Unholy Alliance: America's Tacit Support For Ukrainian Extremists

Members of the far-right Azov Battalion

HonorSociety.org just published my latest article today. In this one, I address America's support for the new Ukrainian government, which is not only soft on neo-Nazis and other assorted extremists but in fact employs their services as well as it carries out it's "anti-terrorist operation" in that nation's eastern region. It's funny because I was aware of this development for some time, but the insanity of it fully dawned on me only when I sat down and wrote this piece. I must confess, I hope you feel that way as you're reading it, because it really is shocking. The original article can be accessed here, or read in it's entirety below.

                                                         Unholy Alliance: America's Tacit Support For Ukrainian Extremists

Last December, an issue of Elle magazine featuring an article about young Ukrainian Vita Zaverukha hit the newstands. At just 19 years old, Zaverukha has taken up arms and joined one of the many ragtag militias fighting alongside the Ukrainian military against Russian-speaking rebels in the nation's eastern region. Although there are thousands fighting (to say nothing of dying) in that conflict, Zaverukha's youth and, yes, her gender apparently made her heads and shoulders above other Ukrainians in the eyes of Elle, which adoringly lauded her as "brave". The magazine even went as far as to equate her with Joan of Arc, albeit one who traded in her sword and mail armor for an RPG and army fatigues. Perhaps to Westerners like us, safely watching the violence (if we're even watching it at all) from miles and miles away, a 19-year old girl might take up arms to defend her country against separatists is a novelty warranting media coverage, and to that extent, we can't really hold it against Elle. But as it turns out, Elle missed one very significant, one very unfortunate fact when they were writing their puff piece about Vita Zaverukha: she is a neo-Nazi.

Unsurprisingly, upon learning of Zaverukha's penchant for "Nazism, terror, [and] genocide" and posting Facebook pictures of herself with her arm raised in the infamous Roman salute, Elle's editorial board issued a statement condemning racism and extremism - six months after the article was published and without specifically mentioning her. A very embarrassing oversight on the part of Elle for sure, but nobody was actually hurt, right? The problem, though, is that the people eulogizing or otherwise supporting Ukrainian militants are hardly relegated to the Parisian fashion scene and away from the levers of power. On the contrary, Congress, in the form of the House Rules Committee, voted down an amendment to the 2015 National Defense Authorization Act last year barring neo-Nazis and other extremists in Ukraine from receiving U.S. weapons, supplies, and training. That anyone in their right mind would oppose a measure like this is mind-boggling enough, but what makes it all the more baffling is that the Committee was pressured to reject it by, among others, the Anti-Defamation League and the Simon Wiesenthal Center. When confronted about the blatant absurdity of an organization dedicated to fighting anti-Semitism and other forms of hatred lobbying for the defeat of a measure to keep American weapons and tactical know-how out of the hands of avowed fascists, an ADL representative effectively shrugged his arms and said "the focus should be on Russia," without bothering to explain just why the focus should be on that country or for that matter how pushing American policy in a hostile direction towards a particular country combats intolerance. Perhaps if this statement were made by the John Birch Society it wouldn't be unexpected, but the fact that it was made by a representative of a centre-left, anti-racist group reveals the lengths to which many Americans are willing to go to zero in on Moscow's alleged perfidy while minimizing the disturbing ideology and flagrant abuses of those fighting for Kiev.

Indeed, any mention of the far-right leanings of a significant minority of the figures fighting for or tied to the new Ukrainian government has been dismissed as Russian propaganda for the past year, with those pointing it smeared as "Kremlin trolls" or "Putinbots". Nowadays, however, even the most hawkish pundits and commentators are forced to acknowledge the nature of the regime they went to bat for, with the imminently-interventionist Daily Beast grudgingly admitting, "In some ways the incessant, noxious, and once seemingly absurd Russian propaganda has become a self-fulfilling prophecy: The U.S. government is knowingly training and arming neo-Nazi Ukrainian ultranationalist paramilitary members in broad daylight in an unstable country with an unclear future. Nineteen million dollars is going into this. We are all paying for it, there is no denying this one." Astonishingly, even as The Daily Beast concedes there was truth to the "Russian propaganda", it refuses to recognize the perceptiveness of those who tried to shine a light on said truth, referring to them as "incessant" and "noxious". Even when they're right, they're wrong, The Daily Beast seems to be saying, undoubtedly in an attempt to downplay their lack of foresight. In all fairness, you probably would be doing the same if you didn't see how a government that proudly displayed a portrait of a one-time Nazi collaborator outside it's headquarters could attract legions of white supremacists to it's ranks.

