NOTE: This article is part of a series of Spanish to English translations done with the intent of informing the American left of the dangerous political situation of leftists in Mexico.  Originally posted in the Popular Revolutionary Front (FPR)’s website on February 4, 2015.  The Popular Revolutionary Front is Mexico’s Marxist-Leninist communist party.  

Yesterday February 3rd our comrade Gustavo Salgado Delgado, member of the Popular Revolutionary Front, was declared missing, and today, it is confirmed that he has been assassinated.  We put the responsibility of his death on the state of Morelos and the Mexican State in general.  This crime is a part of the politics of terror that the State implements to try to sow fear in popular movements in general and in our organization in particular.  Let us be clear: this crime hurts us as the FPR collective, but it gives us more reasons to pull at the structures of power and cause the fall of this regime of hunger and misery, of exploitation of death.

We will not reduce our participation in the people’s movements, on the other hand, we will continue participating and moving the Popular National Assembly, the Popular National Convention, and the General Political Strike forward.  We know that we are at a critical juncture in the history of this country, in which we will either organize and join together in a unified front to discard the bourgeoise and their State or fascism will be institutionalized openly in our country.

Let us be clear that the objective that we propose is revolution, to rip apart this political, social, and economic system so that there will be no place for those who exploit nor those who enable them; for each citizen murdered, disappeared, tortured, jailed, or persecuted, the people will exact justice.

In the same way that they have taken Gustavo, Gregorio Alfonso, Lauro Juarez, Manuel Gonzalez, Gil Ramirez, among other comrades fallen in battle, the comrades in the rest of the movement will express our pain and anger by elevating our ways of agitating and organizing until we reach our historic objectives.





Activist Leader Who Led Ayotzinapa Protests Found Decapitated (translation)

NOTE: Article is an English translation from the original Spanish.  Originally posted by on February 5, 2015.  Original article here. 

Brutal crimes keep shocking Mexico.  On Wednesday, a crime was learned that shook the states of Guerrero and Morelos: activist Gustavo Salgado Delgado was found decapitated.  The young 32 year old was the leader of the Popular Revolutionary Front (FPR) and more than 4 months ago, when the 43 students of the Normal Rural School of Ayotzinapa went missing, he led protests urging authorities to present the missing students.

The activist leader was kidnapped on Tuesday by an armed group when he left a general assembly of farm workers from the Montaña de Guerrero.  On Wednesday at 5PM, the worst had been confirmed: he had been assassinated.  His body was found on an isolated location in the state of Morelos, with visible signs of torture, and he had been decapitated.

Gustavo Salgado Delgado had been planning on participating in marches advocating for the missing students of Ayotzinapa, which took place on Wednesday at the University of Morelos.  The activist had been an avid participant of the movement advocating for the 43 students who have been missing in Iguala since the 26th of September, 2014.

Salgado was also known for advocating for and organizing farm workers in Guerrero. These farm workers were affected by the heavy rains of hurricanes Ingrid and Manuel, and were hoping to settle in Morelos, where they wished to work in the cane fields, without any rights.  The presence of these displaced farmworkers became a political issue for owners of the cane fields, according to reports from the newspaper Excelsior.

His Disappearance

Members of the FPR, who announced on Tuesday that their leader was missing, blamed the kidnapping on the authorities of the state of Morelos and the state of Guerrero, as well as the governor of the state of Morelos, Graco Ramirez.

Those who last saw Salgado announced that Salgado had left a meeting in El Chivatero, Morelos on Tuesday at 6PM, and took public transit to the municipality of Ayala, where he was to attend another meeting.  Those who waited for him in Ayala were worried by his absence, and started looking for him in nearby districts in the municipality, and soon after decided to announce his disappearance.

The reasons for his kidnapping and assassination are unclear, and the crime remains under investigation.  Members of the FPR issued a press release in which they maintained that “the political activity of our comrade has been consistently in the defense of land rights for farmworkers, and for the betterment of the municipality of Ayala, for the migrant farm workers of the Montaña de Guerrero and Oaxaca.

