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What’s Next in Revolutions?

What’s Next in Revolutions?Where in the world will the next revolution happen? And what will it look like? These are questions Associate Professor of Sociology Colin Beck thinks about a lot. The author of Radicals, Revolutionaries and Terrorists is now at work with five other scholars on a new book titled Rethinking Revolutions, and last fall, three of his coauthors joined him at Pomona for a panel session called “The Future of Revolutions.” As part of that event, Beck asked each of them to make a prediction as to where the next revolution will unfold.

Some of the answers surprised even Beck.

The first to hazard a guess was George Lawson of the London School of Economics, who settled, provocatively, on a country that seems like the height of iron-fisted control—China. “China has more collective action events, more protests, than any other society in the world on a yearly basis,” Beck explains. “Most of them are local, anti-corruption protests against local corrupt elites. But George made a really good point—that one of the more robust findings in revolutions research is that, to the extent that a regime becomes personalized, as it becomes invested in a single individual as an expression of power, it also becomes more vulnerable, because it creates a target for people to impose their grievances on. So as Xi Jinping moves toward a much more personalist rule and away from the Politburo, away from the bureaucracy, that creates a potential danger in the years to come.”

Second up, Daniel Ritter of Stockholm University shifted the focus to the oil-rich kingdom of Saudi Arabia. “Another consistent finding in revolutions research is that revolutions are often catch-up events,” Beck says. “They’re taking societies that have not kept up with modernity and thrusting them into it. So as Saudi Arabia is trying to modernize its government and liberalize somewhat its society, they may actually be fueling the potential for mass protest.”

A third scholar, Sharon Erickson Nepstad of the University of New Mexico, refused to speculate about the next revolution. Instead, she made a suggestion about where it won’t be—the protest-torn state of Venezuela. “Because everyone would think that would be the place, right?” Beck says. “She’s done a lot of work on peace movements and the like, and she looks at the situation in Venezuela and thinks the opposition there hasn’t done the hard work of mobilizing that a successful movement needs to do. They haven’t built the organizational infrastructure. It’s not deeply rooted enough in society.”

Beck himself isn’t so sure, however. “The Venezuelan government shoots people dead in the streets,” he notes, “and shooting people dead in the streets is generally a losing strategy. I mean, it’s a successful short-term strategy but a poor long-term strategy—unless you shoot a lot of people down in the streets. Then it works, as terrible as that sounds.”

And what was Beck’s pick for the next revolution? “I decided that I would, provocatively, say what the political scientists are starting to call ‘the illiberal democracies’—Hungary, Turkey, Poland, Russia,” he says. “Turkey, in particular, is really setting itself up for a challenge. There’s a lot of concern right now about the illiberal democracies, and maybe this is the way of the future, but I think human rights, democracy—they’re too widely legitimated. They’re too embedded in normative consciousness globally for them to erode that quickly. Which means that these countries are going against the grain, and they’re creating the contradictions that can fuel future protest.”

There were two points, however, upon which all four scholars agreed.

First, most revolutions are likely to follow the same nonviolent path as the Arab Spring—unarmed civil protests as opposed to violent insurgencies—at least for now. “There’s definitely been this shift from the kind of mid-20th-century communist guerilla warfare model towards this kind of Berlin Wall-Arab Spring model,” Beck says. He wonders, however, how long that will last, given the fact that so many recent examples have ended in failure.

Their second point of agreement was surprising, given the usual narrative about the Arab Spring. “My colleagues and I all pretty much agreed that the effect of social media on revolutions has been overstated,” he says. “The thing I like to think about is that the biggest day of protests in Egypt happened the day after the Mubarak regime shut off the Internet. And the reason that was the biggest day of protests was because the Muslim Brotherhood decided to turn out, and the Muslim Brotherhood has a traditional form of grassroots organization.”

All of these speculations were intended to be a kind of engaging thought experiment, Beck says, adding the disclaimer that predictions of this sort are really little more than educated guesswork. He points to recent events in Armenia, where protests unexpectedly brought about a sudden change of leadership. “A few weeks ago, George wrote all of us to note that no one had mentioned Armenia at all,” he says. “It’s too soon to say what will happen there, but we saw the model again—protest and elite negotiation to force a change in who is in power. And none of us saw it coming.”

