THE STUDENT WEEKLY SINCE 196911.19.09

Inside: Heckler’s Guide, Hallelujah Junction, and Stupak.

2009

GAME

the

11.19.09 vol. xli, no. 12

2 editor@harvardindependent.com 11.19.09 • The Harvard Independent

The Indy gets warmed up for The Game.

Cover art by OSCAR ZARATE

As Harvard College's weekly undergraduate newsmagazine, the Harvard Independent provides in-depth, critical coverage of issues and events of interest to the Harvard College community. The Independent has no political affiliation, instead offering diverse commentary on news, arts, sports, and student life.

For publication information and general inquiries, contact Presi-dents Patricia Florescu and Susan Zhu (president@harvardindependent.com). Letters to the Editor and comments regarding the content of the publication should be addressed to Editor-in-Chief Faith Zhang (editor@harvardindependent.com).

Yearly mail subscriptions are available for $30, and semester-long subscriptions are available for $15. To purchase a subscription, email subscriptions@harvardindependent.com.

The Harvard Independent is published weekly during the academic year, except during vacations, by The Harvard Independent, Inc., P.O. Box 382204, Cambridge, MA 02238-2204. Copyright © 2009 by The Harvard Independent. All rights reserved.

Co-PresidentsPatricia Florescu ‘11

Susan Zhu ‘11

Editor-in-ChiefFaith Zhang ‘11

News and Forum EditorRiva Riley ‘12

Arts Editor

Pelin Kivrak ‘11

Sports EditorDaniel Alfino ‘11

Graphics EditorSonia Coman ‘11

Associate News and Forum EditorWeike Wang ‘11

Staff Writers Peter Bacon ‘11 John Beatty '11 Rachael Becker '11

Ezgi Bereketli ‘12 Andrew Coffman ‘12 Truc Doan ‘10 Levi Dudte '11 Ray Duer ‘11 Sam Jack ‘11

Marion Liu '11 Hao Meng ‘11 Nick Nehamas ‘11Jim Shirey ‘11 Diana Suen ‘11 Steven Rizoli ‘11

Graphics, Photography, and Design Staff Chaima Bouhlel '11 Eva Liou ‘11 Caitlin Marquis ‘10

Lidiya Petrova ‘11 Kristina Yee ‘10

For exclusive online content, visit www.harvardindependent.com

SPORTS3-5 Forty years oF the Game

6-7 the heckler's Guide to the Game

Forum8 saturday NiGht misadveNtures

aN iNtroductioN to esP9 stuPeFied by the stuPak ameNdmeNt

arts10 artist ProFile: rick staNley '1211 book review: HallelujaH junction

Clarification: The article "Speaking the Truth to Authority" in the November 12 issue was jointly written by Pelin Kivrak and Sonia Coman.

The cover for the special UC election pullout was illustrated by Kristina Yee.

editor@harvardindependent.com 3The Harvard Independent • 11.19.09

indySportS

The 1989 Game Issue

The 1993 Game Issue40 Years of The Game

The Game has a lonG and illustrious history datinG from 1875. the 2009 Game will be harvard and yale’s 126th meeting, with the record currently standing at 65-52-8; Harvard has won seven of the last eight Games. In that time, there has been a seemingly endless supply of verbiage on both teams as well as a

number of memorable pranks and plays. Here, we bring you a selection of material from our own forty years of history, with the intention of showing you the ways in which The Game has changed and the ways in which it remains eternal.

So without further ado, we present — forty years of The Game. We hope you enjoy it in the knowledge of Harvard’s certain superiority.

The Harvard Independent

4 editor@harvardindependent.com 11.19.09 • The Harvard Independent

SportS

The 1993 Game IssueThe 1970 Game Issue

The 1984 Game Issue

editor@harvardindependent.com 5The Harvard Independent • 11.19.09

indySportS

The 1980 Game Issue The 1972 Game Issue

The 1987 Game Issue

The 1998 Game Issue

The 2004 Game Issue

6 editor@harvardindependent.com 11.19.09 • The Harvard Independent

SportS

10 20 30 40 505010 20 30 40

Normally, to mock yale, we Harvardians could point out that they are simply

Yalies because Harvard rejected their applications. We could also point out that they have had fewer Rhodes Scholars, Nobel laureates, and U.S. Presidents. However, this is football season, so let us stick to berating them for their second rate program.

Now, I hail from the football-o b s e s s e d a r e a o f w e s t e r n Pennsylvania, where gridiron legends are born. The Western Pennsylvania Interscholastic Athletic League has produced possibly the greatest quarterbacks of all time: Joe Namath, Dan Marino, Joe Montana, Johnny Unitas, Jim Kelly, and George Blanda. Also hailing from the region are all-time greats like Mike Ditka, Fred Biletnekoff, Mike McCoy, Tony Dorsett and Chuck Bednarik. The Pittsburgh Steelers have more Super Bowl titles than any other team. I think that all of these things point to the fact that I know what great football looks like. And I can tell you, my fellow Harvardians…that you sure as hell won’t find it at Yale.

