Kenyon Observer the
November 21, 2013
BRIC by BRIC, Dollar by Dollar Ryan Baker|page 8
Cover Art by Brianne Presley
Kenyon’s Oldest Undergraduate Political and Cultural Magazine www.kenyonobserver.com
Kenyon Observer the
November 21, 2013
The Kenyon Observer November 21, 2013
5 8
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From the Editors Cover Story Ryan Baker BRIC by BRIC, Dollar
by
Dollar
Jonah Allon Administration v. Students
10 Sarah Kahwash
The Carnivore’s Dilemma
Editors-in-Chief Jon Green, Sarah Kahwash and Gabriel Rom Featured Contributors Ryan Baker, Jonah Allon, Sarah Kahwash, Jon Green, Sam Whipple and Ryan Mach Layout Editor John Foley
Green 12 JDon on’t Call Me Super
Art Directors Peter Falls Ethan Primason
14 Sam Whipple
Inauguration 2013: Battle of the Balls
15 Ryan Mach
Running A Mach
in India
Faculty Advisor Professor Fred Baumann The Kenyon Observer is a student-run publication that is distributed biweekly on the campus of Kenyon College. The opinions expressed within this publication belong only to the writers and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Observer staff or that of Kenyon College. The Kenyon Observer will accept submissions and letters-tothe-editor, but reserves the right to edit for length and clarity. All submissions must be received at least a week prior to publication. Submit to tko@kenyon.edu
Cover Art by Brianne Presley
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FROM THE EDITORS
Dear Prospective Reader, As we prepare to head home for Thanksgiving break, we present to our readers a new and eclectic issue of the Kenyon Observer, with content that aims to tackle issues at home, on campus and abroad. In our cover story for this issue, Ryan Baker discusses prospects and issues surrounding emerging market economies, namely Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa (BRICS). Also in this issue, guest contributor Jonah Allon argues for Kenyon’s administration to seek more student input in its decisionmaking process, Sarah Kahwash outlines the moral and logical justifications for vegetarianism, Jon Green reflects on life as a fifth-year senior, Sam Whipple compares the inaugural ceremonies of Sean Decatur to those of Barack Obama and Ryan Mach satirizes his recent trip to India. We invite our readers to consider the topics discussed and the views expressed here, and to use that knowledge to form their own opinions on the matters they find most important. It is our hope that our contributors’ words will provoke debate among students, professors and community members alike. As always, we welcome letters and full-length submissions, both in response to content and on other topics of interest. Jon Green, Sarah Kahwash and Gabriel Rom Editors-in-Chief, the Kenyon Observer
6 JONAH ALLON
Administration v. Students
Bridging the Gap in Communication Kenyon is frantically scrambling toward the future— upping its virtual presence, placing a heavier emphasis on the natural sciences and constantly expanding its reach and reputation past the traditional pockets of liberal arts admissions. The breakneck pace of change at this school is exciting and encouraging, to be sure. Even over the course of our short time here, we will bear witness to the development of a new, more robust college that can more adequately confront the existential threat posed to the liberal arts education in the 21st century. But the recent slew of administrative changes and the way in which they have been decided have also exposed the full extent to which student voices have been increasingly marginalized in these determinations of Kenyon’s future. Such an exclusion is not only unacceptable, but detrimental to our conception of community and to the future that we are trying to shape for Kenyon. Our right to dissent—fundamental to the advancement of our common goals here— ought to be accorded the utmost respect. Students might wonder, what concern should we have for administrative affairs? We shiver at the mere mention of “administration,” a word that evokes bureaucratic coldness. To us, it represents the antithesis of our liberal arts studenthood in its ruthless, unphilosophical approach to college governance. Kenyon is particularly susceptible to this kind of derision from its student body, given its current precarious position. Our financial circumstances dictate that we find ways to cut back and conserve where we can, but the changing landscape of liberal arts admissions demands that we keep pace with the progress of peer institutions in order to remain competitive. Students have been content to construe this struggle to balance as an abdication of the college’s values, and the condemnations hurled at Kenyon as “business first, college second” have intensified accordingly. This inclination toward hyperbole is nothing more than a manifestation of our frustration with a college that has
rendered us, essentially, voiceless. To ameliorate this kind of widespread anger, we must be presented with alternative avenues of rational expression. We must be invited to participate in the conversation. The Sodexo controversy was instrumental in catalyzing the shift in student consciousness. In June 2012, the administration announced their decision to outsource all maintenance work to Sodexo, a multinational corporation that provides various services. No members of the community had been informed beforehand that such a radical proposal was even on the table, let alone close to execution. To our credit, we channeled our outrage into productive avenues of discussion and even activism, pushing back with vigor against the will of the administration to purge Kenyon of its current maintenance staff and usher in a corporation to replace them. Eventually, our side won out, but the victory did not bring an entirely comforting sense of closure to the