The best and the brightest - student's narrative on Princeton Model Congress - Back to School: Dumb and Dumber - Cover Story

National Review, Sept 25, 1995 by Susannah Black

LAST term I spent a weekend in Washington, D.C., attending the Princeton Model Congress, where all the private-school debate clubs gather to argue, hang around Union Station, drink crcme de menthe from the hotel-room mini-bars -- you can get into them really easily by unscrewing the back if you don't have the key -- and get rebuked by Grand Hyatt officials for playing hacky-sack in the halls. It was, as usual, fun, and weird, but has been getting less weird and less fun every year. (This was my third trip.)

The twilight-zone alternative-reality feeling began in my first committee meeting on Thursday night. A bill was brought up, proposing a federally standardized sex-education curriculum. Public schools wouldn't have to adopt it; but if they didn't, the government would, as an incentive, withdraw 'certain other funds' -- specifically, funds for frivolous school extras such as honors science programs.

Other than myself, the opposition to the bill consisted of this senior with a really cool Southern accent, Winston Smith (not his real name). We argued that this was an incredible violation of the rights of states, school boards, and parents to decide the theoretically independent curricula of public schools, and was essentially punishing parents for their personal beliefs. Their kids would not receive funding they would otherwise get if, say, the parents' religion made it impossible for them to submit their kids to standardized federal indoctrination.

This promised curriculum will 'impart healthy attitudes regarding sex.' It was voted in nearly unanimously. Winston and I ordered Domino's pizza and watched pirated cable -- amazing what a motivated teenage boy can do with a Swiss Army knife -- and got very depressed.

The next day, bright and early, the assembly voted down my bill to change the name of the Department of Defense back to the Department of War -- truth in advertising; clear speaking encourages clear thinking -- because of the arguments of this guy from New Jersey who used the phrase ex post facto six times in a single sentence. I moved on to argue against a bill to abolish smoking in public areas. The thing is, 'public' was defined as areas where the public goes -- e.g., shops, restaurants -- rather than areas under public, that is, government, control -- e.g., post offices.

I said maybe that wasn't the government's business; and, if I were a restaurant owner who wanted to be a successful restaurant owner, I'd maybe prohibit smoking in my own restaurant because people breathing in other people's cigarette smoke might be less inclined to order that extra plate of French fries. But that was -- or should be -- my own decision.

'What about doctors' offices?' I was asked. 'Don't we have an obligation to protect the health of people whose health may already be precarious?'

Well, I said, I'm not going to go to a doctor whose waiting room smells like Joe Camel's armpit. And presumably, eventually, that doctor would figure out that the money he was earning wouldn't cover the down-payment on his Lexus, and he'd change his policy. It's called Capitalism, I said.

There was a shocked silence, which I endeavored to fill. 'I mean, if the government knows what's best for us and feels free to express that as laws, what's to keep it from saying, 'No reading Upton Sinclair in public buildings, because somebody might start reading over your shoulder, and you'd be inflicting unhealthy ideas on them.''

And what's to stop the government at privately owned 'public' buildings? Why not say, 'You can't smoke in your own home, because a friend might visit and get secondary lung cancer or something.' If you say the friend could just visit someone else's house, well, couldn't people just choose to go to a different restaurant?

I shut up then. Debate was closed. A summary speech was given to the effect that it is the government's duty to protect its children. Very Plato. The bill was voted in.

After the session, Winston hit me upside the head and told me never to say the C-word in debate again if I wanted anyone to continue listening to me.

What C-word? I asked, thinking, croutons? catsup? It was lunchtime, and I was preoccupied.

'Capitalism,' he said.

Yes, Gentle Reader, capitalism has become a four-letter word. But never mind. It was only Model Congress, right?

Right?