Patrick Witt, QB #10: In an ESPN story this fall, Ivan Maisel wrote about Patr ick Witt ’ s transfer from Nebraska to Yale. He said that an injury made Witt consider “life outside of football,” so yes, Yalies, your highest profile player has already given up on ever succeeding in football — transferring from an FBS power to Yale, and saying before his sophomore season had

even started that he was already thinking of what to do next after he ultimately failed at big time football. Maisel praised Witt for reading a copy of Moby Dick on the bus during a team trip. This reminds me of when Tom Berenger was reading the “Classic Comics” version in the movie Major League after a demoralizing loss. Why does this matter? My beloved Indians were easily the worst team in the league at the time, and their once lauded field general’s abilities had declined to the point where no one else wanted him…coincidence? I think not.

Mordecai Cargill, RB #28: Personally, this is one of my favorite players on the Yale team because his name calls to mind such an interesting combination of images: Mordecai “Three-Finger” Brown, who was a pro baseball player at the turn of the century, and Cargill, which is one of the largest food suppliers in the country. Keeping this in mind, Harvard, feel free to remind Mr. Cargill that he would be better off using his mangled hands to bag groceries than attempting to play football.

Brooke Hart, QB #12: Pitched against and lost to the infamous Danny Almonte (Bronx) in a n a t i o n a l l y t e l e v i s e d 2 0 0 1 Litt le League Mid-Atlant ic Championship Game. Hart has had a history of losing since he was twelve years old. Is it just me, or is no one surprised that he ended up at Yale? Remember to remind him, as loudly as possible, that his history of falling short on

the big stage does in fact, make him a LOSER.

Mark Kaczor, TE #35: Is the son of Ruth Kaczor? Plays bluegrass banjo and guitar? Wants to major in molecular biophysics and biochemistry and become a pediatric neurosurgeon? One of 10 children? Note: I did not change the punctuation in Mark’s biography. My only question is — why is his biography full of question marks? The prevailing theory is that Mark has made such little impact on the football field that even his coaches and teammates are not entirely sure that he actually exists.

John Sheffield, HB #2: Is a greens keeper at a local golf course. Just like Carl Spackler, the assistant greens keeper in Caddyshack, the only shot that Sheffield has at winning a title is in his fantasy. Don’t hesitate to remind him that instead of playing football, his time would be better spent chasing gophers around the golf course. Then again, he might have caddied for the Dalai Lama and have the total consciousness thing going for him on his deathbed.

Scott L. Williams, QB #16 and Sean Wil l iams, OLB #99: Everyone has to struggle with meeting their parents’ expectations. As my predecessor Hao Meng ’11 noted last year, the Williams brothers find themselves under extra pressure. When one considers that their mother was a champion college tennis player and that they are following in

their father’s footsteps as football players who star on a national powerhouse Notre Dame team en route to becoming future NFL veterans…. Oh, never mind, I forgot that Sean and Scott play football for Yale. I wonder how that bodes for their NFL futures. Yeah, I wouldn’t put my money on it either. How would you feel knowing that you could never outdo your dad? I can only imagine how things play out over the holidays at the Williams’ residence. The boys are playing basketball in the driveway, and Scott puts up a shot over Sean that carries all of his hopes and dreams of victory — only to have a giant hand appear out of nowhere and slap it right back in his face, as his father screams, “Not in my house!” Here’s to hoping that the boys are better at coping with being disappointments than playing football.

Chris Blohm, TE #89: When looking up Chris’s bio, I realized something. Chris is the only non-freshman player who does not have a picture on the site. Why is this? Personally, I have a hunch that Mr. Blohm’s appearance was flagged by the FCC for being so frighteningly unphotogenic that Yale was forced to either put a warning label on the site (under 18 prohibited) or take down the picture.

Jeffrey Marrs, OL #73: His father farms just under 2,000 acres near Rockford. His brother, his grandfather, and he are all auctioneers. Jeffrey’s practice in keeping track of and yelling out

continuously and rapidly rising numbers should prove useful while he tries to keep track of the score. Insiders believe that Jeffrey will be yelling “Yale 0, Harvard 21, 28, 35, 42, do I hear 56 points?”

Chris Stanley, DB #22: Claims to be the grandson of a former Hungarian count. What has Chris done to bring honor to his family name? Mr. Stanley has worked as a valet parking attendant at a Beverly Hills hotel! What a leap forward, from royalty to a low level service industry in just two generations! Incredible! There’s no need to question why Chris ended up at the low end of the Ivy League, as opposed to its undisputed king — Harvard.

