Developing Countries, Developing Problems
Posted in: INTERNATIONAL, INTERNATIONAL, Issues Abroad | Comments (0)
By Benjamin Tennenbaum, courtesy of the University of Chicago Undergraduate Law Review
Hunger is no longer the sole nutritional problem facing the developing world. 1996 marked a pivotal year for the World Food Programme (WFP): it was the last year when more than seven million tons of food aid was donated by the Programme for non-emergency related aid. 2006 was the last year more than one million tons of related aid was donated and delivered. The numbers keep falling—year after year less food aid is donated and distributed by the WFP to people who need it, even as the economic crisis swells the ranks of the hungry.
Yet since 1980 a historically rich-world phenomenon—obesity—has reared its ugly head in nations previously considered too poor for obesity to be a problem. It isn’t only in consumption that developing countries are now mirroring the developed. Heart disease, diabetes, and other chronic diseases that more typical middle-aged Westerners develop are spreading throughout the developing world as fortunes rise. Developing countries are experiencing developed-world problems.
The World Health Organization (WHO) regards health as “a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.” Health is under attack, but the international community is doing too little to bulwark health because weak international interests are continually trumped by national ones.
Many countries around the world have limited access to cheap, affordable, healthy, and nutritious food. The European Commission in a September, 2011 report on trade raises fears over heightened protectionism among G-20 members, and agricultural products are no exception. In 2011 Ukraine raised export duties on grains, between 9 and 14 percent increases; Algeria banned exporting cereals like wheat and barley and flour; Kazakhstan banned the export of buckwheat; the Russian Federation tightened grain exports in the wake of a devastating drought. In developing regions like Central Asia or Sub-Saharan Africa, where regional agricultural net producers buttress net importers, insular exportation policies greatly harm those reliant on cheap imports. There are no export restrictions on the Twinkie and many other less-than-essential foodstuffs. Instead of fostering healthy trade and doing away with trade restrictions, policies like these make it more difficult to purchase healthy and cheap food. As a consequence, the WFP and other global assistance funds donate less and less cheap and healthy food, and poorer consumers buy less cheap food.
During economic hardships the international community seems to forget “the right of everyone to an adequate standard of living for himself and his family, including adequate food,” declared in Article 11 of the United Nations Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, choosing instead to hold back giving. The European Charter on Counteracting Obesity, signed in 2006 by all 53 members of the European region of the World Health Organization, serves as a good start for developing regional goals to combat obesity, which can lead to a reduction in other non-infectious diseases related to an unhealthy weight. Supranational efforts spearheaded by the European Union like the European Platform for Action on Diet, Physical Activity and Health are good steps, but do not take action in reducing European obesity levels; instead of passing meaningful reform to promote habits, legislators call for more talk and less action.
While these are important initiatives, and more pan-national dialogue will lead to greater awareness, fitness does not garner the same calls for reform that a unified monetary policy does. There is an astonishing absence of law pertaining to preserving health. In the developing world, where citizens cannot afford to buy healthy food, the percent of a population that is overweight is significantly higher. While certain outliers exist among developing countries—only 4 percent of India’s population is overweight—Middle Eastern countries tend to be both more overweight and obese than their European counterparts. The Pacific Islands, where weight used to be a sign of affluence, have been hit the hardest: Nauru has the dubious distinction of being the fattest nation in the world, with more than 79 percent of its population obese. When obesity, which costs the US alone $123 billion in direct and indirect costs, is compared with other economic activities, it would seem imperative that something must be done. Obesity and diabetes cost the Pacific Island of Tonga $1.95 million per annum. While this may seem a small sum, this figure represents nearly sixty percent of the health budget and six percent of gross domestic product (GDP).
$7.3 trillion will be lost in output by 2025 from heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and lung disease according to the World Economic Forum. And yet there remains no effective mechanism on an international level to combat non-communicable diseases (NCDs). On a national level there has been some success albeit limited—with Scandinavian countries leading the way. Sweden has introduced voluntary labels informing consumers about the nutritional content of food items, helping consumers make healthier choices. Finland has studied the eating habits when free vegetables or a free salad was added in a meal.
School lunches—the Finnish study was conducted in a university cafeteria—play an integral role for children. What children eat at an early age lays the foundations for successive eating habits. A school in the Little Village neighborhood of Chicago, Illinois has staked out new ground by banning home-packed lunches; only school-prepared lunches are allowed, unless students are medically-required to eat certain foods. This policy helps students from backsliding at an early age into unhealthy eating habits. Julian Ruiz, a second-grader at Little Village Academy, confesses: “sometimes I would bring the healthy stuff, but sometimes I would bring Lunchables.” While Julian may not be totally ignorant of what is healthy, the schools should nonetheless be praised for taking the initiative to reinforce healthy behavior.
The Chinese government has unique abilities to make healthy changes for their citizens. Chinese culture places a great deal of power into the hands of the community. The central government, realizing the scope of diversity in China, has decided to engage the community in tackling eating habits. Through the National Plan of Action for Nutrition for China, the government—utilizing such diverse bureaus as health, agriculture, and State Planning—will attempt to “alleviate hunger and food shortages; […] prevent, control, and eliminate micronutrient deficiencies; and to improve the general nutritional state of the people and prevention nutrition-related chronic disease [15,000 deaths per year, or 70 percent of mortality in China] through proper guidance to consumption behavior, improvement of dietary patterns, and promotion of healthy lifestyles.”
By setting price controls to make unhealthy foods more expensive or even ban them outright, and administering gargantuan publicity campaigns that can reach any corner in China, the Chinese government has immense power to reduce obesity—power unrivaled anywhere else. However, because of China’s scope, little has been accomplished. It must be noted that Beijing had historically been hesitant, even hostile, towards creating broad-reaching social programs like those of the developed world (e.g., some form of retirement insurance or socialized medicine). This reluctance could lead to a uninformed and unhealthy aged population, and only recently have steps been taken to provide social benefits.
Here in the United States, the courts have recently backed initiatives to make consumers better informed about their decisions. In New York State Restaurant Association v. New York City Board of Health (2009), the US Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit upheld a statue issued by the New York City Board of Health mandating the prominent display of caloric information for food purchased in restaurants, sparking a national trend. Outside of the United States and Western Europe, there is very little evidence to support much legal action to curtail hidden caloric information or fast food-related media aimed at children.
One huge factor in preventing and treating NCDs around the world is readily-available generic medicine, bringing the power to save hundreds of millions from pharmaceutical companies to the developing world. During most of the Twentieth Century, developing countries lacked access to sophisticated drugs manufactured in the developed world because of high costs and little cash. Acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) medication is notoriously expensive, limiting its market to the wealthy infirm. African governments, valuing human life over copyright laws, threatened to manufacture essential drugs cheaply and illegally to prevent a public health crisis.
