Ukraine Good Model for Responding to Refugee Crisis

OPINIONSOPINIONS

March 4, 2022 Established 1874 Volume 151, Number 13

An Iranian Refugee Speaks On Professor Mahallati

EdItOrIal BOard

EdItOrS-IN-ChIEf Anisa Curry Vietze Kushagra Kar

MaNagINg EdItOr Gigi Ewing

Sima Kalavani

Undoubtedly, you have not heard of me. I am just one of hundreds of thousands of Iranian citizens who were forced by the terrorist regime under Ruhollah Khomeni and Ali Khameni to leave their beloved homeland in the past decades. Unlike you, I don’t get to study at one of the most prestigious liberal arts colleges in the U.S. I live a much simpler life in a developing country in Latin America: the only place I could run away to after the Iranian regime began to investigate my political cartoons and activities. While you know nothing of me, I and many other young people from Iran have heard all about your college. Specifically, we have been shocked to hear you employ a former Iranian regime diplomat, Mohammad Jafar Mahallati, as a professor of Religion and Islamic Studies. We have been stunned to hear that this official is involved with interdisciplinary courses in the field of “friendship and forgiveness studies.”

Much of the debate about Professor Mahallati’s position at your college seems to focus on the question of whether he knew about certain mass executions of dissidents by the regime, and whether, as an Iranian diplomat at the United Nations, he knowingly misled the world about them. But debating this question is a waste of time. We will never know whether Professor Mahallati knew about the specific crimes committed by the regime, and was periodically parroting the denialist propaganda coming from his superiors in Tehran merely as a part of his job, or whether he really believed what he was saying, unaware of his colleagues’ crimes.

Let’s look at it in the light most favorable to him: that he didn’t know about these massacres, and that he presented Tehran’s excuses and denials at the U.N. with sincerity and credulity. The point here is not what exactly Professor Mahallati did, said, or believed while employed by the terrorist regime in Tehran. The point is that he

SUBMISSIONS POLICY

voluntarily worked for this regime as an international representative and diplomat. People like him — soft-spoken, well-mannered, bureaucratic drones — are exactly the reason why the regime apparatus exists, and why it continues to oppress my people. Individually, such people do nothing of note. In fact, they might well be incapable of killing a fly, let alone planning a crime. Together, as part of the bureaucratic apparatus working for the usurper’s regime in Tehran, such people are the trivial face of unspeakable evil. They are the cogs and bolts in the apparatus of a regime that represents true depravity and sadism like almost no other.

Islam does not know national chauvinism. But the regime viciously promotes Persian language and toxic Persian ethnic supremacism at the cost of the many other Indigenous peoples of Iran, their languages, or cultures: Baluchs, Arabs, Armenians, Lurs, Jews, Georgians, Kurds, Turkmen, Azerbaijanis, and many others. One of the very first acts of the so-called “Islamic Republic” in 1979 was ethnocidal mass murder against rebellious Kurds; countless other non-Persian Indigenous ethnic groups have been targeted since then by discrimination, land theft, and forced assimilation. Shia Islamic thought emphasizes social justice and compassion, but the regime emphasizes social-Darwinist capitalism with no limits. The rich live in huge villas filled with the latest imported luxury goods, while the poor literally starve. The regime consciously chooses to spend the money on terrorism, bombs, and war, rather than on helping Iranian citizens put bread on the table. This is the reality of the regime Professor Mahallati chose to work for.

I do not wish to tell you to sack Pro-

Continued ‘Mahallati’ on page 6

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OPINIONS EdItOrS Angel Aduwo Emma Benardete

Ukraine Good Model for Responding to Global Refugee Crises

On Tuesday, the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees said that over 660,000 people have fled Ukraine in the days following Russia’s invasion last Thursday, Feb. 24. The UNHCR has estimated that a total of 1.8 million Ukrainian refugees will be displaced from their homes, uprooted from their lives, and forced to seek refuge in other countries. That number could greatly increase, however, with the European Union estimating that up to four million people might be forced to leave the country.

