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.

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.

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.

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.

By  Matt Hartman

The most striking feature of Orwell’s 1984 is the way he imagines a language’s alteration as a mode of control. The idea of limiting a vocabulary until merely thinking a insubordinate thought is impossible is an immensely powerful idea. The fact that social interaction is conditioned on communication is so basic that it is not often explicitly taken into account. Yet if we can focus on the way we communicate, it becomes evident that the perception–as developed in a historical context–of the particular language used in a politics goes a long way in determining how that politics is regarded.

This issue has been partially considered in recent months. After Senator Giffords was shot in Tucson early this year, an ongoing public debate began over the use of violent political language. And Jon Stewart made a grand mockery of the way Nazi comparisons are tossed around. These controversies, constructed for media ratings or political clout, show that the issues of language are not uncommon to the general public.

But what isn’t discussed as a public issue is how our perception of language can determine how a political movement is received and its implications for contemporary politics. These perceptions arise from a historical context, but their manifestation in language needs to be studied directly. Therefore, we must consider that we live in the wake of a century during which two world wars took place in the name of revolutionary and utopian change. The utter horror of these wars is known, but they also bankrupted the very word ‘revolution.’ The idea itself now consists of the gulag when considered seriously and as the hilariously ironic peddling of iconic images when considered popularly. Contemporary political language is now inherently conservative.

There is the popular image the word ‘revolution’ brings to mind–that of war and violence–and that more tame meaning which labels far-reaching, and peaceful, change. The latter meaning is more akin to the word when used in a phrase like “Agricultural revolution.” The word has had both positive and negative instantiations, but in politics it is the negative which dominates.

Any language that contains hints of far-reaching goals is decried with the negative connotations of the word ‘revolution.’ Obama tried to find new ways of discussing revolutionary change by claiming Hope and Change as his campaign slogans. And yet he was still decried by the Right as a new Stalin (just see any episode of Glenn Beck’s show for proof). Leftist thinkers in the Marxist vein such as Jacques Rancière and Alain Badiou have renamed revolutionary politics as “emancipatory politics” in an effort to avoid the adolescent image (of a teen sporting his Che t-shirt) attributed to those who seriously discuss revolution. We are currently undergoing a reformation of political speak as philosophers and politicians search for a way to discuss broad and revolutionary change.

Here we can see the crux of the problem: speaking plainly of revolutionary change is unacceptable in contemporary politics. Doing so either harkens back to the gulag or makes the speaker look infantile. As a result, revolutionary change is not a part of American political discourse. Many have called the Occupy protests naive for thinking far-reaching change was possible. And many others have decried them as criminal.

This is the result of bankrupting the language of revolution: either revolution is not possible, or its proponents are so excluded from typical politics that they are left to extreme measures. The popular image of revolution is a result of this linguistic perception.

What this means is that there is a failure of discourse. To discuss with any seriousness the possibility of revolutionary change, one must find new ways of speaking. Perhaps this can partially account for the current slogan culture of politics. It is certainly evident in the works of revolutionary thinkers, such as Badiou and Rancière, whose work is obscured by the invention of new technical ways of theorizing what could be stated plainly if the word ‘revolution’ had not been bankrupted.

The important question here is whether it is worthwhile to have a political culture in which the very idea of revolutionary change is something which cannot be discussed. A language which favors the status quo is one which forecloses the possibility of anything else, which forces those who believe in such possibilities out of politics, or at least to drastic measures. Do we really want a politics where it’s the status quo or torches and pitchforks?

By Matt Hartman

The fact that there are thousands of demonstrators currently on the streets of New York and other major cities around the country is good news. But while the existence of Occupy Wall Street is exciting, its content is not. As of yet, it does not contain any actual potential for a true political moment. That is, it does not have any revolutionary content, no threat to the current power structure, or any serious momentum for social change.

I don’t mean to say that the protestors don’t have goals and demands. However, many of these demands are the kind of resistance which is expected in any system of government. Many of those people who defy social norms and resist, in whatever political structure, serve to mark out the limits of what that structure deems acceptable. The outsiders can be punished, made an example of, ignored, or mocked, but in each case they are nothing but a social tool used to perpetuate the status quo. Every shopping mall has a store that sells studded belts and gauge earrings because teenage rebellion is something both expected and without real content something that demonstrates who has reached maturity. Occupy Wall Street currently holds that place in political discourse.

Our current political system is one in which wealth garners power. It is one in which lobbyists determine policy. It is one in which, as the Occupiers tell you, 1% of the people have all of the power. These are no secrets. Corporate influence in elections, especially following the Citizens United ruling, has taken an unprecedented place in typical political maneuvering. These are, in fact, what Occupy Wall Street is responding to. However, the way the movement exists now is only a way of saying “they have power and we don’t like it.” So far, the protests have not approached the justice of our politics. They make claims about justice, but the way in which Occupy Wall Street has unfolded makes it more teenage rebellion than something meaningful. Too much of the focus during Occupy Wall Street has been in being pithy and clever. As a result, the movement seems adolescent, and allows the powers that be to ignore or mock the protestors.

