CAMPUS

February 9th, 2009

“Diversity” in Michigan Application Faces Criticism

The college admissions essay seems to be the part of a prospective student’s portfolio that creates the most anxiety. Message boards are devoted towards tackling the admissions essay and private tutors are hired to assist in crafting the perfect response that college admissions officers desire. 

Applicants to U-M, however, face a unique challenge in the admissions process. Because of the university’s commitment to sustaining diversity especially after the passage of a statewide affirmative action ban in 2006, applicants must complete an essay focused on their ability to bring diversity to the U-M campus.

June 5th, 2008

Mozart in English II: Don Giovanni and The Abduction from the Seraglio

Mozart: Don Giovanni
Andrew Shore, Clive Bayley, Dean Robinson, Garry Magee, Barry Banks, Vivian Tierney, Mary Plazas, Majella Cullagh

Philharmonia Orchestra, Geoffrey Mitchell Choir/David Parry

Chandos 3057, 3 CDs, 2 hours, 38 minutes
($25.99 on ArkivMusic.com: Click here to buy this CD)

Mozart: The Abduction from Seraglio

Jenifer Eddy, Mattiwilda Dobbs, Nicolai Gedda, John Fryatt, Noel Magnin, David Kelsey

Ambrosian Singers, Bath Festival Orchestra/Yehudi Menuhin

Chandos 3081, 2 CDs, 2 hours, 13 minutes
($25.99 on ArkivMusic.com: Click here to buy this CD)

Some three years ago, I reviewed two other operas by Mozart in Chandos’ “Opera in English” series
and found them to be very good indeed. I am no less enthusiastic about these entries in this valuable series.

Maestro David Parry gives us the original “Prague” version of Don Giovanni , which does not include two arias that Mozart composed for the Vienna production: Ottavio’s “Dalla sua pace” and Elvira’s “Mi Tradi.” Many listeners will miss these pieces (which are part of the standard hybrid version of the opera typically presented today), but the dramatic flow of the opera is strengthened by their omission.

The English translation is generally very fine, though for some reason, the original words of the libretto are sometimes gratuitously altered, for no apparent reason and often to the detriment of the genius of Mozart and Lorenzo da Ponte’s original. For example, in the cemetery scene, when Giovanni recounts his amorous encounter with one of Leporello’s girlfriends, the angry servant cries out, “I’d kill you if she had been my wife!” Giovanni responds sarcastically: “What a warning!” In the original, the exchange (translated more faithfully into English) goes like this:

Leporello: “And suppose the lady had been my wife?”

Giovanni (laughing): “Even better!”

Why Chandos and translator Amanda Holden undermined the cleverness of the original libretto here is puzzling. Despite this intermittent annoyance, this Giovanni is consistently enjoyable. Parry’s cast is strong, though none of the singers would be a first choice in their roles. Still, they work well as a team, acting their parts as well as singing them.

The surprise for me was Yehudi Menuhin’s outstanding 1967 recording of Mozart’s delightful Abduction from the Seraglio. The Polish conductor brings a light touch to this sunny opera, and the cast here, led by the famous tenor Nicolai Gedda, is absolutely first-rate. Mozart’s German singspiels work especially well in English, and here the translation is quite faithful to the original libretto. The sound is outstanding. This is a triumph in every way and takes its place among the great recording of this work.

 
Grade:Don Giovanni

Performance: B+

Sound: A

Grade:The Abduction from the Seraglio

Performance: A+

Sound: A

 

Stephen Klugewicz is the former Editor of CAMPUS Magazine Online.

May 5th, 2008

Mozart: Sonate all’Epistola

Mozart: Sonate all’Epistola

The London Baroque & Charles Medlam
Harmonia Mundi: B0012OR006

 

($13.99 on ArkivMusic.com: Click here to buy this CD)

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While this album is relatively short—clocking in at just under 50 minutes—it is filled with 14 of some of Mozart’s most enjoyable works. These brief, one-movement chamber sonatas—written for performance in church between the readings of the day’s epistle and Gospel—represent a delightful cross-section of Mozart’s caprice, playfulness, and overall sense of musical humor.