They add: “it is because of these activities that corrupt local governments and the state have maintained constant vigilance and harassment against [Salgado], as is demonstrated by his illegal detention on March 20, 2014 in Cuernavaca, Morelos, while he was participating in a march organized by the Citizen’s Front against laws of taxation.

For Women of Color Who Have Considered Silence When the Shame Became Too Much: An Open Letter

“The stories are endless, infinitely familiar, traded by the faithful like baseball cards, fondled until they fray around the edges and blur into the apocryphal.” – Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem 

When they ask you to be quiet, speak louder. There is something in the sound of your voice that men in power and the women who love them cannot stand the weight of. It is conviction, or something like self-love in the midst of so much hatred for that thing which stirs within us and compels us to speak.

They will tell you he did not do it. I do not know. I trust him. I love him. He held me. He is my brother, my friend, my mentor. You have no evidence. Where is your proof?

Do not show them where you keep your wounds. Save that for your sisters. Keep a tally.

There was that time in Cutter you witnessed a man pin a woman half his size against the wall and kick her legs apart. You danced around them hoping someone would intervene. No one ever did and you did not feel safe enough to speak. That night you vomit into the sink of your bathroom. The next day, you do not go to class. That was not repentance enough for the sin of sacrificing another woman to the beast of black man love but you allow yourself forgiveness.

There was the boy you loved who remained silent as you defended yourself and your friend from a man bigger than the both of you. The boy could not betray his friend, so he betrayed you, and you loved him anyway.

The time you saw the freshman girl, drunk as she was, being persuaded to leave with the boy you know has a temper. The one who threatens to gangbang bitches when he’s drunk. You try to give her the eye, shake your head, say no as quietly as you know how and in the end, she does not go. You are relieved.

The time you were dancing with your girls and the DJ asked the men in the room to leave no woman dancing by herself. He picks you up from behind and places you squarely against the soft mound biggering beneath his sweats. For a moment you forget to breathe. When you turn around to face him he is already backing away.

There was the woman you loved who left school without finishing. She sat you down before she left, without telling you she was leaving, and told you where she kept the knives. You were on a balcony. You remember watching the night sky, the path that led into the forest, the windows glowing warmly in the house across the street and thinking: what would it look like to disappear from all this pain? After she left, the man who bled her dry would visit you at work and leer at you until you served him. You had panic attacks for months.

“He was drunk.”

“He was stone cold sober.”

“He threw his phone at me”

“He chokes out women.”

“Stay away from him!”

“There were more of them in the room.”

We, older women as we are, have stories we will not tell you out of shame. We fear we will not be believed. That the men will learn of these stories and threaten us with lawsuits, with bodily harm, with social alienation. That the women will call us petty, conniving, liars.

We do not have reports, but we have memories and the nightmares that keep us up at night. We have the lived experience of our bodies and the fear that grips them when certain men walk by. The knowing that you too could be sacrificed at the alter of black man love.

These days, the reality is setting in that no other woman need be sacrificed at the altar simply because every woman before me has. It is not enough, anymore, that we whisper these stories to each other, that we pull women aside and warn them discretely.  We must be brave and force these men to contend with our rage. To witness the grief that comes out of gross neglect. Community is not community at the expense of survivors. It is not community without accountability, friendship, honesty, transparency, and the commitment to showing up for each other.

Thank you, young as you are, brave as you are, for refusing to consider silence when the shame became too much. For speaking out. For pushing us to choose between the men we love and the women they have broken. When you speak, there will be violence leveled against you because you threaten the very fabric of our community. The men you call out: they will be loved, they will be respected, they will have friends. And others will protect him. That is how they will continue to abuse.

But there are more of us who will listen and are ready to provide support. There are students, professors, staff members and alumni who stand in solidarity with survivors. In the new spaces we create together, you will never have to offer yourself up to the mouths of men to be worthy, to be valued, to be loved. In this new community, you will speak and we will listen.

