For decades, the glossies — the New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Vogue and her ugly
sisters — owned the franchise for collecting money from the purveyors of the
stylish and vestigial; newspapers had to content themselves with real estate
voyeurism as an adjunct to their classifieds. Of course, there was a time when
dailies dipped into glossy pretension with their Sunday magazines, but these have
gradually attenuated as the mega-spending department stores have increasingly
favored their own glossified inserts. Even the vaunted Sunday New York Times Magazine is
looking a little anorexic, pummeled by the competition from all corners of the
mag world.

But now the Wall Street Journal’s Weekend Journal and the New York Times’ Sunday
Styles section have suddenly become less traditional newspaper sections than
broadsheet catalogs, ink-stained bastions of yuppie porn configured to create
desire.

Newsprint has a peculiar attribute: While the current crop of men’s and
women’s magazines will clearly do anything to push product, there is an
assumption that staid old print is concerned with higher, calmer matters. Like
the cheaply printed fliers for the cheaply priced hardware store, the medium
offers a message of reassurance. Each week, both papers set out in a slatternly
quest to find ever more expensive ways of getting married, mowing the lawn, or
putting things in your pie-hole. Only the Journal and the Times have the robust
demographics to make this gussied-up version of a blue-collar medium hum
like a $490 electric razor.

These daily mitzvahs for the recently wealthy are themselves fat and happy. The
Times stumbled hard with the launch of a daily Styles section a few years back,
but found its stride with daily consumer sections about gadgets, food and
housewares. WSJ’s Weekend Journal, a Friday sonnet to the art of avarice launched
back in March 1998, is a massively successful extension of the Journal brand.
According to the July 12 Media Industry Newsletter, second-year revenues at
Weekend Journal section will total $34 million, 70 percent over the previous year
and far ahead of projections.

“Certain advertisers have always loved our demographic, but we didn’t have the
right environment for them. Weekend Journal is right for a lot of these guys. And
on the reader’s side, I think it’s clear we are meeting an important need, which
is what drives advertising,” says Richard Tofel, vice president of corporate
communications for Dow Jones and Co., which publishes the Journal.

Like power boats that seat only two people while costing more than most houses,
the newly enriched sections of this grubby medium offer
daily iterations of how many clueless knuckleheads have found themselves in
receipt of tall money that they have no idea what to do with. Forget the
millennium, isn’t one of the surest signs of the apocalypse that Armani and Gucci
are buying big girly ads to cuddle up betwixt the gray pinstripes of Journal
text?

“As a reader, I am thrilled to see [those ads],” says Joanne Lipman, Weekend
editor. “I think it adds a great deal to the paper. Our letters suggest, and this
is purely anecdotal, that Weekend is a family read, passed around by family
members. In some instances, it’s replacing their weekend metro paper, while
others compare it to a magazine.”

That sort of demographic-stretching is visible in “The Thomas Crown Affair,” in
which a post-coital Pierce Brosnan reads the “guy” sections of the Journal while a
still-hungry Rene Russo combs Weekend Journal in pursuit of further satisfaction.
The semiotics of the scene speak volumes.

Lipman says it’s dumb to suggest that Journal is simply pandering to the
basest instincts of its readers.

“Weekend Journal represents a natural evolution of where the Journal has been
going for the past 10 to 15 years. The line between business life and personal
life has become blurred, and I think that we understand the interplay between
business and culture. The impetus for our section is appealing to reader’s minds,
not just their pocketbooks. Some of our readers are very successful and have done
very well for themselves, but they are more than the sum of their pocketbooks.”

Lipman emphasizes that the journalistic standards that made the Journal a
reliable brand in the first place are firmly in place at Weekend, but how
rigorous can you be when you are writing about overpriced antique arcade games?

Newspaper sections didn’t always serve as obeisant Baedekers for yuppie scum.
It used to be that if you wanted to skim expensive tchotchkes, you’d spend the time
on the margins of the New Yorker magazine, finding both basic and frivolous goods
at impossible prices. Now, large parts of two of the nation’s biggest papers are devoted to
hat lore. Weekend Journal has a column on catalogs, meta-journalism for a
meta-consumeristic age. Do we really need instruction in how we should look at
the catalogs that come flying into our mailbox?

