Part 17: Selecting the Last Punchee

1. How to Carry On

My three comrades greeted me warmly: “We feared you may be sent elsewhere,” said Archie. “In truth, your home is here.”

“I am delighted to be back,” I confirmed. I then went on and told them all about the hearing.

“So now they want you to select a prodigy of the 20th century,” said Archie. “Well, I have read the materials given to me by Lord Pan. The 20th century is marked by a number of outstanding personalities; and you have to pinpoint one of them. To start with, you can divide the candidates into two groups: those you admire and those you detest.”

“Is there no overlap?” asked Tiger.

“Actually, there often is. By way of illustration, take Mahatma Gandhi. His passive resistance philosophy and moral integrity did much for the cause of India. In a sense, he shamed the British colonial regime into supporting home rule in that sub-continent. All the same, he agreed to its division into India and Pakistan; and think about the mess this led to.”

“I take your point,” replied Archie. “It seems to me that the only way to proceed is to discuss the outstanding humans that come to mind and eventually choose the one that outshines all others.”

“Hear, hear,” said Moti and trumpeted. All of us looked at him affectionately. Archie and I stroked his trunk and Tiger brushed gently against his hind leg.

“So, we are agreed,” said Archie. “Actually, your task provides an excellent project for us all. Well, let us start.”

2. Political Figures

“The first person who comes to mind is Sun Yat-sen. His numerous failed revolutionary attempts were eventually crowned with success in 1911, when the Qing [Manchu] dynasty was ousted. Chaos prevailed in China for a few years. In the end, Sun became the first president of the Republic but, due to health problems, he eventually handed the reigns to Chiang Kai-shek in 1925.”

“Is he remembered outside China?” asked Tiger.

“I have my doubts. He is considered the father of the Republic in Taiwan and as a forerunner of the People’s Republic of China, that is, Communist China (the ‘PRC’). In the long run, though, he provided the basic ideology of modern China but never became its real leader. I would regard him as the initiator of the rebellions against the ruling Qing dynasty. Both the PRC and Taiwan went their separate ways and ideologically neither adopted Sun’s ideas.”

“I agree,” observed Archie. “We better turn to other personalities of the 20th century. Let us have a good look at the major political leaders of the era. Vladimir Lenin ought to be considered.”

Tiger nodded and Moti expressed his consent by stomping his right front foot.

“Lenin is a difficult case,” I started. “He embarked on his revolutionary exploits whilst still in his youth. In the event, he spent years in exile, just as his forerunner Karl Marx. Lenin became a Marxist, asserting that the proletariat in cities like St. Petersburg (which was then Petrograd) provided the basis for a revolution. He became the leader of the Bolsheviks, which seized power in 1917. Lenin realised that genuine communism, in which every individual’s needs were met once the proletariat seized power, was not attainable without a struggle. His object was to adhere, for the time being, to socialism. He took part in the organisation of trade unions which, he thought, would pave the way to pure Marxist communism. He started by nationalising most industries, went far in abolishing personal property, and strived to have a free education system. The outbreak of famine during the revolution required a firm regime and the ensuing brutalities. Lenin became a totalitarian leader.”

“I believe Stalin took over from him,” observed Archie.

“Lenin appointed Stalin the General Secretary of the communist party. When Lenin had a debilitating stroke, Stalin took over the reins. Before long he became a dictator: probably the most ruthless in his time.”

“What was Lenin’s main achievement?” asked Tiger.

“He tried hard to unite the proletariat throughout Europe but with little success. Like Marx before him, he underestimated the strength of nationalistic bonds. In the event, he is revered in Russia and by communists all over the world. Generally, in the West he is known as a phenomenon rather than as a charismatic leader.”

“You would not really pick him as the most interesting performer of the 20th century,” concluded Tiger. “I think you dislike him, Peter’le.

“I do; and I would not settle on him.” I agreed. “We have to consider other names.”

“But why do you dislike Lenin?” persisted Tiger.

“Lenin was a cruel man. By early 1918, when famine broke out in consequence of poor crops, Lenin blamed the ‘kulaks’ (the wealthier peasants) of hoarding grain and requisitioned it. This exacerbated the situation and was counterproductive. The farmers lost the incentive to produce more than what was needed for themselves. He also established the Cheka (the brutal secret police) and, in my eyes, is responsible for the reign of terror.”

“Is that your only reason, Peter’le?” persevered Tiger. “Livia Augusta, whom you admire, was a murderess. In the end, she even poisoned her own husband, Augustus. And the less said about Genghis Khan’s cruelty the better. So why doesn’t Lenin’s cruelty appal you? Surely, he had an ultimate cause or justification.”

“His object was to attain the communist dream, which is to satisfy everyone’s needs as based on individual capacity. This approach would tend to eliminate the competitive drive which governs humanity. His ideal world would have been a utopia, or, rather, a dystopia. The danger of this is illustrated in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, where all inhabitants depend on ‘soma’ (or drugs) for happiness.”

“I take your point, Peter’le,” summed up Archie. “You tend to regard communism as sanctimonious.”

“I do,” I confirmed, “and I abhor the brutalities perpetrated in its name!”

“Well, who is next on the list?” asked Tiger.

“Let us turn to Stalin. He succeeded Lenin and was even more brutal than his predecessor. He became a dictator and ruled the Soviet Union with an iron fist. All rebellions were quenched mercilessly. I like the way he is described by Solzhenitsyn: an unpredictable despot, who suspected everybody but, in particular, those next to him in line. His Soviet Union covered many countries in Eastern Europe, and he installed puppet regimes in Eastern Germany, in Romania and in Hungary.”

“Even so,” observed Tiger, “you have some grudging admiration for him. You do not despise him the way you do Lenin.”

“Spot on,” I admitted. “You see, I learned about Lenin during my secondary school years. He died in 1924 – long before I was born. I recall Stalin from my years in Tel Aviv. I accept that he led to the outbreak of WWII, when he signed the non-aggression pact with Hitler. This bargain encouraged the Nazi’s invasion of Poland and led to the declaration of war on Germany by Britain and France. Still, Hitler attacked the Soviet Union in 1941. I have a vivid memory of the Nazis defeat in Stalingrad. I know that after WWII the Soviet Union maintained a cold war with the United States and its allies; but the fact remains that Stalin industrialized Russia and turned it into a world super-power.”

“In reality, Peter’le, you close an eye to his brutalities because he defeated the Nazis,” pointed out Archie. Moti nodded his agreement. On reflection I conceded the point.

“But you know,” I added as an afterthought, “Stalin was revered by the extreme left in Israel. I recall how one of my friends in secondary school, a fellow called Dan, used a four letter word to describe Stalin. Another classmate, Bugi (who had strong left-wing tendencies) responded by punching Dan’s nose and breaking his glasses. And, generally, the two of them got on well. To Bugi, abusing Stalin appeared sacrilege.”

“Would you then opt for Stalin?” asked Tiger.

“Not really. After his demise the Soviet Union went through a process of de- Stalinization. Leaders like Khrushchev reviled Stalin. Further, in 1991 the Soviet Union collapsed and Boris Yeltsin became the President of Russia. Historically, Stalin was a passing phase, although his reign led to the death of millions.”

“Millions?” asked Tiger. “I thought you told us the Red Army defeated the Nazis. Surely, casualties at war are unavoidable.”

“I am not thinking of these. Stalin’s reign of terror involved slaughter and imprisonment followed by the death of many civilians. I also recall how he exiled people. For instance, he deported two million Tatars from the Ukraine to Siberia. Many of them died in the process.”

“I agree,” opined Archie. “You better turn to the next candidate. I assume you are going to discuss other leaders.”

“Spot on,” I admitted. “Let us have a good look at Mao Tse-Tung [Mao Zedong]. He ruled China from 1949 until his death in 1976.”

“Lord Pan’s materials covered him in detail,” said Archie. “I recall that he came from a well-off peasant family. Still, from his early youth he was an agitator. He also adopted the Marxist ideology. Initially, he collaborated with the Kuomintang (‘KMT’) during the Second Sino-Japanese War of 1937 to 1945. This collaboration took place after the Long March of 1934-35, in which Mao’s Red Army withdrew to the Shaanxi province in the north of China. After the end of WWII, the United States continued to support the KMT, led by Chiang Kai-shek. Nonetheless, after heavy losses inflicted by the Red Army, Chiang’s KMT fled to Taiwan. Mao became the ruler of China.”

“A neat summary,” I agreed, “but in many ways Mao is an enigma.”

“Why?” asked Moti, whose brief query opened the floodgates.

“You see, Mao adopted Marxism in a modified manner. Marx preached the rising of the proletariat. In Russia such a class existed in industrialised St. Petersburg and other urban centres. China was a rural country and so Mao had to opt for a revolution instituted by the peasantry. In reality, his uprising manifested the ambition of driving foreign powers out of China.”

“I think you don’t dislike him,” said Tiger, whose head I kept stroking. “I know you well, Peter’le: you are my charge. You tensed when we discussed Marx and Lenin but now you have remained calm and detached. Did Mao have any influence on your personal life?”

“He did, rather. My father-in-law migrated from Amoy (in Hokkien) to Medan (in North Sumatra), where he made his fortune, and then returned home. He escaped from China after the KMT fled to Taiwan and he resettled with his family in Singapore, where I met my late wife. So, in a manner of speaking, Mao’s victory influenced my personal life.”

