By Will Ross

Few things are more fertile to distrust than paranoia, and few eras were less paranoid than the Cold War. In the face of literal annihilation, both East and West responded with fervent political condemnations. Never before in history was so much of the world delineated as ‘us’, and the rest as ‘them’. By the time the Berlin Wall came down and globalization kicked into high gear, distrust was shared equally among all.
Few films illustrate this change better than Howard Hawks and Edward Nyby’s The Thing from Another World (1950) and John Carpenter’s remake, The Thing (1982). The two films straddle opposite ends of the Cold War, each with their own perspectives on how fear germinates and how we respond to it. Though their plots differ, they share a similar premise: a group of men are stationed in a polar research station and discover the wreckage of an alien spacecraft. After bringing an inert creature into their camp, it breaks loose and begins terrorizing the remote station. Besides survival, the men face the risk of the alien multiplying and conquering Earth.
Another World’s creature is humanoid, but irreconcilably different from human beings: it is a plant. As such, it cannot be reasoned with, fully empathized with, or regarded as an equal. Its objective is to incubate seedlings that will grow more creatures; their hostility and seeming invincibility makes them a clear threat to the world. Carpenter’s Thing differentiates itself from its predecessor starting with its truncated title: The threat’s not truly “from another world”, but at least partly within: the alien is a shape shifter that assimilates and mimics its victims, then deforms into a grotesque monster when attacking. As a result, more time in The Thing is spent in fear of fellow men than real monsters, and there is as much risk of the men killing each other as the thing doing it.
What is the thing, though? In the original film, it is a clear allegory for communism and its incompatibility with western ideals. Intellectuals, too, are lambasted. A scientist who nurtures the seeds and insists on communicating with the alien race in the interest of knowledge is dismissed as a well-meaning fool, and the men set out to burn the creature to death. The characters of Carpenter’s film know there is a threat, but cannot distinguish it from themselves, aren’t even sure that those infected by the thing are aware of it. Whose head will turn into a killer spider next? There seems to be no way to tell. Those men grapple with the question of how to circumvent an impossible paradox: the only way to avoid being killed is for everyone to die. The Thing from Another World lacks this paradox. Instead, its response is a more comforting “Kill Communism with fire!”
Granted, it’s not reassuring to exchange political zealotry for despondent nihilism. The 1982 Thing doesn’t promise that paranoia will bring security. But for all its pro-survival posturing, the 1950 film’s militaristic conclusion, a broadcast that pleads, “Watch the skies! Keep looking! Keep watching the skies!” is far less empathetic than the end of its 1982 sibling, wherein two people face freezing to death. They sit and watch, and each studies the other and wonders how to live — or die — together.

By Jeff McCann

I have an idea. A dream really, but that introduction has been used before. I believe in SFU. I believe there is a future where students are so engaged as part of their university experience that Clan pride oozes from them. What do we need at SFU? Where is the void that creates a barrier of interest for students to leave the commuter campus attitude behind us. There must be a solution to this overwhelming dilemma.
My answer: more student space.

Student space is anywhere and everywhere that students like to be outside of class. It’s the couches in the AQ, the SFPIRG lounge, The Highland Pub, Women’s Center, Out on Campus, athletic facilities, and DSU space. I didn’t always know this but I do now. Student space is everywhere but nowhere at the SFU Burnaby campus. There are not enough places to eat, study, nap, hangout, or meet people. We know this because the hip hop club dances in a cafeteria, the chamber orchestra practices in the hallway, and constantly, students leave campus for lack of reasons to stay.
Campus organizations have spent the better part of 2011 competing for student space, in survival mode to protect their space and prove the worth of their service to the campus community.  We are all trying to prove to students what we think is important and why we are more worthy than the next. This is backwards. We all have the same goal of a better SFU, so why compete? Lets stand on the same side of the line and compete only against the clock for what we can accomplish. Lets pool our resources and commit to something larger than our four or five years here.
Whose responsibility is it to make these changes — the university or the student society? I don’t think it makes a difference; it’s all our responsibility. At other schools, alumni reflect on their experiences and say that their best times were at the game, at a club event, at a pub night. So what do you want your story to be about? Tell somebody. Don’t just complain; here’s your chance to make your voice heard. I believe we need adequate facilities for athletics and student life that match our rival schools. We need a stadium. We need a student union building.

