Three on what, for a minute, was the big story and why they all miss an important point

Jonah Goldberg: "Campus Commotions Show We’re Raising Fragile Kids".

Noah Rothman: "A Plague of Racial Hoaxes on Campus".

Andrew Stuttaford: "Yale & Missouri: Power Play".

While these pieces capture part of the story of what's going on, they don't capture the main part. Permit me to identify it. It's something I'll call the Jackpot. The Jackpot is tied for the best experience a human can have. (The other tied for best experience was identified by Winston Churchill: "Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.")

The Jackpot starts with a belief or an idea that an individual is absolutely, completely sure is both vital and true. The vitality and truth can be established by experience, education, tradition, instinct--it doesn't matter. (Examples: war is bad, poverty is bad, the first amendment doesn't cover "hate speech".) Second, the holder of said belief or idea must also believe that somehow, for some reason, there are a large number of people who don't share the belief or idea. Why? The holder thinks they're ignorant or evil--it doesn't matter. So the holder writes, yells, marches in support of the belief or idea and experiences the inexpressible thrill of being simultaneously correct and important and brave. This is the basic Jackpot.

The Jackpot is greatly enhanced if the holder's narrow self-interest also benefits from holding the belief or idea. And the ultimate enhancement of the Jackpot--the Jackpot of Jackpots, if you will--occurs if the holder imagines that the belief or idea puts him in some (small) danger of physical harm.

In my  lifetime a shining example of the Jackpot was the college-student protests against the Vietnam War. While many no doubt had pure convictions, the protests also reflected narrow self-interest. If the war ended, many of the protesters wouldn't have to risk being shot in rice paddies thousands of mile from home. Even in the short run, occupations of buildings and such meant they didn't have to go to class, and by many accounts, the protests made live rock-and-roll, drugs, and sex more readily available.  And for the hint of danger we have no less an authority than Stephen Stills: "That America is still the home of the brave oh yes it is / And you got to be brave children / How many is it that they shot down already? / Something like seventeen of us."

The details of how the events at the University of Missouri and at Yale last week, and similar events at places still to come, fit the Jackpot are left as an exercise for the reader.

"What City Journal Wrought: An editor looks back"

Myron Magnet reflects on the Big Apple as it was not too long ago. This is a lesson and an excellent talking point for conservatives.

In those days, you didn’t need to be Nostradamus to make such a dire prediction. The evidence was everywhere—on the graffiti-scrawled buildings and mailboxes, the potholed streets, the squalor of the panhandlers, the dustbowl that had been Olmsted and Vaux’s sublime Central Park, and the pervasive stench of urine, thanks to the bums who were turning the capital of the twentieth century into a giant pissoir, with the carriage drive of Grand Central Station the urinal of the universe. . . . 

What to do? A Manhattan Institute seminar on Gotham school reform I attended in the late 1980s, as Koch’s 12-year mayoralty drew to a sadly sordid close, caught the temper of the times. Its chairmen were wily national teachers’ union chief Albert Shanker and New York Board of Education president Robert F. Wagner III, a long-valued friend. Maybe we could try X, a panelist suggested. No: union work rules forbade. How about Y? No: the state legislature . . . the budget. . . . And so on for two hours. The profoundly depressing expert consensus: the more you knew about New York, the more you knew that there was nothing nothing nothing we could do to fix a calamitous mess. After all, wasn’t this the “ungovernable city”?

A bit more of how it was, a bit that startled me.

Between 1970 and 1980, seven census tracts in the Bronx lost more than 97 percent of their buildings to fire and abandonment. Forty-four tracts lost more than half. The results were staggering — blocks and blocks of rubble.