WUPR 23.4 Tradition

Washington University

political review 23.4 | December 2015 | wupr.org

TABLE OF CONTENTS 4

Dan Sicorsky

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Death Penalty

Sabrina Wang

Sam Klein

Transcending Traditionalism

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The Reason for the Season Infographics

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A Year of Cicadas Rachel Butler

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Serena Lekawa

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Navigating Asian Masculinity Images and Stereotypes Vincent Ann

What it Means to be Wealthy Grace Portelance

The Electoral College: Jack Ploshnick

Taking Attendance: Dr. Paul Farmer on Student Activism

The Fall of Traditional Faith

An Archaic Tradition

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Another Stab at the

Hiking Home

Reuben Siegman

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Paid Patriotism Benjamin Szanton

Annie Magovern

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INTERNATIONAL

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Traditions of the Past

TRADITION

NATIONAL

Discontinue the Painful

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A Small Light in the Darkness Min Heo

EDITOR’S NOTE Editors-in-Chief: Billie Mandelbaum Aryeh Mellman Executive Director: Hannah Waldman Staff Editors: Sam Klein Rachel Butler Grace Portelance Features Editors: Aaron Christensen Serena Lekawa Finance Director: Jake Belinky Director of Design: Andrew Kay Assistant Directors of Design: Nikolai Laba Ezekiel Saucedo Director of New Media:

Dear Reader, On November 12, 2015, 200 Yale University students gathered outside the home of the university’s president to raise awareness about a series of on-campus racists incidents that had gone unaddressed by the school’s administrators.

The students, members of a minority rights student group called “Next Yale,” presented President Peter Salovey with a list of demands designed to improve the campus’ racial climate. Included among the demands, was a call to rename Calhoun College, a residential community named for John Calhoun, an arch defender of slavery. Less than a week later, Princeton students occupied the office of their university president to protest racial issues embroiling their campus community. As part of their direct-action, these students demanded that the name of Woodrow Wilson, an alumnus and notorious racist, as well as former president of both Princeton and the United States, be removed from all campus buildings. In these protests, the students at Yale and Princeton sought to disrupt the racist traditions of their universities.

Not all traditions are so harmful. Over the ensuing break, many students will celebrate holidays of various religious and cultural origins that bring light to them and their families in the darkest time of the year. These traditions can be a source of strength and comfort at a time when these attributes are sorely needed.

In this issue, writers have examined the good, the bad, and the ugly of tradition.

Annie Magovern writes about a beauty pageant in La Paz, Bolivia whose contestants challenge the Western binaries of “traditional” and “modern.”

Ben Szanton takes a look at the relationship between patriotism, sports, and corporate money while both Sabrina Wang and Rachel Butler approach the magazine’s theme from a personal memoir angle, giving readers a glimpse into the traditions of their families.

Ari Moses

We wish all our readers a restful winter break, and hope that “joining WUPR” tops their list of resolutions for the New Year.

Programming Director:

Happy Reading!

Reuben Siegman

Billie Mandelbaum and Aryeh Mellman Finance Director: Alex Beaulieu Front Cover: Ezekiel Saucedo Theme Page: Nikolai Laba

Editors-in-Chief

TRADITION

political review | TRADITION

DISCONTINUE THE PAINFUL TRADITIONS OF THE PAST Dan Sicorsky

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he Supreme Court justices who voted against the legalization of same-sex marriage earlier this year had some strong things to say about the United States’ traditions.

Chief Justice John Roberts, for one, described what he saw as the majority’s fundamental error: “The Court today not only overlooks our country’s entire history and tradition but actively repudiates it, preferring to live only in the heady days of the here and now.”

A few seats down, Justice Samuel Alito identified another issue with the Court’s decision. “This understanding of marriage, which focuses almost entirely on the happiness of persons who choose to marry, is shared by many people today,” he said. “But it is not the traditional one.”

In what Roberts labels “the heady days of the here and now,” people of all races and sexes are able to marry whomever they love. And when they do, they experience exactly what Alito stated—happiness.

It seems, then, that Roberts and Alito aren’t afraid of legalizing a right that makes today’s people happy, at least not as much as they are afraid of doing something else—breaking from tradition.

They aren’t the only ones. Take the almost 30 countries in Africa and the Middle East where female genital mutilation (FGM) is practiced, for example. The Word Health Organization reports that many people there partially or totally remove their daughters' and wives' genitalia because religious tradition holds that only then will these women be “clean” and fit cultural ideals of femininity. Even though FGM is a human rights violation, the social pressure to conform to this ingrained tradition is often the reason families choose to perform it on girls.

Around the world, people and communities get anxious at the thought of breaking age-old customs. Jews who are conditioned to marry other Jews are conflicted when love and religion

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don’t line up. The Running of the Bulls happens yearly in several cities, despite protests that the animals are tortured for entertainment reasons. Greek organizations and other social groups haze new members in spite of highprofile deaths and reports of psychological and physical damage to victims.

But the dissenting justices, FGM practitioners, and much of the human race aren’t completely to blame for shivering at the thought of disobeying tradition. It’s language, really, that’s causing all the problems.

According to etymologists at the Oxford English Dictionary, for almost 170 years between the 15th and 17th centuries, the word tradition was understood to mean “a giving up, surrender; betrayal.” This could partially be because tradition and betray both lend all or part of their origins to the same Latin word, tradere.

These connections don’t only exist in English.

Surprising similarities can be found in many other languages between the concept of handing down and that of being disloyal. In Spanish, for example, tradición (tradition) has just one more letter than traición (betrayal).

Although the narratives of our languages’ histories might have us thinking otherwise, to depart from tradition is not to betray; it is to choose to live in today, not yesterday. Lemony Snicket put it best when he wrote, “Just because something is traditional is no reason to do it, of course.”

That’s not to say that traditions have been irrelevant from their beginnings. On the contrary, many customs, even those deemed inhumane by modern standards, at one point had historically relevant reasons for existing. When the institution of marriage was born before Biblical times, for instance, unions were limited to a man and a woman because of property acquisition, hereditary and reproduction reasons.

It wasn’t until about 250 years ago that love began to play a major role in Western marriage.

Fortunately, in the 240 years since the United States was founded, many traditions were erased or adapted. Slavery was abolished.

Marriage across sexes and races was legalized.

Women were allowed to vote and work outside the home. Schools were desegregated.

Washington and politics were opened up to more than just white old men.

Evidently, the United States is not its traditional self. In many areas, we’ve done a good job of recognizing that the old way of doing things might not be the right way of doing things.

But there’s still work to do in undoing traditions of suppression and oppression. A tradition of police brutality and mass incarceration still exists. So does a culture of gun violence.

Unequal access to higher education is a hallmark of the American tradition. Hazing is, too. Domestic abuse and shaming of sexual assault victims is alarmingly customary.

The list goes on, but in one way or another, all of the abovementioned practices are still “traditions.” None, however, should be assumed to be doing substantial good to the parties involved just because of the label they carry.

We must question our traditions, because keeping historically irrelevant customs is comparable to stagnating in the mud of generations ago. Contrary to what the Latin language says, no betrayal happens when we depart from traditions. What happens, in reality, is us making a smart decision to not let the ways of long ago dictate the actions of today.

Dan Sicorsky is a freshman in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at dan.sicorsky@wustl.edu.

political review | TRADITION

HIKING HOME Sabrina Wang | Image courtesy of WikiMedia Commons

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hristmas Day in the Sears-Wang family wouldn’t be complete without a grueling, six mile hike.

Every year after presents and breakfast, my mom, stepdad, and myself—and, if we have any, our guests—head out to the nearby mountains.

In a place like my hometown, Las Vegas, where temperatures rarely drop below mildly chilly, the brisk winter weather is a welcome change.

The season makes the Red Rock mountain range, located a convenient half hour outside of the bustling city, particularly pretty, sharpening the limestone’s vivid copper color and the meandering lines of the landscape.

