Fueled by Curiosity, Fulfilled by Storytelling

Frank bond '77

Frank Bond ’77 inside the Newseums’s News History Gallery.

Will Kirk / Homewoodphoto.jhu.edu

Standing beneath 12-foot-tall slabs of graffiti-covered concrete, Frank Bond ’77 explains journalism’s role in bringing down the Berlin Wall. Whereas people could not travel across the barrier, information could. “As technology advanced,” he says, “it got to a point where the Iron Curtain could not keep the truth from the rest of the world.”

To design the Newseum’s Berlin Wall Gallery, one of the world’s largest displays of a section of the wall, Bond spent more than a year researching Cold War–era Germany, sifting through newsreels and interviewing American and German journalists and activists who had witnessed the wall’s effects firsthand. Working as a producer at the Newseum—a Washington, D.C. museum dedicated to the history of news and journalism, as well as the importance of the First Amendment—has been a “refreshing” change for Bond, a 20-plus-year veteran of TV news reporting.

“I’m using the process of journalism to find out the ‘who, what, where, and how,’” he says. “But the fundamental difference is, rather than asking people the questions they are guarded against answering, rather than asking people to react to huge trauma they have not processed yet, I [find] myself asking people questions they have thought about their whole lives, but no one had ever asked them.”

Bond’s early inspiration for journalism came from an unlikely source: his parents. His mother was a schoolteacher and his father was one of the first black bus drivers employed by the Baltimore Transit Company in the 1950s. Driving a bus gave his father the chance to enter into a world few blacks ever saw at the time, Bond says. “We would eat dinner together every night, and my father would talk about the things he saw and experienced that day, and that was kind of like a nightly news report,” he says. “I could imagine taking my life experience from my mother the teacher and be a teacher of a different sort on the evening news every night, like my father did at the end of the dinner table.”

At Johns Hopkins, Bond majored in social and behavioral sciences. Sociology and psychology gave him a background every good reporter needs: insight on how society works and how people think, feel, and react.

The social upheaval of the 1970s—the civil rights movement, the women’s movement (Bond was around when Hopkins admitted the first female undergraduates), and the anti-war movement—further influenced what kind of journalist he wanted to be. As one of the few black students at Hopkins, Bond realized many Americans still had few relationships that crossed racial lines. He wanted to tell stories that showed people interacting in new ways and revealed new sides to familiar issues.

And that’s what he did. From 1977 to 1999, Bond worked variously as a cameraman and reporter at WBAL in Baltimore; a correspondent for Gannett News Service, which provided broadcast news to 10 TV stations across the country; and a reporter and anchor at WUSA in Washington, D.C. He reported many memorable events—the Challenger space shuttle explosion, Ted Bundy’s execution, the Oliver North trial, Super Bowl games—and he always tried to bring a unique angle to his coverage. While working for WUSA, for instance, the Monica Lewinsky scandal broke. Thinking like a social scientist, he saw the story as an act of betrayal: Linda Tripp divulged Lewinsky’s biggest secret. He took to the streets to see how Washingtonians handled secrets.

He learned true D.C. insiders keep mum. “I work for the government, I have no personal life,” one 20-something told him. “That’s the inside-the-beltway mentality that I wanted to reveal,” Bond says.

But by 1999, the landscape of local TV news was changing. Economic pressures forced news organizations to make choices “based on the bottom line rather than good journalism,” Bond says. Reporters had less freedom to craft original stories. So it wasn’t a hard decision to join the Newseum.

More than 10 years later, journalism is still evolving. To prepare for the Newseum’s New Media Gallery, which opened in April, Bond began exploring how the Internet, Facebook, Twitter, and the like are changing how people find and share information. In many ways, new forms of media make it easier for Americans to exercise their First Amendment rights, he says. But with greater freedom comes greater responsibility.

“Without gatekeepers, there’s all this information out there,” Bond says. “Your responsibility as a news consumer is to be skeptical, to ask questions, to be in charge of the quality of news that you consume, and not be a dupe.”

Hopkins Globetrotter Still on the Fast Track

After a childhood that took her from Vienna to Belgrade to Washington, D.C., and Jakarta, it’s only fitting that Marian Smith ’05 would make her career covering the globe. Only now she’s doing it from her desk at msnbc.com in London.

As an editor-producer for the online news organization, Smith has a high-pressure job producing the website’s front page and updating stories about everything from Europe’s economic woes to the nuclear disaster in Japan. “It’s really, really busy, all the time,” she says.

With both parents in the Foreign Service, Smith grew accustomed to moving every few years as a child, changing not just countries but continents. Having at one time or another spoken Serbo-Croatian, Indonesian, French, and Italian, she says with a laugh, “I grew up with this dilemma, where am I from?”

