By: Maxim Belov

Despite being backed by most policymakers, the 2001 invasion of Afghanistan was doomed to fail from the start. However, the Afghan quagmire did not result from military inferiority, rather from a strategic one. Our strategy was simple: win the war. Anything short of victory was a failure. On the other hand, the Taliban was fighting to survive; it could be killed but could not lose. While seemingly complex, most decisions during the war could be explained by Game Theory – an attempt at introducing mathematics into value-based decision making.

Under game theory, there are two possible games: finite and infinite. (more…)

by: Rachel Evans

photos from: IWD; The Huffington Post

March 8, 2017 : International Women’s Day. A day thousands across the world will celebrate the social, economic, cultural, and political achievements of women.  But as individuals across the world gather to celebrate their accomplishments, they also are gearing up to protest for today’s Day Without Women. (more…)

By: Jordan Auzenne

Photos from: Getty Images / Kevork Djansezian; Solange Knowles; Chris Pizzello/Invision/AP

Oscar’s Sunday 2017 was a foggy morning, but the weather matched the date. While I waited in line at Starbucks, actor and producer Tracee Ellis Ross seemed to confirm the overcast on my timeline, as she donned a grey sweatshirt, hood on, with the name “TRAYVON” written big, black and capital. It was February 26th, the 5th anniversary of his death. Yet almost as soon as the photo was posted, several commented that it wasn’t the Hollywood elite’s job to call the rest of us out, to “fix her makeup and get ready to celebrate herself”. I grabbed my black coffee and got to work.

The role of Black people in the media has always been a complicated one. As the Pew Research Center explained in 2016, African Americans only make up 5.5% of those in newsrooms, sets, and stages across America. Yet as Black artists like Ellis Ross attempt to use their platform to progress the narrative of blackness, they are being shut down. It’s clear that as Black culture and aesthetics are being featured in media now more than ever, we want to enjoy Black work, so long as they stay quiet.

The timeliest example of this is Queen Bey. Black history month kicked off with a brilliant exhibition of Black strength, beauty and artistry as Beyoncé announced her pregnancy, in a photo that would later become the most liked on Instagram. Immediately, outlets like VOX, Elle and even Cosmopolitan were quick to admonish her. One writer even argued that “Beyoncé alienates other women who wish to be pregnant”, completely overlooking her (and Black women’s) history of miscarriage.

What garnered the most backlash was her performance at the Grammy’s on Feb.12th, in which she donned a golden halo and bejeweled dress, giving off Virgin Mary vibes. As PBS speculated, her embodiment of Oshun, a Yoruba water goddess of “female sensuality, love and fertility,” was meant to pay respect to Black womanhood. But while columnists grappled with their conceptions of sacrilege, they missed an incredible point: that Beyoncé could be used as a performance, but not honored as an artist.

Beyoncé lost Album of the Year for the second time, to the fabulous and formidable Adele. As her younger sister, Solange, tweeted, “there have only been two black winners in the last 20 years for album of the year[.] there have been over 200 black artists who have performed”. She elucidates what several of us are realizing, that the music industry knows how powerful Beyoncé, and other artists like Kendrick, Kanye, and Nicki, have become. They recognize their influence in the community and their ability to innovate and redefine music, but only so far as to utilize their performance for viewership, then hand the award to someone else.

This cycle of exploitation occurs just as frequently in Hollywood, where certain movies can revolve around the concept of jazz without any recognition of the Black people who created it. Which is why the Academy Awards felt surreal this year. Even my RTF colleagues who adored La La Land admittedly agreed that a feel-good movie about Hollywood nostalgia shouldn’t be awarded over a film traversing the turmoil of intersectionality, of Black manhood and Black sexuality, a movie (FINALLY) where the characters weren’t either slaves or maids. What Moonlight accomplished was monumental. The low-budget indie film turned $1.5 million into $25, with an all-Black cast (including a fellow Longhorn), and little advertising. The anticipation going into Oscar’s Sunday was therefore unbearable.

The Academy Awards were in all sense of the phrase a “must see”. After 3 and a half hours, La La Land was initially announced as Best Picture, and as crew worked to fix the mistake, host Jimmy Kimmel “wanted to see [La La Land] win too”, arguing that “there are plenty of awards to go around.” It was producer Jordan Horowitz who mustered Adele-like grace, replying: “I’m going to be really proud to hand this to my friends at Moonlight.” But even in their accomplishment, they were overshadowed by whiteness.

As Bustle articulated this morning, “This should have been a moment for people of color…for LGBTQ individuals, for people living in marginalized communities. This should have been a moment for their stories to be celebrated and seen, and instead it was a moment that turned into a punchline.” Moonlight had time to vouch for both of the films, forgive the Academy, and leave the stage. People will talk about how happy they are that they won. Or maybe how Lion or Manchester should have. They’ll talk about how wonderful Janelle Monáe looked. But we’ll never talk about the speech, because it didn’t happen. Bustle continues, “We shouldn’t have been laughing. We should have been applauding, and then holding the Academy to the responsibility of maintaining or exceeding this standard next year.”