That’s not the point, as managing editor Paul R. Steiger un-self-conciously points
out in his Weekend Journal review of “Selling Dreams: How to Make Any Product
Irresistible,” written by the CEO of Ferrari’s North American unit.

“You must own the customer, make him aspire to possess your product until he has
it, and immediately want the next version after he does,” says Steiger,
paraphrasing the author. And there’s nothing like the name of a serious publication and
some august bylines to legitimize the fetishization of product. Both the Journal
and the Times suggest over and over that it’s OK to sink your net worth into
pointless doodads, as long as the doodads are quality.

Even when you drift out of the didactic place-your-money-here categories, the aroma of profligate commodification lingers — both papers get
damp panties in search of ever more expensive ways to engage basic human endeavors. In a recent Sunday Styles piece about “destination weddings,” it was suggested that if you
are in the marrying way, you might want to pick some difficult, hard-to-access
locale — not because you need to, but because you can.

To hell with mom and dad’s country club — why not, ah, Portugal? Amid the
all-night flamenco parties and the ponies with hydrangeas woven into their manes
– did I mention the Chateau Lafite hand-carried by some of the vineyard’s family
members making the scene? — the reporter and the newly betrothed conspire to
conjure fabulousness with smutty glee.

“The couple, both New Yorkers, have no family in Portugal, nor have they ever
lived there; they simply wanted an unusual and exotic location, and in this day
of casual jet travel — not to mention a galloping economy — the extravagance of
going to Europe for a long-weekend wedding did not seem far-fetched,” wrote
Monique P. Yazigi in the Times on July 11. “Who wants to go to another wedding at
the Pierre?” said the groom.

The answer is everybody else on the planet, except the swells who have been there
a jillion times. For that .0001 percent of the population, domestic
manifestations of out-of-hand wealth provoke a Gatsby-like shrug and a round of
so-what’s-next. That crowd alone, of course, wouldn’t be enough to fund a daily
newspaper section, but there’s an army of readers who don’t mind coveting someone
else’s fortune. (If more readers lingered over the pictures in the Weddings
feature at the back of the section, they might think twice about the pursuit of
wealth — rich people generally have very ugly children and they grow up to marry
other people’s ugly children.)

The wealthy will always be with us, but they seem more out of hand than Internet
IPOs. Turns out it’s a tough time to have money coming out your ass. Where else
to stuff it?

“I think people in high society get very bored. In order to challenge them and
make things very special and spectacular, it takes bringing them to a completely
new environment in order to blow their minds,” Polly Onet told Yazigi. She’s a
party planner, part of a whole class of pilot fish who live on the luxurious
underbelly of the bored rich and show up constantly in the Times.

In the same issue, there seemed to be evidence that the Times wasn’t always on
its gilded horse: a feature about the guy who started a thrifting magazine called
Cheap Date. But the magazine director didn’t come by bargain-hunting honestly.
Marlon Richards, it turns out, is the son of Keith Richards, whose annual earnings have
outstripped his habit for decades. The wannabe thrifters at the launch party
were variously described as: “the daughter of Yves Saint Larent’s muse,” a
Rothschild from the banking family, the bassist for Nancy Boy, a gaggle of
models and the son of a guy who loans his Martha’s Vineyard property to the
Clintons when they are in the neighborhood. “Do we have to dress cheap?” asked
Richards’ wife before they went to the launch party. Of course not, silly, you’re rich.

In addition to the human glitz, the Times objectifies everything in sight, a
practice that makes for some nice synergies. On July 11, Sunday Styles ran
something about how HBO’s “Sex in the City” is taking both the city and the
provinces by storm; the following Sunday, they wrote — in the shopping
column Pulse — about how the necklaces Sarah Jessica Parker wears are flying off the
shelves. It’s a trend loop that always ends in a price tag. In Style over
Substance, Frank Decaro etched the conundrum without a trace of irony. “Faced
with a glut of mass promotion and mass consumption, personal taste becomes the
life lifesaver, but it’s harder and harder to chart your own course.” Thank God
the Times is there so I can become the kind of rugged shopper-individualist who
will keep the paper knee-deep in Yves Saint Laurent ads.

