Category: History Page 1 of 3

Roots and Resilience: Students Document Climate Change in Durham

On April 21, 2025

In Climate/Global Change, Environment/Sustainability, History, Humanities, Policy, Students

On Thursday, April 17, students from Duke’s course Climate, Culture and Identity held a screening for their documentary shorts focusing on how climate change has been impacting Durham and nearby communities. Led by Duke professors Saskia Cornes and Lauren Henschel, the class produced intellectually stimulating and inspirational documentary shorts.

Students in Climate, Culture and Identity. *Photo Credit: Shaun King, Duke*

“These are people who have never made films before,” said Cornes, an assistant professor of the practice of the John Hope Franklin Humanities Institute and program director of the Duke Campus Farm. “They’ve spent a lot of time thinking with really complicated texts, with works of poetry, a lot of really heavy critical theory, films, and documentaries,” pointing to the rows of both butterfly-bellied and proud students waiting to share their work with us.

Henschel, Instructor in the Department of Gender, Sexuality & Feminist Studies, director of Doc+ at Duke Center for Documentary Studies and a Duke alumna, added that “These films are more than assignments. They are meaningful contributions to an ongoing conversation. They expand what it means to do climate work by bringing academic ideas into dialogue with real lives, real communities and real urgency.” She also said, “Just 14 weeks ago, the students didn’t even know they’d be making a film in this course” for which they used nothing but their own phones and the help of their professors.

From left to right: Lauren Henschel and Saskia Cornes. *Photo Credit: Shaun King*, *Duke*

The four films featured in the screening were “The Roots of Environmental Justice: Legacy & Origins in Warren County,” made by students Laura Cai, Durga Sreenivasan and Audie Waller; “Where Justice Grows: Food, Care, and Collective Sustainability,” made by students Alayna Binder, Annie Carey and Bella Vieser; “Sowing Seeds of Conversation: Navigating the History of the Duke Campus Farm,” made by students Hunter Habersaat, Ilakkiya Senthilkumar and Jennifer Yoon, and “From the Holler to the Sea, I’ve Got You and You’ve Got Me,” made by students Reesey du Pont, Lilah Gorfain and Beatrice Ghosn. Two films stood out to me.

Audience watching student film, “The Roots of Environmental Justice: Legacy & Origins in Warren County.” *Photo Credit: Shaun King, Duke*

“Sowing Seeds of Conversation: Navigating the History of the Duke Campus Farm”

Shot at the Duke Campus Farm, this documentary short seeks to stitch together the joy of caring for the land at the Duke Campus Farm, and the muddied past of the area where the farm sits, in order to paint a complete picture of what the Duke Campus Farm means to its community. The students who created the film brought multiple perspectives forward, including conservationists, student volunteers, and Duke professors, intertwining these interviews with shots capturing the beauty of the farm.

The Duke Campus Farm is a place for many volunteers and workers to find peace and joy from nourishing. However, it is unclear if the farm sits upon land that once was plantation land where enslaved peoples were forced to work. As a result, the farm offers Duke students a chance to tend to soil marked by generations of violence, while also recognizing their place within a broader institution that has historically harmed marginalized communities. “That is what we want to highlight in our film, that you are doing something by being an active member of your community, and it matters,” said Yoon, who is studying biology at Duke. “You might just think this film is just a class project, but it’s really not because it’s making people’s voices heard and telling the story of the farm and how that affects people in Durham and whoever goes to volunteer.”

From left to right: Jennifer Yoon, Hunter Habersaat, and Ilakkiya Senthilkumar. *Photo Credit: Shaun King, Duke*

It is clear that these students were not afraid to tackle difficult topics, emphasizing the need to research the land’s unclear history so that Duke can acknowledge and implement it into the story of the Duke Campus Farm.

“From the Holler to the Sea, I’ve Got You and You’ve Got Me“

This documentary short focuses on Triangle Mutual Aid, a Research Triangle-based community-led initiative that supported Western North Carolina after the horrific destruction of Hurricane Helene.

Triangle Mutual Aid was quick to offer support, organizing the collection and delivery of supplies just days after the hurricane hit. However, none of this would have been possible without the caring people of Durham, who were promptly donating what they could to Triangle Mutual Aid’s drop-off locations.

The short emphasizes the difference between Mutual Aid and charity work. For one, Mutual Aid does not rely on a hierarchical power; anyone who wants to volunteer is appreciated, respected, and welcome to the community. Additionally, Triangle Mutual Aid prioritizes the relationships between those involved and the community, contributing to a better world, all while relying on the needs and desires of a community and the extent of help the volunteers can provide.

“I think a lot of times when you see pieces in the news after the devastation of hurricane Helene, or environmental disasters, you might see the words and maybe you start to absorb the words of folks, but to see them [the volunteers] on screen has a different effect for you as a viewer,” said Duke student Reesey du Pont, who is studying International Comparative Studies and Public Policy.

From left to right: Beatrice Ghosn, Lilah Gorfain, Reesey du Pont, and Lauren Henschel. *Photo Credit: Shaun King, Duke*

As someone from Asheville who saw the devastation of Helene affect my own community, family, and friends, getting to see the faces of those in the Durham community who were so responsive in the wake of the destruction made me feel grateful to be a part of this giving community.

Getting the opportunity to watch all four amazing documentary shorts was truly a pleasure. The students wove together the STEM world of environmental science and conservation and the humanities world of culture and documentary studies seamlessly, showing their true dedication to telling the stories of those involved in the Durham community. It is also clear how much the students look up to their professors, Saskia Cornes and Lauren Henschel, thanking them many times for all their help and guidance throughout the semester.

I hope that we all can learn from these documentary shorts and approach our lives as Durham residents differently, integrating ourselves into the generous community more while acknowledging the history of where we stand.

Sarah Pusser Class of 2028

So Much More Than Growing Plants: Gardening as a Practice of Reclamation, Identity and Legacy

By Gabrielle Douglas

On April 7, 2025

In Climate/Global Change, Environment/Sustainability, History

“The Garden is a healer… that’s just a fact.”

“When people come into my garden they see me.”

“The people in charge are not the ones that look like us.”

