Who wins when the government shuts down? You might think the right answer is “Nobody.”  Lots of people get hurt or inconvenienced. It’s a terrible way to do budgeting. It’s just stupid.
        Politicians think they know better. They will win by blaming the other party.  But, of course, they get blamed themselves.  Take a step back and you can see the long term effects on the citizenry – disillusionment with politics, cynicism, alienation from civic life, the conclusion that democracy does not work.
        From that vantage point the winner is clear:
        Vladimir I. Putin.
        His plan for the 2016 US elections, I believe, was the same as in other elections Russia has tried to influence. It was not to defeat Hillary, or get Trump elected. That would be fine with Putin. . But he plays the long game, and sees the real threat to his regime, not a specific politician, but a challenge to autocratic rule.  His e goal is to  destabilize democratic liberalism.
        He is succeeding brilliantly, with the help of unwitting collaborators. The shutdown serves him up a victory on a silver platter.
        This is collusion by inadvertence, a kind of shortsightedness induced by focusing too intensely on the Blame Game. Once afflicted in this way political parties and their followers adopt a common agenda and send a common message – democratic governance does not work.  There are plenty of people, in this country and abroad, who are vulnerable to just such a message. In disgust and disillusionment they are likely to abandon civic engagement.  For them the shutdown is an   invitation to cynicism.
        Behind it all, I suspect, is a failure of political imagination, the inability to envision what a vibrant democracy can achieve and what it takes to achieve it. Without such a vision politicians play right into the hands of every dictator who knows he can never be secure in his power when democratic governance succeeds.
 
 
 
 
January 2018
 

​ON LIBERTY
 
I went upstairs this morning to the shelves where I keep my favorite books and found a paperback copy of brittle pages and largely illegible handwritten notes in a work I had read as a freshman in college. On the first page I managed to make out that I had written “One tremendous book.” On the last page, “Amen.”
 
          The book was John Stuart Mill’s On Liberty. I had gone back to it because of David Brooks’ evocative panegyric, “Democracy as a Way of Life,” treating the Victorian philosopher as a “hero of democracy”
 
The book had been assigned in a Freshman Seminar at Hamilton College; we read it under the unrelenting eye of George Nesbit, the chair of the English Department.  Only now, so many decades later, do I realize that reading it had been for me a life-shaping experience, continuing to the present when democracy and freedom are so imperiled both by scrofulous opponents and by well-intentioned advocates.
 
What gives this book its enduring greatness? In part, surely, it is its vision of freedom and its companion democracy as something more than the least bad of all the systems, or than a means of making decisions that increase individual wealth or the GDP.  Liberty energizes, engages, helps us grow. Brooks quotes Mill’s biographer, Richard Reeves: “At the heart of his liberalism was a clearly and repeatedly articulated vision of a flourishing human life — self-improving, passionate, truth-seeking, engaged and colorful.”
I am grateful that I had the experience of reading this text at the beginning of my college years. Now, holding in my hands that battered, brittle paperback I hope that somewhere students today are having a similar life-shaping experience. Mill, however,  I suspect, would hope for something more demanding. Brooks writes:
“Mill showed that real citizenship  ... involves, at base, cultivating the ability to discern good from evil, developing the intellectual virtues required to separate the rigorous from the sloppy, living an adventurous life so that you are rooting yourself among and serving those who are completely unlike yourself.
The demands of democracy are clear — the elevation and transformation of your very self. If you are not transformed, you’re just skating by.”
Yes. Amen.
 
 
January 2018
 
 
 

PLEASURE AND PROVOCATION;  HUNTER RAWLINGS ON LIBERAL EDUCATION
 
        I bet you missed it. In the middle of the holiday rush Hunter Rawlings, a classicist who has (twice) served as president of Cornell, published an essay called “Stop Defending the Liberal Arts. The Chronicle of Higher Education published it on December 21, 2017, just before Christmas, when not a creature was stirring, not even an op-ed junkie.
 
[ N.B. Do not confuse this with a piece I called “Please Don’t Make the Case for the Humanities” which appeared (under another title) in InsideHigherEd .in 2016. Great minds run in the same channels, but some run deeper than others. Read Rawlings!]
 