All of these captions to consumerism require more dollar signs than periods,
and become a breathless run-on of price tags, price points and priceless moments.

The Times has made a week of it, with Dining Out, Circuits and House and
Home et al. Gadgets, gewgaws and the people that lust after them have become the
subject of legitimate editorial inquiry. The journalism that results doesn’t ever
get to some of the more important questions — like, say, who needs all this crap,
or whether thing-lust will be the kindling that sets our version of Rome afire
long after the blazing bull market dies out.

Jyll Holzman, senior vice president of advertising at the New York Times, says
that advertising growth at the paper in the Going-Going ’90s has been
“explosive.” After adding color and articulating more consumer-driven sections,
the Times has given glossier publications a run for all the money.

“We are truly a national newspaper. We have opened 150 markets for home delivery
and we are more than competitive with many magazines in terms of reaching a
desirable demographic. And we’ve had no trouble articulating that to the
advertisers,” she says.

By sanctifying desire with faux coverage, the readers of these moneyed sections
can shop guilt-free just inches away. The Times’ Sunday Pulse shopping column
nakedly revels in an age when the credit-card limit never comes into view. Why
have just have a cell phone? Why not shop for a stylish replacement frame replete
with antenna caps — just 10 minutes of installation and you can make a
statement, not just a phone call. You can always call your dog, according
to the adjoining item on July 25. Forty-two bucks gets your dog a night at
Paws Inn, where dogs romp freely with other dogs, leap on the furniture, watch
television, even take phone calls. When you’re actually out walking Fifi, you can depend on the Watcher ($9), a rear-view bracelet that helps the wearer spot
those lurking paparazzi in time to duck for shelter. And when you’re worn out
running from all those fans, there’s always Vinotherapie treatment, which
includes a barrel bath with fresh grape seed extracts, merlot wraps and
sauvignon-oil massages, at some impossibly fabulous vineyard in France.

Moral: Even if a paparazzi wouldn’t shoot you if you punched him in the nose, you
can still act like a celebrity, and so can your dog.

At Weekend Journal, all goods are equal. A refer down the side of the July 30
editions tugs you inside to find the “best” Adirondack chair, the “best” artist
of the century and the “best” deal on a Porsche Boxster, and to watch as novelist Tama
Janowitz searches for the “best” husband. Would you be surprised to learn that
his net worth plays a significant role in his qualitative rating? Acquisition
finds full throat in “Object of the Week”: One week it’s a pricey painted rarity
from the Hudson River School and the next, a vintage Good Humor truck. Who cares
if it’s gauche or glorious — if someone else wants it, you should want it too.

Everything is for sale: small-town life, faucets, a CD
player for your shower and the deep blue sea (filmed and actual). And just in
case the plethora of hard and soft goods gets your heart racing, you can track it
with the electronic stethoscope. And there’s wine. Wine to bath in, travel to, sniff,
deconstruct and, sometimes, actually drink. If some sassy little number turns the
heads of the Journal’s cuddly wine enthusiasts, just hop over to the adjoining ad and order from the Virtual Vineyard.

“What these two papers are doing is lending their greatest asset — journalistic
credibility — to the most profitable operation short of printing money that their
industry can imagine,” says Tom Frank, editor of the Baffler. “This is where the
payoff comes for all of those years of reputation building and
objectivity-inspired hair-splitting: Dump it all for a Porsche Boxster!”

Internet marketeers like Amazon and Tower have been accused of blurring the lines
between what constitutes an ad and what constitutes editorial, but other than
sectional conceits and a few column borders, the Journal and the Times present
one seamless buy-o-sphere. These aren’t leisure sections, they are newsprint
Brookstones where customers — there are no readers here — browse from kiosk to
kiosk for that one special something that will make them all feel special in
exactly the same way.

