Fall 2011 - Issue 3

TUFTS OBSERVER October 24, 2011

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inside the

The changing world of online privacy  (page 2)

volume CxxIIi / issue 3

Inside Occupy Boston (page 5)

Imagining the  future of public art (page 22)

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featured articles

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FEATURE

Our ever (d)evolving standards of online privacy NICOLA PARDY Avery Matera

OPINION Tufts occupying Boston

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ELIZA MILLS

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OFF CAMPUS A look at the Museum of Science’s Pompeii exhibit

OFF CAMPUS The O’s Vintage Shopping Guide

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CATHERINE NAKAJIMA

MONICA STADECKER

POETRY & PROSE A short story by Christopher Blackett

The Observer has been Tufts’ publication of record since 1895. Our dedication to in-depth reporting, journalistic innovation, and honest dialogue has remained intact for over a century. Today, we offer insightful news analysis, cogent and diverse opinion pieces, creative writing, and lively reviews of current arts, entertainment, and culture. Through poignant writing and artistic elegance, we aim to entertain, inform, and above all challenge the Tufts community to effect positive change.

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Contents

October 24, 2011 Volume CXXIII, Issue 3 Tufts Observer, Since 1895 Tufts’ Student Magazine www.tuftsobserver.org

editor-in-chief Eliza Mills managing editor Zachary Laub

production director David Schwartz section editors Eric Archibald Anna Burgess Kyle Carnes Molly Mirhashem Cara Paley Nicola Pardy Molly Rubin Katherine Sawyer Natalie Selzer Ariana Siegel Evan Tarantino

photography director Catherine Nakajima photography editor Louise Blavet art editor Becky Plante lead artist Natasha Jessen-Petersen copy editors Kristen Barone Gracie McKenzie Isobel Redelmeier Michael Rogove production assistants Paul Butler Ben Kurland Angelina Rotman Lenéa Sims web editors Pattra Audcharevorakul Bradley Ooserveld

2 feature Private Eyes, They’re Watching You, by Claire McCartney 5 opinion Why I Occupy, by Jack Thomas 8 opinion Diverse and Divided, by Misha Patel 10 news Hope in the Face of Terror, by Kumar Ramanathan 12 tufts Ten Minutes with Niall Ferguson, by Zachary Laub inset 13 photo A Few of My Favorite Things, by Knar Bedian & culture 17 arts Observer Reviews 50/50, by David Weber 18 tufts Homecoming 2011: The Experience, by Tufts Students 19 tufts Be a Better Dressed Jumbo, by Joshua Silver & culture 20 arts Eat Your Jack-O-Lantern, by Luke Pyenson & culture 22 arts Imagining the Future of Public Art, by Madeline Weisburg campus 23 off Remains, by Eliza Mills campus 24 off The Vintage Advantage, by Ellen Mayer & prose 26 poetry My Mother, the Herald of Destruction, by Christopher Blackett 28 campus Police Blotter, by Becky Plante

business manager Claire McCartney

Contributors Knar Bedian Christopher Blackett Izzie Gall Margarita Krylova Ellen Mayer Misha Patel

Luke Pyenson Kumar Ramanathan Joshua Silver Jack Thomas Lisa Tran Ashley Turner

David Weber Madeline Weisburg

Since

1895

RE FE AT U

Private Eyes,

THEY’RE WATCHING YOU.

By Claire McCartney

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ast semester, when Tufts junior Ben Weitzman logged onto Facebook chat to message a friend, he was surprised to see a long-forgotten conversation from the previous school year appear on the screen. “I realized that they were storing every single thing I’ve ever said in chat,” the computer science major said. “This was unnerving to say the least.”

This experience, unnerving though it may be, seems commonplace to many. We have become accustomed to having our every move on the Internet stored in some mysterious database that most users know little about. Words you typed haphazardly some years ago now pop up in present conversations as a sobering reminder of who you once were—or how you chose to present yourself on the Internet—no matter how young or unaware or drunk you were at the time.

The new permanency of the typed word is something that our generation, which has grown up with the Internet, has come to take for granted; or perhaps we have just chosen to bury that uncomfortable reality

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in the virtual folder of things we’d rather forget. But Weitzman could not brush off what so many have learned to accept, and the jolting experience of realizing his words were being recorded got him thinking about creating a way to stop Facebook from reading his conversations.

He spent the summer of 2011 working at Abine, a company that offers downloadable solutions to web privacy issues. Abine approached Weitzman, a computer science major with “this problem, which was that Facebook, which is one of the worst sites for privacy, doesn’t have any web trackers,” he said. “This is because Facebook doesn’t need to have any trackers. They are the tracker.”

From there Weitzman created a program that “scrambles,” or encrypts, messages sent between users on the chat interface. The messages are thus still stored but become unreadable to Facebook.

This is a small step toward combating unwanted information storage; companies like Abine are offering browser extensions that block tracking and other services for free.

FE E UR AT

If you have something that you don't want anyone to know, maybe you shouldn't be doing it in the first place.

ER I C S C H M I D T

GOOGLE CEO

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Facebook is not the only company whose vague privacy policies have created concern among users: Google+ and the new Amazon browser, Silk, are publicly considered major contenders for having the “most mined data.” In fact, most companies that use personal information (like email providers and Internet search engines) store at least some of their users’ information. A lot of these Internet and data providers explain customer tracking by emphasizing the benefits to the consumer experience.

Facebook claims their data collection provides more personalized interaction with both friends and advertisers, while Amazon touts much faster web browsing. But many users don’t know what they’re getting themselves into when they half-heartedly click “Agree to Terms,” skipping over pages of dense legalese regarding these sites’ ever-changing privacy policies.

Is it possible that the average user just doesn’t really care? In 2010, Facebook founder and CEO Mark Zuckerberg made the controversial comment that privacy is no longer a “social norm.” The 27-year-old entrepreneur said, “People have really gotten comfortable sharing not only more information and different kinds but [also] more openly and with more people.” In many regards, the veracity of this statement is obvious. Twitter users happily update personally identifiable information in real time with anyone and everyone that chooses to follow them. Teenagers and college students share private thoughts about very personal subject matter on Tumblr, which has virtually no privacy settings when it comes to public sharing. Facebook tracks years of friendships, allowing us to indulge in the novelty of social media nostalgia as we watch relationships with old friends and lovers bloom and then fall apart publicly through wall-to-walls and tagged pictures. In the next few months, the Facebook profile will be replaced by “Timeline,” which will chronologically display every bit of information users have chosen to share throughout their time on the site, highlighting posts that received the most activity.

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It is difficult to ascertain whether new and readily available communication technology has spurred people to become less concerned about privacy and more apt to share or if the desire to display oneself to the world has always been innate and now simply has a platform for delivery. In either case, the one freedom that has always been a top priority in many nations, and most obviously in the United States, is the one that the digital revolution both provides and eradicates—the freedom of choice.

Internet users do have some say in how much information they choose to share with the public—for instance, by limiting the privacy settings on Facebook photos or deciding not to share one’s exact location on Twitter. But these cumbersome differences in privacy settings often prove too nuanced for many users to navigate; they are often buried in more obscure parts of the site and can be inflexible. Other users simply don’t know that they can manipulate these settings at all. And what no one has any control over at all is in what capacity their information is shared with third parties.

Larger issues arise as things like Cloud software, which enables companies to seamlessly track information about user demographics and activity, become commonplace. While most people have begun to accept that things shared publicly online, like Facebook photos and blog posts, are never truly private, what about ‘private’ emails, messages, and chat conversations sent only between two or three people? The content of these conversations is increasingly sold to and used by advertisers to target users more specifically and effectively than sweeping Internet campaigns. Most users, however, see only the illusion of intimacy when participating in these conversations, and have little to no idea that their words are being read and recorded. This user data can also be subpoenaed in court or otherwise requested by the government and is often handed over without question or protest by the company recording the data, choosing to avoid a government warrant. The jury is still

out, literally, on where these seemingly private interactions stand in regards to the Fourth Amendment, but currently it would appear that personal exchanges like emails are not as protected from search and seizure as we would like to believe.

