1. Assessment of Last Encounter

Tiger and Moti welcomed us back. They listened eagerly to our account. When we finished, Tiger said that he felt no admiration for Genghis. Moti nodded and observed that fame based on slaughter was akin to notoriety. Still, both of them accepted the greatness of Genghis’ tactics and resolution. They also respected his perseverance.

“If a deer chased by a tiger eludes him or runs too fast, he gives up. He does not pursue a risky chase. Genghis did that when he set to cross the Pamir Mountain before familiarising himself with all available routes.”

“He took a risk,” I conceded.

“If it hadn’t paid off, his name would have been forgotten,” pointed out Archie.

“Great tacticians tend to take a risk,” interceded Moti.

“They do,” I agreed. “Hannibal took a risk which did not work out. I chose Genghis because he went on winning to the end.”

2. How to Select the Remaining Punchee

It was time to turn to the next issue confronting me. I had visited six punchees. This meant that only one was left.

“And you are still immersed in the ancient and medieval worlds. You must identify a modern candidate,” proclaimed Archie.

“I agree with you, Archie, but surely the great men and women of the past left a far more enduring mark than any person of our own period. For instance, take Jean-Jacques Rousseau. His writings inspired the perpetrators of the French Revolution and, much later, his ‘social contract’ paradigm was embraced by a British Premier – Harold Wilson – of the 20th century. Still, Rousseau derived his ideas from ancient sources. He simply used and re-interpreted a concept already manifest in the Bible.”

“In any event,” countered Archie, “Rousseau was a philosopher and, in a previous discussion, you concluded that this field was too vaguely defined to constitute a uniform discipline.”

“How very true,” pointed out Moti.

“Can you come up with a discipline unique to modernity? One that did not draw on knowledge imparted by earlier generations?” asked Archie.

“It may be really difficult,” I muttered. “Most scientific disciplines experienced major developments in the 20th century but had their roots in the writings of philosophers of antiquity. Take computer technology. Surely, the root can be traced back to Aristotle’s writings. Similarly, nowadays we talk about paper and digitalised currencies; but paper money and the notion of credit were well understood in antiquity and in the medieval world. I could go on and on; but what is the use? I really do not know how to proceed.”

“I grasp your predicament, Peter’le,” said Tiger. “But can’t we change the fundamentals? You need a punchee of the modern era. Why don’t you stop looking for a discipline and simply go for somebody who had a major influence in modern times?”

“I think Tiger’le got it,” exclaimed Archie enthusiastically. “The standing of distinguished incumbents of antiquity was often not appreciated until well after their time. St. Paul is a case in point. Was his contribution lauded prior to the phenomenal growth of Christianity?”

“I take the point,” I conceded. “So now we must identify an individual who left a mark on the modern era in reliance on his own thoughts or observations.”

“And you may give a miss to 20th century inhabitants. You, yourself, lived in that era. You may select somebody who was outstanding in your epoch but whose influence might have been just a passing phase. Your views are likely to be more detached and objective as regards the 18th and 19th centuries.”

“Archie is right,” said Moti. Tiger nodded. I, too, voiced my agreement but added that the 16th and 17th centuries were equally relevant.

“Well, let us see whom you have in mind,” prodded Archie.

“Leonardo da Vinci lived in the 15th century,” I pointed out, “the early days of the modern era. He was a great painter, perhaps the greatest of the High Renaissance, and a polymath, remembered for his phenomenal notebooks and many of his scientific inventions, including an abortive attempt at aviation. He strikes me as a suitable candidate.”

“But did he leave a mark on any discipline other than painting?” asked Archie.

“We can’t be sure,” I reflected. “How about Martin Luther? He was a major figure in the religious reformation of Europe. The Ninety Five Theses he promulgated in 1507 challenged the established Roman Catholic faith of his era. Indeed, he is the father of the protestant school of Christianity. Further, he translated the Bible into German and in this way made it available to the common man.”

