And Everyone Is Always Moving

And everyone is always moving,
rushing from one half-hearted conversation to the next,
from an inkling of contemplation to the plethora of modern frivolities
ransacking the brilliance of our world—
going and going as if there were really somewhere to be,
somewhere more real than now.

In reckless abandonment the present is left
to rot with the already decaying past.

There is a catastrophic flaw in our thinking.
We are all chasing elusive moments, vividly concocted in our minds,
and we scurry desperately to create them, to make real.

It’s as though the realness of our emotions forces us to thrust ourselves
into extremes in order to find peace.
Depression, violence, anger, passionate romance, dizzying achievement.
In them we find ourselves superficially drawn closer
to the expectations we plant and allow to grow in our minds.

But we are all running an impossible race.
There cannot be a perfect translation of thought into action,
just as these words are an imperfect expression of my meandering musings.

But I am more at one with the present as I depress each key and type the letters
that obediently align as I attempt to define my reality at this moment.

But how long is a moment?
Is it defined by something other than time?
Is it free from the shackles of that colorless oppressor?
Is it the soft yellow light of this room?
Is it the smooth, light oil feeling of these familiar keys?
Or is a moment this entire project, this work, this soothing pastime?

Can a moment fit in between a “yes” and a “no”? A “maybe” and a “sure”?

Are moments the incomplete concentrations of sensory receptions
that can be separated, organized and then mysteriously transformed into a life?

To read my own words is an oddly comfortable meeting
with an old, wise friend. How funny it seems, now,
to allow my eyes to dance over the prophetic words
that I spilled in a tizzy of dissatisfaction ages ago.

To forget the power of language is to submit to the disorder of life
with its unpredictability which mocks the nauseating predictability of it all—sometimes.

I may never know him.
Why does that make my heart swell in union with a tide of reluctant tears—
tears that can still be easily held back
by seawalls of rationalizations and distractions?

The breathing, beating, crying, lusting, snoring,
wheezing creature lying beside me is the Greatest Paradox.
The source of emotions that send all my ideas swirling
in a desperate attempt to charm, provoke, anger, evade.
In between slow rhythmic exhales and comforting readjustments,
I wonder if this moment, this place, was waiting for me.

I love lists and plans. The scribbled out, coffee-stained ones are the best.
But this wasn’t on a list. And I’ve never been one for going it unscripted.

Why are some memories with you so vivid. so simple—frustratingly so,
yet warm and sharp with the clarity of freshly dried window?
Could a life without you ever be this bright?

I wonder if another could fill that space on a sofa,
in that seat, on the left side of the bed… Of course,
but a place in my heart has been permanently taken.

I don’t think I signed any release papers or closed a contract.
Just like that, you moved into a spot I’d never had a chance to arrange,
or neurotically rearrange, sporadically polish,
or even steal a quick glance into.

For your consideration: Anyone who remembers 8th grade US History might recall the progressive journalist Ida Tarbell as among the first and most influential of the “muckrakers.” What you might not recall, however—what your teacher might have neglected to impart—is that the chief offender for whose shame Tarbell diligently raked muck had come close to—but decided against—buying out her father’s struggling oil company.

All Koch’d Up – “Prosperity”

The Great Gatsby and the efforts of Charles and David Koch to libertarian-ize America present eerily similar pictures of what we all know as “The American Dream.” My favorite thing about the Tea Party, if I have to pick one, is that its hosts like to play Jay Gatsby. They would stay always in panoptical confinement relative to the fruits of their funds if they could, but alas—print media! In August 23rd’s New Yorker Jane Mayer profiled Charles and David Koch and revealed, seemingly to the brothers’ bitter disappointment, that they essentially funded the Tea Party movement by way of Americans For Prosperity (AFP). AFP is an epic political action committee (PAC), one of the largest in Washington, and is largely funded by Koch Industries—a giant private energy (oil) company based in Wichita—and by the out-lying Koch Foundations.

