For lifelong football fans, myself included, this might be a shocking question. Perhaps it seems like something only those in high academics would debate. But, with the recent death of Junior Seau, the ethicality of football has been front and center. For those of you who don’t follow the sports world, Junior Seau was a linebacker who played most famously with the San Diego Chargers, becoming a sports icon in the San Diego area. Seau retired in 2010, after playing since high school. In 2012, he committed suicide at age 43. Later, it was revealed that Seau suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a form of chronic brain damage that has been discovered in other NFL players who died, as well. For those who knew Seau, they say the last few months of his life were marked with abnormal behavior. Just this month, the Seau family sued the NFL over the brain injuries he sustained during his career as a linebacker.

My first reaction to hearing about Seau’s tragic suicide was probably similar to many others who followed the story. Though terribly sad, Seau chose to play football and knew the injuries were a risk. Sure, the NFL could have provided more medical and psychological help to its players once they retired, but it doesn’t seem like we can hold them responsible for his death, right? But, then I started reading more and more about the perils of professional football.

In 2010 Malcolm Gladwell penned what has since become a rather famous op-ed in the New Yorker comparing football to dog fighting. Gladwell recounted the story dozens of former NFL and college players who are, or were, suffering from brain injuries. Line players can suffer up to 1,000 hits in the head in just one season. All these head injuries seem to have a real and scary effect on the players. Seau’s suicide wasn’t the first, and certainly won’t be the last. In 2006, Andre Waters, a defensive back, shot himself; Owen Thomas, a defensive end and former UPenn captain, hung himself; retired safety Dave Duerson shot himself in 2011; and former safety Ray Easterling shot himself just a week before Seau did. This is not an isolated incident.

But, football players choose to play football. They are never forced to play, and in fact few who desire to play at the highest levels achieve it. Moreover, they’re getting paid a pretty good sum of money, so that makes up for possible injuries and risk…right? The flip side of this free will argument is that football is, as BuzzFeed writer Kevin Lincoln wrote, “the contemporary equivalent of gladiatorial combat…killing young men slowly…our loyalty condones this and makes it not only acceptable but wildly profitable.”

Do both these arguments have merit? Certainly, no one is ever forced to play, but the cult of adoration surrounding football creates a whirlwind that becomes hard to stop. Perhaps most alarming is that these dangerous hits don’t start at the college level, or even high school. It starts in elementary school with Pop Warner. Moreover, it’s not as if the trauma of multiple hits to the head begins when a player actually makes it into professional football. It begins all the way back in elementary school and slowly builds. College athletes aren’t even paid for the risks they are taking. Should we really let children play a game we know to be dangerous and have potentially life-altering effects? And, football hits have gotten more severe over time as players get faster and bigger. Even President Obama shared some concerns about this in a recent interview, saying that although the NFL players are getting paid, “as we start thinking about the pipeline, Pop Warner, high school, college, I want to make sure we are doing everything we can to make the sport safer.”

Moreover, why isn’t the NFL doing more to help the current players and those entering the game at a young age. Rather than address the physical and psychological traumas of football, the NFL constantly finds ways to obfuscate and ignore the issue. It will be interesting to see what their reaction to the Seau family suit will be

But, even if the NFL were more open with their players about the potentially behavior-altering, traumatic nature of football, what else could they do? Short of banning football or capping how long players can play (which seems unlikely given the extraordinary pay incentives and loyal fanbase), as long as people keep watching football, football will still be played. So, do we have an ethical imperative to stop watching football? Should we demand real change in the NFL’s policies and incentive system in order to protect the players? Are we contributing to the disturbingly long litany of former NFL players who have committed suicide or been seriously affected by brain injuries?

It’s hard for me to address these questions. I have always loved football. I’ve watched games with my dad since I can remember. I have many good memories of Duke Football game days, Super Bowl parties, and Friday night games in high school. It’s not something that’s easy for me to come to terms with—yet, I can’t deny how troubling I find all the evidence mounted up against the NFL. I don’t know what the answer is, but I do know that yesterday I was thinking about a lot more than what kind of wings I should get for my Super Bowl party.  