matter. Instead, it left us with many new and discomfiting revelations. Most notably, it brought into sharp focus the communication gap between administration and students. In the wake of that campus-wide moment of clarity, that gap seems to be widening. Does every battle have to be as hard-fought as Sodexo? Should it require a tremendous exertion of collective effort just to make our voices heard to a body that is ostensibly entrusted with our welfare as students (and future alumni) in the first place? Not all administrative maneuvers have the same kind of sweeping narrative as Sodexo. Not all can incite the same degree of Socratic spiritedness. Take, for example, the change to the off-campus study financial policy at the beginning of last year. Though the public discussion was relatively muted in the immediate aftermath, students still regard the policy with a skepticism that was clearly on display at the Class of 2016’s most recent OCS meeting. Admittedly, there are tangible benefits to the new payment model, which requires that all students
“Sodexo brought into sharp focus the communication gap between administration and students. Does every battle have to be as hardfought?”
“Governments never learn. Only people learn.”— Milton Friedman
7 pay full Kenyon tuition for their semester or year abroad, as opposed to paying for two fees separately: a “retainer fee,” or a small deposit to stay enrolled at the college, and the cost of the abroad program. It increases access to programs not previously available to students on financial aid, which was indeed one of the chief motivations behind the update to the policy. But it also introduces a new burden on those not comfortably above the financial aid threshold for whom the prospect of a discount for one semester was an influential factor in whether or not to study abroad. In more recent memory, the controversial move by the Office of Admissions to strike the supplemental essay from the Kenyon application was met with uproar from students and alumni alike. The essay prompts, as editorials lamented posthumously, had been a beacon of critical engagement in an otherwise monotonous sea of identical supplements. It had distinguished Kenyon as a school that dared to ask for a higher degree of reflective introspection from their applicants, and in doing so, it had attracted a particular caliber of writer and thinker and deterred those who were not willing to engage in this sort of intellectual heavy-lifting. For their part, Admissions justified their decision (albeit quietly) with the assertion that the supplemental essay has historically deterred many eligible applicants, a perspective that proves compelling if statistics over the coming years affirm its veracity. But the public eulogizing for the old supplement amounted to nothing more than a symbolic assertion of our democratic right to dissent. The door to meaningful discussion had long since closed, and we found ourselves yet again having to confront a familiar exasperation. I am not, in either of these examples, expressing a preference of outcome so much as I am objecting to the process by which we arrive at it. The opposing perspectives that I present here are micro-models for the conversations between students and administrators I would have liked to see during the decision-making process, not afterward. I could expound at length on my own opinions on each of
these issues, and I am not alone in that regard. But when my fellow students’ and my opinions counted most, there was no forum to accommodate our voices, no eager solicitations of our input, no healthy debates to entertain. Administrators might counter this assertion by claiming that the validity of our input is inherently limited by our status as students—we simply occupy a separate sphere from administrators, and necessarily so. I don’t contest this. What I do take issue with is the assumption that this renders our opinions somehow invalid, or less valid than those of administrators, who are able by virtue of their position to take a more comprehensive view of whatever issue is before them. Even this perspective is limited, because it favors broadness at the expense of individual complexity and nuance—that is, a gap that can only be supplemented by student perspectives. Fair and just governance requires a balance of these two—the empathic connections fostered by the telling of individual narratives counterbalanced by the rational remove of a macro view. Again, I have no delusions—nor any ambitions—of wresting the ultimate decision-making power away from administrators. But I would like to reframe and redefine that power more in terms of a fluid symbiotic exchange instead of independent unilateral action. My prescription to remedy this malaise before it becomes a full-fledged illness is to actively facilitate the conversation in as many venues as we can. We need to hold referenda that gauge student support for a proposed change to campus policy while that change is still on the table (and by that I mean traditional, ballot-and-box type procedures, not lackluster, low-turnout SurveyMonkeys). We need to host panel discussions where students, faculty, administrators and alumni can express their respective viewpoints. We need to incorporate these topics into classroom discussions and treat them with the same gravity and sense of purpose as the more distant academic issues we examine. And perhaps more concretely, we ought to consider adding a permanent student representative to the Board of Trustees to voice our concerns and dissatisfactions. Of course, whether or not we engage with these issues is completely up to us. But we deserve the dignity of choosing. TKO
“When my fellow students’ and my opinions counted most, there was no forum to accommodate our voices, no eager solicitations of our input, no healthy debates to entertain.”