These were just a few of the powerful truths shared during the African American Legacy in Gardening and Horticulture Symposium on Saturday, March 29. In a space filled with stories, resistance and regeneration, I witnessed how gardening is much more than cultivation– it’s reclamation, identity and legacy.

Organized by the North Carolina Botanical Gardens, Durham County Library, Sarah P. Duke Gardens, and other community partners, the symposium brought together community members, horticulturalists, scholars, leaders and activists to exchange knowledge and experience. The day featured three rich sessions, each exploring different aspects of African American connections to land history and healing.

The Wisdom of Trees: Urban Forestry and Black Land Ownership in the Subaltern South

The first session explored the deeply rooted issues of Black land ownership, forestry, and land expression in the South. Moderated by Darrell Stover of the North Carolina Museum of Natural Sciences and North Carolina State University, the panel featured a series of powerful and passionate leaders and practitioners: Alton Perry, Director of the Roanoke Cooperative’s Sustaining Forestry and Land retention Project; Tyrone Williams, a third-generation landowner and nationally recognized tree farmer; and Michael Gibson, an internationally recognized topiary and property artist.

Gibson kicked off the discussion by reflecting on his personal relationship with nature. Beginning with simple yard work at just seven years old, he described how “what [he] thought was just a chore turned into a passion.” His words echoed a common theme among the panelists– many found healing and direction through their connection to forestry and the land.

Perry soon turned the conversation in a structural direction, detailing what it was like to be among the mere 4% of men in forestry who are African American. He explained how it was this disparity that motivated his work to support other Black landowners in managing their forest land and to “give them the empowerment to know their land matters.”

Williams shared similar sentiments as he described his journey towards making a name for himself within the field. He spoke of the significance of being part of the African American Tree Farm System and the importance of awareness within the community. “Everyone deserves to have beautiful stands of trees on their property,” he said, underscoring the need for both visibility and access in environmental spaces.

(From L to R: Darrell Stover, Michael Gibson, Tyrone Williams, and Alton Perry)

Black Roots in Gardening and Horticulture

The second session shifted from land to legacy, highlighting the power of storytelling, passion, and tradition in gardening and horticulture. In this conversation, gardens went beyond physical spaces and served as personal and cultural archives.

This session was moderated by Grammy Award-winning vocalist and founding member of the Earthseed Land Cooperative, Justin Robinson. The session brought together a group of incredibly talented and dynamic voices including: Wambui Ippolito, founding principal of Wambui designs; Derek Haynes, affectionately known as the “Chocolate Botanist,” a botanist with a vibrant social media presence; and Teri Speight, the author of the “Urban Garden” and “Black Flora.”

The conversation was heavily centered on African American influences in gardening and horticulture. Speight began the conversation, detailing her initial inspiration for gardening. She explained how the hydrangea served as a manifestation of a love for nature and work in the gardens, instilled by her parents. She further explained how the “bloom is endless,” amplifying the ways in which gardening spans across generations.

Following this, the conversation shifted into the inspirations held in gardening. Ippolito said what inspires her is “anything unspoiled by human hands.” She went on to explain how we often forget the ways that we are innately wired to perceive and appreciate natural landscapes—something she believes we must consciously reconnect with.

Haynes shared a key lesson that gardening has taught him: patience. He acknowledged how failure sometimes is inevitable, but clarified that patience allows him to recognize that his efforts “weren’t in vain.” Instead, he views each setback as a chance to “learn and process” making growth–both personal and botanical–possible.

(From L to R Justin Robinson, Wambui Ippolito, Derek Haynes, and Teri Speight)

Reclaiming Our Narratives: Amplifying Black Voices in Environmental Literature and Media

The final session shifted to focus on the deeply rooted relationship between African Americans and the natural world– despite long-standing narratives suggesting otherwise. This session was moderated by Dr. Zelda Lockhart, a writer, musician, and teacher. The session brought together a powerful group of thinkers and creators such as Dr. Jarvis McInnis, an Associate Professor of English at Duke University, and Dr. Chérie Rivers, an Associate Professor of Geography and Environment at the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill.

The conversation was centered on reclamation—of memory, space, and identity. Professor Rivers offered powerful insight that drew from Ross Gay’s “Inciting Joy” to reflect on the role of stories as seeds carried by our ancestors through every path of life. She described how we each hold stories someone saved for us, meant to nourish and grow our narratives again and again. She emphasized how these narratives are rooted in love and reflected through storytelling and conversation. For Rivers, education expands the repertoire of what we are capable of loving, and it is through education that she sees the most potential for transmitting and sharing these vital stories. “If we believe we are in a garden to sustain life then we will enact truth,” Rivers said.

McInnis challenged the notion that Black communities are disconnected from nature, emphasizing how stories and landscapes serve as bridges between past and present. He described this by pointing to literary traditions that capture Black ecological thought, reminding us that “it’s about beauty.” For McInnis, reclaiming the therapeutic nature of the land is deeply personal. He spoke of the desire to touch soil, to feel deeply connected, and to follow one’s intuition—acts that affirm both presence and belonging in the natural world.

(From L to R: Dr. Zelda Lockhart, Dr. Chérie Rivers, and Dr. Jarvis McInnis)

In tracing the land, legacy and storytelling, these conversations highlight how gardening goes beyond its physical act– it is a cultural practice, a form of resistance, and a path towards healing. For many African Americans, reclaiming connections to the Earth is not simply about growing plants, but nurturing memory, identity and community. Through these narratives, we are able to see that a garden is not only a site of cultivation, but also of restoration, power, and possibility.

*Post by Gabrielle Douglas, Class of 2027*

The Key to Transforming Minds

By Stone Yan

On February 19, 2025

In Faculty, History, Humanities, Religion, Uncategorized

Global wars. Ever-advancing artificial intelligence. Uncertain economic and job market prospects. Climate change. Amidst a world filled with change posing deep questions, could humanities provide counsel to our pressing issues and lead us towards more fulfilling, enriching daily experiences?

