I'm not sure I can keep writing for my school's newspaper. I don't suppose this'll seem all that important in a few weeks, but at the moment I'm feeling disheartened, and what is a blog if not a series of fleeting thoughts published with the expressed intention of regaining meaning only so long as it takes to post another completely contradictory, equally fleeting ideology.
*Important note: At this point the door to the Writing Centre, where I work and happen to be typing, is thrown open and two almost hysterical staff members inform those of us present that they'd narrowly missed being ruthlessly attacked by a crazed and vicious turkey-like creature. Grabbing my coat and a tall blonde fellow (experts will attest most wild fowl will target the tallest and palest of any group cavalier enough to provoke the beast's ire) I courageously set off to confront the feathered assailant. Daringly positioning myself behind the tall blonde freshman, and two attractive women, I ventured, unprotected into the dangerous wilderness of this Eastern Iowa liberal arts college campus on a perilously sunny Spring afternoon. Finding no sign of our feral feathered foe, save for an assortment of bloody feathers and what can only be described as bits of bird one would only expect to find served in a traditional Thai soup, we managed to save face by chatting briefly about the poetry of Marianne Moore and the benefits of recycling.
"Our liberty depends on the freedom of the press, and that cannot be limited without being lost." -Thomas Jefferson. I hate quoting as a means of transition, but it struck me I'd have to write something incredibly profound to remind myself I'd intended to write about freedom of speech and not bizarre ornithological ordeals. As I wrote earlier, I'm considering the possibility of delivering my resignation from the school's newspaper. Though I appreciate the widespread fame and benefits, too numerous to list, inherent in writing for a publication leafed through by almost six percent of campus, I find myself in a troubled state.
As with most issues, I note this quagmire can be unceremoniously and inaptly separated into two distinct piles, which if placed on a scale, or represented in words on a white board, will lead to a quantitative solution to a qualitative conundrum. As for my reasons to stay, there are the supportive editors and staff writers who have either pretended to laugh at my cartoons or protected my physical person while an irate mob (read: Student Senate) demanded I face charges for my "liable and slanderous cartoons." I'd intended to point out to the senate that slander relates to comments not printed and that liable isn't a crime but rather an adjective, but the opportunity never managed to present itself. I'd also intended to point out that one can in fact be legally liable for accusing others of libel in an e-mail sent to the entirety of the student body, however I decided I'd have to be a complete jackass to so publicly accuse another adult of a crime the accuser neither understands nor has the ability to spell correctly.
The paper has also come to depend on me and my co-editor to fill a given amount of space each week, and frankly, when one considers oneself to be an adult, one must wonder as to whether petty issues like integrity and liberty should stand in the way of fulfilling an incredibly stressful responsibility. I suppose I already mentioned the fame, why just the other day someone leaned across their desk during class and asked sheepishly, "Aren't you the guy who published that picture of your ass?" I imagine Salman Rushdie gets that all the time.
Let's see... I'm sure there's some other reason I write for the newspaper. They took me to San Francisco a few weeks ago. That was pretty awesome.
As for the negatives, I suppose there are a few, otherwise I'd probably not have started writing about it. I'll start with the censorship. As some of you have possibly inferred, I hate censorship. I hate everything about censorship. Censorship offensively perverts the human experience and disenfranchises words from meaning. Not only does censorship bastardize the words deemed offensive, but taints all expression, insinuating that we are allowed to speak because an outer authority grants us the privilege. Moreover what is often censored is not that which our society deems criminal, but rather that which our society deems private. Censorship demands we deceive the world and often, as a result of the rampant acceptance of this silly practice, demands we deceive ourselves, having been socialized since birth to find sexuality and our own bodies inappropriate and somehow unfit. Though I can't claim much knowledge in any field, save for cartoons, I'd imagine the exposure of children to censorship could be much more harmful than the exposure of children to images of the human form.
