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Out of Senseless Tragedy Came Personal Growth and the True Face of a Community
The Bottom Line | 2017
You never quite see it, but you frequently hear it: the crack of a firework going off in Isla Vista.
It sounds like a pyrotechnic device, a car backfiring, or a gun going off. That was what I heard stacking chairs and tables on the open-air patio of South Coast Deli after we had closed for the night. But there were many more bangs than what I was used to hearing when someone lit off a firework. They were faster in succession, and, disconcertingly, it sounded like the source was moving. That seemed more in line with someone pulling back a trigger and not releasing it. But come on — something like that in I.V.? I heard no other commotion.
My co-worker and I locked up and left soon after, but law enforcement shooed us away from the Pardall Road–Embarcadero del Norte intersection. People still milled about. My co-worker received a text from another co-worker saying there had been a shooting at The Habit, but we were standing right there in front of it, and the burger joint looked fine. I biked home the long way, sirens hitting the air, and my roommates and I turned on the television, figuring by now something serious had happened.
Social media announced the tragedy first, then local news, and then national news. And then it became a bit disorienting: Isla Vista was featured on the homepages of prominent news websites based outside the United States. I was reading about how I.V. had joined the ranks of Sandy Hook, Aurora, Virginia Tech, the Washington Navy Yard. People around the world were reading about how a disturbed and misogynistic 22-year-old had slain six of my colleagues — a man roughly my age who was could have been anyone’s roommate, and actually was the roommate of two fellow Gauchos.
Like many, I admit to having a contradictory emotional connection to mass shootings in the news: I certainly feel the sadness and bitter frustration over what happened and why — but the frequency with which such senseless tragedies occur has desensitized me to a degree. But seeing my home plastered all over the news for the worst reasons — hate and carnage and tragedy — was disorienting and a bit sickening. I was half a block from I.V. Deli Mart when Christopher Michaels-Martinez was gunned down. I was two blocks from Alpha Phi when Veronika Weiss and Katherine Cooper lost their lives. I biked down the 6500 block of Seville Road, where David Wang, James Hong and George Chen spent their last moments. Even today, seeing the assailant’s face, hearing his name, and hearing the words of his deranged manifesto read over the news leaves an awful taste in my mouth. I left the room last year in the middle of a local station’s second-anniversary coverage.
I didn’t know anyone physically hurt or killed on May 23, 2014. I knew people who did, or people who knew people who did, but even in the close-knit UCSB community, that degree of separation was enough to shield me from the level of trauma that that night inflicted on so many of my peers. It was a less poignant and more detached grief, anger, and shock than I thought I should have felt. What tugged at my heart more deeply was the immediate coming together of the UCSB and I.V. community.
Nearly 24 hours after the deadliest day in I.V.’s tumultuous history, I was back at South Coast Deli. We were still open, but devoid of customers; everyone was at Storke Plaza for a candlelight vigil. Imprinted on my memory as deeply as any other I.V. memory was watching from that patio with another co-worker the stream of students walking solemnly from Pardall Tunnel toward the intersection I couldn’t cross the night before. The procession filled the width of the street and wouldn’t seem to end. We stood there, and simply marveled solemnly at the turnout. Were there even that many students at UCSB? The sight reaffirmed the magnitude of what my community had just suffered, yet displayed an incredible and heart-warming solidarity that made me proud to be part of that community. I didn’t get to join in on that evening’s acts of memorium, but was in the bleachers at the following Tuesday’s memorial at Harder Stadium, which was better attended than any Cal Poly or UCLA soccer game.
A third year and The Bottom Line staff writer at the time, the May 2014 tragedy helped shape my perspective on covering such events. Yes, eyewitness accounts are an important ingredient in a well-reported story, but that doesn’t excuse any reporter from throwing sensitivity and thoughtfulness out the window. My predecessor as The Bottom Line’s opinions editor recalled consoling and grieving with friends as a local reporter shoved a microphone in their faces, seeking the teary quotes central to so many news organizations’ soundbite-oriented coverage of tragedies. Hearing these stories from people I care about also hit home how shallow and substance-less the usual questions like “Tell me how you felt?” really are.
The days following the massacre — beginning as soon as the gunfire started — also slammed The Bottom Line with difficult questions that strike at the heart of what it means to be a journalistic organization. Where — and should — you draw the line between thoroughly informing your audience of what’s going down and limiting coverage that would further traumatize a freshly devastated readership? How does the emotional closeness of the writers, editors, and photographers to the event influence where that line gets drawn?
