feel this strange urge to act busy all the time. Don't get me wrong, I often have a lot of work and meetings and rehearsals and -- you know -- other stuff, and my life gets as hectic as anyone's ... but I deal with it. I have a hard time understanding how so many of my friends and acquaintances at this school manufacture ways to keep busy. It's shocking, really, because I love having free time. I was busy this weekend, though. Between waking up at noon, watching television, playing online poker, picking up dinner and stopping by a few parties, Saturday was an extremely full day. But you don't hear me complaining.
My housemate Kevin is a perfect example. He is up and out of the house before me every morning -- not a difficult feat by any stretch of the imagination -- and he's never home before 9 p.m. He doesn't sleep, either. I don't know exactly what classes he takes or all the clubs he's involved in; we talk about being busy more than anything substantive. What does he do all day and night? I can't figure it out exactly, but my guess is that he's either a drug mule or a horse whisperer (what a great movie), or possibly a combination of the two. The point is that he, like so many of our peers, invents ways to be busy and fill all 24 hours of the day with activity, even if it's meaningless -- not that drug smuggling and horse whispering aren't worthwhile pursuits.
Tufts people are also excellent at one-upping each other about the amount of work they have. I have stopped talking to other students entirely about my workload, because it just makes me feel like I'm not working very hard (and I've always taken 4.5 to 5.5 credits).
Oh, you've got a test and a 20-page paper due this week? Well, your friend has three tests and an Arabic composition. And that's not all: I know a girl who has two 15-page papers, a math test and a quiz in econometrics. I imagine Kevin has twice that much work anyway, so she shouldn't get a big head about her workload, either.
I'm not sure if it's some sort of sadistic characteristic or just the underground competitiveness of Tufts shining through in a curious way, but this is a ridiculous part of this school that I can't wrap my head around. Is it a coping mechanism? Maybe if you keep running around like a chicken with your head cut off, you won't actually have to worry about the real problems you have. Perhaps talking about having a lot of work is another method for procrastination -- if you're talking about midterms, you certainly aren't studying for them. Of course, this is counterproductive and, in fact, exacerbating the problems of constantly being busy because you're wasting time talking about being busy. It's ironic, really. I have a feeling, though, that this is one part of most students' schedules that won't get skipped over in favor of more work or studying.
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