• Est. 2015 in Grand Rapids, MI, USA
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Alexis de Tocqueville, Mount Rushmore, and the Illusion of Elite Education: An Interview with Dr. Robert Stacey (Ad Navseam Ep. 212)

Introduction: AI and the Cusp of Spring Break

Welcome back, classical gourmands, to Episode 212 of the Ad Navseam Podcast! Broadcasting from the subterranean bunker of Parnassus, aka Ad Navseam Central, your hosts, Dr. Jeff Winkle and Dr. David Noe, are battling through a cold, aching February day in West Michigan. Dr. Winkle notes that they are entering the dreaded, liminal “push-pull” season of the year—a time so miserable they refuse to even refer to it by the infamous Simpsons moniker, “Smarch”. However, Jeff is officially on the “cusp” (or the epiglottis, to use his questionable dental and anatomical metaphors) of a highly anticipated spring break, where he plans to lounge in his terry cloth robe and binge-watch television.

Meanwhile, Dr. Noe has been experimenting with Artificial Intelligence to help draft the show’s blog posts. While the AI tools are excellent at extracting the dense substance of their literary discussions, the hosts joke that it is only a matter of time before an AI clones their voices to run phone scams on their relatives. To combat this dystopian future, they agree they need dedicated safe words; Jeff’s obvious choice is “Apuleius,” while Dave requires a much deeper childhood cut.

The Shout-Out: Luther Prep and the Latin Language

Before bringing out their esteemed guest, the hosts share a lengthy, three-ring-binder-sized shout-out from Andrew Hussman. Andrew is a Lutheran pastor from the Wisconsin Synod who teaches the Latin language full-time at the Lutheran Preparatory School in Watertown, Wisconsin.

Andrew’s high school requires all incoming freshmen to take a year of Latin, and historically, 10-20% of those students boldly choose to continue their classical studies through graduation. Andrew notes that the Ad Navseam podcast has deeply impacted his teaching, though he admits he has cheekily borrowed a few of their Aeneid episode titles for his own lectures. He particularly enjoyed the recent episode featuring Dr. Carl Springer on Martin Luther’s Latin poetry, noting that he and a colleague are actively involved in translating sixteenth and seventeenth-century texts for the forthcoming continuation of the Luther’s Works series. The hosts express their immense gratitude to Andrew for keeping the flame of the Latin language burning bright in the heart of the Wisconsin cheese belt.

The Main Event: Enter Dr. Robert Stacey

The core of Episode 212 is a fascinating, wide-ranging interview with Dr. Robert D. Stacey. Bob is the Head of School at the Augustine School in Jackson, Tennessee—the “Hub City” located perfectly between Memphis and Nashville. As Dave notes, Bob is a phenomenal educator and a former colleague; the two men taught side-by-side in the academic trenches of Patrick Henry College back in 2006.

Bob’s academic pedigree is formidable. He completed his undergraduate work at the University of Pennsylvania before earning his Ph.D. in government and politics at the University of Virginia. It was at UVA that Bob was first introduced to the primary subject of today’s episode: the brilliant French political philosopher, Alexis de Tocqueville.

Democracy vs. Aristocracy: Can the Classics Survive?

The grand question of the episode is a provocative one: Is it possible for a modern democracy to produce great works of art and sustain classical literature?

To kick things off, Dave reads a quote from Tocqueville’s masterpiece, Democracy in America, regarding ancient Athens. Tocqueville points out that while we hold Athens up as the ultimate democratic ideal, it was actually a strict aristocracy; out of 350,000 inhabitants, perhaps only 20,000 were enfranchised citizens, while the vast majority were enslaved people fulfilling the basic labor functions.

Bob explains that Tocqueville traveled to the United States in the 1830s with a partner, officially commissioned by the French government to study American prisons and the country’s miraculously low recidivism rates. However, his observations blossomed into a massive two-volume sociological study. Volume One was highly optimistic about the possibilities of democratic equality, while Volume Two (published years later) grew deeply concerned about the downsides of democratic life.

