Spring 2012

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Volume 24

Student Essays

Spring 2012

No. 1

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The University of New Mexico

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Student Essays Volume 24, Number 1 Spring 2012

Sarah Parro Editor-in-Chief Michael Gomez Photography/Design Editor Jenny Alsup Science/Copy Editor Copy/Research Editors: Luana Santos Chelsea Hart Alex Hall Kris Miranda Elizabeth Thayer Jim Fisher Business Manager Special Thanks:

Cover art: “Freedom� by Justin Guthrie

Correspondence may be addressed to: Best Student Essays UNM Student Publications Marron Hall 107, University of New Mexico Albuquerque, New Mexico 87131-0001 (505) 277-5656 bse@unm.edu www.beststudentessays.org Copyright 2012 by the University of New Mexico Student Publications Board.

Best Student Essays is published biannually by the University of New Mexico Student Publications Board. All opinions expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of the UNM Student Publications Board or the Best Student Essays staff.

This issue was printed by: Starline Printing 7111 Pan American Highway NE Albuquerque, NM 87109

Leslie Donovan Daven Quelle Carolyn Souther The Daily Lobo Staff Based on original design by Luke Fields

A Word From The Editor ________________________________________________________________________________________ Sarah Parro

Welcome to the Spring 2012 issue of Best Student Essays. Selected from over forty submissions, the written works, photographs, and cover art featured here stood out among the rest.

I must thank my ever-diligent staff members for their time, insight, and dedication. I certainly could not do this alone, for making a magazine requires many sets of eyes, hands, and skills. It has been a privilege working with you all.

Thank you also to ASUNM and GPSA for continually supporting this publication. To Jim Fisher, Leslie Donovan, Daven Quelle, Carolyn Souther, and the Student Publications Board: thank you for guiding me throughout this process and for trusting me with this task. I am honored to have served as Editor-in-Chief, and I hope this issue makes you proud.

To my husband, Jordan: thank you for your constant patience and love.

Finally, thank you to all who submitted and nominated works. You, the people of this university, are the reason we do this.

Contents ________________________________________________________________________________________ Stardate: 17 October 2006 Winner: “Best Essay” Award Chris Duncan —Nominated by Dr. Kyle Fiore, English

Page 4

Allusions That Dare Not Speak Their Name: Coded Culture and Queer History in Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic Joseph Kuster

—Nominated by Dr. Marisa P. Clark, English Social Circles: The Symbolism of a Mad Art Erika Jungwirth —Nominated by Dr. Mary Power, English

Page 4 Page 7 Page 12 Page 11

Page 20

Photo Essay Handmade Music Kayla Lujan

Page 26 —Nominated by Lillian J. Kelly, Communication and Journalism

Page 17

From iPads to Fruitcake, Education to Food Stamps Mark Kunzman —Nominated by Dr. Kate Krause, Economics

Page 23 Page 28

River Heather Hayes —Nominated by Dr. Marisa P. Clark, English The Frequency of Arabismos Through the Centuries: A Look at Fulano, Alfayate, and Alberca Christi Cobo and Danielle Jones —Nominated by Dr. Damián Vergara Wilson, Spanish and Portuguese Freedom Cover Artist Statement Justin Guthrie

Page 30 Page 36 Page 35

Page 42 Page 42

Final Word Page 44 Sarah Parro Page 44

Stardate: 17 October 2006

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Chris Duncan

“What’s it like,” people ask me, “to be deployed to Iraq?”

Honestly? It’s monotonous and boring. Even if your military occupation is combat related and requires you to operate outside the protective confines of an American base, on a daily basis, it’s still monotonous and boring. Nondescript days turn into weeks, even months, broken only by deliberate efforts at humor or contacting home. So go most days. Most days. Other days will never be described as boring or tedious. Other days venture beyond a normalized level of anxiety into heart-pounding fear and paralyzing terror. Other days culminate in the fractured monotony of using bottled water to wash blood off your hands, your armored uniform, and the olive-drab seat of a disabled Humvee.

The following is the story of just such a day.

Three hundred and fifty-eight days down, six days and a wake-up to go, and this day, October 17, 2006, was looking promising because, for whatever reason, our platoon didn’t have a patrol on the schedule. Such a rare occurrence was not to be questioned—something easily accomplished by obedient soldiers—only this time the absence of “Why?” meant being rewarded with a temporary reprieve from the heat. Unfortunately, our relaxing day of devouring ice cream treats between airconditioned Madden competitions on the Xbox was cut short by the sound of graveled footsteps outside.

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“Spin up the guys; we have a mission.”

There was grumbling, moaning, and a fair number of cuss words. I also remember growling. Actual growling. Or not. Memories are fuzzy like that. Nevertheless, we prepped our trucks and headed out. The mission was to be easy and quick: escort a convoy to the nearby logistical base and come back. An hour round-trip. An hour and a half, tops.

“Stop your groaning. Let’s knock this out.”

“Roger, Sergeant.”

We reached the logistical base but didn’t follow our escortees inside. Instead, our four-Humvee convoy made a u-turn outside the gate and headed for “home” the way we had come. We were right on schedule for a dinnertime return to our Forward Operating Base when, at a turn we knew well enough, we had our nineteenth encounter with a roadside bomb. From my driver’s seat in the fourth vehicle I watched the convoy’s second Humvee disappear into a cloud of dust as the concussive wave from a massive explosion passed through my body.

“Wow.” “Holy shit.”

I slammed on the brakes as our platoon sergeant, sitting to my right, grabbed the radio and began calling the second truck.

“Predator Three, Predator Seven.”

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Within the second Humvee were four men: Haupt, Taylor, Frigo, and Romo.

“Predator Three, Predator Seven…”

Astrophysicists say that if a spacecraft were to orbit a massive object, like a black hole, time would slow down for those on board. In other words, time travel.

Little did I know that the tightening of leg muscles and the engagement of well-tested brakes on a curving asphalt road would stop my Humvee at the point of no return, the event horizon of a massive object.

Ten seconds later the dust cloud cleared and revealed a flaming, perforated Humvee amongst the debris of a powerfully divergent world.

the gunner’s position. Motion tends to attract the eye so it’s likely that I glanced at him; I can’t remember.

His body armor was unfastened and open and his arms were pinned in the turret above his head. And so he dangled as his nervous system sent its last commands.

He was fucking twitching.

Some memories are clear like that.

The second fire extinguisher worked and the fire was out. I didn’t know what else to do so I went to check on Romo. He was leaned up against the wheel of a nearby Humvee as Doc put his training into effect for the first time in our deployment. Doc was amazing as he patched up the voids where shrapnel had torn chunks of flesh from Romo’s upper arm and thigh. I remember

“Ten seconds later the dust cloud cleared and revealed a flaming, perforated Humvee amongst the debris of a poerfully divergent world.”

The radio continued its silence as untested procedures animated our platoon. My foot shifted to the gas pedal and I advanced our truck towards the damaged Humvee. In the seat behind me I heard the snap of latex gloves on sweating skin as Doc prepared his aid kit. There was movement from the damaged truck and Doc was out of his seat before I finished reapplying the brakes. Others dismounted and followed Doc into a turmoil of activity. The movement was Romo, the driver of the second truck. He was struggling out of his seat.

Someone yelled at me to put out the fire in the trunk of the damaged Humvee. I opened my door and grabbed my rifle and the fire extinguisher from underneath my seat. Or maybe I forgot my rifle. I’m not sure.

I just remember it not being used on this day, nor were any others. There was no visible enemy to engage.

I ran to the truck, pulled the pin, and squeezed the fire extinguisher. Nothing happened. Damn thing wasn’t charged. I dropped it and went for the one under Romo’s seat. I didn’t take this opportunity to look deep into the smoke-filled Humvee. I couldn’t. My gaze never made it beyond the olive-drab driver’s seat.

It was covered in Romo’s blood.

I’d never seen so much blood before.

But it must have been here that I first saw Taylor in

telling Romo, “You’ll be OK!” but I have no idea if he heard me. He probably didn’t, which was for the best.

My voice was weak and broken and would not have consoled him. It’s hard to say for sure, but the large radio mount between Romo and the explosion likely saved his life. And, of course, Doc. We later found out that the second truck hit an array of eight to ten Explosively Formed Projectiles, the deadliest kind of roadside bomb, otherwise known as an Improvised Explosive Device, or IED. They were buried within a tall dirt berm that ran the entire length of the right side of the road. Located near a ninety-degree turn, the IED’s triggerman increased his accuracy against targets that had to slow down to make the turn.

His tactic worked. Bumper to bumper, the second Humvee had eight to ten fist-sized holes in its pressedaluminum armor. The smaller holes were countless.

We turned our attention to Frigo, who was seated behind Romo’s bloody driver’s seat. From our side of three inches of ballistic glass he looked fine. Thinking he was unhurt, and because his door was locked, we called out his name and thudded on the glass.

“Frigo! Open the door!”

There was no response, no movement. Someone reached through the open driver’s door and disengaged the lock.

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A flood of light revealed a pale, motionless Frigo.

His posture was firm and upright as he seemed to stare straight ahead. Between his legs, muzzle to the floor, was his camouflaged rifle, his right hand gently resting

“Bumper to bumper, the second Humvee had eight to ten fist-sized holes in its pressed-aluminum armor. The smaller holes were countless.” on the rifle’s grip. Everything seemed undisturbed, except for his helmet, which wasn’t on his head. Shrapnel had found a way underneath its protection and ripped off the top portion of his skull. He was killed instantly.

It’s the little things in life.

My sergeant was yelling my name. I heard him but didn’t respond. I was staring into a lifeless, aluminum abyss. He grabbed my shoulder and my attention.

“Are you listening?”

“Yeah.”

“We need to get them out.”

“OK.” “Be careful with Taylor. If he got hit in the gut...”

“Yeah, OK.” The task of relocating our lifeless friends to glossy, black body bags started with Frigo. With two people carrying the body, I was responsible for the weight of his upper half. Or not, I could be mistaken. I do remember seeing Frigo’s brain. Despite all the surrounding carnage, here there was no blood. Gravity had drained his upper half making his colorless brain look unnatural, ghostly even.

Taylor was next. The combined weight of his body and his equipment, plus his position in the Humvee, made it more difficult to get him out. But the real difficulty came from not being able to assess how badly shrapnel had torn up his body.

“If he got hit in the gut...he may come apart.” And so we were careful, and he didn’t.

It’s the little things in life.

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A medevac Blackhawk came in low over nearby power lines and kicked up a swirl of green smoke and a cloud of dust, though without the effect of slowing time. Within minutes the helo was chopping its way toward the nearby logistics base with Romo on board.

He would recover, physically.

Haupt, the ranking soldier in the second Humvee, was the last to be removed from the wreckage. Up until this point, I don’t think anybody had really checked on him. He was dead and we all just seemed to know it.

His body was a camouflaged mass of burns and blood, but one thing glimmered in the afternoon light: a gold wedding band. Someone reached down and slipped it off his finger before zipping up the body bag. The undried blood obscured whatever faint tan line had developed since its ceremonious placement just one month before.

Our deployment ended that day. With only six days left our patrol schedule was cleared and, as a platoon, we wouldn’t again leave the wire. Amongst ourselves we’ve never talked much about that day, about our time travel. But it’s there, in every conversation, haunting us: a crippled Humvee tucked away in the corner, its engine screaming about our three friends still out on patrol.

Volume 24, Number 1, Spring 2012

Allusions That Dare Not Speak Their Name: Coded Culture and Queer History in Fun H ome: A Family Tragicomic ________________________________________________________________________________________ Joseph Kuster

As a memoir, Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic deals primarily with the relationship between the author and her emotionally distant father.

Fundamental to each character is the expression and manifestation of his or her sexuality. In addition to specific plot points and events, Bechdel utilizes both history and pop culture as literary incense to conjure the spirit and atmosphere of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) relations with society across the years. Fun Home harnesses these allusions to reflect both Alison’s and her father’s place in the burgeoning gay subculture. Together, these historical and cultural allusions serve to clearly denote the two characters’ disparate sexual journeys as well as to make transparent the sociopolitical factors involved in his or her personal development.

