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University Daily Kansan Friday. April 21. 1961
Churchill Is Versatile Writer
EDITOR'S NOTE: Following is one of five Spring English proficiency examination papers recently cited for special cognition by the proficiency committee.
By John R. Finger
There is probably not a man alive today who is so universally respected in all quarters of the world as that illustrious figure of diversity. Sir Winston Churchill. His life has been so varied, so dynamic, so "complete," that he has extracted grudging admiration and awe even from those who have hated him most, of which Hitler, Mussolina, and Stalin were only three.
His tangible contributions are numerous and obvious, pervading almost every facet of endeavor. His historical works are widely read, he has been a shrewd political analyst, his oratory has inspired millions, and it was he who, in those bloody years of World War II, collected the courage of a frightened empire and mustered his people into a gritty, stalwart bulwark which alone withstood the blows of Germany for two years before receiving succor. Churchill alone deserves to be hailed as the guiding light of democratic civilizations during the chaos of World War II.
He was the personification of all the hopes and prayers of England, a stern gentleman with bulldog tenacity who displayed a zeal for the rough in-fighting. With this determination he infused his people; through all the bombs, rockets, and horror, Churchill remained as dogged ever and his people remained with him. One Londoner even remarked, "We got St. Paul's and we got 'Winnie'; we'll win, all right." So goes the common description of Churchill when his name is men-
So goes the common description of Churchill when his name is mentioned.
These, of course, are the tangible legacies of Mr. Churchill. His and England's story of heroism are as one and are familiar to most of us today. There is, however, a tendency for students to read of his exploits, comment on his extraordinary character, and then relegate him to a historical category, neglecting what is perhaps Sir Winston's most real and vital contribution to a democratic civilization.
I speak of his legacy of dynamic self-assertion. He demonstrated to a sometimes apathetic world just how vigorous and forceful the democratic mind can be. It is this spirit of dynamic self-assertion and confidence which the democracies lack today; we hesitate, waver on the brink of action, then stare helplessly while other, more vigorous societies gain the initiative. What we fail to realize is that only by this dynamic spirit, of "peaceful aggressiveness," can our type of civilization exist. Indeed, it was only through an evolutionary process of dynamic self-assertion that a democracy developed and a democratic civilization can be expected to exist only as long as it continues to assert itself in all fields: art, economy, politics, foreign relations, etc. Churchill epitomizes this dynamic spirit and he should be regarded as an example to follow, not as a unique historical oddity. His legacy is a living, thriving leadership, derived from the well-spring of this self-assertion.
His whole life has been of an adventurous, dynamic nature. From his days as a young correspondent during the Beer War until the present, he has served as a guide-post in dynamism for the democratic mind. He had been accused of gross mis-judgment in his planning of the Gallipoli campaign during World War I, and has been the subject of much criticism ever since.
It can only be admitted that occasionally Churchill's adventurous spirit has placed him in the proverbial hot water and has held him in ill repute. Yet the fact remains that he has acted almost always in a forceful manner and it is such a manner which will obtain results, whether for godd or bad. His decision on the Gallipoli campaign resulted in many British casualties and much bitterness against him, but we must remember that it was this campaign which pointed out British and U.S. military weaknesses, and which later led to corrective measures.
Even from the errors of forcefulness, some beneficial results may be obtained. The true tragedy of a civilization is not to be dynamic and blunder, but to grow staid and refuse even to act.
With this spirit of dynamic self-assertion, however, it is obvious that shrewdness and tact cannot be neglected. Mr. Churchill also exemplifies these two qualities. His action has generally been forceful only after a keen analysis of the present situation and some idea of the possible after-effects. This, together with the ability to alternately cajole, plead with, or order his accosciates about in such a manner as to produce largely beneficial effects, has
enabled Churchill to attain the stature of a leviyian in public affairs
This is Churchill's contribution to a democratic civilization, this is his legacy. If today we wish to retain our lofty status as the most progressive ideological system, then we must analyze the situation, formulate certain judgments, and assert ourselves dynamically in such a way as to produce the most favorable long-range results for ourselves and mankind. Dynamic self-assertion can produce mixed results, good and bad, but without it there will be no results of any nature. Today there are other cultures which are willing to employ it if we don't, and to eventually supplant us.
A common sight to Relays visitors will be the Pioneer Statue east of Fraser Hall.
Just One of Those Days
By John Peterson
Everyone has those days now and then that make you want to go back home for that second cup of coffee at the breakfast table. No, I'm not the one this time, but the guy who was never should have left home.
It was one of those dank nights and I was returning to Lawrence from Topeka via the turnpike. When I stopped to pick up the yellow slip at the turnpike entrance, the officer asked me if I'd mind giving this fellow a ride out to his car.
It seems that he had had a blowout and had come into Topeka to buy a new tire. Well, it was all right with me and he climbed in, tire and all.
To keep the story factual, it started raining again about then. He was a rotund, middle-aged man and liked to talk.
"Whet a terrible night," he said while slumping down in the seat. "Wish I was home in bed about now."
We talked about KU for a few minutes. I found out that he was from Amarillo and had been on the road for more than a day.
