This satiric short story might make more sense to you if you first read the thing it satirizes: a speech given by University of Michigan President Mary Sue Coleman to members of the American Council on Education concerning two lawsuits before the U.S. Supreme Court over the University's admissions policies. The University's press release concerning the talk is at URL:
http://www.umich.edu/news/Releases/2003/Feb03/r021703.html
The transcript of the talk is at:
http://www.umich.edu/ace_msc.html
The story takes place in late February, 2003.
There were two airplanes: one transported the president, one flew nearby with a film crew and shot footage of the plane carrying the president. Another crew was stationed at the airport and captured the presidential plane's descent amid the soft, searchlight illuminated snowflakes.
The band leader watched the door of the plane. As soon as the president appeared, she was greeted with the uplifting chords of Laudes Atque Carmina. She was nearly moved to tears as she rode in her Ford-Lincoln limosine, with all 500 staff members of the university's ministry of information on either side of the road casting roses and press releases before her path.
Once past the welcoming party, the president and her aides sat quietly in the limo comartment as the great leviathan of the road made its way to the hotel, lighting up the magical snowfall before it and leaving large white swirls in its wake. The aides were enchanted -- wow, just like Michigan! -- but the president thought only about the speech she was to give the next day concerning the great social transformation that had been long underway, but whose future progress was being threatened by the forces of reaction.
It was a beautiful winter morning in the District of Columbia. Two inches of snow gave to the landscape an appearance of purity; the director roused the crews up early so they could get some of it on film, before it melted in the sun or became fouled by traffic, litterbugs or tourists.
The Diversity Banquet wasn't until 1 o'clock and the speeches would start at 2, but there was still much to be done. The director wanted to film the preparations for the main events in such a way as to convey the deeper truths of multiculturalism, the blending together of many traditions into a grand, harmonious unity, so he had his crews wandering through the kitchens where various ethnic delicacies were being prepared.
Things always run a bit late, but by 1:15 the conference attendees were lining up at the steam tables for a truly special feast. A group of kilt-wearing Scotspeople had made hagis and members of a Latino coalition prepared menudo. Several cross-cultural dishes had been invented especially for this occasion: the Soul-Italian "chitterlings parmigiana" and the Franco-Korean "dog burgundy," prepared by the famous Asian chef, Long Dong Il.
It was a most convivial mealtime. A mariachi band played Beethoven's "Ode to Joy," which was followed by a Kentucky fiddler playing Buddhist temple music. Several diners even stood up to applaud after the "gregorian bongo" act.
Many languages could be heard, many aromas mingled, the entire ballroom was alive with varieties of color and pattern, and much of this was captured on film, along with a few accidental segments of diners who'd had *way* too much to drink the night before.
The first speaker was one of those great intellectuals who puts everyone to sleep, like a Ben Stein character on ludes. He went on and on about a "grand societal experiment" involving "interdisciplinary collaboration" and "transgressive interpolations" and "multi-variate re-formulations for subverting power differentials" and "learning outcomes" and "democracy outcomes" and the need for training the "leaders of tomorrow" to be "agents of change." Some in the audience figited, some tried to listen, some nodded off. Plus, there were several more spontaneous object lessons in the evils of over-drinking.
The next speaker was electrifying, even though she spoke in Spanish. The huge overhead TV screen was filled with the image of her beautiful face, while an instant translation into English was provided at the bottom of the screen for the benefit of those attendees who had not yet learned Spanish. She was a member of a group called "La Raza" and she spoke on the evils of racism. She played the audience so well that by the time she said, "Viva la Reconquista," half the audience rose up and chanted along with her,
"Viva la Reconquista!"accompanied by the instant translation, "Let us work together to build a diverse, multicultural democracy."
"Viva la Reconquista!"
"Viva la Reconquista!"
The next person stepping onto the podium was a handsome, very neatly dressed white man in his early 60s. No one recognized him as a university administrator. He could only be one thing: the token businessman!
"I'm here tonight because our global businesses need diverse workers. For example, if we throw 5000 people out of work in Buffalo, New York so that we can build a plant somewhere in Third World Obscurity to make the same stuff with only 4000 workers making one tenth of the wages, our profit margins are going to go way the hell up, but we need people who can quickly get up to speed on all the quirks of local culture so we can help the local citizens become productive members of the global economy, and we won't even need to ask for . . ."
