SINCE 1891
THE BROWN DAILY HERALD FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2018
VOLUME CLII, ISSUE 77
WWW.BROWNDAILYHERALD.COM
New special waste program comes to campus U. to take
part in sexual assault survey
U. distributes new e-waste bins to dispose of batteries, printer cartridges, electronics By OLIVIA BURDETTE
Survey will evaluate efforts to reduce sexual assault on college campuses around U.S.
CONTRIBUTING WRITER
The Office of Sustainability, Custodial Services and the Office of Environmental Health and Safety have teamed up to implement a new special waste program for the safe disposal of printer cartridges, batteries and small electronics. The program started Sept. 4, when specially marked bins were installed at 10 locations across campus. Officials at the three departments came up with the idea for the initiative when they recognized a need for a convenient method to dispose of the waste they received the most questions about: electronic waste, or e-waste. Facilities Management funded the program using their $25,000 budget for special waste. “The students reach out to the custodians all the time to ask what to do with a lightbulb or something like that, and this gives them the opportunity to say ‘bring it to Stephen
By COLLEEN CRONIN SENIOR STAFF WRITER
YILAN GAO / HERALD
Robert (Campus Center) or J. Walter Wilson or Watson’” and dispose of it there, said Custodial Services Director Donna Butler. When custodians see the bins
getting full, they call in truckers who collect the waste and bring it to a storage unit where it is packaged for recycling. The waste is not incinerated or sent to a landfill unless
it cannot be recycled. Before the program started, there were some locations for battery collection around campus, but other » See E-WASTE, page 2
The University announced today that it will participate in the Association of American Universities sexual assault and misconduct survey in the spring of 2019 with 32 other institutions. The survey will be a follow-up to the 2015 AAU Campus Climate Survey on Sexual Assault and Misconduct, one of the most expansive studies of its kind. The University previously participated in the 2015 survey, which featured 26 other institutions, The Herald reported. Around 870,000 graduate, undergraduate and professional students will be eligible to take the survey and » See SURVEY, page 3
Resources available for off-campus housing Moriconi ’21 leads Bears to comeback victory over Penn First wave of off-campus applications open through Oct. 30, ResLife provides guide, tips for students By COLLEEN CRONIN SENIOR STAFF WRITER
Deciding to live off-campus — whether through University-owned auxiliary housing or renting property from a third-party landlord — can seem daunting. There are leases to sign, off-campus lotteries to enter and kitchen appliances to buy. The first wave of applications for off-campus housing opened Sept. 25. For students trying to navigate the process of moving off-campus, there are tips and resources that can help to ease the transition. The Office of Residential Life’s website has a “quite robust” volume of information to make sure students are well-versed in their rights and responsibilities, according to Richard Hilton, associate director for operations of ResLife. Students who intend to move off-campus are required to review a set of slides on housing codes, Hilton said. Auxiliary Housing Office also has information on its website, including PIA MILEAF-PATEL / HERALD
use
Campus Police Officer Kelly Mitchell, adding that students should work through reputable companies and owners and never pay money without actually seeing the housing. “I understand it is probably your first offcampus or away-from-home apartment. Don’t settle,” Mitchell wrote. If students choose to rent auxiliary housing from the University, they have the option of paying rent through Banner. The Department of Facilities Management is also responsible for the maintenance of auxiliary housing, Mansour said. Providence housing stock in the city is older than housing stock in other parts of the country, The Herald previously reported. Older housing stock can mean the presence of fewer renovations and more lead. Providence Water, the source of on-and off-campus water, has tested high lead levels in 2016 and 2017, The Herald previously reported. According to Stephen Morin, director of the Office of Environmental Health and Safety, the University is testing water in its buildings this year. After testing for lead in 2007 and 2008, the University “provided signs indicating the issue and Facilities Management provided five-gallon » See HOUSING, page 3
COURTESY OF BROWN ATHLETICS
Gabrielle Moriconi ’21 led women’s volleyball to a comeback victory against Penn. Moriconi recorded double-digit kills for the sixth time this season.
Outside hitter records 16 kills, powers Bruno to 3-2 victory in match against Quakers last Saturday By PATRICK NUGENT STAFF WRITER
Down two sets to none against Penn last weekend, the women’s volleyball team
FRIDAY, OC TOBER 5, 2018
SCIENCE & Roundup: U. researchers laser scan to find lost Mayan city, release
PAGE 2
a “Guide to Living Off-Campus,” which includes information on the responsibilities and rights of both tenants and landlords as well as fire and street safety. In the past, ResLife and the Auxiliary Housing Office have held information sessions before the off-campus lottery started, but Hilton said they were often “poorly attended,” so the University decided to allocate resources elsewhere. The Auxiliary Housing Office website also hosts private listings. The properties listed must comply with codes and city standards or risk being taken off the list, according to Tracy Mansour, director of auxiliary housing. For a 60-day-long advertisement, Auxiliary Housing charges $125. “We have had situations where we’ve considered taking listings down,” Mansour said, referencing cases where the listing is a scam or when property is advertised by someone other than its owner. The office does issue a disclaimer that both landlords and potential renters are the responsible parties in the transaction and that the University can’t be held liable for any claims. “I have seen students that have been taken advantage of when looking for off-campus housing,” wrote
Register to vote in R.I.
SECTION SECTION COMMENTARY Let’s give some text that says Let’s give some text that says Schapiro ’19: The Baseball HOF something about this story so that something about this story so that should honor players whose The statewide election is on November is October people read it people read it6. The deadline to register greatness goes beyond7.numbers PAGE #
For more information, visit vote.sos.ri.gov. BACK PAGE #
needed a spark. The Bears found it in outside hitter Gabrielle Moriconi ’21, who led Bruno to a 3-2 victory with 16 kills, six digs and four blocks. A native of Naples, Florida, Moriconi has recorded double-digit kills on six occasions this season, including Saturday’s comeback win at Penn. She also notched a teamhigh 11 kills against Princeton last Friday night. For her outstanding performances » See AOTW, page 2
WEATHER TODAY
TOMORROW
65 / 48
63 / 45
NEWS
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2018 • PAGE 2
THE BROWN DAILY HERALD
Science & Research Roundup BY JONATHAN DOUGLAS, SCIENCE & RESEARCH EDITOR
Laser scan reveals massive ancient Mayan civilization in Guatemala At first glance, it could be easy to dismiss a patch in the Guatemalan jungle as just trees and plants. But after extensive analysis of a region spanning more than 2,100 square kilometers, a team of researchers has discovered an expansive ancient Mayan civilization overrun by the surrounding flora. Professor of Social Science Stephen Houston was part of the team that made the discovery, using lasers to survey the area. Beginning in 2016, the team flew over the area, shooting beams at the ground from as many as six different angles to get a detailed map of the land below. By “stripping” the land of surrounding plants and trees, the technology allowed researchers to see exactly where old buildings and ruins laid. The findings “quite literally took my breath away,” Houston said in a University press release. As a result of the work, the team now estimates the population of the area to have been between seven and 11 million during the height of the Mayan civilization.
Software tool released to democratize brain scanning technology The brain’s inner workings can be nearly impossible to measure, but Associate Professor of Neuroscience Stephanie Jones is working to change that. Jones recently released a user-friendly version of a software tool that describes the activity in the outer layer of the brain. By creating a tool that will assist doctors and clinicians with electroencephalography, Jones hopes that the assessment will become more common and properly diagnose a greater number of patients than is currently possible. Supported by a $1.6 million grant from the National Institutes of Health, Jones is working to democratize the technology and make it available to more people around the world.
