The Twelve

by William Gladstone

  “I’ll stay if it makes you happy,” he conceded, “But it just seems like a waste of time and money.”

  “Trust me on this,” she implored. “You’ll have more power in your adult life if you see this through and graduate. And believe me, you will want that power.

  “So promise me you’ll stay and graduate. Please, Max.”

  Not wanting to disappoint his mother, he promised.

  ***

  Despite his sense of alienation, however, Max did have friends at school, including Archibald Benson—who had been part of the student group that went to Barcelona—Chris Garvey, and Carl Becker.

  At the beginning of the ten-day spring break, Chris and Carl approached Max with the suggestion that he try some of their hash brownies, and he felt there was little to lose.

  A huge proportion of students at Yale in 1968 dabbled with drugs. It was part of the college culture, which also embraced the radical changes in music and fashion.

  Much to the delight of Chris and Carl, a hungry Max devoured the brownies, though unexpectedly, instead of getting high, he fell into a deep sleep that lasted a full forty-eight hours.

  ***

  Max woke up filled with energy and alive with new ideas. Over the course of the ten-day break, he devoured all of the textbooks required for his five academic courses. He felt no need to sleep and would nap for twenty minutes or an hour at a time, but no more than that.

  Max returned to the Yale campus, and the night before his philosophy exam he wrote the final draft of a paper that had been assigned by his professor Robert Fox, with whom he shared many physical characteristics. The instruction was, “According to Whitehead’s Modes of Thought, Write a Critique of Yale’s System of Education.”

  Alfred North Whitehead was considered the world’s leading systems thinker and had explained how all knowledge was contained within the limits and possibilities of the systems in which human beings interacted. Max saw in a flash that the ultimate limitation was being human.

  He also realized that it was only by being fully human, and allowing feelings and emotions to enter into the analytical realm of scientific investigation that true understanding could be achieved. Clearly Yale was underperforming in this regard, he concluded. The university had compartmentalized every aspect of every subject, dividing them into specialties, with the instructors and lecturers talking with each other but not with anyone outside of the closed system. The students were learning more and more about less and less and were coming no closer to—and indeed farther and farther away from—Whitehead’s goal of “understanding understanding.”

  At the same time as he was preparing to write the paper, Max finished reading Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice, the account of the Black Panther movement and the rage felt by blacks who had been oppressed under the restrictions and injustice of the legal system in the United States in the first half of the twentieth century. Some of the language used by Cleaver was caustic, even violent.

  Influenced by such language and finding it effective, Max wrote his eighteen-page philosophy essay in equally strong terms and incorporated elements of his own emotional state, including details of not sleeping, of his descent into despondency, and how those factors related to his breakthrough of “understanding understanding.”

  The essay was carefully constructed. He reviewed Yale’s purpose and practices. The university’s motto—Lux et Veritas, light and truth—was in his estimation a good one, and in keeping with Whitehead’s critique of education. If one could understand understanding, Whitehead proposed, then one could understand anything.

  As a mathematician, Max believed that the only way this could be achieved would be by escaping the human system, and expressed that theory in his report.

  Then he closed with the formulation that “A is and is not equal to A” as the ultimate equation in explaining how to penetrate the impenetrable intellectual domain of “understanding understanding.” It was like an alchemist’s magical stone, the one that would turn lead to gold or turn any situation of ignorance into one of knowing.

  Whitehead believed that in every educational moment students and teachers should focus on the highest possible learning experience. Thus it was clear to Max that the highest possible learning experience for his fellow students would be for him to read and then discuss his breakthrough paper.

  First, however, he thought he should discuss this with Professor Fox, who also chaired the philosophy department, to see if perhaps he would choose this higher course of action and simply postpone the exam. With this in mind, Max arrived at the examination room early, and stepped on the wooden stage. He stood by the podium, facing the large lecture hall.

  Because of his resemblance to their instructor—brown unkempt curly hair, glasses, and good casual, but carelessly assembled, jacket, preppy pants, and shirt with no tie—many of the students assumed Max was Professor Fox. One or two approached him with questions about the exam. Max calmly told them to just take their seats and not to worry.

  “There might not even be a final exam,” he said cryptically.

  As a result, a steady buzz had spring up throughout the room by the time Professor Fox showed up, a minute or two before the exam was to begin. While the puzzled students looked on, Max triumphantly handed him the “A is and is not A” essay.

  “I’ve been up all night writing this essay,” Max explained in a matter-of-fact way, “and I think I’ve reached Whitehead’s ultimate goal of ‘understanding understanding.’”

  As the professor leafed through the paper, he continued, “The class will benefit more from the reading of this essay than from taking the exam,” he declared.

  Professor Fox listened quietly and then replied.

  “You may have, in fact, experienced this amazing breakthrough,” he said, “but I have not had an opportunity to read the paper yet, and so just as you are following Whitehead’s dictate that each individual must in every moment follow what they believe the highest course of educational learning, I must continue with the exam.”

