The Canada Issue

THE STUDENT WEEKLY SINCE 196902.25.10

Inside: Figure skating, snowboarding, and bin Laden.

THE ISSUE

02.25.10 vol. xli, no. 16

2 [email protected] 02.25.10 • The Harvard Independent

The Indy heads off to Canada for the Winter Olympics.

Cover art by KAYLA ESCOBEDO

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 politi-cal affiliation, instead offering diverse commentary on news, arts, sports, and student life.

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Co-PresidentsPatricia Florescu ‘11 and 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

ColumnistsChris Carothers ‘11

Sam Barr ‘11

Staff Writers Peter Bacon ‘11 John Beatty ‘11 Ezgi Bereketli ‘12

Arhana Chattopadhyay ‘11 Andrew Coffman ‘12 Levi Dudte '11 Ray Duer ‘11 Sam Jack ‘11

Marion Liu ‘11 Hao Meng ‘11 Alfredo Montelongo ‘11 Nick Nehamas ‘11 Steven Rizoli ‘11 Jim Shirey ‘11

Diana Suen ‘11 Alex Thompson ‘11 Sanyee Yuan ‘12

Graphics, Photography, and Design Staff Chaima Bouhlel ‘11 Kayla Escobedo ‘12 Eva Liou ‘11

Rares Pamfil ‘10 Lidiya Petrova ‘11 Kristina Yee ‘10

For exclusive online content, visit www.harvardindependent.com

SPORTS3 Learning to Snowboard

4 MicheLLe Kwan'S Legacy

5 oLyMpic Figure SKating

SpeciaL6-7 our northern neighbor: ten FactS

you Know you're canadian when... canada trivia

northern invaSionS

8 the vancouver oLyMpicS in pictureS

ForuM9 no hoLdS barred: get up and Leave

vaLerie Jarrett and aMerican poLiticS

10 Modern idoLS: aMerican eviL

artS11 Waiting for the BarBarians

[email protected] 3The Harvard Independent • 02.25.10

indySportS

The cool kids sat at the top of the diamond, their golden boards catching the mid-day

sun. They smacked each other with snow dust and blew perfect o-rings into the Michigan cold. One of them jumped up, waddled his board to the edge, and lunged forward. He carved through snow like a knife through frosting and sailed atop violent plumes of powder before disappearing behind the mountain. The others followed and created clouds of their own; it was a mass migration to another land — a better land — and I was so jealous. At that moment, I was pizza-ing down the bunny hill in rental skis and a frumpy hat. It was obvious that if I were to ever escape dorkdom, it would not be on these chopsticks. So I started snowboarding because it was what they did, the self-proclaimed kings and queens of junior high. But let me tell you, “cool” never hurt so much.

Seven years ago , I hugged towropes. My board snaked; I fell and the rope ground graciously across my cheeks while toddlers in pointy skis piled up behind me. Safety patrol would then stop the rope and run down to untangle me from the heap of screaming babies.

“Ma’am, are you okay? “Ma’am, can you hear me?” “Ma’am, your face is really red.” This happened a few more times

before I deemed myself ready to graduate from the bunny slope, even though I still could not stop or board straight. It was either go big or go home; that day, I went home.

The second t ime, I brought Hannah — a friend and seasoned snowboarder. Medium hills and

higher require ski lifts. For skiers, it is no hassle; they literally glide on and off lift chairs, no detachment of skis necessary. For snowboarders, it is a hassle. We loosen a binding. We hobble to the lift and we endure the entire ride whilst dangling a good 15-20 pounds of gear off one foot. The dismount is tricky. Hannah told me to stand on my board and just glide off. So easy, she said. So not. I stood on my board and glided, but glided backwards into the lift and eventually into a ditch. Safety patrol flocked onto me. They had never seen anyone do that! Bravo. I had gone down in history for most original calamity. Downhill proved even trickier. At the top of the hill, Hannah recited a slew of instructions.

“You go down on an edge, and then lean in for minimal contact with the snow. And then you lean out to turn the other way. Aiight?”

I nodded emphatically, wondering all the while what an edge was. Edgy, perhaps? I quickly rumpled my hair and hunched forward. The modern look lasted for 30 seconds before I tipped over.

The top of the hill was littered with mounds of snow. I boarded proudly for a good ten feet before the front of my board dove into one of them. I flipped thrice and landed with board firmly mounted on head and head firmly planted in snow — thank god for helmets. Redeeming myself after that was near impossible, but somehow I managed my first turn. Now I had a problem. I could not turn the other way. My board and legs lost their sync and I found myself tunneling towards a cement pole.

I also could not stop. So between flattening myself and wiping out, I chose to wipe out. This time, safety patrol brought a stretcher.

The first year was very much like this. I constantly broke my butt, sprained my wrists and cracked my back. My season’s last hurrah was going down the terrain park; I felt so carefree, so competent until I rammed my head against every other mogul in the run. Since then, I have left moguls to skiers.

The next season started no better. Hannah and I spent a week at Boyne, a ski resort in northern Michigan. On the first day, we inadvertently meandered to Dead Man’s Drop, a double black boasting a 70-degree slope. From the top, I saw the curve of the mountain fall off to oblivion and my life plummet to an abyss. But Hannah was fearless.

“We should do it.” “We could die.” She laughed and said maybe. Go

big or go home; it was too late to go home. So we strapped ourselves in and pushed off into the void. As we did, the mountain unglued itself from the bottom of our boards. I could not carve. I could not stop. I could not even stand. Fear had leveled my body and gravity was dragging me under. It was sheer free fall — I don’t recall ever skimming the surface. When my board finally hit a bank, I tumbled like a circus monkey. The force broke my bindings and my board skidded downhill solo. I then cannon balled into a pile of dead ferns and ate my first fistful of dirt.

