To a substantial extent, America is the university. A nation is its government; and America’s government is its university system. Sorry if this comes as news to you.
America, but without the American university system, is almost a meaningless concept—like Napoleonic France, without Napoleon. Whatever the meaning of the next regime, it must be something else. If Napoleon is in France, Napoleon is in charge. If Napoleon is in charge, it is Napoleonic France.
If it has the American university system—or just, the university—it cannot be the next regime. It must be the old regime. The survival of the meta-institution is incompatible with the concept of regime change—because America’s government is the university. (And the world’s government, of course, is America.) The university is everything.
Obviously, this is an exaggeration. The university is not everything. There is the media, which is not part of the university, but might as well be. There are nonprofits, which are not part of the university, but might as well be. There is the government, which is not part of the university, but trusts it completely. There are corporations, which are not part of the university, but outsource their technical training to it, and trust it completely. And there are various hobbits who bring food and stuff.
In a regime change, everything changes. It is not just about the “government.” All of these, except the hobbits (who are humble and true and kind) and the corporations (which are at best soulless), are possessed. Nothing possessed can simply remain. (The issue is not actually demons. You’ll do fine, though, if you think of it as demons.)
Retiring the university leaves a hole in the heart of America. This hole cannot remain vacant—the university will grow back. Or something worse will grow in.
A successful regime change should follow the “DDR” model (named after the late, great East Germany). To remove an institution by force, take three steps. First: dissolve it. Second: divert its sources of energy. Third: if its function is necessary, replace it.
Imagine really getting rid of some noxious weed. It’s not like plucking a flower. You want to get the flower, the leaves, the roots, and the seeds. Then you want to get rid of the soil and replace it with sand. Then you want to plant a cactus in the sand.
And all this must be done in an orderly way, without harm to any human being—not even the professors. Force is not violence! As any parent knows or should, force is the opposite of violence. Force is not violence!
The ideal way to destroy any institution, to shatter it irreversibly into atoms, is to break it so artfully, so carefully, so tenderly, that the atoms themselves feel better off being free. While this ideal cannot be achieved for all retiring personnel, it is often surprisingly possible—and always a necessary yardstick to measure against.
Or do you think that’s a bad thing, dear reader? That shattering? Or do you think it’s in the right direction, but—maybe goes too far? Imagine if the American right, somehow, someday, erred by going too far. Neighbor, I’m laughing so hard I can’t even type.
Dissolving the university
Because the university is the heart of the old regime, it is absolutely essential to the success of any regime change that all accredited universities be both physically and economically liquidated—with a minimum of exceptions. (The only exception being technically specialized facilities, like a med school, that may take time to relocate.) Anything that isn’t a pure trade school must cease to exist, body and soul.
Dissolving the university, which of course means dissolving all campuses of this single meta-institution, is easy. What happens to any campus in the course of dissolution?