Watson launches program to study disaster relief Disaster can strike out of nowhere and wreak havoc on entire communities and neighborhoods. In an effort to study the response to these disasters, the Brown University International Advanced Research Institutes and Humanitarian Innovation Initiative have launched a fellowship to evaluate the best tactics and programs to address immediate and long-term needs of the relief efforts. For one week in late October, fellows in the Philippines and surrounding Southeast Asian countries will collaborate on potential paths forward, share their experiences and hear a number of lectures on innovative tactics being employed around the world.
» E-WASTE, from page 1
» AOTW, from page 1
e-waste had to be handled on a caseby-case basis through custodial work orders. The arrangement “was cumbersome to custodial staff and not convenient for disposers,” wrote Office of Sustainability Director Jessica Berry in an email to The Herald. “We wanted to make it a comprehensible, efficient and assessable program to maximize proper disposal.” There are no statistics yet available on how much e-waste has been disposed of using the new system, but Berry says that besides a few incidences of outside trash ending up in the bins, the new system has not experienced any glitches. “One thing I have learned in my time at Brown is that Brown community members want to do the right thing, and I view it as my job to work (to) get them the right tools and resources to do so,” she said. Jasmine White ’19, who heard of the program this summer, said she was glad that there was now a place for her to retire her old batteries. “I didn’t want to harm the environment, but I also didn’t want to keep batteries lying around my room for ages, so I think it’s nice that Brown thought of a way for us to actually dispose of these safely,” she said. Amelia Spalter ’22 had not heard of the program, but said if the signage was clear enough, she would use it in the future. “I want my children to be able to breathe without a mask on, so I’m all for it,” she said.
during the Bears’ Ivy road trip, Moriconi has been named The Herald’s Athlete of the Week. Herald: The team came back from two sets down to beat Penn in five — how did that win feel for you? Moriconi: It felt awesome. I think we started off pretty slow in the first two sets, coming off of our loss from Princeton. We were just really looking for that turnaround and that breakthrough in our season to start winning in conference and put everything together. We finally did that in the third set and the end of the second, really turned the game around, and it felt great. We were all really excited about it. You had 16 kills in the game. What does it feel like to contribute that much to the team? It feels awesome to be able to focus on my job, do my job and have that impact for the team. That’s a great feeling. Everyone’s able to trust each other to do their jobs and play their roles for the team. Being two sets down and closing out the game with three close sets, did you feel confident that you could pull out the win as a team? Yeah — I think the entire time, the whole game, we felt that we were the stronger team and knew that if we played our game, … we could pull through and win. It was just a question of okay, how are we going to turn this on, make this work and actually play our game now.
You also led the team in kills the day before at Princeton — do you feel like you’re finding a rhythm with the team? Yeah, of course … every player kind of searches for their rhythm, especially after a coaching change and getting new freshmen on the team and everything. It definitely feels good to be connecting with the setters and working to do my job as best I can. Your twin sister Camberly Moriconi ’21 also plays on the team. What’s it like to get to play with her? It’s amazing. We’ve always played together and so we know how to push each other. We know the little things that we’ll say, the little things that we’ll do. There’s really no one else like that, so it’s really nice to have that built in. The win against Penn puts the team at 1-2 in the Ivy League so far. How are you feeling going into the rest of the season? Excited. We’re optimistic. We definitely needed, like I said before, that turnaround. And I think we did have one of the tougher schedules, having Princeton and Yale first, the two defending co-champions. That’s tough. But we were looking for that breakthrough win, that turnaround — we knew it was going to happen, and that if it didn’t happen in that game, it was going to happen in the next one. … So, we’re excited for the rest of the season. This interview was edited for length and clarity.
Issue
In This
In Memoriam
Sydney Lo
Far From Home
Grace Layer
Who Am I This Time? James Feinberg
Three Everyday Fears Liza Edwards-Levin Josh Wartel
Katya Stambler and
Hitting the High Notes
postCover by Stephanie Wu
OCT 5
VOL 22 —
ISSUE 4
FEATURES
Far From Home
Changing Perspectives of Morgan (VT) and Providence (RI) By Grace Layer Illustrated by Katya Labowe-Stoll
T
Letter from the Editor
he car jerks in the transition from smooth asphalt to unpredictable dirt and rock, bumping the suitcases within. The road narrows, and a soft click turns on the brights, illuminating the canopy of countless maple and birch lining Wayesses Shore Road. Behind the reach of the car’s lights, there is a darkness so complete it is impossible to tell if anything else exists at all. At 3 a.m., the Subaru pulls into the driveway, the white stones crunching underneath. My family exits the car and enters the silence of Morgan, Vermont, crossing the threshold of the Christmas Tree House. Morgan, Vermont, was chartered in 1780, although its first settler, Nathan Wilcox, did not arrive until 1800. It is known for Lake Seymour, a 7.01 km2 freshwater lake contained entirely within the town’s boundaries. At 44°54’19”N, 71°59’25”W, Morgan is so far north that phones
2!post–
ping off cell towers in Canada and inform their owners that international data rates apply. In 2010, the total population of Morgan was 749. This small population size may explain why it is so hard to find accurate information on Morgan; why, for example, the total water surface area of the town is listed as 6.8 km2 on Wikipedia despite how Lake Seymour’s size alone exceeds that; why Wayesses Shore Road is spelled Wayeeses on one road sign and Wayesses on another, and why no one seems to know which is correct, or particularly care. Morgan is static. While my family has had three children, one grandchild, and five dogs, the Christmas Tree House has remained relatively unchanged. It is so named for its white wooden balusters on the railing that are shaped like evergreen trees. When the wind blows hard and skims across the lake, the houses in Morgan, tilted wooden structures called “camps,” creak and moan, their joints cracking as they sway.
The long weekend is upon us! If
even if eaten alone. Go to Waterfire and see
you’re new to Brown, heed my advice: it
a new film at Providence Place after—A&C
may seem like school just started, but do
has a recommendation and, should you
not squander this opportunity. The next
choose to just stay in and vegetate, can also
break is Thanksgiving, and it is a truly
point you to a new Netflix series to binge-
brutal marathon to get there. So try to get
watch.
out of Providence for a little while—there is many a farm festival and apple picking opportunity to be had. Follow our Features contributor’s lead and lay on the grass,
Happy fallventures,
Jennifer editor-in-chief of post-
breathe in the clean air, and pocket the memory for city nights ahead. Engage in
post- would like to apologize for our oversight in
a new (even frightening) pursuit, or carve
not crediting Halle Krieger for her contribution
out some much-needed alone time—as
to last week’s cover design
Narrative will show, dessert can be sweet,
The landscape is unaltered: the lake shaped like the number seven, the mountains that surround and cradle it. The Morgan Country Store has been serving this town of 749 for as long as the collective memory of the aging inhabitants permits; the building is a short, green-roofed affair with a screen door that slams against its wooden frame at every open. The store—the only one in town, on the only paved road in town—sells rentable movies, lottery tickets, expired boxes of Jello coated in a fine layer of dust, and penny candy, because no one has bothered to learn that Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish have experienced a price increase in the rest of the world. II. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air at the Kennedy Plaza bus station, occasionally blowing into the faces of those waiting. Everything is grayhued; the people are covered by smoke, smothered by it. Gray coats bundle around a woman who
Post- Pumpkin Purposes (Ways to Use a Pumpkin) 1.