Though users technically must agree to terms that state these policies, the wording is often vague and sites know that few users will take the time to actually sift through the pages of reading. It is often not clear what exactly a “third party” is—it could be an advertising company or an information tracking agency. Ultimately, lax privacy policies are not going to stop the hundreds of millions people that use these communication tools from doing so. Now a social and business obligation, many people do not feel they have the choice to opt out of social media and email, so they accept the good with the bad and turn a blind eye to what might be the necessary evil of information mining.

But as our methods of communication evolve, should our ethics and standards of privacy evolve as well? Should companies be allowed to take advantage of the currently vulnerable state of our most personal information? These are questions that can only be answered with time, but the continuing compliance of all parties involved indicates a trend of the total dissolution of privacy as we know it.

When Ben Weitzman realized that casual conversations with friends were being stored for years on end, he set out to effectively end what he saw as an invasion of his privacy. Most of the millions of users of communication technology do not possess the skill set necessary to stop these breaches the way he did.

Aside from downloading browser extensions from companies like Abine, it is up to each individual user to keep a vigilant eye on what they share and to be educated and aware of who can view their information. As companies continue to push the boundaries further, the public will continue to push back in the hopefully never-ending conversation between consumer and company about what our standards of privacy should be. O

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Why Occupy M

by Jack Thomas

ore and more frequently now, friends and acquaintances of mine will ask me what the Occupy Movement is—what it’s about, what its goals are, how long I think it will last, and why I’m a part of it. After three weeks of dedicating almost every waking moment to thinking about, participating in, and working for the Occupy Boston Movement, my fellow Tufts Occupiers and I have noticed that our responses to such questions are getting shorter and more clipped. I will say that, in my experience, the transformation of my answers from lengthy and convoluted to short-and-sweet was borne, in part, out of a recognition: in the past, when I have indulged myself in relaying all the details, emotions, and anecdotes that really explain my relationship with Occupy Boston, I frequently lose my audience’s interest after one or two minutes. These people aren’t asking for a diary entry; they want an elevator pitch, and it usually goes like this: “I’m glad you asked! Let me preface my response by saying that I can only speak on my own behalf. For me, the movement has been about turning the public eye toward the many political, economic, and social injustices and inequalities that negatively impact the entire country—and the world. Occupy is about having conversations

and giving every person a voice. To do that, we are conducting ourselves and our interactions with one another in an entirely new way; we’re participating in a cultural movement that is itself part of a solution to the problems we protest.”

I use that pitch because it’s as close to an accurate summary as I can come in a minute, and because oftentimes it will lead to further discussion. But that quick little spiel doesn’t really say anything in itself; it is full of platitudes and generalities that don’t contribute anything new to the current discourse surrounding Occupy. It blends the themes and words that many associate with the movement (greed, corruption, exploitation, empowerment, equality, dialogue, horizontal democracy) into a nice little cocktail that might look tasty, but lacks substance.

I would like to take this opportunity to offer a more authentic explanation as to why I believe a growing number of Jumbos are pouring significant amounts of time and energy into the Occupy Boston Movement and why you might consider doing the same.

To begin, I must reiterate: I speak only on my own behalf.

The following content is an accumulation of thoughts based on the hundreds of videos, images, blogs, articles, civil conversations, heated debates, and other meaningful experiences that OCTOBER 24, 2011

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Photos by Nicola Pardy

I’ve exposed myself to over the last month in following and becoming a part of the Occupy Boston Movement.

As I see it, the beating heart of an Occupation is the General Assembly (GA).

More specifically, what makes any iteration of Occupy sustainable and what differentiates it from most other grassroots social change initiatives we’ve seen before are the inclusive processes and guidelines that participants in the assembly uphold.

In Boston, individuals convene for GAs in Dewey Square, just across the street from South Station. These assemblies, which take place every morning and evening, are essentially forums with an open invitation to anyone and everyone (including the “one-percenters”) to participate in discussions and decision-making processes through a horizontally democratic system. For clarification’s sake, let’s establish what horizontal democracy means in the context of the Occupy Movement.

Technically speaking, horizontal democracy refers to the distribution of power amongst participants in the Occupy Movement. In traditional, vertical systems of organization, one leader directs the actions; articulates the goals, messages, and

Occupy is about having conversations and giving every person

a voice.

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objectives of a group; and stands as a representative of their subordinates in what resembles a hierarchical pyramid. At Occupy and other social media-driven movements (think Egypt and the Arab Spring), masses mobilize in a fashion that reflects the Internet landscape: individuals command authority over themselves and only themselves. In the place of one leader who makes decisions for the movement, Occupy directs itself through the General Assembly, where each attendee has an equal opportunity to participate in a debate that dissects every decision that could someday influence and represent the movement as a whole. The people who participate in GAs are the people who define the movement, give it direction, and articulate its objectives.

In practice, horizontal democracy is frustratingly tedious. Every participant in every GA brings a different perspective to the table, which can make reaching consensus extraordinarily difficult and time-consuming. In fact, the heterogeneity of the crowd at Occupy Boston makes impossible the task of finding true concordance on any proposal.

But that is the beauty of the General Assembly: it is a platform that brings all the different types of people walking (or living on) the streets of Boston together for an analysis of the society we live in. Assemblies are constructive because, through conversation, participants struggle together and move beyond their differences to find understandings and create solutions that no one had previously envisioned. To facilitate this process in large groups, GAs employ the “people’s mic.” When a person has something to say, that person stands, and, phrase by phrase, the crowd repeats his or her every word. Listening to the people’s mic is literally listening to the voice of humanity. It is a chorus of all of the thoughts and perspectives of the people shouted by the people, the timbre colored by voices of every walk of life. While the mic slows down an already difficult process, it also facilitates the people’s internalization of one another’s words. And, importantly, it encourages careful thought and analysis of sentiments before standing up to speak. Certainly GAs can be an agonizingly contentious, glacially slow process with the people’s mic, but they give birth to popular empowerment, unity of purpose, and community; they thrive on and reproduce the spirit of solidarity that permeates the movement. Despite disagreements, misunderstandings, redundancies, and disappointments, I will oftentimes find myself walking away from GAs invigorated and amazed that, ultimately, we made decisions that needed to be made in a completely democratic fashion.

Horizontal democracy is more than an effective means of empowering and uniting the masses, though. It is much more than a philosophy of equal distribution of power specific to the GA or Occupy organizations in general. If you let it, horizontal democracy can become a way of life. It is a preference for respectful, constructive dialogue, attentive listening, and face-to-face interactions, which are virtually non-existent in contemporary politics. And when I say “politics,” I’m not just referring to the formal political machine—I’m also talking about the politics of everyday life. At GAs,

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heteronormative students. Attending GAs where traditionally marginalized voices are empowered to vocalize their concerns, interests, and perspectives has introduced me to individuals with voices that we don’t hear frequently enough at Tufts. This is not necessarily because there are no students here with diverse stories to tell; I believe this deficiency is due to the lack of a platform that encourages students to share life experiences and address issues with people very different from themselves.

I believe that a growing number of Jumbos are dedicating their valuable time to attending General Assemblies in Dewey Square and to assembling here on Tufts’ campus because we thirst for an environment, institution, structure, or space that doesn’t oppress or marginalize. I know that, personally, I seek a means of empowering myself and others, especially those of us who do not have a voice, to fundamentally change the world we occupy by dismantling, disabling, and changing the forces that work against our pursuits of

JULY 13, 2011

Adbusters issues the call to occupy

The movement was born out of anger at a broken system that profits the top 1% at the expense of the other 99%.