The SFSS and the university have put up money already to get plans drawn. We have combed over countless years of documents leading to this moment. There have been reports on the relationship between student wellness and physical space and we know that other universities prosper with their student union building and stadiums as focal points for the campus. It is a fact that a higher student engagement will make your piece of paper more valuable, your resume more robust, and leave SFUs reputation bolstered.

Now we need student voices to join this conversation. We invite you to speak your mind and say what you would like to see on campus. Let’s not just talk about it, let’s build it. We have created the opportunity. Imagine the possibilities.

My vision, my dream, is one project that puts every student and student group on the same team to realize our dream of an unparalleled university experience. Wednesday February 1 in Forum chambers we will unveil the beginning of the future of this campus. Come be part of the conversation.

Now we need student voices to join this conversation. We invite you to speak your mind and say what you would like to see on campus. Let’s not just talk about it, let’s build it. We have created the opportunity. Imagine the possibilities.

My vision, my dream, is one project that puts every student and student group on the same team to realize our dream of an unparalleled university experience. Wednesday February 1 in Forum chambers we will unveil the beginning of the future of this campus. Come be part of the conversation.

By Gordon Hawkes

KELOWNA (CUP) — If only university tuition were free.

I, for one, would like that very much. Not only that — I’d enjoy my university experience even more if the textbooks were free as well. And if I’m completely honest, I’d prefer not paying for my food either. Free lunch in the caf, anyone?

Unfortunately, as they say, there’s no such thing as a free lunch. Someone’s got to pay. And, as a student, I have to pay for both my lunch and my tuition. But is that fair? Should I have to pay as much as I do to attend university?

According to the Canadian Federation of Students, students have to pay more than they ought. They point to the rising levels of student debt, and the decreasing levels of government funding. All yearly increases in tuition are to be resisted. The slogan and rallying cry of their cause: “Education is a right!”

Now, I have no problem with questioning how much we have to pay as students. Who wants to pay more than is fair? If someone tried to charge me $20 for a hamburger, I’d tell him . . . well, “No, thanks.” But I wouldn’t yell in his face, “Fast food is a right!” and demand a lower price. That would be absurd. That said, a university degree isn’t a Big Mac, and a right is not a dietary preference.

Nor is a university education a right.

A right is a just claim to something: in keeping with the principles of justice, each is given his or her due. There is some confusion in this use of ‘rights’ as applied to our education. First off, all rights are not equal. A right may be either positive or negative. Negative rights — like the right to free speech — require nothing of others. If someone wants to speak his mind, I don’t need to lift a finger. I simply let him speak. Positive rights, by contrast, place obligations on others to provide the right. If education is a right, someone is morally obligated to provide it to us.

This raises the very important question of who, exactly, must provide us with an education. The government? Well, that means they have to pay for it — the cost of buildings, professors’ salaries, and so on. And where does the government get their money? Quite obviously, most of it comes from taxpayers. That means, in part, the working families of B.C. and Canada are obligated to pay for your education. (By the way, they already pay for a large chunk of the cost.)

Also, if our right to an education places the burden of paying for it on others, how far does their obligation extend? Most of us have been educated for free from kindergarten through grade 12 in the public school system. How much more education should others have to pay for? Your bachelor’s degree? Your master’s? Your PhD?

I’m aware that education has what economists call a “positive externality”. It has more value to our society than just the value to the individual being taught. For example, the more doctors Canada has, the better off we all are. And this is at least part of the reason that government already heavily subsidizes our education. We all benefit from having intelligent, skilled people fixing our teeth, designing our roads, and teaching our classes.

But those dentists and engineers and professors are rewarded for what they do, and chances are, we will be for what we do, as well. Our potential future earnings are higher than the earnings of those without a university degree, which makes our degree an investment. Also, universities have limited seats. We were admitted. Others weren’t. So shouldn’t we be willing to foot at least part of our bill, instead of insisting that others — including those who didn’t have the privilege of being admitted — pay for it?

If we are going to make demands for lower tuition, we should set aside the rhetorical language of rights. It isn’t honest, and it places unfair demands on others. And if an education is really as valuable as we are claiming, why shouldn’t we be willing to make some sacrifices and work for it?