“I’d rather live with a good question than a bad answer.”— Aryeh Frimer
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RYAN BAKER
BRIC by BRIC, Dollar by Dollar
Problems and Precariousness in Emerging Markets Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa—the rapidly growing economies collectively known as the BRICS —have been a topic of both controversy and hope in the developed world for the past decade. Globalization has acted as an impetus for many of the world’s emerging markets, produced a massive spur in growth in previously underdeveloped countries, and increased the quality of life for their citizens exponentially in very little time. But these gains did not come without their complications, having been built upon an intricate, complex global economy that is difficult to understand. The result has been volatile booms and busts that often depend on the greater global powers they cater to. Even as the largest of the emerging markets, the BRICS countries are seriously vulnerable to currency swings and fiscal policy abroad. This has produced an atmosphere within the BRICS of contradicting cooperation and competition: competition between them for market share in the developed world, and cooperation in seeking new ways to protect themselves from the economic f lares of their developed counterparts. The United States dollar is partially to blame for the financial woes of developing world. The dollar acts as a standalone standard for most emerging markets, a baseline against which other currencies are measured. As such, swings in the valuation of the dollar, such as a massive global recession and uncertain U.S. Federal Reserve policy goals, can send the currency of these foreign states plummeting or soaring on an intraday basis. In the years following the recent 2007 recession, emerging markets became one of the most attractive investment opportunities worldwide. Funds that held portfolios designed to mimic the growth seen in these countries soared in value, partially because of the decline of the U.S. dollar over this period. A cheapening dollar increased the strength of emerging market currencies as well as their purchasing power in developed markets.
Take the MSCI Singapore Exchange-Traded Fund, for example, which goes by the ticker (or abbreviation) “EWS”. The EWS functions as an index for top-performing companies in the country and therefore measures roughly how well the economy of Singapore is doing. According to the investment management firm BlackRock, the EWS had a return of roughly 72 percent in 2009. That’s high. The huge potential for growth in these countries contributes to a lower price and increased volatility for similar funds. Toward the beginning of last summer, many of these funds tanked in value in re-
“Even the largest of the emerging markets, the BRICS countries are seriously vulnerable to currency swings and fiscal policy abroad.” sponse to the rumors and speculation surrounding the Fed’s policies and quantitative easing. Investors rapidly exited their positions in these markets and sent them into a tailspin of devaluation. Unfortunately, unlike most price changes, such devaluation is not necessarily linked to the economic health of these countries or damaging changes to their infrastructure. BRICS countries have recognized this vulnerability, and have taken steps to improve their situation as the leaders of emerging market economies. The fifth annual BRICS Summit took place last March in Durban, South Africa. These summits originally began in re-
“Some people like my advice so much that they frame it upon the wall instead of using it.” — Gordon R. Dickson
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sponse to the global financial crisis, and the recognition that BRICS countries needed more agency if they were to realize their goals of climbing the global economic ladder. Because the terms of trade are typically fixed for smaller and developing countries, pigeon-holing them into being “price-takers” without much sway, their best bet is to reform from within. This year, the highlight of the discussion between the five heads of state was the creation of BRICS-exclusive development bank, designed to help improve infrastructure and unemployment in these states. Many shrewdly observed this as a necessary play to break their dependence on institutions such as the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF). While this is certainly a step in the right direction, more effective and accurate suggestions came from the 2012 Summit, at which the BRICS signed a Multilateral Letter of Credit Confirmation Facility Agreement, removing the U.S. dollar as the primary reference of credit between the BRICS and allowing for investors from any of these states to invest in each other without taking on currency risk. This kind of policy is going to be the most effective for growth in these countries in the short term: that which promotes intra-BRICS trade, without placing restrictions on international and developed trade.
