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Campus is abuzz with talk of housing reform. Some students are proposing changes to our current system, while others are defending it. One thing is certain: Duke’s housing system is unique. None of our peer institutions offer anything quite like it.
I am just old enough to remember the Soviet Union. Not the daily fear of nuclear war or the parades in Red Square or the premier with the crimson birthmark who promised glasnost and perestroika—this is not the U.S.S.R. I remember. I remember the Soviet Union as an oblong blob of pink that spread across the northern half of a globe in my first-grade classroom, a vast country that no longer was.
When asked two summers ago if he had ever prayed to God for forgiveness, Donald Trump replied, “I am not sure I have.” Trump explained, “I just go on and try to do a better job from there. I don’t think so. I think if I do something wrong, I think, I just try and make it right. I don’t bring God into that picture. I don’t.”
Tomorrow we will witness a miracle.
They say you'll always remember your first time.
"F**k n*****s. F**k gays. Gas the k***s." These are the words found spray-painted under the East Campus bridge last weekend. These are words that shock the conscience.
The best word to describe our form of government is no longer “democracy.” The United States isn’t exactly an “oligarchy” either, despite a recent study alleging as much. The most fitting term to describe America’s current state of affairs is an unfamiliar one: “kakistocracy.”
Guess which famous Republican said the following about a demagogue hijacking the Republican Party: "The nation sorely needs a Republican victory. But I don’t want to see the Republican Party ride to political victory on the Four Horsemen of Calumny—Fear, Ignorance, Bigotry, and Smear. . .While it might be a fleeting victory for the Republican Party, it would be a more lasting defeat for the American people. Surely it would ultimately be suicide for the Republican Party [as well].”
"Elie Wiesel, Holocaust survivor and Nobel Laureate, is dead at 87." It was a heartbreaking notification to read as I switched my phone on while the credits rolled in a dimly lit movie theatre. I walked out thinking less about the great white shark Blake Lively had outmaneuvered in “The Shallows” and more about the great soul who had just departed the world.
Arguing about American foreign policy is a tradition as old as the American Republic itself.
Donald Trump recently waxed nostalgic about the days when politics stopped "at the water's edge." The expression dates back to the Cold War, when Republican Senator Arthur Vandenberg, breaking with his longstanding isolationism, joined with Democratic President Harry Truman to support an iron-clad security guarantee for Western Europe, which would go on to form the basis for NATO. Vandenberg’s phrase ushered in a bipartisan consensus that would ably guide American foreign policy through the travails of superpower competition with the Soviet Union. As this thinking goes, we might have had our squabbles at home, but when it came to facing adversaries far from our shores, we acted as one people. We refused to play political games when our national security was at stake. Like many things Trump says, this vision is part fact and part fable.
Sit pretty much anywhere on campus, close your eyes and listen. You'll hear the sound of the University growing. The distant beeping of earth-moving trucks in reverse. The disembodied voices of construction workers. The far-off roar of engines steering cranes in new positions. Silence, you'd think, is the sound of stagnation. But listen closely, and you'll be hard-pressed to find silence anywhere. Duke, the superorganism, is seldom silent.
Like 54 percent of conservative Republican voters, I believe that climate change is real and that human activity is driving it.
You wouldn't believe me if I told you we're all eyewitnesses to genocide.
First I heard the screams—piercing, otherworldly screams. Caterwauls and whooping and ululation. Then the pitter-patter of scurrying feet. And I saw, flashing in the distance, the red and blue lights of emergency vehicles. Meanwhile, a chopper whirred overhead.
Bernie Sanders is a literary genius. His platform is all magical realism; suspension of disbelief is a prerequisite to understand the stuff. For every proposed increase in spending, there's a deus ex machina tax increase. Verisimilitude is not Sanders' strong suit.
While many of us were in our cradles, 800,000 people perished in Rwanda. Hutu extremists launched a campaign of systematic slaughter against Hutu moderates and the Tutsi minority, gripping the country in the single bloodiest genocide since the Holocaust.
How did the draft-dodging, Hillary-donating, China-trade-warring, quadruple-bankrupting, never-office-holding Donald J. Trump come to so dominate the Republican field? It's the most intriguing question of this moment in American political history.
In 1939, 937 Jews sailed from Europe aboard the St. Louis. It was six months after the Kristallnacht, the night of broken glass, when synagogues and Jewish businesses were desecrated across Austria and Germany. Jewish children had recently been barred from attending public schools. The SS had already opened concentration camps at Buchenwald and Mauthausen. These refugees had good reasons to flee.
The First Amendment has seen better days. Last week, protesters at the University of Missouri, themselves exercising their First Amendment rights of assembly and speech, verbally harassed a student photographer trying to document the protests. Going beyond the First Amendment, a few in the crowd physically pushed him back; meanwhile, a professor of communications went so far as to call for "muscle" to repel the photographer’s unwanted presence. Days before, Yale students, incensed over a simmering Halloween costume email scandal, surrounded the professor married to the originator of the email and demanded an apology from him. When he refused to apologize for his wife, and defended "the right for people to speak their minds," one student shouted in reply, "Who the f--- hired you?", a deafening crescendo to a deeply troubling campus conversation.