SEPT 17, 2011

Occupy Wall Street movement begins

happiness. In my experience, horizontal democracy has been the only structure that provides the equalizing, empowering environment that I seek, and General Assemblies have been the first and only place that I’ve found truly functional horizontal democracy. If you’re ready for more than sound bites from the news or from me, if you’re ready to really listen, or if you’re willing to engage with humanity and reach a better understanding of the world, go to a General Assembly. If you want to address and ameliorate radically dividing forces among people or if you would like to surround yourself with some of the most passionate, interesting individuals you’ll ever meet, go to a General Assembly. If you’re willing to understand the Occupy movement and if you want to sing in the growing chorus of humanity that is resounding in cities across the world—go to a General Assembly.

Go to a General Assembly: 7:00 PM, every night, Dewey Square across from South Station. O

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we confront and grapple with racism, sexism, and classism—the privilege and oppression that characterize and dictate our every interaction with the people around us. Part of living horizontal democracy is recognizing that these same dynamics are also hard at work in our life outside of GAs. Practicing horizontal democracy means believing and recognizing the fact that stories and points of view drastically different from your own exist and are just as valuable. It is making a commitment to ensuring that the voices of others are as loud and clear as your own.

What is so exciting for me about horizontal democracy in Dewey Square is that it pops the culture bubble that we live within (and maintain) at Tufts. As a white male who studies sociology, I can say that up until now, my understanding of white privilege and male hegemony has come largely from textbooks written by white men and some white women, has been taught by all white professors, and has been in classes filled with mostly white,

Its goal is to change the national dialogue.

Specifically, use a "people's assem bly" (called the NYC General Assembly) to facilitate Who are the Occupiers? collective Students, elderly people, decision families with children, making in construction workers an open, on their lunch breaks, participaunemployed Wall Street tory and executives, Iraq & non-binding Afghanistan veterans, manner moms, and many others.

OCT 15, 2011

1,500+ Occupy events held in 82 countries

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Margarita Krylova

Diverse & Divided

by misha patel

“Diversity and inclusion are central to the

educational mission of Tufts University.”

Statistically,

that may be true.

Socially, it is

NOT.

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We may have a diverse campus, but it is not an inter-connected one, and I feel that admitting increased numbers of minority and international students can only help so much.

Take one look around Dewick dining hall, the tables at Tisch, or even the packs of students walking around the quad, and you’ll see what I mean. To be blunt, it reminds me of an ethnic version of Mean Girls. Students predominantly spend time with those who share a common ethnic and cultural background. In Latin Way, there is even a tower colloquially known as the “Chinese” tower.

I won’t pretend that there are not exceptions to this behavior— several students of mixed ethnicities hang out together, linked by common interests, or simply a conscious choice to transcend selfsegregation. But I’ve found that at Tufts, this is not the norm; it’s the exception.

Social psychologists may call this kind of behavior implicit egotism, the natural tendency to gravitate toward the similar and the familiar. And I’m sure some of it may be explained by psychology.

But I believe that the heart of the problem lies in our approach to diversity here at Tufts.

When I arrived at Tufts my freshman year, I was immediately bombarded with emails from the campus’s cultural centers: Africana, Asian-American, International, Latino. The students in these groups are immediately immersed into a fantastic cultural experience, through which they meet ethnically similar students and connect through common heritage. As enlightening as this might be, I feel it’s also extremely limiting.

As a person of minority status on this campus, I avoid going to any event sponsored by a cultural center or ethnically orientated group. Simply put, I’ve found that I gain a more diverse and overall complete college experience by avoiding them altogether. I feel like these ethnic-specific environments would too narrowly define and categorize me based on my background, hindering my exposure to Tuft’s eclectic student body.

Yes, the cultural centers accept those of all races and invite nonethnic members to attend their events. But students don’t commonly accept the invite. I attended a grand total of one “cultural” event my freshman year at Tufts—the ice cream social at the Asian-American house. I dragged some of my friends from my dorm along who were not Asian and, suffice to say, they immediately felt uncomfortable

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ear after year, our admissions office boasts of creating a healthy and vibrant community of students from a wide variety of backgrounds. And there’s no doubt that it has. Students of color comprise 25% of the Class of 2015. The student body represents a staggering 47 US states and 57 foreign countries. International students hail everywhere from China and South Korea to Singapore, Turkey, and Brazil.

and out of place. Nobody was outwardly rude to them—in fact, they were perfectly pleasant—but it was as if they had broken a social norm; they just didn’t belong.

Self-segregation continues as upperclassmen decide to live in La Casa or the Africana Center or any other ethnic or racially based house, where they interact strictly with others of their background.

At least as a freshman, you have the opportunity to see and co-mingle with other ethnicities due to racially diverse dorms and the random roommate process. Conversely, upperclassmen living in ethnic houses don’t have to interact with other ethnicities in a social setting if they choose not to.

These homes essentially breed self-segregation. How many times have we been told that we grow the most at college outside the classroom? By living with our own race or ethnicity, and closing ourselves off entirely from students of other races, I feel like we’re stunting our growth and not getting the most out of what Tufts has to offer.

The one special-interest home on campus that I believe tries to transcend this issue is the International House. Home to 18 students from different countries, including the US, the residents of the IHouse strengthen intercultural ties.

I do not think the failure to integrate students of various races is a situation unique to Tufts. However, I do feel that this should be a non-issue at Tufts, where diversity is essentially part of the administration’s creed.

So, what can we do to fix this?

First, we have to acknowledge as a student body that the current situation needs to be fixed. The most ethnically mixed place at Tufts should not be at a frat basement during a party or the 18 students that live in the I-House. There should be no more students walking around April Open House wearing t-shirts that read, “Ask me what it is like to be a black student here at Tufts.” The Tufts experience should not be different because of the color of your skin.

I also feel that we need to genuinely make an effort to make a truly diverse group of friends, which will allow us to be truly interconnected as a student body. The cultural centers should make more of an effort to reach out to the entire Tufts community and educate all students about their respective cultures—instead of just focusing on providing an outlet for their own.

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orway is an exceedingly quiet place. During the few weeks I spent there this summer, I found its peacefulness and pervasive solitude remarkable. People I met constantly spoke of the insularity of their fellow Norwegians. While it is as volatile politically as the next multi-party democracy, relative calm extends even to political discourse. The Norwegians are certainly not a people disposed towards the dramatic. Then, one man decided to rock the boat and brutally end dozens of lives in the process. The bombing of July 22 shattered more than just the windows

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of downtown Oslo. It sent shockwaves of frustration and sorrow creeping into every word, thought, movement, and touch of a people unaccustomed to such national grief.

In the months since that day, much has been made of the initial assumptions that the bombing was an act of Islamic terrorism. But consider the tense moments following the initial bombing. The people of Norway had never experienced such a horrific act. Witness the way in which the Oslo bombing took place, and I challenge you not to recall London in 2005 or Madrid in 2004. Within hours of the bombing, an obscure Islamist group named Helpers of the Global Jihad implied its involve-

ment, claiming, “What you see is only the beginning, and there is more to come.”

Amidst this confusion, word started to trickle in about a shooting incident at a Labour Party Youth Camp in the small island of Utøya. “A shooting incident” became “a shooter” and then “an ongoing shooting spree,” until the world realized that a massacre had just taken place. A white Norwegian man was slaughtering young political activists—there was an undeniable shock packed into that realization. When he was caught, it turned out that Anders Behring Breivik had acted alone, fighting against the tide of multiculturalism that he found so distasteful.

N EW S

As I stood in the crowd on the night of the vigil, copies of a classic Norwegian song, “For the Youth,” were handed out.

