The story is told of an admiring friend who charms a young mother, “My, that’s a beautiful baby you have there.”  The mother replies, “Oh, that’s nothing — you should see his photograph.”  In this obviously weird colloquy lies a sorely bitter truth.
Louis René Beres

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Substance.  When you communicate, (when you speak or write), have something of importance to say.

Here’s your substantive read for today:  Nary a “philosopher king”: The long road from Plato to American politics by Louis René Beres.  As happens frequently, I found it linked to on Andrew Sullivan’s blog.  Written by a professor at Purdue, it hearkens back to Plato, and Neil Postman’s seminal book, Amusing Ourselves to Death – simply one of the most important books I have ever read.

Here are quite a few excerpts:

In Plato’s Republic, a canonic centerpiece of all Western thought, we first read of the “philosopher king,” a visionary leader who would impressively combine deep learning with effective governance. Today, almost 2400 years later, such leadership is nowhere to be found, either in Washington, or in any other major world capital.
In American politics, no one any longer expects what Ralph Waldo Emerson had once called “high thinking.” Rather, the celebrity politician draws huge audiences (and donors) although very few would ever expect to hear anything of substance. In our national politics of veneered truths, whenever a candidate’s spoken words seethe with vacant allusions and blatant equivocations, the crowd nods approvingly, and leaps with satisfaction.
Now, at a time when leadership incapability could pave the way to bioterrorism, “dirty bombs,” or even outright nuclear attack, our relentless transformations of politics into amusement has become far more than a mere matter of foolishness or bad taste.
When will we learn to look behind the news, to acknowledge that our fragile political world has been constructed upon ashes? The answer: Not until we learn to take ourselves seriously as persons; not until we begin to read and think with sincerity; not until we stop amusing ourselves to death; not until we seek rapport with genuine feeling; and not until we rediscover the dignified grace of real learning.

The dignified grace of real learning.  There’s the challenge.