Alison’s father Bruce Bechdel is, first and foremost, a product of his time. Born in 1936 in the “provincial hamlet” of Beech Creek (Bechdel 30), he was shaped by a time period with attitudes toward homosexuality that were closer to Victorian than contemporary. Bruce describes the predominant attitude toward sexual deviance during the formative years of his life as well as his early adult epoch, saying that “the new freedom that appear[ed] on campuses…was not even considered an option” (Bechdel 212). These commonly held homophobic beliefs were exacerbated during the post-war

period of the 1950s, a period “unusual for its relentless and self-conscious preoccupation with masculinity” (Loftin 578). This newly forming gender schema, fueled by fear of women taking on traditionally masculine roles in the workplace and men embracing stereotypically effeminate behavior, led to redoubled efforts to label homosexual men as a threat to a peaceful, masculine-driven American society (Loftin 577). Antigay sentiment fused with burgeoning Cold War fears, making homosexuality synonymous with domestic weakness. The “McCarthyite ideology understood homosexuality and communism as linked threats” (Ohi 153) and expressed its power in government actions, like Eisenhower’s 1953 executive order to ban LGBT men and women from government employment.

Though fear of communism and homosexuality partially stemmed from anxiety over the unknown “other,” perhaps the most intimidating link between the queer and communist communities was the common threat they epitomized to the 1950s masculine identity. Common perceptions of communism and homosexuality suggested that both required a “radical abdication of selfhood” (Ohi 153). For communists, this involved sacrificing individuality for the good of the autonomous collective of the workers’ movement. Being a homosexual man, similarly, was believed to be fueled by the “allure of giving oneself over to penetration…

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as a radical self-loss” in a male-dominated society that required “complete detection…of one’s own desires to be but a yearned-for impossibility” (Ohi 153-154). Essentially, both communism and homosexuality were thought to require abandonment of ideal masculine identity in favor of a corrupted and unwholesome new persona.

While majority opinion regarding homosexuality was an obvious determining factor in Bruce’s forced repression, the objectives of the LGBT community in the 1950s and early ’60s may have played an integral role in shaping Bruce’s obsession with maintaining an acceptable outward façade. As a population influenced

Rather, his sexuality abides by the Victorian handle coined by Oscar Wilde: “the love that dare not speak its name” (Richards). This internalization is wittily reflected by the cultural allusions presented around Bruce throughout Fun Home. His sexuality, as expressed through his day-to-day life, remains coded; neither his words nor daily actions make an explicit statement, but they can be interpreted as gay by the reader. To mirror this, Bechdel populates her memoir with coded gay pop culture references. Seemingly neutral allusions gain new, subversive subtext when viewed through the proper lens. The most obvious example of this is her father’s recurring association with early twentieth

“Essentially, both communism and homosexuality were thought to require abandonment of ideal masculine identity in favor of a corrupted and unwholesome new persona.” by mid-century American masculinity expectations, as well as the consequences associated with being recognizably gay or lesbian, the LGBT community of this time encouraged efforts to blend in at the expense of personal expression. Many gay men of Bruce’s era “used gender conformity as a front for their sexual non-conformity, [which] required rejecting feminine gender mannerisms…and embracing masculinity in some manner” (Loftin 578). Bruce’s constant focus on creating an irreproachable family appearance is indicative of gay men for whom “passing as heterosexual was not a passive activity, but a conscious, complex effort that required…heightened awareness of one’s own gender mannerisms” (Loftin 585). Bruce’s attitude toward gender-deviant behavior is hinted at during a brief but revealing encounter: while eating at a roadside diner, Alison and her father run into a (rather inelegantly labeled) “truck-driving Bulldyke” to whom Bruce reacts with quiet disgust (Bechdel 119). Both the brusque terminology and the implicit homophobia speak volumes about the level of tolerance toward alternate sexuality in mid-century America as well as the LGBT community’s reluctant relationship with stereotypical gender behaviors.

As a result of being marooned in a quagmire of social hostility, Bruce’s conduct bears little resemblance to the sexual liberation experienced by his daughter.

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century French author Marcel Proust, specifically his novel Remembrance of Things Past. Proust wrote openly about homosexuality, and while those unfamiliar with his life and work may not appreciate his significance in Fun Home, his recurring presence represents an undeniable, albeit subtle, queer presence in the Bechdel home. Tellingly, Proust surfaces directly after Bruce’s experience with the woman in the diner; a “haunted” man (Bechdel 119), he rejects outward manifestations of sexuality while simultaneously submerging his mind in the work of an unapologetically gay author. Proust is only one example of the many LGBT landmines with which Bechdel surrounds her father throughout her memoir.

Bechdel’s allusions to Proust are supplemented by those to Fitzgerald and his novel The Great Gatsby, the homoeroticism of which echoes Bruce’s own hidden gallivanting. Gatsby contains overtly homoerotic scenes, such as when narrator Nick goes home with a male acquaintance, Mr. Mcfee, and finds himself “standing beside his bed and he was sitting up between the sheets, clad in his underwear” (Fitzgerald 42). More pertinent, however, are Nick’s comments describing “shining secrets only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew” (Fitzgerald 8). The use of Maecenas, a gay mentor from ancient literature, evokes “a history of male bonds between modern mentoring[,]…ancient tradi-

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tions[,] and…overt homosexuality, deliberately constructed as implicit and covert throughout the novel” (Froehlich 2). Bruce is described as “a Fitzgerald character...fueled…with ‘the colossal vitality of his illusion’” (Bechdel 66), which further demonstrates that Gatsby’s implicitly homosexual older-to-younger-man mentoring relationships directly correspond to Bruce’s illicit engagements with his own students (Bechdel 64).

These literary allusions hint at the marginalized

“Alison’s formative periods, notably early puberty and early adulthood, coincide with two of the most important events in LGBT history.”

LGBT subculture of Bruce’s era. However, as the timeline of Fun Home progresses, gay culture begins to seep into the visible margins of heteronormative society.

Though still coded, LGBT references begin to appear more frequently. Examples of this include a poster for The Normal Heart (Bechdel 196), a play about the HIVAIDS crisis in New York City in the early 1980s; a performance of A Chorus Line (Bechdel 191), a Broadway musical that openly discusses homosexuality; and the “arresting displays of cosmeticized masculinity” by increasingly modernized and openly androgynous men (Bechdel 190). At the same time, references to the Nixon Watergate trials infiltrate the story (Bechdel 154, 172, 173, 181). Nixon’s attempt to hide his actions, followed by his forcible “outing,” closely resembles Bruce’s own court hearings regarding his conduct with underage boys (Bechdel 173). This duality suggests the nation’s increasing awareness of LGBT subculture and its progressively vocal expression as well as Bruce’s inner turmoil over becoming a closeted relic in an increasingly open society. All of these allusions culminate in a discussion about Cruising, a 1980 film about a serial killer who targets gay men (Bechdel 218). While perhaps unknown to straight readers, the film is still infamous in the LGBT community for its aggressively negative homophobia. This final coded allusion is omi-

nous and foreboding: the violent, unpleasant events of the film juxtaposed with Bruce’s attitudes toward himself and the world around him paint a disturbing picture of Bruce’s mental and emotional well-being.

While Bruce’s experiences are almost entirely coded allusion, the narrator’s experiences are deceptively simple. Alison’s formative periods, notably early puberty and early adulthood, coincide with two of the most important events in LGBT history: the Stonewall riots—the first widespread, documented protest in the LGBT community against state-sponsored persecution in 1969—and the advent of the AIDS virus. If Bruce’s sexual identity was mirrored historically by hidden gay allusions, Alison’s sexuality is the historical equivalent of a series of gunshots. Her puberty and, by extension, her sexual awakening are accompanied by the eruption of the gay rights movement, born out of sudden violence and the casting away of socially mandated shame.

This “curious watershed between [her] parents’ young adulthood…and [hers] a decade later” illustrates a direct contrast between Alison, her father, and their respective eras (Bechdel 105).

This vast difference in tone is echoed by the literature with which Alison interacts. Her father buries himself in classic literature with coded gay elements.

Alison, however, fearlessly devours explicitly queer material, from The Well of Loneliness to The Gay Report and Out of the Closets and Into the Streets (Bechdel 7576).This literary contrast is indicative of the changing climate in America and the subsequent demarginalization of LGBT issues. Similarly, it reflects Bruce’s and Alison’s views about themselves: Bruce allows himself to occupy the edges of society, whereas Alison tentatively steps forward to assume her rights. Fortified by her literary diet, Alison “washe[s] up, a bit stunned, on a new shore” as a liberated being (Bechdel 214).

Her drive to accept herself—and garner acceptance from the people around her—echoes the goals of the gay rights movement of the 1980s (Bechdel 197). At the end of this path toward acceptance, the reader sees Alison fully activated, working overtime to raise AIDS awareness (Bechdel 195).

The two principle characters of Fun Home are drawn as nearly perfect negative images. Bruce, raised in a culture of repression and bigotry, obscures himself behind the veneer of a stable home. Alison, the product of two volatile decades, emerges as an LGBT activist. These

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two journeys are created and reflected through the use of historical and cultural allusions surfacing in both subtle, nuanced forms and deafening manifestations.

Ultimately, both characters’ lives forge “an odyssey as…gradual, episodic, and inevitable…as the original” (Bechdel 203), with polar opposite results, indicative of each character’s formative time period. Alison becomes a champion for both herself and her community, while her father Bruce continues to be a man of the past, unable to undo the damage of entrenched hatred. His narrative, like that of the LGBT community of his day, remains “a narrative of injustice, of sexual shame, and of fear, of life considered expendable” (Bechdel 196).

Works Cited Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic.

New York: Houghton-Mifflin, 2006.

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby. New York: Simon & Schuster Inc., 1995.

Froehlich, Maggie Gordon. “Gatsby’s Mentors: Queer Relations between Love and Money in The Great Gatsby.” The Journal of Men’s Studies 19, no. 3 (2011): 209+.

Loftin, Craig M. “Unacceptable Mannerisms: Gender Anxiety, Homosexual Activism, and Swish in the United States, 1945-1965.” Journal of Social History 40, no. 3 (2007): 577-596.

Ohi, Kevin. “Of Red Queens and Garden Clubs: The Manchurian Candidate, Cold War Paranoia, and the Historicity of the Homosexual.” Camera Obscura: A Journal of Feminism, Culture, and Media Studies 58, no. 1 (2005): 149-83.

Richards, Rebekah. “Oscar Wilde’s Trial—The Crime of Homosexuality.” British/UK Fiction. 24 January 2010. http://rebekahrichards.suite101.com/oscar-wildes-trial-the-crime-of-homosexuality-a193540

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Volume 24, Number 1, Spring 2012

Social Circles: The Symbolism of a Mad Art

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Erika Jungwirth

With the attacks on the Twin Towers on September 11, 2001, the first years of the twenty-first century became defined by the War on Terror. However, fears of terrorist attacks have not been confined to the past decade. The turn of the twentieth century was also plagued by the threat of politically motivated violence.

In her essay “Dynamite Culture and Literary Violence,” Sarah Cole offers a long list of anarchist attacks in Europe and America. These include targeted assassinations, such as that of Czar Nicholas II of Russia in 1881, President McKinley of the United States in 1901, and Franz Ferdinand of Austria in 1914, the last of which precipitated World War I. However, members of the privileged elite were not the only targets. Anarchists also bombed a labor gathering in Chicago in 1886, a Paris café in 1894, and Greenwich Observatory the same year (Cole 305). It was against this backdrop of violence and fear of violence that Joseph Conrad wrote The Secret Agent in 1907.

When it was published, Conrad gave his tale of espionage, revolution, and intrigue the subtitle A Simple Tale, and this is precisely the criticism that has been most often leveled at it. While numerous critics have been quick to praise the artistry and technical virtuosity of The Secret Agent, few have extolled its content.

The Secret Agent follows Mr. Verloc, a Russian spy, who has infiltrated an anarchist group in London. Mr. Vla-

damir, Mr. Verloc’s superior, grows disgusted both with the complacency of the British politicians and the inactivity of the anarchists and orders Verloc to induce a terrorist attack. Verloc soon despairs of agitating his anarchists into any kind of action and turns to his wife’s simple-minded brother, Stevie. He convinces Stevie to deliver a bomb to Greenwich Observatory, but Stevie unfortunately manages to blow himself up before he arrives. The rest of the novel follows the police investigation into the attack and the domestic drama that unfolds from this choice. The attempted bombing, however, displaces time. Located on the Prime Meridian, Greenwich Observatory was the site of mean time, and the attempt in the novel to bomb it changes the chronology of the book. It is this literary device, as well as the virtuosity of its descriptive prose, that has earned The Secret Agent the accolades it has collected, yet its thematic concerns have not received the same acclaim.