“The woes of BRICS economies, however, are not going to be eliminated simply by relying on each other: allies in finance are not necessarily political allies as well.” The woes of BRICS economies, however, are not going to be eliminated simply by relying on each other. For one thing, the countries involved tend to be allies in finance alone; there are numerous geopolitical issues intermingled between them, which threaten the security of their organized efforts. In addition, their problems stem not from inactivity with regards to trade, but instead from an unhealthy and unavoidable dependence on the markets of other developed countries.
“Changes in the system should therefore be aimed at attracting more skilled workers and developed markets, rather than simply increasing production.” This kind of problem is not one that can be solved quickly, but there are alternative long-term solutions that are not being as focused on by the BRICS. For one, their dependence on developed markets is perpetuated by their specialization on labor-heavy manufacturing markets. The low labor standards allowed by many of these countries prevents them from riding as close to the cutting edge as developed markets. The pattern of emerging markets specializations has been coined as the “race to the bottom”—whoever experiences the best production and growth got there by setting the lowest labor standards for their employees. Unfortunately, this could lock these countries into a vicious cycle of dependency and poor quality of life. Changes in the system should therefore be aimed at attracting more skilled workers and developed markets, rather than simply increasing production. If they continue to allow their focus on economic growth and production at the expense of internal development, then the process of weaning off the dollar will take far longer—and produce far more pain. TKO Advertisement
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“Every nation ridicules other nations, and all are right.” — Arthur Schopenhauer
10 SARAH KAHWASH
The Carnivore’s Dilemma:
A Hypocrite’s Case for Vegetarianism I was three feet tall and four years old when I learned to push my booster chair to where I could climb onto it and pull myself onto the kitchen counter. I would then grab a spoon and scoop heaps of pure, white, refined sugar into my mouth until I got caught or started choking. My parents certainly weren’t happy about that habit, but as experienced pediatricians, they understood the inclination and were generally unconcerned about what my love of sugar meant for my physical health. They were much more concerned about a stranger use of my newfound climbing skill: to reach the fridge and fill cups of crushed ice to chew, despite its threats to my dental health and acceptance in society. At a regular frequency, the tendency to crave and chew ice indicates iron-deficiency anemia. In response, my parents made sure my diet included plenty of ironrich foods, including red meat, seafood, turkey, eggs and other animal products. I developed an early proclivity for such foods and never questioned it until November 2012, when I was assigned a brief essay that prompted me to justify the morality of my meat-eating or lack thereof. I was stuck. There are countless arguments against meat consumption that have little to do with the animals affected—those that focus on the inefficiency of its energy use, the harm it inflicts on the environment, the opportunity costs of using grain to feed animals as opposed to feed the hungry, and the list goes on. Then there are the arguments against meat consumption that involve its direct effect on animals. Peter Singer is one of the most frequently cited critics of the killing and eating of animals, and he organizes the arguments in two categories. The first is against the suffering of animals—in short, the perspective that the problem with killing animals is the way in which we do it and the pain it causes. In other words, if we found a way to give the animals we eventually eat happy and free lives and then to make their deaths painless, our meat consumption would be justified. The second argument takes a more definitive
stance—that the ending of an animal’s life is immoral, regardless of how it is done. That’s the hardest to fight, and I have yet to hear an argument that justifies the killing of another animal for an unnecessary benefit. To illustrate, here are some of the most common arguments I have met and why each fails to meet its objective. 1. “Eating meat is natural.” This is unconvincing for several reasons. First, what is natural is loosely defined and often subjectively determined. Prior to the development of modern medicine, it was “natural” to live until 35. Second, whatever may be natural is not necessarily what is good or right. Some animals eat their young— maybe natural, but hardly what we would consider fair or just. On a more serious note, this argument usually refers to the evolutionary history of the human species and our adoption of meat consumption as a means of survival. Once upon a very long time ago, our food supply was limited and inconsistent enough that we needed to hunt animals and eat their meat to survive. That fact may remain for select populations worldwide, but it is certainly not true for the majority of the developed world. 