“But you have already visited St. Paul, Peter’le,” countered Archie. “I don’t see the need of another representative of a given faith.”

“How about Galileo Galilei – a great mathematician and the father of modern astronomy? His support of Copernicus’ heliocentrism invoked the wrath of the Holy Inquisition in 1615. To my way of thinking he was the father of science in the modern world.”

“I take your point; and Galileo was great,” consented Archie. “Yet another feather in his cap is his improving the telescope and using it in astronomic research; but remember, you have to settle on one person. Let us accept that Galileo is a candidate.”

“How about Isaac Newton?” I asked.

“There can be no doubt about him,” agreed Archie. “His Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy, published in 1687, formulated the laws of motion and of universal gravitation. He also had a hand in the development of calculus, although Leibniz preceded him. Newton is the forerunner of Albert Einstein. So here you have another candidate. But let us go on searching.”

“Have you considered Louis Pasteur, Peter’le?” continued Archie. “The materials given to me by Lord Pan describe Pasteur as the father of microbiology and his formulation of the germ theory of diseases and of immunisation were major steps in medicine.”

“He was, undoubtedly, a major contributor to scientific developments in the 19th century,” I conceded and added: “I am also considering Adam Smith. His Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations, published in 1776 [better known as The Wealth of Nations], laid the foundation of free markets, based on supply and demand; and he developed the concept of treating labour, rather than materialistic items, as the key of a nation’s wealth. He was also a leading figure of the enlightenment in Scotland and – as philosopher – wrote The Theory of Moral Sentiments (published in 1759). His fame, though, is based on his writings on economy. He introduced the theory of ‘absolute advantage’, which has become a cornerstone of capitalism.”

“He may be your candidate,” conceded Archie; “but up to now you concentrated on significant individuals in Europe. How about the Orient and the Americas?”

“I agree with Archie,” declared Moti.

“I know very little about China following the eviction of the Yuan Dynasty by the Mings. And, look here, I know next to nothing about the Indian subcontinent. I admire Ghandi but, then, he was a 20th century man and so he has to be left out. Still, I can think about two Americans, who ought to be considered.”

“Who are they?” asked Tiger, whose head I kept stroking affectionately.

“One is Benjamin Franklin. I know that he was one of the prime proponents of Independence. In this field, though, George Washington may have had an edge. Franklin’s real contribution was his work on electricity and his inventions, such as the lightning rod. If I had to confine myself to the 18th century, I would pick him.”

“And who is the second?” asked Moti, who – I sensed – was recording what transpired.

“Abraham Lincoln, Moti. As the 16th President of the United States, he fought slavery and abolished it in the United States. I believe, he was the greatest advocate of human rights in the 19th century.”

“Then why don’t you settle on him?” asked Archie.

“His standing and influence were recognised mainly in the United States. I doubt if he had a major influence on Europe during his lifetime.”

“Peter’le,” said Tiger, “I have observed you carefully. When you discussed leading personalities of antiquity, you were cool and detached. When you talk about major figures of the modern epoch you get excited and come up with name after name. Is this because you, yourself, were a man of the 20th century which was close to the two preceding ones?”

“Could be,” I conceded, “although my major interest is antiquity. You see, I have read most of the works of Julius Wellhausen, the major 19th century contributor to Bible Critique; but he is hardly known to scholars working in other fields. I have great respect for him but realise that he was not one of the founding fathers of our modern culture and ideology. I can’t allow my personal preferences to influence me in the exercise I have been ordered to carry out.”

“Very well, who then were in your opinion the main contributors in recent times?” asked Archie.

“I can think of three: Ludwig van Beethoven, Karl Marx and Charles Darwin. Naturally, I am leaving out the major novelists because they described rather than innovated.”

“How does Beethoven fit in?” asked Archie. “He was a composer and not a thinker or innovator.”