Some might counter that while a number of the militants fighting against the Russian rebels are fascists, they are only a minority and thus not worth taking into account when considering the question of whether to support the post-Yanukovych Ukrainian government. This argument, however, ignores the degree to which said government is involved with these neo-Nazis. "We work with all defense systems of the government," brags Sergeant Ivan Kharkiv of the Azov Battalion, a militia whose symbol, despite constant denials on their part, unmistakably resembles a swastika and whose founder is an adherent of a political ideology he calls "social nationalism", a pathetic attempt at obfuscation via word play that should fool readers about as much as Monty Python's "Mr. Hilter" did. Furthermore, the government is not simply cooperating with national socialists, but it is effectively whitewashing any past crimes committed by them as well, as evidenced by two laws signed by President Petro Poroshenko that respectively criminalize speaking positively in any way about the nation's Soviet era and honor the Ukrainian Insurgent Army, a nationalist group that fought alongside the Nazis against the Red Army and massacred thousands of people belonging to ethnic minority groups such as Poles. In short, praising or even mildly applauding the Soviet Union's victory over Nazi Germany in World War II is a punishable offense in the new Ukraine, while known Nazi collaborators and racists are celebrated as national heroes. 

Of course, this is all just rhetoric so far, and at the end of the day, all these shocking statements and stances could just be hot air meant to rile up supporters, and if their actions don't match their appalling words, what's the big deal? This is a fair point: actions do speak louder than words, and what the Ukrainian government and it's extremist underlings' actions are saying is not very pretty. The New York Times reported last October that there is considerable evidence that the Ukrainian Army is not only indiscriminately shelling rebel-held cities such as Donetsk, but that it is also using cluster munitions, a type of weapon outlawed by most nations. Given the weapon's ability to release smaller "bomblets" that cause even more destruction and death, the Ukrainian military is putting the lives of thousands of civilians at risk, and judging by it's continued use of these munitions it couldn't care less. But the government's willingness to wage war on it's own people is not confined to shelling: it has also launched air strike after air strike in pursuit of the rebels, killing untold numbers of civilians and earning nothing more from President Obama than praise for "an incredible outpouring of democracy" and the government's demonstrably-empty promise to "reject violence". Nor is the conduct of the various nationalist battalions mobilizing on behalf of Poroshenko's government what one would call becoming. In it's report on the government-aligned Aidar Battalion, Amnesty International opens up with a quote from one of the battalion's commanders. "It's not Europe, it's a bit different... there is a war here. The law has changed, procedures have been simplified... If I choose to, I can have you arrested right now, put a bag over your head and lock you up in a cellar for 30 days on suspicion of aiding separatists," the commander chillingly revealed. The report continues to reveal a series of war crimes committed by the battalion, which Amnesty describes as having a reputation amongst civilians for "brutal reprisals, robbery, beatings, and extortion". Amnesty concluded by urging the government to rein in Aidar and investigate the abuses it documented. To this day, the only action Kiev has taken against the battalion is dropping prosecutorial immunity for two MPs connected to the battalion, whilst Aidar at large continues to run rampant.

With all this in mind, is it any wonder that young, able-bodied Ukrainians are refusing to enlist in the army despite Poroshenko's attempts to conscript soldiers for his "anti-terrorist operation" and fleeing en masse to Russia, the supposed existential threat to all that is Ukrainian? If the threat were as real and the government as popular as many claim it is, Kiev would have no problem rallying fighters against the rebels. Instead, the government is forced to rely on neo-Nazi militias that preach hate and commit war crimes because they are the only ones who believe this is a cause and a government worth fighting for. Even more astonishingly, our government believes this regime deserves support, not just rhetorically but materially as well. This is why American paratroopers are training Ukrainian soldiers in counterinsurgency tactics and why both houses of Congress have pushed for arming Ukraine with lethal weapons (because cluster bombs apparently aren't enough). I am fully aware that politics is a often-difficult topic for many to wrap their heads around. I am also fully aware that this difficulty is magnified a thousand times when the political topic in question is foreign affairs. That being said, I think a good rule of thumb that even somebody who failed high school civics could not only understand but quite eloquently uphold as well is "don't give neo-Nazis or people allied with them grenade launchers". Unfortunately, it seems like the only people who don't get this rule run our government.