It must have been magic dirt, because after that crash, neurons just clicked. With snowboarding, I

didn’t have a learning curve. It was more like an epiphany: I couldn’t — and then I could.

Seven years later, I still suck at chair lifts. The dismount is usually a congestion of bodies because I overcompensate and bully my way forward. I still wipe out; it still hurts. Last month, I cracked my helmet on a night run. The snow had frozen and packed into dense sheets of ice — carving on that leads to belly flops and minor concussions.

My excessive downhill scarring does not make me a badass boarder. That title requires air or massive jumps. While the downhill answers to speed, it lacks the razzle-dazzle of tricks.

P e o p l e l i k e t r i c k s . F o r a moment, Olympic boarders and their tantalizing freestyles had the whole campus going. The day after Shaun White’s double gold victory, “McTwist” and “halfpipe” became instant buzzwords. Many adopted the lingo with such zeal that I was sure I would find someone to teach me the halfpipe, but whenever I asked, “So how long have you been boarding?” they would say, “Actually, I don’t,” or “Actually, I ski.” The scarcity of boarders here is a mild disappointment — apparently snowboarding is no longer a cool sport to do, just a cool one to talk about. I outgrew my “cool” complex years ago; but it strikes me as ironic that I started boarding to be “in,” and now I am once again “out.”

Weike Wang '11 (wang40@fas) would give Shaun White a run for his money — if only she could find a teacher.

My early snowboarding days.

Go Big or Go Home By WEIKE WANG

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons


SportS

Nick Jr., the children’s television network that brought us Blue’s Clues and Dora the Explorer,

recently announced the release of a new episode of Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! that will have an Olympic theme. It will feature none other than the famous Michelle Kwanzelberry , the greatest WuzzOlympian in WuzzOlympic Games history.

That’s uber-cute, but there’s sort of a problem. The greatest WuzzOlympian in history has never won gold.

But is that really a problem? I think not. In television interviews with Michelle Kwan, it seems that news anchors have to pay particular attention in introducing her as a “two-time Olympic medalist,” not champion. She has won silver and bronze, but not gold, so she can’t be called a champion. But I’m happy that Nick Jr., the least likely of defenders, has taken the liberty of naming her the greatest Olympian in history. Her achievements have far surpassed those of most other athletes who were able to secure gold.

Kwan, who took the gold in five world championships and nine US championships, has been the face of figure skating for well over a decade. The child of working class immigrants from Hong Kong, she has a story that diverges from the stereotypical Asian-American path: instead of hitting the books, she hit the ice. By winning pretty much every skating match out there in the course of her competitive history, she has become a household name in the US.

Kwan has been part of the Olympics since 1994, when she was only 13. In every Winter Games, she went in hopeful but left disappointed. In her first Games in ’94, she was relegated to alternate position in favor of the national embarrassment that was Tonya Harding. Every Olympics after that she was the favorite for gold but came up short for one reason or another: in Nagano, because of what I think was a fluke; in Salt Lake City, because of one unfortunate mistake; and in Torino, because of an injury.

Despite these setbacks, Kwan has maintained grace and poise. She got back up, brushed off the ice, and continued to compete, year after year. In her competitive career, she has garnered 42 championships in all levels and has achieved 57 perfect 6.0 marks in major competitions under

the old scoring system, miles ahead of any figure skater in the US or the rest of the world.

Perhaps it may have been a blessing that she never won Olympic gold. With this final missing prize eluding her time after time, she has not given up, remaining in figure skating and dazzling all audiences with her programs for years. All of the Olympic gold medalists she did or would have competed against — Oksana Baiul, Tara Lipinski, Sarah Hughes, and Shizuka Arakawa — took the medal as something of an early retirement package, left the competitive scene soon after their wins, and disappeared into history. Kwan has remained in the spotlight and continued to deliver.

Kwan’s is a story of endless determination. She came back over and over again to reach her goal, and while she left empty-handed each time, she has kept a smile on her face and maintained hope for the future. She didn’t award herself a “platinum” medal to feel better, and she didn’t criticize her rivals. She simply wiped away the tears, held her head high, and kept trying. That, I believe, is what makes her the greatest Olympian in history. She embodies so many of the characteristics of a quality athlete: dignity and humility, respect for fellow athletes, undying determination, and the patience to stay in the game, year after year. She is the definition of the Olympic spirit.

As strange as it may sound, I feel that our experience at Harvard bears a resemblance to the Olympics. We are at the top of the academic game, hailing from around the world. We set high goals and high expectations, and perform under pressure. We are pitted against each other, but we still encourage and support each other and make friends. To be successful, we need to have the same Olympic qualities as Kwan: dignity and humility, respect for fellow students, and the determination and patience to stay strong for four years.

Moreover, Kwan’s Olympic quest is particularly inspiring and bittersweet because she was already a cut above the rest. She reminds us that even champions struggle — an idea should be of particular interest to us on this campus. We were champions of sorts to get here (putting aside any sense of arrogance or elitism this statement may connote), but it is

important to remember that there will still be struggles. There will be trips and slips. The best we can do is keep trying, remember not to let perfectionism drag us down, and hope for the best.

Following her 2002 defeat in Salt Lake City, Kwan made her final Olympic appearance on the ice with an exhibition piece to Eva Cassidy’s cover of “Fields of Gold,” a heart-wrenching and both aesthetically and emotionally beautiful piece that she put together as a tribute to those who have had dashed hopes and dreams — irony in the extreme, as she had arranged this exhibition program long before the 2002 Olympic disappointment. She finished the skate in tears but left us with an image of grace, dignity, and great

inner strength. Kwan is in Vancouver right now

— not competing, but commentating. She decided to forego another chance at the Olympics and has settled just one T-stop away from us at the Fletcher School at Tufts, choosing to pursue her Masters in foreign policy. She was named a US Public Diplomacy Envoy by the White House a couple years ago also, and does that as a side job.