The public relations storm that ensued, along with other outcries against other expensive treatments led to the Agreement on Trade-Related Aspects of Intellectual Property Rights (TRIPS), a World Trade Organization (WTO) international agreement that set down for the first time the minimum standards for many forms of intellectual property. TRIPS spells out how “members [of TRIPS] may exclude from patentability inventions [… that] which is necessary to protect ordre public or morality.” This groundbreaking agreement paved way for the Doha Declaration in 2001, which further emphasized the flexibility of TRIPS member states in getting around patent rights to essential medicines. While acute diseases, spurring on national emergencies, are listed for public health crises, given current trends in the prevalence of NCDs, the Doha Declaration may experience revisions unforeseen ten years ago, and what exactly constitutes a public health crisis will come under fire. Countries may manufacture without consent drugs to treat obesity-related conditions as well as fighting AIDS.
This drive for individual expression, whether it is showing wealth by eating unhealthy foods in a country where a great many people do not have the ability to make ends meet, or to ignore copyright law for the good of many at the expense of a few shareholders, lies at the very heart the conflict to uphold of the universal idea of health laid down by the World Health Organization. The Supreme Court of the United States has further emphasized the “freedom of information,” but freedom now means producers can advertise to the general public potentially harmful products: cigarettes. In Lorillard v. Reilly, the Supreme Court mandated removing tobacco advertising limitations designed to protect Massachusetts children. The Court explained this decision by citing smoking as a lawful activity and that tobacco companies had an interest in providing accurate information about their product. The law sends a mixed message about the freedom to live in an environment where harmful interests daily interact with people to produce health issues. The Supreme Court strikes down most efforts to create a paternalistic intervention to prevent unhealthy lifestyle choices that would undermine personal freedom and responsibility, highlighting the tension between protecting public health and protecting personal responsibility. The developed world is not setting the best example for others to follow. If tobacco can be advertised when small children are watching, McDonald’s can target with equal impunity small children.
The global economic downturn had made it more difficult for those living in poverty to gain access to adequately-healthy food. The endemic threat posed by NCDs has been addressed by global strategies and charters, United Nations summits, and other international movements, gently guiding nations towards reducing obesity levels. The problem is that generating international law to combat non-communicable diseases must not oppose national law and initiatives and vice versa, reducing economic clannishness and protectionism, and thereby lowering global food prices and allowing more people access to food.
Governments around the world must take steps to make healthy food available to all those who need it, especially giving food aid to developing nations; and pharmaceutical companies must, even in hard times, make readily available essential medicine to poverty-stricken countries who can benefit from this the most. Lipitor, Avandia, Plavix, Viracept, Norvir, Sustiva, and many other drugs that treat high cholesterol, prevent blood clots, and control HIV respectively, and many other expensive, time-tested drugs will within five years become first-time generic or Rx-to-OTC. While there is no pill to cure obesity, its effects can be controlled. The pressure to litigate and reapply patents will be strong, but governments, especially the United States, must take a firm stance and allow these medications to slip into the public domain. Even if readily available, cheap medication is not seen as the best solution to solving the spread of chronic, non-communicable diseases.
Even though it has been more than sixty years since the WHO set down its standards of health, they ring as true today as they did following the hemoclysms of the first half of the twentieth century. Supranational organizations that exert considerable economic influence, such as the European Union, have the power to change the social status quo, encouraging and even mandating healthier lifestyle “paths.” Basic foodstuffs are abundant worldwide but are astonishingly poorly distributed. The temptation to purchase cheaper, less-healthy foods where possible is ever present, but surely the economic loss presented by NCDs outweighs the pain of pain of passing on the fries and a shake. National political units must take note of what it means to be healthy and encourage healthy habits to defray costs in the long run. Cracking down globally on tobacco was a good first step for many countries. Will there ever come a time when Twinkies cannot be consumed within two hundred feet of a school anywhere?
Benjamin Tennenbaum @ January 20, 2012
Unity Without Community
Posted in: DOMESTIC, DOMESTIC, Society, VOICES | Comments (0)
By Matt Hartman
It’s become trite, but nonetheless true, to cite the emptiness captured by ‘America.’ To be an American today is merely to take part in a nationalism that has mires itself in wars, ideological battles, and a post-Cold War history that prizes rhetoric over value. Many look back at the daily pledge of allegiance with a kind of knowing smirk, their pride overshadowed by propaganda. However, this does not mean that there is no truly American bond. It exists in what is missed by patriotic thought: In the place where national unity is broken into true community.
I spent last winter traveling this country–13,000 miles in total–stopping in as many towns and cities as I could find places to stay. If nothing else, I saw the way communities–real communities–exist in this nation. I missed many things, but the murky swamps of Louisiana and the pristine mountain roads of the Pacific Coast Highway all told the same tale: a tale of communities where bonds stem not from images, but from true personal interaction. These are places where social interactions have nothing to do with clichéd identities or a common brand loyalty or imagined culture, but concrete experiences and solidarity. In other words, these are not artificial cultures.
This tale (my new American thesis) came first in a shock while standing on an empty New Orleans block. The Lower Ninth Ward, pockmarked by Katrina’s indifference to a historic city’s past, limped into its sunny, spring-in-winter existence, sagging skeletal homes still labeled with warnings of gas leaks or structural instability. And yet here, in this most forgotten of places, neighbors called out greetings and jokes from homes still broken and those being rebuilt. This neighborhood, ignored as it drowned, stood out as the most removed, isolated place within a city unrivalled in America. And here I found community that grew from the cracks unaided by cultural fads.
Perhaps some parts of New Orleans attract new residents because of an aura they are supposed to have. Perhaps some imagine New Orleans in a particular light that suits them, the images of the French Quarter or the Garden District having been played out on the Real World or in movies. The effect of mass media is the dissemination of manufactured images that create self-fulfilling cultures: the culture put across in media attracts those seeking that culture, and a city is built from artificial images or what were once half-true stereotypes.
The Lower Ninth Ward, on the other hand, does not attract new residents. If anything, its supposed image keeps it from fostering this artificiality. Left out of ‘America’, the neighborhood has been left to grow on its own, shared experiences pushing neighbors together, bringing them closer, cementing and crystallizing the bonds between them.
And there is our truth–only in these circumstances does community exist. Only in being not-American can one find what is American. The forgotten of New Orleans–as well as the mocked in the Tennessee hills or the Utah deserts–find their homes in being separated, cast-off from the rest. Community, in ‘America’, finds the soil to grow only in the spaces declared different from the whole, where the content isn’t filled in beforehand with a cookie-cutter culture. Raised on symbolic flags and soaring eagles, American unity fragments itself into something that is much stronger: community.
Perhaps this is a necessary thing. Perhaps it can only ever be through negation of another that a people can define its borders, its customs, and itself. The birth of a community may only ever come from this trauma. But then the question arises: what does our bankrupted American ideal serve? Our communities exist only on the obverse of the American identity. But then is this identity necessary for the obverse to exist? In other words, must we posit the American whole in order to make community possible?
That is a question that can only be answered with a thorough theoretical investigation. But as a question it serves to mark out an important point. Our American way, unity without community, serves at most to prepare the way for the true bonds to grow behind this totalizing ideal. Mythical America cannot be: we can never exist simply as Americans. We need our hidden communities.
