election musings p. 6
‘CLOSER’ p. 15
GLACIERS p. 20
The Stanford Daily Magazine
VOLUME I
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Issue 3
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January 13, 2017
He
n u S e h t s e m o C re t not all
farm, bu r a l o s n w o s ened it g p. 8 n i l i m s e r Stanford op a talists environmen
CO HO In Tresidder Memorial Union Weekdays: 7 AM to 12 AM Weekends: 9 AM to 12 AM
Editor-in-Chief Kylie Jue Executive Editor Will Ferrer Managing Editors Reed Canaan, Stephanie Chen, Erica Evans, Michael Gioia, Udit Goyal, Olivia Hummer, McKenzie Lynch, Ada Statler-Throckmorton, Carlos Valladares, Tristan Vanech, Samantha Wong, Victor Xu PHOTOS Vedi Chandra, Udit Goyal, Madeline Musante, Syler Peralta-Ramos, Zoe Sayler, Tia Schwab GRAPHICS/LAYOUT Matthew Bernstein, Heidi Chen, Emma Fiander, Na He Jeon, Mehr Kumar, Sunny Li, Janet Liu, Celine Lopez, Olivia Popp, Joshua Wagner, Victor Xu, Phoebe Yao CHIEF OPERATING OFFICER Andrew Mather Chief Revenue Officer Veronica Cruz 2
Crossword solution
Contents
The Stanford Daily
Volume I, Issue 3 January 13, 2017
MAGAZINE
04 Who’s Awake Who’s still up in the middle of the night, and what are they up to? OPINIONS 06 THE ROLE OF the post-election UNIVERSITy Michael Gioia argues that academia needs to lead in the era of Trump.
News 08 HERE COMES the SUN Stanford opened a solar plant in the Mojave Desert as part of a carbon offset strategy. What are the pros and cons? 12 INTERNATIONAL STUDENTS ON TRUMP Students from around the world discuss how their home countries feel about the president-elect.
PHOTo GALLERY A preview of Syler Peralta-Ramos’ photo gallery on glaciers — p. 20.
Arts & Life 15 MANUFACTURING ‘CLOSER’ How two “regular dudes” engineered the perfect pop hit. 18 MUSIC and Memory On music’s power not only to create memories but also to bring people together.
Creative 24 poetry “Ocean Studies” by Tyler Dunston and “Tap Shoes” by Shannon Daniels. HUMOR
20 COLD, ICY, Beautiful Photographer Syler Peralta-Ramos captures the paradox of “glacial,” rapid, human-driven change.
29 ELECTION LESSONS What are the takeaways from this year’s election?
the grind
31 RETROSPECTIVE Sam Weyen looks back on his time as the Stanford Tree.
22 On Home Madeline Musante on her complicated understanding of “home.” 27 the stanford Fig tree Vivian Lam on how to approach Stanford’s endless life choices.
32 CROSSWORD Crossword designer David Steinberg’s latest creation.
On the cover: Photo of Stanford’s new solar plant in the Mojave Desert, taken by Tia Schwab. 3
Nocturnal Animals
By Aparna Verma and Claudia Heymach Photos by Vedi Chaudhri
It’s pitch black, the streets are quiet, and every now and then lonesome wanderers appear in the orange cast of the lamplights before they disappear back into the shadows. In the dead of night, you’d expect most of campus to be asleep, snoring. The Daily decided to see who exactly is awake at 2 in the morning.
Ariana Jones ’19 (Nov. 2, 1:41 a.m.) “I’m out here waiting for 2 a.m. to come around so I can blow the train whistle. It’s a lot of fun, and the food and community definitely makes being out here this late worth it.”
Benson Kung ’19 (1:14 a.m.) “Usually I like to get Late Night with friends, or I’m in bed — but it really depends on how good the chicken tenders are on that day.”
Michelle Howard ’20 (2:20 am)
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“I’m usually hanging out with people, and right now I was making art. It’s fun, it’s very random and it’s relaxing.”
Kevin Luo M.S. ’17
“Right now, I have a big d
)
Dillon Franke ’20 (1:11 a.m.) “Normally I’m studying, but right now, I’m taking a break and getting food.”
Cade May ’19 (2:35 a.m.) “Currently finishing a 103 pset, then hopefully going to bed.”
Santos Hernandez ’17 (2:07 a.m.) “We chill here and talk. In the daytime, there are too many bikers.”
Jessica Reynoso ’20 (2:03 a.m.) “I’m usually up doing homework that I’ve procrastinated on throughout the day.”
Alex Aguilar ’18 and Minh-Anh Day ’20 (2:27 a.m.) “We were all in a show together, so a bunch of people had a reunion at one person’s room, and we were hanging out. It just kept going, and then it moved to Late Night.”
7 (1:18 a.m.)
deadline for a project coming up, so I’m working on it right now. I want to get it done quickly because I’m leaving early for Thanksgiving break.” XX
T
he American presidential elec- they know everything.” tion in 2016 will long remain To see whom these populists are deridan object of perplexity, to put it ing, scholars at Stanford need only look in the mildly, and the course of recent mirror. Of course, there was never much love events here remains just a part of to begin with between the academic elite and a global, political whirlwind. The news media contemporary populism. But as this anti-exreminds us of this regularly — from Brexit to pert populism rises, the troubled relationship Duterte to Marine Le Pen, votes and person- between the academy and ascendant political alities have succeeded in cracking open long- forces puts much on the line, from governfrozen norms and assumptions. This narrative ment funding for universities to the role of is hardly new, but it bears tremendous implications for both academic communities and the broader role of the scholar in society. As many have observed, the 2016 presidential campaign has developed a frightening chapter in posttruth politics; indeed, the power of emotion over fact in politics has grown so noticeable that the Oxford English Dictionary selected “post-truth” as 2016’s “word of the year.” And while popular attention often focuses on glaring factual inaccuracies, fake news or Trump’s tirades towards the media, I fear these are merely symptoms of a broader shift in attitude. Specifically, as others have already written, and as witnessed both through political rhetoric and polling, the populism that has fueled recent electoral victories centers on a marked distrust of “experts.” This should alarm anyone who believes in the importance of research and Photo by UDIT GOYAL/The Stanford Daily thoughtful debate in setting policy. Alas, recent post-election events on both sides of the Atlantic seem to only confirm the research in politics. Whether we like it or not, anti-expert tendencies of contemporary popu- the academy and its scholars are encountering lism. The tendency of the Trump transition to an increasingly skeptical public, and it is now bypass policy experts in favor of unqualified incumbent on universities to chart a new path political supporters for cabinet posts is dismay- through these surprisingly stormy waters. ing; certainly, top universities will see less of All this leads to the question of why sotheir faculties joining the helm of the execu- ciety has grown so hostile to learning in the tive branch than has previously been the case. first place. Certainly, much of this relates to a Meanwhile, in the United Kingdom, Michael broader hostility towards elites, a phenomenon Gove, a prominent Brexiteer, has frequently too big to be unpacked in this column. But I criticized “expert” economists who have writ- think the divide between academy and populist ten on the costs of leaving the EU. And in an society remains more complex than a simple effort to win over populist voters from Marine disdain for the ruling class. Le Pen, French presidential candidate Francois Stanford and its peers often exist in their Fillon attacked the “tiny microcosm who think own world, blissfully removed from the
thoughts and concerns of the rest of the country. While countless Americans in “flyover country” cannot count on the continued economic viability of their communities, Stanford students plot to build the next great startup and celebrate landing high-paying jobs at top tech and financial firms. And the faculty travel in equally rarefied circles — after graduating from prestigious peer institutions, those professors who succeed in earning tenured positions enjoy a life of inquiry in sunny Palo Alto often punctuated by close ties with America’s political, business and cultural elite. A more intangible, cultural divide exists as well. To begin with, so few Stanford students and faculty come from the middleAmerican communities that unleashed the current wave of populism. Campus activists regularly deride these communities or their cultural structures as oppressive, sometimes based on minimal contact with individuals from these areas. Many on campuses across the country have proclaimed their disdain for the white working class, especially after it voted for Trump, thoroughly othering a large segment of this country’s population. With such diverging views, the connection between populist and academic worlds seems elusive. At the same time, the academy has all too often withdrawn into itself. For various reasons, the once celebrated figure of the public intellectual has faded away. Dry academic writing limits the consumption of scholarship to a handful of other scholars. And with the institutional pressures to publish, attend conferences, serve on university committees and then teach, academics have little time left for more public-facing pursuits. As a result, scholarly debate has developed entirely apart from society, with minimal points of access for non-academics. While I have focused on issues specific to Stanford or the United States, the scope of this situation spans borders and oceans. And under these circumstances, it is no grand wonder that voters feel so removed from the communities
BRIDGING
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of experts at prestigious institutions across the country: However accomplished and wellintentioned, these scholars reside in an entirely different world from the rest of society — economically, politically and culturally. So is this truly a problem? And if so, where do we go from here? I can’t help but worry over the future of the university in this populist age. The divide between academia and populist society cannot be dismissed, and populists are increasingly holding very real power. Not only does scholarship risk losing the attention of a skeptical public; there remains a real possibility that federal grants for research and education could suffer under a populist administration, especially with perennial calls to trim Washington’s bloated budget. Even before Inauguration Day, funding for climate change research has already come under attack. Society needs universities now more than ever. If we feel that recent political campaigns and events point to the presence of mistrust, poor civic education or a deficit of empathy in society, then we should respond by bolstering universities. To begin with, higher education equips a citizenry with tools to make political decisions, understand their systems of government and sort out truth from fiction. Scholarly research, free from the fingerprints of political parties and interest groups, can help avert dangerous policy proposals. And the broader intellectual community and debate fostered on campuses can put political leaders in contact with everyday citizens — whether by bringing prominent speakers to public events or connecting accomplished faculty with community members, universities can break down the perceived wall separating elites from the rest of society. But to do these things, academia needs broader public trust and public recognition. To start, universities must reinforce the importance of political, intellectual and ideological diversity. Studies have shown tremendous imbalance of political views among the faculty at Stanford
