On a train or on an airplane, I often find myself sitting next to a mother trying to silence the deafening screams of her little baby, or directly behind or in front of an exhausted, snoring businessman, whose arduous duties and busy working hours deprive him of sleep while on the ground.

Last month, on a train from Paris to London, my luck changed. I sat next to a professor emeritus, who had published numerous books on linguistics and taught English literature at renowned universities in Asia, Europe and the Middle East.

The trip lasted less than three hours and provided us with an opportunity to talk. Politics, a great intruder on any conversation, stealthily crept into ours.

The professor was full of praise of London West End theaters and extremely critical of the theater of modern politics. He was an admirer of William Shakespeare and an ardent critic of present-day media, press, politics and administrations. He believed that the poetic beauty and dignity of the language of Renaissance poets raised their works to the level of high art, while the gibberish of the press, the propaganda of the media, the rhetoric of politicians, the opaqueness of policies promoted a climate of uncertainty and created confusion and injustice in our world.

He was amazed that few voices had called for the banishment of Shakespeare from school curriculum and recommended the introduction of courses on current world politics, on the grounds that Shakespeare’s diction was archaic and his language difficult. The argument, in his opinion, was obtuse and distorted and the recommendation ridiculous and unacceptable.

The knowledgeable professor believed that Shakespeare’s characters were more convincing than the few men and women who often appeared on TV channels and claimed that they represented the silent majority in oppressive societies. He contended that Shakespeare’s vocabulary was clearer than the language of modern journalism, his sentences less complicated than the rhetoric of modern politics, his train of thought easier to follow than the riddles of modern politicians, his diction simpler to comprehend than the jargons of modern executives and his mythological references easier to decipher than the puzzles in most office circulars.

He mentioned several Shakespeare dictionaries that gave accurate definitions for words that had fallen out of use — words that had lost their original strong symbolic meanings and words whose meanings had changed over the centuries. He argued that once students had grasped the meaning of “thee”, “thou”, “thine” and the “est” of the third person, they would have little problem understanding Shakespeare’s plays and little difficult appreciating his poetry.

He regretted that no dictionary was yet available to help us understand the equivocal language of politicians and the ambiguous jargons of directors. He stressed the need for definitions of words that had undergone a process of metamorphosis, such as “extremist”, “extremism”, “terrorist, “terrorism”, “fanatic” “fanaticism”, “reform”, “restructuring” and “freedom”. He pointed out that the seven first words rarely appeared unaccompanied by the adjectives “ Muslim”, “Islamist” or “Islamic”.

With his tongue in cheek, he wondered which brilliant linguist could give a plausible explanation to why word like” fanatic”, “terrorist” and “extremists” found parents and loyal partners, while “abuse” “ and “barbaric torture” remained orphans and lonely. He also wondered why “extremists” and “fundamentalists” were not used to describe non-Muslims, who called Islam a primitive religion, mishandled the Muslim Holy Book, threw a pig’s head inside a mosque, asked for the assassination of a head of state and uttered what would have been unacceptable “blasphemy” in better times.

The professor reminded me that since the turn of the century the words “reform” “restructuring” and the phrase “new blood” had become synonymous with “laying off staff”, “replacing mature, experienced employees with less experienced and less expensive employees”, “purchasing unnecessary electronic machines”, “equipping offices with electronic systems which they do not need and can not use”, “filling the pockets of fat cats with commissions”, “adapting the role and mission of organizations to a world dominated by might and materialism”.

The professor had known managers and directors, who spent their first year on their new jobs destroying the professional reputation of their predecessors and accusing them of mismanagement and corruption. The aim was to convince the boards to give them free hands and approve a large budget for restructuring and reforming the offices under their direction. When their wish was granted, they introduced policies which looked good on paper, but which lowered staff morale and promoted favoritism, injustice and nepotism when implemented. The inefficient directors created an incredible mess that led to their own resignations and to the collapse of the organizations.

When the train was approaching London Waterloo Station, the professor collected his luggage, said goodbye and asked me to give some thought to the following question:

“In Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Lord Polonius says to his son Laertes: to thine ownself be true, and it must follow as the night the day thou canst not then be false to any man.

How many reporters, commentators, politicians, journalists, writers and directors are true to themselves and to their public?”

It has been a month since I met the professor on the train. I do not recall his name and should our paths cross again, I doubt I would recognize his face. But I will never forget his question, for it is real food for though.

Which politician, which journalist, which director can boast that passages from his or her writings, or extracts from his or her speeches have been translated into as many languages as Shakespeare’s plays?

Many enjoy reading and rereading Shakespeare’s poetry. Many queue outside theaters in London, New York, Paris and other cities to watch Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth, Othello, As You Like It, All Is Well that Ends Well etc.... How many citizens switch on their radios or TV sets to hear and watch their politicians speak? How many employees find pleasure in participating in meetings chaired by their bosses? How many reporters give us facts instead of fiction? How many can make head or tale of the ongoing world events?

May I take a guess and say, “not many”?