Finally, I ask each woman to respond to the dangers of political correctness expressed by Professor Martin Anderson in his book Imposters in the Temple (1). I quote from the section entitled "Political Corruption," where Anderson connects political correctness with what he calls the "grotesque reasoning" of deconstruction (149).

For the sake of his team of reactionaries, Anderson sets himself up with a perfect pitch: "Why must one acknowledged great work be banished for every new one that is added?" Then he bats a homer by suggesting "The only answer is that a political agenda, not a desire to improve the education of young minds, is behind the drive to eliminate the great works of Western civilization [from university curricula]" (148).

Anderson strikes at the heart of the university's politically correct dilemma: can he, and others like him, frighten the public into cooperating with reactionary elements in the establishment, together to resist the effects of political correctness?

If the interviewees so far have spoken ambivalently, they react to Anderson's position with one mind. Chisholm seems to speak for all when she shrugs: "Anderson is arguing like an idiot."

Grundy appears overwhelmed. "One can't argue with Anderson," she says, because "his every sentence makes assumptions I'd wish to argue against." And she adds, thoughtfully, "I could respect his fear of losing the great works if I thought he was a good advertisement for the great works, if I thought he was open to the argument of liberal humanism, which, I believe, is itself a proper philosophical foundation for broadening the power base."

I ask Neuman: "In your opinion, what do people like Martin Anderson fear most? That universities will eliminate the great works of Western civilization or that universities will broaden the power base of the university establishment?" "They think they fear the first [option]," Neuman comments wryly. "I think they fear the second."

Chisholm concludes her comments on the Imposters excerpt by asking her own rhetorical question: "From what politics does Anderson forge an agenda for civilization that seeks to eliminate such radical self-critique [as deconstruction]?"

From what politics indeed. Anderson, it must be remembered, never admits that he and his colleagues have a political agenda of their own. Do they have one? Of course. They want things done their way.

Moreover, Anderson speaks of "the great works of Western civilization" as though they dropped out of the sky, landing, without social, cultural or political context, directly on the noggins of university professors, et al. On that issue alone, Neuman, Grundy and Chisholm would have a field day with the man's presumption.

That pleasure aside, what shows up so far in this discussion is that political correctness must win the prize for ironic application. For example, when Martin Anderson says "[a]lmost no device is overlooked in the rush to introduce [to the university] politically correct forms of thinking" (150), does he use politically correct ironically? I think we can say he does. Here's why: he doesn't believe that political correctness means political correctness, but, indeed, the opposite. If he believed in political correctness, he would advocate our rushing to implement it. Instead, he condemns the rush. Ergo, Anderson flips the meaning of the noun "correct," to its antonym, "incorrect." We understand that he's using sarcasm here, and that's irony.

So why then have the professors I've interviewed noted that some academics, mainly women, speak about themselves as politically correct with "affectionate irony"? Affectionate, yes; but why irony? If correct. means correct and if you believe in the validity of equity and parity and the straightening out of an imbalanced system, why do people who feel they're behaving correctly imagine they're being ironic when they describe their behavior?

For an answer to this question, I hark back to grade 3. Maybe Miss Colbeck's little boys never got straightened out after all. Maybe they have indulged in some sly revenge to put Miss Colbeck and her pets in their places. Maybe they have turned correct into a mean and prissy word, poor in connotation, compared to brilliant, innovative, original and powerful. So what if you're correct about stuff like English and history, they chuckle as they dismiss your ability to win the spelling bee. They're better than correct, they're intelligent.