Censorship is a tool of authority to assert that we are not responsible for our decisions and somehow unfit to handle the ideas, opinions, and images of the world without first asking some undefined figure for permission. I hate censorship. I hate the culture bred of censorship. I hate the assertion made by censorship that those who fear and refuse to express their humanity honestly are somehow worthy of deciding what should and should not be expressed by those strong enough to attempt art, in any context, form, or manner.
D. H. Lawrence referred to them as 'censor-morons,' I feel more comfortable calling them blind, treasonous, cowards. Those who aim to limit the possibilities of expression and control the human experience are traitors to the species and enemies of liberty.
Now the problem; I'm not making any headway. I'd intended to challenge the notions of middle class morality that direct our paper's censorship practices. This is in fact the reason I began writing for the newspaper. Having gained a reputation for being able to produce work that some people occasionally enjoy reading, I managed to become a section editor, given an entire page, in colour, with which to express my crazy views and humorous insights. Promptly I decided to challenge my position by drawing a cartoon in which a character refers to someone wearing a shirt reading "Jesus Rocks" as "a crazy." The cartoon was immediately deemed unprintable. Eventually editors would change and soon my section of the paper would become damn near coherent, affording me the ability to further push against silly notions of propriety, point out injustice and hypocracy on campus, and continue to draw cartoons with every assurance that the paper can't print nudity as nudity is obscene and unfit for a college newspaper, printed with the expressed audience of adults.
I won't pretend to be the victim of an overbearing religious environment, as this is America and my college was not founded by Pat Robertson. Technically the school's website refers to the college as presbitarian, or lutheran, or something equally ridiculous, but as far as religious persecution goes I find myself generally unaware that anyone here actually believes in an all mighty Big Brother in the sky.
*On second thought, I had intended to spend my Spring Break volunteering in New Orleans, hoping to meet George Clooney and declare this clean up mission accomplished, but after responding to the Chaplain's e-mail request for interested student applications, I was sent a note informing me that the purpose of the trip was to offer aide and discuss our "faith journeys," and I, foolishly thinking honesty would be respected by a member of the clergy, having told her I wasn't really religious but open to discussing issues of humanity, was informed that I would not be entirely welcome. Apparently I missed the part where Jesus said, "And ye, those who would choose to help their fellow man must also sit in church wearing uncomfortable pants every Sunday morning and feel bad about masturbating, everyone else can go fuck themselves." Spring Break worked out well enough though, I managed to go home and be drunk a lot.
"Virtue cannot separate itself from reality without becoming a principle of evil." Albert Camus. Point being, it was my belief that if one honestly appreciates their freedom they are compelled to act, in some manner that honors said freedom. This isn't entirely a novel idea. But, as my tenure as section editor was less fruitful than I'd hoped. Having caused some controversy for writing an article suggesting a student senate member had undermined the democratic process and managed to usurp power from the elected officials, allegations that were all admitted to at a later date, the paper had managed to find itself in direct conflict with the powers that fund. I cannot maintain my honesty without admitting that I'd intended the article to spur some debate as to whether or not a college paper should be supplicant to an outside authority (read: a student senate that has spent an entire month forming committees to decide how to word a letter of apology for yelling at a student who attempted to address the collected mass). Of course, feeling the anarchistic pining for a free press, I was of the opinion that standing up to a domineering assemblage of thugs (read: administration, the elderly, some student senators, and a parent's organization demanding the paper be more directly controlled by... well probably a strangely overbearing organization of incredibly bored parents with nothing better to do than ensure their children never bother to contemplate independence), while others seemed to draw their line at offending student senate... mildly offending student senate.
Without going further into unnecessary details, I'm beginning to doubt my ability to challenge a system based in arbitrary distribution of authoritative powers. I find myself unable to accept the "freedom" we have and "be thankful it's not worse."
Ultimately I'm torn between maintaining integrity and stranding people who have, at least in some sense, come to depend on me writing silly things and drawing occasionally offensive cartoons. I'm going to have to think about this some more.
Your Pal,
Kyle
