The Nose Puncher

 

THE NOSE PUNCHER

 

 

 

I.               A SENTENCING SESSION

                                        

 

 

1. First hearing in an alternative dimension

 

          Nonplussed, I looked at the panel of three hovering above me. The Chairman looked exactly as He had been depicted by Michelangelo: heavy set, energetic and very much in command. His eyes, though, were kindly and a ghost of a twinkle was discernible. The adjudicator sitting to His right wore the uniform of a judge of the Court of Appeal, including a wig; his tall and gaunt figure commanded respect and his solemn expression and demeanour made me shiver. My lifelong friend, Theophil, was sitting to the Chairman’s left. As I turned my eyes to him, he winked, as if to say: “Don’t worry, Peter’le.”

I was aware that monotheistic religions regarded him as Satan, as Ashmadeus and as the epitome of evil. My association with him convinced me that these creeds misjudged him. Doubtless, he often exposed hypocrisies or ‘ulterior motives’, just as he purported to do in the case of Job. In general, though, he was not an interventionist. Frequently,  the Almighty took his counsel, especially when it concerned the elevation of incumbents of purgatory to a place in paradise. All in all, Theophil struck me as resembling the Greek Pan rather than Hades – the severe and merciless master of the underworld.

 

“I agree with Matey,” volunteered the Almighty. “You, Peter’le, need not be alarmed.”

“I understand. But – Dear God – why am I here? I thought I had a pact to merge with Theophil?”

“You will. But there is a fine point to be settled. Gabriel will explain.”

“You see, Mr. Peter: pacta sunt servanda, which means: bargains are to be honoured. So, within a reasonable time, you will become united with Theophil. But before the bargain is complete, we – your judges – must consider your case.”

“But why?”

“That’s the law,” Gabriel told me severely.

“It is, rather,” muttered Theophil, “and as we know: the law is an ass!”

“My poor donkey,” complained the Good Lord. “If he is such a  useless object, why have I created him?” Turning to Theophil, he added: “And you, Matey, didn’t counsel me to stop!”

“But who says the ass is useless? A bit of stupidity is often no worse than a wealth of conventional wisdom,” replied my lifelong friend.   

“You have a point there,” agreed the Good Lord, ignoring Gabriel’s angry look.

 

            The proceedings struck me as a sham. My decision to join the ranks of the Archangel – my friend Theophil – had been made long before my demise. Clearly, neither the Chairman nor Gabriel was going to declare the pact void. So why did they trouble to congregate? Did it really matter whether my bargain with Theophil was to be carried out instantly or after some delay?

The law, I knew, was an ass. In contrast, the three members of my panel were wise. Why would they adhere to mete out an obscure decree? It made no sense, especially for them.

“It is not as simple as that,” explained Gabriel, who read my thoughts. “Our task is to do  justice before it is too late. Once you are part of Theo, this becomes impossible.”

“Are you then thinking of sending me for a short spell to hell?”

“Heavens forbid,” interposed the Good Lord.

“I agree,” nodded Gabriel. “All in all, you led a pretty decent life.”

“Did I?”

“Your main sins are your failure to respect or accept Him and the many instances of unkindness you have shown to your poor wife. Further, you bored your students to tears!”

“Anything else?” I enquired anxiously.

“You told plenty of white lies and, my dear Peter, you blew up your ‘expenses’ in your income tax returns.”

“Once upon a time, Gabriel was employed by the Inland Revenue Department,” grinned Theophil.

“Must have been a terrible experience, Lord Gabriel,” I said humbly.

“No need for the ‘Lord’ or any other human-coined title: ‘Gabriel’ will do. But no, it wasn’t a bore. This experience taught me a great deal about modern humans and their cultures.”

“Are all of us crooks?”

“Not really, Peter’le,” relented Gabriel, “but all humans I’ve come across are capable of ‘little dishonesties’ and have a selective approach to morals.”

“Are you then leaving these irregularities out of my indictment, Gabriel?”

“If my Honourable Colleagues agree,” he retorted as the other two panellists nodded.

 

            This meant that my main fault had been my rejection of Him and the acts of unkindness Gabriel referred to. All in all, none appeared heinous. The sentence ought to be light. Still, I had a problem with the indictment.

“I never denied His existence,” I pleaded my defence.

“Right you are,” nodded Gabriel. “But did you accept Him? Did you worship Him?”

“No, I didn’t. But, then, look at it from my viewpoint. How could I accept His existence when I doubted the very meaning of ‘existence’?”

“He raised the issue of ‘existence’ with me,” confirmed Theophil.

“We, too, keep pondering on it,” grinned the Good Lord. “Here let me show you!”

To my amazement, he transformed himself into a swan, into Jupiter, into the Shaman and, at long last, into an invisible cloud. Gabriel, in turn, changed himself into a haughty angel with a beak and wings.

            “But, then, even a cloud ‘exists’. What do you really appear like?” I asked

“If anyone of us showed you his home-image, you wouldn’t see, hear or sense anything. Even the most powerful microscope, hearing-aid or computer-radar would be of no use,” explained the Good Lord patiently.

“I told him that,” asserted Theophil. “He didn’t press the point.”

“But, all the same, I would like to know. Obviously, I can’t provide the answer on my own. But surely, you, Good Lord, are in the know!”

“It ain’t that simple,” interposed Gabriel. “Tell me, Peter’le, does a dream exist?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘exist’,” I replied.

“So you really ask Him to provide an answer to a question that is unclear! And how can any being answer an unformulated query?”

The Good Lord agreed benignly: “Spot on. My Matey  (whom Gabri  calls Theo)  is of the same view.”

“But, Dear God, why is my failure to accept your ‘existence’ a sin when I am, to your knowledge, unable to fathom the meaning of ‘exist’?”

“So that’s why you have adopted him,” muttered the Good Lord, with his gaze fixed on Theophil.

“He has a penchant for raising awkward questions,” explained Theophil.

“Tut, tut,” interposed Gabriel. “To hear is to obey! So this ‘existence’ analysis is a red herring.”

“Nonetheless, I never addressed Him directly,” said the Good Lord.

After a short reflection, I spotted the heart of the problem. The Good Lord – if He existed – gave mankind free choice. If He addressed us directly or gave any orders, free choice would be mockery. So He considered it best not to appear to us.

My meanderings did not shed light on the meaning of ‘existence’. That remained a grey area to humanity. Had They discovered the answer?

“No: we do not have an all-embracing solution. Perhaps ‘existence’ encompasses different notions,” said my life long friend with conviction.

“I know you ‘exist’, Theophil.”

“You mean ‘we’ exist. But you doubted the notion for a long time. In the end I gave in to the human Peter’le and revealed myself to him. Luckily, he didn’t burst a vessel.”

“I never drop my mask! I let you search for me,” summed up the Good Lord.

“Then, Good Lord, we ‘indict’ our Peter’le for not searching,” Gabriel came to life.

“I am afraid so. And also for the other matters you listed,” He conceded.

“You won’t send me to hell for these?” I pressed anxiously.

“Of course not.  Yours are sins or perhaps misdemeanours. Hell is for real felons!” Gabriel spoke on behalf of the panel.

 

            As I kept looking at them, it dawned on me that They, too, were still searching for answers. There was no basis for the assumption that They, or in the very least He Himself, had mastered all knowledge in the universe. In a sense, my realisation baffled me. If He created the universe, how could it hold onto its mysteries?

“You, Peter’le, assume that my creation was a wilful act, don’t you?”

“I do. That’s what I’ve been told in school. But, then, the teachers taught us a lot of rubbish.”

“They did, rather,” interposed Theophil. “We do not know whether creation or evolution was triggered off wilfully or by chance.”

“This means that  there may be a further dimension above yours?”

“We can’t rule that out,” volunteered Gabriel.

 

2.Provisional sentence

 

Most of the pieces in the jigsaw had now been placed. But where were they going to send me? Hell had been ruled out. As I was a sinner, heaven was also not on. In any event, it was out of bounds for one of Theophil’s admirers.

            Would I, then, have to spend a spell in purgatory prior to my full merger with Theophil? And to  which ward might I be destined? Hopefully, not to the Ward of Bores. The very thought passed a shiver through my dematerialised spine.

“Don’t be childish, Peter’le. That ward has many sophisticated incumbents. They simply said one thing too often. You have plenty to learn from them. But, no, the Ward of Bores is not your destination. True, you used one phrase – letter of credit – too often. But you are not in the same league as Plato, St. Augustine, Kant and Marx. No, Peter’le, you will be destined to a place determined by Theophil,” explained Gabriel.

 “Your task, Peter’le, will be to punch noses of deserving humans,” supplemented Theophil.

“What do you mean by ‘deserving’?” I wanted to know.

“Individuals who left a lasting mark on humanity and its development,” explained the Good Lord.

“But I have never punched a nose in my life,” I protested.

“True,” nodded Theophil. “But once you told me you wanted to punch Dean Schwitz at Monash. So that gave us the idea. You see, Peter’le, that’s how your sins rebound on your own head.”

“Poor noses,” I wailed.

“We disagree. Your selection is bound to please them: you shall make them feel important. Further, some of you humans get great pleasure from being beaten, tortured or cross-examined by the tax authorities. The disease is called masochism,” lectured Gabriel.

            So my task was to punch seven selected noses. Still, one detail remained to be settled. Where would I spend the in-between spells? For just a second, I feared they would induce Theophil to tie me to a mast in a space ship.

“We are not barbarians. Only a demented Teutonic mind could dream up such nonsense. And we don’t expect any woman to fall madly in love with you. You don’t qualify,” said the Good Lord in alarm.

“But then, where will I reside when I am not busy punching?”

“Matey – I mean, your friend Theophil – will take care of the arrangements. And don’t you make a mistake. You can punch any human being: male or female. We are not male chauvinist pigs,” clarified the Good Lord.        

“But suppose I want to punch somebody who may not have existed – like Moses?”

“As far as this exercise is concerned, existence encompasses everybody in your memory banks: even David and Ivanhoe,” explained Gabriel.

“And the outcome?” I wanted to know.

“We shall reconvene after you have punched seven noses. If we are satisfied with the performance, you are free to unite with Matey,” explained the Good Lord.

“And if you are not satisfied?”

“You have to punch another seven noses. It could turn into a perpetuum mobile,” grinned Theophil.

 

3.Temporary accommodation

 

 “Why did you let this happen?” I asked my mentor when the other two members of the panel disappeared.

“Gabriel is a nit-picker. But we’ll turn the episode to our advantage.”

“How?” I wanted to know.

“You’ll be a guest in my favourite ward. With His consent I established it to accommodate Archie – Archimedes Man of Syracuse – and Moti the Mammoth. They preferred to remained united rather than be moved to their respective heavens. A third incumbent – a Tiger – accepted an invitation to join them. I visit this ward regularly. Still, you’ll have to gain the inhabitants’ confidence on your own. Here is the hidden door.”

           

            The garden was beautiful. I was fascinated by the skilfully trimmed shrubs, the neatly mowed lawn, the river flowing with dignity and the majestic view of mountains in the distance. The climate was warm and pleasant and the sky was blue and clear.

            The tiger, the mammoth and their companion – a tall lanky fellow – looked stunned as I entered. The tiger arched his back, gave me a furious look and stepped protectively in front of the mammoth. The latter got the lanky fellow out of imminent danger. Having lifted the chap up with his trunk, the mammoth placed him in a picturesque hut erected on the mammoth’s own back.  The mammoth then stepped forward in my direction.

For a moment I was overcome by trepidation. Then, to my relief, the tiger relaxed and, unexpectedly, observed: “You were sent to us by Lord Pan.”

“Lord Pan? And how come you speak English?”

“This is simple. Greek, of course, is the only civilised language,” interposed the lanky fellow, sliding down the mammoth’s trunk and holding his hand out to me. “All other languages are barbaric: especially Latin. Greek, though, is an ancient language. Many modern words were coined long after Classical Greek ceased to be spoken. For this reason, Lord Pan chose English. And he has made the dwellers of this ward   conversant in it.”

            I looked with interest at the circles of hyperbolas and parabolas this fellow had drawn on the sand. When my thoughts cleared, I told him with confidence: “So you are really Archimedes, Man of Syracuse!”

“I am indeed. But all my friends know me as ‘Archie’. And this big fellow is Moti.”

“You are the biggest fellow I’ve come across. You are huge. But you are also cute – if you know what I mean.”

To my delight, Moti raised his trunk and trumpeted. Spontaneously, all of us clapped. Acknowledging the ovation, Moti beamed at us.

            “It is an honour to meet you,” I assured the three of them. “But who is Lord Pan?”

“It’s me,” said Theophil and materialised in front of us. “That’s the cliché I use when I come to see them here. Well, Peter’le, what do you think of your haven?

“Magnificent, Maestro!”

“You’ll be happy here. And you have the option of staying on as long as you like. Just keep punching the wrong noses.” Turning to the three residents, he explained: “Peter’le is my friend. Please help him to plan his mission. He’ll tell you all about it.”

Before Theophil exited, Tiger brushed gently against his robe. Theophil, in turn, stroked him. Archie and Moti beamed at both of them. I took the scene in with admiration. I knew that Eden was elsewhere. Still, this lovely spot had a charm of its own.

 

4.Settling down

 

“Well, what is your mission? If it’s got anything to do with mathematics, you’re in the right place,” announced Archie somewhat immodestly.

“I’m afraid it’s got nothing to do with math. I’ve got to punch noses of people who have left a mark on humanity!”

“I’ve got no nose; only a trunk. Try to punch it, Peter’le. You’ll break your hand.”

“Sorry, Moti: only human noses are eligible: male and female.”

“But do you really want to punch female noses?” asked Tiger. “Most boys like to do other things with girls!”

“That’s because they are dumb,” interjected Archie. “They think they take whilst being taken.  But Peter’le, how are you going to select these noses. Seven out of infinity: quite a task!”

Archie’s point was crucial. I could think of hundreds, if not thousands, of noses deserving a punch, including many religious worthies.  The difficulty was to nominate, or select, just seven. Worse still, both males and females were eligible. On what criteria was I to base my selection?

            “You’ve got to be objective. If your panel detects a bias, you’ll have an encore. Actually, why don’t you stand on a stage and invite anybody who wishes to have his or her nose punched to put in an appearance?” asked Tiger.

“I don’t think we’ll have seven acceptances – even if we add an RSVP,” I told him.

            “Right you are, Peter’le. We must pick objective criteria to help us select worthy noses. To start with you must have a representative of each major culture. And make sure there are enough male and female noses online,” advised Archie.

For the rest of the afternoon we discussed appropriate criteria. Race and age were discarded. The former was ill-defined and confusing; the latter was immaterial: most of the eligible candidates were long dead. An important criterion was pinpointed by Tiger. Punching had to be carried out in a chronological order. I ought to find a suitable candidate in each major epoch.

            “But where shall I start? I could start with our own age and move backward or commence at the beginning.”

            “Start at the beginning,” counselled Archie. “If you begin selecting noses from amongst your contemporaries you’ll be overwhelmed by the number of suitable candidates.”

 

            Late in the evening Theophil put in another appearance. To start with he commended our research. He then arranged a suitable resting place for me. Having decided not to erect another hut on Moti’s back, he simply magnified the size of Tiger’s carpet and provided a pillow and blankets.

            “Please act as Peterle’s guardian, Tiger’le.”  

            “I sure will,” Tiger assured Theophil. “Can I accompany him on his missions?”

            “Of course,” said Theophil magnanimously. “When necessary, I’ll shrink you to an appropriate size.”

 

 

            Next morning I woke up full of energy. I wanted to embark on the task given to me. Still, the lovely stream was appealing.  

            “I want to have a swim before breakfast,” I told Tiger.

            “I’ll accompany you to the riverbank. But I don’t like to immerse myself in water,” muttered Tiger.

            “I won’t be long,” I promised, thinking to myself that Tiger retained his prejudices even after his physical demise. It then dawned on me that the very same point applied to me. I had always liked to swim in the morning. In addition, I felt for Tiger the same fondness I used to have for cats.

            Shortly afterwards I asked the three of them to help me plan my course. I was satisfied that He had greater influence on humanity than any mortal. Should I then place him at the head of the queue?

            “I thought your task was to punch human noses,” observed Archie. “Is He then eligible?”

            “Archie means to ask: is he human?” augmented Moti.

            “Quite so,” confirmed the Man of Syracuse.

            Tiger, who sat apart, nodded. It dawned on me that, in a sense, Archie and Moti were closer to one another than to Tiger. I recalled that Tiger was admitted to the ward long after Theophil had erected it so as to enable Archie and Moti to remain together rather than moving each to his respective paradise. Tiger was a newcomer and accordingly had remained an add-on incumbent. Effectively, my arrival moved him closer to the centre.

            Seeking to concentrate on the point raised by Archie, I stroked Tiger’s rich fur. He, in turn, purred with satisfaction and brushed against my trousers.

            “A big cat,” I thought. “Fiercely independent but willing to make friends.”

            Turning to Archie, I mused: “Surely, the answer to your comment is complex. It depends on the religion you embrace.”

            “Please explain,” said Moti. “You see, we mammoths do not postulate any faith. We are tolerant.”

            “Well, most Pagan religions are anthropomorphic so that Jupiter, for instance, has a nose. Buddhists, too, worship a human being. In contrast, Islam and Judaism maintain that the Almighty has no human features. Christianity is less clear on this point. Their Almighty came down to earth disguised as his own son and, for that purpose, assumed human form. During his spell with us he had a nose. But after his crucifixion he was resurrected and merged again with the formless Holy Spirit.”

            “Peter’le,” said Theophil, who emerged in front of our eyes, “you ought to raise this difficult legal (or philosophical) question as a preliminary or interlocutory issue with our panel. I’ll ask Gabri – the Keeper of Records – to convene a meeting.”

 

5. A preliminary issue respecting eligibility

 

My three new friends accompanied me to the session. Each of us was formally dressed. To my amusement, Moti wore a huge bowtie. Was it organised by Archie, I wondered? In contrast, the three members of the panel donned comfortable attire and appeared relaxed.

            After listening to our arguments, He took the lead: “Surely, Peter’le, Michelangelo drew me as a mighty figure with human features.”

            “True; but then, can we trust him? Didn’t he use his artistic freedom (or licence) and imagination?” asked Tiger.

            “Also, all Renaissance maestros set out to impress. Theirs was not the power of pure reason,” pontificated Archie.

            “Hear, hear!” exclaimed Moti.

            “Furthermore, their efforts would be in line with just one sect of Christianity: Catholicism,” I put in.

            “We should be able to clarify the point after a short break,” concluded Theophil on behalf of the panel.

 

            When they reconvened, Gabriel delivered their unanimous judgment. My mandate was confined to punching human noses. It was for me to decide whether a given deity met with this criterion and, of course, had to consider if activities and standing brought Him or Her within the range of the seven suitable worthies.

            Initially, I felt disappointed. In reality, the decision threw the issue back to me.

            “Actually, we didn’t,” said Theophil who joined us on the way back to our haven. “We simply left the onus on you. You must make your own choices and we shall judge whether or not you have completed your task. If we decide you haven’t, then you get an encore. Surely, that’s a fine solution.”

 

 

II.            E V E

1.Meeting Eve

 

            An adherence to the chronological order seemed a safe procedure. Accordingly, I went back to the origin.

Eve was an attractive woman in her mid-thirties. Initially, she was startled by our appearance but soon viewed the tiger with admiration. Theophil had shrunk him to the size of a Burmese cat. Having stroked him affectionately, she turned to me: “He is adorable. But who are you? What brings you here?”

            “My name is Peter: one of your descendants. I’ve come to give you a gift.”

            “This cute pussy cat?”

            “I’m not a pussy cat,” protested Tiger.

Eve gazed with amazement as Theophil metamorphosed Tiger back to his normal size. To my relief, she was not frightened. Instead, she lowered herself beside the predator and tickled him behind the ears.

“So you are a real tiger. Fantastic! And you must meet my best friend: she is a tigress!” For a moment Tiger looked at Eve apprehensively. Then he turned tail and sped away.

            “Why did he flee, Peter? I thought we were getting on famously?”

            “He is allergic to lady tigers.”

            “Oh, one of those … ,” she cut herself short as Tiger reappeared.

            “What do you think of my speed?” he wanted to know.