Jack-o-Lanterns
2.
A Deadly Weapon
3.
A coach (@Cinderella)
4.
A head (@The Headless Horseman)
5.
Basic Instagram post, Fall™ aesthetic
6.
Paperweight
7.
A container
8.
Attracting witches
9.
A reminder of the ultimate decay and heat death of the universe
10.
PIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
presses herself into the cold plastic benches. Her black boots do not reach the ground, and she swings them aimlessly, unconsciously. Her hands clench in her lap. Eleven minutes left to wait for the 27 bus. The wind hits the passengers’ faces the hardest; clear streams appear underneath nostrils, shining in the sun, as cheeks turn dark red and numb. Unappreciated, a small park wedges itself between terminals. When fall turns to winter and commuters start turning up their jacket collars, men in blue uniforms bring hoes and hack apart the summer flowers, cutting them from the hardening dirt. My heels click against the adjoining sidewalk, earbuds stuffed into my ears. A man with graying hair walks in the opposite direction, but instead of walking to my side, he walks up to me and puts his face in mine. He says something to me, leering, but all I hear through the sound of drums and an electric guitar is “beautiful.” Later, I cannot shake the image of his teeth peeking out from between widening lips and the sound of the 0dead leaves crunching under my shoes. It is my first month in Providence. Providence was founded in 1636, making it one of the oldest cities in the United States. Kennedy Plaza is the geographic center of downtown, and has served as a hub for transportation since 1847 (first for pedestrians, then horse-and-buggies, and then modern cars, trolleys, and buses). Kennedy Plaza has been called City Hall Park, Exchange Terrace, Exchange Place, and The Mall before it was renamed in honor of John F. Kennedy, who spoke there to a crowd of 60,000, only days before he was elected president. In 2010, there were 178,042 people living in Providence. This explains why there are few conflicting facts to find about the city. III. The small building in Kennedy Plaza is full, squat, and white-tiled. A man waves a red lollipop in the air, a shiny hello to passersby. Here, the smell of cigarette smoke is muted; instead, the smell of sweat and stress lingers. It is my fifth month in Providence. A man meanders through, weaving first towards the seats, then towards the ticket station, before settling against a tiled wall. He speaks to no one in particular. “Last night she screamed so loud my eardrum blew.” His laugh fills the building. “I had to call 911!” He pauses for a bit. “Yeah, can you believe it? I actually called 911!” On February 28, 1860, Abraham Lincoln spoke to 1,500 people at the current location of Kennedy Plaza. In 1902, Theodore Roosevelt spoke on the City Hall steps; twelve years later, the same area housed a performance by Harry Houdini and a 20,000-person crowd. In 1919, the plaza hosted a World War I Victory Parade. And, in 2015, the Providence Journal published an article about Kennedy Plaza’s renovations. The construction is intended to reassert the plaza as a gathering place, a place for celebration, a place for community. I imagine Houdini wiggling overhead, the people around me craning their necks to watch his feat.
The man’s voice, lulled briefly, begins again. “Spell beautiful.” Silence. “Spell beautiful backwards.” He chuckles. “Spell beautiful backwards, without the a. Spell beautiful backwards with an i instead of an a. Beautiful. Beautiful. I love the letter b!” His voice fades, his words not receiving any response other than the sound of soft shuffling feet. Beautiful. Lufituaeb. Lufitueb. Lufituieb. Beautiful. B. I stand in the midst of waves of people, of laughter, of movement. If I stretch out my arm, I can grasp it with my fingertips and feel its warmth, the warmth of 178,042 lives mingling together to form something new, something fresh, something hopeful. It reminds me of a graffiti tag, outside of 511 Broadway, on a metal box. The box is covered in blueish-purple paint, red and green planets and yellow stars of varying sizes spread across the surface, wrapping around, so bright. The center, blue lettering on yellow background, a quote: “Something incredible is waiting to be known.” Outside, a man walks amid pigeons and discarded tickets, speaking to a small group of people. “God bless you. Have a blessed day.” He veers away. “Thank you and have a blessed day,” he says, in the center of the plaza, in the center of Providence, his arms flung slightly out. We are blessed. IV. The Christmas Tree House was so named because of my grandfather, William Portway. He helped design the house in the 1980s, and when it was finished, he created the evergreen balusters by hand-cutting boards of wood. He stayed in the house from May to October every year until his wife died in 2006. He then only came up when my parents could go—two or three weeks every summer—until his death in 2013. 2014, 1 a.m., my mother, father, brother, and I were watching a movie in the Christmas Tree House. Nearly every time we came to Vermont, we rented a movie from the Morgan Country Store and laid across the furniture my grandfather had built 35 years earlier. Something black fell on my brother’s gray sweatpants. Then another piece floated down— except this one was alight. We slowly tilted our heads upward. Directly above us, on a wooden rafter near the top of the 20-foot-tall ceiling, rested the speaker. It had burst into flames. Pieces of burning black plastic, mixed with ash, were falling down on us. Amidst shouts and chaos, the flames began to spread across the entire speaker, creeping closer to both the wooden rafter and the wooden ceiling. My mother’s search for a fire extinguisher yielded nothing. My father slammed together pots, hurling water towards the ceiling but not quite reaching, the water instead splashing across the wooden floor planks, the rush of the sink and subsequent splash forming a rhythm. I waited, frozen, for the flame to grow. If anything more caught flame, the whole house would be lost. The house my grandfather built, that never left my family, all its memories—gone.
In a sudden slam, the screen door bounced against the wall; my brother carried in a hose with a whoosh of water. The flame was extinguished in seconds. The room was consumed by smoke, and it became harder to see, to breathe, as we realized the house was no longer in danger. We stood in the unexpected quiet. We would be blowing soot out of our noses for the next three days. I didn’t want to stay inside, so I laid on the dewy grass, wetness seeping through my sweatshirt, and watched the sky. It opened after a few minutes, offering clusters of stars, patterns of the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, the bluish hues of the Milky Way against a velvet-navy sky. One. Two. Three. I counted the shooting stars as they glided across the sky, traveling to new locations as my head stayed cradled by dirt and grass. There was a peaceful beauty to laying outside at 1 a.m., one of the few people awake in the town of 749, possibly the only one that the sky was entertaining in this brief moment that seemed to include in it the eternity of the universe. Memories of Vermont were etched in those stars: my first birthday, the first time I went swimming, the first time I climbed a mountain, the first time I made a bonfire. And the quieter moments: sipping hot chocolate early in the morning, watching the glassy surface of the lake that the motor boats had yet to break reflect back at me mountains full of sugar maples and balsam firs and paper birches. Kayaking to the middle of the lake and leaning back, feeling the hot sun dance across my cheeks. Writing stories on the deck. Standing on the horseshoe-shaped rock in the lake right before leaving for home in New Jersey, watching the lake, in its 7.01 km2 glory. A moment of pure, blissful perfection. I closed my eyes. Later, I learned the fire truck took 45 minutes to arrive. But the time I spent stargazing seemed to have no length, no beginning or end. Everything was so darkly bright, and the air tasted cold and fresh and smelled of the sap of thousands of pine trees. The air you’re breathing right now may be dirty. You probably can’t tell; it’s the air you’ve been breathing your entire life. It doesn’t smell dirty, and when you smack your lips together, let your tongue touch the outside world, you taste nothing. I taste nothing in New Jersey. But if you ever find yourself in Morgan, you will find yourself truly breathing, and you’ll realize you’ve been missing out on something so fundamental you never even knew you missed it. V. There’s something beautiful about smoke clearing away. About the air becoming lighter, about the promise of new beginnings. The Christmas Tree House belonged to my grandfather’s estate after his death; we lost it in April 2018 when it sold. It will stay forever frozen in my memory. But the smoke of Providence is still able to clear, to transform, to offer a peek of a new horizon, shifting in my consciousness. On my wall: a map of Northern Vermont and a collage of Providence buildings, one of my hands splayed on each, my breath falling even and slow.