Honestly, we have this on tape, it was at this exact moment when his face became redish and the tightening of his occular muscles put a demonic glint in his eye and his lips formed the beginning of a snear.
". . . diplomatic assistance," he continued. Audience members gasped quietly and perked up. "If we need diplomatic assistance, then we have failed!!" he bellowed. "Failed utterly!!"
"The legislatures and the courts have imposed on us a system of proportionalism." He glowered at the audience still trying to quell its fear and aversion. "BUT WE ARE BUSINESSMEN!! YES, BUSINESSMEN!! Yes, indeed, and we adjust to reality. We simply do not let our personal feelings or our political views or any sense of honor we might have -- we don't let those things get in the way of making money!"
At that point, the audience began to relax. Hey, this guy was kinda likeable! With his broad shoulders and ill-fitting suit, his knobby red head and his pointy fingernails. Money -- that's the ultimate answer, and how can you not like a guy with such a positive attitude?
"We hire the best we get," he smiled, as he expanded into a repulsive "night on bald mountain" figure. "We let the top universities sort 'em out for us, so the ones we end up with are smart, well adjusted and they do excellent work in many positions."
His "civies" had long since burnt to ashes and he wore only super-hero trunks as he wound up his speech. "On top of all that, WE CAN'T GET SUED!! Mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!" he exulted as his skin glowed red like hot metal and he tossed his head around as if to threaten some enemy monster with his horns and he triumphantly shook his scaly hands in the air.
"Just remember," he said, calming down just a tad, "I am Pluto, god of the underworld, and the better you serve me while you are on earth, the longer you will have until you must serve me for eternity!"
There was a huge, sulpherous, dense black cloud of putrid smoke mingled with gusts of dirty blue, red and green fire. The speaker had disappeared. The audience rose up in the strongest, most unanimous, most heart-felt ovation of any they had ever experienced.
It took a few moments for the audience to regain its composure after the stunning performance by the plutocrat, but by the time the president approached the lecturn, the hall was quiet with anticipation.
She was in her 50s and very attractive. The cheerleader uniform she wore gave her a truly youthful appearance. It had a big letter "D" on the front of it. "For Diversity!" She carried two pom-poms in each hand.
"I'm not really sure what I can say today that Pluto hasn't already said," she began. The audience smiled. "But you know, there is a lesson in that. We see someone and, just because they look a certain way, we automatically assume we know who that person is. We think, 'Oh, just another stupid white businessman.' And then we learn the truth. Turns out it was really Pluto, god of money and the underworld." The audience nodded appreciatively at the insight.
"And another thing. You know how we're always accused of demonizing business people? We know the truth about that, too. They demonize themselves!" The audience chuckled appreciatively.
"But seriously, I'm here today to dispell the myth that massive displays of unanimity among all the powerful segments of society on an issue that does not have the support of a majority of citizens is unseemly in a diverse democracy." She shook her pom-poms. The audience applauded appreciatively.
"All movements for social transformation involve some blend of coercion and trickery, and I think we've got the best 't' to 'c' ratio of any movement in history. We are cowboys in the true historic sense of the word -- we deliver the cattle to the marketplace. The legislators of our state don't tell the agricultural college how they should breed their cattle. They shouldn't be telling us how to breed ours." Cries of "No!" and "Of course not!" emerged from the audience.
"But now our revolution, which has been so successful up till now in securing academic positions for academians committed to the revolution, is being threatened by unmitigated reactionaries who hide their contumacious racism under absurd code words like 'equal opportinity' or 'non-discrimination.'" Louder cries: "That's wrong!!" "No! It can't be!!" and "We must oppose them!!"
The president waved her pom-poms slowly in front of her and chanted some peace mantras to calm the audience down a bit. Gently, then, she continued, "And soon the Supreme Court of the United States of America will decide which side wins this struggle. The forces of progress and diversity, or the forces of . . ." (the audience shuddered) ". . . TURNING BACK THE CLOCK!!" She shook the pom-poms crazily, as if they were voodoo devil-dolls. The audience screamed. "TURNING BACK THE CLOCK AND UNIFORMITY!! STARK UNIFORMITY!!" The very ether in that sector of the universe was rent by the screaming and wailing that then erupted.