            “Most impressive, honestly. I’m sure you’ll win a marathon. But you, Peter, what have you brought me?”

            “This,” I told her and punched her nose.

            “You hit me,” she screamed, when she found her voice. “You are a hooligan: not a gentleman.”

 

2.Adam and Theophil step in

 

            “What is going on here?” asked a broad shouldered, tall and good-looking man, who had just returned from hunting.

            “This nincompoop punched me in the nose, Adam,” complained Eve angrily.

 

For a few seconds, Adam took in the scene. He then rushed towards me. Dreading a skirmish, I stepped back. Tiger, in turn, arched his back and stood protectively by my side. Our fears, though, were misguided. Holding out his hand, Adam embraced me and congratulated warmly. I had carried out a design he had harboured for years. Still, he had not had the courage to go ahead.

            “What’s the matter with you, Adam? For years, I’ve cooked your meals, washed your clothes, kept our cave clean and bore you two sons and a daughter. And now you shake the hand of this fellow! Is that how you show your gratitude?”

Adam stopped in his tracks. His expression, though, did not reflect guilt. He was, simply, out of his depth. I, too, was lost for words. How could I possibly explain to this striking woman my motivation for an act that appeared bizarre.

            The situation was saved by the sudden appearance of Theophil. He looked sympathetically at Eve, bestowed a smile on Adam and then addressed me: “You better explain everything to Eve, Peter’le. She thinks you’re mad. You started by being nice to her. You introduced her to Tiger and then, for no apparent reason, you punched her nose.”

            “So he did; and I thought he was a gent,” wailed Eve. As she raised her arms in protest, her nose started to bleed. Instantly, Adam offered her a piece of his loincloth, I proffered my handkerchief and Tiger looked at her with alarm. Graciously, Theophil produced an alcohol swab and stopped the bleeding.

            “That’s better, Mr. Snake,” she told him. “But I still don’t see why he hit me. Was it because I partook of the forbidden fruit back there in Eden? You, Mr. Snake, persuaded me to go ahead. And, in any event, why was I not allowed to enjoy that lovely fruit? Do you now say that orders have to be obeyed blindly?”

            “Of course not, Eve. People who obey orders blindly are often hanged or sent to hell.”

            “So why did you assault me?” she turned to me. “Because I disobeyed that Old Fellow in Eden? Surely, He does not need your help! He can look after his own affairs.”

            “Oh, I still miss Eden,” interceded Adam. “I had a wonderful time there. Occasionally that Old Fellow – as you call him – asked me to find names for the animals of his creation. That required a bit of planning. Still, for most of the time I just loafed about. It was Utopia! And here I have to work my guts out! Many good fruits were available in Eden: mangoes, bananas and grapes. Why did you have to taste that apple?”

            “Because I fancied it!” Eve let her displeasure show.

 

3.Theophil elaborates; the Almighty opines

 

To nip the argument in the bud, I asked Theophil to show them scenes from Man’s long history: the bow and arrow, the thumbscrew, the pillory, the rawhide and many war instruments. He then displayed some of the Goya’s Horrors of the War. When he finished, Eve was aghast.

“But surely, all this has got nothing to do with me?”

“I am afraid it does. All of it was launched when you decided to take that fruit,” Theophil told her.

“But how?”

“You decided to exercise free choice. So, you disobeyed His orders. The rest followed when your descendents settled their own agendas. But don’t you fret. Your decision triggered off some beautiful things. Have a look.”  

The screen now displayed the pyramids, the Acropolis, St. Sophia and the Taj Mahal. A series of beautiful paintings, sculptures and ceramics followed. An opera, exciting performances by philharmonic orchestras and some chamber music ensembles brought the show to its end.

            “My disobedience had far reaching effects,” observed Eve. “But I still don’t see why you hit me, Mr. Hooligan. Are you a passive follower of rules?”

            “Of course not,” I assured her. “I punched you because you never thought about the effects of your act. You just went ahead without thinking. The rest followed! Your act lost us paradise!”

            “Precisely,” summed up my lifelong friend. “Still, existence in Eden would have been less exciting than life on earth.”

            “Suppose you had foreseen all this, Eve, would you have gone ahead?” I addressed her with trepidation.

            “I would, Mr. Hooligan – even if I had foreseen your childish prank!”

            “But why?” I asked stunned.

            “Because I wanted Adam,” she told me frankly.

            “But you had me in Eden,” countered Adam.           

            “You treated me like a doll or a sister. That was not what I wanted.”

            “You could have seduced … I mean, awakened … me in Eden!”

            “With that Old Fellow snooping around incessantly? I am a lady, not a slut!”

 

A white cloud announced the arrival of He Himself. Far from displaying anger, He smiled at all of sadly but tolerantly.

            “So, it was inadequate planning,” He sighed. “How could we have known that the sexual drive was incompatible with obedience or even reason, Matey?”

            “We couldn’t, Friend,” agreed Theophil. “None of us has such an urge. Still, if you had not given mankind a sexual drive, the race would have perished. We’ve got to take the rough with the smooth.”

            Tiger and I took our leave shortly after the two super-beings retreated to their own dimension. Before we left, Eve invited us to visit them again, provided I had no further inappropriate designs. I assured her I had none.

 

III.FIRST INTERLUDE

 

 

1.Assessment of first performance

 

Archie and Moti welcomed Tiger and me back into the fold. Moti, though, expressed a reservation.

            “Peter’le, why didn’t you explain things to Eve before you punched her?”

            “I thought it best to proceed without delay.”

            “But then you needed Lord Pan’s help!”

            “Moti is right: it was your mission, Peter’le. So why the need for help?” volunteered Archie.

            “But Theophil did not appear until after the mission had been completed. You see, Archie, he did not intervene. He simply helped me to explain. Actually, there was no need to elucidate. By right I was entitled to withdraw the instant I delivered the punch. In the worst case, Eve would have remained puzzled!”

            “Eve is not the type of lady who remains puzzled for long. She is too forthright,” Tiger stepped to my aid.

            “Oh well,” conceded Archie. “But now we have to plan your next punch. You must not restrict yourself to members of one culture!”

 

 

2.Planning the next punch

 

His words made sense. There were, of course, quite a number of Biblical characters deserving treatment. One was Moses who led his people astray for forty years in the desert. Another was Samuel, who took exception to Saul’s refusal to murder Amelekite women and children. Yet another was the famous Rabbi Gamliel, who applied one set of rules to the people and a more liberal doctrine to himself.

            Still, we had to move with the times.  Dealing with representatives of different cultures was essential. Initially I looked in the direction of China. Instantly, Archie was up in arms. He pointed out that the two main Western cultures were the Judaic and the Greek. True, they were clumsily fused by Roman believers. All the same, Greece occupied a place of its own. 

 

            “But there are so many deserving noses amongst the Greek!”

            “Why don’t you go quickly through them, Peter’le” opined Tiger.

The first name on my list was Homer. His poetry put the emphasis on style rather than substance. Others to be considered included Pericles and Plato. The former convinced his people to press on with a war they were bound to lose. The latter was a dogmatic thinker, who produced heaps of unreadable dialogues discussing ‘freedom’, copied laboriously by his slaves.  What did these poor scriveners think when they were ordered to fill their inkpots and reproduce the great man’s Republic?

 

            The full list of deserving noses appeared endless. As I viewed it with despair, Moti looked with concern at both Archie and me. Sensing he wanted to convey a discreet message, I climbed up his  trunk.

            “What are you worried about?”

            “Archie looks jaundiced. He wonders why you have not selected him.”

            “I would never punch a friend, Moti: you know this.”

            “Oh, I know. But your mission is to punch the most remarkable figures in history. Archie believes he is one of them.  He feels slighted.”

            “What were the two of you mumbling about?” Archie manifested his chagrin as soon as I slid down Moti’s trunk.

            “Moti thinks I ought to concentrate on contributors to Greece’s greatest gift to mankind.”

            “And what would that be? Philosophy, art, poetry and mathematics reached a height in our culture.”

            “But all of these progressed further in later periods. The concept of the zero, for instance, originated in India. And didn’t Leibniz’s calculus leave all Greek mathematicians far behind?” volunteered Tiger.

            “You mean we were just a midwife or, perhaps, a bubble?”

            “Peter’le thinks that Greece’s most lasting contribution to mankind was in another field; a field with which you, Archie, have no affinity,” retorted Tiger. “So why don’t you accompany him this time? I can’t imagine a more appropriate ‘objective bystander’ than your good self.”

     

IV.HERODOTS

(484 – 425 BCE)

 

 

1.The punch

 

Archie and I materialised in a market place in Thurii – an Athenian colony during the fifth century BCE. It was a sunny late spring day. Sicily was warm but the light breeze made the heat bearable. Recalling his own days in Syracuse, Archie looked around him with satisfaction. He felt at home.

 

            A tall man, with a balding head and long beard, was surrounded by a group of eager listeners. He was telling them details of the wars between Persia and Greece, referring to the courage of the Spartans at the Thermopylae and the heroics of the Greek navy in Salamis. His voice fell and rose as he talked; and members of the audience applauded whenever he narrated the end of an event.

He then proceeded to tell them about the wonders of Egypt, of the Eastern European realm (currently Ukraine) and, to my surprise, of North Africa. He spent some twenty minutes on the history of Babylon and even mentioned the Assyrians. Had he really been to that part of the ancient world?

            When the session was over Herodotus turned to Archie and me with patent curiosity. Did he sense that neither of us was flesh and blood?

            “And who are you two?” he wanted to know.

            “I am Archimedes, man of Syracuse, and this here is my friend Peter’le.”

            “From where are you heading?”

            “From a haven in purgatory. Lord Pan transported us back in time so that Peter’le would be able to keep his rendezvous with you.”

            “Lord Pan?” Herodotus let his surprise show.

            “You may have heard of him,” countered Archie sarcastically, having been stung to the quick because Herodotus did not recognise his name. Odd to say, Archie ignored the fact that Herodotus had lived some two hundred years before himself.

            “I know who he is; and you are a rude fellow. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

            “She told me that yokels like you ought to be hit before they can turn on innocent beings. And as to rudeness: you don’t have a monopoly,” retorted an incensed Archie.   

            “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I interceded. “Both of you are amongst the greatest heralds of Greek culture. You shouldn’t to snarl at one another like hungry wolves. How could Herodotus have heard your name, Archie? He lived long before you!”

            To calm my enraged friend further, I gave him a biographical sketch of the great historian. Having been expelled from Halicarnassus – his birthplace – by a tyrant, Herodotus had travelled widely all over the world. He tried to settle in Athens, and accepted its traditions and cultural outlook.  Still, at his time citizenship was not granted to foreigners. So, Herodotus volunteered to move to Thurii, one of Athens first colonies in Sicily. While residing there he wrote his history of the Persian wars, known as The Histories. When Archie nodded, I went on to discuss the nature of the tome.

            “Well put. But who is he?” Herodotus asked, pointing his finger at Archie.

            “The greatest Greek mathematician.”

            “Oh, the sort of chap who tells schoolchildren that 2 + 2 is 4?”       

“Even you can do this, you nincompoop!” yelled Archie.

            “What a hot temper,” grinned Herodotus. “Well, if you can’t even teach, what do you do for a living?”

            “I have worked out many puzzles,” retorted Archie. “For instance, I can calculate the measures of a hyperbola and a parabola. Can you do this?”

            “Of course not. And, tell me, you bumpkin: what would I do with the answer? What use would it be to me or any other sensible man?”

            “It might improve your confused mind,” summed up Archie.

            “But can your calculations be of practical use to anybody?”

            “Of course they can. I worked out a system of mirrors that should have put the Roman Navy on fire when it attacked Syracuse.”

            “And did your strategy save your town?” Herodotus wanted to know.

            “It didn’t,” admitted Archie sadly. “The Roman admiral changed the formation of his ships.”

            “So, your calculations were useless,” pointed out Herodotus, smirking gleefully.

            “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” I stepped in again. “I see no reason for discord. Archie is a conceptualist and you, Herodotus, are a pragmatist.”

            “But who are you? And why don’t you mind your own business?” bellowed Herodotus, reminding me that, in real life, an objective observer frequently incurred the two combatants’ wrath.

            “Should I perhaps attend to my task straightaway?” I asked innocently.

            “You might as well,” prompted Archie. “Why waste time?”

 

            Herodotus nodded. Without further ado I stepped forward and punched him. For just a second he clung to a stool but then toppled over with a scream. Instantly, Archie and I stepped over and helped him back to his feet. Archie, to my delight, brushed Herodotus’ apparel and spoke to him soothingly.

 

2.Herodotos’ writings analysed

 

            For a few moments Herodotus remained speechless. Then, as he recovered his voice, he addressed me firmly: “Are you a nut? To start with you are ‘Mr Nice’. You try to make peace between Archie and me. I even begin to think you may be alright. And then, for no reason, you punch me. Are you out of your mind or did you flush it down this morning?”

            “Isn’t that an anachronism? I didn’t think you primitives had flush toilets,” I averred.

            “We didn’t,” conceded Archie. “But we were not ‘primitives’!”

            “This time Archie is right,” supplanted Herodotus. “We are Greeks. The rest of the world is barbarian and hence primitive. Still, you better tell me what twist of mind motivated your cowardly assault on an old man!”

            “It’s my mission!”

            “What mission?”

            Herodotus’ eyes opened wide when I explained to him the nature of my assignment. He then wanted to know what was Archie’s role. He looked relieved when I explained Archie was a mere observer. He had no mandate to punch anyone.

            I thought all was settled when Archie raised the telling point. He wanted to know why I considered Herodotus one of the greatest men in human history. Wasn’t a great mathematician superior to a mere historian? A mathematician was a Master of Science and a prince of the arts. A historian, in contrast, was a teller of stories, a base chronicler.

            He was appeased when I explained that Herodotus was not just ‘some historian’. He was the ‘Father of History’. True, the Bible and the Iliad related events. They even included some pedigrees. Herodotus, though, was the first person to examine the causes and effects of sociological and political developments. To discern the causes of the war between Persia and Greece, he investigated relevant histories and events and explained the connections between them. He was not a mere narrator. For this reason, Herodotus occupied a special place in human history. All later historians – even men of genius like Thucydides  and Polibius – played a secondary role. They advanced the new science but did not form disciplines.

            “But didn’t Herodotus tell us fairy tales about ‘gold digging, giant ants’ and remarkable marmots?”

            “So he did. And he told us some strange tales about a Persian monarch. According to Herodotus, Xerxes lashed the Hellespont with iron chains because a storm damaged the crossing fleet – a stupid act to attribute to a fine military leader who coordinated the advance of his forces by sea and on land. Worse than this – Herodotus told us strange tales about countries he may have never visited.”

            “He is the ‘Father of all Lies’,” pointed out Archie. “And you, Peter’le, have elevated him to a pedestal. He lacks the integrity and objectivity of a pure scientist.” 

            “But I never claimed to be a scientist,” protested Herodotus. “I am a logios – a teller of remote events. I must embellish my narrations with anecdotes and stories bound to appeal to my audience. If I don’t, they may walk out on me; and I won’t  earn a living. And, you know, I always distinguished between what I was told and what I thought had actually taken place. I may have been fooled: but I am not a knave!”

            “That’s why history respected him, Archie. Herodotus may have erred on many occasions but he gives you a sound and, yes, analytical reconstruction of political conflicts and of wars. I do admire his work. True, Thucydides is great. But isn’t he sometimes vague and boring?”

            “Thanks for your support, Mr Nose-Puncher. But please tell me about later loggie.

 Whose lead did they follow?”

            “They pretended to follow Thucydides’ objectivity but usually were much more biased than you. When I read your Histories, I wasn’t certain who was your hero. When I read Lord Macaulay’s History of England, I realised he worshipped William of Orange.  I was aghast when I found out from other records that, far from standing by the helm of his lead ship, William was sucking a lemon in his cabin, green with seasickness. And the Japanese official records conveniently forget all about the massacre of the population of Nanjing. ‘Objectivity’ is easy to preach but hard to attain.”

            “So it is,” conceded Archie. “So, all in all, you have chosen well.”

            “Except that my nose is painful,” grumbled Herodotus.


 

 

V.SECOND INTERLUDE

 

 

1.Analysing and discussing anachronism

 

Tiger and Moti welcomed us back enthusiastically. Moti was relieved to find his friend in good shape and unharmed. Giving vent to his joy, he trumpeted. Tiger brushed against Archie’s toga and my slacks. Then, bursting with curiosity, he asked me to tell them all about our venture.

            When I completed my narration, Tiger raised a point that had baffled him. Archie must have been aware that Herodotus had lived before his time. Why then had he expected the historian to be familiar with the name of a mathematician yet to be born?

            “I, too, am confused,” interceded Moti. “But then, Tiger’le, don’t you sometimes confuse early with late? Peter’le tells me that the composers of the Old Testament did so regularly.”

            “I don’t know whether  they did so intentionally. As to me,  I often make mistakes of this sort,” conceded Tiger. “But I won’t upbraid a person before I am sure of my premises. I know that Archie is a hothead – no offence meant of course – but he is rather rational!”

            “Of course I am rational. But you see, my friends, Herodotus too was a mere image. The days on earth of Peter’le and of me were over; but so were Herodotus’. So, surely, he too was shipped back to his own era, or time, by Lord Pan.”

            “Well?” I asked perplexed.

            “Archie means that Herodotus should have identified men of genius of all the periods covered on his journey back in time,” observed Moti.

            “Precisely. You, Moti, always understand what I mean. You are a treasure.”

            “I get the drift,” interposed Tiger, “but then, why do you say Herodotus travelled back in time? Lord Pan could have moved Peter’le and Archie back to Herodotus’ genuine epoch: I mean, his days on earth. Lord Pan didn’t have to transport two segments.”

            “Actually, what is time travel?” asked Moti.

Patiently and thoroughly, Archimedes explained the well-known nature of the basic three dimensions. He then went on to explain that ‘time’, too, was a dimension. Every subject-matter known to us fitted into all four dimensions. If you were able to ‘travel’ along any one of the first three dimensions, you should also be able to traverse the fourth.

“When was all of this worked out?” asked Moti.

            “After many ages of contemplation and study. In the 20th century a brilliant physicist proved that, conceptually, it was on.”

            “But, practically, how can it be done? Do you know any time traveller?” asked Tiger sceptically.

            “Peter’le and I have just travelled into the past. But I don’t know how this was done,” said Archie.

            “Neither do I,” volunteered Theophil, appearing suddenly in front of us. “But I have shown you  that it is possible.  And the performance of an act proves its viability.”

            “Even if you can’t explain the cause or method?”

            “Precisely,” grinned Theophil. “If this were not so, how could you establish the very existence of Acts of God? And, coming to think of it, how could medieval thinkers believe in witchcraft?”

            “You have a point there,” I conceded when Tiger found no reply. “Well, thanks for the ride, Maestro.”

            “Always happy to please my friends,” he told us before he departed.

 

2.Selecting the nest punchee

 

 

Having settled these issues, it was time to pick the next punchee. We agreed that the candidate ought to be a representative of an Eastern culture. For a while we pondered  Persia and India. Zoroaster {Zarathustra} and the Buddha {Siddhartha Gauatama} were, of course, great thinkers.  Still, most of what is known about their philosophies and lives is shrouded in mystery.

Zoroaster (who presumably was active during the 10th century BC) was, basically, an Iranian poet and philosopher.  His doctrine of good and evil, which was developed by Judaism and Christianity, went through numerous metamorphoses when related by his disciples. Buddha (273 – 232  BC) had given up his North Indian throne and became a mendicant teacher. We had no extant writings of either.

The two men’s traditions, passed to posterity by their disciples, may not have been authentic. In addition, both Persia and India were, from time to time, subject to Western influences. In contrast, China had remained a world of its own during its long history. So, in the end, we settled on it.

            This took us to the next point. Who deserved a punch? The Yellow King was hard to identify or fathom. Kuan Yin may – or may not – have existed. In any event, was she human? Gods were of course out of bounds. After lengthy contemplations, I decided that only two men were eligible: Kông Füzî (K’ung-fu-tzu, dubbed  Confucius by the Jesuits, 551 – 479 BC) and Qin Shi Huang (personal name – Yíng Zhèng; 260 – 210 BC). Both had lived during the long period of the Zhou Dynasty. The former was active during the era known as Spring and Autumn; the latter came to power during the succeeding  Warring States period and founded the short lived Qin dynasty. Each had left a legacy to posterity.