But now I have a case that’s very clear for Mr. Brisbane: the Times’ story on Rick Santorum’s lies (yes, I call them lies) about John F. Kennedy’s 1960 religion speech, headlined “Santorum Makes Case for Religion in Public Square.” Since it’s the New York Times and all, I don’t expect the paper to call it a “lie.” But the story contains not one word suggesting that Santorum might be, I don’t know, misrepresenting, misremembering, distorting or otherwise being completely wrong about what JFK actually said.

I’m getting a lot of credit on Twitter and Facebook today for my piece, but this is one of those rare times when I’d rather not be recognized, because – don’t tell my editors – what I did was easy. It took me exactly 10 seconds to Google JFK’s speech and another few minutes to read it. Then I cut and pasted Santorum’s comments next to JFK’s and voila, kids, I had a story. The Washington Post’s Jonathan Capehart credited me with a “deep-dive,” and I appreciate the praise, but really, I barely got my feet wet. (The Post’s own news story wasn’t any better than the Times’; Capehart was the first person on staff to note Santorum’s distortion more than 24 hours after it aired on ABC’s “This Week.”)

I assumed I’d be late to the Santorum story because I was sick yesterday and didn’t even watch him live, I just heard about his remarks online. But I’m writing a book about the Democratic Party and Irish Catholics, and as you’d expect, there’s a little bit about Kennedy in there, and so I thought I’d take a moment to explain what Kennedy said – and how rabid anti-Catholicism, as late as 1960, made it necessary.

I made a comment last week in passing that I’d like to elaborate on here: I’ve spent a lot of time, in the book as well as on Salon, pointing out the anti-Catholic Nativism that hobbled my people and that accounts for some of our pugilism, shall we say, in the public square. But Santorum makes me realize I haven’t said enough about why some people were and still are suspicious of Catholics. His disrespectful comments about mainline Protestant churches somehow being agents of Satan is just one example of the contempt for other faiths that has gotten us in trouble over the years. I came of age after Vatican II; my parents were devout Catholic ecumenicists, attending seders at our local Jewish temple and telling the neighbors, no, we’re not supposed to blame Jews for killing Jesus anymore, and Protestants love Jesus, too. Santorum is an example of the mind-set that liberal Catholics and lapsed Catholics have been fighting in my lifetime, and he’s really a disgrace.

I don’t expect the New York Times to call him a disgrace in its news pages, but I do expect the paper to do a minimum of fact-checking, to see whether our first and only Catholic president actually said what Santorum attributes to him. There was a reserved, respectful, Timesian way to do it, and the paper missed an opportunity to reassure its readers that the paper is all about the truth, and that it’s not cowed into printing untruths by the GOP culture warriors who’ve spent decades now insisting the Times has a raging liberal bias.

I don’t mean to single out Michael Barbaro, either, who does good work, or the team of writers the Times lists as providing additional reporting at the end of the piece. Or Kit Seelye, who wrote the earlier Caucus post, on a tighter deadline, about Santorum’s remarks without fact-checking the JFK claim. I’ve always loved the singular way the paper almost always attributes mistakes, in its Corrections column, to “editing errors.” This was an editing error. Someone at some point should have said, “Hey, I know you’re on deadline – but what did JFK actually say?” It’s not vigilantism. It’s journalism.

You’re welcome, Mr. Brisbane.

He could have coasted on his one great advantage — fluency in Arabic — to beat other reporters to the story. He did not. He used it as a foundation to serve readers — and help colleagues. When I left Iraq after the overthrow of Saddam, a sizeable part of my heart was left behind with new friends who were struggling to make the country a better place. Amid the constant shifts in the chaotic post-war era, Anthony’s dispatches were the ones I relied on to give me the complete picture of what was happening around the country.

American reporters are trained to be objective. It is an ideal to aspire to, more than an achievable goal. We are human beings and those of us who cover conflicts have our emotions challenged every day. The desire to bear witness and to make readers and listeners feel what we feel is overwhelming. Sometimes this gets in the way of objectivity. Anthony, who saw more terrible things than most, managed to stay closer to that ideal than any one. That’s what makes his reporting the best and why in years to come, it will truly be seen as the first draft of history.