Next (Syria)

A Life in Books

WE SAGEHENS ARE a proudly bookish bunch, so what better way to get to know our next president than through the authors and books that have influenced her most? Here are a few of the key authors—from Jean Toomer to J.R.R. Tolkien—who have helped shape Gabi Starr’s life story.

Gabi Starr

We’ll start with the oldest, a poetic voice from ancient Rome—Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Starr writes: “Ovid makes the beautiful, the just, the joyous, the unexpected and even the mistaken, painful or frightening open to human creativity. It’s not that we understand everything, but that we see the possibility for something new. For more than 2,000 years, his work has inspired artists to believe in the power of the human mind to transform the world.”


Murder at the Vicarage (and other Miss Marple mysteries) by Agatha ChristieMurder at the Vicarage (and other Miss Marple mysteries) by Agatha Christie—“A childhood collection of Miss Marple novels was my first glimpse into reading as searching for signs—those hidden traces of human feeling, motive and mind.”

 


Pride and Prejudice, by Jane AustenPride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen—“Jane Austen was a friend who got me through the awkwardness of being a smart child.”

 

 


Clarissa, by Samuel RichardsonClarissa, by Samuel Richardson—“Clarissa is not just about obsession, but it produces obsessive reading. It drew me into the 18th century with its psychological complexity and depth.”

 

 


The English Poems of George HerbertThe English Poems of George Herbert—“Herbert’s poetry has been part of my life—I fell in love with it in my second year of grad school, and I read his poems to my father as I sat beside him in his last hours.”

 

 


Cane, by Jean ToomerCane, by Jean Toomer—“Cane is sheer beauty to me. The pages are heavy with it.”

 

 

 


The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. TolkienThe Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien—“I took The Lord of the Rings when I was having both children. It’s on every device I own, even though I don’t know by heart half of it half as well as I would like.”

A Couple on the Same Page

Gabi Starr and John C. Harpole start the day in their Manhattan home a couple of months before leaving for Claremont.

MARRIED NOW FOR more than a decade, John and Gabi might never have met if it hadn’t been for The Secret Life of Aphra Behn, the story of the 1600s English playwright, poet and sometime spy.

A colleague of Gabi’s who knew John from high school set them up on a blind date. John found a well-reviewed Brazilian restaurant in Greenwich Village, set the date and time, and then promptly forgot the restaurant’s location, getting lost in the process. Ever the scholar and never without a book, Gabi opened Behn’s biography and lost track of time. Eventually, a harried and apologetic John showed up a solid 45 minutes late.

How did he know how to find Gabi in a crowded Village hot spot? In John’s telling: “Scan the room for women approximating your friend’s vague description; then approach the woman reading the biggest book, and voilà!”

Unlike Gabi, John is not a scholar of the 18th century (or to be more precise, the period from 1660 to 1830 that historians term the “long 18th century”). That said, he remains ever grateful for the compelling life story of Behn.

When it comes to books, though, John and Gabi aren’t always on the same page. While she often leans toward fantasy, he is drawn toward nonfiction on the heavier side.

A few years back, John was up late at night reading Master of the Senate, one of historian Robert Caro’s acclaimed Lyndon Johnson biographies, when he reached the section detailing how U.S. Senator Richard B. Russell Jr. of Georgia, leader of the Southern Caucus, led a cabal that had successfully blocked civil rights legislation for years.

Infuriated, John hurled the hardcover book (all 1,200-plus pages) into a wall with enough force to startle Starr, who was contentedly reading in the next room. In her Feeling Beauty: The Neuroscience of Aesthetic Experience, Gabi obliquely cites this incident as an example of sometimes intense aesthetic responses.

John and Gabi both add a post-script to this story. This past spring they met Robert Caro and his wife at a dinner in New York. Recounting the flung tome story, Caro assured them that this reaction may have been the “best compliment he has ever received,” since writing about the anti-civil rights cabal was so troubling: “How can you do anything but throw the book?”

For Gabi and John, their varied reading lists only add to the conversation. “John is one of the smartest—and wittiest— people I know,” says Gabi. “He won me over completely with a passionate argument about the Mining Act of 1872. I’ve never looked back. He cares very deeply about the world around us, about politics and policy, about justice and also about beauty and friendship.”

