Opinion
4A — Wednesday, October 30, 2013
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
OK Cupid, hook me up Edited and managed by students at the University of Michigan since 1890. 420 Maynard St. Ann Arbor, MI 48109 tothedaily@michigandaily.com MELANIE KRUVELIS ANDREW WEINER EDITOR IN CHIEF
and ADRIENNE ROBERTS
EDITORIAL PAGE EDITORS
MATT SLOVIN MANAGING EDITOR
Unsigned editorials reflect the official position of the Daily’s editorial board. All other signed articles and illustrations represent solely the views of their authors.
FROM THE DAILY
Show me the money Ads with anonymous donors are problematic in elections
M
ore money was spent in Michigan’s 2012 non-partisan Supreme Court campaign than in any other in the state’s history — and never before has so much of that money come from anonymous donors. According to a report by the Brennan Center for Justice, $19 million was spent on the campaign in total, and $13 million — with no names attached — went to advertisements that were clearly intended to influence voters’ choices in the election. Under the current interpretation of Michigan’s campaign finance law the organizations running these “issue ads” are not required to reveal their backers. However, this interpretation leaves too much room for secret spending, and a stricter understanding of what qualifies as campaign spending is needed in order to prevent this type of electioneering in the future. The Michigan Secretary of State’s current interpretation of the Michigan Campaign Finance Act dates back to 2004 and establishes that “issue advocacy advertisements” are not “expenditures.” This means that as long as an ad doesn’t use words that specifically advocate for or against a certain candidate, such as “elect” or “vote,” their buyers have the option to remain anonymous. However, the kinds of advertisements that ran during the 2012 election clearly don’t meet any reasonable definition of an “issue ad.” While these kinds of ads may be legal and even typical for political campaigns, they, too, pass off support of individual candidates as mere issue advocacy. Many of the ads use time-honored techniques such as using highly emotionalized, out-of-context references to candidates’ pasts in order to imply that they should not be elected or assert that a candidate should be elected because they support families. While relevant to the election to some degree, these qualities are far less important than an understanding of the law and impartiality, for example. The exemption that issue ad buyers have from disclosing their identities is of greater concern than the ads themselves. While anonymous campaign contributions are problematic
in any kind of election, they’re especially dangerous for judicial branch elections. Even more so than the legislative and executive branches, the judicial branch must be as non-partisan and removed from the political game as possible. Conducting judicial elections with the same secret money present in legislative and executive elections blinds Michigan voters to the people who poured money into these ads. The legitimacy of Michigan’s Supreme Court is also at risk under the current rules. Even though the Court’s judges may not know who paid for the ads supporting them, it’s still problematic. And to make matters worse, Michigan now has the dubious distinction of having more secret campaign spending than any other state as a result of the loophole. Moreover, more than twice as much money was spent this way than was spent by individual candidates, parties and interest groups on campaigning efforts where their involvement was made obvious by reporting requirements or other disclosure laws. Money from undisclosed sources and judicial elections is a dangerous combination. A review of the MCFA’s issue ad provision would present the state with an opportunity to close this loophole and create greater integrity in these elections.
EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS Kaan Avdan, Sharik Bashir, Barry Belmont, James Brennan, Eric Ferguson, Jordyn Kay, Jesse Klein, Melanie Kruvelis, Maura Levine, Aarica Marsh, Megan McDonald, Victoria Noble, Adrienne Roberts, Paul Sherman, Daniel Wang, Derek Wolfe
MATTHEW SEIGMAN | VIEWPOINT
One student’s trash... “No person shall store solid waste or solid waste containers on property except at locations as permitted by this chapter or regulations implementing this chapter.” This is the section of the City Code of Ann Arbor my house was cited under Oct. 5 during the football game against Minnesota. My housemates and I hosted a party on the front lawn and about 50 cups had been left on our porch and scattered around the lawn when we all left to go to the football game. Those cups remained there until city employees cleaned them up completely by the time we returned. In 2002, Ann Arbor Mayor John Hieftje and the City Council enacted this ordinance, among others, under the Clean Community Program. They were intended to keep “unsightly debris and buildup of trash off the lawns,” according to former councilman Michael Reid in 2005. Trash had become an issue in the Ann Arbor area near the University’s campus — student housing — and the city council was determined to do something about it. Fines in association with infractions of these ordinances have incrementally increased over time, reaching $250 for the first offense, $500 for the second offense and anywhere from $500 to $1,000 for every subsequent offense. The ordinances were put into place because the trash that had began to accumulate on the lawns of houses was detrimental to the image of the city and University and was potentially damaging property values in the area. It’s true that trash remaining on the front lawn of a house for days or weeks on end might very well damage the image of the city as a whole, but property values in areas where the houses are almost entirely student rentals isn’t really a huge issue. The rental companies that own the houses aren’t really worried about the resale value of the property, as students will rent the houses regardless — not buy them — and these companies are going to hold onto their properties for a long time. The lawmakers in Ann Arbor have denied that these ordinances are targeting students, but the vast majority of citations — 196 of the