However, this doesn’t mean Occupy Wall Street can’t have any meaning or develop any revolutionary potential. It takes a great deal of bravado to be trite, and even teenage rebellions can often lead to greater things. Occupy should be viewed in the same light–it should be celebrated as a necessary first step before something meaningful can be done. After all, the status quo must be pointed out before it can be changed. What this means is that while Occupy’s demands don’t need to change, its methods must. It is these methods which have undermined the content.

Specifically, it needs more frankness and resolve. First, that means the protestors need to act in a way that befits a serious movement. They need to stop making signs with catchy slogans and ranting rhetoric. They need to stop with kitschy tactics from the 60s.

They need to take off the Guy Fawkes masks and realize a true political movement is something greater than what they have now. For Occupy Wall Street to have content it must refocus on true political discourse. It is this focus on show that makes Occupy easy to discard.

Second, by suing the NYPD over the recent mass arrests on the Brooklyn Bridge Occupy has shown a lack of resolve by turning to the current political system to judge an abuse of power rather than confronting it themselves. If the goal is to alter the political system, one cannot turn to that system for judgment. This is showing implicit deference to the very thing the protestors are protesting.

These failures of frankness and resolve, and indeed all of Occupy’s failures, are demonstrated best in the reaction to police macing protesters. They show that a generally accepted (if not justified) crowd dispersal tactic is being treated as a grave attack on civil liberties. Though the macings are wrong, whenever one of these incidents occurs the protestors just hide behind camera phones and retreat to blogs to post the videos under titles like “POLICE BRUTALITY ON WALL STREET!” These tactics leave it to the police to decide when to change their ways.

This public shaming tactic only works with grave abuses to humanity, which is why they succeeded in the Arab Spring. But even in Egypt, however, the Army’s power was never threatened and the ruling generals are acting in ways that, to many, seem to border on the undemocratic. In any revolutionary movement, the protestors must be willing to fight crime with more than youtube videos. I am not asking for open violence against law enforcement. I am, however, saying that if a police officer is using unjustified violence against a protester, others should fight back, even if that requires a physical confrontation. As of now, the protestors are refusing to do so.

Yet the confrontation of power is what makes the true content of any political movement. America needs its May ’68–a movement that was frank and resolute beyond all doubt. Occupy Wall Street contains within it the first step. But so far it has merely indicated some of the social problems which exist in the status quo. For any revolutionary potential, the movement must be willing to not only confront the powers which have protected that status quo, but to institute the frankness and resolve necessary into the way in which the movement operates. We must make politics earnest.

Over the summer, Akshat Goel and Annie Pei became Diskord’s new co-Editors. Here, they run down what, exactly, they want to do at Diskord this year, and why you should keep coming back.

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I read about card counters in Las Vegas the day before yesterday. It was an exhilarating story – I was completely hooked. I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what it was about counting cards that was so attractive to me. What made it a great story to read? Why was that book so difficult for me to put down?

The simple answer to my question is that I enjoy seeing the bad guy get beat as much as the next person. However, a more nuanced answer to my question is possible too. That answer is this: I feel enormously satisfied when an unfair system is beaten at its own game and is beaten in such a way that the system does not and cannot remain the same again. Acts like these – acts of positive rebellion – are essential for a society to function.

The concept of positive rebellion contains within it what I hope Diskord will become. I look at this publication as a positive rebellion against what journalism is right now, and simultaneously an experiment in what Internet journalism can become.

I believe strongly that the journalistic form has been constrained by the needs of the market. This leads to cutthroat competition for column space and overbearing and restrictive editorial practices. On the other hand, I firmly believe in the cathartic effect of writing. Writing well and in an unconstrained way is like eating a good meal, like listening to good music, like reading a good book, like meditation – the ultimate stress reliever.

Diskord seeks to reconcile these considerations, to give its contributors the freedom they need to express whatever they want. We hope to create a journalistic form that is at once beautiful, contemplative, self-reflective, and unconstrained. So go ahead. Pick up the pen. Put it to paper. We are waiting.

-Akshat Goel

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The Oxford Dictionary of English has a total of nine different definitions for the word “transition”. They say that for a musician, a transition entails passing from one note to another in song or a modulation from one key to another. A physicist, on the other hand, views transitions in an atomic sense where nuclei and electrons interact with their environment, changing in state and condition. Everyone, everywhere, has their own definitions of “transition” based on their experiences and beliefs, which are all so different that our definitions of “transition” far exceed the Oxford Dictionary’s.

As the new editors of Diskord, our definition of “transition” consists of two components: preservation and growth. Each component addresses the past, present, and future for Diskord. We believe that with those three as pillars, we can build a strong community for writers, by writers, that readers will also love.

While changes will happen this year, one thing that will be preserved is our belief in leaving subject matter to the writers themselves. Part of Diskord’s original appeal was the absolute freedom the publication offered, hence we will continue to allow our writers to develop whatever style they love best and explore whatever their passion may be.

But while writers’ individual creative processes remain the same, this year we want to create a collaborative environment that will improve the publication as a whole. We want writers to work together, brainstorm together, and contribute to a close community of writers. We want writers to grow together with Diskord as a base to do so.

By the end of this academic year, our definition of “transition” will become a lot clearer. Readers and writers will be able participate in rebuilding Diskord, making the publication stronger and more personal. In the meantime, Akshat and I thank you for visiting, and hopefully you will keep coming back.

-Annie Pei