The couple has two school-age children—their daughter, Georgianna, and son, Elijah.

A native of Wisconsin, John C. Harpole graduated from Dartmouth College, where he majored in government and undertook additional coursework in moral philosophy. Speaking of his ongoing interests in civics, foreign policy and history, John notes, “Divorcing policy from morality and ethics is a very dangerous game.”

After college, John simultaneously passed the Foreign Service exams and secured a position as a securities analyst at the State of Wisconsin Investment Board. When his clearances came through, John joined the U.S. State Department. He served in D.C. and later abroad as a vice consul and as a staff aide to the U.S. ambassador to Colombia in Bogotá.

Returning from service abroad, John entered the M.B.A. program at the Tuck School of Business. For John, Tuck was transformative: “The school took a liberal arts approach to quantitative disciplines. For me, it opened a new world of rigorous, analytical inquiry for which I am deeply grateful.”

Upon graduation, John moved to New York and re-engaged his investment career at J.P. Morgan. Later he opened his own alternative asset advisory firm, which he ran for nearly a decade. Today John applies his skills and experiences in the leadership advisory and financial services practices at a global talent consultancy. When asked to reflect upon his career arc, John recalls his liberal arts experience and training: “In life as in careers, there is no straight line from A to B; success can be found by applied curiosity and the willingness to engage change.”

This commitment to curiosity and inquiry is something he and Gabi share: “For me,” says John, “I think of it as intellectual recursiveness—a constant, never-ending reassessment of assumptions and biases in the search for better answers. When we’re fearful, unquestioning or just plain complacent, that’s when we make bad decisions.”

John adds, “I am sure that Pomona, as well as the 5Cs and the wider Claremont community, will find in Gabi a leader who finds in each person a reason to engage. To her, the fact that someone has point of view X or ideology Y is not a barrier to engagement but an opportunity, ultimately, to facilitate understanding.”

Exploring the Neuroscience of Beauty: G. Gabrielle Starr Discusses Her Book, Feeling Beauty

G. Gabrielle starr discusses her book feeling beauty And her search for the neural footprint of aesthetics.

What does the phrase “feeling beauty” mean?

Starr: “Beauty” is probably the oldest and most inclusive term for the vast set of responses we have both to works of art and to powerfully compelling parts of the natural world; “beauty” is also an important term in that, unlike many other words we use to describe aesthetic experience (like “divine,” “thrilling,” “sublime,” “awesome,” “delightful,” “awful,” or even “nice”), it has a primarily aesthetic and broadly employed range of reference. “Feeling beauty,” however, emphasizes not just the value of terms like “beauty” and its kin, but “feeling”— the principle that all aesthetic responses call on feeling, and they link feeling to knowledge in surprising, dynamic ways. Aesthetic responses in this sense that matters in my book are not any responses to a work of art, but a subset of such responses—the felt engagement with art and with other objects we might approach because they move us.

How does understanding the neural underpinnings of aesthetic experience reshape our conceptions of aesthetics and the arts?

Starr: Aesthetic experience restructures our ways of knowing the world by changing the ways that we assign value to the world. By exploring the neural underpinnings of aesthetics, we can begin to see how this happens and to understand why aesthetic experiences may call on our most powerful kinds of mental representation, as well as how they become foci for linking the internal and external worlds.

How do works that address different senses using different means seem to produce the same set of feelings?

Starr: Perception is not even the beginning when it comes to aesthetic experience—not only is what we perceive conditioned by our past experience and the limits of our bodies, but aesthetic experience brings a range of internal perceptions and processes into close relation with external sensory experience. So the perceptual differences that shape works of art are not the most central key. Powerful aesthetic experience means in part that we are accessing the systems we use for understanding internal life, as well as those for engaging the outer world. Thus, the arts may affect us not primarily by the senses, but by speaking to a core set of human neural systems, chief among them our systems for emotion, memory, semantic processing, imagery and inwardly directed thought.

What lessons can we draw about the embodied nature of aesthetic experience and the hidden unity of seemingly disparate arts?

Starr: Some theorists of the aesthetic would like our response to art to be purely immaterial, or if they grant that there is a material underpinning to our experience, they do so only to dismiss the possibility of learning anything about the aesthetic by studying this material foundation, or they claim that this foundation is no more than trivially important.