My friend tried to coach me in Norwegian pronunciation as she began singing. Before we knew it, the music rippled through those nearby and dozens around us were singing. It is this kind of solidarity among strangers that makes Norway’s reaction to its national grief so remarkable. There was no narrative that sought to direct the nation’s moment of unity. There was no grand overhaul of society’s political underpinnings. There was a sensible, honest, and empowering reaction to terror.

Hidden among the statistics and statements of Norway’s tragic days this summer is an unusual story of hope. I leave it to the words of Crown Prince Haakon, who, on the night of the vigil, said it better than I ever could: “Tonight, the streets are filled with love.” O

rsen

ered, from the mayor of Oslo to the leader of the youth camp that was attacked.

There was talk of healing, of democracy, and of grief. Not one of the speakers mentioned the word “revenge.” Solidarity came in many forms, through anecdotes, music, stories, and speeches. The prime minister discussed how “the warmth of response from people in Norway” evoked “the strongest weapon in the world—that is, freedom of expression and democracy.”

Undoubtedly, the context of each terrorist attack defines the subsequent reaction. Norway is a small country of under five million, and this attack came from a domestic terrorist acting alone. Nonetheless, in dealing with national grief, the calm but powerful response of the Norwegians this summer is a reminder that national mourning does not necessitate national anger.

Natasha Jessen-Pete

There’s nothing pleasant about the Oslo bombing and the Utøya massacre.

In one day, Norway witnessed the death of 77 innocent people in a surge of hateful and disgusting violence. I want to be clear—I am not trying to find a silver lining in this horror. However, Norway and its people have something to teach us; they show us that even amidst this impenetrable darkness, there can be hope.

Governments across the world can learn from the reaction of the Norwegian government as the crisis unfolded.

Throughout the process, officials refused to identify the attacks as an act of external terrorism until they themselves had evidence to label the event appropriately.

Despite the overwhelming emotional nature of that day, government officials displayed restraint and sobriety as they addressed their nation.

Consider how countries such as the United States or India would react to such an event. A national crisis in today’s 24hour news cycle creates immediate, definitive rhetoric. Politicians with visions of grandeur seek to channel the collective anger of their nations into a moment of national catharsis. While such grief does need to be addressed by government, taking action without allowing for a scarred people to heal can lead to dire consequences: following the terrorist attacks on Mumbai in 2008, troops amassed at the India-Pakistan border to the backdrop of politically-infused rhetoric.

The sobriety and sincerity of the Norwegian government allowed them to become a grounded and reliable source of information in a time when emotions ran high on a massive scale. Government here functioned first and foremost as the representatives of the people; it did not attempt to aggrandize its position to become a self-appointed cultural torchbearer. Acknowledging and addressing a national crisis does not require grandeur on the part of politicians. No leader attempted to become the “face” of the nation in its time of crisis. Even in a time of distress as great as this one, sensibility anchored the collective response of Norway.

Two days after the attack, a vigil was held in the streets of Oslo. Eight public figures spoke to the 150,000 people gath-

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Ca m pus

– with –

Niall Ferguson A scholar of economic history, the Harvard professor has not shied from controversy in his best-selling works on finance and empire. Ferguson sat down with the Observer before delivering this semester’s Snyder Lecture.

By Zachary Laub O: Many of your colleagues in economics— Larry Summers comes to mind—have been very influential in Washington policy-making circles, and I was struggling to think of a historian who has played such a major role since perhaps Arthur Schlesinger in the Kennedy White House. Do you see a role for the history profession in policymaking, or should historians stick to the Ivory Tower?

NF: The great British philosopher of history R.G. Collingwood said we should study history in order to understand the present and to have some guide to the various futures that we have to choose between. I think one of the great defects of policymaking in the Western world over the last 30 years has been a lack of historical knowledge and an excess of reliance on social science and the like. I think it would be very welcome if historians played a bigger role. If you look at national security advisers and secretaries of state since Kissinger, the lack of historical knowledge is the striking thing. I think this is a generally important point, not only from the vantage point of foreign policy but also economic policy. There was an excessive reliance on models and complete neglect of economic history in the run-up to the financial crisis. I wish I could say there was evidence of a change in Washington, but it’s slow to come.

Occupy Wall Street has gotten a ton of media attention, but I think it’s unclear to many of us how historically significant the movement might be, or if they might 12

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actually achieve substantive changes. Is it possible to know right now if this is a passing moment or might become a counterpart to the Tea Party, perhaps bringing in a new progressive movement?

My view is that this sort of thing is strikingly ill-focused. Clearly there is a justifiable concern about widening inequality in the United States, and clearly there is a legitimate feeling that not enough is being done to punish malefactors in Wall Street, so I’m not unsympathetic on those grounds, but it doesn’t really get us far to claim to speak for 99% of the income distribution. Indeed, my sense is that, if anything, they’re likely to bring left-liberal positions into disrepute because they can’t resist behaving like it’s 1968, and I do detect a certain retro quality to this. The Tea Party is the only movement that is serious about reducing debt and entitlements. If those things aren’t reduced, your generation is going to be paying vastly higher taxes during your working lives.

If you think rationally about the economic situation of young people, they should really all be in the Tea Party and not occupying Wall Street. Most of my students would rather be occupied by Wall Street.

What about the argument that the government should be serving us better? The provision of social services is antithetical to the Tea Party position.

To talk about increasing the provision of benefits and services is fiscally crazy, even if you approved of the idea of increased public provisions of goods. I sense in that a kind of inability on the part of Occupy Wall Street

to understand the problems this country faces, which is a problem not just of financial regulation but a problem of financial, and particularly fiscal, sustainability.

Austerity, then, must be our future?

Whether you like it or not, it’s the answer, because there’s clearly no way of continuing on the present path. I’ve never argued that we should inflict sweeping budget cuts in the middle of a recession, but clearly over a 10-year time frame there has to be something done to stabilize the rapidly growing debt. The burden of interest payments just keeps rising because the debt keeps growing by a trillion dollars a year. Most people in the country, I think, are in some measure of denial about that.

Turning to your role as a teacher, as a mentor of students, have the limited opportunities of this economic climate affected the wisdom you’re imparting to students?

My view has long been that too many really bright people were simply being sucked into the investment banks without necessarily thinking hard about what they really wanted to do with their lives. It was becoming a default setting to certain students. In some ways the recession—the financial crisis—is rather welcome because it has reduced that flow and has made it less of a default setting. Indeed, I have students coming to me saying, “I failed to get a job,” and I say to them, “Well, that’s good, because now you can concentrate on doing some academic work, which is actually the reason you were here.” This is the silver lining. O

Tufts University photography

Ten Minutes

“lights, music,

& cupcakes”

photos by

Knar Bedian

My love for photography began with my fast-fading memory. Photos were a way to remember family trips to London and out-of-state Armenian events. After a while, I shifted the focus of my photos to be less touristy, and I eventually bought myself a fancy Nikon DSLR so that I could have more control over my photos.

I never took a photo class, but I read a bunch of library books on photography and experimented a lot. This past year I’ve concentrated on using film, learning how to develop and print photos at the Tufts darkroom.

“Oh cause everything's sugared up more than it seems.” [The Kooks] “But food won’t take this emptiness away.” [Angus and Julia Stone]

O

T

TS AR

The Observer Reviews

50

50

by David Weber

here are certain topics comedy doesn’t touch.

Cancer tends to fall near the top of the comedic “don’t” list. But perhaps we’ve been too quick to into a series of situations revolving around marijuana macaroons, separate the subject from laughter, which is, af- an un-obliging greyhound, and few sharp cancer jibes.

When I first saw that Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen ter all, one of nature’s best remedies.

To poke fun at the stigma surrounding terminal illness is to chip away at its horror. Still, few have had the guts to test this idea out on the big screen, until Jonathan Levine.