Although she attended high school in London, Smith, now 29, wanted to attend college in the States, and Johns Hopkins was her first choice. “A big appeal of Hopkins was the strong international community,” she says. She pursued a major in international studies until discovering a passion for literature and writing, and changed her major to English. Smith says she especially enjoyed Professor Allen Grossman’s courses on the Bible and Shakespeare.

After graduating from Johns Hopkins, Smith entered an 18-month graduate program in journalism at New York University, with a focus on cultural reporting and criticism. For a time she fancied herself following in the footsteps of film critic Pauline Kael. “I really enjoyed it, but I discovered that I prefer hard news,” she says. She returned to London in 2007 and took a job on the news desk at the BBC. “They were just beginning to integrate all three forms of media: radio, TV, and Web,” she says, “so it was pretty exciting.”

Smith met some people who worked at NBC News and msnbc.com and put in an application there. That began what she describes as a “very long interview process.” While waiting for an opening, she held a couple of other writing jobs, including a stint at the company that publishes Monocle magazine, before getting the call to join msnbc.com in 2010. “It has been two years, and I absolutely love it,” she says.

London is where the globetrotting Smith is finally putting down roots—at least for the foreseeable future. She and her husband, Dan Montalbano, who works for CBS Interactive, recently bought a house there.

When Smith is at work, she and her colleagues are responsible for updating the website to cover world events that occur on their shift. MSNBC, based in Redmond, Wash., has bureaus in New York, London, and Washington, D.C., with the latter focused mostly on U.S. political coverage. Content management duties for msnbc.com are assigned on the basis of time zones, Smith explains.

The team in Washington state covers news that is breaking on their shift, and the London team comes on board at 6 a.m. London time. Seven hours later, the London team hands the reins to their New York colleagues, who pass it back to the Redmond team for the overnight.

Smith described 2011 as an “insane” year for news, starting with the shooting of then U.S. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords and including the Arab Spring, several natural disasters, and the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton, which was followed just two days later by the killing of Osama bin Laden. The European debt crisis and the U.S. Republican primary have kept them hopping as well.

And 2012 should be just as eventful, she says, with London hosting both the Olympics and Queen Elizabeth’s Jubilee celebration this summer.

But for Smith, as for any journalist, the pressure and fast pace are part of what she loves about the job. “As much as I stress about it, I think we all get a really big kick out of it,” she says. “And when we’ve done something well, it’s so satisfying.”

Where are they now?

For some students at Johns Hopkins, the arts are pretty serious business, and they’re determined to turn their passions into careers. It’s no surprise that many of them are accepted to graduate schools to study film, museum studies, digital media, or visual arts. Others use the expertise they gained at Johns Hopkins to land jobs soon after graduation at some rather prestigious places. And a few brave souls venture out on their own in fields such as music and art.

Here are just a few of the places where some of our recent graduates are working and studying:

  • American Visionary Art Museum
  • California Institute of the Arts
  • Center for Advanced Study in the Visual Arts (National Gallery of Art)
  • Columbia University
  • EICAR, The International Film School of Paris
  • James Madison’s Montpelier
  • The Jewish Museum of Maryland
  • Glenstone Foundation
  • George Washington University
  • Guggenheim Museum
  • MoMA
  • National Postal Museum
  • New York Philharmonic
  • New York University
  • Philadelphia Museum of Art
  • RocketFuel, a digital media agency
  • The Spirit Farm, a film collective
  • University of Maryland
  • University of Nevada, Las Vegas

Whether you’re a recent graduate in the arts or in the social or physical sciences, we want to know where you’re working, what you’re doing, and how you’re using your Johns Hopkins degree. Drop us a line.

Rwanda's Long Walk from Genocide to Well-Being

When Donald Koran ’80, MA ’82, PhD, worked in Rwanda from 1999 to 2001, as deputy chief of mission, the second-highest diplomatic post in a U.S. embassy, the country’s 1994 genocide was still a fresh wound. Parts of Rwanda were still dangerous, and at times, U.S. officials had to travel with armed guards.

When Koran returned to Rwanda last summer, this time as the newly appointed U.S. ambassador, conditions were different. “Living in Rwanda today is a pleasant surprise,” he says. Coming back “makes me appreciate the fairly dramatic changes that have occurred since I was last here.” The country is safer, the economy is growing, and the health sector is improving.

But Rwanda is still very much a developing country. That makes Koran, an economist, well-suited to his new role. After completing his PhD at Johns Hopkins, Koran worked at Tulane University, the Federal Trade Commission, and the National Cable Television Association. But he soon realized he didn’t want to focus on narrow economic problems; he wanted a more “varied” career. That desire led him to the Foreign Service. Joining in 1984, Koran has worked all over the world, including Cuba, Venezuela, Morocco, Niger, and Madagascar.