There is life after figure skating after all. Perhaps she has found fields of gold elsewhere in life; at any rate, she will undoubtedly continue to bring glory to herself and the nation.

Henry Luu ’11 (henryluu@fas) is a devoted fan.

A True Champion

Kayla Escobedo/INDEPENDENT

By HENRY LUU

Success is measured in more than gold medals.


indySportS

Tonight will be the last night of competition in figure skating at this Winter Olympics, wrapping up the brief period every four years

when that sport rises to the national consciousness and everyone is abruptly an expert on the question of quads — a phenomenon that I apparently am not immune to, either. The result has been a series of nights camped out on the couch, glued to the TV and swearing at NBC (which, among offenses too many to enumerate here, showed one skater on Tuesday and followed it with two hours of skiing before returning to the rink).

Competition opened in high style with the pairs competition, about which I think it will suffice to say that the top Chinese couple, Shen Xue and Zhao Hongbo, completely stole the show with a combination of gorgeous skating and a touching story, and received a much-deserved gold medal, despite a moment when Shen slid out of a lift. China followed up their success with Pang Qing and Tong Jian, who took silver; Germany’s Aliona Savchenko and Robin Szolkowy were left with the bronze, after an interesting — to put it politely — clown-based short program and a trouble free skate.

The men’s singles competition was spectacular, with a remarkably deep field of former champions and young up-and-comers. Evgeni Plushenko (whose first name has romanized in at least three different ways) set the tone for the evening by skating first in the short program and posting a score that put him in the lead despite the performances that followed. Evan Lysacek — who, with his insistence on all-black costuming, looked either like an exceptionally scrawny crow, given the feathers at his wrists, or like a spider, all long, skinny limbs — skated a short program so perfect that he moved himself to tears, although it left him in second place behind Plushenko. Rounding out the top three after the short program was Japan’s Daisuke Takahashi, who performed with impressive flair. There were some surprises — Jeremy Abbott, entering as the reigning US champion, struggled and landed in 15th place, while Brian Joubert (France), the 2007 world champion, did so badly that NBC didn’t bother to air his long program two days later.

By now, everyone knows the final result: Evan Lysacek skated the long program of his life, achieving a personal best, to overtake Plushenko, who was uncharacteristically wobbly on his jumps and had some truly awful choreography in between. Takahashi once again skated a solid program to solidify his sport in third place.

Of course, we all have favorites. Mine is Stéphane Lambiel, the Swiss skater and two-time world champion who, like Plushenko, came out of retirement for these Olympics; for those who don’t regularly follow figure skating, he’s probably most memorable for the zebra-print costume he wore to win a silver medal in Torino. This time around he finished fourth, after a solid short program and a long program throughout which he appeared too tense to perform to his full ability. Despite the constant focus on jumps in figure skating, Lambiel’s strength lies in his spins — he has used some particularly innovative positions, and after watching him, everyone else’s spins look slow.

Canada’s much-hyped Patrick Chan failed to live up to the hopes of his country, landing in fifth place, but at only 19 years old — younger than many of the other top finishers, some of whom are on the verge

of retiring — he will have another chance, barring unforeseen events. And how can I forgo mentioning Johnny Weir, who generated controversy before even arriving in Vancouver by wearing a costume decorated with a plume of real fox fur? He skated his short program in a black-and-pink corset and finished it with an improvised kiss, and his long program brought the audience to its feet.

The aftermath of the men’s competition has not been entirely free of drama. Plushenko, as well as more than one retired skater, has gone on the record saying that for Lysacek to win Olympic gold without attempting a quad was a step backward for the sport, while Putin apparently sent Plushenko a telegram(!) saying his “silver was as good as gold” and the Russian press has been insinuating that he was robbed. The host of a Russian talk show presented Plushenko with a “platinum medal,” and in fact, his personal website currently displays a “Platinum of Vancouver,” right next to his “Gold of Torino.” To his credit, Lysacek has been remarkably gracious in his response to this spectacular display of poor sportsmanship, merely expressing his disappointment at being attacked by a role model in his moment of triumph.

At any rate, there may be a better explanation Plushenko’s behavior than merely being a sore loser. He cited worry over Russia’s declining status in figure skating as one of the reasons for his return, a worry that is not unjustified — Russia has taken gold in at least one figure skating event in every Olympics since 1964, and has held the pairs title for the last twelve Olympics in a row, both streaks that have now ended with Plushenko’s silver, Yuko Kavaguti and Alexander Smirnov’s failure to medal in pairs skating, Oksana Domnina and Maxim Shabalin’s bronze in ice dancing, and the complete lack of a serious contender from Russia for the women’s title. The dissolution of the Soviet training apparatus has finally taken its toll with this loss of dominance, while it appears that the East Asian nations of China and Japan may be on the rise.

Meanwhile, there seems to be a general consensus among the public that it was Johnny Weir who was robbed — not of gold, but perhaps of a place on the

podium, and possibly because the International Skating Union (ISU), in its stodgy conservatism, disapproves of his flamboyance as they try to create a more masculine image for their sport. However, analysis by people who seem to know whereof they speak indicates that if there was a conspiracy, it was not centered around Weir; that, if anything, it was Plushenko and Chan who were scored higher than they deserved, the former because of his past successes and the latter because of his hometown advantage. Rectifying their scores would change little, merely giving Lysacek a more definitive win and moving Weir up a place or two, but not onto the podium. The fact is that, despite his excellent performance, Weir’s program was not quite difficult enough under the new scoring system to allow him to win.

