Category: Columbia

Missed the 8th Annual Columbia Powwow this year? Watch creative team member Shyanne Yellowbird’s video recap to relive this event…and make sure you don’t miss out on next year’s!

About the Event

Native American Council’s 8th Annual Powwow was held on Saturday, April 14. The Powwow is an event at which indigenous communities and their allies unite to celebrate and honor their identities through dance, singing and socialization.

Native American Council opened the space to the indigenous community on campus as well as the greater community at Columbia University, NYC and the tri-state area.

(Description adapted from Undergraduate Student Life blurb)

There’s a conspiracy afoot—and it’s a big one.

At the heart of so many of the problems that plague our campus—stress, anxiety, the impossibility of ever making a real choice­—this monster crouches, laughing in the shadows as we unknowingly throw away our sanity. We’ve been lied to, fooled and toyed with like the oblivious infants we are. Our deepest fear—the belief that nothing we do will have any real impact—proves true, as our small yet concerted collective efforts to make a difference are daily thwarted. In this post-truth world of ours, nothing is what it purports to be. Not even the trash.

In all likelihood, you’ve never thought about it. You just toss your recyclables into the proper color-coded bin, relying on the suggestively shaped perforations to tell you: ‘Bottles & Cans Only,’ or ‘Rejected Manuscripts/Unread Newspapers Here.’

But every so often, there’s a tug. A feeling that something is…off. As you toss the latest unread copy of Spec into the bin, you have a brief moment of panic (one unrelated to that embarrassment of a paper). Through your head flashes a warning: “Something is Wrong!”

And then it’s gone, and you go on with your day, seemingly unaffected. But the seed of existential doubt has been planted and nothing can stop it now. It will ride with you through the rest of your days, both on this campus and off. It is the unnamed beast lurking in the shadows, the palpable obscure haunting your dreams.

Today, we name it. And in naming, we expose. Hark, O Columbians, and witness: Recyclegate.

 

Exhibit A: A classic case of top-swap. (Feb 26, 2016)

“Surely this is overblown, surely there is a reasonable explanation,” you might say. Oh, how we wish you were right. At first, one might reasonably attribute the confusion to some mischievous prankster who gets off on switching bin-covers. Even the so-called Extreme Prankster case evidenced in Exhibit B can be so explained, albeit with a bit of a stretch (as it requires them to relocate an entire bin).

 

 

Exhibit B: Notice the doubling of Bottles & Cans receptacles but the single All Paper cover on the leftmost bin, belying the troubling absence of a proper Paper bin. (Dec. 8, 2017)

Alas, such a mollifying explanation falls quickly to pieces. There are…glitches…that defy such a prankster(s). The conspiracy goes deeper. Much deeper.

Aside from the textual testimony each bin gives as to its purpose, general recycling relies on tells to announce itself. These tells are as close to universal truths as we are like to get on this earth: Green is Paper, Plastic & Metal = Blue; slits suggest discarded essays and shoddy newspapers, while circular apertures cry out for bottles and cans. Symbolical and practical, these clues are meant to guide us in our quest to save the world. The truths they represent are our anchors, our rocks. The White House may have turned orange, but so long as Green is Paper we might still sleep at night.

But this is 2017, and truth no longer exists.

 

Exhibit C, “The Label Libel”: Notice the discrepancy between the ‘All Paper’ label and the circular perforations plus the subtle yet paradoxical sticker. (May 8, 2017)

The sobering reality is that Paper hasn’t been Green for at least two years (evidenced by Exhibit D) and all that we think we know to be true seems determined to flip us off and chortle at our fears of Fakeness.

Exhibit D: Clearly a manufacturing error. (Dec. 3, 2015)

In East Germany, the Stasi would disrupt their targets with a method of psychological warfare called Zersetzung, in which subtle manipulations of the everyday objects in a victim’s home would help destabilize their sanity. The calculated disruptions, the small changes in tiny things the target was sure about—replacing the saltshakers with sugar or moving the pictures on the wall—would precipitate a slow breakdown of their perceptions of reality.