“I can’t argue with that,” I conceded, “although he was an innovator in the sense of bringing classical music to the people. I mentioned him because his music reflects the spirit of the Sturm und Drang which typifies the period following the French Revolution. Beethoven’s predecessor – Mozart – saw the outbreak of this Revolution but remained detached of politics. You can hear the onset of the Revolution and of the Napoleonic era in Beethoven’s 4th and 5th piano concertos. His approach dominated classical music for a long time. Still, like Wellhausen, his contribution is restricted to a specific discipline.”

“Let us then consider the remaining two candidates,” suggested Tiger.

“Karl Marx is an enigma. He started as a disciple of Hegel but broke free. His two major works are The Communist Manifesto (co-authored by Friedrich Engels) and Das Kapital. The former, first published just before the outbreak of the 1848 revolutions, presents an analytical approach to the class struggle. It encourages the working classes – the proletariat – to unite against the middle class. His proposals comprise the levying of progressive income tax; the abolition of private property; the proscription of child labour and the provision of free education. The manifesto advocates a global approach which sees the proletariat as one class, overriding national boundaries.”

“How about his other major tome?” asked Moti.

“The subjects of the Manifesto are covered in much greater detail in Das Kapital, the first volume of which was published in 1867 and the remaining two posthumously. These were edited by Friedrich Engels, and hence are far more readable than the first. Marx believed that the value of labour put into any goods can be measured objectively by the average number of labour hours required to produce them. On this basis he concluded that the proletariat was bound to win in due course.”

“But wages differ from country to country,” observed Archie.

“True,” I willingly conceded. “Perhaps here is the main flow in Marxism. Karl thought that the proletariat ought to struggle conjointly, that is, without regard to nationality, against the bourgeoisie. He argued that in this way the natural development would lead, in due course, to the proletariat’s victory.”

“Well,” prompted Archie.

“In reality nationality takes precedence over class. For instance, the French blue collar labourer is closer to a French capitalist than to a fellow worker in another country, say Great Britain.”

“A question of identity?” asked Archie. Moti, who was engrossed in the topic, nodded. After a short pause, he added: “I agree. A young mammoth is closer to the leader of the herd than to young mammoths in any other herd.”

“Was Marx’s theory put to the test?” enquired Tiger.

“I think it was,” I replied. “For instance, we had the French coalminers’ strikes around 1860. One of these is vividly described in Zola’s Germinal, which relates how, at the beginning of the strike, contributions trickled in from the International Federation. These were inadequate and, in the end, hunger pushed the strikers back to work. Earlier on there were the strikes of 1848. In France, they led to the expulsion of Louis Philippe – the last monarch of France – whose reign was supported by and based on the principles embraced by leading capitalists. His defeat led to the foundation of the Second Republic. Regrettably, it did not last. In 1852 Napoleon III declared himself emperor.”

Pausing for a few moments, I added: “The 1848 Revolt was crushed brutally in Austria. The Radetzky March was composed by Johann Strauss Sr. to celebrate the victory of the establishment.”

“So, Peter’le, Marxism did not gain momentum in the 19th century. The working classes of different countries never united and hence did not defeat capitalism.” Archie spoke emphatically and, I sensed, in command of the facts. I then recalled that he had read the materials on modern history provided to him by Theophil.

“What happened to Marx’s theory in the 20th century?” asked Tiger.

“It was theoretically embraced by Vladimir Lenin and the Soviet Revolution in Russia. In a sense, this was strange. Russia had remained a feudal country so that, primarily, the struggle was not of an urban proletariat but mainly a revolt of peasants against the ruling classes and their institutions. In the end, a tyrant called Stalin took over and built up a totalitarian regime. China, too, purported to adopt Marxism when Mao defeated the American-backed Chiang Kai-shek, who embraced capitalist principles. Mao, though, established an absolutist regime, communist only in name. His successors have remained absolute rulers. They purport to be governed by Marx’s philosophy but, in reality, organised a capitalist society.”