Our hikes—on Christmas Day or otherwise— are both simple and powerful. Much more than an escape or form of exercise, hiking is a tradition that unifies my family. And given the significant cultural and generational differences between my mom, my stepdad, and myself, we are a family that could use some unity.

My very Chinese mom came to the States some 20 odd years ago, with my dad in tow.

She’s built a life here since then, breaking glass ceilings in her professional life and raising me as a single parent for a few years after my dad died from lung cancer. But though the immigrant story—you know, that almost-clichéd, I-came-with-$40-and-adream story—is told over and over, the part that is never portrayed is that the immigrant experience never ends. Not when you’ve got a stable job. Not when you’ve learned the language as best you can. Not when you’ve nabbed your portion of the so-called American dream.

On the surface level, this is reflected in her inability to correctly pronounce the word “umbrella,” her lack of appetite for cheesy and creamy sauces, and her failure to grasp sarcasm and pop culture references, all characteristics that are most often joked about good-naturedly.

But on a deeper level, my mom is still the girl who grew up during the heart of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. She retains a cultural identity and set of values that cannot be removed or covered up, one that is built into

Much more than an escape or form of exercise, hiking is a tradition that unifies my family. . . and we are a family that could use some unity. her very self and being—and one that I, having experienced a completely different childhood and reality, often cannot understand.

My stepdad, on the other hand, is an allAmerican baby boomer, born and raised in the heart of Wyoming. His Midwestern, midcentury upbringing has made him old-fashioned in many ways. Most content sipping beer on the back porch or woodworking out on the “shop” he’s built in the garage, he’s often baffled by the degree to which my mom has emphasized and prioritized my education. He’s likewise baffled by youth culture and technology, and occasionally asks me what I could “possibly be doing on the computer all the time.” But with his comical confusion, he has also brought a degree of calm to the house and, more importantly, an appreciation for imagination and abstract philosophical thought, things my more linear-minded mother has little patience for. His encouragement of me to pursue things like Speech & Debate and creative writing has influenced who I am today.

The magnitude of the differences between us makes it easy to forget that we, both as family and as humans, are part of the same world— and that new generations are simply reflections and products of the ones that came before. But the act of hiking, the act of carrying out one of the unique traditions we’ve created in our shared time, never fails to remind my family of our commonalities. Over the years, our loyal Toyota has taken us from Yosemite to Havasu Falls, from Joshua Tree to Yellowstone, and though I no longer sit in a car seat, not much else has changed. Though our traditions may not be typical, they serve their purpose: they remind us that, though the world is constantly in flux and we have our differences, family will always bind us together.

Sabrina Wang is a freshman in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at s.d.wang@wustl.edu.

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political review | TRADITION

Transcending Traditionalism Writing and photography by Annie Magovern

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s I descend from El Prado to Plaza Camacho, rhythms of the morenada ring from below, signaling a folkloric celebration. The 2015 election of the Cholita Paceña Zona Central beauty pageant has just begun, and ten young women stand anxiously beside the stage. These women have prepared for months in anticipation of this night by dancing the morenada, studying Bolivian history and geography, and assembling the perfect outfit. Tangible excitement fills the plaza, where approximately fifty people have gathered to watch the cholitas display pride in their Aymara, or indigenous, heritage. Family and friends bundled from head to toe refuse to let the chilled Andean air suppress their support as they wave signs and blow kazoos to encourage their treasured contestants. Everyone wonders who will be given the Cholita Paceña 2015, awarded to the most “authentic” La Paz cholita—someone who articulates a meaningful message in Aymara, shows pride in her family and heritage, struts elegantly in her traditional clothing and jewelry, and has just the right step when dancing the morenada.

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Legal change has slowly brought about social change, and today, cholas work towards the valorization of indigenous peoples in Bolivian society. The Cholita Paceña pageant demonstrates this movement towards social change by celebrating, not condemning, indigenous heritage. The pageant also challenges Western conceptions of indigeneity, which often compartmentalize indigenous peoples as traditional, rural, and backwards.

clothing. They [in the countryside] dress simply and go without jewelry and makeup.”

Cholitas display the economic distinction that Nelly emphasized through their elaborate appearance with expensive clothing, jewelry, and makeup. Indigenous people from the countryside do not have the purchasing power to own such elegant clothing and therefore can only rent it when visiting the city. And

“Thanks to this pageant, many cholitas have entered political life, are working in important companies, and have become great professionals. But they have maintained their [indigenous] identity.” –Nikolas Huallpará

This scene took place in the Cholita Paceña, an urban-indigenous pageant in La Paz, Bolivia.

The pageant demonstrates a glorification of women who embrace their historical rural Aymara roots while living in an urban environment. The Cholita Paceña pageant represents a recent change in attitude towards indigeneity, as urban indigenous women, oftentimes referred to as “cholas,” and rural indigenous women alike have faced political, social, and economic discrimination since Bolivia was colonized in 1538. Cholas were not considered citizens, were not allowed to enter public spaces, and were condemned to low-paying jobs for about 450 years due to colonial governmental practices—even after Bolivia gained independence in 1825.

The Cholita Paceña contestants oftentimes identify as mestizo, which literally means “mixed race.” However, after speaking with several contestants, I came to realize that some of them use this term to distinguish themselves from their connection to the countryside. For example, one sunny afternoon before the pageant, all eighteen contestants gathered for a photo shoot at the San Francisco Church. Luckily for me, the photographer allowed me to go “behind the scenes” with the contestants, which, in this case, meant the roof of the church. It was there that I met Nelly, a contestant dressed in a beautiful peach outfit topped with a black blower hat. The intricate detail of the flowers on her shawl reminded me of my visit to several pollera shops the previous day. There I learned that an outfit like Nelly’s would cost hundreds of dollars, making it some of the most expensive clothing in the city. When I asked her if she had ever rented a pollera for an event because of the high expenses, she scoffed at me.

A shift began in the 1990s when cholas started to protest these injustices and demanded legal change. The first indigenous president, Evo Morales, was elected in 2005 and implemented a new constitution in 2009, guaranteeing indigenous peoples of Bolivia legal equality.

“Of course not! The only people who rent this clothing are people from the countryside who just come to La Paz for a few days. We cholitas own lots of clothes like this…that is the difference between we indigenous people in La Paz. We adorn ourselves in jewelry, makeup and beautiful

yet the purpose of the pageant is to celebrate indigeneity. Nelly and other cholitas excitedly told me that they were participating in the pageant so they could demonstrate pride in their indigenous heritage. However, when provoked about the economic aspect, Nelly was offended to be associated with her rural counterparts. Her reaction reveals a partial identification with her indigenous background but a reluctance to fully embrace it; while she celebrates cultural ties, such as language, dance, and clothing, she ultimately looks down on the relative economic simplicity of indigenous life.

The pageant reinforces those cultural phenomena that the state had condemned and asserts the economic power that urban indigenous people hold. While the pageant represents the revalorization of cholas in Bolivian society, it also emphasizes materialism and a unique elitism.

Yet the complexities do not stop there.

Nikolas Huallpará, the Director of Promotion of Folklore at the House of Culture in La Paz, argues that this performance of wealth actually shows the transcendence of the women of pollera in Bolivian society. In an interview with me, he said,

political review | TRADITION

“Women of pollera are the cultural patrimony of the chola identity. From revolutions to uprisings and even in this pageant, they have had great transcendence in Bolivia. In fact, thanks to this pageant, many cholitas have entered political life, are working in important companies, and have become great professionals. But they have maintained their identity…they still wear the pollera to work and more women are beginning to wear it in the university. We are very proud of this.”

Nikolas explained that when women wear traditional indigenous clothing in spaces where indigenous peoples were traditionally not allowed to do so, they demonstrate their transcendence of political and professional life. Furthermore, the pageant’s assertion of wealth shows Bolivians that indigenous peoples can be wealthy and accomplished while still maintaining their languages, clothing, and customs. In Huallpará’s eyes, Nelly’s materialism is actually a strategy for showing the political, social, and economic versatility of indigenous peoples in La Paz, rather than a method of exclusion.

