MONDAY MARCH 31 2003
NEWS
4A • THE UNIVERSITY DAILY KANSAN
OPINION
MONDAY, MARCH 31, 2003
TALK YOURSELF
Kristi Henderson
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Janna Goeffert and Justin Henning
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Leah Shaffer
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Amanda Sears and Lindsay Hanson opinion editors 864-4924 or opinion@kansan.com
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EDITORIAL BOARD
Watch TV sparingly during war
The once inevitable war with Iraq has been born and quickly overwhelmed the public with similarly inevitable war coverage. As students and members of the general public, we serve as receptacles of this coverage and shouldn't allow our lives to become dominated by the increasing presence of televised media, which depend on us for viewership.
Of course, citizens of the United States have the responsibility to remain updated on the progress of this war, which endangers the lives of our servicemen and women in the Middle East. The overabundance of media coverage, however, in particular cable news stations such as
Constant exposure to media pundits and military experts (seemingly any retired officer) most likely will have a detrimental effect on the war time lives of U.S. citizens.
MSNEC, Fox News and CNN, has an effect on how the public perceives the war at home.
Part of the blame can be placed on the fact that some reporters expressed that they felt barred from covering the Taliban conflict in Afghanistan. Some think, consequently, access has been granted on an exorbitant scale to the news media, now hiding behind every desert tank in every infantry everywhere forces light in Iraq.
On some level this is true. Digital images of military forces constitute the bulk of the coverage seen on all news networks including the major ones. Seemingly every time explosions occur in Baghdad or a helicopter goes down, however, another image breaks into programming, another reporter wearing a gas mask suddenly dominates the room.
As students and citizens, we should ask ourselves critical questions about how much war coverage to watch and the effect that coverage has on our lives. It is psychologically unhealthy to see too many effects of war, as we will inevitably become desensitized to the true gravity of violence or start to think of the war as we might a video game.
A deeper atrocity of the conflict could be it becoming just another form of entertainment. The lives of men and women should never serve such purposes.
Though completely avoiding war coverage may prove difficult and excessive — like avoiding the television itself — if approached with the right mindset, our perceptions of this conflict will remain in safe standing. Ignore the military expert drawing for you on a Telegrapher, but pay attention to large-scale events. Checking up on the action online may serve as an alternative, as well, with more to-the-point information than 24-hour-per-day news networks must, at times, contrive.
Although we probably don't always think of the situation this way right now small victories, such as sensible response to media coverage, can be worrisome home. Don't truth or your well being become another casualty of this war.
Sean Pauzauskle for the editorial board
STINSON'S VIEW
Zach Stinson for The University Daily Kansan
Tough to fit in abroad during war
PERSPECTIVE
Editor's note: Stauffer writes a biweekly column about her experiences studying abroad. She is participating in the humanities and western civilization program in Florence, Italy, and Paris.
COMMENTARY
R right now, being an American in Paris is a lot like being the new kid at school. You know the one. The kid is always wearing the wrong thing, talking funny, looking in the wrong places for the bathroom and most importantly—being shunned from the lunch table.
Louise Stauffer
opinion@kansan.com
I speak French with a horrendous accent and, no matter how hard I try, I can't get the hang of leaving the last three letters off of every word.
My experience in Paris is much the same. My clothes, which are pretty basic, are all wrong. This is partly because they are usually unwashed and most are more than five minutes old.
I really am always lost and have come
close to paying 100 euros for a bathroom out of desperation.
And I definitely never have a cool seat in any restaurant. All the loud Americans seem to be placed as far away from the public as possible, usually in the basement or in a corner of the kitchen. This is so business is not destroyed.
In war time, however, I not only feel like the new kid, but I feel like one fresh from the rival high school. I'm the visiting team who gets attacked with rotten vegetables from the bleachers at football games. The cool crowd hates me. Why?
It's nothing personal, but I represent things that bother them deeply. Everything between our two "schools" clashes.
Instead of getting offended, I remind myself that they don't know me personally; they just know a few bullies from my school who took their lunch money or something. Besides, I have a few grudges of my own, if I think about it.
So, just like the new kid. I have a few choices. I could transfer back into my comfort zone. Or I could become the shy kid who never talks and therefore never gets made fun of but misses out on a lot. Or I could muster up some guts and grow a thick skin. I could try to make nice while still teaching them a few truths about where I come from. And I could still be friends with kids from my old school.
Guess what I'm going to do.
Stauffer is a Holland, Mich., junior in English and journalism.
PERSPECTIVE
Protest puts perspective on war
I heard the news in Italian. In the lobby of a small Florence hotel on a 1950s television set, an Italian newscaster revealed Bush's ultimatum leave Iraq, Saddam, or the United States will attack. At least I was pretty sure this was the news, seeing as I don't speak Italian.
GUEST COMMENTARY
The imminence and reality of the news faded, though, as Florence swept me away. The clock was ticking while I was lost in the magnificence of the Renaissance city, surrounded by sights such as Michelangelo's David, the Centro Ponte Vecchio Italian Language, Art and Cooking school, the Uffizi Gallery and the Duomo, or Cathedral, of Florence.
