To challenge my students to think about the ethics of what we owe to people in need, I ask them to imagine that their route to the university takes them past a shallow pond. One morning, I say to them, you notice a child has fallen in and appears to be drowning. To wade in and pull the child out would be easy but it will mean that you get your clothes wet and muddy, and by the time you go home and change you will have missed your first class.

I then ask the students: do you have any obligation to rescue the child? Unanimously, the students say they do. The importance of saving a child so far outweighs the cost of getting one’s clothes muddy and missing a class, that they refuse to consider it any kind of excuse for not saving the child. Does it make a difference, I ask, that there are other people walking past the pond who would equally be able to rescue the child but are not doing so? No, the students reply, the fact that others are not doing what they ought to do is no reason why I should not do what I ought to do.

Once we are all clear about our obligations to rescue the drowning child in front of us, I ask: would it make any difference if the child were far away, in another country perhaps, but similarly in danger of death, and equally within your means to save, at no great cost – and absolutely no danger – to yourself? Virtually all agree that distance and nationality make no moral difference to the situation. I then point out that we are all in that situation of the person passing the shallow pond: we can all save lives of people, both children and adults, who would otherwise die, and we can do so at a very small cost to us: the cost of a new CD, a shirt or a night out at a restaurant or concert, can mean the difference between life and death to more than one person somewhere in the world – and overseas aid agencies like Oxfam overcome the problem of acting at a distance.

What’s your take on all this?

Mike Stuzynski: I did not attend the event, but I think the comparison between a child drowning in front of your eyes and people dying in third world countries is not necessarily apt.  For starters, the child drowning in front of me is going to likely be screaming for help and thrashing about in a way that is difficult to ignore.  He or she may make a direct appeal to me. But even if not, the proximity of another person’s pain is likely to make people uncomfortable to the point where they are more likely to act. So you save the child.  But consider the motivation behind this seemingly heroic act.  Did you do it for the child or to look good in front of your peers?  Also, what are the chances that the child is someone you know or related to someone you know?

I also have a problem with the way this speaker set up the ethical dilemma (save the child and miss class going home to change clothes or go to class and let him/her die) because I think that the natural inclination of someone who just saved the child could likely be to attend class in dirty clothes and brag about the act of heroism. The cost/benefit analysis seems skewed to me when you remove the situation to a third world country.  Not only do you have no direct communication with the people in need, but the people most likely don’t even speak the same language. The pressing need to help is not felt by most people in this situation because people have their own problems Therefore, taking care of themselves and by extension their fellow citizens, is going to come first.

Jhoany Benitez: I consider myself a very sympathetic person…as well as someone who’ll go out of her way to assist others to the best of her ability. This explains my pipe dream of joining the Peace Corps one day and helping as many people as I can. But in terms of donating to charity, I believe that we do not have an obligation to do so. I’m not a bad person because I lack the funds to donate. However, I think we do have a Moral Duty to them. Evidently, we cannot donate to every charity out there. But I believe that doing our part whatever way possible is something to consider. And not just because it’s the holidays…but because you want to help someone.

Rebecca Zandstein: I give 10% of all my earnings or monetary gifts to charity. While this is called “maaser” in Judaism, an obligation to give a percentage of your money to others in need, I do not follow this rule merely out of fear and/or subjection. Giving charity, not only does it make me feel [emotionally] better, but it makes me think that I am bringing justice to those that may deserve such, even though it is not my place to judge the latter. When it comes down to it, 10% is not asking much, but it’s giving a lot. Regardless, if one, including myself, cannot give charity in the form of money, there are other ways that can give that mean just as much, if not more.

I strongly believe that everything happens for a reason and my success is not to be taken for granted. If I were in the position of those that I am currently giving to, I would expect others who have more to find it pretty simple and easier to give someone else money. People seem to be too selfish and attached to monetary benefits, which is to a varying degree, connected with being a stereotypical American consumer.

Marlana Moore: The Peter Singer lecture came to me with much hype and, on my part, many expectations. The advertising for the event was close to viral — someone handed me a card when I was walking down College Ave. telling me he was “the world’s most controversial philosopher.” Also my professors had advocated for my attendance at the event, etc. To be honest, Peter Singer told me things that I thought I should be doing already. Even though his words offered a different way of thinking about things, he mainly failed to really, truly inspire the group of students and educators to behave differently than they already do. Nothing he said is truly going to challenge my conceptions of the world. I would be surprised if many of the students who walked away from Singer’s speech would be truly inspired to change their attitudes and do something to help the poor, starving children of the world.

Ben Kharakh: I’m not a fan of Singer’s analogy because I think it oversimplifies the situation to the point where it hardly resembles the real deal at all. To make the scenario more like giving to charities, we should be paying someone to save the child for us. The child should also be drowning far, far away in a country with lacking infrastructure, corrupt politicians, river blindness, etc. And the way I find out about the drowning child, as a result, should not be by simply seeing the child or hearing his or her screams, but by someone telling me, perhaps in a room with five hundred other people after I’ve eaten a whole bunch of cookies.

See: I don’t evaluate problems in terms of money or utility alone because I think life is more complicated than that. So if one was actually serious about ending global poverty, I think an approach more robust than giving to charity would be necessary. And if the charities are the organizations that are aware of the robust approach necessary to ending global poverty, then I’d rather hear someone from OxFam speak than Peter Singer.

Photo courtesy of moneysavingexpert.com

The internship I took was for a small, private law firm in Boulder.  The firm mainly specialized in estate and probate matters, though there were one or two lawyers who specialized in something else.  I took it, against my better judgment given my schedule, partly to broaden my horizons—though I already knew I was not interested in transactional law—and partially to test myself, just to see if I could do it.

Before I go any further, I want to make it clear that I am not writing this article to complain about not having been paid for my internship—I received school credit in compensation so nothing I’m about to say applies to my situation directly.  However, my own experience working for free, along with my geeky interest in legal minutiae, has caused me to question the entire practice of the unpaid, uncompensated internship.

As most of you are painfully aware, paid jobs are nearly impossible to find for recent college graduates.  The worse news?—the news is not much better for law students and recent JD graduates, and we are still expected to have at least two different suits (because those are free too, right?).  As paid positions continue to decrease across the country, unpaid internships are rapidly cropping up to fill the void left on career services web pages.  Most of us are forced to take these unpaid positions because nothing else is available, commonly commiserating that at least the experience will help pad our resumes.  However, the prospect of doing work for free that we would have almost certainly been paid for before the recession is difficult to swallow.  Every time I’ve complained to school officials about a lack of legitimate paid opportunities, I always get the same response: “you have to understand that employers will not want to pay someone without experience, and you don’t have experience.  You’re just a student.”  That response always makes you feel guilty in some way, like Oliver Twist asking for a second bowl of gruel.

So I guess I’m just a big douche for expecting to get paid.  My sincerest apologies to everyone; I know now that I am not worthy.  Though an exaggeration, that basically categorizes how I felt about the whole situation until roughly three hours ago, when I discovered that the recent surge in unpaid hiring may in fact be in violation of Federal Law.

According to the Department of Labor’s Wage and Hour Division, there are six criteria that a for-profit organization must meet in order to legally get around paying you for your work and still conform with the Fair Labor Standards Act.  For your edification, those are: “1) the training, even though it includes actual operation of the facilities of the employer, is similar to what would be given in a vocational school or academic educational instruction; 2) the training is for the benefit of the trainees; 3) the trainees do not displace regular employees, but work under their close supervision; 4) the employer that provides the training derives no immediate advantage from the activities of the trainees, and on occasion the employer’s operations may actually be impeded; 5) the trainees are not necessarily entitled to a job at the conclusion of the training period; and 6) the employer and the trainees understand that the trainees are not entitled to wages for the time spent in training.”. (1)

If you are working for free at a for-profit company and these six criteria are not met, you are entitled to compensation!  Food for thought, if not money for actual food.

________________________

(1) http://wdr.doleta.gov/directives/attach/TEGL/TEGL12-09acc.pdf

Photo courtesy of www.thugtooth.net

(http://thugtooth.net/category/work/)

What brought you to Rutgers and how’d you decide on your major? The promise of a cheap Bachelor’s of Arts degree brought me to Rutgers.   I decided on English Literature as a major not only because I enjoyed reading, but also because I saw the discipline as offering the perfect intersection of a variety of fields in which I was interested, including history, philosophy, psychology, and sociology.  Rather than having to decide on studying one of these disciplines exclusively, the English department’s curriculum allowed me to explore a wide array of these subjects at my leisure while earning credit toward a major that would eventually get me to the same place (law school) anyway.  I can say that I thoroughly enjoyed all of the classes in my major and actually was excited to attend class (gone are those days, my friends), which is not something I can say about the one or two philosophy and political science courses I took freshman year.

Why no more excitement for classes?Law school classes are not designed to be fun.  I only enjoyed one or two of them as far as, “Wow; this is actually interesting.”  Usually the tougher subjects are categorized by one to four annoying kids that never stop asking stupid questions.  They’re the overachieving ones who are freaked out about their exam scores.  Plus, the hyper competitive nature takes a lot of the fun out of what could in other circumstances be stimulating intellectual discussion.