“Did you know much about Mao before you met your wife?” asked Moti.

“His name was familiar. You see, after the communists took over mainland China, they published a periodical. My late mother, who lived at that time in Tel Aviv, subscribed to the English version, entitled (I think) China Rebuilds. In reality, it was a manifesto, in which the Party described its attempts to turn China into an industrialised international power. I left home for Oxford in 1959 and so I read the issues dealing with the commencement of ‘The Great Leap Forward’.”

“A bloody affair,” pointed out Archie, “but let us have your analysis of it.”

“It was Mao’s second five-year plan. Its mains object was to make the first move towards urbanisation. Mao formed People Communes, which owned the land, and he demanded an increased yield of grain. The collected surpluses were meant to feed the growing working classes in major towns. In reality, the harvests failed with the result that farmers starved.”

“Was land confiscated?” asked Tiger.

“Mao pressed agricultural collectivization – which actually meant confiscation. Private farming was proscribed and transgressors were prosecuted. The end result was a famine throughout China.”

“I believe there was a redeeming feature. Cultivation of opium and other drugs was rendered illegal and family law was reformed. In particular, women obtained the right to demand a divorce. It used to be the monopoly of men,” added Archie.

“In addition,” I told them, “Mao banished most religious and traditional ceremonies. He adopted Marx’s proverb that ‘religion is the opium of the people’. In an attempt to industrialize as quickly as possible, he encouraged the farmers to establish backyard furnaces and use scrap iron so as to manufacture steel. The quality of the product was poor. Another setback was the harsh treatment of farmers by the appointed political cadres. The collapse of poorly constructed dams and flooding exacerbated the situation. All in all, ‘The Great Leap Forward’ led not only to a catastrophic famine but also to the greatest destruction of real estate in the country’s history. Notably, despite the food shortage the communist government continued to export grain to the Soviet Union so as to comply with a trade agreement. In 1961, even the leaders recognised the scale of the disaster. Mao indulged in self-criticism and purported to sanction democratic liberalism. That policy became the domain of Deng Xiaoping.”

“How did Mao make his comeback?” asked Tiger.

“This is not clear to me. Probably Mao was not neutralised because he remained Chairman of the Communist Party of China. He must have bided his time and, in 1966, returned to power and led the Great Proletarian Cultural Revolution of China. Officially, it lasted until Mao’s demise in 1976. In its course Mao eliminated most of his critics by dubbing them revisionist. His Red Cadres destroyed much of China’s traditional culture and ideas. The devastation of libraries was reminiscent of Qin Shi Huang’s burning of books and scholars fifteen hundred years earlier. In 1971, Mao’s second in command – Lin Biao [Piau] – engineered an abortive coup against Mao – and tried to flee to Russia. The plane that carried Biao and his family crashed and the notorious ‘Gang of Four’ (which included Mao’s last wife – Jiang Qing) continued the purges and revolutionary measures. The effect of the Cultural Revolution was best summed up when, in 1981, the Communist Party declared it ‘the most severe setback and the heaviest losses suffered by the Party, the country, and the people since the founding of the People’s Republic.’ All in all, millions died in its course.”

“You overlook Mao’s motive, Peter’le,” observed Archie.

“Do I really? Did he have any motive other than self-glorification?” I asked my friend.

“Ostensibly,” replied Archie, “his object was to eliminate any ‘revision’, that is, an attempt to depart from the course prescribed by Mao’s Marxist orientation. You know, he was even estranged from the Soviet Union because of Khrushchev’s de-Stalination and his pragmatic ideology.”

“Still, in 1972 Mao had a dialogue with Nixon – the United State’s President. A great deal has been written about this encounter. In due course, it led to the establishment of diplomatic relations between the two countries,” I augmented.

“You are critical of Mao, Peter’le,” observed Tiger. “Why, then, do you like and consider him?”

“All in all, and despite his tyranny, he restored China’s self esteem. Under the KMT, China would have remained an American vassal. Mao drove all foreigners out, illegalised opium and the smoking of it, and restored national pride. For instance, Shanghai, in which foreign nations had self-governing settlements, was, once again, a Chinese town. Under the reign of his successors, China became a superpower; we have to recognise that the cornerstone was laid by Mao.”

“Have you been to China?” enquired Tiger.

“Not during Mao’s regime. I visited it as tourist during Deng Xiaoping’s days. I liked it. And the population struck me as proud and self-assured. Let me relate a telling anecdote which took place when we travelled to Xi’an to see its wonderful archaeological treasures, such as the Terracotta Warriors.”

“You would be attracted to those,” interjected Archie dismissively. “Chinese scientific advances – like the discovery of gun powder – are not within your scope of interests. I find them exciting!”

“You have a point there,” I conceded, “but now listen to the anecdote. The traffic was so chaotic that my wife and I did not dare to cross the road on our own. Instead, we joined a group of locals, who were about to embark on this hazardous venture. They formed a phalanx around Pat (my wife) and me and, when we arrived safely, one of them told Pat in Mandarin: ‘What wouldn’t we do for such a hapless Mo [a derogatory phrase for Europeans].’ Pat laughed.”

“Look here, Peter’le: I suspect you are not going to opt for any of the political leaders discussed or mentioned by you. Why don’t you turn to some other individuals who made an everlasting contribution during the 20th century?”

“Tiger is right,” said Moti.

3. Intllectual Contributors

“Alright, then,” I said. “Let us start with Sigmund Freud. He was the founder of psychoanalysis, a method for treating mental disturbances by a conversation, in which the patient is encouraged to talk freely to the therapist about the problems he faces and his feelings about them. Basically, this involves a process of evaluating the sufferer’s internal monologue, which would enable the ‘shrink’ to diagnose the ailment and to treat it.”

“I thought hypnosis was the safest remedial tool in such cases,” interjected Archie.

“Freud, who practised and taught in Vienna, spent some time in Paris in the Salpêtrière with Charcot, who treated hysteria with hypnosis. Freud had doubts about its effects and preferred the psychoanalytic dialogue. In this context he postulated that everybody’s psyche comprises three parts: the ‘id’, the ‘ego’ and the ‘super-ego’. The id is the primitive or instinctive component of the personality. It comprises sexual and aggressive drives inherent from early childhood. The ego, according to Freud, is that part of the id which has been modified by the influence of the external world. In a sense, it comprises the remnants of the id, which survive as a child grows up. The sup-ego incorporates the norms and morals which the child learns from his parents and the environment. It develops when a child is between three and five years old.”

“Do you accept this analysis, Peter’le?” asked Tiger.

“There is some truth in it. A child is guided by instincts and is uninhibited. Later in life the child learns to suppress his (or her) drives and adapts to the world he (or she) faces. For instance, a very young child cries when it desires something or simply craves for attention. Later in life, it asks for or tries to get only things within its moral or normative reach.”

“Where is your reservation then?”

“Freud asserts that a child has sexual desires. Many modern thinkers dispute this. I agree with their views, Tiger’le.”

“Do you dispute Freud’s Oedipus Complex theory?” asked Archie. “I found it interesting but not convincing.”

“Care to elaborate?” I prompted.

“Well, originally the saga refers to a mythological man, who having been abandoned by his parents, killed the King of Thebes who was, unbeknown to this Oedipus, his physical father. Oedipus then married Jocasta, who was the late King’s wife and Oedipus’ mother. Sophocles – a great playwright – treated the subject in one of his dramas. Freud suggests that every male child has a hidden desire for his mother and, likewise, a newborn girl has a hidden desire for the father. If a child has a desire for his same sex parent, he or she tends to develop a disturbed personality involving, frequently, homosexuality or bisexuality.”

“Do you think he was right?” I asked Archie.

“Later scholars doubted him,” proclaimed Archie. “Actually, I cannot take him seriously on this point.”

“Neither can I,” I confirmed. “Equally, I have my doubts about the five stages of a human’s development postulated by Freud: during the first, or oral stage, the child has an urge to suck and, through it, develops trust and comfort centred on the caregiver, usually the mother. When the child is weaned, it becomes less dependent on others. In Freud’s view, any disturbance which occurs at this stage may lead to aggressive behaviour on the child’s part and it may also lead him (or her) to problems with drinking, eating or nail-biting. The second or anal stage involves bowel and bladder control. It takes place when the child is between three and five years old. The major ‘conflict’ at this stage is toilet training, which teaches the child to control bodily needs. If the parents are too lenient or rigid when training the child, he (or she) may have personality problems later in life. In the third stage – when the child is three to six years old – it focuses on the difference between males and females. A boy develops his Oedipus complex, leading to a rivalry with the father. Little girls, according to Freud, develop a ‘penis envy’. Unsurprisingly, this concept is firmly rejected by the feminist lobby. The fourth or ‘latent’ stage takes place during the age ranging between six years and puberty. During this period, the super-ego continues to develop whilst the id energies are suppressed. It is a period of calm during which children develop social skills and harmonious relationships with peers and generally with adults. This stage usually commences when children enter school. It is the period in which an individual develops communication skills and self-confidence. However, if an individual is ‘stuck’ in this phase he (or she) may remain immature. In the last stage – from puberty until death – the person’s libido becomes active again. The individual acquires a strong sexual interest in the opposite sex. If the earlier phases were completed successfully, he (or she) has developed into a mature and well-balanced person.”

“Is this theory taken seriously by later researchers working in the field?” Tiger wanted to know.