Theatre Review: Hydrogen Jukebox @ CRAFTED At The Port Of Los Angeles 6/06

Magical. That's one, succinct way to describe Long Beach Opera's production of Allen Ginsberg's and Philip Glass's 1990 chamber opera Hydrogen Jukebox. Magical was the heart the actors poured into their respective parts. Magical was the interpretation of Glass's music by the in-production ensemble. Magical was the analysis of the themes Ginsberg selected for dwelling upon. It truly was, as LBO Creative Director Andreas Mitisek said the late Ginsberg hoped it would be, "hallucinogenic". Hallucinogenic not in the sense of tinkering with one's brain chemistry through artificial and usually illicit means (an example being the "Ginsberg brownies" my brother, who accompanied me, and I were offered upon entering the warehouse where the show took place. We politely declined, citing full stomachs), but in the sense of warping the universe, of fundamentally altering the way you perceive things through good old-fashioned intellectual and artistic stimulation. This is the best kind of high there is, and it can only be provided by exceptional shows, nay, experiences, like LBO's Hydrogen Jukebox.

I say experience rather than show because Hydrogen Jukebox was just that, thanks in no small part to the talent and effort of the actors. Although the cast included a respectable number of characters, the only one with a clearly defined role was the Poet, a role that didn't so much replace the position of narrator that Ginsberg filled in the original production as it did pay homage to him and his turn in said position. Stepping into Ginsberg's shoes was none other than Michael Shamus Wiles, known to many as the Sam Elliot-esque ASAC George Merkert from Breaking Bad. In what couldn't be a more stark departure from the clean-cut ruggedness of that role, Wiles donned a white robe, kippah, and beard to portray the Poet, although he continued to radiate the impression of authority he brought to his previous role. So effective was he that it was only after the production that I realized that it was him, and only because I perused the playbill. If I had never done that, I might never have realized I had seen Wiles act before, much less that he possessed such an impressive range. For the majority of the play, he remained in an elevated platform made to resemble a loft, from which he alternatively sat at a typewriter and keenly observed the action taking place below on the performance space. There was no shortage of action for him and the audience, for that matter, to watch, as the rest of the cast was constantly active from the moment the wooden platform holding them all was first wheeled in from behind the curtain and onto the performing space.

Ringing them in was Roberto Perlas Gomez, whose stout baritone, central position, and confident delivery of "Iron Horse Part I" established him as the apparent leader of the group, all of whom were clad in black attire. From this point on, the actors' sung, danced, writhed, mimed warfare, rolled out aluminum foil and lay still on it, and whatever else the plot, as inscrutable as it was, dictated. The various activities gave each performer a chance to shine, and the lack of a proper stage allowed for the cast to develop even stronger connections with the audience. This was seen during the second song, "Iron Horse Part II", when the actors slowly walked past the audience and sang Ginsberg's words in the ominous style that is so characteristic of Glass's music. My particular section was passed by Ashley Knight, a soprano, who delivered the cynical lyrics in such a way that they sounded not only menacing, but beautiful as well. Her moving delivery, made even more apparent by the close proximity between us and her, went a long way in bringing the lyrics to life, which is quite a feat when the lyrics in question were penned by the often-abstract Allen Ginsberg. Occasionally, Shamus, in his role as Poet, would interject, whether it be by simply delivering a monologue in "Ayers Rock/Uluru Song" or emitting an ouright-primal scream as he did at the beginning of "Jahweh And Allah Battle". Thanks to changes in action and thus atmosphere like this, the emotional impact of Hydrogen Jukebox was strengthened, a raw testament to the ability of the cast.