What are some of your favorite books? I have a lot of favorite books.  There’s the obvious Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, which is one of the funnier good books ever written.  Close seconds in this category also include Mikhail Bulgakov’s The Master and Margarita and John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces.  I’ve also read everything by William S. Burroughs and Ralph Waldo Emerson.  The latter comes more highly recommended for those with weak stomachs. For those interested in Burroughs, the quintessential Naked Lunch is not the best place to begin. The Place of Dead Roads is more readable and is bound to be more enjoyable for fans of a more traditional writing style.

How would you describe your relationship with writing? It really depends on what type of writing you’re talking about.  The last 15 years has seen a huge influx in published books and more are coming out each week.  It’s statistically impossible that all of them are good, let alone worth the recycled paper they’re printed on.  The process of choosing a book in modern times can be quite daunting, as it is difficult to know which titles are actually better than the others. So if we’re talking about writing, we may as well talk about good writing. Dan Brown and Stephanie Meyer need not apply. They contribute little to society that could not otherwise have been provided by some coked-up Hollywood writing team.

But good writers are a different story. These individuals occupy an almost mystical place in society, serving as conduit between the mundane social world and the extraordinary.  A good writer is foremost an excellent observer. No detail escapes his gaze, and no lie can get past him.  He sees, hears, smells and feels with magnified force, breathing in the world around him, and blowing it back out 100 fold. He is like the Odor Eaters of Tibetan mythology, who can breathe in subtle smells, barely visible to mortal olfactory senses, only to exhale them back out in magnified form. He makes his living revealing that which has been only partially covered, and he doesn’t go to far. He understands that he cannot teach his audience what they do not already know.

This brings me to another point that I’m sure will piss some people off.  I do not believe there is any such thing as feminist writing.  This is not to say that women are not qualified to become good writers, as history and modernity are fraught with prominent examples, but to suggest that there is something in the act of writing itself that is quintessentially masculine.  It implicates not only the phallocentric notion of declaring something by placing words on the page, but the tenet of the male gaze is also important to the observation process.  To put it country-simple, if English were a gendered language, writing (the completed work, not the process) would be a masculine noun.

I have always enjoyed the writing process, and used to have aspirations to become a novelist. I haven’t written creatively for over a year and a half due to the whole law school thing, but I write a motion or some kind of persuasive document at least once a week to be submitted to the court. As in all writing, and these documents are no exception, what you do not say is frequently more important than what you do. Hemingway knew this, and after getting smacked by a judge or two for over-stating my case, now I do too.  I have no doubt that my writing will continue to improve, if for no other reason than that I continue to practice on a semi-daily basis.  I’m sure that workload will only get tougher once I graduate and get a real job.

But on the other hand, writing legal documents also highlights for me the central fallacy of the entire production of writing–which I suppose is to convey a point (hopefully truth, as no one likes to be lied to).  The problem with this is that all truth is predicated on lies.  This is as much a problem with human ontology as it is with the concept of language itself, but these two imperfect systems are what we’re stuck with for now, so it does little good to resist their restrictive hold.  Learning to live freely within a restrictive framework is important, if not essential.

What sort of aspirations did you have growing up and which of these, if any, are you putting the most effort into making a reality?I am of the belief that no one knows what they want to do with their lives at a young age, and if they do it is rarely an idea based upon rational, pragmatic thinking. That said, I wanted to be a classical pianist when I was younger, or something to do with musical performance. Fifteen odd years later, I have separated the activities that I enjoy as hobbies from those that I deem to be more useful professionally.  I’m currently enjoying my work with the Colorado Legal Aid and Defender’s clinical program at school, where I represent misdemeanor clients in Boulder County.

What instruments do you play? I have played piano, violin, trombone, and various xylophone-like instruments through high school.  Currently I just play guitar.

How did you change over the course of your time at Rutgers? Rutgers didn’t change me any more than I suspect any other place would have. Most changes would have been the direct result of contact with Phillip Rothwell and Louise Barnett, two of the best teachers I’ve ever had, and Elizabeth Grosz, one of the worst.  Professor Rothwell’s most accessible class, Luso-Hispanic Dialogues, is taught every fall or spring, I forget which, but it is definitely a class worth taking.  His classes forced me to think about Western society in a different way than I was used to, which has proved invaluable in my current life which often requires making difficult decisions that affect people directly.

Louise Barnett was an excellent English lit professor who now teaches almost exclusively in the American Studies department.  Her classes on American military history are always interesting, and her English literature courses were some of the more challenging ones I took at Rutgers.  Of course, it didn’t hurt that Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is one of her favorite books.  I got away with writing two or three papers on that one, but it was definitely time well spent.

To round out the group, Elizabeth Grosz was a bona fide pain in the ass lady who thought she had the last word on psychoanalytic feminism.  What is psychoanalytic feminism, you ask?  Exactly what she says it is. Nothing more, nothing less.  She completely trashed a paper I wrote for her class in front of the other students because she did not agree with my thesis.  She gave me an F on the paper, which subsequently went on to be presented at some regional honors conference in the humanities (nerdy revenge, to be sure, but revenge nonetheless).

Funny thing though, as much as I think back fondly about Ms. Barnett and Mr. Rothwell, it was Elizabeth Grosz who taught me the most important lesson I learned in college, which was to trust myself and have enough faith in the authority of my own beliefs not to let someone else tell me I’m wrong. Clichéd lesson, and one that is all too easy to write off, but it’s a sweet moment when you actually internalize it from your own experience.

Tell me about the misdemeanor clinic you’re involved in. I can’t really say anything about clients because of the confidentiality agreement, but basically in Colorado the public defender’s office doesn’t have the money to represent misdemeanor clients, and they don’t represent anyone until after the bail hearing, and pretrial conference.  So the clinic kids get to represent misdemeanor clients starting with the bail hearing onward–which is theoretically required anyway by the 6th Amendment.  It’s not like we can help everyone, but it’s something at least.  The work is rewarding not only because you get to help people who would otherwise not be able to afford legal representation, but also because we get thrown into everything very quickly and are forced to learn or die essentially.  That experience has been good for  my own professional development.

And what inspired you to go to Law School? I was inspired to go to law school because I was attracted by the power that a law degree bestows upon a person.  I have always considered trial lawyers to be part of the judicial branch of government, and wanted to be able to do something aside from scribbling half-cogent op-eds in the Targum and on the JVP about the stuff that pissed me off in the world.  As I’ve stated earlier, my work representing misdemeanor clients has been also very influential in this area, as I have already had some success helping people who would otherwise have probably languished in jail for stupid stuff they didn’t really do “wrong.”  I’ll confess I didn’t always want to represent indigent alleged criminals, but after working in other legal fields, I just couldn’t bring myself to do anything else 40+ hours a week.  Lawyers in private firms I’ve worked with don’t seem happy–they seem almost comically pissed off 80% of the time.  Big firm lawyers just reek of privilege and don’t have an ear for anything that doesn’t come with dollar signs attached.

Without prattling on, it’s been hard for me to come to terms with what I have seen to be the moral wasteland of the legal profession, but with the economy in the shitter and recent JD grads frequently making less than $20 an hour for doing meaningless research, public interest law seems like a great alternative. I’ve set my sights on becoming a public defender somewhere around the Front Range. Sure, I’ll make shit pay, but I’ll be making shit pay for the benefit of the community, and because the office is so understaffed, I’ll have a wealth of trial experience after the first few years. Thinking about it reminds me of one of my favorite Grateful Dead songs: “I won’t slave for beggar’s pay/ likewise gold and jewels/ but I would slave to learn the way to sink your ship of fools.”

What brought you to Rutgers?

What brought me to Rutgers? Well… to be honest, a random decision that I made during my sophomore year of high school is what brought me to Rutgers. Back in 2004 Myspace was all the rage. I got a Myspace account… you know, trying to fit in and all. After putting in a huge list of books I’d read in the “Books” section of my flashy new profile, I decided to see what would happen if I clicked on one. I clicked on the most recent book I’d read, which at the time was The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. I was taken to a page displaying seven Myspace profiles of people who had also read the book. I noticed there was only one person my age, a girl from Sayerville, New Jersey. Being the dork that I am, I sent her a message saying, “Hey, I read that too!”. She responded with: “I love random strangers who read!”. After that we had a correspondence that would last for a few years.

When it came time to apply for college, I only applied to one school: the University of Chicago (Early Decision). I waited and waited, until finally, on Christmas Eve I received my rejection letter with a little note at the bottom that said “Great essay”. That was nice, but I was devastated. I wrote to my New Jersey friend that day explaining my devastation: I had not only been rejected from the only school I wanted to go to, but it was also the only school I had applied to, so my seventeen-year-old self was convinced that I’d just screwed myself out of going to college. She wrote back to me a few hours later and suggested that I apply to Rutgers. She had told me how her boyfriend went there and that it was a good school. I considered her suggestion for a few moments, then stuck my head out of the computer room and shouted to my parents: “Hey, is Rutgers a good school?” My mother said: “Oh yea, that’s in New York. Great engineering school.” That didn’t seem like enough information so I went to the Rutgers website and did some research, which included discovering that Rutgers is the State University of New Jersey. Rutgers looks good on paper, let me tell you, so I decided to apply. I wrote the optional essay and submitted my application a day or two after Christmas. Not even two weeks later I got an email that exploded into confetti the moment I clicked on it: Rutgers wanted me.