“It has remained controversial. One of the reasons is that it focuses mainly on the development of boys. Another is its failure to deal conceptually with homosexuality. Freud’s approach to the subject varied from time to time. In general, he regarded it as a deviation or a departure from the sexual norm. Later researchers believed that sexual orientation is largely influenced by biological factors.”

“How about Freud’s work on the interpretation of dreams?” asked Archie.

“Freud took the view that dreams are produced by a human’s subconscious. He thought that all dreams are forms of ‘wish fulfilment’ and that a skilful analyst can differentiate between the manifest content of the dream, that is, the narrative displayed in it, and the latent content, which relates to the underlying meaning of the dream. He thought that most dreams relate to the person’s experiences of the previous day. Nowadays, Freud’s analysis is doubted or plainly rejected.”

“Peter’le, you speak about Freud disdainfully,” observed Tiger.

“Why?” asked Moti, who had been observing me keenly.

“They have a point,” stepped in Archie. “I have also noted it. I appreciate that Freud’s theories cannot be verified or put to the test. Usually, though, you take people we consider seriously and with respect. What is the cause of the ire you display in this instance? Honestly, my friend, your body language is very clear indeed.”

“Alright,” I gave in. “You see, Freud wrote a book entitled Moses and Monotheism. He postulated that Moses was an Egyptian and not an Israelite. He then discussed the alleged faith of Akhenaten and suggested that Moses’ faith might have been derived from that Pharaoh’s cult. He postulated that Moses was assassinated in a rebellion and that his followers thereafter joined a Midianite tribe that believed in Jehovah. Freud felt compelled to regard the alleged killing as akin to a son’s hidden wish to kill his father. Later in life, Freud wrote that religious phenomena are models of neurotic symptoms.” Stopping for a moment to catch my breath, I added: “as you know Bible Critique and Egyptology are amongst my hobbies. Freud had no knowledge of Biblical Hebrew and Mid-Egyptian or of the history of the Levant. Currently, many scholars doubt the historicity of the Exodus. Freud’s book is not taken seriously by people working in the filed. To tell the truth, I find it ridiculous.”

“Does this cast doubts on Freud’s other works?” asked Tiger.

“I cannot state this unequivocally. Still, I wonder if Freud was just as unreliable in other fields he dealt with. As they say: once a charlatan always a charlatan!”

“If you have such a view of him, why do you as much as consider him?” sneered Archie.

“It has to be admitted that he founded the school of psychoanalysis, which has remained prevalent, especially in the United States. But many of Freud’s background theories have been debunked.”

“Oh well,” grunted Archie. “Let us turn to other famous personalities of the 20th century.”

“Before we do so I believe two names ought to be mentioned. Freud’s leading disciple, Carl Jung, took Freud’s psychoanalysis one step further and actually founded analytical psychology, which was engrafted on Freud’s basic ideas. Jung did excellent field and theoretical work explaining extraversion and introversion. Jung’s own disciple, Erich Neumann, set the work in a philosophical matrix. His best contribution to the field is The Origin and History of Consciousness, published in 1949. It is marked by a theoretical and philosophical approach. The subject of consciousness was taken further in The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind, published by Julian Jaynes in 1976, which argues that a bicameral mentality (viz. search for knowledge and self awareness) was the state of the human mind at least for the last three thousand years. The book had a mixed reception.”

For a few minutes all of us remained silent. I broke it by observing: “I think we ought to have a close look at the German scholar Oswald Spengler. He was an autodidactic researcher in the field of history. His best-known tome is the two volumes on The Decline of the West, published respectively in 1918 and 1922. Spengler suggests that empires are a ‘super-organism’ with a limited and predictable lifespan. In his opinion the West is entering its penultimate stage and is likely to go through a period of about two hundred years of ‘Caesarism’ or, in other words, dictatorships.”

“Was he then a philosopher?” Tiger wanted to know.

“I believe he was,” I replied. “He was a philosopher of history.”

“Did he support his views with sound arguments?” asked Archie.

“He did, rather. However, he chose his supportive points selectively. Toynbee in particular refuted Spengler’s basic theory to the effect that history tended to repeat itself and hence was predictable. After all, even an individual’s cycle or span is random. Often an individual fails to reach maturity. Similarly, whilst empires go through a conventional cycle, the span may differ considerably.”

“I believe the book was a great success when the first volume appeared,” pointed out Archie.

“It was indeed. On its basis Spengler was offered a chair in philosophy by two reputable German universities. He declined, saying that such an appointment would not leave him adequate time for his research work. At the same time, criticism was forthcoming. For instance, Max Weber – himself a distinguished sociologist and historian – described Spengler as an ‘ingenious and learned dilettante’.”

“Actually, why was the book such a success?” asked Tiger.

“The first volume appeared shortly after the end of WWI. Germans, who bemoaned the defeat of their country, found solace in the suggestion that the West as a whole – not only Germany – was entering a stage of decline. Further, Spengler’s overt pessimism struck a chord in other European countries.”

“Tell us more about his theory,” asked Tiger.

“Spengler drew a distinction between ‘culture’ and ‘civilisation’. A culture takes place during the development phase of the entity; civilisation is the culmination, or later stage, when a culture becomes a fully blown-up civilisation. Spengler postulates eight high cultures: Babylonian; Egyptian; Chinese; Indian; Mesoamerican (encompassing the Mayans and the Aztecs); Classical (Greek & Roman); Arabian; and European (viz. Western). Spengler compressed these into three groups: (i) Apollonian (or classical) covering mainly Greece and Rome; Spengler takes the view that in these worlds, scholars were not overtly concerned with the past. (ii) Magian, covering pre-European cultures of the Near Eastern and Arabia (including the first centuries of Islam). During this phase, Spengler avers, cultures were distorted by the remnants of older civilisations and by the need to explore the ‘essence’, which entails a preoccupation with matters religious. (iii) Faustian, incorporating the European cultures emerging after the Magian culture came to its end. Spengler analysed each and drew his clear conclusion to the effect that the life span of any historical entity is about one thousand years.”

“Your view?” prompted Moti.

“During my mid-life, I admired him. Then, as I settled in the East, it dawned on me that Spengler drew mainly on facts respecting Western civilisation and cultures. Further, all in all he was a nationalist and conservative. He doubted democracy.”

“What was his stance on Nazi Germany?” asked Archie.

“He considered Hitler vulgar and told him openly that the vast empire the Führer postulated would not materialise. Spengler did not live to see the fall of Germany. He died in 1936.”

“Did he publish other books?” asked Tiger.

“He did. In 1931 he published Man and Techniques. In this book he warned that in the long run industrialisation posed dangers to Western culture because it might enable ‘hostile coloured races’ to use it against the West. In 1934 he published The Hour of Decision attacking liberalism in general. The book was banned in Germany because it was also critical of the Nazi doctrines,” I replied and, as an afterthought, added: “Spengler’s legacy is The Decline of the West. The later books did not enhance his reputation.”

“Actually, why do you as much as consider him? You do not have much regard for him,” pointed out Archie.

“Well, he changed the analysis of history as a discipline. He studied it as a tool for predictions and not merely as a narration. In this regard, his work was original. The Decline of the West has remained one of the leading works of the 20th century. Still, I am now satisfied that it is written from the viewpoint of a Western philosopher, who spent most of his life in Munich and never set foot outside Europe. Perhaps the best way of summing up is to say that he was a leading Western historiographer but that his relevance after the end of European hegemony is doubtful.”

“Should we consider Bertrand Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein?” asked Archie. “The materials I have read describe them as leading thinkers of the 20th century.”

“I believe they were. In addition, Russell was a leading pacifist who opposed violence and war. Wittgenstein’s later work – Philosophical Investigation (published posthumously in 1953) – argues that the meaning of words is best understood as their use within a given ‘language game’. His earlier book – the Tractatus Logico Philosophicus, published in 1921 – was concerned with the logical relationship between propositions and the world. He thought – at that time – that by providing an account of the logic underlying this relationship, one could solve all philosophical problems. His later work takes a different stand.”

“Why don’t you treat him as a lead person of the 20th century?” asked Tiger. “It is clear that you respect his original approach to problems.”

“I do,” I explained. “However, both Wittgenstein and Bertrand Russel are giants in a given discipline but have failed to attain universal fame. For this reason, I believe we have to turn to scientists, whose names are well known universally.”

“Who do you have in mind?” asked Tiger.

“I am thinking of Albert Einstein, Edwin Hubble and Marie Curie. I am sure there were other great scientists in the 20th century but these three are known not only to people working in the field but to the public in general.”

4. Other Non-scientific Lead Persons

“Let us then stick to them,” suggested Tiger. Moti nodded his agreement. Archie alone looked dubious: “Peter’le,” he mused, “I entertain no doubt about the importance of scientists. Nonetheless, before you turn to them, we need to consider some other persons who shaped the 20th century as an era.”

“Whom do you have in mind?” I wanted to know.

“I am thinking of Henry Ford, Charlie Chaplin and Mahatma Gandhi. I suggest we commence with Ford. I know that he was neither a thinker nor a scientist. But he impacted the development of the 20th century as an industrialised society. He initiated the mass production of inexpensive goods that catered for the needs of the middle classes.”

“That is undisputable,” I confirmed. “Nonetheless I have at least one reservation about him: he was an avid anti-Semite and promoted his creed through his newspaper – The Dearborn Independent – and his book: The International Jew.”