and peer institutions, with some departments in the social sciences having upwards of 30 registered Democrat professors without a single registered Republican. This imbalance leads to perceptions of bias, both from within and outside the academy. If one-half of the country cannot see scholars sympathetic to their intellectual tradition, it’s not hard to imagine why they would proceed to generally distrust the American academic
ful to see that some of those maligned “experts” come from communities and backgrounds just like their own. Additionally, academia must promote more public-facing activity among its faculties. While much of the American populace may feel little connection with scholarly discourse, the academic life of Stanford and other universities boasts profound relevance for all of society. Research in medicine improves the lives of countless patients; studies in the social sciences help us make our political and economic systems more efficient and equitable; humanistic inquiry gives us the tools to make sense of the struggles and triumphs that mark every individual’s inner life. The professional schools help us train better teachers for our children and managers for our workplaces. These accomplishments are wonderful stories for society, and universities and their faculty should share them. Whether by writing books for the reading public, discussing their research on cable news and documentaries, or contributing to popular newspapers and journals, professors should not be afraid to participate in our public discourse and share their research. Some professors already do so, by writing for The New Yorker, consulting with Smithsonian museums or appearing on The Daily Show, and this sets an excellent example. Its outcome aside, the 2016 election witnessed a nadir in the caliber of American civil discourse during the course of the campaign, which seems unlikely to improve anytime soon. Certainly, all sides can agree that public discussion should amount to more than tantrums and ad-hominem attacks. Now more than ever, society needs an academic grounding to its conversations. Moving our discussions forward will require the participation of the academy. Universities need to pry open their gates to exchange with the outside world, but that starts with rethinking how we conduct our academic life within.
THEDIVIDE By Michael Gioia
establishment. Of course, universities should not go about simply hiring new faculty because they are conservative. But a greater institutional respect for intellectual diversity should be in order. A recent task force formed at Harvard to promote diversity on campus will include a focus on political diversity, setting a good example for other institutions. And at the same time, universities should reinforce their commitment to economic and geographic diversity — all too often, residents in rural and low-income areas see no pathway to study at America’s elite institutions, let alone to join their ranks of faculty. For anti-elite populists to better appreciate the work of America’s scholars, it would be help-
Contact Michael Gioia at mgioia2@stanford. edu. 7
Wealth of the
Wasteland
By Tia Schwab and Zoe Say
In December, Stanford officially opened a 242-acre solar plant in the Mojave Desert as part of the University’s initiatives to reduce carbon emissions.
Stanford’s solar farm in the Mojave will help the University reach its carbon goals, but environmentalists say the displacement strategy may have unintended side effects. 8
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hree hundred miles southeast of Stanford in Rosamond, California, rows of solar panels stretch across the Mojave Desert. Wind turbines scatter the slopes at the base of the mountains. Between Joshua trees and desert scrub, oil pumps dip in and out of the sand. Rosamond is a landscape of contrast: a seemingly barren desert wasteland rich in power. Stanford is now one of many tapping into this wealth. The Stanford Solar Generating Plant, which opened Friday in Rosamond with a ribbon-cutting ceremony, will use more than 150,000 solar panels to generate 67 megawatts of power. The 242-acre solar plant is part of the Stanford Energy Systems Innovations (SESI), the University’s energy and climate action plan
to reduce carbon emissions by 68 percent by moving from fossil fuels to grid-based renewable electricity sources and implementing a revolutionary heat-recovery system. Other initiatives include the addition of solar panels and efficiency improvements to existing buildings on campus as well as high-efficiency standards for new buildings. Stanford is not alone in its use of California’s rich solar resources: According to a study by Stanford and the Carnegie Institution for Science, there are 161 planned or operating utility-scale solar power plants in California. More than half of these power plants have been or are being built on previously undeveloped land, totaling about 145 square miles. The magnitude of these converted lands necessitates the consideration of environmental
yler
Photos by TIA SCHWAB and ZOE SAYLER/The Stanford Daily
effects, according to Garry George, renewable energy director at Audubon California. “[Solar] is a good thing to get really excited about,” George said. “But there’s another thought right after that — what’s the impact?” Perhaps counterintuitively, the environmental impact can be substantial. Solar projects cover miles of desert landscape in black glass panels, eliminating vegetation and displacing wildlife. According to George, these consequences may be hard to see. “I think most people consider the desert to be barren wasteland,” he said. “But it’s actually one of the most thriving ecologies and [the] most climate-resilient [ecologies] and full of really unusual and unique species.” In fact, Rosamond is in the heart of a designated globally important bird area because of
the variety and concentration of species in that area. The broader Mojave desert ecosystem also hosts a number of rare plants, lizards, desert tortoises and ground squirrels. Fortunately, there are ways to mitigate the impacts of solar projects on desert ecosystems. The California Environmental Quality Act (CEQA) requires lead agencies to analyze and disclose the environmental impacts that a proposed project will have and implement all feasible measures to alleviate those effects. For many utility-scale solar projects, most impacts can be mitigated by thorough site analysis. Ideal sites have been previously developed and are not significant conservation or agricultural areas. They are close to existing transmission lines and avoid “wildlife corridors” or important migration routes. If a site is within 5 miles of the
foraging habitat for an important or endangered species, the agency must create and preserve new foraging grounds elsewhere. Site selection “should be a very thoughtful planning process,” said George. “Not just any megawatt is great.” SunPower, the company that Stanford chose to design and build the solar plant, says it has taken steps to ensure that its pursuit of solar energy does not outshine its dedication to addressing potential environmental consequences. The company uses an approach called “Light on Land,” selecting previously disturbed sites — like the site of the Stanford Solar Generating Plant — when possible. The approach also emphasizes the importance of restoring the land to its original state or better upon conclusion of the project, often by reintroducing native vegetation, which absorbs carbon from the atmosphere and helps retain groundwater. “There were zero concerns or protests from the environmental community in California about the project,” said Bill Kelly ’85, vice president of SunPower. “We had no pushback from the environmental community in building on this site.” The unique efficiency of SunPower’s solar panels, a central component of Stanford’s decision to accept the company’s bid, is vital in minimizing the company’s environmental impact. Because its solar panels generate 34 percent more megawatt-hours per acre over their lifespan than its competitors’, SunPower is able to produce an impressive amount of solar power with less acreage, naturally allowing for easier preservation of environmentally sensitive sites. That’s thanks in part to Stanford ingenuity: SunPower was founded in 1991 by Richard “Dick” Swanson electrical engineering Ph.D. ’74. Later, as a professor at the University, he was paramount in developing the point-contact solar cell. In traditional startup fashion, Swanson eventually resigned from his professorship to start the company. “Dr. Swanson is a rockstar in the solar community,” said Ingrid Ekstrom, marketing and communications director at SunPower. “He’s known around the world for his advancements in solar technology, which include technologies SunPower installs today.” Swanson’s advancements and others made by SunPower allow the company’s solar panels to operate efficiently and sustainably. They work better than competitors’ panels in high temperatures, an important innovation in Rosamond, where daily highs average above 92 degrees in the summer. SunPower also uses robots to rid the panels of debris, increasing their efficiency by 15 percent and using 75 percent less water than conventional cleaning methods. 9
Workers at Stanford’s solar plant in Rosamond, California enter the facility with administrators for the ribbon-cutting ceremony and the official opening. The plant contains over 150,000 solar panels, which together will generate 67 megawatts of power; this will be used by the surrounding communities and offset the University’s footprint.