         Rawlings’  essay is a delight to read, rich in its observations about art, poetry, science, indeed all aspects of liberal education. But it is also provocative about some of the hot-button issues on campuses today. It is a “MUST READ”,
         In case you can’t get it through the Chronicle, the full text is appended. Please share it with friends, colleagues and administrators. They too will find it a pleasure and a provocation, and sharing it is the best way I know to make the case for liberal education.
--
Stop Defending the Liberal Arts
By Hunter R. Rawlings III DECEMBER 21, 2017
 
 How can we think about the human brain? Here is a poetic answer.
 
The Brain—is wider than the Sky--
For—put them side by side--
The one the other will contain
With ease—and You—beside--
 
The Brain is deeper than the sea--
 For—hold them—Blue to Blue--
The one the other will absorb--
As Sponges—Buckets—do--
 
 The Brain is just the weight of God--
For—Heft them—Pound for Pound--
 And they will differ—if they do--
 As Syllable from Sound--
 Emily Dickinson writes about the brain as our means of encompassing and absorbing the world, and as our link to God. The poem is an awed reflection on how the individual brain makes the world that each of us lives in, and on its capacity to learn and expand. It is, or can be, both wide and deep. It can conceive of a God who is not physical.
The poem suggests to me the defining component of a liberal education: liberation. The mind, when it is learning, evades or outgrows some of our most severe constrictions: those of physicality (consider Dickinson’s sheltered life, or the accomplishments of Stephen Hawking); those of a narrow-minded upbringing, of one’s unexamined opinions, of the provincialism that may characterize a Manhattanite as well as a resident of the most remote hamlet. Search Intellectual and aesthetic pleasure is an essential goal of higher education, one we omit at great cost and peril. What about our students? Are we liberating them — or, more accurately, helping them to liberate themselves? Lucas Stanczyk, a political theorist at Harvard, makes the case for why we should be doing our absolute best:
The most important reason to improve education is not to make children fit for tomorrow’s job market. Nor is it to make them capable of voting well and serving on a jury. It is to help people escape a life of vapid consumerism by giving them capacities to appreciate richer pursuits and to produce their own complex meanings.
Dickinson injects a sly humor toward the end of each stanza: "—and You—beside" in the first; the prosaic concreteness of "sponges" and "buckets" with the quirky "do" in the second; and the happily inconclusive "if they do" in the third. We can be pretty sure that, as far as she is concerned, the brain and God do not differ except in one’s perspective. And note how these three monosyllabic insinuations rhyme: "you," "do" and "do." They draw attention to themselves, making us readers think about how we think. There is a whole world of thought in this poem, a world of "richer pursuits" and "complex meanings."
Emily Dickinson has one way of considering the brain; today’s neuroscientists have another. In recent years, neuroscience has made impressive progress in understanding the brain and its functions, but so far has entirely failed to comprehend consciousness — to make the leap from the physical brain to the conscious mind. And yet Dickinson does so effortlessly, poetically, humanely. The humanities have inquired for centuries into what makes us human; science is only beginning to investigate this essential question. The Dartmouth College physicist Marcelo Gleiser has noted that as science and its methodology developed, from the 17th century onward, the arts and humanities asked questions that science did not touch: "What is the nature of physical reality? What is mind? Why am I who I am? How do we construct a sense of reality? What is justice? What is a good life?" Now, as science begins to address questions of humanity and meaning, Gleiser sees an "unprecedented opportunity to bring the sciences and the humanities back into constructive engagement." Humanists, he believes, need to learn about scientific research that relates to their fields, while scientists would benefit from the broader context of humanistic thought. This is what a good liberal education will pursue in coming years, the connections and contrasts between science and the e humanities. Think of how much fun this is going to be for students who have access to it!
Now consider another poem, this one from the multifaceted work of A.R. Ammons. It’s called "Their Sex Life," and here it is in its entirety:
One failure on
Top of another.
In those few words I see another component of liberal education: irreverence. A liberal education is not always grave or solemn. It should be sharp, funny, curious, joyous. It is big enough — wider than the sky — to include palpable jokes like this one, a verbal and visual pun.
 
There is room for irreverence even as we are challenged to bring all our intellect to bear on the subject at hand: the nature of light, the density of a Jorie Graham poem or a Henry James novel, the intricacies of cellular processes, the machinations that have led to wars. Though we have literary canons, scientific laws, mathematical axioms, landmark events in history, and other such foundational aspects of our disciplines, if we are inspiring teachers, we will try to instill knowledge of and respect for these meaningful matters, but not a stultifying reverence for them. You have to get off your knees to accomplish very much. A good liberal education encourages students to engage with foundational concepts in an imaginative way, not just absorbing but questioning.
 