Levine is the director of the new comedy-drama 50/50, which is based on a true story. As the tale of an unorthodox young cancer patient and his wayward best friend, 50/50 naturally takes a very unorthodox and wayward approach toward expressing what terminal illness means to us. Through the film, Levine and the movie’s stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen gallantly forgo traditional propriety to dispel cancer’s oppressive reputation, so that the rest of us don’t have to.

Gordon-Levitt portrays Adam Lerner, a young man who is shocked when he’s diagnosed with cancer. After telling his loved ones and therapist (Anna Kendrick) and coping with their various reactions, Adam and his best friend Kyle (Rogen) get themselves

becky plante

were set to star in a film together, I was skeptical. Gordon-Levitt usually comes off as a wholesome guy. From his whimsy in 500 Days of Summer, to the innocence of his role in 10 Things I Hate About You and the incredibly practical nature of his persona in Inception, he’s an actor the world loves to empathize with. He tends to play the same role over and over, but it’s a role that works for him. That natural sympathy really helps Adam’s diagnosis resonate with young people.

Rogen, on the other hand, is a man whose major roles have consisted of a pothead, a dim-witted cop, and a simpleton who somehow managed to knock up Katherine Heigl. Despite my skepticism about the match-up, I was surprised to find that he and Gordon-Levitt are actually a great pair. Their chemistry is mainly attributable to Rogen’s successful portrayal of a worried friend in half-serious setting. His character is deeper than usual, and Kyle’s efforts to get Adam laid create a subtle but noticeable chemistry between the pair; Rogen even gets to have a few one night pityhookups.

Kendrick, who plays Adam’s psychologist, Katherine, definitely stood out in 50/50. Despite her less-than-sparkling role in the Twilight series, her performance here was solid and charming, and her scenes opposite Gordon-Levitt are some of the funniest and warmest of the film. There’s something subtly attractive about her smart, naïve, and unassuming persona that suits the role of an inexperienced psychiatrist working with her third patient ever.

Bryce Dallas-Howard and Anjelica Houston round out the film’s supporting cast as Adam’s girlfriend and mother respectively. Dallas-Howard gives a competent performance, though most of her comedy was generated by arguments with Rogen’s character and ultimately was uninspiring. Anjelica Houston’s role as the mother of a young cancer patient already supporting a husband with Alzheimer’s was striking, but it seemed a bit like an emotional arm-twister meant to drum up the college student’s sympathy for the mother “who only wants to be a part of your life.”

Despite the overall impressive acting and clever dialogue, 50/50’s plot wasn’t terribly original, although basing a movie on a true story can be limiting. At points, the film is cliché and trite.

The story arc is predictably predictable. Still, the movie makes up for its lack of innovation with its sincerity and genuine humor.

It doesn’t concern itself with political correctness, and it crosses some dangerous lines. But the humor is designed to interpret a real man’s real story, so for those willing to go from commercialized tears to chuckles and back again, 50/50 is worth the money and time spent on a viewing. O OCTOBER 24, 2011

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Ca m pus

“THIS

“SEX, ALUMNI & BEER.”

is what COLLEGE

HOMECOMING is SUPPOSED to be LIKE.”

HOMECOMING 2011

“A COLD HAMBURGER HAS never TASTED

the experience

SO GOOD.”

“Bruises,

Pancakes

and

Music.”

“SUNDAY Morning...”

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Flo Wen

am

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d e s s e

A r e D B tter Be bo m u J F

By Joshua Silver all is here. And while the rest of New England is busy unpacking their Fair Isle sweaters, Harris tweeds, and eightpanel caps, the men of Tufts are hard at work preparing their own version of Fall’s finest: elastic waistband sweatpants, hoodies emblazoned with sports team logos, and yellow Timberland boots.

Well, most of New England is wearing sweats, hoodies, and Timbs, too. One can only dream. Massachusetts may no longer be the style center it was in the era of JFK, but hey, that doesn’t mean you have to dress like a retiree. While I would love to have enough space to address the style follies of both Jumbo men and women, I’m going to stick with our more dire need. Gentlemen, that means you. My fellow cavemen: embrace a newer, better-dressed version of yourself!

I know what you’re thinking: dressing like a gentleman is all well and good but it’s just too damn expensive, uncomfortable, and strenuous. . . Ah, the ubiquitous three-pronged defense against dressing well. First off, dressing well does not have to be expensive. (More on that later.) And, as anyone who has ever worn a baby alpaca sweater knows; looking good and being comfortable are NOT mutually exclusive. As for the third objection, the level of effort is up to you. Nothing worthwhile is ever easy, and that includes pulling off a blazer and tie when walking into Intro to Western Political Thought.

If you have seen me around campus, then you know: I’m not one for rigid rules on getting dressed. Style is all about personal expression, and you can and should dress as yourself, rather than anyone else. That being said, this column is here to appeal to the lowest common denominator: the guys I see around campus dressed like they’re ready for an afternoon nap. So, here are a few ground rules.

The most important thing to do when getting dressed for class in the morning is: ACTUALLY GET DRESSED. No pajama pants. Ever. Avoid gym clothing when not actually going to the gym. Get dressed up just because, not just when you have to.

Put on a button-down when you’d normally wear a T-shirt. Try really, really hard to tuck your shirt in. Wear real, leather shoes, not tennis shoes. Experiment with fabrics and textures. Get rid of the clothes you don’t wear to make room for the stuff that makes

Monica Stadecker

you look and feel good. Always, always wear what makes you feel good. Looking good may not be the key to happiness or success, but it damn sure helps!

Now, let’s get down to business. If you’re anything like me, you’re broke and can hardly scrape together enough dough for a bottle of Jameson each weekend. Fortunately, Boston has a few secrets up its sleeve that will help you snag some new duds (and you won’t find them on Newbury Street). Shop here and you’ll end up with enough cash left over for a Helen’s blue-zone after your first night out at Zeta Psi looking like Steve McQueen.

Here are three of my favorite shops around town:

1. Goodwill, Davis Square. Who knew that the same place that produced your zombie drag queen costume from sophomore year could also be a great place to shop for staples such as beatto-hell corduroys, tweed blazers, and vintage hand-knit sweaters?

Note: The key to shopping at Goodwill--without looking like the new guy living in the Crafts House--is to immediately take your score to a tailor you trust and have them alter your new clothes. (I like Chris Fine Tailors in Teele Sq.)

2. Keezers, Central Square. Great place to hit up for semi-formals. They have new and used suits ranging from vintage Savile Row three-pieces to famous modern designers, all for a small fraction of the price. They also have a rather large collection of sweet vintage ties at very modest prices.

3. Bobby from Boston, South End. I was reluctant to give this one away. Bobby from Boston is widely regarded as one of the world’s greatest vintage stores. To give you an idea, it’s like shopping in a museum, but at the Made in China prices I know y’all love. Ask for Satoru. Tell them Joshua sent you. O OCTOBER 24, 2011

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Arts

Eat Your Jack-O’-Lantern!

Food Talk

with Luke Pyenson

L

ast year on Christmas Eve, a fascinating op-ed from an unlikely source appeared in The New York Times. Chef Rene Redzepi, of the high-profile Copenhagen restaurant Noma, called for Americans to think twice before throwing out their Christmas trees on December 26. “Evergreen, Ever Delicious” was the headline.

Redzepi is known for his extreme adherence to local food; everything served in his restaurant comes from the Nordic region, and some components even come from parks in Copenhagen where he and his crew forage. Spruce and fir, Redezpi argued, can be used much like rosemary or thyme to flavor food. There were three recipes—for spruce butter, spruce oil, and spruce vinegar—as well as a few suggestions. Toss a sprig in with steaming spinach. Dry the needles and turn into a powder; sprinkle into cookie dough. Rub on a chicken before roasting.