"We left home yesterday and it's been a nightmare ever since. What luck! I had two flats the first afternoon and bought me a new tire so I'd have a spare," he said.
He was warming up to his hard-luck story now and actually seemed to enjoy telling someone about it. He felt so sorry for himself that I almost had to laugh—social propriety and self discipline prevailed, however.
I asked him if he was traveling alone.
"Hell, no. Wish I was, though I've got my old lady and four kids out there on the road. We've got a trailer. Well, anyway after those first two flats I thought I'd be with that sort of thing.
"But early this morning one of the tires on my trailer blew. You ever tried to change a trailer tire?"
I assured him that I hadn't and he proceeded to tell about how tough it was.
"Say before I forget," he said. "I'm about 22 miles out from the entrance in Topeka. I was trying to push on into Topeka."
I made a mental note of the mileage and politely asked him where he was headed.
"St. Louis, Gosh, wonder where my car and trailer are? Haven't we just about come 20 miles or so by now."
As a matter of fact we had and it was only another mile to the west exit at Lawrence. We both strained our eyes to the other side of the road. It was raining hard now and was an extremely dark night.
The exit finally came into sight and I asked him what he wanted to do and if he had passed the Lawrence intersection before.
"I really can't remember," he said. "Gosh, I just don't know what to do."
Then I asked a simple question, half-fearing the answer.
"Why did you go back to Topea to get a new tire when you were this close to Lawrence?"
"Hell, we haven't got to Topeka yet. I'm on my way to Kansas City. What are you talking about?"
I gave him the news that added another chapter to his growing volume of hard-luck. He had got mixed up back at the Topeka entrance and I'd taken him 22 miles farther from where his car, trailer, wife and four children were waiting for him.
"Man, if I'd known it was going to have been like this I'd 'uv stayed in Texas. Hell's Bells, it's plenty big for me and my family anyway."
Tocqueville Predicts Suburbia, Collective Spirit
By Ron R. Breun Phillipsburg Senior
One of the most obvious manifestations of American success in erecting a complex superstructure on an equalitarian groundwork is the large-scale, standardized collectives known as "developments" along the fringes of great urban centers. Here we encounter the middle-class American (and what American today doesn't consider himself "middle-class") at home in his new suburbia. The most immediately striking aspect of the development is its sameness. Everything from the shape and color of the houses to the churches and social circles has seemingly been arranged by the same person—one with an unerring sense for the accepted, the conventional. In such highly organized communes, the collective spirit of the nation reaches its fullest flower, and it is there that the presence of a dissident individual—one who attempts to paint his garage doors blue when the prescribed or agreed color of the block is red—would create almost intolerable strain.
IF ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE WERE ALIVE TODAY, PERHAPS he alone of all the Nineteenth Century observers of the American scene could say, with a knowing smile. "I told you so."
It was Tocqueville who first noted the underlining consistency in what would appear to be diverse features of American life. And it is worth noting—if only to emphasize Tocqueville's perspicacity—that the temper of American thought has not basically changed since the first half of the nineteenth century, when Tocqueville made his historic visit to America. The "life adjusters" who dominate our educational theory, the deification of the "American system" (society itself is often the deus ex machina), the recent crusade—it is almost that—for "togetherness": all are symptoms of the ubiquitous, uniquely American spirit of equalitarianism, the spirit Tocqueville so depolled. That it is alive today bears eloquent testimony to the durability of Tocqueville's observations.
THE VERACITY OF THOSE OBSERVATIONS OWES A great deal to the fact that Tocqueville, an outsider, analyzed what had already become an American myth—the unconditional equality of all men—and recognized it for what it is, an absurd travesty of the first principle of liberty—that all men should be accorded equal rights and privileges under the law. The cult of equality so widely accepted in America has, as Tocqueville correctly points out, led to a miasma of confused values and aspirations that has hovered over the American scene for over a century.
One can imagine Tocqueville listening to an American mother telling her thoroughly average son that he too can aspire to be president—that it's all a matter of hard work and just a little luck; but Tocqueville knew that unless Johnny had the incredible luck of a Warren Harding, he too would join the ranks of those restless, dissatisfied, but not quite disillusioned Americans who cannot—or will not—face the fact that there are others more capable than they.
FOR TOCQUEVILLE'S THESIS IS REALLY VERY SIMPLE: in a society which embraces equality as a quasi-religion, which considers it a fabric of the "democratic creed," "man's hopes and his desires are often blasted, the soul is . . . stricken and perturbed, and care itself more keen." Tocqueville's analysis of the American character, then, is based on the discrepancy between the great American Myth and the status quo of society, any society. As Tocqueville puts it, "... man will never establish any equality with which they can be contented. Whatever efforts a people may make, they will never succeed in reducing all the conditions of society to a perfect level..."
Armed with such premises, Tecqueville hardly needs to resort to citing specific instances of the "stricken and perturbed soul," nor does he. Instead, he makes sweeping generalizations about the American pattern of life, most of which, not surprisingly, hit their mark. Tecqueville is smugly confident in his assertions, simply because he knows he is right. And modern readers, to their delight and dismay, cannot help but agree.