That feeling, that profound unease you get while walking through the halls of Butler Library? Just saying.

As I mentioned in an email to Scott Wright, Vice President for Campus Services, the trend of mislabeling and misperforation has increased at an alarming rate over the past year. By my last reckoning, somewhere around 20% of Butler Library’s recycling bins are now affected in some way by this deceitful disease.

Exhibit E, “God is Dead”: Misperforations and gross disregard for color-code consistency. (Nov. 30, 2017)

The question remains: cui bono? Who could possibly be behind these acts of confusion, and why? My investigation has so far come up empty handed, but we will, we must get to the bottom of this. Until then, stay vigilant. And stick to non-recyclables.

Exhibit F: We’re on to you, Louie.

 

 

People inherently long to be part of a group, a village, a community. For communities to endure, they must have a history, and each generation must perpetuate the traditions of the past and pass them along to the next generation. Some such traditions are intentionally created and integrated into society at a young age, such as saluting the flag, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, and singing the National Anthem. Others are more organic, like family picnics and watching fireworks on Independence Day. In a small town near where I grew up, the biggest annual event was the “irrigation festival,” celebrating the bountiful harvests made possible by the technology that brought water to what was otherwise an arid valley. In a small community, people seize upon whatever it takes to bring people together to eat, play, compete with each other, and socialize. These events are part of the fabric of our civilization.

The common experiences that occur during four years of college similarly bring a community of students together in many ways. Traditions within a college bind class to class, generation to generation, and bring current students from every academic pursuit a sense of togetherness and community and a bond of kinship. Many such college traditions are a bit odd or idiosyncratic, but they form a part of the identity of a school that every student carries away from commencement and (hopefully) brings back for class reunions. The attraction of oddball college traditions was summed up in one article: “[C]ampus traditions are a huge part of what takes a bunch of students, and makes them a community that lasts a lifetime.”

Examples abound throughout the country. At Regis University in Denver, after four nights of enforced quiet study in the week leading up to finals, the signal is given for the “all hall scream,” and students spend ten minutes screaming, laughing, and running through the halls.

At Occidental College, where Barack Obama spent his first two years before transferring to Columbia, tradition dictates that on your birthday you will be thrown into the campus fountain (by your friends). During the “Pterodactyl Hunt” at Swarthmore College, students don garbage bags and roam campus beating each other with foam weapons. At the University of Virginia, students run naked across the campus lawn and kiss the statue of Homer in the days leading up to graduation.

And the Ivys are not too elite to participate in quirky traditions. At the University of Pennsylvania, students throw pieces of toast onto the football field after the end of the third quarter of home games. (The university has designed a special Zamboni-like machine to vacuum up the stray bread.) During the winter carnival at Dartmouth, a hole is drilled into the ice of a local pond, and students jump into the freezing water (with a safety rope).

What traditions bind together the generations of Columbia alumni? There are few, other than the Core Curriculum. In the Wikipedia entry for Columbia University, there are only three entries under “Traditions.” They are (1) Orgo Night, (2) the tree lighting and Yule log ceremony, and (3) the Varsity Show. The first one on the list, Orgo Night, is one of the most unique traditions in all the land, and it is unfortunately under attack.

When you search“quirky college traditions” on Google, the first search result is an article from the website “collegeraptor” titled “13 of the weirdest college traditions.” The article begins:

“There are strange things happening at college campuses across the country. Students are nailing their shoes to trees, howling at the moon, and kissing statue’s bums with no one giving these weird pastimes a second thought.”

The #1 entry on this list is: “Orgo Night:  Columbia University.”  The article notes the essence of the event:

“Each year, on the eve of the orgo final, the Columbia marching band heads to the library to entertain all of the orgo students (and anyone else lucky enough to be studying at that time) with the fight song, jokes, and music. The tradition is a great harmless way for students to blow off steam during finals.”

