Daniel Finkelstein of The Times is in the running for a coveted prize: the most emetic article of the year, and the other aspirants are falling off one by one.

His mother has just died, and he understandably feels grief. Not having had the pleasure of meeting the late Mrs Finkelstein, I can’t share her wayward son’s sorrow, but I do sympathise with it.

However, turning personal bereavement into a public message is no easy matter. Finkelstein only got as far as an acclamation of political vacuousness, pegged on the Lessons My Mum Taught Me.

One of said lessons must have been taught using a smokescreen of mawkishness to envelop an underhanded swipe at people whose feelings about the EU are cooler than Lord Finkelstein’s.

By his account, his mother always refused to make a big deal out of being a Bergen-Belsen survivor, which speaks highly of her character. She does sound like a remarkable woman, but, alas, that doesn’t necessarily translate into being a deep thinker.

According to her wayward son, Mrs Finkelstein preached political moderation above all. Not for her Barry Goldwater’s fiery 1964 oratory that “moderation in the pursuit of justice is no virtue”. Justice, schmustice, Mrs Finkelstein’s ship always stayed on an even keel:

“Mum was happiest,” writes Finkelstein, “when she supported the SDP, though she admired John Major”. And John Major self-admittedly admires Neville Chamberlain, thereby establishing the political continuum into which two generations of the Finkelsteins fit.

The SDP was a short-lived splinter group of the Labour Party back in the 80s, advocating, among other suicidal policies, unilateral nuclear disarmament. Its socialist manifesto stated that “The SDP exists to create and defend an open, classless and more equal society…”.

Translating from socialist into English, that means as much state control and as little individual liberty as achievable without resorting to the present-day equivalents of Bergen-Belsen. If that’s moderation, I’ll choose extremism any day.

And it takes a spectacular lack of discernment to admire John ‘Edwina’ Major, a man whose mediocre intellect is only matched by his vapid character and petty deviousness. Raised from political obscurity by Margaret Thatcher, Major in due course led the cabal that stabbed her in the back. He then went on to sign the Maastricht Treaty, which Mrs Thatcher had called “a treaty too far”.

To Mrs Finkelstein’s wayward son, reversing with a flourish of the pen 2,000 years of Britain’s political tradition, effectively turning her into a province of Greater Germany flanked by a post-Vichy France, seems like a display of laudable moderation.

However, the way Finkelstein castigates those whose understanding of such matters is superior to his own doesn’t strike me as particularly moderate: “We find unbelievably stupid people who put the Nazi emblem on the European Union flag or call it the EUSSR.”

As one of those unbelievably stupid people who have on occasion likened the EU to other objectionable regimes, I’d be prepared to debate the issue with Lord Finkelstein, making mincemeat of the puny, wishy-washy, leftie musings he passes for moderation or indeed political thought.

No one in his right mind would claim that the EU duplicates Nazi Germany in every macabre detail. But only “unbelievably stupid people”, to use Finkelstein’s moderate phrase, would fail to see the underlying philosophical and teleological similarity.

Here are snippets from a speech delivered in 1942 by Walther Funk, Hitler’s Economy Minister. Herr Funk spoke from the heart about the EEC, Europäische Wirtschaftsgemeinschaft for short:

“No nation in Europe can by itself achieve the necessary scale of economic freedom to meet all social demands… It means a readiness in certain circumstances to subordinate one’s own interests to those of the European Community… The economic unity of Europe is manifest… The new European economy will have to consider as its first task the fulfilment of its social obligations… The new empowerment of the productive and creative power of the individual is grounded in the community, the creation of a uniform economic understanding and attitude, the allocation of decisive tasks through the political leadership… Europe, in fact, meets all the requirements of a complete, self-sufficient economic area…”

Junker or, for that matter, Major would happily sign this EU-presaging address. In fact, just about every programmatic document issued by the EU repeats this line of thought almost verbatim.

Herr Funk’s vision died at the Nuremberg gallows, but it came back in the EU – only an “unbelievably stupid” or else ignorant person would fail to see that. Granted, some people’s rhetoric may go too far in defence of Britain’s sovereignty, but can you blame them?

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, explained Newton. The likes of Lord Finkelstein preach, one hopes unwittingly, Walter Funk’s ideas, which is bound at times to induce some more intelligent and better-educated people to express themselves with excessive fervour.

But, as the same Barry Goldwater remarked, “Extremism in defence of liberty is no vice.” In the interests of moderation so immoderately championed by Mrs Finkelstein, let’s accept that even such extremism may still be a vice – but a much lesser one than the despotic supranational socialism her wayward son evangelises in unison with the EU.

Regular readers of this space are aware of my idiosyncrasies. Here’s another one: I’m constitutionally incapable of feeling sympathy for tattooed people.

My sentiments about them range from squeamishness to revulsion, depending on the size and number of tattoos. In fact, whenever one is visible, I have to look away.

Consequently, there’s nobody I can ask about the reasons for deciding to parade one’s savagery with such relish. But I can guess at some motives, none of them praiseworthy.

The urge to appear “well ‘ard” must be one: being painful, tattooing is a test of manhood in certain social classes. Then there’s the peer pressure in those same classes, the imperative to conform.

And of course a tattoo is a way of grabbing attention (it has the opposite effect on me, but – thank God – not everyone is like me). Some people may also have aesthetic reasons for decorating their flesh, but what these are escapes me, unless they plan to resettle in Polynesia and sit for Paul Gauguin (he’s dead, chaps, in case you don’t know).

Some tattoos communicate a message, usually that of defiance. Thus exactly the kind of people who often find themselves at the policemen’s tender mercies sometimes sport tattoos of a cop with his throat slit.