Just as I began to settle into the city, though, I was off to Barcelona, Spain. The images from the television had entirely dissipated, replaced with the excitement of heading to one of Europe's most vibrant cities. I'd hit tapa bars, drink Sangria, take in amazing architecture and dance until sunrise in the clubs.
Both the United States and Iraq were worlds away from me, even though reminders of the conflict permeated my surroundings. In Italy, peace flags hung from the windows of most buildings; in Barcelona, I would see dramatic posters covering the city showing the nozzle of a gas pump placed against a frightened young boy's temple. "No a la guerra" (no to war) the bold letters read below.
The next morning, though, after catching a few hours of sleep, the news from two days earlier jolted me out of bed. Forty-eight hours had passed. I headed out of the hotel and was greeted with a human chain stretching the length of Las Ramblas, a nearly mile-long pedestrian district in the heart of the city. Hundreds of people stood silently hand-in-hand, dressed in anti-war apparel, in demonstration. A group of young school children passed and, spurred by their teacher, began chanting "No a la guerra." The hundreds of hands
Jacob Roddy opinion@kansan.com
The news I received from an Internet cafe confirmed my suspicion; we had attacked Iraq. Bush called it a decapitation strike, Saddam vowed the United States would be defeated, China said the attack was illegal, cities across Europe were planning for massive protests, and support for Bush and the war was increasing at home. I was an American abroad as the conflict gripped the world.
I headed back to the hotel to let my friends know what had happened. One said everything seemed so insignificant in the face of this news. The fun I had been having certainly did.
I tuned into a television at a café and saw images of the U.S. bombings. Apparently Saddam had survived. I saw thousands of Iraqi troops organizing and marching in Baghdad, news I was sure the U.S. stations were not broadcasting. Later that day, a demonstration of a couple thousand people took over one of Barcelona's main plazas. Anti-war and peace signs hovered above the crowds, "No a la guerra" and calls to dismiss Spanish President Jose Maria Aznar echoed through the streets; as did vulgarities directed at Bush and the United States.
unlocked as the silent human chain erupted into cheers of support. The kids smiled, I stood overwhelmed.
The next two days were filled with incredible sights — homes and the La Sagrada Familia designed by architect Antoni Gaudi, the Picasso museum, beautiful plazas — good food and drink and incredible night life. And once again
the reality of the war seemed to fade. This would change.
On my last full day in Barcelona, as late afternoon fell on the city, people began to take to the streets again. As I headed toward the heart of the demonstration, it was apparent this would be much larger than the one two days earlier. The crowd was heading down one of Barcelona's main streets. I walked to get in to the middle of it. The street was packed. Drums were beating, whistles were blowing, Chants, signs and flags filled the air. The mass of people would jump at times, lie down on the ground and scream as a news helicopter passed above. A group of people had covered itself in fake blood. A man with a can of spray paint tagged a McDonald's window with a crossed out bomb and was confronted by an employee as he tried to spray the door. The two exchanged words, and he went on his way, undoubtedly targeting the Pizza Huts. Burger Kings and KFCs that followed.
The crowd was massive, as far as I could see in both directions, confined only by the buildings that lined the sides of the street. I was taken by the resolve and cohesion of so many people who dedicated their afternoon to this unified statement. I walked for almost two hours, awestruck by my surroundings. I didn't for a moment worry about my nationality or my safety because the tone of the demonstration was overwhelmingly peaceful.
The next morning. I found out more than 500,000 people had taken part in the march, and that I had experienced one of the largest protests in the world that day. Eight hours later, though, the news that surrounded me was not of protests, but of support for Bush and the war. With a single plane ride, my reality had changed.
Roddy is a Haiku, Hawaii, senior in Spanish and journalism.
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To the sorority girl who edited page 9 of the Oracle, it's called spelling. Maybe you should pull your head out of a keg and into a book.
I'm puzzled. I thought law students were supposed to be smart, so why can't they figure out how to use a crosswalk?
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Only an idiot, drugged-out, dirty hippie would symbolically secede from the union by planting their ass on public property that's owned by the state.
Long live Lord Wads.
眉
So we're watching NBC Nightly News, and we just learned that Saddam Hussein's weapons of mass destruction expert got her Ph.D. at Mizzou.
题
I was just wondering, do you think when blind people walk into a room, they turn on the lights?
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Michael Moore is not a genius. It doesn't take a genius to state the obvious. Michael Moore is what we enlightened people call a demagogue. I've got a question for Mr. Corporations-Are-Evil? Who writes your paychecks?
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Stephen Shupe is exactly right. What are we doing getting involved in Iraq? They didn't do anything to us. On behalf of the thousands of civilians that Saddam has killed, I'd like to thank you, Stephen.
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题
I have a confession to make: I was in the Hobbit Club in fifth grade.
I don't like brownies. They make you hallucinate, especially when you watch American Psycho.
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I was in Paris over spring break and I've got three words for you: pain du chocolat.
Charlton Heston could not have been in the Million Man March with Dr. Martin Luther King. It didn't take place in the '60s, and King was dead by the time it did. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
A
At some point, I'll stop procrastinating.
Tomorrow.
Why do guys with ugly feet insist on walking around campus in flip flops?
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This is for Ross, the weather guy from Channel 6. You are so hot end we need to make out.
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