Ice dancing I will pass over, except to note that Canada’s Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir, who took the gold, were adorable — their joy, as they sang along with shining faces to “O Canada,” was infectious.

The women’s short program on Wednesday night was graced with rather fewer falls than the men’s, where it seemed like everyone was falling — sometimes more than once. The competition was fierce indeed. Kim Yu-Na, who is apparently such a celebrity in South Korea that she moved to Toronto in order to train undisturbed, skated to music from the James Bond movies and posted the highest score ever for a woman’s short program under the new scoring system — though, in my opinion, at times she seemed to lack the sheer sensuality that her music would seem to require. Japan’s Mao Asada placed second, followed by Canada’s Joannie Rochette, skating mere days after the unexpected death of her mother. Rochette began to cry almost immediately after completing her program; and though I know very well that it is called the kiss-and-cry for a reason, it seemed to me deeply discourteous to televise her grief.

There is a substantial if not insurmountable gap between Rochette’s score and the next highest, Japan’s Miki Ando, who placed 15th at the Torino Olympics and is known for being the only female skater to land a quad in competition. Ando is followed by the two Americans, Rachael Flatt and Mirai Nagasu, in that order. It’s been said that the three people on the podium are almost certain to be Kim Yu-Na, Mao Asada, and Miki Ando, and that only the order remains to be determined; whether these predictions will be borne out remains to be seen.

After the women’s free skate tonight, figure skating will be over at these Olympic Games — except for the exhibition gala, which will air in primetime on NBC on Saturday (though, knowing NBC, it will be liberally interspersed with skiing events) and will feature the top five finishers in each category. Unfortunately, Johnny Weir’s sixth place finish means that we will not be treated another rendition of his program to “Poker Face,” but the gala will be worth watching nonetheless, as an opportunity for skaters to let loose and perform without worrying about points; the result will be performances that have rather less in the way of jumps that threaten to end in disaster but, perhaps, more artistry, more passion, and more connection with the audience. And in the end, despite all the talk of quads, isn’t that what we want to see?

Faith Zhang ’11 (fhzhang@fas) does enjoy sparkly things.

Flying Across the Ice

Kayla Escobedo/INDEPENDENT

By FAITH ZHANG

Figure skating in Vancouver thus far.


Special

1. Canadians have a prime minister, not a president, as per the traditional British

system of government. The current prime minister is Stephen Harper, of the Conservative Party. Liberals in Canada sometimes consider him to be their George W. Bush.

2. Canada is the United States’ largest trading partner, and the two share the world’s longest land border. In my own experience, the border security is actually tighter going into Canada than going into the USA.

3.Canada did not have a written constitution until 1982. They received their (peaceful) independence from Britain, which still does not have a written constitution, in 1867, with the passage of the British North America Act. Their independence day is appropriately called Canada Day, and is celebrated on July 1. Despite being its own nation, the Queen is still the Canadian Head of State, is depicted on Canadian money, and is represented in Canadian government by her Governor General, currently Michaelle Jean.

4. Before the 2010 Vancouver Winter Olympics, Canada had never won a gold medal on home soil (Montreal Summer Games 19 76, Calgary Winter Games 1988). As of Wednesday night, they have won 6 gold medals, and 12 medals total.

5. Canadians have a publicly-funded health care system, as written into the Canada Health Act of 1984. Health care providers are still private entities, but the government helps cover health care costs. Medication is often covered by public funds for the elderly or indigent. A 2008 CTV/The Globe and Mail poll found that 91 percent of Canadians prefer their health care system to Americans’, and that 70 percent of them found the system to be

working either “well” or “very well.”

6 . Canada is a b i l ingual country , though French i s mostly associated with Quebec. Canadian children can sing their national anthem in both French and English. Consumer products typically have one side in English, and another in French.

7. Canadians spell like the Brit ish, for the most part . Sometimes they follow their American neighbors, but more likely than not, they’ll write Britishly. They put the “u” in “co lour , ” and the “e” in “judgement.” They don’t find it odd that “centre” ends in “re,” or that “programme” looks like it came out of Ye Olde English Shoppe. I had a good chuckle in one Vancouver Starbucks, where the sign read, “savour the flavour.”

8. The Canadian parliament legalized gay marriage in July of 2005, two years after the first provincial court ruling in Ontario ruled that opposite-sex only marriage laws were unconstitutional. Despite being more liberal than the Americans, Canadians are capable of being conservative (see fact #1). The most conservative province, their version of the American South, is Alberta.

9 . C a n a d i a n s c a l l t h e i r aboriginal population “First Nations.” Americans seem to vacillate between calling our aboriginal population “Indians” or “Native Americans.”

10. Canadians have always been good at hockey. At the 1924 Winter Olympics in Chamonix (the first ever winter olympics), Canada outscored its opponents in hockey 110-3. Canada went on to win the gold in hockey at six of the first seven Winter Olympics.

Ten Facts About Canada

10. You think poutine is delicious. And you actually know what

it is.9. You also know what “prorogue”

means.8. You are still surprised every

time you buy something here because of the obscenely low taxes.

7. You know some French, even if it is the ingredients on the back of a cereal box.

6. You still convert Farenheit

into Celsius.5. You forget the legal drinking

age here is 21.4. You are connected to a current

NHLer by six degrees.3. You realize you still have

Canadian change in your wallet when you come back to school.

2. You know exactly how much a double-double costs at Tim Horton's, with or without Timbits.

1. You make sure everyone you know knows you're Canadian. And a proud one at that.

By YUYING LUO

You Know You're Canadian When...

By SUSAN ZHU

Official (English) O Canada!

Our home and native land!True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,The True North strong and free!From far and wide, O Canada,

We stand on guard for thee.God keep our land glorious and free!