A cop dangling off the gallows is also popular, as are the letters ACAB on the knuckles (for the benefit of my foreign or else hoity-toity readers, this stands for All Cops Are Bastards). One wonders how well the canvas for such art is treated at the nick. I know I’d be angered by a tattoo saying “All old English writers of Russian descent are bastards”, although, given the limited number of knuckles, this is unlikely.

This circuitous route brings me to the ex-footballer David Beckham, the most tattooed person I’ve ever seen.

David used to pack a mean bend in his right foot, which celestial talent he has parlayed into a fortune estimated at £508 million (greater than the Queen’s). He also married a pop star nicknamed Posh with a touch of relativism, who augments the proceeds of the famed right foot with her own earnings.

Yet, according to the book Posh and Becks probably haven’t read, man doesn’t live by bread alone. It’s not all about buying mansions and tattoos – money must also act as a social hoist to be truly satisfying. In the British context, money should buy at least a knighthood, ideally a life peerage.

To that end large sums must be donated to charity or, better still, victorious electoral campaigns. Posh and Becks know this, which is why they aren’t short of purposeful generosity.

Yet all Becks has managed so far is an OBE, and even that was 14 years ago. Year after year, since 2014 when he was first nominated, he has been bypassed for higher honours – much to his rage.

Why, even the singer Katherine Jenkins got the lousy OBE, which Becks indignantly described as “a f***ing joke”. Who the hell is Jenkins? She can’t even bend it like Beckham.

The problem is that HM Revenue & Customs runs ‘probity checks’ on people nominated for honours, and Becks’s probity didn’t pass muster. Apparently Becks shelters some of his money in avoidance schemes, than which no worse crime exists.

On finding out that his knighthood had been red-flagged yet again, Becks reacted furiously, firing off a series of synechdoches – without, at a wild guess, realising that’s what they were.

The honours committee, he fumed in some leaked e-mails, are “a bunch of unappreciative c***s”. He then lamentably dispensed with a comma in expressing his disdain for a lesser honour: “Unless it’s a knighthood f*** off!”

Now I don’t mean to pry into David’s tax affairs, and nor do I know whether the venerable members of that committee deserve such unflattering designations. Moreover, I deplore the present vulgarisation of the honours system making it possible for a footballer who hasn’t won anything with England even to be considered for a knighthood.

However, in this case I’m prepared to overlook all such considerations, along with my detestation of body art, to stick up for Becks – and for all other tax avoiders out there, including Donald Trump.

At the government’s ad nauseam instigation we’ve lost the distinction between tax avoidance and tax evasion. Yet it’s valid: evasion is criminal, avoidance is clever.

I may think that the fortune David’s right foot has earned is obscene, but the money is his, not the government’s. If he chooses to invest it in ways that reduce his tax exposure, more power to him, provided he hasn’t done anything illegal.

One can understand the taxman’s rage, though: clever investments rob the state not only of money but, more frustrating, power. By extorting people’s money, the state increases its control over their lives, which has become the principal desideratum of modern statehood. This, I must confess, I detest even more than tattoos.

One wonders how Becks’s creative use of English has affected his future chances of a knighthood. The c***s would have to display oodles of Christian forgiveness to overlook his justified opinion of them.

If you aren’t old enough to remember the ‘60s, the extreme left applied the term to Russia and America or, more specifically, to the KGB and the CIA.

That was firing both barrels: by putting the USSR and the US on the same moral level, the left exonerated the former and demonised the latter.

The KGB has murdered 60 million of its own citizens? Yes, but Joe McCarthy accused good communists of being communists. The Russians introduced concentration camps to half the world? Well, Americans had the audacity to resist communism in Korea and Vietnam. The Russians spy on America? We spy on them too.

In those days such rhetoric was mainly associated with pimply youths who marched through campuses singing “Ho, ho, ho, Ho Chi Minh”, “Hell no, we won’t go”, “Off the pigs” and “Hey, hey, LBJ, how many kids did you kill today?”.

Having done their marching and singing, the youths would usually grow up and begin to pursue happiness in downtown offices and suburban bungalows. They still called themselves liberal at cocktail parties and voted for chaps like Eugene McCarthy, George McGovern and Hubert Humphrey.

Amazingly, it has taken a supposedly conservative US president to bring back these nostalgic memories. But then Donald Trump probably doesn’t know the difference between a conservative and a third baseman.

This he proved by taking moral equivalence off the mothballs. A Fox News interviewer queried Trump about his affection for Putin, whom the journalist described as ‘a killer’, specifically of political opponents.

The president replied: “There are a lot of killers. We’ve got a lot of killers. What do you think? Our country’s so innocent?”

No, it isn’t. Ever since Adam and Eve indulged their taste in fruit, we haven’t been blessed with unadulterated innocence in human institutions. Now, having got this theological point out of the way, let’s make an empirical one: all countries may be sinners, but they don’t all sin to the same extent.

A country that executes one wrongly convicted man commits an evil act. So does a country that murders millions of people by category, be it class, race or wealth. Both countries should be condemned.

But, this side of a lunatic asylum, they can’t be condemned equally. If they are, that means somebody’s moral compass has gone haywire.

Now at least 200 journalists and political opponents have been murdered on Putin’s watch and – as anyone familiar with Russia will confirm – on his direct orders. Some of those murders were committed by Putin’s hit squads abroad, including London and the Home Counties. Hundreds, possibly thousands more dissidents have been imprisoned on trumped-up charges, mutilated, savagely beaten up or threatened into silence.

I’m unfamiliar with any such crimes perpetrated by the US government in recent memory. Journalists can criticise the administration without fearing a bullet in a dark alley, politicians can oppose the government without having radioactive isotopes added to their diets. If Trump has information to the contrary, he should by all means speak up: the world has the right to know.