  Though it wasn’t what he had hoped, Max received this news calmly and replied.

  “I understand. Perhaps there will be another time. I just wanted to offer you the opportunity.”

  “Well, you needn’t take the exam at this time, if you don’t wish to do so. You’ve written a much longer essay than was required, and having been up all night—as you say—to complete it, might put you at a disadvantage.”

  “No, I’ll be fine,” Max responded. “I can sit for the exam now—I’m not really that tired.”

  Yet as he went to take his seat, moving along the stage, he realized that in order to be true to Whitehead’s modes of thought, he really should spend his time contemplating the insights of understanding understanding and not wasting his time just answering questions about Spinoza and Kant, just so he could get an A that would impress others.

  So, Max turned to Professor Fox and spoke.

  “Yes, I think you’re right. Probably best that I skip the exam for the moment. Thank you, sir.”

  With that he headed out of the lecture hall.

  ***

  As he left the building, he mulled over the details of his paper, and enthusiasm grew within him. He bumped into his sociology professor, Eugenio Rodriguez. Bubbling over with his revelation and anxious to share, Max stopped him and began to talk enthusiastically.

  “I’ve just figured out Whitehead’s modes of thought, and have uncovered the secret to ‘understanding understanding,’” he said rapidly.

  Taken by the young man’s enthusiasm, Professor Rodriguez was intrigued, and he adopted the role of devil’s advocate.

  “Will that understanding get us to the Moon or allow us to solve any of our current social problems?” he asked.

  Max hesitated for a moment and then, coming from a level of abstraction that suggested that those who refused to limit themselves to the human system could accomplish anything, he cheerily replied.

  “I need to think about
it a little more, but I think it will address those issues and more!”

  “Keep thinking, then,” Professor Rodriguez replied, “and let me know what you come up with.” With that, he continued into the building.

  Intrigued by the professor’s suggestion, Max decided a walk in the fresh January air would help him sort out his thoughts. With the sound of snow crunching under his every step, he began to contemplate the varied applications of “A is and is not A” and what “understanding understanding” might really mean to each and every human on the planet.

  There could be practical applications. The law of impenetrability that stated that no two objects could exist in the same place at the same time might no longer always be true. This would alter the nature of physics and might allow the development of new technologies that could overcome the limitations of the speed of light and other constants, resulting in great advances in space travel and the colonization of other planets.

  The realization of “A is and is not A” changed the parameters for all logic, and the conclusions that purely logical theory could provide. The realization changed the axioms upon which general mathematics were based, and thus would have an impact on all hard scientific investigations.

  Max’s mind started spinning.

  It could be the answer to our very existence . . . our life’s purpose, he mused. We’re all connected and not just in superficial ways.

  As he contemplated these concepts he was approached by Professor Fox, who revealed that he had been searching for Max. The professor looked him in the eye with both admiration and trepidation.

  “Your paper is brilliant, Max, but I’m not sure I understand it,” he said. “I’ve asked Gordon Howell, the graduate student in charge of your philosophy section, to take a look at it.

  “He wants to see you in the dean’s office as soon as possible.”

  ***

  “This doesn’t make sense to me,” Gordon Howell said sharply. “I don’t understand your thesis at all. You state that somehow feelings must be part of any left-brain, analytical analysis. This is neither logical nor practical.”

  He looked Max straight in the eye.

  “And you seem very angry—angry not only with Yale and your instructors and fellow students, but with all of humanity.”

  “You’re missing the point,” Max said, exasperation entering his voice. “I’m angry with the hypocrisy of this institution, not the institution itself. There is much at Yale that is wonderful, but I’m talking about the highest levels of truth. You need to reread my paper, and you will see that according to Whitehead, what I say is true—that ‘A is and is not A.’”

  At that point another man entered the room, and Max recognized him as Dean Bridges. He handed Max a form.

  “Max, I’ve spoken with Professor Fox and Mr. Howell,” he said quietly. “It seems to them that you could use a rest, and perhaps take some time off from your regular classes, as well.” He gestured toward the piece of paper Max was holding. “Please sign this withdrawal form, and you’ll be able to return to Yale whenever you are rested.”

  Max hesitated for a moment, then realized that he would rather study independently the effect of “A is and is not A” on all of human learning. So he looked back at the dean.

  “Where do you want me to sign?” he asked.

  A moment later he had officially withdrawn from Yale.

  A large man with curly, black hair then entered the room and introduced himself as Dr. Weinstein from Yale’s Mental Health Services. He told Max that he had arranged for him to stay at the infirmary, where sleep medicine would be prescribed.

  While Max considered this, Dr. Weinstein explained that he had seen the effects of drug abuse in many of the students, with their erratic behavior and forced insomnia due to overuse of uppers to help them through exams.

  Max, he said, was a classic case.

  So without any fuss, Max followed Dr. Weinstein to his car. He was taken to the infirmary, where he was given sleep medicine.