Most of these sonatas are scored primarily for two violins, cello and organ—the instrumentation of the standard baroque sonata di chiesa, or church trio sonata, from which these works were derived. The London Baroque performs these works with richness and sensitivity on a full lineup of period instruments. They are able to create a robust classical-period sound with no loss of intensity, imagination or virtuosity, using authentic instruments and performance practices. In the classical music world today, concentration on historically informed performance is often limited to the music of the baroque period. As such, it is refreshing to see groups like the London Baroque—as well as the Academy of Ancient Music, the English Baroque Soloists and Europa Galante, for example—apply historical authenticity in both practice and performance to music of later time periods.

The album opens with the Sonata in B flat (K212). Immediately, it is clear that the London Baroque is truly professional. Balance and phrasing is perfect—light and delicate when called for, but tastefully brash in the tongue-in-cheek manner for which Mozart was famous. Although the instrumentation is similar to the baroque trio sonata, unlike that genre, these sonatas call for a more involved conversation among the four performers. The imitative melody between the two violins in the Sonata in B flat (K68) are juxtaposed nicely with the lines of the cello and organ, which resonate perfectly in the recording space.

The humorous musical dialogue between the violin and cello in the Sonata in F (K224) is enriched by the superb writing in the second violin line, and the London Baroque delivers the entire package with effortless virtuosity. The Sonata in C (K328) features the organ more prominently than most of the other sonatas, and the line is given a full treatment without negatively impacting the ensemble’s overall balance. Mozart’s use of descending suspensions in the organ line amidst the interweaving of the two violins creates a beautiful sonority, but particularly from 18th century instruments.

The Sonata in D (K144) is arguably one of the more symphonic-sounding of these works. All of these sonatas could potentially be performed with larger forces without losing historical authenticity, but the London Baroque’s choice to perform one-on-a-part creates an intimate listening experience and really allows for the dialogue among the instrument lines to flourish.

Overall, Mozart’s Sonate all’Epistola is a fantastic collection of brief chamber works that nicely highlights his mastery of the classical chamber style. The London Baroque perform these works flawlessly and effortlessly, and their decisions on balance and phrasing create a truly enjoyable—not to mention historically accurate—musical experience. This is, perhaps, Mozart at his most enjoyable.

Grade

Performance: A

Sound: A

Nick Fitzgerald is the Editor in Chief of The Virginia Informer Online, the Collegiate Network member publication at The College of William and Mary.

May 1st, 2008

May Day: The Most Celebrated Day of the Year

Workers of the World won’t be the only ones uniting today, May Day. While the most vocal celebrants, naturally, garner the bulk of the media attention May 1, May Day as it’s known, is perhaps the most uniquely celebrated holiday on earth.

“Unique” because, unlike Christmas, or Ramadan, which are celebrated and observed, respectively, and in unison, by billions of faith-keepers worldwide, May Day means different things to different people. A Brit and a Mexican and a Vietnamese all relate to the day differently.

The English are perhaps the least sentimental – May Day is a banking holiday – but they have plenty to celebrate. On May 1, 1707, 299 years ago exactly, the Kingdom of Great Britain became the United Kingdom, as Scotland was annexed into England.

France and Germany celebrate the holiday, as well as German youth in rural areas.

And across the Communist and post-Communist world – not to mention in the hearts and minds of socialists worldwide – May Day is International Worker’s Day, a day of remembrance for those killed (and, according to sympathizers, those unfairly punished for the deaths of several Chicago Police officers trying to break up the demonstration) in the Haymarket Affair in Chicago in 1886, and indeed for every worker “exploited” under capitalism. Even countries like the increasingly-capitalistic Vietnam still hold the day in high regard. South of the border May 1 is Labor Day; we keep ours in the second half of the year for the sake of distinctions – recognizing worker contributions to America is different than agitating for a Marxist Worker’s Paradise.

In 1971 May Day seeped into America as anti-war demonstrators marched on the Nixon White House to “shut the government down” for a day in their protestations against the Vietnam War (except the protest happened on May 3, a Monday, rather than May 1, which would have been a Saturday. 1971, of course, was in the time before the 24/7 news cycle, and weekend coverage would’ve been a relative wasted effort).

TIME Magazine of May 10, 1971 recalled the effort: “Determined to bring the Government to a halt for at least one day, they are bent on carrying out a meticulous plan that is a model of guerrilla ingenuity. The theme: stop the blood and you stop the heart. Stop the heart and the “monster” — the war machine — dies. The means: block the city’s bridges and roads with thousands of protesters.”

