Opinion
Kansan
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Ann Premer, Editor Jamie Holman, Business manager Gerry Doyle, Managing editor Sara Cropper, Retail sales manager Angie Kuhn, Managing editor Dan Simon, Sales and marketing adviser Tom Eblen, General manager, news adviser Justin Knupp, Technology coordinator
Friday, April 2, 1999
Robert James Novak / KANSAN
Editorial
International stability demands open communication with China
As Congress turns its attention from impeachment to other issues, it is vital that our representatives keep in mind our international interests. Though conflict in the Middle East and former Yugoslavia have earned most of the nations' attention recently, there exists the glaring absence of a stable relationship with China.
China arguably is our greatest challenger — economically, militarily and ideologically. Our leaders must prioritize the development of a strong but fair foreign policy with this potential opponent.
To many, human-rights abuses, such as the massacre nearly a decade ago in Tiananmen Square, are sufficient reasons to endorse a foreign policy of chastisement toward China. To subdue rising tensions between the American and Chinese governments, U.S. officials should seek consistent communication with Chinese leaders.
When the line of communication between the two governments suffers, so does security. When the United States granted Taiwanese President Lee Teng-hui a visa to speak at Cornell University in 1995, China responded with military exercises in the Formosa Strait. Obviously, the Chinese government was unhappy that they were not informed before the visit; Lee leads what China considers a rebellious province. Because China has a substantial arsenal of nuclear weapons, American national security also is at stake.
China's economic power and human-rights record require the United States' attention.
American leaders also should strive to include China in the international economic community. The Chinese economy is blooming rapidly into the third largest in the world. To relieve trade disparities between China and other industrial nations — including the United States — and avoid the development of economic crisis in Asia, the United States should encourage Chinese leaders to participate in the World Trade Organization and abide by its rules.
Removing its Most Favored Nation
trade status, as many have suggested,
is inadvisable. That designation is given to almost every major industrial state.
The status at least symbolically encourages the Chinese government to enact fair market and production practices. China, though not a democracy, wields the greatest power in Asia and should be included in global economic forums.
The only hope of curbing the undeniable abuses of human rights in China exists in open communication. Ending the denial of fundamental freedoms of both Chinese and Tibetan citizens deserves the highest priority in America's policy toward China. Yet it is doubtful these abuses will end unless our governments truly trust each other.
then, perhaps a rule of law that guarantees freedom to all under Chinese rule can be developed.
The Cold War may be finished, but America still deals with a potentially explosive situation in China.
The current relationship between the two is insufficient. Improving it is imperative.
Chris Borniger for the editorial board
Feedback
Lack of decent parking leaves residents hanging
I'm responding to an article in the March 16 issue of the University Daily Kansan about parking spaces at Gertrude Sellars Pearson-Corbin Hall and the Towers. I live at GSP-Corbin and know that the lack of parking nuts residents in potential danger.
Imagine walking alone near campus at 2 a.m. because you couldn't park in a spot you paid $75 to have. Now imagine that you are a female freshman six blocks away from your dorm. A gravel pit near our dorm was supposed to provide spaces, but has been affectionately dubbed the 'rape lot' by residents. This 'rape lot' is considered one of the safe spots to park after midnight.
The parking department has shown no forethought in providing students with a place to park. Judging from the article, it seems that no one has taken responsibility to improve the situation.
Of course, limiting permits will provide all buyers with a place to park, but what if you can't buy one? There just isn't anywhere else to park. This problem has been ignored for too long if there are 118 people who can't find spots.
The overflow of people did not just pop up overnight, and I want to know why our safety has been compromised.
Kansan staff
Melissa Shuman Colby freshman
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Broaden your mind: Today's quote
"Weariness is the shortest path to equality and fraternity — and finally liberty is bestowed by sleep." — Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche
How to submit letters and guest columns
Letters: Should be double-spaced typed and fewer than 200 words. Letters must include the author's signature, name, address and telephone number plus class and home-town if a University student. Faculty or staff must identify their positions.
Guest columns: Should be double-
spaced typed with fewer than 700 words. The
writer must be willing to be photographed for
the column to run.
All letters and guest columns should be submitted to the Kansas room, 111 Steuart-Flint Hall. The Kansas reserves the right to edit, cut to length or reject all submissions. For any questions, call Ryan Koerner or Jeremy Dearby at 864-4924.
If you have general questions or comments, e-mail the page staff {opinion@kansan.com} or call 864-4924.
Perspective
Week in Florida burns flesh, friendly relations
Although I'm sure many of you did wonderfully exciting things during spring break, got addresses you'll never write to and contracted all sorts of
leases to circulate into the Lawrence biosystem, the fact remains that I am vain enough to consider my life one of, if not the most fascinating events you'll ever be privy to.
So, I'm going to talk about my spring break.
Being driven by the stupidity of youth, two friends and I decided to pack ourselves into a two-door automobile and drive to northern Florida.
H.G.
Miller
opinion @ kansan.com
Eighteen hours later, it became abundantly clear that all of those savy movies extolling the greatness of road trips were simply propaganda from fast-food restaurants and roadside gas stations.
Although these traveling companions may have been friends, the camaraderie seemed to fade somewhere south of the Tennessee border. One of my friends drove too slow, the other had no sense of direction and I guess my habit of swerving into oncoming traffic wasn't appreciated, if I interpreted the stream of profanities screamed at me correctly.