We published books on Iraq at the same time and shared a panel at the Brattle Theatre in Cambridge, Mass. on Iraq. I had long since decided that objectivity was getting in the way of my reporting. It was important to let my readers know that I was angry and that my friend had died because of the criminally poor planning of the bigwigs in Washington. That emotion suffused my book. Anthony’s book was scrupulously written, you could never guess what he felt about the war.

My memory is that during the course of the conversation I pressed him about keeping his feelings about the war out of the book. He came back at me with full vigor, eloquently defending the importance of objectivity. He was a big-hearted, supremely talented man — and disciplined about the work. The panel was recorded by C-Span and you can watch Anthony and get some sense of who he was and what we have lost here.

Brooks’ criticism is dead on. Letting every person with a “mic check” suggest a fundamental strategy for the movement is a recipe for disaster. Not only have existing intellectual traditions been the product of superior minds, they have stood the test of time. Anyway, how to act collectively when everyone is pursuing his own quixotic dream?

Of course, anyone who follows the debate knows the left must beware of Brooks bearing gifts. The Times’ conservative columnist is always making sensible sounding suggestions to the left, which, upon closer examination, turn out to be ticking bombs. In this case, the right has a perfectly good foundation in the libertarian tradition, Brooks reports. So it doesn’t need to reinvent its first principles .

For his friends on the left, however,  Brooks advises a simple reversion to their philosopher, Karl Marx. Now there’s a thought.  When the centrist Democrats of the filibuster-bound Senate passed a healthcare plan modeled on the Republican scheme from Massachusetts, the Republicans branded their leaders as socialists, or worse, as taking their beliefs from Paris, if not Nairobi. Imagine if they started actually quoting Karl Marx.

Fortunately, should the left be capable of giving up its endlessly proliferating individual belief systems, two schools of thought other than the return to the specter of communism would be available to them.  There is a robust utilitarian tradition, represented most recently in the work of Princeton philosopher Peter Singer, that asks people to rise to the demands of altruism. As a matter of ordinary morality, you’d pause on a walk to pull a drowning child out of a pond, Singer begins. Why would you not give up a trivial expensive treat to rescue someone starving in Africa?

Or, closer to home, living in a shelter somewhere in New York, or in Washington’s McPherson Square. The well-worked-out analysis of Singer’s argument for beneficence is a vastly better foundation for a long-term social movement than any of the slogans on OWS placards. “Tax the rich” is catchy, but dissolves when confronted with Brooks’ comrades’ libertarian first principle: “It’s my money.” Singer offers the opportunity to argue about why keeping every last penny of it when others are in real need is, well, immoral.

Another great 20th century philosopher, the late John Rawls, made a very well-worked-out argument for why it’s not “your money” at all. It’s only your money, as citizens of many less well-favored societies than the United States know, if other people are willing to refrain from killing you to get it. Otherwise, life is, famously, “solitary, POOR, nasty, brutish and short.” Rawls set forth elaborate conditions for when societies agree to let the rich keep the money without having to live behind walls topped with ground glass.

Most important, Rawls posits, inequality must also benefit the people on the bottom, e.g., by expanding the size of the pie. This was the case for much of American history, and the society was the better for it. But now that finance has replaced manufacturing as the engine of the economy, not so much. The endless claims of money movers like Mitt Romney that they are “creating jobs” reflects the deep power of Rawls’ construct. If they’re not, what is he doing with all that money? Rich people’s claims to be complying with Rawls’ condition can only go on so long in face of the robust evidence to the contrary.

Brooks is right about one thing: Ideas matter. The resurrected right has relied on the power of libertarian ideas for decades. During the same period, the left has relied on mic checks and bumper stickers (“the audacity of hope”). When we see them start to use the rich store of liberal thinking available to them, David Brooks, watch out.

These pieces were clearly written with a very specific objective in mind: to draw media attention to the supposed “education crisis” in America — a favorite topic of these publications’ elite readers, who have a vested interest in blaming the recession on the poor rather than on the economic policies that enrich the already rich. No doubt, both the Times and the Atlantic achieved their goal, with various NPR shows, cable gabfests and elite magazines spending the last week frothing over the articles’ central thesis.

