Who are we?

Where are we going?

How do we integrate the best of East and South?

What kind of future do we envisage?

What do we love about our civilization?

What works really well?

What is worth preserving and defending?

What is already here and happening?

How do we rise to the challenges we face?

How do we foresee or create the future?

I once attended a seminar at one of the most politically correct universities in the country. I went there to try to understand the ideology that had established a stranglehold on our political and academic life. A visiting professor gave a presentation. She spoke with self-confidence, singing from the hymn sheet of the anti-world: anti-male, anti-white, anti-European, anti-American, anti-Western, anti-authority (others’, not hers), anti-wealth (others’, not hers) and anti-power (others’, not hers). The audience nodded and purred appreciatively. In the Q and A session afterwards, I pointed out that she had presented her own prejudices, which were identical to the prevailing academic groupthink, presented some data in a biased and uncritical manner, then concluded, without foundation, that her prejudices were true. She was furious. How could someone have the audacity to challenge the sacred truths – to ask her to justify her dogma? The whole room was instantly against me. I could feel their hatred. I asked some follow up questions but they shut me down. Thereafter people took turns to throw appreciative soft balls, demonstrating their allegiance to the party line.

Afterwards, I wanted to continue a dialogue, but she gave me the cold shoulder, and her fellow professors crowded round her to exclude me. Each made their excuses for not engaging with me and I was left with the professor whose body language most exuded hatred towards me. As one would expect from someone who hates power and authority, he pulled every trick in the book to assert his power and authority over me. Wishing to have a genuine dialogue, I made myself non-threatening, behaved respectfully and told him enough about myself to make him take me seriously.

Reluctantly, this professor agreed to talk, although puffed up like a powerful fire-breathing dragon. We fought a fierce verbal battle for ten minutes. Each of us knew every contour of every trench, having been there many times before. In the end, I was exhausted. I realised I could never beat him just as he could never beat me. I took a deep breath. A question came to mind. ‘If you could make the world exactly as you want it to be, what would it be like?’

Without hesitation, he said, ‘A world without racism.’ His body language softened. His posture relaxed. His face became less angry.

I said, ‘OK, I agree. What else?’

‘A world without sexism.’

‘OK, I agree. What else?’

‘A world without homophobia.’

I said, ‘Fine, I agree with all that, but that’s what you’re against. What are you for?’

‘Equality of opportunity.’

‘I agree with that too. What else?’

He didn’t know. He didn’t have anything to say. This giant fire-breathing dragon had shrunk to a tiny size. He slumped like a windsock with no wind. He had no idea what he was for. With one simple question, my unbeatable opponent had vanished. I had found the antidote I had been looking for. Just one problem. I couldn’t answer my own question! From that moment, I committed to trying to answer it.