Sadia Hassan is a guest columnist

President Hanlon Releases Moving Dartmouth Forward Decision a Day Early in Anticipation of Thursday Hangover

Due to what he is calling a complete oversight on his part, President Hanlon has decided to release his decision regarding the Greek System on Wednesday, citing his inability to ever get anything productive done on Thursdays. “I always go out on Wednesday nights. Sometimes I go to meetings, then post-meetings tails, and then I go out after tails, so I like to block off my entire Thursday to recover,” says Hanlon. Hanlon recalled one occasion when he met with an important donor on a Thursday morning, and had to leave in the middle of the meeting to go throw up. “It was not a good scene, bro,” he recalls. “Thursdays are just not a good day to make a big announcement like this one.”

Hanlon’s actual statement was as follows: “Yeah, the Greek System. Keep it. It’s fun. Anyone who doesn’t think so needs to loosen up and smoke a jay or something. Let’s abolish 10A’s, am I right?”

Brown: The Dartmouth’s Editorial Represented Gross Misconduct Because No One Asked Me My Opinion On It.


Recently, the Dartmouth published an editorial on the front page of their Homecoming issue calling for the abolition of the Greek system. Needless to say, it embroiled the campus in controversy. Many of my peers have weighed in on the editorial, and the D’s decision to publish it on the front page, saying that the editors of the D were on a “power trip,” and “hijacked the paper.”  These statements are ones that I would agree with, but I would say that the D’s most egregious misstep in the writing of this editorial was that at no point was I ever consulted or asked to give my opinion on the issue.

There is no excuse for such an oversight. I can be reached by cell phone, facebook, or blitz. In fact, if any of the editors of the D had contacted me, I would have been more than willing to sit down with them for an in person chat over KAF to tell them the real truth about the Greek system.

The real problem with the D’s editorial was their refusal to listen to student voices, the most important being my own. If the D had taken the time to hear other, more nuanced opinions on the Greek system, for example mine, I am confident that they would not have taken such a brash and irrational stance. For example, as a part of my fraternity, I have made some of the best friends of my life. The bonds I have formed with my brothers are ones that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. I would be shocked if this fact, and this fact alone, was not enough to convince the D’s editorial board that their position was misguided. If the D had even thought to reach out to me, even just shot me a text, they would have known that I, as a person who accurately represents most of Dartmouth, have never been the victim of racist, homophobic, or sexist remarks in a fraternity or sorority. These allegations are clearly false, propaganda propagated by a fringe group of pronoun enthusiasts. If anyone from the D had thought to do a little bit of fact checking, or at least contacted me for the facts, they would have found out that these accusations hold no weight.

Another buzzword that gets thrown around a lot during discussions of the Greek system, and that the D editorial board did not ask me about, is exclusivity. People have this idea that Greek houses are “exclusive” spaces that somehow “exclude” people. I can tell you now that this is false. This, I feel, is one of the most untrue and misguided criticisms of the Greek system that I’ve heard. I am no stranger to exclusivity in its many forms. I have found places like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton to be extremely exclusive, in addition to many campus groups, such as the Aires, the Dodecaphonics, and the Dog Day Players. However, to call the Greek system exclusive is the opposite of true. I was never excluded from my Greek house, in fact, I was offered a bid as soon as I rushed, and welcomed with open arms. As Dartmouth’s representative for all students, I can assure you that Greek Houses are nothing but welcoming spaces. Even at the most supposedly exclusive fraternity events, I have only ever felt warmly included. From tails, to formals, to meetings, I have never been excluded from any kind of event at my fraternity. Therefore, I maintain that these accusations of exclusivity, too, hold no weight, something that the Dartmouth would have learned had they had one conversation with me, even a short one in the comments section of a facebook post. What I’m saying is, there was no shortage of ways to contact me, and the responsibility for not doing so lies squarely on the D.

The bottom line is, the Dartmouth Editorial Board does not represent Dartmouth. Fringe groups like Real Talk, or the students who occupied Hanlon’s office last spring do not represent Dartmouth. The students who spoke out against the Greek system last year during the Great Debate do not represent Dartmouth. I represent Dartmouth, and so do you, provided that you agree with everything I believe. So I implore you, like-minded Dartmouth student, to be the change you wish to see in the world, and don’t be the change you don’t wish to see at Dartmouth. Because only we, the true voice of Dartmouth, can ensure that Dartmouth stays the same forever. Lest the old traditions fail.