Several years ago I finally read, for the first time, Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady. Then, a year or two later, I visited an art gallery in Washington and saw, to my astonishment, a magnificent portrait of the novel’s protagonist, Isabel Archer. I was so struck by it that I bought it. The artist, a young woman named Maud Taber-Thomas, has a background in Victorian literature as well as in fine arts. Besides the beauty and expressiveness of the painting, I am intrigued by the artist’s choice to interpret literature by imagining and portraying its protagonists. James, in a manner that was quite innovative at the time, illuminated a fictional consciousness, the drama of interior life, often focusing on what the critic Michael Gorra calls "moments of refusal, events that don’t happen." Taber  Thomas’s painting also illuminates an interior life — and I am confident that it would do so even for a viewer who had never heard of Isabel Archer, or even of Henry James. But for those who know the novel, the painting enlivens our understanding of it, and the novel enriches our perception of the painting. Here is a beautiful example of that buzzword "interdisciplinary," reminding us that the buzzword means something. And this example has its roots in a liberal-arts education.
 
 Now a few lines from Sappho: …
Anactória, she’s not here, and I’d rather see her lovely step, her sparkling glance and her face
than gaze on all the troops in Lydia in their chariots and glittering armor.
Here is an expression in poetry of a critical component of liberal education: pleasure. A liberal education should invoke the pleasure of learning, of figuring things out, of seeing the physical turned into words, of devising an experiment that works. The pleasure of synthesis — of seeing how something you learned about Renaissance art enriches what you learned about European history; how vectors are important in physics as well as in calculus; how both macroeconomics and the photographs of Walker Evans can testify to the realities of poverty. Why are we here, after all? We are so busy being utilitarians today that we derogate pleasure as a superficial end in itself. And yet intellectual and aesthetic pleasure is an essential goal of higher education, one we omit at great cost and peril. We are in the age of big data, accountability, and higher education as a product to be bought off the shelf. But long-term quality, not instant quantification, should be our concern — teaching our students to develop what Lionel Trilling calls "an awareness of the qualities of things" for a lifetime of personal pleasure and democratic contributions.
 Consider another poem, “Agreement,” this one by a contemporary poet, Kay Ryan:
The satisfactions
of agreement are
immediate as sugar— a
a melting of the
 granular, a syrup
that lingers, shared
 not singular.
Many prefer it.
 
The component of liberal education that I find in this sly little poem is provocation. A liberal education provokes; it does not invite the syrupy satisfactions of agreeing with each other all the time, but the rougher, more granular process of thinking for ourselves. A liberal education demands that you decide — agree or disagree? Find the nuances in the issue, and voice them. Challenge authority. Argue forcefully — and with wit and reason. Write clearly and persuasively about your research, ideas, conclusions, interpretations. Students will not learn to appreciate the qualities of things, to discriminate, to challenge, to argue persuasively, in an environment condescendingly signposted with hedges and cushioned with caveats. I am of course talking about two of today’s hot topics in academia, trigger warnings and safe spaces. It is important to be clear about the use of these terms. I am not objecting to alerting students that an upcoming topic of discussion or an assigned reading may be painful because it involves graphic violence, for example. Some students have experienced traumatic events, and a warning can help them handle the topic. But I do object to warnings that infantilize our students — warning them about every controversial subject, or allowing them to skip discussions that provoke them or make them uncomfortable. Getting an education is not supposed to be a comfortable process. "Safe spaces" is also a term that means different things to different people. Under whatever definition, whether a physical place or an intellectual atmosphere, it must not undermine free speech, academic freedom, or the intellectual development of our students. Henry Cabot Lodge — U.S. senator and confidant of Theodore Roosevelt — once pointed out the value of both provocation and pleasure in education. In 1870, a very young Lodge took a course at Harvard from the almost equally young Henry Adams. Here is what Lodge had to say about the difference that course made in his life:
 
In all my four years, I never really studied anything, never had my mind roused to any exertion or to anything resembling active thought until in my senior year I stumbled into the course in medieval history given by Henry Adams, who had then just come to Harvard … [Adams] had the power not only of exciting interest, but he awakened opposition to his own views, and this is one great secret of success in teaching. In any event, I worked hard in that course because it gave me pleasure. I took the highest marks, for which I cared, as I found, singularly little, because marks were not my object, and for the first time I got a glimpse of what education might be and really learned something. … Yet it was not what I learned but the fact that I learned something, that I discovered that it was the keenest of pleasures to use one’s mind, a new sensation, and one which made Mr. Adams’s course in the history of the Middle Ages so memorable to me.
To teach students that it is a pleasure to use one’s mind and to encourage critical thought and intellectual opposition are our most important tasks as educators.
 