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Official (French) Ô Canada!Terre de nos aïeux,Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,Il sait porter la croix!Ton histoire est une épopéeDes plus brillants exploits.Et ta valeur, de foi trempée,Protégera nos foyers et nos droitsProtégera nos foyers et nos droits.

Canada, eh?O CANADA


indySpecial

1. Who Were the first explorers to reach Canada?

2. Where does the name “Canada” come from?

3. What is the difference between “practise” and “practice?”

4. What is the population of Canada?

5. How many gold medals in men’s and women’s hockey has Canada won in the Winter Olympics? What other countries have won the gold medal in Olympic hockey?

6. What would a Canadian call a “beanie”?

7. What is the name of the first part of the Canadian constitution, akin to the US Bill of Rights?

8. Name the seven provinces and three territories that make up Canada. Bonus: also name their capitals

9. What Canadian university is often thought of as “the Harvard of Canada”?

10. What do Canadians do with BeaverTails?

Answers

1. The Norse (Vikings)2. Canada originates from a

First Nations word, “kanata,” which means settlement, village, or land.

3. “Practise” is a verb; “practice” as a noun (how sophisticated!)

4. 33 million people, as of 2008 (Source: the World Bank)

5. Canada has won six gold medals in men’s ice hockey (1924-1932, 1948-1952, 2002) and two in women’s ice hockey (2002, 2006). Other countries that have won the gold medal in men’s hockey: Great Britain (1936), Soviet Union (1956, 1964-1976, 1984-1992 ; the ’92 team was “Unified” of former USSR countries), United States (1960, 1980), Sweden (1994, 2006), Czech Republic (1998). The USA is the only other country to have won a gold medal in women’s ice hockey, in the 1998 Nagano games.

6. A “tuque.”

7. The Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms

8 . E d m o n t o n , A l b e r t a ; Victoria, British Columbia; W i n n i p e g , M a n i t o b a ; Fredericton, New Brunswick; S t . J o h n ’ s , N e w f o u n d l a n d and Labrador; Yellowknife, Northwest Territories; Halifax, Nova Scotia; Igaluit, Nunavut (territory); Toronto, Ontario; Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island; Quebec City, Quebec; R e g i n a , S a s k a t c h e w a n ; Whitehorse, Yukon (territory).

9 . McGi l l Univers i ty , in Montréal, Quebec.

10. Eat ‘em. Canadians do not run around chopping off beavers’ tails. BeaverTails are a Canadian pastry, made of fried dough and stretched to look like a beaver’s tail. The company, BeaverTail, was started in the nation’s capital, Ottawa. Other famous Canadian foods: poutine (French fries covered in cheese and gravy, from Quebec), and good ol’ maple syrup.

Official (English) O Canada!

Our home and native land!True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,The True North strong and free!From far and wide, O Canada,

We stand on guard for thee.God keep our land glorious and free!

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

Official (French) Ô Canada!Terre de nos aïeux,Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,Il sait porter la croix!Ton histoire est une épopéeDes plus brillants exploits.Et ta valeur, de foi trempée,Protégera nos foyers et nos droitsProtégera nos foyers et nos droits.

CanadaTrivia

By SUSAN ZHU

Red is more than just the Color of Canada’s flag. In 1930, the US War Department (yes,

we had one) drew up War Plan Red, a secret plan for invading Canada in case we had gone to war with England. In the 1920s, the War Department drew up plans in case of war with Japan (Orange), Germany (Black), Mexico (Green), and England (Red), where the color code Blue was reserved for the United States. The plan called for an army-led invasion of Canada from three areas: from Vermont to take Montreal and Quebec, from North Dakota to take the Winnipeg, the railroad

center, and from the Midwest to take the nickel mines in Ontario. The navy would seize and patrol the Great Lakes while blockading Canada in the Atlantic and Pacific. In general, Canadians seem to take even fictional and ridiculous calls for invasions of their country more seriously than the would-be-invader-Americans do. I don't blame them. They have oil.

For more information on the plan, and ideas of US-led invasions of Canada in general, see “Raiding the Icebox” by Peter Carlson on washingtonpost.com (Dec. 30, 2005).

By SUSAN ZHU

Invading Our Neighbors to the North

Canada, eh?O CANADA


Special

The Olympic Flame

Biathlon Flower ceremony for women's ski cross

Images from the Vancouver Olympic Games.

A Land of Snow and Ice

Hockey: USA vs. Canada

Ski Cross venue at Whistler

By JEFF LANE


indyForum

By Sam Barr

NO HOLDS BARRED

WHY I'M LEAVING THE COUNTRYIn Saturday’S new york timeS,

Sen. Evan Bayh (D-IN) penned a long article entitled “Why

I’m Leaving the Senate,” citing “institutional inertia” and frustration with partisan politics. In that same spirit, let me offer my reasons for leaving the country.

People always joke about how lousy everything is here in America. But it’s no laughing matter. On the contrary, it is a very serious matter.

Our economy is stalled, our government is gridlocked, and there are freshmen in our House dining halls. It’s really a mess. That’s why I’m moving to Argentina.

Don’t get me wrong, a lot of good people live in the United States. I simply no longer wish to live among them. These smart, well-meaning people are just too craven and selfish to tolerate any longer.

While romanticizing the America of yore would be a mistake, things sure were a lot better back in the old days. In 1992, when I peed my pants

in Miss Cindy’s preschool class, she came up and put her arm around me and asked if there was anything she could do to help. Today, would I get the same sort of sympathy in a Harvard lecture hall? I don’t think so.

When I was a boy, I used to have lunch with Americans all the time. This type of thing rarely happens today. Why not have a monthly lunch with all 300 million Americans? Obviously it will be difficult to gather us in one place, but maybe we can all just Skype each other. Or we could all go on ChatRoulette at the same time. Just keep it clean, please.

