Does Harwood have his real hair? Yes, he says, demonstrating his answer to what may be the most important political question of the morning.Decline of the political party system? Hardly, he says. We’re just on the cusp of a new party system. “The new one hasn’t ended the parties; it’s changed the way people think and understand them, and I think they’ve actually emerged stronger, because people know what they’re voting for.“Do they really? There’s some data to support it, at least to support the assertion that when it counts, the public steps up to the plate. In 2000, only 105 million people voted. In 2004, that number went up to 122 million, largely attributed to strong sentiment one way or the other toward the Iraq war.And yet, in spite of this solidification in the party system as Harwood proports, the American public is becoming less and less easy to pin down on some more traditionally divisive social issues. According to a recent study by the Pew Foundation, we the people skew right on gay marriage and gay adoption, left on embryonic stem cell research, and straight down the middle on abortion. We’re not moving further apart, we’re moving closer to center, according to the study.Harwood is on the community line in this speech. I’m hard-pressed to find a scholar of media that doesn’t support the assertion that the search for viewers and increased circulation drives desperation reportage across news outlets; a drive to cover sensational and salacious that trumps — intentionally or otherwise — reporting stories to their conclusion. Dare we bring up Duke LaCrosse?On the other side of the fence, political pundits are better now than ever at taking control of the conversation, themselves trumping newsgathering with talking points and spin.But I’m not convinced Harwood made a clear and compelling connection that the media is complicit in the on-going bifurcation in the party system. Instead, I’d submit that media is reporting less adeptly on social issues, taking the easy — and cheap — out on hard reporting decisions, and the result is the appearance of a media role in goosing outrage and salaciousness for fun and profit. That the parties are better at this game than the media doesn’t make it news.

A bit off topic, he brought up one of the best points of his speech in the Q&A.

Q: Let’s focus on newspapers for a second. One question has to do with what is the consequence of the reducation of newspapers, the reduction of staff, on journalism, and is there a ripple affect of reducing commitment in journalism in newspapers that will then have a consequence in the overall delivery in news beyond newspapers?Harwood: That’s a very smart question, and it’s absolutely true for this reason. The most important piece in television news everyday is what’s in newspapers. One of the interesting things that I’ve noticied going from, you know, people you keep their foot in both camps: Television people don’t have a lot of self confidence about their own judgement.

This is the paper of record connundrum. I fully contend that much of the market for broadcast doesn’t consider their medium as important as traditional print news. This fuels the more symbiotic relationship between print and broadcast: news begins in the papers, is supplemented the next day in pictures, and is investigated to conclusion in print. The rise in cable outlets and their 24-hour coverage has had some affect on the practical application of this relationship, but it’s certainly there. Fewer reporters trained in print newsgathering will most certainly have a negative affect on quality and quantity of reportage.I had the opportunity to meet Harwood after his talk. Turns out, he’s joining the online discussion and starting a blog this week through his role as a political reporter with CNBC. He stopped short of supporting the assertion that the rise of citizen media fueled by David Gilmor and his ilk was leading to a new middle-media. I told him I thought it was great, his journey into the blogosphere, and welcomed him. Where could we find him online?He couldn’t remember the URL.Tomorrow, David Westin, President of ABC News.

The Institution is broken into a nine week series, each week focusing on a differnt subject area for exploration. I’ll be here for the first two weeks of the series. The first entitled “The Media & News: Applied Ethics; the second, “The Family: All of a Kind? All Different?” You can read more about the program for 2007 here.

I’ve been doing my usual searches through the blogosphere looking for others who might be blogging Chautauqua, and I’m surprised at the lack of traffic this place generates. I’ll try and pull some of the load here myself.

It’s 4:30 here now, however. There’s a light breeze gusting across our Victorian porch, and that screams “Wine:O’Clock”. Check back later for more!

The doc was great when we finally talked to her. Gave us some ideas of how to take care of this. We’re doing steambaths and Motrin to break up the congestion and help the fever, but mostly we just have to wait it out. I think it’s far worse for Kira and me than it is for Sophie. She sounds like a tractor.

Lecture today is Colleen Rowly, FBI whistleblower. More symphony tonight. Start packing tomorrow.

The music last night was great. Jackson is young and spastic at the cello, but her sound is strong in a complicated piece. The bats are still here, hundreds came out of the roof vent just as predicted and flew off into the night sky on the hunt.