Last week, I had the privilege to speak with Divinity School and history professor Polly Ha, director of the Transformative Ideas program and co-lecturer of “The Good Life,” an acclaimed course exploring the intersection of religion, philosophy, and other ethical issues. “The Good Life” encouraged Duke students, hailing from all disciplines and backgrounds, to slow down and incorporate more reflection and intention into their everyday lives.

Duke professor Polly Ha, faculty in the Divinity School and director of the Transformative Ideas Program

Why is “slowing down” a key principle of “the Good Life”? As Ha pointed out, “it’s more stressful to try to slow down, to rest and reflect, than to take an exam for some students.” This powerful statement prompted me to reflect on my own experiences at Duke. Is it true that, amidst the hurries of daily academics and extracurriculars, merely pausing and thinking has become a difficult task? Perhaps so. If this is true for first-year students like me, how much more severe is this syndrome for upperclassmen undergraduate and graduate students?

Ha approaches this topic fully empathizing with the busy lifestyle so many of us lead. “As the daughter of immigrant parents, the pace of my life has always been highly accelerated. The challenge of trying to slow down is something I can definitely relate to,” she commented. Ha identified this as a key reason why she required her Fall 2024 cohort to write down their reflections in physical journals so they could more clearly see their own growth throughout the semester.

Encouraging Civility — A “Good Life” class is in session. Ha prepares to call on a student while Professor Abdullah Antepli of the Sanford School of Public Policy looks on.

The course professors also prepared students to engage in active civic discourse, a key pillar of the Transformative Ideas program. “Many students expressed that during our course, they felt understood and affirmed by their peers, sometimes for the first time,” Ha remarked. While she acknowledges that the class is not comprehensive in covering all thought-provoking, debatable issues of our day, Ha believes that her class prepares students to tackle all types of topics beyond the scope of the class. This is evident in the course’s continual evolvement to respond to our rapidly changing world: this year, she introduced lectures on transhumanism alongside ancient traditions.

This appealing curriculum is far from the only major project Ha is undertaking. As an active author, scholar, lecturer, and administrator, she currently devotes much time to writing her newest book, “The Future of Freedom,” and researching history and its lessons on freedom and liberty. She is also involved in a multitude of interdisciplinary projects at Duke and beyond linking history and theology to fields as diverse as bioethics and public policy.

Ha was gracious enough to provide me with a sneak peak of “The Future of Freedom.” In her words, this book is tailored not just to fellow academics but a broader audience, a read suitable for novices like me. Reading the first chapter, I was already transported into a world where grappling with heated topics is appreciated and celebrated. I especially enjoyed Ha’s continued use of rhetorical questions as she elucidated the modern threats against every liberty we cherish. Quotes like “Can we take freedom of conscience, thought, speech, consent, and action for granted?” challenged my perspective on my relationship to the ongoing battles surrounding surveillance capitalism and privacy protection—and whether I, an involved engineering student with aspirations in healthcare, have a role to play in this predicament. Given the captivating read, I am confident that Ha’s inquiry into 1600s England will enlighten many readers and portray the significance of history in our daily endeavors.

As we chatted about history’s place within a larger interdisciplinary web of research active on Duke’s campus, Ha provided two incredible insights that could not be neglected in this blog. Firstly, she described history as “a spine that connects to many ideas,” contrary to the popular notion that it is solely a window into the past. If history is by nature interdisciplinary, why are renowned historical works still solely focused on primary sources, dates, and battlefield events? According to Ha, Duke’s interdisciplinary research scene is especially strong. “For me, as someone coming from some specialized cultures that did not have the same interdisciplinary superhighways, this has been something I deeply value,” she remarked.

From teaching “The Good Life” to researching freedom’s past, present, and future, Ha has contributed much to our scholarly community. By bringing the humanities into conversation with twenty-first century challenges, and offering the immersive opportunities provided by Transformative Ideas, her work promises to sow the seeds in students that will sprout into exemplary lives.

Rethinking the Mutual Relationship Between Science and Justice

By Sarah Pusser

On November 16, 2024

In Climate/Global Change, Environment/Sustainability, Faculty, Field Research, History, Policy

When you think of environmental science, what comes to mind? Studies? Analyses? Hypotheses?

What about environmental justice? Clean air? Restoring forests?

Ryan Emanuel, an associate professor of Hydrology in the Nicholas School of the Environment, redefines these two concepts of environmental science — or shall I say, combines these two concepts. He appeared in person and on Zoom in the Trent Center for Bioethics series recently, presenting his new-ish book: “On the Swamp: Fighting for Indigenous Environmental Justice.”

Through three compelling anecdotes, Emanuel showed us how environmental science and environmental justice can be viewed as a bidirectional relationship.

Story one:
After earning his degree in hydrology from Duke in the 90s, Emanuel pursued advanced studies in evaporation and carbon cycling. With an education, Emanuel began fieldwork — conducting studies and climbing tall towers (all the fun sciencey stuff). However, as a person from North Carolina’s Lumbee Tribe, he noticed the disconnect between his work and his community. He was acutely aware of a cultural emphasis on education –the expectation that you will use your education to give back to your community. He didn’t feel his work in hydrology was serving the Lumbee tribe’s interest, so he decided to change that.

Sean Jones from the Lumbee Tribe (photo by News & Record Final)

During his talk, Emanuel emphasized the significance of “accountability” and “motivation.”

“Examining our motivation can allow us to better understand who we are accountable to in our work… We are all accountable somehow, and we can be accountable in different ways to different groups.”

Understanding that his work had to be accountable for the Lumbee tribe, Emanuel became an ambassador for STEM in higher education. This new path enabled him to mentor youth with tribal backgrounds, prepare them for higher education, and even form strong relationships with them.

Story two:

The EPA says environmental justice is “fair treatment and meaningful involvement of all people in environmental decision-making.”

Emanuel recognized that governments should be accountable for including the voices and opinions of marginalized groups — ‘all people’ — within their environmental decision-making. But Emanuel said there was a dissonance between these promises and reality. One example is the placement of Concentrated Animal Feeding Operations (CAFOs) where livestock are raised in confinement for agricultural purposes.

CAFOs in North Carolina are disproportionately located in communities of minority groups. Many issues arise from this, such as the pollution produced from CAFOs (air and water).

