Saturday 6 September 2008

Michael Mukherjee, Ayman al Zawahiri and a liberal education



Watched and enjoyed the Mani Ratnam film Yuva recently. This got me thinking about social change, revolution, terror and education...a train of thought led to me being an even more ardent fan the American ideal of a broad, liberal university education. Like, for example, the core College curriculum at the University of Chicago, which my cousin Shakti just finished. Probably not the point Mani Ratnam wanted to make. But then, that is why minds have windmills.

Yuva features Abhishek Bachchan as Lallan Singh: a violent underworld hit-man with a thread of gold running through his heart. Lallan Singh works for powerful establishment politicians. Ajay Devgan features as Michael Mukherjee: an idealistic middle-class student of Physics at Presidency College, Calcutta. Michael has many friends and a very gorgeous girlfriend who teaches French. He turns down a scholarship offer from MIT, takes on the violence of Lallan Singh and his wicked, venal political masters, and promises to change the system by standing for election as Mr Clean. He duly wins the election. The movie ends with Michael and friends striding confidently into the Bengal assembly. The implied feel-good conclusion is that Michael's idealism will reform the system.

What started me on the train of of thought was that I found Michael Mukherjee's idealism more scary than Lallan Singh's violence. Michael was sure. He was never in doubt. He never paused to re-consider. He never changed his mind. He couldn't have. Michael's charisma stems from his conviction, in his own personal integrity and in the completeness of his ideas. And, while Ajay Devgan isn't a gifted actor, yet he played Michael perfectly, instinctively. I know real people like Michael, people who derive their sense of self from ideological conviction.

People who share Michael's conviction are often revolutionaries. Could be the Communist Revolution, the Islamist Revolution, the Environmental Revolution, the Freedom Movement, racist supremacists, religious evangelists of any hue…you get the picture. What Michael Mukherjee and all these people share is a world view that is complete. When this world view is adopted, the mind comes to rest. The psyche now has the basis for action. The action is usually both bloody and futile, because the real world is never that simple.

Was it just chance that Michael Mukherjee was a student of physics?

A theory I heard from Professor Ahmet Evin suggests not. Professor Evin was lamenting the (relative) failure of modern Turkey to create a vital civil society. He attributed this to the fact that the Turkish leadership, and therefore all of Turkey, prizes a technical education above a liberal one. The Engineer’s Mind tends to see society as a problem to be solved with a simple, specific and well-designed intervention. Not as an amorphous mass of humanity which needs to be inspired, jollied and cajoled towards another amorphous vision of beauty, virtue and justice (or words to that effect).

While this has to be unfair to my many well-read engineer friends, this theory really resonated with me, as an Indian. My friends from China and Mexico tell me the same narrowness of vision is true of their countries as well.

The prevalence of a technical education among the Al Queda top brass is fascinating. Osama bin Laden is a civil engineer, apparently a pretty good one. Ayman al Zawahiri is a medical doctor. His fellow Al Queda ideologue, Dr. Fadl, is also a medical doctor. Mohamed Atta is an architect who did a Masters degree in Urban Planning at Hamburg University. The pattern is clearly not perfect: Anton Balasingham, the LTTE’s ideologue, had apparently read up on the Vedanta and Buddhism. But there still seems to be a pattern here.

The problem could only be the dog that did not bark. A solid base of engineering knowledge could hardly be a bad thing, in any circumstances. The problem might be that these smart, sensitive, idealistic young people, who were going to be influential in their societies anyway, had no exposure to history, politics or law. They knew nothing of the genius of the Medici family in making the Renaissance possible in tiny, vulnerable medieval Florence. They knew nothing of C. Rajagopalachari’s dissenting views on Indian socialism, and on organizing independent India into language based states. They never wrestled with the differing world views of Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, or with Friedrich Hayek's notion of The Fatal Conceit, the conceit that societies can be engineered.

Maybe, in that half light between education and ignorance, it is easy to imagine that building one mega-dam, or embracing the one true faith, or ridding the world of one hated oppressor, or anointing one master race, or detonating that one perfect suicide bomb, is the key to liberation.

In that case, the point of an education should surely be to dispel that half-light. Education, as opposed to technical training, should be about exposing plastic minds to this dazzling diversity of thought, none of which are complete or correct.

This, unfortunately, is a concept of education alien to Indian Universities. In India, understandable middle class anxiety frames education as a means to earn a decent living. I'm fairly close to my company's graduate hiring program at British Universities. I don't often run into this ideal in Britain either, where 18 year olds are encouraged to make definitive choices between chemical engineering, medicine or architecture. Though the PPE program at Oxford points in this direction. This ideal seems to be best developed in America, where a liberal university education often precedes technical specialization, therefore cultivating humanity.

2 comments:

Vikas said...

Ah Prithvi, Prithvi. As usual, beautifully written, and before that, beautifully felt. On the surface, this supports the notion that life is formed of and framed by polarities. That no thing can exist without its opposite. You won't know happiness if you haven't experienced sadness, that you need rest if you want to run hard, etc. etc. So it is all about balance. But, what about the polarity of balance? Will a world full of nuance-seeing liberals ever change anything? Can action really happen if you see the world in all its shades of grey? Or those that see the shades of grey just right poems about it, while those that turn a blind eye to one pole are the ones who both find it within themself to throw bombs and do satyagrah? Is balance to be expected in an individual, or only in a society where polarized individuals keep each other at bay and thus the system in balance? Transcending the polarity is to see the underlying Oneness of Being. And as Deepak Chopra says in the new PC ad (aside: Bogusky seems to have fired a decent first salvo), "I am a human being, not a human thinking, not a human doing." So that balance (in an individual) is perhaps only possible in the realm of Being. A human thinking or a human doing finds it hard to hold both poles simultaneously, but a human being can. In those limiting and limited worlds of thinking and doing, the balance comes from the differences between a Michael Mukherjee and an Ayman al Zawahiri, a George Bush and a Michael Moore, a Kim Jong Il and a Dalai Lama, a Bhagat Singh and a Mohandas Gandhi. In the physical realm, both centripetal and centrifugal forces are needed to make the world go round. The Utopia of balance, is perhaps possible only in the world of Spirit then? Should I hanker for it in the dualistic individual or resign to the fact that it is only attainable to the non-dualistic Being?

Prithvi Chandrasekhar said...

Interesting question. Can one person be both a great thinker and a doer? Some exceptional people surely can.

Jawaharlal Nehru? Perhaps more than Gandhi, Patel or Jinnah. We were lucky to have had Nehru in charge for those initial 20 years.

Thomas Jefferson? TE Lawrence? Rajaji? Ernest Hemingway? Daniel Patrick Moynihan? Mohammad the Prophet?

General Petraus? He is quite an interesting guy, really. Topic for an upcoming blog post following a great profile story in the New Yorker.

One of my old favourite books, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, is about bridging these two cultures. The point Prisig makes is that that divide/ duality can and should be bridged in every life, in every activity. Transcending the duality is not a mystic "adwaita" experience reserved for great men like Nehru and Jefferson.

Organizations can and do solve for this. An old Hindustan Lever war story was about how at every level you always had two people paired up, a natural intellectual and a natural "kar do". Sushim Dutta was an intellectual. Keki Dadiseth was a "kar do".