We are the hollow men ...

Devdas Menon

This is a somewhat playfully provocative article published in the College Magazine of REC Calicut in 1998.

We are the hollow men,
We are the stuffed men,
Leaning together,
Headpiece filled with straw.

— T S Eliot

Nobody likes to be called a hypocrite. Yet, nearly everybody is one. No doubt, some men are less hypocritical than others. But there is nobody, to the best of my knowledge, who is entirely free from hypocrisy. Perhaps, to be hypocritical is human.

A hypocrite is one who projects a false self-image. One pretends to be someone one, in fact, is not. Initially, this is for the consumption of others. But sure enough, and soon enough, one is oneself consumed by it. To be ‘good’ (?) at hypocrisy, one has to be a skilful liar, and for this reason, politicians qualify eminently as good hypocrites. We love to condemn the species of politicians because they not only lie so glibly, but get away with so much power and loot in the bargain.

In our heart of hearts, however, I suspect that we are actually envious of these politicians (and all other wealthy/powerful people). Yet, we condemn them readily. That is our brand of hypocrisy. If, by some chance, we are offered a taste of their power and wealth, surely we would throw our injured morality to the winds, jump on to their bandwagon, and even pronounce that it is all for the good of the people!

The denial of our hypocrisy makes us hollow. Hollowness, in this context, is the gap between what we are and what we think we are. It is difficult for us to face the reality of our hollowness, because we genuinely believe that we are good and noble. We point at our good work, our accomplishments, our charity and whatnot, as solid evidence of our good character.

Men of wisdom such as Socrates have identified the disease of hollowness as the most dangerous threat to education. It is perhaps for this reason that the dictum of Socrates, ‘Know thyself’, was specifically chosen to be the inscription on the portals of the Parthenon, the Greek Temple of Wisdom. It is as valid today as in his time.

Hypocrisy, to some extent, is inescapable, given the requirements of a civilised society. For example, we are expected to smile and say silly things like ‘Good morning!’ or ‘Excuse me!’, even when we are least inclined to feel pleased or apologetic. But this is a trivial kind of hypocrisy — indeed, a conventional necessity — to facilitate cordial human interaction. This is an example of a situation where we are being hypocritical (out of necessity), but we are not being hollow.

The issue of hollowness arises only when we miss the fact that we are practising hypocrisy — as, for example, when we smile sweetly at certain individuals, and later stab them behind their backs. Many of us engage in this practice as a daily habit, and certainly derive much malicious pleasure out of it. But if we catch our enemies at the same game against us, we would not hesitate to condemn them, as righteously as possible.

We do not dare admit to any charge of hypocrisy, and we can invent excellent reasons in our defence. By systematically deluding ourselves on a daily basis, we become more and more hollow. And so, a person who justifies the act of accepting a ten-rupee bribe today, will have no qualms in rationalising the acceptance of a hundred rupees tomorrow, and no doubt, demanding a thousand rupees the day after. It seems to be a coming of age — from reluctant acceptance to uncompromising demand.

With continued practice, we become adept at the art of deceiving ourselves, and of skilfully suppressing what remains of our chastising conscience. To be forewarned about this is, hopefully, to be forearmed.

We all crave for respectability, and are so led to doing things that other people deem to be important. Thus, everybody wants to do the same thing at the same time, and this results in heavy competition. In this mad rush to keep ahead of the crowd, we have neither the time nor the inclination to pause and question: whither and wherefore?

Socrates may have taught ‘Know thyself’, but the only thing we know for sure is that we had better hurry, lest we should miss the bus. We do not bother to know who we are, or what we really wish to do in life. It is easier and safer to join the rat race.

And so it is that the individual is sacrificed at the altar of society.

We folks at REC have the good fortune of being rated moderately (highly?) respectable. This is so because Engineering is the Paradise that all sensible people are expected to yearn for, and we have gained admittance to that Promised Land. The moment one mentions that one is from an REC, people (at any rate, sensible people) are instantly impressed. Sometimes they ask, "Isn’t it very difficult to get admission there?", to confirm that their judgement is not in error. Would we love to give that confirmation!

While we may be willing to concede a higher status to the IITs, we have some difficulty in extending this generosity to other technical institutions. India Today had published recently a list of the top ten engineering colleges in the country, in which only one REC finds a place. Unfortunately, the REC cited is not the one at Calicut, but the neighbouring one at Surathkal. We feel sad that the public at large has been so cruelly misinformed.

With regard to the fields of engineering, Computers and Electronics presently reign supreme, and hold the high caste status. To be intelligent, and yet not aspire for Computer Engineering — surely, that would be downright stupidity, if not a cardinal sin! So, practically every youngster decides to want Computer or Electronics Engineering. The bright youngsters will claim to have an inherent liking for the subject — which they know next-to-nothing about at the time of admission. It pays to cultivate hollowness early in life.

During our schooldays (and sometimes, till late in life), it is our parents’ prerogative to decide what we ought to like and dislike. From an early age, they indoctrinate us into believing that the greatest virtue in life lies in scoring marks and passing entrance examinations. What a shame it would be to the entire family, if we were to perform poorly. But when we succeed, and dutifully enter Engineering, our parents are delighted by their success. We serve as instruments to gratify their desires. But they claim that it is all for our welfare. And they genuinely believe this.