Now as ambassador, he has found the ultimate in varied job loads. “I deal with it all: politics, economics, public diplomacy, consular issues, embassy management, the Peace Corps, military relations, and the whole range of our foreign assistance programs,” he says. On a typical day, Koran may meet with representatives from the Centers for Disease Control to discuss health programs in Rwanda, help an American nongovernmental organization understand legal issues, and tour local businesses making jewelry and crafts that are exported to American markets.

It’s also rewarding to see the country doing better, he notes. “Rwanda has made impressive economic strides since the genocide.” Over the last 10 years, the country’s gross domestic product has grown by an average of 7 percent, managing to expand even during the recent global economic crisis.

“A number of factors have contributed to its success,” he says, “but it largely comes down to attracting resources and using them well.” In addition to effectively using foreign aid—the United States provided Rwanda with more than $200 million in foreign assistance last year, mostly for health-related initiatives—the Rwandan government has instituted economic policies and political reforms that have cracked down on corruption and have made Rwanda an attractive place to invest in and start a business, Koran says. In fact, this year, the World Bank ranked it as 45th out of 183 countries in terms of ease of conducting business.

Rwanda is also making social and health improvements. With better access to health care, for example, rates of childhood mortality under the age of 5 have dropped by half over the past five years. And women have gained greater rights, playing an active role in reshaping the country. The 2003 Rwandan Constitution specifies that women must fill 24 of the 80 seats in the Chamber of Deputies, Rwanda’s lower house of parliament. Today, women exceed that quota, making up more than half of the Chamber.

Given all these developments, Koran says, “a remarkably large number of Rwandans, many highly educated and well-established abroad, have returned to build their country.”

Still, “Rwanda remains a poor country with many needs,” he says. “Rwanda has made great strides in reconciliation since the 1994 genocide, but it is a long-term process, and much still needs to be done.” Rwanda has to find a balance between preventing future ethnic conflicts and allowing an open, democratic political system to flourish. Critics of the government say that Rwanda’s genocide laws, some of which are aimed at preventing ethnic hate speech, limit legitimate political opposition and debate.

But for Koran, Rwanda’s successes are what make it such a “fascinating” place to work. “So much is happening here,” he says. “It’s exciting to watch it and satisfying to be part of it in some small way.”

Students Today, Leaders Tomorrow

“Social Climbers and Charlatans in American Literature.” “Best Sellers in the Early Nineteenth Century.” “Theft, Theory and Telescopes.” “The Human Microbiome.” What do these intriguing titles have in common? They are all winners of the intensely competitive contest among advanced doctoral students to command their own classrooms as Dean’s Teaching Fellows. Every year, some 60 of our finest PhD candidates vie for the opportunity to teach Krieger School undergrads in a course entirely of their own design. Only a third are given the chance, after defending their syllabi before a team of professors outside of their disciplines.

I recently attended a reception in honor of next year’s Dean’s Teaching Fellows and found myself talking with Doug Tye, graduate student in the English department, about how he planned to approach the subject of “fraudulent pretense” in the writings of Emerson, Poe, Twain, and Fitzgerald. As a social scientist interested in the American obsession with social mobility, I find fascinating the literary preoccupation with projecting a self that is inauthentic. Nick Bujak wants to explore why Sir Walter Scott and Jane Austen were so popular, especially when so many of the classic success stories in literature struggled to make a living in their own time. Jessica Walker, doctoral candidate in the history department, has long been fascinated by the Tudor period in English history, and will take her students through a semester-long examination of the tumultuous changes the “Henry’s” (seventh and eighth) and Queen Elizabeth brought to the country’s religious and political landscape.

These gifted scholars will eventually leave us for assistant professor positions of their own, on campuses other than ours. But for one precious semester, KSAS undergrads will have the chance to work with the best and brightest of our doctoral students. In these small seminars, they explore quirky ideas and deep theory, new frontiers and old legends. It is enough to make me want to go back to school myself.

While the faculty is well aware of the importance of graduate education for the quality of the undergraduate experience, the link is often obscure to those outside of the university. So much attention is placed on how we educate the youngest members of our community, that we often overlook the critical role that the arts and sciences play in training the next generation of scholars.

Graduate students embark on a lifelong calling when they come to Johns Hopkins. They will spend many years, perhaps as many as eight, mastering the intricacies of particle physics or cultural anthropology, econometrics or Latin American history. They become experts in their fields and join the venerable tradition of original research that was born at Hopkins. Their futures depend on how well they are able to dazzle their disciplines through grants, prizes, articles, and book manuscripts.