2. “Humans are at the top of the food chain. We are the smartest and most self-aware species, and that makes us entitled to eat meat.” In response to this assertion, Singer compared a supposedly unintelligent animal with an orphaned human baby in a vegetative state who has no chance of ever developing intelligence or self-awareness. Many people would agree on the immorality of killing a human baby to eat it but would try to justify doing the same to a pig or a cow, even though none of the above is self-aware or relatively intelligent. 3. “We need the protein.” This argument has virtually no sway, as evidenced by the fact that there are plenty of vegetarians and vegans thriving. Of course, there are exceptions, but most people in the U.S. and on this campus can have a perfectly healthy diet without meat. 4. “Animals’ lives depend on our consumption of meat; they wouldn’t live if we didn’t breed them.” I agree
“Grub first, then ethics.”— Bertolt Brecht
11 with that theory, but it doesn’t justify anything. Creating life just to take it away makes very little sense. 5. “Animals can’t feel pain.” Anyone who has owned a dog or spent time on a farm knows this is not true. Even in borderline cases where our observations of pain are difficult, as with earthworms and lobsters, the results are at best inconclusive and at worst indicative of no more reason to doubt pain in these animals than others that emote in more obvious ways. 6. “Plants are living, too, so choosing what to kill is arbitrary.” This is true, but my argument against the consumption of meat rests on the assumption that eating it is unnecessary. We have to eat something, and as far as we know, plants are not conscious in the same way animals are. As extreme as it may sound, it’s difficult not to be a hypocrite to some degree. Some vegans say they draw the line at fruit—the pesticides used to allow that fruit to grow and be sold, even in local markets, means that they are supporting markets that kill insects. Another example is the market for dairy products; Singer mentions that even the production of chicken eggs, which do not fit the definition of meat, involves animal suffering and killing. Baby chicks that later become laying hens are frequently debeaked without anesthetics, for example, and their baby brothers are either ground alive and used to feed their own sisters or stuffed into a trash bag alive to die of suffocation. 7. “Why bother not eating meat if one person alone can’t change the market?” This hardly qualifies as an argument against vegetarianism, but I hear it often nonetheless. It’s important to clarify that the reason for refraining from meat consumption is not to influence the economic demand for meat. Demand may change when enough people change their consumption habits, but regardless, one person or thousands of people’s influence on the market for meat is irrelevant to morality, in the same way that murder is immoral even though one person’s refusal to murder has virtually no influence on the number of murders committed worldwide. Don’t misunderstand me. In November 2012, I thought meat tasted delicious. I would have loved to hear a good argument for why I should be able to eat
meat. To have flexible eating preferences is much more convenient in terms of time, money, effort, and sociability, and on top of that, meat can be delicious. But I was convinced that eating meat was immoral. So in November 2012, I stopped eating meat. I replaced much of my dairy products with soy milk and cheese, and became more conscious of hidden non-vegetarian ingredients like gelatin and rennet—calf ’s stomach often found in many cheeses. That worked well, for a while. But over the next 12 months, and despite my commitment to a balanced diet, regular sleep and exercise, and vitamin supplements, I experienced a substantial decrease in energy and focus. My anemia returned and took its toll on my ability to function dayto-day. I could not make it through the day without napping for two to four hours. I was unable to concentrate, I was sick all the time, I was unusually irritable, and I was not the only one who noticed. So at the start of this November, having tried several alternatives, I slowly began reincorporating meat into my diet. This time, the challenge had reversed—meat was no longer appealing, but I felt that I was otherwise compromising the quality of my work and interactions with friends and mentors. But none of those factors, and probably not even all of them collectively, ethically justify my reinstated carnivorous diet. I oscillate between the two lifestyles, often openly criticizing my own and others’ eating habits, and sometimes renouncing meat all over again. As such, I admittedly and ashamedly consider myself a hypocrite. Nevertheless, and though it is not fun to contemplate, I am glad to be aware of the seemingly impenetrable immorality of eating meat. Many of us never question our dietary habits, especially those that are otherwise nutritious, convenient, and pleasing to the senses. Challenging standard practice is unpopular, but worthwhile. I have not found a solution to my dilemma, but I have become a strong believer in reconsidering convention and thinking carefully about the consequences of our dietary choices, as well as of our actions more generally. TKO
“The argument against killing—that ending an animal’s life is immoral regardless of how it’s done—is the most difficult to refute.”