These bros, known in Washington as “the Kochtopus,” have had their tentacles in everything for decades. Bruce Bartlett, a conservative economist and historian (who once worked at a Dallas-based think tank that the Kochs fund) told The New Yorker, regarding the Tea Party movement, that the Kochs are “Trying to shape and control and channel the populist uprising into their own policies.” For what it’s worth, they have personally denied any involvement in the Tea Party movement. In response to The New Yorker article, Koch Industries immediately published “Koch Facts,” which outlined the alleged truth about Koch Industries’ and Koch Foundations’ philosophy and initiatives.

Charles and David Koch want—as their political “philanthropy” choices suggest—most of all to reshape American politics in accordance with their far right ideals. According to Jane Mayer’s article in The New Yorker, their political values were drilled into them first by their father. Later, these values were fine-tuned by exposure to Robert LeFevre’s radical libertarian philosophy. Since their mainstream political failure in 1980, when David Koch ran on the Libertarian ticket with Ed Clark (opposing Reagan from the right), they have used their personal wealth to actively accrue underground political influence wherever possible. Self-interest, possible “daddy” issues, power-madness and deep-seated misconceptions, which allow them to mistake money for freedom, help explain the last few decades’ Koch initiatives. Nothing, however, excuses them.

For one thing, oil—Koch Industries’ next favorite thing after “anarcho-totalitarianism” (William F. Buckley’s name for Ed Clark’s far, far right brand of libertarianism)—is bad news, as are AFP initiatives to “rein in” the EPA. It’s no surprise that the Cato Institute, the first Libertarian think tank in America—initially funded by the Kochs and friends in 1977—has for years now succeeded in curtailing Americans’ belief in global warming. Cato—like Koch Industries—puts commerce before climate change, and the Institute has funded dozens of studies that dispute global warming. It even took out a full-page anti-global warming ad in the New York Times in 2008, and has fought the Clean Air Act tooth and nail. And now that the Kochs, through the AFP, principally fund the House Energy and Commerce Committee, committee members intend to reverse restrictions on greenhouse gases and actively fight the Clean Air Act, according to a recent LA Times article.

The Kochs’ Gastby-esque behaviors persist, considering the Kochs’ subtly lawbreaking, tax-evasive and generally slippery power-gaining tactics. And hey: let’s say the American people are Daisy Buchanan; any given incumbent administration is Tom; the Kochs’ dream of an anarcho-totalitarian, populist America is Gatsby, and what’s this? Gatsby’s finally got some game? The Tea Party movement is his party mansion on West Egg. Be wary, Daisy. Be wise: stay hip to their tricks, if you can!

Balm for the Hopeful Soul – “Progress”

Republicans fear and often craft their own elaborate conspiracy theories about Hungarian-born moneyman and philanthropist George Soros’ “secret plots” to take over the nation. There’s no denying that George Soros is pretty scary: he’s basically a philanthropic version of Gordon Gekko. He is—thank God—also on our side.

Soros’ philanthropy, unlike the Kochs’, has never been much of a secret. In 2010, a record low year for charitable giving, he capped Slate’s Top Sixty Donors list as the number one philanthropist of the year, having given $332 million to his own Open Society Foundations, which fund democratic initiatives in the United States and more than 70 countries across the globe. A little more covertly, Soros provided the seed funds for the Center for American Progress (CAP), another large-scale PAC, whose latest and most effective initiatives include the renowned global warming blog ClimateProgress.org and the progressive site MoveOn.org.

Soros broke the British pound and predicted the ’08 bubble-burst, but perhaps the scariest thing about him, for people like Glenn Beck, is that he’s foreign. The actual unlikelihood of Soros’ trying to do in America what he did in revolutionary Yugoslavia is not so obvious to everyone. George Soros is the last guy right wing conspiracy theorists want playing the little man behind the curtain and overturning our government because (who knows?) he just might be able to pull it off, and there’s no guarantee we could stop him if he tried—unless we sic the Koch brothers on him.

