Glasnost American style is all the rage among the nation’s literati. At over a dozen universities, American academics are now waking up to the Soviet equivalents of Good Morning America and Richard Simmons. After years of watching our own People’s Broadcasting System, students and faculty alike may now get a glimpse of the real thing. America being America, however, the language presents a real problem. Students have enough trouble understanding standard English, much less Russian. At Tufts, they have arranged simultaneous translators for their joint seminar with Moscow University. The topic? Oddly enough, it is not the novels of Solzhenitsyn or even Tolstoy, but arms control. We feel sure the American students stand more to gain than their Russian counterparts. The Soviets already know everything about arms control negotiations, and, apart from the Mafia, there is no one in the U.S. street-smart enough to deal with men who have had to climb their way to the top along the same stairs walked by third-century Roman emperors and the Borgias.

Speaking of a life of crime, that amiable crime novelist Julian Semyonov is running around Manhattan these days promoting the International Association of Crime Writers. Ever faithful to the Soviet interpretation of “international,” Semyonov wants to incorporate both the Mystery Writers of America and the Private Eye Writers of America into his Moscow-backed organization. Wonder if there’s a chapter in Kabul? According to the New York Times, Semyonov declares himself an “afficianado of New York.” I, for one, believe him.

“For constitutional governments, close associations with tyrannies are risky.” That was Demosthenes’ advice to the Athenians on their own set of cultural and diplomatic exchanges with the fourth-century Mike Gorbachev, Philip of Macedon. Of course, every Greek knew the Macedonians were barbarians, but Philip spoke good Greek, displayed good manners when he needed to, and pointed to his legendary descent from Hercules. It took more than regular baths and a nodding acquaintance with literature to convince Demosthenes, who pointed out that Philip never made a treaty without intending to break it when the time was right. Reading Demosthenes’ Philippics for the first time back in 1964, I remarked to my Greek professor, “This guy sounds as crazy as Barry Goldwater.” My professor, a Goldwater Republican, agreed. Unfortunately, Philip succeeded in suborning enough Athenians to quiet their fears, and when he finally did conquer their city, the appeasers blamed Demosthenes for stirring up their friendly adversary. As another Greek, Pindar, put it: “I sing to those who can understand,” that is to say, don’t blame me when all American students will know how to speak idiomatic Russian. (TF)