“I am aware of this,” responded Archie. “Further, he was favourably referred to in Hitler’s Mein Kampf. Naturally, I don’t approve; although – by and large – I am inclined to ignore the prejudices of barbarians. After all, what can you expect from them? Still, I think Ford merits analysis: I believe he set the tone for the rise of capitalism.”

“Archie is right, Peter’le,” observed Tiger. “So let us look at his positive attainments. Please elaborate.”

“It won’t be easy for me. Quite apart from his ingrained racial prejudices he craved only for material success. To my way of thinking, this is a blemish. The means become the objective.”

“Please explain,” said Moti.

“You see: money is needed by scientists, artists and by mankind in general. But normally the money is required for a purpose, for instance, for the construction of an observatory with a sophisticated telescope or to further an ideological end close to a leader’s heart.”

“And you think that industrialists and money-hoarders in general want it as an end or as indicia of success?”

“I do,” I agreed.

“Even so,” observed Archie, “the phenomenon deserves discussion. Well, tell us what you know or have gleaned about Henry Ford.”

“Ford grew up on his father’s farm. He showed technical skills early in life. For instance, in his teens he became a skilful watch repairer. After a spell in Detroit, he returned to the farm and experimented with the utilisation of steam engines to replace horse driven equipment.”

“So, he did not abandon his interest in technology,” pointed out Archie.

“I agree. He didn’t. In 1891, he was employed as an engineer by the Edison Illuminating Company of Detroit. He rose in the ranks and during his free time constructed a primitive motor car which he called the Ford Quadricycle. His first utility and affordable car – the Model T – was produced by the Ford Motor Company in 1908. It was inexpensive and easy to drive. Initially, it cost $825 [equal to $23,480 in the 21st century]. Its price was reduced every year. It would appear that by 1916 the price was only $360.”

“Did the volume of sales increase as dramatically?” asked Tiger.

“It did,” I confirmed. “By 1916 sales reached 472,000. Ford introduced the assembly belt, which facilitated mass production. By 1918, half of all the cars sold in the United States were Model Ts.”

“How did the public know about its availability?” asked Moti.

“Ford publicised it widely. Newspapers throughout America carried advertisements as well as stories about the new product. He also established a network of dealers, who promoted the automobile. Notably, Ford encouraged sales to farmers. Many of them used the car as a commercial device, for instance, to transport produce to marketplaces. In addition, Ford Motors produced trucks and tractors, which served the interest of farming in both the United States and Europe.”

“How about luxury cars? Did he produce any?” asked Tiger, who became engrossed in the subject and kept wondering whether high performance cars could outrace him.

“Ford was not really interested in them. All the same, he bought out the Lincoln Motor Company. Ford’s son – Edsel (who became the chairman of the company in 1918) – wanted to steer the Ford Motor Company into the upscale market. At his initiative, Lincoln cars continued to be produced for a while, until their replacement by another upmarket model. Henry Ford, though, continued to concentrate on low cost and affordable cars.”

“Did he stick to the Model T?” asked Tiger.

“When sales plummeted due to competition by General Motors, Ford eventually switched in 1927 to the more sophisticated Model A, which remained unchanged until 1931. In the next year the company started to produce its V8 Model: an eight-cylinder car, which was upgraded over the years. 1932 saw yet a further innovation, namely the launching of the Universal Credit Corporation, which enabled buyers to purchase cars by instalment sales.”

“Did he treat his employees well?” asked Moti.

“He did. He raised the minimum wage to $5.00 per hour – virtually doubling the prevailing fee structure – and introduced a five-day working week. He also initiated profit sharing, which was made available to long serving employees. Further, the reasonable price of Ford cars and the availability of credit sales meant that many of his employees were able to afford cars. I believe that Ford and General Motors transformed the United States from a largely agricultural country to a highly industrialised one. People moved to the cities, which grew phenomenally.”

“What was his approach to trade unions?” asked Tiger.

“He opposed them and actually intimidated unionists. He took the view that ‘labour welfare’ was best administered by employers, referring to it as ‘welfare capitalism’. In the end, though, Ford Corporation recognised the United Automobile Workers and, around 1940, submitted to the collective bargaining power of the union.”

“I have read articles suggesting that the Ford enterprise led to the Great Depression,” averred Archie. “Do you think this is correct?”

“It is a controversial subject. Ostensibly, the Great Depression started with the collapse of the stock market,” I replied. “The more complex task is to pinpoint the reasons for the downfall. I too read the relevant materials. My personal conclusion is that a major cause was played by the superfluity resulting from the over production of goods. Unwanted goods remained in the stockpiles of corporations, which – in consequence – failed to make profits. This, in turn, led to the devaluation of the stocks (the shares). We face the domino effect. The entire era is illuminated in Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath. It is noteworthy that the Great Depression spread to many European countries. It is vividly described in Remarque’s Black Obelisk.”

“Tell us more about Ford’s life philosophy,” asked Tiger.

“Ford professed being a pacifist and actually supported a mission which aimed to bring WWI to an end. Regrettably, he had no success and the venture was ridiculed. Later on, as from 1918, he supported President Woodrow Wilson’s initiation of the League of Nations. With Wilson’s support, Ford stood for Senate in Michigan but was defeated.”

“Did he have another go?” asked Tiger.

“He didn’t. Later on a Ford employee won a Senate seat in Michigan. Ford himself did not venture into politics. Still, he opposed the entry of the Unite States to WWII on the side of the Allies. Slave labour was used by Ford’s enterprise in France. Notably, until 1941 Ford blamed the outbreak of WWII on ‘greedy financiers’, meaning Jewish bankers. His firms supplied engines and war materials to both Nazi Germany and the British armed forces. Later on, when the United States declared war on Germany, Ford’s companies produced engines for warplanes for the United States.”

“Peter’le,” enquired Tiger. “Did Henry Ford remain an anti-Semite to the end?”

“Difficult to say,” I replied. “In 1924, the Anti-Defamation League supported a defamation action brought against Ford by Aaron Sapiro, a leading Jewish lawyer. Ford settled the action and, in 1927, closed his anti-Semitic newspaper – The Dearborn Independent and voiced his opposition to racial violence and pogroms. Whether he changed his orientation remains questionable. It is possible that he modified his stance when he realised that Ford products were shunned by liberals. Still, it is said that when he saw photographs of German concentration camps after the end of WWII he had a stroke.”

“Peter’le,” observed Archie, who had looked at me intently, “I sense that your disregard for Henry Ford is not just a reaction to his anti-Semitism. It goes even deeper than this. Please enlighten us.”

“You see,” I replied, “I am repelled by Ford’s business philosophy. Ford’s enterprises spread from continent to continent. His object was to introduce his models all over the world. This, in turn, would have led to the emergence of dystopias of the type lampooned by Aldous Huxley in Brave New World and by George Orwell in 1984, this is to say, societies which control the minds and the movements of individuals. Notably, Brave New World even postulated a calendar starting with AF 1 [viz. Anno Ford 1] – based on Ford’s chronology – and replaced the title ‘Lordship’ with ‘Fordship’.”

“Actually, why do you oppose this philosophy? Won’t it lead to the peaceful existence of humanity?” stepped in Tiger. Moti, who had been following us closely, nodded his approval.

“It might lead to universal peace but, as a by product, it is bound to stem human enterprise and search for knowledge. It would nip originality in the bud. This is too high a price to pay!”

“I take your point,” agreed Archie. “I am repelled by the thought that humanity might no longer be able to produce master works, like Iphigenia in Aulis or Crime and Punishment (which I read at the courtesy of Lord Pan). I think we better turn to your next candidate – Charlie Chaplin. Still, before we do so, you may wish to explain why you are side stepping inventors like Thomas Alva Edison and Guglielmo Marconi.”

“They were great inventors and had a major effect on the development of the 20th century. We have to thank Edison for light bulbs and gramophones and Marconi for the radio. We ought also to refer to Nikola Tesla, who came up with the alternating current of electricity. Another person I admire is George Gershwin, who elevated jazz to the rank of classical music when he composed the Rhapsody in Blue. Nonetheless, Henry Ford is a more appropriate candidate. His business empire and the adoption of the assembly line set him apart.”

“I take your point,” conceded Archie. “Let us then turn to your second representative of the era: Charlie Chaplin.”

“Actually, I wonder why you opted for him rather than one of the actors or actresses you favour?” asked Tiger.

“This has something to do with my background,” I conceded. “You see, when I was a youngster, people frequented the cinema. Theatre was scarce (and expensive) and, as you already know, there was no television. Usually, my generation went to the cinema at least twice a week.”

“I understand,” observed Archie. “But was Chaplin the only actor warranting consideration. Didn’t other actors and actresses leave a mark?”

“Of course there were. Many of them were popular and their films were highly artistic and well played. Chaplin, though, was special. He left a real impact on the 20th century as a whole.”

To my surprise, a being materialised in front of our eyes, assuming an image I had previously seen only on the cinema screen.

“Theophil?” I asked bewildered.

“No, Peter’le. Theo is not the only observer of your society. I, too, study it keenly.”

“Gabriel?” I asked with trepidation.

“Correct guess. But I am pleased that you recognise the image I have adopted for the moment. At present, I look like Victor Sjöström in Wild Strawberries.”

“What made you appear to us … Sir?”

“I see,” he grinned. “You use the title ‘Maestro’ only when addressing Theo. In reality, though, I have had as much influence on your life as he! But be this as it may, please tell us why you pinpointed Chaplin rather than any other actor or film director. Is Chaplin your favourite?”

