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The observer | Monday, February 6, 2023 | ndsmcobserver.com
Your silence thunders
Inside Column
What’s in a fear? Maggie Klaers Graphics Editor
On any given day, I walk into one of the big DeBartolo Hall (DeBart) classrooms for a lecture and my mind is brief ly consumed w ith fear that I w ill accidentally tumble dow n the stairs in front of ever yone in a series of f lailing somersaults. With how clumsy I am, it feels like an eventual inev itabilit y. Fear plays such a v ital role in understanding ourselves. Fear doesn’t just tell us where our limits lay or let us know when we are in danger, it can also be a hint that we are embarking on something we really care about. I’m not talking about the kind of fear you experience when you think you’re being followed. This fear, rather, is that slight tingle in your chest you feel when you’re stepping just outside of your comfort zone. Fear can be like a low-grade form of paralysis. Maybe if I play dead, my to-do list can’t hurt me. If I don’t start something, then I can’t fail at it miserably. We all have those things we are scared to admit we care deeply about. It stings to get confirmation from others that we aren’t good at something we love or to be told that something we care about is a bit silly to be invested in. Maybe you’ve even caught yourself making a self-deprecating joke about that ver y thing, just to make sure no one can beat you to it. Recently, I got to thinking about what those fears are for me. I realized that I honestly used to be afraid of just talking about the things I’m passionate about. I would shy away from mentioning projects that I was excited about, or avoid telling people — even my mom — that I did well on something out of fear that I would sound like I was bragging. There’s a specific f lavor of fear that has a slight hint of excitement in it. This fear, I think, is what happens when the fear for the future mixes w ith hope for the future. I’m tr y ing to learn to tune into the fears like this that I have. W hen in the times that I’ve been able to identif y those fears and summon enough courage to throw myself into overcoming them, I’ve unearthed a side of myself that I didn’t know was there. Ver y few feelings rival that of new found braver y. Fear keeps us safe from harm, sure, but it can also keep us from exploring pieces of ourselves. I challenge you to consider what these fears are for you. W hat’s holding you back from going for it? W hat could change if you didn’t hide your passion? Here’s to hoping I don’t fall dow n the stairs in DeBart any time soon. You can contact Maggie at mklaers@nd.edu. The views expressed in this Inside Column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
Oluwatoni Akintola Meditations
Ty re Nichols was 29. On Januar y 7, five police officers literally beat the life out of him. One of the most trending Google searches recently is: “Ty re Nichols criminal record.” I can tell you that that search leads nowhere. I can tell you that Nichols was a lawabiding citizen and a pillar of his family. But would it matter? At Notre Dame, we advocate for the preser vation of all life. We value it equally in ever y form, ever y communit y and ever y stage. Right? I could be w rong, but if there have been conversations about the death of Ty re Nichols (or others killed by the police since I’ve been at Notre Dame), I haven’t heard them. Our silence thunders in the halls where men like Bayard Rustin once walked. Part of our universit y’s mission statement is prov iding a forum of free inquir y and open discussion. We’re all busy people and sometimes it’s hard to keep up w ith what’s going on in the world, but it’s high time that issues of social justice made their way to the forefront of at least some of our conversations. Our bond as students is deeper than just living on the same campus. It’s more than being from the same dorm or eating at the same dining hall. We’re the continuation of the legacy of men like Fr. Ted Hesburgh and Rev. John I. Jenkins (who helped integrate Notre Dame in 1944). We’ve been brought together because we have the potential to transform the world. That begins w ith an increased level of consciousness about social justice issues. And of all American social justice issues, policing seems to be one of the most delicate. Stray too far one way and you’re advocating for a fantasy world where we don’t have anyone effectively enforcing our laws. But go too far the other way, and you utterly fail to hold men like Derek Chauv in and Daniel Pantaleo (the killers of George Floyd and Eric Garner) accountable for their actions. W hatever your stance is on the solution to the problem, it’s undeniable that the American police force needs some reform. A ll the numbers scream that police brutalit y is a real problem in our countr y. And while African Americans are disproportionately affected by it, it’s not only an issue of race. Many unarmed people of other races have been unjustifiably murdered by police as well. In August of 2016, a 32 year old white man called the police to ask for help, as he was off the medication that he usually took for an x iet y and schizophrenia. But when the police arrived, they handcuffed him, zip-tied his feet and kneeled on his back as he begged for his life. Eleven minutes later, the man was dead. His name was Tony Timpa. Another name in a list of thousands who have been killed inexplicably by police. Shot. Tased. Crushed. Brutalized. More people are killed by police in America than any where else in the developed world. Police departments in our countr y do not have outside oversight, which means that they’re not being held accountable by anybody when they misapply deadly force. In most states, the department has the final say on whether an officer’s level of force was warranted or not, and this is an obv ious conf lict of interest. It’s why the officers that killed Tony Timpa felt bold enough to kneel on him for 11 minutes. It’s why the ones that killed Ty re Nichols didn’t care that their
body cams were recording the whole thing. Not only do our police require more independent oversight, they need more training as well. Policing is hard, so naturally we have a lot of respect for the people who’ve committed themselves to the job. But we don’t effectively train our police to do one of the most stressful and high-tension professions that we have in our societ y. According to the Bureau of Justice, the average length of time required to complete police academy training is 21 weeks, or 840 hours. Contrast that w ith police training in Germany, which takes t wo and a half years, or even w ith Finland whose police training lasts a full three years. 9 out of 10 police calls are for nonv iolent encounters, and yet U.S. police academies spend more of their time on firearms training than on deescalating the situations that constitute 90% of their job. And the solution here isn’t defunding the police, because when budget cuts have happened in police departments historically, training div isions are usually the first things scaled back. To stop more people from becoming v ictims of extrajudicial police v iolence, the truth is that we need to hold our police departments more accountable. The officers responsible for Ty re Nichols murder were sw iftly dealt w ith, but when it comes to this issue, we need to be proactive, not reactive. Legislation mandating that independent third parties investigate incidents of alleged excessive police v iolence would go a long way toward preventing many unnecessar y deaths and life altering injuries. As would more training in de-escalation, and better care for the mental health needs of the people protecting and ser v ing us. And on the Notre Dame campus, we need more discussion and more activ ism surrounding this issue. Last month, there were posters in ever y dorm promoting the March for Life in Washington, DC. But how many times since June of 2020 have we as a communit y acknowledged the lives that continue to be taken as a result of police brutalit y? How many people know the names Tony Timpa or Philando Castille? We can’t live up to our calling as Notre Dame students until a desire to see justice done is burned on our conscience. Until we are heartbroken by the pain and injustice in our world. And until that broken heart compels us to action. But the first step is just hav ing the courage to dialogue w ith each other on subjects like this one. The universit y has spoken out against police brutalit y in the past, but I believe it can do more. The NDPD’s Equit y in Policing initiative is a great step, but we also need the universit y to put its weight behind legislation that w ill hold police nationw ide accountable for applications of unjustified extreme force. I’m not say ing that it’s up to the universit y or its students to fix our nation’s policing problem. But if we say nothing, then that says ever y thing. Ty re Nichols was 29. Another black man killed unjustly by the police. Another American dream snuffed out long before it had a chance to be realized. I think that’s something worth talking about. Oluwatoni (Toni) is a freshman majoring in Business Analytics at the University of Notre Dame. He can be reached at oakintol@nd.edu. The views expressed in this column are those of the author and not necessarily those of The Observer.
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