            “Peter’le,” protested Archie, “you refer to a very long period. Confucius lived three hundred years before Qin Shi Huang. How can we consider them in one breath?”

            “Time was flowing at a slower rate at that time. And, of course, both of them lived well before the definitive Han period {202 BC – 220 AD}. Further, each cast his spell on all later periods of the Heavenly Kingdom.  We can take them together.”

            “Peter’le is right,” approved Tiger. “The Old Testament covers a purportedly longer period. But didn’t King David and Jeremiah the Prophet follow one and the same lead?”

            “I agree with Tiger,” butted in Moti. “The human race has controlled the Earth for a very long period. But cruelty, stupidity and greed have been in command throughout. Technology and styles may have changed; but not human nature.”

            For Moti, this was a long and definitive speech. To my relief Archie agreed. “Well spoken. As always, Moti makes sense. He is a persuasive fellow.”  

            Our comparison of Confucius and Qin Shi Huang led to further arguments. Confucius was a thinker. He sought to teach his followers good mores, self-control and reserve. His concepts of ethics were based on ‘righteousness’ – on the notion that do not do to others what you do not want done to yourself.  Yet, he had not initiated a faith.  His dogmas continued to co-exist with the much older cult of ancestor worship and with Buddhism.  His preaching related to appropriate day-to-day conduct.

Confucius’ teachings – compiled in the Analects of Confucius – saw light long after his death. Did he write them? Indeed, even his involvement with the classical texts of China has been disproved by modern analysis. In the event, his philosophy – highlighting piety, sincerity and ancestor worship – stifled China’s cultural development for generations.  It may have given his disciples a sense of dignity, but it deprived them of any imaginative initiative.

 

3.Qin Shi Huang’s achievements

 

            Qin Shi Huang was a very different man. He had wrenched control of the whole of China  by conquering states larger than his original fief. He then started a new dynasty and ruled his ever-expanding empire with an iron fist. He adopted a philosophy or dogma known as Legalism (or, Positivism – meaning, the strict duty to observe laws), which conflicted with the far more moderate teachings of Confucius. Unlike Confucius, he had no belief in tolerance.

Qin Shi Huang’s main achievement was the unification of the warring states of China into a kingdom stretching from the yellow river right to the north of modern Vietnam. Throughout this vast empire, he introduced a uniform script (abolishing the earlier divergent writing symbols), a uniform currency and a common system of weights and measures. In addition, he dammed some rivers and constructed an elaborate system of roads. To ensure these were usable by all, he further prescribed the measure of the wheels of chariots and carriages. When he completed these projects, he reinforced and connected the defensive walls initiated by the states he had conquered. The very notion of a Great Wall, segregating China from northern nomads, gained momentum during his reign. All men of his kingdom were conscripted for this project. More men died in his building projects than in the wars waged by him.

Unsurprisingly, Qin Shi Huang’s sway was resented by the population. In addition, he had invoked the wrath of the followers of Confucius. As his absolutism contrasted with their philosophy of moderation, he burned many of them alive and banished their writings. He became the subject of their tolerant hatred.

Shortly after Qin Shi Huang’s death, his dynasty was overthrown. Nevertheless, the innovations introduced by him ruled the Heavenly Kingdom from the vast grave he had erected for himself.

“Qin Shi Huang was not a thinker,” argued Archie.

“Perhaps not,” I conceded. “But he relied on the advice of Li Si (Li Shu): the greatest legalist thinker of the period. So, Qin Shi Huang knew where to look when he needed guidance. Confucius, insofar as he looked at all, faced the mirror! Further, Qin Shi Huang was a highly intelligent man. Confucius was an irresolute dreamer.”

            “So you have made your choice, Peter’le,” pronounced Moti.

            “I have rather. But, Moti, how did you know that I had made up my mind?”

            “I can read you. And this time I want to come with you.”

            “But your size Moti? A palace may tumble as you enter it.”

 “I’ll ask Lord Pan to shrink me.”

            “Then he might as well turn me into a gnome.”

            “And why not? A man’s size is best measured by his brains; not by his appearance or sex appeal,” interceded Tiger.


 

           

 

VI. QIN SHI HUANG

(ORIGINALLY CALLED YÍNG ZHÈNG)

(260 – 210  BCE)

 

 

1.Punching Qin Shi Huang

 

Qin Shi Huang woke from his sleep as soon as the minimised Moti and Peter Gnome materialised in his comfortable bedroom. For a few seconds he pinched his massive arms. Still, he soon realised that his intruders had no physical presence. Otherwise, how could they have dodged the conscientious troopers guarding the entrance to his quarters?

            “Why do you ride on his back?” he wanted to know after he observed us critically.

            “Why ever not? Moti is my good friend and, truth be told, my legs tire much faster than his! So, he gives me a lift.”

            “So, he is considerate. Obviously, he is not human,” summed up our host.

            “Hear who is talking,” I challenged.

            “I am Qin Shi Huang – founder of the mighty Qin dynasty. To use your vocabulary, if I showed consideration to Tom, I should have to treat Dick and Harry in the same way. As you ought to know, I am a Legalist: all fools are equal in my eyes. And, as far as I am concerned, everybody is a fool! Fools do not deserve consideration.”

            “Aren’t there any exceptions to the rule?” asked Moti.

            “Just one but, perhaps, Li Si (Li Shu) is the second.”

            “Stop being clever, Yíng Zhèng. Surely, the captain of a ship of fools is the master jackass,” I proclaimed feelingly.

            “Better than being a dock hand. And don’t you dare use my personal name. Today I am Qin Shi Huang – the founder emperor – to both foes and friends.”

            “But how many friends do you have?” asked perceptive Moti.

            “Need we enter into this?” asked a much-deflated Qin Shi Huang. Then, with a sudden wish to please, he tried to stroke Moti’s dwindled trunk.

            “You can’t be touched,” he let his disappointment show.

            “True; but I can touch you,” I advised and patted his flat nose.

            “Master Kong’s disciples would be dismayed. You did to me that which I can’t do to you. And such an impious act does not make sense. It is stupid. Still, from where do you come?”

            “Does it matter?” asked Moti.

            “I want to know: so it matters!”

 

 

2.Postion explained to Qin Shi Huang

 

Qin Shi Huang was amazed by my revelations. It took me a while to convince him that time travel was feasible and that the 21st century was just as real as his forgotten age. When I finished my explanation, he wanted to know why I had come to see him. My task appeared strange to him. Who was going to benefit from a series of punches? My decision to select him as a target appeared natural to him. He had no doubt about his place in history; but he wanted to know which of his achievements was the greatest. He realised that, when taken alone, none of them put him on a pedestal.

            “Was it the Great Wall?”

            “Not really. The pyramids were not dwindled by it.”

            “The standardising of currencies, measures and scripts?”

            “Not by themselves. Other great leaders realised the importance of uniformity.”

            “What then?”

            “The totality of your achievements. You unified a set of warring states into a single empire. And you ruled it with an iron fist. You even burned the Confucians and their books so as to nip opposition in its bud. And you gave your people uniform measures, characters and a set of splendid roads. But all was given and taken on your own terms!”

            “I see:  my intolerance and ruthlessness impressed you and others.”

            “They did: a lesser leader would not have gone the whole way. Moderation or scruples would have been in his way.”

            “They should not. And I ignored them. You see, absolutism and ruling by consensus are worlds apart. The philosopher-ruler is a mirage,” concluded my host.

            “Nobody would say that of your type of absolutism. You were real; and the toughest.”

            “I had to be. I governed on my own. And so I needed no consensus based on the views of lesser people. Still, I listened to the advice of my subordinates when I asked for it.”

            He paused for a moment. Then he blurted: “But what am I remembered for – my necropolis?”

            “Not so! Your burial ground was covered by dust accumulated over the ages. Towns were built on top of it. It was discovered by accident when some farmers dug into the ground.”

            “So, what am I remembered for?”

            “You unified China and left an everlasting effect on its culture and progress. True,  Kông Füzî’s disciples did their best to eradicate your name from history. But they failed miserably. Still, they vilified you – dubbed you a tyrant and barbarian.”

            “I was a tyrant but not a barbarian.” Pointing at Moti, Qin Shi Huang wanted to know my friend’s  real size. It was clear to him that Peter gnome had been minimised. It followed  Moti, too, had to be far more substantial in real life.

            “The entire palace might collapse if he reverted to his real size!”

            “Then we better leave well alone. In any event, you got what you wanted and you complimented me. So be gone, my good man.”

            “Goodbye then: one day your necropolis will be unearthed. Farmers will stumble on your terracotta figures. I saw them: they are great.”

            “I did not see them in place; but your words encourage me,” he summed up.


 

 

 VII. THIRD INTERLUDE

 

1.Moving to religions

 

“Welcome back from your trip to the East,” observed Tiger as we returned. “What have you achieved?”

            “I punched the greatest tyrant in history and he appreciated my act.”

            “He must have been a smarty.”

            “He was!”

           

            “But you are still in pre-historic times. You know little of that period so that Eve, Herodotus and Qin Shi Huang are readily selected. How will you find appropriate nominees in periods known to you from history classes?” asked Archie.

            “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it!”

            “I agree,” opined Archie, “but now is the time to select the field of interest. You see, you punched the mother of mankind, the father of history and a super-tyrant. The three were central to human destiny. What will be the next area and its heroes?”

            “My teacher in secondary school took the view that religion was central to humanity. A colleague of mine in New Zealand referred to mankind as Homo Religioso. Recent research suggests that even the Neanderthals had some rudimentary form of creed. This explains the burials that have been discovered.”

            “Seems a fair choice,” opined Archie, who was reclining comfortably on Moti’s huge trunk. “All the same, you have a problem. Your panel decided that divinity was out of bounds. If you accept Christianity, Jesus Christ is not legible; but if you do not accept it, Jesus Christ has been a mortal. He therefore comes within your parameters. Similarly, if you do not adhere to a pagan religion, their gods are – from your point of view – mere mortals. Wouldn’t you like to punch Venus or Vulcan?”

            “Bacchus is far more appealing,” I retorted, “but I don’t think he had an everlasting effect on humanity. Most drunks succumb without worshiping  him.”

            “How about the Buddha or Kông Füzî (Confucius)?” asked Tiger.

            “They did not initiate new religions but, rather, preached a way of life,” I pointed out. “Neither claimed to be divine.”

            “I agree,” said Archie. “Actually, most religions survived only if an able leader spread the word!”

            His observation gave me food for thought. Akhenaton preached a form of monotheism, based on treating the sun disk as the only god. His faith, though, perished with him. Similarly, some sects of Judaism – like the Sadducees – disappeared altogether. We read about them only in Josephus’ works and in the Mishna, which disliked them. I concluded that the spread of religion depended mainly on the preachers’ skill and perseverance.

 

2.Opting for St. Paul

 

            “I agree with Archie,” observed Tiger. “Your best course, Peter’le, is to decide which faith is the most wide-spread and investigate who was its leading preacher.”

            “The most populous religion is Christianity,” pointed out Moti. “Islam comes close but the followers of Christ are more numerous.”

            “Does this hold true in all recent epochs?” I wanted to know.

            “I have no statistics preceding the middle of the 19th century,” conceded Moti. “Still, as we don’t regard Buddhism a religion,  Christianity seems to take the lead since it spread.”

            “In that case the answer is clear. Jesus Christ is the founder. Regrettably, he died on the cross. Further, most of his apostles concentrated on spreading the word to their brethren in faith. Sha’ul of Tarsos, commonly known as St. Paul, constituted himself the apostle to the nations. He traversed the Middle East and made converts. His credo is best illustrated by the Letter to the Romans. In my opinion, he was the greatest! It is true that Christians were persecuted even after his day. He did, though, inspire later adherents. Eventually Emperor Constantine was converted to Christianity and made it the religion of the Empire. The seed of Christianity’s success in the Roman Empire, though, was sewn by St. Paul. Perhaps it was unfortunate that no Roman Roads stretched into the Arabian Peninsula. If they had, St. Paul might have traversed them as preacher and converted the local population. As it happened the area was converted, seven centuries later, to Islam by  Muhammad.”

            “Then you have your man, Peter’le,” summed up Archie. “Actually, I am impressed. May I accompany you?”

            “By all means,” I assured him. “Be my guest on this occasion.”

            “But there is one remaining problem. St. Paul had a long odyssey – leading from Tarsos to his sad demise in Rome. I can appear to him during his confinement in a Roman prison. By then he had completed his work. But there was a much earlier turning point is his life. He was sent from Jerusalem with an assignment to persecute the Christian sect in Damascus. On his way he had a revelation, which metamorphosed him from a prosecutor to an adherent. Should I call on him on this occasion?”

            “Did his full potential materialise on that occasion?” asked Tiger.

            “Not really. It was the start of a new journey, a journey which led to his remarkable attainments.”

            “In that case,” summed up Archie, “he was not as yet worthy of a punch. You better attend to him when his time on earth was drawing to its close.”

            “I doubt if he, himself, appreciated his place in the history of mankind during his lifetime,” I mused.

            “True,” replied Archie. “But that applies to each of your punchees.”

 

 

 

VIII. ST. PAUL

(ca. 5 – ca. 64/67 CE)

 

 

1.A chat with St. Paul

 

Sha’ul of Tarsos – St. Paul to humanity – was surprised when we materialised in front of his eyes in Rome.

            “Are you real or am I seeing things?” he asked

            “Depends on your definition of ‘real’. We are here on a mission prescribed by Him and his advisers. But neither of us is alive,” I replied.

            “Are you then spirits?”

            “I think we are,” retorted Archie. “I am Archimedes, Man of Syracuse, and my companion is Peter’le, a Jew who lived in Singapore in the 20th century. He died a short while ago.”

            “This is really confusing,” grumbled Paul. “You, Archimedes lived before me. I was told  about you. But Peter’le of the 20th century is an unknown. Yes, it is all very, very confusing.”

            “Take it as a provisional reality,” I put in.

            “But what brings you here – on the eve of my execution?”

            Patiently I explained to him my verdict and task. I went on telling him the identity of my previous punchees. Paul knew all about Eve and was familiar with Herodotus, describing him as ‘the father of lies’. He was, in addition, irked by Herodotus’ failure to explore the intervention of the hidden, divine, hand. Paul conceded that he had never heard about Qin Shi Huang and his general ignorance of the Eastern.

            “Did any Roman Road lead to Qin’s capital?” Paul wanted to know.

            “I am afraid not. You see, Paul, East and West were oblivious of each other’s existence. There was some trade, going through a lengthy route known as ‘The Silk Road’. But there appears to have been no direct communication between the two worlds.”

“And Peter’le forgot to mention that the Eastern world did not speak Greek. They were barbarians!” proclaimed Archie.

“Now, now Mr. Archimedes. I grew up in Tarsos, where a group of people, all Pharisee Jews, spoke Greek and Aramaic and had some command of Hebrew. And I spent years in Jerusalem. My Hebrew improved as I attended Rabban Gamliel’s seminary. I am conversant in Greek, Hebrew and Aramaic. Your assertion, that any language other than Greek is barbarian, is baseless!”

“I refer to my classical Greek,” yelled Archie, “and that is the only civilised tongue. Your Hellenistic Greek is bastardised.”

“Gentlemen, Gentleman,” I interceded, “we can converse without difficulty. So, we must have a lingua franca!”

“I simply made you multilingual,” explained Theophil who surfaced unexpectedly. “Any argument about the superiority of Greek is not to the point. In legal language we would describe it as obiter.”

“I am still in the dark,” averred Paul. “If you wanted Peter’le to identify the seven most interesting persons in human history, why did you ask him to punch them? Why not greet each with a salute?”

“Some time ago, when Peter’le was still alive and kicking, he dreamt of punching a fellow he didn’t like. That gave us the idea,” explained Theophil.

“But Jesus Christ teaches us to love our enemies. Obviously, Peter’le, you did not love the fellow. Was he a non-enemy like a friend or relative?”

“It was just a whim, Paul. In reality, I never punched a person in my life,” I hurried to explain. “Still, your argument is unconvincing. I do not follow your faith and I do hate my enemies.”

“Then why don’t you punch them? Fear?”

“Fear and common sense.” I replied thoughtfully. “Also, I rejected the notion of vengeance, such as punching an opponent.”

“This should have induced you to ask that the sentence be modified. Why on earth should you punch people you do not hate but, rather, admire?”

“You have a point there,” I conceded.

“This is a matter worthy of an interlocutory hearing or plea. Peter’le could actually argue that the punishment does not fit the crime, if indeed there was one,” summed up Theophil and vanished.

 

“Peter’le,” observed Paul, “your choice is strange. Why did you select me and not Moses or Jesus Christ?”

“I thought about them. Moses was the real founder of a faith. But it was confined to the Hebrews. Jesus was the cornerstone of Christianity but he died as a Jew. You opened the new religion to gentiles and you spread it. Without your efforts, Christianity might not have been embraced by the Romans. You did for Christianity what Martin Luther did, many years after your demise, for the Protestant faith.”

“Don’t you think that the Apostle Peter did just as much?”

“I doubt it, Paul. Remember initially he refused to eat together with gentiles. You argued the point with him and prevailed.”

“Initially I believed that converts ought to be circumcised. I persuaded Timothy. Later I changed my view and concluded that the acceptance of Christ was, in itself, salvation.”

“How about baptism?” I wanted to know.

“The formal act of conversion. Your sins were, thereupon, absolved.”

“I take your point, Sha’ul …

“ . . . Paul …”, he corrected me.

“… I read your Epistles carefully and noted that you refer to Christ as the ‘Son of God’. You never refer to him as ‘God’. Why is that?”

“I spoke metaphorically. The Old Testament often refers to the Hebrews as the people of God or even uses the word ‘sons’. But Judaism regarded God as an abstract, non corporeal, being. Thus, He is described as ‘a still small [thin] voice’ (Kings I, 19:12 and see Job, 4:16).”

“Why, then, did you describe Jesus as the Son of the Lord? Why didn’t you confine yourself to describing him as the anointed or as the Saviour?” asked a bewildered Archie. I was pleased to note that his antagonistic demeanour had waned in parts.  

 “That’s simple. Many of my converts were brought up as pagans, whose belief was anchored in anthropomorphism. In their eyes, God had a human form. They could relate to my message more readily when I humoured them by describing Jesus as the Lord’s ‘Son’.”

“I understand,” I assured him, reflecting on the fact that Jesus’ divinity cum human role was debated by different sects of Christianity until the Ecumenical Council of Chalcedon (described as ‘the 4th  Ecumenical Council’ by the Roman Catholic Church) in 451 AD.

“Still, Peter’le,” continued Paul, “why have you accepted Satan (whom you call Theophil) but reject Him?”

“That’s easy, Paul. Theophil revealed himself to me and He didn’t. Further, you abhor Satan but, to me, Theophil is a strictly non-interventionist-higher-entity. The arguments about His justice were expounded by Job.”

 

 

2.St. Paul’s the Apostle

 

For a while, all of us held our peace. Then I assumed the courage to ask Paul to explain his conversion from Pharisee Judaism to Christianity on his way from Jerusalem to Damascus. The object of his journey was to persecute the Christians; to everybody’s surprise he was converted to the new sect.

“Has much been written about this?” Paul wanted to know.

“It has, rather. The Church takes the view that you experienced a revelation of Christ, who asked you why you were persecuting his followers.”

“Has anybody related where I broke my journey?”

“Some scholars argue that you met the Qumran community. There is no proof.”

“My meeting with their sect opened my eyes. I realised that they, a sect of Essenes, practised a type of Judaism very different from the Pharisee orientation I was brought up with. When I continued my journey, I had my revelation. As you know I was blind for a few days. When Annanias restored my vision and welcomed me, I reached my decision. I also dropped my Hebrew name: ‘Sha’ul’.”

“Your three journeys left their impact. You continued to communicate with converts and called them to task when they wavered. I do believe that, had it not been for your perseverance, the faith might have expired.”

“I still don’t fathom why you regard my contribution as greater than Peter’s.”