Why point out how incredibly ordinary the Yale football team is, you might ask? Well, when you travel down to the dump that is New Haven this weekend, those closed-minded Yalies might try to tell you how good their team is. After reading this guide, there is no way that you will be fooled by their misguided assertions. In response, be sure to remind them that not everyone is good enough to play for Harvard. Or, if they don’t play football, quote their eponym Eli Yale and say, “Not everyone is smart enough to attend Harvard.”

B r e t t M i c h a e l G i b l i n ’ 1 1 (bmgiblin@fas) was once offered the only football scholarship in Yale history. He declined in favor of becoming an average kid at Harvard.

Because knowing is half the battle when mocking Yalies.

By BRETT GIBLIN

HARV

ARD

The Fifth Annual Heckler’s Guide to The Game

editor@harvardindependent.com 7The Harvard Independent • 11.19.09

indySportS

YALE

10203040501020304050

Normally, to mock yale, we Harvardians could point out that they are simply

Yalies because Harvard rejected their applications. We could also point out that they have had fewer Rhodes Scholars, Nobel laureates, and U.S. Presidents. However, this is football season, so let us stick to berating them for their second rate program.

Now, I hail from the football-o b s e s s e d a r e a o f w e s t e r n Pennsylvania, where gridiron legends are born. The Western Pennsylvania Interscholastic Athletic League has produced possibly the greatest quarterbacks of all time: Joe Namath, Dan Marino, Joe Montana, Johnny Unitas, Jim Kelly, and George Blanda. Also hailing from the region are all-time greats like Mike Ditka, Fred Biletnekoff, Mike McCoy, Tony Dorsett and Chuck Bednarik. The Pittsburgh Steelers have more Super Bowl titles than any other team. I think that all of these things point to the fact that I know what great football looks like. And I can tell you, my fellow Harvardians…that you sure as hell won’t find it at Yale.

Patrick Witt, QB #10: In an ESPN story this fall, Ivan Maisel wrote about Patr ick Witt ’ s transfer from Nebraska to Yale. He said that an injury made Witt consider “life outside of football,” so yes, Yalies, your highest profile player has already given up on ever succeeding in football — transferring from an FBS power to Yale, and saying before his sophomore season had

even started that he was already thinking of what to do next after he ultimately failed at big time football. Maisel praised Witt for reading a copy of Moby Dick on the bus during a team trip. This reminds me of when Tom Berenger was reading the “Classic Comics” version in the movie Major League after a demoralizing loss. Why does this matter? My beloved Indians were easily the worst team in the league at the time, and their once lauded field general’s abilities had declined to the point where no one else wanted him…coincidence? I think not.

Mordecai Cargill, RB #28: Personally, this is one of my favorite players on the Yale team because his name calls to mind such an interesting combination of images: Mordecai “Three-Finger” Brown, who was a pro baseball player at the turn of the century, and Cargill, which is one of the largest food suppliers in the country. Keeping this in mind, Harvard, feel free to remind Mr. Cargill that he would be better off using his mangled hands to bag groceries than attempting to play football.

Brooke Hart, QB #12: Pitched against and lost to the infamous Danny Almonte (Bronx) in a n a t i o n a l l y t e l e v i s e d 2 0 0 1 Litt le League Mid-Atlant ic Championship Game. Hart has had a history of losing since he was twelve years old. Is it just me, or is no one surprised that he ended up at Yale? Remember to remind him, as loudly as possible, that his history of falling short on

the big stage does in fact, make him a LOSER.

Mark Kaczor, TE #35: Is the son of Ruth Kaczor? Plays bluegrass banjo and guitar? Wants to major in molecular biophysics and biochemistry and become a pediatric neurosurgeon? One of 10 children? Note: I did not change the punctuation in Mark’s biography. My only question is — why is his biography full of question marks? The prevailing theory is that Mark has made such little impact on the football field that even his coaches and teammates are not entirely sure that he actually exists.

John Sheffield, HB #2: Is a greens keeper at a local golf course. Just like Carl Spackler, the assistant greens keeper in Caddyshack, the only shot that Sheffield has at winning a title is in his fantasy. Don’t hesitate to remind him that instead of playing football, his time would be better spent chasing gophers around the golf course. Then again, he might have caddied for the Dalai Lama and have the total consciousness thing going for him on his deathbed.

Scott L. Williams, QB #16 and Sean Wil l iams, OLB #99: Everyone has to struggle with meeting their parents’ expectations. As my predecessor Hao Meng ’11 noted last year, the Williams brothers find themselves under extra pressure. When one considers that their mother was a champion college tennis player and that they are following in

their father’s footsteps as football players who star on a national powerhouse Notre Dame team en route to becoming future NFL veterans…. Oh, never mind, I forgot that Sean and Scott play football for Yale. I wonder how that bodes for their NFL futures. Yeah, I wouldn’t put my money on it either. How would you feel knowing that you could never outdo your dad? I can only imagine how things play out over the holidays at the Williams’ residence. The boys are playing basketball in the driveway, and Scott puts up a shot over Sean that carries all of his hopes and dreams of victory — only to have a giant hand appear out of nowhere and slap it right back in his face, as his father screams, “Not in my house!” Here’s to hoping that the boys are better at coping with being disappointments than playing football.