Every UCSB student and I.V. resident was affected and shaped in some way by the events of May 23. While we’d all give anything to go back and avert that dark chapter of our history, it still demonstrates, three years later, how extraordinary this community — our community — really is.
It sounds like a pyrotechnic device, a car backfiring, or a gun going off. That was what I heard stacking chairs and tables on the open-air patio of South Coast Deli after we had closed for the night. But there were many more bangs than what I was used to hearing when someone lit off a firework. They were faster in succession, and, disconcertingly, it sounded like the source was moving. That seemed more in line with someone pulling back a trigger and not releasing it. But come on — something like that in I.V.? I heard no other commotion.
My co-worker and I locked up and left soon after, but law enforcement shooed us away from the Pardall Road–Embarcadero del Norte intersection. People still milled about. My co-worker received a text from another co-worker saying there had been a shooting at The Habit, but we were standing right there in front of it, and the burger joint looked fine. I biked home the long way, sirens hitting the air, and my roommates and I turned on the television, figuring by now something serious had happened.
Social media announced the tragedy first, then local news, and then national news. And then it became a bit disorienting: Isla Vista was featured on the homepages of prominent news websites based outside the United States. I was reading about how I.V. had joined the ranks of Sandy Hook, Aurora, Virginia Tech, the Washington Navy Yard. People around the world were reading about how a disturbed and misogynistic 22-year-old had slain six of my colleagues — a man roughly my age who was could have been anyone’s roommate, and actually was the roommate of two fellow Gauchos.
Like many, I admit to having a contradictory emotional connection to mass shootings in the news: I certainly feel the sadness and bitter frustration over what happened and why — but the frequency with which such senseless tragedies occur has desensitized me to a degree. But seeing my home plastered all over the news for the worst reasons — hate and carnage and tragedy — was disorienting and a bit sickening. I was half a block from I.V. Deli Mart when Christopher Michaels-Martinez was gunned down. I was two blocks from Alpha Phi when Veronika Weiss and Katherine Cooper lost their lives. I biked down the 6500 block of Seville Road, where David Wang, James Hong and George Chen spent their last moments. Even today, seeing the assailant’s face, hearing his name, and hearing the words of his deranged manifesto read over the news leaves an awful taste in my mouth. I left the room last year in the middle of a local station’s second-anniversary coverage.
I didn’t know anyone physically hurt or killed on May 23, 2014. I knew people who did, or people who knew people who did, but even in the close-knit UCSB community, that degree of separation was enough to shield me from the level of trauma that that night inflicted on so many of my peers. It was a less poignant and more detached grief, anger, and shock than I thought I should have felt. What tugged at my heart more deeply was the immediate coming together of the UCSB and I.V. community.
Nearly 24 hours after the deadliest day in I.V.’s tumultuous history, I was back at South Coast Deli. We were still open, but devoid of customers; everyone was at Storke Plaza for a candlelight vigil. Imprinted on my memory as deeply as any other I.V. memory was watching from that patio with another co-worker the stream of students walking solemnly from Pardall Tunnel toward the intersection I couldn’t cross the night before. The procession filled the width of the street and wouldn’t seem to end. We stood there, and simply marveled solemnly at the turnout. Were there even that many students at UCSB? The sight reaffirmed the magnitude of what my community had just suffered, yet displayed an incredible and heart-warming solidarity that made me proud to be part of that community. I didn’t get to join in on that evening’s acts of memorium, but was in the bleachers at the following Tuesday’s memorial at Harder Stadium, which was better attended than any Cal Poly or UCLA soccer game.
A third year and The Bottom Line staff writer at the time, the May 2014 tragedy helped shape my perspective on covering such events. Yes, eyewitness accounts are an important ingredient in a well-reported story, but that doesn’t excuse any reporter from throwing sensitivity and thoughtfulness out the window. My predecessor as The Bottom Line’s opinions editor recalled consoling and grieving with friends as a local reporter shoved a microphone in their faces, seeking the teary quotes central to so many news organizations’ soundbite-oriented coverage of tragedies. Hearing these stories from people I care about also hit home how shallow and substance-less the usual questions like “Tell me how you felt?” really are.
The days following the massacre — beginning as soon as the gunfire started — also slammed The Bottom Line with difficult questions that strike at the heart of what it means to be a journalistic organization. Where — and should — you draw the line between thoroughly informing your audience of what’s going down and limiting coverage that would further traumatize a freshly devastated readership? How does the emotional closeness of the writers, editors, and photographers to the event influence where that line gets drawn?
Every UCSB student and I.V. resident was affected and shaped in some way by the events of May 23. While we’d all give anything to go back and avert that dark chapter of our history, it still demonstrates, three years later, how extraordinary this community — our community — really is.