On some level I find this puzzling. Human beings have a material existence that shapes and enables every breath we take, every thought we entertain, every moment of bliss or disbelief.

Aesthetic experience is in fact embodied. Seeking to understand the aesthetic, then, means that we ought to seek to understand how that experience is shaped by the bodies in which we live. Learning about the human body is a worthy undertaking in itself. The brain is only one part of this equation, but it is a crucial part. The question then is whether we learn anything about aesthetics when we use the tools of neuroscience to do so.

One major critique of neuroaesthetics relies on the idea that what we want to know about art primarily is how to interpret it. But the study of art and how it affects us is not only a hermeneutic problem, it is an epistemic problem, an affective problem, a moral problem, an historical, economic, social and even an evolutionary one. No single discipline carries all the answers that we might want to pose about art and aesthetic experience.

Cognitive and behavioral neuroscience contributes something particular to the study, in my view, not so much of art objects as of our responses to them, and our responses to the broader world that calls to us in terms of beauty and its kin. Neuroscience can help us understand part of the story of emotions, of memory, and even of how we relate domains of experience together.

Neuroscience doesn’t have all the answers, but it has given us many new things to ponder about how we live in the bodies that help make us human. The road is long, but we can have a lot of fun on the way.

Reprinted with permission from MIT Press

Excerpt From Episode 1: Strangers in a Strange Land

Pomona’s 1919 Debate Club, including Arthur Williams 1919 (front row, second from left). The College’s second Black graduate, Williams would go on to become a physician in White Plains, New York.

Pomona’s 1919 Debate Club, including Arthur Williams 1919 (front row, second from left). The College’s second Black graduate, Williams would go on to become a physician in White Plains, New York.

Desai: “… For the next three months, we’ll be investigating the questions about our school that we’ve had since orientation. What were relations like between the College’s founders and the original inhabitants of the land? How exactly did this decidedly New England-style liberal arts college get founded in the middle of Southern California? And what are the stories of the early students of color at the school?

“Let’s start with that last one. Right now we’re going to focus on the period between 1887, when Pomona was founded, and 1958, when the College accepted its first cohort of Black students. But for its first seven decades, the College was almost entirely white. That’s not to say that some students of color didn’t attend or even thrive at Pomona, however. …

“Winston M.C. Dickson arrived in Claremont in 1900 at a time when there probably weren’t any other African Americans in the Inland Empire, and only about 2,000 in the entire city of L.A. He was born to two freed slaves in 1872 in a farming community close to Crockett, Texas, which means he actually would have been almost 30 when he arrived at Pomona. There basically wasn’t any public education for Blacks in the South at the time, so it makes sense that it took him some time to get to Pomona. I’m really curious as to how Winston Dickson could have ended up here in 1900, especially considering that Claremont is more than 1,000 miles away from Houston and that Pomona was pretty much unknown at that point and had fewer than 100 students. Probably the only explanation that makes sense is that the Congregationalist Church played some role in getting him to Claremont. Both Pomona and Tillotson College, a small Black college where Winston Dickson studied before coming here, were founded by the Congregationalist Church. During his four years at Pomona, Winston Dickson seems to have thrived. I looked through all the yearbooks from his time on campus and was absolutely floored by how many clubs and organizations he was a part of—The Student Life, the Choral Union, the Literary Society and the Prohibition League…”

Tidmarsh: “Wow, he was all over, as Pomona students are wont to do.”

Desai: “So there’s a ton of photos of Winston Dickson from his time at Pomona, and he really seemed to be an integrated member of his class. In some pictures, he’s standing off to the side, and while he’s a member of an early frat on campus, he’s not pictured in most of their photos, for some reason.”

Tidmarsh: “It’s not hard to imagine why.”

Williams’ daughter, Eileen Williams ’50, the first Black woman to graduate from Pomona College.

Williams’ daughter, Eileen Williams ’50, the first Black woman to graduate from Pomona College.