One final component of liberal education — courage. Svetlana Alexievich, who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2015, does not write poetry or fiction but oral history, the product of countless hours of deep interviews, edited and shaped into lyrical portraits of lives caught up in vast events. Her works grapple with the experiences of Soviet women in World War II, of Soviet soldiers in Afghanistan and of their families at home, of victims of the Chernobyl nuclear disaster, of ordinary people amid the collapse of the Soviet Union. To write her books, to show the rest of us what these lives and deaths were like, took monumental courage. Alexievich immersed herself for years in people’s accounts of suffering, and risked her health by going to the Chernobyl area. She is now politically unwelcome in her homeland; some of her books are banned, and she was prosecuted for defaming the Soviet army. Where does her courage come from? It was not generated in "safe spaces." Alexievich traces its source to her childhood in Belarus:
It was the postwar period, when young boys were still getting themselves blown up in the forest by German and partisan mines. As far as I remember, only women lived in the village. No men had returned from the war. In the evenings, after milking the cows and finishing up the housework, the women would sit outside and talk about life and death. They talked about the war: how they saw their loved ones off, how they waited for them. How they believed the gypsy women who promised them miracles. It seems to me that I learned everything there was to know about love from their stories. Their stories affected me more than books. Life seemed mysterious and frightening.  It took me a long time to find a genre that corresponded to the way I viewed the world …I chose the genre of the human voice.
Alexievich finds another source of courage in literature: Dostoevsky asked the question: "How much of the human is there in a human being?" How can the human in this human being be protected? That’s the question I’m looking to answer. I collect the human spirit. Liberation, irreverence, pleasure, provocation, courage — those are, in my view, five essentials of liberal education. Many more could be proposed, of course. But I hope these five suffice to justify a contrarian recommendation: Stop defending the liberal arts. Op-eds and other public assertions by those of us in academia inevitably sound defensive and self-interested. So let others whose minds have been awakened by a liberal education do the defending for us.
 Hunter R. Rawlings III, a classicist, was president of Cornell University, the University of Iowa, and the Association of American Universities.
 
 
 
January 2018 

​IN SEARCH OF A METAPHOR
            I stopped blogging to go search for a metaphor.
I needed one to comprehend what was going on in the Trump administration. I couldn’t seem to find a metaphor anywhere in the modern world for such hate-filled vulgarity.  For a while I thought by analyzing him as a demagogue, not as a populist, I might make some progress.  That seemed to help, so I wrote a piece that should appear before too long in The American Scholar.
            Then came trump’s comments on Haiti and African nations.  No ancient demagogue was quite that bad.   I needed a better metaphor, not just for him, but for those who defended him, or made milk-toast criticisms, or just looked the other way.  This is not restricted t Republican politicians. Consider, for example, the reported comment of the Rev. Robert Jeffress, the evangelical pastor of First Baptist Church of Dallas: “Apart from the vocabulary attributed to him, President Trump is right on target in his sentiment. As individual Christians, we have a biblical responsibility to place the needs of others above our own, but as commander in chief, President Trump has the constitutional responsibility to place the interests of our nation above the needs of other countries.”
Perhaps without knowing it such defenders of the president are demeaned, diminished, soiled, sullied by contact with this man. No, -- none of these terms is quite right; none provides the metaphor we need.  Finally, I came across this passage in Polybius:
The festival of the Antigoneia was being held at Sicyon,—the baths being all supplied with large public bathing tubs, and smaller ones placed by them used by bathers of the better sort,—if Adronidas or Callicrates entered one of these, not a single one of the bystanders would get into it any more, until the bathman had let every drop of water run out and filled it with fresh. They did this from the idea that they would be polluted by entering the same water as these men.” (Polybius 30.23, tr.  Shuckburgh. )
These Sicyonians got it right. They feared that any contact, however slight, with these politicians, might “pollute,” them.  Until Trump came along, I thought such fears were superstitious holdovers from a pre-civilized stage of human existence.  Now I understand their fear that they might be infected, and perhaps thereby become infectious themselves, a contagion that might spread through the whole body politic.  
That’s the metaphor I was looking for.
           