While Stanford’s solar project mitigated many environmental concerns, not everyone agrees that the university’s decision to build a utility-scale solar plant is the best choice economically. Among these critics is Frank Wolak, economics professor and director of the Program on Energy and Sustainable Development, who called Stanford’s choice “utterly uncreative.” Understanding Wolak’s argument requires some background in energy economics and policy in the American west. Legally, the California Renewable Portfolio Standard (RPS) requires a certain percentage of electricity retail sales to come from renewable energy. California’s RPS, which will require 50 percent of energy to be renewable by 2030, is one of the most ambitious in the nation. However, California is a part of a western energy grid that spans from the border of Canada to the border of Mexico and over to parts of Wyoming, Montana, Colorado and New Mexico. Because the direction and flow of electrons can’t be controlled, electricity on this western grid can’t be tracked from source to destination. For example, Stanford is not actually receiving 10
the energy generated by its solar panel project ronmental impact, the school isn’t actually redirectly but rather putting the energy out on the ceiving the renewable energy generated by its grid, to be used to meet general demand near solar plant but rather the renewable energy certificates; this is how the school has met its 68 the solar farm. This is why the U.S. uses Renewable Energy percent-renewables goal. Wolak argues that inCertificates (RECs) to stead of buying and detrack and incentivize renewable energy genveloping a specific project “The feeling I’m getting and technology to earn eration. One REC repreis the feeling I had as a RECs, Stanford should sents one megawatt-hour have simply bought more of renewable energy proyoung kid… I was really RECs from the wider duced, roughly equivaintrigued way back then western energy market. lent to the amount of about what the future In doing so, Stanford electricity used by 330 homes for one hour. would jumpstart the decould hold and what velopment of a west-wide RECs can be bought technology might bring.” REC market as well as aland sold by producers and consumers separate -Joseph Stagner low “the developers and market to figure out the from the actual power, executive director of Stanford’s providing a mechanism cheapest way to get the Department of Sustainability renewables.” Then, Wolak for electric utility comand Energy Management panies to meet renewsays, the University could have increased its renewable portfolio standards and for individuals and businesses to lessen ables even more and at a cheaper price tag. “Stanford could have gone 100 percent green,” their environmental impact. So in Stanford’s pursuit to lessen its envi- Wolak explained. “But they wanted to do what
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1. Provost John Etchemendy cuts the ribbon, marking the plant’s opening. 2. The entrance to the Stanford Solar Generating Station in the Mojave Desert. 3. Joseph Stagner, executive director of Stanford’s Department of Sustainability and Energy Management, speaks after the opening of the facility. 4. Plant workers lift a cleaning robot onto a set of solar panels. 5. Etchemendy discusses how the plant fits into Stanford’s renewable energy plans.
everyone else does…This could be Stanford leading the way, but instead [they’re] following.” There isn’t quite consensus among Stanford faculty, however. While Wolak’s alternative solution makes sense according to Dian Grueneich B.S. ’74, senior research scholar at the Precourt Institute for Energy, it does not prioritize increasing the supply of renewables. “Stanford’s goal is [not just securing] the cheapest renewable power, but [also] being a part of a larger effort to expand how much renewable power there is,” Grueneich explained. “In California, we want to encourage additional renewable projects; we are not just interested solely in the purchase of RECs.” RECs purchased on the market are also subject to price fluctuations. By owning the solar plant and the power it provides, Stanford pays a fixed rate for RECs for 25 years, so it may be a safer bet economically, according to Joseph Stagner, executive director of Stanford’s Department of Sustainability and Energy Management (SEM). “Stanford decided to invest in long-term value and reliability, not play the market,” Stagner said. Adding another factor into the picture, stu-
dent group Fossil Free Stanford says that investing in long-term renewable energy solutions still does not go far enough in combating climate change. “We’ve always supported and encouraged University efforts to make campus less carbonintensive, but we also maintain that technological progress is not enough to ensure a livable climate in the face of the fossil fuel industry’s power,” wrote Fossil Free Stanford. “We have consistently argued that divestment is compatible with — and maximizes the broader impact of — such projects.” At the ribbon-cutting ceremony on Dec. 2, Vice Provost John Etchemendy acknowledged that there had been many critiques of the project throughout the process. However, the University ultimately found support from most environmental groups, including Audubon California. According to George, there’s no one perfect solution in the clean power movement. “We need anything [that] transforms the way we get energy.” What’s important and exciting is that Stanford is taking concrete action, according to Vice President of the Stanford Energy Club Arnav
Mariwala ’17, who is also a Daily staffer. “Stanford [shows] a lot of leadership when it comes to actually implementing renewable solutions and moving towards a cleaner energy future.” Stanford will continue to move forward, according to Etchemendy. The Stanford Solar Generating Plant is significant, but not “the last piece of the puzzle,” he said. “We have other plans in store for further ways of improving the entire system and making it more sustainable.” In his closing remarks at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, Stagner reminisced on the energy he felt as a child growing up in the Space Age — when rock songs honored satellites, The Jetsons ruled the airwaves and the impossible felt within grasp. “The feeling I’m getting is the feeling I had as a young kid … I was really intrigued way back then about what the future could hold and what technology might bring,” Stagner said. “And so that’s the feeling I get here today when I think that Stanford University, our little city, is running off the sun.” Contact Tia Schwab at kbschwab@stanford.edu and Zoe Sayler at zoeneile@stanford.edu. 11
The World on Trump By Andrea Villa For many around the world, the election of Donald Trump on Nov. 9 marked a turning point in America’s history. International students are grappling with personal and practical questions ranging from identity and geopolitics to work visas and their futures in the United States. The Daily sat down with students from around the world to find out what’s been on their minds since Election Day.
First Reactions Tania Dhaliwal ’20 - India “This is a mockery of the U.S. and of humanity. But I’m not the [type] to cry over something that cannot be undone. Yes, I know that my future prospects will be affected. After these four years, I don’t know if I’ll get a job or how I will pursue my studies later. For me as a realistic person, I’m a freshman so I have to give [it] all I can. My [very] first reaction was, ‘Well, at least I am in one of the most liberal states in the U.S.’”
Eleni Alexandraki ’19 - Greece “On one hand, I [didn’t] think a candidate with such radical views could possibly get elected, but at the same time, deep down I knew it was quite possible from my own experience. We have a political party called Golden Dawn, which is very narrow-minded and has a lot more Nazi aspects. They used to have 0.3 percent, and now they are now the third majority party in the parliament consistently. This change, coupled with Brexit and the Greek referendum, [gave me the feeling] that it would not be unlikely for Trump to be elected as president of the United States, even though he has such radical views that I felt didn’t really reflect what I thought America was.”
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Roberts Mencis ’18 - Latvia “At home, I would say it’s pretty devastating. There’s a feeling that this could mean the end for Ukraine today, for Latvia and Estonia tomorrow, and God knows what other parts of Europe the day after that. And that’s not simply based hypothetically on what Trump can do, but on what he has already done.”
Differing Viewpoints Roma Dziembaj ’19 - Poland “With recent developments in Ukraine, Crimea – if the U.S. isn’t on our side for that then a lot of people worry about what’s going to happen next. [There are also] a lot of worries about the Paris Agreement. Trump wants to get away from it and do more coal production. Poland is now thinking about [increasing coal production even though] we are also in the Paris Agreement. A lot of people think it’s unfair because Poland is a developing economy and it relies [heavily] on coal. So that’s a big debate. But what people in Poland are concerned about is mainly Russia and NATO.”
Ignacio Mendez ’19 - Argentina “The major concern has been what this means for the economic relationship between the United States and Argentina, because we had 12 years of Kirchnerism with very protectionist policies, so we are trying to recover from a huge economic crisis. Since President Macri was elected, he has been working with Obama to make trade unions between Argentina and the U.S. And people in general were very hopeful about that because the U.S. in the past has been a strong ally for Argentina. The concern in the media has been mostly how to maintain this relationship while Trump is saying that he wants to make protectionist economic policies for the United States. “But, the reaction has been [optimistic] because Trump and Macri both come from similar backgrounds. They both ran their own businesses before being elected president, and they have done business in the past. They have sort of a friendly relationship, so [Argentinians] are hopeful because right now [we’re trying] to recover from a crisis [during] which people couldn’t afford basic services like electricity and gas.” 13
Looking Ahead Alan Aw ’18 - Singapore “Trump’s election success points to a huge divide, one that I believe exists in a lot of other countries where globalization has left people behind. Trump, now that he’s been the president-elect for the past few days, has ... actually gone back on some of his promises he made during his campaign. Which shows, I believe, that he wants to do a good job as president even though he’s said a lot of nasty things. “And how does that affect me and the decisions I want to make for myself? [...] I think it’ll be a very exciting journey for America. It is by no means a safe journey. This could be the point in America’s history where the divide could be addressed. Trump seems to be a very independent person so I do have a bit of hope that he acts independently of the parties and tries to bring the country together.”
Sevde Kaldıroglu ’17 - Turkey “I always thought of staying in the States in the long term, because I came here with the American dream. The background that I am coming from, not only being from Turkey, but the underrepresented parts of Turkey, I always thought of America as the land of freedom – all those stereotypes, I bought all of them. And coming here, I just had to face the fact that racism is very prevalent and there are a lot of huge problems. Right now I think I still want to stay but for a slightly different reason... I still believe there are more opportunities, given education, my career and [the like]. Now, I actually don’t want to escape. I want to stay and use my education, my privilege to be at Stanford for a better cause and to fight [for] any of the rights [that might] be taken from us. I want to stay to fight.”