One of Tocqueville’s primary concerns was education. Tocqueville argued that in a democratic society, the education of the masses must inevitably lean toward the scientific, commercial, and industrial rather than the literary. Bob argues that this is the natural consequence of demanding equality of opportunity. In a democracy, we insist on opening the doors of education to everyone, but we must honestly reckon with the fact that capabilities and outcomes are not inherently equal. Pushing an entire democratic population into a rigorous, elite literary education does a disservice to both the average student and the truly gifted one.

The hosts note the artistic implications of this political reality. In an aristocratic republic like Renaissance Florence under the Medici family, there was a small elite class commissioning breathtaking art and preserving structures like the Duomo, in which the entire populace took pride in. In a sprawling democracy like America, the closest thing we have to an epic is Herman Melville’s Moby Dick—a book that initially sold fewer than 500 copies because the general public had absolutely zero interest in reading a dense, exhaustive chapter on cetology.

The Mount Rushmore Effect: Monuments in a Democracy

If democratic nations struggle to produce universally revered literary epics, how do they express their greatness? According to Tocqueville, they do it through massive public monuments.

Bob tells a moving story about chaperoning a group of high school students to Mount Rushmore. Despite considering himself a highly stoic individual, Bob was completely stunned and emotionally overwhelmed when he walked out onto the viewing platform and saw the massive carved faces of the American presidents.

However, Bob points out a uniquely democratic feature of the site: the gift shop. Inside a small trailer, he found a folding table covered in hundreds of cheap, miniature Mount Rushmore replicas. He purchased a five-dollar mini-monument to take home. Tocqueville specifically predicted this phenomenon: in a democracy, monuments must be vast enough to represent the entire populace, but they must also be commercially accessible so that every citizen can participate in the monument by putting a ten-dollar replica on their refrigerator.

Dave experienced a similar emotional phenomenon at the Lincoln Memorial. Walking into the structure, he was struck with profound awe, but quickly realized he was having a fundamentally “pagan” response to a Greek temple dedicated to a historical politician. As Bob notes, modern political movements understand this visceral power perfectly: if you control or tear down the monuments, you control the historical narrative and redefine who the people are.

The Illusion of Elite Education

The conversation then moves to the contemporary state of higher education. Tocqueville warned that to cultivate true literary mastery, a nation needs a few excellent universities rather than a multitude of bad colleges. Bob notes that America completely ignored this warning, building thousands of mediocre institutions and dragging elite education down to the lowest common denominator.

Bob then reflects on his time at the Ivy League University of Pennsylvania. While the school constantly constantly bombarded students with the reminder that they were “elite,” the actual academic rigor was no more onerous than any standard college. The prestige was tied entirely to the astronomical price tag, the entrance exams, and the historical reputation, rather than the actual educational improvement of the students. Similarly, at the University of Virginia, Bob experienced a bizarre “cult of personality” surrounding Thomas Jefferson; professors with Ph.D.s were reluctant to be called “Doctor” simply because Jefferson never held the title.

As a classical K-12 headmaster, Bob encourages his weary teachers with a profound truth. While public schools are designed to squash children into a uniform societal slot, classical Christian education is the incredibly difficult, higher calling of treating each student as an individual and preparing their souls for an unpredictable future. George Washington did not major in “country founding” at college; he relied on the deep, liberal arts foundation of a classical education to navigate unprecedented historical challenges.

Sponsors and the Aristotle Giveaway

Before fleeing the bunker to escape the angry mobs of Teddy Roosevelt’s fans – the Rough Riders biker gang – (as the hosts boldly suggested chiseling TR off Mount Rushmore), they thank the sponsors keeping the podcast humming:

Giveaway Alert: Want to win a stunning, two-volume Hackett edition of Aristotle edited by C.D.C. Reeve and Pavlos Kontos? Email dave@adnavseam.com with the word “Kontos” in the subject line to enter the drawing on March 12th!

The Gustatory Parting Shot

To conclude Episode 212, Jeff delivers a rugged, satisfying Gustatory Parting Shot from D.H. Lawrence’s classic novel, Sons and Lovers.

“He toasted his bacon on a fork. And caught the drops of fat on his bread. Then he put the rasher on his thick slice of bread. And cut off chunks with a clasp knife. Poured his tea into his saucer. And was happy.”

Whether you are eating bacon off a clasp knife or purchasing a miniature monument from a gift shop, keep taking in the classics. Valete!

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