Chapter 13: A Badge Alone Is Not Enough

“Professor, thank you,” Lin Ran said.

Horkheimer replied, “We are all collections without a mode.”

Seeing that Lin Ran showed no reaction to this remark, he shook his head with a smile. “Well, it seems Larry Mayer didn’t pass on much of Theodor Adorno’s thinking to you.”

In Horkheimer’s impression, Larry Mayer was a staunch follower of Theodor Adorno, who was a key force in steering Western contemporary thought toward postmodernism and post-Marxist trends. Adorno’s philosophical work, *Negative Dialectics*, laid the theoretical foundation for nearly a century of critical theory.

The phrase “collections without a mode” that Horkheimer referenced originated from Adorno’s concept of “dialectical imagination without a mode” in *Negative Dialectics*.

Back when they were at the Frankfurt University Institute for Social Research, they preferred to avoid calling themselves a collective. Instead, they liked to say they were all collections without a mode.

Lin Ran’s heart tightened. “Damn, relying on just the badge is clearly not enough. I still have to get a clear grasp of the Frankfurt School’s philosophical doctrines and historical context. Otherwise, just having the badge won’t get me very far.”

He also wondered privately if, at the founding ceremonies of the Frankfurt School’s leading figures, the badge might have been known by some other name.

Apart from the firsthand participants, it was truly difficult to uncover the real history behind these matters.

Though Lin Ran’s response didn’t satisfy Horkheimer and even left him somewhat puzzled, he was still willing to give this young Chinese man a chance, along with some guidance from an elder.

“Relax. Even if you don’t have the Fabian Society’s badge, I wouldn’t stand by and let Rudolph take you away.

I’ve heard of Arthur Rudolph. He’s no good—he worked for the Nazis and has plenty of blood on his hands.

There are plenty in Washington who want him dead. It’s only because he’s stationed out at the Redstone Arsenal, far from civilization, and because he works for NASA, that he’s been able to survive.”

Lin Ran had an epiphany. Horkheimer was Jewish, and it was obvious that among those scientists recruited from Nazi Germany, the Jewish intellectuals must have been well aware of the worst offenders.

Therefore, Horkheimer made no effort to spare Rudolph any respect.

Horkheimer continued, “But although Arthur Rudolph worked for Nazi Germany, the blood he shed wasn’t mostly Jewish—it was mostly Irish.”

At that, Horkheimer said no more, but Lin Ran could guess the general meaning.

In America, the Irish are the second-largest ethnic group and are highly united. Politically, they have been very successful; many prominent figures in Washington come from Irish descent.

For example, the Vice President in 2008 was Joe Biden, a well-known Irish-American political heavyweight.

“But you don’t need to worry. NASA isn’t the kind of place where anyone can be recruited willy-nilly.

Arthur Rudolph probably wants to use the Paperclip Project to recruit you directly as a NASA engineer.

But with me vouching for you, he won’t be able to recruit you through the Paperclip Project against your will.”

Curious, Lin Ran asked, “Professor, what exactly is the Paperclip Project?”

Horkheimer tapped his head. “Oh, I forgot you wouldn’t be familiar with it. After World War II, NASA launched an operation called the Paperclip Project to recruit German scientists forcibly.

This project has continued to this day, though now its targets are scientists from Cold War rival countries.

Arthur Rudolph likely wants to classify you as a scientist from China.

But with me vouching for you, it won’t really matter where you’re from.”

Lin Ran’s heart remained uneasy. Although Horkheimer didn’t explicitly say he doubted Lin Ran’s claim of European origin, the implication was clear.

Lin Ran didn’t press the matter but instead thanked him again. “Understood, Professor. Thank you. If you hadn’t been here today, I wouldn’t know what fate awaited me.”

He then briefly recounted some of the background involving Haines and the significance of the equation he had solved for NASA.

Horkheimer furrowed his brow. “Alright, I understand.

Rudolph, there’s no time like the present. I’ll arrange for you to hold a seminar on Fermat’s Last Theorem this afternoon at Columbia University’s Mathematics Department. Prepare yourself quickly.”

“Okay.”

This was the advantage of choosing Fermat’s Last Theorem as a foothold. If Lin Ran had mentioned the Twin Prime Conjecture or Poincaré Conjecture, he would have had to explain their significance to a philosophy professor like Horkheimer before the latter could appreciate their value.

But Fermat’s Last Theorem, a famous conjecture dating back to the 17th century and linked to Fermat himself, required no such explanation. Its significance was immediately understood.

...

Ralph Fox, Chair of the Mathematics Department at Columbia University, specialized in differential topology.

More than his academic achievements, he was better known for amusing stories in the game of Go.

Though the reason he was talked about was not because he was skilled, but because he was rather poor at the game.

Back at Princeton, he played against Stephen Smale, who wanted to have a handicap match.

“What?” Ralph Fox was astonished. Of course, he knew Horkheimer, the renowned philosophy professor and leader of the Frankfurt School.

Now Horkheimer had come to tell him that their school had a Chinese graduate student who had proved Fermat’s Last Theorem.

If it weren’t Horkheimer speaking, Ralph Fox would have thought it was an April Fool’s joke—four months ahead of schedule.

“I can’t be sure, which is why I’m asking you to organize an internal academic seminar this afternoon at Columbia University.

If his proof checks out, we need to quickly offer him a professorship and then prepare a national academic conference.”

“Sorry, I’m not very familiar with Fermat’s Last Theorem. Many professors are still on vacation, some still in Europe.

Let me think about who I can invite to this seminar.

Oh my, Professor Horkheimer, you’ve really surprised me. I didn’t expect such an event to happen so suddenly at the start of 1960.

Alright, I think I know. Let’s hold it in the classroom on the southwest side of the second floor of the Mathematics Department building.

Sorry for the short notice; I need to get the professors ready.”

Ralph Fox planned to invite Lipman Bers and Paul Cohen first.

Although none of the three specialized in Fermat’s Last Theorem or related fields, they could make a rough judgment on whether the proof was credible.

They could handle that much.

If it was credible, they would call back all the professors on vacation immediately.

Compared to Fermat’s Last Theorem, a vacation was hardly a concern.