Matt Hartman @ January 19, 2012
United States vs. Pirates: The SOPA Problem
Posted in: DOMESTIC, DOMESTIC, Media | Comments (0)
By Alida Miranda-Wolff, courtesy of the University of Chicago Undergraduate Law Review
Early last week, British rapper Dan Bull released a rap video entitled “SOPA Cabana,” which accuses the Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA or H.R. 3261) of Internet censorship and violating freedom of speech. Bull’s rap is part of the growing anti-SOPA movement, which recently exploded after Internet giants like Google, Facebook, and eBay warned of the bill’s consequences. Opponents of SOPA argue that the law mirrors censorship laws in China, Malaysia, and Iran.
If SOPA is an intentionally and explicitly tyrannical censorship law that threatens to destroy the Internet as we know it, why has it flown under the radar until now?
Representative Lamar Smith (R-TX) first introduced SOPA to the House of Representatives on October 26, 2011. The full title of the bill claims:
“… to promote prosperity, creativity, entrepreneurship and innovation by combating the theft of U.S. [intellectual] property, and for other purposes”.
The bill grants the government to enforce copyright and trademark protections held by corporations. SOPA emerged a few months after its Senate counterpart, the Protect IP Act (PIPA). The House Judiciary Committee began hearings on the bill on November 16, 2011, giving naysayers ample time to protest.
So, why is there resistance now?
First, the bill considers complicated intellectual property issues that are difficult to understand. The average American does not deal with the intricacies of the Domain Name System Security Extensions (DNSSEC). Consequently, the general public does not consider how a law like SOPA could interfere with DNSSEC, especially when facing unemployment, foreclosure, and an ailing economy. However, SOPA opponents like politicians Ron Paul and Nancy Pelosi and companies like Yahoo and LinkedIn attacked the bill in more general terms. By labeling the bill as “censorship” and an “infrignement on First Amendment rights”, these opponents have successfully made SOPA into an issue that Americans can protest.
Second, when SOPA was first introduced, it was considered unenforceable. For example, after the government shut down the torrenting websites Bearshare and Grokster, which are communities that encourage large-scale electronic file sharing, the torrenting community did not fall apart. Instead, users fragmented, making piracy detection more difficult. It may still be possible for dedicated users to access the same material, but SOPA would make it easier than ever before for copyright holders to sue websites, which distribute copyrighted material. Venture capitalists fear this ease of litigation, believing investment in a web-based company may involve more legal expenditures than business management. According to its opponents, SOPA would decrease investments and limit innovation.
Finally, opponents of SOPA do not hold that the bill is intentionally harmful, but flawed in its construction. SOPA gives copyright holders and the government the power to seek court orders against websites that host or traffic counterfeit or stolen intellectual property. If the bill is enforced, the Department of Justice (DOJ) would decide if a website infringes or enables infringement of intellectual property. Depending on the infringement, the DOJ can bar search engines from listing or linking to it, order domain name registrars to take it down, force service providers to block access to it, and ban payment processors like PayPal to stop working with it.
This lengthy process is SOPA’s main flaw. H.R. 3261 bars access to specific sites, meaning Internet services providers must inspect all the Internet traffic of its entire user base. These companies would invade millions of users’ privacy in order to meet governmental demands. The bill would also allow the DOJ to take down websites with virtually no obstacles, fueling censorship concerns. If the DOJ alone is in charge of website surveillance, it could easily shut down websites it does not like or support, especially whistle-blowing websites.
The Stop Online Piracy Act was created to protect major corporations reliant on trademarks like Pfizer, Nike, and Sony and copyright-dependent organizations like the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) and the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA). While these companies present valid concerns, the bill should not exert total control over the Internet and free speech. Unfortunately for its opponents, the government’s inability to acknowledge and amend the potential consequences threatens privacy, free speech, and business. The House has rejected twenty amendments intended to prevent these unintended consequences already. The bill will most likely pass in early January without undergoing major changes. Its supporters and its opponents can only guess what will follow its passage.
Alida Miranda-Wolff is a second-year double major in English and Law, Letters, and Society pursuing a path in law.
Alida Miranda-Wolff @ January 18, 2012
A Nation of Personality
Posted in: INTERNATIONAL, Asia-Pacific, INTERNATIONAL, VOICES | Comments (2)
By Matt Hartman
North Korea is a country often discussed under the pretext of evil: heir to Stalin’s communism, hoarder of nuclear weapons, threat to our civilized world. But the death of Kim Jong Il leads us to re-think that definition–or at least it should. The future of North Korea will not necessarily right itself now that Kim has died. He tied North Korea into an ideological apparatus difficult to escape and the nation’s future will depend not only upon how the international order can interact with Kim Jong Un–who has taken over after his father–but also upon how the North Korean people respond to Kim Jong Il’s death.
Political leaders have often given meaning (of some sort) to their people, becoming pseudo-mythical beings whose loss set the nation reeling. JFK was the man who saved the world from nuclear war, who tied together the ends of American ideology in the Cold War era. Stalin, on a much larger scale, turned himself into a persona that held together the straining Soviet Union, acting as a lynchpin for everything behind the Iron Curtain.
Kim Jong Il did the same on an extraordinary and terrifying level. He may even surpass Stalin’s cult of personality, creating an ideological system so grand that any discussion of it invariably turns into black humor. Kim Jong Il turned his existence into a piece of propaganda which he then used to define the political existence of the North Korean people.
The examples are startling. According to official records, Kim Jong Il’s birth was marked by the appearance of a double rainbow and the birth of a new star. His divine origins are matched only by his (officially reported) achievements: walking at three weeks old, speaking at eight, authoring 1,500 books, and shooting 11 holes-in-one in the only game of golf he ever played. And then, of course, there is the fact that he does not defecate.
Perhaps North Koreans find Kim Jong Il as absurd as the rest of the world. (Perhaps that would have loved Trey Stone and Matt Parker’s depiction.) But it seems many North Koreans take Kim quite seriously, even adopting his peculiar fashion sense. Even if his official biography is not taken literally within North Korea (and for my sanity, I choose to believe it is not), Kim Jong Il’s efforts have created an ideological apparatus that refuses to allow any sort of modern politics to be undertaken by the North Koreans.
This is demonstrated by another strange fact. In response to mass famine, Kim Jong Il decided that giant rabbits would be the best way to feed his nation. But the dozen rabbits gifted to North Korea to breed their new food supply served only as the main course at Kim Jong Il’s birthday party.
The audacity of the above tells the whole story. For the official records of a nation to claim anything like what they do about Kim Jong Il, there must be an immense power structure keeping order. The fact that the North Korean government can still claim any of these ridiculous facts is proof of the power they wield over the North Korean people.
What’s more, the poverty that follows from Kim Jong Il’s rule is well-known, and the suffering that his rabbit-solutions and subsequent rabbit filled feasts cause are obvious. Of course a leader as megalomaniacal as Kim Jong Il misuses funds and drags his nation into the third world. Satellite pictures of Korea at night show a brightly lit South, but a sharp line at the 38th parallel leaves the North in darkness, save for Pyongyang and a handful of small blips.
The result for North Korea is a nation whose entire political existence has been the rambling programs of a self-obsessed, self-fashioned demi-god. And, tragically, it is an existence that lacks the resources to combat their leader. Obviously North Korea needs, first and foremost, food, literacy programs, infrastructure, and the rest of the basic necessities denied by Kim Jong Il’s rule. Obviously Kim Jong Un must be coaxed, if possible, into the international order in a way his father never was.