“I can’t give up Chicken Finger Friday!” “Okay everyone, plug your sex batteries in!” “What if I raised my kids on diet food?” October 5, 2018'3
NARRATIVE
NARRATIVE
In Memoriam
Mourning Ian and Missed College Tours By Sydney Lo illustrated by Angie Kang
I
am living this autumn in a hollow timeline of things that should be happening, watching tour guides huddled beside Soldier’s Arch peer excitedly at the SciLi and Ruth Simmons Quad and thinking that I should be there with them. Ian should be there with them. It is still warm despite the shift in seasons. I sit on the bench outside of MacMillan, checking exam dates for my fall semester classes and writing them into my planner. I flip the pages to November, my finger tracing the numbered boxes. Early Decision deadlines for most university applications are in less than a month. The final test dates for ACTs and SATs must be just before that. Regular decision deadlines are a month later, if I can remember correctly. This fall, Ian would have been applying for colleges. The summer before I came to Brown, I’d given him all the college pamphlets and ACT test prep I’d collected during my own application process. He was just a sophomore then, but he would be reading them now. He’d probably have his own overwhelming pile of promotional materials and practice tests. He and my mother would have planned a college road trip through the East Coast and the Midwest like I did, would have visited me along the way. In my head, we would meet up under Faunce and all go on a tour of Brown together. I would whisper additions to the tour guide’s information along the way, and my mother would take photos of us beside the Marcus A aurelius statue. Afterwards, we would have dinner at Den Den and talk about what colleges were his favorite so far and what he was thinking of studying. I wonder if he would have wanted to continue playing golf, tennis, soccer, or basketball. I wonder what he would have written his college essay on. I wonder what he’d be thinking about. During my freshman year, the excited faces and palpable hope of prospective students had brightened my day as I passed them between classes. While I studied on the red couches of Faunce on Saturday mornings, I’d usually chat with families while they waited for their tour guides. I would recall my own tour, how I walked up College Hill, exhilarated with possibilities and picturing where I could fit into the university. I was so eager to share that experience with my little brother. Ian passed away from sudden cardiac arrest, likely due to heart arrhythmia, less than two months before the beginning of my sophomore year, and two weeks before his seventeenth birthday. He was a
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healthy, athletic, and funny individual, whose worst health issue had been a broken arm from trying to jump three monkey bars on a triple dare. His death was surreal. I spent the rest of the summer learning to be without him, wondering what my future was without him. When I returned to Brown in the fall, the tours became one of the hardest parts of campus. I would watch them pass, herds of families and high-schoolers, and I would see Ian in them: someone wore his favorite Nike sneakers, someone shared his messy black hair, someone laughed the way he used to. I saw siblings bickering the way we used to, and parents asking pointed questions to the guides the way mine had. I saw the precipice of a future of college adventures Ian would never have. The tours became an incessant reminder of what would never happen. Now a year later, at the beginning of my junior year, the tours are the dull ache of a wound that does not really heal. Mourning has become a continuous imagination in parallel with reality, Ian's life progressing beside mine as a persistent string of “what-ifs.” What if we had known about the arrhythmia? What if he had survived? I imagine that, instead of missing classes for cardiologist appointments, attempting to find out if I have an arrhythmia, I miss classes to accompany Ian on tours of Johnson & Wales, Boston University, and Yale. Instead of scheduling EKGs and procainamide tests during lectures, I look over his college essay for little grammatical errors and help him build his resume. In the evening, we talk over the phone about our parents and the TV shows we’re watching and what we should do when I come home for winter break. I get to hear how he’s growing up. I know his voice. I take it all for granted. I ask him to hand the phone to Mom. “Here we have the Sciences Library, or the SciLi,” I overhear a tour guide announce, barreling into the story of Brown’s massive game of Tetris with the library windows. A tour group has moved in front of the MacMillan steps and now murmurs and stares at the building in awe. They hold little hand-outs in their hands and use them as fans in the heat. My parents still receive those little posters and brochures addressed to a person that’s no longer here in the mail. One of the students checks his phone and looks around, meeting my eyes. I manage a weak smile. Ian would be eighteen now. All his friends are applying to colleges, deciding yearbook quotes, going to their last high school dances. He is a memory, a voice in my head, the wish that things were different. I close my planner, with its ghost deadlines and all the days that will come to pass without him. I walk back to my apartment alone.
Three Everyday Fears Climbing, croissants, and CareerLAB by Liza Edwards-Levin Illustrated By Lauren Marin
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efore bed every night, I list fears that rise to the surface. Some are real enough to cast a shadow over my week: midterms, flu season, fatigue. Others are so irrational, I write “not real” in the margins. I think of these as everyday fears: not dangerous, but just real enough to stick. This week, I tried to face a few. 1. Climbing My friends queued hype songs on the ride to Sunday Night Climbing. Ringing beats turned all the way up crackled over the speaker, a throwback to Saturday night. In the rental car—a roomy mom van big enough to fit eight of us—we rolled the windows halfway down, dancing in our seats. Since freshman year, I had promised to join my friends, to “give it a try,” and this Sunday was the first I didn’t let myself back out. Central Rock Gym felt smaller than I had imagined. At the counter, protein bars boasted low sugar next to a special chalk for reducing hand sweat. Climbing routes lined each wall in shapes and colors so bright they popped, yellow on purple on orange. This way, belayers on the ground could see clearly enough to yell directions to up high: “Go Rekha—you’re doing so great buddy, just try and stabilize your left foot on that little curvy hold out to the side...yeah, the one that looks like a banana…there you go, right there.” The biggest holds looked bigger than a head; the smallest, smaller than half a fist. On an angled wall dotted with metal hooks, ropes swung, balancing climbers on either end. Wrist muscles flexed. “That’s lead climbing,” my friends explained. Lead climbing, it turns out, means status: certification. Brown students filtered in. A handful walked with swagger I’d never seen before, the capital-c "Climbers." They scanned the gym expertly, mapping a course while unloading personal gear bags and slipping into harnesses. They shared an unofficial uniform: slick leggings under form-fitted tanks or graphic tees advertising activity. My friends taught me to measure climbs by scale, ranging from beginner’s 5’6” to the impossible 5’13”. I watched Rekha scale a 5’9”—scattered, inconvenient hand-holds dotting an uneven wall—pulling herself quickly to avoid sore arms. I can’t imagine an easy climb, but Rekha made it look conquerable.
