Pravles Redneckoff 🇷🇺 Z

Wednesday, September 4th, 2019, 11:57

Lecture hall of Vienna University of Economics and Business, Am Grünen Prater 11, 2nd district of Vienna

Dr. Franziska Zemanek is a tall woman of about fifty years. Glasses with cat-eye frames make her eyes look smaller. They have the color of a Biedermeier walnut cabinet, so full with jaded realism it sometimes spills over.

She wears mahogany-colored trousers, a yellow blouse, and a brown fashion scarf. Her chestnut-colored hair is cut in a Victorian updo with some rebellious curls standing out from an otherwise orderly arrangement.

Dr. Zemanek talks about international trade law more to herself than the students. They are coping with the monotony of her voice to the best of their abilities.

Franz is a well-fed man with a round face and big lips. He wears a white shirt with a crocodile embroidery. He had a nice workout before the lecture. Now he is fighting a two-front war against physical fatigue and Dr. Zemanek's soporific rhetoric.

Annalena, a short woman with dark hair, is staring into her mobile phone. Tim is studying a model railroad catalog concealed within the pages of a textbook on international trade law.

Only Lisa is paying attention. In Ukraine, politicians are soapboxing about the population getting rich by selling the products of their ingenuity all over the world. International trade law is a key ingredient of the promised riches.

"It's essential to note that the EU, as a single entity, negotiates and implements trade agreements on behalf of its member states," Dr. Zemanek says.

Franz yawns loudly.

"Therefore, Austria's participation in WTO agreements–" Dr. Zemanek says.

"…undermines our neutrality and thus sovereignty," Franz says. "Not to speak about forgone business opportunities."

"Pardon?" Dr. Zemanek says.

"Because we play along with sanctions against Iran, we can't trade with them," Franz says. "There are eighty million qualified buyers out there. Imagine how many Mozart balls we could sell to them?"

Franz turns and looks at the other students. Some of them laugh.

"There are some stones you aren't supposed to turn," Dr. Zemanek says.

"Are you trying to limit my freedom of speech?" Franz says.

"Of course not," Dr. Zemanek says. "One could perhaps posit that the untrammeled exercise of articulation, commonly referred to as freedom of speech, manifests itself as the cornerstone, nay, the very bedrock upon which the foundational tenets of our esteemed democratic society are meticulously erected. In essence, the strategic deployment of this indispensable prerogative ensures a nuanced equilibrium, thereby fortifying the intricate tapestry of our political edifice in the most judicious and erudite manner."

"What?" Franz says.

Franz gazes at Dr. Zemanek with a perplexed stare. She starts laughing.

"Freedom of speech!" she says. "In the 21st century!"

"What's so funny about that?" Franz asks.

"Do you know about Richard Lynn?" Dr. Zemanek says.

"No," Franz says. "Who is he?"

"He used to exercise his inalienable right to free speech," Dr. Zemanek says. "Research in your free time what happened to him."

"I will," Franz says.

He looks again at his classmates, as if he is disoriented.

"You better," Dr. Zemanek says. "Stop being a smartass now. You'll thank me later, when you sit in your corner office with a Cocobolo table. For your daddy's sake!"

Dr. Zemanek looks at her watch.

"See you next week," she says.

She goes out of the lecture hall with a big smile on her face.

Tim, Lisa, Franz and Annalena leave the lecture hall for the café "Das Glashaus" close to the university. They sit down at a table outdoors. From here they can see the harness racing track located some 300 meters from the café. Only one jockey is circling the track.

"That was pretty toxic of her," Lisa says.

"What do you mean?" Franz says.

He looks at Lisa with unblinking eyes. Franz is the polar opposite of Tim, Lisa thinks. 165 pounds of mental and physical health. Old Catholic to the bone, which extends to the head, thus making Franz immune to existential pain. There is nothing to hurt in a piece of bone.

"The daddy stuff," Lisa says. "I find it offensive."

"Well, if you look at the substance, she is right," Franz says. "I got bored and said what I shouldn't have. What she said was good life advice."

"Pardon?" Lisa says. "She could have had a thought-provoking discussion with you. Instead, she chose a personal attack."

"That Franz's parents are rich isn't an attack, but a fact," Annalena says.

"Right," Franz says. "I made a mistake, she corrected me, and for this I'm grateful."

"Asking sharp questions isn't a mistake," Lisa says.

"If they can hurt your profits, they are," Franz says. "Look, it was my fault. I was tired, I was bored, and I blurted out a stupid thing. What I said was inappropriate in a big law firm."

"That's a university, not a big law firm," Lisa says.

"The university is a training ground for one," Franz says.