The article was super well written and thought provoking, even for a Jew. But come December, I’m not gonna try to eat my menorah—Halloween is right around the corner, and, in fact, last year, I unknowingly applied Mr. Redzepi’s ideas to another ornament: the Jack-O’-Lantern.

I was a couple months into my study abroad experience in Morocco last Halloween and starting to get twinges of homesickness. Knowing that Halloween does not exist in Morocco only made this worse. But on October 31, I schlepped all over the souks of Rabat in a late-fall drizzle to find a suitable host for my ersatz Jack-O’-Lantern. My host sister was kind enough to come with me, but, because of language complications, nobody in my host family really knew what the fuck was going on.

After much schlepping, my host sister and I came to the mutual conclusion that they don’t have what I identify as a 20

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“pumpkin” in Morocco. They do have pumpkins, I guess, but they’re puke-green on the outside and sort of bulbous. I bought a seven-kilo one of these and brought it back to my homestay to carve with my friends and my hysterically laughing one-year-old host baby Yazid.

Earlier in the day I had explained to my host family that the pumpkin I was going to get would be for decoration, but that I’d also cook with it. So as I carved, I separated the pumpkin seeds and the pulp into bowls. I went out and found tagliatelle, sage, and parmesan. I had a plan. First I toasted the pumpkin seeds with salt and heady Moroccan cumin. Those turned out great, and, at that point, I dare say, everybody was snackin’. My next venture, though, was less successful.

I sautéed the pumpkin pulp in brown butter and added sage.

I tossed it with tagliatelle and topped it with shaved parmesan and some of the leftover pumpkin seeds. The part of the pumpkin I used, though definitely edible, is not the best part of the pumpkin to eat. It’s not smooth and sweet like the rest of the gourd, but I was under pressure to produce something that night, and I didn’t have time to roast the flesh. In the end, the pasta tasted good, but my host family was not into it. They turned their attention to a platter of croissants and noted that the cheese in the pasta had been too salty.

So this Halloween, eat your Jack-O’-Lantern wisely. Toast the seeds. Scoop out the pulp, but maybe steep it in custard to make ice cream or use it for pumpkin bread. And after the holiday, butcher the whole thing and roast it off. Pumpkin soup.

Risotto. Afghan-style sweet and sour pumpkin. There’s a lot you can do with a pumpkin. And honestly, eat the candle, too.

Do it; you won’t. O

ia

Arts

Ingredients 2 cups pumpkin seeds a glug of olive oil

about ¾ of a teaspoon ground cumin salt

Ian MscLellan

ian maclellan

Recipe:

Pan-Roasted Pumpkin Seeds with Cumin and Salt

1

Drizzle enough olive oil into a mediumhot pan to almost cover it. Add the cumin and let sizzle for a minute or so.

2

Add the pumpkin seeds and toss until puffed up a little and well-browned, about fifteen minutes. give a more involved recipe, but this * Iiscould honestly the one people (myself included)

3

Sprinkle with salt and serve hot or room temperature.

are most likely to make. If you’re interested in cooking other parts of your Jack-O’-Lantern but don’t know what to do, feel free to send me an e-mail. Luke.Pyenson@tufts.edu OCTOBER 24, 2011

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Arts

Arts

Public

art

Imagining the Future of

by Madeline Weisburg The Occupy movement has ushered in a new understanding of “the public.” An essential aspect of Occupy movement’s platform is the envisioning of a different kind of culture— one with engaged citizens and a renewed collective ideology. Part of that is the creation of public art and architecture that is communityoriented, accessible, beautiful, and imaginative.

Years before Occupants descended on Wall Street, one organization was already envisioning new age of public art. In 2009, a UCLA-based urban design think tank called CityLAB created WPA 2.0: Working Public Architecture, a design competition that promoted an ambitious reformation for America’s cities and infrastructure.

Though it was inspired by the Works Projects Administration, a gigantic New Deal public works agency that employed millions during the Great Depression, WPA 2.0 strove to meet contemporary needs. CityLAB asked designers and architects to think wildly and creatively about contemporary crises, challenging designers and architects to seek innovative and environmentally sound solutions and propose community-specific policy guidelines for America’s sprawling and energy-guzzling cities. One resulting project idea was a floating algae park that would capture carbon dioxide emissions, while also creating new public spaces. Another idea was to use post-industrial port sites as hubs for recycling out- of-commission ships and rigs, turning them into spaces for social programs. The competition inspired dozens of other visionary ideas like these, which prompts the question—how do we move from just imagining these designs to actually implementing them?

The recession is not spawning a contemporary New Deal, let alone a real-life WPA 2.0. The 2009 American Recovery and Rein22

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OCTOBER 24, 2011

Natasha Jessen-petersen

vestment Act (ARRA), which allocated $150 billion to infrastructure ($100 billion of that going to border control), failed to properly inject much-needed public funds into the development of a new socio-economic model. ARRA had so much potential that was totally unrealized.

If Obama is serious about stimulating the economy and creating as many jobs as possible, he should substantially increase federal funding for the arts and architecture. Including the WPA as part of the New Deal was crucially important response to economic crisis; it allowed art and buildings to work for and within communities.

With the current economic crisis, increasing public works spending for both public art and architecture would not only allow for visionary restructuring and designing of our cities through public works, but it would also create jobs for laborers, artists, designers, architects, and engineers.

Such spending has a lasting benefit—the WPA didn’t just decorate America; it also subsidized enormous leaps in graphic design, theater, urban planning, and fine art. It even started the careers of important artists like Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, and Mark Rothko, to name a few. Of course, there is also something to be said about the restorative potential of art to reinvigorate communities and restore confidence.

At the same time, comparisons to the WPA can only take us so far. We need to confront socio-political challenges within the framework of the cultural climate today, a climate that is hostile to the very idea of “the public.” Still, the question of finding a balance between public and private lies at the heart of the challenges we face.

Obviously, there are many roadblocks to creating public works and art spending, particularly those caused by partisan politics. Michelle Bachmann has predictably proposed to slash funding for the National Endowment for the Arts entirely. (You’re going to spend my tax money on someone else’s doodles?) The current economic and infrastructural crises provide a rare opportunity. If the Obama administration is to invest in the arts and infrastructure as a form of financial stimulus, then artists and designers of today have the chance to create a legacy of work that is truly important and meaningful. O

O

remains PI

N IO N

The Observer visits the Pompeii EXHIBIT at the Museum of Science eliza mills

T

he Museum of Science is not the most serious place in the world. It’s an interactive museum, noticeably geared towards kids and families, with plenty of things to “play” with in each exhibit. The most recent addition to the museum, however, is decidedly somber. Since the Pompeii exhibit left Pompeii, visitors have flocked to museums worldwide to see the famed body casts and the remains of an early-documented society. What makes the Pompeii exhibit so interesting, I think, is not the age of the artifacts (very old), or how tragic the story is. There are accounts of earlier civilizations in writing and art, and terrible things have happened to groups of people in history before and since Pompeii.

What’s really captivating about Pompeii is the humanity of the exhibit. In a time before photographs, very little about art was uncalculated; the vision of life that we see in paintings and sculpture is premeditated, intentional, and often static. In stark contrast to all things not spontaneous, there is Pompeii, a city buried in ash, a captured portrait of people living and dying in the most human way—how could you not want to see that? Here are people clutching their loved ones, needing and protecting each other, running away or trying to hide. This is your candid photograph, cemented

in life size plaster molds.

Photography has completely changed the way we look at history. Some visitors at the Pompeii exhibit took issue with the display of bodies; since we’ve had the ability to take a snapshot, there have been many documents of sad, upsetting moments.