The pageant challenges Western conceptions of indigeneity, which often compartmentalize indigenous peoples as traditional, rural, and backwards.

I lay out this contradiction within the Cholita Paceña pageant to complicate Western ideas of traditional and modern ways of life. Nelly represents someone who thwarts these seemingly polar concepts. She speaks Aymara, wears indigenous clothing, and knows how to dance indigenous dances. However, she lives in the city of La Paz, has enough purchasing power to own a wardrobe of expensive clothing, and is competing in a beauty pageant, which is itself a Western event. Furthermore, Nelly has a complicated relationship with her indigenous background. She rejects certain parts of it and embraces others. She simultaneously promotes the valorization of indigenous peoples in La Paz by dressing in indigenous clothing and performing wealth and dissociates herself from her indigenous background by claiming superiority over her indigenous counterparts

in the countryside. In this way, she challenges Western notions of a “traditional” indigenous person. Furthermore, she confronts the idea that people must be either traditional or modern by fusing elements of both lifestyles in her urban indigenous identity. She bridges the gap between the two seemingly opposing ideas and demonstrates the depth and breadth of indigenous identities in Bolivian society today.

Annie Magovern is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at amagovern@wustl.edu.

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political review | TRADITION

The Fall of Traditional Faith Reuben Siegman | Illustration by Chris Reisenbichler

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ur relationship with religion in the United States is quickly changing.

The US is a country that prides itself on freedom of religion. This has been a central theme of our identity as a nation. People in the US are more than three times as likely to say that religion is very important in their lives compared to people in other advanced industrial democracies, including France, Britain, and Germany.

The way we practice our faith in the US, however, is rapidly changing with the growth of “nones,” people who consider themselves unaffiliated with any religion, according to data from the Pew Research Center. With each generation there has been an increase in the percentage of “nones,” with 35 percent of millennials now describing themselves as unaffiliated. In total, over 20 percent of the US population is now categorized as “nones.”

This category of “nones” is much more diverse than one would originally think. Many people may conflate this category with atheism; however, 68 percent of “nones” do in fact believe in God. Furthermore, 37 percent of these people describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious.” Even more shocking is the fact that 20 percent of the “nones” pray every day.

People who list their religious affiliation as “none” may seem ripe for conversion, as they have many of the characteristics that people commonly associate with religion: a belief in God, participation in prayer, and spirituality.

This however, is far from the truth. Surprisingly, 88 percent of people in the “nones” category say that they are not looking for a religion.

This trend continues to grow, with much speculation regarding its root cause.

I believe that there are four main reasons for this growing trend. The first is that religious institutions are slow to adapt to changing societal dynamics and social views. The second is that society is becoming more and more focused on the “now” and getting immediate gratification (think of smartphones and all the information you can easily get in one

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minute), while organized religion is inherently “inconvenient” and time-consuming. The third cause is that many people are increasingly skeptical that religious institutions should be dictating morals and ethics to us. The final cause is that in an age of increasing identity politics, people are no longer as willing to put religious labels on themselves. Doing so may make them feel that they have to take responsibility for any misgivings associated with their religion.

More than two thirds of “nones” believe that religious organizations are too concerned with money and power.

Religious institutions tend to be too slow in adapting to the rapidly changing dynamics of society and societal views on social issues.

For centuries, religion often dictated social views, and in many places it still does. In America today, however, social opinions are no longer consistently aligned with many traditional religious views. Not all religious denominations and houses of worship are at odds with common societal views, but there is a public perception, especially from the left, that mainstream religion is incompatible with their social views on issues like same-sex marriage and abortion. People who oppose such policies often cite their religion as a reason for their disagreement, while advocates of such causes do not cite religion as a motivating reason, but prefer citing general rights or ethics. This increases public perception that religion is

the root cause for opposition to policies that a growing segment of the public now favor.

While many individual houses of worship support the same progressive policies as the public-one could easily confuse Central Reform Congregation, a reform synagogue in Clayton, for a social justice rally with the amount of “Black Lives Matter” and rainbowcolored paraphernalia present-they have failed to effectively make their voice heard to the general public. This failure to connect has led to the exodus of many people who might otherwise remain religiously affiliated. In addition to this social disconnect, more than two thirds of “nones” believe that religious organizations are too concerned with money and power, and furthermore, are too involved with politics. This widespread belief exemplifies the failure of these institutions to create a positive public image.

It is no surprise that religion is intrinsically inconvenient in the modern world. People are becoming less and less patient in the 21st century, and instead are looking for immediate results. The rapid growth of technology has enabled people to be able to instantly find a plethora of information within seconds by simply using their smartphones. We increasingly demand to see some sort of a result for even the briefest of efforts. Moreover, we have begun to take it for granted that almost everything is now convenient, easily accessible through the internet, and is there exactly when we want it. Inherently, religion does not work that way. Religion takes a commitment of time before the rewards can be reaped. Someone who is observant has to attend religious services, which tend to be at inconvenient times like weekend mornings or evenings.

People may no longer be willing to give up their valuable personal time for something that may not yield immediate dividends. It may also take a while for someone to truly feel part of that religious community, causing people to leave prematurely. Furthermore, religions may dictate some laws and practices (like dietary restrictions) that many people don’t see the reason for, and don’t want to follow.

This is evidenced by the fact that two-thirds of “nones” believe that religious organizations

political review | TRADITION

may fear the label. They may see religion represented in the media in ways they disagree with, and thus fear being associated with that religion. For people on the outskirts of their religious communities, this may be the final straw that pushes them completely away.

In the 21st century, the prevalence of religion in the US has already declined dramatically.

It will continue to do so unless organized religions can adapt to the new challenges they face in the modern world. Throughout history, organized religion has shown the ability to adapt to the public’s changing moral values, and adjust with the times. If these religious institutions want to flourish once again they will have to contemplate serious changes in order to address the new dynamics of 21st century America.

are too focused on rules. Of course, many people do not follow all the laws and practices of their religion, but that still does not change the perception of organized religion in the eyes of the non-religious. Furthermore, the Internet itself can provide people with a variety of ways in which to be spiritual. Within minutes online, people can find a wide range of websites and books teaching them how to connect with God or be spiritual without organized religion.

Simply put, it is increasingly easier to not be religious and still have a spiritual relationship.

People today may not have the patience required for organized religion.

Traditionally, organized religion has been a source of moral authority in this country.

Recently, however, its influence in this regard is slowly declining. Many people no longer believe that organized religion should dictate their morals and values. As a matter of fact, 48 percent of “nones� feel this way. In an increasingly complex modern world, people are no longer as comfortable seeking moral guidance from ancient books. This may also

stem from the disagreement between religious institutions and the public on social issues.

Many of the people who disagree on social issues do so based on moral beliefs, like equality and human rights (no matter your race, religion, ethnicity, or sexual orientation). People often feel that if they have a disagreement with a religious law or policy, it prevents them from fully embracing the religion, making them feel that they can no longer be part of that religion. If people see houses of worship and religious institutions as places where morals are dictated, rather than places for the debate and discussion of morality, they are simply less inclined to be part of that religion.

Finally, in an age of increased identity politics, people are becoming more conscious of how they identify themselves. This strongly impacts religion, because it becomes increasingly difficult for people to say that they are loosely affiliated with a religion. People who may seldom come to services, but previously have identified with the religion, may no longer identify with that religion. In short, they

Reuben is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at reuben.siegman@wustl.edu.

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political review | TRADITION

The Electoral College: An Archaic Tradition Jack Ploshnick

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he people do not elect the president of the United States.

This statement would likely spark outrage in most Americans but for better or for worse, it is true. The people do not elect the president.

three-fourths of the states ratified the 12th amendment, creating the aforementioned electoral system.

The Electoral College consists of 538 electors, as many electors as members of Congress, plus three for Washington, DC. Representation in the Electoral College is also based on representation in Congress. Missouri, for example, with its two senators and eight representatives, receives 10 electors in the Electoral College. However, the similarity to Congress ends there. Members of Congress are elected directly by the people, whereas electors are appointed, often by the political party leadership of the state.