It didn’t work. Adding injury to insult, not only did the government not shut down, but it worked effectively enough to lock up 7,000 conspirators hoping to disrupt “business as usual.”

In America, a testament to the diverse and sundry groups that compose our people May Day takes on multiple meanings. It is Holocaust Remembrance Day, to be solemnly recognized by all but occupying a special currency with Jews.

It is a day for Patriotism, at least it has been since 1958, when President Eisenhower, hoping to challenge the socialist tenor of May Day, designated it as Loyalty Day.

But, just as American flags appeared on car antennas and buildings after the 9/11 attacks and disappeared once the coast was deemed clear, Loyalty Day just doesn’t mean as much to people when there’s no bad guys on the other side to inspire disloyalty. Though Europeans visiting America are routinely aghast at the flamboyance of American patriotism, a closer look reveals that American mass patriotism is, for the most part, a very reactive sort, that emerges in the face of threats and retreats under the calm of security. You might be more likely to find an American who’ll fly the flag in their office (I do) than a Spaniard or a German or a Frenchman who would do the same with their respective flags, but it still takes tragedy to move the spirits of most of us to overt acts of patriotism.

After the Soviet Union entered the ash heap of history, so, too, did the need to proclaim one’s self capital-l Loyal, let alone dedicate an entire day to it. Besides, with 9/11 designated as Patriots Day – a tradition that hopefully won’t go away no matter how calm things may seem – and the last Monday in May as Memorial Day, Loyalty Day occupied no unique novelty.

In 2008 May Day is also the National Day of Prayer. But as a spokesperson for the National Day of Prayer organization explained, the link is coincidental. “The National Day of Prayer is on the first Thursday in May,” she said, tersely, rejecting its falling this year on May Day as pure – and, frankly, not all that deep or meaningful – chance. Still, it’s better to “react” to the calendar than to wear your patriotism on your sleeve, or not, based on how unsafe or safe the nation is perceived to be.

And the altmodisch (or, just plain “old”) among us still regard May Day as the day of blooming romances. On May 1, tradition dictates, a girl drops off a basket of flowers at the door of the man she admires. Then she rings the doorbell and runs away. The man receiving the flower basket is to give chase and, upon catching his admirer, show his appreciation with a big, wet kiss.
As flower shop owner Karen Medlin explained to Kansas State Collegian reporter Eric Brown for his 2007 story on the old tradition: “That’s why you didn’t always run very fast if you were taking one to a cute boy’s house. But honestly, it’s kind of a tradition that has faded. It was something I always enjoyed as a child, but I don’t think kids these days, or even adults for that matter, get into it as much.”

Ahh. Just as well. With so much to celebrate and remember and protest on May Day, who has the time for petty romances anyway?

James David Dickson is the Collegiate Network Fellow at The Detroit News.

April 30th, 2008

Juno: Simply and Subtly Pro-Life

If you haven’t seen Juno yet and think it’s just another semi-ridiculous comedy along the lines of Napoleon Dynamite or Superbad (as I did), then you will be immensely surprised. Not only does Juno offer a refreshingly realistic, human approach to the nightmare of teen pregnancy, but it also succeeds in finding various hilarious aspects of such a serious predicament.

In discussing whether she should have a “closed” or “open” adoption, for example, Juno states her opinion rather emphatically: “Wait… No! I mean, can’t we just, like, kick this old school? Like, I have the baby, put it in a basket and send it your way, like, Moses and the reeds?” It was also a relief to find that Juno does not inspire intense feelings of depression about babies in general, or invoke vows never to procreate, which seems to be the effect of many pregnancy films (like Riding in Cars With Boys, for example, in which the movie’s audience basically watches the teen mother’s life become progressively hopeless and dysfunctional for 90 minutes).

Rather, Juno strikes an incredibly sensitive balance between struggle and reward, serious and sincere, without ever being hokey or over-simplified. Best of all, the movie has a securely pro-life message — non-preachy but nonetheless compelling, Juno will definitely have audiences questioning what feminists have historically championed as the “necessity” of abortion.