How can we ensure that this vital part of our academic community is recognized, and that the time our faculty commits to training them is understood as a critical part of the profession? One way we can do this is to make every effort to support these advanced students while they are with us. While none of them would turn down the chance for a higher standard of living, what they truly crave are unique research or teaching opportunities. The art historians need to see the paintings that hang in the museums, churches, and abbeys of Europe. The physics students need to spend time at CERN, home of the Large Hadron Collider that is the birthplace of 21st-century experimental work in their field. Fieldwork in Guatemala or Egypt is essential for the anthropologist.

The Dean’s Teaching Fellowship is another means of exercising the “calling” of a scholarly life. It provides a doctoral student with the opportunity to hone her own voice as an instructor, to puzzle through how she wants to convey the nuances of Caravaggio’s influence on artistic theory, how he conceives of the historical dimensions of the U.S. Constitution, and how all of them can turn those intellectual judgments into rich classroom encounters.

When I speak in public about our ambitions for the Krieger School in the years to come, I often dwell on our stellar faculty – especially our hope to recruit more of them – and the undergraduate experience that is central to our lives. Rarely do I point to the vital community of doctoral students who are, in many ways, at the intersection between them. But we should all understand that what we commit to their training is laying the groundwork for the universities of the future, as well as a stimulating experience for the students of today.

Sincerely,
Katherine Newman
James B. Knapp Dean

“I Sit with Shakespeare and He Winces Not”

“When I was a freshman, sitting in my room in Griffin House,” John Guess, Jr. ’71 remembers, “I read that line, and it stuck with me. It’s with me to this day.” From the classic 1902 W.B. Dubois essay “Of the Training of Black Men,” the passage was somewhat of a starting point for Guess’ experience at Johns Hopkins and his lifelong appreciation of the arts.

Raised in segregated Houston, Texas, Guess arrived in Baltimore in 1967 during what he gently recalls as “a very special period” in the history of Johns Hopkins University, and America in general. The city was beginning to embrace civil rights and multiculturalism, but was a far cry from desegregated. The same could be said for Johns Hopkins University, which had only recently welcomed its first black students.

John Guess

John Guess, Jr. ’71 in front of “Fort HMACC,” a contemporary art installation by Otabenga Jones & Associates inside the Houston Museum of African American Culture. The museum’s CEO, Guess commissioned the piece to symbolize the museum’s fight to reestablish itself in the Houston arts scene.   

Yet those who came, like Guess, were inspired to hasten Hopkins’ acceptance of different races and cultures. Not far into his freshman year, Guess played a critical role in insisting that the university authorize and recognize a Black Student Union – going as far as occupying the Homewood Museum (formerly used for JHU offices) for a day, when administrators downplayed this request.

That’s the side of his story everyone wants to tell, says Guess. “But what was really the best part of Hopkins for me, as a kid who came from segregation, was being exposed to other cultures and people. I really became cognizant that the African American experience never has, and never will be, impacted by only African Americans.” For example, Guess was the first black president of the JHU Student Government. “There were about 20 or so other black students at the time,” he remembers. “I couldn’t have done that without other people voting for me.”

Thus, ironically during a time of civil divide and turmoil, Guess left the Krieger School feeling culturally broadened. “When I was at Hopkins, the students and professors were very cultural. I was there when people like (poet and musician) Gil Scott Heron and Lowery Stokes Sims (the first black curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art) were on campus,” says Guess, “and the Baltimore Museum of Art is just sitting right there at the bottom of the place… can’t miss it.”

Guess put his cross-cultural experience to use upon returning to Houston, where over the years he helped grow a family real estate consulting firm. He stayed heavily involved in the arts as well, working to bring significant works of art to lower income communities and garnering board member and leadership appointments at local institutions like the Houston Contemporary Arts Museum, the Houston Arts Alliance, and the Houston Museum of Fine Arts Glassell School.

In 2009, Guess was vaulted further into the spotlight of the Houston arts scene when community leaders urged him to lead the revitalization of a dormant effort to establish the Houston Museum of African American Culture. As CEO, Guess was inspired to take the struggling museum in a new direction, and quickly gained a reputation for supporting contemporary African American artists who transcend race and build a multicultural community – not unlike those who inspired him at Hopkins. “Once you turn on to the fact that everybody has something you can learn from,” he says, the sky’s the limit. “I use the arts to expose people to the fact that we are all Africans. The whole history of man started in Africa. At the end of the day, we’re all the same people.” And true art, to paraphrase Dubois, winces not at the ethnicity of its viewer.

Progress Versus Tradition in China

Christopher Mirasola ’12 spent the summer after his sophomore year studying Chinese in Beijing. There, his roommate told him about his father’s struggles with the family’s river rafting business in a remote part of the country. New cement factories were polluting the waterway, and tourists didn’t want to paddle on a dirty river.