The Voter Fraud Myth
Writing and Public Discourse (UCSB) | 2014
The United States has begun to experience dangerous levels of voting fraud in elections — dangerous enough levels that the integrity of our elections is at stake. That’s the message one might hear if one is tuning in to the rhetoric of many Republican governors and legislatures. Over the last few years, many states have proposed or enacted new voter ID laws in an attempt to fight the apparent onslaught of voter fraud. Despite supposedly noble intentions, these laws are not only ineffectual, but will effectively disenfranchise a significant number of legitimate voters.
In order to prevent fraud, these laws require anyone wishing to vote to present a form of identification at the poll, the acceptable types of ID varying state to state. From 2011 to 2013, fourteen states passed new voter ID laws, nearly all presided over by Republican governors. Only nineteen states have not implemented any kind of voter ID law.
Proponents insist that there are a worrisome number of people throughout their respective states and the country as a whole who are taking advantage of our elections system and skewing the results. They assert that by requiring voters to show a specific form of ID at the poll, fraud can be greatly reduced and the integrity of our elections can be preserved. Many Republicans believe — or insist they believe — that the legitimacy of our elected officials could be jeopardized if we fail to enact these laws.
From the Southern Strategy to the welfare queen, Republicans have often resorted to unfairly playing up minor or nonexistent problems in society in order to further their agenda or acquire more voters. The insistence of a proliferating voter fraud problem is just this. In a study done by David Marker of research service corporation Westat, of over 2,000 alleged cases of election fraud since 2000, “only ten were of the impersonation type that might be prevented by such laws” — or about one case per every 14.7 million registered voters. Research that any concerned individual can do clearly shows that voter impersonation is not even remotely an issue threatening our elections’ integrity.
Republicans could be a little more accurate by stating that their laws are meant only to curb voter impersonation, rather than voter fraud as a whole. Voting multiple times and voting after disenfranchisement are examples of other forms of voting fraud that cannot be mitigated by their new laws. The integrity of our elections should always be everyone’s concern, and it is important to try to stamp out fraud, but these laws will do more harm than good and are demonstrably not truly intended to protect our elections.
The reality is that implementing these laws actually disenfranchises potentially millions of legitimate, honest voters. A survey by NYU School of Law’s prominent Brennan Center for Justice discovered that 13 million citizens do not have easy access to citizenship documents, that citizens making under $25,000 a year are twice as likely to not have the requisite documentation, and that there are “more than 21 million American adult citizens nationwide who do not possess valid government photo ID.” For the significant number of Americans who are poor or constantly working, acquiring the correct form of ID before an election can be difficult without the right transportation and an inconvenient obstacle to their continuing to make a living. The overwhelming effect of these laws is an undue burden on many Americans’ ability to vote.
The majority of people who would be unfairly burdened are Democratic voters. Any politician who’s researched this issue should know well that these are the effects voter ID laws will have on the country, and it makes sense that these laws are being pushed by Republicans in order to restrict the Democratic base and give themselves an unfair electoral advantage. Republicans’ deceptive and underhanded tactics for getting their way remind one of many of Frank Underwood’s nefarious and manipulative political maneuvers. Unlike Underwood, however, they are real and ready to take their toll on our citizens.
If something does need to be done to curb the tiny number of fraud cases, let us make sure we are not simultaneously effectively disenfranchising millions of legitimate voters. We can improve the dissemination of knowledge of voter fraud penalties, especially at the poll before voters cast their ballots. We can have them sign an oath affirming they hold this knowledge and do not intend to defraud the election. In suspected fraud cases, the signature can be compared back to their original voter registration signature.
These are all solutions that do not disenfranchise people who do not happen to agree with a disgruntled political party. It’s imperative that Americans not only become aware of the big picture and the factual circumstances surrounding these shady laws, but actively oppose them. We should use our voices and pens to condemn deceptive politicians and our ballots to remove them. Many people’s opportunities to vote are at stake.
In order to prevent fraud, these laws require anyone wishing to vote to present a form of identification at the poll, the acceptable types of ID varying state to state. From 2011 to 2013, fourteen states passed new voter ID laws, nearly all presided over by Republican governors. Only nineteen states have not implemented any kind of voter ID law.
Proponents insist that there are a worrisome number of people throughout their respective states and the country as a whole who are taking advantage of our elections system and skewing the results. They assert that by requiring voters to show a specific form of ID at the poll, fraud can be greatly reduced and the integrity of our elections can be preserved. Many Republicans believe — or insist they believe — that the legitimacy of our elected officials could be jeopardized if we fail to enact these laws.