Chris Blohm, TE #89: When looking up Chris’s bio, I realized something. Chris is the only non-freshman player who does not have a picture on the site. Why is this? Personally, I have a hunch that Mr. Blohm’s appearance was flagged by the FCC for being so frighteningly unphotogenic that Yale was forced to either put a warning label on the site (under 18 prohibited) or take down the picture.

Jeffrey Marrs, OL #73: His father farms just under 2,000 acres near Rockford. His brother, his grandfather, and he are all auctioneers. Jeffrey’s practice in keeping track of and yelling out

continuously and rapidly rising numbers should prove useful while he tries to keep track of the score. Insiders believe that Jeffrey will be yelling “Yale 0, Harvard 21, 28, 35, 42, do I hear 56 points?”

Chris Stanley, DB #22: Claims to be the grandson of a former Hungarian count. What has Chris done to bring honor to his family name? Mr. Stanley has worked as a valet parking attendant at a Beverly Hills hotel! What a leap forward, from royalty to a low level service industry in just two generations! Incredible! There’s no need to question why Chris ended up at the low end of the Ivy League, as opposed to its undisputed king — Harvard.

Why point out how incredibly ordinary the Yale football team is, you might ask? Well, when you travel down to the dump that is New Haven this weekend, those closed-minded Yalies might try to tell you how good their team is. After reading this guide, there is no way that you will be fooled by their misguided assertions. In response, be sure to remind them that not everyone is good enough to play for Harvard. Or, if they don’t play football, quote their eponym Eli Yale and say, “Not everyone is smart enough to attend Harvard.”

B r e t t M i c h a e l G i b l i n ’ 1 1 (bmgiblin@fas) was once offered the only football scholarship in Yale history. He declined in favor of becoming an average kid at Harvard.

Because knowing is half the battle when mocking Yalies.

By BRETT GIBLIN

The Fifth Annual Heckler’s Guide to The Game

8 editor@harvardindependent.com 11.19.09 • The Harvard Independent

Forum

Workload: !@#^&* Party stopper moments: 1The square glasses and hair in a

serious bun give it away: I’m not a partier or someone who “chillaxes” on Saturday nights. Unfortunately, the folks downstairs don’t know this. Every Saturday night without fail, my conscientious neighbors blast their subwoofers with the serious intent of causing brain damage, and every Saturday night, dance music tunnels through my walls like overzealous termites. Unable to sleep or work, I have extra time to mull over an existential crisis. Who am I, if not a workaholic, stressaholic, loveless multitasker extraordinaire? During one crucial moment of soul-searching, the roommate suggests I find my inner partier. Right — because it is only a matter of time before Zen and partying merge into a legitimate philosophy.

Me: “My inner what?” Roommate: “Your inner partier, wild

child, bad bone.” Me: “Partying is a bit reckless.” Roommate: “You’re a bit boring.” Point taken. Will seek out my inner

partier.

I miss the golden age of snail mail, when party invites were sent out on pretty paper by horse and buggy. Nowadays, kids are all about Facebook, Twitter, email, and texting. In my octogenarian opinion, the information era is a tad overused and over- shared. My roommate’s friend emails her about a happening party this coming Saturday — so happening, it is meant to be hush-hush. My roommate forwards me the email, then texts me to check my inbox. I accost her in the room. She creates a Facebook event. I RSVP, only to find that the happening party is happening downstairs. Thanks a heap, technology; your usefulness is epic.

Appropriate party dress is a balance between the ridiculous and the more ridiculous. I let my roommate work her magic and expect a Princess Diaries moment in front of the mirror. Instead, I get a fro, cherry cheeks, and panda eyes that scream, “I may be Asian but look, here are my eyes”. Smiling is hard. Frowning is even harder. The pancake of foundation limits all facial movement to suggestive twitches.

Me: “This is swell, roomie.”

Roommate: “Thanks! I ’ve been experimenting and you’re probably my best product!”

Me: “That’s…swell.” As it turns out, swell is my default

adjective in times of shock or major awkwardness. This is both. Out of charity, I decide to keep my face, risk toxin intake, and move on with life. The party is a 10pm to whenever-we-get-shut-down affair, but college code mandates that no one (besides the occasional dork) shows up at 10. By 10:05, the music starts. Rather than twiddle my thumbs, I spend next hour and half cleaning the room, loading laundry, and singing along to Disney songs. The domestic work takes its toil; by 11:30, my stomach aches for some hot ramen. Dancing on an empty stomach does not factor into my formula for fun, so I quickly stick something in the microwave and go to haul out my laundry.

