Raghavan, my ex-professor friend, called the other day to ask if he could he drop in. “Sure!” I said. “Any time!”
When he turned up that evening, though, he seemed worried. “What’s the matter?” I asked, after sitting him down and giving him a drink.
“Kirtana plans to go to Colombia for her PhD,” he replied. Kirtana is his daughter.
“It’s a good university, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It is,” he replied, “and it isn’t.”
“Why is that?” I asked, intrigued.
“Because God knows what she’ll pick up there,” he replied. “It’s a hotbed of pro-Palestinian protests.”
“Don’t you think she’s bright enough to know what to support?” I asked.
“I used to,” he replied, “but I’ve been wondering these last few weeks.”
“Why?” I asked.
“When I used to teach,” he replied, “I thought I had to show students how to think matters through for themselves, to do their research themselves, and to get to their own understanding of the world. The ultimate compliment for me would be for a student to do well in my course but know nothing about my political views at the end of it.”
“Right,” I said. “Don’t they do that at Columbia?”
“No,” he replied. “They teach you what to think, not how to think. So the distinction between thinking and feeling is gone. Especially in the social sciences.” Kirtana studies sociology.
“How did you figure that out?” I asked.
“From the pro-Palestinian protests,” he replied. “From the attacks on Jewish students. From the way they use the word ‘genocide’. From their slogan, ‘From the river to the sea’. Lots of other things like that.”
“But how do you know they haven’t thought it through?” I asked. “It’s not just those students in the protests: lots of their teachers think the same way.”
“Exactly!” he said. “If the teachers haven’t thought it through, then she’s going to be indoctrinated, not educated… Besides, there are companies that refuse to employ people who protest for Palestinians, so I don’t know if she’ll be able to work there.”
“She can always come back here to teach,” I said. “I think you’re just worried that her political views might differ very much from yours!”
Just then the doorbell rang. It was Murthy, also looking preoccupied. “What’s up?” I asked, after he, too, had sat down with a drink.
He smiled wryly. “The usual,” he said. “Politics.”
“What politics?” I asked.
“Palestinian politics,” he replied.
“How’s that your business?” I asked.
“When people here decide to vote on the basis of Palestine politics, it becomes my business,” replied Murthy.
“But what exactly is the problem?” asked Raghavan.
“Some people are angry that the government backs Israel, and others that members of parliament have been raising slogans supporting Palestine during their oath-taking,” replied Murthy. “Some politicians have even paused their campaign in Kashmir to support Hezbollah! The problem is that we don’t know how many people support which side, and how strongly, so we can’t decide what to say.”
“We can help you with that,” said Raghavan. His company had done some useful opinion polls for Murthy last year.
“I’m sure you can,” replied Murthy, “but we have to time it right. Opinions shift all the time depending on how the war in Lebanon and Gaza and Israel and Iran proceeds.”
“Let me know when you want to run a poll,” said Raghavan.
“Yes,” said Murthy.
“But shouldn’t you look at what’s right?” asked Raghavan. “Do we just go by how people feel?”
“So you tell me what’s right,” said Murthy, pouring himself a fresh drink. “But you also have to tell me why.”
“Okay,” said Raghavan. “That’s what they’re fighting over the land that is now the country of Israel. ”
“Right,” said Murthy.
“Well, that’s part of a much older land called Judea and Samaria,” said Raghavan. “That’s mentioned in Abrahamic scriptures. Even Israel is mentioned in the Bible and the Quran.”
“Some scriptures also say that someone rode a winged horse and split the moon”, said Murthy. “Others say that the earth came into being some 6,000 years ago. Do we accept that?”
“No,” said Raghavan.
“So God didn’t allot any land to anyone,” said Murthy.
“Yes,” said Raghavan. “But there’s evidence that Israel was populated by Jews. Almost anywhere you go in the country, you’re likely to find some Jewish artefact older than Christianity or Islam.”
“Of course,” replied Murthy. “There are still plenty of areas in India where you find artefacts from a culture very different from the idea of modern India. What do we do with those lands? Hand the country over to adivasis?”
“It depends on how far back you go,” said Raghavan.
“Yes,” said Murthy. “It depends on how far back we go. Also on the numbers.”
“Almost two billion Muslims against almost 15 million Jews,” said Raghavan. “Is that what matters?”
“Are you saying it doesn’t?” asked Murthy. “Specially when the more numerous side is loud and intimidating?”
“What if the smaller side is much more organised and effective?” asked Raghavan. “Like Israel.”
“Wait and see,” said Murthy.
Raghavan sat back, looking thoughtful. “Yes. But remember, progress requires peace.”
“What do you do with fundamentalists who require neither?” asked Murthy.
“Use the law on them?” replied Raghavan.
“That’s where numbers matter,” said Murthy. “You can’t do much about a mass protest. Your jails will overflow. You face hard choices: no matter what you do, you’re labelled a bigot or an appeaser. That’s the reality.”
Raghavan smiled wryly. “When you put it that way, of course, that’s what all of life is: a choice between a rock and hard place.”