The casts at the exhibit are displayed tactfully, but because they stand out more than photos, they draw attention to these types of concerns. We’ve seen societies shaken and shattered by war and violence; we’ve collected images of people braving natural disasters and disease. In the age of the digital photograph especially, there is very little left undocumented. If someone in the distant future wants to know what we looked like when we weren’t ready to be looked at, they’ll have a wealth of images to choose from: photos of the living, of the dead, of people struggling and triumphing all over the world. Pompeii is fascinating because no one was ready for it.

It’s more striking than most photographs because of its heaviness,.

There is more tangibility in the casts; they are three-dimensional, life-sized, statues that have taken on a real life. Go see this exhibit.

It’s haunting and at times a bit odd, but it’s the first snapshot of something—this is a story, a picture of humanity thrown into chaos in a way we can still recognize. O

OCTOBER 24, 2011

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The Vintage Advantage Ellen Mayer

To many, vintage shopping sounds like a daunting activity—a commitment of time and energy. It sounds like you’ll be faced with cluttered clothing racks, gratuitous tulle, outdated sizing, and judgmental hipster shop clerks, and like it might be easier to peruse the Urban Outfitters bargain basement instead.

Here are four local vintage shops that are worth a visit, despite it all. We’ve done half the work for you, so take the plunge.

Artifaktori

22 College Ave., Somerville, MA Just down the street from campus, Artifaktori is the obvious first choice for vintage shopping. You’d be surprised, however, how few Tufts students have ventured inside. Perfect for the inexperienced vintage shopper, the shop is small, clutter-free, and well organized, with very helpful staff. The store does have men’s clothing, but its highlights are the inexpensive costume jewelry collection and the women’s dresses and skirts. The latter are more expensive, but they are also the kinds of styles that Urban Outfitters imitates for double the price.

Raspberry Beret

1704 Massachusetts Ave., Cambridge, MA Every college girl this side of the Charles should know about Raspberry Beret.

It’s a consignment shop where you can find a designer skirt for $40 or a vintage dress for $24. There is usually only one vintage rack at the back of the store, but the selection is always wonderful.

Organized by era, the rack tends toward retro housedresses and velvet evening gowns. Right now, they also have an impressive collection of ’60s A-line plaid wool skirts. The store also puts together seasonal collections. Last winter, they had a rack devoted to vintage Christmas sweaters, and they’re currently displaying vintage Halloween costumes outside on the street.

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knar bedian

Monica Stadecker

Great Eastern Trading Company

49 River Street, Cambridge, MA Just a few blocks from Central Square, Eastern Trading Co. is less convenient but definitely worth the trek if you’re Halloween shopping. A messy and eclectic mix of vintage items, belly-dance accoutrements, and general costume gear, the store has something for everyone, if you can find it. With some rummaging, you’re likely to uncover vintage suede fringe skirts, beaded ’80s blouses, pretty coats, and cowboy button-downs. The store also has an extensive mask and hat collection.

Prices are all over the board, but tend to be college-budget appropriate; there’s even a $10-and-under rack. The owner, as eccentric as her wares, is friendly and helpful (no pretentious hipsters here).

Be warned that it takes persistence and a good eye to locate the gems among the clutter.

Oona’s

1210 Massachusetts Avenue, Cambridge, MA Situated right across the street from Harvard, Oona’s is your source for all things collegiate. Just make a beeline for the men’s section and bask in the glory of a beautiful vintage sweater collection.

Cardigans and crew necks, cable knits and sweater vests, cashmere and wool, they’ve honestly got it all, and everything is around $30. Their plaid shirt collection may be lacking, but they do have a whole rack dedicated to casual plaid wool jackets and another for professorial tweed. Merely a sideshow to the superior men’s collection, the women’s section does have some ’90s-era floral print dresses starting at $25 and a stunning rack of button-down wool coats, many for under $100. It’s the priciest on this list, but for vintage aficionados, Oona’s is a must visit; just try not to think about the preppy Harvard boys who inevitably shop there as well. O

off p am c

.

Drink.

m l r y . s , g e d l r n t g y s s t y

glass bowls of lemons, limes, and oranges, and the necessary tools to turn separate ingredients into one amazing cocktail.

Entering Drink is like falling down the rabbit’s hole. Every turn and twist sends you into a new adventure of alcoholic exploration. It’s almost like one of

Art byVivien Lim

M

ost places won’t serve this to you for a few very good reasons,” Will said to me as he delicately placed a raw egg yolk into a small shooter glass on the bar before me, sliding it along a spoon into the awaiting layered liqueurs. As instructed, I sipped on the egg whites and bitters that adorned the top of the drink, drank the next layer of brandy to steel myself, and, with one swift motion, took the remaining Curaçao and egg yolk into my mouth. There was no going back.

Time to drink.

Drink. So many connotations for such a small word. I drink orange juice in the morning, drink a glass of red wine at night, drink beer at frat parties, and drink shots at pregames, but the best Drink is the bar.

With no sign outdoors, no marker on the entrance, and only a tiny black sign at the bottom of the staircase to remind the regulars, Drink is a bar that is just as elusive as the Knickebein I was about to consume.

Winner of the 2010 Tales of the Cocktail, a national bar competition held annually in New Orleans, Drink has created a name for itself and is quickly becoming the goto bar for industry professionals visiting Boston.

As a part of Barbara Lynch’s family of incredible Boston restaurants, Drink breaks some of the most standard rules in the traditional bar handbook. Located beneath another one of Lynch’s restaurants, Sportello, Drink hearkens back to the days of speakeasies and secret retreats from a chaotic world. You descend the stairs and proceed through a door into a world where every aspect of the bar is coordinated to create the perfect cocktail experience. Solid black counters line the brick walls and the three U-shaped bars extend outward beneath the windows looking up onto the sidewalk above. Behind the bar lie not rows upon rows of various alcohols, but

“My friend and I looked at each other, and, without a single word, we accepted the challenge.” those choose-your-own-adventure books; you begin your evening’s experience by telling the bartender your favorite alcohols or flavors, and each of the knowledgeable bartenders is able to transform your unsure words into the perfect drink you never knew you loved. I’ve brought friends who have started by the night by requesting “something that tastes like rainbows and unicorns” and others who have simply asked for an Old Fashioned. After a few questions about whether you like things sweet or bitter, fruity or savory, stirred or shaken, Drink’s specialists are off to create a unique cocktail just for you.

This interaction between the bartender and the customer is truly what sets Drink apart from most bars and restaurants in Boston. Instead of fighting your way to the front of the bar only to yell out, “RUM AND COKE!” at the top of your lungs, you are treated like a friend who is stopping by to hang out for the evening.

us

...........

Will Vaughan

A simple folded white cloth and a glass of water mark your place at the bar while your bartender pulls the necessary ingredients from beneath the bar and begins to work his magic.

While I’ve been referring to the staff at Drink as bartenders, they would more aptly be described as mixologists. Creating drinks is as much an art form as it as a profession, and the mixologists at Drink demonstrate this well, perfecting the traditional cocktails such as Daiquiris or Manhattans with love, while experimenting at an individual level with each and every order. A well-made cocktail is delicious, but nothing beats the experience of sitting in a dimly lit underground Mecca of mixology, watching some of the best bartenders in the world create your personalized drink right before your very eyes.

One night, after starting with a delicious St. Germaine cocktail followed by a cucumber-infused gin drink, my friend and I were itching to try something a bit more adventurous. Before us, Will, the bartender, had just placed half an eggshell into a glass and was carefully sliding the yolk into it, saving it to add to the drink he was making. He added a few liqueurs to a shooter and then slid the egg in, placing it before the man sitting to our right.

Amazed, we looked on in disbelief as he sipped the drink and contemplated the yellow yolk staring back at him. The yolk won, and the man refused the rest of the drink.