There is something refreshing about the raw spirit of the recent revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt. Their messages were simple and unwavering, and the best part was that they didn’t have a face—political dissent was carried out in pure, unadulterated form— by the masses. The protesters have proven that the previously foolproof military, economic, and social tools on which Arab dictators relied to suppress their populations no longer work as well as they used to. Though democracy in the Arab world is still far from ubiquitous, it is clear that the people have begun to insist on the basic democratic tenets of limited terms in office and freedom of speech. We have a long way to go in fulfilling our goals of “reaching out a hand to Egypt,” as President Obama pledged in his Cairo speech last year. But it is obvious that the democratic movement in the Arab world is accelerating.

Unlike Arabic revolutions in years past, when murder and mass oppression could go unnoticed for months or years, the revolution in Egypt, from start to finish, lasted only a few weeks. In Tunisia, one man lit himself on fire and within weeks that fire had spread to the rest of the country via the internet and cell phones. The result transformed the entire country. In comparison, the Iranian revolution of 1979, which was considered exceptionally speedy and widely popular, lasted a year.

Of course, in 1979, Iranians didn’t have the internet. In contrast, with today’s increased connectivity between vastly disparate cultures across the globe, the oppressive chokehold of dictators across the Arab world is beginning to slip. Experts disagree as to whether or not the revolutions are the beginning of a more widespread and frequent series of democratic uprisings to come. One thing, however, I think we can all agree upon: when they do happen, they will probably be quicker and hopefully easier than ever before.

Again, this is not to say that the revolution in Cairo was by any means “easy.” At least 135 protesters were killed during the 18 days of battle, and many hundreds more were wounded. But compared with the estimated 3,000 people killed in the Iranian Revolution, this number is a sigh of relief. The truth is that one man who is videotaped dying for his country will have a much greater political effect than many more equally brave men giving their lives without media coverage.

The important role that internet-based media has played in the Arab revolutions is undeniable. And yet, ask any Egyptian or expert on the matter, and they will tell you that such media platforms played only a secondary role in the revolutions. Facebook and Twitter are applications, not people; they cannot get angry and they certainly cannot fight. Revolutions have taken place for thousands of years before any of these were invented. To credit the success of the revolution in Egypt to these technological advancements from the comfort of our privileged lives is to disrespect the brave and arduous struggle of protesters. Technological advancements must take, at most, a secondary role to the human willpower in our analysis of what has happened in the past few weeks, as Kate Miller makes clear in her column inside.

And yet, staging a revolution is not just a cooperation problem; it is also a coordination problem. Without either of the two—if the military had not finally sided with the protesters, or if protesters hadn’t found a way to circumvent cell phone and Internet outages—the revolution would have been much messier, and in all likelihood Mubarak would still be in power. Without any single revolutionary figurehead, the protesters had to resort to a Google map of the current protest locations in Cario (televised on AlJazeera) to assemble and motivate hundreds of thousands of people within minutes.

As the global internet nexus continues to expand and intensify, so will the strategic efforts of dictators to suppress information and media. The scale of the Egyptian internet shutdown was unprecedented: 97% of Egyptian internet traffic disappeared in minutes, with just enough remaining for the stock market to function. Nothing comparable has ever happened in history. Even more impressive, however, was the tenacity of Egyptian protesters who managed to use what little resources they had to penetrate the information barrier to coordinate their struggle into a concerted movement. With the aid of technology, every Egyptian could act as a journalist, and every world citizen could become an activist.

Before this all started, most Americans I spoke to were largely unaware of the dire situation in Egypt, a country that receives roughly $1.7 billion of American taxpayers’ money every year—more than the budget of our lovely State of Vermont next door. This disconnect between our intimate political connection with Egypt and our public awareness of the country was no mistake: Mubarak understood the value of controlling the flow of public information—whether in the form of cell phones, television, or social media.

And his understanding was spot on. Freezing the media may not provide long term “solutions,” but it certainly acts as an anesthetic during times of upheaval. Note the 1959 Cuban Revolution: the first thing Fidel Castro and Che Guevara did when they laid siege on Havana was to destroy every existing media company, replacing them with the socialist propaganda machine “Cubavision.” Next, they replaced all newspapers with a single government-run publication called “Granma.” By controlling the media, from the newspaper to TV to the internet today, they were able to solidify a movement that still exists after 50 years.