“If slaughterhouses had glass walls, the whole world would be vegetarian.” — Linda McCartney
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JON GREEN
Don’t Call Me Super
The Mid-Semester Crisis of a Fifth-Year Senior Late October and early November mark the point in the year at which recent alumni make their triumphant returns to the Hill, regaling us with tales of adulthood. The Class of 2013’s recent descent on Gambier has been marked by varying degrees of grace, awkwardness and collegiality—eerily similar to when we returned to our high schools during the Thanksgiving and winter breaks of freshman year to show old teachers and classmates how much we’d grown up.
“Friend groups formed in the McBride breezeway or Gund common room have since moved on—if they’re lucky, occasionally reuniting in New York or Washington.” As a fifth-year senior who came to Kenyon at the same time as the recent returnees, their arrival has been a welcome one. From celebrating and reenacting drunken escapades to hearing stories of apartments rented and jobs (almost) acquired, the past few weekends have provided a refreshing change of pace from my forced assimilation into a graduating class that I, by definition, struggle to identify with. It’s been fun, but it’s left me with a burning question: what the fuck am I still doing here? There are a number of fifth-year seniors here at Kenyon, and we have different reasons for exiting with a different graduating class than the one we entered with. Some of us got sick, some
smoked too much weed, some questioned whether college was really for us. Personally, I withdrew from Kenyon— not once, but twice—to work on political campaigns, effectively carving out a modified and non-consecutive gap year. Whatever our reasons, we have all done Kenyon our own way. And regardless of our reasons, our indirect route through Kenyon has come with some degree of social cost. Friend groups formed in the McBride breezeway or Gund common room have since moved on—if they’re lucky, occasionally reuniting in New York or Washington. With no clearly-defined social group, and having spent enough time away from the Hill to return with some degree of irony and reflectivity, a common refrain I’ve heard among fifth-year seniors is that this semester is akin to “watching a whole bunch of other people go to college.” This detachment is unsettling. Kenyon prides itself on being a tight-knit community, and the dissociation I feel from my classmates seems unnatural, as well it should. Senior year is supposed to be for walking into a Taft unannounced just to say hi, or walking into Peirce knowing who you’ll sit with. For me, the people who made that social dynamic possible have graduated. While I am by no means alone, and I am certainly having a good time, this year is shaping up to be something far removed from the last hurrah that has already passed. In forgoing the opportunity to enter the job market or graduate early, I have delayed entry into the adult world, but at the same time, I certainly don’t feel like a kid anymore. Suffice it to say that the term “super senior” is a misnomer: my real senior year was last year, and by no means do I feel super about that. So what’s left for this un-senior? To reiterate, what the fuck am I still doing here?
“There’s a time and place for everything, and it’s called college.” — Chef (South Park)
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Well, first off, I’m doing everything that I’ve been telling myself to do, unsuccessfully, for the last four and a half years. I’m doing all of the reading for all of my classes, I’m getting up early and I’m taking trips off campus— even going home for a weekend or two.
“Beer and circus is everywhere. The point is that Kenyon can be taken advantage of in ways that are impossible elsewhere.” More importantly, though, there is something to be said for taking a year to “watch a whole bunch of other people go to college.” In doing so, I’ve come to appreciate Kenyon for the place it is, rather than the time it is. Yes, friends (and flings and loves) are amazing and irreplaceable, and your time at Kenyon may be the proverbial “best four years of your life” that college is supposed to be, but that isn’t the point. Beer and circus, as American Studies Professor Murray Sperber describes it, is everywhere (and there’s a lot more beer and circus in Columbus than there is at the Cove). The point is that Kenyon can be taken advantage of in ways that are impossible elsewhere. First, it’s easier to do Kenyon your own way than at nearly every other college. The first time I withdrew, I didn’t know I was going to do so until four weeks before the semester was set to begin. Instead of a bureaucratic nightmare of forms and red tape, which would have been impossible at the time, withdrawing took nothing more than a one-sentence email to Dean Toutain. Re-entering took two sentences. The second time I withdrew, I knew a little bit further in advance, and as it turns out, there’s a one-page form you can fill out that takes care of both withdrawal from and re-entry to the College. One of my closest friends and co-workers on the Obama campaign, currently a junior at the University of Virginia, was forced to spend weeks, not minutes, filling out the necessary paperwork to take time off.