Of course, the emotional impact was equally furthered by the music of the production. Under the capable direction of Kristof Van Grysperre, the ensemble provided an engaging, solid foundation for the show's other component elements. The repetitive keyboard passages of "Iron Horse Part II" contributed to the feeling of dread that particular song cultivated, and the fast-paced percussion of "Jahweh And Allah Battle" added a base layer of intensity that suited that piece exceedingly well. The performers themselves were energetic, with the flautist leaving the music pit during "Howl Part II" and switching his flute for a saxophone, with which he gently bombarded the audience as he raced across the performing space. The musicians who stole the show though, were the two keyboardists, who quite literally set the tone of the production. Having selected vibrant keyboard settings, they capably bestowed upon the music that electronic-but-emotional quality that Philip Glass brings to all his compositions. They were not afraid to change gears when the music required it, however. Indeed, these moments were some of the most powerful in the show. The first was during "Ayers Rock/Uluru Song", when one of the keyboardists switched to a contemplative organ setting and played the song's opening notes, establishing the reflective nature of the song. The second took place in "Wichita Vortex Sutra", in which the other keyboardist took center stage - both figuratively and literally - as a piano was moved to the middle of the performing space. She proceeded to play passionately, with the only accompaniment being Wiles just as passionately reciting Ginsberg's lyrics as the platform he remained in moved around the warehouse. In short, these two musicians were, as the kids might say, "beast".

By remarkable coincidence, one of the subjects Hydrogen Jukebox concerned itself with was the bestial. In fact, the play opens up with what appears to be an analysis - in that esoteric Ginsberg way, of course - of militarism and imperialism, twin bugaboos of Beat writers like Ginsberg and libertarian bloggers like yours truly. Although the American imperial project appears unstoppable like the titular "Iron Horse", Gomez sings of an apocalyptic prophecy against which we cannot even make war against, the only thing we are good at apparently, and which Shamus laments that it's "too late" to prevent: the Fall of America. The show continues exploring this theme in "Iron Horse Part II", where the cast exposes the senselessness of American foreign policy by ironically posing such questions as "who is the enemy, year after year?" As someone who was born right before the Soviet Union collapsed, watched Rugrats while Bill Clinton bombed Sudan, Afghanistan, and Yugoslavia in addition to enforcing arguably genocidal sanctions on Iraq, saw the planes hit the Twin Towers on TV, witnessed the American-led overthrow of Saddam Hussein and Muammar Gaddafi, the killing of Osama Bin Laden, an aborted attempt to bomb the forces of Bashar al-Assad, the rise of ISIS and a revived Cold War between the U.S. and Putin's Russia, this question really resonates for me, as I imagine it does for others of my age group. Wiles' piercing scream signaled the start of "Jahweh And Allah Battle", which covered similar ground, albeit with a religious twist. Both gods (i.e. Israelis and Palestinians, Americans and Russians, etc.) are "terrible", both are "illusions", yet both are driven to determine which is "stronger" and which is able to give the most "frightening command". Where this leads we do not have to wonder, for the cast tells us that Hitler, Stalin, Ben-Guiron, Nasser, My Lai, Lidice, Buchenwald, and other assorted malcontents and atrocities "sent me here", here being wherever tyranny and inhumanity reign.

But the show did not dwell on destruction and death alone: after "Jahweh And Allah Battle", it explored love in "To P.O.", a paean to one Peter Orlovsky, the love of Ginsberg's life. For this segment of the program, the Poet climbed down from his perch and joined tenor Todd Strange on the wooden platform. The impression of love Wiles projected was palpable, so much so that one could be forgiven if they for a moment believed that Ginsberg himself was embracing his lover one last time. Love was also the subject of "The Green Automobile", in which the lights turned green and the cast lined up behind each other before running across the performing space in unison. They moved in search of love, much as Neal Cassady, the inspiration for the song, once did when he drove Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac and later on Ken Kesey's infamous bus across America. But as is so often the case, the good times did not last. The specter of conflict returns in "Nagasaki Days/Everybody's Fantasy Large", originally written as a hyperbolic reaction to the harnessing of nuclear energy for peaceful purposes but wisely reinterpreted as the aftermath of a nuclear war that reduced New York City, along with the rest of the world, to rubble. The piece was most effective when one of the actresses' sang a haunting, wordless melody to the lone accompaniment of a bass drum as the rest of the cast remained still, lifeless, on the foil sheet rolled out for the song. Although there is no hope for man, we learn there is hope for other forms of life in the next song, "Ayers Rock/Uluru Song". The "lizard people" and the "kangaroo people" manage to survive the cataclysm, although not unscathed, for they have "lost their song", no doubt a result of man's last war. At this point, the Poet once again intervenes, his hand forced by the chaos he has just witnessed and breaks into "Wichita Vortex Sutra". Traveling across the room, he unleashes a stream-of-conscious rant, lamenting his age, his loneliness, the way war has shaped our language, and invoking the holy names of Ramakrishna, Harekrishna, Jesus, Jahweh and Allah, for all their aforementioned flaws, and the "invisible father of English visions" himself, William Blake, in the hope that they will be able to help him make his own "Prophecy". Perhaps this heartfelt appeal will be enough to end the madness.

