This Looks Familiar

Fall semester begins tomorrow.  Not that I, my online students, nor my colleagues can do anything about it. 

You see, the college website is down.  Has been since yesterday.  After a day and a half of silence, IT finally took to Twitter to explain the matter.  

For the second time in eighteen months, the college has fallen victim to a ransomware attack.  The last one delayed the end of Spring semester by more than a week.  This one will probably delay the Fall term for who knows how long.  A temporary page assures students they can access their classes and contact their instructors via the LMS.  This instructor accessed the linked backdoor LMS login page.  The LMS rejected my password as invalid.  Funny, it worked before.  I tried to rest my password.  The password reset page is down.   

You would think the administration (and our IT folks) would’ve learned from last time.  Just like last time, the response was slow and the messaging unclear. Just like last time, the college has retained the services of a “third party consulting form.”  Maybe it would be cheaper to just pay off the hijackers and be done with it. 

Maybe they should just hire the hijackers.

  

© 2022 The Unassuming Scholar

Soft Underbelly

It’s been quite a week.

The semester ended Friday.  I naively thought I would have grades in before the weekend was over, giving me time to decompress before summer session begins.

If only.  My institution’s data management systems—website, email, LMS, everything—fell victim to a ransomware attack last Wednesday.  I wasn’t too concerned at first, and some of my colleagues didn’t seem to be either.  (Though one prof on the faculty Google Groups site speculated whether a “pissed off student” might have been behind it.)

Services have been partially restored but I’ve been getting desperate emails from students saying they can’t access the LMS, even though other students were successful.  It doesn’t matter right now; grade rosters are still unavailable.

This is a localized problem, of course.  A cyberattack on a community college is of little interest elsewhere.  But it’s part of a pattern.  The recent attack on the Colonial Petroleum pipeline disrupted the southeastern economy for days, and news of other ransomware attacks have become more frequent in the media.

Before 9/11 focused attention on the terrorism threat, there were a number of articles discussing threats to critical infrastructure apart from Y2K.  Infrastructure was arguably less software dependent twenty years ago, but a policy focus on resiliency and redundancy seems to have fallen from public notice.

Perhaps we should take heed before the severity of attacks result in real and lasting damage.

 

Update 5/27/2021 Business Journals - "Expert View: Colleges Could Be Prime Targets for Cyberattacks This Fall"

© 2021 The Unassuming Scholar

Headlong into the Past

 

It was only a coincidence, but a fitting one just the same.  This past week, I’ve been bingeing The Handmaid’s Tale on Hulu.  Absently scrolling through my newsfeed as I watched, one headline caught my eye.  The U.S. Supreme Court has granted certiorari in a case involving a Mississippi statute banning abortion after the first fifteen weeks of pregnancy. 

While such a story is troubling under normal circumstances, the ideological shift of the federal judiciary to the right during the Trump administration provokes outright angst.  Before 2017, any ruling re Roe v. Wade was tempered by a reluctance to overturn it outright.  For instance, when Chief Justice John Roberts was undergoing his confirmation hearings in 2005 he noted that Roe was settled law. 

But perhaps not for much longer.  The influx of right-leaning judges into the federal courts, together with the new conservative SCOTUS supermajority, puts that into question.  A president’s lasting legacy are his judicial appointments.  In that sense, Donald Trump has created a threat to hard-won rights that will persist years after his tenure at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. 

The world of The Handmaid’s Tale is a funhouse mirror version of a right-wing utopia.  More to the point, it’s a reflection of present-day phenomena which, on a slippery slope, might result in something like it.  

Life in the postrevolutionary theocracy of Gilead is chockfull of slightly tweaked aspects of daily American life in 2021.  We have militarized law enforcement and omniscient public surveillance.  There is a growing tolerance of officially meted punishment in the guise of justice, with “othered” minorities particularly singled out.  Politicized evangelicals influencing public policy.  Propaganda and misinformation substituted for news.  

The series was especially prescient with Gilead’s backstory.  In the series universe, a terrorist attack against the White House and U.S. Capitol led to rule by decree by a cabal of religious fanatics. The Great Redneck Riot of January Sixth was an eerie evocation of an otherwise unthinkable event.  (Imagine what could have happened if the rioters had been organized…and planned ahead.) 

The rest of the quasi-fictional nightmare could be made more real through the law courts.  Central to the narrative of The Handmaid’s Tale is an unspecified environmental disaster affecting fertility rates.  Women who could still conceive were rendered as property, stripped of their old identities and forced into reproductive servitude to the male “commanders” who govern Gilead.  Although The Handmaid’s Tale is speculative fiction, it is also food for thought in the face of a gradual erosion of the personal rights gained by women over the past century.  

Concerning the pending abortion case, an outright overturning of Roe v. Wade seems attainable for the first time.  SCOTUS has bounded and further refined the legal protections afforded by Roe, but until now they remained comparatively slight.  No longer. 