From the Southern Strategy to the welfare queen, Republicans have often resorted to unfairly playing up minor or nonexistent problems in society in order to further their agenda or acquire more voters. The insistence of a proliferating voter fraud problem is just this. In a study done by David Marker of research service corporation Westat, of over 2,000 alleged cases of election fraud since 2000, “only ten were of the impersonation type that might be prevented by such laws” — or about one case per every 14.7 million registered voters. Research that any concerned individual can do clearly shows that voter impersonation is not even remotely an issue threatening our elections’ integrity.
Republicans could be a little more accurate by stating that their laws are meant only to curb voter impersonation, rather than voter fraud as a whole. Voting multiple times and voting after disenfranchisement are examples of other forms of voting fraud that cannot be mitigated by their new laws. The integrity of our elections should always be everyone’s concern, and it is important to try to stamp out fraud, but these laws will do more harm than good and are demonstrably not truly intended to protect our elections.
The reality is that implementing these laws actually disenfranchises potentially millions of legitimate, honest voters. A survey by NYU School of Law’s prominent Brennan Center for Justice discovered that 13 million citizens do not have easy access to citizenship documents, that citizens making under $25,000 a year are twice as likely to not have the requisite documentation, and that there are “more than 21 million American adult citizens nationwide who do not possess valid government photo ID.” For the significant number of Americans who are poor or constantly working, acquiring the correct form of ID before an election can be difficult without the right transportation and an inconvenient obstacle to their continuing to make a living. The overwhelming effect of these laws is an undue burden on many Americans’ ability to vote.
The majority of people who would be unfairly burdened are Democratic voters. Any politician who’s researched this issue should know well that these are the effects voter ID laws will have on the country, and it makes sense that these laws are being pushed by Republicans in order to restrict the Democratic base and give themselves an unfair electoral advantage. Republicans’ deceptive and underhanded tactics for getting their way remind one of many of Frank Underwood’s nefarious and manipulative political maneuvers. Unlike Underwood, however, they are real and ready to take their toll on our citizens.
If something does need to be done to curb the tiny number of fraud cases, let us make sure we are not simultaneously effectively disenfranchising millions of legitimate voters. We can improve the dissemination of knowledge of voter fraud penalties, especially at the poll before voters cast their ballots. We can have them sign an oath affirming they hold this knowledge and do not intend to defraud the election. In suspected fraud cases, the signature can be compared back to their original voter registration signature.
These are all solutions that do not disenfranchise people who do not happen to agree with a disgruntled political party. It’s imperative that Americans not only become aware of the big picture and the factual circumstances surrounding these shady laws, but actively oppose them. We should use our voices and pens to condemn deceptive politicians and our ballots to remove them. Many people’s opportunities to vote are at stake.
The Massacre in Isla Vista Was Horror Enough
The Santa Barbara Independent | 2015
In the aftermath of the Isla Vista tragedy of May 23, 2014, I.V. residents and UCSB students and staff — and no doubt thousands more — suffered through grief, searched for healing, and attempted to make sense of the jarring violence that had torn through the community. But the actions of the assailant, whose shooting and knifing rampage ended the lives of six students and caused a deep scar in the community, also provided certain others with an idea: What if this could be made into a piece of entertainment?
On August 5, the trailer for Del Playa, a slasher film from Berger Bros Entertainment, was released. It focuses on a killing spree by a mentally and emotionally disturbed youth — catalyzed, at least in part, by romantic rejection — in “the vibrant party atmosphere of UC Santa Barbara’s adjacent town.” The I.V. and UCSB communities immediately erupted in outrage and disgust at the thinly guised portrayal of the most traumatizing chapter in their history; a petition on change.org calling on the producers to halt the film’s release garnered over 23,000 signatures by the following Sunday.
Shaun Hart, the writer and director who is — of all things — a UCSB alum, put out a statement in response, admitting there is a connection to Santa Barbara, but he denied trying to capitalize on the tragedy or using last year’s shooter as the inspiration for his killer. According to him, the film “is meant to portray incidents that take place, not only in Santa Barbara, but across the country on a daily basis” as well as serve as a catalyst for a dialogue on the violence and issues it depicts.
It requires unparalleled naïveté to take Hart’s statement at face value. The close similarities between the trailer and the real-life tragedy’s backstories, horrors, and setting — in addition to the timeline for its inception and production — make it abundantly clear what inspired Hart and producer Josh Berger.