Sadly, the answer seems to be no, as the next and final song is "Father Death Blues". As noted before, all good things must come to an end, including life, the very best thing. This does not mean we have to raise our arms in despair and go gently into the night. We should come to terms with the finite nature of our existence and make the most of it, as the cast does when they thank Teacher Death for "inspiring me to sing this blues". It was a very beautiful blues indeed, right up until the moment Gomez sang his last solo while the platform the cast rode in on reeled back behind the curtain, locking sorrowful eyes with the Poet and revealing at last that his "heart was still, as time will tell" before disappearing. Even as I write this, I can still feel the sorrow, the love, the magic from that moment, and all I can say in conclusion is thank you Hydrogen Jukebox, for showing us this blues.

Book Review: Franz Kafka's "The Castle"

Earlier this week I wrote a review of Franz Kafka's The Castle for HonorSociety.org. It's been a while since I sat down and analyzed a serious work of fiction like this, so it was sort of like getting back into the groove of things for me. At the start of the piece, I note superficial similarities between the book and Twin Peaks, one of my favorite shows, in a joking manner, but upon second thought, I think the similarities could run deeper than I thought when I first wrote this. For example, both end due to circumstances beyond the creator's control, leaving readers/viewers with, depending on how they interpret it, a) a cliffhanger in which the fate of the protagonist is unresolved or b) a downbeat ending where the protagonist is doomed. I'll leave it at that and leave you with the review. You can access the original article here or read it in it's entirety below.
                                     
                                                                                          Book Review: Franz Kafka's The Castle

An eccentric-but-capable government functionary arrives in a remote town populated by quaint folk and enlists their aid in getting to the bottom of a mystery that leads him down a long and winding road filled with frustrating set-backs and shocking revelations. No, this is not a synopsis of Twin Peaks, the classic 90's TV series created by surrealist filmmaker David Lynch. This is a synopsis of The Castle, the second unfinished novel written by absurdist author Franz Kafka. Unfinished not because of Kafka's untimely death, but because of his inability to find a suitable ending, as he explained to his dear friend and literary executor Max Brod. It is a shame that readers can only speculate on what the ultimate fate of K. (the aforementioned eccentric-but capable government functionary) is, but what Kafka did leave us with is an intriguing account of a slow-placed existentialist nightmare, one that makes it's dreary way to it's uncertain conclusion.

At the very beginning of the book, Kafka lets readers know what they're in for. After a presumably long journey, K. arrives late at night just outside the village. Before making his way into the village and from there the titular castle, we learn that, "K. stood for a long time gazing into the illusory emptiness above him" (pg. 3), a statement which could easily summarize the experience of readers as they make their way through The Castle. A land-surveyor, K. claims to the townsfolk that he was summoned by the bureaucracy operating from within the castle and seeks to know what his function in his new home is, only to to be referred to Klamm, the elusive resident of the castle and an enigmatic figure of whose appearance the villagers can only agree on one thing: "he always wears the same clothes, a black morning coat with long tails" (pg. 231). From here on out, Kafka's tale chronicles the various twists and turns that K. futilely attempts to navigate in his search for the rarely-seen castle authority. He moves from villager to villager, official to official, in the hope that the next person he speaks with will be able to grant him an audience with Klamm only to learn each time that not only is that person unable to put him in touch with Klamm, but he has even more hurdles to overcome, whether they be seeking out other supposedly well-connected individuals or the byzantine bureaucratic procedures that Kafka is so famously fond of describing. For instance, he learns early on that Frieda, a former barmaid at the Herrenhof inn, is Klamm's lover and promptly initiates a romantic relationship with her in the belief that marrying her will bring him closer to his goal. However, she proves like the others to be unable to secure a meeting with Klamm, and K. pushes her to the side for the bulk of the novel and only expresses regret when Frieda leaves him for Jeremiah, who ironically was sent by Klamm to assist K.

