A month ago I received an invitation to spend an evening with New York Times columnist David Brooks at the University of Chicago’s David Rubenstein Forum. I am still not sure why I was invited. For the last eight or nine years, I have been taking classes at the University of Chicago’s Graham School—the Great Books Program, or Western Civ. So maybe that was the reason. I also have contributed money to the U of C, so maybe the prospect of more contributions triggered the invitation. But then it might have been my friendship with Bill Michael, the Executive Director of the U of C’s Reva and David Logan Center for the Arts, where I have attended and photographed countless concerts over the last 11 years.

Whatever the reason, I was not going to miss the opportunity to hear David Brooks, one of my favorite columnists. I first encountered Brooks decades ago when he was writing straight political commentary for the Wall Street Journal’s editorial page before the Journal’s editorial page became sadly laughable, riddled with illogic and false premises—thank you Paul Gigot.

Over the years, Brooks’ area of interest, or at least the focus of his column, has shifted to what might be described as social psychology. He still writes about current events, but rather than, for example, focusing on the litigation that has engulfed Donald Trump, as so many op-ed writers do ad nauseam, Brooks will instead focus on questions of social class and happiness to explain Trump’s rise to power. During the last year, representative columns have included The Crisis of Men and Boys, The Rising Tide of Global Sadness, How [to] Serve a Friend in Despair, and The Power of Art in a Political Age. He always has interesting insights into the effects of technology on our psyches.

The invitation also referenced Anne Snyder, who I had assumed was a longstanding U of C professor, who would engage Brooks in a conversation about current events. Over the last several days, I thought to myself, “If they have a Q & A session, do I have a pressing question for Brooks?” For a long time, I’ve wondered what the typical week in the life of a New York Times columnist is like? But when the time for questions came, I had no need to ask. Brooks had already answered my question.

Turns out Brooks and Snyder are married; they now live in Hyde Park; both hold advisory and teaching positions with something called the University of Chicago Leadership and Society Initiative (“LSI”). Brooks also teaches at Yale and Snyder is the editor-in-chief of Comment magazine. Snyder has some nonprofit experience in her background, having once served as the director of the Philanthropy Roundtable’s Character Initiative.

After the conversation, I reviewed the the LSI website. From what I could piece together, the LSI offers successful executives and managers the opportunity to refocus their vision on a new challenge or pursuit following several decades pursuing a traditional career track, or as the person heads into retirement. If I had to give an elevator pitch for the Initiative, I would call it the executive MBA program for the soul.

Those who survive (designated a Fellow) what appears to be a highly selective admission process, return to campus for a year filled with targeted classes and discussions, and the strong suggestion that they audit two university classes per quarter. The lectures, structured discussions, networking, socializing, and readings are designed to re-orient each Fellow’s perspective. Each week, the Fellows are expected to be on campus from Monday through Wednesday, interacting with their instructors and cohort.

Call me skeptical. The program clearly could be a worthwhile and invigorating adventure, but given each Fellow’s prior successes, I suspect everyone who is selected already has multiple alternatives readily available to them.

Having now watched my own cohort hit retirement age, I have discovered that those nearing retirement divide themselves into two distinct categories. No need for a Harry Potter sorting hat—it’s self-selection. The first category includes those who will continue working until they drop dead, largely because they have no other interests, making retirement a frightening prospect, as Brooks alluded to. The second group include those who retire, and then immediately pursue entirely different activities with the same level of energy and commitment that they brought to their prior professional lives. In terms of time commitment, these folks have not retired, but they are free from the office politics and pressures that goes hand and hand with pursuing a career as a breadwinner.

Ironically, the program is perfectly suited for those in the first group, but they are the ones least likely to take advantage of it. By way of example, I have a good friend who told me last year he would retire in June 2024. Over the last 40 years, he has single-mindedly pursued his career, to the detriment of all else. As June nears, he is already reneging on his promise to himself. Yes, he still plans to slowdown, but he will continue working in his current professional position. He then defensively adds that he is hoping to redefine his position, requiring him to work only three or four days a week. Maybe he will regain his status in high school as a scratch golfer, but nothing new is in store for him. I may recommend that he consider LSI. He will undoubtedly say he will take a look, but he won’t.