But none of this will be possible without approaching the ideological prison created by Kim Jong Il. The ideological matrix he created siphoned power to his person and handicapped the people. As long as that matrix exists, the people cannot begin to gain any power. Kim Jong Un has already begun to build his own myth–now as the official Supreme Commander of the military. This shows, above all, the extent to which North Korea has been made dependent upon their ideology. There isn’t much of another option in a land where Kim Jong Il is Eternal President even in death.
Matt Hartman @ January 12, 2012
Unlawful Extracurriculars: A Case Study of Sexual Assault Laws in Wisconsin’s School System
Posted in: DOMESTIC, Crime and Justice, DOMESTIC, VOICES | Comments (1)
By Randy Clopton
Courtesy of the The University of Chicago Undergraduate Law Review
When a school district finds itself in the midst of a sex scandal, the administration must find a way to remedy the situation. Usually, this will consist of firing the offender if he or she works for the district, notifying the authorities, and other such actions to protect the district’s reputation. However, in a recent sex scandal at Homestead High School in Mequon, Wisconsin, there was no one to fire. This past November 3rd, four teenagers, two of whom were below the age of consent, participated in illicit sexual activity on Homestead’s campus. More specifically, a 14-year-old female student gave oral sex to three boys, Deangelo Dantzler, Brent Anderson, and an unnamed 15-year-old boy. Alcohol, which Anderson provided to the girl, was involved in the incident as well. When the district received news of these acts a week later, they “launched a joint investigation into the incident with the school’s police liaison officer,” according to a letter issued by the superintendent, Dr. Demond Means. The investigation determined that the acts were consensual and the boys were booked and released [1]. Later, however, the parties representing the girl insisted that Dantzler and Anderson had forced themselves on her, and are now seeking a monetary settlement with the district, though for what is unclear [2]. This raises the concern that the school district may be at fault, but if so, no clear example of a wrongdoing is immediately evident. Uncovering the true story is crucial to examining the fates of Dantzler and Anderson.
According to the police reports, interviews with the students were conducted in the school by the police liaison officer as well as the assistant principals; two males and one female were present for the interview, potentially overexerting a masculine influence in the interviews. The police report lists three versions of the girl’s story. Initially, she only told the principals and the liaison officer about the oral sex with the 15 year-old boy, adding the contact with Dantzler and Anderson during a re-interview with her father present. Later, she claimed that the acts with Dantzler and Anderson were not consensual [3]. There are a number of potential reasons for the potential victim to recant multiple times: she could have changed her story herself, or her father or the district could have influenced the change.
What is not immediately evident in the police report may be explained by examining the tapes of the interviews; however, as these records are sealed, each situation must be examined separately. If her attorney is correct in stating, “Based on the interview I performed and based on the information I’ve read, she was raped,” [4] then some force may have been preventing her from conveying an honest account of the events, and that force may have been the district administration. While the investigation initially deemed the sexual acts consensual, it is possible that she was pressured into making this claim. The fact that the victim’s father declined a re-interview until the police offered a female police officer to conduct the interview [5], suggesting that the male presence in the first interviews could have influenced her story. If this is all true, the district would have been tampering with the evidence in the case [6] as well as committing official misconduct [7]. While corrupting an investigation is less reprehensible under the law than statutory rape, it nevertheless reflects poorly on the district administration and recalls the history of poorly handled scandals in which the district has been involved, including allowing previous student offenders to continue attending school after being accused.
Alternatively, the victim’s father could have altered her initial story. According to the police report, the girl’s father “became very upset and started to yell ‘Forget about this whole thing, this never happened’ and threw his arms up in the air” when he learned of the consequences related to the incident [8]. After taking the time to talk with her father after these events, she may have accused Dantzler and Anderson of rape at his behest to exact some form of revenge on the boys. On the other hand, her father may not be able to believe that his daughter could have consented to sexual activities and claimed rape, removing the fault from his daughter altogether. Regardless of his motive, the father would be guilty of tampering with evidence if he coerced the alleged victim into changing her story. It is worth noting that if the girl simply changed her story, many of these issues would disappear. As previously stated, her father was extremely frustrated after discovering his daughter’s actions and their subsequent consequences. Convincing her father she was raped would relieve her of blame. However, without the tapes of the interviews, it is impossible to know which story is true.
The shifting account of events remains relevant in this case because it will affect their criminal conviction. According to the police reports, all four actors were charged with second degree sexual assault of a minor, and all but Anderson admitted to the crime. If Dantzler and Anderson forced themselves on the victim, then this would qualify as first degree sexual assault of a minor. The language in statute chapter 948 states that “Whoever has sexual contact with a person who has not attained the age of 16 years by use or threat of force or violence is guilty of a Class B felony if the actor is at least 18 years of age when the sexual contact occurs” [9], If they did not this statute, it would qualify as second degree sexual assault of a minor, a crime which the offender has “sexual contact or sexual intercourse with a person who has not attained the age of 16” [10]. All three boys have committed second degree sexual assault of a minor and face the ramifications presented for a Class C felony, which amounts to up to 40 years in prison, a $100,000 fine, or both [11]. In addition, the girl in this case has the potential to be convicted of second degree sexual assault, as she has maintained that the contact between her and the younger boy was consensual. The statute does not explicitly state that the offender must be over the age of eighteen, and even consensual acts between two underage teens could be interpreted as sexual assault, but convictions in situations like this vary depending on the circumstance [12]. Though the contact with the younger boy was separate from the contact with Dantzler and Anderson, whether or not the alleged victim was raped could play a part in how she will be treated in trial. As a victim, her charges would bear no fruit, but if all the sex acts were consensual, she could be painted as a poor decision-maker worthy of jail time for her actions.
Additionally, the alleged victim and her family are seeking a civil case against the district. In this case, the district could be guilty of failing to fulfill its ministerial duty. In Manning vs. Necedah Area School District (2007), another sexual abuse case, the Wisconsin Appellate Court ruled that the district was immune from prosecution during a child abuse scandal under Wisconsin Statute Chapter 893 due to the fact that the plaintiffs do not allege negligence of a certain ministerial duty in the case against the district. However, this case does cite “a well-established exception to the rule of immunity [which] holds that an officer is liable for damages resulting from the officer’s performance of a ministerial duty,” [13] which in this case, meant that the failure to perform a ministerial duty to report abuse would have removed the right to immunity. In the Homestead case, the district apparently fulfilled its ministerial duty, reporting the abuse and conducting an investigation into the events. However the district may have some fault in this case separate from reporting the incident. Though much at this point is inconclusive, if the girl’s testimony was unduly influenced by external forces, then the district may not have fulfilled its duties. What remains unaddressed is how exactly the district failed in its duties if it conducted an honest investigation. Much like the case against Necadah Area School District, unless the prosecution can provide evidence of misconduct and address it directly, the district has no fault in the action. So far the prosecution has not even stated for what it is seeking damages. A monetary settlement would seem justified if the district were at fault, but otherwise, the district can sit safely behind the legal wall of Statute 893, having done nothing wrong in the eyes of the law.