Countries across the continent, but especially those in Eastern Europe, have rallied to open their borders to refugees. The EU had been preparing to “welcome and host” refugees from Ukraine for weeks leading up to the invasion and will increase funding for refugees past the $1.2 billion already available, according to EU Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s statement on Feb. 24. Poland is planning to accommodate 1 million Ukrainian refugees; as of Thursday, Hungary had welcomed over 139,000; Moldova, 97,000; Slovakia, 72,000; and Romania, 51,000.

In Poland, there are eight reception points across the border where Ukrainian refugees can receive food, medical care, and transportation into other parts of Poland. But Poland’s open-border policy toward Ukrainian refugees is not reflective of its general stance toward refugees. In stark contrast to Poland’s current efforts, contractors began work on a $400 million wall at its border with Belarus just over a month ago, in an effort to bar the predominantly Muslim refugees seeking asylum from Iraq, Syria, and Afghanistan. In November, thousands of these refugees were trapped at the border without shelter or food; over a dozen died in the freezing temperatures.

This contrast is devastating. It demonstrates something deeply dystopian about Western civilization: that we only care about suffering and humanitarian crises when the people suffering look a particular, whiteskinned, blonde-haired way. “We’re not talking here about Syrians fleeing the bombing of the Syrian regime backed by Putin,” said French journalist Phillipe Corbé. “We’re talking about Europeans leaving in cars that look like ours to save their lives.”

The outpouring of support for Ukraine proves that when it actually wants to, the EU is capable of providing resources to genuinely help refugees. It proves that the international community is capable of acting with kindness and empathy toward communities in need. To put it bluntly, it proves that it is racism and classism, not lack of resources, that bars us from creating a model to reduce suffering and provide aid to those in need. It is not a lack of ability or resources that have historically prevented white, Western nations from opening their arms to refugees.

It’s also important to note that racism is impacting the way that refugees fleeing Ukraine are treated. There are reports that the Ukrainian military is dividing the crowds of people trying to take trains to safety into a group for people of color and a group for white people. Others are reporting that Ukrainian border guards have been using physical violence against Africans and other Black people trying to flee.

After reflection and consultation, this Editorial Board would like to encourage its readers to donate and work to support refugees from Ukraine, while simultaneously thinking critically about how they can do the same for displaced people suffering all over the world. We call on our readers to educate themselves, not just about the situation in Ukraine today, but about other refugee crises and the systemic difference in our individual and global responses.

It may be tempting to say that now is not the time to bring up issues of racial consciousness — now is the time to be supporting people experiencing immediate violence in Ukraine. You’d be right, but only in part. As challenging as it may be to have nuanced and open discussions that address multiple facets of this complex problem, now is the perfect time to do so. We have the opportunity to practice what we preach about anti-racist work, and we should take it.

Mahallati Only Part of the Problem

Continued from page 5 fessor Mahallati. America has academic freedom, and this principle is more valuable than a trivial villain like Professor Mahallati. Instead, I ask your students to stand up for the less privileged; for those who were murdered, tortured or robbed of their home by the regime which Professor Mahallati worked for. Raise your voice for them. Every time you attend a class with this professor, bring one of the flags of the oppressed Indigenous peoples of Iran to class and stick it to your desk. Fly the free colors of Kurdistan, of South Azerbaijan, of Balochistan, of Turkmen Sahra, of Arab Ahwaz, and all the other cultures and identities the tyrants in Tehran are trying to destroy and assimilate into oblivion. Wear a t-shirt with a photo of a dissenter murdered by the regime, like Dr. Abdul Rahman Ghassemlou, who was killed in 1989 by regime agents in the conference room while trying to negotiate peace. If there is an empty chair in your classroom, dedicate it to all the young, poor men in Balochistan who won’t be able to sit in any university classroom because they have been hanged by the racist regime on false drug charges, scapegoats to hide the fact that the regime’s so-called “revolutionary guards” are the biggest narco-mafia in Middle Eastern history. Make sure Professor Mahallati sees the reality of the regime every day, so he cannot hide behind ignorance about what system he served in his own past role.

The classroom should not be a venue for the ex-servants of tyranny to posture as intellectuals. If you want real education at your college, turn the tables, use your right to non-violent dissent. Give Professor Mahallati a peaceful but vivid lesson in what freedom and democracy really mean.