The roommate’s father wasn’t aware of any legal recourse he might have. “He didn’t see a way to fix it,” Mirasola says. China’s rapid economic expansion into its rural provinces has increased the number of disputes between corporations, local governments, and rural landowners and raised the question of how grievances should best be settled. It’s something Mirasola studied for two months last summer, when the Wilson Fellow returned to China.

“Rural China is changing in dramatic and unexpected ways,” he notes. “There’s growing tension between economic benefits and quality of life issues.”

He found that many in rural China rely on justice that’s been practiced for thousands of years—but they are also tapping into new technologies that give them the know-how to resolve grievances via more official channels.

With help from his faculty adviser, Kellee Tsai, a political science professor and vice dean for humanities, social sciences, and graduate programs, Mirasola interviewed researchers and government officials in Beijing about labor laws and class action lawsuits. He visited villages in southwestern Guizhou province, where he encountered cases involving farms being polluted by nearby industries, as well as an eminent domain case in which several houses were torn down to make way for a road. The homeowners complained that they had not been compensated fairly. Instead of hiring lawyers, the homeowners petitioned local township officials, and after a prolonged period of time, they were able to pull the correct strings.

“But there was no attempt to sue the local government,” Mirasola says. “That costs more money and rarely works.” Instead, the homeowners relied on a method long practiced by rural Chinese to resolve conflicts: social connections.

But the increasing prosperity of China’s population has meant more money—even for remote villagers—to hire lawyers and bring cases to court. Access to the Internet and satellite phones has allowed villagers to keep in touch with others more aware of legal rights and the workings of the court system.

But progress has brought a whole new set of issues, from pollution to labor laws to building rights, that China’s rural populace must face.

“These issues didn’t exist before,” says Mirasola, who wants to pursue a career in Sino-American relations. “There’s no precedent. It’s a fascinating thing to study.”

Image Gallery

Unearthing the Rise of Ethics in Medical Education

As a regular reader of medical journals, pre-med student Lindsey Hutzler ’12 thought nothing between their pages could shock her. Then, perusing the medical archives at Hopkins, she came across an article revealing that Johns Hopkins, in academic year 1977–78, was the first medical school nationwide to implement a course on medical ethics in its core curriculum.

“Seeing as this is such as important aspect of educating physicians, and that it was only offered recently, came as a surprise,” Hutzler says.

It also became fodder for the Woodrow Wilson Fellow’s research project, The Rise of Ethics in the American Medical School Curriculum. Hutzler focused her research on the curricula of the three schools that pioneered ethics courses, and how those courses came to be required in all U.S. medical schools. The deeper Hutzler dug into the topic, the further intrigued she became.

Hutzler used several sources to confirm the veracity of her discovery. She spoke to bioethicists and physicians who developed medical ethics curriculum, interviewed professors who teach ethics, and pored over archived articles and medical school course directories dating back to the 1920s. This additional research verified Hutzler’s original finding.

Johns Hopkins’ inaugural ethics course, Ethics in Medical Care, was taught by two professors who presented ideas based on personal experience and philosophy. Philip Wagley, MD, who’d spent time in a sanitarium recovering from tuberculosis, was quoted in an archived July 2000 Baltimore Sun article as telling his students: “This is where I got the idea that you don’t treat a disease; you treat a patient with a disease.” The other professor, Neil Holtzman, MD, interested in issues of social justice and equality, developed and showed students a film illuminating the link between poverty and health disparities, primarily by showing the unhealthy living conditions of East Baltimore public housing residents. Through different approaches, both professors exposed students to ethical questions.
Lindsey Hutzler
Two other institutions were early adopters of ethics courses, and those courses were shaped largely in response to societal influences. Weill Cornell Medical College’s original ethics course, launched in 1991, was informed by the history of medical ethics in the 20th century, whose landmark medical cases raised important questions about subjects such as patient voice, autonomy, and informed consent. Mount Sinai Medical School’s ethics course, started in 1987, was inspired largely by the then-popular anti-dissection movement and animal rights activism. The diversity dominating inaugural ethics courses continued with their spread.

Today, all American medical schools mandate ethics courses as part of their core curriculum. But Hutzler found the courses remain implicitly heterogeneous from one school to the next. A school’s geographic location and mission, plus its professors’ backgrounds and philosophies, influence content. Currently, schools aren’t required to cover particular subject areas to receive accreditation for ethics courses.

As for Hutzler, she believes the subject of her research—particularly as it pertains to the patient-physician relationship—will have a profound impact on her future career, long after she presents her findings at the Woodrow Wilson poster session in May. Hutzler is leaning toward a profession in obstetrics/gynecology, largely because it offers the opportunity to care for women throughout their life span. “Long-term relationships with patients are important to me,” she says.