261 — in the year 2007 were issued during football season, from September through November. In the hearing my roommates and I had, the community standards officer that issued the citation said that she was tol d to go around during the football game on Oct. 5 and issue citations — conveniently when the majority of the students will be at the game and not be able to either clean the property or speak with the issuing officer. While I agree that littering tickets should be issued when waste is left on lawns or property for extended periods of time, being tasked with going out during the football games and seeking out offenders causes citations to be disproportionately issued to students. The magistrate dealing with my ticket said that there was no timeframe for the littering ordinance, meaning the ticket can be issued no matter how short of a time the trash has been on the property. The students and the University itself bring Ann Arbor a huge amount of economic activity. If this ordinance is centered on increasing revenue for the city, they shouldn’t attempt to get that revenue from students. Students support a huge amount of the business around the University — be it at local stores or by renting properties around the campus — which in turn gives the city money. The city exists at its current state because of the University and can get revenue from other sources. Ann Arbor has lower property taxes than Detroit and, should they need revenue, could raise those property taxes. Attempting to get revenue from students, who most likely don’t have excess funds, is wrong. The ordinance could have been dealt with in other ways. For example, the city could have started this process with a warning system for houses that aren’t repeat offenders of the ordinance, telling the residents to clean their property within 24 hours or otherwise receive a citation. The city should respect the students of the University and not specifically target them with punitive legislation. Matthew Seligman is an LSA junior.
CONOR ANDERSON/Daily
“I
n a certain light, wouldn’t nuclear war be exciting?” “Do spelling mistakes annoy you?” “Are you happy with your life?” These are a few of the first questions I answered when I filled out my EMILY OKCupid profile PITTINOS in August. I told friends, and myself, that I set up my OKCupid for the sake of entertaining journalism. I said it’d be fun to write about in my column. And that was true, but there was also more to it than that; I wanted to give online dating a shot. It’s not that I was having trouble getting dates at the time. In fact, as noted by my friends, my summer was shaping up like a romantic comedy. I was getting asked out by strangers in bookstores, coffee shops and while out to dinner with my roommates’ families. I was kissing the boy next door while simultaneously schtüping the punk rocker who had dreams of writing fiction in Nashville. In other words, I was ankle-deep in trysts. But I was at a point where, after a hiatus from relationships, I wanted more than flirtation and tipsy kisses on the way home from the bar. I wanted someone with a great brain and an artistic sensibility, who had a high capacity for empathy and could spend hours discussing poetry and gender and love itself — you know, the usual. However, that person was not readily available to me and, like many lonely people, I considered the Internet as a viable short cut to love. The site consumed me almost immediately. I sat in my living room for hours on a Friday night, answering multiple choice and short answer questions about my worst fears, fantasies, ambitions and opinions on God. It was like a cross between a
midterm and a psych evaluation, but way sexier and more ego-nourishing. Of course, I loved answering these obscure questions because they forced me to think about what I wanted out of a relationship, my future and myself. It seemed like — with the help of my trusty guide, the Internet — I was learning a lot about who I was. Clearly, I was totally buying it all. OKCupid also inserted my responses to these questions into complex algorithms and then spit out objective judgments on my personality in the form of graphs and percentages. I believe that every person, on some level, desires to know where they stand in social circles, and I’m no exception. I was into the idea that hard evidence could tell me things like whether I was cool, or pretty, or boring. You can even ask the site to conduct a survey that will determine whether or not your pictures make you seem bone-able to complete strangers. Neat! I thought. This data says I’m hot. It was all very logical and science-y. But OKCupid isn’t all flattery. It may be easier to suss out potential dates with the help of the Internet, but online dating still incurs the same emotional risks as traditional dating. You can still get stood up. You can still be unsure about the terms of the date — is it romantic, or just a friend thing? A date can still go poorly. I met two people from OKCupid in safe, well-populated environments. One spent the majority of the time complaining about his recent ex who ran away to China, and the other has become my friend and artistic collaborator. They weren’t
bad experiences, but weren’t particularly romantic, either — which is how I feel about the entire online dating process. It was all flattering and fascinating for a while, but I started missing the magic associated with discovering attraction in real time. I don’t want to know whether or not my future lovers are OK with sharing their toothbrushes, or how many people they’ve slept with, before I’ve even shaken their hands. By knowing answers to intimate questions like those, I felt like I was robbed of the intimacy that’s born out of telling secrets in person. When I share details of my life, I want it to be with someone I already have a connection with, not hundreds of Ann Arborites who’ve suddenly become candidates for future coitus. I don’t doubt that sites like OKCupid work for some people. It’s proven that they lead to happier marriages, and I’m sure they’re handy if you’re looking to get life-long serious. Even if you’re young, this method may be a convenient way of evading loneliness, or finding a hook up near-by, but it’s all too logical for my taste. If I’m going to risk the other humiliations associated with dating anyway, why not hold out for sparks? Sites like this reduce romance to an exact science, which doesn’t settle well with me. I could find someone who is a 94-percent match for me, but there’s no way the science behind that percentage can account for the chemistry and intangible attractions that fuel young love. As schmaltzy as it may sound, I’d rather take my chance on magic than be guaranteed a date.
