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NicoleDemby
In denial
H
olocaust jokes were not infrequentlytold in my presence growing up.No,Idon’t come from the backwoods of some Red state or from a family of Nazis.Rather,from the time I was eight I attendeda Modern Orthodox Yeshiva on the UpperEast Side of Manhattan (imagine GossipGirl with long skirts and yamekas).Most of my friends’ grandparents,including my own,were survivors.The Holocaust was some-thing we grew up with,a fact of our existenceas the third generation and something wewere taught about in school since kinder-garten.This intimacy seemed to allow us acertain freedom when it came to how wetalked about the Holocaust because it wastaken for granted that we understood thegravity of its horrors.It was only when I en-tered that world outside of the New YorkJewish bubble I was in that I realized this wasnot a luxury afforded to the rest of the world.Outside of my high school,the sheer men-tion of the Holocaust seemed to require peo-ple’s faces to assume an expression of utmostsobriety,for their heads to bob up and downslightly with an understanding nod.TheShoah seemed to be the last frontier notbreached by Western civilization’s affinityfor free speech (it’s actually illegal to denythe Holocaust in some European countries).You can say whatever you want,but notabout
that
.The press has pointed out that when PopeBenedict visited Israel this week,he seemedto enter a political minefield in which he wasdamned if he did,damned if he didn’t.Manycriticized the pope for his speech at YadVashem,Israel’s Holocaust museum.Peoplewere unhappy that the Pope,a German whoparticipated compulsorily in the HitlerYouth as a child and later served in theWehrmacht,referred vaguely to the “mil-lions of Jews killed”without mentioning thesacred number “six million.”Many were alsodisappointed that Pope Benedict did notspeak about his own personal experiences inthe war,opting for a more generic engage-ment with the subject matter.Another controversy over treatment of the Holocaust erupted this week when Face-book announced it was banning severalHolocaust-denying groups such as one enti-tled “Holocaust is a Holohoax”from the site.The banned groups were accused of incitinghate speech in denial of Facebook’s State-ment of Rights and Responsibilities.Othergroups that questioned the veracity of theHolocaust were allowed to remain on Face-book because,according to the company,“the mere statement of denying the Holo-caust does not constitute a violation of ourpolicies.”Of course,Facebook,like the Pope,was in a situation in which it would necessar-ily garner criticism.It left itself open tocharges of anti-Semitism from those whowant all Holocaust-denial-related materialremoved,and criticism from those who saythe company is refusing to take a moralstand on the issue by resorting to citing poli-cy violations.As you can see,things are never simplewhen it comes to talking about the Holo-caust.Yet perhaps because I grew up notfeeling the need to tread so lightly on thesubject matter as society seems to require,Ican’t help but feel there’s something prob-lematic in relegating the topic such a sacredrealm in which the unspeakable still existsdespite all the free-speech rhetoric of liber-alism.Sure I think that people whose hatespeech seems to suggest impending violenceshould be stopped and persecuted.Yet put-ting too much weight on issues like howheartfelt the Pope is,or whether or not Face-book is anti-Semitic,distracts and detractsfrom the actual historical reality of the Holo-caust.In his book,“On Violence,”Slavoj Zizeksays that by understanding the Holocaust ashaving been so horrible that it can only beunderstood as a complete break from histo-ry,we create the notion of absolute evil.Bysaying the Nazis were monsters without try-ing to understand the historical reasons whyHitler may have come to power,we allowpeople like George Bush to justify going towar to fight the “axis of evil,”and allow hisadministration to justify torture against sim-ilar monsters.Instead of moralizing aboutwhat the Pope or Facebook should havedone,we should see this issues as sympto-matic of a certain level of societal discomfortwith the topic.Perhaps recognizing this dis-comfort can spur productive discussionabout people’s relationship to what actuallyhappened,and the way the history of theHolocaust affects us today.
Nicole promises this is the last time Zizek will come up in her column (fingers crossed behindher back).Email her at demb33@stanford.edu.