I’m sure that talking to other Americans once a month will help us see how much we have in common. But in the meantime, I’m outta here.

Or maybe we could just pretend it’s September 11th again. Remember how much we loved and cared about each other on that day? We were all patriotic Americans, coming together despite our many differences. I

really wish we could recreate that wonderful day.

I have more recommendations for improving this country, which I am leaving from Logan Airport at 7:35 tomorrow morning, besides just having lunch together and trying to redo September 11th. There are many substantive issues for you to work on once I’m gone.

For instance, there’s this business about special interests being able to buy off politicians and stall reform. That’s a serious problem. You should work on that.

Also, college students don’t have enough sex. I don’t know what the deal is with that. My friends and I try our best, so there must be something wrong with the rest of you. That’s why I’m transferring to la Universidad de Buenos Aires. Mark Sanford tells me that the women are really special down there.

Some of you might think it selfish of me to fly off to South America when there are so many problems

that need fixing here in America. But what you don’t understand is that the best way to improve America is for me to leave as soon as possible.

Some people will say that I should use my powers and talents for good, and instruct all Americans through my example. That is very flattering, and of course it’s true that I am very powerful and talented. But that is why I must go. You guys won’t let me run things.

I love my country deeply. It’s not you, it’s me. Me and my inability to change you so that you’ll be more suitable to me. So, while I’m down in Argentina working on my tan, you should make those changes we talked about, and then maybe I’ll think about coming back.

In my remaining hours in this country, I will work on those reforms that will recreate the America I once knew, the America of my youth and of September 11th. My optimism is undiminished. Together, without me, Americans can and will make this country strong again.

Valerie Jarrett visits the JFK, Jr. Forum, recounting a brief history of the present.

Finding the Nation’s “First Friend”

By arTHUr BarTOLOZZI

In taking what She termS a “leap of faith” out of her profitable law firm and into the throes of Chicago’s city government, Valerie Jarrett

arguably made one of the most unconventional steps towards the White House. A short time after this bold move, Michelle Robinson, an impressive and intelligent lawyer, walked into Jarrett’s City Hall office looking for a job. Jarrett spoke with the young lawyer and knew she wanted to get her on board immediately- she bypassed the mayor and offered Robinson a position outright. From this professional connection grew a more personal

one, and Jarrett and Robinson became fast friends. This relationship that would ultimately culminate in Jarrett’s appointment to be a senior presidential advisor on public engagement and intergovernmental affairs for Robinson’s then fiancée, Barack Obama’s administration.

Jarrett immediately found a deep-rooted bond with Barack Obama. Not only had they both spent a large part of their fledgling careers advancing the progression of minorities in political and social contexts, but they also both spent considerable time abroad while they were growing up – Obama

in Indonesia and Jarrett in Iran (Yes, we now have an Iranian senior advisor to B. Hussein Obama).

But before any of that could happen, the candidate, his wife, and Valerie Jarrett had to endure the crazed race for the White House in 2008. This ordeal exasperated the candidates even to the point of tears (we will never forget you up here in New England, Hillary), but Barack

CONTINUED ON PAGE 10


Forum

I waS Standing in a public reStroom looking down at bin Laden’s face on the urinal cake in front

of me when I suddenly realized he had done it. He had achieved Hitler status. As I relieved myself onto his bearded visage, I considered what it meant for bin Laden to have taken on the mantle of Evil Incarnate in the minds of the American people. As a rule, Americans do not take things half-way (or half-servings). They have a tendency to pile traits they dislike onto people they dislike. Assuming Americans do not attempt to objectively inform themselves about bin Laden’s life (don’t hold your breath), then the ways they choose to criticize bin Laden will reflect the time-honored ideal of American Evil.

“Osama Bin Laden is selfish in the extreme.”

If you bring up widely-hated political figures in casual conversation as often as I do (which you probably don’t), you hear much discussion about the evil of selfishness. Selfishness, we are told, is behind most evil people everywhere. Greedy bankers, ego-tripping dictators, and adulterous spouses are all screwing people for their own pleasure. Selfishness holds

the (perhaps unique) position of a trait loathed equally by Christianity and Communism.

Bin Laden, however, is anything but selfish. Here we have a man who grew up in luxury but chose hardship. He could have had the life of a wealthy, privileged Saudi Arabian man. Instead, he threw it all away to live as a hunted criminal. He sleeps in caves, eats gruel, and has sustained battle injuries in pursuit of his ideals. Nor does it fit the facts to say he selfishly chases fame and power. He is not more selfish in this than any other public figure. His role in terrorism is to preach and inspire Muslims around the world to carry out attacks not in his name, but in the name of Islam. And who could be more selfless than a suicide bomber?

“Osama bin Laden is an agent of hatred.”

Hatred is evil. Christians say so all the time. Christians prefer love. They love love. Well, not gay love, polygamous love, adulterous love, pre-marital love, otherwise impure love, love of other gods, love between priests and nuns, or the love of earthly things, but they do love True Love™. Christians are not alone in hating, er, disliking hatred. Government

officials in both the Bush and Obama administrations regularly play the hate card to disparage bin Laden.

Bin Laden certainly hates, but is that evil? A funny bumper sticker reads “Osama bin Laden hates this car”. The point being, of course, that the driver is proud to epitomize the kind of person bin Laden hates. Be honest now. Do you hate Osama bin Laden? I do. And I do not see what is wrong with that. If love drives us to create good things, should not hate drive us to destroy evil things? How many Christians in America are willing to forgive and forget 9/11? A recent study shows that American Christians are more likely than non-Christians to support capital punishment for serial killers. That sounds like some healthy hatred to me.