Desai: “What’s really amazing to me is that Winston Dickson was the Class Day speaker for the Class of 1904, and an L.A. Times reporter who made the trek to Claremont for the event wrote that he had, quote, ‘the magnetic voice and manner of a trained orator.’ He was actually the first Black graduate of any college or university in Southern California. Then he got law degrees from Harvard and Boston University, and for the next half-century, he established himself as one of the most well respected Black attorneys in Houston, Texas. In 1915, there were just 19 Black attorneys in all of Houston, serving a Black population that had swelled to 30,000 people. Most of the cases he litigated were in the divorce or probate courts, which seemed kind of strange to me, but then I talked to a professor who studies the history of Black Houston, and he said that basically, this was all the work that Black lawyers could do at that point. It was such a difficult profession that many Black attorneys decided to leave it entirely. Over the course of his career, he became the president of the city’s Colored Bar Association and then later helped found the Houston Lawyers Association, a mentoring organization for Black attorneys that still exists today. From a son of freed slaves to a Pomona- and Harvard-educated lawyer in Houston, it’s hard not to think that Winston Dickson lived an absolutely remarkable life.”

Tidmarsh: “But to this day there’s nothing named after him on the campus—not yet, at least.”

Desai: “Right. Other schools have buildings and scholarships named after their first Black graduate, but I think it’s pretty surprising that Pomona doesn’t have anything, especially since he was the first Black grad of any college in Southern California. Anyway, after Winston Dickson graduated in 1904, it’s not like Black students suddenly became a frequent presence on campus. There wasn’t another Black student in Claremont for the next 11 years, when Arthur Williams enrolled at Pomona in 1915.

“Born in Houston in 1897 to an influential columnist for the Houston Informer, a powerful Black newspaper at the time, Arthur Williams grew up in Houston’s fourth ward, just a few miles southwest of where Winston Dickson lived in Houston. There weren’t that many African Americans in Houston in the early 1900s, so I have a hunch that it must have been Dickson who introduced Arthur Williams to Pomona and then played a role in his coming to the school. …”

This entire episode is available for download at soundcloud.com, iTunes or Google Play.

Excerpt From Episode 2: When Carnegie Was Bombed

Special hand-drawn TSL after the Carnegie bombing in 1969

Special hand-headlined TSL after the Carnegie bombing in 1969

Tidmarsh: “… The bomb was placed in Government Professor Lee [’48] McDonald’s mailbox, which led some to question whether the bomber was targeting him directly. Claire McDonald, Lee’s wife and a Pomona alum from 1947, remembers how scary of a time it was for them.”

Claire McDonald: “Lee called me and said there was bombing going on at his office, and I was to be careful and stay in the house. And the kids were to stay in the house. So we were immediately scared. And I called up my daughter, and she and her husband joined us, and we had a very bad night. Every car that went by, we wondered if they were going to throw a bomb at us.”

Tidmarsh: “Professor McDonald was known on campus for being an opponent of the Vietnam War and an ally for the student protesters. However, Professor McDonald was told by law enforcement, and believes to this day, that it was completely random that the bomb was placed in his mailbox. He told us that the bomb wasn’t addressed to him in particular.”

Lee McDonald: “The mail, all the faculty mailboxes were adjacent to the staircase that goes from the lobby of Carnegie down to the first floor. And the mail is usually delivered in the morning. Our secretary for what was then the Government Department just happened to be coming up the stairs in the—guess it was around four o’clock. I’m not exactly sure of the hour. And she saw this shoebox, wrapped in brown paper, in my mailbox. It was a good question, why it was in my mailbox, but I think the ultimate conclusion of everybody was that if a person was running up the stairs, or in a hurry up the stairs, this was the box on the bottom level of all of the boxes and right in the middle. And that would have been the easiest place to quickly place the bomb.”

Desai: “About 40 seconds before the bombing in Carnegie, an identical bomb exploded in a women’s bathroom in the basement of Scripps College’s Balch Auditorium. While no one was injured, the windows were blown out, and the building needed a lot of repairs.”

Lee McDonald: “I also remember that it was Tom Brokaw, who was a pretty well-known NBC reporter for the rest of his life—[he] was a local reporter for the local NBC station in Los Angeles, and he came out and interviewed me. We stood in the Quad.”

Desai: “It’s worth noting that Pomona and Scripps weren’t the only colleges that this happened to. In the late ’60s and early ’70s, college campuses across the nation were bombed. Just in California, San Francisco State University and Southwest College were bombed within a couple of weeks of the Claremont bombing. In 1970, a bomb at the University of Wisconsin, Madison, killed a physics professor and injured three others. The Department of Commerce and the Portland, Ore., City Hall were also bombed. While some remain unsolved, most of the bombings that were prosecuted were tied to statements against the war in Vietnam.”