Perhaps Juno’s most provocative pro-life element is the sixteen-year-old’s reaction to her pregnancy. Initially shocked and horrified, Juno takes three pregnancy tests before she can accept the truth and quickly decides to abort. Not surprisingly, her primary reason for calling the local women’s clinic is shame; the ridicule of her peers, the reproach of her parents, and the convenience of abortion combine to make the procedure an extremely attractive proposition. Although the audience can sense a certain reluctance on Juno’s part, she goes ahead to the clinic because it is her only hope of continuing her worry-free adolescent life; abortion is fast, accessible, and final, qualities that make it exceptionally easy to end a life without thinking twice.

Juno, however, does think twice, and it is a combination of being told that her baby already has fingernails and being disgusted by the clinic itself that drives her to reconsider. Realizing that the fetus already has such tiny details lends a real, tangible humanity to it, and the nonchalant, matter-of-fact feel of the abortion clinic sends her running from it, convinced that there is something wrong with the whole affair. Specifically, the receptionist’s monotone suggestion that Juno take a free scented condom along with her medical forms, her refusal to call the unborn child a baby, and the general business-like atmosphere in a place of death is something that Juno intuitively does not want to be a part of—so she leaves.

Clearly, the movie’s clinic is a reference to Planned Parenthood, but the issue of abortion is never politicized or put in a larger moral context; Juno’s reaction speaks for itself, and her intuitive refusal to go through with the process speaks more loudly than any pointed targeting could. This is perhaps why Juno has been such a hugely successful film — it has raked in more than $120,000,000, according to The New York Observer, and it won Best Original Screenplay at the Oscars.

However, while one would assume that such raving success would land Juno a good deal of critical acclaim and attention in the film world, a different abortion-themed movie is, in fact, this year’s darling. It is called 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, and it recounts the difficult and dangerous process of aborting a pregnancy in 1987 Communist Romania, under the brutal Ceausescu dictatorship.

Critics love it because it apparently “stuns the soul” (The Detroit News), and in their swooning admiration they have given the movie nearly every existing film award; it won three different awards at Cannes, Best Film at the 2007 European Film Awards, Best Foreign Language Film from the LA Film Critics Association, and Best Film of 2007 from the Sight and Sound Critics Poll, just to name a few (ifcfilms.com). For all that 4 Months is “a searing film, shot…in long, unbroken takes that wrap around you like a vise” (Scott Foundas, LA Weekly), however, it has only opened in two theatres nationwide (Jill Stanek column, wnd.com) and has been snubbed by the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences — the Oscars — who chose to nominate it for Best Foreign Film instead of Best Film, like Juno.

Critics are angry, bewildered, and hurt that their hard-core, provocative “power house” (Kenneth Turan, LA Times) has been snubbed by average moviegoers, normal people who would somehow prefer a funny film about growing up to a melodramatic, angst-ridden indy brainchild whose main purpose is so obviously to promote legal abortion — late-term ones, no less.

And therein lies the difference — Juno has been so much more successful in the mainstream because it does not seek to promote, decry, or convince. It is an intensely personal story, so wrapped around Juno’s specific circumstance and experience that the pro-life message is subtly, quietly ingrained as an afterthought.

Evidently, a battle of ideology is currently raging in the film world, one that most of Juno’s fans are not particularly interested in fighting. They just saw the movie and were touched by something in it — the only thing Juno really convinces us of is that Michael Cera really should try to avoid short shorts.
Beyond that, the movie leaves the politicizing to the politicians, offering one humble example of how and why abortion is not the only solution to teen pregnancy.

Yes, Juno is made fun of at school, doesn’t like the way her body changes, and has to deal with the emotions of giving up a child — but after nine months, it’s all over, and she has survived.

This message — that you don’t have to kill to survive — is what gives Juno such compelling substance behind its humor, and whether or not Hollywood or Cannes agree, everyone else seems to like it just fine.

Olivia Blanchard is a Staff Writer for The Carolina Review, a Collegiate Network member publication at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. This article was originally featured in the April 2008 issue of The Carolina Review.