A Canadian’s Perspective On The American Multiracial Experience

Zach Bayfield Columnist

Before coming to Oberlin, my racial identity was something I rarely reflected on. My mother is a fifth-generation Canadian with entirely European ancestry. My father was born in Jamaica to an English father and a Jamaican mother. The Afro-Caribbean side of my ancestry was discussed comfortably in my family, and I felt no pressure to identify with one race over the other. Regardless of who I surrounded myself with or what activities I was engaging in, I felt like my identity was understood.

When I first came to Oberlin, my identity suddenly became more contentious. I remember my freshman year, I was eating lunch in Stevenson Dining Hall when one of my Black teammates asked me, “What are you?” I explained my genealogy in an abbreviated version of the previous paragraph, and his response was, “So you’re Black, right?” I was confused and taken aback by this statement. How could I identify as Black when I’ve never experienced racism directly? Why do I have to identify as a particular race? Why can’t I just be me?

Since that day, I’ve felt a deeper sense of confusion regarding my racial identity. Having both white colonial ancestry and Black ancestry, I find myself caught between feelings of guilt and feelings of anger. Am I allowed to feel both at the same time? All those questions came bubbling to the surface in my mind without a comfortable space to have those questions answered.

I could ask my white friends those questions, but I fear that my feelings will be invalidated because they see me as white. I could ask my Black friends those questions, but I fear that I will offend them because I am not visibly Black enough; because I have not experienced the trauma of direct, systemic racism. I’ve thought about going to the Multicultural Resource Center multiple times, but talking to other multiracial people brings up underlying fears about the validity of my experience as well. Even if I’m in a space to talk about my background with people who are similar to me, what if I’m not visibly mixed enough for my feelings to be valid? What if I make others feel invalidated by questioning my own experience, when there are others in that group who have experienced racism directly?

I had never considered questions about my identity previously, simply because I didn’t have to when I was growing up; I never felt like it made a difference what my racial background was. In Canada, I felt like I could just be a person and accept my identity without having to choose a side.

Ever since I started living in the U.S., I’ve felt a constant underlying pressure to choose a side. To be white or to be Black. On every form I’ve ever filled out in Canada, I’ve always had the chance to pick All That Apply — Black, White, etc., when asked about my race. On the first form I filled out for my student visa application, they asked me to Pick One — Black, White, or Other. Though I didn’t give it much thought at the time, the very use of the word “Other” demonstrates how the multiracial experience is far more marginalized in the United States than in Canada. Now, when I look at the words “Pick One” with a pen in my hand, I feel like the Other. I feel alienated and ostracized, thrust into a dilemma that I have no solution for.

In the U.S., even random people who have no understanding of my identity want to label me. I remember a vacation to Florida when I was sitting on the beach with my family, a Black man walked past us. I had never met him before. When walking past my less visibly mixed family members he didn’t seem to notice them. When he saw me, he took one look at me, said “My lightskin n*****,” and walked away. My family laughed it off and I laughed with them, but underlying feelings of painful confusion seeped into my laughter.

In Canada, my closest friends and family do not label me. I can’t remember a single experience of being labeled implicitly or explicitly. I always had the autonomy to be myself.

There is no doubt that racism is still present in Canada. Visible minorities are still discriminated against, and significant work needs to be done to promote equality for all races across Canada. In my father’s hometown of Penetanguishene, just two hours north of Toronto, Confederate flags still fly in front of homes where nobody’s ancestors fought in the U.S. Civil War. In the seventies when my father’s family was living there, the town had a population of approximately ten thousand. They were the only family that wasn’t entirely European or Indigenous. Not much has changed since then.

Canada is not perfect. Still, the racial climate in America is still noticeably more polarized than it is in Canada, which makes it far more difficult for multiracial individuals to feel accepted. In Canada, I felt accepted. In the U.S., I feel divided.

The American media’s perception of biracial individuals stokes racial division. The media places additional pressure on biracial people to identify themselves as one race, only. This is yet another heavily racialized aspect of American society that I did not experience in Canada. During my time in the United States, one particular story stood out in helping me understand this dichotomy: the story of Mike McDaniel’s hiring.