Tae Shin Lee ’15 M.A. ’17 - South Korea “Although I was born and raised for most of my life in Korea, my parents were both doctors in education trained at Stanford and there was a very strong current of what one might call ‘Western thought’ in our family’s culture. So going through the public school system in Korea, I always felt like an outsider, and when I came to college, this place felt like home. Although I don’t have a citizenship here, I was already planning on moving straight into a doctorate degree because that would allow me to stay in this country longer and maintain my visa. For me, the motivation to stay has not dwindled. Remembering Plato’s ‘Crito’ from a while back – Socrates refuses to leave, because he has been a beneficiary of this society, he cannot turn his back on its laws now that they will disadvantage him. And America, for all its flaws, has loved me and made me the person that I am, and I am determined to love it back to the best of my abilities.” 14
The manufactured authenticity of
‘CLOSER’ By Jacob Kuppermann
Illustration by SUNNY LI/The Stanford Daily
A
s of Nov. 26, 2016, “Closer” by The Chainsmokers and Halsey has been on the Billboard Hot 100 chart for 15 weeks. That’s not particularly impressive. Songs have stayed on the Hot 100 for as long as 87 weeks — in the semi-miraculous case of Imagine Dragons’ “Radioactive” — and it’s fairly common for songs to limp their way to long tenures on the chart. (If you’re wondering, Drake’s “One Dance” and Desiigner’s “Panda,” two of the biggest hits of the early part of this year, are still hanging around in the middle region of the chart; they currently stand at 31 and 37 weeks, respectively.) What is impressive about “Closer”’s tenure on the pop charts is how dominant the song has been throughout late summer and fall — for all 15 of its weeks on the chart, it’s been in the top 10, and for the 12 weeks between Sept. 3 and Nov. 16, it’s been the No. 1 song. That longevity at No. 1 is where “Closer” becomes noteworthy — only 10 songs have ever lasted longer at the top spot of the charts, and only six others have matched that record. At 12 weeks, “Closer” is now rubbing shoulders with an assortment of instantly recognizable, world-dominating pop songs, from “Lose Yourself ” to “Yeah!” Yet there’s something odd about “Closer,” something about it that makes it sit uneasily in the pop pantheon. Unlike most of those other hits, “Closer” isn’t a particularly distinctive song. It’s not by hyper-famous, instantly recognizable stars. In interviews, The Chainsmokers frequently describe themselves as just being normal frat bros — and they largely look the part. It doesn’t have a particular novelty to it, either — it’s not a nostalgic throwback like “Uptown Funk,”
There’s something odd about “Closer,” something about it that makes it sit uneasily in the pop pantheon.
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It doesn’t have a particular novelty to it, either. “Closer” is just a song, and a fairly nondescript one at that.
or a heartfelt tribute like “See You Again” or “Candle in the Wind.” Instead, “Closer” is just a song, and a fairly nondescript one at that. You’ve probably heard it many times over without even recognizing it. It’s the sort of song that fits in equally well in the club or in the grocery store, not really offensive or provocative in any way. To understand how such a thoroughly bland piece of music could so thoroughly capture the pop-listening public, we have to first understand “Closer”’s musical roots. Mostly, that means understanding EDM. While “Closer” is a child of many lineages, including the passive-aggressive dueting of the Human League’s “Don’t You Want Me” and the 20-something ennui of Blink-182 and other pop-punk bands, its chief forebear is electronic dance music, and more specifically the variety of pop-ready EDM that first staked its foothold on the American pop charts of the late 2000s. While danceable electronic music has e xisted since the electro-disco pioneered by Giorgio Moroder in the late 1970s, EDM’s history as a force in American pop music begins around 2009, with the ascendancy of David Guetta. While Guetta, a French DJ, achieved moderate success throughout Europe in the early 2000s, it was not until 2009 that he broke through in the U.S., on the strengths of his production on the Black Eyed Peas’ “I Gotta Feeling,” one of the few songs to top the charts for longer than “Closer.” “I Gotta Feeling” and the singles off of Guetta’s 2009 album “One Love” would provide the blueprint for all the EDM and EDM-influenced singles that followed. The songs combined electro-house and houseinfluenced beats with standard pop melodies and structures, creating compelling, relatively novel dance-pop. While the songs, aside from “I Gotta Feeling,” didn’t achieve
overwhelming commercial success — the most successful of Guetta’s early solo singles, the charmingly titled “Sexy Bitch,” peaked at No. 5 on the charts — they were enough of a presence on mainstream pop radio to inspire imitators. Guetta may have been the originator of pop-ready EDM, but he was certainly not the only artist peddling that genre to the Hot 100 around the turn of the decade. In the early 2010s, artists like Avicii, Zedd, Diplo, Swedish House Mafia and Calvin Harris all achieved major chart success in the U.S. by playing some EDM subgenre. While the EDM producers who found success in the U.S. don’t all play the exact same style — just compare the aggressive dubstep of a Skrillex record
The face of modern EDM is a fairly simple formula: Start with a simple beat, layer a vocal melody over it and build tension to a wordless musical climax.
to the groovier, more restrained, garageinfluenced style of Disclosure — the chart-topping EDM in America is pretty homogenous. The baseline electro-house style that is the face of modern EDM is a fairly simple formula: Start with a simple beat, often composed of just drums and a couple basic synth chords; layer a vocal melody over it, frequently sung by a fairly anonymous female vocalist; and build tension to a wordless musical climax. That climax, known as a drop, is perhaps EDM’s greatest selling point; in terms of musical storytelling, there are few things more dramatic than a good EDM drop, that release of sonic potential energy into pure action. The whole style is pristine, efficient and not particularly difficult. There are scores of tutorials on how to make an EDM song throughout the internet, and even famous DJs like Afrojack don’t
The Chainsmokers evolved from the calculated, contrived parody of “#Selfie” to a new style, no less calculating but aimed for a more serious success. necessarily know all that much about the formal aspects of their craft. (In a 2013 New Yorker article, he admitted to not knowing what a "bar" was — one of the most basic units of music theory.) The formulaic nature of EDM and its allconsuming focus on the drop made it a ripe target for satire at the height of its popularity in 2014. That year, SNL parodied EDM with a sketch featuring Andy Samberg as a DJ who keeps the club in so much suspense for the drop that its sheer force upon arrival kills everyone in it. More importantly, The Chainsmokers entered the pop consciousness with “#Selfie.” The Chainsmokers’ breakthrough hit is a truly noxious thing, unloved even by its creators, who described it as “an annoying-ass record” in an interview with Billboard. The song, which is less a musical composition than an excuse to make bad jokes about its titular subject, is an unlovable, inept take on EDM, feeling like a house song made by someone whose education in the genre consisted of a single half-watched Youtube tutorial. Yet it was released at such a cultural moment for EDM, selfies and all the assorted accoutrements of the 20-something club and festival scene that “#Selfie” became an actual hit, reaching the top 20 in 2014. The Chainsmokers’ next hit, "Kanye," was also a bit of a novelty. This ode to the Westian ego, with lyrics like “I wanna be like Kanye / I'll be the king of me always,” was a much less ugly-sounding sort of joke. It sounds like an actual attempt at the tropical house-tinged EDM that gained popularity at that late-2014 moment, never approaching the crummily obvious parody of “#Selfie.” “Kanye” isn’t good, but it is more listenable. It’s also a key part of understanding the road that leads from
David Guetta to “#Selfie” to “Closer.” On an episode of The New York Times’ “Popcast,” Jia Tolentino, a writer for The New Yorker’s website, describes “Kanye” as “the necessary link between '#Selfie' and the Kygo-wave of ['Closer.']” Somewhere between summer 2014 and June 2015, when “Roses,” the first single of their new sound came out, The Chainsmokers evolved from the calculated, contrived parody of “#Selfie” to a new style, no less calculating but aimed for a more serious success.
by sparkling synthesizers and anonymous vocals. “Closer” takes that formula and tweaks it — the synthesizers are more clunky-sounding than the ones typically used in EDM, and Halsey and Drew Taggart (the Chainsmoker who sings the male part on this) have more personality than your average house vocalist (even though Taggart’s personality comes through as a complete lack of singing ability). “Closer” represents an evolution in pop-EDM, a softening and humanizing.