The tragedy in all of this is that in both the articles and in most of the discussions that followed, few bothered to question the fundamental assumptions about education in America — and fewer still bothered to ask if “education” in the modern parlance has now become a synonym for “acquiescence.”

To see how this linguistic shift is occurring, reread the Times article with a critical eye. Specifically, notice that after the reporters structure their piece around Apple executives’ (unchallenged) claim that “the U.S. has stopped producing people with the skills we need,” there’s not a single shred of proof — empirical or otherwise — offered in support of that assertion. On the contrary, after a sweeping declaration at the top of the piece that wage and human rights differences between Chinese and American workers have little to do with offshoring, the article inadvertently goes on to prove those differentials — not skill levels and education — are the driving force behind the domestic job losses in America.

In one section of the piece, for example, the Times notes that Apple’s big Chinese factory, Foxconn, attracts American investment because “over a quarter of (the) work force lives in company barracks and many workers earn less than $17 a day” — and “many work six days a week, often spending up to 12 hours a day at the plant.” In another section of the piece, the Times notes that the cost of “building a $1,500 computer in (California) was $22 a machine … In Singapore, it was $6 … In Taiwan, $4.85.” While the Times unquestioningly forwards Apple’s impossible-to-believe explanation for these figures (“wages weren’t the major reason for the disparities”), the statistics are yet more proof that wage differences, not education, are the real offshoring motive.

The Times also quotes an Apple executive saying the company must outsource because “the entire supply chain is in China now” — and though the article doesn’t bother to mention it, that is true precisely because other factories in that supply chain have moved to China for the cheap wages and lax human rights/labor regulations. The Times later talks to Eric Saragoza, an American worker laid off by Apple, who says that Apple told him to keep his job he didn’t need to acquire more skills, but instead “to do 12-hour days, and come in on Saturdays.” And in another part of the piece, the Times quotes a former Apple executive who insists Apple was forced to move to China because there’s no “U.S. plant (that) can find 3,000 people overnight and convince them to live in dorms” — an admission, again, that Apple’s move to offshore isn’t about skills, but about a desire to employ a “flexible” (read: exploitable) workforce.*

In light of all this, the absurdity of the Times’ “education crisis” conclusion is obvious. Somehow, Dickensian realities are meticulously recounted, but Apple is permitted to plead helplessness without so much as a contradictory fact being mentioned — as if the company isn’t making calculated choices that are generating record profits off sweatshop conditions. China’s super-low wages and nonexistent labor, environmental and human rights protections are shown over and over again to be the driving force behind American corporate offshoring, and yet the conclusion is nonetheless that the problem for America is our education system. And somehow, that conclusion is made without the Times, the Atlantic Monthly or any part of the media echoing their stories measuring it against actual data from the American education system.

And what, pray tell, does that data say? It says that far from a drought of skilled high-tech workers forcing supposedly helpless victims like Apple to move to China, America is actually producing more of such workers than Apple and other high-tech companies are willing to employ. As I noted in a previous newspaper column (looking at yet another New York Times piece making the same education argument):

No doubt, you’ve heard (the) fairy tale from prominent politicians and business leaders who incessantly insist that our economic troubles do not emanate from neoliberals’ corporate-coddling trade, tax and deregulatory policies, but instead from an education system that is supposedly no longer graduating enough science, technology, engineering and math (STEM) experts. Indeed, this was the message of this week’s New York Times story about corporate leaders saying America isn’t producing “enough workers with the cutting-edge skills coveted by tech firms.”

As usual, it sounds vaguely logical. Except, the lore relies on the assumptions that American schools aren’t generating enough STEM supply to meet employer demand…
To know (that) supposition is preposterous is to consider a recent study by Rutgers and Georgetown University that found colleges “in the United States actually graduate many more STEM students than are hired each year.”

These facts were most recently corroborated in mind-boggling detail by the Senate testimony of Rochester Institute of Technology’s Ron Hira. But, of course, they are nowhere to be found in the Times. That’s not altogether shocking (even if it is offensive) — the Times is a newspaper whose ombudsman recently challenged the very idea that the paper’s journalists should actually fact-check statements made by its sources. It is also a newspaper that has helped construct a larger political and media consensus around what I’ve called both “The Great Education Myth” and the “Neoliberal Bait-and-Switch.”