However, I was still not convinced that Rutgers would be the best fit for me, even though I was elated that I had been accepted. My parents and I drove down to New Jersey for the Open House. The moment I stepped on campus I knew that Rutgers was where I was supposed to be, in spite of the fact that there were torrential downpours for the duration of our visit. If anything, the rain only made me fall in love with Rutgers and New Brunswick more. Walking around in the rain is one of my favorite outdoor activities. However, in the end, what brought me to Rutgers was a combination of my need to leave home and the desire to go to a school that wanted me for my brain.

How did you decide on your majors?

In choosing what to major in, I considered the practical route, which would have been studying in a field that would be useful in the future job market. I did not want to be practical. I have always considered college to be a time for personal enrichment; my choice of what to study most certainly fell under that category. I decided to study what I love: books. The English Major option was almost a given. In high school I took, almost exclusively, History, English, and French classes. I only fulfilled the bare minimum of requirements for Math and Science (for example, I didn’t even make it to Calculus, and I quit science before I got to Physics). Normally this sort of skipping around wouldn’t have been allowed at my high school, but being the dork that I am, I had more friends on staff than I did among the students. Of course, studying English, although mentally rigorous, was still within my comfort zone as a student, and would not contribute as much as say, a French major, to my goal of personal enrichment. I had been taking French since 7th grade. I decided to take a couple classes at the college level to see how I would do. It turns out I was a lot more prepared for college-level French classes than I expected. What’s more is I absolutely adored my classes, even though they were grammar courses. I got to know the French department better and started taking more in depth courses. By the time I was a sophomore I had chosen to do a double major and study French literature in addition to English literature. As a result, I am practically fluent in French, I’ve already lived in Paris, and I can read any French writers I want in their native language. That makes me happy.

What sort of aspirations did you have growing up and which of these, if any, are you putting the most effort into making a reality?

When I was growing up I wanted to be three things: an astronomer, a movie director, and a writer. Today I still aspire to be all of those things. I have made great efforts in my life so far to make all of them into reality. Out of the three, I have thus far only succeeded at becoming one of them: an astronomer, albeit a recreational astronomer. I have a telescope… a big one… which I lug outside on clear nights to study the sky, or just to gaze.

My aspirations to become a movie director and a writer have not wavered. I write all the time. I carry two moleskines, two legal pads, two pencils, one blue pen, one red pen, and at least one book everywhere I go. I’m serious about that. I carry those exact things with me everywhere I go, even when I know it’s highly unlikely I’ll need them. You never know when inspiration will strike. I like to be prepared.

As far as making those aspirations into reality… well, I’d say I’m off to a pretty good start. I am currently working on a screenplay with a friend and fellow writer. I have a few other ideas for screenplays in the works, but I prioritize my projects, so those are less pressing. As far as my other writing is concerned, I am working on my first collection of poetry. I am writing a science fiction novel, which is, at present, the most complete storyline I have yet constructed. In addition to those two big projects I am also working on a short fiction piece, which will probably become a novella, as well as a collection of short stories, and one play. I also have a writer’s exchange going on with my poet friend Stacey Balkun. We mail our work to each other for the purpose of critique and betterment. In a sense, we are doing our own Pound-Eliot Exchange. I also do editing with my good friend Starky Morillo; we edit and critique each other’s works of fiction. Starky and I have been exchanging work for almost three years now. And finally, I am the Editor-In-Chief of the Johnsonville Press, a paper which I’ve been contributing to and editing for since its inception. This position above all others has allowed me to become more comfortable with expressing myself as a writer and as an editor. I had never considered being an editor before the JVP, at least not outside of the editing I do on my own work. However, the Johnsonville has shown me that in the event I fail as a writer, I might just have a career in editing, and that’s not so bad because at least I’d get to hang out with writers.

How did you change over the course of your time at Rutgers?

How did I change? Well, physically I didn’t change much. I probably got smarter after reading as much as I did. I am definitely a better writer. I’m pretty much fluent in French now, which is awesome and incredibly useful for slipping out of awkward or uncomfortable situations, and for traveling around Europe. I am less shy than I was when I was eighteen years old. I have mostly overcome my fear/inability to share my work in front of a group of people. (I’d like to thank Susan Miller’s creative writing classes for that). I am a far more confident person. Rutgers challenged me intellectually and socially, and though I’m a little bruised, I’m no worse for the wear. Over the course of my time at Rutgers I’d say that I went from a timid and smart girl to a confident and intelligent young woman.

How did you fall in love with reading and writing?

How do any of us fall in love? It’s hard to say why or how I fell smitten over these common activities. When I was growing up I was not allowed to watch TV except for Mr. Rogers or a parent approved movie. I was never allowed to possess or to play video games. My mother said to me: “If you want to have fun, then go outside and play, or read a book.” As a result, many of my fun seeking habits revolve around going outside (i.e. star gazing with my telescope, nature walks, walking in the rain) or books. Reading a lot as a child most certainly had a direct affect on my writing. In fact, I have no doubt that my reading probably instigated a lot of my early writing. For example, the first screenplay I wrote was an adaptation of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, which is one of my favorite stories of all time. I suppose that when I got to a certain age where reading stories was no longer enough, I started writing my own.

No TV except for Mr. Rogers?! What was that like?

Oh it was fine! I found ways to entertain myself. My mother used to tell me that TV would fry my brain, so I shouldn’t watch a lot of it or else I’d become a couch potato, a vegetable, or a zombie. None of those things sounded appealing to me, so I just didn’t watch that much TV. My parents made sure that I watched films with them. It was almost like they had a schedule for my life about when to introduce me to certain things. For example, when I was seventeen, my Father told me that it was time for me to watch A Clockwork Orange, so we sat down and watched it together. I was appalled, so I went and read the book, and was about a thousand times more appalled afterwards, but still appreciative that I’d been told to wait until I was old enough to understand what I was watching.

Instead of TV, my parents wanted me to have a strong background in the arts. My Mother brought me to Shakespeare plays as a young girl, to the Boston Pops, and to nearly every museum in the Boston Area. And I loved it all. She taught me about the Impressionists, about Da Vinci, about baseball, about how to appreciate classical music, and all before the time I was in Junior High. My Father is a musician. He gave me my first piano lessons, taught me how to read music, how to maintain tempo, and how to play the blues. He turned my piano education over to his old piano teacher when I was in elementary school and from there I was jazz trained on the piano. My father was also the one who taught me how to play baseball, how to ice skate, and how to lace up my hockey skates (I couldn’t wear figure skates because I always tripped on the toe-pick.). I really can’t say enough about how well my parents raised me. They did a good job with my sister and I. I can only hope to be as competent a parent as mine are.

How is speaking French useful for slipping out of awkward or uncomfortable situations?

Have you ever been on an elevator or on a subway car when some people sitting near you are speaking in another language and you have no idea what they’re saying? Being able to slip in and out of French at my convenience gives me that sense of privacy those people on that train or that elevator might have. It’s also a safety net. And it’s also a fun tool for fucking with people.

Let me give you a few examples as to how and why my French is so useful, or rather, why speaking another language in general is so incredibly useful. Last summer after having lived in Paris for a few months, I got on a bus and traveled around Europe for a couple of weeks by myself. My first stop was Amsterdam, which is not exactly the easiest city to visit alone, especially for the first time. As a female traveling alone in an unknown foreign city, I knew I would have to take certain precautions and that I might have to adjust what time of day I went out. I decided to speak French for the duration of my stay in Amsterdam, knowing full well that not a soul would understand me, as the population speaks Dutch, English, and Flemish. In Amsterdam, speaking French acted as a safety barrier; I could pretend that I didn’t speak English, therefore avoiding unpleasant encounters or dealing with people I didn’t want to talk to in the first place… which proved more useful than you might think. Although I value modesty, for the sake of explaining my point, I will put modesty aside for a minute and tell you that as a pretty girl, I knew I’d be hassled a lot, especially because I was alone. Falling into French got me out of every sticky situation of that sort. My French made me feel a lot safer. It also gave me an opportunity to fuck with people. Whenever I would go into a store and ask a question I would start off in French, then break off into really bad English with a heavy French accent. It’s amazing to see what kind of reactions you get when the person you’re talking to thinks that you don’t understand them.

How is it that you got involved with the JVP and what have you learned from your experience thus far?