“Not really,” I assured him.”

“So why did you settle on Chaplin?”

“He alone appealed to the masses all over the world. In this regard he was unique.”

“Understood,” observed Gabriel and vanished.

“Let us then hear details about Chaplin and his significance,” said Archie. “I have read about him but have not reviewed him as methodically as the other persons you have referred to.”

“Chaplin came from a destitute home in London,” I told them. “His parents met when they worked in music halls. However, his father became a hapless alcoholic and deserted his wife, Chaplin’s mother. She too had problems, ending up in an asylum. Still, she was a sort of an actress and prepared Charlie for a future on the stage. Chaplin started performing in music halls and in groups touring England. Later, he became an active performer in silent films in the United States. He developed the image of ‘The Tramp’ which he used in most of his films. By 1918 – at the age of about thirty – he had become one of the best-known figures in the filmmaking industry.”

“I believe he co-founded United Artists – which enabled him to have full control of his films,” volunteered Archie.

“He did,” I confirmed. “In his own way, Chaplin was a perfectionist. He wrote the screenplays and even the music for many of his films. And he directed them.”

“What was so special about them?” Tiger wanted to know.

“Each film had a message. The common view is that they combined slapstick – at which Charlie excelled – with pathos. I know what the critics mean but I think they are inaccurate. Usually, Chaplin’s pathos is empathy with the underdog coupled with a message that the show must always go on. One other innovation was the introduction of sad endings to comedies.”

“Examples?” asked Moti.

“I’ll leave out The Tramp and The Bank, both of 1915. The first film, which elevated Chaplin from pure slapstick to the producer of a drama, was The Kid. The film has a sad tone throughout: the Tramp adopts an illegitimate child abandoned by its mother. There is a hilarious scene in which the growing kid ‘works’ with the Tramp by throwing stones to break windows. The Tramp, assuming the role of a glazier, follows and offers to repair the damage and, in this way, earns a living. There is a heartbreaking scene in which the kid is taken by the welfare authorities against the Tramp’s and the Kid’s wishes. The film ends when the kid’s mother – by then a wealthy and successful woman – finds him and rewards the Tramp.”

“What is so special about this? It strikes me as a melodrama,” pointed out Tiger.

“In a way, it is. However, the Tramp’s struggle and the sharp criticism of the welfare authorities display one of the main themes of Kafka: the harmful nature and callousness of bureaucracy. Another important film of that period is Gold Rush. Here the Tramp is a prospector fighting adversity and looking for love. One of the most hilarious themes is where, driven by hunger, the Tramp eats his own shoe. The ending is sombre: the Tramp makes a fortune but does not find love. Another film of that period is The Circus. The Tramp becomes the star of a travelling circus. He leaves it when his dream- lady marries another actor. The final scene is moving: the Tramp remains behind whilst the entourage travels on. It is, however, clear that he has not given up.”

“Up to now, Peter’le, you presented a successful film-producer. He described the world around him but was he an innovator?” asked Archie.

“I believe that, in a sense, he was. And listen, by the time Chaplin released The Circus, the silent film was widely replaced by sound films. Chaplin was sceptical and his next film – City Lights – was a silent film; but there was a recorded musical score. In this film the Tramp falls in love with and befriends a blind flower girl. She believes that her supporter is a wealthy man because she hears the passing of an expensive car after the Tramp buys her flowers. In the event, the Tramp steals a large amount of money from his employer to raise the funds needed for an operation to restore the girl’s eyesight.”

“What is so special about this?” asked Tiger.

“Two scenes elevate the slapstick into drama. The first is right at the beginning. The mayor of a city unveils a statue aiming to predict prosperity and a bright future for his community. As it is unveiled, we see the Tramp slumbering in the statue’s lap. This was Chaplin’s bitter criticism of the social order of his day: amidst the national wealth loomed poverty and depredation. The other scene is at the end of the film, when the girl, who has regained vision and who has become a flower shop owner, recognises the Tramp, who has served out the prison term imposed on him: he hands her a flower and she feels his hands. It is, I believe, an outstandingly well acted scene.”

“I’ll accept your view, Peter’le. But I still cannot see in Chaplin a leading 20th century personality. But, please, try to make your case,” said Archie thoughtfully.

“In the next film – Modern Times – the Tramp is a factory worker employed on an assembly line of the type cherished by Henry Ford. The monotony of the work and the indignities inflicted upon him lead to a nervous breakdown. After his release from hospital, he is mistaken for an industrial agitator and is jailed. Following release, he seeks to go back to prison; he attempts to take the blame when a girl named Ellen escapes with a loaf of bread she has stolen from a baker’s shop. A bystander reveals the truth whereupon the Tramp is cleared. Some time later, the girl finds him a job as a singer and waiter. During the floor show, he loses the cuff on which he has written the words of the song. He ends up by singing sheer gibberish, but the performance is well received by the audience. All seems well when officers of the welfare department come to apprehend the girl for her earlier escape. The two flee. Ellen is desperate; the Tramp, though, convinces her of the need to continue fighting for a future.”

“Is this a silent film?”

“It is a hybrid. Chaplin remained wary of dialogue. He felt that it might spoil the Tramp’s impact. Still, the Tramp sings.”

“What is important about this film?” asked Tiger.

“The slapstick is accompanied by a sharp criticism of capitalist working conditions; it also presents the unemployment that prevailed during the Great Depression. For the first time, Chaplin incorporated a left-wing message in his film. Modern Times is a drama cum slapstick; not the other way round. It is also the last film featuring the Tramp.”

“I get your point, Peter’le,” said Archie. “You better tell us about Chaplin’s later films.”

“Well; in The Great Dictator Chaplin parodies Hitler. The Tramp is substituted by a ‘Jewish Barber’ and Chaplin also plays the role of a ridiculed Hitler. The message is clear: it is a pacifist film and mocks fascism. The film was released shortly after the breakout of WWII. It was well received outside Germany; but here I have my doubts. Hitler was anything but ridiculous.”

“I take your point,” muttered Archie. “Hitler was a monster.”

“In his next film – Monsieur Verdoux, which is a sound film – Chaplin plays the role of a bank clerk, who is dismissed after 30 years of service. To support his family, he becomes a bigamist and serial killer, who murders women who succumb to him in order to appropriate their money. At the same time, he shows kindness to and supports a girl who has just been released from prison. He is eventually apprehended and sentenced to death. He shows no remorse and says that his felonies are no worse than the slaughter occasioned by wars. The final touching scene shows the culprit on his way to the guillotine. When asked by a priest to pray that the Lord take his soul, Verdoux replies that, as the soul belongs to the Lord, he ought to take what is his.”

“I can see that such a film would be topical,” observed Tiger.

“It led to a storm. Chaplin was accused of being a communist and, in general, critics were harsh. The film was more successful in Europe than in the United States. Chaplin had to leave the country and move to Switzerland.”

“Did he carry on?” asked Tiger.

“He did. In 1952 he released Limelight. I saw it when I was still in Tel Aviv. It is the story of a once famous clown who rescues a dancer, when she attempts to commit suicide because she believes she has lost command of her legs. The clown nurses her back to life and, in the process, regains his own self-esteem. The clown, who becomes destitute, joins a street band. For a short while he regains his reputation but dies in an accident that takes place during his clowning. The film shows the impoverished actors of London and their hard struggle for fame. The message is clear: do not give up if you can go on.”

“Was this his last film?” asked Tiger.

“It wasn’t. Actually, the film had a mixed reception. Initially, it received an uncomplimentary critique. However, it was revived in 1972 and was highly acclaimed. I consider it Chaplin’s best film. He produced two other films but they were poor. In the first, he attacked American politics but his words fell on deaf ears. In the second – which was a colour film – there was no message at all. It was a sad ending to his lengthy career.”

“Peter’le,” said Tiger, “I sense that you respect Chaplin but have some misgivings.”

“Tiger’le is right,” said Archie. “Yours is grudging admiration. Please explain.”

“Do,” added Moti.

“Well, Chaplin was not a nice person. He was a womaniser, a predator and on one occasion was suspected of murder. He led a wild and toxic life until he fell in love with Oona O’Neil – the famous playwright’s daughter – and married her although she was only eighteen years of age. Oona turned him into a far more responsible person and their marriage was fruitful and successful. I can see her influence on him in Limelight’s screenplay. She helped him to bring his ship home!”

“Even so, Peter’le,” said Archie, “it isn’t clear to me why you rank Chaplin so highly. Ought he to be considered amongst great political leaders and scientists? Please explain.”

“Chaplin’s films give you a vivid description of the 20th century. His films expose both the strengths and the weaknesses of the era. Unlike Spengler, he did not venture to predict things to come. He dealt with the raw materials he found and came up with a pungent critique.”

“I take your point, Peter’le but I think you are – just for once – sentimental. I suggest we turn to the last significant non-scientists.”

“I believe you refer to the greatest dreamer of the 20th century: Mahatma Gandhi,” I replied.

“I have read about him in the materials provided by Lord Pan,” retorted Archie. “I kept wondering why you failed to mention him amongst political leaders.”

“Gandhi was a freedom fighter but, unlike Sun Yat-sen and other revolutionaries, he never became a Head of State. I find it more appropriate to deal with him at this point.”

“I sense reluctance on your part,” said Tiger, who had been observing me closely.