The reason for this can perhaps be found in Conrad’s own note on the novel, added thirteen years after its first publication. In this document, Conrad claims to have an “underlying pity and contempt” for his characters that “proves [his] detachment from the squalor and sordidness which lie simply in the outward circumstances of the setting” (229). It is this attitude of pity and contempt that critics have most strongly protested. John Lyon contends that Conrad’s “pessimism

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is perhaps the specific weakness of The Secret Agent: it preempts any imaginative engagement with radical politics and forestalls anything but a crude portrayal of the novel’s anarchists” (xv). To be sure, there is a dissonance between the righteous indignation of the anarchists and their repulsive physicality. Conrad’s terrorist Karl Yundt, for example, asks, “What is crime?” but as readers we are forestalled from giving this question too much serious thought by Conrad’s further description of him as “an insolent and venomous evoker of sinister impulses” (Conrad 36). At least, this is the claim Irving Howe made in 1957 when he declared that this description “drops to a coarse-spirited bur-

of wildness is furthered through the difficulty of creating accurate maps, so much so that Conrad parodies this effort through an “efficient authority charged with the duty of keeping track of London’s strayed houses… and compelling those edifices to return to where they belong” (11). London, it seems, is replete with the same “topographical mysteries” inherent to uncharted wilderness.

This understanding of London as jungle, and its connection to Conrad’s other great classic, Heart of Darkness, is essential to Conrad’s portrayal of government and anarchy. The jungle and the city are frequently seen as diametrical opposites, with the jungle

“London, it seems, is replete with the same ‘topographical mysteries’ inherent to uncharted wilderness.” lesque” (95). But does it? Does the reader’s sense of superiority over the novel’s characters strip The Secret Agent of any greater social commentary or critique?

Can we not think of the problems of crime and social class in a serious manner because it is brought to us in such an unappetizing guise? I argue that the novel is more complex than this evaluation of it. In the interactions of anarchist and police we are offered a complex picture of urban society in the early part of the century, one that subverts the neat distinctions between law and crime, order and chaos.

Urban Jungle London has been recognized by many critics as the central character or concern of the novel, and even by Conrad himself, who identifies his inception of London as “a monstrous town more populous than some continents” (231) as the moment in which the story coalesced in his mind. In a way, Conrad takes us on another journey into the heart of darkness, only this time it is located in the heart of one of Europe’s greatest cities, in the back alleys and shadowy corners of an urban jungle. Conrad certainly describes the city as though it were a natural phenomenon. The upper class streets have “majesty of inorganic nature, of matter that never dies…The polished knockers of the doors gleamed as far as the eye could reach” (9). The sense

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representing animalistic impulses and the city representing social order. Conrad’s novels, however, blur the boundary between the two. Conrad’s London in The Secret Agent is both a place of regulation of social class and distinction and a wilderness where a van and horses can become “a square-backed monster blocking half the street” (111). In Heart of Darkness, for all the terror and savagery of the jungle, Conrad offers us a depiction of various forms of social organization, from the hierarchical structures of imperial outposts to the distribution of labor on the steamboat—even, in fact, in the tribal system Kurtz comes to occupy. Despite the descent into anarchical madness that forms the center of this novel, social organization informs the structural framework that surrounds it. In this way, the London of The Secret Agent and the jungle of Heart of Darkness both resist traditional classifications of civilization and savagery.

Their subversion of commonly held stereotypes allows both novels room to criticize the societies they depict. Heart of Darkness has long been acknowledged as a socially and politically complex work that reveals the strain that imperialist society puts on the individuals who struggle to live up to its contradictory and often hypocritical ideals. Colonialism requires Kurtz to both believe that the natives were worthy of Christian conversion and, at the same time, to be able to exploit them horrendously for the benefit of the nation. I ar-

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gue that this same tension between the demands of the larger social organization and the efforts of individuals to navigate those demands provides the driving force behind The Secret Agent. The ideologies of each social

“Fears of a population explosion have plagued the world for the past century, and the problem of civilization is how to organize and regulate this mass.” group—the anarchists, the police, and the domestic— become compromised by the complex interactions and interrelationships between them.

Civilization: Social Organization Between 1700 and 1850, the world population doubled, passing the 1 billion mark for the first time.

It doubled again between 1850 and 1950 so that the population was approximately 2.5 billion (Becker 495). Today, we have passed the 7 billion mark. Fears of a population explosion have plagued the world for the past century, and the problem of civilization is how to organize and regulate this mass. How does a society provide for its people, ensure law and order, and guarantee life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? How does a society keep its people “industrious like ants… pushing on blind and orderly and absorbed” (Conrad 61)?

For a capitalist society the solution is money. Money is the means by which the society mediates interactions between individuals. It provides the impetus for effort and regulates the distribution of goods. This theme of work and money appears throughout The Secret Agent, but it is perhaps best expressed in the description of the cab driver who takes Mrs. Verloc’s mother to her new home: The cabman looked at the pieces of silver, which,

appearing very minute in his big, grimy palm, symbolized the insignificant results which reward the ambitious courage and toil of a mankind whose day is short on this earth of evil.

(Conrad 121) Here we see his “grimy palm” as evidence of his “unhygienic labor”(Conrad 9)—the metonymy of hands for physical labor is implied in this description.

The pieces of silver as the “reward” for “toil” demonstrate the exchange value, although it is an unequal exchange. The silver is referred to as “insignificant” while the toil is described as “ambitious courage.” What we learn from this, then, is the extent to which “mankind” strains for relatively little. However, it is not only the working classes that are defined by money. The upper classes are described as living a life of “hygienic idleness” in “an atmosphere of powdered old gold” (9).

The essential inequality here—between labor earning silver and idleness earning gold—is conveyed in the oblique phrase “the source of their wealth” (9). The source is in fact money itself: work begets wages and wealth begets wealth.

Conrad frequently refers to his characters by their occupations. In doing so he sets up a situation in which his characters exist only in relation to their function in society. For instance, we never even learn the Assistant Commissioner’s name; he is always simply referred to as the Assistant Commissioner. Even Chief Inspector Heat is often referred to by his title alone.

The anarchists are referred to by their roles within the anarchist community, despite the fact that they do not gain monetarily by them. Thus, Michaelis is “the ticket of leave apostle” (31), while his supporter is “the lady patroness” (77), Karl Yundt is “the terrorist, as he called himself ” (31), Comrade Ossipon is “nicknamed the Doctor” (34), and the bomb maker “was generally known only by his nickname of Professor” (56). Even Mr. Verloc is reduced to his occupation in the title: The Secret Agent. As for the two women in the family, Mrs. Verloc and Mrs. Verloc’s mother, each is defined by her relationship to Mr. Verloc as the wage earner of the family. In fact, the only person in the novel referred to exclusively by his first name is Stevie. This is telling.

Due to his mental deficiencies, he is considered unable to occupy any social sphere. He has no function in society and is therefore designated solely by his name.

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Names, then, become the last option when all alternative references to occupation have failed.

From this it is clear that the division between the privileged and the unprivileged classes is not the only, or even the primary, concern of The Secret Agent. The novel offers a more nuanced portrayal of the way in which relationships to money shape social identities.

Those people who share similar relationships to money develop communities, or social circles. When facing the prospect of losing his job, Chief Inspector Heat ruminates that a man must identify himself with something more tangible than his own personality and establish his pride somewhere, either in his social position, or in the quality of the work he is obliged to do, or simply in the superiority of the idleness he may be fortunate enough to enjoy.

(86) This outward identification allows similar ideologies to develop in those who share similar relationships to wealth and work.

The police are intimately associated with the security of wealth and the status quo from their first appearance in chapter two. On his walk to the embassy, Mr. Verloc encounters the first policeman of the book “surging apparently out of a lamppost” as if he were “part of [the] inorganic nature” (9) in this upper-class neighborhood. The second policeman whom Mr. Verloc encounters is “watching idly the gorgeous perambulator of a wealthy baby wheeled in state across the Square” (18). The police are positioned as part of the landscape of luxury and as benevolent guardians of inherited wealth, for certainly the baby hasn’t done any work for wages by which it could earn its wealth. From birth, this child is intimately connected with the state in the same way that Sir Ethelred as nobility is connected with the government. The police, then, are not simply “a benevolent institution for the suppression of evil” (127) but rather protectors of “horses, carriages, houses, and servants,” of “the whole social order favorable…to opulence and luxury” (9). As Winnie Verloc puts it, the police exist “so that them as have nothing shouldn’t take from them who have” (127).

The anarchists and revolutionaries, on the other hand, have positioned themselves as ideologically op-

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posed to this social system. They question the nature of crime and the worth of work and wages. Their ideology suggests that the current system is flawed, and this is eloquently expressed by Karl Yundt, that unappetizing specimen of blighted humanity: nd what about the law that marks him still A better—the pretty branding instrument invented by the overfed to protect themselves against the hungry? Red-hot applications on their vile skins—hey? Can’t you smell and hear from here the thick hide of the people burn and sizzle?

That’s how criminals are made. (35) This concern for the unprivileged masses becomes even more crucial as those masses grow ever larger. The question of how to structure society in order to adequately meet the needs of these vast populations of people becomes ever more pressing. While revolutionaries like Michaelis believe communism is the answer, and anarchists like the Professor believe bombs are the answer, they are united in their shared distaste for the current solution.

“The problem is that this neat dichotomy, this separation by caste, fails to meet the needs of the individuals who occupy each social sphere.”

Savagery: Individual Impulses The problem is that this neat dichotomy, this separation by caste, fails to meet the needs of the individuals who occupy each social sphere. Reality, as it exists within the confines of the novel, is not as simple as each social group pretends it is. The police, despite their opposition to crime, frequently consort with or are compared to criminals. The anarchists and revolutionaries are dependent on the very social system they hate. The social circles of these seemingly disparate groups intersect and overlap so that a visual represen-

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tation of them would look more like a Venn diagram than isolated bubbles.

The police force in the novel is represented by two individuals: Chief Inspector Heat and the Assistant Commissioner. Despite the Chief Inspector’s excellent reputation, he diverts the ongoing investigation of the bombing onto a man, Michaelis, on “the barest suspicion.” He has convinced himself that it was “legal,” but this is then tellingly mitigated by the addition of “expedient.” For what and for whom is it expedient, we might ask? Certainly not for Michaelis, who has already spent twenty years in jail as a scapegoat for another crime. Is it for the benefit of the upper classes, whose wealth the Chief Inspector has sworn to protect? No, because he “wouldn’t say” that Michaelis had anything to do with the preparation of the bomb. In fact, it is expedient for the Chief Inspector himself as a “personal triumph” and a way of solving “a little personal difficulty” (89).

The “personal triumph” is his chance to vindicate police work in the face of “the celebrity bestowed upon Michaelis…by some emotional journalist,” a situation which had “rankled ever since in his breast” (89). The “personal difficulty” that this arbitrary arrest solves is the Inspector’s reluctance to make more “complicated” (90) arrests of people like Verloc, from whom he has solicited so much information over the years, or the Professor, who threatens to blow him up if he tries. The

“Their revolutionary ideals are individual responses to their own social situations, not the altruistic self-sacrifice they espouse.” decision to arrest Michaelis has nothing to do either with legality or the protection of property; it has everything to do with the Chief Inspector’s personal desire to protect and promote himself. Furthermore, the Assistant Commissioner’s subsequent refusal to allow him to do so has nothing to do with notions of justice or even proper police work. Rather, his reluctance stems from his fear that the lady patroness of Michaelis will

never forgive him. The Assistant Commissioner’s motive, then, is also strictly personal. Both men are moved to betray the ideals of their occupation because of their interactions with those outside their social circle.

The anarchists and revolutionaries also betray their ideals, and Conrad is even less forgiving of their betrayal, perhaps because their ideals are higher or because the extent to which they betray them is more complete.

They depend on the social system to maintain them through the women who support them. Karl Yundt has his “indomitable snarling old witch,” Michaelis has his “wealthy old lady,” and Ossipon has a series of “silly girls with savings-books” (39). Although these women come from widely differeing backgrounds, from Michaelis’ aristocratic patron to Ossipon’s working-class girlfriends, they serve to connect these anarchists outside their revolutionary social circle to the larger world of commerce and class. Furthermore, they have not rejected the state because they hold revolutionary ideals; they have adopted the ideals because they reject the state—more specifically, the terms required to thrive within the state. Conrad explains that “one does not revolt against the advantages and opportunities of that state, but against the price which must be paid for the same in the coin of accepted morality, self-restraint, and toil” (39). Thus, their revolutionary ideals are individual responses to their own social situations, not the altruistic self-sacrifice they espouse.