And so we get “Closer.” Unlike the EDM that it grew out of, “Closer” is not a pristine dropdelivery machine. The synth hook, borrowed from The Fray’s “Cable Car,” sounds especially amateurish in its guileless pounding. It’s a fairly conventional, lyrics-driven pop song,
Yet it would be wrong to think that “Closer”’s more human take is any more “authentic” or “genuine” than any other EDM song, including “#Selfie.” The artifice of “Closer” is clear when the song is put up to any close examination. The song’s narrative, as it were, is threadbare, an excuse plot that allows the Chainsmokers to graft on a series of references (Blink-182! UC Boulder! Range Rovers! Tucson!) recognizable and relatable to their target audience of 20-somethings, all culminating in an anthemic refusal of reality: “We ain’t ever getting older.” If it weren’t so obvious, I’d call it genius. But maybe obvious is what works. In all of the pieces I’ve read documenting the rise of “Closer,” there’s a shared observation: Beyond anything else, “Closer” is a hit because it feels like a hit. There’s something undeniable about it, something perfectly designed for pop appeal. I can’t say I like “Closer” — I may even hate it — but even so, there’s something to be admired in its crass artifice.
And so we get “Closer.” It’s a fairly conventional, lyrics-driven pop song, telling a story of two ex-lovers who reconnect for a night in a hotel bar and end up fucking in the backseat of a Range Rover. telling a story of two ex-lovers who reconnect for a night in a hotel bar and end up fucking in the backseat of a Range Rover. “Closer” is a calculated song, but it’s manufactured for a different purpose than most EDM hits. For all of the commercial success in clubs and festivals, EDM’s success on the pop charts over the past five years has felt like a bit of an afterthought. EDM artists have never made up more than 10 percent of Billboard’s yearend chart, the best metric for understanding which songs made a significant impact on the pop world, and just one EDM single had reached the No. 1 spot on the Hot 100 before “Closer.” The main reason why “Closer” succeeded where previous EDM hits didn’t is because it feels more human, more self-aware. The stereotypical EDM piece is something inhuman, a machine designed to drive you inexorably to the release of the drop, carried
Contact Jacob Kuppermann at jkupperm@ stanford.edu.
Beyond anything else, “Closer” is a hit because it feels like a hit. There’s something undeniable about it, something perfectly designed for pop appeal. 17
MUSIC MUSIC MUSICMEMORY ME MORY MEMORY and and and and
By Julie Plummer
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
Music touches us in ways that little else can. It inspires us to dance, weep, laugh, sing, smile. Last weekend, I was studying for my psychology midterm when the song “Banana Pancakes” by Jack Johnson started playing. Listening to this song reminded me instantly of the summer before senior year of high school, when I lived on a boat for three weeks doing a marine biology scuba diving program. It was a pleasant return to fond memories with shipmates and long days spent exploring the underwater world or sunbathing on the roof of our boat. This type of experience is fairly common in humans — we all have songs that can transport us to particular moments in our lives and evoke the emotions we felt during that experience.
“the important songs in my life form more of a web, connected to each other in various ways”
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If my life were a playlist, the first track would be “You Are My Sunshine,” which my mother would sing to me when I was a child. I can remember sitting in my mother’s lap in the grayblue rocking chair in my bedroom, listening to her softly sing to me. But after this, my musical memory gets muddled.
can be explained through our different types of memories. Explicit memory retrieves concrete information related to facts, such as what we ate for dinner last night. Implicit memory is not consciously recalled and can trigger emotional connections when we hear music that was significant to us in the past.
I think in some ways it’s unrealistic to think of the music in our life as being arranged in a neat, chronological playlist. For me, the important songs in my life form more of a web, connected to each other in various ways, whether through people in my life, through particular emotions or through hobbies I associate with each song. For example, while the song “Banana Pancakes” brings me back to my weeks living on a boat, it also reminds me of a friend in high school who played this song on his guitar and of peacefully drizzly days spent in the coziness of my home. In this way, a single song can be connected to many different memories and people. And one song can trigger the next: “Banana Pancakes” might in turn make me think of more songs I listened to on my boat over the summer or of another tune I associate with my friend, creating an interconnected network of music.
This distinction between implicit and explicit memory is also important because explicit memory, not implicit memory, is damaged in people who have diseases like Alzheimer’s. This means that Alzheimer patients actually have strong emotional responses to music. Music & Memory is a non-profit organization whose mission is to provide elderly people with music (particularly Alzheimer’s patients) in order to bring back these music-triggered memories in their brains. The key to the music the patients listen to is that it is personalized: They are hooked up to iPods that play their favorite songs from back when they were younger. When their favorite music is played, the patients light up, sing along with the songs and nod their heads to mirror the rhythm of the music. This, to me, is an beautiful example of how music can allow for connection in our world even when an individual may be struggling to remember their own reality.
So why are we able to associate memory with song? Modern-day psychology has some of the answers. Part of the strong link between emotion and memory has to do with the fact that we remember words better when they have rhyme and rhythm (like songs do). But beyond this, the strong link between memory and music
In fact, one of Stanford’s on-campus groups shares music with the elderly in a similar way: Side by Side is a community service group which performs music at nursing homes in the Bay Area, singing songs from the 1920s-60s. Angelina Lo ‘18, one of the group’s co-facilitators, shared one of her favorite experiences in
an email, saying that, “Last year, while singing ‘Come Fly With Me’ to an elderly man in our audience, an impish grin crept up onto his face in the middle of the song. Curious, at a rest in the song, I asked him why he was smiling. He launched into a tale about how he was a pilot and how when he was younger, he would take short flights from San Francisco to Oakland or another Bay Area city with his ‘lady friend’ and sing ‘Come Fly With Me’ as they were getting into the air. Calling up memories like that can be very meaningful and joyful for our audience, and hearing stories like these bring me (and the other members of our group) a lot of joy and perspective.” Side by Side’s other co-facilitator, Sam Starkey ’19, commented, “Music has a special way of bringing back memories — that’s why we choose songs that our audience members may have heard in their teenage/young-adult years. Also, music has a way of building connections between people that might be separated by things like age, health and life experiences.” The song “What a Wonderful World” will always hold a special place in my heart. It’s my father’s favorite song, and whenever I hear it, I think of the last Fall Dinner Dance at my high school (a tradition where fathers and daughters come together for a night of dining and dancing). The funny part of all of this is that “What
a Wonderful World” wasn’t even the song I danced to with my father. To some extent, music can also create false memories in us. Taylor Swift’s “Welcome to New York” instantly conjures up memories of strolling through the streets of New York City, even though I’ve only visited the city briefly and am certain the scenes I create in my mind never took place. This can be the power of music: the ability to create realities that are so vivid, they are sometimes completely disparate from our actual experiences. While this can be disconcerting, it is also somewhat miraculous that our minds can create these false realities, that we have the ability to manufacture these experiences because of the music that others have created.
ture class in high school. The enthusiasm of the band members and audience, and the reverberating music in the small restaurant, created an atmosphere which I felt was aptly captured by Doctorow’s words — one in which the whole
“experiencing the same music with others makes us feel like we’re part of some larger collective identity”
In “Ragtime,” E.L. Doctorow writes: “The melodies were like bouquets. There seemed to be no other possibilities for life than those delineated by the music … the boy perceived it as light touching various places in space, accumulating in intricate patterns until the entire room was made to glow with its own being.” This quote, to me, captures another aspect of music: its ability to exist as almost like another entity. Doctorow describes not only the “intricate patterns” music creates in our minds but also the overarching sense that music is transcendent. One of my favorite bands, The Mowgli’s, did a small gig in Santa Cruz last spring. I went to the show with a couple of friends after just having read this quote for my litera-
“we seem to be a country divided by party lines, religion, race and class”
room was aware of the power of the music we were experiencing. The concert also reminded me of how music can connect us with those around us — experiencing the same music with others makes us feel like we’re a part of some larger collective identity. This unity is especially important in light of the recent political chaos in our country. We seem to be a country divided by party lines, religion, race and class. These divisions are discouraging and can by no means be solved overnight. But as I reflected on our factious nation, I was reminded of that night I spent in Santa Cruz with my friends. While this setting is perhaps not a satisfactory microcosm of our nation as a whole, it was, to me, an example of something that brings humans together, that connects us easily and effortlessly. Think of the common lullabies we sing to our children, or of crowds standing together and singing the national anthem at football games. These songs bring groups of people together, increasing social cohesion. Music can and should be a force to connect us all, and it can be comforting to remember just how powerful music is in influencing not only our individual memories but our collective sense of identity and community.
Illustration by JANET LIU/ The Stanford Daily
Contact Julie Plummer at jplummer@stanford.edu.
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GLACIAL
Photos by Syler Peralta-Ramos
The word “glacial” is often used in the English language to describe something large, immovable, timeless or slow-moving. As humans, we have always imagined glaciers as such – permanent entities that are too vast and powerful to be influenced by human hands. Among glaciated landscapes and frozen tundra, the sheer power of the ice has a funny way of making a person feel small. The idea that something as relativel tiny as a human being could influence something so large can seem unfathomable but has become reality as climate change begins to take effect around the globe. From shrinking glaciers to altered weather extremes, humans have never had more power to alter the basic function of our planet’s seemingly unchangeable systems. This photo story hopes to capture the essence of a human-driven climate change and visually illustrate the juxtaposition between the small physical size of humans but the tremendous scale of impact on the earth.