“There is,” I conceded. “You see, I used to admire – perhaps even worship – Gandhi. Recently, though, it dawned on me that my idol – like most idols – probably had feet of clay.”

“In that case, Peter’le,” interceded Moti, “it might be for the best if Gandhi’s attainments were discussed by Archie.”

“Very well,” approbated Archie. “I am always happy to take the buck when a barbarian like our Peter’le wishes to pass it to me.” Tiger and I grinned.

“Mohandas Gandhi was born in Gujarat and studied law in University College of London University and then in the Inner Temple. During his years as student, he became a member of the London Vegetarian Society, which, in a way, was his first semi- political engagement. He was called to the Bar in 1891 and returned to India. Having failed to build up a remunerative practice, he moved to South Africa in 1893. Initially, he accepted a one-year engagement but, in the event, remained in residence until 1915.”

“Did he develop a successful legal practice there?” asked Moti.

“He didn’t. He was bothered by the prevailing discriminatory measures and, in 1894, helped to found the Natal Indian Congress, which opposed a new law confining voting rights to Caucasians. These efforts failed and the law was passed. Even so, Gandhi remained a loyalist. During the Boer War, he organised a team of stretcher bearers, who took wounded English soldiers for treatment.”

“What was his stand on the plight of Blacks?” queried Tiger. “I thought he was a freedom fighter only for the cause of Indians.”

“This is true,” retorted Archie. “By and large, he ignored the plight of the indigenous population. He embarked on his policy of nonviolent protests in response to humiliating attitudes and laws affecting Indians, such as their being prohibited from walking on the pavement, or the steps taken to subject them to mandatory fingerprinting. Some of his denigrators claim that he was racially inclined and considered Africans inferior. Still, Nelson Mandela, who fought and eventually saw the abolition of apartheid, regarded himself as having been influenced by Gandhi.”

“He was,” I felt the need to step in. “Basically, he adopted Gandhi’s passive resistance philosophy. Gandhi, though, returned to India in 1915 – well before Mandela started his own campaign.”

“Quite so,” consented Archie. “Gandhi had by then gained the reputation of a fighter for emancipation and acquired the title ‘Mahatma’, which, loosely translated, means ‘venerable’ or ‘saintly’. Gandhi became a member of the Indian National Congress but – far from joining the ranks of the wealthy Indians who led the party – he embarked on a trip through India, familiarizing himself with the prevailing poverty and destitution. This realisation did not stop him from urging his followers to enroll in the British army. Detractors argue that, during this period, Gandhi’s approach was inconsistent with his creed of ‘Ashimsa’, viz. nonviolence. However, in a letter to the authorities, Gandhi stipulated that ‘personally [he] will not kill or injure anybody, friend or foe’.”

“In other words,” pointed out Tiger, “he stuck to his pacifist image whilst he encouraged others to dirty their hands by spilling blood.”

“I cannot argue with that,” replied Archie, “but be this as it may, Gandhi’s role became prominent mainly after the end of WWI. In 1918, the district of Kheda was hit by floods and an ensuing famine. Gandhi’s nonviolent protests and his followers’ refusal to pay taxes, forced the British authorities to make concessions.”

“I suspect that, at this stage, Gandhi was still hoping for a peaceful resolution of differences with the Raj – the British government of India,” I pointed out.

“This is an arguable point,” agreed Archie. “The next telling event led to a change in the Mahatma’s approach.”

“I believe that you refer to the Amritsar Massacre,” I pointed out.

“Even before it, Gandhi took issue with the Anarchical and Revolutionary Crimes Act of 1919 (commonly known as the Rowlatt Act), which gave the authorities the power to imprison political suspects without a trial. On a Hindu festival of that year Gandhi asked people to stage nonviolent protests and also asked them to burn British clothes they owned and to boycott goods originating from that country. The authorities warned him not to enter Delhi and arrested him when he disobeyed.”

“Was he in prison when the Amritsar Massacre took place?” asked Tiger.

“He was indeed. Actually, the peaceful assembly at a square in Amritsar was a protest for the arrest of a Punjabi activist. A British officer ordered his troops to fire at those assembled, killing women and children in the process. Fortunately, the passage leading to the square was too narrow for the armored vehicle with its machine gun to enter. The butcher conceded that he would have used even this measure of mass killing.”

“What was Gandhi’s reaction?” asked Moti.

“He went on a hunger strike with the aim of stopping riots triggered by the massacre. It had its effect. The British press, though, remained ambivalent at this stage. When the government in Britain appointed an investigation committee, Gandhi asked his followers to boycott it. He had become convinced that an Indian cause would not get a fair hearing or treatment by the British authorities. From then on, he demanded Swaraj, that is, Indian self-rule or sovereignty.”

“Tell us more about his imprisonment,” asked Tiger.

“Gandhi was found guilty of sedition in 1922 and sentenced to six years in prison. He was released after two years and resumed his nonviolent resistance measures. The highlight was the Salt March in which Gandhi and his followers marched some 388 kilometers to the coast of Gujarat, where he produced salt on his own. His object was to break the British monopoly over salt production. Gandhi was arrested again but many of his supporters protested at the gates of the Dharasama salt works. American and British journalists watched with horror how the protestors advanced peacefully to the stockade and were clubbed by policemen without resorting to countermeasures.”

“Did this protest turn the tide?” asked Tiger.

“I believe it did. It cemented Gandhi’s position as leader, which was further entrenched by his continuing visits to communities throughout India. With the aid of the American and British press he gained increased popularity and acceptance. There could be no doubt about his having become a power to be reckoned with. Of particular importance was his appeal to the masses. He identified with them rather than with the wealthy members of the Indian community who had intended to take the reins over from the British.”

“I think you may turn to the ensuing negotiations,” I suggested.

“Very well,” agreed Archie. “The negotiations were unsuccessful. Gandhi sought independence. The British offered reforms the effect of which would have been the creation of a Dominion still governed from London.”

“True,” I confirmed. “Odd to say, Gandhi resigned from the Congress party in 1934. It is difficult to pinpoint the reason. In my opinion, his aim was to avoid the rule of the monetary elite. Indeed, in 1936 – when Nehru (Gandhi’s friend and follower) – became the Head, Gandhi did not restrain the Congress from embracing a socialist agenda. Two years later Congress elected a leader, who doubted Gandhi’s approach of nonviolent protest.”

“Did many British politicians disregard Gandhi?” asked Tiger.

“Winston Churchill – the undisputed hero of WWII – took a strong dislike to Gandhi and described him as a Middle Temple lawyer, posing as a fakir striding half-naked ‘up the steps of the Vice-regal palace…to parley on equal terms with representatives of the King-Emperor.’ Many conservative British politicians took a similar view,” I replied. Archie nodded and continued:

“Gandhi opposed the provision of any help to the British forces during WWII. On this occasion his words fell on deaf ears. Over two and a half million Indians enrolled in the British army.”

“Why did Gandhi oppose any assistance to the Allies? Did he support Nazism?” asked Moti, who looked genuinely bewildered.

“He didn’t,” replied Archie. “Gandhi simply opposed all violence and, even during the rage of WWII, pursued the goal of Indian independence. In 1942, he gave speeches urging his people to stop all cooperation with the Imperial government. He was arrested, found guilty of sedition and was again sentenced to six years prison. Other leaders of the Congress party were also incarcerated.”

“Did Gandhi stay in prison for such a long time?” asked Moti.

“He was released in 1944 because of his failing health. By then the political climate had changed. The Muslim League, headed by Muhammad Ali Jinnah, demanded that the Indian sub-continent be divided into a Muslim State – to be known as Pakistan – and to an Indian State with a Hindu majority.”

“What was Gandhi’s reaction?” asked Tiger.

“He opposed the partition but, in the end, yielded. In 1947, the partition into two independent states was executed. It involved the migration of thousands of Hindus from Pakistan to India and the relocation of Muslims from the Indian territories to Pakistan. Riots broke out during the transition, particularly in Calcutta. Gandhi embarked on a new hunger strike which, in due course, quelled the riots. Still, partition was by now the reality. Gandhi, who was by then an old man, retired from politics. In 1948 he was assassinated by a Hindu zealot.”

Having caught his breath after this lengthy exposition, Archie asked whether I wanted to augment his discourse.

“It is a neat summary. Nowadays, though, many scholars denigrate Gandhi. Some even consider him an agent provocateur and a supporter of Britain. They claim that he delayed the departure of the British from the sub-continent. I disagree. Gandhi’s nonviolent insubordination hurt British interests. India used to be a dumping ground for British textiles and the Raj profited from the salt monopoly. Gandhi’s steps destroyed these. By 1946, India ceased to be the ‘Jewel of the Crown’ and became a headache. Also, public opinion in Britain sided with Gandhi’s demand for independence; and Churchill understood Roosevelt’s indication that the United States would not assist Britain to keep its empire. He and Atlee knew it was time to leave.”

“I sense you have reservations about Gandhi,” averred Tiger. “Is this by any chance due to your belief that the maintenance of a single India would have led to even greater bloodshed than the partition?”

“This is indeed my belief. You see, diverse communities can live in harmony and peace. Unfortunately, a persuasive demagogue can lead to clashes and even civil wars. One such demagogue was Adolf Hitler and the 20th century saw quite a few ‘leaders’ of this type. I do think that sheer mayhem might have broken out in a united India even during Gandhi’s lifetime. The orientation of Gandhi’s assassin supports my point.”