The Symbolism of a Mad Art Where, then, does this leave us? Are we still unable to engage with radical politics because of the hypocrisy inherent in their position? Perhaps. Conrad does not allow his readers to unreservedly embrace communism; if this is what is meant by imaginative engagement, then The Secret Agent is indeed prohibitive. However, a straightforward communist parable or allegory is hardly the only format through which to consider radical or anarchist ideals. Perhaps we should instead acknowledge that the novel does indeed engage such ideals, simply not in the way Marxist critics might wish it would. Rather than merely denouncing the current social structure, Conrad presents us with a much more nuanced portrait of the demands and compromises needed to navigate an ever-expanding world.

Early in the narrative, Conrad stages an anarchist

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meeting. While the apostle, the terrorist, and the Doctor debate the finer points of “present economic conditions” (38), Stevie is in the kitchen, drawing. In the middle of the discussion, Conrad has Mr. Verloc get up and open the door to the kitchen, ostensibly to allow more air into the overheated room. Later, this allows Stevie to overhear the conversation, which provokes the “tenderness of his universal charity” to “the anguish of immoderate compassion” and “an innocent but pitiless rage” (124). It will be Stevie who makes the only anarchist action present in the book, because he is “not wise” (124) enough to know better. He is blown to bits because he is unable to recognize that Verloc’s motive is selfish, that his own action cannot and will not change anything, and that society will go on “thoughtless like a natural force…impervious to sentiment, to logic, to terror too perhaps” (61). It may be that anarchy is only for those who are too trusting to know better.

But Stevie’s first intrusion into this revolutionary meeting is not marked by horror at what he overhears.

What Stevie is doing is sitting by himself, absorbed in drawing circles on a sheet of paper. It is here, and only here, that Stevie is dignified with an occupation. He is referred to as “the artist” (34). We see him s eated very good and quiet at a deal table, drawing circles, circles, circles; innumerable circles, concentric, eccentric; a coruscating whirl of circles that by their tangled multitude of repeated curves, uniformity of form, and confusion of intersecting lines suggested a rendering of cosmic chaos, the symbolism of a mad art attempting the inconceivable. (34)

the global society of the twenty-first century. In a world that still defines itself by contrasts and differences—us and them, terrorist and patriot, haves and have-nots— Conrad’s story serves as a counterpoint. None of these identities exist in isolated spheres, but rather they coexist as part of an interlocking whole.

Works Cited Becker, Gary S., Edward L. Glaeser, and Kevin M. Murphy. “Population and Economic Growth.” American Economic Review 89, no. 2 (1999): 145-49. JSTOR. Accessed 5 October 2011. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/117096.

Berthoud, Jacques. “The Secret Agent.” The Cambridge Companion to Joseph Conrad. Ed. J. H. Stape.

Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.

Cole, Sarah. “Dynamite Violence and Literary Culture.” Modernism/Modernity 16, no. 2 (2009): 301-28.

Conrad, Joseph. The Secret Agent. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008.

Howe, Irving. Politics and the English Novel. London: Steven and Sons, 1961.

Lyon, John. Introduction. The Secret Agent. By Joseph Conrad. New York City: Oxford University Press, 2008.

What inconceivable thing is Contrad trying to express with Stevie’s endless overlapping circles? I argue that, through Stevie’s drawing, Conrad depicts human life itself with its endless social interactions and its tangled web of interrelationships. Society, with its ever-present tension between social pressures and individualistic impulses, cannot be encompassed in a single ideology but only in “the symbolism of a mad art” (34).

This portrayal of complex social interactions in The Secret Agent is by no means simple or reductive, as critics have often depicted it. It offers insight not only into the London of the early twentieth century but also into

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Volume 24, Number 1, Spring 2012

Handmade Music ________________________________________________________________________________________ Kayla Lujan

Each beautiful, hand-carved bass produced by luthier Hannah Mayne comes from months, days, and hours of tedious labor with special attention to the tiniest of details.

Hannah Mayne is the premier luthier of Mayne Bass, a prestigious bass company sought after by elite players from around the world. The bass pictured is being created for Daryl Johns, a fifteen-year-old bass player who, upon receiving the Mr. Holland’s Opus Award, specifically requested a Mayne Bass. The photos shown are of Mayne using small metal tools and her own two hands to whittle uneven areas of the instrument before attaching strings, one of hundreds of steps required when hand-carving a bass. The attention to these smaller details is what sets these instruments apart from any other; they are special and uniquely crafted for quality.

The composition of these photos draws attention to the crafting of the bass as well as to the manufacturer.

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From iPads to Fruitcake, Education to

Food Stamps

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Mark Kunzman

Ugly sweaters, neckties, and fruitcake, oh my! At one point in life, everyone has received a disappointing gift that was not really wanted. Whatever the price or value of the gift, it had no effect on the amount of joy or benefits (economic utility) it brought to the recipient.

There is often a deficit between the utility of the gift compared to the utility of an equal amount of cash.

More simply stated, the gift did not leave the recipient as well off as it could have. One might argue that if the recipient of the gift does not appreciate or fully value the gift, the gift giver could have made the recipient better off by giving him or her cash. This is an illustration of the infamous “Deadweight Loss of Christmas,” as termed by Joel Waldfogel in his article of the same name.

Deadweight loss in economics refers to inefficiency in the economy. In this case, some of the value of the gift is wasted—money was spent on the gift given to a person who would have preferred a different use of the money. This is an issue that extends far beyond mere gift giving. For example, one need only look at government programs such as food stamps, education, or housing subsidies. Economists have long argued that these types of programs cause deadweight loss. Nevertheless, it raises an important question: does the inkind transfer that induces the initial deadweight loss produce something of value for an individual or for

society as a whole in the long run? It is imperative that one should understand the implications of in-kind transfers. Specifically, it is worth critically evaluating the different types of in-kind transfers and gifts, the deadweight loss these cause in the economy, the goals sought by restrictive transfers, and the externalities (byproducts and additional effects) and anomalies one can expect to arise.

First, it is helpful to define an in-kind transfer, which is a payment or transfer of “goods, commodities, or services instead of money” (In-kind 2011). It can be as micro-defined as a simple Christmas gift, such as a sweater or an iPad, to as macro-defined as mosquito nets given to African states by the United States. There are universal in-kind transfers, such as public education, and targeted transfers, such as Medicaid (Currie and Gahvarie 341). The US food stamp program, “one of the largest transfer programs for the low-income population,” presents a salient example: “In 2004…the [food stamp program] cost $27 billion and served 24 million people” (Hoynes and Schanzenbach, et al. 110). This, like many entitlement or safety net programs, costs in the billions of dollars. Even more infamous, Medicare and Medicaid cost the United States over $875 billion in 2009 (NHE Fact Sheet). Great difficulties arise because classical and neoliberal economists have shown for decades that in-kind transfers create deadweight

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loss. The argument made by these economists suggests that recipients would experience higher utility and be potentially happier if given cash instead of restrictive programs. In fact, current scholarship contends that it actually would take less cash than what is spent on the government programs to make recipients even better off. The enormous amounts of money spent on these programs, albeit with good intentions, potentially result in great loss to the economy.

Basic consumer theory holds that cash is preferred to in-kind transfers because cash allows the consumer greater choice. In the example of food stamps, “poor people who receive cash have more choices than those

Figure 1 demonstrates how the budget line extends up and out along both the y-axis and x-axis, where a potential indifference curve (measure of utility, or use and happiness) is pushed further out and higher utility can be obtained. The budget line, as the name implies, reflects the total amount one can buy given their current income and resources. If there is an inkind transfer, the budget line kinks such that only all other goods per month (or what could be expressed in dollars) do not increase. One only sees an increase in food per month (Y+100). This results in a lower utility than a cash transfer. Explained more simply, cash allows a person to spend money on whatever he or she

“Current scholarship contends that it actually would take less cash than what is spent on the government programs to make recipients even better off.” who receive a comparable amount of food stamps” (Perloff 100). Food stamps can only bring in more food; conversely, cash can be used to purchase food or other necessities—or to support vices. Stated differently, Timothy Besley and Stephen Coate remark, “we know that each individual would be better off with a cash transfer equal to the cost of the quality level with which he is provided…because then he could chose the quality level that suits him best” (981).

Figure 1

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wants. The graph shows that a person is made better off with $100.00 of food stamps than they were before the program, but it also shows that they can benefit even more with $100.00 cash instead. Applying this model to Waldfogel’s fascinating research on the “Deadweight Loss of Christmas,” one finds “the average yield on noncash gifts is 83.9 percent, suggesting a deadweight-loss fraction of 16.1 percent,” such that about one-sixth of a gift’s value is lost to the economy (Waldfogel 1332).

This means that recipients only value, on average, 83.9 percent of what the gift is actually worth. A grandparent may spend $50.00 on a Christmas present for her grandson, but it may only bring $41.95 worth of usefulness to him. This means $8.05 of value is lost.

The concern is that when economic inefficiency exists, people are not being taken care of as well as they could be. As Lester C. Thurow notes, the assumptions of the deadweight loss of in-kind transfers rests on an economic concept called Pareto optimality. Pareto optimality is achieved when all resources are allocated completely and the economy is in a state where no one can be made better off without making someone else worse off. If there is a possibility to rearrange the allocation of goods or resources to make everyone better off, failing to do so causes inefficiency and deadweight loss. Nicely summarized, “the Pareto optimality literature argues— sometimes explicitly, and even more implicitly—that a

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‘rational’ donor should only be interested in the donee’s utility, and that to want to specify the consumption of particular goods is to be ‘irrational’ and in the world of the ‘second best’” (Thurow 190-191). Thurow is saying that, if striving for Pareto optimality, a gift giver should try to maximize his or her recipient’s utility given what he or she is willing spend. Instead of spending $30.00

“Unfortunately, the government cannot adequately measure each individual’s exact preferences; ergo, there becomes another source of inefficiency.” for a recipient to have a new book, it would be better for the gift giver to allow the recipient to use the money as he or she sees fit.

There are many consequences to the deadweight loss of an in-kind transfer. As Diane Whitmore of Princeton University finds with regard to food stamps, “aggregating over recipients, the annual deadweight loss associated with the food stamp program is one-half billion dollars. Food diary data indicate[s] that providing cash instead of stamps causes some distorted recipients,” referring to those whose choices are altered by the food stamps, “to decrease their food spending—especially on soda and juice—but has no negative consequence for nutrition” (2). What this illustrates is that the inefficiency might actually result in more than just loss to the economy, as economists might worry about; potentially, this could result in other externalities, such as obesity related to food stamp usage. Looking at Hillary W. Hoynes’ and Diane W. Schazenbach’s ample research on the consumption effects of in-kind transfers, specifically those of food stamps, one finds: irst, the poor react to in-kind transfers by reducF ing their out-of-pocket spending on the targeted good [although not statistically significant results]. Second, total consumption of the targeted

good from all sources (cash outlays and in-kind transfers) increases. Third, providing food stamp benefits in voucher form leads to a minimal distortion of the consumption choice relative to what it would be if the benefit were provided in cash. (137-138) This further supports the point that, at times, inkind transfers encourage over-consumption of certain goods to maximize the full utility (as more is always better) of the transfer. Unfortunately, the government cannot adequately measure each individual’s exact preferences; ergo, there becomes another source of inefficiency.

If the intention of a program is to maximize the sum of individual utilities—the utilitarian idea— then letting resources go to waste and inefficiencies occur is certainly deleterious. Thurow, albeit not a full subscriber to this theory, notes that if one looks at the social welfare function from an individualistic perspective (one that looks purely at the aggregate of individual utilities) “cash transfers dominate restricted transfers” (191). E.K. Browning has done substantial research that examines the difficulties of trying to predict consumer preferences and the externalities certain programs can induce. Further, “simply considering the number of individual transactions which must be monitored by the government, especially when a number of commodities are being subsidized, suggests that the administrative cost would be considerable” (Browning 534). Contrast this with the simplicity of a cash transfer and it is easy to see the inefficiency created by the program qua program. The same can even be said, one could posit, about the ultra-micro action of a simple Christmas gift. A person spending time in a store looking for a gift certainly uses time that could be saved if cash was given instead.