Downstairs, I hear fire alarms, sprinkler systems and emergency exits sound off in unison. The cacophony signals a mass migration out of the dorm and into the sub-zero outdoors. I follow suit. A group of thinly clad girls huddle together; their

macho escorts stand cross-armed, in manly defiance of the arctic wind. This must be the happening party.

It takes ten minutes before the fire trucks arrive, another ten before professionals enter the dorm, and another forty? — fifty? — before they emerge with any announcement. By this point, my pinky toe risks frostbite.

Fireman: It appears an overheated microwave set off the alarms. There was no fire, just smoke. We turned off the alarms, but the floors are still soaked. They’ll dry in a few days.

Oh fudge. My microwave. My ramen. My fault. The happening party shuffles back into the dorm under a cloud of expletives; the party is canceled. I keep mum until I reach the sanctity of my room.

Roommate: You forgot the water with your ramen?! Isn’t that the only step?!

Yes. Yes, it is. Lesson learned: If one is too busy to

party, one should not party. Period.

Weike Wang ’11 (wwang@fas) promises not to use her powers for evil in the future.

Confessions of a Workaholic

The new harvard College eduCational Studies Program (HCESP) may not help you develop your latent

telekinetic powers, but it certainly will allow you to use your mind in a creative way. Founded by Lester Kim ’11 and Zhao Chen ’11 and modeled after the long-running ESP program at MIT, HCESP’s mission is to provide motivated high school and middle school students with opportunities to take classes taught by equally motivated Harvard students. The hook: the volunteers themselves design these classes with absolute creative freedom.

Currently, the largest program organized by HCESP is the High School Studies Program (HSSP). HSSP volunteers build an organized eight-week class from scratch on a topic of their choosing, and teach their classes to middle and high schoolers. In this way, HSSP gives student volunteers an excellent opportunity to mold their own passions into a more structured form. As co-chair Zhao Chen puts it, “we’re giving people who know something awesome a way to pass that awesome to others.”

Past ESP programs have featured classes developed around standard academic subjects, such as AP calculus and European history. However, class topics often veer from

A Meeting of Minds

the norm; previous ESP volunteers (at MIT) have taught classes on Starcraft, the Elvish language, and the science of a bottle of Coke. Volunteers can opt to teach a class alone or with another volunteer. Then, in the spring, volunteers will bring their creations to life for two hours every week, teaching a class of interested high and middle schoolers. All classes will take place on campus, and most students will be drawn from the schools in the greater Boston area.

According to co-chair Lester Kim, “In starting HCESP, we are hoping to build an exciting program at Harvard that puts an unprecedented amount of creative license into the volunteering process. Whether you are interested in teaching or just have something cool to share, HCESP gives you an avenue to focus those creative energies and make something truly worthwhile for the hundreds of eager students waiting to learn from you.”

The first Harvard College HSSP will run from February 6 to April 3. All the classes will be on Harvard’s campus and will take place every Saturday.

For more information and to ask how to sign up, contact the program directors: Sway Chen (swaychen@fas.harvard.edu) and Erin Harrington (eharring@fas.harvard.

edu). You can be added to the mailing list (hcesp@lists.hcs.harvard.edu) to keep you updated about all ESP events and happenings. To register for Harvard College HSSP for the spring term, please visit http://esp.mit.edu/teach/HSSP/index.html.

In the picture, from left to right: Lily Hsiang ('13, admin), Carla Ferreira ('12, admin), Erin Harrington ('12, co-director), Lester Kim ('11, co-chair), Seena Khosravi ('13, treasurer).

(Important note: Harvard College ESP is as of yet not a recognized Harvard College student group. However, the HCESP program application has been submitted to the Office of Student Life and is currently being processed and reviewed.)

Partying into the AM. By WEIKE WANG

Do you have ESP?By ZHAO CHEN

editor@harvardindependent.com 9The Harvard Independent •11.19.09

indyForum

Bewildered. that’s a good word to start with. Infuriated. That’s another one.

I was at the JFK Forum last Friday when Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi (D-CA) answered questions about the Stupak Amendment, which had been added onto the end of the health care bill, H.R. 3962. Until then, I hadn’t had time to reflect on the recent bill. Now, I’m frustrated and angry. Restricting abortion rights? Is that what health care reform has turned into? And from a Democrat, no less?

The debate over health care reform has taken too many turns off the topic. The reform should really be about providing affordable health care insurance to every American, and providing them with a competitive public option that they can choose to opt into (or not). Even Glenn Beckwent through a period of lucidity where he realized that the American health care system is in major need of reform. Lying on his hospital bed, complaining about costs and the pain he’s had to go through, he seems to be genuinely sympathetic to those who get sick in America. Then he got better and was hired by Fox News, and it’s just been sunshine and butterflies for him ever since.