“You tell us that Marxism never prevailed, Peter’le,” pointed out Tiger. “Why then did you describe Marxism, at the outset, as an enigma and not as a failure?”

“Many yeas ago – in my youth – I made the effort of reading Marx. He sounded plausible. Still, I could see that he overlooked the constant growth of nationalism. I wondered – am still puzzled by the fact – that he failed to reckon with this basic point.”

“I can think of two reasons for this,” opined Archie. “First, Marx himself was a globalist. He lived in Germany, France, Belgium and England; and he spoke quite a few languages. He was close to thinkers and social theorists regardless of their nationality. It is, thus, possible that the importance of nationalism was not fully appreciated by him.”

“And the second reason?” I enquired.

“Perhaps he wilfully closed his eyes to the obvious. He knew that the lot of a British coalminer was closer to a French one than to a banker or industrialist in his own country. He wilfully ignored the national factor.”

“Archie is right,” said Moti and, to the delight of the three of us, trumpeted.

“I, too, agree with Archie,” summed up Tiger. “In any event, Peter’le, you treat him as a failure. I keep wondering: what was his significance and contribution.”

“Perhaps the preaching of the abolition of private property. This was applied for a time in the Soviet Union and in China. Even in the Israeli Kibbutzim property has always been shared by members. The same was true about Russian Kolkhozes. Further, the use of Marx’s name continued to prevail in the Soviet Union and China.”

“I take your point, Peter’le,” said Tiger, “but I think that you do not like Marx. I sensed it whilst you were stroking me. So let us turn to your third candidate: Charles Darwin, whom I suspect you admire.”

“I do,” I conceded.

“Tell us about him and how you came to admire him,” asked Moti.

“Darwin was not the father of evolution. As early as the sixth century BCE, the notion was discussed by a Greek pre-Socratic philosopher: Anaximander of Miletus. He thought that the first human of the form known to us must have been the successor of some other animal probably a fish. In contrast, Plato (4th century BC) and his pupil Aristotle took the view that all things were fixed by divine design. Aristotle postulated that species fitted into a hierarchical chain of being, or a ‘Ladder of Life’, depending on their complexity. The ladder, though, was static. This idea, to the effect that all potential forms of life were essential to a perfect creation, was, of course, embraced by Christianity.”

“Was Christian doctrine opposed to any notion of evolution?” asked Tiger.

“Not altogether. Origen (3rd century AD), for instance, thought that the creation narrative of Genesis should not be taken literally but allegorically. So did Augustine (4th century AD). Notably, some Islamic philosophers pointed out that stronger animals often devour weaker ones and that Man, too, is a predator; and, in 1377, one of them – Ibn Khaldun – observed that species transmutate and suggested that humans developed from the ‘world of monkeys’.”

“Let me add that Thomas Aquinas took the view that, by a natural process ordained by God, forms could move from their imperfect state to an advanced one,” augmented Archie.

“The current theory of evolution,” I replied, “actually finds its origin in the writings of Buffon – of the 18th century – who took the view that modern forms known to us, such as lions, tigers and leopards, shared a common ancestor. Still, he and some of his contemporaries thought that adaptation was based on changing circumstances that led to slow evolution.”

“So now we turn to the 19th century,” said Archie. “It is the very century preceding the gigantic leaps forward that took place during the 20th. Still, we agreed to leave this very modern era alone.”

“Even before the beginning of the 19th century,” I pointed out, “it was established that some species, such as mastodons and some forms of birds, were extinct. However, fossil hunters kept unearthing forms similar to modern creatures. The awareness of catastrophic episodes – such as the flood, volcanic eruptions and earthquakes (one of which is mentioned in the Bible) – came to the forefront. This then is Charles Darwin’s background.”