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Clockwise from top left: A 1,000-year-old chunk of ice from Iceland’s largest icecap, the Vatnajökull A group of student explorers climbs the frozen slopes of the upper Tasman Glacier in New Zealand Dettifoss, the largest waterfall in the European continent, in northern Iceland A group of students follows the contours of the Tasman Glacier Sunlight peers into a hole in a wave-like ice cave beneath the Svínafellsjökull Glacier in southern Iceland The ice of the Tasman Glacier ripples and tears as it moves rapidly downhill A mountain explorer contemplates the beauty of an ice formation on the upper Tasman Glacier 21
HOME By Madeline Musante
On Stanford and the limbo between two homes
A friend once described college as the act of having your heart in two places. I call both Stanford and Eureka, California home and do not know how to reconcile these two very different spheres. Eureka is an isolated town of 26,000 residents. It’s a four-hour drive from the next city and a six-hour drive north from Stanford. Few people leave Eureka, and of those who do, few return. As a result, college has caused me wonder not only what constitutes home but also upon my hometown obligations. After coming to an elite institution, what responsibility do I have to my native community? A New York Times article, “The Best and Worst Places to Grow Up: How Your Area Compares,” maps income mobility by county across the United States. Eureka is located in Humboldt County, and according to the study, children who grow up in Humboldt’s poor families will make an average of $790 less than children of poor families across the U.S. It reads, “Humboldt County is pretty bad for income mobility for children in poor families. It is better than about 26 percent of counties,” 22
putting it in nearly the bottom quarter. The statistics are nearly twice as bad for girls. So what do all of these numbers have to do with my sense of home? Growing up in an uppermiddle class family in a poor community gave me advantages my peers didn’t have. Coming to Stanford gave me even greater privilege. I do not feel Stanford is a golden ticket to success; getting an education and finding a job still requires work. However, attending an institution like Stanford equips a student with opportunities that are simply unimaginable at other places. Since coming here, I have been able to study abroad, hear President Obama speak in person and receive funding for an unpaid internship in a rural community similar to my own. Experiences like these do not secure a six-figure paycheck, but they open a lot of doors. So, after being raised by a so-called “very bad” community and coming to an elite institution of opportunity, what am I supposed to do? I feel that my moral duty is to return to Eureka, but I am torn by my increasing connections to Stanford/the Bay Area. Eureka is tight-knit, but certain personal characteristics made much of my time there terribly lonely. Having a special needs brother made me intensely aware of the
everyday good fortune with which each child is born. My seriousness and resentment of the class clowns — who seemed to take their brains for granted — ostracized me from my peers. I enjoyed loving relationships with my family, close friends and the congregation at my church, but at school, I was bullied. I also battled depression and anxiety following two hip surgeries that left me unable to run, my favorite activity. Despite the fact that I would have faced these challenges anywhere, I came to associate Eureka with an unhappy part of myself. This association is lessened by the love I feel for my family and the beauty of the town, but it still exists, making me weary of returning. Still, how can I leave the community that raised me — especially when it needs so much? Don’t I owe it to that community to return? These questions continue to circle in my mind. I became an international relations major with the intent of pursuing human rights for immigrants and refugees, but in looking broadly, I fear I have forgotten the needs of my hometown. Eureka struggles with an overloaded foster care system, too little funding to combat drug crimes and too little interest from the rest of California. Its small population gives it little voice in the state legislature, making funding for change difficult to obtain.
Before coming to Stanford, I did not realize how much the rest of the state overlooks Eureka. I have frequently been told upon trying to explain where my hometown is that “California doesn’t really matter past San Francisco.” There are no big cities, theme parks or areas of dense population, so many students I talk with do not count it as part of the state. These words are a dismissal of all I grew up with and remind me that Eureka is a forgotten community. What truly differentiates Stanford from Eureka is the sense of opportunity. At Stanford and around the Bay Area, I feel as though I can pursue any career — I might fail, but everything is here for me try. I do not feel the same about Eureka. Being four hours from the nearest city doesn’t just limit what you can visit; it also limits what can visit you. Colleges like Stanford don’t recruit in Eureka, so students view them as being unattainable. My high school counselor discouraged me from applying, stating that students from our area “didn’t do well outside.” I am the first person in eight years from my high school to come to Stanford, not because Eureka lacks talent or intelligence but because too many students lack encouragement and resources. I come from a college-educated family who could help me navigate the application process. This is not the case for many other students living in low-income communities — rural or urban. Consequently, few people from my high school left the area for college. (Though I’m proud to say more and more are going to college.) Because no one leaves, no outside skills are gained, and though generational knowledge is extremely valuable, there is a limit to how applicable it can be to modern problems. Eureka needs people to leave and return with new knowledge (as my mother did), but it’s frightening to leave such an insular community for one that seems to have forgotten us. New industry and jobs cannot be created without outside knowledge, but once someone has left, it’s tempting to stay in a more urban, developed area where a greater variety of career opportunities exist. University recruiters aren’t the only ones to shy away from Eureka. My brother’s first neurologist was based at UCSF, and my hip specialists operated out of Sacramento, Napa and Stanford. Hearing that California doesn’t matter past San Francisco makes me feel as though my home’s medical needs don’t matter. Though the population is small, its needs are great. Eureka dwellers face travel expenses in order to receive specialized care. Having come to Stanford, I feel it is my responsibility to bring my education back home, but at the same time, I am drawn to fix injustice at a more
global scale (especially given the recent antiimmigration fervor). I feel pulled in two by my moral beliefs. Should I work for broad change or return home to work at the local level? I cannot simultaneously give my all to both, and I don’t know what is right.
what they need done. If you come from a “bad community,” you are the best possible person to fight for it. You have seen its struggle and its beauty first hand. I believe it is wrong to abandon a broken community because in doing so, you rob it of its greatest voice.
The more important question for myself and for all my Stanford peers is this: What moral responsibility do we have to our communities? If we come from inner cities, from rural areas, from, as the New York Times article phrased it, “very bad” origins, don’t we owe it to those places to make them better? In the novel “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn,” Betty Smith writes, “A person who pulls himself up from a low environment via the bootstrap route has two choices. Having risen above his environment, he can forget it; or, he can rise above it and never forget it and keep compassion and understanding in his heart for those he has left behind him in the cruel upclimb.” I do not believe it is wrong to better yourself or to pursue a high-paying job, but it is wrong to forget those who do not have the means to follow you.
Eureka is still the most beautiful place I have ever seen. The people carry compassion and love giving food, clothing and comfort when tragedy strikes. They raised me to be the person that I am and they are the reason I was able to come to Stanford. Nevertheless, Eureka and places like it are plagued by underfunded schools and overcrowded social service systems.
Writing on disability, I stated in my Stanford personal statement essay that there is a difference between observing and enduring. The person who has lived through a hardship knows it better than any outside observer. An ally, no matter how dedicated, cannot fight for change without first asking the affected group
The “Stanford bubble” is an overused but accurate phrase. The campus is dazzling, but it also helps us to keep our eyes shut to the outside world. I still don’t know what I have done to deserve Stanford’s privilege or how to give back an amount equal to what I’ve received. Especially now, in a time of deep uncertainty, we must remember those we have left behind. I challenge each reader to think about the needs around them. Do not bury your burdens but instead hold them up as a symbol of triumph. I cannot say what I will do to leave my mark on the world, but I know I will act with both of my homes in mind, and I will be better for this. Contact Madeline Musante at mmusante ‘at’ stanford.edu.
Photos by MADELINE MUSANTE/The Stanford Daily 23
Ocean Studies By Tyler Dunston
The sunlight collides into a swarm of steel chairs turns time into a stone soapy sea
like a swarm of minnows her grandmother muttered something in Italian
held until now
her grandfather’s painting of Christ
suspended in sea air
hanging on the wall beside her
now it waterfalls down (she says freeze it hang it on a wall) She cast out
roaring thunder Her couch lumpy as a cloud
a cloud of scrambled egg
always held us we felt like rain
on a fork
one day
like a fisherman, hands on the wheel
we were bound to fall through
I tilted my head upwards
in fact, we were long overdue
and to the side
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tethered us to the adjoining room
always the fish sunlight
there’re no trenches in time
in my scales
to duck behind, they
The smell of egg
say grandpa said
Photo by SYLER PERALTA-RAMOS/The Stanford Daily
He’s dead now
remembering evenings
but he left the Christ painting
by the sea
and the family stokes his image every now and then
images gliding through the light-laced crack in the door
the stone sea heaves
grandpa’s fishing pole
breathes struggles
pulled in by the
to breathe heaves
waves
rolls over a dead whale on a beach
Christ’s face
telling stories of his childhood days
blood
he’d forgotten them all skin all sea-creature slipping All the days forgot after I left Tennessee her couch in the old cabin the Christ painting would have reminded me of de Kooning
red acrylic like
you and I caught in a gray cloud raining down like light: diffused before touching the ground
if I’d known who that was
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Tap Shoes By Shannon Daniels The black leather stiffens around my feet as my mother whispers You’re going to wear them a lot, right? My father wears his shoes until they are more dirt than rubber my grandma would have gotten less than a meal’s worth after sewing each invisible seam. I already have trouble looking these shoes in the eye. My mother’s eyes are oceanic as she laces another size, taut and soft onto my left foot like a promise. I had flaunted her work shoes through our hallway before I could tie them; She double knotted the bows to keep them from coming undone. Maybe, when she carried the box to the register with both hands she thought I could be the first in my family to dance. She had come all the way to 54th street after long, long hours filing at her desk, for these shiny black boats. I didn’t know they could hold so much.