Instead, the health care debate has centered on such ridiculous subjects as “death panels,” a manipulation of a provision that would have given doctors the chance to discuss end of life options with elderly citizens. Look, nobody wants to die, but isn’t it better to have a plan on care just in case one day an elderly citizen becomes too old to think clearly about what they want? It’s a tough issue, and nobody wants to think about it, but like DNR consultation before surgery, it’s a necessary measure.

Now the matter has turned yet again. This time, it’s about abortion.

The Stupak Amendment, introduced by Rep. Bart Stupak (D-MI) and Rep. Brad Ellsworth (D-IN), bans federal funding for abortion services in both the public option and the insurance exchange that the bill would create. Women who want to enroll in the new health care system would not have access to private insurance that covers full reproductive health options. You could scoff and say, “but it’s just funding! They’re not

The Stupak Amendment Needs Amending

overturning Roe v. Wade.” That is true; Congress does not have the power to overturn Roe. What Congress can do is tighten the purse strings. Controlling funding is Congress’ most effective way of making its agenda reality. It won’t pass legislation that says specifically “we will limit the right of women to choose,” but they can make it difficult for women to access that choice by witholding money. It’s how they make the drinking age 21, after all — there is no formal federal law about it, but if the states don’t comply, they lose funding.

Many Democrats are angry, and rightly so. Here was a bill that was going to reform the American health care system. It was a moment that politicians should have been proud of, expanding care and options for Americans, trying to make medical care an affordable reality. Instead, it became a heated debate over restrictions on abortions. How are pro-choice Democrats supposed to vote? On the one hand, they believe in upholding the right of women to choose. If you can knock down that principle now, even just a little, you can knock it down in the future, until the right is all but taken away. On the other hand, they saw the importance of the health care reform. It was a once-in-a-lifetime bill, with sweeping changes. In the end, they chose to save the abortion battle for another day, another round of negotiations. I can’t say I blame them – there was no win-win possibility.

Women won a choice in the 1970s with Roe v. Wade. They did not win the right to abortion; they won the right to choose. Women aren’t forced into getting an abortion — it was never about forcing us one way or the other, but allowing us to make the decision ourselves. Like many issues in health, it’s a hard decision to make, but it is the decision of the woman, and hers alone. I don’t find it right to force one’s beliefs onto another, much less an entire nation. Americans would be appalled if a Muslim coalition in the Congress (thought experiment, go with me here) snuck an amendment into a popular bill (let’s say something dear to the NRA’s heart) that somehow induced greater funding for women who wore hijabs. Americans would say that this goes against women’s rights! This is America, the land of freedom and

equality! I say that now, in regards to the Stupak Amendment. Legislators should be busy bringing about reform, not imposing their religious beliefs on an entire nation.

You could argue that it was a political maneuver, perhaps to curry Republican votes. But I don’t buy that — only one Republican signed onto the bill. For the GOP, restricting abortion funding wasn’t going to make or break the case. They actually had their heads in the right place: centered on the health care reform.

John F. Kennedy, the nation’s first Catholic President, once said in a speech to the Greater Houston Ministerial Association, “I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute, where no Catholic prelate would tell the president how to act.” I realize that absolute separation is nearly impossible, messy, and probably not a good idea, but Kennedy realized that a legislator, a politician, a government official, had the responsibility to separate at least his role as a legislator from his role as a believer.

House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA), with Prof. David Gergen, spoke to members of the Harvard community on Friday, November 13. She focused the discussion on the recent health care bill passed by the House, emphasizing that she was optimistic that negotiation on the Stupak Amendment and other parts of the bill would be successful once the Senate passes its version.

Susan Zhu/INDEPENDENT

In a later part of the same speech, Kennedy stated: “I do not speak for my church on public matters, and the church does not speak for me. Whatever issue may come before me as president — on birth control, divorce, censorship, gambling or any other subject — I will make my decision in accordance with these views, in accordance with what my conscience tells me to be the national interest, and without regard to outside religious pressures or dictates. And no power or threat of punishment could cause me to decide otherwise.”

Where has that fortitude gone? I can only hope that it will show its

face once more in later negotiations in the Senate chamber, or in closed door meetings between Representatives and Senators. If we’re going to protect women’s reproductive rights while successfully reforming the decrepit health care system, it had better show up soon.

Susan Zhu ’11 (szhu@fas) likes her legislators with courage; religion on the side.

By SUSAN ZHU

A bleeding-heart liberal takes on health care and abortion.

10 editor@harvardindependent.com 11.19.09 • The Harvard Independent

Arts

Artist SpotlightNaturalist at heart,

photographer by choice. Ten questions with Rick Stanley.