Randy Clopton @ January 10, 2012
A Too Rigid Law
Posted in: INTERNATIONAL, INTERNATIONAL, Middle East, VOICES | Comments (0)
By Matt Hartman
There are certain news stories that stand out in their very ordinariness, yet they highlight the workings of our historical era and put our systemic thought on display. Such is the case with the story of Fatma and Khaled Wahabe–a story seemingly unremarkable, but for that reason all the more interesting as it highlights our current state of affairs. Their untimely and tragic death shines light on the inhuman mechanism of law and justice that has taken root in the post-9/11 era.
Mother and son were killed by an IDF missile meant for a group of fleeing militants. In their home, mother and son died as innocents in a war that enveloped their lives. The Wahabe family sued for damages after the incident, but their lawsuit was denied and the missile launch was declared legitimate. Moreover, the Israeli government demanded payment for legal fees. The family must not only suffer loved ones lost, but now they must also pay for wanting recognition of their injustice.
This is not to vilify Israel, nor to say that Israel’s military operation was, in this case, unjustified. This incident is meant to demonstrate a more ubiquitous problem–that of the inflexibility of law and the inhumanity surrounding its deployment. Israel, I imagine, is right that the firing of the missile was legitimate, that they were under no legal obligation to pay reparations, and that they had the (legal) right to have their experiences recuperated. But it is this very system of justification that is problematic.
Legal and social institutions were built in order to ease human lives and to ensure, as much as possible, human happiness or flourishing (say Hobbes, Locke, and a whole host of other Western political theorists). These systems were created for the purpose of preserving what is human in the world, to protect and grow what it is that makes us, us: practical reasoning, social bonds, etc. The very essence of law is suppose to be something human.
But what Israel has exemplified, in the case of the Wahabes, is the mechanic idea of law. What is right and what will be done is what the law says. Not only will the Wahabes not receive any benefits in light of their tragedy, but they will in fact pay the State because the law says that this is what will be done. The law, in this thinking, lies outside of human agency, outside of any ethical or moral principles that one might hold, and outside of any considerations–of any concrete or particular sort–of what a human life is. In reality the law says that the Wahabes could be forced to pay the legal fees. To go so far as to demand those fees is to grant the law a mechanical existence that is supra-human. In doing so, humans must now cater to this law.
But if the law is a human creation to be used for the furthering of human lives, it cannot have anything close to this character. It must always retain the indelible mark of humanity. Consideration for the tragedy that befalls a human life, then, must forever be the guiding principle of any legal decision. This is the problem of Joseph K, the problem of an obscurity antithetical to the stated purpose of law, and, despite Kafka’s influence, still the problem of our times.
Illegal immigrants are deported or held in holding cells without recourse because, according to the law, they are not equally as much a person as a citizen is. A woman will die because her ailment is not legally covered by her insurance. The Wahabes will pay legal fees. In all of these cases, law was made inhuman through a rigidity that denies the very thing it was created for. In its structure, it forbids its own end–the flourishing of human lives.
It is easy to forget that this paradigm comes into being only through particular human actions. The (legal) denial of what is human is done by humans: by those legislators, and by those who sign the forms, and whoever, in their daily work, perform the minute tasks that allow for law to take this inhuman form. Hannah Arendt pointed out of the banality of evil –I will point out the human banality of inhuman law. Of course, these actions are forced by other laws: by the possibility of being fired, of being jailed oneself, etc. Becoming aware of this fact is not enough. But to recognize the incoherence of this legal paradigm we find ourselves in is enough to allow us to use its parts against the whole and to give space for a full human life to exist.
Matt Hartman @ December 2, 2011
Omar Villalobos: Fashion as Life
Posted in: CULTURE, Arts, CULTURE, LIFE & STYLE | Comments (3)
By Annie Pei
I first ran into Omar when we were both little monsters at a Lady Gaga concert. Tightly wrapped in chains and fluorescent yellow Caution tape, Omar’s enthusiasm and joie de vivre drew me towards him. He told me he was a 19-year-old film student at the Columbia College of Art who loved art in all its forms, and who hoped to make it big. The confidence with which he spoke made me believe that Omar knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life, and how exactly he was going to do it.
But what I didn’t know was that Omar was facing a dilemma. Months prior to the concert, he had begun questioning if he loved film enough to continue, or if he should pursue his ultimate dream: A career in fashion. Torn between going through with his original plans and taking a leap of faith, Omar was trying to sort out his innermost desires and understand the consequences of whichever option he chose.
Since then, the little monster has become a fashion star. During a summer gathering in July, Omar ran into 21-year-old Gordana Rasic, founder of Chicago-based GOCA Designs. Inspired by her drive and creativity, Omar made the trip to the University of Illinois in Urbana-Champaign that weekend where he and Rasic discussed designs and planned their first event: a show at the RAW Artist exhibition.
It was there that Omar met Kristen Miccoli, an up-and-coming photographer based in Chicago. Impressed by her work, Omar and Rasic invited Miccoli to collaborate on photoshoots featuring Goca’s collections. Miccoli’s introduction was, according to Omar, the key to GOCA’s initial rise as she demonstrated the professionalism necessary for the label to gain respect and credibility.
Now Omar, as Vice President and Creative Director of GOCA, has made fashion a lifestyle. Between attending classes as a full-time student and spending time with his family, Omar is always on the run. Whether he’s brainstorming designs for GOCA’s next collection or booking events and venues, the little monster I know journeys all over Chicago, living his dream even if the going gets tough.
But Omar’s used to tough. Originally from California, he was born into a family of 5 brothers and 2 sisters. Omar’s parents, both immigrants from Mexico, worked night and day to provide for their children. The family lived in such dire circumstances that Omar’s mother made a point of locking the fridge so no one would be tempted for a snack. Despite the harsh conditions, the Villalobos siblings did learn many hard-earned life lessons, especially about hard work and appreciation.
“If we were good, every week [my siblings and I] would get 25 cents for allowance money, which we’d use to buy toys at the flea market that treasured for such a long time,” Omar remembers. “We earned them out of pure hard work, and when you live like that you learn to grab onto every opportunity and never let it go.”
The same philosophy drives Omar to leave home at seven or eight in the morning, only to return at eight or nine at night. His weekdays are packed with classes, homework, and meetings. Weekends are reserved for events, mixers, and shoots to put GOCA’s name out in the open. It’s an exhausting lifestyle and Omar’s had his fair share of crises, but he does everything to make sure his dreams come true and so his hard work for GOCA is noticed.
“Even when you’re too tired to stand, you need to find some kind of energy within to attend all of these events. Not just to find new talent, but to also meet people,” says Omar. “All industries revolve around networking, but especially creative fields like fashion because it’s so hard to become a big name. You have to find models, photographers, and more.”
“I’m so grateful to have met the people I know. I don’t see them as acquaintances, I see them as good friends of mine and that’s how I want to keep it.”
Omar’s ability to build such a team has contributed to his success, especially in the wake of social media marketing. The rise of social networks like Facebook has levelled the playing field in the fashion industry. Now, professionals and amateurs alike can post their creations online for all to see, making them more accessible.