Films certainly have the potential to spark constructive dialogue on difficult, ugly issues such as gun violence and bullying, but a slasher is not a genre designed for this. The violence, gore, misogyny, and sneers are meant to entertain audiences. Though we don’t sympathize with these fictional killers, they’re still meant to stimulate our imaginations and let us get a thrill out of brutal inhumanity from a safe distance. The trailer’s shallow depiction of women — as well as its direct assertion that the women's actions created the killer — reinforce for our entertainment the blatantly misogynistic motives and actions of the real-life shooter. It’s not entirely the killer’s fault, we’re subtly told — he’s been unfairly pushed over the edge.
The entertainment value of a film like this means the true pain from an event like the Isla Vista tragedy — the senseless death of six people and the serious injury of many more — will be degraded to a commodity. What the film makes entertaining for some will reopen wounds in others. It takes real harm and tragedy and uses them as a means to a profit. Choosing to make this film shows a startling lack of empathy and a disturbing willingness to exploit others’ trauma. With Isla Vista and UCSB still healing in many respects, as well as with all the horrific shooting rampages the country has been reeling from over the last few years, this form of exploitation is shameful and appalling.
Horror films aren’t insensitive or shameless in and of themselves, but those who use a community’s recent suffering for their own ends certainly are. Berger Bros Entertainment can’t be compelled to cancel the film’s release on the grounds that it’s insensitive, exploitative, and turns a real-life horror into mere entertainment. As offensive as their film is, Berger and Hart have a right to express ideas through film. But common decency demands respect for those who have suffered a terrible tragedy. Any ethical person should recognize where to draw the line. Until they realize where and what that line is, it’s on us to protest a film that will only do more harm to our community.
On August 5, the trailer for Del Playa, a slasher film from Berger Bros Entertainment, was released. It focuses on a killing spree by a mentally and emotionally disturbed youth — catalyzed, at least in part, by romantic rejection — in “the vibrant party atmosphere of UC Santa Barbara’s adjacent town.” The I.V. and UCSB communities immediately erupted in outrage and disgust at the thinly guised portrayal of the most traumatizing chapter in their history; a petition on change.org calling on the producers to halt the film’s release garnered over 23,000 signatures by the following Sunday.
Shaun Hart, the writer and director who is — of all things — a UCSB alum, put out a statement in response, admitting there is a connection to Santa Barbara, but he denied trying to capitalize on the tragedy or using last year’s shooter as the inspiration for his killer. According to him, the film “is meant to portray incidents that take place, not only in Santa Barbara, but across the country on a daily basis” as well as serve as a catalyst for a dialogue on the violence and issues it depicts.
It requires unparalleled naïveté to take Hart’s statement at face value. The close similarities between the trailer and the real-life tragedy’s backstories, horrors, and setting — in addition to the timeline for its inception and production — make it abundantly clear what inspired Hart and producer Josh Berger.
Films certainly have the potential to spark constructive dialogue on difficult, ugly issues such as gun violence and bullying, but a slasher is not a genre designed for this. The violence, gore, misogyny, and sneers are meant to entertain audiences. Though we don’t sympathize with these fictional killers, they’re still meant to stimulate our imaginations and let us get a thrill out of brutal inhumanity from a safe distance. The trailer’s shallow depiction of women — as well as its direct assertion that the women's actions created the killer — reinforce for our entertainment the blatantly misogynistic motives and actions of the real-life shooter. It’s not entirely the killer’s fault, we’re subtly told — he’s been unfairly pushed over the edge.
The entertainment value of a film like this means the true pain from an event like the Isla Vista tragedy — the senseless death of six people and the serious injury of many more — will be degraded to a commodity. What the film makes entertaining for some will reopen wounds in others. It takes real harm and tragedy and uses them as a means to a profit. Choosing to make this film shows a startling lack of empathy and a disturbing willingness to exploit others’ trauma. With Isla Vista and UCSB still healing in many respects, as well as with all the horrific shooting rampages the country has been reeling from over the last few years, this form of exploitation is shameful and appalling.
Horror films aren’t insensitive or shameless in and of themselves, but those who use a community’s recent suffering for their own ends certainly are. Berger Bros Entertainment can’t be compelled to cancel the film’s release on the grounds that it’s insensitive, exploitative, and turns a real-life horror into mere entertainment. As offensive as their film is, Berger and Hart have a right to express ideas through film. But common decency demands respect for those who have suffered a terrible tragedy. Any ethical person should recognize where to draw the line. Until they realize where and what that line is, it’s on us to protest a film that will only do more harm to our community.