A Breakthrough Ruling Rocks Not-so-Mundane Iowa

Andrew Rosenberg ’12 recognizes that his native Iowa—known for corn, soybeans, and the state fair—might seem mundane to his East Coast classmates. But he’s quick to point out that, compared to its neighboring states, Iowa is considered cutting edge. And for the past year and a half, Rosenberg has delved into a political firestorm in Iowa touched off by one of the most hot-button issues of our day: same-sex marriage.

Andrew Rosenberg '12

Andrew Rosenberg ’12

Photo: Will Kirk / Homewoodphoto.jhu.edu

Rosenberg, recipient of a Provost’s Undergraduate Research Award, didn’t choose the controversial research topic to express his own views on the subject.

“I wasn’t necessarily interested in the Supreme Court decision, but the backlash in the state,” Rosenberg says. The voters’ incendiary reaction to the ruling was as unprecedented as the ruling itself. In a well-funded, widespread grassroots campaign, Iowan voters—for the first time since 1962, the start of its current system—ousted three of its Supreme Court justices who had voted in favor of overturning the same-sex marriage ban.

So, with an open mind and a keen curiosity, Rosenberg returned to Iowa to speak with key players on opposing sides of the controversial ruling.

His first interview was with Bob Vander Plaats, leader of the campaign to oust the three Supreme Court justices. The businessman and unsuccessful three-time candidate for Iowa governor from Sioux City was open to an interview, perhaps because of how Rosenberg presented his interest.

“I tried to make it as clear as humanly possible that this was a scholarly work, and I wasn’t out there to expose him as some sort of intolerant bigot,” Rosenberg says.

In turn, Vander Plaats shared his position. He argued that the way in which Iowa chooses its Supreme Court judges—they’re appointed by a governor-formed commission—is not constitutional. “To him, that’s not the people electing the judges,” Rosenberg explains. He suggests that Vander Plaats’ populist position harkens back to the mindset of politicians such as Thomas Jefferson, who would vote in Congress as his constituents, including small yeoman farmers, would want.

Next, Rosenberg spoke with Judge Robert Hanson. The district court judge of Iowa’s Polk County, Hanson in 2007 wrote the original opinion for that county which struck down the decades-old ban on gay marriage as unconstitutional. It also paved the way for the Iowa Supreme Court, two years later, to make it illegal for any citizens of Iowa to be denied a marriage license based on sexual orientation.

“He, too, was thoughtful and clear in his belief that this was not ideological or otherwise motivated,” says Rosenberg. Hanson’s message? That a law that wasn’t consistent with the constitution needed to be changed.

Rosenberg held his longest interview with Judge Michael Streit, one of the three justices voted out of office following the 2009 decision to legalize same-sex marriage in Iowa. They discussed the ramifications of rulings that attempt to uphold the constitution but aren’t popular among voters, citing examples such as the 1954 Brown vs. Board of Education ruling declaring segregated schools unconstitutional.

“I learned Judge Streit’s views on the ruling itself, as well as the extent of the opposition against the justices, which involved heavy out-of-state financial support,” says Rosenberg. He adds that his research has led him to consider that perhaps the best way to preserve independence of the judiciary might be to return to the federal model of lifetime appointments.

“A lot of people say Iowa is a flyover state,” Rosenberg reflects. “But studying this whole thing makes me realize that there are always academic questions to be investigated, even in seemingly mundane places like Iowa.”

Gauging Gatsby’s Universality

Chris Benner ’12, like countless other American students, has declared F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby his favorite novel. But this steadfast literature student has stretched his fascination with the Great American Novel, as it is often referred to, beyond its American rags-to-riches theme.

Eager to know if the novel—with its beautiful prose, complex character portrayals, and descriptive language—holds the same weight across Europe as it does in America, the Woodrow Wilson Fellowship recipient set off to interview Fitzgerald scholars in the United States and abroad.

“What I thought I would find turned out definitely not to be the case,” says Benner, a double major in English and the Writing Seminars.

Benner assumed that U.S. professors would present The Great Gatsby to students as an esteemed work of American literature. To verify his hunch, he relied primarily on interviews with members of the Fitzgerald Society—scholars and aficionados of the writer—and works of literature on Fitzgerald. His assumption proved incorrect.

“In general, they tended to downplay its importance as American,” Benner says. “Some American scholars acknowledge its American nature, but aren’t taken by the fact that it was about the American dream,” Instead, explains Benner, they emphasized that The Great Gatsby is a modernist text with universal themes not bound to its American heritage. Overseas, Benner relied on similar research tactics and was once again surprised to learn how the novel is taught.