I do not contend that this system of the Electoral College is illogical or that it was ill intentioned, simply that in contemporary politics, its supposed benefits no longer exist.

The reasons for an indirect election were clear in the 1800s. For example, James Madison was worried that a popular vote would result in “factions” that would marginalize the rights of the minority. However, these “factions” exist irrespective of the electoral system in the United States in the form of political parties. Furthermore, the country’s founders, specifically Alexander Hamilton in Federalist Paper No. 68, assumed “that the office of President will never fall to the lot of any man who is not in an eminent degree endowed with the requisite qualifications.” The current election, in which two leading candidates, Donald Trump and Ben Carson, hold no political experience whatsoever, has made it abundantly clear that the Electoral College has failed in ensuring qualified candidates. In the 1800s it was also considered critically important to differentiate between the several states, as the division between states was more pronounced.

However, the identity of Americans has become decreasingly associated with state citizenship, so this distinction is no longer necessary.

This system was not specified by the Constitution, as is often thought. In addition to general incoherence, the electoral method outlined in Article II of the Constitution included a system in which the likely result was a president from one political party, and the vice president from another. This famously occurred in 1796 when the president was John Adams and the vice president was Thomas Jefferson. To say that these two men were on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum would be to downplay their differences, and understandably, governing under this regime was extremely difficult. Thus, in 1804

To the founders, the most important goal of the Electoral College was to decrease the tyranny of the majority. This is a noble goal, but it is unclear how the Electoral College can claim to have accomplished it. Elections in several states are still pure popular elections in which tyranny of the majority could theoretically happen. Furthermore, the importance of those several states which are relevant come election time, so-called “swing” states, has tyrannized those states whose political affiliations are far more defined, “safe” states. This argument is so common it is nearly a cliché. However, the general logic is as follows: “safe” states don’t

Well then, who does?

The answer to this question came to the forefront of American political discourse after the 2000 presidential election, when George W. Bush received fewer votes than Al Gore yet won the presidency. The Electoral College, not the people, elects the president. It is my position that this institution, the Electoral College, despite its usefulness in the early 1800s, is an archaic tradition that has no place in the contemporary American political system.

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matter during presidential elections, thus the voter turnout in those states is lower, and the preferences of those states’ citizens are not adequately represented. To me, this is a massive problem for our democratic system.

Nonetheless, some hold that certain states having substantially less electoral power than others is acceptable, perhaps even desirable, because the important states change over time.

This very well may be the case; however, it is still unacceptable that at any time, a liberal democracy such as the United States would allow some of its people to be voiceless. The Electoral College had the boldest of goals, but on balance these goals have not been realized.

The negative effects of the Electoral College are numerous and much has been said on them already. I will briefly summarize these many problems. First, there is the possibility of faithless electors. These are members of the Electoral College who do not pledge their vote to their party’s candidate. The possibility of this is an important component of the Electoral College, which operates under the assumption that the electors could somehow understand the preferences of the people better than the people themselves. Disregarding this premise as absurd, there have been 157 faithless electors in United States history. These faithless electors have never swung an election, but the possibility remains nonetheless, and they hold no substantive benefit. Furthermore, some votes count more than others. Because of the three electors per state minimum, small states have disproportionately more electors than large states. For example, one vote in Wyoming is worth four votes in California. Moreover, it is theoretically possible to win the presidency with 51 percent of the vote in the states with the most disproportionately large electoral power, and a mere 22 percent of the total popular vote.

Under no conception of democracy can such a system be considered fair.

political review | TRADITION

I advocate for a popular election of the highest executive, because it is in general a better representation of the will of the people, and lacks the many problems associated with the Electoral College. There are legitimate contemporary arguments against a popular election, but these arguments are subordinate to its many benefits.

Additionally, the Electoral College promotes a two party system. Many things can be said about such a system, but it is undeniable that it is stable. Nonetheless, the possibility to end the gridlock of our political system and the increased representation of third party candidates and ideals, in this stage of American history, far outweighs the marginal increase in stability.

To the founders, the most important goal of the Electoral College was to decrease tyranny of the majority. This is a noble goal, but it is unclear how the Electoral College can claim to have accomplished it.

A popular election has the effect of increasing the likelihood and effectiveness of voter fraud by increasing the importance of every vote and decreasing any counterbalances to voter fraud by greatly expanding the scope of the election. Under the Electoral College, there is little incentive to commit voter fraud because the majority of votes do not matter. If voter fraud were to occur in one of the few relevant states, a recount would be easy compared to one on the national level. Voter fraud is a legitimate potential issue; however, as a nation we must prioritize additional resources to ensure elections are free of fraud so that the voices of all voters can be heard. Additional anti-fraud legislation, perhaps similar to voter ID laws, may be necessary to combat this potential fraud.

Furthermore, many argue that a popular election will decrease the legitimacy of the president-elect. For example, in the 2012 election, Barack Obama won only 51.1 percent of the popular vote but 61.7 percent of the Electoral College. This increased percentage of electoral votes gave the newly elected president much needed legitimacy that made the transition process smoother. However, the disenfranchisement felt by the majority of citizens who reside in “safe” states far outweighs the relatively insubstantial increase in legitimacy from a perceived landslide victory.

It has been sufficiently established that the Electoral College is a system riddled with issues.

Why, then, is a popular election superior?

To me, the most important reason is that a popular vote would give every citizen a voice.

My home state, Maryland is almost completely irrelevant during presidential elections. In the 2012 election, Maryland received zero official campaign stops, whereas neighboring Virginia received thirty-six. A popular vote would make the votes of citizens of Maryland, and the other thirty-eight states that received zero campaign visits in 2012, as relevant as every other. Moreover, a popular vote would increase the likelihood of a successful third party candidacy. According to a Gallup poll, a record 42 percent of Americans identify as independents. In every state except for two, electoral votes are awarded in the “winner-takeall” manner, meaning that the candidate who wins 51 percent of the votes receives all of the electors. This logically results in a two party system. A popularly elected president allows third party representation to become feasible.

It is true that this could result in no candidate winning the majority of the votes, in which case some additional mechanism, such as a runoff election, may be necessary. The specifics of such a mechanism should be no reason to reject a popular vote, because a fairer system can no doubt be achieved. Furthermore, it is possible that a president from a third party and

a Congress controlled by a major party would result in gridlock. However, on the assumption that the third party president and the party of power in congress agree on some issues, as opposed to a president and Congress of different major parties, gridlock would likely be substantially reduced in comparison to current political inactivity.

All of this is not to say that the Electoral College was always a bad idea. In fact, I mean to argue that in the 1800s it was an excellent compromise and a brilliant idea. I simply argue that in modern American politics, because of circumstances unforeseeable to the founders, the Electoral College is an archaic tradition and a popular vote is superior.

Jack is a freshman in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at j.ploshnick@wustl.edu.

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political review | TRADITION

The Reason for the Season $866

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Average American's Christmas spending estimate in November Average Black Friday spending in the United States Christmas spending estimate and religious data from Gallup Black Friday data from the National Retail Federation

80% of Americans identify wITH THE christian faith, WHILE 93% report celebrating Christmas Starbucks:

Joshua Feuerstein, self-described evangelist and internet personality:

“This year’s design is another way Starbucks is inviting customers to create their own stories with a red cup that mimics a blank canvas” 2009

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"Starbucks removed Christmas from their cups because they hate Jesus" Quotes from November 9 New York Times article by Sydney Ember Images from November 9 Time article by Sarah Begley

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political review | TRADITION

A Year of Cicadas Rachel Butler | Illustration by Steph Waldo

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was born in the late springtime 19 years ago, along with the cicadas. As my eyes were opened and I cried and was washed and wrapped in new linens, insects were crushing through their thin encasings and clawing through roots and rocks to see light for the first time, refracted in the zillion tiny hexagons of their eyes. I slept and woke, slept and woke to a rhythmless symphony of tiny parts of insect exoskeletons beating against each other.