Although it has no direct legal bearing on how the case is argued and decided, public opinion’s effect on politics cannot be ignored.  Over time I’ve detected a worrisome trend among my students, particularly the working class white males.  They are quite forward with their anti-abortion stance and their taste for authoritarian policies.  I think I know why.  Populist conservatism’s appeal stems from the feeling that the economic immiseration of white workers and America’s supposed loss of greatness is the result of our abandoning traditional values.  Traditional values which privilege men and subordinate women and people of color.  Things will get better if we just turn back the calendar.  After all, that’s what Jesus wants, right? 

The three most recently appointed justices were chosen with right-wing policy objectives in mind.  The views of Justices Gorsuch, Kavanaugh, and Barrett are no secret.  The touchstone issue, the long-running litmus test for the conservative base, is abortion. This in turn is prompted by a retrograde worldview informed by evangelical Christian tenets.  Taken literally, biblical law affirms ideas which privilege some and abuse many.  

Here is what is at stake.  Several states have enacted six-week abortion bans; a few more have passed bills imposing an outright ban in anticipation of Roe being overturned.  Should the Mississippi law be upheld, as it very well may, then we have taken the first step in rolling back equal rights for women.  We all must ask ourselves if this is the kind of society we want to live in.

If you want a nightmare vision of what that society may end up looking like if present trends persist, watch The Handmaid’s Tale. 

 

© 2021 The Unassuming Scholar

Generation Gap

My HMO recently assigned me a new doctor.  Well, he actually wasn’t a doctor; he was a physician’s assistant.  This fact wasn’t a problem in itself.  But being a careful consumer of healthcare services in the information age, I researched his professional background online.  What I learned gave me pause.

It turns out that my primary care manager, to describe his role in insurance speak, was born in 1987.  I would be placing my health in the inexperienced hands and technology addled mind of a Millennial, and that would not do.  I called my HMO, told the customer service drone on the other end I wanted a new doc, and to my pleasant surprise I got my way.  My new “PCM” is an actual MD, and she was born in 1961.  Her professional record is substantial and, as far as I was able to find, unblemished.

Problem solved, at least for the time being.  I know that this conundrum will recur as the years progress.  Eventually, the professionals of my generation or earlier will have retired and my only choices for doctors, lawyers, and accountants will come from today’s young’uns.  I am dreading the prospect.

I never thought I would feel this way.  After all, I’ve worked with young people throughout my professional life as well as in my community service activities.  More importantly, I’m a little disappointed in my own kneejerk judgments in light of my own youthful frustrations with what I saw as my elders’ misperceptions of my Generation X peers.

If you look at media depictions of Gen X from the Eighties and Nineties, you would have trembled for the future.  Personally, I was a little mystified by them.  Even relatively sympathetic pop culture depictions of Xers, such as the movies Reality Bites, Clerks, or just about any of the early work of Richard Linklatter failed to reflect my subjective experiences as a teen and twentysomething.  Nor did the literary emanations of Chuck Palahnuik or even Douglas Coupland, who did the most to popularize the moniker “Generation X,” fully resonate with me even though I enjoyed them on their own merits. 

I suppose it was because by my late twenties, I was a married homeowner with a couple of kids and a middle management job I’d held since graduating college several years earlier.  I was neither a slacker nor a techie.  I wasn’t financially dependent on my parents as I tried to make my breakthrough as a—fill in the blank—poet, musician, film producer, artist, or dancer.  I suspect the majority of people my age didn’t have these experiences either, any more than the typical Baby Boomer was a hippie other than perhaps in the sartorial sense.

But as I contend with increasingly callow groups of kids each semester, my resentment waxes while my hopes for the future wane.  Official expectations don’t help matters.  The executive dean at my small campus suffers from a case of youth worship bordering at times on ephebophilia.  (The semi-fictional Dean Kimpossible who occasionally haunts my posts is an all-too-slight exaggeration of an all-too-real person.)  My job security as a non-tenured prof consequently demands that I cater to the shallow intelligence and short attention spans of my young charges.  Standing on principle can lead to unemployment in academia just as easily as it can anywhere else in this economy.  I may be craven, but I’m employed.

What I find so hard to grasp is not so much their dependence on technology, but the way in which they use it.  I was inspired by the role of social media—Facebook, Twitter, YouTube, et al.—in organizing and publicizing protest during the Arab Spring.  By contrast, Millennials at home use it to ceaselessly document the minutiae of their daily lives.  The outcome is that, to a larger degree than any generation before them, the present youth cohort exists within a self-referential bubble nearly impossible to burst.  Collective narcissism, if you will.  Already driven to distraction by their toys, our Millennials have had their self-esteem propped up by parents and the educational system to the point where failure really isn’t an option; accordingly, it has all but been eliminated as a possibility.

So, why did I refuse the boy-PA as my primary care doc?  Was it necessarily his youth that made me ask for someone else?  Well, let’s just say it was a matter of premonition and a desire to avert the inevitable just a little bit longer.  Many of my students are self-declared nursing majors or they plan to go into some other healthcare field.  A few of them have told me they’re pre-med.  I guess someone has to do it.  And while I know that the rigors of training will pull the bullshit card on a few of them, I also know that many will get through nonetheless.  (There’s also the possibility that the medical and nursing schools will eventually have their own versions of Dean Kimpossible, in which case we’re all screwed.  I try to push those thoughts aside for the sake of my own fragile peace of mind.)     