At this time, several universities offer similar programs. Like executive MBA programs, these shape-shifting opportunities represent a source of additional revenue. With tuition set at $77,500 for the 2024-25 school year, the net return to the U of C is probably astronomical given that the direct costs are relatively low. One of a university’s primary tasks is the allocation of overhead costs, which partially explains the sizable tuition.

Universities, however, also have a longer-term, more lucrative return in mind: major gifts to their endowments. Like the lawyer in Kurt Vonnegut’s God Bless You, Mr. Rosewater, colleges and universities like to be ‘present’ immediately before the soon-to-be dead surrender their treasures to the next generation.

Tonight, Brooks and Snyder discussed the philosophy behind LSI. As a regular reader of the Brooks’ columns, I was not surprised by anything he said. He emphasized the importance of the humanities in developing emotional intelligence and a sense of well-being. Along the way, he humorously recalled his own college years at the University of Chicago—a choice that was made for him by five rejection letters. At some point, during his college years he was a bartender. And he and friends enrolled another friend in a boxing tournament, as a joke. The friend lasted 29 seconds before being knocked out. After watching Brooks for years on the Friday installment of the PBS NewsHour, I realize that he has not lost the impish sense of humor that was obviously evident during his college years.

After reflecting on his college exploits, Brooks then grew serious, recounting several statistics encapsulating life in America—the growing number of people who say that they have no friends; the rise in suicide rates among the young; the shifting time for marriage and home ownership to a person’s thirties, and growing economic inequality, among other statistics and trends. Despite the country’s overall prosperity, people are unhappy. For Brooks, the humanities are the solution—delving into the great books to gain a better sense of who we are and how to live a better life. Wealth, power, and fame do not equate with happiness; Brooks has the stories and statistics that support his thesis.

At one point, he noted that obtaining a first job out of college may be difficult for a student who focused on philosophy rather than accounting, but that many majoring in the humanities eventually lap the accounting majors, as evidenced by the large number of humanities majors who are now CEOs. Brooks blames the colleges and parents for the failure of young people to recognize value in the humanities.

I found Snyder’s comments more cryptic. Brooks said Snyder brought her spiritual insights to the table, which strikes me as an important component in the LSI program. Unfortunately, Snyder kept her remarks short, and without prior knowledge of her thinking, I had trouble placing her comments into context. An LSI press release indicates that she hosts The Whole Person Revolution podcast, so I will be adding it to my list of podcasts for more insight.

The conversation was moderated by Seth Green, Dean of the Graham School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He was pitch-perfect, keeping his remarks and questions short, so that Brooks and Snyder had plenty of time to speak.

Afterwards, I spoke briefly with Brooks. I am not big on meeting celebrities, because once you “slobber your admiration over them,” there is usually a long pause, followed by nothing. Nevertheless, tonight I consciously made an exception to my “No Slobber” rule. I simply walked up to Brooks, and as I shook his hand, told him I was a longtime reader and “McNeal Lehrer” viewer—quickly correcting myself on my dated reference.

I did mention the question I had planned to ask him, which generated a chuckle. I then noted that I suspected he spent most of his time reading books. I didn’t get an argument, but I did get my photograph.

For most of the conversation he and the two others were backlit. When the room lights finally became the key ones, the lighting was not evenly distributed. Moreover, it cast an orange pallor over all three, resulting in pasty skin textures.

The lecture hall was beautiful, but someone needs to fix the lighting and the sound system, which was plagued by feedback, reverb, and echo, making it particularly difficult to hear Snyder.

[Click on an Image to Enlarge It. The Images Are Not Necessarily in Exact Chronological Order.]

Photographers Notes: I brought a camera for one reason—to capture an image of David Brooks for my collection of journalist images. I did not pre-clear the use of the camera, so I did not move from my seat during the program. Nor did I repeatedly snap photographs. When Dean Green saw that I had a camera toward the end of the evening, he seemed pleased that someone was capturing the event, so I started making photographs when the lights in the hall already had been dimmed. No flash for fill].

Copyright 2024, Jack B. Siegel, All Rights Reserved. Do Not Alter, Copy, Download, Display, Distribute, or Reproduce Without the Prior Written Consent of the Copyright Holder.