Tidmarsh: “At Pomona College and across the nation, protests erupted over the Vietnam War and racial justice. It was a tense and tumultuous time that disrupted the status quo in idyllic Claremont. …”

This entire episode is available for download at soundcloud.com, iTunes or Google Play.

Excerpt From Episode 3: The Place Below Snowy Mountain

Cahuilla HarvestDesai: “… By the time that some of the early founders of Pomona College arrived in Claremont, much of the Tongva population had been decimated by a major smallpox outbreak in 1862, a generation before the College’s founding. After the outbreak, the population of the Tongva in the area fell to around 4,000, a fraction of what it once was. When the founders of the College actually came to Claremont, there was barely a trace of the original people.”

Tidmarsh: “The accounts of interactions between the Pomona students and Native Americans around this time are tantalizingly sparse. In an account of Pomona’s history, Charles Sumner wrote that, in 1913, quote, ‘a party of wild Indians, fittingly mounted, invaded the town soon after daybreak, racing through the streets, brandishing their weapons and giving the war whoop at every turn.’ It would be great to have more context or information or anything about this event, but it’s all that Sumner mentions. We’re left to guess what happened that day.”

Desai: “One of the most enduring legacies of the interaction between early Pomona people and the Native Americans of the area is the song ‘Torchbearers.’ Originally titled ‘Ghost Dance,’ the song was written in 1890, and it’s been performed countless times in a million different versions since then.”

Tidmarsh: “The story goes like this. Frank Brackett, an astronomy professor, went with David Barrows, a student at the time who was interested in the local tribes. They went away off campus to the San Jacinto Mountains, around where the town of Idyllwild is today. This land belonged to the Cahuilla people, who’d lived in that area for thousands of years. Brackett and Barrows ostensibly went up there to observe the native people, and the two wrote down what they could remember of the Cahuilla dance that they’d observed. At a college celebration soon after, they broke into the chant they’d half-remembered, but it was a huge hit. Someone wrote words, and another person a melody. The finished product was titled ‘Ghost Dance,’ and before anyone knew it, Barrows’ and Brackett’s trip up to the mountains was memorialized. And it was apparently quite the sensation among Pomona students at the time. Some archival photos show members of Pomona’s Glee Club performing the song dressed in white robes, dancing around a mock-up of a ritual fire.”

Desai: “Fun fact: Barrows went on to become the first person to receive a Ph.D. in anthropology from the University of Chicago, and eventually he became the president of the University of California system. A lot of his work as an anthropologist had to do with Native Americans. His doctoral dissertation was titled ‘The Ethnobotany of the Cahuilla Indians of Southern California,’ and he conducted his research by returning to Southern California for the summer. So his relationship with the tribes of Southern California wasn’t just some passing craze.”

Tidmarsh: “That being said, though, he and Brackett got a number of facts wrong. For one, they interpreted the Cahuilla dance as warlike, and the lyrics reference ‘Indian maids and warriors.’ But they were just completely off base with this. It wasn’t a war dance at all, like they assumed. An article in the Pomona magazine recounting their trip noted that the shaman who was leading the dance was advocating for racial harmony. It was a peaceful dance. In its original incarnation, the song also included bits of nonsense words that were supposed to approximate the Cahuilla language, but neither Brackett nor Barrows spoke the Cahuilla language at the time, so they did the best they could to transcribe the refrain they heard at the dance. ‘He ne terra toma’ is what they ended up with, but no one’s been able to say for sure what these nonsense syllables were actually supposed to mean. …”

This entire episode is available for download at soundcloud.com, iTunes or Google Play.

Excerpt From Episode 4: Catch Us If You Can

A Mufti burger from 1974–75

A Mufti burger from 1974–75

Tidmarsh:  “… Joshua Tremblay, the editor of TSL in fall 2003 actually did a ride-along with two Mufti members for a night, and they told him that most of the 20-odd members at the time had either been approached by an active member or caught them in the act. But good luck trying to catch them. A TSL columnist in 1981 wrote that, quote, ‘Mufti is to Pomona College what Bigfoot is to Northern California. Nobody’s really sure who or what it is, but the telltale evidence for its existence is everywhere.’ Conor O’Rourke, who graduated in 2003 … is one of the few people who can give some insight into how Mufti recruits students. He went through the majority of the induction process, but he couldn’t attend the final challenge.”