St. Peter eventually accepted that Jews and gentiles were equal before Him. But your initiative and drive were required and bore fruit. I know that St. Peter is considered the first Bishop of Rome. But without your guiding hand and influence he may have never severed the link with Judaism.”

 

St. Paul smiled with satisfaction. I took in his bald head, scraggy legs and dilapidated appearance. It seemed remarkable that this seemingly plain individual stuck to his view notwithstanding the abuse, flogging and stoning he had endured. Here was a brave and determined man, who believed in his preaching. He was a major figure in the development of the Western World. One point, though, disturbed me.

“Paul,” I asked him, “why did you not travel to Arabia so as to convert the pagans who lived there?  You knew a great deal about them. And you never attempted to convert the Persians.”

“The reason is simple: I traversed the Roman Roads and confined my preaching to the people living in the Empire. I did not overlook the heathens in other parts of the world. I was hoping that my successors would spread the true faith in alien territories. Also, I usually visited places where the faith had already been preached. I followed the path trodden by my predecessors and pursued their good work. You see, in most places I visited there was a core in existence. I gave it support and made new converts. And there was the linguistic concern. I could not address pagans who would not be able to follow my words.”

 

3.Punching St. Paul

 

I had nothing to add. All that was left for me was to punch him. But unlike my other chosen individuals Paul had gained my admiration. Hurting him was an abhorrent task. Archie, who watched me intently, appreciated my dilemma.

“Look here, Peter’le, let me punch him on your behalf. He repels me because his Greek is poor; and he refuses to acknowledge this shortcoming. He is proud of his boorishness and imperfection.”

“But can I really delegate my mission?”

“Why ever not?” retorted Archie and punched Paul, who looked at him with genuine surprise.

“I have been assaulted for so many different reasons. I was flogged and stoned because I failed to accept orthodox Pharisee Judaism. Then some idiots in Jerusalem got me arrested on some silly drummed up charges. I now await execution because of these. And then, out of the blue, I was punched on linguistic grounds. Archimedes, do you really aver that anybody who has an imperfect command of classical Greek is a Barbarian?” Paul let his amazement show.

“Just to make sure I follow the prescribed procedure,” I interceded and touched his nose gently.

Unexpectedly, Paul broke into a sarcastic grin. “And you, Peter’le, act symbolically so as to make sure you carry out your sentence. But suppose you don’t. What would then happen to you?”

“They may change my sentence altogether and send me to purgatory; and I like my present habitat.”

“Can I see it?”

“Be my guest,” said Archie, who – I suspected – regretted his brutality.

 “It is OK with me,” observed Theophil, who surfaced unexpectedly.

 

Paul viewed appreciatively the shrubbery, the neat meadows and the peacefully flowing stream.

“I get the drift, Peter’le. To you this is not just a haven; it is your heaven. All the same, you remain an enigma.”

“Why?”

“You have not accepted the Good Lord but love your Theophil. You seek to have it both ways. In your eyes, the Almighty may or may not exist; but you do have a pact with the other one, whose existence is on the same level as His.”

“I get your point,” I stammered. “But, somehow, the pattern suits me.”

“If you were still alive, I should strive to convince you of your errors. But there is no point in proselytizing to the dead. So, I’ll take my leave. It was nice meeting you. And you, Mr. Archimedes, don’t assault people who no longer exist.”

Just for once, Archie was dumbfounded. I sensed that St. Paul’s admonition left its mark. Before long, though, my friend regained his composure. Looking triumphant he told me:  “If your St. Paul goes on speaking broken Greek, he deserves to be punched!’


 

 

IX. INTERMEZZO

 

1.Two interlocutory points

 

Paul’s departure was followed by a council of war. Archie, Moti and Tiger urged me to raise two interlocutory points with the panel. The first concerned my right to delegate the nose punching. The second was whether I could kowtow to or salute the selected person instead of delivering a punch.

            The panel readily agreed to the second request. They appreciated that my admiration for St. Paul rendered it difficult for me to punch him. The same type of problem could arise in respect of the remaining, chosen, individuals.

            As regards the first issue, they decided that I had the right to delegate the task when accompanied by Archie. Moti’s trunk could result in severe damage to the punchees. Tiger’s claws could lead to blinding.

            “But, my Lords, the chosen persons days on earth are over.”

            “True,” explained Gabriel, who took the lead on this occasion. “But, you see, we are moving in time to the very era of the person involved. This means that  a severe blow or an incurable injury might change history. We are not prepared to risk such a metamorphosis.”

            “Oh God,” I  exclaimed.

            “Did you address me?” asked He himself.

            “Not really; it was a mere expression of surprise.”

            “Watch your manners then; and don’t use my name in vain!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

2.Considering future proceedings

 

Back in our haven, my three colleagues helped me to plan my next punch. Like me, they sensed that I was running out of options. I had punched Eve, Herodotus, Qin Shi Huang and St. Paul (in whose case Archie delivered a real punch as my delegate). We  had to select another three outstanding candidates but were unable to do so. There were too many prodigies to choose from.

            Humanity was blessed with brilliant musicians, painters, sculptors and writers. There were also many politicians of genius: Qin, whom I had already punched, was one of them. If I had to select a statesman of the 19th or 20th century, I should have opted for Bismarck or Disraeli. 

In the event, Tiger raised a convincing point. I had to select the field and then spot the punchee. Having attended to St. Paul, religious personalities had already been represented. Disciplines like music, art and literature had to be ruled out. They were too crowded with men and women of genius to identify one. In addition, their  origin was, in all probability, linked to religion – a discipline covered when I selected St. Paul. ‘Sport’ was too vague and, so Tiger asked, could any human outdo a lion, a tiger or a monkey? Speed and agility were far more common amongst them than in humanity. Further, birds knew how to fly long before mankind acquired the skill. Mathematics were, of course, out of bounds. Archie would take offence if the choice fell on any individual other than his own good self.

At this stage, Moti gave me a useful hint. He wanted to know what  demarcates mankind from the animal kingdom? My initial response was that the differentiation was consciousness. This notion was summarily dismissed by Tiger. He opined that all animals had a will to live, which entailed awareness of surroundings. To this extent, they were ‘conscious’.

“But that is a simplification. You confuse mere cognition with the real human trait, which is the search of knowledge for the sake of it. It involves curiosity which is goes beyond the survival instinct.”

“I agree with Peter’le,” chimed in Archie. “For instance, how do you explain my interest in parabolas and hyperbolas? My search and investigation are not triggered by my survival instinct.”

“Neither did this sense motivate your jumping out – stark naked – from a bathtub and running through the streets of Syracuse, chanting ‘Eureka’,” added Tiger with a touch of malice.

“Nobody is able to master impulses in every situation,” Moti stepped in to defend his friend.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen,” chimed Tiger, “we have reached agreement on mankind’s special attribute: search for knowledge triggered off by curiosity. Can we also agree on a discipline which deals with the outcome and nature of this characteristic?”

“I believe it is ‘philosophy,” I stepped in.

“It is, rather,” agreed Archie. “Well, what do we know about this discipline?”

 

It did not take us long to agree that the first records of philosophy came from Greece. There were the pre-Socratic philosophers, commencing with Thales who believed that water was the original ‘first cause’ (substance) of our globe. Another was Hercalitus, who maintained that everything was in motion (Pantha Rhei), like the water in a stream that kept changing infinitely although, from the bather’ viewpoint, it was always the same river. In a sense, Heraclitus was a fore-runner of relativists. A different view was taken by Permenides, considered the father of metaphysics. In his view “what is is, and what is not cannot be”. Thus, there is no room for change because everything is in existence even if not caught by the senses.

Archie then referred to Pythagoras, who was a mathematical genius. He developed numerology and believed that the orbit of planets and all moving things in the universe was based on numbers.  Another of Pythagoras’ premises was the transmutation of souls, a notion he may have picked up during his travels to Mesopotamia and Egypt. Another philosopher – again mentioned by Archie who had studied philosophy – was Protagoras – a leading sophist. His statement that “man is a measure of all things” and his analysis of virtue left its impact on later Greek philosophers. Still, very few written works of these philosophers came down to us.

We then turned to the great trio, comprising Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. Archie had read Plato’s dialogues and, in consequence, led the discussion. He pointed out that Socrates had not written any tome. What we knew about him came from three sources: Plato, Xenophon and Aristophanes (mainly in The Clouds, which is a parody).

Socrates, explained Archie, was the father of dialectics. He used his often ironic ‘questions and answers’ method to lay the foundation of ethics and epistemology (the analysis of knowledge as derived from senses and perception). Archie stressed that Socrates doubted the democratic government system of Athens, pointing out that its basis, that is, the maintenance that every citizen is entitled to a voice, is false. Realising that people were not equal, Socrates believed that the best government ought to be an oligarchy of ‘philosophers’ or sages. His friendship with Alcibiades, the would-be tyrant, may have coloured his vision. Socrates also doubted the pagan religion of Athens. He preached his message to his disciples of the younger generation. He faced prosecution by the conservative faction of Athens. Having been sentenced to death, he refused to escape from the city and save his life. Believing that flight would indicate fear of death, he willingly drank the cup of poison.

            Archie then turned to Plato, a disciple of Socrates, who founded an Academy in Athens. His brilliant dialogues in which Socrates was a leading figure left an everlasting impact on the philosophy of the West. His major contribution was his theory of forms based on pure reason. His writings also influenced Christianity and his political ideas, expressed mainly in his Republic and Atlantis, remained a cornerstone of modern thinking and largely influenced philosophers who led the much later European Enlightenment.

            Plato’s pupil, Aristotle, was not only a leading philosopher but also a polymath, who covered many subjects, including physics, biology, zoology, mathematics and, of course politics and ethics. Archie pointed out that Aristotle, whose writings were translated to Latin by Boethius, became the very foundation of Western thought. Notably, the Jewish philosopher Maimonides and Christian philosophers, like Thomas Acquinas, simply referred to him as “the Philosopher”.

            “For a man who lived in Syracuse in the third century AD, you are remarkably familiar with modern Western philosophy,” I told Archie.

            “I am. Lord Pan provided all the materials. He also drew my attention to Hypatia, one of the few women who played a role in the development of philosophy and mathematics. She was active  in Alexandria during the late 4th and early 5th centuries and is regarded an important Hellenistic Neo-Platonian. Still, I was the greatest mathematician and physicist of antiquity!”

            “Weren’t you ever,” Moti and I spoke in unison. Tiger nodded his approval sagely.

            It was my turn to take over. Patiently I mentioned to them the advent of  stoic philosophy. It was founded by Zenon of Citium (‘Zenon Stoa’), who lived in the 3rd century BCE. Its main belief concerned personal ethics and the notion that happiness is found in accepting things in the manner in which they present themselves. According to it “virtue is the only good”. External matters, such as wealth and health, are relevant only to the extent that they further a person’s virtue. Successors of Zeno, such as Seneca and Epictetus, concluded that a true stoic would be emotionally resilient to misfortunes confronting him. Regrettably, this approach often led to calamities. Thus, Marcus Aurelius – an adherent of stoicism – reacted unemotionally to his wife’s infidelities and sanctioned the taking over of the imperial reins by her son Commodus, who might not have been fathered by himself. The decline of the Roman Empire was thereupon sped up.

            Noting that the trio was listening to me eagerly, I outlined modern Western philosophy, referring succinctly to Descartes, Hobbes, John Locke, David Hume and, of course, to Emmanuel Kant.

            When I finished, Tiger, who had been watching keenly, observed that he sensed that my heart was not in the discipline. He wanted to know the reason. Moti and Archie nodded vigorously.

            “Well, you see, the ambit of the discipline keeps changing. Aristo, for instance, dealt, inter alia, with physics, astronomy, politics and medicine. Each of these topics and many others became specialised disciplines. To take but one illustration, physics became a dedicated subject or discipline in its own right. Still, Isaac Newton, writing in 1687, called his major work Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy. In later eras he was regarded a physicist and the leading one for that.”

            “But has philosophy retained a core?” asked Tiger.

            “It did. As from the 20th century it deals mainly with issues of consciousness and existence. It seeks to explain and articulate these two points.”

            “Looks to me that you have a cyclical development. Philosophy started as a discipline which seeks to investigate issues arising from or based on human curiosity,” observed Archie. “The same, though, is true about mathematics and the attempt to explain and measure the property of forms like parabolas and hyperbolas. Don’t you really talk about the furthering of abstract thinking?”

            “I think that’s correct. Philosophy remains the search; aspects of it become specific areas of enquiry,” I voiced my agreement.

            “In that case why don’t you turn to a more clearly defined and limited discipline?” Moti spoke with some hesitation. Nonetheless, his suggestion made sense.

            “Moti is right,” pronounced Archie. “Please make your choice, Peter’le.”

            “I am really interested in rulers who left their impact on humanity,” I confided.

            “You already punched Qin Shi Huang,” pointed out Archie.

            “True,” I agreed, “but his influence and lead were confined to the Eastern World.”

            “In that case, why not opt for a ruler who left his (or her) impact on the Western World,” opined Tiger and brushed gently against my trousers.

 

3.Opting for a politician of the West

 

It took me a while to find a suitable person. One that came readily to mind was Charles Martel, who stopped the Muslim forces in Tours in 732. Apart from his success on the battle ground, he restored and centralised the government of Francia and re-established the Franks as the masters of Gaul, viz. modern France. However, the real unification of Central Europe under one rule was attained by his grandson, Charlemagne (also known as ‘Carl the Great’), who founded the Carolingian Empire, which became the Holy Roman Empire. It comprised most territories ruled by Western Rome as well as some regions that had never been conquered by it. His reign was known as the Carolingian Renaissance and laid the foundation of much of Western European culture.

            Other monarchs who came to mind were Elizabeth Tudor, Catherine the Great of Russia, Peter the Great (also of Russia)  and Charles 5th of Spain. All of them, though, influenced a specific region of Europe and did not have a major influence on the West as a whole.

            “Peter’le,” observed Archie who had listened patiently to my deliberations “isn’t there a person who laid the foundation of European culture as a whole?”

            “Much of it came from Greece and its philosophers and statesmen,” I told him, “but, as you know, Greece was never united. Athens and Sparta fought to the bitter end in the Peloponnesian War documented by Thucydides.”

            “Quite so; but then didn’t our culture and orientation leave its mark on Rome? Lord Pan gave me books on European history, which suggest that Rome adopted our mores and outlook.”

            “It did, rather,” I conceded.

            “So why don’t you go for the lead person of Rome?” asked Tiger forcefully.

            It dawned on me that Tiger was right. Western Civilisation, as known in the 20th century, had its roots in the Roman Empire. Rome started its lengthy period of influence as a republic. The civil wars of the late Roman Republic were quenched by Julius Caesar. After his assassination the city-state was governed by a triumvirate comprising Ocatavius, Mark Antony and Lepidus. After the battle of Actium, Octavius seized power and became known as Augustus. His reign was the Roman golden age.

            “So, you have identified your hero,” said Archie.

            “It’s not that simple. Originally, Octavius was a rough and vengeful character. He became a great and conscientious emperor under the influence of his wife, Livia. The historian Suetonius tells us that Augustus governed Rome but was ruled by Livia.”

            “Actually, you have now identified your next candidate,” grinned Tiger. “I should like to accompany you. I want to meet her and find out if she was as fierce as my Tigla.”


 

 

X. LIVIA AUGUSTA

(58 BCE – 29CE)

 

 

1.Calling on Livia

 

I decided to materialise during Livia’s last year on earth. The once beautiful woman, who captivated Octavius and turned him into the great Augustus, had become a decrepit old woman. Still, her commanding eyes retained their glimmer. She was aware that her appointed day was imminent but kept her natural pride and royal airs.

            “Are you a gladiator?” she wanted to know. “And why do you bring this tiger with you? Is he tame? Why didn’t you leave him behind, in his cage near the amphitheatre?”

            “Tiger’le is my friend,” I explained, “and we are not of your era. I lived two thousand years after your time and was teletransported here by one of your Gods, by Lord Pan.”

            “But why? And what induced you to call on me? My days on earth are drawing to their close. And this Tiger, is he dangerous?”

            “I am not dangerous, Great Lady. I simply accompanied Peter’le on his mission. I  wanted to meet you,” said Tiger.

            “I am bewildered; and I am entitled to an explanation.”

            It seemed best to explain to her the nature of my mission and predicament: I found it difficult to pinpoint the seven most influential individuals in human history.

            “But why did you pick me? What have I achieved?”

            “Augustus paved the way for his successors; and his Rome became the cradle of Western civilisation and culture,” I explained.

            “In that case why didn’t you opt for Augustus? Why me?”

            “In plain language: Augustus ruled Rome, and you were the power behind him.”

            For a while, Livia reflected. Then she broke into a warm smile.

            “Is this the way I have been remembered by history?”

            “It is,” I assured her. “I know you destroyed opponents and that, in the event, you poisoned Augustus. At the same time, I know that you never put your own interests above Rome’s.”

            “Who told you this?”

            “I read Suetonius’ The Twelve Caesars as well as Tacitus, Dio Cassius and some modern writers. Your place in history was never in doubt.”

            “Don’t you flatter me. I knew what I did and have felt satisfied with the outcome! And how shall I address you?”

            “Please call me Peter’le. It’s the name by which I am known nowadays. And can I ask you something?”

            “Go ahead; but I suspect you know all answers.”

            “I know most of them. What is not clear to me is why you divorced your first husband and married Octavian.”

            “Didn’t your sources discuss this issue?”

            “They did; but I want your confirmation.”

            “Very well, then. As you probably know, I was married and quite happily so. And I had given birth to Tiberius. But my eyes saw the horrors of the civil war in Rome, resulting from the factions established after the assassination of Julius Caesar. I knew that my first husband would be guided by his principles and might strive to restore the Republic. I also knew that this would have been misguided. A ship of fools often elects the loudest speaker as captain. Regrettably, that worthy individual is often the chief jackass.”

            “A Greek philosopher called Plato takes the same view.”

            “I have read him,” she told with a grin, “actually, I am well read; quite an exception in my era. Well, when I met Octavius I sensed that he could be turned into a wise and good ruler. So, I made sure to captivate him.”

            “How did you lead him?” asked Tiger and added: “My Tigla made sure she was in charge. On many occasions she was tough, very tough. I did her bidding but, all the same, resented her. Still, after she died, I continued missing her, even her sharp tongue.”

            “So that’s why you accompanied your Peter’le on this trip. You wanted to know how I exerted influence.”

            “Precisely,” conceded Tiger. “Please, let us know.”

            “I ruled with silken gloves. Augustus got used to consulting me and followed my lead willingly. The mercurial Octavius became the stable and great Augustus: the ‘father’ of the nation.”

            “You must have enjoyed the harvest, Augusta,” I told her. “Was there any specific moment where you had to steady him?”

            “There was indeed: Varus’ defeat. You know about it, don’t you?”

            “I do.” I recalled that Augustus had appointed one Varus as governor of Germania, the small part of Germany which had become a Roman colony. Believing the false information about an imminent rebellion, Varus penetrated deeper into Germany, was ambushed and saw his troops being massacred. When he realised that all was lost, he committed suicide. When the information was communicated to Augustus, he was dismayed and felt furious.”

            “What did you do?” asked Tiger.

            “I had to stop him from leading an army to Germany; and I convinced him to send my son, Tiberius, to safeguard the bridges over the Rhine. Augustus was despondent for months and never overcame his grief.”

            “I recall that during your lifetime Germanicus recovered two of the Eagles of the defeated legions. The third was, eventually, taken back during the reign of a later emperor: Claudius.”

            “Claudius? Did that imbecile of a grandson of mine take over?”

            “He did. And he wasn’t a fool. He succeeded Caligula, who was declared Imperator after your son, Tiberius, died in Capri.”

            “I know,” she muttered.

            “You paved the way for Tiberius, didn’t you?” I asked assertively.

            “I did, rather. Augustus adopted him into his house – the Julian – at my behest. I made sure of this. Tiberius had to pay a price: I made him divorce the wife he loved – Vipsania – and marry Augustus’ daughter by his previous wife. Julia was free with her favours. She held depraved parties all over Rome. When Augustus came to know all about it, he exiled her to some small island. Deep in his heart, Augustus blamed Tiberius, who never hit it off with Julia.”

            “Did you inform Augustus about her … behaviour?”