Both in Cuba and across the Arab world, things are beginning to change. It is becoming cheaper and easier to start an Internet blog, buy a cell phone, or watch restricted TV channels. The problem of coordinating an organized demonstration is becoming increasingly surmountable. Ultimately, though, without the willpower and cooperation of the masses, this does not get anyone anywhere. What these media technologies do is help open the doors of democracy across the world. If every country living under oppressive rule eventually gains access to this kind of public media, then the voices of the oppressed will be impossible to ignore. Such a future would by no means be perfect; there would still be miscommunication and general bad behavior. But hey, isn’t that what democracy is all about?

The Molotov cocktail is a surprisingly incendiary explosive considering its humble origins and ingredients. First developed by the Spanish nationalist movement, it was used against the Soviet supported Spanish Republicans during the Spanish Civil War of the 1930’s. The Spanish made the cocktail with glass jars and heavy blanket material, along with its main ingredient of common petrol. Ever since its first appearance, it has been used in nationalist and revolutionary movements across the globe. The Finns gave the cocktail its contemporary title, derived from the name of Soviet administrator Vyacheslave Molotov. The IRA also adapted the Molotov using their own geographically-distinct ingredient, soaked peat, as the gasoline “canister.”

More recently, Egyptians brandished these homemade weapons as a part of their massive protests aimed at ridding the country of incumbent President Hosni Mubarak. A symbol of Mubarak’s political power, the National Democratic Party building, located downtown conveniently near Tahrir Square, stood burning for days. It fell victim to the humble cocktail.

Perhaps one of these guilty Molotov cocktails was assembled by Mona Shawki, a long-time Cairo resident, who assembled twenty in her living room using glass coke bottles and strips of rag. Meanwhile, her son Omar Shawki broke the glass coffee table into long shards for makeshift defensive weapons–the citizens’ weapon.

Shawki had no Internet or cell phone service during the last weekend of January, and so was forced to relay the exciting news of protests and rebellious cocktails to her daughter in London via a patchy land line. Her daughter, a friend of mine from the International Cairo High School, informed me of Mrs. Shawki’s newly developed weapon-making skills via Skype. The weapons used in Egypt ranged from the low-tech Molotov cocktail, relying on simple chemical processes, to the satellites and fiber-optic cables connecting the stories of Egypt’s protests to the rest of the world.

In this modern age, massive transfer of information is one of the best weapons–at least, we would like to think so. Often journalists think of investigative journalism as the Holy Grail of reporting because it reveals the truth, which will ostensibly create change for the better. Anderson Cooper and Christiane Amanpour both reported from the ground in Cairo during the protests and were even involved in physical altercations with “pro-Mubarak protesters” (a thinly veiled cover for security forces and hired thugs). Viewers watching the action from outside of Egypt were outraged at the blatant disregard for journalistic rights, and world leaders soon called for the Egyptian government to halt attacks on members of the media, professional and “i-reporters” both. Al-Jazeera’s Cairo news hub was ordered to close under the government’s accusation of igniting violence and unrest through their reporting of the protests. It was clear that someone did not want the news leaving the country.

Despite our tendency to credit the role of media in this uprising, especially in the new Internet age of sites like Facebook and Twitter, we should not exaggerate media dependency and subsequent outside pressure for the protesters’ success. It was rather the pure physical presence of millions of protesters filling the nation’s streets that finally forced Mubarak to step down on February 11.

Of course the Egyptian government understood the potential danger of information dispersion. In its haste to evade the international spotlight, Internet and cell phone service were shut off on January 28 for a five day blackout. Despite their efforts, thousands of photos, videos and status messages made their way out of Egypt and onto sites like Facebook, YouTube and Twitter. Internationally, millions of people joined the effort as they changed their Facebook profile pictures to the Egyptian flag in a mass showing of support.

Although media has been disruptive to governments since the inception of the printing press–holding the power to question and investigate political leaders and occasionally bringing regimes to their knees–we should not be so fast to assume that this is what happened in Egypt. In fact, the Egyptian government may have overestimated this also; they were hasty and efficient in cutting off communication and media lines, but had no way of effectively controlling protesters or enforcing curfew. For thirty years they had perfected the art of preemptive repression of protest, but once confronted with its physical manifestation, were largely powerless.