Willy Brown ’15 is a guest columnist.


The Dartmouth Radical and The Dartmouth Action Collective present…


Disorientation Guide 2014-2015


 inspired by disorientation guides at
NYU, Columbia, Tufts, and UC Santa-Cruz

Beyond “Academic Freedom”: An Argument for Palestinian Liberation

~ Moulshri Mohan

The American Studies Association’s boycott of Israeli government-funded academic institutions has provoked much righteous indignation among major news outlets in the U.S. “A repugnant attack on academic freedom” cries the Huffington Post. “Academic Freedom Against Itself” – a ponderous NYT opinion. “92 Universities reject the boycott” proclaims the Jerusalem Post proudly (wow, the neoliberal/corporate university supports you, you must be absolutely in the right). The Wall Street Journal gravely denounces the boycott as “A vote against Israel and Academic Freedom”.

But of course, USian universities and newspapers are the natural arbiters of justice. Who else? They themselves are in general such moral, upstanding institutions, with their consistent support for human rights (such as an affordable education…or unbiased reporting on international affairs…particularly in relation to the U.S.’s many humanitarian wars1).

What really amazes me, though, is how…basic the argument for so-called “academic freedom” in these articles is. Academic freedom is a concept that was put forward to protect academics from political pressure and censure (coming from universities or the state), and to ensure that they have freedom of inquiry. Though contested (which would be another article altogether), I think it is quite a useful idea.

I’m unsure as to how these righteous spokesmen for the public good think the boycott is infringing on academic freedom though, since it is patently, evidently, doing the opposite.

Firstly, and simply, the ASA’s Frequently Asked Questions lay it out quite clearly: individual scholars are largely unaffected by the boycott – they can come to the ASA conference/be hosted by the universities ASA members belong to. ASA members can collaborate with Israeli scholars on research and publications. Therefore, it is only the universities themselves, run on government funding, which are going to be affected by the boycott2.

Secondly…this whole argument rather reminds me of hate speech-spewing individuals defending themselves: “But but but – freedom of speech! The constitution! My rights!” I mean, really – who cares about racists?! Similarly, Israeli and American public voices invoke values of “open-mindedness!”, “tolerance!”, even bringing out that old beaten horse, “cultural exchange!” (i.e. [comfortable] [privilege-reinforcing] cultural exchange) to argue against the boycott. Well, how about some cultural exchange with Palestinians? (Or Iraqis, or Afghans, or Somalis). When Israel occupies Palestinian land, restricts the movement of Palestinians or visitors to Palestinian land, shuts down Palestinian universities and therefore shuts down Palestinian academic [and otherwise] voices; when the United States and its people happily support such an occupation…neither deserves to ask for rights. They already have more than their lot. The freedom of speech, the cultural exchange, the academic freedom they speak about are no more than rights afforded by empire2,3,4,5.

Thirdly, the “academic freedom” news outlets are referring to right now is a twisted version of its ideal self – it is right now a principle meant to protect the oppressed being used to keep the privileged oppressor on his throne. Freedom of inquiry cannot exist without human freedom. The two are inseparable concepts.

An example I’m sure all of us are familiar with: if a person or a group does not have money, forget about access to books, classes, teachers, graduate school, a job, critical thinking and dialogue, a voice. Similarly, if you haven’t been groomed all your life, forget about it. If you look different, forget about it. And if you come from an occupied territory, apparently, you can forget about it. This is all fundamentally at odds with both academic and human freedom.

Academics – or at least the academics that “count”– in Global North countries, and even to some extent those in third world ones, are a pretty privileged bunch. They have an education and a job. In addition, those who succeed in their world are born with other kinds of privilege as well. I’m a Psychology major and I hang out on the social sciences side of things – and I’ve had two professors of color in my whole time here. I’ve never had a non-American professor. This is no accident. And when you’re privileged it’s pretty easy to keep that going by doing “good science” and worrying about “publishing or perishing” rather than looking at the bigger picture of justice and representation. If the more privileged voices continue drowning out the less privileged ones – where’s the freedom in that?