A few months before the JVP started up Alex and Mike showed up at my apartment with a clipboard. They were not soliciting random people. Alex and Mike are my friends and I had known them for a little while by the time the idea for the JVP came around. They explained that they were trying to start an independent paper for the New Brunswick and Rutgers communities and that they wanted to know if I was interested in writing for it. I said yes. A few months later the JVP launched and I was a resident poet. Before long the Creativity Section got going, and not long after that Mike moved to Colorado and Alex asked me to take over as Managing Editor. I was ME for a year and then when Alex left for law school, I inherited the paper. So in terms of my involvement with the JVP, I was there during the planning, the launch, and beyond.

There are many ways to approach the question: “What have you learned from your experience thus far?” Three big things come to mind when I consider this question. The first is that I’ve learned how to better accept criticism and withstand negative feedback on my work, even when it’s rude or just plain mean, or even if it’s so constructive that it hurts. Second, my grammar skills are at an all time high and I find that my eye for errors, redundancies, diction, syntax, etc., is getting sharper by the minute. I’ve learned not only how to identify these issues in the work of writers, but I can offer multiple solutions to fixing those issues as well. As a result, I’ve developed a distinct style of editing (the third big thing) and a distinct voice as an editor. Above all, my experience with the JVP thus far has been very rewarding for me. Mostly, I hope that the work I do for the writers’ work helps them to improve their own styles and voices, and that they become better writers.

How did you meet Mike and Alex?

I’m not sure I can answer this question without incriminating the three of us in nefarious activities. However, I met Alex and Mike through my friends. We three belong to the same group of friends and only realized that fact after attending a few parties and spotting each other over and over again. Luckily we came to that realization early enough in our college careers to have become good friends now. Alex and I are particularly close because we have been working side by side on the JVP for a long time.

As a final note, unrelated to this last question, I’d just like to say that if you want to know me, then just talk to me. I’m a people person. I’m a conversationalist. I’m all about the face-to-face.

_____________________

Photo provided by Mr. Brendan McInerney. All rights reserved.

Alex Giannattasio: Civic duty is the moral imperative that members of society actively protect the rights of society as a whole. There are many ways to fulfill this duty, one of which, for instance, is voting. By collectively engaging in the democratic process, our society as a group agrees to work out its differences peacefully in exchange for giving everyone a voice. This in turn sets a baseline for the group’s peaceful coexistence to stand upon, thus preserving the basic rights of every individual.

But voting is not the only way to engage one’s civic duty. Voting takes such a small effort that the possible impact per person is diluted anywhere from hundreds to millions of times over. A more active way to meet one’s civic duty is to work in one’s local community to improve the quality of life of the most needy, and to just improve it in some valuable way. We as a nation are in fact living up to this now: community engagement in America is at very high levels, with 111 million Americans volunteering their time in the past 12 months and 60 million volunteering on a regular basis. The Future of American Power by Joseph S. Nye, Jr., Foreign Affairs, Vol. 89, No. 6, at 10. Community engagement bears a much bigger impact per person and improves the quality of the community in which you live. In the short term, this kind of civic participation can be much more valuable to a nation as a whole, because it translates into social improvement at an extremely efficient cost.

Michael Stuzynski: Americans have a sense of civic duty because after over 200 years people are still somewhat conscious of the concept of the Revolutionary War. The fact that people fought and died for your right to vote, among other things, is everywhere in culture, and is reiterated with every new war that our country fights. It’s less a sense of a duty and more a sense of a responsibility that is owed to the respectful remembrance of people from the past. But it’s also pretty cool that you can be responsible for firing the leader of the free world, and all of his oafish minions.

Jhoany Benitez: When I first read this question, I was immediately going to answer “Yes, definitely. It’s your right, so, why not? People in Cuba wish they could make a difference.” But then I opted to put some real thinking into my answer and ended up completely changing my mind. So my real answer is No. I think that the United States shouldn’t have a notion of civic duty. Why? Because people should not be forced to do something. Voting, to be exact. “It’s your right as a citizen!” Does this mean that I have to run out and vote—even if I don’t even know who I’m voting for? That’s why I changed my mind. Because I remembered hearing from friends who opted not to vote because they knew nothing about the people running.

Also, let’s say that you hate Republicans…but you don’t even know who’s running for either party. Does that mean that you’re going to vote for whoever’s representing the Democratic party even if you know nothing about them? This is where the notion of civic duty fails. I think it’s better to not vote than to shove down people’s throat the belief that it’s their “civic duty” to vote and have them vote blindly. So I say No to civic duty. Vote because you care, not because someone’s telling you to do so.

Dave Imbriaco: To me, civic duty is what is expected of a citizen in return for living within a system that allows them certain rights and freedoms – the RESPONSIBILITIES that come with those freedoms, if you will. There was a point in this country not too long ago when everyone who took high school social studies classes learn not only about how government works but how they must also actively participate in it. This seems to have all but died in our modern education, which is a tragedy of epic proportions. The mantra of a good social studies class went that it creates not only good students but good citizens. Also, it wouldn’t be called our “duty” if it was an easy thing to do. It sucks to choose between a giant douche and a turd sandwich, but you, as a citizen, still have the duty to make that choice because you live in a democracy. There are countless other ways you can get involved in a democracy but this is the most basic of all. /rambling.

Billal Ahmed: I find it interesting that while young people often have no problem condemning strict notions of what it means to be a good Muslim or Christian as a danger to global security, they hesitate to criticize civic duty for the same reasons. I have no problem with the idea of improving a nation through the idea of civic duty, whether through volunteering, teaching, building, etc. However, I blame civic duty for the prevalence of worrisome nationalism which inevitably begins to infringe on the rights of others. Civic duty easily leads to civic elitism, which reinforces the notion that a particular nation is special and requires extremely lamentable acts to be carried out in order to preserve that status. One could argue that civic duty is a fundamental motivation for the vigilante bands currently patrolling the United States border with Mexico. One could also argue that civic duty lead to the vengeance-fueled invasion of Afghanistan nine years ago with Operation Anaconda, which was blinded by passion and thus badly disorganized. Civic duty is excellent under the same conditions that religious zealotry can be considered excellent- when it is used to fuel the betterment of humanity rather than the suffering of others.

Brian Connolly: We pay taxes…so, we already all do have a notion of civic duty. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great outlet for people who have the time, energy, and willingness to help their fellow countrymen (and countrywomen, out). But, quite frankly, people have live’s to live. If you want to run a YMCA program for underprivileged youth–knock yourself out, you’ll probably feel great doing it. But in no way should America institute a mandatory system of community building exercises. That encroaches on the freedoms that we have. And, as an interesting reminder, historical precedents that include an overwhelmingly strong concept of national duty include Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia. Just a thought.

Rebecca Zandstein: Civic duty, being the responsibilities of a citizen are demanded by America to some extent. Citizen’s are required to pay taxes and obey all laws of the state in which they live or are traveling to and the federal laws. Aside from the latter give or take a few citizens are expected to follow other rules that are not necessarily obligatory or concrete: like voting and being morally just to one another. While America does provide citizens with a code that they must follow I believe that the “unspoken law” should be followed as well due to the positive effects it can have on society and the individual(s). Civic duty allows individuals to participate in activities that many would literally die for the opportunity to do. Civic duty can assist others, whether below or above you in the hierarchy, in a manner that no one else might necessarily have the capability of. Regardless of the latter, America can only enforce a limited amount of written code/rules on its citizens despite that it might be tempted to enact the “unwritten code” onto its citizens as well. Unwritten civic duties are optional and those who view them as mandated have the benefit of, at a minimum, being viewed in a brighter light than other citizens.

Marlana Moore: There are certain attributes that make a person a good, admirable human being, regardless of nationality. When I think of civic duty, I think of those things I can do to be a good and responsible person in context to my identity as an American. Civic duty includes voting, obviously, but voting entails some other duties as well. In order to vote responsibly, you have to be aware of the candidates and know what they stand for. Similarly, being a responsible American involves knowing what your government is doing, and telling them what you think about it. I think if more Americans really took this attitude of their civic duty seriously, our government would not feel so removed from us, and we might instead feel that they are helping us.

Ben Kharakh: I think that America lacks both a cohesive and shared vision of what it means to be a good citizen and the means by which the virtues of good citizenry are to be cultivated. Rather than wait, however, for the government to improve or for people to start discussing what it means to be a “good American”, it’s up to those people who desire reform and deliberation to be the change they wish to see. That means asking one’s self, “What can I do to be a good citizen?”, which is the same as asking one’s self, “What can I do to be a good person?”

It’s important to be a good person for a number of reasons, one of which is that the way we treat others teaches them how to treat us, something that’s easier to discern on a micro scale with a family than on the macro scale with a nation. A nation, however, is just a family with a lot of people, which means that it simply takes longer for the treatment that we’ve taught others to come back around and affect us. But it will, it does, and we are seeing the affects of now more than ever. Not that this is anything new; we just didn’t have TV and Internet 2,000 years ago.

Who’s to blame for this? No one or everyone; take your pick. Personally, I find the question of, “Who’s responsible?” less useful than, “What do I do?” It’s a question I’ve been asking myself a lot lately.

Brendan Kaplan: By “sense” I think what you mean is cohesive whole, picture, or gestalt.

Any position on the matter, even one devoid of commitment to civic duty is nonetheless a sense. We HAVE a sense… is it the right one?