            “Shall we say that I saw to it that he got the information,” grinned Livia. “I did not feel sorry for Julia. She was a whore!”

 

            “Dio Cassius tell us that you engineered Tiberus’ succession.”

            “I did rather. You see, Augustus’ only other potential heir was Postumus Agrippa. That chap was a lout and made a nuisance of himself. Augustus had no option but to exile him. When I discovered that Augustus made a trip to reconcile with Postumus and that he intended to restore him, I had to act resolutely.”

            “Well, what did you do, Exalted Empress?” asked Tiger.

            “I had to avoid a situation that could lead to a fresh civil war resulting from conflicting claims by Tiberius and Postumus. I knew that Augustus had become very suspicious about his food and took only figs which he plucked himself from a tree.  I poisoned them.”

            “Slow acting poison?” I asked.

            “Quite so,” she confirmed and, after a short pause, added, “whilst Augustus was getting increasingly ill, I arranged to have Agrippa Postumus killed.”

            “I can understand your getting rid of Postumus. But how about Augustus? You were married to him for many years. Didn’t you love him?”

            “I was a good wife to him. You know that. But I took all the steps needed for a smooth transition of power. Rome’s peace was a first and paramount priority.”

            “Actually, why?” I asked her.

            “I grew up during a period of turmoil. I experienced the strife brought about by civil war. I was keen to avoid another one.”

            “Couldn’t you influence Augustus and avoid bloodshed?”

            “He started to free himself from my influence. In a way, he left me no choice.”

            “I am still in the dark,” I told her. “The risk to yourself was minimal, but …”

            “You must recall my background. I was born into an aristocratic and influential family.”

            “You feared for the clan?” I asked in surprise.

            “That too,” she conceded. “My main concern though was for Rome as a whole.”

2.Outlining history

 

For a while the three of us held our peace. Livia’s glance shifted from me to Tiger and back. I sensed she was a shrewd observer. Her next words confirmed this.

            “The two of you are close. Tell me a bit about your life on earth, Peter’le.”

            She listened attentively to my narrative. She then wanted to know how I met Tiger.

            “Quite a story,” she opined when I concluded. “So, by now Tiger and you have become friends. How do you get on with the other dwellers of your haven?”

            “Archie – the nickname assumed by Archimedes Man of Syracuse – can be presumptuous. He tends to get annoyed if he encounters any criticism of his standing as a mathematician and, in addition, venerates Greek culture and language. Moti is his guardian.”

            “I have read about Archimedes,” she confirmed. “Isn’t he the fellow who ran naked through the streets of Syracuse yelling ‘Eureka’?”

            “Quite so; and Moti looks like a huge elephant. The two of them are as thick as thieves.”

            “And Tiger and you formed a separate unit,” she concluded. “But, please, Peter’le tell me what happened to Rome after my days on earth. As you know, I ruled Tiberius at the beginning of his reign; but then he distanced himself from me. I believe he was succeeded by Caligula.”

            “Wasn’t he proclaimed emperor whilst you were still around?”

            “He was and I suspect he was unsatisfactory.”

            “Wasn’t he ever? His reign was one of the worst Rome had experienced. Eventually he was murdered by members of his own bodyguard. The army appointed Claudius as his successor.”

            “But did Roman hegemony last?” she wanted to know.

            “The empire declined. In due course it was divided into the Western and Eastern Empires. The Western Empire was destroyed by German invaders; the Eastern Empire, ruled from Byzantium, kept shrinking and, eventually, fell in 1543. Roman values and cultural norms lasted for many hundred years thereafter.”

            “Were there any other empires?”

            “There were; but each had its eclipse. I believe that empires have a cycle: they come and go. Still, Rome’s cycle was the longest and its laws and administration paved the way for future generations. In some respects, Rome spread Greek culture and art, which it had embraced. These guided the Middle Ages and Modern Europe.”

            “But how about religion?”

            “A religious sect developed in Judea and known as Christianity replaced Greek and Roman paganism.”

            Judea? Wasn’t that a Roman colony?”

            “It became a colony after the reign of Herod the Great. However, Judaism – that is, the Jewish monotheistic faith – became the cradle of Western religions.”

            “You use the plural,” she let her surprise show. “How many religions were adopted?”

            “Basically, Christianity prevailed. However, it split into sections. Some cruel (and in my eyes wanton) wars were carried out by competing sects.”

            “I am not surprised,” she concluded sadly. “War and warfare dominated human history right from the start. I know all about the Peloponnesian and  Punic Wars.”

            “They were not the first ones. As you imply, ‘history’ is the narration of warring states. Peace exists only when one power prevails over all others.”

            “I have to agree,” she told me resignedly. “And even when this takes place, you have local rebellions.”

            “How very true,” I summed up and spontaneously saluted her. Punching her was, simply, out of question. My feelings for her were a mixture of admiration and adoration. Unlike Eve, Livia was wise and perceptive. To carry out my mission, I touched her nose.

 

 

XI. A PLANNING  SESSION

1.I do fit in

 

            Archie and Moti welcomed us back. To my surprise, Archie stepped forward, shook my hand fervently, and exclaimed: “I sure missed you, Peter’le!”

            “How come?”

            “You see, originally this haven was created for Moti and me. We welcomed Tiger when he came for a visit and, in due course, asked him to join us. He became and has remained  a loyal member of our selective clan.”

            “So why did you miss me?” I asked, bewildered.

            “You alone come from a background akin to mine. True, Moti and I have remained very close. His highly accurate computations, calculations and assistance in my projects are indispensable. Tiger broadened our horizons. But when you arrived, I had a friend who was able to bring me back to my origins. For instance, I enjoyed our chat about philosophy, although you do not speak Greek and to this extent are a barbarian.”

            “I know what you mean,” I assured him. “But, you know, Tiger and I became a sort of a second unit in this wonderful place.”

            “I know,” he agreed, “and Tiger enjoys looking after you. He even accompanies you when you go for a swim, although he does not want to immerse himself in the stream.”

            “I understand, Archie.”

            “But now, Peter’le, you have a serious problem. Your provisional sentence was to punch seven deserving noses. You have already punched five worthies, which means only two punches are available.”

            “So?” I asked perplexed.

            “Well, you are still in times long past; and how will you identify the remaining two? Don’t tell me that modern thinkers or leaders have left no impact. Whilst you were on your last mission, Lord Pan gave me interesting tomes and lent me his reading speed. I am now in command of human history. Our race has been prolific. Our development was influenced by far more than seven people. And you haven’t even reached the medieval period.”

            For a while all of us were lost in thought. Eventually, Moti broke the silence.

            “What happens if They are not pleased with Peter’le’s selection?”

            “Hopefully, They’ll send him back to us here,” opined Tiger. “Perhaps They will simply order him to carry on punching and ask Lord Pan to extend the present arrangement.”

            “But if They believe he did not make a serious effort or that he is not up to the task, They may send him elsewhere,” pointed out Archie, adding “and this will be disappointing. Peter’le has become one of us and we want him to reside here.  It is in our interest to aid him.”

            “Well,” I concluded, “the three of you must help me plan my next moves.”

 

2.How to proceed

             

“Perhaps we should turn to the medieval and modern periods,” opined Archie. “But how will you spot the worthies? The French revolution left a lasting impact on European history. But who triggered it? Louis XIV with his extravagances and useless wars? And, in any event, you have already punched two rulers. The American War of Independence is another significant development in Western culture; but can you identify a specific person, who left his impact on this major event?”

            “Perhaps we should identify a field and then opt for a person who distinguished himself in it during these periods,” suggested Moti.

            “Excellent idea,” Archie showed his enthusiasm. “Well, Peter’le, how about tacticians? Warfare has been part and parcel of human history. I myself invented devices to be used against enemies, like setting the enemy’s fleet on fire by the use of mirrors.”

            “Did this idea come to fruition?” Tiger wanted to know.

            “Actually, it didn’t. The enemy arranged his ships in a column; this got me stymied. Still, other ideas I had bore fruit.”

 

            “It is an interesting field,” opined Tiger, “and is applicable  to humanity alone. Most animals kill only in the quest for food or fight when it comes to mating.”

            “I have seen cats killing birds even although they are well fed by their human owners. Also, I am told that some apes and monkeys fight to protect their territory or to acquire new land,” I observed.

            “True,” agreed Archie, “but we – humans – often fight for the sake of ideology. I know that in most cases we really compete for power. But warmongers often seek to appeal by the postulation of an idea, such as race or religion.”

            “Archie is right,” interceded Moti. “Warfare is a human trait. In the animal kingdom wanton killings are rare. So, we better identify a real master of warfare or an outstanding field marshal.”

 

            It took us a while to come up with a name. We considered Suppiluliuma the Hittite. He was a master of surprise tactics and, arguably, was the first individual known to have used bacteriological weapons; for instance by presenting infected animals to monarchs he aimed to fight. Still, very little was known about his battles.

            Xerxes led his infantry successfully along the coast of Greece and arranged a rendezvous of his infantry and fleet. Nonetheless, he was beaten; and Greece threw off the Persian yoke. We next considered Hannibal. His crossing of the Alps with the object of launching a surprise attack on Rome was a feat. So was his battle of Cannae, in which he ambushed the Roman army and annihilated it. In the end, though, he was defeated by Scipio Africanus, whose trumpeters confused Hannibal’s mighty elephants. These were terrorised, turned tail, and massacred Hannibal’s own men.

            Greece had seen the rise of Alexander the Great, who conquered the Levant and Persia and proceeded onward to India. However, after his death his Kingdom was divided between his four senior generals. We had no doubts about his efficacy as a military leader but, in reality, his advance was an anabasis.

Rome experienced the reign of a number of brilliants strategists, including the great Julius Caesar and centuries later Trajan.

            “But, Peter’le,” observed Archie, “you have already punched influential figures of antiquity. Let us find a more recent candidate.”

            His words made sense. I knew that my own prejudice – the penchant for  antiquity – had influenced my initial trend of thought. To compensate, I mentioned von Manstein, whose master plan, involving blitzkrieg and surprise tactics, enabled Nazi Germany to defeat the French army. Still, he was eventually defeated on the Eastern front. Rommel, too, had his moments but was beaten by Montgomery in El-Alamein.

            Retracing my steps, I focused on Napoleon. Again, there could be no doubt about his genius as tactician. His ability to fight armies superior in numbers by attacking them seriatim secured his brilliant victories in Marengo and Austerlitz. He used the same approach in Waterloo but was beaten by Wellington and the re-formed army of the Prussian, Blücher, whose troops Bonaparte failed to destroy in their initial engagement.

            I was thinking about the standing of Marlborough and Wellington, when Archie pointed out that my task was to cover both the East and the West. Up to now I had shown my attention to but one Oriental individual, namely Qin Shi Huang.

            “Actually, he was a conqueror, defeating and annexing the neighbouring states one by one. He was an excellent field marshal,” I pointed out.

            “But you have already visited him. Can we think about another genius?” asked Tiger.

            “Actually, there was one: Genghis [Chenghis] Khan. Like Qin, he was also an empire builder; but his main achievements were his victories in the field even when the odds were against him.”

            “I think you have identified your next ‘punchee’,” agreed Archie. “Did you know that his DNA can be detected in many humans?”

            “No, I didn’t know that,” I conceded, “but then, he slept with aristocratic and common women in the course of his relentless pursuits and conquests. In plain language, he was prolific.”

 

XII. GENGHIS KAHN

(ca. 1155/1166 – 1227)

 

1.Genghis rise to power

 

I was satisfied that Genghis left a mark on humanity. Having unified the warring Mongolian tribes, he beat the Tatars and then proceeded to conquer the North of China. There could be no doubt about his brutality and cruelty. These, though, were inflicted on his enemies. His own mighty horsemen were treated by him with consideration. Unlike Napoleon he spared his troops. Thus, when he broke through the Great Wall he thought it best not to storm it. Instead, he waited patiently until one of the defenders was bribed and opened a gate to him. Genghis demolished part of the wall, paid the agreed bribe to the defector and then had him killed because traitors were despicable.

            Genghis used the same approach when he besieged the Chinese capital (modern Beijing). He conquered and destroyed the small towns in the vicinity but refrained from assaulting the fortified capital until one of the gates was opened by a traitor and the Mongol army took the city by storm.

            Genghis might have been satisfied with the empire that had by then come under his yoke. Acting in good faith he offered to establish a trading relationship with the neighbouring Persian (Khwarazmian) empire. When his emissaries were killed and his approaches rebuffed, he set out on a punitive expedition. Having divided his army into three units he crossed the Pamir Mountains. The harsh conditions forced him to abandon some of the siege equipment he had acquired in China. Fortunately, his soldiers survived the ordeal by drinking blood taken from the veins of their hardy horses. Even so, he might have perished had it not been for a guide who led him through the treacherous plateau.

            “Yes,” observed Theophil who suddenly materialised in front of our eyes, “he needed a guide and he found one!”

            “I thought you were a non-interventionist, Maestro,” I protested.

            “True, but sometimes – at crucial junctures – I show my hand.”

            “So, it was a major development?” asked Moti.

            “It was, indeed,” explained the ‘Master of Darkness’. “Genghis’ empire was an important step in bringing Western and Eastern civilizations together. And, amongst other achievements, he saw to it that the Silk Road remained passable.”

 

            Genghis’ conquest of the Persian Empire demonstrated his approach to warfare. Having taken Bukhara by storm, he set some of the captives apart and used them as human shields when his fighters advanced on Samarkand. The defenders were unwilling to harm the fugitives driven by the Mongols.  When Genghis’ army was close to the fortifications of their target, they slaughtered the captives and, over their dead bodies, attacked and took the town. They then put its population to the sword, except skilled workers, who were deported to Mongolia, and women treated as spoils of war.

            “How nasty!” exclaimed Tiger. Moti nodded. Archie, to my surprise, looked dubious.

            “What’s on your mind, Archie?” asked Theophil, who was still with us.

            “Depends on how you look at it. The human shields protected the first rows of the attacking Mongols. Genghis protected the lives of his soldiers. It is sad that the prisoners perished. But then, the Mongols would have slaughtered them in any event when Bukhara fell.”

 

            Genghis followed his conquest of the Persian  Empire by subduing many states of Asia, of the Balkan and around the Caspian Sea. His successors conquered the  South of China and parts of Eastern Europe including Kiev and its  Kingdom. After his death, the vast Empire was effectively divided into four regions: China; the former Persian Empire, which became known as the Ilkhanate; the holdings in Europe, known as the Golden Horde; and the Mongolian steppe, with its capital Karakorum.

            The Mongol penchant for sheer brutality is indisputable. Genghis, though, had an open mind. His approach to warfare and to the administration of the empire were influenced by the guidance of Yelü Chucai, who became the Khan’s trusted adviser. Having entered Genghis’ service after the conquest of Northern China, the sage taught his master siege techniques and familiarised him with Chinese weaponry. He also assisted him in building up the administrative machinery and the modernised communications system which enabled the forwarding of messages by riders, who were able to get fresh horses at the designated stations en route.

            “Genghis’ main feat is his victories. He never lost a battle, regardless of whether his troops outnumbered the enemy or vice versa,” said Theophil. “His influence on the development of civilisations was a side effect. You picked him on account of his standing as a warrior.”

 

2.A lengthy chat with Genghis

 

Genghis was known for the hospitality he showed to foreigners coming in peace or as emissaries. In the circumstances, Tiger did not feel I needed protection. Further, he was not interested in meeting a hero whose name inspired awe and terror. Moti took the same view. Archie, though, was keen to accompany me. He wanted to have a chat with Genghis.

            We materialised in Genghis’ headquarters after his victories. By then he had become the ruler of a vast empire, had already chosen his third son, Ogedei, as successor and trusted that this new monarch would expand his kingdom. Despite Genghis’ piercing eyes and stern manner, he did not appear malevolent. He looked at us with patent surprise.

            “From where do you are come?” he wanted to know.

            “Archie lived some one thousand and four hundred years before you; I lived six hundred and fifty years after you. However, both of us have died and you see our spirits.”

            “That is strange,” retorted Genghis, “what brings you together and what do you want from me?”

            Genghis listened attentively to my story. Archie added that he decided to join me because he wanted to meet the great tactician. He then explained how he had planned to set the enemy’s navy on fire by a use of mirrors but failed because the oncoming vessels were arranged in an unexpected formation.

            “I have never fought a naval battle,” explained Genghis. “My men were horsemen. But I see a flaw in your tactics. You relied on the way you anticipated the enemy to form his troops. My method was to form my plan only when I was familiar with my enemy’s strategy.”

            “But in many cases you had a master plan before you went on the attack,” I felt the need to intervene. “For instance, you divided your army into three groups before you crossed the Pamirs.”

            “I did,” he conceded. “But I knew that a pincer movement would annihilate the Shah’s troops. It was the only feasible way to ensure victory.”

            “This means that when necessary you planned a campaign before it started,” pointed out Archie.

            “I did,” he replied unflinchingly; “but in most battles the odds favoured me.”

            “Please explain,” Archie and I spoke in unison.

            “My men and their horses were hardy. They could fight well during winters. Each soldier had to provide his outfit and four or five horses, usually mares. The horses had to be led to grazing pastures but, in the ultimate, fed on seeds still covered with earth: they dug them out. My men knew how to live off the land.  They drank mare’s milk and if needed would butcher some horses for meat. They ate sparsely and when necessary placed slices of meat in their saddles.”

            “So, this is the origin of the famed Mongolian steak,” I stepped in.

“It is; and so usually I did not have the problem of supply lines. And I did not have to train my men. Every Mongolian youth became a skilful warrior in his late teens. He could fire arrows whilst riding; he knew how to jump from a tiring horse’s back to a fresh one; and he was keen to show valour in combat.”

“How were they organised?” I wanted to know.

“Larger groups, split into smaller ones. Usually, six of each group of ten were light cavalry. Their task was to overwhelm and confuse the enemy. The four heavy cavalry men were well armed and, basically, destroyed the remaining enemy troops. When necessary, the cavalry would fight on foot – as infantry.”

“Were the horses shielded when in action?”

“They had armour. We had to protect them: they were our fighting tool.”

            “I see,” I told him. “Actually, which were your toughest campaigns?”

            “The skirmishes leading to the unification of the wild tribes of the steppe. Once they made me their Khakan – their leader – there was nothing to stop me.”

            “History books tell us that you attacked the Persian Empire to avenge the insults which they inflicted on you when they disgraced your emissaries. But I wonder if you wouldn’t have set out to conquer them in any event.”

            “I cannot be sure. We became neighbours and, as you know, proximity leads to disputes. Originally, though, I strove for peaceful coexistence. Also, bear in mind that the Pamir Mountains were a sound and natural border.”

            “But once you decided to fight, you set out to annihilate the Shah’s empire altogether.”

            “I did. An enemy ceases to be dangerous only once he is dead.”

            “Did you have to be so brutal?” asked Archie.

            “My name preceded me: its very mention terrorised those confronted by me.  It induced opponents to capitulate. I usually spared cities which opened their gates to me: they had to pay a ransom.”

            “What sort of tactics did you favour?” I wanted to know.

            “My generals often feigned retreats and lured the enemy into an ambush. When the foe, tired by the pursuit, confronted the fresh warriors waiting for him, his fate was sealed.”

            “One of your strengths was the spirit and tenacity of your men. What else was a major factor?”

            “I chose my generals without regard to their background. Both Subutai and Jebei came from humble origins. I noted their zeal, courage and resourcefulness.  I put them in charge of battles. They never let me down. They merited command.”

            “The same yardstick guided Napoleon Bonaparte: another great tactician. However, his men were not as accomplished as yours. And he was defeated in Russia.”

            “Tell me about that battle,” Genghis asked.

            He listened attentively to my description of Napoleon’s march on Russia, to the details of the battle of Borodino and to the retreat after Moscow was burned down by the defenders. Genghis then wanted to know why Napoleon declared war on Russia. Did he wish to annex the country to his emerging empire? He was surprised when I explained that Bonaparte’s main object was to induce the Czar [Tsar] to sue for peace and undertake to honour the blockade imposed by Napoleon on British merchant ships.

            “But that was far-fetched,” opined Genghis. “Why didn’t he lay waste the cities whose harbours were visited by such vessels?”

            “Is this the course you would have taken?”