This is what is passing for academic freedom in the United States, which is the global center of research in just about…everything today. And if this is what major news outlets and universities are defending, I want no part in it. The job of the academic is producing (and criticizing) knowledge. Okay, that’s great, excellent! I don’t particularly care what money-hungry universities (cough, cough, Dartmouth) or self-congratulatory newspapers say, but academics need to realize: it isn’t possible to produce a knowledge insulated from a human world (not just a human USA, or a human Israel) though – a world where people bleed, and die, and go hungry, and lose limbs and children, and are seen as at fault if they are poor, and as worthless if they are unemployed.

It doesn’t work to console students and themselves, make a grudging concession to the existence of unheard narratives, by saying “and of course there is a cross-cultural aspect to this…yes there was work on Japan and Israel and Europe…of course nothing is universal…of course there is research…” There isn’t enough research. And there are uglier, unhappier parts of the world that need to be explored, uncovered. And when people who are trying to do that (Palestinian scholars, if that wasn’t clear), trying to amplify their lived, unheard, narrative, are restricted and given less opportunity, and when that is presented as normal, freedom in general is compromised. “Research is me-search,” said a professor to us the other day. Well, the only me’s that are getting to do research are the supremely privileged ones, and that’s where the problem with the argument for academic freedom lies.

When people, and fields, and institutions, tell themselves that it is ok to be producing/disseminating/only getting funding and state permission for such an isolated, isolationist knowledge, they’re really just going along comfortably with the unquestioned narrative, the received wisdom, about morality, and good science, and objectivity (as if). A gentle reminder: another job of the academic is questioning received wisdom (of all kinds, not just limited to their field). This is why we need representation in academia – across the world. This is why the insulation of academics by the state, the corporate university, the capitalist mentality of “publish or perish”, and Ivy League elitism is so very harmful.

Perhaps it’s wrong and silly to care about “the academy” so much – it is rather ironic that I expect U.S. scholars, all benefiting somewhat from the same federal funding that supports Israel, to boycott it. However, simply for that reason I suppose – and also all the ones I have laid out above – I think ASA’s boycott of Israeli government-funded academic institutions, which are instrumental in the silencing of Palestinian voices searching for freedom, is a move that was courageous, and needed for a long time. It protects the intertwined issues of human rights and academic freedom, provides painfully needed representation, and levels the playing field of whose narrative gets heard, at least a little bit.


1Hallin, Daniel. We keep America on top of the world: Television journalism and the public sphere. Routledge, 2006.





Coming home (or not) to Dartmouth

~Jillian Mayer

INCOMINGSTUDENTIAMSOEXCITEDTOMEETYOU!! There are so many things I can’t wait to do and be and create with you! I’d like to tell you a bit about my Dartmouth experience so that we might have a richer conversation than the usual a/s/l-type introduction in the fall. Perhaps I’ll describe myself. I’m a member of the class of 2014 who identifies as chronically hungry and under-caffeinated. I’m an Environmental Studies and Spanish double major, neither of which I’m too keen on anymore (it’s sometimes ok to choose the wrong major! and change it a ton of times! and not know what you want to do with it! sometimes!). I am also a white, temporarily able-bodied, straight passing, middle class, Jewish, cisgendered, feminine-presenting queer wombyn, and a natural-born US citizen with a passport. I come from a two-parent family, have a socially condoned body size, and speak English as my first language the way that mainstream white American society deems “standard.” As I write this from my off-term in Oregon, I sit on lands stolen from the Multnomah, Klamath, Clackamas, Chinook, Tualatin, Kalapya, Mololla, and other Native American nations, tribes, and clans. While I believe we are all greater than the sum of our parts – I am not only these identities, just as you are not comprised entirely/solely of the identities you hold – recognizing, naming, and working to deconstruct them is important because they inform everything I experience. Which matters. In introducing myself this way, I hope we are more qualified to critique this blog, to recognize the limitations of my experience, and to come to the proverbial (or literal Foco) table with a better understanding of each other. Incoming students: I cannot welcome you “home” to Dartmouth.