Normally, when we buy items at a store, there is no indication of how, where, and under what conditions the product was made. Some of us may not care how products are made, but even for those who do want to be ethical consumers, it can be difficult to do so. This may be for a number of reasons including the higher cost of ethically made goods, the cynicism that we cannot make a difference, and the lack of information available to us. Shana Starobin’s Good Question, “What should we eat?” gives excellent insight into the challenges that consumers face in being aware and capable of eating, or shopping, ethically.

Imagine if every product came with a letter similar to this one, detailing the ethical or unethical practices that went into making the product. The letter, if found to be legitimate, certainly details worrisome labor practices in China. The note reads:  “People who work here have to work 15 hours a day without Saturday, Sunday break and any holidays. Otherwise, they will suffer (punishment), beat and rude remark. Nearly no payment (10 yuan/1 month).” There was also a desperate plea for readers to pass the letter onto the World Human Rights Organization. Although this is not a real organization, the shopper passed the letter onto the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement agency, which is currently investigating the case.

What obligations does the shopper now have? Will she and should she stop purchasing these products?

For the next few months, she may check regularly to see what country and conditions different products are made in. Yet, she will quickly realize that much of this information is hard to find. Unlike medicines and tobacco products, our everyday purchases do not come with warning labels telling us the dangers created by the products themselves. Imagine what the world might look like, if this was not the case. You might stop yourself from buying Chris Brown CD’s if it had a label that read “WARNING: Do not buy this album! This man beats women.”

In the modern global market, goods are typically assembled in multiple countries with differing laws. Global corporations do not have any legal obligation to detail their labor practices to the public, nor do most people take the time to investigate for themselves. Given this information asymmetry, we often continue to make purchases without second thought of what effect they may be having for laborers in other parts of the world.

Even if this incident opens our eyes to unethical practices, will it change the way consumers and corporations act? If US consumers resolve to boycott products made in China (which would be nearly impossible), we will just be purchasing alternatives manufactured by sweatshops in India, Indonesia, or the Philippines. There may not be better alternatives. Furthermore, a boycott of Chinese goods could complicate global markets, harming American and Chinese laborers.

Maybe consumer boycotts are actually ineffective in the larger scheme of things, and it is better for us to pressure governments and advocate for change that way.  Or maybe the reason the laborers wrote to this woman, is because they know that consumers can do something to change the situation. As everyday shoppers, we may not know how to influence macroeconomic and government policies, but our consumer purchasing power may be our way to make a difference.

If I buy products made from Chinese sweatshops, does that not make me at least somewhat responsible for the state that these laborers are in? It is much easier to convince ourselves that these issues are out of our control, but I wonder if they are actually entirely determined by what our hands put into our shopping carts.

What do you think our responsibility as consumers is and how should we respond to this plea for help?

Excessive force(?) becomes a meme. Photo: It Is On/Flickr

Last November, a peaceful UC Davis student protest associated with the Occupy movement led to pretty big scandal surrounding police brutality when 21 students were pepper sprayed by campus police, captured in this video:

While there was once a great deal of fury surrounding the actions of the campus police, sympathy for the victims is plunging now that the results of the settlement have finally arrived. The amount that the University of California will cough up to each student as compensation for last year’s incident?

$30,000.

Surprised? Jealous? Don’t give a care?

There’s no denying this case cost a pretty penny. In total, $730,000 was awarded to the plaintiffs, plus $250,000 in costs and attorney fees. In addition, $100,000 was set aside for other victims yet to be identified. It seems like these funds could have been allocated differently in a way that could have benefitted the entire student body. Perhaps it could have gone towards programs that promoted the original goals of the protestors: the budget cuts and tuition hikes. On the other hand, some of the students endured pain for days, were treated at a hospital for chemical burns, or experienced nightmares and panic attacks related to the frightening day. All of these things could have had a negative impact on grades, although that’s hard to measure.

In support of the victims, Michael Risher, staff attorney with the ACLU of Northern California, said in a statement, “If the First Amendment means anything, it’s that students should be able to exercise their free speech-rights on their college campus without being afraid of police violence. What happened on November 18 was among the worst examples of police violence against student demonstrators that we’ve seen in a generation. The settlement should be a wake-up call for other universities and police departments.”

Sometimes seemingly excessive penalties are justified by their ability to set a precedent to other institutions, ensuring the wrongful actions are never repeated in the future. Penn State Football, anyone? It’s harder for people to see it this way though, leaving many to question whether, at face value, the consequences fit the offense. Is being unjustly pepper sprayed really worth $30,000?