Pressing for the Press
The Bottom Line | 2015
As far as attorneys general go, Eric Holder’s pretty into civil rights and progressive policy. But there’s one rather concerning facet of his tenure atop the U.S. Department of Justice that flies in the face of his usual commitment to civil rights and often goes unnoticed outside of journalism circles: an unprecedented crackdown on the dissemination of information on issues the Obama Administration has deemed important to national security, including the subpoenaing of numerous journalists who have received classified information from government officials and, according to The New York Times, the secret subpoenas of Associated Press phone records.
This assault on freedom of the press has been embodied by the Justice Department’s repeated subpoenaing of New York Times reporter James Risen, who refused to reveal his sources regarding a book he wrote that included information on a mishandled U.S. operation to disrupt Iran’s nuclear program. Although Holder has since begun to rethink and scale back this overzealous crackdown, the former C.I.A. spy suspected of leaking the information to Risen has just been convicted of espionage. However, the notion that the government is willing to step on the fundamental journalistic practice of source confidentiality threatens the press’ vitally important role in maintaining an open, informed society.
Unless you’re Edward Snowden or Julian Assange, you’ll likely agree that the leaking of top-secret, classified national security information can have potentially compromising consequences for the government. But the consequences of choosing to also punish independent media by interfering with and compromising reporters’ press rights are arguably more significant and wide-ranging. Forcing journalists to reveal their sources when the government’s unhappy with their reporting means that reporters and news services will be hesitant to investigate significant stories with real-world impact that require digging into important spaces concealed from public eyes. The huge hassle of being harassed and taken to court—in addition to potential sources’ hesitancy to expose momentous problems in government due to fear of being revealed—would be a devastating blow to investigative journalism meant to keep those in power accountable.
Reporting on issues relating to national security and internal government on-goings—which can be often be morally and legally dubious—requires more than just the information the government chooses to make public. The Obama administration’s crackdown makes it significantly more difficult to check up on potential government wrongdoing and severely undermines the president’s original, commendable promise to make government more transparent. Stories that require the acquisition of sensitive information have led to legal action against powerful or influential individuals who have committed significant wrongdoing (Watergate, anyone?)—justice that wouldn’t have been possible without intrepid reporters not having to worry themselves about having their press rights curtailed.
If what high-up people and organizations want us to know is all the press can provide us, there’s not much need for news organizations—the mediators who can filter the spin and uncover information that holds those with power and influence accountable and keep the public informed of processes and events that shape society. On a more philosophical level, being prevented from investigating sensitive government and national security issues means that history could very well be written by the government. Risen himself stated that “if you took away all the things that the press revealed to begin with in the war on terror, you would know virtually nothing about the history of the last 13 years.” The freedom of the press keeps history in the hands of the people and ensures its accuracy.
Practices such as the Justice Department’s secret subpoenas of the AP’s phone records is exactly what warrants the notion of a free and independent press. If one wants to criticize the administration for ignoring the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, this would be the issue to speak out about. Respecting reporters’ and journalists’ right to keep their sources confidential is essential to a truly free press than can bring wrongdoings to light, hold the government and others in power accountable, and ensure that history remains legitimate.
You don’t have to be a Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter to appreciate what’s at stake. Even as students, whether it’s Associated Students, the police, or local government, it’s vital that we hold those in power accountable and remain mindful of obstacles to this responsibility. We don’t do it just for some abstract journalistic principle—we do this for ourselves.
This assault on freedom of the press has been embodied by the Justice Department’s repeated subpoenaing of New York Times reporter James Risen, who refused to reveal his sources regarding a book he wrote that included information on a mishandled U.S. operation to disrupt Iran’s nuclear program. Although Holder has since begun to rethink and scale back this overzealous crackdown, the former C.I.A. spy suspected of leaking the information to Risen has just been convicted of espionage. However, the notion that the government is willing to step on the fundamental journalistic practice of source confidentiality threatens the press’ vitally important role in maintaining an open, informed society.
Unless you’re Edward Snowden or Julian Assange, you’ll likely agree that the leaking of top-secret, classified national security information can have potentially compromising consequences for the government. But the consequences of choosing to also punish independent media by interfering with and compromising reporters’ press rights are arguably more significant and wide-ranging. Forcing journalists to reveal their sources when the government’s unhappy with their reporting means that reporters and news services will be hesitant to investigate significant stories with real-world impact that require digging into important spaces concealed from public eyes. The huge hassle of being harassed and taken to court—in addition to potential sources’ hesitancy to expose momentous problems in government due to fear of being revealed—would be a devastating blow to investigative journalism meant to keep those in power accountable.