ARTS&CULTURE Maddie had climbed a 5’8” before but never on an inclined wall— her challenge tonight. She paused a few times (leaning into the harness, looking up, doubting), but she always came back, maneuvering between holds, angled sideways until she finally grabbed the top. From below, Maddie’s climb felt satisfying in a simple, immediate way—she said she couldn’t do it, then she did. My destination was a 5’6”, chunky holds marking a flat path. I climbed slow and tentative; I’m not used to lifting myself like this, I realized. Halfway up, my hands shook. I found my fear close to the top—even indoors, strapped into a harness, guided by Rekha and Maddie below. Climbing to the highest hold felt like letting go, trusting, but I couldn’t trust myself yet. “I’m scared,” I repeated without thinking of anything else. “You’re close,” Rekha promised. I grabbed the last hold and sank back into the harness before she lowered me down. I left the gym early with Maddie and her boyfriend, Ben, all of us too tired for a second climb. We named ourselves the ACC—Anti-Climbing Club—and laughed about the capital-c "Climbers. " We shared a bar of dark chocolate and spread homework across desks. I didn’t miss the shaky fear of that wall, the flight instinct I didn’t know to expect, but my climb felt distant now. Back to school, back to Sunday night. 2. Croissants I used to do this all the time. After hours spent researching the perfect cake or pastry spot on Yelp, I could just take myself there. I had favorite desserts: the melty cookie bigger than my hand at the bakery a block from my high school, almonds croissants a train ride away. But by senior year of high school, food became a source of fear. And even now, after a few years of practice, some strands of that fear still linger. I don’t remember how to enjoy some of those old favorites, “fear foods,” or at least how to enjoy them alone. So this Monday, I took myself out for breakfast. I walked down the hill to Ellie’s Bakery on Washington Street to try its signature almond croissant. Ellie’s felt friendly. Pictures of hens and handwritten menus lined the wall, advertising local ingredients and coffee specials. I knew what I had to order—the almond croissant, not a familiar parfait or buckwheat bread—and a server brought it to me ovenwarmed, with toasted almonds crumbling off the top. I sat on a stool at a long counter, lined with morning coffee drinkers ordering their own breakfast treats...scones, rolls, a mysterious jam-filled bun. My mom used to do this all the time when she lived alone, I reminded myself. Walking for croissants—that was one of her favorite activities. My croissant tasted comforting: nutty, rich and light, a little salty even—worthy of a strong Yelp review. But I struggled to enjoy it. There’s a voice in my head that still exists, feeding fear into food adventures. On a big chalkboard, Ellie’s calls itself “a place where everyone does their own thing for the love of it.” I want to do that, I thought, looking at it—to adventure alone in search of comfort food, to savor without questioning—and it doesn’t come easily. But I guess this is how I start, learning by taste. 3. CareerLAB The future has to be more worthy of fear than climbing or croissants, but after pushing it back more than a year, my First Time Conversation at CareerLAB wasn’t the wake-up call that I expected. Across from a career counselor, our allotted halfhour passed easily with getting-to-know-you questions, summer brainstorming, and concentration research. While we spoke, I filled a notebook page with openended promises to myself: “check deadlines,” “go to
LIFESTYLE
open hours,” “reach out to alumni.” In the conversation’s scariest moment, my career counselor said the word career. And yet—psychology, business, education, something where you don’t sit all day—these futures still feel remote, a couple years of conversations away. I could do this part for now, mapping out possibilities in a comfortable chair. I could start small, or think about starting. The future isn't a single fear, I realized...it’s full of everyday climbs, tastes, new lists to face.
Who Am I This Time? Watching "Maniac" on Netflix
H
By James Feinberg illustrated by Halle Krieger
ow to briefly summarize Maniac? Let me begin by saying this—it’s Jonah Hill and Emma Stone, playing five parts apiece, in a ten-episode miniseries set in a retro-future where computers are sentient but line printers and fax are still in widespread use. There are multiple crisscross realities and are either extended psychoses or imprints of the cosmic connection of all living things. It’s weird and wonderful, an entirely new kind of sci-fi influenced equally by Kubrick and Charlie Kaufman and Tolkien and Scorsese and Milos Forman and Mike Nichols and Judd Apatow. It’s a genre study par excellence. It’s also deeply flawed, and occasionally uneven, and though the pseudoscience is perfectly conceived, many of the major plot points don’t really make sense. Also, Justin Theroux plays Dr. James Mantleray, a mama’s boy neurochemist with a porn addiction and a hairpiece. Needless to say by the time it was over I never wanted it to end. Maniac is a Netflix series that dropped on Sept. 21 based on the Norwegian series of the same name. It’s written by Patrick Somerville of The Leftovers and directed by Cary Joji Fukanaga of the first season of True Detective (Thank God for both of them, incidentally, because nobody but Kubrick could have directed it and anyone but Kaufman would’ve gone insane trying to write it). It’s a series designed for bingeing, but is practically unbingeable, partly because of Fukanaga’s masterful sprinkling of detail over every perfect frame, but mostly because every episode takes a day to mentally unpack. In that sense it’s like Noah Hawley’s Legion on FX, with which it also shares an `80s/World of Tomorrow aesthetic. However, Maniac is better, because its layering of dimensions and thought worlds is less hollow than that FX superhero program. It’s designed instead to highlight the kind of joyfully gung-ho and mystically proto-Buddhist sense of humanity at its center. Stone and Hill play entrants in Mantleray’s pharmaceutical drug trial. The drug program is called ULP, and with the help of a computer called GRTA (Gertie, for short), it’s designed to target the trauma centers of the human brain and eliminate the need for talk therapy altogether. Good for everyone except the therapists, like Mantleray’s mother, Greta (Sally Field), who, one imagines, will wind up peddling nickle-insight alongside the squeegee men at the mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel. How does Gertie (also played by Field) do the job? By thrusting her human lab rats into elaborate filmic dream worlds (or “reflections,” as the show’s terminology would have it) that mimic their most wounding memories, of course. Every episode, those who’ve joined the experiment are strapped to chairs between microwave panels and transported, it would seem, to entirely different TV shows. Hill’s character, Owen, the rejected scion
of a manufacturing empire, spends some time as a 1940s stage magician/art thief/security consultant at an Agatha Christie-like upstate séance (this is one of the show’s least-complicated scenarios). Stone’s pill-popping guilt monster, Annie, in turn, has a brief tenure in a Peter Jackson fantasia as a half-elf who tried to burn her protruding ears off. And who can blame her? Middle Earth chic is so 2003. Some of these fantasies are less engaging than others. But what’s so rewarding about Maniac is that the fantasies aren’t really the point. They’re just there to lull the audience into an awed sense of stupefaction before blinding us with a final sequence that renders it a completely different story than we’ve been led to believe. Are names popping up in real life that we’ve assumed only existed in the reflections? Are strangely familiar animals appearing in the shallow foreground? The sci-fi that came before writer Somerville (2001: A Space Odyssey) would have us think that the fact Annie and Owen keep appearing in each other’s dreams has a strictly in-world explanation—Gertie’s gone crazy, and is bending their minds’ wavelengths together, or whatever. But the show ends with a series of visual pairings that seem to prove that the connection is more spiritual than scientific. And similar to the deeply human endings to many of Kaufman’s films, this one doesn’t feel like bullshit. It’s hard to decide whether Stone or Hill is better on this show. They keep trading the baton over the course of the ten episodes. First Annie, separated from her sister by force, pounds the inside of the window of the pickup truck in which she’s trapped, and your heart breaks a little. Then Owen, in one of his dreamscapes, is suddenly a supposedly Icelandic spy with an untraceable accent, who fires wildly down a hallway and shouts triumphantly, “I killed many men!” For the first time since The Wolf of Wall Street, Hill is having fun, and your heart’s pretty much okay— until Stone comes along and breaks it again. It’s a tagteam effort. Maniac is many things, by its very nature, and that’s a tightrope to walk for any show. Somewhere near the middle, in the midst of your altogether necessary mulling-over sessions, you might ask yourself why you want to go on watching these people, all so spiritually ugly, all so seemingly irrevocably broken. But it’s worth it. The ULP trial promises it can fix people, and the biggest surprise of the show is that, indirectly, and with the vital catalyst of unselfish humanity, it actually works. It’s not like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a conceivable blueprint for eventual happiness. It’s not, like 2001, supremely revolutionary. It’s an artistically complete framework that leaves one with the impression that, though we may travel insane and disparate paths to get there, the likelihood is we can all get to something close to okay. It’s great television. Strap in. October 5, 2018'5