The result, according to Omar, is that talent alone isn’t enough. In a world where designers are easily discovered, success demands “60% talent, but 40% network”. To keep up with the competition, designers have to become a jack of all trades and learn skills – especially those related to marketing and business – outside the creative realm.
“Most of my work is actually administrative,” explains Omar. “I obviously still need to design, but if I wasn’t business-savvy I wouldn’t be very marketable.”
“It’s honestly a balance of creativity and personality; you have to be willing to talk to everyone and do everything that is asked of you. If you aren’t up for learning more than how to design, then you won’t be able to keep up with everybody else.”
So far, that philosophy has done well for Omar. In the beginning of October, Omar and Rasic were selected to present their collection at Latino Fashion Week where they received rave reviews. To top it off, GOCA was featured in the Spanish-language newspaper Hoy, testament to Omar and Rasic’s hard work and entrepreneurship.
As GOCA becomes more prominent on the fashion scene, so too does Omar’s personal emphasis on teamwork. But aside from Rasic, Omar also refers to support from a more personal source as instrumental to his success: His family.
The fact that Omar’s parents even supported his foray into fashion is huge given their familiarity with poverty. Their encouragement demonstrates the amount of trust and belief they have in Omar, motivating him to continue working hard. Though one of Omar’s main goals is to transform GOCA into a fashion powerhouse, his ultimate dream is something very different: To one day tell his parents that they no longer have to work.
“Both my parents have been working since they were 16 to support themselves and their families,” Omar tells me. “One day, I want to be so successful that I can look at them and say ‘you don’t have to work anymore, I can take care of you so go relax and enjoy life.’”
In Omar’s eyes, nothing would make him happier than to see his parents break free from their hardships and not have a worry in the world. Following the end of Latino Fashion Week, Omar got a glimpse of this dream when he presented a copy of Hoy to them.
“After a couple really busy months, I finally came home. My parents were sitting in the kitchen and I placed the newspaper on the table in front,” says Omar. “There was this moment of silence as they stared at the copy; I wasn’t sure how they would react.”
“Then suddenly, my mom comes over and gives me a hug. And then my dad stands up and does the same. To me that meant more than words. My dad is a very reserved man who doesn’t really express his feelings, so to see his eyes water when he realized that his son’s designs were on the front page of a newspaper…well, that was one of the happiest days of my life and I hope there’s more to come.”
Keeping that memory in mind, Omar currently spends his day planning GOCA’s next big show in March and an additional show with the University of Chicago. The events never seem to end, signaling the start of a busy year for Omar and GOCA. But despite the non-stop commitments and continuous morning to night workdays, all that matters to Omar is that his dream is very much alive.
“Before meeting Gordana, I never thought things could work out this way,” says Omar. “I thought I’d spend years in school and then graduate working very small jobs for fashion labels with no guarantee that I’d get far. That’s how it usually is, and that’s what I thought my future would be.”
Clearly, if there’s one thing the little monster has learned it’s that anything is possible.
Check out GOCA Designs at www.gocadesigns.4ormat.com. For more updates, follow Omar on Twitter at @PapaGOCA and Facebook.
Annie Pei @ November 28, 2011
Far Away
Posted in: CULTURE, CULTURE, Poetry & Prose | Comments (0)
By Akshat Goel
…. to just go. Pack up everything I have. Well, maybe not everything. Just what I need, all in a cloth duffel bag, and I’ll tie the bag up and swing it onto my shoulders and just go. I am going to go and not look back, not stop, not think about anything twice, go every single place I want to go, but can’t right now because I am trying to conform to a socially generated definition of success that I didn’t have a say in generating. I am going to go to a place where nobody knows me, where nobody cares what I say or what I do, and where what is private and what is not is unambiguous. Where there is no rat race and no one’s in a hurry to get anywhere and the people talk softly and listen well and are introspective and quiet. Most of all I don’t want to go to a place with traffic. Traffic is noisy. I don’t need background noise in my life. And I don’t need crowds.
The first thing I am going to do once I get there is to go to a concert and listen to music. Not just any music. I want to go to a concert and listen to music where the band has a saxophone player. Not just any saxophone player. Tenor sax. I like the tone of a tenor saxophone better than I like that of other instruments. When you see a saxophonist flowing well with his head arched as high as it can possibly go and his hat (the saxophone player in my head always wears a hat) at a superbly acute angle ready to fall off his curly salt – and – pepper hair, moving from note to note as fluidly as a dolphin leaps up for a golden moment above the waves and then merges with the sea again, you think that there has to be something wrong. For one instant he makes you believe that there is no artist-medium dichotomy and that his second arm is actually from a Yamaha (in my head the maker of the saxophone is always Yamaha) assembly line. This sounds almost mystical but I can imagine every detail in my head. And after the performance is done and the rest of the band leaves and the audience disperses and it is just me and the saxophonist I am going to ask him why he does what he does. How come he managed to find something he likes to do that does not involve sending random e-mails out to random strangers that you do not even care about but where he can just focus on mastering his craft…and he is going to answer. And then I will know…
Akshat Goel @ November 25, 2011
Victor Pruett
Posted in: CULTURE, CULTURE, Poetry & Prose | Comments (0)
By Alida Miranda-Wolff
Mornings in the city are cold. The sky bears down on the streets like a grey palm, pushing the crowds forward slowly until everyone bleeds into one collective of distorted faces. Victor did not know where he was, and amidst the blurred flashes, those elusive Chicagoans, he could only see one face, her face.
She had not come to see him. He waited for so long, but she never came. He tried to write her letters but suspected she’d burned them. He couldn’t wait any longer, so he left his house and bought a plane ticket.
Victor called her before he departed. He left the details of his flight on her voicemail: his flight number, his terminal, his arrival time. He asked her to please please please please please be there when he landed. If only she’d come back to him, everything would be different. He’d keep his thoughts to himself. Really, he would. She wouldn’t have to watch over him any longer, he promised. He would stay in one place, with her always, and he would be happy. He knew he would be happy. He wouldn’t blame her anymore. He learned his lesson well. Just please be there.
The plane landed early in the morning. The pilot’s muffled voice said something to Victor, but he could no longer hear. He was too concerned with the raised nodules underneath his skin, embedded in his forearms. They undulated slowly, painfully–thick scarabs trapped underneath his paper-thin flesh. He wondered when they would dissolve back into his yellowing skin. He pulled his sleeves over them, convulsing slightly in order to appear cold. It was cold outside. Who would question him? February in Chicago! Of course he would be cold. Everyone was cold. So cold.
Victor walked off the plane and into the airport. It occurred to him that he had no idea where he was. O’Hare? Midway? Did it matter? Would she know where to find him? Did he tell her where? Of course he did…he would never forget to tell her something so important. Would he? Victor smiled at a security officer, but the man just scowled. He felt so disoriented. He could not tell where he was or what he was doing. People, people everywhere, straight-faced and absurd in their coats like bags of feathers. Trash bags. People dressed in trash bags. This was not the sort of place to live, where everyone looked so tightly wrapped, like taped-up packages. He knew he should not tell her that though. She loved this place. At least, that’s what she told him when she left.