Reporting on issues relating to national security and internal government on-goings—which can be often be morally and legally dubious—requires more than just the information the government chooses to make public. The Obama administration’s crackdown makes it significantly more difficult to check up on potential government wrongdoing and severely undermines the president’s original, commendable promise to make government more transparent. Stories that require the acquisition of sensitive information have led to legal action against powerful or influential individuals who have committed significant wrongdoing (Watergate, anyone?)—justice that wouldn’t have been possible without intrepid reporters not having to worry themselves about having their press rights curtailed.
If what high-up people and organizations want us to know is all the press can provide us, there’s not much need for news organizations—the mediators who can filter the spin and uncover information that holds those with power and influence accountable and keep the public informed of processes and events that shape society. On a more philosophical level, being prevented from investigating sensitive government and national security issues means that history could very well be written by the government. Risen himself stated that “if you took away all the things that the press revealed to begin with in the war on terror, you would know virtually nothing about the history of the last 13 years.” The freedom of the press keeps history in the hands of the people and ensures its accuracy.
Practices such as the Justice Department’s secret subpoenas of the AP’s phone records is exactly what warrants the notion of a free and independent press. If one wants to criticize the administration for ignoring the Constitution and the Bill of Rights, this would be the issue to speak out about. Respecting reporters’ and journalists’ right to keep their sources confidential is essential to a truly free press than can bring wrongdoings to light, hold the government and others in power accountable, and ensure that history remains legitimate.
You don’t have to be a Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times reporter to appreciate what’s at stake. Even as students, whether it’s Associated Students, the police, or local government, it’s vital that we hold those in power accountable and remain mindful of obstacles to this responsibility. We don’t do it just for some abstract journalistic principle—we do this for ourselves.
Let's Talk About Parties
(No, Not the Cool Kind)
The Bottom Line | 2015
Like all other devoted House of Cards fans, I find Frank Underwood’s shady political maneuvering fascinating; I can totally see how anyone interested in politics would be drawn into the intriguing, Machiavellian career of America’s favorite fictional politician (sans murder, of course).
As unrelatable and distant (and even fictional) as this romanticized, big-time political lifestyle seems, it apparently just takes a student political party to make (a more tempered) version of it come to life right here on campus.
Anyone familiar with UCSB’s Open People’s Party beyond their rows of oversized signboards knows it’s a political machine. And being a part of a political machine is no doubt a lot of fun: it’s the closest any student will probably ever be to holding the romanticized position of a string-pulling, backdoor-utilizing politician, immune to punishment.
I have no doubt that our student leaders are nice folks who legitimately want to make UCSB better for their peers, but being part of a political machine seems to make the allure of this romanticized politician too enticing and demonstrably drags our campus political system into territory only real politicians need ever go. The Bottom Line’s investigative “Guilty By Association” series looked into some of the strong suspicions people familiar with our political system had about shady party activity, such as slating more Greek students while giving that subculture more attention in order to win that voting bloc. Passion for the ethically gray area within big-boy politics may come in handy in winning (and dominating) student elections, but unfortunately, it can spoil the campus political process.
And, if there’s anything a political machine can make more enticing or imperative than being this romanticized politician, it’s winning. OPP’s candidate for External Vice President of Statewide Affairs dropped out of a Lobby Corps conference—arguably prime EVPSA-related work—to focus on campaigning when it appeared he was trailing. The most minor of potential election infractions were called out unreservedly by the party in the days leading up to last week’s election, when races seemed to become uncomfortably close. In 2011, OPP was investigated for handing out Jell-O shots at Greek parties to court votes. (That strategy might’ve worked—they swept the elections that year—but four of their newly elected representatives were forced to resign over it.)
Though their colors, nominating processes, and campaign tactics may differ, political parties here tend to be particularly similar in their platforms and goals. Fiscal responsibility, protecting student services, promoting safety, student empowerment, and fighting unfair UC budget cuts or tuition increases are all common themes between OPP and the defunct Democratic Process Party. Both parties’ self-proclaimed track records include measures of financial responsibility, calls to tackle sexual violence, promoting student services, and voter registration.
With the constraints imposed on parties’ goals and achievements by the governing process—from compromises on bills to financial limitations—the differences between them shrink even more. We’re all students, and we all know what issues and goals are most important and pressing for us; there’s no point in dividing us into two camps as if the concrete results that we can expect from our representatives will be significantly different depending on who’s elected. The 2013 election results demonstrated the devastation and animosity that a landslide victory by one party over another can generate in those who don’t come out on top.