April 24th, 2008

The Cost of Protests: Tree-Sitting and Marine Bashing at Berkeley

For many of the protests taking place on and around campus, it’s time to see the writing on the wall. While their aims may be genuine, the protestors have cost both the city and the university at a time when neither Berkeley nor UC can afford these publicity stunts. And the chances for these demonstrations to succeed are slim, to say the least. The UC Regents will not budge on the BP deal, which brings valuable funds to our university. The new stadium and athletic center will be built. And the Marines, if anybody, will never retreat from Berkeley.

In response to the Marine protest, Move America Forward, a conservative activist group, is now running television ads lambasting Berkeley by name. Is this what Mayor Bates and Code Pink wanted? Probably not, but their stubbornness and refusal to grant the Marines their rights to recruit from the best public university in the country have cast shame upon themselves and, by extension, our city and university. According to the Contra Costa Times, the city of Berkeley spent $93,500 on overtime police officers at the recent protests.

Another protest erupted, as an individual named “Fresh” climbed into the tree across Dwinelle Hall. Refusing to leave, the police barricaded him in with a fence, and posted two officers and a squad car on him every hour until he came down. Most people probably didn’t even know why he was up there. Did he even know? His laundry list of complaints included the war in Iraq, Native American remains, and the UC Regents. For approximately two weeks, he berated passers-by, making noise, not change. The financial costs of keeping him and passers-by safe are at press time unclear.

The tree-sitters still up by Memorial Stadium are no better. The San Francisco Chronicle reported that $367,000 has been spent by UC Berkeley to protect the protestors with fences and guards. That, by the way, is more than three full-ride scholarships to Berkeley. And this report came out three months ago in December 2007. It’s anybody’s guess how much it is now. So it’s acceptable to protest against education budget cuts, but squandering three full rides is no big deal. Is that progressivism in action?

I would expect most students to share in my indignation. But, as one friend recently quipped, the major political movement on campus is apathy – not progressivism or conservativism. That is evident in distribution of The Daily Californian, the low turnout in campus elections, and in the very demonstrations draining our financial resources. Rest assured once the city and campus have to cover the costs with a tax or fee increase, you’ll see the creation of a bipartisan coalition railing against “greed” and “wasteful spending”. Couldn’t we nip this in the bud now, and avoid having to go through this later?

To be fair, UC Berkeley has a rich history of free speech and of broaching controversial ideas. This is true on the right (Islamo-fascism Awareness Week) and on the left (the three aforementioned demonstrations). Such a legacy shouldn’t change, and will not change after these protestors cease their activities. But these protests bring little but ridicule to our community. Where we were a city of tolerance and ideas, we are now a city of obnoxious tree sitters and of contemptuous Marine-bashers.

A major “leadership deficit” is also at play here. Our public officials are failing to serve our interests as citizens and students. Major Bates and Chancellor Birgeneau have been remarkably quiet about the costs of these demonstrations, the former probably on account of his tacit approval of Code Pink’s actions. Nevertheless, their silence on this issue is deafening, given how loudly they complain about Governor Schwarzenegger’s recent budget cuts, or about reductions in federal assistance to local communities.

Of course $400,000 and a 10% across the board cut are on completely different financial
scales, but cutting costs should be a priority for both men. The ASUC raised little attention to the subject, squabbling over Fresh’s motives instead of protesting against the financial strain he was putting on the campus. Alameda County Superior Court Judge Barbara Miller was expected to make a ruling on the Memorial Stadium two months ago.

Lambasting Berkeley’s Marines was offensive, considering their selfless service to their country. And draining valuable funds to protect protestors is harmful to all of us. Cal’s “progressive” community needs to organize their demonstrations in a more respectful and organized manner, so that Berkeley’s free speech legacy lives on in a way that benefits, not harms, its intended audience.

Thomas D. Owens was a Staff Writer for The California Patriot, the Collegiate Network member publication at University of California Berkeley. This article originally appeared in the April 2008 issue of The Patriot.

March 24th, 2008

There Will Be Blood: A Review of the Oscar-Nominated Film

There Will Be Blood, directed by Paul Thomas Anderson and starring Daniel Day-Lewis, depicts the life of an oil man. Daniel Plainview, Day-Lewis’ character, claims to be a “family man” and runs a family oil-drilling business with his young boy, H.W. Plainview strikes rich when a young man by the name of Paul Sunday, played by Paul Dano, tells Plainview of the Sunday Farm, under which lies an ocean of oil.