Victor knew she couldn’t have left because she didn’t love him. No, it couldn’t be that. She was especially made for him. She had to love him. She just loved the city too. That’s all it was. And couldn’t he love the city? Yes, he could do that. He was sure. So he came here: to be with her, to love her, to love her city. He was here now. Was she? Just please be here.
He waited at the gate. And waited. And waited. Every last passenger from his flight had disintegrated into the thick, artificial Chicago air. There were no incoming passengers, no security guards, no flight attendants, only Victor. He could hear a faint drumming sound coming from behind the walls. He sat silently, hoping that the drumming would stop, but it only grew louder. The nodules under his skin became agitated quickly. They began undulating to the beat of the drums, and as the sound grew louder, they pressed against his skin more violently. They were trying to break free. He crossed his arms and rubbed his hands against his sleeves, hoping to keep them inside. He couldn’t restrain them any longer. A thick brown scarab leapt out of his forearm, tearing open his thin skin. His sleeves turned red as more and more scarabs tore through his arms.
He could only pray that the drumming would stop. Until then, he would have to chase after the scarabs and put them back in their rightful place. He counted the blood spots on his sleeves: nine. He sank down to his knees. He grabbed an especially large scarab by its hind leg and forced it into his mouth. It struggled wildly, trying to climb back up his throat. Victor swallowed hard, drowning the scarab in a thick torrent of saliva. He swallowed seven more before the drumming stopped. The last scarab dissolved into the floor and the rest nested comfortably in the pit of his stomach. The blood smears on his sleeves cleared away, and his shirt looked as clean as it had hours earlier. Silence heals, he thought. If only the world would stay silent.
Victor did not like noise. He heard nothing in the airport, but he knew the noise would come. New passengers arrive, new staff members, new visitors–they would fill up the space like balloons. Once there were too many of them pressed up against each other, they would all burst together loudly, shaking the ground underneath him. Then, his insides would come to life, and he would have to hide himself before anyone caught sight of his “disorder”. She was the only person who had ever seen them, the nodules. She wasn’t afraid. Not even a little. That’s when he knew he loved her.
He thought of the words to say to her. I’m sorry I lost control. I’m sorry. I couldn’t…I couldn’t help myself. There was too much noise. Too much noise everywhere. She had to understand. She knew what it was like for him. So…embarrassing. He told himself she would be there soon. She had to be. What did it matter if she was real or not? The point was that she would be there for him, there to take care of him. He just needed to be taken care of–couldn’t she see that? How could she be so selfish, running off to live her own life? He needed her; she had no right to leave him. There is no gap between where I end and you begin. Can’t you see that? Neither of us can make it without the other. Just come back. I’ll forgive you. I will.
He thought he could see her face, staring back at him from behind a glass door. He walked up to the glass and pressed his face into it. He looked right at her, but before he could reach through the glass and clutch at the misty tendrils shooting out of her chest like dim gray sun-rays, she willed herself into smoke. She was no longer his, but some sickly stranger, trying to lure him into uncertainty. A stranger with brown hair and dark blue suitcase. Another person altogether. It was wrong. The whole thing was wrong. He didn’t deserve to be tricked like this. He didn’t want a stranger. He couldn’t trust this woman with her large suitcase and dark sunglasses. He turned his back to the glass door and returned to his seat. He would just have to wait.
Hours passed, and Victor was still sitting alone, waiting. He began to worry. She was not the sort of person who would put him through such an ordeal. Something must have happened to her. He knew she loved him. She loved him far too much to ever let him suffer like this. He believed she must have lost herself somewhere in the city, trying to find him. How could he ask her to come look for him? It was too impossible of a task. He saw her, trapped between two dumpsters somewhere in the most obscure part of town, calling out his name. He needed to find her, save her. If only his ears would stop ringing from the noise, that constant, monotonous noise. It was the noise one hears when held underwater for too long. The sort of noise that makes you choke on yourself until you burst apart into a million jagged piecest. He held on though–he could always hold himself together…for a little while any way.
Remember, there’s nothing to be afraid of…nothing at all. Victor stared at the glass doors resolutely. He was going to go find her. The exit sign flashed red above him, casting its light across his sallow face. There were people behind him. They clicked their tongues as they spoke in their alien language. Victor couldn’t stand it anymore, these people with their vacant expressions and incoherent talking. So much talking. He wanted to turn around and kick them. That woman, who clicked and clicked and clicked about nothing, nothing at all. He would just kick her in the chest until she fell to the ground. And then he’d kick her again and again until she could never click again. He knew what she was doing–clicking her tongue about him.
There was a long line behind him. Everyone was trying to get out of the airport, as if it were burning. Was it burning? Victor saw ice all around him, but no flames. Concentrate. Do not look around. Concentrate. He looked behind him, and then stared out the doors again. A security guard was approaching him directly. He spoke loudly and slowly. Victor feared he was being scolded. He couldn’t tell though; he couldn’t understand the language the guard was speaking. If only he could explain to this guard that Chicago was an unfamiliar place. He did not know where to go. He could not even remember where he came from. He would leave the airport, he promised. He could do it if everyone just stopped clicking.
An hour later Victor was on a train. He was not sure how he had gotten there. He recalled being pushed through doors and then falling heavily onto the pavement outside of the pavement. He hadn’t seen any sky, so he though he might be trapped in a tunnel. Before he could stand up and find the sky, an angry businessman stepped on his hand. The pressure of the man’s foot was relaxing. Victor had just laid there on the pavement, hoping to be stepped on again. He did not remember anything else.The train shot through the city like blazing bullet, but Victor was not afraid. A part of him hoped he would never have to choose a stop. Then, maybe he could absorb into the vinyl seats. If only he could become a part of the train. It wasn’t time for that though. She needed to be saved. He could feel it in his chest cavity. He understood that she was alone, frightened. If he saved her, she would have to come back to him. No, he would enter the city now. It was his time.
As Victor walked downtown, he lost control of his legs. He was sure he was floating above ground because he could feel himself moving, but his feet were not on the ground. No one in the crowd seemed to notice. He tried lowering himself on the sidewalk, but the effort proved ineffective. He just needed to focus on something. He tried to pinpoint a location…somewhere something was happening. He remembered that he had been looking for something. What was it? He saw a lake and a river and tall buildings with different names…Hancock, Water, Willis, Aon. Who were these men made of steel and glass, towering above the rest, supercilious and self-involved? Victor didn’t like those sorts of men. He averted his eyes and continued walking down streets.
So many streets. Where was she? First he ran down 31st and then Randolph and then Wacker and then Wabash and then Oak and then Michigan and then 47th and then Milwaukee and then Ohio and then and then and then and then…
He saw her face.
Everything was quiet. Slowly, the wind tore down the buildings around them. It carried away children in strollers, young men in coffee shops, elderly couples on benches, until finally, everyone around him had been lifted up into the clear, cold sky. They were all alone now. He stared into her dark green eyes, as wide as flying saucers. They peered into his scornfully. So you found me then Victor, didn’t you? But is it really me? How can you even tell anymore?
