CHARLES KRAUTHAMMER – In every era there is a commentator who, in the minds of many, defines the best of his profession. 

In the early part of the 20th century that person was probably Walter Lippmann.  I didn't happen to like him, but one could not seriously doubt the power of his intellect.  In mid-century, as radio and television became the dominant suppliers of news, the defining commentator was Edward R. Murrow.  His voice was so familiar to Americans that he, and the entertainer Arthur Godfrey, were chosen as the two voices that would speak to America in the event of a nuclear attack.  Agree with him or not, Murrow's observations were followed and sought after.

In our time, the man many of us automatically looked to was Charles Krauthammer, who died yesterday.  His life was filled with penetrating commentary, always delivered without hatred or condescension.  He was a man who overcame a devastating injury suffered while a student at the Harvard medical school that left him paralyzed from the neck down.  He not only finished medical school with distinction, he went on to become a board-certified psychiatrist who did important original research.  And then, seeking his life's true work,  he made the transition to journalism, where he won the Pulitzer Prize.

He loved baseball.  He loved America.  He loved humor.  At times one had the feeling that he'd rather have been funny than serious.  As a writer, I get that, for making someone laugh is the hardest task a writer has.  And the most satisfying.

What did he teach us?  Of all things, I believe Charles Krauthammer taught us the difference between education and wisdom.   Yes, he had a superb formal education, but he never felt that it automatically made him a better person, or a more righteous one.   Education does not guarantee wisdom.  Nor does it guarantee goodness.  In an age that has developed the cult of the college graduate, Krauthammer's wisdom came from his own observations, his own thoughts, his own ethics.  True education, he knew, is what happens after formal education ends.  And the wisest, like Lincon, may have little formal education at all.

Charles Krauthammer will be missed, but he will be replaced.  We have quoted before the old French proverb that the graveyards of the world are filled with indispensable men.  There will be some other defining commentator.  He or she may be writing today.  Charles Krauthammer, whose ego always was under strict control, would welcome that person to the stage.

Until that writer comes along, there will be a great void in our world.

June 22,  2018