“Osama is not nice, he’s mean.” – My 7 year-old niece (upon being asked)

It pains me how the parents of terrorists react with shock to news of their son’s murder-suicide and then say something like: “but he was such a nice boy, always respectful of his elders.” There seems to be an idea going around that nice people are somehow less likely to be despicable.

In fact, that someone is personable, affable, and reasonably considerate in following social conventions says little about the real values they hold (see: Pat Robertson). Most, even Westerners, who have met bin Laden report that he is pleasant and respectful. While it is true that Hitler and Stalin were notoriously overbearing and impolite, Mao was not. Niceties and atrocities are simply unrelated.

This column is not intended to defend bin Laden. It does, however, raise the question of how we understand evil. Naturally, people who hate him don’t like to think of bin Laden as a selfless, polite individual capable of both hatred and love like the rest of us. But he probably is. (And he gives more to charity than you do.) I ask that you hate bin Laden, as I do, for the horrible things he has done. Not for any other reason. I think the proof of his evil needs no exaggeration.

To purchase your Osama bin Laden urinal cake, email me at [email protected]. Anyone who quotes me out of context as saying bin Laden is nice will not be considered nice in my book.

M o d e r n I d o l s :R e l i g i o n a n d S o c i e t y To d ay

This week: American evil.

a column by CHrIS CarOTHErS

Obama kept his composure. Jarrett articulated that what she admires most about the President is his constant “even-keel temperament and disciplined thought process coupled with a sense of empathy. Every day he would self-criticize and through introspection become smarter and smarter.”

Now that sounds like someone worth voting for. But there remained that elephant-in-the-room race card that America was all too willing to abuse. Jarrett recognized this problem more than many, and offered a solution to address it. “In order to run successfully,” Jarrett said, “Barack needed to capture a sense of hope” around fixing Washington’s frustratingly stuck operation, which was “not a level playing field.”

So he ran, under the auspices of the buzzwords hope, change, and healthcare, and America elected him to inherit all of the baggage that would go along with following the previous administration. But since that would not have been challenging enough, between September 2008 and his Inauguration Day on January 20, 2010, “the world

proceeded to fall apart.” As far as Jarrett was concerned, “there was so much blame to go around, but all you need to do is follow the money.”

Now as we analyze and dissect the administration’s progress over the past year, it is very clear that change is not about one man: “we all have to do this together,” Jarrett encouraged. The issue most frequently cited regarding shortcomings and failed promises has been healthcare. Citing prior failed attempts at reform, Jarrett reported that she had advised an externalizing approach that sent leadership of the bill to Congress. In doing so, the White House “lost a bit of the narrative” of the bill. “Death panels” and other scare tactics emerged from Congress and fed the media networks’ desire for controversy. With such a strict divide, people are seemingly forced to choose one of two extremist mentalities. In a country of moderates, this renders more opposition to the debate itself than it does for gaining support.

The stalemate in Washington instilled a sense of frustration in the American caucus. Feeling

that politicians are no longer looking out for their caucuses’ best interest, Jarrett claimed people are turning to an anti-incumbent mantra (as demonstrated most recently in the special election in Massachusetts). Though she herself is hopeful about substantive reform coming to Washington over the next three years, Jarrett emphatically expressed that “no one wants to get out of DC more than Barack – he wants to get out among the people to get new ideas and channel frustration in constructive way.”

With such a strong message of hope, it is painful to watch how easily a few minor setbacks in Congress congeal to overshadow the drive for progress in the nation. Pundits, oversight, and disagreement command an immovable presence in politics. To tackle this reality, Jarrett emphasized with a smile to “find passion, take a leap of faith, don’t succumb to pressure, and do what feels right.”

Arthur Bartolozzi ([email protected]) likes a good story well told.

JARRETTCONTINUED FROM PAGE 9


indyArts

In ShakeSpeare’S play, enobarbuS famously recounts Antony’s first sight of Cleopatra as she

approaches on a barge up the river Cydnus: “The barge she sat in, like a burnish’d throne,/Burn’d on the water. The poop was beaten gold;/Purple the sails, and so perfumed that/The winds were love-sick with them.” All the elements contribute to the lavishness of the image. Antony, out of direct view of this vision, is “enthron’d” in the marketplace,” as though he is a celestial body around which the eccentric orbit of Cleopatra’s beauty can be inscribed. It seems only natural, after such a singular event, that Cleopatra and Antony must be bound together. Their first interaction is not face-to-face; it is purely dramatic. A crowd, presumably attending on Antony in the marketplace, runs to see Cleopatra’s royal barge. The observation of others creates Antony and Cleopatra’s first experience of one another, and throughout the rest of the play, the two serve as stages on which dramas are played out for onlookers. When Antony forswears his duties as a triumvir and declares Cleopatra “his space,” he is doing more than declaring his love; he is declaring that whatever mark he is to make on the world thenceforth must be a mark on the body and spirit of Cleopatra.

Mark Antony finds it necessary to make this declaration; to change radically the way he conceives of himself and the way he orders his life aesthetically, but exactly why he feels this need is a question that baffles his followers and even himself. Perhaps Antony could no longer countenance the fate of an elderly Roman triumvir, reigning in a practical way and being remembered as merely capable. Cleopatra offered him a way out. Putting himself in Cleopatra’s power allowed him to feel Rome’s power, and the clash against Rome’s power, within his own person; to experience them directly, just as he might have in the heat of battle. His declaration, “Let Rome in Tiber melt, and the wide arch/Of the ranged empire fall” is not simply a casting away; it is important to the relationship that Rome be melting.

