He wanted us to make Jewish babies. I saw Ariel Sharon speak in June of 2004, at an assembly of people participating in the birthright Israel program, which gives free tours of Israel to young Jews.
After a psychedelic drum show, we were surprised to see an enormous man walk onto the stage surrounded by four bodyguards.
At 5 feet 5 inches and somewhere around 300 pounds, Ariel Sharon was the fattest man I had ever seen.
He explained that he had just left a cabinet meeting where the Israeli government had voted -- in principle -- to remove Israeli settlers and troops from the Gaza Strip and northern West Bank.
Sharon's speech was fairly bland; he has confessed in the past that he is a mediocre orator.
However, after restating his belief in the disengagement plan, Sharon suggested that we move to Israel and make Jewish babies.
The entire event was geared toward encouraging Jewish babymaking, but Sharon's tone resonated with many people who saw him speak.
"He reminded me of my grandfather," noted Cori Schattner, a junior at Colgate University who saw Sharon speak with me.
Like a whale-sized grandfather, Ariel Sharon was there at the birth of his country. After spending years as a political pariah, he led Israel through a difficult period that made him think more deeply about the future of his country.
Ultimately, his political views began to mimic his military strategies: Doing something is always better than doing nothing.
And what happens when Ariel Sharon decides to do something has always been immensely controversial.
Yet, we can all learn something from the prime minister:
It's time that people do something.
For starters, people at Penn need to talk.
During the last intifada, American campus debate regarding the Arab-Israeli conflict devolved into a cesspool of lies, slander and unconstructive hate-fests.
Instead of talking with each other, ideologically homogeneous groups held panels and events to talk to no one but themselves.
With the expiration of a truce between militant groups and Israel, uncertain elections in both Israel and the Palestinian Authority and the likely departure of Sharon from politics, it is likely that we'll be seeing a new wave of violence between Israelis and Palestinians.
Students -- Jewish students, especially -- have shied away from constructive discussion for too long.
Given the enormous number of smart and opinionated Jews gallivanting in Fort Hillel, Penn is the perfect place to start changing how we talk about this conflict.
If and when the Arab-Israeli conflict changes gears, pro-Israeli and pro-Palestinian groups must be ready to meet with each other and encourage moderate dialogue and moderate speakers to come to campus.
Most importantly, it's time that a real class dedicated to this conflict be added to the curriculum.
Professors should not shy away from the issue of Israel and Palestine, nor should campus groups threaten to poison the environment of discussion.
There are a host of professors at Penn who are more than qualified to teach and lead discussions about the conflict.
If another round of violence begins this spring and campus discussions on the matter remain the same as during the last Intefada, I will personally write a letter asking Grandpa Sharon to come and make us do something, instead of nothing.
I hope that Sharon will be healthy enough to accept.
Eric Obenzinger is a junior history major from New York. Quaker Shaker appears on Wednesdays.
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