Many of the characters K. encounters on his quest are strange or simply finding themselves in strange circumstances. The aforementioned Jeremiah and his associate Arthur are assistants assigned to K. in order to make his experience in the village enjoyable, although K. finds himself irritated by their excessively-attentive attitude, as seen when they take it upon themselves to sleep in the same room as K. and Frieda when they stay at the schoolhouse and get him fired from his post as janitor when they break into a nearby woodshed to get firewood and blame him for the damage. Another more tragic example is Amalia, sister of castle messenger Barnabas and thus worthy of K.'s attention. Although K. approaches Olga, her older sister, in order to get information about her, he abandons his plans when he learns from Olga that she as a whole have been ostracized in the community ever since one particularly lecherous castle functionary named Sortini made sexual advances that she rejected, bringing shame upon the family as a whole. These characters appear and then fade into the background, returning to the forefront only when K. has reason to believe they can help him. Some readers might take away nothing from these these interactions and events other than that they seem unconnected and meaningless, and in their defense, they are right. At first glance, they appear to be unfruitful wastes of time for both K. and the reader, but as the beginning of the book said, the emptiness is illusory. All the running back and forth, all the conversations that go nowhere, all the relationships that fade away: is this not an apt description of modern life? All this in pursuit of the same thing as K.: purpose, although one can only wonder how much purpose someone whose name means "illusion" in Czech, one of the languages Kafka was fluent, in can confer. Indeed, K.'s faith in Klamm is misplaced as by the novel's abrupt end, he is no closer to Klamm than he was at the book's beginning.

Understandably, however, many might be turned off by not only the soul-crushing story unfolding before them but also by the dispassionate and at times outright dull way it is told. Without sympathy and without malice, Kafka chronicles K.'s travails in a matter-of-fact manner so utterly devoid of emotion that it would make Mr. Spock green with envy. It is well-known among Kafka fans that the tales he weaves are infinitely more interesting than the prose in which he writes them, but new readers might find it hard to work through. The silver lining of Kafka's clinical style of writing is that it doesn't leave much room for the rhetorical flourishes and narrative tangents that other authors are inclined towards, allowing him to get directly to the point when explaining a particular event or exchange. It also has the side effect of reinforcing the novel's existentialist sensibilities, in that the only meaning or sentiments readers discern in the text are ones the reader makes out of them. Only a fool would go as far to say that Kafka wrote the book without any emotions or feelings whatsoever, but he did manage to write in such a way that they did not manifest in the prose, which is quite an accomplishment in this writer's eyes.

Like Kafka's other unfinished novel The Trial, The Castle paints a picture of despair, where action is futile and purpose is an illusion at best and a lie at worst. Unlike the similarly-named protagonist of The Trial, K. is an agent of the system rather than a target of it, yet in the end he is just as much a victim of it as Josef K. It seems that in the world envisioned by Kafka, there is no escape from this system, as it ultimately gets what it wants, however inscrutable it may be, whether it be by executing those, like Josef K., who rebel against it or stripping of purpose those who attempt to abide by it, as happened with K. No escape, save for one. While K. is bickering with the landlady of the Herrenhof, she calls him the most ignorant man in the village and warns him against continuing his pursuit of Klamm. Undeterred, K. responds, "Of course I'm ignorant, that's an unshakeable truth and a sad truth for me, but it gives me all the advantage of ignorance, which is greater daring, and so I'm prepared to put up with my ignorance, evil consequences and all, for some time to come, so long as my strength holds out. But these consequences really affect nobody but myself, and that's why I simply can't understand your pleading," (pgs. 72-73). In a world that can at times be truly Kakaesque, the only real consolation is coming to terms with your deficiencies, mapping and going your own way. This is the message from The Castle, a highly-recommended cautionary tale for readers still trying to make their way through young adulthood and by extension life itself.