ARTS&CULTURE
Hitting the High Notes Discussing "A Star is Born"
by Katya Stambler and Josh Wartel Illustrated By Rémy Poisson
J
osh Wartel: Hi, Katya, now that we've both seen A Star is Born (released today in theaters), should we start by talking about the two stars, Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga? What sort of attachments/interest do you have in them? Katya Stambler: I have always loved the two of them and never would have expected to see them embark on a project together. Bradley Cooper is one of Hollywood's leading actors for a reason, and his talent absolutely speaks for itself. Lady Gaga is also a superstar…I have loved her since her debut studio album, The Fame. What's so interesting about this film is that you see them in ways that contrast our ideas of them. Even though Lady Gaga is singing in the film, she is acting for the first time. Bradley Cooper, as we know him, is an actor, but in this film, he takes on his first role as a director and a singer. JW: I think that they kind of balance each other in a bit of a strange way in the film. As you point out, one is very much a singer and the other an actor. But also, Bradley Cooper seems so masculine and Lady Gaga so feminine that I almost found the opening scenes amusing…It’s quite funny to see Bradley Cooper in a drag bar! KS: Yes, I agree that Bradley Cooper's character is, at least at first, the archetypal masculine male. But as the movie goes on, I think that masculinity is balanced out by Gaga's character, Ally, warmth and authenticity. You see Jackson Maine, Cooper’s character, go from a man without any ties to a man who thanks Ally for giving him a home. Lady Gaga's Ally is feminine in some ways, but I don't think that's necessarily how I would describe her character. Ally seems to have some of the qualities we associate with femininity: kindness, warmth, compassion, but I wouldn't necessarily call her feminine. What she is is a real woman with insecurities and confidence all tangled up, a true love for music and, as the film goes on, for Jackson. JW: Their initial meeting is very cute, so much so that it has already produced a meme, when Cooper says goodbye to her in the car. But I feel the movie slows down quite a bit in the second act. Did you stay captivated by their relationship? KS: I absolutely did. I think their relationship slows down as Cooper's alcoholism becomes more consuming and Gaga's fame skyrockets, but I think that only adds to the heartbreak of what is to come. JW: I found Cooper's portrayal of alcoholism to be quite moving…And while it is Lady Gaga's character who is much more insecure, in a personal
and financial sense, Cooper is addicted to the double bind of singing and drinking. It's the oldest tale of the rockstar, but it hasn't gotten worn yet. KS: Exactly, I completely agree. I think the most heart-wrenching scene for me in the film is when Cooper breaks down in his rehab waiting room as Gaga comes to visit him. His disease and what it has done to the woman he loves absolutely destroys him. Ultimately, addiction isn't onesided—addicts tend to be addicted to a variety of things because they have addictive personalities. Jackson’s love for Ally is addictive, as are his drinking and his singing. JW: And yet, sometimes I felt the film took itself too seriously. I found the film's refrain that songwriting is "about having something you need to say" pretty silly…It's okay, as Lady Gaga has shown, to just have style! KS: One of my favorite moments in the film is when Cooper takes Gaga out onto her hotel balcony in LA and tells her that she’d better be telling her truth, because otherwise, she won't have legs out there. Of course, it's also okay just to have style, but I think Lady Gaga also proves that you can have style and tell important stories. Her song “Til It Happens to You” is a prime example of that. Reader’s Note: “Til It Happens to You” is a song that Gaga co-wrote for the documentary The Hunting Ground (which focuses on rape on college campuses), and it is about the experience of sexual assault. Gaga has been open about being raped at the age of 19 and how deeply that has affected her. JW: And how did you like the music? I know that "Shallows" is considered the front runner for Best Original Song at the Oscars, but I preferred
“Baguettes are the friends that go to Europe, for, like, one summer and therefore think they are oh-so-cultured.” Claribel Wu, ON BFFS (BREAD FRIENDS FOREVER) 10.4.17
“Lyrically, Shania has never been prone to the tropes of country music (pickup trucks, corn fields, bell-bottom jorts), but she’s always relished in its sounds, with guitars and banjos and fiddles galore.” Joshua Lu, SHANIA TWAIN, THEN AND NOW 10.4.17
the huskier "Maybe It's Time," which Cooper sings at the bar. KS: I think both songs are interesting in their own ways. I was mostly surprised at how great Bradley Cooper's voice is! “Shallows” is great; it's on Spotify now, so I've been playing it on repeat since seeing the film on Monday...I'm actually listening to it right now. JW: Are there any other thoughts you have about the film? Reservations or underrated parts?
Cooper is addicted to the double bind of singing and drinking. It's the oldest tale of the rockstar, but it hasn't gotten worn yet. I thought Sam Elliot, who plays Bradley Cooper's older brother, was interesting enough that he could have had his own movie. KS: I thought Sam Elliot was fabulous. The look he gives when he reverses the truck after dropping Bradley Cooper off after getting out of rehab is heartbreaking and so powerful...I honestly didn't have any reservations. I really enjoyed the film and was actually so moved by it that I've thought about it on and off fairly often over the past few days JW: Ahh, that is nice to hear. I hope our readers enjoy the movie and aren't too shaken by the thirdact surprise! I am sure, come Oscar season, we will be talking again about A Star Is Born.
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MAP OF LEAD-RELATED INTERVENTIONS After testing for lead in 2007 and 2008, the University “provided signs indicating the issue and Facilities Management provided five-gallon bottles of water for building occupants” in buildings that tested above the EPA action levels for lead, Stephen Morin, the director of the Office of Environmental Health and Safety, wrote in an email to The Herald.
LEGEND Has special filters for lead or other containments includes Pembroke Field House, 74-80 Benevolent St., 247 Bowen St., 108-110 Charlesfield St. and 166 Cushing St.
Has signs warning against drinking tap water, and provides large water containers includes 195 Angell St., 130 Hope St., 155 George St., 163 George St., 182 George St., 128 Hope St. (Giddings), 190 Hope St., 50 John St., 159 George St., 135 Thayer St., 70 Waterman St., and 131 Waterman St. Source: Stephen Morin, director of the Office of Environmental Health and Safety.
» HOUSING, from page 1 bottles of water for building occupants” in buildings that tested above the EPA action levels for lead, Morin wrote in an email to The Herald. For auxiliary housing that tested positive for high levels of lead, tenants were informed of the risk and water filters were provided to students. “The bottled water and water filters continue to be provided in these buildings,” Morin wrote. The Office of Environmental Health and Safety also provides fire safety evaluations for Residential Security Vulnerability Assessments, which are available to students living off-campus in private housing on request. Assessments check for safe smoke and CO2 detectors as well as fire escape, electrical and heating safety. To request a vulnerability assessment, students need to fill out a short questionnaire on the Brown Department of Public Safety’s website. A DPS officer will then contact the student for scheduling. The vulnerability assessment program began in July 2016 and aims to enhance housing security by assessing entrance points, locks, lighting and surrounding neighborhood features such as street signs, paving and fencing, according to Mitchell. The “walk-through” assesses risks and makes recommendations, but it is up to students to act on suggestions, Mitchell wrote in email to The Herald. Common mistakes Mitchell sees students make include not locking common doors, first floor windows and basement access. The first wave of applications for off-campus housing ends Oct. 30.