More importantly, and perhaps by nature of its small size and isolated concentration of writers, thinkers and doers, Kenyon’s community demands more of its members than its counterparts. From adherence to tradition to academic rigor, Kenyon expects a lot from its students, and individual students hold themselves to high standards even in an age of grade inflation and generally declining academic rigor. While large state universities and liberal arts colleges in big cities make it easy to feel small, Kenyon allows you—and expects you—to feel big. Kenyon’s small size and large demands present a unique merger of circum-
“Kenyon’s small size and large demands present a unique merger of circumstance. Perhaps ironically, Kenyon is one of the few places left where anyone and everyone can be truly excellent if they so choose.” stance: namely, and perhaps ironically, Kenyon is one of the few places left where anyone and everyone can be truly excellent if they so choose. Contrary to most college experiences, if you leave Kenyon without having run a club, intellectually demolished a class, captained a sports team or made some other lasting impression on the community, you will have missed out. Perhaps one has to leave Kenyon and then return, as I did, to fully appreciate the difference between Kenyon as a time and Kenyon as a place. While I at best feel a faint attachment to the people in the Class of 2014, I feel a much stronger attachment to Kenyon College in general—an attachment which breeds an obligation to finish what I started and do something meaningful while here, be it a lasting Observer or a successful honors thesis or something else still undetermined. In other words, Kenyon has taught me to expect a lot from myself, and to navigate college on my own terms—doing Kenyon my own way. That’s what the fuck I’m still doing here. TKO
“I am convinced that most people do not grow up. What we do is mostly grow old.” — Maya Angelou
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SAM WHIPPLE
Inauguration 2013: Battle of the Balls Two Thousand and Thirteen. There’s so much to look back on: crises abroad, cronuts at home, and seemingly every where, a former Disney channel star is twerking with teddy bears. Yet future civilizations will likely remember this year for two remarkable elections: the President of the United States and the President of Kenyon College. Obama reentered office facing challenges that have shaped the discourse of the country for the past decade, like fixing the economy, and naming that other Portuguese dog. Decatur, as the new president of Ohio’s top Gambier-located college, faces great expectations for his administration, since I’m pretty sure he has to read the whole book before he’s legally allowed to be president of a real liberal arts college. There’s no doubt these are two great men, both respected in their fields. Decatur was voted “Nerdiest Nerd” in his high school yearbook, and Obama was voted “Best at Presidenting” by a majority of Americans. But we have to ask: who’s better? I’ve compared them by the fairest metric I know—by who throws the better party.
VENUE A pretty weak showing here from the Obamas. The “ball” was held in the D.C. convention center basement, which has all the taste and panache of an Amazon shipping warehouse. Decatur, on the other hand, chose a beautiful gothic-revival dining hall, with a sumptuous blend of ancient craftsmanship and modern aesthetics. It was also within walking distance for 90 percent of attendees, as opposed to Obama’s east coast favoritism. Winner: D-Cat.
GUEST LIST For a socialist, Obama really doesn’t seem to be very social at all. I walked around that whole place and the best I got was a bro-fist from the not-Jackie-Chan guy in Rush Hour 2. Meanwhile, at Decatur’s party, the one and only Susan G. Nugent was out there on the dance f loor “doing her thang.” Obama would have had this in the bag if Bush had showed up and busted a move to Teenage Dream. But Joe Biden was there. Winner: Obama.
FOOD I arrived to President Decatur’s event a fashionable two hours late. Most of the food that remained looked half-eaten, so I tried none of it. Still, finger foods and hors d’oeuvres were plentiful, and I can only assume there was something “deconstructed.” As for Obama’s, there was food everywhere, but massive crowding made it hard to sample some of the offerings. Americans were hungry for more than just change, am I right?! Come on, it’s funny, don’t make that face. Whatever. Winner: Obama.