These sleights of hand simply stipulate as unchallenged, unquestioned fact that all of our economic problems can be solved with better STEM education and more STEM graduates. The idea is that this educational improvement would fix the alleged problem of high-tech companies like Apple not being able to find enough STEM workers. This myth endures even though the data indisputably proves that there is no such dearth of STEM worker supply — indeed, we are already producing more STEM graduates than the domestic economy can employ, meaning the only worker shortage that exists in America is a shortage of workers willing to toil at slave wages with no labor or human rights. But, alas, those facts don’t matter because the Great Education Myth isn’t about economic reality — it is an instrument of propaganda designed to distract attention from the tax and trade policies that allow companies like Apple to make so much money off the current system of exploitation.

So that gets us back to the key question of whether the term “education” is effectively being redefined? In all of the elite media’s stories about offshoring and the STEM “education crisis,” does the term “education” no longer mean “learning a set of skills”? Does it in practice now mean American workers learning not new technological crafts, but learning to quietly accept the wage, labor and human rights standards of China — the standards we thankfully improved after our own crushing Industrial Age a century ago? In short, does “education” now mean “teaching American workers to be subservient”?

The answer, almost certainly, is yes, because that’s the only way that the media and political establishment’s entire “education crisis” meme makes any logical sense.

The fact is, while our cash-starved schools would obviously benefit from more resources, and while better schools clearly couldn’t hurt our society, there’s no empirical, data-based reason to believe that improving our schools would reverse the trend of America losing high-tech jobs to slave-labor nations like China. Without a change in tax and tariff-free trade policies that economically incentivize companies like Apple to keep moving production to cheap labor havens overseas, the only “education” that will bring those jobs back is the kind that indoctrinates high-tech American workers to compete with Chinese workers by accepting the horrific labor conditions those Chinese workers experience. Based on the New York Times’ own reporting on Apple, that means an education system in America that teaches our workers to simply accept being paid $17 a day, to work six days a week in 12-hour shifts and to live in crowded dormitories so that they can be stampeded into the factory at any hour of the day. It means, in short, an education system that tells Eric Saragoza to shut up and accept the employer’s draconian demands.

Not surprisingly, the curriculum for this new education system is already being championed by the very political and media realms that originally constructed the Great Education Myth. In Congress, a group of senators is proposing to eliminate overtime protections for vast swaths of the America’s high-tech workforce in the name of competing with China. In state legislatures, lawmakers are looking to weaken child labor statutes, also in the name of competition. And on the New York Times Op-Ed page, Thomas Friedman implies that Americans are lazy and declares that “average is over” and that “everyone needs to find their extra” — elite-speak for the notion that Americans, who already log some of the longest workdays in the world and who are already among the planet’s most productive laborers, must work even harder than they already do.

In beginning to construct this kind of pedagogy, our mandarins are not coincidentally promoting a key part of the educational ideology of their Chinese counterparts. No, not the part of that ideology that is focused on training high-tech workers — the part that prioritizes obedience. Indeed, as my friend Michael Levy recounts in his terrific book “Kosher Chinese,” that educational method teaches Chinese workers never to question their station, demand basic rights or ask for better conditions.

That same ethos is now being proudly promoted here at home. Should we accept it — and the redefinition of “education” that comes with it — we may end up bringing a few jobs back, but we will have reversed the very labor, wage and environmental progress that once defined our basic concept of human rights — and America itself.

*It’s important to note that the Times did eventually publish this follow-up piece to its original article about Apple and offshoring. The follow-up piece looks more closely at how Apple mistreats its workers in China, and that kind of scrutiny is certainly necessary and laudable. However, the fact that the Times made the decision to separate the later piece on labor rights from the earlier article on Apple’s employment decisions implies that the two issues — worker exploitation and offshoring — are separate, when in fact they are inextricably intertwined. That kind of distinction is a real problem. Indeed, pretending that these two issues are wholly different topics (as Apple and other high-tech executives so often do) perpetuates the deceptive notion that exploitation is just a “liberal” feel-goody concern while business practices are more serious, dispassionate, non-ideological decisions. But only when these issues are looked at in aggregate will we be able to start having an honest debate about how globalization really works.