By RIVA RILEY

R i c k St a n l e y ’12 i S a n a t u r e p h o t o g r a p h e r c u r r e n t l y exhib i t ing h is work at the

Harvard Museum of Natural History.

What first drew you to wildlife and nature photography?

When I was a kid, I used to bring a lot of bugs into the house, and my mom bought me a camera so I could take pictures of them instead. You know how kids raise caterpillars in the house and they keep getting loose and stuff? Well, my mom got me a camera for my eighth birthday to reduce the number of critters that got loose in the indoors.

So you’re a naturalist at heart?Yes, you could say that. I’ve always

been interested in art and nature—when I was six, I illustrated a book of fifty species of fish that I consider one of my greatest achievements in life. I wish I could channel my six-year-old self ’s motivation. Anyway, nature photography was the natural way to combine these interests.

Which photographers do you admire?

Ansel Adams is great, I identify with him in many ways. Art Wolfe is also very inspiring, as is Frans Lanting.

W h a t d o y o u l o o k f o r i n a photograph?

The ones I’m really proud of are like good paintings—they transport you to the scene, it’s more artistic than literal. They have evocative qualities and there’s a certain simplicity to it. The coast of Costa Rica.

RICK STANLEY

You currently have a photography exhibit in the Harvard Museum of Natural History. Tell me about the places those photos were taken in.

There are so many places that I drew upon for those photos, but mainly they were taken during volunteer internships with the Friends of the Osa in Costa Rica and various trips with beetle specialists from the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. I visited all kinds of environments, including tropical dry forest, tropical lowland rainforest, and cloud forest.

You also received the BBC Young Wildlife Photographer of the Year award in high school, which is the world’s top nature photography competition. Do you aspire to become a nature photographer?

Whatever I do, I want to incorporate nature photography into my future. It’s very difficult to make a career out of nature photography because of digital photography and the wide availability of images, so I’m not counting on it. One of the people I really admire is David Attenborough—he’s the man, and my ideal career would be to do what he does [making nature documentaries]. However, I lack the accent, which I foresee being a problem.

What do you for fun besides photography?

I also enjoy painting and am currently enrolled in a painting class. I am a big fan of classical music and go to the BSO whenever I have the chance. I also like to seek out wildlife wherever I can find it, and I love taking walks out to Mt. Auburn Cemetery and Fresh Pond.

What are some of the craziest things you’ve seen in the field?

Did you know there are bunnies in the Amazon? Native, not introduced, Amazonian bunnies. That was highly unexpected for me. Also, I had the fantastic luck of seeing a jaguar on my third day in the field in Brazil, which was amazing because some people go thirty years without seeing one. I’ve also seen a leaf mimic moth that is so convincing that, if you touch it, it just flutters to the ground exactly like a leaf—it’s amazing.

What is one creature that you would like to photograph more than anything else?

I would love to photograph three

birds called the Marvelous Spatuletail, the Fiery Topaz , and the Great Sapphirewing, all of which are beautiful hummingbirds.

Where do you see yourself in ten years?

I’d be thirty—that’s frightening. Otherwise, I’d like to be finishing my graduate studies and hopefully working in the field as much as I can. I plan to spend as much of my time in the jungle as I possibly can, and I hope to be staying true to that.

Riva Riley ’12 (rjriley@fas) just hopes that Rick doesn’t bring bugs back to his dorm room.

editor@harvardindependent.com 11The Harvard Independent • 11.19.09

indyArts

When I was a young chIld, my family and I owned a certain limited number of records—LPs,

no less!—and the music on those records was what I listened to over and over again. I can still recall most of those records, among them So, by Peter Gabriel, Queen’s A Night at the Opera, The Beatles’ White Album, and in orchestral music, “Symphonie Fantastique” and “Herald En Italie” by Hector Berlioz with the London Symphony, a concert recording of Candide also with the London Symphony, and the one I most often played, a record of Leonard Bernstein conducting Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” and “An American in Paris” with the London Symphony. I got in on the very tail end of a certain mode of discovering music—one that’s only recently been overthrown, and that managed to stick around for a hundred years.

I’m not claiming that there was anything terribly distinctive about this collection—the middle-of-the-road quality of my musical upbringing is sort of the point. The process of acquiring musical (and cultural) competence based on what records parents purchased and left lying around the house has largely gone by the wayside. Today’s children of seven and eight are growing into a world where any sort of music at all is available at their and their parents’ fingertips. Who’s going to be nostalgic about the late-80’s German-language grunge-core rock of their youth? Or about the Romanian folk-singers their parents used to play on iPods while they prepared the kitchen to receive delivery Chinese food?

Another thing I’m not claiming: that this all-access eclecticism is a bad thing. The inherited soundtrack of childhood is coming to say both more and less about a family’s social sphere. I’d say my parent’s record collection of the ‘90s said only, “white people with middle-brow tastes,” but that limited indication of social group was pretty strong.