It was like a cross between a midterm and psych evaluation but way sexier.
— Emily Pittinos can be reached at pittinos@umich.edu.
RIMA FADALLAH | VIEWPOINT
Please don’t e(race) me
If I were a chameleon, many people may think that I have horrible survival techniques due to my inability to blend in with my surroundings. But they’re wrong. What they misunderstand is that chameleons don’t actually change color to remain inconspicuous — they change color to communicate. What many misunderstand about me is that I, too, am not trying to hide from anything or anyone. All my life, the identities that I consider most salient are the same ones that make me different from everyone around me. I am a Lebanese-American woman who, despite being a dual citizen, has never really felt that I teetered toward one end of the hyphen. So I sit here, like the surprisingly effective chameleon that I am, and change colors depending on where I am and who is around me. I change colors to communicate, to be seen, and to be heard for who I am. I change colors because I can. I change colors because I get to determine what it means to be me. After three years of being defined by others at this University, I’ve learned to claim ownership of my identities — both marginalized and privileged. In Lebanon, I proudly represent America, and at the University, I proudly represent my Lebanese heritage. I’ve accepted that no number of hyphens will be all-encompassing of the complexity that is me. I’ve come to realize that, while labels can be dehumanizing and dismissive at times, they allow for some degree of visibility and recognition. So don’t you dare obliterate what I have so proudly cultivated. Too often at this university I hear ignorant comments such as, “Race is not biologically a thing; it’s a social construct; therefore, race doesn’t
matter,” and “I think diversity education is unnecessary; I don’t understand how it’s supposed to enhance my experience here.” If you think these things, I’m talking to you. Perhaps you don’t get it because you’re blinded by your white gaze. Let’s take a look through my eyes, shall we? Of the plethora of issues embedded in your ignorant statements, I will emphasize two main points: First, in saying, “race doesn’t matter,” you’re essentially denouncing my very existence as a person of color. You’re dismissing my emotions, my experiences and my choices that are often attributed to this identity that is apparently invisible to you. But forget about me — do you seriously believe that the experience of a Black, Latino, Arab or Native American is no different than that of a white American? Race matters. There are books on that very subject — enlighten yourself. And second, when you deem diversity education “unnecessary,” you’re pretty much ridiculing our history and experiences as people of color. I’m sure I’m not alone in saying diversity education has been everything to me. It has been my frustration, my validation and my empowerment as a woman of color navigating an overwhelmingly white institution. Just a general tip to be a more worldly person: Issues and affairs shouldn’t have to affect you directly for you to have an interest in learning about them. Be inquisitive. Be empathetic. Because counterarguments to “controversial” topics such as race and ethnicity have become so painfully predictable, I’ll be proactive and try to address them here. Your angry tone is not conducive to effective dialogue. That’s fine by me because, one, this is not a dialogue,
and two, anger is an emotion to which I am entitled when faced with bigoted, racist or sexist remarks. Don’t get me wrong — there is certainly a time and place for everything; I have engaged in my fair share of productive dialogues over the past few years. But at this very time and place, this chameleon just wants to be seen — riled or not. Too often in our diversity or social justice conversations we are afraid of making the privileged feel uncomfortable. Those who are excluded from the dominant narrative are arguably always uncomfortable. Your comfort is not more important than mine — especially when it’s my identity that is at stake. Or to those who say, “I don’t see race! I’m honestly color-blind!” No you’re not; stop lying. I don’t want you to be color-blind. Colorblindness is a fallacy that far too many people try hard to believe because it sounds politically correct. Much like my cold-blooded counterparts, I don’t want to blend in. I don’t want to assimilate, and I despise the bigoted implications of a “big melting pot.” I want to be seen for who I am. I want my unique voice to be heard. My olive skin is very much a part of me — more than ever amongst the sea of white at Michigan — and I’m proud of it. What I’m saying is that I’m trying to communicate, so please stop pretending that I’m not here. Instead, recognize, respect and embrace the different individuals around you for who they are. If you don’t already, ask questions. Take a step out of your comfort zone and engage in random conversations with people who don’t look like you. Who knows, you just may learn something about yourself. Rima Fadlallah is an LSA senior.