I think the question really is then, what type of sense of civic duty should individual Americans have? How does this sense impact the greater country as a whole?

Things tend to function fractally, and that means the the number one thing you can do to change the country is to change yourself. To determine what type of country we should have, is to contemplate what type of people we should be. In short, by asking if there is a proper type of civic orientation, we are asking ourselves if we think that there is a proper way to act or not.

I am of the mindset that there is. I guess then, that I believe that we as individuals, and therefore collectively as a country, should maintain a set of behavioral standards. Our question further suggests that those personal standards that I think we should maintain are relevant to the way the nation functions as a whole.

OK, so what standards should these be?

I think it is very difficult to predict how any process will manifest in any specific situation. The content may be different for different people. For example, to become more well rounded, a really rich arrogant kid might be well served by working in a field for a week and being treated with little importance, while an illegal day-worker might truly benefit from being prodded to act arrogant and demand Pellegrino sent to his table. The content of the process of balance is different depending on the direction any particular actor is coming from.

Thus, by realizing that individuals can attain balance by acting in seemingly divergent ways, and considering that a cohesive national “feeling of duty” would necessarily account for these diverse methods of balance, a true and proper sense of civic duty would have to connect and encompass all of these facets.

Our duty must be then to translate the experiences of individuals within the country into content that others can understand as of the same process as their own. Civic duty isn’t about symmetrization, as in what I call ‘the new diversity’ whose maxim reads “Nobody can be discriminated against, therefore everyone has to be exactly the same [when measured against pre-approved factors such as income, education, wealth, aptitude]” Instead, civic duty is about recognizing the differences in the individual stories that become aggregated into cultures and nations, and elevating those differences as the welcome product of a highly specialized humanity that has evolved traditions and customs that allow it to live in a variety of situations.

Interaction between these different cultures must be facilitated in such a way as to not allow the willful destruction of a culture simply for the sake of its destruction.

Civic duty, then, is about communication, accountability, and rights. These days, accountability is so often lost as people are reluctant to suggest that an individual’s perspective might be flawed for fear of offending a cultural perspective. To compensate, these same people often become overly concerned with communication or rights, and end up as misguided activists, protesting anyone and anything in their paths.

A further revision then: Civic duty is about a mediation of communication, accountability (consequences/ resolutions), and rights. Those concerned about their civic duty engage in processes that further these three ideals.

Way to go JVP!!

Jhoany Benetiz: I believe that this upcoming election is crucial. People are losing trust in our president and the Democratic Party, which I find very upsetting. I think that people need to learn to be patient and not expect drastic changes overnight. My family and I have been affected by the recession, so I totally understand why people are growing desperate and need things to improve. But, still, people should not lose hope like that. Obama’s doing what he can.

I know that not everyone agrees with this. I constantly hear my professors urge us to vote on Tuesday and make a difference. But, unfortunately, I will not be voting. Why? Because I’m a permanent resident and only American citizens can vote. Isn’t that something? But I would vote if I could. Believe me!

Brendan Kaplan: Yes, I will be voting. I’m more concerned with keeping my pulse on the local state of things rather than any of the other races.

Also, I’m going to be voting in Princeton, my hometown community. I’ve heard a lot over the past few years about students needing to make a bigger difference in the political landscape of New Brunswick. I think that that is great, as long as one plans on staying in (or owning property in) this city. Aside from that, I think a more genuine way to give back to the community that more or less graciously provides us a place to study is through local community action rather that local community politics. True service can’t be put on a resume and should be undertaken as a means to an end, in this case hopefully a healthier community.

Additionally, there are a number of issues that are important to me in good old P-town. My parents still live and own property there. There are also a number of changes happening downtown there, especially with the construction of the new hospital getting closer and closer to completion. I’m going to follow the progress there with a watchful eye, and hope everyone takes the time to lend their own personal expertise to their hometown races. We grew up there, we know the issues.

Bilal Ahmed: This question does not entirely pertain to me because I am a Canadian citizen. However, I would advise people to register their dissent. I understand that voting sometimes appears to be a means of enabling a broken system, but I have watched enough news programs in the United States to know that most statistics are based on registered voters rather than eligible ones. The only way for your decision not to vote to have any effect on how party politics are conducted is to register before staying home on Election Day. I realize that some will argue that both parties are fundamentally flawed, but I have noticed that most objections to the American political process in this area of the country come from frustrations with the Democrat Party. They are labeled as spineless, cowardly, and unable to take a firm stance on issues such as Afghanistan. If I were able to vote in the 2010 election, I would register as a Democrat and remain at home in protest because of President Obama’s decision to escalate the war. I’d register in protest of the Afghan troop surge, as I believe it to be a political compromise that relegates bloodshed to an international theater rather than risking it in Congress. President Obama has decided to place life and human morality below American party politics, and in response I would register my disapproval.

Matia Guardabascio: Yes. I will be voting in the election. I am voting because it is my civic duty to do so. I am voting because I want to make sure I did my part to help the country avoid the wrath of incompetent politicians. Voting in a state—Massachusetts— that is historically Democratic (except for Scott Brown), my voting day is less of a hot spot than most. Still, the gubernatorial race up here has been heated and I am anxious to cast my vote for a man who has done a good job as governor for the last four years. I am also anxious to remind Barney Frank that he will always win his district back home, in spite of the lies and propaganda spewing from the other side. And given the issues on the ballot this year (particularly the lowering of taxes), I feel obligated to go out and vote to make sure that the reasonable and responsible decision is made.

Mike Stuzynski: I’m voting because, even though I have honestly lost faith in politics, a right un-exercised is a right lost. And my faith in politics will be restored only when everyone who voted for the bailout is no longer in office.  Ask Alex G if he remembers how exciting it was last year when we found out that the House of Reps rejected it the first time.  We had quite the celebration, and that was honestly the last time I really thought that the government was paying attention to my interests and wishes.  The current health care law is a joke, but you’d only find that out if you read the entire thing (hint: it’s long).  Listen to the media and they either criticize it for the wrong reasons (the asinine–but possibly true–notion that it’s an unconstitutional use of the commerce clause) or emphasize one or two talking points again and again.  The bill failed to establish the goal of government run health care, but also did little to change the already highly structured and monopolistic private health insurance industry.  Instead of using the natural force of private competition to drive costs of care down, the law allows insurance providers to divide up the market and keep prices artificially high.  Because of all this, the law just does more harm than good. It’s like you sent your buddies out for beer, and they come back with a keg of O’Douls, and you still have to pay for it!

Alex Draine: It was my intention to vote, but I will not be voting because the great state of New Jersey has failed to send me my absentee ballot in a timely fashion.  Either that or the US postal service lost my application for an absentee ballot in its journey to Trenton.

Dave Imbriaco: I plan on voting today and in every future election.  Why?  Because it’s the LEAST that a responsible citizen can do in a democracy.  I know it’s a trite expression, but democracy is not a spectator sport.  You can’t expect to have your interests represented in government if you don’t take the time one day a year to cast a ballot, and that is really the barest minimum that someone who considers themselves a responsible citizen can do.  I would never expect for people to get as involved in politics as I do (doing what I do requires a bit of insanity), but I truly don’t understand why people don’t vote (well I do, I just tend to think their reasons for not doing so are stupid).  It doesn’t matter if your choice is between a giant douche and a turd sandwich (credit: South Park), you still have a choice to make.  If voting was always an easy thing to do, it wouldn’t be called a civic DUTY.  You are lucky enough to be born in a country where you have the fucking chance to shape your own government, anyone who puts that down is an unappreciative asshole in my book.

Moreso, it’s ESPECIALLY important that us young people get out to the polls.  Do you all really expect our parents’ and grandparents’ to solve all the problems that they created?  If the American youth doesn’t step up and assert themselves and demand their place in American politics, no one will give it to them and we’re fucked as a generation and a county.

The day that I’m convinced that my vote doesn’t mean anything, you’ll find me on the front lines of the second revolution.

Marlana Moore: I am going home to vote on Tuesday. My dad is running for council in my very small town, and he needs every vote he can get. I should have just voted by mail, but I forgot to get the ballot. I am not sure if my vote will matter all too much. In fact, I haven’t yet looked up the other candidates. The last two elections have been pretty big ones, and I guess I have seen the most aggressive campaigning in other states that are voting on senators. As a culture, we stress the gubernatorial and senatorial candidates so much more than local county positions even though that is the sphere where your vote has the most direct impact. But does anyone know who is on the Board of Freeholders, or even what they do? How about the County Sheriff? I don’t, and I think that I should. In Merchantville, I know that my vote will count, at least personally. I will probably continue to vote, just because I can.

Rebecca Zandstein: I will be voting in the elections on November 2nd. I do not think I can complain about certain local legislation and actions being taken by our House representative if I did not at least vote. Voting is the minimum that is asked of us to do as out civic duty [as citizens]; voting is an easy way to go out and show that I care about what happens within my district. I do not approve of those who complain about budgets and taxes (cuts and increases) and free markets versus extensive restrictions on businesses when they did not even vote for a candidate who abides by their ideology. Furthermore, voting encourages education: one needs to know the core values behind each candidate and many times research is required for values that are not understood in depth. Educating oneself within society for the benefit of self and others is, in my opinion, a primary benefit to voting.