I have heard from the people who were there and could already see and think 18 years ago that the cicadas are neither a good thing nor a bad thing to the sensibilities of most. Life goes on as normal even when billions of bugs crawl out from beneath your porch and your azaleas. One neighbor ate them on pizza; another photographed them in portraits, as if they were people. A lawnmower left trails of the dead and dying, legs kicking in the swaths of sharp trimmed grass. My grandfather says that they were loud “like the plague” and I wonder what plague he means.

The cicadas of my region live underground for 17 years, nestled among deep roots, sipping on tree sap. They emerge from the earth synchronously, like a one-minded being split into these myriad red-eyed shiny-winged vessels. They live above ground for only four to six weeks, and then they die, leaving their eggs in branches so that the young can drop down to the earth, burrow to the tree roots and begin a new generation.

The year I turned 17 was the first year I witnessed the cicadas as a conscious being.

Their emergence coincided directly with my birthday, and I could not decide whether that was a good or bad omen. I did assume it was an omen, however; it seemed obvious to me that nature should be affected by and intertwined with the notable dates of my own life. When I woke up in the predawn of that morning to dress for school the cicadas had already emerged, and I walked out on the porch to listen. The sound was deafening, and I imagined melodies in it that weren’t there.

It took me an abnormally long time to come to the realization that other people also possessed an inner life like myself. As a young child I was

uninterested in relating to others, as I believed that there was nothing inside those bodies to relate to. I felt alone, but also special, and the latter outweighed the former in my mind. This continued through grade school, and even into high school; though I made friends for the sake of appearances and things to do, I still felt that I possessed infinitely more depth of self than those around me. I was not exactly self-centered in the sense of thinking myself “better than;” however I did think of myself as at the center of things, since I was so much more affected by the world than others, to my knowledge.

The change in my perception of the world and its inhabitants probably came about slowly. However when I attempt to pinpoint such a moment, I come up with a brief part of my 17th birthday. It was not a moment having to do with the insects that were awakening that day; it occurred in a grocery store, where I was insulated from the cacophony among the fluorescent lights and heat-leeching freezer aisles. It was my night to make dinner and I was rolling my cart among many other carts, pushed along by people with and without children, whose birthdays it may or may not have been that day. As I picked up pasta and bread and fruit and chips, I looked at the contents of other carts and of their holders’ faces. I realized that I had no idea of the purpose or causes of anything I was looking at, why the pickles, why the grimace, and that it could be absolutely anything. I went home that night and made dinner, and realized that I did not know what my mother was thinking at the table.

“What if it’s just one bug who sings and everyone else just copies him,” said my brother sitting on the porch that night. I said it was possible, but highly unlikely.

“Scientists,” I told him, “have studied them and found that each one actually has a unique song.” “But they all sound exactly the same!” he said, and went inside and shut the door to all the high-pitched madness.

The song of a cicada is loud enough to cause permanent hearing loss in humans, if the cicada were to sing just outside the listener’s ear. It’s lucky for us that they remain underground most of the time; otherwise, deafness would be a constant threat.

It is truly difficult to listen, to pick up on the notes in a nearly constant, frighteningly loud and discordant pitch. But if you remember that each song is distinct, dissonance becomes harmony, even if it’s only imagined.

Rachel is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at rachelkbutler@wustl.edu.

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WUPR presents:

David Axelrod Chief Strategist for Obama’s Presidential Campaigns; CNN Senior Political Commentator

AMERICA’S FUTURE: Insights from Iconic Presidential Advisor February 18, 7:00-8:00PM in Graham Chapel “I’m a kibitzer with a broad portfolio.”

political review | national

Navigating Asian Masculinity Images and Stereotypes Vincent Ann | Illustration by Sara Wong

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he opening scene of the iconic movie Breakfast at Tiffany’s shows actor Mickey Rooney playing the role of the bumbling landlord, Mr. Yunioshi. In his character, a painful caricature of an Asian man is brought to life.

Rooney wears a protruding buck-toothed mouthpiece, has artificially slanted (read: taped) eyes, and wears “yellowface” makeup.

Mr. Yunioshi is heavily accented, foreign, perverted yet sexually impotent, and nerdy. He stumbles all over his apartment—squinting, making incomprehensible grunts, running into furniture—and is patronized and talked down to by the other characters throughout the movie.

I can’t help but wince when I realize that this character helped shape stereotypes and images of Asian men for an entire generation.

Perhaps even more unsettling is the fact that racist depictions of Asians are still prevalent in today’s film and media, albeit in less offensive forms. Hollywood still consistently typecasts Asian-American men into one-dimensional roles—heavily accented foreigners, evil Oriental villains, awkward nerds, asexual sources of comic relief, and so on—that often emasculate and desexualize them. And when Asian actors won’t conform to these stereotypes, they are often denied roles altogether.

I wanted to see how these images and stereotypes have influenced my AsianAmerican peers, so I interviewed ten AsianAmerican men and ten Asian-American women at Wash U and asked them about their experiences with masculinity. From the men, I wanted to know how negative racial images and stereotypes have impacted their security in their masculinity, and from the women, how these stereotypes have affected their perceptions of Asian-American masculinity.

What Does It Mean to Be a Man? To understand Asian-American men’s experiences with masculinity, we first have to understand the mainstream definition of

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masculinity. This is what society—through media, expectations, and stereotypes—has told us about what “being a man” means.

This conception says that “men” are strong, confident, assertive, tough, muscular, physically attractive, emotionally reserved, and adept at interacting with women. These expectations are strongly perpetuated in outlets like action films, sports culture, and beer and cologne commercials.

When I asked the sample of Asian-Americans at Wash U how the expectations and stereotypes differed for Asian-American men, both the men and women picked up on several key stereotypes. First, that Asian-American men are expected to be more “quiet, timid, and passive” than other men and “won’t stand up for themselves.” Second, that Asian-American men are stereotyped to be short and skinny rather than to fit hegemonic expectations of being built and muscular. Third, that AsianAmerican men “lack confidence” and are of the “awkward, nerdy, study type.” Finally, they noted that Asian-American men “lack game” in the realm of dating and may even be stereotyped as unattractive and unromantic.

“Asian men are told they’re not sexual creatures, said one respondent. “They can be smart, intelligent, [and] good at martial arts… but no movies ever portray us in a romantic or sexual light.” The strength of these stereotypes led another respondent to ask, “Is there even an expectation for Asian men to be masculine?”

We have to understand that degrading media images are not solely to blame for these stereotypes. From early laws that forbade Asians from marrying whites, to race riots, and to the forced internment of JapaneseAmericans during WWII, America has had a long history of white hostility, discriminatory legal practices, violence, and negative attitudes towards Asian-Americans. Images in media have simply reflected, and continue to reflect, some of the lasting impacts of these attitudes.

Breaking Out of the Box The stereotypes for Asian-American men affected respondents to varying degrees, but all respondents said that they have experienced some kind of distress from negotiating these stereotypes, either currently or at some point in the past. One respondent explained how stereotypes impacted his selfimage: “One large insecurity is that I’m a small dude. I’m like 5’5”, 5’6”. It’s funny because no one else seems to notice I’m short, just me.

But it’s definitely something I’ve internalized because of the stereotype of Asian men being weaker and less built.”

Interviewees cope with negative stereotypes, and the stress from those stereotypes, in different ways. One respondent mentioned how he avoided other Asian-Americans to avoid being typecast: “I don’t like the stereotypes for Asian men so I try to avoid Asian people.” Other respondents seemed to confirm this: “I know a lot of people who consciously or subconsciously avoid being heavily involved with other Asians for fear of being grouped into them and being written off as a ‘stereotypical Asian.’”