Debra J. Saunders of the San Francisco Chronicle thinks the protesters were completely in the wrong for making a fuss in the first place and that this settlement only encourages disorderly behavior. Referring to the protesters as “privileged recipients of a top-notch university education partially subsidized by California taxpayers,” she adds, “Students surrounded campus cops, who warned students that if they didn’t disperse, they would be subject to the use of force and pepper spray. They stayed. They videotaped. They sued. That’s how so-called civil libertarians conquer. They break rules designed not to squelch free speech, but to protect everyone’s right to public space. Then they sue, secure in the knowledge that state officials will settle with them.”

So were the students really asking for it? Maybe I missed something, but it looked like the students are sitting tranquilly, even as the police get right in their faces with an inflammatory gas. The police officer doesn’t spray them out of concern for his immediate safety, but out of spite that the protesters aren’t obeying his orders to disperse.

But by participating in a protest where you are knowingly breaking a law or a campus rule, what risks are you consenting to? Are you agreeing to be arrested or mistreated, like the civil rights activists of the past? Is brutality part of the power of civil disobedience? f not, where do your personal boundaries lie and when should you give up and comply with authority figures? If you are violated, should you be compensated, and what should that look like?

In the case of UC Davis, can we assign a sum of money, uniform to all the victims, that captures the effect of this incident?

This video prompts a lot of questions that I do not necessary have opinions on, let alone answers to. Some of the issues are: As a parent, what do you do when your child disobeys you? Do you have a legal or moral right to punish them? As a child, what responsibilities do you have to your parents and where do these responsibilities stop? Should children be able to broadcast to the public what they think about their parents? Or should the dignity and privacy of their family come before their opinions? To what extent are parents responsible for their children’s activities online? Does this responsibility give parents the right to use their technological expertise to spy on their kids online? Does the laptop a parent buys for their child belong to them or the child? Do you as a parent have a right to destroy such property/gifts just because you bought them? And finally, does the right to own a gun give you a right to use it to destroy the laptop you bought your child?

The one issue I would like to touch on is that of parents monitoring what their kids do online. Just as it is natural for parents to want to know what their twelve-year-old child is up to when they go outside with their friends, it would seem reasonable for a parent to also want to know what their child was up to online. Unfortunately, parents can’t just take what their child tells them they were doing to be true. The range of activities that youngsters can engage in online is virtually infinite, creating countless avenues for parents to worry about. As a result, some parents resort to using online monitoring technology in a bid to protect their kids from the obvious dangers lurking behind their screens.

However, many would agree that this concern about their kids’ safety results in parents invading the privacy of their kids. Currently, software that can monitor a child’s chat history in various social media is available to parents at cheap prices, giving them an intimate look into their kids’ actions online. While some would say that this ability to monitor the minutest detail of what their kids do online gives parents greater opportunities to protect their children from online predators, most people would scorn at a parent who tapes a tape recorder on their child’s chest in a bid to monitor who they talk to and what they talk about when they leave the house.

Ultimately, the ethical issues boil down to the level of monitoring parents do chose to engage in, whether they inform their children about it and how they react to what they find their kids have been up to online. Rebuking your child in front of the whole world might not be the best way to get her to listen to you. Neither is such thoughtless display of the powers of a gun necessary.

Fans of masked heroes will be thrilled to know that vigilante justice is not unique to Gotham City.  According to a recent Reuter’s article, Seattle’s very own Phoenix Jones has been unmasked.

Phoenix, whose real name is Benjamin Fodor, was recently arrested for assault after pepper-spraying patrons of a local night club because he suspected that they were involved in a street brawl.  When the police arrived, Fodor was being attacked by an angry woman with her shoes.   The Seattle police have not charged Fodor, and he vows to return to vigilante work.

See the video below to catch Phoenix/Fodor in action:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4bjJAAALDE

This case raises two important issues.

First, should vigilante justice seekers be subject to the same punishments under the law?  I would argue that despite his intentions to prevent crime, Phoenix/Fodor should be charged with pepper-spraying the night club patrons.  It would be highly contradictory if Phoenix/Fodor were exempt from the law while trying to enforce it on other citizens.  The police did not ask for Fodor’s help in patrolling downtown Seattle; rather, the fight that Fodor started was the reason that they showed up.

