Which was no mean feat in itself andnone that would, considering the obscenenpart played by college athleticnprograms, serve as a star in the crownnof any university president. In all fairnessnthough, I should point out thatnHutchins had this advantage over mostnuniversity presidents, many of whomndoubtless agreed with his belief thatnfootball had “the same relation toneducation that bullfighting has to agriculture”:nHutchins headed a small privatenuniversity that was badly strappednfor money. Moreover, in the seasonnbefore he recommended that footballnbe discontinued, Chicago had defeatednonly two opponents, Oberiin and Wabash,nand had been madly mauled bynthe rest, including, of all unlikelynschools, Harvard. Thus the time wasnripe for removal of the excrescence.nAnd Hutchins’ logic was unanswerable:nSince we cannot hope to winnagainst our present competitionnand since we cannot profitablynchange our competition, onlyntwo courses are open to us: tonsubsidize players or tondiscontinue intercollegiatenfootball. We cannot subsidizenplayers or encourage our alumninto do so without departing fromnour principles and losing ournself-respect. We must thereforendiscontinue the game.nI was happy to learn that the presidentnof the University of Arkansas, J. WilliamnFulbright, wrote Hutchins to congratulatenhim for having done whatnother enlightened souls could onlyndream of doing.nH utchins’ngreatest years, it seems tonme, were those he spent at Chicagon(1929-1951) when he was constantlynembroiled in battle over the aims ofnhigher education. When his little booknThe Higher Learning in America appearedn(1936), various critics thoughtnthey discerned fascist tendencies in itsntheses. For example, John Deweynwrote that though he “would not intimatenthat [Hutchins] has any sympathynwith consequent appeal to some fixednauthority that is now overrunning thenworld,” etc. Hutchins’ reply was typicallyn(and devastatingly) serene:nMr. Dewey’s dexterousn30/CHRONICLESnintimation that I am a fascist innresult if not intention (madenmore dexterous by his remarknthat he is making no suchnintimation) suggests thendesirability of the education Inhave proposed. A graduate ofnmy hypothetical universitynwriting for his fellow alumninwould know that suchnobservations were rhetoric andnwould be received as such. As anmatter of fact fascism is anconsequence of the absence ofnphilosophy. It is possible only innthe context of the disorganizationnof analysis and the disruptionnof the intellectual traditionnthrough the pressure of immediatenpractical concerns . . .nMr. Dewey has suggestednthat only a defective educationncan account for some of mynviews. I am moved to inquirenwhether the explanation ofnsome of his may not be that henthinks he is still fightingnnineteenth-century Cermannphilosophy.nThe two men differed, of course, in thatnDewey believed “Reason and Intellectnin the classic tradition” should play annauxiliary role in higher education,nwhereas Hutchins believed they werenprimary, and all else auxiliary.nWithin a few years after going tonChicago, Hutchins admitted to intimatesnthat he wished to move on tonsomething else, and with the strongnbacking of such friends as William O.nDouglas, Harold Ickes, and Harry Hopkinsnhe seemed destined for a place onnthe Supreme Court. In fact, accordingnto Ickes, then Secretary of the Interior,nRoosevelt promised that he would appointnhim to the Court. Instead, henoffered Hutchins his choice of thenchairmanships of the SEC and thenFCC—and then professed surprise,naccording to Ickes, when Hutchins declined.nRoosevelt also let it be knownnthat he might name Hutchins as hisnrunning mate in 1940, but by thennEurope was at war and Roosevelt wasnintent on joining the fray, though innview of the pacifist temper of the populacenat large he had to conceal hisnintentions until after being elected.nMoreover, he had to know that Hutchinsnwas strongly opposed to our inter­nnnvention, and was in fact an outspokennopponent of our repeating the error ofnWoodrow Wilson. Ashmore states thatnHutchins “was appalled by the presidentialncampaign. Both candidatesnseemed to him to be joined in annexercise in hypocrisy intended to disguisenthe fact that the country wasnactually being prepared for direct militarynintervention in a foreign war.”nOnce we were in the war, the Japanesenhaving committed their almostnunparalleled act of imbecility at PearinHarbor, Hutchins nevertheless informednthe faculty at Chicago that theirneducational concerns must be set aside,nat least in large part, for “the short-runnactivity of winning the war. Educationnand research, as we have understoodnthem at the University of Chicago, arenlong-run activities. We have stood fornliberal education and pure research.nWhat the country must have we mustntry to supply.” Hutchins believed thatnthe war would be won in the laboratories.nThe most important of those laboratories,nas it turned out, would benlocated at his university.nAs a striking example of Hutchins’nlifelong habit of “speaking the truthnunseasonably,” and thereby causing thennearsighted to grumble, I point to hisnuniversity convocation address of—nnote the date—June 15, 1945. Therenhe spoke of the moral confusion intonwhich the victors had fallen. As Ashmorennotes, it would be “difficult tonimagine any other university president,nthen or now, delivering a public addressncomparable to the one he made onn’The New Realism’ at a Universitynconvocation while the country was stillncelebrating the victory over Nazi Germany.”nIn reading the lengthy quotationnfrom the speech, a part of which Inshall reproduce, I recalled Matthew 7:3:n”And why beholdest thou the mote thatnis in thy brother’s eye, but considerestnnot the beam that is in thine own eye?”:nSo we call Japanese soldiersnfanatics when they died rathernthan surrender, whereasnAmerican soldiers who do thensame thing are heroes. Wenprove that all Germans arenmurderers and all Japanese apes,nand at the same time insist thatnwe are going to have one woddnin which all men are brothers.nWe say we are going ton