If, however, Trump can’t list the US equivalents of Litvinenko, Nemtsov, Politkovskaya, Khlebnikov, Magnitsky, Borovik, Shchekochikhin, Baburova – the list is long – then his statement was inspired by what Trump believes to be realpolitik (I’d rather not speculate on what else it might have been inspired by).

This he confirmed by a characteristically platitudinous clarification: “It’s better to get along with Russia than not. And if Russia helps us in the fight against Isis, which is a major fight . . . that’s a good thing.”

If the combined might of America and the rest of Nato is insufficient to the ‘major’ task of fighting Isis, we should all pack up and go home – the West is going to the dogs. By inviting Putin to bomb Syria flat with his typical KGB savagery, all America does is provide a Middle Eastern foothold to a hostile foreign power.

It is indeed better to get along with Russia than not. But not at any price, and certainly not at the cost of sacrificing whatever is left of intellectual and moral integrity in the US administration.

I am, however, grateful to Trump for confirming my lifelong observation. Though I can’t support this by statistical data, I’ve noticed that vulgarity of taste is inevitably accompanied by vulgarity of thought.

Trump has the taste of a parvenu upstart in just about everything: his Tower, the epitome of look-I’ve-made-it kitsch; his propensity to marry gold-diggers with a dubious past; even his neckties, usually three inches too long.

His foray into moral equivalence proves yet again that such aesthetic lapses are unfailing indicators of moral and intellectual ones. The great Greeks had a ready explanation for this link.

They considered what Aristotle called ‘transcendentals’ and what Plato specifically identified as Truth, Beauty and Goodness to be the inseparable ontological properties of being. A deficit in any one element of the triad would automatically produce a failure in the other two.

A.N. Whitehead once described all philosophy as “a series of footnotes to Plato”. Trump proves that the same comment applies to politics.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most people can’t think, as opposed to just talk, about politics. And even those who can won’t. Ideology has replaced ideas, which is a distinctly modern phenomenon.

French revolutionaries coined the word idéologie because they felt the need for it. And there was one: as they, inspired by their American, Swiss, German and British role models, led the West away from God, they were steering thought away from truth.

Laissez-faire ineluctably became laissez-penser and laissez-parlez, an encephalophonic free-for-all, with intellectual integrity dumped into the rubbish bin of history, to use another revolutionary’s phrase.

Later the word ‘ideology’ gained tremendous currency, largely through the cannibalistic musings of Karl Marx. It has now become the single currency of political discourse.

If it takes feeble, dishonest, downright lying, ignorant thought to arrive at an ideological end, no one minds. It’s fine with both the subject and object of thought.

How intelligent the speaker and his audience are no longer matters. These days they sign an unwritten pact: one agrees to make appropriate ideological noises; the other, to accept them as real thought. Both undertake to disregard flagrant violations of truth or indeed logic.

My customary whipping boy Peter Hitchens seems to have committed his work to proving these melancholy observations right, at least every time the word ‘Russia’ crops into his narrative. Not a stupid man, he makes sense on most subjects that don’t touch upon his ideology. Russia does, and suddenly this otherwise clever chap starts mouthing turgid gibberish.

To wit, today’s column: “Ministers and others continue to shout and squawk about Russia, a poor, weak country which is no threat to us, and which isn’t even especially interested in us. Is this because they lack the guts to tackle the giant, rich bully China, whose despots are entertained in Buckingham Palace?”

As far as Hitchens is concerned, those who understand Russia better than he does never just talk. They shout and squawk. However, even we poor shouters and squawkers try to avoid logical solecisms, factual falsehoods and lapses of reason.

Hitchens’s short paragraph contains a long list of those, all deserving pride of place in the encyclopaedia of rhetorical fallacies. Here are a few, off the top.

The implication seems to be that because Russia is poor it’s weak, and because it’s weak it’s no threat to us. This is simple ignorance, in addition to being ideologically inspired nonsense.

Hitchens applies Western philistine standards to the definition of poverty. True, most Russians live from hand to mouth and can’t afford to buy what they see in the shops. But Russia’s relevant wealth isn’t in the shops. It’s in the silos.

Russia has more thermonuclear warheads than the US does. Russian Goebbelses, such as Putin’s top TV mouthpiece Kisilev, never cease to remind their audiences that Russia could “turn America into radioactive dust” at the touch of a button. And this isn’t just braggadocio.

Another implication is that an economically poorer country can’t threaten a richer one. This is equally nonsensical. The vandals’ GDP wasn’t a patch on Rome’s, nor could the Turks match the riches of Byzantium. Closer to our own time, Kuwait was wealthier than Iraq. How many more examples would you like of economic Davids slaying economic Goliaths?

Then comes a downright lie: Russia “isn’t interested in us”. On what basis does Hitchens make this assurance? Every page of every Putin newspaper spouts unadulterated hatred for the West, especially the Anglophone West. Hardly a day goes by without open threats being made, along the lines of radioactive dust.

Russia is specifically issuing threats to Nato members we are contractually obligated to defend. Does Hitchens think the Russians have no vested interest in reducing our defence capabilities? Are they waging electronic war against us just for fun?

The answer is, he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t think, full stop. It’s ideology he’s offering, not ideas.

Then comes a non sequitur, straight out of the ‘Don’t’ section of the logic textbook. Yes, China is a despotic bully, and yes, the West doesn’t have the guts to confront it, overlooking the evil nature of communist China for its giant market and endless supply of coolie labour.

And yes, in a better world Chinese despots wouldn’t be invited to Buckingham Palace. (Neither would the Russian despot Putin, who’ll be staying at Buck House next week, and one would think his purloined billions would stretch to a hotel room.)