 
January 12, 2018
 
 
 
 
 

 

Among the most popular articles in the New York Times recently has been “Six Myths about Choosing a College Major.”  Read it; post it; pass it around. , It’s important and helpful, especially in a time when such choices are often dominated by poorly conceptualized ideas about “return on investment.” 
        The piece misses, however, a key point. And I mean key. Some majors provide a key that can unlock new worlds of experience for a student – art, music, poetry, the experience of the past, the perennial issues of personal growth and genuine satisfaction.  ‘
Satisfaction?  Did he say “satisfaction”?
Other majors offer success, that is, they help their graduates make a buck.  Good for them. But that’s not satisfaction. Caveat emtor. Let the buyer beware.  Go for the key.
 
 

           Trump taking  the oath of office on the Lincoln Bible

LINCOLN FORESEES THE DEMAGOGUE
Is it unreasonable then to expect, that some man possessed of the loftiest genius, coupled with ambition sufficient to push it to its utmost stretch, will at some time, spring up among us? And when such a one does, it will require the people to be united with each other, attached to the government and laws, and generally intelligent, to successfully frustrate his designs.
Distinction will be his paramount object, and although he would as willingly, perhaps more so, acquire it by doing good as harm; yet, that opportunity being past, and nothing left to be done in the way of building up, he would set boldly to the task of pulling down.
Here, then, is a probable case, highly dangerous, and such a one as could not have well existed heretofore.
Lincoln, The Perpetuation of Our Political Institutions: Address Before the Young Men's Lyceum of Springfield, Illinois
January 27, 1838
​

Our president is a master at outrage. Part of his success comes, as I have suggested in a recent posting in the Provocation section of this web site, from hid skill in hyperbole.
​
But where is hyperbole when we need it?  We have come to expect it and its concomitant, outrage, whenever he speaks or tweets, so when he reads what would seem for another president perfectly acceptable, albeit disgracefully belated, statement on Charlotesville,  it falls flat on its face.  Lacking the now familiar hyperboles it sounds out of character and hence  insincere.
Come on, Mr. President, makes America hyperolic again. Give us back our outrage.
 