But political parties—and even machines—do have their advantages. Of them, according to AS President-Elect Jimmy Villarreal, “[f]irst and foremost is the outreach”—they do a considerable amount of the grunt work that goes into encouraging students to turn out to vote. Additionally, Villarreal says, parties provide a structure for continuity for large projects that require more than a single senate term to see through, and make it so our representatives don’t “have to reinvent the wheel every year,” providing up-and-coming students the opportunity to learn from older, more experienced representatives in the process.
Project continuity, voter outreach, and new student preparation are all undoubtedly important and valuable, but they’re not going to disappear without parties. But as long as there are parties, there will be the opportunity to taint ambition and the desire to affect constructive change with the desire for victory and power. What campus parties can do for us is not worth the shady and fraught AS political climate they have fueled for us. We have elections and officeholders with proper titles and a legitimate political system, but this is still a university—the focus should be on students and their issues, not winning and trying to be a politician. The questionable enticements campus political parties provide mean they won’t be going away any time soon, but the students who elect their members can and should still call them out when these enticements become a little too realized. When we’re all concerned about the student issues, we should not be dividing ourselves into separate camps.
As unrelatable and distant (and even fictional) as this romanticized, big-time political lifestyle seems, it apparently just takes a student political party to make (a more tempered) version of it come to life right here on campus.
Anyone familiar with UCSB’s Open People’s Party beyond their rows of oversized signboards knows it’s a political machine. And being a part of a political machine is no doubt a lot of fun: it’s the closest any student will probably ever be to holding the romanticized position of a string-pulling, backdoor-utilizing politician, immune to punishment.
I have no doubt that our student leaders are nice folks who legitimately want to make UCSB better for their peers, but being part of a political machine seems to make the allure of this romanticized politician too enticing and demonstrably drags our campus political system into territory only real politicians need ever go. The Bottom Line’s investigative “Guilty By Association” series looked into some of the strong suspicions people familiar with our political system had about shady party activity, such as slating more Greek students while giving that subculture more attention in order to win that voting bloc. Passion for the ethically gray area within big-boy politics may come in handy in winning (and dominating) student elections, but unfortunately, it can spoil the campus political process.
And, if there’s anything a political machine can make more enticing or imperative than being this romanticized politician, it’s winning. OPP’s candidate for External Vice President of Statewide Affairs dropped out of a Lobby Corps conference—arguably prime EVPSA-related work—to focus on campaigning when it appeared he was trailing. The most minor of potential election infractions were called out unreservedly by the party in the days leading up to last week’s election, when races seemed to become uncomfortably close. In 2011, OPP was investigated for handing out Jell-O shots at Greek parties to court votes. (That strategy might’ve worked—they swept the elections that year—but four of their newly elected representatives were forced to resign over it.)
Though their colors, nominating processes, and campaign tactics may differ, political parties here tend to be particularly similar in their platforms and goals. Fiscal responsibility, protecting student services, promoting safety, student empowerment, and fighting unfair UC budget cuts or tuition increases are all common themes between OPP and the defunct Democratic Process Party. Both parties’ self-proclaimed track records include measures of financial responsibility, calls to tackle sexual violence, promoting student services, and voter registration.
With the constraints imposed on parties’ goals and achievements by the governing process—from compromises on bills to financial limitations—the differences between them shrink even more. We’re all students, and we all know what issues and goals are most important and pressing for us; there’s no point in dividing us into two camps as if the concrete results that we can expect from our representatives will be significantly different depending on who’s elected. The 2013 election results demonstrated the devastation and animosity that a landslide victory by one party over another can generate in those who don’t come out on top.
But political parties—and even machines—do have their advantages. Of them, according to AS President-Elect Jimmy Villarreal, “[f]irst and foremost is the outreach”—they do a considerable amount of the grunt work that goes into encouraging students to turn out to vote. Additionally, Villarreal says, parties provide a structure for continuity for large projects that require more than a single senate term to see through, and make it so our representatives don’t “have to reinvent the wheel every year,” providing up-and-coming students the opportunity to learn from older, more experienced representatives in the process.
Project continuity, voter outreach, and new student preparation are all undoubtedly important and valuable, but they’re not going to disappear without parties. But as long as there are parties, there will be the opportunity to taint ambition and the desire to affect constructive change with the desire for victory and power. What campus parties can do for us is not worth the shady and fraught AS political climate they have fueled for us. We have elections and officeholders with proper titles and a legitimate political system, but this is still a university—the focus should be on students and their issues, not winning and trying to be a politician. The questionable enticements campus political parties provide mean they won’t be going away any time soon, but the students who elect their members can and should still call them out when these enticements become a little too realized. When we’re all concerned about the student issues, we should not be dividing ourselves into separate camps.