Yet, it’s still peculiar. How in 90 years, the Oscar’s made this mistake. Still peculiar how Black artists are remembered for amazing performances, but never awards. In a time where media is being threatened more than ever before, where media is the foundation of understanding people who are far away and different from us, it’s peculiar how it keeps getting whiter.

Blay, Zeba. “Beyoncé Has Always Been Political — You Just Didn’t Notice.” The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 09 Feb. 2016. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

Griffiths, Kadeen. “‘Moonlight’ May Have Won For Best Picture, But It Still Got Robbed.” Bustle. Bustle, 27 Feb. 2017. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

Mettler, Katie. “The African, Hindu and Roman Goddesses Who Inspired Beyoncé’s Stunning Grammy Performance.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 13 Feb. 2017. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

Midgette, Anne. “Beyoncé and the Apotheosis of the Pregnancy Announcement.” The Washington Post. WP Company, 02 Feb. 2017. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

Moore, Suzanne. “The Oscars Mix-up Matters Because This Night Was Always about Racial Bias.” First Thoughts. Guardian News and Media, 27 Feb. 2017. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

Vogt, Nancy. “African American News Media: Fact Sheet.” Pew Research Center’s Journalism Project. N.p., 15 June 2016. Web. 27 Feb. 2017.

The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Texas Speech team.

by: Alex Meed

photos from: Alex Meed; Texas Senate video feed

A loud, insistent series of beeps jolts me awake. Its source is my phone, where the numbers “5:30” appear in the corner of the tiny screen. My hands and feet move faster than my brain as I wash my face, comb my hair, don my suit, and scarf down a hasty breakfast before bolting out the door.

But this isn’t a tournament weekend, it’s a Thursday. My speech teammates are fast asleep, my Persuasive Speaking handouts left behind in my room. And a bit under two hours after I awoke, I would step through the North Entrance of the Texas Capitol.

On February 2, 2017, alongside hundreds of my fellow Texans, I testified against SB 4, a bill to ban sanctuary cities and revoke their state grant funding. It was my first ever time testifying—and it was exciting, nerve-racking, and thrilling all at once. I wanted to talk about my experiences, in the hopes that more of you will seek to replicate them.

I first heard about SB 4 when it showed up on my Facebook feed. I’d been following the case of Travis County Sheriff Sally Hernandez, who’d been embroiled in a fierce debate over her own sanctuary city policies. But when I saw that SB 4 was scheduled for a hearing, and how many people were planning to testify, I figured I’d add my own voice.

I decided to testify a few days before the hearing. On Tuesday evening, I started piecing together my testimony. I finished it up on Wednesday, printed it out, practiced a couple of times, and then went to sleep.

When I walked into the Capitol and found the Senate Chamber, one thing struck me: the crowd was massive. At 7:30a, an hour before the hearing, the second floor rotunda was already packed with people. And, reassuringly enough, many were against the bill. Those who testified during the hearing represented a vast cross-section of Texas, from immigration attorneys to members of the clergy to people who were themselves undocumented. Eventually, at around 1:15p, after I had heard so many people telling their stories and making their arguments, it was my turn.

I was a bit caught off guard when I was called. I didn’t have time to gather my notes before the committee chairman told me to begin. Fortunately, I already had a case planned out in my head, so I began along that course. My one-and-a-half minutes of testimony were short, and yet another drop in the bucket of testimony that would drench the committee. But even though I was trembling with nervousness—after all, I was seated before some of the most powerful people in Texas—I was glad to be making my case, and speaking on behalf of a cause I believed in.

cropped still frame from official hearing livestream, at timestamp 4:39:33

Despite our best efforts—and overwhelming opposition—SB 4 passed the committee later that evening on party lines, 7–2. That came as no surprise. Neither did its passage through the full Senate the following Wednesday. I’ve never subscribed to the delusion that stopping this bill would be easy, or that testifying would be sufficient. But I wanted to make sure that I helped amplify the voices of the most vulnerable of us all, of those whom SB 4 would marginalize. And even though the members of the committee in the end didn’t listen to our concerns, I wanted to make sure they heard us anyway.

A democracy requires that we, as citizens, speak up. There are many ways to do so, and testifying is only one of them. The resistance against a Trump and Abbott administration will force us to raise our voices and demand that those elected to represent us actually do so. Because even if they cover our ears and pretend to ignore us, they’re listening—and if they don’t listen to our words, they’ll listen to our votes.

Stay engaged. Stay informed. Texas Fight.

You can read my written testimony or watch my oral testimony (timestamp 4:38:30; Flash required). If you’re interested in testifying, I’ve published a comprehensive guide on how to do so.

The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s alone and do not necessarily reflect the views of the Texas Speech team.