Now, with millions of albums available at low prices with the click of a mouse, it’s almost impossible to limit one’s scope so sharply. Even if you’re the sort of dunce that sticks to a strict diet of Andre Rieu schlock and champagne music, something is bound to get past your defenses. Something will certainly remind you of, say, that street musician you heard in New Orleans. Or else something will just catch your fancy, and then with a click you’ll have it playing on your stereo in high fidelity, just as though, say, a klezmer band were sitting there in your living room singing in perfect Yiddish.

Perhaps I’m describing a minor revolution within the great revolution brought about by recorded music itself. The invention of recorded music separated music from performance, and now the “digital revolution” is rapidly eroding the remaining boundaries

Take the Left at Hallelujah Junction

of class, geography, and ethnicity. It’s from the opposite end of this secondary

revolution that John Adams’ description of his own childhood musical exposure comes, as chronicled in his book Hallelujah Junction, and it seems like something out of a long-perished Elysium. Adams charmingly and straightforwardly recounts the story of the dance hall his grandfather ran on the shore of a lake, and his run-ins with Duke Ellington at that hall (Adams once shared a piano bench with the Duke). His father played jazz clarinet and taught Adams how to play. His mother sang and did amateur musical theatre, and Adams performed in a few musicals by her side. His favorite records were “The 1812 Overture” and “Bozo the Clown Conducts Favorite Circus Marches.”

At Harvard, Adams subbed on clarinet in the Boston Symphony, became the first student ever to submit a musical composition as a senior thesis, and immersed himself in atonal, twelve-tone, and early electronic and “process” music, while at the same time listening to the popular music of the era. Upon reaching a creative dead end in the academic music establishment of the East Coast, Adams took off in his car. He drove west to California with no job prospects and landed a position unloading shipping containers in San Francisco. In California he found an avant-garde scene little talked about and apparently little known on the East Coast, and it was there that he discovered the minimalism that became the nucleus of his mature style.

Adams’ musical odyssey, once you know its outline, is imprinted all over his musical output. “My Father Knew Charles Ives” is so titled based on Adams’ observation of the many similarities between the lives of the two men: “Like Ives, I grew up in rural New England, in Woodstock, Vermont and East Concord, New Hampshire. The young Charlie Ives received his first musical training from his bandmaster father, George Edward Ives. My first lessons on the clarinet were with my father, and together we played in marching bands during the summers and in community orchestras during the winter months.” Visit Adams’ homepage at Earbox.com for an essay explaining further parallels.

Adams’ more recent pieces have become steadily more rooted in various places and periods, in particular in a sort of heroic vision of California. Adams claims that his grand symphony “Harmonielehre,” of 1985, was inspired by a dream of an oil tanker in San Francisco Bay turning on end and shooting into the air like a Saturn rocket. Adams’ latest premiere, City Noir (with the LA Philharmonic, for Gustavo Dudamel’s inaugural gala concert), completes a “California Trilogy” that also includes “The Dharma at Big Sur,” and “El Dorado.”

Adams is, no contest, the most popular composer working today, and I think the reason is that he has found a way to speak for and to his audience and about the places where they live. He is a beloved figure in California and more broadly the US for the same reason that Sibelius was beloved in Finland and Smetana in Bohemia: he, and they, have identified parts of the national and local character and environs and dramatized them, on stage and in the concert hall. Adams has often succeeded in capturing the zeitgeist, which, contra Milton Babbitt, does not automatically make Adams a sell-out or a no-talent hack. Nixon in China was dismissed by some critics, when it premiered, as a musically inferior “CNN opera,” but I was captivated by the piece before I really knew anything about Nixon or his trip to China, and it is my suspicion that the opera will continue to be performed when the events it depicts are nothing more than a historical footnote.

Some of Adams’ critically and popularly

less successful efforts (A Flowering Tree, I Was Looking at the Ceiling and Then I Saw the Sky) have reached for Crash-style Hollywood-movie multi-culturalism, and though the music is at the familiar quality level, dramatically the action lacks conviction. There are plenty of people out there now “mixing” and “mashing up” and in general creating bricolage. It is Adams’ celebration of specific places and specific times (not necessarily his times or his places; see The Wound Dresser and On The Transmigration of Souls) that makes his music and drama difficult to resist. Adams has forged a large audience out of the balkanized warring precincts of the classical music scene, and has even managed to reach beyond that scene. Hallelujah Junction straightforwardly and unpretentiously explains how he did it. With any luck, he won’t be the last to manage it.

Sam Jack ’11 (sjack@fas) sings hallelujah, hallelujah!

Sonia Coman/INDEPENDENT

By SAM JACK

John Adams’ musical geography.

Rares Pamfil/INDEPENDENT

captured & shot