The website then links to other information about Columbia for the benefit of users who are researching different schools.  You would think that Columbia administrators would be proud that their school ranks #1 (on this list) in yet another aspect of American universities.

In fact, the Orgo Night tradition is listed in all six of the top search results on Google, where articles from BuzzFeed, USA Today, and hercampus.com list the most interesting and memorable events on campuses across the country.  In all cases, Orgo Night is lauded as a fun stress reliever for students during finals week.

On Columbia’s official web site, there is a prominent entry on Orgo Night among the stories that alumni were invited to write about their memories of the Columbia experience as part of the C250 (250th anniversary) celebration.  University editors chose this as one of the best stories:

“One of my most memorable experiences at Columbia was Orgo Night in the undergraduate reading room in Butler Library. I attended Orgo Night in all eight semesters I was at Columbia. Each was an experience of its own. . . .[T]he show of school spirit was unmatched . . . Cheers to Columbia and its passionate students who continue to fight for our school’s age-old traditions.”

Meanwhile, in a printed recruitment brochure for high school , Columbia lists fifteen items as “Fun on campus” events that new students can look forward to.

 

It is debatable whether student government budget meetings, University Professor lectures, or Engineering Weeks belong in the “fun” column, but it is significant that Orgo Night is on the university’s official list.  In another recruiting brochure titled “Columbia Blue,” the university’s office of undergraduate admissions lauds various traditional campus activities, including Bacchanal, the Varsity Show, the President’s annual Fun Run, and Orgo Night:

“Orgo Night Merriment. The night before the Organic Chemistry Final — Orgo Night. On this night in December and again in May, the main study room in Butler Library starts getting packed around 11:30 pm. You see practically everyone you know and despite being finals week, everyone is excited and happy. At midnight sharp, you hear the sound of instruments and all of a sudden, the marching band storms into the room playing songs and reading jokes while the rest of us are standing on the tables and chairs dancing and laughing. Debbie Goodman, Lido Beach, NY; CC”

All this would suggest that the university administration values Orgo Night as something that is unique to Columbia.  It is a living demonstration of how a peculiar tradition can provide some needed stress relief during an otherwise tense finals period and can serve as an heirloom that generations of Columbia alumni share as a common memory.

And yet, if you did not already know, the current University Administration has decided to end this tradition, claiming that the Orgo Night show is not an appropriate activity for Butler Library and relegating the marching band to performing the show outside, on the steps in front of the library in whatever weather might present itself.  Banishing Orgo Night from the library is intended to diminish its significance and disassociate it from the process of finals studying.  The Head Librarian who announced the ban in December of 2016 justified it based on the need to preserve quiet study space, although the University had received no complaints from students who were unable to find other appropriate study space or who were surprised by the appearance of the band at the well-publicized time and place that had occurred every semester since 1975.  Despite protests by students and alumni, the University has remained resolute in its desire to kill the Orgo Night tradition.

This leaves only the tree-lighting and the Varsity Show as traditions common to present and past Columbia students – along with reading The Iliad.  Will this improve the feeling of community and connection for future alumni?  Will it make any students feel better about the university knowing that the administration took action to preserve their quiet study space during finals week?  Years from now, the class of 2018 will remember the Orgo Night in December of 2016 when it was eighteen degrees and the valves in the band’s horns froze up after they were banished from the library.  They will remember the notice sent out from Low Library in April of 2017 stating that the administration was “working closely” with the current band leadership to discuss the future of Orgo Night, when in fact there was no communication of any kind from the administration to the band, and none would follow that whole summer.  They will remember how the tradition of Orgo Night was stubbornly perpetuated by the marching band despite the administration’s continued “war on fun.”  They will probably lament that they are one of the last classes that can remember Orgo Night.  As they mingle with the younger alumni from the classes of 2023 and 2028 and 2033 at a future class reunion, someone is bound to mention Orgo Night and some younger alumnus will say “I’ve heard of that, but by the time I was a student, it had died out.”  That will be a sad day, but one that is entirely predictable, and apparently one desired by President Bollinger, who is the chief executioner in the crusade to end Orgo Night.