But what does that have to do with Russia? Are we allowed to have only one bogeyman at a time? One vaguely recalls that, while fighting the Nazis, Britain was also at war with Italy and Japan. In the previous big war, we didn’t just fight Germans – Austrians, Czechs, Hungarians and so forth were also our enemies. On what authority is Hitchens rationing the number of adversaries?

Then he seems to think we are the flat-track bully for picking on poor, weak Russia that can sink the British Isles within minutes. And cowards for not confronting China. The second proposition is true; the first, false. There’s no logical connection between the two.

Hitchens would do well to remember that Russia has launched three wars of aggression under Putin, while China so far limits itself to menacing talk. So if we had to choose one, I’d say Russia should be our first choice of evil to resist. But we don’t have to choose: neither Russia nor China nor Islam has exclusive rights to evil.

Excluding Russia from this company is neither honest nor moral nor clever. Ideology does work in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?

Trump’s budding romance with Putin can quickly degenerate from worrying to catastrophic. Actually, a step in that direction has just been made.

The US is lifting the latest raft of sanctions on the FSB/KGB, which will enable American high-tech companies to sell computers to that sinister organisation.

(The Times seems to think that the B in FSB stands for ‘bureau’. It doesn’t. It’s the initial of the Russian for ‘security’ – ‘bezopasnost’, as in Federal’naia Sluzhba Bezopasnosti. Our papers’ ignorance is most refreshing.)

Now I’ve expressed restrained misgivings about this Trump-Putin foreplay before. The misgivings have been based on:

Trump’s frequent – and reciprocated – words of admiration for Putin; Trump’s son’s admission that “a disproportionate amount” of the family’s income comes from Russia; Trump’s campaign staff packed to the gunwales with chaps enjoying lucrative links with Russia (one of them has just become Secretary of State); the FSB’s attempts to sabotage the US elections in Trump’s favour by computer hacking; Trump’s reference to Nato as ‘obsolete’; unconcealed joy in the Duma over Trump’s victory and indecent triumphalism in Putin’s media celebrating the ascent of “our man”.

The restraint has come from the fact that none of the above amounts to prima facie evidence of Trump’s complicity in any FSB wrongdoing. Nor can he be held responsible for Russia’s reaction to his victory.

Deeds, not words, give clues to a politician’s mind, character and intentions. Trump’s words about Putin’s kleptofascist junta could be put down to his manifest ignorance. After all, even more learned men than Trump (Peter Hitchens, Norman Stone and Christopher Booker, to name a few) have said asinine things about Putin. My refrain has been let’s wait and see what the president actually does.

We haven’t had to wait long: the lifting of sanctions against the FSB is a deed all right, and a foul one at that. What’s offensive about this unilateral action, at odds with the policy of every American ally, isn’t just ‘what’ but also ‘when’.

For the news has come in a week when Putin’s rockets and heavy artillery pound the Ukrainian town of Avdiivka, killing hundreds and leaving thousands without water, electricity and a roof over their heads (in -20C frosts).

In another development, Putin’s opponent Vladimir Kara-Murza, 35, is on death’s door in hospital suffering from poisoning. His internal organs are failing, and tests show that his body contains an abnormally high concentration of the heavy metals inaccessible to private individuals.

This is the second such attack on Kara-Murza. The first one occurred in 2015, when he stayed in a coma for a week and then underwent treatment for several months. Roughly at the same time Kara-Murza’s friend Boris Nemtsov was shot dead a few feet away from the Kremlin. It’s not a great stretch to connect these events, and also the radioactive poisoning of Alexander Litvinenko in London, with the FSB and Putin personally.

Finally, our defence secretary Sir Michael Fallon yesterday delivered scathing comments about Russia, specifically about FSB hacking. In the past two years, Fallon said, Russia has targeted the US, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Bulgaria and Montenegro.

“Today we see a country that, in weaponising misinformation, has created what we might now see as the post-truth age. Part of that is the use of cyber-weaponry to disrupt critical infrastructure and disable democratic machinery,” added Sir Michael.

Speaking on behalf of Britain and other American allies in Europe, Sir Michael threatened retaliation in no uncertain terms. His speech amounted to a declaration of electronic war, and quite right too. I for one can’t see any valid difference between “disrupting critical infrastructure” by hacking and doing so by aerial bombardment.

Now let’s see. First, Russia is attacking the West with electronic weapons. Second, such warfare requires state-of-the-art computers. Third, Russia is incapable of producing such hardware and therefore has to import it. Fourth, the West therefore has a vital interest in not exporting such computers to Russia.

All right so far? Well, then Trump’s allowing US firms to sell electronic equipment to history’s most murderous organisation, showing no signs of mending its ways, is… Choose your own predicative. Stupid? Irresponsible? Crass? Criminal? Just about any one will work, or a combination of several.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s advisable to maintain civilised relations with a country possessing more nuclear warheads than the US, no matter how objectionable we may find it. But to merit such treatment, Russia has to act in a civilised way.

Instead it’s clearly on the warpath, creating all over the world troubled waters in which Russia can profitably fish. There are only two ways of dealing with such escalating hostility: firm resistance or weak-kneed appeasement.

Trump’s decision suggests he prefers the second way, which, in the light of modern history, is grounds for serious criticism. And if he’s appeasing Putin for some ulterior motive, that’s grounds for summary impeachment and probably imprisonment – regardless of how wonderful a president he may be in every other respect.

Appeasing Putin today, for whatever reason, is likely to produce the same effect as appeasing Hitler did 79 years ago. America didn’t manage to sit out the ensuing carnage then – and neither will it be able to this time. Isolationists and interventionists will be dying together in the same trenches.