JULIE WANG / HERALD
» SURVEY, from page 1 constitute a larger group of possible respondents than the initial study included. “One of the goals is to collect data that allows for comparisons to the 2015 results,” so the survey will have similar questions to the initial survey, wrote Director of News and Editorial Development Brian Clark in an email to The Herald. The AAU chose to conduct the survey four years after the first because it provides institutions “the opportunity to make effective use of the data they collect in a comprehensive survey,” wrote Melissa Luke, AAU communications officer, adding that it allows other data to be collected in the interim. “The opportunity to follow up with Brown students through this new survey will enable us to evaluate our efforts in the context of a national call to action around reducing sexual misconduct,” Title IX program officer Rene Davis said in an University statement. According to Clark, the survey will be open to all undergraduate, graduate and medical students and will be voluntary and anonymous. The 2015 survey found that approximately 25.7 percent of undergraduates are transgender, genderqueer, gender non-conforming, questioning or nonlisted and 25 percent of undergraduate women reported having experienced sexual assault since enrolling at Brown, The Herald previously reported.
SAM KASE / HERALD
Along with 32 other institutions, the University will conduct the AAU Campus Climate Survey and compare results to data collected on campus in 2015. Survey results showed that 25 percent of undergraduate women reported having experienced sexual assault since enrolling at Brown. Other AAU institutions participating in the survey include Harvard, Yale, Stanford University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Institutions that participate in the survey do so on a voluntary basis,
Luke wrote. “Nearly all AAU universities not participating in the survey are either carrying out their own surveys or participating in state university system surveys,” she wrote.
In 2015, students who completed the initial survey were given $5 gift certificates as an incentive, The Herald previously reported. “Achieving as high a response rate as possible is essential,” Clark wrote,
adding that the University is working with the AAU and other institutions to decide what works best to encourage students to take the survey. Results from the survey will be released in fall 2019.
COMMENTARY PAGE 4 • FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2018
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LETTER TO THE EDITOR
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Open Curriculum founder would support consulting To the editor: In his column published Sept. 24, Aidan Calvelli ’19 argued that working in management consulting betrays the principles that Elliot Maxwell ’68 P ’06 and Ira Magaziner ’69 P ’06, P ’07, P ’10 built into the New Curriculum.
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Is the author aware that Magaziner spent much of the 1970s and 1980s working in management consulting — at the Boston Consulting Group, at a firm he founded and later at Towers Perrin?
James Kaplan ’92
CORRECTION The Oct. 4 article, “Students stay in Providence over summer through University programs,” stated that Rose Lang-Maso ’20 worked on Aaron Regunberg’s ’12 lieutenant governor campaign through iProv. In fact, she did so with a LINK award. The article also stated that Lang-Maso left her office approximately an hour and a half before a shooting nearby outside of the Providence Career and Technical Academy. In fact, she left her office around three hours before the shooting. The Herald regrets the errors.
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COMMENTARY FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2018 • PAGE 5
In Brazil’s upcoming election, nothing less than democracy is at stake CONNOR CARDOSO OPINIONS EDITOR By any metric, the past few years have not been good to liberal democracy. As Larry Diamond, a Stanford University professor of sociology who specializes in democracy, famously noted, we may be in the midst of a global “democracy recession.” Populists with autocratic tendencies have enjoyed electoral success in the past few years, and it appears that this trend is only intensifying — since just last year, over half of the countries assessed in an Economist report saw their Democracy Index rating fall. Perhaps no country, though, is as close to the void as Brazil. On Oct. 7, Brazilians are posed to decide among a diverse pool of candidates for president, but polling suggests it will be a competition between Fernando Haddad, an academic and former centerleft mayor of São Paulo hand-picked by former president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva, and Jair Bolsonaro, a hitherto marginalized extreme right-wing congressman, famously sympathetic toward Brazil’s former military dictatorship. While Bolsonaro will almost certainly win the first round, it’s unlikely he will garner a majority at that point. But disturbingly, in a run-off, Bolsonaro and Haddad are locked in a statistical dead heat. The gravity of the situation cannot be overstated. Brazil — the world’s eighth largest economy and home to half the population of South America — is in immediate danger of doing irreparable damage to its democratic institutions. No other democracy of Brazil’s size and influence has faced as dire a threat to its institutions in recent years. Though it is easy to read claims of dictatorships and oppression as platitudinal or hysterical — especially considering how commonplace rhetoric of autocracy and illiberalism has become in the United States — we must
resist that temptation. After contextualizing the situation historically and within Brazil’s contemporary political framework, we will be able to see what makes Brazil’s choice this Sunday so dire. First, it is important to assess the nature of the threat. Bolsonaro has been serving as a federal deputy in the lower chamber of Brazil’s legislature since 1991. For most of that period, he was a fringe politician, notable mostly for his extreme homophobia (he once claimed he would be inca-
threat to Brazilian democracy so dire. Bolsonaro, a former captain in the military during the dictatorship period, is a notorious apologist for the regime, and has chosen as his running mate a former general, Antonio Hamilton Mourão, who just last year said that a military coup was possible in Brazil. At the same time, support for democracy as an institution in Brazil is declining in response to the sheer magnitude of the Lava Jato corruption scandal, which has penetrated all aspects of the country’s politics. In
paratuses, left by the authoritarian regime.” Just last year, for instance, when Brazil’s supreme court was deciding on whether to grant former president Lula’s request for a writ of habeas corpus while he was appealing his corruption conviction, the military’s chief of staff, Eduardo Dias da Costa Villas Bôas, ominously reminded the court and the public that “the military repudiates impunity” — a not-so-thinly-veiled attempt at threatening the court to essentially disqualify Lula, who was at the time
Brazil’s choice Sunday is a critical juncture — either another large step toward illiberalism and autocracy or a rejection of this trend, a much needed course correction.