MUSIC For those of you keeping score, this is our tiebreaking category, and it’s a tough one. It’s hard to look at the Obama lineup and say anything but “wow!” (unless you’re saying “who invited Soundgarden?”). Jennifer Hudson, Stevie Wonder, John Legend and more all made stellar appearances. Obama even got “Fun.” A moot point, though, because D-Cat got the Beatles. R ingo really seems to have put on some weight though. Winner: D-Cat.
SECURITY Obama, seriously? A background check, metal detectors, and he never even came down off the stage to shake hands. It’s a party, man, lighten up a bit. As for Decatur, I’m not sure if he had his Kevlar on, but the guy was walking through the crowd without a care in the world. I give him points for his reckless abandon. Winner: D-Cat.
IN CONCLUSION Way to go Sean! That’s 3-2 for Decatur, and Obama’s just going to have to live with that. Time will tell if Sendoff can live up to the high bar set by our new president. TKO
“I don’t go to parties.” — Paulo Coelho
15
RYAN MACH
The Last Word
Running A Mach in India There’s really no novelty like the experience of trav- I’ve been able to make. For instance, so much of what peoeling abroad: when your senses are overwhelmed by the ple characterize as being “problematic” in this Asian subsights, sounds, tastes and smells of an unfamiliar place, continent is what makes it so endearing. Sure, the roads it feels like something within yourself changes to accom- and public transportation are unsafe and unreliable due modate this mesmerizing newness. to a complete deficiency of federal suI’m not a religious person at all, but pervision and funding, but to me, that when I traveled to India last month, just represents that laid-back Eastern I couldn’t help but think that I’d mindset. In America, we’re so worried been in some way spiritually renewed. about punctuality, instant gratificaUpon returning to the U.S., I realtion and airbags that we forget what ized that something like a miracle had really matters, like spending quality transpired since I’d left. Like a worldtime with your family crammed onto weary ascetic, finally reopening his a tiny motorcycle or a windowless bus eyes to the material world after days as it barrels down a narrow highway. of isolated meditation, my eyes have Similarly, some Hindu cultural been reopened to how sophisticated practices like sati, the ritualized selfand cultured I am now that I’ve toimmolation of Hindu wives on the tally been to India. funeral pyres of their husbands, just Despite the fact that I spent much aren’t understood by most Ameriof my only week abroad in hotels cans. But who are we as Westerners to and almost never physically interjudge this society? With the benefits acted with actual Indians, I’ve noof a liberal arts education, we should ticed that I know so much more about be able to recognize that expecting India than almost everyone else at women to kill themselves immediatethis school. Some people have spent ly after the death of their husbands is their whole college careers studying completely admissible as long as it’s the history and culture of India, but part of a culture different from our somehow never got up the courage to own. As I quickly learned, refusing to have enough money to spontaneously understand the moral implications of travel there. These people might be different cultural norms is the surest able to tell you about the incredibly way to convince yourself that you’re complex theology of Hinduism or the a good person, and isn’t that what’s Illustration by Peter Falls relevance of its ancient cultural histotruly important? ry to its current position in the global economy, After a week spent encountering foreign culbut can they tell you what the sound a small Indian boy ture, cuisine, and the first half of a really boring Bollymakes when he’s demanding you give him the chocolate wood movie, I can say that my new insights and experiyou just bought? Can they describe the dignified visage ences have caused me to revise even my deepest beliefs: I of a Buddhist monk as you yell at him for directions to a am an even more interesting and important person than restaurant? Can they explain the feeling of shitting your I had previously thought, and people should be paying brains out after accidentally getting some water in your much more attention to me. To be certain, I am indebted mouth in the shower? Of course they can’t. Truthfully, my to India for the incredible memories, ideas, and Instafriends know more about India than these pencil pushers, grams it has provided me. But more importantly, as sure since they’ve absorbed so much of my experience by way as I am unable to remove the horrific smell from the tunic of my constantly talking about it. I unwisely packed in my duffel bag, I will never lose the I think a huge part of what makes post-India me so self-importance that this country has given me, and for great is the plethora of insightful cultural observations that, I can never thank it enough. TKO