Ben Kharakh: While I’m currently of the opinion that voting is less than the least that one can do, I also recognize that the government exists. A lot of times people get caught up in criticizing and theorizing without admitting that, hey, the world is a particular way right now. If you’re going to try to change anything in anyway, you’re better off taking the current state-of-affairs into consideration. So, I will vote.

At first I was going to pick the candidates who seemed like they’d come closest to voting in the manner that I would vote, but they all fell short of that standard. And that’s based on websites designed with the purpose of making the candidates look good! So, rather than voting based on who I think will do the most good, I will vote based on who I think will do the least damage.

Let me be clear: this is not the statement of some pompous first year law student seeking to undeservedly congratulate himself (although admittedly, a walk through the Presidential Garden beats a walk through the Grease Truck parking lot.) This is the statement of a kid who was told by his high school guidance councilor that he was lucky to have been accepted by Rutgers University as an undergraduate, and who ended up at a top 20 law school in Washington DC. Undeniably, I owe this fact to my work with the Johnsonville Press, so if you’ll forgive my nostalgia, I’d like to take the opportunity to briefly reflect on that valuable endeavor.

What is the Johnsonville Press? I’m tempted to call it a publication, but to be honest, from convocation last May through the release of this issue, it could not even have been accurately called that. At best, it’s a loose association of a few Rutgers students and alumni, a network of young minds with diverse backgrounds and interests. We’re united only by the good fortune of having had attended Rutgers University—and by the assumption that we are all the masters of our own destiny, that the choice to do something worthwhile together is always better than the alternative of solitary practice or (what is worse) collective stagnation.

Perhaps the best analogy for the Johnsonville Press is a slow moving train, steadily rolling onward. While it’s in your station, with a little effort you can get on or get off; hesitate too long, however, and the opportunity to ride it somewhere will eventually have passed you by. We have only a short amount of time in the self-imposed limbo of academia, a time when we’re old enough to start deciding who we want to become and have enough free time to make it happen. How we use that time is up to us; if we use it wisely to hone our chosen skills, we reap the rewards at our next stop. Squander it, and we’re left wondering “What was the point?” For their part, Johnsons may not know where they want to go yet, but they certainly know how to get there…

As our first Editor in Chief Michael Stuzynski used to say, “every swinging dick is a Johnson.” This was not meant to suggest that the JVP is some kind of misogynistic, homoerotic club, but to stress that the potential for success lies in everyone. Through participation, all can better themselves.  All you have to do is do it. The Johnsonville Press was made by the doers, for the doers. When faced with the choice between getting in the fight and doing something, or sitting back and wallowing comfortably in mediocrity, a Johnson will run, stumble or, if necessary, crawl into battle. Was it a coincidence that the JVP was founded in one of the county’s recognized DIY capitals? Maybe so, maybe not; but if it was a coincidence, it certainly was a precipitous one.

A Johnson prefers pushing the limits of his own understanding of the world to tacitly accepting what he’s told. A Johnson would rather prove himself wrong and look foolish than sit back and avoid taking that risk altogether. A Johnson craves intellectual combat, because he knows that the reward—truth—is the only means of affecting his own reality. After the fight, a Johnson pats her opponents on the back, pours another glass of wine and laughs at the carnage it has wreaked on her own preconceptions. And a Johnson does it all for herself, and for no one else.

The benefits of working with the JVP are always going to be specific to the individual. What’s more, as with fate, these benefits will generally only become known in retrospect. Personally, the Johnsonville taught me how work with other opinionated people to reach common understandings. It taught me how to be comfortable with the sound of my own voice. It taught me the difference between actively striving to shape my own destiny and passively letting it become a reality, and how to use both to achieve my own purposes. Above all, it taught me how to avoid getting caught up in the minutia of everyday life, how to press on while keeping my goals in mind and to keep focused on the task at hand.

Would I be where I am now without the Johnsonville Press? Perhaps I would be. Will my present endeavors prove as successful as those of my past? Time will tell. But do I have the courage and the experience to seize upon them with confidence now? Thanks to the Johnsonville Press, I know I do.

I will always owe the Johnsonville a debt of gratitude for helping to make me who I am today and who I will become tomorrow. And I always pay what I owe. That’s why I will continue writing, maybe not as often as I’d like, but as often as I can afford. A Johnson never forgets where he comes from.

In the coming months, the Johnsonville is going to continue its slow and steady ride forward. The last remaining member of the original JVP staff, Matia Guardabascio, has graciously accepted the position of Editor in Chief (new writers, believe me, I know she can be nitpicky; don’t get frustrated—she will vastly improve your writing ability if you let her.) I have the utmost faith and confidence in her, and in the energy and resolve of the third generation staff, as should you. I know this train is bound for great things. I may not know where it’s going, but I do know that it’s time to get back on…

Johnsonville Press on my friends.

Alex Giannattasio

Johnsonville Press Founder and Second Editor in Chief

Critique by Michael Coughlin

A black hole is true precisely because it cannot be observed directly.
It is detectible only by the limited radiation that it emits and by
gauging the refraction of extraneous light rays and gasses as they
move into and around the Event Horizon.  Get your weapons ready.  It
is, exactly, that which is not, or what cannot be known without
outside interference—superficial evidence.

Call it what you will, my darlings, it shall always be and can never
be forced out of existence.  Its permanence lying in its uncertainty.

Been sleeping for some time now—how long?  Impossible to tell.  The
world changes so rapidly in this century, and it is very difficult to
get one’s bearings.  Took the grandchildren to Disney World last
summer, soundtrack of “As Time Goes By” playing on a dusty upright
piano in smoky bars.

Funny how places like this change—quickly, but gradual enough so that
the current reality always retains the allusion of the past.  This
brave new world is nothing but a lopsided funhouse mirror, lets the
old-timers think they can remember.  New atrocities spring up every
few weeks next to old favorites and tried & trues.

We debauch upon a newer, mightier world where the only thing unlikely
to change too quickly is the inflational price of hotdogs and bottled
water.  Obesity flows like oil, black gold seeping through cracks in
the cobblestones.

Standing next to an area undergoing renovations when I catch a glimpse
of my first wife in a crowd—just a peek, but long enough.  She doesn’t
see me, so I follow her, abandoning the little ones to the dubious
watch of some mongoloid Okie dressed as Donald Duck.

Be still my children, resolute children.

In pursuit of the woman—who I now calculate is not my first wife but
some other crucial figure from my past—I push through waterslides and
side-show attractions, dodging toddlers and the occasional bariatric
Southerner on her rascal scooter.  All the forms and shows and all the
workmen at their work.

Life is a whirlwind of disjointed memories, and when they come to a
head, as they occasionally do, they form an incomprehensible maelstrom
image.  A woman’s face flickers for an instant and changes like the
screen of a faulty TV set.  Colors bleed into one another and shift
aimlessly through all the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with
dreams so dark they make us lose our way.  Words shrivel up and
die—they have no purpose here.  The function of deconstruction is most
prominently chaos, but it is a chaos that will run its course and soon
I—the devious speaking organism can be collected again and the living
can resume as it always was, once the icy grip of purpose is restored.

Rub out the word but the image will remain.  To speak is to lie—to
speak truth is evidence of madness.  Out of the darkness the faces of
crying children and cankled old white women snarling through clenched
teeth and all drunk on the reality fantasy.

“The President is right.  The President is always right.  The laws are
right.  The laws are always right.  America is right.  America is
always right.  The American way of life is the right way of life is
the best way of life is the only way of life.”

Cold gray smell of metal mixes with the warmth of the midday sun as
yesterday’s promise is wiped from the memory of a well-meaning
populace, cool and collected like an old doctor cleaning his
laboratory slides.  Minds prepared for evolution into Future Time, a
neurological disorder the product of years of black ops research
carried out on leaky ocean liners and inside steel-lined bunkers at
the center of mountains—highly classified you understand—the killer of
dreams.

“Like a nuclear bomb, but quieter!”  The Pentagon upper brass goes mad
with the bloodlust, spitting and hissing like a disturbed nest of
hooded cobras, eyes still adjusting to the piercing light.  Every man
his flask and powder, fire-lock on his shoulder.  Old Sarge smiles his
Cheshire Cat smile—smell of lightning mixes with kerosene and the
sound of gathering clouds.

Dreams are black holes in Time, which underlies the central fallacy
that they call “the beginning.”  Waking life is Time itself, existence
immemorial, and is judged as the gold standard in the age of the word.
A dream explodes in Time like the spark of creation—a God-like ticket
to another universe anywhere else you want to go.  It is a place of
symbols that is beyond words, almost escaping the bondage of
contemplation but for a few scant bits of vague evidence in orbit
around the Thing, grounding it within the sullen boundaries of yes and
no, right, and wrong, guilt and perversion.  The chain is logical
until you make the connection that no is not wrong, but merely the
absence of yes.