The police forces and “pro-Mubarak protesters” made a crucial mistake–they made it clear that there would be no differentiation on their part between violent protesters, non-violent protesters, or non-protesters. Looting began as the police mysteriously disappeared from the streets, and in many instances, the groups of “thugs” terrorizing Cairo were reported to be members of the same security forces. The ensuing anarchy during the night was aimless as they lashed out with no selectivity, and civilians took it upon themselves to protect their neighborhoods. As another one of my school friend’s mother distributed her household’s collection of golf clubs and baseball bats to her neighbors in the Cairo suburb of Ma’adi, Omar Shawki brandished his coffee-table weapon.

Civilians were now forced to go on the offensive. After this, the number of protesters was inevitably set to reach a critical mass. By January 31, the number in Tahrir Square alone was revised to estimates upward of 250,000. By this time, it did not matter whether Twitter or Facebook informed the population of the protest planned for Tuesday, February 1, the so-called “Million Man March”. The place to be was Tahrir Square, and there was no stopping millions of people from pouring into the large, haphazard, and usually traffic-filled space. The incentive for citizens to remain passive was now all but erased; instead, Egyptians’ survival was dependent on their ability to act, and therefore 80 million people–a large portion of whom had never known life in Egypt beyond Mubarak’s rule–became protesters.

His interview with Amanpour made this clear when he blamed the Muslim Brotherhood for inciting violence, an obviously false statement. “I don’t care what people say about me. Right now I care about my country, I care about Egypt,” Mubarak told the world.

Our President stays in power for four, possibly eight, years, and his power is severely limited by the people’s elected representatives and ultimately the threat of impeachment. It is hard to relate to Egyptians’ political discontent after a thirty year presidential entrenchment. It is also hard to understand the “pharaoh complex” that thirty years of power bred in Mubarak–despite millions of Egyptians calling for his resignation for days on end, he stood his ground, defiantly holed up in his Heliopolis presidential palace.

The glass Coke bottles sat on Mrs. Shawki’s floor on that January weekend, filled with an amber liquid and twinkling with promise. They stood representative of the Egyptian spirit during the protests–resourceful, quick spreading, and with no need for a satellite to incite the change wanted. The way we play this game in the U.S. is very different, and perhaps that’s why social media’s influence in the Egyptian protests has been inflated. Yes, the Internet and its information dispersion helped those outside of Tahrir keep abreast of the action for the eighteen days of protests, but my profile picture did not topple Mubarak. It was only the Egyptians themselves who could bring about change, and they rose to the occasion, rather majestically, after thirty years.

On Wednesday, February 9, I went to the photo studio at the bottom of the Hop to get my picture taken. I was surprised to find that the hallway was bustling with activity—men and women, undergrads of all class years, and Dartmouth staff and faculty. All were wearing identical shirts—a black T-shirt emblazoned on the front with the word “FEMINIST.” Some 200 or more individuals on campus had their pictures taken that afternoon—even President Jim Kim and Dean Sylvia Spears joined in the celebration of gender equality.

Intrigued by the events taking place, I found myself wanting to learn more and decided to ask a few questions of some of the people who participated in the “I am a Feminist Project.” First I wanted to know, why is “feminism” such a dirty word? From everything I’ve read about feminism and from all the self-identified feminists whom I’ve spoken to, feminism is, at its core, about gender equality—something that most people would say that they are in favor of. Yet so often I hear men and women who are in support of gender equality and practice it in their everyday lives say, “I’m not a feminist, but …” Their reluctance to identify as feminists seems to stem from the fact that many are afraid of the negative stereotypes associated with feminists, such as “man-hating” or “feminazis,” according to Sapna Chemplavil ’11. Although false, these images of feminists as being opposed to any form of masculinity, and as being prone to over-moralizing, often pervade popular culture and the Dartmouth campus.