Considering these examples, one might certainly ask: why are there in-kind transfers? Why do people still buy gifts instead of giving cash? Numerous scholars actively argue for in-kind transfers. The government doles out restrictive transfers because of the positive externalities it is hoping will result. For instance, one may argue that in-kind transfers promote and move toward the type of higher-quality society a country wants. To illustrate this, Thurow purports that the social welfare function neglects welfare judgments,

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and “it ignores the fact that individuals have different levels of preferences and that there is a difference between allowing individual preferences to determine the form of the social welfare function and making social welfare a function of individual utilities” (191). While not arguing for an egalitarian or Rawlsian society, most people look at certain goods differently. Further illustrated, “James Tobin (1970) argues that while many people have no problem with income inequality per se, they would like to see that all individuals receive adequate food, medical services, or housing. This idea accords certain goods a special place not shared by other goods” (Currie and Gahvarie 340). Also, being a little paternalistic might be necessary to ensure certain levels of societal development. Neil Bruce and Michael Waldman expand on the work of scholars like James Buchanan by saying that “potential recipients may behave in a socially inefficient manner in an attempt to manipulate the magnitude of these transfers” (Bruce and Waldman 1345). Specifically, Bruce and Waldman are referring to the Samaritan’s Dilemma.

The Samaritan’s Dilemma refers to the abuse of welfare systems. Simply stated, someone may manipulate a system in order to receive more money. As Bruce and Waldman explain, “the recipient, if he anticipates that the altruist will act in this manner, will make decisions that make the probability of his becoming impoverished ‘too high;’” to address this, “the altruist may give the initial transfer in a tied fashion, such as in the form of an illiquid investment” (1346). A parent may give a young student books in order to ensure that the money goes toward studies as opposed to giving an amount of money for the student to use as he or she sees fit. Similarly, the United States may give an African state food stuffs to make sure the money is not lost in cleptocracies or to prevent African governments from overstating some problems in order to gain more cash. With the Samaritan’s Dilemma in mind, Bruce and Waldman posit: “the implication of our analysis is that in such a setting it may be more efficient, not less, to make government transfers in-kind,” such that “the tying of transfers may simply be an efficient response to this incentive for recipients to behave inefficiently” (1349-1350).

One should look at who is deciding for whom with regard to transfers. It is possible that cash transfers given to parents to take care of and raise their chil-

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dren might not result in what society may deem as acceptable use of the money (i.e. food and education).

Thus, “parents may not take full account of the utility of their children when making decisions or they may neglect to factor in externalities. For example, subop-

“The Samaritan’s Dilemma refers to the abuse of welfare systems. Simply stated, someone may manipulate a system in order to receive more money.” timal spending on children’s education may lead not only to poorer individual prospects but also to slower future economic growth” (Currie and Gahvarie 334).

It is also worth considering the work done by Timothy Smeeding, a scholar who has devoted a great deal of his life to the research and benefits of in-kind transfers. In 1982, Smeeding demonstrated that there had been inadequate data explaining the effects of in-kind transfers, and he confirmed certain parameters were being neglected (Smeeding 1982). In fact, just a few years earlier, Smeeding noted that the magnitude of effectiveness of in-kind transfers “depends upon the elasticity of substitution between the subsidized commodity and non-subsidized commodities,” and that “the shape of the recipients’ indifference map determines this magnitude” (“Antipoverty Effectiveness” 365). Explained more simply, measuring the effect of an in-kind transfer requires knowing consumer behavior, preferences, and how likely they are to switch between similar, or substitutable, goods. One of the greatest questions about the matter then becomes: does the data match the theory? While evaluating inequality among nations, recent research suggests in-kind transfers are frequently understated and overlooked. As Irwin Garfinkle et al. explain, “valuing in-kind benefits at government cost and taking account of indirect taxes substantially narrows cross-national differences in the net value of social welfare transfers and reduces inequality

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within and across countries” (912). What this suggests is that there simply has not been enough research done to quantify the value of in-kind transfers.

Robert Moffitt looks specifically at the food stamp program in Puerto Rico to try to better evaluate the estimation of the values of in-kind transfers. He finds that there is no difference between giving out food stamps versus cash; the utility is equal. Quite explicitly, the research “indicate[s] that the lack of any detectable effect on food expenditures of the conversion of food stamps to cash in Puerto Rico in 1982 occurred because the stamps were equivalent to cash even before the cashout” (406). One sees this phenomenon occur because recipients were spending more on food than what was covered by the food stamps program. This result of de facto cash equivalence may also apply to the United States as a whole: “in the [United States], where income levels are higher than those in Puerto Rico but benefit levels are the same, it is to be expected that even more households will be inframarginal” (406). Inframarginal, or below the extensive margin, in this case means that the amount spent on food still exceeds the benefit of food stamps. This indicates that if a benefit is not comprehensive enough to be an all-inclusive safety net, such that food stamps provide for all food needed, then in-kind transfers are essentially as good as cash for efficiency.

“Inframarginal, or below the extensive margin, in this case means that the amount spent on food still exceeds the benefit of food stamps.”

One must also analyze the effects of these programs.

It does not take any great leaps to imagine what the economy might be like without compulsory public education. “In the long run, public primary and secondary education is one of the programs that has been most consistently shown to increase labor supply, so perhaps it is not surprising that it is available in all developed countries and in many developing ones” (Cur-

rie and Gahvarie 366). But what about the effects no one anticipated? Scholars such as Jesse M. Cunha et al. have done significant research on the price effects caused by in-kind transfers versus those of traditional cash transfers. The scholars pose the hypothesis that “cash transfers increase the demand for normal goods, and if supply is not perfectly elastic, the prices of these goods should rise.” On the other hand, “in-kind transfers have a corresponding cash value, so they similarly shift demand through an income effect.” Additionally, supply should also increase and, “relative to cash transfers, local prices should fall when transfers are provided in-kind” (Cuhna et al.1). To test this, these scholars examined the Mexican food assistance program. Their research shows that, based on the point estimates, the price increase due to cash transfers “offsets the direct transfer by 6 percent for recipients” of the food assistances. Conversely, “for in-kind transfers, the price effects represent an indirect benefit to consumers equal to 5 percent of the direct benefit” (28). This means that prices actually dropped slightly due to the in-kind transfer for all consumers, whereas cash transfers are met by higher increases in prices. However, the research reveals the effects are strongest for the more isolated groups of people. Other notable scholars have also done significant research in this particular arena of pecuniary effects (the government lowering cost by increasing supply). Still, there are anomalies: “Amy Finkelstein (2007) provides evidence that the introduction of the US Medicare program (public health insurance for the elderly) has driven up medical costs by making the elderly, who are the largest consumers of medical care, insensitive to price” (Currie and Gahvarie 370-371). It is clear that one cannot make a blanket judgment on the price effects of in-kind transfers or cash transfers.

The “Deadweight Loss of Christmas” is certainly an issue of major contention, no matter what level of analysis is applied to the economy. Many government programs are in the billions of dollars, so when discussing the deadweight loss, one must be cognizant of the great magnitude of potential inefficiency. However, much like the intrinsic value of a gift (Waldfogel 1993), many in-kind programs are arguably what society deems to be in the best interest of the general welfare. Some argue that the paternalistic nature is required to ensure good management of government resources, especially when addressing serious issues such as the Samaritan’s

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Dilemma. Further, one cannot be shortsighted; programs like public education may cause inefficiencies in the present but act as an inherent catalyst to long-term economic growth by increasing human capital and factor abundance. According to the data, at times in-kind transfers can actually lower costs by increasing supply; however, at other times this is not the case. It appears as if there can be no generalized prescription for transfers of any sort; it depends on the market and the model.

To conclude, while it is imperative for one to have a deep understanding of the issues and arguments surrounding the notion of deadweight loss created by inkind transfers, this is a field that needs more attention, research, and studies devoted to it in order to further enhance the effectiveness of transfers.

Acknowledgments I want to thank Dr. Catherine Krause, Professor of Economics, for her magnanimous support and tremendous help. From her assistance with the initial research to her help translating esoteric economic jargon to readable English, Dr. Krause was critical to the composition of this piece. She is a tremendous asset to the university.

Bibliography Besley, Timothy, and Stephen Coate. “Public Provision of Private Goods and the Redistribution of Income.” The American Economic Review 81, no. 4 (September 1991): 979-84. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/2006658.

Congdon, William J., Jeffrey R. Kling, and Sendhil Mullainathan. “Behavioral Economics and Tax Policy.”

National Tax Journal 62, no. 3 (September 2009): 37586. Business Source Complete. Accessed 8 October 2011. http://libproxy.unm.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=44 639547&site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Cunha, Jesse M., Giacomo De Giorgi, and Seema Jayachandran. The Price Effects of Cash Versus In-Kind Transfers. National Bureau of Economic Research.

NBER Working Paper Series. September 2011. Accessed 8 October 2011. http://www.nber.org/papers/w17456. pdf?new_window=1.

Currie, Janet, and Firouz Gahvari. “Transfers in Cash and In-Kind: Theory Meets the Data.” Journal

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of Economic Literature 46, no. 2 (June 2008): 333-83. doi:10.1257/jel.46.2.333.

Eissa, Nada, and Hilary Hoynes. “Redistribution and Tax Expenditures: The Earned Income Tax Credit.” National Tax Journal 64, no. 2, 689-729. Business Source Complete. Accessed 8 October 2011. http:// libproxy.unm.edu/login?url=http://search.ebscohost. com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=bth&AN=62079706 &site=ehost-live&scope=site.

Garfinkel, Irwin, Lee Rainwater, and Timothy M. Smeeding. “A Re-examination of Welfare States and Inequality in Rich Nations: How In-kind Transfers and Indirect Taxes Change the Story.” Journal of Policy Analysis and Management 25, no. 4 (September 6, 2006): 897-919. Accessed 8 October 2011. doi:10.1002/ pam.20213.

Hoynes, Hilary W., and Diane W. Schanzenbach.

“Consumption Responses to In-Kind Transfers: Evidence from the Introduction of the Food Stamp Program.” American Economic Journal: Applied Economics 1, no. 4 (October 2009): 109-39. Accessed 8 October 2011. doi:10.1257/app.1.4.109.

“In-kind.” Dictionary.com. Accessed 10 November 2011. http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/in-kind.

Moffitt, Robert. “Estimating the Value of an InKind Transfer: The Case of Food Stamps.” Econometrica 57, no. 2 (March 1989): 385-409. Accessed 8 October 2011. http://www.jstor.org/stable/1912560.

“NHE Fact Sheet National Health Expenditure Data.” Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

Accessed 18 November 2011. https://www.cms.gov/ NationalHealthExpendData/25_NHE_Fact_Sheet. asp#TopOfPage.

Perloff, Jeffrey M. “Consumer Choice.” Microeconomics 99-102. 6th ed. Boston: Pearson Addison Wesley, 2011.

Smeeding, Timothy M. “The Antipoverty Effectiveness of In-Kind Transfers.” The Journal of Human Resources 12, no. 3 (Summer 1977): 360-78. Accessed 8 October 2011. http://www.jstor.org/stable/145496.

Smeeding, Timothy M. Alternative Methods for Valuing Selected In-kind Transfer Benefits. Technical paper no. 50. US Department of Commerce Bureau of the Census, 1982.

Thurow, Lester C. “Cash Versus In-Kind Transfers.”

The American Economic Review 64, no. 2 (May 1974): 190-95. Papers and Proceedings of the Eighty-Sixth

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Annual Meeting of the American Economic Association. Accessed 8 October 2011. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/1816041.

Waldfogel, Joel. “The Deadweight Loss of Christmas.� The American Economic Review 83, no. 5 (December 1993): 1328-336. http://www.jstor.org/ stable/2117564.

Whitmore, Diane. What Are Food Stamps Worth?

Working paper no. 468. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University, 2002. Accessed 25 November 2011. http://dataspace.princeton.edu/jspui/handle/88435/ dsp01z603qx42c.

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River

________________________________________________________________________________________

Heather Hayes

I don’t remember anything before I stepped into class, except that I wore my favorite red long-sleeve shirt, red knockoff Keds sneakers, and my red messenger backpack. I didn’t realize how ironic it was to wear as much red as I could on that particular night.

“Broken wrist?” asked the man that always sat at the very front of the class, close enough that he had to angle his chin up to see the professor’s face. I looked up from signing in, startled by the question. I preferred to keep to myself for the long four hours that I was in this class; I didn’t want my mixed feelings of bitterness for being in class until 9:30 p.m. and the enjoyment of studying classical music to rub someone the wrong way. The man tilted his head toward the brace encasing my right wrist.