My friend and I looked at each other, and, without a single word, we accepted the challenge. We would conquer the egg yolk drink and live with whatever consequences we would have to face. So there we were, eyes wide with a combination of fear and exhilaration, as we took the raw yolk into our mouths, broke it with our tongues, and drank. O OCTOBER 24, 2011 TUFTS OBSERVER OCTOBER 24, 2011 TUFTS OBSERVER 25

25

Prose

My Mother, the Herald of Destruction

arita Marg

va Krylo

by Christopher Blackett

P

aul looked out the side window of the cockpit of his Boeing B-29 Superfortress bomber. Below was the vast expanse of ocean. Clouds drifted below his plane, and he felt an indescribable excitement. A whole world was opening up underneath his bomber. Paul was religious—his mother Enola had brought him up to be a God fearing man who believed ardently in an afterlife. This ephemeral white ocean of aerosols was what he pictured Heaven to be like. He pressed his left hand against the glass pane, while with his right he continued to guide the bomber. This mission played out like a dream. The Wright brothers, the dispatching of the previous pilots of this bomber, the discovery of the atom, all unlikely events that led to this strange climax. There was a weapon in his plane’s cargo-hold the likes of which the world had never seen, and he—Paul—was in possession of it. It was his charge. Power seemed so familiar a friend now that he held it in his grasp.

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prose He heard a voice on his intercom ask, “How are you holding up Paul?”

“Fine,” he murmured into the radio.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Alright, alright. ETA twenty minutes.”

Paul looked down at the radar, and then at the map unfolded on his lap. They were so close. The apprehension was building up in his throat; he could feel it crawling up his intestinal track. He imagined himself shitting apprehension. It would probably be bilious. The minutes crawled by, until suddenly the city came into view, emerging from the fog.

“Target approaching in five minutes.”

“I’m ready,” Paul answered.

“This Little Boy’s going to make quite a splash, eh Paul?”

Paul didn’t answer. He looked down at his hand grasping the steering wheel. His knuckles were white from the tension. He turned to his co-pilot. They both stared at each other for what seemed like ages, and then the copilot said, “We’re almost there.” At Sunday school, his priest had told him that killing someone was a Cardinal Sin, the most malignant trespass of God’s laws. To snuff out life, he said, was a complete rejection of the values that Our Lord instilled in us. Yet the army priest had told him that sacrifices had to be made in the name of your country. His name was Father Patrick Donnelly. Patrick told him that if killing a thousand men could spare ten thousand men, then wasn’t it worth it? Wasn’t there a net gain of nine thousand lives? The math didn’t seem to make sense to Paul at the time. If you kill a thousand to save ten thousand, how many people do you kill? Trick question: None. You give birth to nine thousand lives, you hand the gift of life to nine thousand people. You’re Eve to nine thousand miracles.

Nobody dies, don’t you see? Paul understood the logic now.

“ Hiroshima was his Sodom—

Nagasaki his Gomorrah.

”

He understood the logic even as he stood on a precipice. He didn’t consider whether Father Patrick Donnelly might be wrong. He didn’t even consider whether him pulling a lever would annihilate a million lives. He only considered it his duty to pull the lever, unquestioning. Didn’t all the Office of War Information’s posters portray the Japanese as monsters? He’d heard stories of their treatment of captured soldiers, and didn’t that relegate them as sub-human? They had to be stamped out. Hiroshima was his Sodom—Nagasaki his Gomorrah. It was his duty and his destiny. Enola gave birth to him thirty years ago. She was giving birth to him anew today.

Father Patrick Donnelly once got piss drunk at the mess hall and started orating to the soldiers gathered around him: It was their Sermon on the Mount. Their Beatitudes were thus; “Killing is not a crime,” “If your country asks you to kill, you kill,” and “If God didn’t want you to kill, why’d he make it so easy?” Rifles were meant to be fired, bombs were destined to drop—else gravity would not assist in their descent. Their staff sergeant eventually ordered him to exit the building, and as two men dragged Father Donnelly out of the mess hall, he shouted one last testament: “If you don’t kill them, they’ll kill you.” It was a warning every soldier took to heart. Nobody wanted to return in a coffin. A funeral pall was not a comfort.

Paul stared down at the city below him. The buildings looked like ants—at this altitude you couldn’t even see humans, it was like nobody lived in the deserted metropolis below. Paul loved airplanes because of how omnipresent the height made him feel. He always imagined what it’d be like to bring a telescope up to his cockpit. He could peer down and secretly intrude upon people’s privacies. Watch them in the bathroom, or in bed with a mistress, or mugging someone in an alley. Only him and God privy to the furtive actions of the people below. Clandestine in their deception, or so they thought, never knowing that hovering above them, Paul Tibbets watched.

He remembered the first time he had ever shot skeet. His father told him to train his eye not to where the skeet started, or where they were in flight, but their trajectory. You do not look at a point, he said, you follow the motion. His father pulled, and Paul fired, hitting a disc. He smiled at his dad. That’s right, Paul, piece of cake once you know how it’s done. You do not scan the sky below. It’s not where your shadow is cast, but where it will be cast. You look through the scope, you take into account the Coriolis effect, and you measure the wind, the distance, the fallout, and the collateral. Paul learned from a young age that you never measure things from their starting point. Instead, you imagine the destruction at the outskirts, and move towards the epicenter. You picture yourself soaring through the chaos on the fringe, the buildings collapsing, the asphalt being thrown up. And then you move in a hundred meters, where the fires are beginning to rage, where burnt husks of bodies lie. Then you move in another thousand meters to where everything is vaporized and unrecognizable. You feel yourself being tugged towards the heart of the Destruction. It is a hotbed of activity, molecules heated up to exponential speeds. The air is impossible to breathe.

That is the epicenter. That is where Paul aims.

The voice on the intercom called his name. “Paul, we’re ready.”

Paul pulled the lever.

Enola screeched with vehement fury and let go her cargo. O

OCTOBER 24, 2011

TUFTS OBSERVER

27

POLICE BLOTTER Wednesday, October 5, 1:35 pm Police were dispatched to Cousen’s Gym, where a male student was having difficulty breathing. He told police that he suspected it was due to cocaine use on the previous night. He wasn’t sure how much he’d done. The student was sent to Lawrence Memorial Hospital. GTL: Gym, Tragedy, Lung Failure?!?

mitted to smoking dope. He saw it fit to let police know that he wasn’t addicted to pot—he just enjoyed it. I feel the same way about the shoestring fries at Hotung. (The spicy fries, on the other hand...)

Friday, October 7, 9:58 pm Medford police responded to a complaint that two people were on the roof of Hillsides Liquor. Upon investigation, it was found that the students were reading a book. They had unwittingly wandered onto the roof from the top of the Interfaith Center, without realizing that they were trespassing. Architecture works in mysterious ways...

SaturdaY, october 15, 1:30 am Police found a group of seven students gathered on the roof of Metcalf. One of the students gave police a phony name. He was reported to the Dean. The other six students were escorted off the roof.

Friday, October 7, 2:45 AM An officer noticed that a vehicle parked on Talbot Ave had an expired registration. The owner was notified, and warned not to drive the car without renewing the registration. Later that night, the same car was found in Carmichael lot.

Police, deducing the car had been driven, had it towed. Don’t test them.

Sunday, October 16, 2:55 am Officers responded to a call from 123 Packard Ave. A non-student, whom none of the brothers knew, had been trying to get into the house. Police escorted him off the property, but he came back. He was eventually arrested for assaulting an officer and resisting arrest.

Friday, October 8 Most nights, All over campus Police tended to a mar- Police responded to reports of excessive drinking. ijuana complaint in South Hall. They spoke to the offending resident, who ad-

28

TUFTS OBSERVER

OCTOBER 24, 2011

ASHLEY TURNER

TUFTS OBSERVER sEPTEMBER 26, 2011

O

volume CxxIIi / issue 1

inside the A conversation with Environmental President Monaco  rebranding at Tufts  (page 2)

(page 6)

Exploring Somerville’s best (page 24)