It is not too late to change this course; the scrappy marching band continues to plan an Orgo Night show despite the administration’s resistance.  We, who love Columbia, should care.  When Orgo Night is just a distant memory for a diminishing population of older alumni and someone laments the absence of enduring traditions that link current students to previous generations, we will all share the blame.  We had Orgo Night, and we let it die.

 

If you’d like to submit a response to this op-ed or a general op-ed to The Lion, please email submissions@thecolumbialion.com

Composing the Missa Solemnis

Instead of a usual review, TD writes fifteen fragments. These are refractions of TD’s consciousness during listening. Judgments are to be interpreted as culminations of preceding, unwritten descriptions.

1. The Swedish Radio Choir rises and falls as a unit. Natural and pleasant, like a sleeping baby’s belly.

2. After Beethoven finished the Missa Solemnis in 1823, he wrote to Karl XIV, the king of Sweden, to cajole him into purchasing a copy. Beethoven penned two epistles, one in February and one in March. The king did not respond to either. In this performance, these Swedes answer Beethoven’s request.

3. Wow, this Kyrie! Sustained unisons resound with power. Despite movement, they seem static. The divine is immovable and motionless.

4. Beethoven: “For God, Time absolutely does not exist.”

5. Dausgaard conducts with reserved dignity. He expends just enough energy to get his desired result. Nothing is superfluous.

6. I picture how this would sound in a cathedral.

7. Michael Weinius’s movements are unpleasant. He shakes his music with despair, as if in need of literal salvation. Apparently, he enjoys Beethoven.

8. These sopranos sound like dying birds. Their staccatos are clipped and comical. They need depth to match the Credo’s message.

9. Dausgaard automates a magnificent swell in the chorus. He pricks a delicate ribbon and pulls it outward. Solemn, subterranean vibrations to boisterous exultance.

10. Whereas Weinius sounds like an overblown opera star, Malin Christensson, the soprano, transmits the divine. Pristine and peaceful, like immovable lake water in the Canadian Rockies. Repentance soars in beautiful legato.

11. Beethoven: “In the upper registers, the soprano, too, can demonstrate inner calm and joy as the evidence of peace.”

12. The famous Incarnatus. Processional dignity morphs into solemn piety. Alto soloist enters with care. A flute tries to soar over the strings. It ultimately breaks through. Ignaz Seyfried, a Viennese composer and colleague of Beethoven’s, thought that the flute was heaven’s messenger in the Annunciation.
13. Thunderous applause congratulated the mass’s Viennese premiere. Beethoven heard nothing.

14. New Yorkers, who are all critics, tend to support foreign ensembles more than the New York Phil. As evidence, a great celebration greeted the performers. They definitely heard it.

15. Dausgaard gently releases his grip on “Eleison”– and its sound flutters away. I am sad to see it go.

Image Courtesy of NOMADS

Not sure what to do next weekend? Check out NOMADS’s latest production!

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Image Courtesy of NOMADS

On November 16, NOMADS will be debuting Cold Whole Milk, an original new play by Sarah Billings. Come to the Glicker-Milstein Theatre in the Diana Center to see the story of Margaret and Jack, a young married couple living in a quiet mid-20th century neighborhood. As they struggle to honestly communicate with each other about their desires and identities, their lives run parallel to the lives of the milkman and the mailman who come by every morning. They all seem set in their ways until visit from a door-to-door hairbrush salesgirl inspires Margaret and Jack to reexamine what they really want from the world and each other. At the same time, the milkman and the mailman begin to see each other in a new light. Cold Whole Milk is a vibrant, unashamed affirmation of the beauty of queer love that celebrates the bravery of all individuals courageous enough to live as their truest selves.

Tickets are on sale through the TIC and are available both online and in person for $5 (with a Columbia or Barnard student ID), or $7 (without an ID). The show will be running November 16-18, and you can RSVP to the Facebook event here. From the cast and crew: we hope to see you there!

 

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