Today is by far the busiest day of the week for me. This morning, John Barrett took the stage for the morning lecture at the amphitheater. This is the same fellow who spoke after “Judgement at Nuremburg” on Sunday, the world’s leading specialist on Justice Robert H. Jackson, the presiding judge in Nuremburg during the trials. Apparently, Jackson is from this area, has spoken several times at Chautauqua (sharing the stage with FDR), and writing some of the most powerful legal opinion in the history of the bench. The talk itself was fascinating, particularly in how Barrett addresses Jackson’s democratic, civil rights-based legal work with incidences of more hardlined authoritarian practices during his work as Attorney General. Jackson was part and patial to the alien registration act, among other acts which revoke the civil liberties of citizens. How is he so different from General Rumsfeld today? He’s a constitionalist first, policeman second. Today, we’ve got it backward.

I attended a session at noon today with the honorable ambassador John Dolibois, Ambassador to Luxembourg, retired. He’s written a book on his work as chief inquisitor of the 119 Nazi military leaders, judges, and politicians post WWII. He worked for Justice Jackson with a team of five other investigators determining who should go to trial and who could wait. He’s the last of the five alive today, and it was quite an honor to hear him speak.

This afternoon, I walked out of a lecture by Imam Feisal Abdul Rauf entitled “What’s right with Islam?” I have to admit, I was really looking forward to this one. But, seriously, after a morning on civil liberties, a mid-day of Nazi war crimes, there had to be something pretty damned engaging to keep me awake. This guys voice, well, it might as well have been Barry White singing lullabies to us. Had I not left, I would have been asleep long before the end. That, and by half way through the session, we still had no idea what, exactly, was right with Islam. I know there are some things that are right with it, but I think this guy would have needed more time to lay it all out than I could give.

Tonight: Goldfinger. Another in the Chautauqua film series. There’s a lecture by David Zinman before, screening, then Q&A after. I’m really looking forward to seeing this on the big screen with a full house audience. “No, Mr. Bond. I want you to DIE!”

David Cole, professor, Georgetown Law Center, is fantastic. His talk today was on “Enemy Aliens and American Freedoms: Liberty and Security after September 11.”

After Tom Ridge, this guy is a breath of fresh air. He’s not a politician, he’s a down-in-the-trenches constitutionalist and civil libertarian. Where Ridge says things like “some illegal aliens have been held,” Cole has statistics and litigation.

I’ve done a bunch of reading today. I finally finished “Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom.” Way to goCory Doctorow. It was too short, but packed with some of the most original thinking I’ve seen in Science Fiction since Heinlin. From there, I moved into “Deception Point” by Dan Brown. I’m about 500 pages into it (reading it on my Palm — it’s 2089 pages). So far, so pretty good.

Symphony tonight. This is another one of those particularly Chautauqua experiences. Outdoor, covered amphitheater, dusk, 6,000 people listening to classical music and reading, knitting, dozing, whatever. But the best part is, the people they bring in are world reknown. Tonight, the preeminent conductor Manhem Nebenhaus from Isreal is leading the Chautauqua Symphony to The Marriage of Figaro, Hayden’s Concerto for Violincello and Orchestro in D major (with guest teenage cellist Patrice Jackson), and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 2 in D major. We like to sit up in the back as the sun drops. About halfway through the concert, this army of bats come flying out of the hollow roof of the amphitheater: spectacular.

The Chautauqua Experience is a touch hobbled by gobs of other-people’s-family. Really, we’re staying in a place that’s too crowded with people we don’t really know and the rain is starting to make us crazy. Note to self: next time travel light.

I signed on to see a screening of “Judgement at Nuremberg” this afternoon over at the Chautauqua Uniplex. This is the only theater I can think of that still has a balcony — much class, indeed. I chose a seat near the back.

Two rows in front of me is a guy with a red shirt. It’s a bright, sun-shiney red shirt that screams Happy Day. He just finished a conversation with the Institute film critic, David Zinman, about why the regularly scheduled sessions are on Wednesday evenings; apparently, there are many Weekend Warriors (Red Shirt being one) who are at home on the weekdays and miss the great screenings throughout the season and would they please consider changing the nights for this group. The film critic is taking it under advisement. Red shirt grabbed a soda, took a sip, and smacked his lips together a few times, trying to taste it real, real good, then stormed out of the theater to the concession stand. He returned a few minutes later, drinkless.