Aside from these negative stereotypes, there are other common misunderstandings about what those who support feminism and gender equality stand for. Nikki Brown ’11 says, “I think many people on campus are reluctant to view themselves as feminists because they associate the word with ‘female issues,’” from which many men attempt to distance themselves. Men who do this probably don’t realize most feminists believe that feminism addresses both women’s and men’s issues. Although Brown now proudly proclaims herself a feminist, in the past she was less eager to identify as such because she held some of her own misconceptions about what it meant to be a feminist. “I never wanted to think of myself as a feminist growing up because I associated the word with a culture of victimization,” she says. “Recognizing that there are issues in our culture does not mean that in recognizing the issues you are weak, but rather that you are strong and committed to working to change the status quo.”

Sometimes the cause of feminism goes unheralded because many Dartmouth students think that there isn’t a need for feminism anymore. When asked if things were better for women at Dartmouth, Mayuka Kowaguchi ’11, founder of the Orchid Project, says, “Technically, yes. But in reality, no.” Her sentiments are due in part to the fact that women at Dartmouth have made significant strides since the college went co-ed, while there are still uniquely gendered problems on campus—sexual assault and male-dominated Greek spaces, to name just a couple. In spite of these pressing issues many students believe that gender parity has been reached and subsequently that initiatives like the “Portraits of a Feminist Photo Project” are unnecessary. “There are a lot of people who can’t see the need for a feminist element on campus—and therefore don’t understand why they need to exist,” says Meg McCue ’11, another Dartmouth feminist.

The Portraits of Feminists Photo Project seeks to debunk many of these conceptions by questioning our assumptions of who feminists really are. Flipping through the photo gallery, it’s immediately obvious that Dartmouth feminists are an incredibly diverse group, one that includes people of all races, ages, and genders. The organizers of the project see a lot of promise in the project’s ability to debunk stereotypes and correct misunderstandings. “I hope the project will elicit a discussion about what feminism means to people and hopefully show people that anyone can be feminist. It’s not a scary word,” Brown says. Her efforts are paying off judging by the number of people who showed up to the event. Nearly 200 signed up for the first day alone, and there wasn’t enough time to accommodate everyone who wanted their picture taken. Chemplavil says, “I really hope people realize that a much larger number of people on campus consider themselves to be feminists than they originally thought.”

Ultimately, Kowaguchi hopes that when people embrace the term “feminist,” they’ll pave the way for others to understand the meaning and power behind efforts for gender equality. Like Brown, Kowaguchi was also initially reluctant to call herself a feminist, afraid of the negative stereotypes it carried. It was only after a conversation with a close friend that she realized, “If you call yourself a feminist then people who know who you are will know you’re for gender equity. You are the explanation. You are the definition.” Her realization that only by accepting the label “feminist” could she help to rebut the stereotypes often associated with it.

And seeing the nearly 200 portraits of men and women who are proud to call themselves a feminist, I can’t help but agree that this photo project is really ground-breaking in terms of debunking myths and stereotypes about feminism.

So, if you get a chance, check out the Portraits of Feminists Photo Project on February 28th at Collis. Participate in V-Week. And above all, if you like gender equality and everything that it entails, then don’t be afraid to call yourself a feminist. After all, you’re not alone.

Dartmouth employees are systematically losing their health care. They have been fired without representation in budget meetings, and an increasing number of jobs are being subcontracted to private corporations. According to SEIU local 560 President Earl Sweet—leading custodian of Dartmouth Hall and a Dartmouth employee for over thirty years—“Campus is being torn apart.” And yet the plight of workers has gone largely unnoticed by students. Instead of examining questions of community responsibility, we focus on the narrow concerns of our social lives and our GPA’s. We spend our time drinking at fraternities and applying for internships. We fundraise for Haiti relief and donate to local charities—certainly worthy pursuits—yet we fail to address the major moral problems of our immediate community.

At a February 2 panel discussion organized by Dartmouth Students Stand with Staff, these questions of responsibility—of justice, equality, and democracy—were addressed by panelists Phoebe Gardener ’11, Robert Polanco ’11, and Earl Sweet. Through the discussion, panelists and audience members articulated a broad critique of the corporate values that largely govern Dartmouth life and the world beyond. According to moderator and Assistant Professor of History Russell Rickford, “Dartmouth is at the center of the rottenness of the system.”