European scholars who teach The Great Gatsby typically emphasize its American roots, according to those whom Benner interviewed. At the University of Hull in Great Britain, professor of American literature Laura Rattray told Benner she places great emphasis on The Great Gatsby’s significance as an American text.

He got similar responses from scholars in Germany and Switzerland, where the novel often is presented within the context of American literature courses and compared to other American writers or texts. In Germany, for instance, The Great Gatsby is frequently lumped together with other “great American novels,” like Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. French scholars, however, take a different tack.

Benner found that the French teach The Great Gatsby—and all works of literature, for that matter—differently than do scholars from other countries. “There, literature is heavily textually based,” Benner says, explaining that the French place a greater emphasis on how books are written and constructed and less on thematics. That the French teach The Great Gatsby at all suggests they deem it a worthy work of literature.

Given the French approach to presenting literature, as well as the much lengthier literary history of Europe compared to America, Benner was unable to draw a definitive conclusion about the perceived worth of Fitzgerald’s writing in Europe. But that hasn’t changed Benner’s own perceptions regarding the classic.

“The book says interesting things about the way people behave, and about love and economics, that supersede Americans,” he says. “I would make the case for it as a universal novel.”

The Plastic Beauty

Bernadette WegensteinIn 2004 and 2005, women who didn’t like their looks could win makeovers on the FOX television show The Swan. For three months, 16 women per season lived in a mirror-free home, while teams of plastic surgeons, dentists, stylists, and therapists worked to change them. In the season finale, the woman who had changed the most was dubbed “The Ultimate Swan.”

Bernadette Wegenstein, at the time a faculty member in the Department of Media Study at SUNY Buffalo, was fascinated, as were her students. The show seemed to strike a deep cultural nerve related to female looks and transformation.

“To me, what was interesting was, there was a desire behind this that must have been so strong for these women,” says Wegenstein, now director of the Center for Advanced Media Studies at Johns Hopkins and a research professor in the Department of German and Romance Languages and Literatures.

Wegenstein explored the history and psychology of women, their looks, and cosmetic changes, in a 2008 documentary Made Over in America (Icarus Films), with Geoffrey Alan Rhodes, and more recently in her book The Cosmetic Gaze: Body Modification and the Construction of Beauty, published by The MIT Press. While the film focused primarily on The Swan, the book takes a broader historical and theoretical look at “makeovers.”

“The commoditization of an act like going under the knife is linked with the consumption of the images and stories of magical transformations that the media economy slingshots at us.”
—Bernadette Wegenstein

Wegenstein defines the “cosmetic gaze” as a person’s critical assessment that desires improvement, and sees physical changes as wholly linked to self-identity. (Think of the person who says she feels more self-confident after getting a nose job.) “This gaze has generated a breakdown between the interiority and exteriority of the human body,” she writes.

Wegenstein shows that the perceived link between outer appearance and inner worth, applied to both self and others, dates at least to Plato, who wrote in one of his famous dialogues, “Isn’t what is most beautiful also most lovable?”

She traces this interior-exterior connection through philosophers and thinkers, including Swiss pastor and physiognomist Johann Kaspar Lavater (1741–1801), who wrote, “Beauty and ugliness have a strict connection with the moral constitution of Man.” And she connects it to the Nazi embrace of eugenics, which linked “Jewish” features such as dark hair and large noses to “impurities” that threatened the Aryan race.

To maintain the interior-exterior connection, “reality TV makeover culture connects a beautiful body with a beautiful soul and with a moral duty to reveal this connection,” she writes. In other words, women undergoing these procedures are meeting their obligation to match outer beauty with inner worth.

Even women who are ill with breast cancer, she says, feel pressure to improve their appearance through breast implants. “You always want to look healthy and fit,” says Wegenstein, who is exploring the topic in a research project that will include a documentary, tentatively titled The Cure: The History and Culture of Breast Cancer.

Yet, while women undergoing cosmetic surgery may believe they are erasing the divide between the way they feel and the way they look, the modifications are inherently deceptive, notes Wegenstein. Markers of youth, health, and fertility, such as taut skin and firm breasts, can now be created artificially, she notes.

In The Cosmetic Gaze, Wegenstein examines cases in which plastic surgery brings women (and sometimes men, including Michael Jackson) outside normal standards of attractiveness—such as French porn star Lolo Ferrari, who underwent 22 operations to create the world’s largest breasts, thus stepping “outside of the realm of the reproductive and sexual.”

But the struggles of ordinary women to fit in and feel attractive are at the heart of her book, which notes that women who watch cosmetic surgery makeover shows become increasingly unhappy with their own looks. One interview she found particularly compelling, she said, was with “Susan,” a Newport Beach, Calif., housewife of about 40 who said her goal with plastic surgery was not to create a new look but to emerge “subtly refreshed.”