            “Of course,” he spoke firmly. “And Subutai or Jebei would have been in charge of the troops.”

            “Could you be sure of victory?”

            “With field marshals like them, the foe would have crumbled, especially if we attacked during the winter!”

            “But how about the cost of lives?” asked Archie.

            “Irrelevant and unavoidable. The Czar should have honoured the blockade from the very day it was imposed. I should have regarded his failure to observe it as an affront.”

            Genghis was equally dismissive of Hannibal’s campaign. He thought that Hannibal should have attacked Rome directly after the crossing of the Alps. He concluded that Hannibal’s troopers were not as valiant as Mongol warriors. He then pointed out the futility of an on-march like Alexander’s – an anabasis without a clear objective or plan.

            “But did you, respected Khakan, always have an objective?” asked Archie.

            “I did, rather. In some cases I sought revenge; in others I wanted to expand my territories; and in others still I simply wished to subjugate a foe. War for the sake of winning battles is pointless.”

            For the sake of clarity, I told him about von Manstein’s blitzkrieg and the conquest of France.

            “Sounds like a battle conducted by myself or by my field marshals,” Genghis spoke warmly. “Outflanking the enemy and advancing from an unexpected angle is good planning. By the time the opposing troops seek to regroup, they are left far behind.”

            “But when the Nazi troops took the course prescribed by von Manstein, they violated the neutrality of a neighbouring state,” Archie and I exclaimed.

            “What is ‘neutrality’?”

            “Declaring that you support neither of the sides in conflict,” I explained.

            “Nonsense,” Genghis spoke fiercely. “In war you are either with me or against me. If you are with me, I protect you. If you are against me, I fight you! There is no midway.”

            “Our philosophers saw things differently,” countered Archie.

            “Actually, so did many of ours, as well as international law experts,” I ventured.

            Seeing that our host was not convinced, I told him they way Gandhi liberated the Indian sub-continent by means of passive resistance, such as hunger strikes. Genghis was not impressed.

            “Such tactics would not have worked with me. I should have simply let him starve or would have withdrawn water and let him die of thirst,” advised Genghis.

            “Modern European society would have proscribed this,” I told him.

            “Not the men of the steppe. They were a different breed!”

 

3.Ghenghis’ civilisation

 

Genghis’ standing as tactician and warlord were beyond doubt. Still, I knew that during periods of peace he encouraged men of religion and of knowledge to visit him, treated them kindly and often listened to them. Was such tolerance inconsistent with his cruelty and unbending behaviour in war?

            “Surely, the two go together. When I took the war path, I was a fighter. I wanted to win. When I was at peace, I had an open mind. I wanted to acquire knowledge and not only on matters concerning warfare. You ought to know that I did much to enlighten my people. For instance, I developed a Mongolian writing script.”

            “I read that Christian monks, Muslim preachers, Buddhist thinkers and Taoist philosophers were welcome in Karakorum. How did you converse with them?”

            “My own language was Mongolian. I had a basic knowledge of Chinese but frequently we used translators. Some Chinese scholars were multilingual.”

            “Actually, what was your own religion, Khakan?” asked Archie.

            “We worshipped the Gods of Heaven. We called the Gods Tengri and the superior deity in heaven was the Tenger. The deities could be contacted mainly by shamans (a sort of priests). These also served as medical advisers. In a sense, they were linked to our clan’s structure.”

            “Did foreign religions attract you?” I wanted to know.

            “I listened to all preaching,” he told me, “but I kept my own faith. For me it was the best.”

            “How about Buddhism?” I asked.

            “It was a way of life: not Mongol. Taoism was closer to my way of thinking,” he conceded.

            “What did you think of Christianity, Oh Khakan?”

            “Strange religion: their God came down to earth only to be flogged and killed. Not suitable for my people; and Jews came to my court but would not partake of food I offered them. This was an insult;  I had them executed.”

 

            For a while we sat in silence. I was getting ready to leave. Then, unexpectedly, Genghis raised a question:

            “You say you lived many years after my time. Did your thinkers find the means to become immortal?”

            “They did not. We know for sure that every human being grows old and dies.”

            “I sought immortality.  However, the Chinese sage I consulted said he could extend my life by prescribing some herbs but that death was inevitable. So, he was right,” Genghis confided in a dejected tone.

            “Did you punish him?” asked Archie.

            “Of course not. He told me the truth. I listened.”

            “In a way you attained immortality, Khakan,” I told him. “Your name and attainments are recorded and so you are remembered. I read several books about you; they all recognise your genius as Commander in Chief and great ruler. And your people elevated you to a Tengri.”

            “Did my empire last?”

            It seemed best to provide an outline of the Mongol Empire. Genghis was not surprised to hear that it declined and that, some three hundred years after his death, fell. He sneered when told that his grandson, Kublai, was a hybrid of a Mongol Conqueror and a Chinese Emperor.

            “I see: my successors became soft,” he said disdainfully. “Did Kublai’s dynasty hold China for long?”

            “Not really. They were ousted by the local Mings,” I told him truthfully, adding that the Khan of the Golden Horde was defeated and driven out of Russia by Ivan the Terrible.

            “What are we remembered for?”

            “For your achievements in the field. Also, the administrative systems you used to govern the empire.”

            “In this aspect I was guided by Yelü Chucai’s counsel. He convinced me that it was advantageous to tax defeated foes rather than slaughter populations. He was a philosopher; and he had the good of the empire at heart. He was a fine and loyal man. I elevated him although I had defeated the ruler he had served. I was pleased when his words showed that he respected that regime although a generation earlier it had defeated his father’s fief.”

            “Another feather in your cap is the communications network, which was of major guidance for future rulers. But your people did not leave a cultural or religious legacy. They emerged from the steppe and returned to it.”

            Even as I spoke it dawned on me that all empires had a cycle: they were born, then established themselves and thereafter declined and fell. Some, like the Roman and Habsburg Empires left a cultural heritage. The Mongols legacy was in their having encouraged globalisation and trade. They made the East fully aware of the West and vice versa. Like a midwife, they became redundant when the process they enhanced came to fruition. Genghis’ heirs extended the Empire’s borders. In the end, though, they became polarised and the Black Death hastened their downfall.

            Before we departed I saluted Genghis. Archie bowed to him. It was an unexpected gesture and I let my surprise show.

            “The Khakan is a greater soldier than any Greek warrior. I kowtow to him,” explained Archie.

            “Will you, Khakan, permit me to raise just one more question?” Seeing him nod, I continued: “When you defeated the Shah’s son – Jalal ad-Din – you could have easily marched on India. Some historians claim you were deterred because your soldiers could not stand a hot climate; but I have never accepted their view. Please enlighten me.”

            “The answer is simple: the rulers of India did not give me a motive. I found the wealth of their country of little interest. I simply had no reason to wage war on them.”

            “I understand and salute you again. Besides being the greatest warrior in history you were also a wise and, in your own way, righteous man.”

            “Is your assessment accepted by most scholars?”

            “Actually, it isn’t. Many emphasise the brutality and cruelty of the Mongolian reign. At this stage, my view is a minority opinion. In the long run, though, I believe it will prevail.”

            “I wonder,” he summed up.  

 

 

 

XIII. A COUNCIL OF WAR

           

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.  

 

XIV. CHARLES DARWIN

(1809 – 1882)

1.Calling on Darwin

 

Archie and I surfaced in 1878. Darwin, who was having an afternoon nap, looked at us with surprise.

“How on earth did you come to my room? I did not hear any knocking. And these strange clothes. From where are you?”

“Neither of us is alive. You see our ghosts. This here is Archimedes Man of Syracuse. I am sure his name in known to you.”

“It is,” confirmed Darwin, “and who are you?”

“My name is Peter Berger but my friends call me Peter’le. I was born in 1933. A divine panel is now sitting in judgment of me. For the time being, I am the guest of Archie and his two friends. They live in a special ward, somewhere between purgatory and paradise.”

“This must be a mirage,” muttered Darwin and pinched his arms.

“It isn’t,” retorted Archie fiercely. “We are as real as you yourself.”

“This requires a revision of my understanding of the world,” observed Darwin. “But then, many people treated my scientific conclusions on the transmutation of species with disbelief and, alas, with contempt.”

“My era proved you right. Darwinism is now taught in many schools and universities,” I consoled him.

“Including Cambridge?”

Oxford and Cambridge,” I spoke emphatically.

“So you are from that other place; and our rowers have regularly beaten yours!”

“Be this as it may,” I conceded. “Still, I am here on a mission. Let me tell you all about it.”

It took me a while to convince Charles Darwin that my undertaking was real. For a long while he looked at me in sheer astonishment.

“Are you then a scientist?”

“No, Mr. Darwin. I spent most of my life teaching and practising law.”

“So how did you come to know about me?”

“Our Biology Teacher in secondary school was an ardent admirer of evolution as described by you. Later in life I read two of your books: On the Origin of the Species and The Descent of Man. You convinced me. But I wonder how you reached your conclusions. The common view is that you pondered over them during your five year voyage on HMS Beagle.”

 

2.Voyage of HMS Beagle

 

“Basically, that is correct. At the suggestion of Sir Charles Lyell, author of Principles of Geology, in which he demonstrated that our earth was of great antiquity, I accepted Captain Fitzroy’s invitation to engage me as naturalist. Initially, my father objected to my taking such a long trip. As you may know, we were related to the prominent Wedgwood family, and I was meant to become a clergyman. After lengthy discussions, he finally agreed to my trip.”

“Why were there any uncertainties about the assignment?” I wanted to know.

“The object of the Beagle’s voyage was to survey the exact position and measurement of vicinities all over the world. A ‘naturalist’ was a sort of an extra observer, concentrating, in addition to the geographical survey, on biological finds. In a sense, he was a supernumerary. The family wanted me to proceed with a course of studies. ”

“Did you reach your conclusions on evolution during this voyage?”

“I did, rather. Frequently, I left the ship and made excursions inland. I collected fossils and sent them back to Cambridge, where they were classified and exhibited. During a survey of Santiago in the Cape Verde islands I noticed that seashells embedded in an ancient layer of white rock resembled the very ones on the beach. I also found interesting specimen of Octopus, which changed their colour, just like a chameleon, in order to mould with the background.”

“I believe the Beagle made a stop in Bahiha Blanca near Buenos Aires,” I observed.

“She did and I got most interesting fossils of teeth and of bones of mammals and  seashells, both in one stratum. I also found fossilised rodent remains. And it appeared that the layers were deposited over a lengthy time span and not in consequence of an earthquake or some other catastrophe. We then sailed to the Tierra del Fuego. I was impressed by the marked differences between the local inhabitants and the people I came from. Later, in the vicinity of Montevideo, I came across small rheas but was advised that a much bigger bird of this type lived further up north.”

“Did you conceive your theory at that time,” asked Archie, who had been listening attentively.

“Not really,” answered Darwin. “I continued to accept the notion that species developed in a linear manner and that they died out when they were no longer able to adapt to changing circumstances. At the same time, I started to wonder if evolution was really as simple as that. My ideas started to firm when we dropped anchor in the Gelapǎgos Islands. The giant tortoises and marine iguanas struck me as well suited to their dismal habitat. I was startled to be told that each of the islands had a distinct form of tortoise. The same applied to mockingbirds. In consequence, I started to doubt the rejection of the transmutation of species.”

“I believe the Beagle sailed on to New Zealand and Australia,” prompted Archie.

“She did indeed. I admired the Australian marsupials – the Kangaroo and the Platypus. They differed to such an extent from the fauna in other continents that it looked as if two separate creators had been at work. These unusual species provided further fruit for my meanderings.”

For a few moments Darwin was lost in thought. He then continued his narrative: “When I arrived back home I was pleased to learn that the exhibits as well as the notes I had sent back during our lengthy voyage gained me considerable fame. I had established myself as a leading naturalist and had become a member of the scientific establishment. However, my peers were unaware of my having started to doubt that the species were stable and that I no longer believed that transmutations should be ruled out.”

 

3.Writing The Origin of the Species

 

“Why didn’t you write On the Origin of the Species straightaway? I know you postponed it until you received Wallace’s letter and realised that another scholar reached the same conclusion,” I told him. Archie’s nod indicated that the very same issue concerned him.

 “Actually, I was quite active during the period. I published a work on my basic findings during the voyage and also dealt with volcanic islands and coral reefs. Still, I was pondering my conclusions respecting natural selection. Then, Wallace’s communication convinced me that I was on the right track as regards the survival of the fittest. We published the joint article. I then went ahead and wrote the book.”     

“Were you startled by the wave of adverse criticism?” I asked Darwin.

“Not really,” he conceded. “You see, the system I advocated could function without divine intervention. Further, I saw in humanity an apex of evolution and not a separate creation. If the same view had been expressed by an outsider, he might have got away with it. I had become a leading man in my field and in geology.”

“Unlike yours, my innovative ideas and major inventions were appreciated by my contemporaries,” pointed out Archie.

“Of course,” replied Darwin. “But then, you furthered accepted concepts. Your mathematic and scientific feats did not question or contradict any credo (or conventional wisdom) of the day. The same can be said about Louis Pasteur. He advanced the theory of medicine. He was criticised by some leading physicians but the clergy, or the church, did not feel threatened by his discoveries. My suggestion that Man and modern apes developed from an earlier missing link was an anathema to staunch believers in the creation myth. An enlightened philosopher, like Thomas Aquinas, would have regarded my theory as augmenting it.”

“In the Origin of the Species you did not deal expressly with the evolution of humans,” observed the well-read Archie.

“Not explicitly but the implication was clear. Orthodox thinkers picked on this. The difficulty was the formulation of branching progressions as opposed to Lamarck’s plain or linear line. Furthermore, the anatomist, Thomas Huxley, became my preacher. I am certain that without his drive, my work might have been regarded as the scholastic notions of an eccentric.”

“In your second edition of the Origins you actually acknowledged the creator’s role,” I reminded him.

“I wasn’t a disbeliever,” he told us. “I regarded God as the First Mover, who started life on earth. I did not accept that he supervised each transmutation.”

 

4.The Decent of Man; scientific theories

 

            “Did your later work, The Descent of Man exacerbate the situation?”

“It did, Berger.”

“Was this due to your discussion of sexual selection?”

“When I discussed sexual selection in the Origin, it did not lead to an outcry. I was talking about the kingdom of animals and how, for instance, competing males sought to impress females with such traits as attractive manes (in the case of lions) or by colourful tails (in the case of peacocks). My comments about sexual selection in humanity were criticised by emerging feminist circles. Are this criticism still echoed today?”

“Not really,” I assured him. “The feminist movement disputes the views of 20th century opponents. But some stern religious circles criticise you for saying than Man evolved from monkeys.”

“I never said such a stupid thing. My theory postulated that Man and modern apes branched off an earlier ancestor, who became extinct long ago!”

“I know,” said Archie, “and you emphasized that evolution was a slow process. You also recognised that species adapted on the basis of environmental changes.”

“The tortoises and mockingbirds convinced me of this.”

“Your method was highly scientific. You started by ascertaining the facts and then came up with a theory derived from them. Some philosophers come up with a theory and then conduct experiments to establish it. My approach was like yours,” Archie spoke passionately.

“Please tell me about your own experiments, Archimedes,” pleaded Darwin.

I listened attentively to Archie’s scientific discourse. Much of it was above my head. In contrast, Darwin’s expression manifested understanding and approval of the tour.  It dawned on me that intellectually the two scientists were closer to each other than to a humanist like me. Both had an original mind, driven by a sceptical approach to conventional wisdom. I, too, had my doubts but preferred theorising to experimenting. Scientifically, both were more advanced than me. I recalled how I grappled with calculus. They grasped its tenets straightaway and learned how to use it as a tool. They were my superiors.

“You look bewildered, Berger,” observed Darwin.

“You discussed living fossils, Darwin. I found it difficult to follow you,” I changed the subject inarticulately.

“My ideas on the subject were simple. I noted that some species extant today did not differ from fossils of the same species discovered in ancient geological strata. I concluded that they may not have had a struggle with competitors and hence did not undergo a change. Have many of these surfaced?”

“They have rather,” I told him. “Some fish which had been considered extinct were re-discovered in recent years. Many of these had minor deviations from the modern species.”

“That is not surprising,” retorted Darwin. “I did not rule out random mutations but, in general, thought that, in the absence of intervening catastrophes, evolution progressed at a slow pace.”

For a while the three of us remained silent. Then Darwin asked whether he had left a significant legacy. He expected that ongoing research might have led to modifications of his theory.

“You did leave a legacy. For some three decades following your demise, your theory was unfashionable but, as from about the 1930s, it made a comeback,” explained Archie.

 

5.Later refinements

 

He then referred to the work of Gregor Mendel, Darwin’s contemporary who proved that certain traits, such as colour of hair or of eyes, passed by inheritance. He had further concluded that some traits were dominant and others recessive.

“In the 20th century scientists discovered that the building blocks of all beings were chromosomes and that ‘traits’ were borne on genes located thereon. Certain diseases were proved to be inherited mainly because of unsatisfactory changes in the genes. Each species had its own structure which, however, was subject to mutations.”

“I did not read Mendel’s work,” advised Darwin. “Was he familiar with mine?”

“He was indeed,” I stepped in. “I believe that scientists of the 20th century accepted your evolution theory as based on natural selection and engrafted on it Mendel’s discoveries as amplified by modern research. But I doubt if they could have ever got a full picture without relying on your conclusions.”

“Did they also detect the origin of life?”

“They did not. And all their attempts to produce a living cell in the laboratory have been unsuccessful.”

“I avoided the subject,” explained Darwin. “My study of fossils and of extinct forms of life did not throw any light on it. What are the chances of settling the point?”

“I am pessimistic. Science has come to believe that the earliest forms of life developed from amino acids; but that is as far as we have gone.”

“I agree with Peter’le,” stepped in Archie. “I have studied the topic meticulously in all materials provided to me by Lord Pan. I am further inclined to think that the very nature of life will remain unknown. A physician can issue a certificate confirming an individual’s death. In most cases he is right. But the nature of the force that keeps us alive is unknown and I fear it will remain so.”

“Your mission, Berger, was to pinpoint the seven people who left their mark on human history. Do you really believe that I am one of them?”

“I do,” I assured him, adding as an afterthought, “but I am not at all certain that the task entrusted to me is feasible. My reflections go in a different direction: I suspect that our development was the fruit of a process akin to evolution.”

“I am inclined to agree with Peter’le. By way of illustration, take mathematics. I benefited from the works of Pythagoras and Euclid; Galileo advanced the work of Copernicus. Similarly, Aristotle was the father of physics.  Then came the innovations of Isaac Newton and later still Albert Einstein’s. In both cases one discerns an evolutionary progression.”

“I have to concede that the same is true in my own field,” said Darwin. “Still, I hope my work was a turning point.”

“It was,” I told him and saluted him. “You sidestepped the morass and turned a fresh leaf.”

“I am pleased you think so highly of my work. I did not like the theological outburst I had to encounter. Fortunately, Thomas Huxley was prepared to act as an advocate.”

“Luck too is important,” I told him. “I wonder how many brilliant works were lost to us or never saw light due to external circumstances.”

“I have to agree,” concurred Darwin. “If my family had not been well off, I might have never joined HMS Beagle without securing a salary.”

“In effect, you concede the role of Fortuna – the goddess of luck,” I voiced my  view.

“Modern genetics confirm that pure chance at conception cannot, and should never, be ruled out,” summed up well-read Archie.  

 

XV. ASSESSMENT IN OUR HAVEN

 

1.Archie’s analysis of evolution

 

Archie and I were teletransported back to our ward on a slow moving beacon. On our way, Archie looked at me thoughtfully.

“Peter’le, why did Darwin and you keep addressing each other by surnames? Why didn’t he call you Peter or Peter’le?”

“Society was formal in his era. Using a proper name when addressing a person would imply superiority or familiarity. Darwin and I addressed one another as equals. I fell in line with the etiquette of his day.”

“I see,” nodded Archie. “But tell me do you really think that the individual’s role was as limited as you suggested earlier on?”

“I fear that this may be so. I am inclined to think that each of the seven punchees was a product of his time.”

“How about Genghis Khan?”

“I suspect that if he had not united the Mongols someone else would have done so.”

“But would he have built an empire?”

