My favorite exchange yesterday came when Senator Dan Sullivan took the microphone. He's a Republican from Alaska, but he could as easily have been a Democrat of a certain disposition. He observed that Mr Zuckerberg had created his spectacularly lucrative global behemoth in his college dorm room at the age of nineteen. And then he said: "Facebook is an 'Only in America' story, right?"
The witness looked befuddled - as I do in, say, Marseille, when a bit of local vernacular runs up against the limits of my conversational French.
So Senator Sullivan attempted to clarify what he meant. "You couldn't do this in China, right?"
Zuckerberg considered the matter, sincerely. "Well, Senator," he said, "there are some very strong Chinese Internet companies."
"Come on, I'm trying to help you," growled the plain-spoken Sullivan, throwing in the towel. "Gimme a break, you're in front of a bunch of senators: the answer is yes." The audience laughed. But the child-man seemed genuinely nonplussed.
"Only in America" is an American expression. Nobody in Belgium says "Only in Belgium", or in Tajikistan "Only in Tajikistan". In 2000, when Al Gore chose the first Jewish running mate on a presidential ticket, Joe Lieberman beamed and said, "Only in America!" Only in America can you be nominated to be vice-president of America: Mark Zuckerberg might have been able to compute that one in a narrow literal sense. But his bewilderment at the phrase's broader talismanic power was revealing. There are plenty of public figures who truly believe "Only in America, right?", as Mr Sullivan does. There are others who don't necessarily but would feel obliged to defer to it because, as Sullivan explained, "the answer is yes". Had some member of the committee brought it up when I
testified before the Senate, I would have known enough, even as an unassimilated foreigner, to divine that you're meant to agree.
But Mark Zuckerberg, the most successful American businessman of the 21st century, was baffled.
Only in America?