“Oh, ha, no,” I answered. “I just have a cyst in my wrist. It makes it painful to write for long periods of time, so I just use it as support.” The man looked to be in his early thirties, but I’d never been good at guessing ages. His sandy hair and warm smile gave him a boyish appearance despite his tired, ice-blue eyes and the laugh lines on his somewhat pudgy cheeks.

“Well, that’s better than a broken wrist, I suppose.”

“It is indeed.” I smiled politely and made my way up the steps to claim my usual seat, eight rows from the front and near the middle aisle. The large auditorium-

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like classroom was packed with raked, stain-covered seats and desks plastered with gum and graffiti. Yet I couldn’t help feeling some silly hint of nostalgia for the space—it was my first class with over one hundred students that semi-resembled those depicted on TV shows and in movies. It made me feel like I was actually in some Ivy League college, not spending part of my second semester in the old Anthropology building at the University of New Mexico.

I hummed along with the classical music playing in the background; tonight it was Vivaldi. My professor, a man of extremely short stature and with tiny hands and fingers only slightly longer than a Pink Pearl rubber eraser, had a passion for music that spilled into his teaching. He loved to wander around, overly thrilled, across the faded and scuffed wooden stage at the front of the class, talking to each section of the seated students with more energy and excitement than I was ever able to summon on a Monday night. Some days, in the middle of a sentence, he would dash to the left side of the stage and take a running jump aimed at the rustic piano resting against the wall just to play the structural four notes of the song we were about to hear. Other days, he would bounce to the music on the balls of his feet, coaxing us, drowsy and uninterested, to our feet to teach us how to conduct an orchestra.

He also never failed to play classical music before

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class. It was as if he hoped the music would inspire the apathetic, self-absorbed college students to connect with something written hundreds of years before the idea of them ever existed. But, as always, the murmur from the arriving students grew into a roaring beast that smothered the orchestral ensemble. A brash blast of laughter suddenly sliced through snarling schmooze, causing heads to snap to attention. Several rows in front of me, a group of five students appeared to be possessed with laughter.

I sent a murderous glare directly at the group. The clique of friends, three guys and two girls, had announced their presence to the entire class. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence; they enjoyed being the center of attention. They relished in shoving their opinion onto

I don’t remember what the professor was saying. It was later reported that it happened at 7:55 p.m., but I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. I had finished the basic sketch of my classmate’s face and was filling in her pouty lips when a figure staggered through the door. The slouched students looked up to see the disruption. A woman clutching her neck asked calmly for help; her words, “I’ve been stabbed,” echoed in the hushed room.

The woman leaned against the door to the left of the ancient piano. One hand gripped her neck firmly while the other hand supported it, adding more pressure. Blood was not visible on her purple-and-gray jacket, but strands of her shoulder-length blonde hair

“A woman clutching her neck asked calmly for help; her words, ‘I’ve been stabbed,’ echoed in the hushed room.” their peers, whether about a topic raised in class or a completely random thought that flitted through their seemingly empty minds. The only thing that kept them from interjecting with thoughts about topics only distantly related to Music Appreciation was their computer. Obsession with catching up on the latest basketball game limited their outbursts to nonetheless distracting, not-so-silent cheering.

One student in particular annoyed me to no end.

I hoped that one day the professor would be pushed to the breaking point and dismiss him from the class for rude, immature, irritating behavior. He was the ringleader—you could tell by how they all chose seats around him, how the computer was placed in front of him, how he was the loudest. He couldn’t hold in his laughter, before or during class. His big ears made it all the better to hear jokes, I guessed.

“Okay, class…” The professor addressed the unenthused group as he turned down the background music.

I sighed, doomed to four hours stuck in a room with a group of obnoxious people. The highlight was that we were no longer studying medieval classical; we had moved to the baroque era—the good stuff. I opened my sketchpad and focused on the pointy-nosed girl two seats over and one row down. The outline of her face was difficult to master.

clung to her sweaty face. Her eyebrows pulled together in a deep wrinkle, and her eyes jumped from student to student, pleading for help. She didn’t scream or flail.

She simply leaned against the framing for support, patiently waiting.

The room had iced over. All heads turned towards her, all eyes investigated her, all thoughts were riddled with one word—prank. My own thoughts jumped to the same idea and I glanced at my professor, wondering how he would react. I sat bewildered by the woman’s almost nonchalant manner of looking to my peers expectantly.

“Please, somebody help me. I’ve been stabbed.” The words were louder but still no one moved. Her desperation resounded in the soundless classroom. Holy buckets! Her words were unbelievably calm, yet her seriousness conveyed everything. It wasn’t a prank; she had been stabbed. Oh…shit! Every health class, every lecture on injuries and emergency medical attention I was forced to sit through in high school, kicked in— pressure on the wound! But my brain took over and my instincts were pushed to the side. Someone more experienced, someone who knew what they were actually doing, would help. Someone who was qualified would handle it.

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A few weeks after it all happened, I watched a report on the national nightly news about a man who was stabbed while rescuing a woman from an attacker.

His noble efforts saved the woman. He, however, was abandoned on the cold pavement of a New York street.

People walked by as his life slowly ebbed away. Sev-

“I watched, momentarily stunned, as she collapsed on the ground, still holding her neck .” eral stopped to stare, a few took pictures with their cell phones, no one called for help. The news deemed it the “bystander effect.” People believed that someone more capable of helping would come along and save the day.

In his case no one did. He died.

I looked around. Everyone was a statue, staring blankly at the woman. I could hear a clock. The normal ticking was replaced with a pounding, or maybe the pounding was my heart. I couldn’t take it anymore.

I jumped out of my seat and shoved past a classmate to get to the aisle. In the few seconds it took me to knock over a notebook and pen, an explosion of panicked whispers slammed against my ears. Three other students in lower rows hurdled to the aisle to help aid the woman. A few more students stood up, wanting a better view, but they blocked our path to the desperate woman in need of a savior. Rushing down the stairs, I noticed my professor and another man bolt out the door. They went on a valiant attempt to find the attacker, but the professor’s absence sparked another wave of muttering.

Pushing past the idling, useless people, I shouted to put pressure on the wound as I finally shoved my way to the bottom level of the classroom. The woman couldn’t stand anymore. I watched, momentarily stunned, as she collapsed on the ground, still holding her neck. I ripped off my wrist brace—better mobility. I needed something to cover the gash and stop the bleeding. I looked down at my sardonically red shirt. Damn! I knew I should have worn an undershirt

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but I wasn’t able to just strip. I looked desperately to a few tentative-looking guys standing near, the other first responders, hoping they would get the message.

Thankfully, one understood. He pulled off his t-shirt and tossed it to me. I rushed to the woman, kneeling at her side. Two other guys already flanked her, asking what happened. I handed one the makeshift bandage and he peeled back her hand to reveal a deep laceration, blood pouring through the puncture with each pump of her heart.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“River. Can someone please call my coworker? I need someone to call my coworker! I need her to meet me at the hospital! I need to call my coworker!” My cell phone was at my desk. I immediately felt useless kneeling next to the bleeding, suddenly frantic woman. Fear had finally gripped her and it had a strong hold. She fidgeted desperately, wanting a familiar face, family or friend, to slide into view and wake her up from her horrid dream. Sensing River slipping into hysteria, my classmate told her that everything was going to be okay with such confidence that she calmed down enough to allow him to keep pressure on the gash.

Looking up, I saw that the entire class had crammed into the first two rows of seats, wanting to see the terrifying scene that had interrupted the usually mundane evening. Cell phone lights glowed everywhere; some people called the police while others contacted family and friends to warn them. Where silence had once taken hold, a panicked hum now filled the air.

I don’t remember when the first cop arrived. He and the UNM Police Department would later face harsh scrutiny for releasing students into an unsecured area, but at the time it seemed logical to me. Things were so chaotic that making the by-standing students leave would give us room to breathe. After the officer dismissed the fifty-some remaining students surveying the event, another ripple of panic swept through the room; no one knew where the assailant was. Many were ready to escape the horror story unfolding on the floor while others refused to leave the room, whose fourwalled barrier of safety was like a refuge compared to the unknown danger out in the cold February air. Even through all the panicked shouts and scared scrambling, I remember looking over and realizing that the guy who had annoyed me the most, the uncouth Mr. Big Ears

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himself, was holding River’s hand. He never let go.

River, not fully responsive, faded in and out while the student applying pressure concentrated on keeping her focused and awake. My eyes locked with Mr. Big Ears’. His brown eyes exposed not his fear but his confusion. His eyebrows raised and wrinkled his forehead in thought of what to do, how to help. Unable to feign any sort of reassurance, I pulled my gaze away and focused on the bleeding woman.

Still kneeling next to her, I brushed the hair from River’s face in hopes of making her more comfortable and myself more useful. River looked at me. Her very blue eyes leaked a small tear as she stuttered out a request for me to find her cell phone. The lilac handbag had been deserted at the door and no cell phone was inside. I found, instead, a gold credit card on the floor under the purse. I wonder if this is what the attacker was after?

River’s eventual statement to the police revealed that her attacker was after her cell phone. She said she was sitting on the bench outside when she was stabbed from behind and her Blackberry was taken. Yet the credit card has always loomed in my memory. Did her attacker reach for the credit card and settle for a phone?

She had her credit card out. That much was clear. But that night I slipped it back into her wallet; I didn’t want her to lose it. I still question if replacing the card to its rightful place had any effect on the investigation. The police never questioned me, though they knew I was there on the front lines that night. They questioned my two classmates who were by River’s side. Another student stepped forward and provided a sketch of the attacker, but I was too shy to recount my version of events to the authorities. It made me feel like I was interjecting myself into the investigation, making my role more important than it was. I risked being labeled a hero—something I wasn’t and didn’t want to be.

“Move out of the way,” a young paramedic snapped.

“All of you go home.” I quickly backed away to give him room to do his job and pressed myself against the doorjamb, allowing room for the stretcher to pass through. I watched the paramedic surmise the situation, asking questions of both guys still beside River.

As I moved myself out of the way of the paramedics, I watched Mr. Brown Eyes stand up, his face screaming

his uncertainty. How could I joke and call him Big Ears anymore? After this?

I went back to my seat and gathered my fallen pencil and sketchpad. Should I stay? I really didn’t want to be in the paramedics’ way or the idiot who inserts herself into the situation and has no help to offer. After collecting all my belongings, I shouldered my bag and headed for the back door, glancing once more at the helpless woman surrounded by the crowd of saviors.

The man with the ice-blue eyes and sandy hair looked at me when I passed.

“Such a shame,” he muttered. He looked more stressed than earlier and the boyish smile was gone, his face now weighed down by seriousness. In the hall, I saw the two students, two heroes, who had been by River’s side. The police must have taken them out of the classroom for questioning. As I walked by, my blue eyes met his brown for the last time that night. I quickly glanced away in shame for judging him so harshly before.

The brisk February air slammed against my face as I pushed open the door. It felt amazing against my body, which was tense and burning hot with adrenaline and stress. The moment of relief passed all too quickly as I let the door close behind me. The yellow “DO NOT

“The guy who had annoyed me the most, the uncouth Mr. Big Ears himself, was holding River’s hand.”

CROSS” police line was already decorating the sidewalk, bordering off the bench River had been sitting on. Everything up to that point was all reaction to my surroundings, charged by adrenaline and lacking serious thought or consideration. But the reality set in as I walked past the congealing pool of River’s blood on the sidewalk. River had been stabbed. And now her life was balancing on the edge of a knife.

I sped up my pace, rummaging desperately in my bag for my keys. Reaching my car, I managed to open the door and flop down, exhausted, on the seat. I slammed the door shut and pushed down the lock. Im-

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mediately, I searched out all of the windows, expecting the attacker to come charging at my car, knife in hand.

After a few deep breaths, I located my cell phone.

I don’t remember dialing or the full conversation.

I remember saying, “Mommy, someone was stabbed,” hanging up, and bursting into tears. I prayed for healing, for God’s protection around River as His protection was around me. The hospital released a statement the week after the incident. They told the press that the stab wound had severed part of River’s jugular, and if those of us in the class had not reacted as fast as we did, River would have bled out on the floor of the Anthropology building.

Home was more than a relief. It was the fortress I needed. My mother hugged me at the door and asked what had happened. After I related as much as I could recall, she demanded that I get in the shower—just in case. Her logic was silly; a shower wouldn’t wash clean any viral infections that had already entered my bloodstream, let alone HIV. She’d always been overprotective, but I didn’t put up a fight—a shower sounded like an amazing idea.