O’Rourke:  “My senior year, things had relatively calmed down, I guess, with Mufti, and they seemed to be somewhat inactive. But that spring semester of senior year … we had been looking closely, I guess, for whatever reason, and came across an unusual message in the Digester that on first glance seemed a little incoherent. It was complete sentences and actual words but didn’t mean anything either. If you were really reading into it, you might have been able to interpret that it was somehow in reference to a return of some kind. There was something that was trying to make a return to campus. So it was cryptic enough that our ‘spidey senses’ told us it might be Mufti-related. And the idea of a return certainly fit with where Mufti was at the time, which was that they were relatively dormant that particular year. So we tangled with this message for a while.

“Eventually, you know—one of us was a computer science major and started kind of taking a more technical approach to deciphering this and used some type of number-to-letter language—I’ve forgot what it was called. But what happened was that we found that these numbers corresponded to, essentially, a Dewey Decimal code, and the book that came up with those numbers was called The History of Secret Societies, or something thereabouts. And that was a light bulb going on. Wow! This has gotta be—this has gotta be it. And so we went to the library—we went to Honnold-Mudd—and we looked up that book. It was there, somewhere deep in the stacks—didn’t seem like it had been checked out for a very long time. It was an old book, from maybe the 1920s or 1930s. So we checked out the book, and we played with it a little bit. … One of us actually read the entire thing. Again, we were looking for answers. It was kind of hard. And one of us had the idea of kind of cracking open the book—literally cracking open the book. Took a pen knife and made a very small incision on the back cover, and lo and behold, hidden beneath that was a small note that basically said, ‘Congratulations. You’ve come this far. If you want to go further, you know, contact us.’ And there was an email address, some AOL address or something like that.

“And it took a day or two to hear back from them, but eventually we did. And their message back was written in a cryptic way, but it was another challenge—once we interpreted what the message meant, it was another challenge to us. The challenge was: they essentially wanted us to bring back the Mufti T-shirt to the Coop Store. You know, it was a very large challenge. So we thought long and hard as to how we were going to do that. I don’t know how it came about, but eventually we decided to take the scarecrow from the farm up at Pitzer, and we put a suit on this scarecrow, which fit, actually, quite well, and took him down to the Campus Center and propped him up against the door to the Coop Store, and then pinned to him a document that we called ‘Peter Stanley’s Last Will and Testament.’ And Peter Stanley was, of course, David Oxtoby’s predecessor, and this was his final year as president of Pomona College. So this last will and testament was written as a will in which he was requesting the Coop Store to bring back the Mufti T-shirt. I happened to be writing for TSL at the time and in charge of something called the Security Briefs—I don’t think this is a section they have any more, but it’s essentially a police blotter from CampSec [Campus Security], and I worked that into the police blotter for the week. … [Mufti] contacted us and said, ‘Congratulations—you’ve gotten this far. And if you want to keep going, you know, you need to meet us out on the Quad at midnight’ or something, of this particular night that was down the road. Now unfortunately for me, when we got this response from Mufti inviting us to learn more and meet them on the Quad with a blindfold on—they wanted us to blindfold ourselves—I was already down in San Diego for Senior Week, and I actually got the call about the email from one of my friends, who was a junior and obviously not in San Diego for Senior Week. It was at that time that I thought, ‘Darn!’ This was happening too late for me. …”

This entire episode is available for download at soundcloud.com, iTunes or Google Play.

Excerpt From Episode 5: Farewell to Pomona

Internment-Camp-and-OrderDesai: “… By now, we can accept as historical fact that the Japanese internment happened in the United States, and most people agree that it’s one of the darkest periods in American history. But the root causes of why the government so explicitly targeted Japanese Americans can be hard to parse out, so we talked to Pomona History Professor Samuel Yamashita. He said that the causes of the internment can be traced back to four distinct historical contexts, starting with the advance of European and American imperialism in the 19th century.”