Other interviewees negotiated stereotypes by making active efforts to “perform” their identity differently. For example, many men talked about trying to break the stereotype of being quiet and timid: “Sometimes, I just feel like I’m trying way too hard by acting really boisterous and acting hard. Sometimes it’s a joke, but there are times where I act really hard when I know I’m soft as fuck.” In this sense, respondents are aware that they sometimes “put on an act” where they may try to be more outgoing or confident in order to distance themselves from stereotypes.

Interestingly, it is unclear how effective these “acts” are. Interviews with Asian-American women illustrated the difficulty of breaking stereotypes. One female interviewee said, “When I see an Asian guy who is very confident

political review | national

and very masculine, I wouldn’t say he’s being himself. I would say he’s confident and masculine because he’s whitewashed. I guess I subconsciously make the connection that being confident means being white.” This presents a troubling catch-22 where no matter what Asian-American men do, they cannot be seen as masculine.

Other female respondents seemed to share this sentiment: “I think the thing about stereotypes is when you fit the stereotype, you reinforce it; but when you don’t, you’re seen as the exception.”

Altogether, the male respondents experienced significant amounts of distress and insecurity in their masculinity because of the negative stereotypes associated with AsianAmericans, although the degree of distress and insecurity varied. However, it is important to emphasize that I interviewed several individuals who were very comfortable and secure in their masculinity. They tended to judge their masculinity internally and cared little for others’ perceptions of them. One respondent articulated this well: “Honestly, I don’t care if I meet the societal expectations.

As long as I fit what I think a man should be.

Some of the criteria society has put on us… we don’t have to buy into it. Like the idea of being soft-spoken. I think you can definitely still be soft-spoken and masculine as long as you’re comfortable in who you are.” However, this level of comfort in one’s masculinity, while encouraging, was not characteristic of the majority of my respondents.

Moving Forward At the end of every interview, I asked respondents what they thought members of the Wash U Asian-American community could do to help Asian-American men feel more secure in their masculinity. Some expressed confusion, others helplessness, because of the strength of existing stereotypes. Still others said that one’s self-conception of masculinity is an internal affair that needs to be worked out individually.

I am inclined to reject this latter statement because it is clear, through existing literature and my interviews, that societal expectations and stereotypes have tangible effects on the

see ourselves portrayed in real and human ways, to see ourselves as sensitive and nuanced, as protagonists and as heroes. I am happy to say that shows like ABC Family’s Fresh Off the Boat and Fox’s The Mindy Project are helping to break down some of these barriers by casting Asian-Americans in expansive and varied lights.

Another part of the problem seems to come from a societal definition of masculinity that is unnecessarily limiting. Surely, men can still be “men” even if they don’t fit expectations of being loud, confident, womanizing, and muscular. Surely, “men” should be allowed to be weak sometimes, quiet, have different body types, or be attracted to other men. identity, self-esteem, and psychological health of members of society; consequently, everyone should actively dispel negative expectations of masculinity. The consequences also extend beyond the psychological—recent studies have shown that “dominant” East Asians are “unwelcome and unwanted” in the workplace while “meek” East Asians are received favorably.

Some respondents even alluded to this idea playing out in group work and extracurricular groups at Wash U. This unwillingness to accept Asian-American men who deviate from racial stereotypes creates a “bamboo ceiling,” often preventing Asian-American men from climbing workplace ladders.

I don’t know how to tackle this issue. It is clear that much of the problem comes from a lack of visibility and limiting roles in Hollywood and media. Currently, Asian-Americans occupy less than three percent of roles in film, television, and commercials—the lowest of any panethnic group. Furthermore, within film, television, and commercials, only 1.7 percent of lead actors are Asian-Americans. This means that the vast majority of Asian-Americans are playing minor or secondary roles, where they most likely are being asked to play stereotyped, one-dimensional characters.

This not only perpetuates existing stereotypes, but also can make Asian-Americans feel foreign in their own country. We all desire to see ourselves in film and media. We long to

Again, I don’t know how to tackle the issue, nor do I think there’s an easy solution. But, I believe acknowledging the problem and starting conversations within our peer groups is a start.

These conversations may be difficult. It’s not easy to talk about masculinity and it’s not easy to talk about insecurity. But it is clear that negative racial stereotypes are affecting AsianAmerican men and should be broken down.

Hopefully, through dialogue, we can begin to do this, and also begin creating a more fluid definition of masculinity that is more accepting of different ethnic groups and characteristics.

Note: I used the term “Asian-American” loosely in this article, but Asian-Americans as a panethnic group are not a monolith and have diverse experiences. In this article, I only interviewed East Asians, who tend to experience different stereotypes of masculinity than, for example, South Asians. Also, this article focuses on conceptions of heterosexual masculinity and cannot be generalized to the experiences of gay Asian-American men, who experience different stereotypes and expectations.

Vincent Ann is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at vincentann@wustl.edu.

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political review | national

Paid Patriotism Benjamin Szanton | Illustration by Ruby Rose

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imple expressions of patriotism—the national anthem, “God Bless America,” or the occasional ceremony celebrating a veteran’s return, to name a few—have a strong foothold in sports. But, as we learned in a November 4 report from Senators John McCain and Jeff Flake, patriotism is often funded by the Department of Defense. The government agency paid the National Football League, the National Basketball Association, Major League Baseball, the National Hockey League, and Major League Soccer teams a combined $6.8 million over the last four years for so-called "paid patriotism." Included were tickets for servicemen and women and various ceremonies honoring troops, as well as especially overblown renditions of the national anthem. Although many teams did not accept payment for patriotism, 72 did.

It shouldn’t really be a surprise that sports leagues, which are massive corporations, are not genuine in their patriotism. Corporations are supposed to make money, and there is less money in sincerity. Nothing about seeking profits is inherently evil, or even bad; corporations are just not charities and therefore cannot really be expected to take initiative on social responsibility. In the interest of public relations, however, sports leagues do their best imitation, paying lip service to all sorts of worthy causes in a way that bolsters their image and their bank accounts.

The NFL in particular has done a poor job of feigning genuine interest in, among other things, player safety, domestic violence prevention, and breast cancer awareness. The league agreed this year to pay up to $5 million to each of the thousands of former players who sued for compensation for chronic head trauma. Yet, Commissioner Roger Goodell has repeatedly proposed the idea of a longer season, which means, in theory, more hits and more head trauma. Last season, the league launched an anti-domestic violence ad campaign—a panicked reaction to the backlash Goodell received after he issued running back Ray Rice, who assaulted his fiancée in an elevator, only a two-day suspension. This year, with the Rice

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case no longer on people’s minds, the ads are gone, and Greg Hardy, who was convicted of assaulting and threatening to kill his girlfriend in 2014, still plays for the Dallas Cowboys.

The breast cancer campaign is front and center in NFL games every October, when players wear pink accessories and the league sells pink gear. But, in addition to distracting from the league’s domestic violence failures, the pink campaign is a significant moneymaker for the league, with only 11.25 percent of sales revenue going to the American Cancer Society. In order to preserve the annual visibility of the campaign and maximize its benefit to the league, Goodell has fined players for wearing pink at any time besides the designated month of October.

More than half of the revenues from the sale of breast cancer awareness items sold by the NFL go back into its pocket.

Several sports teams operate military appreciation campaigns in the same vein as the breast cancer campaign, wearing alternate camouflage uniforms, which are somehow supposed to support the troops while also generating merchandise revenue from fashion-conscious fans. The paid patriotism, though, was different. Unlike the aforementioned campaigns, paid patriotism was concealed as even being a campaign. Few people really considered that a moving ceremony honoring a veteran, for example, might involve a transaction. The armed forces produce significant, overt advertising and recruiting efforts, which no league should be expected to support for free. But, the line is completely blurred when clapping for a soldier who throws out a first pitch is seen the same way as an ad.

Of course, paid patriotism fits right into an American culture of polite disconnect from the armed forces. We Americans love to say we support the troops. We might even feel anger toward the Department of Veterans Affairs for failing to adequately give medical

care to veterans. However, most Americans have gradually drifted away from actual engagement with the wars overseas and the needs of veterans back home. In 1975, 70 percent of members of Congress had served in the military. In 2013, just 20 percent had. In 2011, more than three quarters of people over the age of 50 had a veteran as an immediate family member. Just a third of 18 to 29-year-olds did.