“He was also familiar with the writings of his predecessor: Jean-Baptiste Lamarck,” pointed out Archie. “Lamarck’s Philosophie Zoologique, published in 1809, postulated that simple forms of life were created continuously by spontaneous generation and that an ‘innate life force’ drove species to become more complex over time. He recognised that species adapted to their environment and that the organs of a being would also adapt periodically. He then concluded that these changes would be transmitted by inheritance. This analysis led Lamarck to the belief in a linear ladder of complexity of organisms. His theory did not invoke the wrath of believers because it did not require a departure from religious dogma.”

“And Darwin?” asked Moti.

“Darwin’s ideas led to controversy,” I told him. “During his voyages on ‘HMS Beagle’, Darwin concluded that Lamarck’s theory, based on a linear progression, was incorrect. Darwin took the view that evolution involved a process of divergence akin to the branching of trees. Species did not necessarily develop as a single line, or just as one growing tree. He read Malthus’ An Essay on the Principle of Population, in which the author opined that the growth in populations was bound to lead to a struggle for survival. Darwin concluded that evolution, too, involved a process of natural selection, in which the fittest survived. He postponed publication until a fellow naturalist, Alfred Russel Wallace, came to a similar conclusion, based on the study of specimen collected in the Amazon Rain Forest and in the Malay Archipelago. Wallace discussed these views with Darwin. The result was the publication of a joint paper postulating the new theory. Darwin followed this up with the publication in 1858 of A Discourse on the Origin of Species. In a later book, The Descent of Man, Darwin argued that humans and extant apes developed from an extinct missing link.”

“What is so controversial in this?” asked Tiger.

“Natural selection could take place without the hand of the creator. It was also directly opposed to the traditional creation myth embraced by religion,” pointed out Archie.

“I think there is more to it than meets the eye,” I clarified. “If Darwin had published his views in a tolerant country like France, which was at one time a republic, there might not have been a public outcry. In Victorian Great Britain, where religion was powerful, the matter became the subject of public debates. Darwin was a shy, reclusive, person. In the 2nd edition of The Origin of Species, he referred to the ‘Creator’ and implicitly suggested that in its first phase the process might have been initiated by a superhuman hand.”

“Why then was the clergy perturbed?”

“Because Darwin’s ‘bulldog’ – the comparative anatomist Thomas Henry Huxley – postulated Darwin’s theory, in an undiluted manner, in debates, in an essay and in Darwinism, which is actually shorter and more reader friendly than Darwin’s own work.”

“Did Darwin distance himself from Huxley?” asked Tiger.

“Far from it. He stuck to his theory and to his conclusions. This emboldened Huxley, who continued to spread the thesis. Huxley could not be silenced.”

“Did Darwin leave a legacy?”

“He did,” stepped in Archie. “By the middle of the 20th century Darwinism was embraced by most naturalists.”

“Quite so,” I augmented. “The discovery of chromosomes, genes and eventually of DNA supported the notion of evolution based on natural selection. The ‘hereditary qualities’ postulated by Darwin metamorphosed into chromosomes and genes passed from generation to generation. In addition, fossil hunters have supported Darwin’s notion that humans spread from Africa to the rest of the world.”

“Have fossil hunters discovered the missing link – the creature from which modern apes and humans have branched out?” Tiger queried.

“Not really,” I had to concede. “Still, they established that we – the homo sapiens – developed over millennia. They claim that the first step was the change from four legged creatures to bipedal beings. This evolutionary step freed the hands which were no longer required for walking. The next step – which may have resulted from bipedalism – was the development of the human brain, which is much larger than any ape’s. The emerging humans were herd animals and became tool makers. Scientists have further established that there were a number of humanoid races. Ours is just the last step in the evolution of species.”

“Have you then opted for Darwin? Is he your seventh and last punchee” asked Moti.

“He is, rather,” I told them. “Who wants to accompany me?”

“I want to meet Darwin,” said Archie. Tiger and Moti took a rain check. Tiger concluded that I did not need protection and Moti disliked the idea of being minimised again for a trip.