Union President Earl Sweet began his remarks by emphasizing the attachment that he and other employees feel to the college and its students. “Everyone I represent says their job is serving the students,” he said. Commenting on his long relationship with the school, he added, “You can’t walk away from here… [after] all these years… and not have a feeling for Dartmouth.” This attachment has made the administration’s recent attacks on employees especially bitter.

The first round of layoffs began in 2009, when sixty employees were terminated. Another forty were laid off in 2010. Additionally, numerous employees were pressured into early retirement, while others experienced significant cuts in their hours (and thus their salaries). This January, the administration went one step further by drastically cutting health care benefits for all staff members. According to Sweet, many employees now pay an additional four thousand dollars on health care per year—an amount previously paid by the college. For working class families, the effects of these cuts have been catastrophic. Many employees are now struggling to pay for the doctor’s visits and medications needed to keep them healthy. Indeed, some employees can’t even afford to have their children treated at the hospital.

In light of present and future major expenditures—such as the new Center for Health Care Delivery Science and upcoming Thompson Arena and Baker library renovations—Mr. Sweet said, “I have to question, how much of this is needed? We had no say in it.”

Students Stand with Staff (SSwS) leader Phoebe Gardener ’11 used her introductory remarks in part to discuss the general goals of her organization. It was founded in 2009 amidst Dartmouth’s $100 million deficit, and operated in response to the administration’s top down approach to budget cuts. In opposition to this approach, it advocated for the representation and involvement of staff in the budget cut process. Additionally, SSwS opposed the subcontracting of positions to private corporations. And yet, according to Gardner, “It was and continues to be about something much bigger… We were [and are] fighting against a specific set of values.” These values include the primacy of cost-saving and efficiency in administrative processes, and the “values of placing money over people.”

According to Gardener, these values shape not only our community, but the entire world.
These corporate values, reflected in the assault on workers, are also visible in student life. We have inculcated them to the point where resumes and GPA’s become a necessary means to a lucrative end. We, too, have accepted the primacy of efficiency and profit. We study so we can ace an exam and get that crucial recommendation. We pull all-nighters so we can get the A’s that will get us into law school. With these goals and values, according to Gardener, “Our work becomes a task to be done.” Genuine intellectual exploration is sacrificed on the altar of “the transcript.” Course selection is often predicated on median grades statistics. As we submerge ourselves in this world, we become blind to the existence of other community members. This blindness, in turn, allows the causes of this suffering to remain unchallenged. “I, as a student at Dartmouth… am implicated in workers’ rights on campus,” said Gardner. Indeed, by allowing this injustice to continue, we all are culpable.

Robert Polanco ’11 emphasized Dartmouth’s influence in national policy-making. When students from elite colleges, trained in efficiency and profit, gain positions of influence, corporate values dictate how they view the world. These corporate values, in turn, make possible some of the U.S.’s more barbarous policies. Polanco specifically cited the U.S.’s bloody role in 1980’s Nicaragua. He additionally referenced working conditions in the anti-union south—where multitudes of citizens earn starvation wages. Regarding Dartmouth, Polanco said, “When people suffer here, no one ever talks about it.” This conspiracy of silence—this habit of ignoring—then follows graduates to the halls of power, where habit becomes law.

At the start of the discussion, Professor Rickford asked, “How can we create a more equitable working world at our campus and beyond?” Surely, a place to begin is with events like this. Apathy on campus partially derives from ignorance. How many students are aware of the most recent benefit cuts? How many know that some Dartmouth employees can’t afford to take their children to the hospital?

Thus, discussions like this educate; they inform us of the suffering within our community. And yet, if we hope to create a better world, we must also examine ourselves. For surely, ignorance alone is not the source of the world’s troubles. Rather, we all experience fundamental consumerist, individualistic, and narcissistic tendencies which isolate us from our fellow human beings. We are taught from a young age that little matters beyond personal advancement. Our corporate and consumer society provides us with no moral education, but rather images of the beautiful, successful people we can become—if only we work hard in school, or buy that pair of jeans. We are trained to care only about ourselves. Consequently, the assault on workers continues, largely unchallenged.