The larger issue is whether vigilante justice should be permitted at all.  Phoenix Jones is a local celebrity and often gives the police tips about crimes in the area.  Should this type of adoration/cooperation be permitted?  It is one thing to see a crime and fail to act, like bystander effect in the infamous Kitty Genovese murder, but it is another to actively seek it out when you are not a law enforcement officer.  Fodor/Phoenix’s actions are also different from that of a neighborhood watch group.  Citizen patrollers are organized by local councils, wear uniforms to identify themselves (not tights and capes), and act only to report the crime. Where does the moral distinction lie between acting appropriately to prevent crime, and acting out of line as a vigilante?  I think Phoenix/Fodor crossed it when he put on his mask and pulled out his pepper spray.

I would say that vigilante justice is more permissible in Gotham City where Jokers run amuck and the police are incapable, but in Seattle, this seems hardly the case.  Despite his best attempt to preventing crime, Phoenix/Fodor has difficulty getting involved in it.  Vigilante justice is prone to physical confrontation which looks cool in the movies, but is undesirable in the real world.  Phoenix/Fodor has already been involved in numerous tussles (with his weapon of choice—pepper spray) prior to his arrest.

Unlike Batman and Superman, Phoenix Jones does not possess an inordinate amount of money or special super powers which compel him to a higher calling.  Unlike Gotham city, Seattle does not have supervillains which only Phoenix is capable of fighting.   At the end of the day, Phoenix Jones is Ben Fodor, and perhaps he should remain that way.

Photo credit: Alex Pearson/Flickr

“Son, I am sorry that I had to wait until the hour of my death to tell you the truth, I wish I had had the courage to reveal it to you earlier. I am not your biological father! I bought you from hospital X when you were Y days old!”

Imagine being told that by the man you have known all your life as your dad. It would be heartbreaking, to say the least. This is exactly the situation that two men in their forties, Juan Luis Moreno and Antonio Barroso, found themselves confronting earlier this year in Spain as recounted by this BBC article. All their lives, they had lived a lie; believing that the parents they lived with were their biological parents.

Their situation is not unique in Spain. After their story went public, many mothers came out to tell stories of their missing babies too. All these incidents trace their origins to the dictatorial era of Francisco Franco (1936-1975). After the Spanish civil war, Franco’s side took babies from women it believed to be unworthy parents because they had supported the Republican side during the war. However, over the years, this practice was turned into a money-making enterprise as babies were taken at birth from their parents and sold to couples wishing to adopt them.

If you were in Juan’s or Antonio’s position, what would you do after learning the truth about your past? Would you instigate legal proceedings against your “alleged parents” or would the fact that they brought you up overbear on you to overlook the gross injustice they did you and your biological parents by denying you that God-given parent-child relationship right? I am sure the answer could take a number of dimensions. However, two things in the article caught my attention.

First is the dismal failure of the Catholic Church and the medical profession to stand up to their moral duty when the population needed them most. The article highlights the complicit role of the Catholic Church and the medical profession during the entire fiasco; “Nuns and priests compiled waiting lists of would-be adoptive parents, while doctors were said to have lied to mothers about the fate of their children.” How did the members of these two institutions implicated in the incidents justify their actions? These are the people society trusted to serve it, and yet somehow, they came to be the biggest enemies of the society. One might say that they were forced to do it, but can someone really force you to do something for that long? In retrospect, it seems that over time, they took it upon themselves to profit on the sufferings of others while pointing a finger at an enemy that everyone could relate to. However, incidents from other parts of the world show that it does not always need to be the case that the state gives tacit approval for some members of the church and the medical profession to engage in such child trafficking. Kenya’s infamous miracle babies’ bishop is a good example.

The other issue is how amnesty is at times tantamount to impunity. During the panel “Living with Memory” on October 6^th 2011 in the Rare Book Room, Prof. Stephanie Sierburth talked about how amnesty, though a good way for a country to achieve truth and reconciliation, can be very problematic. It is problematic in the sense that if a lot of people suffered injustices, it is very hard to raise the demons of the past because the sins committed continue to benefit the families of those who were on the winning side.  As a result of the 1977 amnesty law, those seeking redress for injustices suffered during Franco’s era cannot get any, because the law prohibits the investigation and prosecution of crimes of a political nature committed during that era. For Juan and the rest, rough times are ahead as they try to come to terms with their past. So is the case for those who were young at the time and did not in any way participate in harming others, but continue to benefit as a result of what was taken from others.