Yamashita: “But in most of the colonial world, life was highly racialized, and a kind of caste system based on race was created. I’m a native of Hawaii, and I was born in 1946, when Hawaii was still a colony, and the public school system in Hawaii was segregated until 1947. And you may know that President Obama went to a certain private school in Honolulu—Punohou, what was known as Punohou College. Well, there were private schools for each of the major ethnic groups.”

Tidmarsh: “The next context was the nation of Japan’s aggression, starting in 1931 with the invasion of Manchuria. This led to international outcry and sentiments against Japaese people across the world.”

Desai: “The third context was the rise of anti-Japanese sentiment in the U.S., with bans on immigration and property ownership for Japanese-born individuals. …”

Yamashita: “Now the last and smallest context is what one might call the Japanese-American context, which found that young Japanese Americans who had college degrees could not get jobs along the West Coast or in Hawaii, and so a large number of them began to move to Japan. …”

Tidmarsh: “While all of this was happening, Pomona College had started admitting students of Japanese descent from Hawaii. Professor Yamashita’s mother was actually among the students who were encouraged to apply to Pomona, although she didn’t end up attending.”

Yamashita: “Pomona College began to get students from Hawaii in the 1920s, and they were mainly from McKinley High School, the same high school that my mother went to. And I think some of the educators at McKinley High School were from the West Coast, and they were progressive, and they knew about this place called Pomona College.”

Desai: “Almost all of the Japanese American students at Pomona during the 1940s came from one of two places. Either they were from Hawaii, and they were recruited to come out to school here, or they were natives of the Inland Empire, from places like Riverside or Upland. But in spite of these policies of recruiting Japanese students, especially from Hawaii prep schools, there were very few students of Japanese descent at Pomona—probably less than a dozen at any given time.”

Tidmarsh: “The Hisanaga siblings were among the few Japanese American students during the 1940s. There were three in all who ended up attending Pomona—brothers Kazuma and Kazuo, and their sister, Itsue. They each ended up graduating with a Pomona degree, a year apart from each other but under vastly different circumstances. …”

This entire episode is available for download at soundcloud.com, iTunes or Google Play.

Fact or Myth: Answers

Back to Fact or Myth.

1. This is at least partially a myth. The nickname “Sage Hen” appeared in The Student Life as early as 1913, when sports editor E.H. Spoor 1915 wrote, “Once again the Oxy Tiger wanders from his lair and comes to peaceful, peaceful Claremont with intent to murder. The Sage Hen will fight—on the field. On the campus she is entirely amicable.” “Hen” and “Hun” were used interchangeably until around 1918, when the latter disappeared, possibly because of its wartime connotations.

2. This is a great story, but it’s also a complete fabrication. Students have passed the story down to other students for many years, but there has never been a Shakespeare Garden on Pomona’s campus. No one knows how the myth got started.

3. Myth? Probably. But there are those who say they’ve experienced strange things in these buildings and become reluctant believers, so let’s brand it unknown. Some of the facts behind the stories, at least, might be true. We have been told that a record exists in Big Bridges’ archives mentioning an unnamed worker who was killed during construction, and that the L.A. Times reported a death at the old hotel that became Sumner. However, we’ve been unable to confirm either claim.

4. This story is factual and describes one of the most inventive and challenging pranks ever performed on the Pomona campus. Michael Brazil ’79, who was interviewed by PCM in 2002, was one of a group of friends who conceived the daring plan and carried it out.

5. All of this is true, including the Madonna, for which there is also photographic evidence.

6. Only one person really knows if this is true, and he isn’t talking, so let’s call it unknown. Joe Menosky ’79 reportedly lived in Oldenborg during his college years and played a role in creating the Borg as a writer for Star Trek: The Next Generation. To our knowledge, however, he has never confirmed or denied this claim.

7. This is all true, though the “reigning champion” part is a humorous take on an odd situation, not a serious claim.

8. The story about the shovel, so far as we can tell, is completely factual. The shovel has an inscription on the front of the handle noting that it was a gift from the Class of 1898, and another on the back noting that it was used by President Roosevelt on May 3, 1903. However, the tree part is false. The original Roosevelt tree died shortly after planting and was quietly replaced.

9. Professor Bentley was, indeed, known on campus for this tongue-in-cheek, fallacious proof that all numbers equal 47 (or any other number), and Mets and Elgin did start the 47 hunt that has continued to this day.