The first 15 to 20 minutes of the film progress with no dialogue, yet we see an oil man coming to life. Although the film runs a bit slowly at times, Day-Lewis’ phenomenal acting keeps the audience captivated. Right from the start of the film, Day-Lewis steps into the role of Daniel Plainview, making the two indistinguishable. In the beginning, he really makes the audience believe that he is, indeed, a family man.

Plainview and his son make their way to the Sunday ranch, meeting the entire family, including another young man named Eli Sunday, also played by Paul Dano. Now, whether Paul and Eli Sunday are twin brothers or there is some other issue in Eli’s psyche is left to the viewer’s interpretation, for as the movie progresses, either option remains plausible.

Dano’s character, Eli, plays the town priest, bent on renovating his Church no matter what it takes. Previously known for his role in Little Miss Sunshine, Dano plays a much different role in this film. Dano’s role in There Will Be Blood, for one, is a speaking role, and as an overzealous priest, he would never be seen wearing those quirky t-shirts that read “Jesus Was Wrong” like his Little Miss Sunshine character. In this film, Dano’s acting is superb, but when he shares the screen with Day-Lewis, he doesn’t stand a chance. In his own scenes he steals the spotlight, his character preaching the Bible while simultaneously looking out for only his own ambitions.

As the story progresses, Day-Lewis’ character begins to unravel, and the audience starts to see Plainview’s true persona beneath his “family man” cover. When a drilling accident causes his son to lose his hearing, Plainview’s only thoughts are, “There’s a whole ocean of oil under our feet! No one can get at it except for me.” And for someone who once seemed to care so much for his son, it soon becomes evident that the boy was merely a cute face used for selling the whole “family man” image. It does seem, possibly, that deep down, Plainview does care about family, and Day-Lewis depicts these contrasting feelings marvelously.

In a later scene, Plainview’s supposed half-brother shows up at the Sunday Farm, introducing himself for the first time. As the two become closer, Plainview admits to his brother that he hates most people, adding “There are times when I look at people when I see nothing worth liking. I want to earn enough money that I can get away from everyone … I see the worst in people.”

Plainview’s greed and ruthless ambition grows exponentially as the story goes on, paralleled by Eli’s greed and shamelessness in his church. Anderson’s direction excellently tells the story of this merciless oil man living a lie beneath the cover of family, consisting merely of a son whom he eventually alienates. And, as promised in the title, there will be blood.

The only qualms with this movie are that it drags on at certain points. However, Day-Lewis keeps the audience engaged in every scene he is in, and the story is so unique that one cannot possibly predict how everything will play out.

Nominated for eight Oscars, the film is highly acclaimed, so it is definitely worth seeing, if only to familiarize yourself with this year’s Oscar nominees.

Deena Elgenaidi is Senior Editor for the Collegiate Network publication, The Villanova Times. This article originally appeared in the February 20, 2008 issue of The Times.

March 20th, 2008

Thinking Inside the Box: Focus the Nation Program was Indoctrination

Bucknell’s admissions literature never mentions anything about thought control. Yet, with the recent Focus the Nation teach-in, the University is doing just that – teaching us what to think, rather than how to think. Bucknell is straying from its liberal origins.

Last month’s teach-in was the University’s latest attempt to force its own opinions upon students. For over a month, Bucknell was inundated with emails, flyers, speeches, and “chalk talk” touting this nationwide event against global climate change.

Hailed as an opportunity to discuss solutions to global warming, the teach-in was nothing more than an excuse for professors and the University to impose their views on climate change upon the student body.

A true liberal arts education has always been held as the means to cultivate intellect and spread new ideas. By exposing students to numerous viewpoints and ideas, the liberal education – in the traditional sense – ensures that students become well-informed, critical thinkers.

However, instead of fostering debate and exposing students to numerous viewpoints on the issue, the University clearly laid out its position and forced it on students in an unequivocally illiberal fashion.

At Bucknell and other colleges across the country, Focus the Nation was just another opportunity to even more freely inculcate the student population. For an entire day, professors expounded on the need to “do something” about global warming. Only unrealistic solutions and moral obligations were the topics of the day.

Instead of serving as a day of lively, diverse debate, the Focus the Nation teach-in only served as another dismal reminder of the disappearance of true debate on college campuses.