A friend asked me to write about my Dartmouth experience to give incoming students insight into the next phase of their lives. I don’t even know what that means. I am unequipped to offer anything other than my friendship (which I present with enthusiasm, Late Night Collis mozzarella sticks if you want ‘em, and a high five). I’ve spent the last two terms away from campus, but will return in the fall to greet my brother, a ’17, and you. I’ve felt “home” more often while away from campus these past few months than I ever have in Hanover. Have you heard the popular idiom “Hogwarts + Disney = Dartmouth”? I find this equation unnervingly accurate, given that both of those addends seem to be the funnest but actively perpetuate and normalize white supremacy, sexism, classism, misogyny, heterosexism, trans*phobia, ableism, capitalism, nationalism, and lots of other things that kill everyone eventually. Like a hunter retracing her own bloody footprints, I return to Dartmouth reluctantly.

I don’t mean to scare you, incoming student. Honestly, I don’t. I’ve had some great times at Dartmouth, and bet you will too. I’ve carved out a hard-won home for myself within a few people and places that I love. I climb favorite mountain peaks to remind myself that I am both strong and small. I smile at and print out and tape on my wall the poems my friends email me at 3 a.m. from across the library. The winter of 2011 found me half naked jumping into a frozen lake. I’ve studied abroad twice.

I have also been invited to one “Chinese”- and three “Mexican”-themed parties whose white hosts could pass immigration legislation in a decade. I can count on one hand the number of female-bodied people and/or women I love who have not been sexually assaulted. The extreme backlash (and, perhaps more disturbing, the apathy of much of the student body and alumni networks to that violent backlash) following the Dimensions weekend #RealTalk protests by students last spring highlights the structures at play on our campus. As scholar-activist Andrea Smith notes, an ableist, capitalist, racist “patriarchal system based on violence operates by appearing ‘normal’ and attacking alternative systems that might challenge its legitimacy.”[i] Our reaction totally fits.

My critiques of Dartmouth are really critiques of the system in which Dartmouth is embedded and I am complicit. It is an enormous privilege having entire years of my life set aside for reading the brilliant theory of why it is so problematic that I have the years to read the brilliant theory. And most of my identities make my joys and struggles more visible than those of my peers. It is what I choose to do with my myriad privileges, though, that makes me more fully human. Or something. Wrestling with paradoxes, not expecting others to explain their truths (do your research!), and listening to – not merely hearing – each other allows us to begin to reclaim the humanity that the world that made Dartmouth would prefer us lose. Some of you might step onto campus already intimately familiar with the structures I mention. Welcome. Others of you will immediately and consistently like your new Dartmouth “home.” Welcome. If you do end up enjoying most or all of your time there, I am genuinely really happy for you. That isn’t sarcasm. But please, for the love of everything you have ever found holy, ask yourself why you are enjoying yourself so much. My challenges are not fighting words; they are loving ones. Let’s make everyone feel the way you do. I will be beside you as we work towards (dismantling)creating this institution. That has been and will continue to be where I find my “home” at Dartmouth.

I’ll see you soon on Abenaki land.

Peace easy,

Jillian ‘14

[i] Smith, Andrea. Conquest: Sexual Violence and American Indian Genocide. Cambridge, MA: South End, 2005.

“What are you, a gay wrestler?”

~ by Eli Lichtenstein


Elliot Morales murdered Mark Carson last Friday night in New York City’s West Village. Encountering Carson and his partner on Sixth Avenue, Morales spit a string of antigay slurs before shooting Carson, a gay man of color, in the head.


The violence which saturates our society and ourselves is a targeted violence; there is nothing random about it; a hate crime consists of the assault on what the perpetrator takes to be a non-human object. Mark Carson was murdered because he was gay and as such, an object. A dear friend of mine was raped because she is a woman and as such, an object. Any deviation from the societal definition of the human must be abruptly eradicated or punished, or at least sadistically enjoyed.