  Thirty minutes later he called for the nurse and asked if she could get him some books from the library. She informed him that it wouldn’t be possible, and said that he needed to sleep.

  “At least bring me paper and pen,” Max entreated. “I have some ideas in my head that I need to get down. It can only help me sleep.”

  She didn’t seem comfortable with the idea, but she did as he asked.

  Thus he spent the next four hours writing and analyzing how “understanding understanding” could alter all human action and thought. He expressed his ideas on the nature of human relationships.

  If “A is and is not A,” then all relationships are and are not what they appear. A man may be a son but at the same time not a son. A wife may be a wife but at the same time not a wife. A student may be a student but at the same time not a student.

  The statements at first just seemed to be obvious, but Max saw how most wouldn’t understand at all what this implied. For Max it meant that all human programming was based on false premises, false axioms that led too often to confusion and missed opportunities for the highest and best interaction between humans.

  He could see how “understanding understanding” would help resolve political and economic conflicts. Once false premises were revealed, completely new structures could be created—ones that would not require hierarchical distinctions.

  He continued to focus on the implications for mathematics and philosophy. “A is and is not A” resolved fundamental philosophical knots. It explained away paradoxes and enabled a higher level of abstraction for ever more complex mathematical systems.

  Max was in a world of his own, delighted with his mathematical formulations and the excitement of his ideas. These continued to prevent him from sleeping, despite the strong sleep medications he had already consumed.

  Dr. Weinstein came by to visit him and prescribed an even stronger dose of sleeping pills, which finally did the trick. Within twenty minutes of his visit, Max fell into a fitful sleep.

  He woke the following morning and was ready to leave the infirmary. He started to get dressed, but the nurse stopped him.

  “Please wait for me to call Dr. Weinstein,” she said quickly. “You can’t just walk out the door without his approval.”

  “But I feel fine,” he protested. “I got some rest, and I want to go to the library to investigate the impact of what I have discovered.”

  The nurse insisted he stay, and seeing how distressed she was becoming, Max got back into bed. He didn’t want to upset her any further.

  When Dr. Weinstein arrived, he told Max that he would have to stay in his room until his parents—who were in Europe—picked him up when they returned in a couple of days. He informed Max that if he resisted in any way, his parents had given them authorization to restrain him, and even take him to a mental institution, purely for his own safety and protection.

  “If you make any more attempts to leave, that’s exactly what is going to happen,” Dr. Weinstein said, and his tone indicated that there would be no debate on the matter.

  Max was aghast.

  “But my parents would never authorize such behavior,” he asserted.

  “Well, they have,” the doctor replied, “and I will commit you if I must.” Then his voice softened. “We’d really like to keep you out of a mental institution, if at all possible. Max, you’ve had a psychotic break. This happens and ironically often with our best students. There’s a lot of pressure in coming to Yale, and you don’t need to feel embarrassed by this, but you must cooperate and allow yourself to be treated.”

  “You are being given Thorazine and some other antipsychotic drugs,” he continued. “They will help you sleep, and will get you over your delusions. You must cooperate,” he repeated, “and as long as you do, no doubt you will be able to reregister next fall and continue your college career without any loss of credits.”

  Still, Max couldn’t accept what was being done to him.

  “But I’m not delusional. I
just happen to understand understanding. This is entirely unfair,” he protested.

  With that, however, it became clear that the conversation was over. The doctor gave him a vague look as he left the room, and it dawned on Max that Dr. Weinstein really did think there was something mentally wrong with him.

  Calming his internal turmoil, he reflected on the mental health issues inherent to his family. His mother’s younger sister Miriam had been placed in a mental institution as a young girl. As fate would have it, that’s where she met her husband Michael, who was also a patient. Michael had been deemed unstable, but he ended up buying a large swamp outside of New York City, in New Jersey, which he sold for millions of dollars to the company that eventually built the Meadowlands football stadium.

  Max’s great-grandmother on his father’s side committed suicide by throwing herself off the roof of the Brooklyn apartment building in which she lived when she discovered that her son-in-law, Max’s grandfather, wasn’t “keeping kosher” and was actually bringing bacon into her kitchen.

  There had been other extended family members who were considered unstable, although, except for his aunt, none of them had been institutionalized.

  In the light of his musings, Max did pause to consider if perhaps he actually might be mentally unstable. While he concluded that he was not, he did recognize that his theorem of “A is and is not A” had an inherent schizophrenic element to it—more a kind of controlled madness, but what might be considered madness none the less.

  ***

  In his three-day stay at the infirmary Max experienced sluggishness and other side effects of the medication. He did start sleeping longer and longer periods, but his enthusiasm for the potential of his equation remained undaunted.

  His father arrived to pick him up, and as soon as he entered the room, Max tried to discuss his breakthrough, but Herbert showed no interest. He spoke in a matter-of-fact way and gestured to Max’s belongings.

  “Just follow me to the car and let’s get out of here,” he said briskly.