 
ZOMBIE NIGHTS: THE FINALE
Wherein our hero meets political philosophers beyond all imagining and says farewell to Zombie
--
Was I ever on a roll!  My performance as the Weenie Man in Aristophanes Knights was a terrific hit. The critics were ecstatic.  and the offers came rolling in for roles on stage and in film.   SNL not only started accepting my satirical sketches; they asked me for a guest appearance! Someone even liked one of my Facebook posts – a first. Even better, my bet with the on line bookies paid off, big time, as more and more people started calling Trump a demagogue, not a populist.  
Well, actually, all this hasn’t happened yet. But it will, soon; I’m sure. 
Best of all, Friday night had come, when I was to meet Zombie for our “working vacation.”  Was I ever ready for that!  I shaved real carefully, rubbed myself all over with my AXE Iced Musk and Ginger  Deodorant Stick, a premium ($4.99 but it’s worth it!) quality product , invigorating , with 24 hour protection, just like the ads promise. Then I went to the laundry pile and picked out some items that really weren’t very dirty at all. I dressed. then packed a knapsack with some items that might come in handy, including a notepad, ball pen and a copy of New Politicians of Fifth Century Athens, the book we were going to chop to pieces and rewrite,  if Zombie was really serious about the working part of our working vacation getaway.
 I was on time for once, right at midnight at the gate to Rock Creek Cemetery here in D.C.. Zombie was already there, greeted me with a kiss – Wow! off to a good start! -, and the broke the bad news.
“Dumbo, I’ve been reassigned.   I have to go to Germany.”
“Oh no! When?”
“Tonight. Soon.”
“Tonight? Like, you’re leaving tonight? What about our working vacation?  I’m really up for it. I can’t tell you how much I have been looking forward to it. Can’t you just stay  over the weekend with me in that McKim, Mead & White mausoleum you reserved for us?”
“I’m afraid it’s urgent. The powers that be are not going to give me an extension.  The election is coming right up.“
“What will you do in Germany? Is there someone else?”
“Don’t worry. There’s no one besides you, Dumbo. But we have to get ahead registering voters in cemeteries all over Germany. Remember that if we had just got a hundred  thousand more dead people  to the polls, we could have turned around the U.S. election. We’ve got to do everything we can to keep Angela Merkel in office. “
“So you’re leaving tonight?”
“Real soon. I’m sorry, Dumbo; the order just came in a few hours ago and I wanted to tell you face to face.  I’m going to miss you, but  here’s some good news: even on such  short notice some friends put together a farewell party for me.  We’ll go down to it right now and I will introduce you to some amazing people, some of the best political philosophers in American history.”
What is a political philosopher, I wondered.  No clue. I’d be way in over my head at such a gathering. I tried to name one. Couldn’t. Then I got an idea and blurted out,
“Like Ayn Rand?”
“No, not Ayn Rand, most definitely not. Hannah Arendt maybe, or Leo Strauss, but certainly not Ayn Rand.  But here we are. “
Bright lights were hung from mausoleum to mausoleum.  A bar was set up between two tomb stones.  It must be a costume party, I thought, since so many people were milling about, dressed in old fashioned clothes.
“Let me introduce you to Sandy,” Zombie said  leading me over to a guy with a frock coat,  lace around his neck, and wearing  a pair of tight fitting breeches :that must have been made out of spandex,! They’d show off every muscle, contour, bulge or surge. And to top it off he was holding a walking stick . What a fop!
“Sandy, this is Dumbo, a very perceptive observer of the contemporary political scene. Dumbo, this is Sandy. You two  have a lot in common.” At that Zombie went to schmooze with other guests.
“I’m sorry,” I said to the tightly fitted Sandy, ”You look very familiar, but I can’t seem to place you. Where have I seen you before?”
“Perhaps on a ten dollar bill?” He affected a ridiculous Scotch accent with a Caribbean lilt to it. . More foppery!
“I haven’t seen many of them. What did you say your name was?”
“Hamilton, Alexander or Alex. My close friends call me Sandy. Surname is  Hamilton.”.
“Oh wow! The Alexander Hamilton?”
“I rather think so..”
“Like, the real Alexander Hamilton, the famous one?”
“Indeed.”
“I am so honored. So pleased to meet you in person.”
“Thank you very much.”
“What a hit that play has been! Everyone is talking about it. I would love to see it, but I couldn’t afford a tickets. Not enough ten dollar bills. Ha ha ha.” I laughed at my own joke . He didn’t.
“Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding. I am the Wall Street Alexander Hamilton, not the Broadway one.”
“Ohhhh, I am so sorry..” Then, thinking that might have been a faux pas, I added, “That’s OK.  Don’t feel bad about it. I bet you could still introduce me to Lin-Manuel  Miranda; I really want an audition for that musical. You see, I ca act and sing, and lead a Conga line ....”
 