We further butchered the stigma of road tripping by caravaning down with another group of people. It seemed like a good idea until we noticed that they weren't right behind us as we pulled into the hotel parking lot.
Concern would have to wait, though, because our first impulse upon seeing the sandy beaches, rolling ocean and scantily clad women was to go into our hotel room, pull the shades and go to sleep.
At some point, I remember the phone ringing and one of my traveling partners intercept a message from our wayward companions, who said that their car had exploded somewhere near Nashville.
It sounded devastating, but they had called, and they were alive, so we went back to sleep.
After rousing ourselves for the free breakfast provided by the hotel — we all know that stale bagels and orange juice laced with heavy lumps of concentrate are the
best way to start a day — my friends and I headed to the beach.
So, we kindly moved five feet over into the sand, and got our sunburns for free.
Soon enough, a very tan old man who appeared to come from some cardboard boxes on the beach informed us that the wooden slabs we had camped out on were actually rental units, and that we would have to pay $15 for the privilege of using them.
Finally, evening came and it was time to hit the local clubs. Realizing that I was among strangers who were mostly drunk and would never see me again, I decided to leave all sense of reserve behind and do something completely cruel and unforgivable to those who witnessed it.
I danced.
Of the limited blessings God has given me, fluid movement is not one of them.
I sure tried, though.
I bobbed my head, I thrust my hips and I flailed my arms. I knocked over drinks, I stepped on feet and I bruised a lot of hips. In short, I made very few new friends in the state of Florida.
Eventually, I got close enough to some young lass who couldn't ignore my bounding energy. I smiled. She smiled politely back. The groove was on, and we started to do that "grind thing," and I became painfully aware of just how long it's been since certain muscles in my legs have seen action. I guess that walking up the hill three or four times a week isn't quite the same as five minutes of actual aerobic exercise.
But, we're grinding, right? So, I fought through the pain. A little alcohol and I was feeling pretty sexy, and she had this look in her eyes. It looked like the spring break fantasy was about to come true until she said, "Your keys are digging into my thighs; I need to go."
So I moved on to my next target: the bar.
And she limped out of my life forever.
After that, the rest of the week is kind of a blur. I didn't end up with a tattoo like one of my companions, so I guess everything worked out OK.
Of course, after another 18 hours in the car on the way back, my friends and I have decided to never speak to one another again.
Miller is a Hutchinson senior in English.
Fire destroyed belongings but nurtured compassion
Early morning March 13 sunlight crept slowly through my eyelashes, and I pried open my eyelids. I blinked once, then twice. And realization finally sank in.
Let me get one thing straight: I do not blame anyone for the fire in Ellsworth Hall last month. But, irrational as it might seem, I am mad at the fire.
that I was not in a bed I call my own, nor was I in a place that I have called my second home for the last three years.
Neil Kinsey
Guest columnis
Fire can be a greedy monster, and this one was no different. It swallowed a sense of home that I had acquired during the last few years.
The hallway I would walk down every day when I got home from class was nothing physically special, but it was a place of warmth — A place where I knew, most days, that I was welcome.
As I trudged up the stairs, after a quick ride from the house that I stayed at the night before, I feared what I would find that Sunday morning. I already had caught a quick glimpse the night before of what the fire and resulting smoke had done.
The hallway I had grown to love looked like a surrealist vision of some post-modern hell. The walls had been darkened by the smoke, and an ashen smell permeated the air. The interiors of many rooms were covered in soot, as though some diabolic snowstorm had snuck through the doorways.
And everywhere I looked, concern and depression were painted on the face of the fourth floor residents as they wondered how everyone would fare after the blaze.
As I finally reached my floor, I took a careful, investigative look down the hall. Things still looked bleak, and I sadly made my way to my room. I attempted to call my parents, to let them know that, as far as material goods were concerned, I had been
And then, I heard them. The voices. Voices of hope and goodwill coming from the hallway. I walked outside my room to see what was going on and how I could help.
spared any damage. Yes, my material goods were still undamaged, but my heart was aching.
Soon, the happy contagion of goodwill had spread throughout the floor. Anyone who could help was carrying the personal belongings of those whom had seen the worst of the damage into the lobby. And other people assisted in the scrubbing and washing of these belongings.
Later, we all helped each other wipe down the walls and mop the floors as we worked to restore our home. We joked with one another as we watched the soap suds remove the dark smoke. We cried within ourselves, as we realized some possessions could not be salvaged.
But most of all, we came together as an unit to accomplish a great good. The fire, in some sense, brought the floor members together as the unofficial family we always knew we were.
As I write this column, the hallway outside my door still is in need of repairs.
And many of my friends are still recovering from the fire.
I am mad at the fire for damaging the goods of my floor members and stealing the old sense of home I had. But, as most people know, you can also be grateful toward something you are mad at.
In time, repairs will be finished, and I will begin to rebuild my sense of home. More importantly, though, the fire ignited the loving hearts of the fourth floor members. That is what the fire presented no.
That is the right that we are presented as I often joke with my friends that the Tupac Shakur song, "Changes," was playing in the background while we were cleaning up from the fire. As the song states, "Things will never be the same." For that, I am glad.
Kinsey is a Shawnee senior in speech-language-hearing.