I closed and locked the bathroom door behind me.

I wouldn’t cry again; I was already past that point. I

“The good works of those willing to unite can, over time, erase the horrific events life can toss our direction.”

but there was that nagging idea that pressure and stress bring out weakness in people. Yet I reacted and was quite content with that. I didn’t want to be esteemed as a hero. My two classmates, however, deserved the recognition. They had kept River alive; they were her saviors. Still, the headliner of my thoughts was Mr. Brown Eyes. I was impressed that a guy who appeared so selfadsorbed would be one of the first to react. Wilfred Peterson, a writer for This Week, said it best: there are heroic personalities waiting to be discovered in every person.

Mr. Brown Eyes and I never spoke. I never learned his name or the name of my other classmate who had held the t-shirt to River’s neck. River’s mother came to the next class, which was moved into the bottom level of Popejoy Center for the Arts, to thank the class for saving her daughter’s life. She said River was terrified to return to UNM, but our class gave her hope—hope that there are good people in the world, by her side, outnumbering the dangerous and evil.

After a few weeks, the discussions on the event died down and altogether stopped. Every so often, I would walk past the north-facing bench by the Anthropology building. River’s blood had stained the ground, but that too began to fade. Today there is no trace that a woman was stabbed on that bench, and I like to take River’s outlook on it. The good works of those willing to unite can, over time, erase the horrific events life can toss our direction. It’s not forgetting. It is remembering and overcoming.

turned the single knob to scalding hot and noticed a long smear of blood on the back of my hand. The steaming water rinsed it away, and along with it went the adrenaline. As water poured from the spout, the ideas and thoughts that had been suppressed poured out as well.

After that night, I was able to answer one of life’s questions: would you react? We all hear of those stories in which daring people save lives or stand up for what they believe in, even though it risks their lives. I had always dreamed that I would be of the first to react,

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Volume 24, Number 1, Spring 2012

The Frequency of Arabismos Through the Centuries: A Look at Fulano, Alfayate, and Alberca

________________________________________________________________________________________

Christi Cobo and Danielle Jones

Abstract Although much has been said about the history of how arabismos (Arabisms) came to be part of the Spanish language, little has been researched regarding the frequency and maintenance of Arabic words over time.

This study traces fulano (“so-and-so”), alfayate (“tailor”), and alberca (“pool”), three words that demonstrate different frequencies and maintenance patterns.

The data primarily comes from the Mark Davies Corpus del Español. The specific arabismos were analyzed in the Corpus del Español and Davies’ book A Frequency Dictionary of Spanish: Core Vocabulary for Learners. As a result of completing this study, different frequency patterns were found which have raised questions about possible competing terms for fulano, the replacement of alfayate by sastre (also “tailor”), and the competing terms alberca and piscina (also “pool”). This study gives insight on language contact and poses questions for future research on how present-day language is evolving in geographic areas of linguistic contact, such as the southwestern region of the United States where English has greatly influenced the Southwest variety of Spanish.

1. Introduction In medieval times, Arabic and Islamic culture had a

profound influence on Western European culture. In 711, the greater part of Spain was subject to Moorish rule. The Islamic world was more powerful and more advanced in militia, science, architecture, fashion, leisure, and arts (Marcos Maíllo 2003). After the Moors’ invasion of the Iberian Peninsula (then the location of the Castilian kingdom), many Arabic words were incorporated into the Spanish language. Medieval Spanish from Spain is a reflection of the intense cohabitation of Moors, Christians, and Jews (Tejero Robledo 1996). During the Moorish reign, there were three linguistically diverse groups that emerged: the muladíes, mozárabes, and mudéjares.

The muladíes of medieval Spain were former Christians who converted to the Muslim faith. They were not pressured to abandon their language as the Moors were tolerant of other cultures and lifestyles. The mozárabes were attracted to the Arab way of life, but they maintained their Christian faith. They used arabismos and normally were bilingual because they assimilated to the culture but never changed their religion. As Christians, they wrote about their faith in Arabic and often baptized their children with Arabic names. The mudéjares were the Moors that continued living in territories reconquered by the Christian monarchy. They were permitted to stay but were required to adopt the Castilian language (Alatorre 2002). Because of these groups that remained in the Iberian Peninsula after the Reconquest

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of Spain, the Arabic language continued to influence the Castilian language, bringing in words that are present-day arabismos.

Many articles examining arabismos illustrate how Arabic words have come to be a part of the Spanish language and how the groups mentioned above have influenced the history of the peninsula (Alatorre 2002; Penny 2002; Menéndez Pidal 1926). For example, Ana Marcos Maíllo (2003) discusses the main groups of arabismos brought over to Central America by the conquistadors. Numerous other articles give a general history of how groups of words, prefixes, and expressions have been incorporated into Spanish (Gogazeh 2007; Casado Velarde 2000). Although much has been said about the history of how arabismos came to be part

age) within the corpus are taken from historic literature and written documents. Within the 1900s, the tokens are split into four categories: academic, news, fiction, and oral. It is important to keep in mind that this division creates a separate analysis of the 1900s due to the fact that the tokens in the rest of the centuries are taken strictly from literary uses of language and could therefore possibly create different frequency patterns.

Tokens of each arabismo were taken from the 1200s, 1400s, 1600s, 1800s, and 1900s. For the purposes of maximizing the time span to fit within the scope of this study, intervening centuries were overlooked. The purpose for looking at the frequency counts in the Davies corpus was to examine how the linguistic and historical factors explain frequency changes.

“Nothing has been researched regarding the frequency and maintenance of Arabic words throughout time.” of the Spanish language, nothing has been researched regarding the frequency and maintenance of Arabic words throughout time.

In this study, three specific Arabic words were analyzed in order to track their frequency and maintenance from the 1200s to the 1900s. Although many of the articles mentioned above include lists of hundreds of Arabic words, few are recognizable to a modern-day Spanish speaker. This study traces fulano, alfayate, and alberca, three words that demonstrate different frequencies and maintenance patterns. These differences inspired this study to look at possible explanations as to why many of these Arabic words are no longer used in modern-day Spanish and the effect that language contact has had throughout the centuries.

2. Data and Methodology The data primarily comes from Antonio Alatorre’s Los 1001 años de la lengua española (2002). The specific arabismos were chosen and then analyzed in the Mark Davies Corpus del Español and Davies’ A Frequency Dictionary of Spanish: Core Vocabulary for Learners (2006).

The Corpus del Español is a one hundred million-word corpus of Spanish from the 1200s to the 1900s. Until the 1900s, most of the tokens (instances of word us-

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The goal of this research was to find three words with different patterns of frequency: one whose frequency is presently obsolete, one whose frequency steadily decreases over time, and one whose frequency remains steady over the centuries highlighted in the Davies corpus. The words that were found to fit these frequency patterns are alfayate, fulano, and alberca, respectively.

Two tokens from each century are shown in this paper for each of these arabismos.

To enrich the understanding of this research, various anonymous individuals were consulted via Skype, text messages, and instant messaging on Facebook. Because the majority of the individuals were overseas, this was the easiest, fastest, and most viable method of contact.

Through these interviews, possible replacements or alternatives for less frequent arabismos were attained.

In the following sections, the results’ orthography has been maintained even if it does not follow the modern spelling norm.

3. Results 3.1. Fulano The frequency of fulano is highest in the 1200s and steadily decreases to reach its lowest point in the 1900s.

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It is important to state that the meaning of fulano as the English equivalent to “so-and-so” stays consistent through these centuries. In this study, all possible suffixes were looked at within the data to give results for fulan, fulano, fulana, fulanos, and fulanas. It is interesting that even though fulano’s pattern of usage decreases, every interviewed Spanish speaker recognized the word and associated it with a word equivalent to “so-and-so.”

“The frequency of fulano is highest in the 1200s and steadily decreases to reach its lowest point in the 1900s.”

It was therefore surprising that few said that this word would be their first choice to express “so-and-so.”

When asked to come up with a synonym that they would be more likely to use, some struggled to think of an alternative while others gave examples that possess slightly different connotations. Many participants said that their replacement choice would specifically depend on the situation, taking age, gender, and formality into account. Example synonyms are as follows: pepito, tipo, man, quienquiera, quien sea, él y este, ese vato, ese morro, guey, persona x, and hijo de la chingada or hijo de su puta.

It is probable that fulano’s usage declined because each passing century increased the distance from the contact point of when the Moors introduced this word into the Spanish vocabulary. It is also probable that fulano has become a common word in speech and less common in written form. There will be further discussion on this topic.

per million words at which fulano occurs in the Davies corpus. In the 1200s there are 344 tokens, making the frequency 51.22 uses per million words. Example 1 demonstrates the usage of fulano in the 1200s.

(1) Diziendol mando te que mates a fulan.

“I demand you kill so-and-so.”

(Siete partidas I, Alfonso X, 13th c., Davies 2002) The steepest decrease in usage begins in the 1400s where there are 114 tokens, making the frequency 18.01 uses per million words. Example 2 provides a contextualized example.

(2) Fulana lleuaua esto.

“So-and-so (she) wore this.”

(Corbacho, Alfonso Martínez de Toledo, 15th c., Davies 2002) The descent continues in the 1600s where there are 182 tokens to prove this usage, making the frequency 14.74 uses per million words. Example 3 shows another contextualized example of fulano. ( 3) ¿No es bueno que pasé por casa de fulano, y estaba a la ventana jugando y entreteniéndose con una dama?

“Can you believe that I passed by so-and-so’s house and he was in the window playing and entertaining himself with a woman?”

(El sagaz estacio, marido examinado, Alonso Jerónimo de Salas Barbadillo, 17th c., Davies 2002) The frequency of fulano decreases by nearly half in the 1800s. Figure 1 shows that out of the 192 tokens, there are 9.95 uses per million words. See example 4 below. ( 4) Y...que si fuiste tú, que si no fui yo, que si Fulano dijo esto, que si Mengano dijo lo otro…

“And if it was you, it wasn’t me and if so-and-so said this and so-and-so said that…”

(Narraciones populares, Antonio de Trueba, 19th c., Davies 2002)

Figure 1. Frequency of fulano from the 1200s to the 1900s (Davies 2002)

Figure 1 illustrates the decline in usage of fulano throughout the centuries. The horizontal axis shows the centuries and the vertical axis shows the frequency

The frequency remains constant in the 1900s with 227 tokens and 9.95 uses per million words. The following contextual example 5 demonstrates the usage of fulano.

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( 5) En vista de eso, yo le dije: “A ver, ¿cómo se llaman?”—Fulano de Tal. “In light of that, I said to him: ‘Let’s see, what were their names?’—So-and-so.”

(Habla culta: Santiago: M24, anon., 20th c., Davies 2002)

Figure 2. Categorized frequency of fulano in the 1900s (Davies 2002)

Figure 2 shows fulano’s frequency in the 1900s divided into four different categories: academic, news, fiction, and oral. It is apparent that the most uses of fulano in the twentieth century are used in oral speech and fiction. It is less frequently used in academic and news contexts.

in the 1400s, before the disappearance of alfayate. A probable explanation for the disappearance of alfayate and the increase in usage of sastre could be attributed to the fact that the Catholic monarchy conquered the last Moorish community of Granada in 1492, bring-

“It is apparent that most uses of fulano in the twentieth century are used in oral speech and fiction.” ing with them their Latin linguistic influence, which included the term sastre. In turn, it is possible that Spaniards began using sastre instead of alfayate upon the demise of the Moorish community.

3.2. Alfayate The frequency of alfayate rapidly decreases between the thirteenth and twentieth centuries, becomes obsolete in the fifteenth century, and then reappears with infrequent usage in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In Arabic, al is an article, such as el or la in Spanish. Fayate means “tailor” in English and fayata means “seamstress” (www.rae.es). Several individuals from different Latin American countries were interviewed and asked about their knowledge of alfayate, but none of the participants recognized the word. In the interviews, participants were asked what Spanish word they would use as the equivalent of “seamstress” or “tailor” in English. The word they supplied was sastre. The frequency of sastre was then researched in the Davies corpus, and it was found that sastre is first used in the 1400s and its frequency increases until the 1800s, when it slightly decreases. In the 1900s, its usage drastically decreases. This is interesting because alfayate is almost obsolete in the 1900s and sastre’s usage is minimal. This pattern could be attributed to the fact that within this time period people had started buying their clothes in stores instead of making their own or going to a tailor shop to have their clothes made. In order to explain these frequency changes, it is necessary to take these historical and linguistic trends into account.