Some disengagement is inevitable. We have not fought a war on American soil since 1865. We have not had a draft since Vietnam. However, we still have almost one and half million Americans serving in the military, with almost 22 million more veterans. About 20 percent of those who served in Iraq or Afghanistan have PTSD. Unemployment among recent veterans has remained considerably higher than among non-veterans, whether in the recession or slow recovery. One can criticize our massive military spending or propensity to worsen Middle Eastern affairs. One can even be a pacifist, but no one can deny that our servicemen and women make huge sacrifices. We need them, and they certainly need us. That’s why it’s disappointing to see taxpayer dollars wasted on something that should have been free, especially considering that sports leagues would probably be happy to act patriotic for the public image benefit alone. What is more disappointing, though, is to have basic expressions of support for our troops delegitimized.

Benjamin Szanton is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at benjamin.szanton@wustl.edu.

political review | national

Another Stab at the Death Penalty Sam Klein

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ast year I argued that the frequently employed cocktail of questionably sourced sedatives and heart-stopping drugs is unreliable, and that its use in lethal injections for condemned criminals in the United States amounts to cruel and unusual punishment.

(Re: Cruel and Usual, WUPR 21.2.)

as to how I would feel towards a killer of a loved one, but it is not improbable that my conception of a “cruel” punishment might change. Regardless, as I wrote last year, I (and my definition of "a reasonable person") would feel comfortable drawing a line before the commonly-experienced suffering of lethal

Spending weeks, months, years, and even decades in prison knowing it could end with the immeasurable agony of a botched execution is a torturous existence.

But what is “cruel and unusual,” really? This language, pulled directly from the Eighth Amendment, has been scrutinized in Supreme Court cases. Via precedent, it has been sculpted into a pragmatically loose legal definition.

The terms are ethical, dare I say instinctive, standards—Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart’s notion of pornography, “I know it when I see it,” would probably be better applied to the amorphous concept of cruelty.

While I would love to avoid a semantic argument, I think the contemporary zeitgeist demands it. The “unusual” in the phrase is meaningless in an analysis of the death penalty; the punishment is common because many states routinely condemn inmates to death. Punishments that would be perhaps constitutionally “unusual” but not “cruel,” such as public shaming, tend not to be handed down in favor of the preferred incarceration. (When you read the stories of people walking around with legally mandated sandwich signs reading “I am a shoplifter,” the defendant almost always had the option to pay a more standard and usual price for their misdemeanor.)

“Cruel,” on the other hand, is the important part, and unlike “unusual,” its definition hinges upon one’s value system and circumstances in life. I cannot and would not like to speculate

injection subjects where the drugs didn’t work as planned. Indeed, no human or government should subject any individual to a procedure where a frequent outcome is a torturous, writhing ordeal like that experienced by Clayton Lockett.

But the extreme suffering involved with capital punishment in America goes beyond the nights of the (often botched) executions themselves. It’s not just the procedure itself that is cruel—life on death row itself is likewise a cruel punishment.

I can imagine few life circumstances less psychologically damaging than sitting in a prison cell with the knowledge of a looming execution date, and that life will possibly end extremely painfully. This is very different from a criminal “rotting away” in prison for the rest of his or her life. Set aside the true claims that lifetime incarceration is cheaper on taxpayers than lethal injection, and that the state often kills not guilty inmates; spending weeks, months, years, and even decades in prison knowing it could end with the agony of a botched execution is a torturous existence.

Sources tend to agree that the average time a death row inmate spends waiting for his or her execution date is over ten years, and this

does not figure in the time they spent, usually incarcerated, awaiting their conviction or sentencing. There is a reason that many death row inmates die before their execution dates; some wait decades for their day to come, and for many there’s no doubt that their physical health was degraded by the physical taxation of prison life coupled with the Kafkaesque stress of knowing the government could schedule their execution at any point in time. Many others find a way to commit suicide. I cannot see how it is possible to believe that a prison system like Oklahoma’s, which was responsible for Clayton Lockett’s botched execution, sincerely seeks to rehabilitate inmates (as its website indicates) if 49 people on its death row (as its website also indicates) realizethey could be the next one on the gurney.

Even if states find a way to reliably end lives, the death penalty will always be motivated by an unadulterated thirst for retribution. We can replace the guillotine and firing squad and electric chair with an IV, but the principle and greater processes leading up to the moment will not change. Capital punishment will never be clean.

Regarding advance notice of execution dates: there is no universal protocol I could find whereby states set execution dates; while many are set over one year in advance, last-minute stays or grants of clemency, possible delays due to difficulties in procuring drugs, and other factors often lead to uncertainty over the reliability of those scheduled dates.

Sam Klein is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences. He can be reached at klein.s@wustl.edu.

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political review | national

Taking Attendance: Dr. Paul Farmer on Student Activism Serena Lekawa

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ashington University’s campus, both by reputation and reality, constantly buzzes with medical discourse. With esteemed faculty specializing in the biomedical sciences and a world-renowned medical school, the university is a leader in research and innovation, as well as studies in biomedical ethics, medical anthropology, and healthcare justice. Furthermore, the significant “pre-med” population—about 15 percent of the student body according to statistics from U.S. News and World Report—and undergraduate student groups like GlobeMed engage with these issues. Given the salience of both the science and sociality of medicine at Washington University, many students went to see Dr. Paul Farmer, a global health expert, deliver a keynote address on November 6 as part of the university’s Assembly Series.

Much of the Washington University community turns attentive ears, determined spirits, and frantic pens to such messages, eager to put into practice the methods of their oft-read author and academic hero. Earnest though their intentions may be, many of my peers express difficulties they experience in situating themselves as present and future activists, especially in a tangible way.

Farmer, a physician and anthropologist, is the co-founder and chief strategist of the organization Partners In Health (PIH). A prolific author, he is currently the Kolokotrones University Professor and chair of the Department of Global Health and Social Medicine at Harvard Medical School. His writings address the most pressing issues in today’s healthcare landscape, including social justice in medicine, human rights, global inequalities, and structural barriers to treatment for the most impoverished and vulnerable.

Farmer’s efforts traverse many of the world’s most under-resourced areas, and he is perhaps best known for his long-standing work in Haiti.

To what extent can students, pre-med or otherwise, best fight the structural inequalities enabling healthcare inequality? In my interview with Farmer, the doctor celebrated this question as one he hears often, an indication of “students’ desire to be useful." On reflexive awareness of higher education as a privilege, he said that “[t]he social contract…students make by attending a University is to attend it.” At Washington University, this means leveraging awareness of the problems around us, as well as the existing opportunities to engage them.

“Even if your interests are in settings like rural Haiti,” Farmer said, “there’s so much to do in the area…one thing I’d encourage students to do is to raise their eyes and look around, and to find neighborhoods who are dedicating much of their time to addressing such problems.”

Recognizing valuable partnerships, both in the St. Louis community and on campus, positions students to learn from valuable mentors while putting their time to effective use.

The guiding principles of PIH focus on building sustainable healthcare systems. Farmer advocates a “preferential option for the poor,” arguing that people living under the worst circumstances deserve more than equal care— they deserve better. This philosophy inherently addresses major themes in Farmer’s work and practice—the idea that poverty is a result of structural violence. With such recognition, then, comes a call to action: to fight the built-in social injustice that leads to healthcare inequity.

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Farmer is used to addressing concerned students. His book, To Repair the World: Paul Farmer Speaks to the Next Generation, includes a wealth of commencement speeches that recognize students as the future of global health. Consequentially, Farmer addresses the common difficulties many college students face in reconciling an impulse to help with their place in the campus “bubble.”

Farmer pointed to his own time as an undergraduate at Duke University—the medical anthropology classes he took, mentors he met, and student activists he encountered—as the

formative experience that shaped his career path. Furthermore, he spoke of the university ethos as a continued source of inspiration, both “morally and spiritually,” and emphasized PIH as an organization “in many senses started by students…constantly infused by youthful enthusiasm and new ideas because we teach, and groups like GlobeMed engage.”