So, seat near the back. I chose a seat near the back for two reasons. First, I like to see the whole screen without turning my head one bit. Second, the seats are a little smaller than in most theaters and I felt like I’d be more comfortable with a seat on either side of me. Now, we’re in “Judgement at Nuremberg” once again. That, thrust into the Chautauqua crowd, and you’ve got a powerful mix of blue hairs who last saw this film the day it was released, back in 1961. There are two characteristics of this particular demographic: They, too, prefer sitting alone, and they are all attrociously far-sighted. Within about three minutes to the start of the film, the back half of the theater was sardine-full of fidgeting and frustrated elderly people.

And me.

I started up a conversation with the fellow next to me. I love sitting next to older folks in this type of setting because I feel like the planets are alligning just right for me to really learn something from someone who has been there. Someone with a story to tell. I don’t know where I turned south in this case, but this guy and his wife got into some tirade about how all the people in this movie are today, in fact, dead. Spencer Tracy: Dead. Judy Garland: Dead. Burt Lancaster (whom I had mistakenly said was still around, thinking of Kirk Douglas – what a row): Dead. I think, based on our scientific survey of the four older people around us, that of all the people in the movie, only two are still with us: William Shatner and Maximillian Schell. Though, as the discussion went on, Schell’s Broadway run as Ernst Jannig (Lancaster’s film role) was a complete bomb in 2001 so he might as well be dead.

And here’s a testament to the pull of Chautauqua: the film arrived early Saturday afternoon for a 1:30 Sunday screening. As the critic was going through the order, he noticed that two reels were missing. Frustrated, he called the theater manager with whom he hunted frantically for a replacement, starting with MGM in California and working all the way down to Blockbuster Video. In the end, nothing could be found. They called MGM back again.

According to the film archive representative, they had nothing available to rush them for this screening — all the other reels were in use for the weekend. The only thing left in the vault for this film is the archival print, straight off the original, left in Hollywood only to master production reprints, not a loaner. The critic came back with our story, that some people, some veterans, had planned their summer around this screening and the discussion to follow, and what were they to say to them? That the show was to be cancelled? Surely not. This is, after all, Chautauqua.

MGM archives packaged up the archival copy and sent it via private plane and courrier from Los Angeles to Buffalo, then by car to the Institute. The courier had the print in the theater by 1:30, supervised the spooling onto the projector, and waited in the booth during the screening, then hand carried the reels back to California this afternoon. It’s 11:00 or so as I write this. I imagine he’s just getting home.

The upshot of all this, other than being a cool story, is that this afternoon, the single best copy of this spectacular film was screened in this little town in New York, on a big screen, with great sound, and a fanatically appreciative audience. And that just doesn’t happen every day. The critics in the audience said during the panel interview afterward that in their lives of being fans and students of this film, they’d never seen it on the big screen. A real treat.

I would imagine one of the reasons the Broadway adaptation was such a bomb was the inappropriateness of the content to the times. Pre-9/11, who was thinking about race as a political issue day-to-day? Now, however, in this political climate, in this day and age, I don’t think there’s a more stirring commentary on life as a political being.

I learned a lesson from this film that I can honestly say I’d never thought about before in quite this level of clairity and here it is: Genocide starts with one act by one individual, one time. It doesn’t start with a people, a race, a nation, but one rogue thought that, in retropect, is nothing more than protectivist. That’s the lesson of the slippery slope. That’s the lesson of healthy respect for national momentum.

Lancaster’s Jannig was written so eloquently, so powerfully. In not so graceful a summary, he talks of his country prior to the national socialist uprising, prior to the Nazis. He talks of the hunger, the struggle for everyday Germans. He says that Hitler, this funny little man, gave them for the first time a reason to hold their heads high and proud. He taught them of the ills of society and sold them the ideal that the loss of a few civil liberties around the fringes could save the nation as a whole. From there, it was the ideals of a people that threatened the nation. From there, it was nothing to arrive at the soul of the pure bread third reich. That by that time, by the time the educated and right-thinking had turned their heads on one atrocity too many, it was far too late to turn back. The soul of their nation had changed, and they were in the middle of it.

At one point in the film, Marlene Dietrich laments to Tracey’s character that there was no way for her to have known what was going on in the camps, the mass exicutions, the showers. There was just no way she could have known. Tracey responds: “The way I gather it, no one in this country knew what was going on in those camps.”