Double Your Major, Double Your Worth: Why Students Should Pursue Double Majors

HonorSociety.org published another article of mine last weekend. I honestly did not expect it to be published so quickly, so I didn't find out until Monday, and am only now sharing it at this ungodly hour. This particular article is about the advantages of partaking in a double major program, or at least what I perceive to be the advantages of doing such. I must confess that I myself did not pursue one, and so it is in hindsight that I wrote this. Regardless, I hope any young undergrads reading this are able to take it to heart or at least consider it. The original article can be accessed here, or read in it's entirety below.

                             Double Your Major, Double Your Worth: Why Students Should Pursue Double Majors

As increasing numbers of Americans enroll in universities, students often find themselves concerned that they either do not stand out or have the necessary knowledge or skills to make themselves highly desirable to employers and grad schools. This is because, as the number of Americans attending college grows, so does the amount of degrees given out. Although on the face of it it seems a good idea, having a larger number of people going to college has the unintended side effect of lowering the perceived value of bachelor's and other undergraduate degrees. After all, if everybody has a bachelor's degree now, what makes you so special? This has lead to many of my friends and relatives lamenting that undergraduate degrees have become like high school degrees, in that whereas both once guaranteed employment in certain kinds of work, neither can assure any such thing in the current economic environment. One way is to participate in extracurricular activities like student government and community service to demonstrate you have aptitude and interests outside of the academic sphere. But what about students who went to go on to grad school or straight into fields like journalism or writing? What can one do to stand out from thousands of other students who took the same classes, got the same grades, and ultimately got the same diploma? The answer is to widen the scope of your diploma, something that can be accomplished simply by enrolling in a double major program.

Of course, young undergrads may understandably be loath to consider such a course of action. After all, many feel they have enough work and stress to cope with as it is, so why double the burden? Well, for one thing, the benefits may very well outweigh the costs. While it is true you will have more requirements to complete, you will also have more information to draw from multiple areas of study, something that employers and grad school admissions officers will look favorably upon as it demonstrates that you have knowledge of and competence in multiple subjects rather than just a single, narrowly-defined one. A magazine that covers political news and events will be up to it's ears in applicants who studied political science, but how many of these applicants studied political science and, say, English? Not only will someone who studied these two topics have the knowledge of politics necessary to write for such a paper, but their knowledge and experience with English means they will be able to write in a thoughtful, engaging manner that attracts readers and thus revenue. You would also increase the amount of grad schools you could apply to, as you would have a degree that establishes your capabilities in two subjects. This is, considering the highly competitive nature of graduate programs and likelihood that you won't end up at your dream school, something aspiring grad students should keep in mind. Another edge you would have over your peers is the wide network of contacts you will build over the course of your double major program. Grad schools require applicants submit up to three letters of recommendation, with many usually clarifying that said letters should be from professors. As a double major student, one would have the opportunity to cultivate lasting relationships with professors in two departments and by extension, have many options when it comes to requesting letters of recommendation. Options being, essentially, the fruit of the hard work that comes with a double major.

I say hard work not to discourage students, but to make sure they understand what is expected of them in such a program. The process of entering such a program varies from college to college, but applying is nothing compared to the requirements of such a program. On top of your general education requirements and those of your original major, you also have to complete all of the requirements of whichever secondary program you are enrolling in. This could mean taking summer classes or attending school for five years rather than four if you do not stay on top of your progress. I would like to note that these two scenarios are not necessarily bad: indeed, I myself completed work for my bachelor's degree during the summer, and I can hardly find anything bad to say about it. If you plan to graduate within the four years it takes most students to graduate, however, then you must take it upon yourself to make sure each class you enroll in brings you closer to completing your studies in either subject. This means planning early on, with freshman year being dedicated to getting as many as general elective courses out of the way as possible before you start doing pre-req's for either field you wish to pursue. Taking to a counselor or department advisor about your schedule and overall academic progress is highly advised, since they can identify any shortages that might arise as a result of doubling your degree requirements, and doubling your responsibilities. I know newly-admitted undergrads might not like to hear that word (believe me, I was one once), but think of it this way: if you have to eventually learn responsibility, why not learn it in a way and at a time that gives you a head-ups over others? It requires a lot of commitment and a lot of thought, but if you can muster either of these, then why not go for that double major?