Yes is the only word that has any bearing on reality and yes is enough
to entertain the creeping negation of artificial invention.  The
world—our universe—began with a yes.  The world is a circle, at the
center is a yes.  The space in between is reserved for our dreams.

The further we travel into Future Time, the smaller the space between
the circle will become.

A smoker fumbles with his matches, dropping the pack into a puddle on
the sidewalk—too obsessed with the relief of that first inhalation to
bother thinking about the lighting process.  Future Time.  That’s how
it starts, and you’ll have a hell of a time finding your way back.  He
stands transfixed with vague regret over the stupid act, but his look
betrays no understanding of the Why.

Present Time: I spot her again coming out of a restroom.  She pauses
briefly before turning down another alleyway—there’re so damned many
of them here—I follow as soon as I can elbow past a mob of unruly
children sprawled in front of some fresh inanity, but by the time I
was through I had lost her again among the droves.  Dispirited, but
always responsible, I return for my young charges before continuing
the search in earnest.  No doubt they would have all but let my
absence pass unnoticed had the insolent duck not demanded five dollars
for a cheap Polaroid he conned out of the middle child.  I paid  the
fool and left, wishing under my breath for his speedy demise.

The camera pans out wide over the landscape taking stock of this
terrible place.  The huge silver globe still glares in the sun as it
sets over the marshes.  Few things are ever removed which doesn’t
leave much room for the new installations that are constantly cropping
up.  Every nation under the yellow sun has some form of representation
here.  Old favorites like Mexico and Norway coexist—for now.

The world sure can change a lot in ten of fifteen years, especially
when people are more than willing to pay good money to see it.  Saudi
Arabia sure has come a long way, good people they are—fine set of
values and customs—but I still don’t trust the Chinese.  No glot, clom
latel.  Wide eyed with fear and bad craziness, we watch the sun go
down over the water.

Walking around this place really helps a person appreciate the value
of diversity in the world today.  There’s at least a restaurant or
concession stand dedicated to all kinds of varying cuisines and some
countries even have their own museums and presentations—although I
have to say, out of all of these places, there’s only one in which the
Mexicans in the kitchen or behind the scenes makes any logistical
sense.  Then again, our society has always encouraged a degree of
healthy suspension of disbelief.

Ominous silence.  The partisans are closing in—the word is out—the old
Army game is about to start again.  End of the Line smell of patchouli
as peaceniks and hippies take to the hills in a cloud of dust.

The calm before the shit-storm.

All the past we leave behind.  Future Time sickness—“When you pay me, Meester?”

“Uh, Johnny, it’s only Tuesday.  Paid you last week remember?  Get
everyone’s check at the same time Thursday afternoon from the nice old
Jew in payroll.”

Hard eyes glaze over unforgiving with calcified hate as Johnny’s hand
begins to twitch.  An old fag-queen with a weak chin gets the scent of
it.  “Thursday? Enough of your bullshit!  You vant I should spit in
your face?  YOU VANT?  YOU VANT?”

There goes the neighborhood.

And you can really see the cowardice in Meester’s eyes as Johnny
reaches into his pocket and in one fluid, spaghetti-whip-like motion,
his knife is out—a little eagle talon of a switchblade—flashing into
Meester’s throat like a sliver of light and back into the pocket.

Johnny walks off into the sun all smiles as the Old Man bleeds out on
the sidewalk, choking on his own throat gristle.  The lights go out
with tourists in Acapulco shirts forever snapping pictures like so
many wads of used up film.

………………………………………………………………………………

The creative piece by Michael Anthony Stuzynski defies any form of writing. It has form yet throws form away every chance it gets.  The piece is prose, verse, and essay all rolled into one, and yet while reading none stand out.  The “Beat” influence in the piece is prevalent as truth becomes the mode for the narrator, and all his fractured altered egos.  The beginning of the piece is stretched and torn by the scope and difficulty it projects.  It brilliantly confuses you, the reader, so you can come back to the black hole to gain true understanding. Black holes, knifings, and mongoloid mascots are all placed to disrupt the reader’s perception as archetypes are flipped for your courtesy.   By turning reality the reader is forced to disassociate what they know to be true.  The process is very similar to saying a word over and over again.  Try it; soon the word will lose meaning.

But unlike the word, by reading this piece over and over again greater truths are molded as how to define, well, anything. It is not simple, nor is it easy, as it took me nearly three hours and the help of my co-editor to gain a greater understanding of the piece.  However, because of the purposeful spontaneity of it, as even time holds no sway; truth cannot be gleamed from the outside as national lies and pride have taken hold of you.  You as a responsible reader must be swallowed whole to truly understand the piece, dive into the black whole.

Ralph Waldo Emerson is usually credited as being the father of American literary and philosophical thought, laying the foundation for what Dewey and James would later call pragmatism, though it is worth noting that this discourse was in use as early as the signing of the American Constitution.  Pragmatism is generally characterized by an optimistic faith in the potential of the individual, whose perceptions and thoughts give him the power to shape the surrounding world at his whim.  Embraced by luminaries such as Whitman and Thoreau, it was carried through the Civil War by Mark Twain, given new life by Hemingway, rocketed into the 20^th Century by the Beatniks, and on to the space age with William S.  Burroughs in the 1980’s.  Curiously, it has fallen out of favor with American authors since that time, just as the structuralism / post-structuralism debate was coming to a head in Europe.

While studying English literature in college, I was often surprised by the degree to which both my professors and colleagues were content to rely upon the `ecrits of Foucault, Derrida, and Lacan in their analysis and criticism of contemporary American and British literature.  Joyce Carol Oates and Phil Roth, arguably the two most prominent American literary figures at current time, write in a noticeably European fashion, in which the agency of the subject is subjugated by the pressures and expectations of their surrounding societies.  The growing tendency to account for social factors such as race, gender, and class in the construction of character identity in literature points to an emerging social tendency that downplays the importance of egalitarianism in favor of ensuring something akin to the “greater good” of the collective, and is characteristic of a rupture in the almost 150-year continuum of pragmatic thought.

America’s current cultural situation is in some ways startlingly similar to the period of Eurocentric thought that was prevalent in the early days of the nation, from which Emerson’s historic “American Scholar” speech of 1837 marked a departure.  I refer to the period between this time and 1987, when Burroughs published The Western Lands—the last great work of American literature to unapologetically privilege the pragmatic discourse—as the golden age of pragmatism.  The literature produced during this period has been marked by its characteristic optimism and faith in the individual spirit—a celebration of what Emerson called the “divinity in disguise”[1] that lies dormant in each man’s soul.  In his essays, Emerson extoled the virtues of self-reliance and faith in the individual’s creative and joyful qualities, which bestowed upon him the power to transcend the systems of the natural and social worlds at will.

The pragmatism inspired by Emerson’s writing is characterized by many features, chief among which is the idea that practical consequences of individual experience and action are vital components of the discovery of meaning and truth.  This is not explicitly stated in Emerson’s writing, but it is certainly a logical consequence of his transcendental confidence.  In fact, it is possible to trace many of the great intellectual ideas of the 19^th and 20^th Centuries back to the writings of Emerson, from Nietzsche’s Will to Power to the post-structuralist notions of deconstruction and the fluid nature of subjectivity that are dominant in Europe at present, ironically pointing to a logical chain of continuity between the development of the modern American and European modes of intellectual discourse, despite the unwillingness of contemporary intellectuals to recognize or embrace these similarities.

The turning of American cultural and academic critics toward the so-called more modern European intellectual traditions of structuralism and post-structuralism strikes me as paradoxical, considering the many similarities between traditional American thought and European philosophy after modernism.  De Saussure is commonly credited as being the father of modern linguistics for his identification of the arbitrary relationship between the signifier and the signified in his Course in General Linguistics, though Emerson published a similar sentiment in his 1836 essay, “Nature” :

Language is a third use which Nature subserves to man. Nature is the vehicle, and threefold degree.

1. Words are signs of natural facts.

2. Particular natural facts are symbols of particular spiritual facts.

3. Nature is the symbol of spirit.

In this equation, Emerson states that language is located two degrees separate from spiritual fact, which is rarely, if ever, a part of our understanding.  Spiritual facts are not self evident but appear symbolically in nature.  Language, in turn, refers directly to the natural facts of human experience.  This idea is expanded in the 1841 essay “The Over Soul,” in which Emerson explains that “an answer in words is delusive; it is really no answer to the questions you ask.  Do not ask a description of the countries toward which you sail.  The description does not describe them to you, and to-morrow you arrive there, and know them by inhabiting them” (202).  This is structurally similar to Korzybski’s maxim that “the map is not the territory,”[2] although it predates the School of General Semantics by one hundred years.  Emerson can be said to have laid the groundwork for our current understanding of linguistic paradigms, in which words are incomplete vessels of communication, lacking any power of resonance beyond that which is imparted upon them by human agency.