It is important to note that the use of sastre begins

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Figure 3. Frequency of alfayate from the 1200s to the 1900s (Davies 2002)

Figure 3 illustrates the use of alfayate between the thirteenth and twentieth centuries. Again, the horizontal axis shows the centuries and the vertical axis shows the frequency per million words at which alfayate occurs in the Davies corpus. In the 1200s there are thirteen tokens, making the frequency 1.94 uses per million words. Example 6 demonstrates the usage of alfayate in the 1200s. ( 6) …o auiendo dado a alfayate paño de que le fiziesse manto.

“Or having given the tailor cloth from which he could make him a cloak.”

(Siete partidas, Alfonso X, 13th c., Davies 2002) The steepest decrease in usage begins in the 1400s where there are six tokens, making the frequency 0.74 uses per million words. Example 7 demonstrates the usage of alfayate in the 1400s.

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( 7) Las Reynas doña ysabel & doña beatriz Reyna de portogal eran en vn lugar de portogal que dizen alfayates fizieron sus bodas.

“Queens Doña Isabel & Doña Beatriz of Portugal were in a place in Portugal where it is said that the tailors made their wedding dresses.”

(Atalaya de las crónicas, Alfonso Martínez de Toledo, 15th c., Davies 2002) The descent continues to zero in the 1600s, but alfayate appears again in the 1800s with five tokens and a frequency of 0.26 uses per million words. See example 8 below. ( 8) El alfayate de las encrucijadas cosía de balde y ponía el hilo.

“The tailor at the crossroads sewed for free and threaded the needle.”

(José María Sbarbi y Osuna, 19th c., Davies 2002) The frequency decreases once again to one token and a frequency of 0.04 uses per million words in the 1900s. The following contextual example 9 demonstrates the usage of alfayate in the twentieth century.

In this example, it is assumed that alfayate would not be understood because there is a reference to the fact that alfayate means sastre. This example is taken from an academic article in an encyclopedia. ( 9) Aprendieron a contar y medir con ceros, quilates, quintales, fanegas y arrobas; aprendieron de sus alfayates (hoy sastres)…

“They learned to count and measure with zeros, karats, one hundred pounds, bushels, and other measurements; they learned from their tailors…”

(Enc: Lengua Española, http://es.encarta.msn.com/artcenter/browse.html, 20th c., Davies 2002) 3.3. Alberca Alberca was originally chosen because it is infrequently used in present-day Spanish, except in Mexico.

According to the Real Academia Española, al birka means “the lake” in Arabic and has come to be the word for “swimming pool,” primarily in Mexico (www.rae. es). At the beginning of this study, it seemed obvious that piscina would be the competing term; however,

the results were surprising and showed that both terms have been used consistently throughout time with only one exception: piscina has a much higher frequency in the 1900s.

Piscina’s frequency was expected to increase after the 1400s as alberca’s usage was expected to decrease upon approaching the 1900s. This was contradictory to the original hypothesis for this paper being that when the Christian monarchy reconquered the remaining territories of Andalusia in the late 1400s, they brought with them piscina. Piscina is the word for “swimming pool,” derived from the Latin word piscis, which means “fishpond” (www.rae.es). Since the frequency results show a consistent use of both words, this led to a new hypothesis. As Christianity conquered the Roman Empire and in turn influenced the Latin language, piscina became the word for a baptismal font situated near the church’s altar (www.rae.es). By the time Christopher Columbus and his crew crossed over into Hispaniola in the late fifteenth century and Hernán Cortés conquered New Spain (present-day Mexico) in the early sixteenth century, it is not likely that the new word for “pool,” piscina, had linguistically influenced their vocabulary, as the Reconquest of Spain had only recently been completed. The conquistadors brought many arabismos with them—the second most influential category being architecture and urbanisms—which included the word alberca (Marcos Maíllo 2003). Before Cortés, there were colonies but no conquered communities. In 1521, Cortés conquered Tenochtitlán and was appointed the first colonial ruler of a conquered territory in the New World (Kessler Associates 1999-2001). Tenochtitlán later became Mexico City, which remained isolated from other colonies for many years. It is possible that alberca has been maintained in Mexico because of these reasons.

As travel became more frequent between Spain and the New World after the conquest and colonization of Tenochtitlán, many new territories that were conquered within the New World possibly began using piscina. One explanation for this is that these territories were the first to be colonized by conquistadors that were primarily from Andalusia and southern Spanish territories that were heavily influenced by the Moors and the Arabic language. As other parts of the New World were colonized, the crews consisted of Spaniards from a range of territories that could have introduced

Best Student Essays

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piscina. These are plausible explanations. However, it is uncertain as to why alberca is still so commonly used in Mexico.

Figure 4. Frequency of alberca from the 1200s to the 1900s (Davies 2002)

The frequency per million words that alberca occurs in the Davies corpus is displayed in Figure 4 above. In the 1200s there are four tokens, making the frequency 0.6 uses per million words. Example 10 demonstrates the usage of alberca in the 1200s. ( 10) Fuente o alberca seyendo enla casa o enel heredamiento que es vendido el pescado que y se criase.

“Fountain or pool, being in the house or in the estate, where fish are sold and raised.”

(Siete partidas, Alfonso X, 13th c., Davies 2002) The steepest increase in usage begins in the 1400s where there are eighteen tokens, making the frequency 2.21 uses per million words. Example 11 demonstrates the usage in the 1400s. ( 11) Piscina. es balsa que esta llena de pexes o alberca en quelos hay.

“Pool. A pond that is full of fish or a pool in which there are.”

(Universal vocabulario de latín en romance, Alfonso de Palencia, 15th c., Davies 2002) The frequency descends again in the 1600s where there are nine tokens, making the frequency 0.73 uses per million words. Example 12 shows another contextualized usage of alberca. ( 12) Pues si el hombre tiene sed, decid que hay fuente o alberca, ni aun charco en que se remoje.

“Well, if the man is thirsty, say that there is a fountain or pool, in other words, a pool in which he can soak himself.”

(Autos Sacramentales, Tirso de Molina, 17th c., Davies 2002) The frequency of alberca doubles from the 1600s to

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the 1800s. Figure 4 shows that there are thirty-four tokens and 1.76 uses per million words. See example 13 below. ( 13) En la hermosa alberca, nadan pececitos colorados y amarillos.

“In the beautiful pool, little colored and yellow fish swim.”

(Una en otra: novela de costumbres, Fernán Caballero, 19th c., Davies 2002) The frequency increases once again to forty-four tokens and 1.93 uses per million words in the 1900s.

Example 14 demonstrates the usage of alberca in the twentieth century. ( 14) Dos veces por semana lavaba la muda completa en la alberca.

“Twice a week, she completely washed the mute woman in the pool.”

(Casa de campo, José Donoso, 20th c., Davies 2002)

“As other parts of the New World were colonized, the crews consisted of Spaniards from a range of territories that could have introduced piscina.”

Figure 5 shows alberca’s frequency in the 1900s again, divided into the four century-specific categories: academic, news, fiction, and oral. It is apparent that the most uses of alberca are in fiction. It is less frequently used in academic, news, and oral contexts.

Figure 5. Categorized frequency of alberca in the 1900s (Davies 2002)

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4. Conclusion Contrary to its hypothesis, this study has found that generalizations cannot be made regarding the frequency and maintenance of arabismos in present-day Spanish. Multiple patterns have been found, and this difference in pattern frequency has led to several plausible explanations. However, it is difficult to come to absolute conclusions due to the small amount of existing research in the field and the historical and linguistic ambiguities. At the same time, social movements and cultural upheavals must be taken into account. The research done for this paper has generated many interesting questions that can be used as future research topics; for example, why alberca has only been preserved in Mexico while piscina is popular in the vast majority of the Spanish-speaking world. The study of language contact in medieval Spain may prompt future discussion of language contact in the present-day southwestern United States and the possible influence that English will have over time as part of the Spanish language. It will be interesting to investigate whether or not americanismos will be maintained over time just as some arabismos have been.

ments.” American Colonies. 5 October 2008. Kessler Associates. Accessed 8 March 2012. <http://www. historyfiles.co.uk/KingListsAmericas/CentralMexico. htm> Marcos Maíllo, Ana. “Los arabismos más utilizados por los conquistadores de Nueva España en el siglo XVI.” Res Diachronicae. 2nd ed. 230-37.

Menéndez Pidal, Ramón. Orígenes del español: estado lingüístico de la península ibérica hasta el siglo XI. 3rd ed.

Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1950. Obras De R. Menéndez Pidal.

Penny, Ralph. A History of the Spanish Language.

2nd ed. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2002.

Tejero Robledo, E. “Arabismos en la lengua castellana: pretexto para el reencuentro magrebí.” Didáctica.

Lengua y Literatura 8 (1996): 295.

“Real Academia Española.” Real Academia Española.

Accessed 8 December 2011. <http://www.rae.es/rae/ gestores/gespub000024.nsf/voTodosporId/6E59FDB1 14402BCCC125715400352D68?OpenDocument>

Data Resources Davies, Mark. “Corpus Del Español.” Corpus del Español. Brigham Young University, 2002. Accessed 8 November 2011. <http://www.corpusdelespanol. org/>.

Davies, Mark. A Frequency Dictionary of Spanish: Core Vocabulary for Learners. New York: Routledge, 2006.

References Alatorre, Antonio. Los 1001 años de la lengua española. 3rd ed. México: Fondo De Cultura Económica, 2002.

Casado, Velarde Manuel. Lengua y discurso: estudios dedicados al profesor Vidal Lamíquiz. Madrid: Arco/Libros, 2000.

Gogazeh, Ziyad. “Los falsos amigos en el léxico español de origen árabe.” Philologia Hispalensis 21 (2007): 75-96.

“The Americas: Central American Colonial Settle-

Best Student Essays

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Freedom

________________________________________________________________________________________

Justin Guthrie

Cover Artist Statement â&#x20AC;&#x153;Freedomâ&#x20AC;? came to be because my friend and I were collaborating on a project dealing with race. Since I am sort of a cowboy, I dressed up like a cowboy and my friend filmed me for a video portrait. In turn, he posed for this photo, which I believe shows him as very empowered and confident in himself, his freedom, and his race. I chose the title because the image actually gives me a sense of freedom.

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Volume 24, Number 1, Spring 2012

B est Student Essays Submission Guidelines ________________________________________________________________________________________ Best Student Essays now accepts electronic submissions only.

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Deadline for publication in the Fall 2012 issue: October 5 Guidelines All submissions, excluding submissions for cover art consideration only, must be accompanied by a faculty nomination. Nomination forms must be filled out and emailed to bse@unm.edu by the nominating faculty member or instructor. Submissions without faculty nominations will not be considered for publication. Submission forms are available on our website. Each student is limited to two submissions. Essays longer than 10-12 pages may be edited to accommodate space limitations. Upload your electronic submission and submission form to beststudentessays. submishmash.com/submit. All documents must be .doc, .docx, .rtf, or .pdf format.

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Final Word ________________________________________________________________________ Sarah Parro

About Best Student Essays Best Student Essays is a student-produced magazine that publishes nonfiction writing by undergraduate and graduate students at the University of New Mexico. The magazine was established over twenty years ago when Paul Bleicher, a graduate student on the Student Publications Board, proposed the idea. Bleicher felt that while outlets existed at UNM for journalistic and creative writing, there was no venue to recognize high-quality, nonfiction academic writing.

The first issue of Best Student Essays was published in the spring of 1989. Since then, BSE has published biannually: one issue every fall and spring semester.

Best Student Essays is the only campus-wide publication that highlights the nonfiction work being produced by our students. In recent years, BSE has included photo essays as explorations in nonfiction that are perhaps less conventional yet equally deserving of recognition. There is also often a cash award granted to the “Best Essay” submitted, adding even more prestige to the merits of publication.

The BSE staff is entirely composed of students, and in order to aid their evaluation of essays submitted, all submissions to BSE must be nominated by a UNM faculty member. The magazine accepts nonfiction work produced for UNM courses, work produced at other institutions, and students’ personal work. BSE publishes all genres of nonfiction, including academic essays, scientific writing, foreign language with English translation, research papers, memoirs, and photo essays. The cover art is also solicited from UNM students, making every aspect of the magazine entirely student based and student produced.

Now in its twenty-third year, BSE continues to present high-quality writing within a high-quality medium: a welldesigned and carefully compiled professional magazine. Here’s to many more decades of celebrating student work.

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