Mencken could recall no such excitement. “The unanimous opinion of all the journalists that I know, excluding a few Liberals who are obviously somewhat balmy,” he added “… is that since the days of the national Thors and Wotans, no politician who was not out for himself, and himself alone, has ever drawn the breath of life in the United States.”

Alas, such attitudes went out of fashion with snap-brim fedoras, smoke-filled rooms and bottles of rye in desk drawers. Today’s national political reporters have attended fancy colleges, regard their professional affiliations as valuable status symbols, hence give every sign of identifying more with Washington courtiers and political professionals than the great unwashed.

To the extent they may share Mencken’s exuberant disdain for hoodwinker and hoodwinked alike, ambitious reporters are well-advised to keep it to themselves. As a career strategy, thoughtful circumspection is advised. The uphill path to a sinecure on “Meet the Press” must be trodden carefully.

Many readers, for example, can probably identify a name-brand journalist such as Judith Miller, who fell into disrepute for parroting Bush administration propaganda about Saddam Hussein’s WMD. But can you name anybody whose skeptical reporting made them famous? No, you cannot.

Columnists have more leeway, but even there it’s safer (and easier) to stick to anodyne topics such as dorky clothes, bad hair, which candidate resembles what character in “Pride and Prejudice,” and who mistreats his dog. To me, it’s significant that an honorable exception like Paul Krugman — my nominee for progressive MVP — is not a product of newsroom culture.

So now comes New York Times “public editor” Arthur Brisbane with maybe the most disingenuous question of the year: Should Times reporters be “truth vigilantes”? When politicians lie, should reporters call them out?

And if so, how?

Brisbane’s two columns on the subject drew widespread astonishment and hilarity from readers and journalists alike — partly because journalists love talking about ourselves as much as the average Hollywood starlet. They also drew a sharp rebuke from Times editor Jill Abramson, who insisted that the “kind of rigorous fact-checking and truth-testing you describe is a fundamental part of our job as journalists.”

Abramson gave instances of the newspaper supplying proper context for politicians’ statements such as Mitt Romney’s preposterous charge that President Obama wants “to replace our merit-based society with an entitlement society.” (Wink, wink. Nudge, nudge. Know what he means?) She said that the Times reported that “the largest entitlement programs — Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid — were all enacted before Mr. Obama entered grade school.”

Of course, that’s not what Romney’s really saying. Look, as somebody who spent more than a decade waging a quixotic war of words against the New York Times over its role in the Whitewater hoax, the subsequent “War on Gore,” and its shameful (and acknowledged) role in “catapulting the propaganda” that led the U.S. to invade Iraq, I have two observations.

First, the Times has rebounded since those dark days of 2003. Far less unmediated government propaganda and make-believe scandal characterizes its news columns. Abramson’s 2011 appointment as executive editor gives further reason for optimism.

Second, the answer to Brisbane’s real question — exactly how reporters are supposed to go about calling Mitt Romney a liar — has no good answer. Because the more forcefully it’s done, the more the GOP candidate’s apt to like it.

Take Romney’s oft-repeated charge that Obama goes around apologizing for America. The Washington Post’s Glenn Kessler did this one to a fare-thee-well, showing conclusively that the allegation is completely false — an absurd mix of misrepresented circumstances, doctored quotes, etc. And it took him 1,800 words.

And who read them? Certainly nobody who’d already swallowed the lie on Fox News, Rush Limbaugh or any of a hundred right-wing websites. So the Washington Post says it’s a lie. Well, they would, wouldn’t they? The Times agrees? Even better.

Romney’s not talking to reporters, but over and through them, seeking not nuanced news stories, but five-second video clips and TV ads. Reporters who ask confrontational questions can be ignored, or worse, made characters in the story. Well-paid operatives can make their editors’ lives miserable.

The uncomfortable truth is that no newspaper today has the power and moral authority the New York Times so thoughtlessly squandered, and it ain’t coming back. Obama will have to defend himself.