“Is this your only reservation?” persisted Tiger. “If it were, you would deem Gandhi a dreamer. I suspect that there is more than this to your feeling of unease.” Archie and Moti nodded.

“True, I have some additional hesitation,” I conceded after a pause.

“Does it by any chance relate to Gandhi’s stand during the Holocaust?” asked Archie.

“It does. Gandhi showed little sympathy to our people. He persisted in addressing Hitler as a friend and alleged that the Führer was not a ‘monster’. Gandhi even went so far as to suggest that Britain capitulate and seek to persuade Hitler to act peacefully by nonviolent means. Further, in a letter to a Jewish friend, Gandhi wrote that the Jews should either prostrate themselves before Hitler or stand up to him. In his eye, fleeing was cowardice. In reality, it was the only way out if you wanted to survive.”

“Gandhi described the Holocaust as the worst 20th century crime against humanity,” pointed out Archie.

“He did so after Germany’s defeat,” I replied. “In my eyes, his stand during WWII is a stain on his record and saintly character.”

“I understand,” replied Archie. “However, aren’t you yourself guilty of applying to Gandhi a measure other than what you adopt in the case of other individuals?”

“Archie is right,” said Tiger. “I recall how you told us that you liked to listen to Wagner’s music notwithstanding his overt anti-Semitism; and I recall that Henry Ford’s racism did not, in itself, lead to your negative assessment of his contribution to the 20th century.”

“Quite so,” I assented. “But is it wrong to have great expectations when you deal with a Mahatma?”

“Peter’le,” Archie spoke gravely, “you push Gandhi off a pedestal which – in my opinion – he did not seek to mount; others placed him there!”

“I have to agree,” I replied after a pause. “In the ultimate he had a vision – a dream – which was unrealistic and did not materialise.”

“We better turn to other individuals meriting consideration,” suggested Moti.

“We should,” I conceded, “but I need to raise one further matter. You see, some scholars wonder what was Gandhi’s stand on the Hindu caste system. Shortly after his return to India Gandhi took up the cause of the ‘untouchables’. At that time, he disparaged the rigid caste system. In later years Gandhi embraced Hinduism. Some scholars maintain that, as from that time, his stance on the caste system became ambivalent.”

“What view to you take, Peter’le?’ asked Archie.

“I am uncertain,” I replied lamely.

“So we better leave the point to ‘Gandhi’s scholars’ and turn to the scientists,” proclaimed Tiger impatiently.

5. Leading Scientists

“Shall we start with Albert Einstein?” asked Archie. “I am sure he is in your list.”

“There can be no doubt about his stature,” I agreed. “Nonetheless, I encounter a problem: I have read some of Einstein’s articles and, as is to be expected, many works dealing with him. With the help of a friend in secondary school, I came to grips with his theory of special relativity. Einstein’s general theory of relativity baffles me. I suggest that, once again, Archie, who has an excellent scientific mind, take the lead.”

“I’ll do my best,” grinned Archie. “What don’t we, the Greeks, do for these hopeless barbarians?”

“Thanks,” I told him. “Please tell us all about the man and his attainments. As you know, he is considered the greatest genius of our era.”

“Justifiably so,” said Archie. “Einstein was born into a wealthy Jewish family in Germany but studied mainly in Switzerland. In September 1905, he published a paper describing special relativity. Its essence is the argument that ‘energy’ and ‘mass’ are interchangeable. His calculations resulted in the famous formula: E = MC2. ‘C’ is the speed of light in a vacuum, which Einstein treated as a constant; ‘E’ stands for ‘energy’ and ‘M’ describes mass. He noted, for instance, that the trajectory of a falling object may be construed differently when observed from a static point than if the observer is himself moving away from the falling object.”

“Why was this so important?” asked Tiger.

“Newtonian physics, which embodied equations worked out by Galileo, applies neatly to most moving objects on earth. Einstein worked out how they would behave if measured in constant movement, including high velocity,” articulated Archie.

“And general relativity?” I wanted to know.

“It is the geometric theory of gravitation. Einstein worked it out in 1915. It provides a unified description of gravity as a geometric property of space and time. Einstein treats time as a fourth dimension. His theory implies the existence of dark energy and of black holes, which are regions in which space and time are distorted to such an extent that nothing, even light, can escape. Well, am I making myself clear?”

“As already mentioned, a friend in secondary school explained special relativity to me,” I told him. “I think I grasped it, and you have made it clearer. But when you refer to ‘general relativity’ I cannot help thinking about a famous American doggerel by Dr. Seuss, in which a fellow called Sam tries to convince another man to have ‘green eggs and ham’….”

“What?” thundered Archie. “You, Peter, are not just a barbarian but also a boor! Instead of trying to understand you scoff! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!”

Archie’s face was contorted, and he looked as if he was about to throw himself on me. Instantly, Tiger placed himself between the two of us. I, in turn, took a step back. It was the first time I saw Archie assuming a menacing demeanour. The situation was saved by Moti, who asked pointedly: “Green eggs and ham? Are they nice? Did that fellow or you yourself, Peter’le, try them?”

“He didn’t,” said Archie who managed to relax. “And our Peter’le is far too conventional to try such an unusual dish.”

Unexpectedly, a being materialised in front of us, assuming the form of a waiter and carrying four handsome dishes of eggs, covered with pale green mayonnaise, and ham.

“Will you have them here or there?” he asked with an ingratiating smile.

“When offered by you, Lord Pan, I’ll have them anywhere,” Tiger assured him, adding: “But we are decomposed. How can we enjoy them? We have no physical taste buds.”

“Just this time I’ll see to it,” advised Theophil.

Greedily, Archie partook of one helping. I gave one to Tiger, who gobbled it up happily. I then held one out for Moti. To my pleasant surprise he lifted me up with his trunk, looked keenly at the proffered dish (although it was not vegetarian) and ate it from my hand.

“Now that peace has been restored, you can resume your discussion,” observed Theophil. “And you, Peter’le, should be grateful to them for sharing your effort to select the right candidate.”

“I am.”

“Then all is well,” said Theophil and vanished.

As I looked up, I noted that my three comrades – Archie, Tiger and Moti – looked at me searchingly.

“I suspect, Peter’le, that you do not like Einstein. Is it partly due to his being a member of your community – the Jews?” asked Tiger.

“The very same question occurred to me,” interjected Archie. Moti just nodded.

“You have a point there,” I had to admit. “You see, I expect gifted members of the fraternity to be above board in all regards.”

“I understand,” supported Archie. “I, too, feel this way when it comes to fellow Greeks. I often excuse errors in the demeanour of barbarians. I take a far more severe stand when the blunderer is one of my people.”

“But apart from this prejudgment, why do you have reservations about Einstein?” queried Tiger.

“Well, I have no doubt that he was a man of genius,” I conceded. “He was also a political figurehead. He wrote many public letters denouncing the Nazis and preached pacifism. At the same time, he wrote a letter urging President Roosevelt to encourage the search for nuclear fission so as to prevent Germany from getting a lead. I agree with his stand on this point. My problem relates to his originality and to his treatment of his first wife, Mileva Mariċ. She studied and worked with him and, it would appear, that his milestone paper of 1905 was written in collaboration with her.”

“Why didn’t she appear as co-author?” asked Tiger.

“Anti-women prejudices of that time. Einstein and Mileva thought that a paper was more likely to be accepted for publication if signed only by a male.”

“Didn’t he compensate her in any way?”

“Well, they had one daughter before they married. Her fate is unknown. She might have died of scarlet fever or been given up for adoption. After they married, they had two sons. Thereafter Einstein fell in love with another woman. In the divorce settlement, he agreed to transfer his Nobel Prize money to Mileva and left the sons with her. One became schizophrenic and, in due course, had to be institutionalised. Einstein helped his divorcee with the financial burden involved but did not leave her any money in his will.”

“What disturbed you most, Peter’le?” asked Archie. “Surely, you are not going to discredit a man’s genius in reliance on his love life and matrimonial affairs?”

“Not really. But the remaining question concerns his giving credit to others. Bear in mind how Darwin – whom we discussed before – made sure that Wallace’s contribution was recognised.”

“I take your point,” conceded Archie. “Still, Einstein’s name became a household epithet for ‘genius’, even although many people did not understand a word of what he said. What became of Mileva?”

“She looked after her son, Eduard (a mentally incapacitated man), until her death in 1948. The medical expense was prohibitive. I know that Einstein had to provide financial aid. However, he ignored his son.”

“The real question,” pointed out Archie, “is whether Mileva should have shared the honour and respect shown to her ex. This is a difficult question, Peter’le. Further, even in the case of general relativity (which you profess not to understand) it has been argued that David Hilbert – a German mathematician – worked it out before, or at the same time as, Einstein. This was discussed in detail in 1986 by C.M. Will in Was Einstein Right. Genius and intellectual superiority are not enough to propel a person to fame. The skill of PR and self-advertising is also required. Einstein was good at this. Mileva was a retiring and shy person.”

“Sometime others do this for you,” I added. “Please recall that Darwin was a diffident and reclusive man; but his ‘bulldog’ – Thomas Huxley – made Darwin’s theory well known. I am also thinking of Srinivasa Ramanujan – a brilliant mathematician – who might never have reached the limelight if Hardy – the Cambridge mathematician – had not read his letter and invited him over. Actually, Archie, I believe that a stroke of luck is invariably required.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Archie spoke warmly; and, after pausing for a minute, added: “And there is a further problem. Lord Pan’s materials indicate that although Einstein and Mileva were exceptionally bright and intelligent there is no evidence to support that this trait was passed on to any of their offspring. Eduard, as you just said, developed schizophrenia; the other son – Hans Albert – became a highly competent engineer but nobody would have called him a man of genius.”