Photo illustration by KYLIE JUE/The Stanford Daily 26
By Vivian Lam STAFF WRITER
T
he “real world” looms nigh, in the shape of caps and gowns, disposable income and questionable domestic policies.
With each passing year, more and more of the decisions we make will make a significant and probably irrevocable impact on the trajectory of our lives (e.g. voting, eating pizza every day for lunch, binge-watching Netflix with no chill). It’s kind of a scary thought — like how you’re one step closer to dying with every breath you take, but a lot faster. Sylvia Plath conjures up an eerily apprehensive scene in her novel “The Bell Jar”: “I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked. One fig was a husband and a happy home and children, and another fig was a famous poet and another fig was a brilliant professor, and another fig was Ee Gee, the amazing editor, and another fig was Europe and Africa and South America, and another fig was Constantin and Socrates and Attila and a pack of other lovers with queer names and offbeat professions, and another fig was an Olym-
pic lady crew champion, and beyond and above these figs were many more figs I couldn’t quite make out. “I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.” Of all the fig trees you could sit in the crotch of, Stanford is one of the most fertile and luxurious designer fig trees you can find. Here, the implicit credo that every life has unlimited potential is manifested in a smorgasbord of opportunities, a long line of illustrious predecessors and an insanely talented and passionate student body. There’s an obscenely long list of “notable” Stanford graduates on Wikipedia. Paraded before your eyes is the sheer magnitude of who you could be and what you can do: We have 20 Nobel Laureates, world-record-holding athletes (280 Olympic medals and counting), high-profile government officials and activists, pioneers in academia, entrepreneurs with business staples in malls, neighborhoods and
or, what to do with your life
The Stanford Fig Tree
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electronics worldwide, and innumerable prize-winning artists, musicians, writers and alumni in every other category of success.
It’s terrifying to think that each and every class and activity you choose and do not choose has the potential to change your life irrevocably.
You can’t get a sandwich at CoHo without being starstruck with caricatures of alumni who have broken into the mainstream consciousness. And since you received that acceptance letter, you’ve been stamped with the institutional confidence that you could be just as good and more. In fact, you probably got here because you were pretty good at many of these things — a “well-rounded,” multifaceted individual with incredible potential. And to think that every one of them started from where you are now — hundreds of organizations and infinite areas of study at your fingertips, with events on the usefulness of some particular major every other week (in case you were worried). Not to be alarmist, but it’s terrifying to think that each and every class and activity you choose and do not choose has the potential to change your life irrevocably.
The possibilities dangle tantalizingly from the branches of the tree, still green and waiting for you to reach up and take them. And beyond what you can immediately see, there are so many possibilities that we haven’t yet perceived to be possible. Of course, there are some people who have already taken their pick and are sucking as much juice out of that fig as they can. This is that one person who somehow knew they were going to be a doctor from the womb and probably would have conceived themselves if they’d had the agency to do so. This is that one person who has already founded a Fortune 500 company or published 15 first-author articles and four novels by the time they graduate. This is also that one person obsessed with that one particular cause, who’s done incomparable advocacy work and isn’t afraid 28
to show it in the fervor and magnitude of their Facebook shares. Many are probably following their 20year plan exactly as they planned it, have already finished that grant application due four years from now. They are, as we say, “uber passionate.”
So we find our friends and classmates whispering their hopes and dreams to their overheating laptops at 4:58 a.m. in the morning, firm in their belief that all of their sweat and hard toil is “worth it.” For we who have failed to specialize so quickly, the pressure to find “that one thing” only builds.
There’s a reason why only four people might show up to a pre-nursing information session, and a talk on an “untraditional” pre-medical pathway can fill CEMEX auditorium. There’s a reason why there are multiple student pre-professional organizations and sources of advising for some areas of interest and comparatively few for others. There’s a reason why certain responses to the “What do you want to do postgradua-
And we how could we forget the high premium it costs to enter this orchard and stare placidly at the figs of possibility hanging over our heads? Based on the 2016-17 academic year pricing, it costs around $266,784 to contemplate under the fig tree for four years, or $317.60 per day. To put it in a more concrete perspective, you could buy four new luxury midsize SUVs (or 14 or so 2017 Toyota Corollas, for the fuel-efficient) by the time you graduate. You could also buy 72 years’ worth of groceries for an average American family of four on a “liberal food plan.” Basking in the faux-tropical Californian sunshine shining through the overhanging palm fronds isn’t quite a free lunch (nor the “free lunches” you get from those info sessions). With all the sacrifices you and those who have supported you have made, there’s almost a moral imperative to maximize the worth that has been placed on you, and a strong pressure to make that investment worthwhile in the form of astronomical success. But what does success look like, in the context of the privileges with which we’ve been endowed? Is it fame? Wealth? Historical social and cultural impact? World domination? Though we might say that we should follow whatever suits our heart’s content, it’s hard to ignore the fact that “success” on this campus is often tinged with the golden glow of prestige.
t i on ? ” will garner a standard nod and others a raised eyebrow of surprise and confusion. Beneath the magnanimous rhetoric to follow our dreams and passions in the vacuum of our personal preferences and beliefs, there’s an understated obligation to pursue something that will ostensibly secure you a stable income, give you a place in the upper echelons of society, make your parents proud to tell their friends, wow your friends, disgruntle your enemies. And if not one of the “traditional” pathways, then something that will get your name amidst the most influential and the most achieved — a
leader of the field. This is not to say that we should settle for any less — a drive for “success” and a vaguely paralyzing existential fear of failure probably played a partial role in how we got here in the first place. But as we stare up at those pretty figs of possibility hanging above us, our eyes are clouded with a fear of regret (that we’ll make the wrong decision, that we won’t meet our full potential), failure (that we’re
There is no one ultimate “such-a-good-fit-thatyou-love-each-and-every-day-you’re-workingand-you-only-ever-want-to-do-this-for-therest-of-your-life-and-you’d-probably-continue-working-remotely-and-telecommute-fromthe-grave-if-you-could” career, and those who profess it to be so speak for a model that doesn’t reflect reality. The majority of millennials in the work force job-hop and are open to switching careers into completely different industries. Previous generations of college graduates were not that different. At best, you can aim for a 20:80 satisfaction ratio as you take your second, third, fourth, fifth, fifteenth chance in the landing-the-dream-job game. But the fact of the matter is that in spite of the possibility of change, you will have to make a decision. Though no choice need be mutually exclusive, you will likely have to sacrifice parts of yourself in order to move forward. And as absurd as it may sound to the implicitly accepted and performed purpose of higher education (i.e., that of securing a job), we don’t just live for a job. There is more to life than the hoops we jump through or the structures of living that allow for a high-performing, mechanical existence. As others have made sacrifices for us to become who we are today, so will we give back and make sacrifices for those others who will come to matter so much more than what’s on our resumes. A job is the means to an end — not necessarily the end itself. And the process of finding out exactly what is worth living and fighting for is an understated part of higher education that should never be secondary. So how do we choose?
Illustration by JANET LIU/The Stanford Daily
just not good enough), disappointment (that we’ll let our mentors, families and communities down) and shame (that we don’t deserve to be here in the first place). Standing before these futures, we are caught in the cognitive dissonance of a Sartrean freedom that cannot be extricated from its context without struggle. But it’s overly dramatic and patently false to say that your life ultimately hinges on what you immediately do or seek to pursue post-graduation.
Some people take a rather algorithmic approach to it. Some go with their gut. Think about what keeps you voluntarily up at night and awake in class; what you avoid, never show up to and procrastinate on; what gives you dread and what you leaves you in awe. Try everything, then start dropping them one by one. If something makes you hot and bothered (if you know what I mean), dig a little deeper as to why. Shadow, talk to others, research and question your assumptions and motivations. Figure out the fundamental difference of why this and not that. Don’t let shame or pressure force you into something you can’t imagine get-
ting out of bed for, and don’t let anyone intimidate you into giving up when you hit barriers, walls and glass ceilings. And remember that life happens — tragedies and serendipities will inevitably derail our 20-year plans (something about mice and men, running around the fig tree). As Barack Obama told the last internship class of his administration, “Be kind, be useful, be fearless.” Each choice opens and closes a door — and that’s OK. There, up in the fig tree, are an unimaginable number of potential you’s that will never come into being. It’s an absolute privilege to be able to sit underneath these branches and imagine which one we’ll choose. But we can’t settle for possibility — for an “I could have been…” or an “If I had more time…”. Tomorrow is not promised, and we only have so many years to sit beside this tree. To begin to see through the murk of the future, we must think about what matters most to us, remember our roots, and either be open to making compromise or try the best we can to make it happen. So reach up and pick a fig; take a bite and savor the taste. There will be another season, and another chance to dream again. Contact Vivian Lam at vivlam25@stanford.edu.