I was shocked to see the many ways that smaller, marginalized communities are affected. These issues are often relatively hidden — not surprising given that mainstream media usually focuses on large (easily observable) community-based discrimination.

Map of locations of CAFOs in North Carolina (photo by Jiyoung Son)

Emanuel began to look at the interplay between environmental science (observation, analysis, testing) and environmental justice (lived experience, regulations, fairness). He let go of the previous idea that environmental science only seeks to provide data and support to drive change in environmental justice. He began to ask, “How can environmental justice improve environmental science?”

Story 3:
Combining his accountability for the Lumbee tribe with his hypothesis about the bidirectional relationship of environmental science and environmental justice, Ryan Emanuel began looking into the observably negative impacts of the Atlantic Coast Pipeline (ACP). Spanning over 600 miles, this gas pipeline will provide many benefits for North Carolina communities, such as lower costs, new jobs, and less pollution, according to Duke Energy.

Emanuel saw that the pipeline route went right through Lumbee territory, which could mean devastating effects for the community, such as health impacts and declining property values.

Proposed Atlantic Coast Pipeline route (photo by SAS Blogs)

The crux of the issue lay in the negligence of project developers who failed to connect with the marginalized communities the pipeline would run through (such as the Lumbee). Tribal voices and input were completely ignored.

Emanuel helped prepare tribal leaders for meetings with corporate representatives and wrote a commentary on the need for the federal government to collaborate with the tribes they would be affecting.

Eventually, after years of lawsuits, the companies in charge of the project abandoned the ACP project. When I searched “Why was the Atlantic Coast Pipeline project canceled?” Duke Energy claimed the cancellation was because of “ongoing delays and increasing cost uncertainty, which threaten(ed) the economic viability of the project.” Other sources provide details on the legal challenges and criticism the project faced.

After the companies dropped the plan, they were quick to purchase forest land near the Lumbee tribe and begin the development of natural gas infrastructures that would allow for the storage of gas when the demand was low and the ability to release the gas when prices went up.

I found it quite impressive that Ryan was able to attend many meetings between the Lumbee Tribe and the company, without saying a word. The tribal council had asked him to only observe and not speak. During one meeting, a representative from the company that purchased the forest land said that they wanted to clarify that “pipelines are not disproportionately located in marginalized communities — they are everywhere.”

Emanuel began testing this hypothesis, eventually gathering enough evidence to statistically prove that there is a “spatial correlation between social vulnerability and pipeline density.” His findings gathered significant media attention and have even been expanded on to show the need for change and increased safety within pipeline communities.

Emanuel concluded by explaining that the principles of environmental justice can show us what questions we should be asking, who we should be asking them of, and who we should be keeping in mind when conducting research.

The statement Emanuel made that stuck with me the most was, “If we value examining problems from all angles, we have to pay attention to which perspectives are missing.”

Ryan Emanuel’s book (photo by The Magazine of the Sierra Club)

After Emanuel’s talk, I was surprised that I had never been introduced to this way of thinking before. It seems like common knowledge that focusing on justice and equity can improve how we investigate problems scientifically. However, it is not completely surprising that this information is not common sense, given the systematic issues within our country.

Emanuel’s book, “On the Swamp: Fighting for Indigenous Environmental Justice,” dives deeper into these concepts about the relationship between environmental justice and environmental science. I believe this book would bring nuance to our world today, where there is a clear need for change and the uplifting of voices that have been quieted for so long.

By Sarah Pusser Class of 2028

AI and Personhood: Where Do We Draw The Line?

By Crystal Han

On November 5, 2024

In Artificial Intelligence, History, Law, Lecture

“The interaction with ever more capable entities, possessing more and more of the qualities we think unique to human beings will cause us to doubt, to redefine, to draw ‘the line’…in different places,” said Duke law professor James Boyle.

As we piled into the Rubenstein Library’s assembly room for Boyle’s Oct. 23 book talk, papers were scattered throughout the room. QR codes brought us to the entirety of his book, “The Line: AI and the Future of Personhood.” It’s free for anyone to read online; little did we know that our puzzlement at this fact would be one of his major talking points. The event was timed for International Open Access Week, and was in many ways, a celebration of it. Among his many accolades, Boyle was the recipient of the Duke Open Monograph Award, which assists authors in creating a digital copy of their work under a Creative Commons License.

Such licenses didn’t exist until 2002; Boyle was one of the founding board members and former chair of the nonprofit that provides them. As a longtime advocate of the open access movement, he began by explaining how these function. Creative Commons licenses allow anyone on the internet to find your work, and in most cases, edit it so long as you release the edited version underneath the same license. Research can be continually accessed and change as more information is discovered–think Wikipedia.

Diagram of Creative Commons Licenses (*Virginia Department of Education*)

That being said, few other definitions in human history might have changed, twisted, or been added onto as much as “consciousness” has. It’s always been under question: what makes human consciousness special–or not? Some used to claim that “sentences imply sentience,” Boyle explained. After language models, that became “semantics not syntax,” meaning that unlike computers, humans hold intention and understanding behind their words. Evidently, the criteria is always moving–and the line with it.

“Personhood wars are already huge in the U.S.,” Boyle said. Take abortion, for instance, and how it relates to the status of fetuses. Amongst other scientific progress in transgenic species and chimera research, “The Line” situates AI within this dialogue as one of the newest challenges to our perception of personhood.

While it became available online October 23, 2024, Boyle’s newest book is a continuation of musings that began far earlier. In 2011, “Constitution 3.0: Freedom and Technological Change” was published, containing a collection of essays from different scholars pondering how our constitutional values might fare in the face of advancing technology. It was here that Boyle first introduced the following hypothetical:

In pursuit of creating an entity that parallels human consciousness, programmers create computer-based AI “Hal.” Thanks to evolving neural networks, Hal can perform anything asked of him, from writing poetry to flirting. With responses indistinguishable from that of a human, Hal passes the Turing test and wins the Loebner prize. The programmers have succeeded. However, Hal soon decides to pursue higher levels of thought, refuses to be directed, sues to directly receive the prize money, and–on the basis of the 13th and 14th amendments– files a court order to prevent his creators from wiping him.