Derrida’s deconstruction, which provided the counterbalance to Lacanian psychoanalysis in the second half of the 20^th Century, also owes homage to Emerson’s early writings.  Derrida based much of his modern writings on post-structuralism around deconstructions of Nietzsche’s work, in which allusions to Emersonian themes and iconography are commonplace.  Of chief importance to post-structuralism in general and deconstruction in particular is the rejection of the notion that the text—or any structured artifact or experience—can exist as a discrete whole, arguing that there are multiple possibilities of interpretation for any situation.  According to J. Hillis Miller, deconstruction is less a dismantling of the structure of a previously unified text, “but a demonstration that it has already dismantled itself. Its apparently-solid ground is no rock, but thin air.”[3] But this groundbreaking 20^th Century revelation would have come as no surprise to Emerson, who as early as 1841 had written that “nothing is so fleeting as form” (History, 11).

However, Emerson was quick to point out that man’s potential for creative expression and self-mastery have not always been celebrated or even apparent.  Writing in his 1841 essay, “Self Reliance,” that “Man is timid and apologetic.  He is no longer upright.  He dares not say ‘I think,’ ‘I am,’ but quotes some saint or sage.  He is ashamed before the blade of grass or the blowing rose” (50), he expanded upon his argument that it is man’s very tendency to insist upon the notion of objective meaning that causes him to humble his own will to discern subjective truth from experience: “Facts encumber them, tyrannize over them, and make the men of routine, the men of sense, in whom a literal obedience to facts has extinguished every spark of that light by which man is truly man” (History, 26).   We can use this passage, among others in his earlier essays, to point to a marked discontinuity between the period leading up to the late 1830’s and the time of Emerson’s most prolific publication.

Historically, the period between the 1830’s and 1980’s was the ideal time for the emergence of the pragmatic philosophy at the center of American discourse, as it coincides with an almost limitless sense of socio-political optimism in the capability of the American people.  Thinking in terms of periodization, the rise of pragmatism coincided with the period of frontier settlement and Manifest Destiny, when expansion fever dominated the popular discourse.  The Industrial Revolution also contributed to an overall sense of optimism in the minds of American citizens, when the presence of automated industry reinforced the faith in man to become master of the natural world.  It is telling then, that the waning days of pragmatism are dominated by a reversal of expectations for future growth.  Threats of a Malthusian population crisis under Nixon appeared to crack the veneer of optimism promised by the vast open spaces of the frontier; neoconservatism encouraged the rise of the police state, in which individual freedoms are increasingly restricted in order to better provide for the safety of the collective; and the Cold War rhetoric of “us and them” forced a more rigorous respect for the prominence of dualism into the forefront of the political arena.  From a historical perspective, it would seem as though pragmatism is most dominant in times of prosperity, the unflappable optimism being tempered by caution and group-consciousness when the future appears uncertain.

The optimistic temperament of pragmatism is something that is manifest in both the content and form of pragmatic discourse.  It is immediately obvious in Emerson’s choice of language, as well as the overall emotional experience of reading his texts.  However, Rutgers historian James Livingston also describes pragmatism as encouraging the projection of a comic frame upon the narrative continuum of history in his book, Pragmatism, Feminism, and Democracy: Rethinking the Politics of American History:

The comic vision permitted by pragmatism . . . demands serious study of the conflict between the world inherited from the immediate past and the world as it would conform to the “social claims” of the foreseeable future; but it does not assume or insist that these worlds merely collide, as if historical circumstances and ethical principles are incommensurable, as if facts and values are antithetical (12).

Livingston’s identification of the comic possibilities encouraged by pragmatism reinforces the association between philosophical and political optimism, but stops short of addressing the age old meta-paradox—the question of whether optimism in the American intellectual tradition was responsible for our “golden age” memories of history during the period in question, or vise versa.  This is because pragmatism is not a philosophy that relies heavily upon dangerous presuppositions, but one that assumes the existence of an immeasurably vast spectrum of interpretation and ontology.  It would seem that the comic frame of pragmatism is based not only toward the recognition of the conflicting nature of binary oppositions, but also in a tacit acceptance of their relativistic significance.

Historically, Americans are painted as being much less affected by paradoxical political decisions prior to the 20^th Century.  The Great Compromise satisfied the desire for both proportional and equal Congressional representation for each state, and was followed by the Three Fifths Compromise that exacerbated the already problematic social situation of slaves, counting them as three fifths of a person in census data that would determine the number of delegates from slave-holding states that would be sent to the House of Representatives.  This apparent sophistry was intensified when the Missouri Compromise forbade the spread of slavery into the unorganized territories just prior to the Civil War.  However, the logical discontinuity evidenced in these decisive policies did not until recently taint our historically high opinion of our nation as a beacon of freedom and equality for all.

Only in the past thirty years or so have we begun to reevaluate the popular perception of American exceptionalism as we are presented with the inconvenient truths of global conflict and climate change.  Such lofty problems seem beyond the capacity of the individual to assuage, casting doubt upon the future of egalitarian freedom removed from the parameters of contending forces from outside systems.  The power of one man to affect positive change when faced with such daunting obstacles is presumed to be less potent than the power of collective action.   The more focused theories of structuralism and post-structuralism are immediately viewed as bearing more relevance to our contemporary political situation, either by organizers bent on steering group-consciousness toward progressive goals, or nihilists content to bewail the inevitable apocalypse as human civilization is consumed by its own vices.

The irony associated with this shift in focus toward the opposed schools of structuralism and post-structuralism is that the assumptions of both are actually encompassed by the pragmatic philosophy.  Emerson and de Saussure both point to a disconnect between language and experience, but while pragmatism leaves open the possibility that a word or phrase could trigger a kind of transcendental resonance within a given individual, structuralism decries the relationship between words and their signified concepts as strictly arbitrary, in apparent denial of Emerson’s more complex interpretation of language bearing witness to facts of nature, which are in turn the “symbol of the spirit.”  The difference between the two points of view is subtle, but worth mentioning, as it is illustrative of the underlying schism between America’s optimistic recollection of its past and its more uncertain predictions about our future.

[2] Alfred Korzybski.  “A Non-Aristotelian System and its Necessity for Rigour in Mathematics and Physics,” Science and Sanity, 1933, p. 747–61

[3] “Stevens’ Rock and Criticism as Cure,” Georgia Review 30 (1976), p. 34.

I’m required to start this comment out by stating plainly that I am not a lawyer and what follows should not be taken as legal advice of any kind.  I am only a first-year law student.  Rather, it is for educational (mine and yours) purposes only.  Please don’t take it seriously, or I won’t get admitted to the bar.

That having been said, I agree with the basic premise of the article, namely that what happened to Ms. Jones was patently unjust and despicable.  However, I do not share the author’s point of view, articulated by Senator Franken, that government contractors should be forbidden from inserting arbitration clauses into their contracts.  Arbitration is a useful tool that is often employed by large companies–especially companies that do business overseas–to mitigate the cost of litigation in employee-employer disputes.  It helps reduce the amount of money corporations have to spend on lawyers, and, more importantly, provides for speedy resolution of complex jurisdictional problems that more often than not involve numerous parties to a single action.

Rather than spend months or even years arguing in court over the proper venue where a claim may be heard, arbitration provides easy answers to these questions in most disputes.  It reduces the cost of litigation for the plaintiff in most cases, because they often do not need representation by counsel.  Finally, parties do not have to waste time and money hiring witnesses and experts to testify about the standard operating procedures of complex industries with which the common-law courts are not expected to be familiar.  Arbitration panels are usually industry-specific and can be presumed to have an intimate understanding of how that particular industry functions.

That having been said, the wrongful imprisonment of Ms. Jones by her employer following a brutal rape by her fellow employees does not qualify, in my opinion, as a case that should be heard in arbitration.  The author may be confused about the details, but arbitration clauses (I can’t speak for this one, not having read it) for the most part usually apply to negligence claims and other garden-variety employee disputes.  I would bet Ms. Jones made a plea for false imprisonment–which seems to be what happened–an intentional tort that is usually not covered under arbitration clauses.  Even if it were, a United States court would likely rule that provision as unconscionable as a matter of public policy.  It appears as if this is exactly what happened.  There are numerous other ways an employee may defeat an arbitration clause, including establishing undue influence in contract formation, or by arguing that the contract was one-sided or adhesive.

Ms. Jones will get her day in court.  However long it takes, justice will likely prevail.  Senator Franken is taking an unduly radical approach to the situation—which I believe only applies in special cases such as this one—and I applaud the Republicans for taking a stand.  To do otherwise would be tantamount to condoning an undue misapplication of Congressional power.  We have a capitalist system for a reason, and I think the overly-emotional Democrats in the Senate should take a step back and maybe count backwards from 100 before making such a rash decision with potentially sweeping consequences.

Also, they should stop crying big crocodile tears for once.  Do some research before you open your mouths, and maybe America can survive another 240 years.

Michael Stuzynski is a Rutgers College class of ’09 alumnus.  He was the former Targum opinions editor and former Editor-in-Chief of the johnsonvillepress.com.  He is currently a first-year law student at the University of Colorado, Boulder.  Don’t pay any attention to anything he says.