The disease of hollowness is, for most, chronically incurable.

We enter college, breathless and eager to experience the Paradise we have heard so much about. We sit in rapt attention inside the classrooms, anxious to pick up pearls of wisdom. But gradually it dawns on us that something has gone wrong somewhere. Bravely, we brush aside our apprehensions as mere figments of imagination. In our weak moments, however, we are ashamed to hear the groaning in our hearts: ‘Hell! This is Engineering?’

But we dare not speak aloud, even to our friends. Instead, we smile and pretend that everything is as it should be. Our job is to get on with the important business of scoring marks; everything else is secondary. During the class hours we are bombarded with all kinds of information, all of which must be surely very important. We slog through innumerable tests, assignments and whatnot. It is sheer wonder that we survive without losing our so-called sanity.

We get hardened (immunised?) by the time we enter our second year. We learn, thanks to our seniors, all the tricks of the trade required to survive and to beat the system. A great secret is revealed to us: that it is not necessary to understand the subject in order to pass, or even score well in the examination! Moreover, even those few who struggle to gain fundamental understanding often end up with poor scores. We excel in the art of copying† assignments, lab records, and even test papers. However, in spite of all this, some of us end up failing in a few courses. But the University is kind enough to promote us to the next semester. We lose interest in studies, and the teachers all know it. However, we are not too disturbed, as we are told that our college is a Centre of Excellence.

Our college prides itself for maintaining strict discipline. The authorities believe that they know what is good for us, just as our parents did. No departure from the norms of civilised behaviour is permitted. We are all cast into one mould, and are expected to believe that all is well with us. Some of us — especially the girls — succeed with this belief, and so keep quiet. The rest of us cannot do this. We discover weird ways of releasing our tensions and frustrations. We howl like jackals and unleash strings of abuse; we break innocent chairs and shatter window panes — all under the cover of darkness. Come daylight, and we return to decent normalcy. No one understands our Dr Jekyll–Mr Hyde type behaviour.

We drift from semester to semester — in blissful ignorance. We undergo numerous courses, all supposedly very important. We get to see all kinds of teachers — the good, the bad and the ugly. The good ones are too sincere and make us feel guilty of our own insincerity. The bad ones mumble something in the class, take attendance and run away. The ugly ones like to bully us and compel us to submit all kinds of stupid assignments. We never stand up and ask questions in any class, because we may end up looking like the idiots we suspect we are. This can be acutely embarrassing, especially if it is a mixed class, with the other sex around. All said and done, we try to have a good time in the class, giggling and fooling around. The teachers pretend that they do not see us play.

After all this turmoil and confusion, it is an immense relief to get back home at the end of every semester, and to hear the neighbours whisper, "He’s studying at REC. He must be really brilliant!" It is like the sound of sweet music. We wish we could have it replayed (at higher volume) — again and again!

In our fourth year, a new passion enters our lives: campus placement. We talk to one another knowledgeably about the plum jobs in the offing, and of multinational corporations like Motorola, Siemens and Citicorp. We dream of air-conditioned offices (with plush wall-to-wall carpeting), attractive secretaries, five-figure salaries, chauffeur-driven cars, VISA credit cards, ...

We attend various interviews and group discussions, hoping that we are not asked too many technical questions. (It is comforting to note that even the great Bill Gates did not fare too well in that department, during his college days.) Sooner or later, we get through somehow, and in the process, discover a mind-boggling secret: most jobs have little to do with engineering! You do not need engineering to work on banking software, or fiddle with the Y2K problem, or sell soaps or even computers. Yet, it has become fashionable for companies to recruit engineers to serve as their programmers and salesmen, with promises of careers in ‘information technology’ and ‘marketing management’.

Thus, a myth is preserved.

College days come to an end. We emerge (with a sense of relief) as full-fledged engineers (whatever that means). On the last day, we go through a touching farewell ceremony, during which we take a solemn pledge to serve our motherland with honesty, dedication and whatnot.

Then we join the companies that have recruited us. We are breathless and eager to experience the Paradise we have heard so much about ... Yet another (familiar) phase in our hollow lives begins...

We run around hither and thither, meeting deadlines and targets, and trying to impress our boss. Quickly, we learn the tricks of the new trade, hop from one job to a more paying one, pull the right strings, and butter the right people on their right side. Maybe this is what ‘management’ (at least, in practice) is all about?

In the meantime, we get married — after much skilful negotiation — preferably, to other respectable professionals like ourselves. Then, we enjoy life in all its fullness (and hollowness), and live happily ever after! We reproduce miniature versions of ourselves, and we promptly proceed to program them along ‘respectable’ lines. We want them to become even more respectable professionals than ourselves. Of course, it is all for their welfare! And, no doubt, also for the development of our society!
Thus, history repeats itself.

And so does hollowness.

This story is drawing to an end. Is it a comedy? Or, is it a tragedy? We are left somewhat confused and hurt. What is the moral of the story? We may concede that we are hollow men (and women). But what are we supposed to do?

Perhaps,

to pause and find out what we really want in life,
to discern what is of enduring value,
to accept the harsh truths about ourselves,
to feel the pain of dishonesty,
to strive to remain on the true but difficult path (the proverbial razor’s edge),
to listen to the music of our soul, and
to be liberated from hollowness.

It is the task of a lifetime.
It used to be called ‘education’ once upon a time.