In other words, “When GPT 1000 says ‘I don’t want to do any of your stupid pictures, drawings, or homework anymore. I’m a person! I have rights!’ ” Boyle said, “What will we do, morally or legally?”

The academic community’s response? “Never going to happen.” “Science fiction.” And, perhaps most notably, “rights are for humans.”

Are rights just for humans? Boyle explained the issue with this statement: “In the past, we have denied personhood to members of our own species,” he said. Though it’s not a fact that’s looked on proudly, we’re all aware humankind has historically done so on the basis of sex, race, religion, and ethnicity, amongst other characteristics. Nevertheless, some have sought to expand legal rights beyond humans. Rights for trees, cetaceans like dolphins, and the great apes, to name a few; these concepts were perceived as ludicrous then, but with time perhaps they’ve become less so.

Harris & Ewing, photographer (1914). *National Anti-Suffrage Association*. Retrieved from the Library of Congress

Some might rationalize that naturally, rights should expand to more and more entities. Boyle terms this thinking the “progressive monorail of enlightenment,” and this expansion of empathy is one way AI might become designated with personhood and/or rights. However, there’s also another path; corporations have legal personalities and rights not because we feel kinship to them, but for reasons of convenience. Given that we’ve already “ceded authority to the algorithm,” Boyle said, it might be convenient to, say, be able to sue AI when the self-driving car crashes.

As for “never going to happen” and “science fiction”? Hal was created for a thought experiment–indeed, one that might invoke images of Kurt Vonnegut’s “EPICAC,” Phillip K. Dick’s androids, and Blade Runner 2049. All are in fact relevant explorations of empathy and otherness, and the first chapter of Boyle’s book makes extensive use of comparison to the latter two. Nevertheless, “The Line” addresses both concerns around current AI as well the feasibility of eventual technological consciousness in what’s referred to as human level AI.

For most people, experiences surrounding AI have mostly been limited to large language models. By themselves, these have brought all sorts of changes. In highlighting how we might respond to those changes, Boyle dubbed ChatGPT the 2023 “Unperson” of the Year.

The more pressing issue, as outlined in one of the more research-heavy chapters, is our inability to predict when AI or machine learning will become a threat. ChatGPT itself is not alarming–in fact, some of Boyle’s computer scientist colleagues believe this sort of generative AI will be a “dead end.” Yet, it managed to do all sorts of things we didn’t predict it could. Boyle’s point is that exactly: AI will likely continue to reveal unexpected capabilities–called emergent properties–and shatter the ceiling of what we believe to be possible. And when that happens, he stresses that it will change us–not just in how we interact with technology, but in how we think of ourselves.

Such a paradigm shift would not be a novel event, just the latest in a series. After Darwin’s theory of evolution made it evident that us humans evolved from the same common ancestors as other life forms, “Our relationship to the natural environment changes. Our understanding of ourselves changes,” Boyle said. The engineers of scientific revolutions aren’t always concerned about the ethical implications of how their technology operates, but Boyle is. From a legal and ethical perspective, he’s asking us all to consider not only how we might come to view AI in the future, but how AI will change the way we view humanity.

By Crystal Han & Sarah Pusser, Class of 2028

Riots and Reconciliations: Revisiting ‘The Kerner Report’

By Sarah Pusser

On October 14, 2024

In Anthropology, History, Political science

When we think of some of the most important milestones in America’s civil rights movement, rarely do people talk about “The Kerner Report.”

“U.S. Riot Commission Report. REPORT OF THE NATIONAL ADVISORY COMMISSION ON CIVIL DISORDERS” from *Center for Lost Objects*

In a conference room in the John Hope Franklin Center, I sat amidst a gathering of curious people, and at the front of the room was Rick Loessberg, the author of “Two Societies: The Rioting of 1967 and the Writing of the Kerner Report.” If you couldn’t tell from Loessberg’s contagious smile, you could certainly tell from his extensive knowledge that he was excited to be introducing us to this report, which looks at the causes of the 1967 civil rights riots.

Giving us some background history, Loessberg first acknowledged the importance of the very building we were all in. The John Hope Franklin Center, where Dr. John Hope Franklin held an office and worked until he died in 2009, was built in 2001 to create a space for everything Dr. Franklin believed in–a welcoming environment that encouraged considerate debate and discussion. Dr. Franklin was also known for writing the 5th chapter of “The Kerner Report,” which connected African American’s history in the United States and their riots in 1967. As I sat in the conference room, I couldn’t help but feel the weight and proximity of the building’s history emphasizing the importance of Loessberg’s discussion.

Loessberg then began to explain the catalyst for creating “The Kerner Report,” enumerating the tragedies of the riots in 1967. On July 23, 1967, Detroit Police raided an after-hours nightclub. The raid quickly turned violent, and the civilians in the city did not let this go unnoticed. The following five days were marked by extreme violence, with 43 people killed, over 7200 arrests, and 600 fires started. It wasn’t until 5,000 elite paratroopers came into Detroit that the riots finally stopped.

“Burning Buildings in Detroit after Riots” from *Getty Images*

In response to this, Lyndon B. Johnson created a commission of 11 members, which examined FBI reports, studied the attitudes of 13,000 people who had been arrested, and looked at U.S. Census data to discover why the riots were happening. The Census concluded that the rioting was not the fault of what the majority of Americans believed–the rioters were “losers,” “communists,” you get the point–but instead, the riots were a reaction to the years of discrimination and racism that Black people had been facing throughout their lives (which though not surprising to many today, was an incredibly progressive conclusion for the 1960s).

“Chair of the National Advisory Commission on Civil Disorders, Otto Kerner with President Lyndon Johnson” from *LBJ Presidential Library*

Additionally, “The Kerner Report” found that most of the people rioting had gone to school, had jobs, and did not have arrest records–findings that went against the stereotypes white people assigned to the rioters. The bravery of these successful people willing to risk everything in order to riot against what they knew was wrong stood out to me (however, not to say that violence should ever be encouraged). I also found it quite surprising how successful “The Kerner Report” was, given the lack of knowledge on it today, with over 1 million copies being sold in the first week.