“I suspect that once a Mongol leader realised the potential of the military force he commanded, he was bound to act and conquer.”

“How about Darwin, whom you admire?”

“He came at the right time. I suspect that any reader of Malthus’ book had the potential of adapting his theory to the world of nature.”

“Basically, Peter’le, you believe that humanity went through its own process of evolution?”

“It wasn’t a strait line. Humanity had its ups and downs. Its evolution is a zigzag. Still, all in all, humanity experienced a progression. Darwin covered the point in The Descent.”

“It would appear that there has been no branching,” grunted Archie

“Homo Sapiens is the only remaining Homo species. There were some before us (or possibly even during our own years on earth) but now they have become extinct.”

“I know,” agreed Archie. “I have read about them. Do you think that some new species may come into existence?”

 “Difficult to say. Homo Sapiens has been around for a relatively short time. Even so, some authors talk about a Superman. And remember, Archie, changing circumstances or major catastrophes can take place at any time. Who knows what sort of turn evolution might take in its wake.”

Darwin’s theory leaves room for it,” opined Archie.

“it does; but, remember, the future is not ours to see.”

 

 

2.A win-win situation

 

Tiger and Moti welcomed us as soon as we surfaced. At Tiger’s suggestion I went for a swim. Archie rested comfortably in his small hut on Moti’s back. The chat with Darwin had been most interesting. All the same, both Archie and I were fatigued. We needed a rest.

 

Later in the day, the four of us had an informal meeting. Our object was to determine the course to be taken in the forthcoming meeting with the panel.

 “Peter’le, what would happen if the panel approved your choices?”

“I have no idea. I suppose they may move me to paradise.”

“But what is wrong in this ward? Aren’t you enjoying yourself here?” asked Archie. “You have become one of us.”

“Actually, I should hate being moved somewhere else,” I confirmed.

“In that case isn’t it better if they disapprove? Surely, they would then ask you to punch some other noses,” observed Tiger.

“And in that case they will allow Lord Pan to make arrangements for your accommodation. I feel confident that he will send you back to us,” concluded Archie.

“In other words, it is a win-win situation,” averred Tiger. “Regardless of the outcome we look forward to your coming back.”

Moti, who had kept silent throughout, trumpeted. It was an appropriate display of support.

Feeling deeply moved I smiled at the trio. It also dawned on me that, in reality, the hearing by the panel was bound to be anticlimactic. Still, I looked forward to it.  

 

XVI. SECOND HEARING

 

1.The panel refers to Fortuna

 

Next morning Theophil summoned me to the second hearing of the panel. To ensure I felt comfortable, Theophil assumed the form of an old friend of my London days, Peppi Stölzl, who had been my late father’s bosom pal in Vienna. Gabriel, too, assumed a new form, which I associated with Maimonides. The Almighty  retained his original guise.

“Well, what do you think of my performance,” I asked with trepidation. Somehow – quite regardless of the verdict – I felt the need of gaining their approval.

“What made you give a miss to philosophers? Don’t you think that Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Descartes, Spinoza and Kant left a mark?” asked Gabriel.

“I am sure they did, especially Plato and Socrates.  The discipline, though, kept changing. I tried to play it safe. Have I made a mess?”

“I don’t think so,” replied Gabriel, “but I am not at all certain that I would have made the same choices.”

“Is it possible that we gave Peter’le an unreasonable task?” asked Theophil. “We picked the number seven at random. Would your task have been easier if we had opted for a higher number, say twelve?”

“Well, Peter’le,” prompted the Almighty as I had remained patently uneasy.

“I have my doubts, Oh Lord.”

“Explain yourself,” interjected Gabriel.

“In the course of my attempt to identify major actors, I was driven to the conclusion that the role of any individual is limited. It appeared to me that every candidate was a product of his time.”

“Give us an example,” prompted Theophil.

Take St. Paul, whom I admire. Could he have spread Christianity if the people of his generation had been satisfied with their own creed?”

“Care to elaborate?” prompted the Almighty.

“The Romans were pagans. They did not have a theology that appealed to the sophisticated members of the civilisation of the Empire. Judaism was spiritual and preached the existence of one God, who was also the universal creator. The faith, though, was confined to the Jews’ own ethnic group. St. Paul filled the gap left by the anthropomorphic pantheon of Greece and Rome. He applied the core of Judaism to create a faith applicable to all believers.”

“Give us another case in point,” asked Gabriel.

“Very well,” I replied having gained confidence. “Take Livia Augusta. The Romans were destined to follow a powerful statesman, like Sulla. If Livia hadn’t turned her Augustus into an appropriate leader, Rome would have found another suitable person. In my opinion Augustus and Livia occupied a throne that needed them.”

“How about Galileo Galilei? I know you have not visited him. Still, you reflected about his contribution to modern science,” stepped in my mentor, Theophil.

“Again, we have the right man at the appropriate time. Fortunately, he discovered Copernicus’ calculations which established that the earth orbited the sun. He picked these up and rose to support them. He also refined the telescope, used it to observe the stars and became the father of modern astronomy. Galileo was a man of the High Renaissance and like his compatriots put the search for knowledge above the conventional wisdom of his day.”

“Is there also an element of fortune in the evolutionary process?” asked Gabriel. Theophil nodded in agreement and the Almighty – the Head of the panel – looked at me thoughtfully.

“I believe there is. For instance, it was fortunate that Galileo came across Copernicus’ work, which was actually preserved in the Vatican’s archives; and he was fortunate to hear about the invention of the microscope in the Netherlands. Even in the case of Darwin (whom I admire) there was an element of luck. First, he was the scion of a wealthy family that could afford his joining an enterprise without a salary. Second, his appointment as ‘naturalist’ by Captain Fitzroy of HMS Beagle was a lucky break. Third, he was fortunate to find his ‘bulldog’ – Thomas Huxley – who popularised his findings and preached them.”

“Was he also the right man at the right time?” asked Theophil.

“Wasn’t he ever? Evolution had been debated long before him. He simply showed how the process worked.”

“I like your articulation,” said He Himself. “You see, when I created, I assumed the role of a first mover. I then let matters take their own course. I am a non-interventionist, except that, from time to time, I see the need for an Act of God.”

“Like the comet that wiped out the dinosaurs?”

“That, too,” He agreed.

“The three major monotheistic religions,” I pointed out,  “depict you as concerned with humanity. One of them describes you as a God of vengeance, who does not tolerate His people worshiping other beings. Another religion claims that by embracing your supremacy and creed, a believer obtains salvation.”

“And do you accept any of these propositions?”

“I have my doubts, Dear God. You see, religions depict Theophil as a ‘Satan’, who is the epitome of evil. To me he has always been a kindly mentor. I have come to the conclusion that the portrayal of all religions is misguided.”

“Please explain yourself,” ordered Gabriel.

“By way of illustration, take a potter. He may go to no end when he models and fires a piece. Thereafter – when it is complete – he usually does not track it. In a sense, he no longer has an interest in its fate.”

“Does the illustration apply?” asked Theophil.

“I cannot be certain. My point is that creation and future judgment need not be in one hand. However, the fact that our globe experiences Acts of God, suggests to me that our creator visits us from time to time.”

“You assume that Acts of God are initiated by the Creator, don’t you?”

“I suspect I do, Maestro,” I admitted.

“Here is where you jump to conclusions,” replied Theophil. “Suppose the Creator’s only object is to bring things into existence and then observe what happens to them.”

“Are Acts of God then initiated by luck?”

“Luck: which you have often described as the Goddess Fortuna.”

“That’s what was on my mind,” I conceded.

Darwin might have agreed with you,” supplemented Gabriel. “I suspect you have realised this. Here is one of the reasons you worship him.”

 

 

2.Provisional judgment

 

“We better turn to your punchees,” decided the Almighty. “We need to know whether your choices are supportable.”

“I am sure there is a strong element of bias in my choices. As pointed out by Gabriel, I have excluded philosophers. If you had given the task to another individual,
he (or she) might have selected other punchees, concentrating, for instance, on scientists. I am satisfied that you reckoned with the subjective element in the exercise given to me.”

“We did indeed,” observed the Almighty. “Still, I am nonplussed by your having visited Eve. I thought you did not believe in the creation story of the Bible.”

“True,” I conceded, “but, then, you said that for the sake of this exercise I could take any person mentioned in the scriptures, or in literary works, as real.”

“Basically, this is correct,” declared Gabriel. “Nonetheless, if you do not believe a given person really existed, I don’t see how you can attribute to him (or her) a major influence on humanity.”

“That’s  a sophistry,” I complained.

“True,” conceded Gabriel, “but then, aren’t you sophisticated?”

“I suppose I am, although some of my best friends on earth considered me a simpleton.”

“And you were clever enough to let them hold on to the image,” grinned Theophil.

“I cannot quarrel with this. Well, what is my sentence?”

“We have decided to ignore your encounter with Eve,” pronounced the Almighty following a brief consultation with the panel. “This means, Peter’le, that you have to punch one further nose.”

“That is a very fair and lenient sentence,” I agreed wholeheartedly.

“But we have determined to attach a string,” advised Gabriel, seeking to sound severe.

“Surely, you are not going to order me to punch Master Theophil. I’d rather go to hell than do such an irreverent act.”

“No, that is not your task; and, in any event, Theo is a non-interventionist so that his direct influence on humanity is minimal.”

“I am relieved. What, then, is the string?”

“You have to punch a person who lived in the 20th century.”

“I see; but that is also my era,” I let my misgivings show. “How can I judge members of my own epoch? Am I not bound to have an unshakeable bias?”

“You must do your best to overcome it,” advised Theophil.

“Some of the most influential characters of the 20th century are, at least in my eyes, contemptible.”

“You may, nevertheless, choose one of them,” explained the Almighty. “We shall reconvene after you have completed your task.”

“How soon do I have to act and where shall I stay in the meantime?”

“There is no hurry,” the Almighty told me and added: “Please tell us: are you happy with your present abode?”

“I love it.”

“Then you might as well stay put!”

 

XVII. 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.”

 

XVIII. MARIE CURIE

      (1867 – 1934)

 

 

1.Getting ready for visiting Marie Curie

 

            I decided to visit Marie Curie in April 1934 (a year after my birth). By then, Marie Curie had earned all her medals and honours and also knew she was a very sick woman.

            In the case of other punchees, I appeared accompanied by one of my ward-friends and actually did not change my attire. On this occasion, Archie was not keen to accompany me and both Moti and Tiger declined. Tiger felt that I did not need protection and Moti decided to stay behind with Archie.

            To the surprise of all of them I felt the need to dress up.

            “But what is wrong with your informal attire, Peter’le?” asked Archie. “It is very comfortable: a pair of slacks and a tee-shirt. This is the first time you contemplate formalities.”

            “I agree,” observed Moti. Tiger nodded.

            “But Marie Curie was a lady. She may not take kindly to my informal appearance,” I explained.

            “Wasn’t Livia Augusta a lady?” persevered Archie.

            “She was indeed; but Marie Curie was virtually a contemporary. She died one year after my birth. She would appreciate that my comfortable clothes were informal; Livia did not.”

            “Oh well,” interceded Tiger. “Why not ask for Lord Pan’s advice.”

            As if he had been listening, Theophil materialised in front of us. Looking at me critically, he offered me a tuxedo and dress shirt.

            “I don’t want to overdo things, Maestro,” I told him.

            “Oh well,” he responded and offered me an ordinary suit, a plain shirt and a grey tie. It was the outfit I used when delivering lectures.

            “Can I have a matching tie?” I asked.

            “Sure thing,” he grinned and proffered a number of ties. Having chosen an elegant red tie, I looked around with satisfaction.

            “And here is a bunch of flowers: you may as well call on her as a proper gentleman,” chided Theophil. “But remember, Peter’le: this is a business call – not a social one.”

            “I know this,” I assured him, “but I am sure she’ll appreciate my formal appearance. After all, they wore the same type of clothes during her lifetime.”

 

2. A lengthy chat with Marie Curie

 

            Marie Curie looked out of her depth: “How did you enter without using the knocker?”

            “What you see is a mere image,” I explained and, noting she remained bewildered, added: “The real Peter Berger died of old age. You see his replica, looking as he did when middle aged.”

            “Oh well,” she muttered. “To hear is to believe. But then, what induced you to come to this place?”

            She listened with curiosity to my explanation. She then pointed out that, in her opinion, the task set to me was unrealistic. Billions of people lived in our civilisations from times immemorial. How could anybody pick the seven or eight most significant individuals out of such a multitude? She felt confident that progress was a slow process and that useful information must have been lost over the years.

            “Just think about our own century,” she insisted. “How many important discoveries were made by pure chance?”

            “I agree,” I confirmed. “But luck and chance are inadequate on their own. You need the right person at the correct moment. Isn’t it remarkable that gravity was not recognised until Isaac Newton ‘discovered’ what ought to have been obvious for generations?”

            “I take your point,” she agreed willingly. “Sometimes, though, you must have the confidence of your convictions so as to find those who would listen to you.”  

            “True,” I agreed.  “You imply that somebody may have realised the existence of gravity but did not have the urge to make his views known. The same could be true in respect of other mind-shaking innovations.”

            “Precisely,” she approbated. Then, as if by a flash, she looked at the bunch of flowers I had brought with me.

            “Nowadays I rarely get flowers. Young men bring them to their sweethearts and men of the older generation are often afraid of being misunderstood.”

            I grinned at the stale joke whilst she took the flowers and put them in a vase which, I sensed, had not been used for a while.

            “When were you born?” she wanted to know.

            “In April 1933, in Vienna.”

            “1933!” she exclaimed. “That is the very year in which Adolf Hitler came to power.”

            “You know about him, don’t you?”

            “I do; I do indeed. He made the Munich Putsch – a coup d’ètat – about ten years earlier. It failed and he was convicted of treason. I believe he wrote Mein Kampf in prison. They let him out after only nine months. I hate him and his ideology. Anti-Semitism was one of his tenets.”

            “Anti-Semitism has been dominant in Europe for centuries,” I told her. “I recall, in particular, the Kishinev Pogrom of 1903. Actually, anti-Semitism was part of the culture of many East European countries.”

            “It was,” she confirmed. “It was professed in Czarist Russia, a vast empire that engulfed Poland.  You know, when I went to primary school in Warsaw, I had to study Russian. I have remained conversant in it.”

            Poland had a large Jewish community. Vilna [Vilnius] was the leading Ashkenazi community during the 19th and the early 20th centuries.”

            “I know. For generations Poland was regarded one of the most tolerant countries in Europe. Jews flocked to it and established themselves.”

            “Tolerant havens frequently become centres of anti-Semitism or any other form of xenophobia when a minority becomes substantial, fails to mix with the indigenous population and adheres to its own norms.  For at least three centuries Germany was extremely tolerant. Then anti-Semitism raised its ugly head.”

            “I know,” she told me. “In France it was dormant. Marcel Proust described it vividly. And I recall the Dreyfus Affair, in which an innocent Jewish army-man was convicted of treason and sentenced to life exile in a penal colony.”

            “I am familiar with the event; but – in the very least – Emile Zola published his letter, entitled ‘J’Accuse…!’, which eventually led to Dreyfus’ exoneration and reinstatement. But why are you so familiar with xenophobia?”

            “I was born in Poland,” she reminded me. “My maiden name was Skolodowska. Poland has always remained my home country. Still, prejudices against women were widespread at home. To finish my studies and launch my career, I had to move to Paris in 1891.”

            “Why to Paris?” I asked.

 “My sister had already moved there and so I joined her. So, you see, I know all about prejudices.”

            “These did not stop you from reaching the very top,” I pointed out.

            “They didn’t. But I had a break of good luck when I fell in love with Pierre Curie  and married him in 1895. We worked harmoniously together. Even so, when the Swedish Academy accepted nominations for the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1903, they wanted to apportion it between Pierre and another physicist. Pierre insisted that my name be included. In the end, the two of us shared half the prize with Becquerel.”

            “I know this. Nonetheless you continued on your own after his demise in 1906.”

            “I did; but, you know, we isolated both elements: polonium and radium in 1895. It was a joint enterprise. We supported one another. Both elements have a very short half- life and so the task was complex.”

            “Please don’t feel the need to enter details. I am not a scientist and, in all probability, will follow you only in parts.”

            “Pierre and I noted that a given compound emitted more radiation than would come from uranium and thorium and so felt certain there were other elements present. We set ourselves the task of separating them.”

            “That much is easy to follow. But the details of the process you used would be beyond me,” I told her.

            “We named the first element ‘polonium’ after my homeland, which alas was at that time partitioned between Czarist Russia, Germany and the Austro-Hungarian (Habsburg) Empire. I hoped to draw the world’s attention to this sorry situation by naming one new element polonium.”

            “As far as I remember, there were numerous struggles centred on Poland and the Ukraine during the protracted wars of the Bolsheviks. I believe that, in the end, Poland emerged as a sovereign and united country.”

            “It did; and I was delighted. But I cannot forgive Lenin for his cruel instigation of wars surrounding Poland. Ostensibly, he wanted Poland to become a communist state. I was relieved that, in the end, his struggle was unsuccessful. Was he one of the persons you considered as contributors to the developments of the 20th century?”

            “He was;  but I decided to give him a miss. All in all, he was a failure: he was unrealistic. His successor, Stalin, was a brute!”

            “I know that Stalin took over the reins. Is it true that he poisoned Lenin?”

            “We can’t be certain. I would not put it past him. Stalin killed anybody who stood in his way or whom he suspected of disloyalty. His was a reign of terror.”

            “Did you consider him?”

            “Overlooking him would have been unrealistic. I also took notice of Sun Yat Sen and Mao.”

            “I do not know much about them. Who else was on your list?”

            “Freud, Spengler, Einstein, Hubble and Chaplin,” I told her.

            “I met Albert Einstein in the 1911 Solvay Conference in Brussels. I think very highly of him. I have read Freud and, of course, met Hubble. I like watching Chaplin. City Lights was special. It had a social message.”

            “So did his subsequent films but they were made after your time. My favourite is Modern Times, which was Chaplin’s last semi-silent film.”

            “Please tell me about it.”

            She listened with interest to my narration. I followed it up by telling her about The Great Dictator.

            “What is wrong with poking fun at Hitler? Don’t tell me that you approve of him.”

            “Of course, I don’t. The very mention of his name passes a shiver down my spine. But there was nothing ridiculous about him. He was vicious: the epitome of evil. Chaplin failed to bring out the nasty side of the dictator.”

            “Actually, why did you consider Chaplin?”

            “He was a master of his field: the cinema. His films depict the 20th century with all its faults.”

            “I see,” she approbated. “Can you also tell me about Hitler’s actions?”

            “Go ahead,” I heard Theophil’s voice in my mind.

            “Hitler became the absolute ruler – Führer – of Germany. His pogroms started in 1934. He destroyed all political enemies and then turned on the Jews. He and his minions murdered six millions of us. His object was to exterminate all Jews in Europe.”

            “What did the rest of the world say?”

            “Not much: some politicians fraternised with him and subsequently most turned a blind eye or, like ostriches, buried their heads in the sand. However, some countries sheltered Jewish refugees. But, Madame Curie: I do not like to talk about this. Hitler ‘annexed’ Austria and my parents escaped in the nick of time.  I grew up in Israel.”

            Israel? There was no such country during my lifetime.”

            “There wasn’t. Great Britain had a mandate over Palestine, which built up a substantial Jewish settlement – the Yishuv. Israel was founded in 1948.”

            “So, there was a war,” she concluded. “It must have broken out after my time.”

            “You can tell her about it,” my mind heard Theophil’s voice.

            “Whom are you listening to? Is there anyone else in this room?”

            “You are observant,” said Theophil and materialised in front of us, assuming the form of an ordinary, non-descript, man.

            “You look like my father, Vladyslaw Solokovski; but he died years ago. Who are you?”

            “I am Peter’le’s mentor. Humanity refers to me as Satan, the evil Archangel; but I am a mere observer and remain invisible unless I show my hand. Today I assumed a form you could relate to, Marie. And it is easier if I – rather than Peter’le – enlighten you. But don’t ask me anything respecting the end of your life.”

            “I know my days are numbered,” she told him. “Is it a sickness I picked up from the isotopes we handled?”

            “They and the x-rays you administered (without the safety of protective shields, such as a lead belt) when you joined the Red Cross during WWI. These rays and radiation act slowly.”