When talking the other day about knees jerking all over in response to Donald Trump, I argued that reason had nothing to do with that neurological phenomenon.

Our intellectually castrated masses are aghast not at Trump’s actions qua actions, but at the blasphemy implied by his actions. The president won’t worship modernity’s cult growing out of that pernicious misnomer, the Enlightenment.

If before the Enlightenment our civilisation was driven by man worshiping reason higher than his own, thereafter he has decided that no such thing exists. Man’s own reason alone is sufficient to solve every little problem of life. Man no longer worships God; he worships himself.

As a result, reason suffered the fate of Icarus – it took on an impossible task and died in the attempt. Reason was replaced by emotions, ideas by ideology, thought by sloganeering.

A virtual intellectual universe has been created, one in which all men are created equal; the masses are too stupid to run their own lives but smart enough to affect state affairs; the state can spend our money more wisely than we ourselves; the old religion was opium for the people, while opium is an essential part of the new religion; Muslims can improve our countries, though not demonstrably their own.

A hodgepodge of fallacies were stitched together to form a new patchwork cult, which quickly began to resemble a snowball rolling down the hill at an ever-increasing speed. It gets bigger until it goes over the edge and shatters.

Chesterton wrote: “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult; and left untried.” By contrast, the new cult is easy. It excommunicates reason and therefore truth. Everything goes; nothing is off limits.

In the past, people assumed that, if A was true and B differed from A, then B was false. Worshippers of the new cult assume that, if A is true, then every other letter of the alphabet is differently true. The simple logic escapes our huddled post-reason masses yearning to be equal: if everything is true, everything is false.

This intellectual catastrophe has befallen every field of endeavour, but few as devastatingly as politics. Real life is going on, but political life unfolds in a parallel, virtual universe.

The same people who in real life display uncanny intelligence, will avidly mouth any hare-brained nonsense dictated by their emotional attachment to the modern demiurge.

We’ve been conditioned to think about politics in terms of meaningless, emotive twaddle. Truth doesn’t matter – we agree with Pontius Pilate’s rhetorical question “What is truth?”, implying that it’s either nonexistent or unknowable or irrelevant.

Take the EU, whose toxic dust one hopes we’ll shake off our feet following yesterday’s vote in Parliament. I haven’t yet heard a single rational argument in favour of that abomination – and won’t because none exists.

Every argument I have heard, and their name is legion, is purely emotional, even if put forth by manifestly intelligent people. The French and the Germans, for example, describe the EU as therapy for the psychological post-war trauma.

The Germans recoiled from the horror of what they had done; the French, from their defeat and subsequent collaboration. Having looked into their respective wardrobes, the two decided to merge them and cross-dress. The Germans no longer wanted to be German, but the French did.

To be honest, I don’t do psychological trauma, certainly not on a vast collective scale. Recognising this as an emotional failing on my part, I’m prepared to accept that explanation as valid. What I’m not prepared to accept is the tissue of transparent lies into which this explanation is wrapped.

The EU, they say, is a purely economic union – a lie, as anyone will confirm who has read the architects of that contrivance, all those Gasperis, Monnets and Schumans. Back in the ‘40s, when the EU was still a twinkle in their eye, they succinctly explained that their goal was a single European state, something that current events amply prove.

The EU, the say, is all about free trade – another lie. The EU is a protectionist bloc, which is the exact opposite of free trade.

The EU, they say, has kept peace since the big war – yet another lie, and one hard to sell to the people of Yugoslavia, Georgia, Armenia and the Ukraine – or to the families of those murdered by terrorists as a direct result of EU policies. What has prevented a major European war is Nato’s – or, not to cut too fine a point, America’s – nuclear umbrella.

Anyway, the British can’t claim a similar PTS disorder: the country acquitted herself rather well in the war. And yet one hears all the same arguments from our own people, including the 114 intellectually challenged MPs who yesterday tried to derail Brexit. Not to be obvious copycats, our lot are throwing their own inanities into the hat.

We need to be in the EU, they say, to trade with European countries, which is a lie, and an ignorant one at that. At no time in history, and certainly not in the heyday of British economic power, has it ever been necessary for a nation to abandon its sovereignty to trade with other nations.

We need to be ‘part of Europe’ to travel freely, they say – another lie. Back in Victorian times the English practically owned such French resorts as Biarritz and Nice. Why do you suppose Nice’s picturesque walk has been called La Promenade des Anglais since 1860? Because English travellers were banned?

The modern secular cult is athirst; it demands sacrifices. The biggest one is reason, wantonly abandoned even by many who are otherwise capable of it.

 

 

Lech Walesa is the Zeus in the Olympus of democracy, winner of the Nobel Peace Prize, Poland’s Solidarity leader and former president. However, that’s not all he is.

It has long been alleged that under the communists this secular saint was a secret police informer codenamed Bolek. Walesa and his passionate supporters have always denied the charges. However, dispassionate observers have stubbornly insisted on the old saw about smoke and fire. Well, the fire has been found and it’s blazing.

Having compared Walesa’s handwriting to Bolek’s signature adorning money receipts for his spying activities, forensic experts have proved that Walesa and Bolek are the same man.

The findings are so overwhelming that even Walesa’s admirers no longer bother to dispute them. Instead they dismiss that biographical detail as insignificant and overshadowed by his subsequent leadership of Poland’s transition to democracy.

So what if, before his entry into hagiography, Walesa had informed on his friends for money? The Służba Bezpieczeństwa could twist anybody’s arm into collaboration, they aver.

After all, if one saint, Paul, can be forgiven his pre-sainthood persecution of Christians, why can’t Walesa be afforded similar leniency? Don’t you believe in epiphany?