"Defending your position with sound arguments is part of that training," Lisa says. "That's the foundation of a lawyer's work."

Tim is looking at Lisa. The more the debate progresses, the more he admires Lisa's relentless blend of intellect and femininity.

"Only within the confines of the cultural consensus," Franz says.

"How WTO agreements impact Austrian sovereignty is within that consensus," Lisa says.

"No, it's not," Franz says. "There is no such thing as Austrian sovereignty. Or neutrality. Everybody knows it, and everybody doesn't talk about it when there are witnesses. That's the cultural consensus."

"Wow," Lisa says.

"Yeah," Franz says. "You wanted a thought-provoking conversation, here you go."

Lisa shakes her head and drinks her latte in silence. Franz looks at his new Patek Philippe watch.

"What about your thesis?" Tim says to Lisa.

He looks at Lisa with coy eyes in which Lisa, he hopes, will decipher his affection for her.

"What about it?" Lisa says.

"You said earlier you want to rewrite it," Tim says.

"What?" Franz says. "Why?"

"I came across new data," Lisa says. "I want to make it more provocative."

"Provocative, how?" Annalena says.

"I want to build a case for the collective West paying reparations to Ukraine for the 2014 coup," Lisa says.

"A complete three-sixty," Annalena says.

"One-eighty," Lisa corrects her.

She can't help smiling.

"Don't laugh," Franz says. "Annalena isn't vibing with geometry, but at least she doesn't commit career suicide."

"You and your career," Lisa says. "What about making a ruckus?"

"Ruckus doesn't pay," Franz says. "I don't think you can afford wasting your energy on lofty ideas."

"What do you mean?" Lisa says.

"Among the four of us, you should be concerned with your career the most," Franz says.

"Why?" Lisa says.

"Because you are the only one who needs to earn your place in society," Franz says. "If I fail at the university, my family will take care of me. Tim here can become a career bureaucrat like his father. He will make sure Tim gets a sinecure, if he hasn't already. He's got connections."

"Annalena can mooch off the welfare system if she decides to," Franz says. "You are a minority, and minorities win by outperforming and outsmarting the others."

"That's a little offensive," Lisa says. "To Annalena, at least."

"He didn't say I am going to be a welfare queen," Annalena says. "Only that I could if I chose so. Besides, it's not a crime to benefit from the welfare system."

"Right," Franz says.

"He is telling you what a good friend would," Annalena says.

"He didn't even ask for the evidence for my point of view regarding reparations," Lisa says.

"This may interest a thesis committee, not a good friend," Annalena says.

"The kind of friends Snowden and Assange didn't have," Franz says.

"Maybe it's for the better," Lisa says. "For the humanity, at least. If Snowden had such friends, he would have been a normal bureaucrat. But the decided to change history."

"How exactly did he change history?" Franz says. "The overwhelming majority of people care as little about their privacy now as they did before his revelations."

"The overwhelming majority doesn't decide anything," Lisa says. "It's the smart minority. And they are more cautious now that they know the governments are spying on them."

"Good point," Franz says.

"Snowden and Assange didn't have the right friends, but you do," Tim says. "And I tell you that rotting in prison isn't worth whatever Assange was fighting for."

"Life is suffering," Lisa says. "Sometimes the sacrifice of one person can move the entire society forward."

"No–," Tim says.

"She is right about sacrifice," Annalena says.

"Except for one thing," Franz says. "Let someone else rot in prison, not her."

Annalena and Tim nod.

"I won't rot in prison for saying that the West started the coup in Ukraine," Lisa says. "It's not exactly a state secret."

Annalena and Franz want to say something to Lisa, but Tim interrupts them.

"You respect critical thinking, right?" Tim says. "Logic, evidence and all?"

"Sure," Lisa says.

"Then, according to the laws of logic, you need to hear the other side. You think it makes sense to change your thesis," Tim says. "You should also hear the arguments of the opposing side."

"You told me your arguments," Lisa says.

"I mean someone who is more experienced in argumentation," Tim says. "Someone who knows more."

"Who?" Lisa says.

"Dr. Zemanek," Tim says. "You should talk to her. Listen to her defence of Konzilianz."

"That's actually a good idea," Franz says. "Isn't she your thesis supervisor?"

"Yes," Lisa says. "I haven't talked with her about this yet."

"Then there is a bacon of hope that Lisa won't ruin her future," Annalena says.

"It's beacon," Lisa says.

This time she doesn't laugh. Bacon is the reincarnation of a pig, as is the fat that keeps the fire burning that Prometheus stole from the gods. Pigs can turn into a beacon of hope.

90% of human DNA is equal to the porcine one. One of the few differences is that humans are free to decide whether they want to sizzle or shine.