I have this recurring scenario which runs through my head whenever I think of the day when I must entrust my health to today’s youth.  It goes something like this: I’m undergoing a major procedure, let’s say open heart surgery.  My life depends upon a successful outcome.  And the next-oldest person in the OR is twenty years my junior…

Scene: The Operating Room. 

Time: The not-so-distant future. 

The PATIENT is already prepped and on the table.  Enter DR. CHELSEA, DR. TIFFANY, DR. TODD, NURSE BRITNEY, and NURSE JOSH.

DR. CHELSEA

Dr. Todd, is the patient anaesthetized and ready?

DR. TODD

Yeah, we good.

DR. TIFFANY

 Wait…Chelsea, have you, like, ever done this procedure before?  Do you even know what to do?

DR. CHELSEA

(Scoffs)

Huh, yeah!  I totally looked it up on Wikipedia!

 DR. TIFFANY

Oh, wow! That’s such a great idea!  I’m so doing that next time!

DR. CHELSEA

(Smugly)

Yeah, well, that’s why I was first in my medical school class!

 (Turns to NURSE BRITNEY)

Scalpel, please. 

(NURSE BRITNEY seems distracted as she hands DR. CHELSEA the scalpel.)

 What’s wrong, Britney?

 NURSE BRITNEY

(Tearfully, her voice quavering…)

It’s Dr. Jared.  He…he…unfriended me on Facebook!  I…I…just don’t know what to d-d-do…

(NURSE BRITNEY’s voice trails off into a sob.  She buries her face in her hands.  DR. CHELSEA, overcome with shock, suddenly drops the scalpel.  It lands with a clatter on the instrument tray.)

DR. CHELSEA and DR. TIFFANY

(In unison…)

Oh…my…god!!!  What a jerk!

DR. TODD

(Scoffing)

Huh, Jared!  What a pantload!  You could do way better.

NURSE BRITNEY

 (Sniffles, smiles behind her facemask)

Thanks, guys!

NURSE JOSH

(Abruptly, in an alarmed tone)

Aw, dude!  Check it out!  The patient’s vitals are slipping!

 DR.  CHELSEA

(She is clearly annoyed by the interruption)

Josh, WTF!  Can’t you see Britney’s upset?  Stop being such an asshole, okay?

 NURSE JOSH

I’m just sayin’…

 DR. TIFFANY

Yeah, well, save it for later.  The patient’s not going anywhere.  And Britney’s hurting now!

(There is a loud, steady tone as the PATIENT suddenly flatlines.  DR. CHELSEA turns around, clearly agitated.)

 DR. CHELSEA

What now? Can’t this guy leave us the hell alone for two seconds?

 NURSE JOSH

Aw, weak!  He’s dead!

DR. TODD

What a dick!  He could’ve at least waited a coupla minutes before bailin’ on us.  Epic fail!!!

DR. TIFFANY

Hey, wait, this means we’re done for the day!  Let’s go out tonight!

 DR.  CHELSEA

Omigod, that’s great!  I just bought a low-cut dress that totally shows off my new tattoo!

(DRS. CHELSEA and TIFFANY grasp each other by both hands.  They jump up and down in unison)

Omigod!  Omigod!  Omigod!  A-i-i-i-e-e-e-e-e!

NURSE BRITNEY

And let’s go to the beach tomorrow!  I just got a new thong and a bikini wax!  I am so ready to forget Jared and meet some new guys!

(DRS. CHELSEA and TIFFANY begin jumping and squealing again.  NURSE BRITNEY joins in)

DR. TODD

(Jerks his thumb toward the now deceased PATIENT)

Uh, what about this choad over here?

 DR. CHELSEA

(Sighs disgustedly, snapping off her surgical gloves)

Oh, him.  I don’t know…just call it, already.

(Exit DRS. CHELSEA and TIFFANY and NURSE BRITNEY, shaking their heads in annoyance at having been inconvenienced)

 DR. TODD

(Motions toward NURSE JOSH)

Dude, like, cover him up or something!

(NURSE JOSH carelessly throws the sheet over the PATIENT’S head)

So, like, what’re you doin’ tonight?

 NURSE JOSH

I’m goin’ to a rager over at my cousin’s place.  He’s got this DJ playin’ there, name’s DJ Spazzz.

 DR. TODD

Yeh-yeh-yeh!  I heard of him! 

 NURSE JOSH

Yeh-yeh-yeh!  This dude’s, like, off the chain, yo!  You comin’?

 DR. TODD

Ai’ight!

 NURSE JOSH

S-w-e-e-e-t!  We outta here!

(DR. TODD and NURSE JOSH pull out their phones and begin texting intently as they amble towards the door.  Exeunt.  Fade to black…)

Fade to black, indeed…

© 2013 The Unassuming Scholar