He grabbed at her wildly, but his hands were not strong enough to hold the vapors she left behind. He did not understand her bitterness. He needed to ask her what he had done wrong. But how does one ask a ghost for answers? He looked for a place to sit. The wind had not yet restored the city to its natural state, so there were no longer places to rest. He hoped to see a lone bench in some obscure corner of the big, open park, but the sun was too bright. It blinded him. He could see nothing.
Victor collapsed on the sidewalk. He tried to keep his body from leaking. The grey-green acid living in his stomach would burn right through his clothes, and then he would just look like some unclothed lunatic lying on the sidewalk. That’s not who he was. He couldn’t control his maladies. If there was a pill that could fix him, he would take it. But all pills were made of sugar, and sugar just made him bleed. If he wanted to bleed out his disease, he’d stop keeping his leeches tied up in his ribcage and set them free. No, he would not let anyone call him a lunatic, even if his clothes did burn off. He was a good person with a sound mind and an open heart. At least, that’s what she always told him. But was that really her? He couldn’t even remember.
Victor opened his eyes to find her peering over at him. She sat cross-legged on his chest. She smiled softly and petted his face. Her hands were thin and bony. Suddenly, she began scratching him viciously, her nail-tips embedding themselves in his cheeks so deeply that they became stuck. She scratched and scratched until all of her nails were stuck in his face. She shoved her wounded, nailless fingers in her pockets and smiled again. He breathed heavily, trembling. This is not the way I remember you. This is not what I wanted from you. Don’t do this to me. She looked at him angrily. Don’t do what Victor? Don’t do what? You control everything I do, don’t you? So why don’t you make me stop? She slapped him over and over again. He never tried to restrain there. He just lay there, confused. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, she was gone.
He tried to get up, but his legs were too weak. He stared upwards and saw a face. It looked like hers, but he couldn’t be sure. Victor reached for her, but she pulled away. He could hear her talking to someone else. There was a man with her. His face was like a burlap sack, textured and featureless. Victor wondered if the man was a burn victim. Did burn victims look like this? It didn’t matter. Before he could ask her what he had done wrong, he blacked out.
When Victor woke up, he was lying in a hospital bed. She hovered over him. She opened her mouth. Why aren’t you saying anything? Where have you taken me? What have I done to you? What did I do wrong? She screamed loudly. He covered his ears, but he could her screaming inside of his head. The sound of her screams shook the scarabs out of his temples and onto the floor. He was too weak to retrieve them. He felt so helpless. He tried to close her mouth with his fingers, but she floated higher and higher away from him. Make the noise stop. She stopped screamed and began to laugh dryly.
He took a deep breath. He wanted to reason her. Would she let him? Now was not the time to scold. It wasn’t his fault after all. He was just another person, lost in the freakish jaws of the bleeding city. Couldn’t she at least try to be sympathetic? Wasn’t she is caretaker? He loved her. He loved her so much. But he could not love her if she refused to take care of him. That was her purpose. That was what she was made to do. She was not supposed to lead her own life. She was not supposed to hurt him.
What have I done to deserve this? She said nothing, but looked tired. She slammed herself onto him, putting her arms around him. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed slow, deep breaths. Victor relaxed immediately. He cradled her gently, but could feel her slipping away again. By the time she was gone, he noticed someone in the doorway. It was a man in a very long white coat with a strange metal piece hanging around his neck. He approached Victor cautiously and began babbling incoherently. Victor was used to this sort of situation, so he nodded along and said yesyesyes to everything the strange man said. It would all be over soon, so long as he remained agreeable.
In the hallway, he thought he saw her standing with the same man from earlier. Who was he? Was he her new love? If he was a burn victim, then it would all make sense. She was a caretaker after all. He could just barely make out what they were saying. He strained to listen.
“Helen, what are we doing here? Wasn’t it enough to bring him in?”
“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? I told you already, I know him. He’s…he’s got some problems.”
Was her name Helen? Was this the same woman? Did he know her? He couldn’t understand. Why didn’t she tell this burn victim man that Victor was her love, her flame, her reason for being. Why would she say he had problems?
Victor did not want to be talked about. Not like this. He turned onto his side and willed himself to sleep. If he could not touch her or see her or talk to her, then he would dream about her.
As soon as he fell asleep, he saw her. They stared at each other in silence until finally he asked: Where are you?
“Victor, I was never really here.”
Victor finally understood. When he woke from his sleep, he calmly talked to his doctor. He told him of his preexisting condition. The doctor was understanding. He wrote him a prescription and told him not to skip his weekly appointments anymore. After the doctor left, Victor checked himself out, and absently exited the hospital.
He walked to the nearby parking lot and sat down to cry. He could hear the lake’s waves crashing from far away, and he thought that he was too tired to drown himself. His neck felt tight, as if the weight of all of his failures had joined themselves together to form a single invisible hand that was now mercifully and softly suffocating him. He unbuttoned his wrinkled and white collared shirt lightly, pressing the small buttons between the pads of his fingers, lingering on each one almost tenderly, as if they were wounds to be nursed. Slowly, he laid down on the ground, cradling his side and gently closing his stinging eyelids. There, lying on the cold asphalt underneath the watchful glare of the pale, lemon-faced moon, Victor Pruett finally found comfort.
Alida Miranda-Wolff @ November 22, 2011
The Homerathon: Putting the Epic Back in Epic Poetry
Posted in: CULTURE, Arts, CULTURE, LOCAL, LOCAL, UCHICAGO | Comments (0)
By Michelle Lee
15,693 lines. 200 translations. 24 books. 12 movies.
Starting 10 p.m. on Sunday, November 20, Classical Entertainment Society and Court Theatre are hosting a 24-hour interactive, staged reading of the Iliad that will last until Monday evening. The Homerathon will feature several high-profile professors from the University of Chicago, including Classics Professors David Wray, Alain Bresson, Clifford Ando, and Sarah Nooter; English Professor Christina Von Nolken; and Philosophy Professor Agnes Callard.
“We’ve invited readers to read in any language or translation they choose,” says Court Theatre’s Resident Dramaturg, Drew Dir. “One of the faculty members, for example, is reading… a translation by eighteenth-century English poet Alexander Pope. We’ve also invited participants to read it in the original ancient Greek, which many here at the University of Chicago are more than prepared to do.”
Students and community members are welcome to the stage to read. Interested readers should contact Ryan Mease at rmease@gmail.com to reserve their spot.
Throughout the event, various activities and movie screenings will also take place in the lobby. Movies to be featured include (but are not limited to): Troy, Helen of Troy, Percy Jackson ad the Olympians, O Brother Where Are Thou, Clash of the Titans, and 300. Guests will be able to try their hand at crafting Greek vases, shields, mini Trojan horses, and clothespin gods. Food and drinks will also be provided throughout the 24 hours.
The reading will take place on the set of Court’s upcoming production, An Iliad, which is set to premiere Saturday, November 19. Directed by Artistic Director Charles Newell, the modern, one-man adaptation of Homer’s classic revisits the voice of the lone poet as he delves into a story of human loss and folly that resonates across three millennia. Timothy Edward Kane stars in the leading role.
Don’t miss this celebration of one of Western culture’s most enduring legacies as all 24 books of Homer’s Iliad are read aloud from start to finish.
Michelle T. Lee @ November 17, 2011
