The Amherst Student • March 30, 2022
Opinion
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Amherst Must Establish Distribution Requirements Continued from page 9 of the social sciences examine society, they inevitably run into the world of scientists — their institutions, their ways of thinking, and their worldviews. It’s a shame that the scientific community itself is not a more integral part of this dialogue. More than any other event in recent history, the Covid-19 pandemic has underlined the interwoven fates of science and society and exposed the communicative failures between the two worlds, especially regarding the vaccine debate. In his book, “State of Immunity: The Politics of Vaccination in Twentieth-Century America,” historian James Colgrove reveals that this fraught relationship has deep roots. America’s first anti-vaccination organization was
founded in 1879 in response to states mandating smallpox vaccination. The proliferation of anti-vaccine outcries throughout the Covid-19 pandemic signifies that this conflict has not been subdued: if anything, it has grown in intensity due to the heavy-handed politicization of the debate. Perhaps the most critical takeaway from Colgrove’s book is that vaccines are the product of society as much as they are the product of science. Population density, economic demands, and structural inequities make some more vulnerable to disease than others — without these prerequisite social conditions, vaccination would be much less necessary. As a function of the very same developments that created these conditions, Amer-
ica’s scientific research complex was able to invent the vaccine, prove its efficacy, and convince governments to implement mandates. Vaccination exists because of certain social conditions; we are urged to get vaccinated to protect the collective as much as — or more than — to protect ourselves. For these reasons, the vaccine is a powerful symbol of the reality that science is entangled with society. Science’s knowledge is embedded in our laws, its research is nourished by our collective capital, and its truths are vulnerable to political distortions as much as any other. On their own, scientific achievements can greatly help our society; in the wrong hands, they also have the potential to do great harm. With the growing
popularity of the “Being Human in STEM” movement on campus, certain STEM departments implemented internal distribution requirements. The chemistry major, for example, now requires “a course focusing on structural and systemic issues of diversity, equity, and inclusion.” But this is still only one course out of 32 that requires majors to confront the reality that science is not a haven of objectivity, removed from the messy world of social studies. Sociologists have come to realize over the years that “Western” science is a social institution like any other — it can act as a tool of governance, be mired in profiteering interests, and, in extreme instances, be exploited to oppress entire classes of citizens, as “scientifically advanced” colonial powers did for
centuries. Above all, science is forced to communicate with society at every turn — it cannot serve its purpose otherwise. The truth is that, even if you aren’t going into an explicitly public-facing career in STEM, you will be a part of society. It is imperative that we be aware of that fact, lest we allow ourselves to live and work ignorant of our place in the broader community. The troubling social conditions we see today were created by people who only knew one way of thinking about the world, and who were never taught the value of a critical, interdisciplinary perspective, supported by active listening to those different from yourself. To safeguard against history repeating itself, Amherst must establish academic distribution requirements.
Coping With Campus: Dam Good Builders Dustin Copeland ’25 Managing Opinion Editor An integral part of living healthily in the at-best semipermeable bubble of campus is to, once in a while, intentionally break it. Recontextualizing the space we live in is vital to continuing to live in that space — something that begins to feel prohibitively difficult once in a while without careful attention. Leaving campus is hard, and often I find myself realizing, as if waking out of a daze, that I haven’t broken its borders in weeks. If you are a student with a car on campus, you don’t need to read this article. Luckily for the rest of us, our campus is in pretty much the perfect location, and as such, has several easily accessible changes of scenery. There is town, of course, and the veiny network of buses and bike lanes that brings closer the Five Colleges (however inconveniently), Hadley, and even comparatively metro Holyoke and Springfield. But crucially for this article, the Mass Central Rail Trail cuts
right through the south end of campus proper. With a maintained paved surface running continuously from Northampton to some road off of Route 9, a few miles southeast of campus, the rail trail is a ridiculously easy-to-access conduit bringing hiking trails, tree cover, and nature preservation land close to campus. The ideal way to travel the rail trail is by bike, but walking is the most common and certainly the most contemplative. And, if you walk or bike far enough, you might happen across something truly awe-inspiring. Beavers, for example. Beavers create their homes, called beaver lodges, in ponds deep enough to prevent ice from blocking lodge entrances. Mostly, those ponds are created by beaver dams, which flood an area around a river until the beavers are satisfied with the size and depth. Whether or not the beaver pond I found down the Rail Trail was a pond created by beaver damming is unknown, but the presence of beaver lodges is certain. Open-water beaver lodges like those in the
Photo courtesy of Dustin Copeland '25
A picture taken by the author of a beaver pond near campus. Visible in the far left of the frame is an open-water beaver lodge. beaver pond are freestanding structures built over a foundation of sticks. The domed roof is sealed with mud, and an air vent on top provides fresh air and light to the rooms below. Entrances to the lodge are underwater, but the living chamber is kept above the waterline.
A dining area is often set aside near the water, and experienced beaver families can build lodges 20 feet in diameter and over six feet high. Moreover, in just two nights, families can build a lodge sturdy enough to survive all of winter. Beavers produce their own
living environments by taking advantage of an area’s natural resources. They create a new ecosystem by diverting rivers, changing stream flows, and flooding dry land. They engineer their living space while
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