“Perhaps,” he interrupted, ”but first I need to ask you about your politics.”
Bad news! If he wanted to get personal after the first minute of conversation, he could ask about my sex life. An answer to that would take no time at all. But politics? I always have trouble explaining to my friends why I had voted for Trump.  What was I going to say to this guy?
“Well, you see, all the smart people said he didn’t’ have a chance, so I thought, ‘What the hell; I can express my general frustration with ... .’ ”
“Please,” he interrupted again, ”I did not ask about thy politics; I used the plural, to inquire about  the state of politics in your United States.”
“Oh, whew, well, sure. We’ve got a demagogue right now, but he’ll fade away after another term or two. No big problem.”
“I wouldn’t be so confident.   I fear all those who start as “commercial demagogues and end up as tyrants.”
“You mean the system you guys designed could turn into a military dictatorship?”
“Not necessarily. A tyrant just needs the people to be passive, to roll over on their backs, and go along with whatever he says.  You can read all about this danger in Federalist Paper One, and, of course in Plato Republic Eight. You do know your Plato,  don’t you?”
 “Oh sure, of course.  I mean, like, he was the teacher of Socrates wasn’t he? The one who had to drink hemlock all the time because he “corrupted” him after class one day. Dirty old man. But I didn’t know he was a Republican. ”
At that moment, mercifully, Zombie appeared and got me off the hook by  taking my arm and saying, “Now Sandy, you mustn’t monopolize our guest from the world of the living.  I want him to meet Jamey.”
“About that introduction...” But it was too late. Zombie led me over to a short guy dressed in the same silly way, spandex and all, but with a knock-out signet ring on his right hand.
“Jamey, you will enjoy talking to Mr. Dumbo,...”
Before the sentence finished Jamey broke in, “What, pray tell, is the state of the Enlightenment among you?”
“Pretty good, I guess. I keep meeting Buddhists all the time.”
“I intended the intellectual movement  that undergirded all our efforts to establish a novus ordo seclorum.”
Wow, I thought. This guy really knows his Greek.  But what was this Enlightenment thing he was so worried about? I tried to remember Professor Hoidgkins course “Hypocrisy and Repression: The Delusions of the Pre-Post-Modernist World.” where we had spent a  whole day on   the Enlightenment. before getting down to serious business with Walter Benjamin.  But when was it exactly? And when? It must have come right after the Dark Ages, which we weren’t supposed to call the Dark Ages because they looked back in some nifty ways to really ancient times. And it must come before the period we weren’t supposed to call the Renaissance because that sounded as if they looked backward to antiquity rather than forward to whatever came next. I tried rea hard to remember what Prof. Hodgkins had said about it. All I could remember was that it was pre-post-modern and so pretty bad.  Then the post-modern LED light went off in my brain:
“The Enlightenment was a delusion based on the repressive idea of “reason,” which doesn’t exist because all that really exists  are power relationships. That’s what Professor Hodgkins explained to us. I got a B plus in her course.”
At this point Jamey flashed his nifty signet ring at me and asked. “How’s your  Latin?”
“Great!” I assured him. ”I’m really good at languages provided they are safely dead.  The modern ones have a way of jumping up and biting you. That’s what I learned in my Necromancy major.”
“Translate this, then,” and he showed me the inscription on the signet ring.
“Whoa,” I burst out, “I saw this ring on Antiques Road Show not lonmg ago. Same  inscription!. It belonged to – wait a minute! -, are you James Madison?”
“The same. But, prithee,  translate the inscription. It is quite instructive – Veritas non verba magistri..”
“Easy! The first part of veritas is like English every. The second part is like Proto-Germanic *dagaz, meaning day, or Old High German Tag as I am sure you know. So it begins  “Every  day..” Then comes. non. Piece of cake. Th word is the same as Old English non,  meaning  noon or in the afternoon. So, “Every day after noon...” Then things   gets tricky, but I know an imperative when I see one. Verba is the second person singular, present imperative of the  verb verb(er)are, meaning to whip, or lash or beat with a baseball bat. And magistri is the plural of the word for teacher.”
“So put it all together, if you please. What does it mean?”
“Give your teachers a whipping every day after lunch time. Right?”
“Close enough. You see, it asks,  Wwhat do you   think, Mr. Dombo, not what did Prof. Hodgkins tell you to think. That is the basis of all reasoning and all sound politics.”
That idea was totally new to me. What do you accumulate thousands of dollars of student loans unless you are going to learn enough solid post-modernist doctrine to last you the rest of your life? Crazy idea. Jamey! But I’ll keep thinking about it, on my own,
--
As Zombie and I walked hand in hand  to the limo, I  kept trying to tell myself it  was all for the best. After all, you can’t spend the rest of your life having sex with a zombie, now can you?  So, as Zombie stepped into the limo I tried to be cool and affectionate at the same time:
“Look, Zombie, it’s not always been smooth sailing between us, but I have really enjoyed our time together, and I’ve learned a lot.  I’m going to miss you..”
Good, huh?
“Then fly over to Europe.  I can get a weekend off and we can spend it in Paris. I know a good place to stay there, “Chez Catacombes” it is called.   It’s about as central as you can get inn that city.”
“I’d love to, but, look, you know a lot about me -  my stupidities and ineptness - but I still don’t feel I know anything about you. I mean, Who are you, Zombie? Are you young or old, white or black? Are you male or female? Gay or straight? What’s your real name? Are you Life in Death or Death in Life? I need to know.” 

“You already know. I am who you want me to be.” With that the chauffeur closed the door and drove off.  I stood there watching the back lights disappear in the gloom.
 
 
 

From Wikipeia on Jared Kushner
"  He graduated from the Frisch School, a coed yeshiva high school, in 1999. According to aHspokeswoman for Kushner Companies, he was an honors student and a member of the debate, hockey, and basketball teams.[11] Former school officials described him as a less than stellar student.[12] In 1998 Charles pledged $2.5 million to Harvard University.[13]
Kushner matriculated at Harvard College in 1999.
"
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