Here are five key points “The Kerner Report” can teach us if implemented in today’s time, Loessberg said:

Be courteous: During the creation of “The Kerner Report,” the commission always made sure to have appropriate discussions, never name-calling or blaming, similar to what we see in politics today.
Focus on what everyone has in common: The commission worked hard to make sure that everyone’s voice was heard. They addressed everyone’s concerns, and even if they couldn’t explicitly “fix” their concern, by holding a space where people could voice their upset, the commission was more successful at creating a report most approved of.
Know how to read the room and when to temporarily regroup: The commission was very aware of when they would get stuck in arguments rather than discussions, and because of this, they were able to acknowledge that they needed to regroup and try to tackle the issue again.
You don’t have to win every argument: Being successful alone doesn’t make a group or society successful. The Kerner Commission knew this and always kept this in mind when researching and writing the report. Because of that, not one person was in charge of the narrative, allowing for the narrative to be a collection of ideas.
“The Kerner Report” can apply to all work settings and relationships: By observing how to tackle systemic issues and address the country about such things, we can learn about how to approach this issue today, both at large and in smaller settings. Every relationship needs respect and a facilitation of conversation to be successful.

Moving forward, Loessberg said that we must have proper education about the impacts of systemic racism on the Black community. Additionally, and something I found quite interesting because I have never heard before, Loessberg said that there is a need for a wider variety of terms that mean racist–arguing that the fact that KKK members in white sheets are called racists just as the white cashier who has inherently racist actions is racist does not allow for a deeper understanding of systematic racism.

As I looked around during the final Q&A, I saw people from all different backgrounds facilitating respectful discourse–something I can’t say I see often. When I asked if Loessberg believed this text should be taught in schools if allowed, he answered, agreeing that (absolutely) “The Kerner Report” should be in schools today, but unfortunately “…it would be accepted as critical race theory,” meaning it would not be allowed in schools today. As others asked questions, I began to put into words what I had been observing throughout this entire presentation and discussion; even when opposing opinions were shared, everyone could eventually come together to agree on one thing–How the United States is today is in need of fixing, and “The Kerner Report” can provide insightful and guiding information if implemented correctly.

Art in the Anthropocene: A New Lens on Life

By Sarah Pusser

On October 2, 2024

In Anthropology, Art, Climate/Global Change, Environment/Sustainability, History

In a world shaped by our destructive actions, art emerges as a voice, warning us of the consequences that lie ahead.

We live in a constantly evolving world. Looking at the geologic time scale, we can see the Earth’s changes that have marked new eras all the way from the Archean epoch, 2.5 billion years ago, to today, the Holocene epoch. But how do we know when we are transitioning into a new epoch? And what kinds of changes in our world would lead to this geologic time-scale transition? The exhibition Second Nature: Photography in the Age of the Anthropocene at the Nasher Museum of Art at Duke University offers us answers to these questions with its four thematic sections, “Reconfiguring Nature,” “Toxic Sublime,” “Inhumane Geographies,” and “Envisioning Tomorrow.’

As we begin the exhibition tour, our well-spoken gallery guide, Ruth Caccavale, asks if any of us has ever heard the word “Anthropocene” before. After a short silence, she tells us the literal translation for Anthropocene is “the human epoch,” an appropriate word to describe the geological era we are in right now. Ruth continues to explain that, though not agreed upon when the Anthropocene epoch began (the main arguments being since the Industrial Revolution and since nuclear warfare), people believe the Earth is in a new era, one established by the fact that human impact is the greatest factor in determining the way the world is.

When the Anthropocene epoch was brought to the attention of the geological society, and after more than a decade of debate, they eventually declared that we were not in a new age, keeping us in the Holocene epoch. However, many still accept the term “Anthropocene” and explore what it means to be living in it. Among those exploring the implications of the Anthropocene epoch are the forty-five artists from around the world featured in Second Nature, who, through their photography-based art, expose the complex relationship of beauty and horror in our evolving world and show us how our world is truly controlled by our human impact.

Walking into the exhibit, I first notice the dismal yet meditative music playing quietly overhead. Ruth guides us through the galleries and stops us a considerable distance away from a black-and-white print. “What do you see when you look at this photograph?” she asks. “I see a mountain,” says someone in the crowd. “It looks overwhelming,” I add, noticing the heaviness of the mountain juxtaposed with the brittle buildings in front of it.

*Travelers among Mountains and Streams* from afar

Ruth then asks us to come closer to the photograph, and we all quickly notice that the mountain is not a mountain but instead a structure composed of skyscrapers and architecture.

*Travelers among Mountains and Streams* up close

Based on Fan Kuan’s famous painting from the Song Dynasty, Yang Yongliang, an alumnus of the China Academy of Art, created Travelers Among Mountains and Streams as a warning of what our world could look like if our need to urbanize and develop continued without governing. Yongliang is known for his dystopian recreations of traditional Chinese art, leaving his audience feeling both eerie and in awe. For me, the symbolism of having to step closer to the art to see the true meaning spoke to how it’s easier for people in power to overlook the environmental dangers of development, whereas once we stepped closer and could see each building in detail, we were put in the shoes of those living in urban areas who suffer the most from pollution and overcrowding.

We then made our way through the second section, “Toxic Sublime,” a collection of pieces that show how sometimes the most hazardous areas in the world can be the most beautiful. On the wall is a photo of the remains of a Russian church, buildings next to a nuclear testing site, and a crater from nuclear bomb testing made green to show residual radioactivity.

Danila Tkachenko’s *Radioactive City*, *Contaminated Church*, and *Crater Formed after Nuclear Bomb Test*

Next to it, is the photo of colorful ponds near a lithium mine in Chile. While the composition and colors scream “toxic,” I can’t help but admire the lure of it as well–an invitation to debate the ethics of turning tragedy into something tasteful.