No such incredulity for Radek Sikorski, former British subject, former Bullingdon man at Oxford, former Poland foreign minister and present husband to poor Anne Applebaum. Addressing Walensa, Sikorski tweeted: “You are a greater man than your critics.”

Would Walesa still be a great man if he had murdered, rather than just informed, for the Służba Bezpieczeństwa? Come to think of it, those two activities were often a distinction without a difference: many poor souls turned in to the secret police never came back. Can anything besmirch Walesa in Sikorski’s eyes and other champions of liberal democracy über alles?

They say that discrediting Walesa, and vicariously other champions of liberal democracy über alles, plays into the hands of the present government. That’s meaningless if true: truth doesn’t become a lie because it benefits those we dislike.

So what does this particular truth mean? A minor point first: the secret police couldn’t coerce anybody into betraying his friends. Having grown up under the aegis of a considerably more murderous organisation than the SB, I knew men who flatly refused to inform.

I also knew some who succumbed to threats and did inform. Yet none of them collaborated for cold cash, as Bolek did. There we’re talking about a witting career agent, not a poor coerced soul.

Now a more important point. Unlike wide-eyed Western champions of liberal democracy über alles, those who know the USSR not from hearsay have always discerned a certain pattern in simultaneous transition to democracy throughout Eastern Europe.

The mid-eighties, when Walesa ascended to secular sainthood, was the time when power in the Soviet Union was passing from the Party to the KGB, a process later called glasnost and perestroika.

That message was communicated unequivocally in 1982, when the KGB chief Andropov became Secretary General, dictator for all practical purposes.

It was Andropov who decided to act on the ideas first put forth by his mentor Lavrentiy Beria, the secret police chief murdered in 1953. Beria advocated loosening Party control over Russia and Soviet control over Eastern Europe. That, he believed, would dupe the West into acquiescence and perpetuate Soviet de facto influence.

Such a flexible KGB policy, developed to its logical end by Andropov’s protégé Gorbachev, was resisted by the Party to the bitter end, both in the USSR and its satellites. Echoes of that resistance could he heard distinctly.

For example, the last two months of 1984 saw the demise of the defence ministers of five Warsaw Pact countries, including the Soviet Union itself. They all died of cardiac arrest. Would it be preposterous to suggest that such a concentrated outbreak of fatalities bucked statistical odds?

Assuming that the sudden epidemic of cardiac arrests wasn’t entirely coincidental, one is entitled to see it as a visible result of that invisible struggle – at least this is the only way I can make sense of the statistics.

Also, no deposed Eastern European dictator was killed by the vanquishing democrats – with one exception. Nicolae Ceaușescu couldn’t get his rigid mind around the new flexibility. Hence he had to be shot, along with his whole family.

There’s much indirect evidence to support this version of recent history – enough to convince me, for one. I’m certain that the KGB saw its chance and grabbed it. (In today’s Russia 85 per cent of the top government officials, including Putin, are KGB officers.) It’s debatable whether it maintained control all along or at some point lost it and let matters go further than intended.

But what matters in the Bolek affair isn’t the end but the beginning. If it’s true that the KGB directed the whole liberalisation movement from the start, then Walesa also acted as an SB agent in his saintly incarnation.

Such a role isn’t unlikely historically, psychologically or morally. A man who shops his friend for money is certainly capable of doing his masters’ bidding all along.

Many revolutionaries of the past, most famously Gapon and Azef in tsarist Russia, had secret police links. We know that more recently Gorbachev and Yeltsyn were in bed with the KGB. Do we disregard forensic evidence and believe Walesa is a virgin? I don’t.

Messrs Mobutu, Suharto, Xi Jinping, Ceaușescu, Gorbachev, Mugabe and Putin have all ruled different countries at different times, which explains important distinctions among them.

However, one notices certain things they all have in common. Although variously despotic, they’re all tyrants. Although variously homicidal, they’re all murderers. Although variously contemptuous of liberties, they all abuse them.

And, the most salient similarity in the context of this article, they all paid state visits to Britain with nary a protest. Fair enough, during Ceaușescu’s visit a few Romanian malcontents unfurled a slogan or two outside Buck House. But that could hardly be classified as mass outrage.

It’s in this context that the psychotic reaction to the proposed visit of President Trump is particularly interesting.

Thousands of protesters have come out, led by such intellectual giants as Gary ‘I-hit-it-first-time-and-there-it-was-in-the-back-of-the-net’ Lineker. More than a million have signed a petition demanding that Mrs May cancel the invitation she had extended to Mr Trump. The heavily tattooed Times columnist India Knight has called for Trump to be assassinated (imagine a Times columnist sporting a shoulder tattoo 100 years ago, and you’ll see progress in all its grandeur).

Labour MP Dennis Skinner has appealed to Boris Johnson’s memory: “Will the Foreign Secretary just for a moment try to recall, along with me, as I hid underneath the stairs when two fascist dictators, Mussolini and Hitler, were raining bombs on towns and cities in Britain. Now this government are hand-in-hand with another fascist – Trump.” Mussolini didn’t do any raining, but let’s not be pedantic.

Now Trump isn’t everyone’s cup of bourbon. I for one await with apprehension further developments in his love affair with the aforementioned Putin. I’m worried about his understated commitment to collective security. I find most of his ideas, even those that have merit, to be simplistic. His economics seems dubious to me, his jingoism childish. I deplore his vulgarity of manner and most lamentable lapses of taste.

However, any sane person must see that on the scale of human goodness Trump is closer to Mother Teresa than to Hitler, Mussolini or indeed any of the gentlemen mentioned above. That’s conventional wisdom.