The Stanford Daily
Thursday,May 14,2009
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tanford’s Alcohol Advisory Board(AAB) announced last week that Rowhouses will be exempt from the “drycampus”policy during New Student Orien-tation (NSO) 2009.The decision to reaffirmthe Row’s exemption to the NSO policy wasmade despite a number of alcohol-relatedincidents that took place on the Row duringNSO 2008.However,the AAB has put in place anumber of new restrictions for Row resi-dents,including a later move-in date—peo-ple living on the Row had previously beenallowed to move in several days before stu-dents housed in other dorms on campus—as well as increased restrictions on gather-ings that involve alcohol during the four-dayNSO period.The revised NSO policy placesa two-gathering limit on Row houses,man-dates that food be present during these gath-erings and maintains that no hard alcohol beserved,along with other limitations (see“Row faces new NSO rules,”May 8).In general,the editorial board believesthat the University’s revised alcohol policyfor NSO is reasonable.It is important forStanford to put its best foot forward duringOrientation,and upperclassmen have a re-sponsibility to help create a positive,safe en-vironment for new freshmen and transferstudents.Given that there were four alcohol-related medical transports and several unau-thorized gatherings with alcohol duringNSO 2008,the editorial board cannot blamethe University for putting more restrictionsin place.There seems to be a trend each year of throwing enormous parties on the Row theweek before fall-quarter classes begin.Whileit is normal for partying to get slightly moreout of hand when people have no academicresponsibilities,the student body shouldtake the new restrictions as a hint to be morecareful during NSO this fall.The AAB maynot be so lenient the next time alcohol-relat-ed emergencies take place during Orienta-tion.That being said,the editorial board feelsthat the no-hard-alcohol mandate over-reaches the goal of the AAB,especially if thegoal of the revised policy is to encourage ma-ture gatherings focused on welcoming Rowhouse residents.Vodka and rum may have ahigher alcohol content by volume than beeror wine,but a mature gathering cannot takeplace if the University does not treat studentslike mature adults.The point of this policy isto increase the level of caution exercised bythose hosting parties during NSO.Control-ling the type of alcohol served at these gath-erings goes too far,and may even encouragestudents to ignore restrictions entirely.It is clear that the University feels,at leastto some degree,that students are capable of comporting themselves responsibly when al-cohol is present—hence the reaffirmationof the “dry campus”exemption for the Row.But to be effective,the AAB should demon-strate greater trust in students by avoidingoverly specific rules that are likely to be bro-ken.There is little doubt that parties willhappen on the Row during NSO,whether ornot the University wants them to,which iswhy the AAB should focus on communicat-ing its expectations for students rather thanimplementing nitpicky restrictions.
Row exemption to NSOalcohol policy carriesmixed messages
EDITORIAL
Unsigned editorials in the space above represent the views of The Stanford Daily's editorial board and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the Daily staff.The editorial board is comprised of two former Daily staffers,three at-large student members and the two editorial board co-chairs.Any signed columns and contributionsare the views of their respective writers and do not necessarily represent the views of the entire editorial board.To contact the editorial board for an issue to be considered,or to submit an op-ed,please email editorial@daily.stanford.edu.