Wegenstein notes: “These body modifications are all about giving the impression of always being ready to be reborn as a new person, a better person. It’s really a look that says, ‘I have a lot of potential, my life’s not over.’”

Wegenstein believes that the desire to modify creates a new standard of beauty that must then be met and exceeded, in a continuing cycle that requires continuous assessments of perceived physical flaws, and ongoing financial, emotional, and time investments to change them. “The commoditization of an act like going under the knife is linked with the consumption of the images and stories of magical transformations that the media economy slingshots at us,” she writes.

She finds it disturbing that the prevailing standard of beauty, as shown in body-makeover shows, leaves little room for individuality. “I think it is really bothersome that we’re trying to all look the same,” she says.

Yet Wegenstein said she does not judge women who choose to have plastic surgery or make other physical improvements. “My personal threshold for when it’s too much is very open,” she says.

Model United Nations Conference Celebrates 15th Anniversary

Clad in business suits and high heels, flocks of young men and women hurry down Baltimore’s Pratt Street toward the Renaissance Hotel on a breezy February evening. Soon, all 1,650 or so individuals gather in the hotel’s ballroom for opening ceremonies of the much-anticipated four-day event for which they’ve traversed 14 states and two countries to attend. If not for the barely repressed giggles and high-energy vibe pervading the room, the gathering might be mistaken for a United Nations conference.

It’s close. This congregation of highly motivated, politically astute high school students is here for Johns Hopkins 15th Model United Nations Conference (JHUMUNC). Role-playing as actual UN delegates, each high school participant engages in one of 30 UN committees to discuss and debate complex world affairs, including international security, human rights, and world health. Perhaps the only aspect of this event more impressive than the teen delegates participating in the conference are the 156 Johns Hopkins students who make this well-oiled machine run.

15 successive years of Hopkins students committing themselves to the conference has paid off. Though records prior to 2000 don’t exist, Scott Burkholder ’02, secretary general of the 2000 JHUMUNC, recalls the event’s early days, saying that only about 120 delegates participated in 1999, and the event was held in a few buildings on the Homewood campus. “It was a lot of running around, but we made it work,” Burkholder says.

The conference’s original crisis-oriented theme, which distinguished it from other Model UN conferences in the country, remains a mainstay today. Teen delegates brace themselves for surprise middle-of-the-night emergencies, requiring them to awaken and hash out plans to squelch an international firestorm. Surprise crises aside, the conference seems otherwise unrecognizable from its former days.

“When I heard the staggering size it’s become, I was astounded,” Burkholder says.

The event’s magnitude means a tremendous amount of work for staffers, which hasn’t gone unnoticed by Hopkins administrators. “I’ve watched them work tirelessly all year,” says Susan Boswell, dean of Student Life, commenting at the conference’s opening ceremony. With no formal adviser, this completely student-run event requires large swaths of time and dedication from student staffers.

Consider Daniel Roettger ’13. Although he never participated in model UN conferences as a high school student, the international studies major has fully immersed himself in the inner workings of the event. The second-year JHUMUNC staffer has carved out a niche for himself as special assistant to the secretaries general. Catching up with him about a week before the start of the 2012 conference, he appears calm in the face of the pending onslaught of teenaged delegates to Baltimore’s Renaissance Hotel. Largely responsible for logistics and security, Roettger’s job is a big one.

Like many fellow conference staffers, Roettger has logged at least 20 hours per week since last March in preparation of the event. Roettger’s position involves securing a three-night stay for 1,600 students and their advisers in one of two downtown hotels; arranging for up to 31 simultaneous sessions during the conference; and ensuring each of the teenage attendees abides by the evening curfew, no alcohol and drug policy, and other rules.

“I float around and make sure it happens,” Roettger says somewhat nonchalantly.

But on the event’s opening night, transformed from his college ‘uniform’ of jeans and a sweatshirt to a blue suit, slicked hair, and dangling ear piece denoting security detail, Roettger looks anything but nonchalant. He’s on high alert, moving quickly, and presumably enjoying every minute of it.

Barely out of adolescence, Roettger and the other staffers learn lessons many adults don’t confront in the work place until well into their careers. Erin Reilly ’12, one of two secretary generals overseeing the entire operation, sounds like a veteran manager of the corporate world when she says: “We don’t want to micromanage our under-secretaries.” Anisha Singh ’12, undersecretary-general of school relations, is tasked with sticking to her advertising budget while helping to grow the conference. She credits the conference’s increasing popularity with helping her succeed.

“It has started to get a reputation as a great place for kids to learn,” Singh says.