pable of loving a gay son, and would prefer for him to die in an accident), sexism (he once told a female deputy that she was not worthy of being raped by him) and racism (just this year he was charged with inciting racial hatred as a result of a lengthy catalog of hate speech). It was not until he entered the presidential race this cycle that he gained a national following. His success is in large part due to a confluence of factors beyond his control, but the sprawling Lava Jato corruption scandal, which has implicated the vast majority of Brazil’s political class, is perhaps what contributed most to the creation of fertile ground for a disruptive reactionary candidate. And indeed, Bolsonaro is campaigning primarily on a platform of anti-corruption and stability. But it is Bolsonaro’s brand of socalled stability at this particular political moment in Brazil that makes his
2016, as details of the scandal came to light, popular support for democracy fell by 22 percent, from 54 percent in 2015. Fifty-five percent of Brazilians now claim they would support a non-democratic form of government if it “solved problems.” Of course, it is one thing to see an emerging nostalgic mythology form around the dictatorship era, and an entirely different thing to reify that nostalgia into a real-life government. But Bolsonaro’s electoral viability provides exactly this opportunity. Some sanguine commentators have tried to minimize the threat to Brazil’s democracy by pointing out that its “strong” democratic institutions will not allow a return to autocracy. This is simply not the reality. As the famous Brazilian academic Paulo Sérgio Pinheiro once noted, “Despite democratic constitutionalism, there exists an evident legacy in state ap-
the most popular candidate in the race by far. Shortly thereafter, Lula’s request was denied, and following his appeal, his sentence was increased to 12 years and one month. What’s more, Brazil’s elected government has itself shown very little ability to protect the regular functioning of democratic government. The 2016 impeachment of former president Dilma Rousseff for budgetary manipulation has been widely criticized as an attempt by federal representatives implicated in the Lava Jato corruption scandal — 303 out of 513 in the Chamber of Deputies and 49 out of 81 members in the Senate — to replace Rousseff, who was not implicated in the scandal, with her vice president, Michel Temer, who was also under investigation for corruption and, surreally, barred at that time from running for president due to previous corruption charges. Ulti-
mately, of the 65 members on the impeachment commission in the Chamber of Deputies, 38 voted to impeach Rousseff, and of those, 37 were under investigation for charges related to the Lava Jato scandal. Incidentally, when Bolsonaro voted for Rousseff ’s impeachment, he dedicated his vote to Carlos Alberto Brilhante Ustra, an infamous torturer during the military regime who died the previous year. Rousseff was tortured for dissident activity by the military in 1970. This is not to say federal deputies support a military coup — they were, by and large, looking out for themselves rather than staking out any ideological position. But the impeachment of Rousseff, the frankness of military officials in threatening the judiciary and the politicization of the judiciary itself (which we have seen most clearly in the recent conviction of Lula) all seem to suggest that there is insufficient institutional strength to protect the country’s democracy. In hindsight, it’s easy to see that Brazil has been careening toward disaster for the past few years. In fact, I have previously written about the many threats and challenges Brazil’s democracy has faced in recent years. But Brazil’s choice Sunday is a critical juncture — either another large step toward illiberalism and autocracy or a rejection of this trend, a much needed course correction. Brazil’s descent into the abyss is by no means a fait accompli. Brazil’s success during the late 1990s and 2000s has been a model for post-dictatorship countries in Latin America and throughout the world. The Brazilian people have the power to embrace that legacy. Hopefully, come this Sunday, they will be a model for saving democracy, too.
Connor Cardoso ’19 can be reached at connor_cardoso@brown.edu. Please send responses to this opinion to letters@browndailyherald.com and other op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
SPORTS THE BROWN DAILY HERALD
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2018
The Baseball Hall of Fame needs to look beyond the numbers JAMES SCHAPIRO SPORTS EDITOR I was in New York last weekend to see David Wright’s last game as an active player. Wright played third base for the New York Mets, and has done so since 2004; at the end of the 2018 season, he played his last game, brought down by a deadly combination of back and shoulder injuries. The paid attendance on Saturday night, when Wright started at third for the last time, reached almost 44,000 — the Mets’ highest home attendance this season besides Opening Day. Wright took two at-bats and then left the field in the top of the fifth. There was not a dry eye in the house, and Wright’s final standing ovation lasted so long that the congratulatory song the Mets were playing ended before the clapping did. It really makes you think, or at least, it did to me: How can players like this not be Hall of Famers? Or alternatively, there’s a broader question: How should the Baseball Hall of Fame treat players like this — who may not have the typical qualifications to earn entry — but are beloved by their fans, and have become leaders and even captains of their teams? To me, the answer is obvious: These players belong in the Hall of Fame. Now, I’m not just talking about Wright, because that would be nothing more than my fandom talking. I mean this whole class of players. Players universally beloved and respected by baseball experts and fans. Players who may not quite have the statistical records to match up with historical Hall of Famers, but all the same give off an unmistakable, almost indescribable sense of greatness.
Interestingly enough, another example offered itself up almost immediately after the Mets game. The day after Wright played his final game, Joe Mauer of the Minnesota Twins appeared to do the same. Mauer used to be a catcher; after multiple concussions he became a first baseman and designated hitter. Mauer’s and Wright’s stories are al-
ly. Both were offensively elite for their positions — second base and catcher, both usually positions from which relatively little offense is expected — but not to Hall of Fame levels. And both are almost universally respected. I am a well-known Yankee hater, and even I appreciate the career that Posada had. After Pedroia retires, similarly, I suspect
as he attempted to fly earthquake aid to Nicaragua, was inducted into the Hall of Fame immediately rather than going through the traditional five-year waiting period. This wasn’t because his numbers were better than anyone else’s — it was because of the person that Clemente was, which made the tragedy of his death hurt all the more.
The unparalleled resilience of David Wright. The hardworking consistency of Dustin Pedroia. The quiet leadership of Jorge Posada. The pain and perseverance of Joe Mauer. The Hall should recognize this and induct players like these four.
most identical. Both were unquestionably elite offensive players but both fell short of conventional Hall of Fame levels. Both spent their entire careers with a single team from 2004 to 2018. Both became the unquestioned leaders of their teams. And both will now fade, apparently, into baseball oblivion. Let me cover all my bases, literally and figuratively. Here are two other similar players: Dustin Pedroia and Jorge Posada. Both spent their entire careers with a single team, the Boston Red Sox and the New York Yankees respective-
that he will also be held in the same esteem. These four players — Wright, Mauer, Pedroia and Posada — do not have the raw numbers to make the Hall of Fame. That much I concede without argument. But the Hall of Fame induction process should be about more than numbers. Obviously, to some extent it already is: Barry Bonds and Roger Clemens are not in the Hall of Fame right now because they cheated, even though their numbers are better than most anyone else’s. Roberto Clemente, after the plane crash that took his life
With players like the four I’ve listed, the Hall of Fame should take a similar, holistic approach. The Hall should be a repository for baseball greatness, and baseball greatness comes in many forms. It’s not just the ability to hit 600 home runs or bat .340. Rather, sometimes baseball greatness manifests itself in other ways. The unparalleled resilience of David Wright. The hardworking consistency of Dustin Pedroia. The quiet leadership of Jorge Posada. The pain and perseverance of Joe Mauer. The Hall should recognize this and induct players like these four.
Critics will say that this opens the door for any everyday player to undeservingly become a Hall of Famer, but that argument falls short. It fails for the simple reason that it assumes these qualities are a dime a dozen. Things like Wright’s resilience and Pedroia’s consistency aren’t easy to find. If they were, there wouldn’t be anything special about any of these players, and it’s evident, from the love they generate from their fanbases and the universal respect they command throughout baseball, that there’s something special about each of them. Just like it’s not easy to hit 600 home runs, it’s not easy to be a great leader. They’re different kinds of talents, but both are forms of greatness. After the Mets game on Saturday ended with a 1-0 Mets walk-off win in the 13th inning — I was tearing my hair out in the stands by then — Wright came back out onto the field for the last time and addressed the crowd. “I wish I could thank everybody individually,” he said. “But the best I can do is say thank you from the bottom of my heart for accepting me, thank you for cheering for me and thank you for allowing me to live out my dream in front of you guys, each and every single night.” He stopped for over 20 seconds while we applauded. Then he said, “you’re going to make me cry again. I love you guys.” Greatness, as I say, isn’t hard to recognize. Let’s just hope Hall of Fame voters were listening.
James Schapiro ’19 can be reached at james_schapiro@brown.edu. Please send responses to this opinion to letters@browndailyherald.com and op-eds to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
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