The character called the Magistrate, in J.M. Coetzee’s powerful novel of imperial inhumanity Waiting for the Barbarians, also sees his relationship with an unnamed native

“girl” as a way out, and just as the parameters of the relationship between Antony and Cleopatra are defined at their first encounter, so the particular pathology that characterizes the girl’s relationship with the Magistrate is defined at their first meeting — for one might say that there is no first meeting. The Magistrate is obsessed by the idea of recovering a memory of the girl’s form as it was before her brutal beating at the hands of the Empire; a memory he probably never even formed: “I must believe she was unmarked as I must believe she was once a child, a little girl in pigtails running after her pet lamb in a universe where somewhere far away I strode in the pride of my life. Strain as I will, my first image remains of the kneeling beggar-girl.” From even the first time the Magistrate actually registers the presence of the girl, when he finds her begging, there is a double vision of what is actually there and what he is trying to envision and project onto the girl. But where Cleopatra served as an amplifier for Antony’s “immortal longings,” the girl seems frustratingly inert:

“Come, tell me why you are here.”

“Because there is nowhere else to go.”

“And why do I want you here?”She wriggles in my grasp, clenches

her hand into a fist between her chest and mine. “You want to talk

all the time,” she complains. (Page 40)

The girl answers the Magistrate’s question, certainly, but too honestly and too tersely. The Magistrate wants the girl as a way out of his link with the Empire, just as Antony uses Cleopatra to escape the ambit of Rome. But the girl refuses to be anything more than a cipher; she has no interest in directing the Magistrate’s perception of her, or her culture; or of letting the Magistrate have much more than her body. She is not interested in plot, or in shaping life in dramatic terms; she deals with life’s suffering by existing from moment to moment.

Making a speech, as Cleopatra often does, requires an awakened sensibility, and the Magistrate’s aloneness, or seeming aloneness, in this respect is central to the book. At one point, the Magistrate has the opportunity to give his version of a speech that occurs again and again in great literature: the plea for justice,

mercy, or reason. Cleopatra makes such a speech in the final scene of the play. She speaks heroic, defiant lines before her own monument and has the attention of a great many people; her words will have consequences in terms of what both groups do.

The Magistrate’s speech, on the other hand, is impotent and therefore ridiculous. He shouts “No” several times, points a finger of accusation at Colonel Joll, and manages to get out the words, “We are the great miracle of creation! But from some blows this miraculous body cannot repair itself! How - ! Look at these men! Men!”

If the Magistrate’s speech, along with the savage beating he receives, sways anyone in the crowd, produces a revolution in anyone’s consciousness, the Magistrate doesn’t see or convey to us any evidence of it.

But perhaps the Magistrate’s words produced a revolution in our, the readers’, consciousness. At the least, the reader is willing to applaud the action of the Magistrate. The Magistrate uses the next paragraph to disrupt that potential easy accord between the righteous and the righteous. “That smile, that flush of joy,” he says, “leave behind a disturbing residue. ... Justice: once that word is uttered, where will it all end? Easier to shout No! Easier to be beaten and made a martyr.” The outburst becomes like the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one to hear. The only direct reaction the Magistrate gets to his speech from the spectators of the beating is jostling for a view of the atrocity. The antagonist, Colonel Joll, is not visibly moved. The victims don’t understand his words. And the Magistrate and his confidants the readers are left with nothing but confusion and self-doubt.

I hope this article has given an idea of some of the sympathies I see between these two works, widely separated though they are in terms of time, geography, and style. Both works deal with the machinations of an imperial power, and both are centered around couplings between male officials of the empire and females from outside. In both works, those outside the empire suffer at the hands of the empire: in Antony and Cleopatra, Cleopatra’s death results in the end of Egyptian independence and the end of Egypt’s monarchic line, and in Waiting for the Barbarians, those outside the favor of the Empire suffer physical

atrocities and the theft of land and resources.

A r e t h e y b o t h t r a g e d i e s ? Shakespeare’s play is a tragedy in the conventional sense and bears all the classic hallmarks of the form. Waiting for the Barbarians is less clear. It is certainly sad, and the outcome at the end of the book is certainly negative, but everything about the book seems to be denying the elements of tragedy that give rise to catharsis. The Magistrate’s ritualistic, semi-sexual attempts to “heal” the girl bear symbolic weight, but in the end accomplish nothing. The girl never gives indication that she herself sees the Magistrate as making some sort of symbolic atonement for the violence visited on her and her people. The girl sees the Magistrate as a quirky old man whom she must allow his odd demands; she draws no distinction between him and any other powerful entity. This is why the Magistrate sees “a face masked by two black glassy insect eyes from which there comes no reciprocal gaze but only my doubled image cast back at me.”

The “deaths” of the central pair, too, are drained of the clarity they have in Antony and Cleopatra. The girl’s return to her own people is accompanied by only the barest preference on her part. She exits the narrative with no more drama than would accompany a high pressure system pushing some rain-clouds: “‘Goodbye,’ I say. ‘Goodbye,’ she says. There is no more life in her voice than in mine.” The Magistrate’s is not even given the dignity of a real death; his symbolic hanging, in a threadbare woman’s dress, once and for all eliminates any danger he might once have posed to the Empire. The arc of a tragedy is totally disrupted. At the end, the Magistrate finds himself back in his old office. Both the Barbarians and the Bureau have melted away. “I have lived through an eventful year,” the Magistrate thinks, “but understand no more of it than a babe in arms.” The inability to make art from life is the most crushing tragedy. Shakespeare understood this too, at the end of King Lear: “Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:/Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so/That heaven’s vault should crack.”

Sam Jack ‘11 (sjack@fas) would “never, never, never, never, never” kill Cordelia.

Tragedy in Antony & Cleopatra and Waiting for the Barbarians.The Edge

of Empire By SAM JACK

By KAYLA ESCOBEDO

drawn & quartered

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