If the purpose of a liberal arts institution is to “liberate” students’ minds and expose them to different ideas, then all facets of the global climate change debate should have been discussed. A presentation of various beliefs allows people to form their own opinions on the issue and truly understand the complexity of the debate. Professors only addressed the side of the debate they believed to be relevant and argued for a specific position, effectively indoctrinating Bucknell students.

A political call to action, the teach-in was a pretense, allowing professors and administrators to impose a dogma upon Bucknellians and students across the country. The purpose of a liberal arts university is not to motivate students for a particular end.

The nature or theme of the teach-in is irrelevant. Teach-ins on any subject, such as the immorality of abortion, the merits of universal health care, or the need to stay in Iraq should not be acceptable in the university environment.

Such a blatant display of issue advocacy in a so-called liberal arts university is reprehensible. The shameless political lobbying of our University and some of our professors does not belong in any institution of higher education, much less a liberal arts university. Rather, Bucknell should be fostering critical thought within its student population.

Hosting such a teach-in is contrary to the stated liberal purpose of our University. College should be about learning how to think, not what to think. Then, through the skills we have learned, we should be able to form our own opinions on issues, rather than having them impressed upon us. It is the simple fact that a university is doing all that it can to persuade students to think a certain way that is dangerous.

Supposedly bastions of free thought and diverse discourse, universities across the country – including ours – are instead becoming strongholds of close-mindedness and insular visions. Rather than encouraging the development of multiple opinions in the marketplace of ideas, Bucknell is jeopardizing its academic integrity by adhering to prescribed orthodoxies that exclude certain viewpoints and promote a particular agenda. The University has effectively forced its students to stop thinking outside of the box.

Hosting the Focus the Nation teach-in was antithetical to the declared liberal nature of Bucknell. More dangerously, it means the University has pronounced an end to the debate over climate change. Such dogmatic thinking is a threat to freedom of opinion.

Sarah Schubert is the former Editor in Chief of the Collegiate Network member publication, The Counterweight, at Bucknell University. This article was originally featured in the February 19, 2008 issue of The Counterweight.

March 12th, 2008

Documentary on Iraq ‘Truth’ Reveals Bias: A Review of The Ground Truth

Patricia Foulkrod’s The Ground Truth tells the story of the Iraq War veteran’s recruitment, training, combat experience, and return home through the testament of several former soldiers, sailors, and Marines who have experienced many forms of physical or psychological injury while in Iraq. The film was shown on February 19 as the inaugural presentation of the Iraq War Series at Vanderbilt University. The month and a half-long series is sponsored by the Office of the Dean of Students, Project Dialogue, and the University Lectures Committee, with support from the Film Studies program, the Philosophy department, Sarratt Art Studios, Vanderbilt Speakers Committee, and Vanderbilt Student Communications (this paper’s parent corporation).
Organized by David Wood, Centennial Professor of Philosophy, and Joel Logiudice, director of the Office of Arts and Creative Engagement for the Dean of Students, the series includes several films, a lecture, and panel discussions about the war in Iraq. According to Wood, the series’ purpose “is to bring home the reality and true cost of war by portrayals from many different angles – that of soldiers, their families, Iraqi citizens, corporate profiteers and the media.”

Foulkrod’s documentary attempts to present the entire scope of the war veteran’s experience by including interviews with over fifteen different veterans or veterans’ family members as they recount their involvement in the Iraq War. The film does an excellent job at moving chronologically through the experience, beginning with the recruitment and ending with the lives and activities of soldiers after they return home. Snippets of interview from each person tell the story without any narration, an effective style that adds authenticity to the complex narrative.

The audience hears the pre-war stories of some of the veterans, including those of Robert Acosta, who joined the Army as alternative to the gang-oriented lifestyle of his Southern California neighborhood, and Paul Rieckhoff, a third-generation soldier who joined the Army Reserves and volunteered for active duty on the eve of the invasion. These early experiences with the military are presented in a context of naiveté; we hear one veteran explain how his recruiter assured him that he would “definitely” not be involved in combat, and other accounts support the claim that recruiters downplayed the threat of war while stressing the “cool” aspects of the military. The film frames recruitment as an experience of half-truths that gloss over the strife of war, of which we are expected to hear about soon enough.