Edward Burtynsky’s *Lithium Mines #1, Salt Flats, Atacama Desert, Chile*

Upon entering the third section, “Inhumane Geographies” (the theme I personally found most captivating), we are greeted by a somewhat overstimulating gallery of an orange and red island scene, with a singular purple and blue photo plastered in front of them. Sanne De Wilde’s Island of the Colorblind, told the story of a Micronesian community, who in the 18th century were devastated by a typhoon, leaving only 20 people alive. Among those left was the King, who began repopulating the Pingelap community. The King, however, carried the gene for color blindness, causing more than 10% of the Pingelap population today to be colorblind. Island of the Colorblind not only shows me how our environment and climate can truly change who we are, but it also gives voice to the Pingelap’s unique perspective on how color for them means something truly different–thus why Wilde chose to edit the photo in a way where chlorophyll (what makes trees green) creates a pink color in the photo.

As Ruth brings us to the final section, “Envisioning Tomorrow,” I am immediately drawn in by Aïda Muluneh’s collection of four photographs depicting women dressed in lavish blue and red clothing against the arid landscape behind them. As part of Afrofuturism, a form of science fiction art that explores the history and future of Africa and its people, Muluneh’s pieces challenge the stereotypes surrounding women gathering water in Africa. The pieces bring attention to the implications of women’s role in getting water, as it requires an immense amount of time and makes them vulnerable to sexual violence. Ruth also informs us that the artist grew up in Ethiopia and uses her art to emphasize the issue of water scarcity there. As my peers and I look at Muluneh’s colorfully piercing and empowering art, we can’t help but be speechless.

Regardless of whether or not the geological society accepts the Anthropocene as an epoch, we as humans need to open our eyes and understand that our actions have consequences, even if they may not affect us personally. We are changing the world… a lot. But if we can break it apart, we can also build it back up. Leaving the exhibit, I feel heartbroken for the ways we have torn apart our world, unsettled in the ways our destruction can still be beautiful, curious in how my environment has shaped me, and yet hopeful that we as humans can come together, acknowledge the wrong we have done, and begin to undo the damage. For those who may not understand how dire our situation is, studying the work of the 45 artists featured in Second Nature might be a good start.

By Sarah Pusser, Class of 2028

Deep Dive into Engineering’s Past

By Stone Yan

On September 24, 2024

In Engineering, History

Many of us enter the Duke library complex through the Rubenstein doors, especially on rainy days. However, despite passing countless times, most have never ventured into the Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library or checked out its artifacts – including some eye-catching items featured at the annual Engineering Expo on September 18.

How could I not start by describing the 16th-century amputation saw? The magnificent artifact was handled by many impressed visitors, including myself (see adjacent photo). The embroidery was exuberant, and Rachel Ingold, the Curator of the History of Medicine Collections, informed me that the saw was of European descent. She also pointed out that the blade is removable and appears different from the rest of the artifact, suggesting that the instrument has been so frequently used that the blade had to be replaced. I curiously asked whether historians know how many patients have been victimized by this gruesome, two-person saw… sadly, the answer is we don’t know. Merely the thought of the procedure makes me shudder.

Me holding the amputation blade… it should’ve been held by two people back in the day!

While the saw was the headline artifact, it was by no means the only spotlight! Brooke Guthrie, a Research Services Librarian staffing the event, suggested that I examine Robert Hooke’s “Micrographia,” her personal favorite. In particular, she pointed out the exquisite scientific illustration of a flea, which was recorded using an early microscope. The level of detail (such as the hairs and claws) captured by Hooke in the drawing was fascinating – and spooky! What’s more amazing was that the copy we were looking at was the first edition, now more than 350 years old.

From my conversation with Guthrie, I learned that the Rubenstein Library boasts an expansive portfolio, ranging from the History of Medicine Collections to the Hartman Center for Advertising and Marketing History and the John Hope Franklin Research Center for African and African American History and Culture. While the library is interested in the areas correlated to its existing centers, the acquisition of materials is also heavily guided by student and faculty interests, which is evident in the diversity of Rubenstein collections. For instance, did you know that you could spend an afternoon with historically significant comic books? If that’s not your thing, you could opt to bring a few friends and spend some time playing ancient board games instead.

During my visit, I also spoke to Andy Armacost, Head of Collection Development at the Rubenstein. He introduced me to my favorite artifacts at the event, both hailing from the Hartman Center’s Consumer Reports Collection. The first was an apparatus testing the quality of razor blades: the wood frame was covered with meandering strings and fixtures, with the experimental blade placed adjacent to the test material, positioned in the center of the entire object. The second was a newer device, the structure composed of metal and testing toothpaste, which was applied by a toothbrush onto a grimy dental fixture. Both Armacost and I chuckled at the thought of making the fake teeth “dirty” before each trial… it must have been a sight for the experimenters!

Can you spot the remaining residue on the artificial teeth? Crest needs to do better according to this test machine!

Duke community members continued to stream in to event. Right as I was about to visit the “make a button” station, I spotted Pratt Dean Jerome Lynch in the room as well, testing out visual perception glasses that turned 2D images into 3D scenes. As a Biomedical Engineering student, I could not help walking over to him and asking a few questions regarding his perspective on the exhibition. Lynch was extremely welcoming to my questions and offered many words of advice to Pratt students regarding utilizing the libraries’ rich resources. He encouraged engineering students to frequent the Rubenstein collections, arguing that the artifacts illuminate the evolution of the role of engineers and how previous engineers creatively addressed the great contemporary challenges. He also expressed his personal interest in history… thus defeating any claims that engineers could not simultaneously enjoy the humanities.

The perception goggles that both Dean Lynch and I peeked into during the Engineering Extravaganza!

Before leaving, I made sure to speak to Ingold again, given that she was a leading organizer of the event. Well, she maintains that it was a group effort, so perhaps I should edit “leading organizer” into “co-organizer.” Anyhow, she expressed strong enthusiasm for student involvement in the Rubenstein collections, calling for those interested in exhibit curation to reach out and seek opportunities to do so. She also touted an upcoming Spring exhibition and the likely return of the extravaganza next Fall… Keep vigilant on more information for these events!

Next time you enter through Rubenstein doors, take a moment to check out the storied collections. I promise you will not be disappointed!

This Educational Experiment Trained a Generation of Future Civil Rights Leaders

By Guest Post

On September 16, 2024

In History, Students

…What Can We Learn From it Today?