On Feb. 6, the Miami Dolphins hired San Francisco 49ers Offensive Coordinator Mike McDaniel as their head coach. In the wake of Brian Flores’ firing and his subsequent lawsuit against the league regarding racial discrimination, McDaniel was the first non-white candidate to be hired as a head coach. However, most people on the internet did not see it that way.

Even though McDaniel identifies as biracial and is proud of both sides of his heritage, Twitter was abuzz with comments claiming that “another white guy” got hired as an NFL coach. Some users even went as far as to request that he post photographic evidence to prove his biracial heritage. News outlets mistakenly labeled him as a white man as well. The sports website Deadspin had to redact an article after telling readers, “Please stop and think before you inadvertently dub another young, white guy as the next hot NFL coaching prospect.”

The internet’s reaction to McDaniel’s hiring is reflective of the racially polarized society the U.S. is today. When I read about the way he was perceived, my feelings about the racial climate in the United States were confirmed. McDaniel’s story is just one of the many examples where American multiracial athletes, politicians, and celebrities are expected to label themselves despite their reluctance to do so.

I hope that someday, space will exist for multiracial Americans to feel accepted and understood the way I was growing up. Multiracial Americans should be given the space to choose not to identify as one race over another, to accept our collective identities as whole. Furthermore, if multiracial Americans choose to identify as one race, they should be allowed to do so under their own volition, free of the racially polarized expectations and perceptions that are so prevalent in American culture.

Thanks to the culture I was surrounded by growing up, I was given the freedom to accept my identity. I was given the opportunity to forge my own path in discovering my identity. Whether I chose to view my identity as holistic or singular was my choice and mine alone. Sadly, I doubt I would have felt the same exploratory freedom if I grew up in America. Every multiracial person’s exploration of their identity is personal, and as such every multiracial person should be given the space to accept their identity as they see fit.

College Should Implement Composting

Elle Giannandrea Columnist

Following the recent disappearance of eco boxes and cups, the College’s need for a solution to food waste on campus has become all the more clear.

I started to notice Oberlin’s issue with food scraps during the first week of the fall semester, after eating at Stevenson Dining Hall. As a first-year from California, I was a little uncomfortable with the prospect of just throwing out my food with the rest of the trash. Considering that the disposable trays that Stevie provides are also compostable, it seemed like I was making a mistake and that there actually were compost bins somewhere on campus that I just hadn’t found yet. So, one night, with a half-empty disposable tray in hand, I went searching for some place to ethically dispose of my food. In the end, the only thing I succeeded in doing was looking like I was taking my trash on a walk.

In the coming months, a solution to my confusion about what to do with my food arose in the form of “eco tableware.” I still wasn’t sure that my food was being sent to a compost dump, but I at least knew that I wasn’t generating waste in the form of cups and boxes. However, with the end of the fall semester, the more environmentally friendly alternatives stopped being used. Now, the only remnants of the fall’s environmentalism lie in the half-forgotten eco cups left in kitchenette dish racks.

So what do we do now? The obvious answer would be to bring back the eco dining system. On a larger scale, consider the benefits of composting the food waste that students generate. However, it’s true that even for a school of this size, composting will by no means be easy. From what I can tell, there are no composting facilities nearby that take food waste, and while on-campus composting is possible, it does come with the burden of time, money, and effort. In a presentation on real-world examples of on-campus composting, members of St. John’s University, Colorado State University, Fort Lewis College, Princeton University, and Western Michigan University all detailed their strategies and pitfalls when it came to dealing with food waste. At St. John’s University (the college with the closest on-campus student population to Oberlin), they reported pulling in 8,000 pounds of food waste per week which goes through a system of aerated static pile composting assisted by part-time student workers.

Needless to say, it’s messy work, and if Oberlin is up to the challenge, it would most likely be a multi-year project that even I might not get to see the full scale of as an undergrad. However, if the $80-million sustainable infrastructure program we’re currently engaging in tells us anything about Oberlin, it’s that this is a college that is willing and able to put in the time, money, and effort it takes to make a substantial impact.