But according to the unconventional wisdom of the 1.3 million petitioners, Trump’s crimes are much worse than, say, Gorbachev’s (who ordered special forces to fire at peaceful demonstrations in Vilnus and elsewhere).

Moreover, most of those protesters aren’t bothered by things that bother me about the president. I doubt, for example, that Gary Lineker et al. have pondered deeply Trump’s views on economics or collective security. No, what in their minds makes Trump as bad as Hitler and worse than Ceaușescu is his meek, positively timid attempt to protect America from Islamic terrorism.

Trump’s order has put the general refugee programme on hold for 120 days and the admission of Syrian refugees indefinitely, suspended for a mere 90 days all entry visas from six particularly objectionable Muslim countries. Persecuted Christians from those places are exempt. Freely admitted are British Muslim subjects (which to me is a mistake – enough British-born Muslims have murdered enough people not to warrant a special treatment).

Not quite the final solution, you’ll agree, and not even the wholesale assault on every human liberty launched by Trump’s friend Putin. So why the mass hysteria?

Clearly, reason, that faculty in whose name modernity was adumbrated, plays no role whatsoever. Surely everybody can see that half the world’s population of 7.5 billion would rather live in the West than in their native countries? Since accommodating them all is obviously impossible, some immigration curbs are inevitable.

And surely Muslim immigration should be the first to be curbed? As anyone with eyes will see, Muslims en masse don’t adapt easily or willingly to Western ways. Surely even a sporadic newspaper reader knows that most terrorist acts in the world are committed by Muslims? Surely such a person will know that many such acts are committed by jihadists infiltrated into the West under the guise of refugees? Surely it’s no secret that thousands of mosques openly foment seditious hatred of the West, calling for jihad?

Yes, some of Trump’s measures have been executed clumsily and without due attention to detail. But, staying within the realm of reason, one can’t see offhand how these palliative, temporary steps can excite so much deranged, venomous indignation.

They don’t. Lineker et al. don’t have sleepless nights crying over those Muslim millions, in addition to the millions already here, who have to suffer living in Muslim lands. They respond not with their minds but with their viscera.

Their knee-jerk reaction isn’t caused by Trump’s affront to the notion of free movement of people. It’s caused by Trump’s blasphemy against the dominant cult of modernity, of which multi-culti rectitude is but one manifestation.

The pig’s head sitting atop the modern totem pole is worshipped not because it’s a particularly beautiful pig’s head, and not because it inspires love. It’s worshipped because it’s the only embodiment of modernity’s metaphysical cravings.

People can’t live without such cravings – ‘not by bread alone’ was a prophetic insight. Having abandoned God, modernity created its own glossocratic idol, and modernity is prepared to sacrifice everything at the foot of its totem pole.

What we’re observing is a shamanistic dance, not a reasoned response to some policies. People always display greater vehemence when protecting their cults than in defence of anything else, including their lives. When true ideals have been discarded, false idols fill the void.

This particular false idol is a man-eating ogre, but somehow such monsters inspire great devotion among our neo-pagan throngs. That’s where a parallel with Hitler would be valid:

Trump doesn’t resemble him at all, but the marchers are typological twins of the SA screaming Sieg Heil!!! in the visceral worship of their secular deity at a Nuremberg rally.

Don’t get me wrong: the BMA hasn’t yet outlawed sex in the sense of copulation. It has only taken issue with such admittedly offensive, sex-specific words as ‘mother’ and ‘father’.

(A disclaimer is in order: as a matter of both principle and taste, I eschew vulgar politicised usages, such as ‘gender’ when used outside grammar or colloquial banter, as in ‘gender-bender’. Nor do I use the title ‘Ms’. If a woman is married, I address her as ‘Mrs’; if she isn’t, or if I don’t know her marital status, as ‘Miss’.)

Actually, these very words have been out of fashion for quite some time now. Their diminutive, infantile versions ‘Mum’ and ‘Dad’ have taken over, and the time can’t be far away when the Church of England will insist of ‘Our Dad’ and ‘Mum of God’.

Then again, if it follows the BMA’s lead, it won’t. Those words aren’t ‘inclusive’ enough. A neutral ‘parent’ must rule the day.

So far that offensive idiocy hasn’t quite reached the ecclesiastical establishment, although it probably will before too long – our state church may well be ordered to be inclusive on pain of disestablishment.

But the medical establishment has already ruled that a pregnant woman can no longer be called an ‘expectant mother’ or indeed a ‘pregnant woman’. Such an outrageous designation may constitute a gross, traumatic insult to a pregnant woman in the process of changing sex to become a man.

And it isn’t just mother (‘Mum’) and father (‘Dad’). Other sex-specific words have also been banned, such as son and daughter, husband and wife, girlfriend and boyfriend. That is, they aren’t banned altogether – it’s just that their use can’t be allowed until it’s ascertained which sex someone wishes to be.

Now, as a lifelong supporter of progressive causes and a champion of the downtrodden masses deprived of freedom of choice, I welcome this initiative. Free choice is a core concept of our civilisation, and I for one insist on exercising it.

Acting in that spirit, I’ve chosen to be tall, dark, lean and handsome – defying the accident of nature that made me none of those things. If you want me to be more specific, look at a young photo of Gregory Peck – that’s me, as I wish to be and therefore am. If you dare to describe me in any other way, I’ll report you to the BMA.

Any woman reading this should instantly swoon and fall into my arms. Or any man, for that matter, if at some point I decide that I actually wish to be a tall, dark, lean and handsome woman.

If you object that sex-change procedures have become routine, while no procedure exists that could conceivably make me tall, dark, lean and handsome, don’t be so hasty. And don’t sell short the medical and scientific progress, of which modernity is so justly proud.