Before this, however, Foulkrod examines the intensive training the veterans underwent. This segment provides the bulk of the context for the rest of the film. The interviews focus on the intensity and rigor of basic combat training, and we hear about the psychological aspect of the reforming of soldiers into killing machines. With varying degrees of shamefulness, the veterans reveal some details about the indoctrination that occurred during basic training, and we are shown footage of a recruit bayoneting a dummy during training as a veteran recounts with little effort a chant learned in training imploring soldiers to kill Arabs. The intended effect is clearly to negatively present combat training deployed in Iraq as a reconstruction of the mind of the soldier into that of a trained killer.

This smoothly segues into a new narrative about the war itself, and we can understand the ease of the transition from boot camp to the battlefield. The veterans explain how their training put them in a position to perform, in their words, atrocious acts of violence. We are subjected to a particularly emotional story from one soldier about an Iraqi woman who is shot and killed as she approaches a group of Army vehicles. The woman had been told repeatedly to stop, and when she reached into her clothing for what could have been a weapon, the soldiers opened fire. The veteran tells, in what is clearly intended to be the emotional high point of the movie, how the woman was not pulling out a gun but actually a white flag of surrender.

At this point, the film delves into two major post-war issues: the injuries of the interviewed veterans and those veterans’ subsequent forays into anti-war activism. Foulkrod’s underlying agenda rears its ugly head as we are made to sympathize further with already-sympathetic individuals. Through strategic camerawork, she reveals that many of the veterans have physical injuries that the interview shots have obscured, from missing limbs to horrible skin burns that would make the hardest of hearts soften. At the same time, the veiled anti-war statements made by the veterans throughout the movie (“I started to think, what are we doing here?”) become blatant. One minute, Robert Acosta moves us while speaking about losing his left leg, and the next, former soldier and member of Iraq Veterans Against the War Perry O’Brian waxes academic about the meaninglessness of the war.

The revelation that nearly every veteran interviewed for the film is involved with anti-war groups forces us to reevaluate the previous hour or so of footage and commentary. In retrospect, much of the film depends on the viewer’s ability to sympathize with the soldiers early on so that the peace message shared by the select group of veterans and (presumably) the director becomes easier to digest. To a degree, the sly tactic is effective in the confines of the film. There are no scenes of peacenik rallies or the abhorrent Code Pink-style demonstrations that undoubtedly paint the American anti-war movement as narcissistic and a far cry from its glory days during Vietnam. Instead, we hear a seemingly tempered argument from the people at the front lines of the war, men and a few women who have seen the war, have returned, and are using their right to free speech to speak out against it. The majority of the film uses the full experience narrative as a tool to legitimize these veterans and, by proxy, their message. These aren’t far-off observers sitting in comfortable offices or classrooms determining their opinions on the war from media coverage, Foulkrod means for us to think; these people are the real deal, full-blown soldiers with the scars, physical and emotional, to prove it.

But herein lies the ultimate flaw of the film. Just as Foulkrod relies on our emotional response to pass along her message, the emotions of the veterans focused on in the movie appear to influence their anti-war sentiments. A soldier watches men of his unit kill a civilian they mistakenly believed to be a threat, and he suddenly realizes that war is wrong and he is a murdering tool of the looming military-industrial complex. It sounds great for the script of a Hollywood drama, but the intellectual rationale (assuming there is one) for that soldier’s dissent is exchanged for a cheapened appeal to emotion. This ultimately leaves the thoughtful viewer feeling used by the director’s clever use of camerawork and interview clips.

Ultimately, The Ground Truth works as a documentary in that in conveys an agenda through the words and images of some apparently reputable sources. Nevertheless, the blatant omission of any veteran with an opposite view of the war compels us to question the honesty of Foulkrod’s presentation. We hear from these veterans only after they have begun their activism; their positions as anti-war activists means we must take their claims of atrocious and immoral actions by American servicemen on faith. The preponderance of contrasting testimonial evidence from both veterans and soldiers still on the ground (opinions that are never addressed in the film) should cause us to not take these veterans with an agenda at face value.

Mike Warren is Associate Editor of the Collegiate Network publication, The Vanderbilt Torch. This article was originally featured in the March 2008 issue of The Torch.