"starrrrrrrrrkkkkkk uniforrrrrrrrrrrrrmityyyyyyyy," she almost whispered, acting weary, after a long "tranquility chant" had stilled everyone's rage. The audience nodded sleepily in agreement.
She continued, almost inaudibly, "but . . it's . . " then, increasingly louder, "aaaaaaaaaaa" then sharply louder "new morning!!" Everyone in the audience was instantly alert, shaking their heads a bit, alive with the sensation of being a witness to one of the most historic speeches ever given on the North American Continent.
"Yes, we've accomplished so much. The illegitimacy rate in the Black community is somewhere in the 80 percent range, or close to it. The abortion rate has been sky-high since the '70s, America has over two-million men in prison and eight million illegal aliens and its political system has been pounded into such a state of stupefaction that it has selected for itself a leadership now on the brink of igniting that conflagration people in my generation grew up fearing more than death by disease or accident. But guess what? We won't turn back the clock!"
She then broke into a chant/song and induced the audience to participate:
Pres: We won't turn back the clock, no, no!Her opalescent boots glimmered in the spotlight, and she completed her well-rehersed pom-pom march precisely in front of the lecturn. She held out the pom-poms and faced the audience while they applauded wildly and gazed upward at her with wide, adoring eyes.
Audi: We won't turn back the clock!
Pres: We won't turn back the clock, no, no!
Audi: We won't turn back the clock!
Pres: We got the lawyers on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got big business on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got the unions on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got foundations on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got the media on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got the army on our side!
Audi: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Pres: We got everyone who's any bit important at all.....
Audi: Yes! Yes!
Pres: On our side!!!!
The applause died down after ten minutes or so, and the president continued: "And so we will move forward. The University IS the Agent of Change, and providence has seen fit to put at its disposal a people, who are its instruments. And we shall overcome all their resistance to our benevolent hegemony!"
It was yet another standing ovation. The computer geeks who'd been maintaining the equipment in the projection room and managing Internet feeds flicked a switch and the ballroom was filled with the inspirational sounds of the United Nations Fuzzy Rainbow World Peace Coca-Cola(TM) Children's Choir. The video track showed their mass formations on a parade field, while they sang "The Diversity Song":
Beneath all flags, we march together singing
From every land, in our diversity
And to the whole, wide world this message we are bringing --
Our words of love and peace and harmony.
The campus free for all our pied battalions
And all can see, though many, we are one.
When rainbow banners flutter over every mainstreet
We'll know the transformation has begun.
The ovation swelled even further, as if trying to overpower the PA systsm. The lawyers marched in a Greek phalanx, snapping their briefcases open and shut. A chorus of administrators would shout "Diversity" and a chorus of social scientists would reply "Q.E.D.!" A band of dark Egyptians raised their fists into the air and shouted, "Yo, Ahmen-Hotep!"
The president, still smiling at the audience and waving her pom-poms as the roar diminished slightly, knew she'd reached a major milestone in her career.
The stage equipment was being taken down, but many attendees were still milling about, having animated conversations. One presidential assistant, a man in his fifties, began making his way out of the ballroom. This had been a splendid event, he thought, with echos of the standing, thundering applause given to his boss still in his head and that special, warm, triumphant feeling that comes from being part of such a profound social transformation still growing in his heart. "Bliss is it in this dawn to be alive," he thought, slightly modifying the original Wordsworth text, "but to be young was very heaven."
And he thought back to his own youth. The glowing promise of everything. Youth movement. Civil rights. Anti-war. Sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll. New ideas, new hopes. New dangers.
And now? He laughed to himself. Now he was prosperous, that was fine, but the world... The world seemed to be falling apart. Maniacs in office. On the brink of war again. Was there any hope at all?
Yes, there was! Right here, right here in this ballroom, yet another hope is being born: All of these powerful people, working harmoniously together for the benefit of human-kind, just like the Bush administration.