To the Churches!

Bay Minette, a city in my home state Alabama (woot!), recently launched “Operation Restore Our Community.” It sounds super legitimate, but I can’t say that I am too proud of it. Essentially, Bay Minette is now offering some offenders the choice between “Jesus time” and “jail time.” The ones who choose church over jail will have to check in with a local church of their choosing every Sunday for a year. This Operation aims to provide a more long-term solution to some offenses and is projected to save $75 a day per inmate. Only churches are participating in the Operation because there are no synagogues/mosques/temples in the region.

And it is also being sued by the ACLU on the claims that the city government is forcing religious participation (surprise!?!?).

I am guessing that most of you agree with me that it is not exactly ethical to offer such choices to people, but what is really interesting me is the long-term solution approach: The fact that the judicial system is willing to address how to really fix the problem is a good sign.

But how do you really fix the problem in the long run without encountering ethical problems? Sure, forcing people to go to church may reduce the offenses a little bit by providing the offenders a potential community, but then how do you reconcile the fact that you are telling people to go to church?

This reminded me of a piece by Malcolm Gladwell from a while back - in which Gladwell discussed unconventional approaches to solving some of the hardest problems in America today. He talked about offering free housing/food to the chronic homeless with virtually no conditions – giving them chance after chance even though there are other people who “deserve” more help – such as single mothers working three jobs – arguing that this aids the chronic homeless more and saves the system a tremendous amount of money in the long run. There is certainly a lot of room for ethical debate in these types of tactics.

But going back to the Operation, sure, the approach sucked. It favors Christians, it forces people to go to church because to be honest, would you rather go to church every Sunday or go to jail everyday? Its primary rationale lies somewhere on the line of “You show me somebody who falls in love with Jesus, and I’ll show you a person who won’t be a problem to society” (trust me, I can certainly name more than a handful of “Christian” lunatics). It’s most likely against the Constitution and it is definitely not something that immediately provokes a “Wow! Good idea!” response from the general population.

But the motive – the idea of trying something “different” that just might solve the problem is something worth applauding. In the heart of Dixie, the state where the phrase “Pro-Choice” is usually not met with popularity, a better choice can be offered to these minor offenders, and I believe that although the Operation is not going in the right direction, it certainly has the right idea – simply putting people in jail does not solve problems. There will be some tough ethical questions to answer, but I hope my state recognizes its mistakes and improve for the better.

P.S. On a kind of related side note: While imprisoned in Birmingham, Alabama, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr wrote a famous letter to various churches and clergymen. I find this connection to be interesting.

There is probably not much debate on whether her action was humane or not, what I think really is worth talking about is Mark Bittman’s response in the New York Times. Bittman argues that we torture animals everyday in meat factories and we make it okay because we eat the animals (warning: he included some really graphic videos). The fact that a teenager is charged with a federal felony for killing a hamster while industries get away with grinding up 200 million chicks alive in a year is something that really troubles me.

Humans as a species have succeeded in evolution so successfully that we are hands-down on the top of the food chain. We have the ability to eat what we want and the power to bring many species of animals to extinction if we want to (or even when we don’t want to). We rarely have to worry about being overpowered by other animals, and as cliché as this sounds, we have the responsibility to go along with the power we have to make ethical decisions. I am by no means telling people to all turn vegetarians or vegan (I am definitely not one), but I think it is important to think about what makes mass killing animals for food okay and killing one hamster not.

How do we decide which animals are more important than others? Do we base it on the intelligence of the animals? (I’m pretty sure that pigs are smarter than hamsters.) The ability to perceive pain, death, or self-identity? We can buy rat poison in stores, but killing a pet mouse via poison would be animal torture, how do we explain that? Why is it socially acceptable to eat certain non-endangered animals and unacceptable to eat others?

It seems like the “purpose” of the animals is all that matters to humans instead of what species they are, and that seems to me a very subjective line and in a way, an irresponsible way to define things. I think the ultimate question comes down to how to balance human needs and wants with those of other living beings.