Now, more than ever, we must ask ourselves what it means to be members of the Dartmouth community. At this elite institution—at this pinnacle of education and privilege—employees are unable to take their children to the hospital. At this bastion of enlightenment, ideals of justice and democracy are trampled beneath the imperative of efficiency. We must question these trends. We must challenge corporatism and individualism. And we must work to reassert our humanity and to establish justice at Dartmouth and beyond.

a href=”http://dartmouthfreepress.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/02/DFP-11-2.jpg”>THE MASTHEAD
Editor-in-Chief: Paul Lintilhac
Executive Editor: Zack De
Managing Editor: Eli Lichtenstein
Publisher: Joseph Z. T. Mesfin
Treasurer: Kate B. Miller

Read Issue 11.2!

Several unrelated cases of food poisoning have gone unreported by students after they consumed some spoiled, uncooked vegetables at Dartmouth Dining Service’s Food Court and Home Plate facilities. The three cases, each involving a different type of vegetable, has called in to question DDS food-handling practices along with its methods for obtaining student feedback regarding its food and services.

Consumption of uncooked vegetables often leads to poisoning since improper rinsing and storage can lead to the development of foodborne illness-causing bacteria. The United States Department of Agriculture recommends that uncooked vegetables be kept below 42 degrees Fahrenheit and be monitored every 30 minutes to ensure that this internal temperature is maintained. It seems as though DDS is disregarding these recommendations. Former student DDS workers—who did not want to be indentified—have reported that DDS salad bars are not checked regularly and that the temperature is often higher than it ought to be.

Even more concerning are the admissions that the former student workers have made concerning the preparation and rinsing of uncooked vegetables. While the USDA recommends that vegetables be thoroughly washed and checked for signs of decay or damage, the students contend that during their tenure at DDS they often saw employees rush through the rinsing process. As a result, salad and other spoiled vegetables were placed onto the salad bar that would have otherwise been discarded if checked properly.

These admissions have bewildered the throngs of students who depend on DDS for their daily intake of fruits and vegetables. Upon finding out about the recent cases of food poisonings, Rochele Brown ‘13, a vegetarian, admitted that she “rarely eats from the salad bar or uncooked vegetable side items because they often taste spoiled and dirty.” When asked if she had reported this to the DDS staff, she replied “no, because I wasn’t sure if my opinion was representative of most students.”

While it is hard to confirm whether students agree with Brown, the recent cases of food poisoning reveal a real danger that could result from DDS’s failure to seek feedback from the student body about its food and service quality.

In comparison to other colleges, DDS takes few surveys of campus opinion. While DDS has attempted to start a quality survey group among a select group of students in the past, the findings of those surveys have not been made public. Other colleges, like Emory and Harvard, regularly survey the student body at large to get feedback on quality. They then update their menu offerings in response to student needs.

For example, in a 2009 survey of nearly 3,000 undergraduates, Harvard’s dining services found that students thought it was falling behind in its commitment to serve fresh food. Similarly, surveys of Dartmouth’s campus would more than likely find that students are increasingly dissatisfied with DDS’s improper handling of fresh produce.

The recent cases of food illness caused by uncooked vegetables have gone unnoticed because, like other areas of Dartmouth’s bureaucracy, those charged with running DDS consistently fail to seek input. If we continue to depend on select groups of student to represent everyone’s views and experiences in any area of campus, we will never have a meaningful conversation that helps us to improve experiences on campus.

It is not enough to say “we’re here if you want to come talk.” Rather, DDS and the administration must actively seek to implement ways in which the campus at large can efficiently share their experiences. While not everyone will have time or feel comfortable with intruding on DDS supervisors to inform them of their spoiled veggies, most students will have 5 minutes over spring break to complete an online survey that both applauds DDS’s strengths and highlights its weaknesses. And if the survey should reveal that veggies are consistently spoiled and cause student sickness, DDS will have the input it needs to make the change. With this said, I only have one question for DDS—where’s the survey?