“The current theory is that intelligence (or IQ) is often inherited from a gene on one of the X chromosomes, usually passed on to the offspring by the mother.”

“Well, Mileva was highly intelligent,” pointed out Archie.

“Quite so,” I conceded, “but it seems to me that even in this matter much depends on pure luck. A gene passed to the newborn from his father may dominate and defeat the IQ gene passed by the mother.”

“Well, by now it is clear that Peter’le has grave misgivings about Einstein. They are based on his assessment that Einstein basked in the fame he ought to have shared with Mileva and, possibly, with Hilbert. Let us turn to the next candidate,” prompted Tiger. Moti’s demeanour manifested consent.

“Edwin Hubble,” I told them, “did not have as glamorous a career as Einstein. Still, his name is well known. Archie, you have read all about him. Please enlighten us.”

“Hubble was an American astronomer,” Archie told us. “He was born in Virginia and, initially, pursued a legal career. He studied at the University of Chicago and then went to Oxford as a Rhodes Scholar. In his youth he was a fine athlete, playing baseball; and he also took part in jogging competitions.”

“So, he did not start life with a view to a career as an astronomer?” queried Tiger.

“No; he didn’t,” explained Archie. “During his undergraduate years, he studied Spanish and, for a number of years, taught this and other subjects at a High School. A few years after his father’s death he switched to astronomy and obtained his Ph.D. in 1917. During his graduate studies in astronomy, he had access to the telescope in the Yerkes Observatory operated by the University of Chicago. This, I think, was a break of good luck.”

“It was,” I stepped in. “Hubble joined the American army during WWI. At the end of the war, he spent a year at Cambridge University, where he renewed his studies in astronomy. In 1919, he was offered a staff position at the Carnegie Institute for Science established in California under the auspices the Mount Wilson Observatory. He accepted. He later volunteered to work as civilian for the United States Army during WWII.” Stopping for a moment, I added: “Up to now we talked about Hubble’s career. Let us hear all about his discoveries. Why don’t you – again – take over, Archie?”

“Alright,” agreed Archie. “There is no point in going through his equations. In papers published, respectively, in 1924 and 1929, Hubble established that many ‘dust clouds’ or ‘nebulas’ supposed to be encompassed in the Milky Way (our galaxy) were separate and distant galaxies. Further, he established that the universe was expanding and that the remoter a galaxy was from us the faster it receded. He proved this ‘Hubble Law’ mainly in reliance on calculations based on the red shift of light waves.”

“Did his paradigm agree with Einstein’s theorem?” asked Tiger.

“Not on one central point,” I told him. “Originally, Einstein considered the universe a constant. In 1931 he conceded that it was expanding. This did not affect either general or special relativity.”

“Peter’le,” observed Archie, “You displayed some dislike for Einstein and, somehow, were not influenced by his work. But you looked eager when I talked about Hubble’s Law. Why is that?

“Einstein’s theories taught me that matter and energy could be interchangeable. He also established that dark matter and black holes prevailed in the universe. Hubble added an important and, to me, seminal point: the universe was both vast and expanding.”

“So?” asked Moti.

“He demonstrated that our earth was small; virtually inconsequential. Every human individual is tiny even in respect of our earth itself. How tiny are we then in relation to the expanding universe?”

“What is the significance of this realisation?” queried Tiger.

“If we – mankind as a whole – are such an insignificant facet in the universe, how can we assume that its creator – if indeed He exists – would be concerned about our lives and acts? Yet, the three major monotheistic religions postulate a personal God. In my opinion, Hubble’s Law – as well as later theorems – militate against these beliefs.”

“What was Hubble’s religion?” asked Tiger.

“He grew up in a Christian home. Later in life, however, he appears to have become an agnostic, that is, a person who neither believes in nor denies the existence of God.”

“Sounds a bit like you, Peter’le,” concluded Archie. “Yes, I know: you want to avoid the burden of proof.”

“You approve of Hubble,” said Tiger. “Have you decided to choose him?”

“I have my doubts. First, Hubble is not as well known as Freud or Einstein. During his life he exercised little influence outside his own field. Secondly, there is a question mark about his originality.”

“Oh,” muttered Moti. “Please explain.”

“Hubble published his Law in 1929. A French astronomer, Lamâitre, reached a similar conclusion in 1927, and apparently published in a little-known French periodical. In the English translation, published in 1931, the law is not stated. Still, on balance it would appear that he verified the translation. All in all, it appears that Hubble reached his conclusions independently.”

“Peter’le is right,” observed Archie.

“I am glad you agree, Archie. But there is a question which bothers me. Suppose that it were established that the speed of light advancing through a vacuum was not a constant. Where would this leave Einstein and Hubble?”

“Hubble’s law would, in all probability, remain intact. The fact that the universe is expanding and that ‘the recession’ between galaxies grows in relation to their distance was recalculated many times. The explanation might then differ but Hubble’s Law would prevail. I am less certain about relativity. Einstein’s calculations would need to be re-examined. Still, we must now leave these two and have a good look at the remaining person on the list: the scientist Marie Curie.”

“Well,” I started, “Marie Curie was born in Poland and started her studies there. Being a woman, she was unable to enrol in an ordinary university. Accordingly, she attended the clandestine Flying University. In 1891 she moved to Paris where she obtained higher degrees and carried out her scientific work.”

“What induced her to pick France?” asked Tiger.

“She joined her sister, who had moved to Paris earlier on,” I explained. “She studied at the University of Paris and had excellent grades. In 1895 she met her future husband, Pierre Curie. They shared an interest in natural sciences. They were married in 1895.”

“Tell us about her discoveries,” directed Tiger.

“In due course, Marie’s attention focused on radiation emitted by substances, such as uranium-based compounds. She used the recently discovered x-ray and an electrometer to investigate the source of the radiation. Before long both she and her husband concluded that the radiation was emitted by the atom of a yet undiscovered element to be found in the substances because these emitted more radiation than uranium on its own. Eventually, the Curies managed to isolate two new elements: polonium and radium.”

“Did she win the Nobel Prize?” asked Archie. “I read about it but am not certain.”

“The Nobel Prize in Physics was awarded, jointly, to Pierre Curie and another scientist in 1902. Initially, Marie was not included because of prejudices against women. However, Pierre Curie protested and so the prize was shared between the couple and the other scientist.”

“I recall that her husband was killed in a road accident,” augmented Archie.

“He was: in 1906. The University of Paris appointed her to the Chair that had been created for him. Marie became the first woman to be appointed to such a position. In 1911 she was awarded her second Nobel Prize, this time for Chemistry. I feel sad to relate that Marie Curie was assailed by right wing media prompted by xenophobia.”

“I read about it,” observed Archie. “Hatred of ‘foreigners’ is an old malady.”

“She made major contributions during WWI,” I went on. “Her mobile field laboratory, which used x-ray equipment, saved many wounded soldiers from unnecessary amputations. She became the director of a Red Cross Radiology Service and developed ‘radium emanation’ needles, which injected a substance called Radon into wounds to sterilise them.”

“I recall that she was warmly received in the United States,” observed Archie.

“She was indeed. The New World recognised her major contribution to medicine. To the present day, radiation treatment is used for some types of cancer. Notably, in 1931 she was awarded the Cameron Prize for Therapeutics of the University of Edinburgh. She had by then attained international recognition. Albert Einstein – whom we have discussed earlier on – said that she was the only person not to be corrupted by fame.”

“I recall, Peter’le, that, in 1934, she died of radiation sickness. She had contracted it during her scientific work with radioactive isotopes and exposure to x-rays during WWI,” added Archie. “But look here, I suspect that your admiration for her is emotive. Care to enlighten us?”

“I watched a film about her, with Greer Garson playing the title role. It impressed me deeply. But I do think that, by any objective standards, she is outstanding,” I answered.

“Doubtless,” volunteered Moti.

“So, you have opted for her, Peter’le,” summed up Archie.

“What do you think of my choice, Man of Syracuse?” I wanted to know.

“From your point of view, she is valid. She made major contributions to science and to humanity,” replied Archie.

“Wouldn’t she be your choice?” I asked him.

“I don’t think so. You are a man of the 20th century, which means that your determination is, to a certain extent, emotive. For instance, you defer Einstein because you do not approve of him as a person and also because you entertain some doubts about his originality. You do not expect his type of behaviour from a member of your clan. I would be far more detached. There is no doubt that special and general relativity are landmarks. I would regard the person to whom they are attributed as the most distinguished person of the century. Still, you are entitled to make your own decision.”

“How about Curie’s contributions when she joined the Red Cross during WWI?”

“They are fine attributes but, in themselves, are not the qualities relevant in respect of our current investigation. Still, I agree she was a leading scientist.”

“Would she be second or your own list of preferences?” I wanted to know.

“It would be a toss between her and a given non-scientist,” he replied.

“Who?” I asked, bewildered.

“Mahatma Gandhi,” Archie spoke with confidence. “His philosophy of passive resistance in lieu of violent struggles was innovative. He was a man of vision! Still, the final choice must be yours.”