Now, we care -- the freed New York Times journalists

Last Tuesday, four New York Times journalists were captured while on assignment covering the Gaddhafi uprisings in Ajdabiya, Libya. The four -- photographers Tyler Hicks and Lynsey Addario, reporter/videographer Stephen Farrell and Beirut bureau chief Anthony Shadid -- spent six days in captivity in the Northern African nation before they were officially driven to Tunisia and released Monday.

Turkey and its African ambassadors played a large role in the reporters' release, the Times announced in a Monday email release from the newspaper's executive editor, Bill Keller. So what does this stuff all mean?

Well, firstly, there are some incredibly interesting stories involved in this when you dig in deep. Secondly, it demonstrates just how much risk newspaper reporters take on in their jobs, often contrary to popular belief. And, thirdly and most importantly, this whole debacle created the biggest American connection to what's going on in Libya to date, and that's a positive development. 

Let's start with No. 1: Farrell, a longtime Times reporter and one of the most respected war journalists in the business, has now been captured three different times on the job. This wasn't his first time at the rodeo. In September 2009, he was kidnapped by the Taliban in Northern Afghanistan and eventually rescued by a British army raid. He chronicled those events in a potent blog entry on the Times' website shortly after the incident. In April 2004, he was kidnapped during the First Battle of Fallujah in Iraq and released less than a day later.

Don't be surprised to see a similar account from Farrell in the coming days as the smoke clears from the incident and we find out more details.

About the risk -- obviously nobody thinks that war reporting is a risk-free job, but it's still not given anywhere close to the credit it deserves in terms of the inherent overall danger involved. One big reason it's particularly perilous is because of one key factor of war reporting that almost always holds true: the reporters are usually there illegally, unable to receive visas from the countries in which the wars are taking place. So if any foreign officials see reporters in these foreign countries -- and they typically stick out like sore thumbs -- they are liable to have them kidnapped and take them under captivity. And this is to say nothing of the involvement with the actual war, complete with guns, bombs and everything else you'd expect in combat. It's really, really risky stuff, and war reporters endure through it to provide necessary reports from the battlefields to the general public.

And, about Americans learning about the Libyan protests, it's really much-needed. The uprising began about a month before the reporters were kidnapped, yet, aside from the small newspaper-reading portion of society and certain others with particular connections to the African country, it went largely unnoticed. Then we Americans started to notice, started to pay attention, started to look East, when we first heard about the journalists being kidnapped.

That opened our collective eyes to many of the monstrosities occurring in Libya. The death toll, while unavailable in an official form, is at the very least in the thousands -- and crimes against humanity are much higher. Even now, with their government in shambles, Gaddafi still claiming to hold control and the U.S. getting involved to set up a no-fly zone, our collective knowledge of and familiarity with the story is far from what it needs to be. But at least we have some -- some, I stress -- grasp of it, especially as it continues to move forward and the stakes get raised.

That's often what we do when Americans are involved in something, and partly rightfully so. Now, that's an argument for a different day -- whether U.S. citizens are under-involved in foreign affairs as compared to residents of other countries -- but our involvement in this story is worthwhile.

Now, let's wait to see what Farrell and the rest of the Times reporters have to say about the whole ordeal.

OK, so I'm not the most politically correct person, but...

That's how the most viral video of the last week began, a three-minute rant on Asians by a UCLA student who has since withdrawn from the university amid death threats and worldwide ridicule of her video, originally posted on YouTube last Friday.

The self-identified UCLA student who posted the video, Alexandra Wallace, quickly removed from the video from the interwebs, but no matter -- the damage had already been done. Hundreds of astute YouTube users had managed to save the video in the hours between its original posting and its removal. By the end of the weekend, responses of all kinds were being posted as well, from offended Asians speaking out to parties not involved whatsoever simply amazed at the content of the video.

So what exactly did it say? Well, after Wallace began her video by admitting that she was in fact not the most politically correct person in the world, she proceeded to utter all sorts of ultra-racist comments against Asian students at UCLA, who she said ruined her studying experience at the library by talking when they were supposed to be studying and calling relatives at home in Japan to check in after the earthquake and tsunami that rattled the Asian nation last week.

There were some 'cool' Asians at UCLA, Wallace said, and she was in fact friends with those cool Asians on campus. But the rest of them were useless, she implied, and harmful to the rest of the general student body.

It's an alarming video, one that seriously draws into question any prior beliefs of school unity at universities like UCLA and one that draws into question racial beliefs of younger people at large as well. But the part we'd like to focus on here on Inside the fold is the official response to the video.