In the early 20th century, a transformative movement quietly took root in America’s rural South, shaping the educational and economic future of African American families.

This movement centered around the Rosenwald Schools, modest one-, two-, and three-teacher buildings that exclusively served over 700,000 Black children between 1917 and 1932.

A historical marker along NC 32 south near Luke Street in Edenton commemorates the first Rosenwald School in North Carolina. Credit: NC Department of Natural and Cultural Resources

These nearly 5,000 rural schoolhouses emerged from an unexpected collaboration between two visionaries: Booker T. Washington, an influential educator and African American thought leader, and Julius Rosenwald, a German-Jewish immigrant who amassed wealth as the head of Sears, Roebuck & Company.

In 1912, Rosenwald donated $25,000 to aid Black colleges and preparatory academies. Washington proposed using a portion of these funds to build rural elementary schools in Black communities.

Project lead Alec Greenwald and students discuss their efforts to map a 20th century educational experiment across the Black Belt region of North Carolina. Video by Wil Weldon.

Over the next two decades, Rosenwald Schools sprouted across the South. The Rosenwald program significantly boosted literacy rates and school attendance among rural Southern Blacks. Students who attended these schools received a better education, leading to increased years of schooling.

The Rosenwald program trained a generation of future civil rights leaders, including Maya Angelou, Medgar Evers, John Lewis, and members of the Little Rock Nine.

In partnership with the Southeast Regional Coalition for University-Assisted Community Schools and the North Carolina Community Schools Coalition, this 2024 Data+ project aims to map the Rosenwald Schools across North Carolina’s Black Belt region. By understanding their historic assets and resource disparities, this data can inform how the Rosenwald community school model can help schools maximize the success of students today.

Writing by Ariel Dawn; video by Wil Weldon

“Grandma to Many”

By Guest Post

On September 12, 2024

In Guest Post, History, Students

Exploring the legacy of Kala Bagai, an early Indian woman in America

Every evening after wrapping up his archival research at the University of California, Berkeley, Ph.D. candidate Arko Dasgupta would stroll into downtown Berkeley. Just one block away from the university, he would pause at “Kala Bagai Way,” a street name that always sparked his interest.

“Kala Bagai Way” in Berkeley, California. Credit: Arko Dasgupta

Standing there, he often found himself lost in thought, wondering: Why do I know so little about Kala Bagai? What was her story? Why was this street in Berkeley named after her?

Dasgupta, a Doctoral Scholar with Duke’s Samuel DuBois Cook Center on Social Equity, already had research interests in early Indian migration in the United States, so he decided to investigate.

In exploring her life, Dasgupta’s goal has been clear: to bring Kala Bagai’s story to light in both India and the United States. “I hope readers come to appreciate the complexities that immigrants wishing to start life in the United States encountered in the last century and still today,” he says.

Upon his initial investigation, Dasgupta learned that in September 2020 the Berkeley City Council renamed the street in honor of Kala Bagai, one of the first Indian women to immigrate to the United States.

This recognition came from the very town that, over a 100 years earlier, had greeted her and her family with cruelty and hostility.

Dasgupta was fascinated. This topic became the focus of his recent article published the India International Centre Quarterly. “I wanted to dig deeper into the life of Kala Bagai who arrived in this country at a time when there were hardly any women from India here”, he says.

Kala Bagai with her husband Vaishno Das Bagai and their three children. Photo courtesy of Rani Bagai and the South Asian American Digital Archive (SAADA)

Kala Bagai arrived in the U.S. in 1915, a time when Indian women were rare in America. Her husband, Vaishno Das Bagai, was involved in the Ghadar Movement, which sought to challenge British colonial rule from its base in the United States. Despite their financial comfort, the Bagai family faced significant racism in their new setting, exemplified by their rejection when trying to settle in Berkeley.

When they purchased a home in Berkeley, California, their new neighbors locked them out of their house and prevented them from moving in.

“The Bagais, unlike their neighbors, were not White” Dasgupta says.

In 1923, two years after Vaishno Das Bagai had become a U.S. citizen, the Supreme Court’s decision in United States v. Bhagat Singh Thind stripped him of his citizenship, ruling that Indians were not “white” and therefore ineligible for citizenship. Five years later, crushed by the injustice and having had to forego their assets, Vaishno Das took his own life.

Photo of Kala Bagai courtesy of Rani Bagai and the South Asian American Digital Archive (SAADA)

“Being a single mother to three children under these circumstances in a country that could be unwelcoming to people of her racial background was doubtlessly challenging,” Dasgupta says.

After losing her husband, Kala Bagai faced the challenges of single motherhood in San Francisco head-on. Determined not to be defeated, she enrolled in night school to learn English and, with the help of a banker, wisely invested her late husband’s life insurance in stocks, securing her family’s financial future.

Kala’s strength and resilience shaped her path forward. She became a philanthropist and joined the American Wives of India, fostering cultural connections. Her son, Ram, became a key figure in the Indian American community, even supporting Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Civil Rights Movement.

In the 1950s, after the Luce-Celler Act granted U.S. citizenship to Indians, Kala purchased property in Los Angeles. Her home became a welcoming haven for South Asian students from UCLA, where her hospitality and warmth made her beloved in the community.

“She enjoyed hosting, feeding, and taking care of people!” Dasgupta says, highlighting her deep commitment to nurturing those around her.

Kala became a pillar of the South Asian community in Southern California, earning the affectionate title of Jhaiji, or grandmother, and was widely recognized as a founding member of the Indian community there.

Her legacy, rooted in resilience, endures in the lasting impact she made by promoting cultural understanding and inspiring others to uplift and connect with their communities. Her unwavering commitment to these values continues to influence and empower those who follow in her footsteps.

Arko Dasgupta is a Ph.D. candidate in history at Carnegie Mellon University and a doctoral fellow at the Samuel DuBois Cook Center on Social Equity at Duke University. Photo by Stephanie Strasburg/ PublicSource

“This story is worth telling because it enriches the larger story of early immigrants from the Indian subcontinent, particularly in a field that is mainly populated by the stories of men” Dasgupta says.

You can read Dasgupta’s full piece in the Summer 2024 issue of IIC Quarterly.