A bone graft could make me tall or at least taller; a hair transplant and a lifelong supply of dye could make me dark; liposuction could make me lean; cosmetic surgery could make me… well, almost handsome. And once those alterations have been done, I may decide whether the new me wishes to be a man or a woman.

The BMA guidance has been described as ‘Orwellian’ in some quarters. That misses the point.

For progress of which I, as a tall, dark, lean and handsome person (sex, TBD) am a lifelong champion, outpaces all amateurish attempts at satire. Practically every piece of reportage these days has enough biting poignancy and boundless imagination to make any dystopic satirist of the past die again, this time of envy.

Had George Orwell been asked to depict a pregnant woman whose right to become a pregnant man could be questioned by no respectable institution, he would have laughed. Satire, he would have said, has to have some bearing on reality to have any effect. Hence showing a world where mendacious propaganda is called truth is fine. Showing a pregnant man isn’t.

The combined talents of Swift, Orwell and Huxley would have been defeated by the task of producing the BMA’s booklet entitled A Guide To Effective Communications: Inclusive Language In the Workplace.

Mere talent wouldn’t have sufficed. It takes real genius at unwitting self-mockery, and nothing can match the quotidian reality of modernity. We must thank the BMA for making this point clear yet again.

 

The dire consequences of such ignorance were pointed out some 2,500 years ago by the Chinese strategist Sun Tzu.

However, many Western thinkers in the past knew that Russia was the West’s historical adversary. For example, Joseph de Maistre, the Marquis de Custine and Alexis de Tocqueville issued astonishingly prophetic warnings to that effect two centuries ago.

In the 20^th century those prophecies came true a hundred-fold, but this time the West’s eyes were clouded by ideology. One retarded child of that parent was ignorance, promoted by those who genuinely didn’t know, but most perniciously by those who didn’t wish to know.

Still, newspaper editors, except the most leftwing ones, still had enough integrity and education to present facts about Soviet Russia well – when they presented them at all, that is. Even The Manchester Guardian published Malcolm Muggeridge’s report on the state-created famine in the Ukraine (Golodomor), later widely publicised by Robert Conquest in The Harvest of Sorrow (1986).

Granted, Muggeridge was summarily fired, and the overall corpus of reporting on Russia fell far short of depicting faithfully the hell on earth it was. But those seeking knowledge could find some of it easily enough by reading their morning papers, especially if they read more than one.

Compare this to the staggeringly ignorant article in today’s Mail, snappily titled A Spy’s Eye View of Russia: Never-Seen-Before Pictures of Stalin-Era USSR Taken by a US Army Major Deported for Espionage.

The eponymous pictures are described as “extraordinary photos”, “thousands of photographs during the Stalin era 60 years ago”. (Actually, Stalin died 64 years ago, so this is the first intimation of slipshod reporting.) Now I’ve only seen those few provided in the article, and they’re far from extraordinary.

The headline would lead one to expect snapshots like the one above, showing peasants reduced to cannibalism during the 1921 famine, unleashed by the Soviet empire Putin is so desperate to restore.

It would have been harder to take such stomach-churning shots in the 50s, when the eponymous army major travelled Russia with his camera. But it wouldn’t have been impossible.

Even now, 60-odd years later, I get photographs from my Russian friends that show the kind of misery compared to which the Mail photos are holiday snaps. In the 50s finding such views would have been much easier: why, even the pictures of the Moscow communal flat in which I grew up would have made for more dramatic journalism.

The Mail’s editors don’t realise this, which makes them ignorant. All they’re showing are signs that Russian cities in the 50s weren’t quite as prosperous as London or Oxford – big deal. A more prying lens could have captured emaciated, starving people rummaging through rubbish skips in search of food – as some of my neighbours did, half a mile from the Kremlin.

The anodyne pictures shown are accompanied by ignorant captions. Here are a few examples:

Russian officials walk an empty street in a picture taken from a building above the road by the US diplomat who was deported

They aren’t officials; they’re teenage military cadets.

A woman walks down a busy Russian streed [sic – don’t they have sub-editors any longer?] holding the hand of a youngster while a man in state uniform strides alongside

The man striding alongside is wearing a regular mass-produced Soviet suit, not a state uniform, whatever that means.

A photograph taken by US Army Major Martin Manhoff of what looks like a state-sponsored public ceremony in Russia

All public ceremonies in Russia were state-sponsored. This one isn’t any old ceremony, but a military funeral of a high-ranking officer.

A picture taken from a car shows cars and a bus trapped in a massive flood sweeping through the streets of a Russian city

The flood is nowhere near as massive as those I witnessed every year in Houston, Texas. And the trapped vehicle shown isn’t a bus but a trolleybus.

These are just details, you might think, but that’s where the devil lives. If our leading (only?) conservative paper displays such ignorance of detail, can we really trust its reporting on serious, complex matters that require infinitely more knowledge even to begin to understand?

The question is rhetorical, don’t bother answering. One can see why British papers failed to understand the tectonic shifts in Russian politics, such as glasnost and perestroika.

These were greeted as a triumph of good over evil, the advent of eternal peace, the end of not only the Cold War but indeed of history, in the words of a particularly cretinous American neocon. In fact, they were merely a transfer of power from the Party to the amalgam of the KGB and organised crime.

Had this been made clear at the time (my own articles appeared in conservative journals whose circulations were too small to make a difference), Russia wouldn’t have been allowed to become such a menace to the world.

Our press doesn’t follow Sun Tzu’s advice. It’s ignorant of the enemy. Why, it’s even ignorant of the fact that Putin’s Russia is an enemy. And it proves its ignorance even through seemingly insignificant details.