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I
t couldn’t have been a more perfect plan,and what was more,she would be a partof it.I hadn’t even thought to ask her tobe my senior formal date until a few weeksbefore—I had thought I would be too busyto even go,for a time—but when she saidshe was coming,I couldn’t have been morethrilled.On Friday,I would pick up my senior for-mal date from the airport at 7:30 after shegot in from Minneapolis (to quote JackNicholson,“On my nickel,of course”),andtake her straight to my favorite restaurant inSan Francisco,The Slanted Door,where Ihad made reservations.We would walk lazi-ly down the Embarcadero on a warm cityevening (the forecast for San Francisco overthe weekend:Friday - 70 degrees;Saturday -70 degrees;Sunday - 70 degrees),with theBay Bridge and water to our right,and thespectacle of downtown to our left.On Saturday,I would show her aroundStanford,and San Francisco again,visitingall my favorite spots,all the places where Igrew up—The Grove on Fillmore,The Le-gion of Honor,Crissy Field.She would seemy home,my childhood,my life for the firsttime through my eyes.On Sunday,we would wake up and headback down the Peninsula to my parent’shome,where she would meet my folks,andwe would take in a warm,relaxing Mothers’Day.I would take her to the airport and wishher goodbye,and thus would end the perfectweekend.I had it all planned,down to thesmallest detail.And in between,we would go together tosenior formal at my home away from home,AT&T Park.Well,Thursday night came,two nightsbefore formal and less than 24 hours beforeshe was to arrive.A number that I did notrecognize showed up on my phone.I reject-ed it at first (I was with my buddy Daniel,and Vice was playing at the CoHo,dammit!)but soon enough,the number was callingagain.I answered.The person on the other line,a friend of my would-be date,began tospeak.She might as well have picked up awrench and heaved it directly into myphone,and weekend.Something had come up,she told me—apersonal family issue—and my date wouldnot be coming.Her excuse was legitimate,and I knew it was real.I walked silently backinto the CoHo,stunned.Try as I might over the next few days orso,I could not change her mind.I never onceeven reached her by phone,but her friendconfirmed what she had already said thenight before.That evening,my date’s flightlanded in San Francisco,and she was not onit.This is not the first time plans have goneawry in my life,and it certainly won’t be thelast.My biggest fear when these things hap-pen to me is that they will turn me from theidealist that I want to be,into the depressedcynic I fear I may become.The former hasthe ability to empower;the latter,the powerto paralyze.As I sat at the Suites Carnivaldinner on Friday night,resignedly explain-ing what had happened to my date—know-ing that I ought to be instead spending theevening with her in San Francisco—andsighing over the injustice of it all,I felt thatparalysis sweeping over me.One thing was for sure:Between my feel-ing sorry for myself and worrying about myformer date,there was no way I wanted togo to senior formal anymore.I would sit inmy room,perhaps write a bit,perhaps struma guitar.But,I simply did not have it in meto go.Sometimes,the miracle of an enlighten-ing thought comes from life’s situations;other times,it arrives seemingly out of thinair;and sometimes,it’s a combination of both.For whatever reason,as I sat silentlyon Friday night,a light switch turned on inmy head.These times when we’re dealt a crappyhand,and we suffer for it—even despiteour best efforts—is life.But even given allthat is out of our hands,so much more iswithin them.Our lives are not movies.There are noscripts,no do-overs.In their stead are,onone hand,what we should have done;and onthe other hand,knowing what we need todo,and letting ourselves do it.On the onehand,the unbearable pain of regret;on theother,the light of truly living.In each mo-ment,the choice rests with no one else butourselves.It took a few hours,and the sup-port of many friends,to experience thisthought,but when I did,I knew it was ir-refutable.So there it was,I thought to myself:I hadbeen dealt a crappy hand.It was no less thanthat,but alas,it was also no more.The ques-tion was:What was I going to do about it?Would I let it keep me down,or would I sayto myself,“Screw it,let’s see if you can havea good time”?And so,I woke up on Saturday morning,and I got Facebook a-messagin’.And soonenough,a very understanding,very wonder-ful,very good friend had agreed to comewith me to senior formal.I am deeply in-debted to her.When Saturday night rolledaround,I was headed to San Francisco.Could I have been a better date? You bet.Did I get totally hammered? Sure did.(Theclosest I came to making out on Saturdaynight was with a toilet).But hey,life isn’tperfect,and both I and my date had friendsthere.The important thing isn’t whether lifeimitates art;it is that we understand that itdoes not always,but we can find ways to behappy with it anyway.At the very least,the next time bad luckrears its ugly head at me,I’ll know where mybootstraps are.
Mark Donig owes Betsy a real nice dinner.Email him at mrdonig@stanford.edu.
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On bootstraps, and pickingyourself up by them
MarkDonig
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