Tomorrow at 10:45, Tom Ridge is speaking the Chautauqua audience. I expect fireworks, and I admit I’m in more of a space to hear it after this film. As the lead prosecutor says of his country: “You know something about us Americans: We’re not cut out to be occupiers. We’re new at it and we’re not good at it.” In the discussion following the film, an audience member brought up the point that following WWII, the US arguably occupied Germany and then Japan, all but rebuilding fallen empires. Again, arguably for good results. Was it our business? Was it our business to be there in the first place, as a show of American might? Have we learned anything from that history that will teach us new lessons for Afganistan and Iraq? Probably not. The end and the means to reach it are far to handsome of bed-fellows.

Back at the house, Emma’s cutting a molar. Her little head is smoking hot to the touch and her poor chest is congested. Cutting teeth. What miserable torture for the little people. The house is now full. There are ten of us under one roof, including two babies and a nine-year-old. The quarters are getting very, very cramped.

I am far more stressed about flying than either Kira or Sophie. Mostly, both of them really need to be fed and rested and they’re fine. They strap on the luggage and smile all the way through security. They sleep on the flights. They are just generally well-tempered people.

For the record, that makes me nuts.

I’m very much not a well-tempered passenger. You should see what we’re flying with this time around: Sophie has by far the largest suitcase, packed to the gills with her highchair, a full bag of diapers and, I kid you not, all the clothes in her wardrobe; Kira has the middle bag, her roller that’s packed almost as full; I have the smallest, my new Swiss Army duffle that forces me to pack light. Traveling alone, I could go for at least 10 days with nothing but that bag and my iPod, Palm, and Palm Keyboard. But no, now I have to factor in all the carry-ons. We’ve got Sophie’s diaper bag, now so full of extra diapers, clothes, toys, and my stow-away electronics that it weighs almost as much as her suitcase; we’ve got a cooler, a great, big shoulder cooler full of chopped broccoli, yogurt, bananas, cereal, water, you name it; and the full on backpack for Sophie, which comes in it’s own handy carrying case which makes for another thing to shoulder through security. Too it’s credit, it makes moving through the airport a breeze: Sophie loves riding high.

Planes, Trains, Automobiles

As happy as they are, the trip has started out on the rougher side of fine. Sophie was a full on grump when I woke her at 6:00 this morning. As was I, so it was something of a showdown. We got our six bags and car seat unloaded at the airport, then I got back in the car to drop it at the long-term lot. There I am, standing in bus vestibule “H,” when my cell rings. It’s Kira.

“So, did you PUT and diaper on her this morning?”

“Did I put… of COURSE I put a diaper on her this morning!”

“Well, she exploded. Pee. Poop. All of it. Pouring all over my sweatshirt, right here in line.”

Still not sure what happened there. When I caught up with them back in the terminal, she had it all cleaned up, less a day’s change of clothes for Sophie and a sweatshirt for her, but clean nonetheless. Just lucky, I guess.

We sat next to the evil Minerva Mayflower on the first flight. Old Mean Woman With Grudge. This is the first time I’ve flown with Soph and sat next to someone who was genuinely, actively disinterested in the baby. Turns out, from the 30-scant seconds of talking we did, that she’s a baseball freak, heading to Wrigley Field to kick off a tour for the next 10 days. Crazy old baseball lady. “Bas-e-ball has been berry, berry, good to me.”

The second flight is so far much less daunting than the first. Sophie’s sleeping on Kira now. We met up with the Strands in Minneapolis (Small City), and they’re sitting right behind us. A word to the wise: never sit in front of Ted Strand on a plane. He won’t stop touching me.

And then, Chautauqua. I’ve had the hardest time over the last few days trying to explain to people exactly what we’re doing in Chautauqua. At first, I would go into the whole spiel about the lectures and the music and the art and the architecture, but that tends to go over folks’ heads. I’ve narrowed it down to this: Chautauqua, during the summer, is the ultimate gated community. ‘Nuf said.

So, I’m here for the next eight days. I’ve got my Palm and keyboard and will do my best to keep up entries as I move through the week. The theme this week is Security and Justice, headlined by Secretary Tom Ridge Monday morning, followed by a handful of fascinating experts throughout the rest of the week. In the meantime, we’ll get settled, and I’ll check in a bit later.