            “Well, please tell me about the rest of the 20th century.”

            Obligingly, Theophil related to  her the developments which led to the outbreak of WWII. She looked surprised when he told her how Hitler took back the Saarland (which had been constituted an independent state after WWI), wrenched the ‘Sudetenland’ from Czechoslovakia and ‘annexed’ Austria. Theophil then mentioned how Stalin and Hitler entered into a non-aggression agreement, which effectively led to the latter’s sweeping attack on Poland.

            “My poor homeland’s peace was destroyed once again,” she said bitterly. “I assume the West closed its eyes!”

            “Not so, Marie,” corrected Theophil. “When Hitler attacked Poland in 1939 Britain and France declared war on Germany.” My mentor proceeded to tell her how Hitler defeated and conquered France and that the United States remained neutral until the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbour in 1941.

            “Did Adolf Hitler live in peaceful co-existence with Communist Russia?” she wanted to know.

            “He didn’t. In 1941 he launched a surprise attack on Russia without declaring war. The United States helped Russia to arm. In due course Hitler was defeated in 1945 and committed suicide.”

            “What happened to Poland at the end of WWII?”

            “It became a communist country; independent in name only. Stalin controlled all of Eastern Europe and a communist regime sprang up in Poland. After his death, the world changed: the Soviet Union collapsed and, in the process, Poland became an independent democratic country.”

            “Did it regain freedom?” she asked anxiously.

            “It did,” confirmed Theophil.

            “I am relieved,” she approbated; “but please tell me more about yourself.”

            “What do you want to know?”

            “Are you of this world?”

            “Depends on what you mean by ‘world’. I exist in another dimension but watching your universe is my hobby.”

            “So ours is not the only universe?”

            “You have to draw your own conclusions,” said Theophil firmly and vanished.

 

3. Marie Curie’s later life

 

            Marie Curie looked at me searchingly. For a few minutes silence prevailed. Then she asked me if I was familiar with her life after Pierre’s demise.

            “I believe you had a hostile French Press,” I answered.

            “I had two nasty experiences,” she told me unfalteringly. “The first scandal took place in 1910 when I was considered for a vacant seat for physics in the French Academy of Sciences. The conservative press attacked me, claiming, inter alia, that I was Jewish. The liberal press came to my defence, but the damage had been done. The seat was allocated to someone else.”

            “I understand that you reacted by immersing yourself in your research.”

            “I did but it was then discovered that I had a romantic affair with an unhappily married man. A real scandal erupted in 1911. My lover had been a pupil of my late husband and, like me, was a devoted physicist. The press went so far as to suggest that I had carried on with him during Pierre’s life.  When I returned from the conference in Brussels an angry mob congregated in front of my dwelling. I had to take refuge in the house of friends.”

            “You must have been devastated,” I muttered.

            “Wasn’t I ever!” she conceded. “Still, by sheer luck I was at that time awarded my second Nobel Prize. This was an additional recognition of my discovery of the two elements. In my acceptance lecture I gave credit to Pierre and also to Ernest Rutherford, who was the first to split the atom. He, too, had attended the Brussels Conference.”

            “And you met Einstein in Brussels.”

            “So I did; and he sent me an encouraging letter when the scandal broke out, urging me to stand my ground. I welcomed this warm support. We became family friends. Actually, why did you select me rather than Einstein or Rutherford?”

            “Let us take them one by one. I did, of course, consider Einstein, but had some doubts about the way he treated his wife and also in respect of his originality.”

            “Are you telling me that he was not a gentleman or an honest man?” she showed her irritation. “But, be  this as it may, how about Rutherford?”

            “He was a great scientist and I am sure that his splitting of the atom led, directly or indirectly, to the concept of the atom bombs which the Americans dropped on Hiroshima and on Nagasaki. This led to Japan’s capitulation. However, Rutherford was not as highly acclaimed as either Einstein or yourself.”

            “Is fame the main criterion? I thought you were searching for the person who exerted major influence on the 20th century?”

            “I do. I appreciate that Rutherford made a major contribution to physics. Nonetheless, he did not become a moving force. In my opinion, the limelight falls on you. I am thinking of the major influence that your work had on medicine. You must be aware that controlled radiation has prolonged the life of many cancer patients. Two friends of mine owe their longevity to the timely applications of radiation. Apart from being a milestone in physics and chemistry, your work contributed to the advancement of medicine.”

            “I understand and am proud. But, you know, my main contribution was my work for the Red Cross during WWI. Radon helped to heal wounds, and my field x-ray device saved many soldiers from unnecessary amputations.”

            “I took this into account. Note that Einstein and Chaplin gave lip service to the war effort but did not risk their own lives.”

            “Aren’t you too harsh? And, you know, many ordinary men and women risked their lives whilst serving in the Red Cross.”

            “I don’t think I’m too harsh. I must assess the individuals from all angles. And, yes, I know that many individuals risked their lives; but their sacrifices did not leave an impact on the 20th century.”

 

            I sensed that it was time to end the interview but felt the need to ask for her opinion of Sigmund Freud and of Oswald Spengler. Marie Curie was forthcoming. She told me that she had read Freud’s The Interpretation of Dreams but did not find the tenets of benefit when she tried to rely on them to work out the meaning of nightmares she had in the wake of the tribulations in her life. She had read The Decline of the West but wondered whether Spengler’s prophecy materialised.

            “The West has declined,” I told her. “By the end of the century all colonial empires disappeared. Nonetheless, I have doubts about the accuracy of his system. History does not repeat itself and the future has remained ‘not ours to see’. Many events which took place during the second half of the 20th century were unpredictable during Spengler’s lifetime.”

            “Please tell me: what happened during the last decades of my century?”

            “They were marked by an electronic communications revolution. It was a process: in 1982 I purchased my first personal computer, which had a word processing system. Later I acquired a mobile phone.”

            “A mobile … what?” she looked perplexed.

            “A telephone you can carry with you. I am used to taking it with me wherever I go.”

            “Sounds interesting,” she approbated and, as an afterthought, added: “I wonder whether this is a real experience or a mirage.”

            Theophil whisked me away before I had the time to reply or to bow to her. As if by flash, I was back in my ward.

 

 

 

XIX. THE VERDICT

 

1.Back in my haven

 

            Archie, Tiger and Moti were pleased to see me back. To my surprise Theophil  remained with us.

            “Why did you spirit me away, Maestro?”

            “What else did you want to ask her?”

            “Actually, I was done. Still, she is bound to know that my appearance was not a  hallucination. She has the flowers.”

            “They, too, vanished. And the vase is back in the place in which she used to keep it.”

            “Why?” I wanted to know.

            “As you know,” explained Theophil. “Her appointed day is close. My object was not to disturb events. Remember, I am not an interventionist. Also, this way she might think it had been a pleasant dream.”

            “In reality, Lord Pan, you are humane,” observed Tiger.

            “Wrong adjective or, in the language of computer technology: ‘verb confusion’. You see, I am not cruel, greedy, vain or condescending.”

            “I see,” noted Tiger. “Still, you do have a sense of humour.”

            “I might have picked it up from mixing with humanity,” retorted Theophil dryly.

            “Or perhaps humanity picked it up from you!” opined Moti. Noting that Theophil and the three of us grinned supportively, he rose on his hind legs and trumpeted victoriously.

“Also, if I like a human being,” explained Theophil, “I try on occasions to do, by non-intervention, a kind act. For instance, I wanted Marie Curie to believe she had experienced a rewarding mirage.” After a pause, he added: “In any event, Peter’le: your final meeting with the panel is now due.”  

            “I might as well change back into my comfortable clothes.”

            “You better keep your attire. I am certain that He would approve of your working uniform.”

2.Discussion with the Panel

 

            The panel looked more welcoming than on previous occasions. For a while, I stared at Gabriel.

            “You look like my teacher in Tichon (my secondary school); but Dr. Frank died years ago.”

            “So he did, but then, today I set out to comfort you; and I want to make a point. Please tell us, did you like your Dr. Frank? Hasn’t his influence over you lasted for decades?”

            “Didn’t it ever? I was impressed by his brilliant analysis of The Book of Job. I get engrossed in it at least twice a year; and, actually, I read passages of the Old Testament every evening. Further, Dr. Frank drew my attention to the differences in  vocabulary between chapters 38 to 41 [God’s reply ‘out of the storm’] and the magnificent poetry of chapters 3 to 31. He opened my eyes,”

            “Well, Eli,” said Gabriel, using my Hebrew name, “don’t you think that some or perhaps even most of the persons you selected were subject to an influence of this type, an influence which might have been exerted by another, occasionally undistinguished individual?”

            “This may very well be so. Livia Augusta might have taken her inspiration from studying Cleopatra’s life: she grasped that often a kingdom is governed by the ruler’s consort. Similarly, Darwin’s trend of thought might have been triggered when he read Malthus.”

            “Precisely,” replied Gabriel. “Occasionally, a common soul may make a remark or discuss an issue which strikes a chord in the mind of another person, who becomes a celebrity.”

            “I accept your conclusion, Gabriel. Further, I wonder if the role of an individual is simply to come up with a theory or a thought that is timely. In other words, suppose Darwin had not pinpointed natural selection. Presumably, another person, for instance Wallace, might have postulated it in due course.”

            “What are you telling us, Peter’le?” asked He himself.

            “I am inclined to think that development is a trend based on historical processes. The individual’s role is limited. He (or she) must be the right person at the appropriate time.”

            “I see,” He said supportively; “but suppose the right person does not appear on time? Could a major development be delayed or simply fail to materialise altogether?”

            “It could definitely be postponed. For instance, if Marcus Aurelius had nominated a worthy successor, the final decline of the Western Roman Empire might have been delayed for years.”

            “How about an entire change?” He wanted to know.

            “I suspect that if Genghis Khan had been killed before he united the tribes, the onset of the Black Death might have precluded the rise of a Mongol Empire. Similarly, if Vladimir Lenin had not had his stroke, Stalin might not have been able to seize power. It is difficult to predict the course of the 20th century in such a scenario.”

            “Do you then think that your search was futile?” asked Gabriel.

            “I don’t. My task was to identify the major contributors. I did my best but, in the process, realised that luck has played a major role: luck and perhaps the common human tendency to resist change or novel ideas. I do believe that the emergence of the right individual at the appropriate time has played a major role in mankind’s history.”

 

            “We are inclined to agree,” said He Himself. “All in all, you applied yourself in a commendable manner. At the same time, your approach underwent a change when you reviewed the 20th century and – to a lesser extent – the 19th century. In the original stages of selection, you tended to be cool and distant. You were guided solely by your mind. When you set out to select a nominee of the 19th and 20th centuries, you were also guided by emotions. Why is that, Peter’le?”

            “The reason is plain, God Almighty. I am a man of the 20th century. Many events that took place during it, or the preceding century, had a direct bearing on me. By way of illustration, take the battle of Stalingrad. When Nazi Germany was defeated in 1942, I was already nine years of age. I knew that the Nazi’s failure to take the city was an important and, to me, a positive development. Similarly, when Rommel took a beating in El Alamain, I knew that our community in Palestine was saved. If General Montgomery had lost, the Jewish population – the Yishuv – would have been deported to the extermination camps. Is it then a wonder that my emotions were roused and – perhaps – prevailed? All in all, I was, despite all efforts, unable to suppress emotive drives.”

            “We understand,” said Gabriel. “In a sense, your outlook led to a transformation of our ordinary proceedings. Usually, Theo acts as prosecutor (or ‘devil’s advocate’) and I assume the role of counsel for the defence. In view of your close relationship with Theo we decided to reverse the roles. In the end, though, you won me over.”

            “How?”

            “By giving vent to your feelings. All in all, mankind is governed by emotions. The mind – and an analysis based only on reason – is alien to human nature. By way of illustration, take Marie Curie. The discovery of the new elements and her work on radiation was the fruit of scientific (and hence rational) deductions and work. Her decision not to take out patents securing her rights over inventions, was a highly emotive – and to my mind decent – reaction driven by her altruism. I believe you fathom the trend.”

            “I do; and please explain to me why this met with your approval?”

            “You remained true to form, and, on this basis, I concluded that you performed your task effectively. Nonetheless, we are baffled by one trend displayed by you. All individuals considered by you in respect of the 20th century thrived during its early decades or first half. Most of them were born during the last decades of the 19th century but were active – and gained recognition – in the 20th. Isn’t that true?”

            “It is,” I conceded willingly. “However, please consider the matter from my viewpoint. The impact or achievements of individuals like Stalin, Mao, Einstein, Hubble and Marie Curie were conveyed to me during my school years. Even a leader like Deng Xiaoping – who came to power in the People’s Republic of China in 1978 – started his career long before Mao’s Cultural Revolution.”

            “So?” asked He Himself.

            “The giants or fiends of the second half – or the last few decades – of the 20th century are too close to be identified. I am satisfied that a theoretical physicist like  Hawking or political leaders like Margaret Thatcher will be remembered and have left a legacy. All the same, it is too early to form a decisive impression. I am amidst things – not above or detached from them.”

            “I take your point,” said Theophil, who had remained silent until then. “Could you perhaps  convey to us your impression of the 20th century as a whole or, in  particular, of its second half.”

            “By and large, I regard the 20th century as a period of great attainments, both in the sciences and in the arts. In a way, it was a renaissance. Nonetheless, many spells of genocide and of sheer mass slaughter took place during it. The senseless WWI – the war in the trenches – and the horrid WWII remind me of the Mongol conquests of earlier generations. These events of our modern era dwarf the cruelties and brutality of earlier onslaughts.”

            “Anything special about the second half?” asked Theophil.

            “On the positive side I am inclined to regard it as the Pax Americana, marked by relative peace and a drive for globalization. It was also the age of the electronic revolution. I recall that in my days as a doctoral student I had to take the train from Oxford to London to have access to the American law reports. Today these are available online. Cosmology, astronomy and medicine experienced great leaps forward. So did banking and finance.”

            “Tell us a bit about the latter,” asked Gabriel.

            “Most banks have become multinational. They have offices all over the world. When I first arrived in Singapore, the Standard Chartered Bank and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Banking Corporation were the major financial institutions. Singapore had some local banks, such as the Lee Hwa and the Chung Khiaw Bank; but they were not major players. When I returned to the city-state in 1986, DBS, OCBC, OUB and UOB had become the leading banks. The United Kingdom, too, saw many changes. In 1960 the centre of Oxford – Carfax – boasted a few banks. Today many banks have merged so that, in reality, there are only two players in Carfax; and many foreign banks have establishments in London. It is a different – a brave new – banking world.”

            “Has society, too, undergone a change?” asked my mentor

            “I think it has. First, people are open about and lay great stress on wealth and talk about money. In the past, it was ‘vulgar’ to discuss money and, further, moguls tended to become patrons of the arts or of a designated science. Today, they are far more inclined to show off monetary success than ever before. In a sense, this is not surprising. Capitalism centres on financial achievements.  In the past, class and standing were of greater significance than cash. Secondly, the newspaper world and the media have gained strength. Whilst we find their roots in the 16th century, they gained momentum and influence in our era. The press and the media can make and break an individual; and in many ways they have become a propaganda tool. Third, in the Western World, democracy has become the norm. Monarchies are rare.”

            “How about the Orient?” asked Gabriel.

            “Democracy reigns in India; China has a ‘strong’ person rule: communist in name only. Russia – the outpost of the Occident and bordering on the Orient – has become a dictatorship.”

            “I agree with your summary,” said Theophil. “You see, Gabri and I share a hobby: it is the study of your civilisations. In your favourite tome – The Book of Job – He asked me from where I came to our meeting, to which I replied ‘From going to and fro in the earth, and from walking up and down it’ (Job 1:7): an apt description.”

            “How about Gabriel?” I wanted to know.

            “He actually mixes with you. I already told you that on one occasion he worked in the Inland Revenue Department. Centuries earlier he was in the court of Suleiman the Magnificent.”

            “As a vizier?”

            “No, Peter’le. Like Theo, I am a non-interventionist: I stick to low profile positions, which enable me to see and examine without effecting a change. When the two of us compare our notes we are usually in tandem; and He listens to us.”

            “What is so special about our world and about mankind in particular?”

            “The fact that I was its first mover and that Matey and Gabri like to study it,” explained He Himself patiently.

 

            “There is one further issue I want to raise,” I said with trepidation.

            “Go ahead,” said He Himself.

            “We tend to think of history as divided into centuries,” I made my point. “Is this realistic? Take the 20th century. The period preceding WWI is in most ways an extension of the milieu of the 19th. Similarly, the 18th century came to an end with the outbreak of the French Revolution in 1789, which shattered the feudal world.”

            “If you focus on political developments, your observation is valid,” He replied. “But think about the progress of science. Albert Einstein and Marie Curie impacted physics and chemistry during the first decade of the 20th century. Should you then consider them as 19th century thinkers because they were born before the turn of the century?”

            “Not really. They were active during the first half of the 20th century,” I replied.

            “In reality the division of history into centuries is a matter of convenience,” augmented Theophil. “Naturally, there are overlaps. The  Mongol Empire is an excellent example. Genghis launched it in 1206; it lasted, with variations, till 1480, when Ivan the Terrible drove the Mongols out of their Golden Horde. All the same, the Empire constituted a power supreme during three centuries.”

            “Yes, Peter’le,” said Gabriel, “the division of epochs into centuries is a rough dating yardstick. Further, developments in science and in the arts do not, usually, coincide with political upheavals. They take their own course.”

            “So, all in all, we can adhere to this recognised criterion,” I agreed. “There is an element of caprice in it but, in its own way, it constitutes a useful guide.”

 

             “We shall now proceed to consider your case,” He told me.” There is, nonetheless, one point I want to clarify. You are happy in your present abode and – directly or indirectly – your work is in tandem with Matey’s hobby. Do you feel that, in a way, you have already merged with him?”

            “I do, rather,” I approbated. “Theophil wanders from place to place and gains insights. The occupants of his ward assist me to analyse developments noted by him.”

            “Well said,” remarked my mentor.

 

 

 

3. The panel delivers final judgment

 

            Without further ado the three members of the panel vanished. Instantly, I panicked. Was I going to be left lost in space or in a dimension incomprehensible to me? Then, to my relief, I heard my mentor’s voice: “Don’t you worry, Peter’le; we shall reappear soon.”

            Right away, I calmed down and waited patiently. When they reappeared, He Himself took the lead. Obviously, the delivery of judgements was his task.

            “In our opinion, Peter’le you have carried out your task conscientiously. You are, accordingly, free to merge with Matey. Still, there are gaps in your analysis. You chose people who lived during antiquity but the medieval world and the renaissance are not adequately represented.  It is possible that our having restricted you, originally, to seven punchees was narrow.”

            “This shortcoming is due to our original decision,” agreed Gabriel, who had retained the image of Old Frank of my days in secondary school. Then, after a short pause, he added: “In reality though your work and effort are encompassed in Theo’s hobby or field of interest.”

            “Right you are, Dr. … I mean, Gabriel,” I consented.

            “Dr. Frank, or Old Frank, would have been just as acceptable. You see, one of the personalities I assumed during your epoch was that of your old teacher.”

            “So, in a manner of speaking, you paved the way for my link with Maestro: was it a wilful side effect?”

            “Not really,” explained Gabriel. “It was a sheer coincidence that one of my pupils was to become an adherent of Theo. Be this as it may, you better listen to the details of our verdict.”

            “Well, Peter’le,” He Himself spoke judicially, “we have decided to allow you to proceed. Details are left to be determined by Matey and yourself.”

            “Please tell me, Maestro,” I addressed my mentor, “would it be more effective if I merged with you and, thus, took part in your travels or do you prefer me to stay in your ward and be at your service from there?”

            “Are you happy there?” asked Theophil.

            “I am, provided I can occasionally travel to interesting periods or meet individuals deserving attention.”

            “That seals it,” concluded He Himself. “You may return to Matey’s special ward and come over to address us as you proceed with your study. Let me tell you: the medieval world is not entirely dark. Interesting theological and philosophical developments took place during this poorly researched period.”

 

            Archie, Tiger and Moti were glad to welcome me back. When I told them that I have returned for good, Moti rose on his hind legs and trumpeted to his heart’s delight.

 

 

 

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