Don’t let shame or pressure force you into something you can’t imagine getting out of bed for, and don’t let anyone intimidate you into giving up when you hit barriers, walls and glass ceilings.
29
HUMOR
Lessons from the election By Isha Kumar COLUMNIST
You can rise above a privileged, wealthy and upper-class background and become the most powerful man in the country. Sarah Palin is not the scariest Republican. Tim Kaine used to be kinda hot. If you find your daughter attractive, don’t think about the fact that you are biologically related to her. Date her. We did not have to worry about McCain dying if he had been elected eight years ago. He’s still kicking. Don’t think before you speak. Just say everything that comes to your mind. Especially if it’s offensive. Then definitely say it. We know what to do next time a natural disaster hits Florida. Bill loves balloons. There are people in Pennsylvania whom we didn’t know about for, like, the last 25 years. You can get everything you want, without working for it; it just comes to you. You don’t need experience. Just goes to show in life, nothing is hard to achieve. And you don’t need hard work, qualifications or anything else. The results of the election aren’t the end of the world. In a literal sense. Kind of. We should have clapped. Contact Isha Kumar at ihskumar@stanford.edu.
Illustration by JANET LIU/ The XX Stanford Daily
Gilmore Trees: A Year in the Life By Sam Weyen COLUMNIST
I
arrive back to my dorm at 2:30 a.m. I’m holding a wedding dress stained by a red velvet cake, pulling a wagonload of oddities: a car battery, a speaker system, a chewed-up garter, a woven basket with tracings of flower petals, a pair of heels, 10 golf balls and marriage documents, signed, notarized and ready for the county of Santa Clara. I’ve just finished my final Tree stunt. It was a wedding. I’ll let your mind fill in the details, though I’ll reveal that the ceremony was intimate, scripted and replete with unpublishable taboos (the way I always imagined it as a boy). It was a long trudge across campus to my dorm. I return the car battery to my RCC, the golf balls to my friend down the hall in Toyon. I pull the wagon inside and pray nobody steals it before I’m awake enough to deal with it. I lay the dress out on my bed and assess the damage: definitely stained. Red streaks of icing down the breast and stomach as if I’d been mauled by a pastry velociraptor. I throw it over my chair. I check my phone. 2:50 a.m. I’ll find out tonight. I haven’t slept in three days. I lay down and pretend to sleep. The window is slightly open but too far to reach. It’s cold outside. There’s a knock on my door. 4:00 a.m. Who could that be? They enter. There is music. The entire Band outside in the Toyon courtyard, dressed to the nines in rally, festooned with LED lights, jamming. Green Day’s “Welcome to Paradise.” An old Tree tackles me to the ground and whispers in my ear. “It’s you.”
I run outside and spin in disbelief to the music with four other Trees. For 30 minutes they play, and then a robe is put around my shoulders. “Get some sleep — your first game is in six hours.” There used to be this old filing cabinet, irreparably damaged, lounging under the staircase in the Band Shak. We also had in our possession a rather high-quality sledgehammer. All we needed was a reason. In mid-spring, we got one: Our favorite rally of the year, Picnic Day at UC Davis, had been canceled by the Band’s probation officers. We assessed the situation like adults, proposing new ways to prove to Stanford that the toxic traditions that had invoked our probation five years prior were indeed relics of past, but uncertainty remained. Would the rest of the year be rife with new, confusing punishments? After a certain point, talking was not sufficient. A friend and I dragged the filing cabinet outside, someone played the song from the “Office Space” scene where an old printer gets curbstomped (“Still,” also known as “Die Motherfucker, Die,” by the Geto Boys) and we took turns exorcising the bitterness from our hearts with haphazard swings at the limp, metal carcass. There’s is such indescribable joy in taking a sledgehammer to a filing cabinet. We mangled its drawers and laughed and giggled and pounded the frustration away. The next day, we held our own Picnic Day: The entire Band frolicked from fountain. Through MemAud, Green, the Engineering Quad, even into TAP, we played our chaotic music. We were out of fountains when we reached Terman. The crowds had gone home, but we didn’t want to. How about a few songs just for ourselves, in the coolness of the water? Dox conducted around pillars and pluming water jets. My friend Fralex wrestled with a hilariously inconvenient sun costume that he’d
been dared to don. My friend Derek was chased through the pool, saxophone in hand, by watertossing Dollies. I threw off the Tree and laid it on the sand at the base of the fountain. Off came my shoes and socks. I took a deep breath and jumped in as the music began, dancing until my toes were cold, splashing frenetically in the shallow water. I’ve never felt more alive. We had just won the U$C game — my body and bones still banging around like wrenches in a frayed duffel bag — and the Band was in a game of chicken with the Trojan band staging its own aftershow in the other corner of the stadium. It. was. war. I had never danced so furiously in my life, but through the months, I’d become a machine: Run. then sprint leap off the railing twist spinspinspinspinspinspin and one more time spin leaves shake wave at small child sprint jump jump kicksomethinginvisible spinspin lea prun~twist~dosomethingobnoxious ... I was drenched, beaten, cut by zipties and wheezing slightly... but I was in the zone. Then, in the middle of it all, I had this visceral feeling … unlike any I’d ever felt. Call it joy. Maybe freedom. A new ataraxia. It was wild and indelible. And as I stepped forward yet again on an open frontier of churned-up grass to complete the choreo for Zoot Suit Riot and entertain a few more dazzly-eyed spectators … I absolutely ate it. My fat foot shot up to my face as if a banana peel had materialized under my clublike foot, and I was leveled onto the turf. I looked like a sad down turtle flailing my arms to un-capsize. Then I saw some fans laughing on the sidelines. Then I was laughing. I went for broke, and danced like a fool parallel to the earth making snow angels in the grass. My Tree in Autumn. Here’s to more inspiring, hysterical falls. Contact Sam Weyen sweyen@stanford.edu. 31
COMPANY SPIRIT By DAVID STEINBERG CONTRIBUTOR
Across 1. “Live ___” (Taco Bell slogan) 4. “Dancing Queen” band 8. Temporary break 14. Yellowfin tuna 15. Formal email opener 16. Codeine, for one 17. *Corn Flakes maker 19. *Chain with an Internet-famous employee named Alex 20. PGA Tour champion Mark 21. Omar of “House” 23. ___ and outs 24. *Wii producer 26. *Erin Burnett’s channel 27. Lightbulb units 29. Mischievous fellow 31. Company name initials 32. 0, in soccer scores 33. Compulsive thief, slangily 37. *Office Depot competitor 40. *Online streaming service 41. Cushion that’s fluffed
42. Scribble (down) 43. ___-unit wonders 44. “Them’s fighting words!” 46. Small DNA sequence 48. *”Helpful” hardware store 50. *Side in an ‘80s ad war 52. Beats by ___ 53. Nursery school, briefly 54. Common theater name 57. *Corporation that acquired Sun 59. School whose colors appear in the logos of the starred companies 61. Person ditching class 62. Move like slime 63. Prefix meaning “recent” 64. They can’t exceed 140 characters 65. More than want 66. Ruby, for instance
Down 1. Kind of shark 2. [Stop ignoring me!]
3. Coolidge nickname 4. Decorates 5. Gave birth to, biblically 6. “Paper or plastic” item 7. Manchester United rival 8. Easy-to-cook turnover 9. Hoppy beers 10. Cause of inflation? 11. Link to on Facebook 12. Knoxville college, informally 13. Movie backgrounds 18. Café au ___ 22. Groups of cops: Abbr. 25. Second-largest dwarf planet 26. Bass, treble, or alto 27. Streak of smoke 28. Opposed to, informally 30. Ctrl+___+Del 32. Groups of reporters 34. Proceed slowly 35. Ex-Yankee Martinez 36. Yoked animals 38. Knee bend, in ballet
39. Real estate parcel 40. “Julie & Julia” screenwriter Ephron 42. Capital of Mississippi 45. Sorrow 46. Invented, as a phrase 47. “Frozen” snowman 48. <--- or ---> 49. ___ and desist order 51. Pokémon Go, currently 52. “Stop it!” 53. Make a graph of 55. Big Game costume 56. Lamar who’s divorcing Khloé Kardashian 58. Rebel Guevara 60. Painful thing to stub
Solution on page 2. Contact David Steinberg at davids19@stanford.edu.