A German philosopher once wrote that fascism is signified by “the miracle of integration, the permanent benevolence of those in command, who admit the unresisting subject while he chokes down his unruliness.” Fascist logic is consistent: the utter subordination of the individual—the other—to the group. Yet fascism appears in multiple guises. We can locate it in Nazism, which demands the genocidal removal of every instance of difference. But fascism also appears in the expectation, nearly unavoidable, that every individual shall willingly carve her psychology and her body into the particular form required for her integration into the community. The inability to accept this coercion mandates banishment from the group, whether by violent social ostracization or by death.


Fascism, here, has metaphorical value. It describes a social relationship predicated on coercion, in which to belong, the subject must swallow her misgivings and her anger and her searing pain, must express complete gratitude and happiness merely to have been allowed in.


An alumnus writes, “No women making a fuss in my day. Be happy we let you in.”


The same logic appears in a video posted last week by a group calling itself #OurDartmouth. At a first viewing, the video appears, at best, entirely vapid. While smooth piano-lounge softly plays, students of rainbowed racial and gender identities pronounce one-word descriptions of Dartmouth: opportunity, hope, amazing, unique. The video presents a collage of triumphant multiculturalism. Perhaps the group’s mission is well intentioned: according to the video, #OurDartmouth aims to “reunite our community” and to “start a conversation,” apparently about Dartmouth’s epidemic of violence. A speaker in the video claims that the school is complex, and that “the strength of our community is rooted in its complexity.” Yet the problem with a campaign which reduces complexity to the semantic difference between “exploration” and “transformative” is that it effectively elides all substantive difference, all true complexity which cannot be expressed by a few faces articulating their love for Dartmouth in remarkably similar terms.


Thus, what begins as a call to share stories ends as a strict provisioning of the narrow range of the stories to be shared. One student talks about playing soccer on the Green, another speaks excitedly of her upcoming trip to Malaysia where she’ll be “studying a hunter-gatherer population.” Another student categorically states that “everyone here just wants you to feel at home and is very sensitive to making you feel like Dartmouth is the place for you.” In this definition of conversation as the collective affirmation of the college, there is no space to say, simply, that Dartmouth has a problem. Consequently, Dartmouth doesn’t have a problem. In this denial of conflict, our smiling and benevolent peers implicitly insist that Dartmouth’s only problem lies in those who don’t agree. But the video doesn’t stop at the total erasure of difference. Instead it demands subordination to the ideal, to the ghostly image of the imagined community. “We hope,” the main speaker asserts, to “reunite our community by reflecting on the unique and much loved traditions and experiences here in Hanover.” The primary referent of social reconciliation thus becomes the exhausted narrative of Dartmouth tradition. Ultimately it is these constructed experiences that will serve to pacify real, human antagonism. Thus, social inclusion is defined in terms of an exclusionary institutional identity. The form of the college subsumes its content, and in so doing, violently eradicates it.


The subject is forced to cut her soul, already disfigured by the violence of our society, into the increasingly grotesque shapes demanded by this form. Within a self-declared community, one would hope that the simple assertion, “I have been attacked; I am unsafe here; something needs to fundamentally change” would not be met with ridicule or aggression but instead with the profound concern that it merits. Yet such was not its reception after the April 19th protest. And in this sense—in the complete suppression of the individual at Dartmouth—fascism lives on. It lives on in a college hostile to the concerns of its students; in the brutality of our rape culture; in a technocratic administrative apparatus that absorbs substantive problems in endless formal procedures. It lives on in an economy that demands self-prostitution for the smallest of paychecks; and in our own movements, among ourselves, among our supposed allies, as those voices speaking of other tragedies and other struggles are summarily silenced.


Every day a deafening imperative demands our absolute conformity to structures of power. Resistance to this imperative has become a matter of life and death.


The human being is now either a technical apparatus or is engaged in a bitter struggle for all that is still human within it.