As he continued his walk, still in a bit of a reverie, his gaze fell upon the new assistant vice-provost for academic research from some university out east. She was especially attractive, and his thoughts again turned to the days of his youth when he could only dream about being in a place where so many beautiful women could be found. He began softly singing an old Beach Boys song: "I wish they all could be California girls."
This was overheard by a young Mexican scholar who had recently moved to that state. He glowered angrily only a moment before confronting the assistant: "Are you insulting my sister?? You bastard!!" He then punched the assistant and knocked him over.
In a spirit of hyper-inclusiveness, a real, honest, old-fashioned Texas chauvinist had been encouraged to attend. He was standing around in his exquisitely crafted cowboy boots, wearing a Stetson hat. Hearing the Mexican accent must have stirred up something in his Texan soul. When he saw the punch being thrown, he was enraged. "Remember the Alamo!!" he cried, as he jumped on the Mexican.
One member of the film crew was a rather overtly gay white guy from Michigan. His own filming was completed after the speeches, so he had some time to mingle a bit. When the altercations broke out, he was horrified. "That is so wrong!" he huffed. "Stop it now, you, you filthy goatroper!!" He then walked up to the cowboy and started kicking him.
Another film crew member happened to be a devout Muslim. The tension between him and his gay co-worker had been building up ever since the "Celebrate Gay Pride Diversity Day," when the Muslim gentleman had been singled out as a homophobe. The current display of "gay" mannerisms was too much to endure. "Jihad!!" he cried, as he pulled a knife out of the folds of the desert robe he was wearing and ran towards his co-worker.
Fortunately, one of the attendees, a liberal Jewish professor from a famous university in New York, managed to stick his foot out and trip the Muslim before the assasination could be completed.
Unfortunately, seated across from the liberal Jew during lunch had been a very sensitive Orthodox Jew who was still fuming inside after having had to watch one of his own people lunching on hog entrails with a cheese topping. There was a fountain with loose stones in the ballroom, so he began picking them up and throwing them at the liberal.
There is a certain strain of anti-Semitism that runs through portions of the Black community. It's possible that the middle-aged assistant professor of English literature picked up such an attitude as he was growing up in Detroit. Whatever his motivation, he began walking towards the Orthodox Jew.
He stopped short about 5 yards from the man with the sideburns and the funny hat and the phrase "handgun range" went quickly through his mind.
He looked around. This was a scene of utter chaos, like Abel Gance's Battle of Borodino or D.W. Griffith's Gettysburg, all mingled with hair-pulling, whining and flying chairs. The overhead monster screen flashed with heavy metal videos while the audio tracks blared through the hotel PA and computer geeks smoked weed in the projection room.
"You know what?" he said out loud, even though no one was listening. "I don't think these people need me adding to the confusion here. And I don't need them." Then he walked out of the ballroom, out of the hotel and into the bright, bracing winter air.
The above is a work of satiric fiction. All of the characters and events are fabrications. Only one character, "the president", is a (wildly distorted, of course) satiric reference to an actual person. All other characters are non-referential as well as fictional.
Gay and ethnic stereotypes are included in this story for satiric reasons. I do not mean for them to be taken seriously.
"La Raza" (meaning "the race") is an actual group, but I'm not familiar with its policies regarding "La Reconquista." In my story, the speaker from that group is fictional and non-referential.
The phrase "grand societal experiment" was taken from a speech given by Nancy Cantor when she was still with the U of M. A knack for bullshit phrases is obviously helpful if one wishes to become president of a big university.
The phrases "democracy outcomes" and "learning outcomes" are from testimony submitted by Patricia Gurin, Ph.D., in connection with the U of M admissions lawsuits. You can read my opinion of her "empirical analyses" in my essay Affirmative Action and the Degradation of Academic Integrity, which is a more serious work than the satire to which this note is appended.
As far as I know, the U of M News and Information Service is not overstaffed. I occasionally have contact with the people who work there and I've always found them friendly, helpful and professional.
Copyright © 2003
You may make paper or electronic copies of this story for your own use.
The author has lived most of his life in Southeastern Michigan. He graduated from the University of Michigan in 1977.
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