UCLA announced Thursday that, despite their complete disapproval of the video and what it represents, Wallace would not be suspended or in any way punished by the university because her posting of the video does not officially break any school-wide rules or its code of conduct.

Wallace withdrew from the university anyway, announcing Friday via a statement in the school newspaper, The Daily Bruin, that the stress of attending UCLA had grown too large over the last several days as a result of the video. She admitted again that the video was a mistake and apologized for its contents.

So what does this all tell us? Above all, it's a great thing -- it shows us that the public has great power, greater power than we even realize sometimes. Despite the inability of UCLA to react because of bureaucratic specifications, we as a general public essentially did the same thing UCLA would have if they could have.

We expelled Alexandra Wallace, really. The death threats to her family were out of line, surely, but the endless ridicule of her for the video was -- and is, as it continues -- is completely in line. And with so much of that, she was forced to withdraw from the public eye and withdraw from the university, as she should have for publishing a video with such horrible, objectionable content.

We go, public -- there we go, getting stuff done.

New NCAA president takes hard-line stance on age-old question

Listen to the man, because this is as tough-sounding as he's going to get.

"They are student-athletes," says the man, simultaneously straining his voice and attempting to turn his lips into a scowl-like frown. "They are not our employees, they don't work for us.

"They are our students, so we don't pay them."

Notice the declarations in his words? They are not our employees. They don't work for us. We don't pay them.

Take note, boys and girls. That's exactly how you don't start off a new job -- by alienating the very people who pay your salary and allow for your job to exist.

This man's name? Mark Emmert, the 59-year-old NCAA president in his first year on the job in what is most assuredly a tough time for the vilified organization, and he's not doing himself any favors with his first actions.

His pedigree's pretty good. Emmert worked in higher education for 25 years before taking the NCAA job in April of last year, previously touring the country at places like the University of Colorado, Montana State University and his alma mater, the University of Washington. He took office at the NCAA on November 1.

Now, give him this: the time he took over was perhaps the most difficult time in the history of collegiate athletics, with former president Myles Brand -- who passed away in September 2009 -- leaving a wide-reaching legacy of success but with the NCAA seriously struggling in the one year between Brand's departure and Emmert's appointment.

He had the worst of both worlds, essentially -- big shoes to fill but small shoes in place. Still, Emmert's comments on one of the most pressing issues facing the NCAA as a whole are indefensible, and the fact that they came so quickly after his taking over office is puzzling, too. It's like he's never read a basic book about politics, which generally have one key for aspiring rule-makers and big wigs: stay away from controversial issues for as long as possible.

Mark Emmert definitely didn't do that.

His stance on the issue didn't have to be released so quickly. He could have waited a bit, told the media and the public that he was waiting to evaluate some second-hand issues and gain a full grasp of the situation.

That would've been understandable. But, no: on his first trip to Los Angeles while on the job, Emmert took the mic at a town hall luncheon in Downtown and did his best to sound tough.

He reasoned, too, giving some of the best arguments for not paying student-athletes while skipping past all of the arguments for paying them.

"They get to have experiences that very few students get a chance to enjoy," Emmert said. "If they take full advantage of it, they will have spectacular opportunities in life."

Sure thing, Mark. Do you know what else they get?

A decree to do not anything else. Seriously. Scholarship student-athletes are not allowed to take on a paying job from August to May each year, despite the fact that every other student at every other university in the Unoi has a right to do so if they so desire. What about the hours they have to work each week? There are at least 20 required hours Monday-Friday plus strongly suggested weekend and extra hours, plus even more time spent traveling and actually playing in games during seasons. Ask them -- collegiate athletes who put in less than 40 or 50 hours per week to their specific sport are not making it professionally.

No way, Jose. So to expect them to, in many cases, support fledging families on one $10,000 stipend for an entire school year is simply ridiculous. 

Take a real look at what is often the situation. At least eight of the 80 players on scholarship on the USC football team have a kid and a girlfriend/wife they support. Yet, simply because they desire to play professionally at some point, they often must live in poverty, unable to make any other money.

The likelihood they will make significant money playing professional football is close to nil. The likelihood USC will make significant money from their playing collegiate football is close to certain. Yes, the schools, in many cases, profit handsomely -- think $30 or 40 million a year on football -- from the on-court or on-field performances of their student-athletes.

The actual student-athletes don't.

Yet, because of a host of Draconian, nonsensical rules that governed the NCAA since its inception in 1906, we refuse to pay these kids.

With a new president in place, there was a hope in some circles that the rules would eventually be reversed, that student-athletes would finally be appropriately compensated for all they do.

But, thanks to Mark Emmert and his ridiculous hard-line stance, we know they won't.

Now let's see what kind of support he gets from the general public.