However, even when students can locate value in their intentions, there often exists confusion in reconciling immediate, local efforts with global goals. Farmer addressed this difficulty with helpful synthesis, reminding us that “problems are never only local,” and consequences of “global forces”—such as embedded structural inequalities—become locally embodied. For example, the global obesity epidemic manifests itself in sufferers in our own communities. Thus Farmer advocates complimentary approaches to complimentary issues, in striking balance between “humble service,” and “the process of discernment about the nature of these truly global problems.”

For Farmer, the biggest problem facing the progress of social justice in healthcare “is a failure of imagination when the problems at hand affect primarily the poor.” As the generation set to inherit the burdens of inequality, we must first come to terms with where we are, what we stand to learn, and what we can do. On the advice of one of the world’s most renowned champions of health as a human right, our concerned student body, across all academic disciplines, must acknowledge the difference between mere enrollment and true presence.

After all, the world is waiting—and it’s taking attendance.

Serena Lekawa is a senior in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at slekawa@wustl.edu.

political review | national

What it means to be wealthy Grace Portelance

W

hat do you think of when you hear "the top one percent?" This term, popularized by the Occupy Wall Street movement, brings up images of corporate greed, Ponzi schemes, and billionaires rolling in piles of money.

were lower-middle or middle class would likely enter college thinking they were of average wealth. A person who grew up in a wealthy upper class suburb may also enter college thinking they were of average wealth, because relative to their peers at home, they were.

What is the reality of the top one percent?

Twenty-two percent of Wash U students.

Income, with its clear objectivity, tells you what class you are in. It tells the government

It is this subjectivity that leads a lowermiddle class person and an upper class person to check the same box on a form, where they both self identify as middle class—average, when in reality their experiences have been profoundly different.

The majority of my friends told me that they had no idea how much money their parents made. Whether my friends never asked the question, or their parents were purposefully keeping their children in the dark, familial income—an objective measure of socioeconomic status—is often unknown to students. Perhaps this could be looked at as an immense privilege, to never have to think about how much money you have, to never have to ask. Not having to think about money means you don’t have to worry about money, and not worrying about money is the unreachable dream for the vast majority of the world’s population. I was shocked to hear that my peers did not know how much money their family had.

The interesting thing is, the majority of people (both at Wash U and in general) come from relatively homogenous socioeconomic backgrounds. Neighborhoods generally have equally-priced real estate, with income determining who lives near whom. A person who grew up in a city where the majority of people

It is impossible to understand your blind spots if you don’t know you have them, and knowing how your unique experiences impact your worldview is integral to being a great student, activist, friend, and ally to those in need.

So what is the point of all this? We all need to be aware that over 50 percent of our student body is in the top five percent for family income level. This school is elite not only for education, but because it is populated largely by elites.

Even for those who come from lower income areas and families, every student here is in a position to be rich and successful with their education, maybe ultimately sending their children to a university like ours. We at Wash U are pushed in one direction—up—but we must have goals beyond monetary success.

Ultimately, a number on a bank account statement doesn’t tell the whole story of your upbringing, and it does a poor job of describing your experience, especially concerning the ambiguous idea of what it means to be wealthy.

how much help you need, or how much money to take from your paycheck. Wealth, on the other hand, is an accumulation of experiences, a relative concept measuring how you stack up against the people around you. It is this subjectivity that leads a lower-middle class person and an upper class person to check the same box on a form, where they both self identify as middle class—average, when in reality their experiences have been profoundly different. It’s the idea of the contrast between the richest of the poor and the poorest of the rich. Who sees themselves as wealthier?

Despite all this, not being aware of how fortunate the majority of us students truly are breeds an ignorance that leads to an inaccurate view of the world. Particularly for those of us who grew up in homogenous communities, it is easy to fool ourselves into thinking that we know what life is like for people of all socioeconomic statuses. If you don’t know how your individual experiences fit into the fabric of American society, you can’t fully grasp the wide range of experiences that people face.

Grace Portelance is a junior in the College of Arts & Sciences. She can be reached at grace.portelance@wustl.edu.

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political review | INTERnational

A Small Light in the Darkness Min Heo | Illustration by Alice Wang

T

he division of the Korean Peninsula has always been fraught with tension and chaos. Multiple skirmishes have occurred since the ceasefire in 1953, and neither the North nor the South shows any signs of backing down to the other. Reunification is still simply a hope rather than a practical goal.

But amid the tension, a few occurrences over the years have shown promise—the multiple family reunions that have taken place between North Korean and South Korean families. On October 19, around 200 families went to North Korea to reunite with family separated when the Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) went into effect.

Organized by the Red Cross, this was the 20th reunion to occur in the time since the war, but that has not been enough to accommodate the estimated 66,000 more families wishing to make the journey to find lost loved ones. Only a few hundred families can reunite each time.

The lucky ones who are chosen via lottery to make the journey get to enjoy a meager two hours with their families. Even then, that time is restricted as North Korean leaders maintain a vice grip on proceedings, and any questions that could damage North Korea’s “reputation,” such as questioning whether relatives eat well, could put a halt to these reunions. The South Korean government even has a guidebook for the families on what topics should be avoided.

This interaction speaks to the bigger question of Korean relations.

Tension between the two countries is nothing new. Border skirmishes have occurred intermittently ever since the end of the war; one of the bigger incidents in recent memory was when a North Korean torpedo sank a South Korean ship. These flares paint a poor outlook on any chances of reunification in the near future. It seems that each time a skirmish pops up, tensions rise for a little while before relations return to a neutral state again. A case in point was the latest border skirmish, in which South Korean soldiers were injured by landmines during provocations by North Korean soldiers. The incident resulted in artillery fire and a “semi” state of war, although

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no one else was hurt. Tensions abated when both sides apologized. This is a never-ending cycle without any real progress, and these reunions exemplify that trend.

The reunions are a monitor for Korean relations.

The only time reunions are agreed to is during peace talks, and reunions will not occur during times of conflict. The North Korean government has cancelled reunions if times of peace turn into times of tension. Even when they do allow the reunions, it’s more in an effort to create a positive public image than out of benevolence.

Take the guidebook, for example, which states that families are not allowed to ask questions regarding food, health, or other status questions that might affect North Korea’s “positive” image. Statistically speaking, the state of North Korea’s nutrition is rather poor, but obviously North Korean leaders prefer that word of mouth maintains the illusion that it’s doing fine. The reunions really do not matter as a whole because North Koreans are stuck under Kim Jong-un; as long as he and the rest of the North Korean leaders remain in power, relations between the Koreas will remain gridlocked.

This doesn’t mean that these reunions are pointless. For one thing, the fact that these reunions have continually occurred is at least a positive sign. Not to mention that perhaps the only chance at reunification is if the people on both sides of the DMZ want it, which could be spurred by further reunions

which could, in turn, increase the population interested in reunification. The reunions have the possibility to be a stimulus for public action if enough people want to see their families more than just the two hours given to them.

But in order for the reunions to become that stimulus, improvements have to be made. The improvements most needed for these reunions is to increase the number of people who can make the trip and the amount of time they are allowed. Two hours is ridiculously short for families who have spent decades apart from each other. The South Korean government should push not only for more reunions, but bigger ones during the peace talks, especially considering that many of the elderly people who were alive in the war may not have much time left to see relatives they remember.

Nearly half of the estimated 130,000 people who requested reunion died before getting the chance to meet. This population contributes towards interest in reunification, and the more time passes, the more of this group is lost.

Unfortunately, signs of these changes have yet to occur, and with good reason given the history between the two countries. While these reunions may only be a small bit of relief at the moment for the families lost during the war, there is definitely a possibility for these small reunions to become something bigger.

Min is a sophomore in the College of Arts & Sciences.

He can be reached at minheo@wustl.edu.

political review | INTERnational

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