(Thanks to Christian for giving me this awesome link and some great ideas for the post)

Instead, I want to talk about the unnecessary rigidity with which we enforce rules today. Instead of making rules a flexible code by which to properly keep order and respect in society, we have, in many cases, allowed rules to become elevated to sacrosanct status. Instead of looking at the pros and cons of enforcing a rule in any given situation, we repeat the mantra that “rules are rules” and the punishment must be enforced no matter the situation.

One of the best speakers I have seen on this subject is Barry Schwartz, who within this excellent TED talk (it’s long, but worth it) tells the story of a professor who accidentally gave his young son a “Mike’s Hard Lemonade” and nearly ended up losing custody of him.

Schwartz emphasizes that in nearly every step of the process, the hospital workers, social workers or judges told this man that “they wished they didn’t have to” enforce whatever sanction they were upon him. Schwartz tells us, they didn’t have to at all.

For another example, which resonates with me personally as I attended school at Fairfax County, check out this Time Magazine column comparing a recent Fairfax County “drug” violation of a high school football player with the recent, controversial decision by BYU to suspend one of their star basketball players. The tragic incident in Fairfax County, in which the 15 year old, after being expelled and told he would have to transfer took his own life, is not an isolated occurrence. Here is yet another example in Fairfax County from the Washington Post of a girl who was expelled for bringing in her own prescription medication.

I can understand the need for schools to create strict drug and alcohol related laws, and I sympathize with the difficulty administrators must face while trying to keep schools safe and drug free. But, is there really no room in the system for flexibility and understanding? Do we really need to penalize a young girl who brings in prescription acne medication the same as a student who knowingly brings illegal drugs like marijuana to school?

Ultimately, I think the question comes down to: are rules being enforced just because they exist, with no regard to context, or is there a greater purpose and meaning to them? Rules, like Schwartz says, are too often put into place so people don’t have to think. Why think carefully about the conditions and context of a child bringing prescription medication to school if we can just rely on the “rules” and expel her? Are we really content living in a society where rules have been placed so high on a pedestal that we have stopped thinking about…well, anything?

Photo via Impressions of Saratoga Online

Everyone knows drinking alcohol and driving vehicles don’t make a good match. But what about handling other means of transportation while under the influence of drugs or alcohol? Recently, a public safety ad in Montana which broadcasts catching a ride home with a horse as a metaphor for finding a safe ride home is now actually calling into question whether riding your horse home while intoxicated is illegal.

According to Montana law, horseback riding while drunk is, in fact, legal, as an animal is not lawfully defined as a vehicle (this isn’t the case in Colorado). So should Duke consider installing a safe-ride horse service to take students between East and West campus post-Wednesday-night Shooters (it may get you home faster than waiting for that C-2)? Not quite.

The larger issue at hand is what, exactly, it means to have a “safe ride.” The point of the public safety ad was not that drunk people should now start riding their horses around (although it was interpreted that way by many Montana residents given the horse culture there) but rather that an intoxicated person should make sure s/he has a ride home of which s/he is fully aware and in control. Which probably isn’t a horse.

On a college campus, there is always discussion about drinking alcohol and staying safe. Though it’s pretty strange to think about horses as a ride home, are some of the ways Duke students get home any safer? Is walking home drunk safe enough? What about flagging down the Jimmy John’s car? The dangers of drinking don’t stop at operating machinery. When you’re intoxicated, your judgment is impaired. This is the case whether you’re getting in your car or someone else’s, your motorcycle, your Nimbus 2000, and yes, even when you’re walking. The important part is to make sure you’re with someone you can trust to be monitoring the situation for things you may not notice in your après- St. Patrick’s Day haze. Tragedy involving alcohol can occur in any situation whether or not vehicles are involved; in fact, it happened here on campus this year.

We need to make Duke an even safer place for those who decide to drink. True, we have a bus system and a van service, if you’re so inclined to wait between 20 and 45 minutes at 1:30 AM on a Saturday.  Which you probably aren’t. How about a walking service, in which Duke provides a trained official to make sure you walk back safe to the boondocks that is Edens Quad? How about offering students safe rides in a more timely fashion so they aren’t standing in the cold or, more likely, stumbling back to their dorm by themselves? If the Duke administration is really as committed to keeping its students as safe as it claims, new ideas need to be encouraged and implemented with all due speed. In the meantime, if springtime in Durham leads you to party it up, leave your horse at home.