Here’s a slow start for a hot topic. I was brought up and still live near Battle in Sussex. This year, the Battle and District Historical Society celebrate their 75th anniversary. To mark this occasion, they kindly asked me to deliver the annual lecture in memory of my late father, the society’s former chairman. My brief was to say something about the changing history of this country in the 75 years of the society’s existence.
I decided to base my theme on the society’s motto, which my grandfather invented. It is in Latin but, in English, is a sort of pun: “Per bellum patria”, which translates as “Through battle, a country”. (You could equally translate it as “Through war, a country” but we Battle people naturally prefer the first version, since the town’s name comes from 1066.)
Why was it, I wondered, that birth-of-a-nation stories, going back to ancient times, have so often been stories of war? And why is the same also true of rebirth-of-a-nation stories? Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, for instance, cites the fact that the United States was conceived “fourscore and seven years ago”, but is now (1863) experiencing “a new birth of freedom”.
I pointed to the tragic fact that we human beings, always somewhat averse to truth, are tested in war. We learn, through war, lessons which we could have learnt in peace if only we had paid more attention. These are lessons about whom you love and whom you fear, the difference between an enemy and a friend, and the place and “patria” (hence the word “patriotism”) where you feel you belong.
To understand the history of Britain in the past 75 years, I went on, you have to see those three quarters of a century of peace in the light of the two world wars that preceded them. And to understand why things have become so alarming in the 21st century, you have to recognise that we, and other Western countries, began to forget what we had learnt from war. We ceased to scan the horizon for danger.
This permitted the rise of what people now call “luxury beliefs” and the decline of attention to basic needs, such as security in energy supply, in trade and in defence. Our current confusion and anger are the emotions of people who overslept and are now waking up.
In the 75 years covered, the turning point was 1989. That year marked the genuinely impressive victory of the values with which the Western allies, notably the United States and Britain, had defeated Hitler in 1945. Countries that were richer, freer and more efficiently armed had ultimately prevailed over the totalitarians. The division of Europe begun by Stalin, and the ensuing Cold War, could at last end, without bloodshed.
The problem, after 1989, was a problem of success. It felt like “the end of history”, and so our inattention allowed history to get going again with a vengeance.
In some cases, “vengeance” was exactly the right word. In 2021, Vladimir Putin published his essay “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians”. It expressed the grudges which Russia, the Soviet Union’s successor state, felt against its former satellites and the New World Order. It sought to justify in advance the full invasion of Ukraine which he would launch, with marked lack of success, the following February.
And although few of us in the West agreed with Putin’s bad history, let alone his claim of the right to invade, we were not quite sure what to do about it. So Putin literally got away with murder, and would have prevailed completely without the stoutness of Ukrainian resistance. Having lived for more than 30 years without serious threat, too few of us recognised it early enough for what it was – not some distant and obscure ethnic dispute, but a determination to break the peace of Europe.
By grimly good chance, the events of this week enabled me to drive my lecture’s point home. In 1939, I said, Britain had gone to war to defend Poland’s sovereignty, but though we won in 1945, Poland, having finally escaped Nazi Germany, almost immediately became the vassal of the Soviet Union. Only in 1989 did that change: it had taken not six years, but half a century before Poland became truly Poland once again.
This Tuesday, Russian drones invaded Polish airspace, so the Poles shot them down. Poland activated Article 4 of the Nato charter, which mandates consultation between all member states if one of them considers that “the territorial integrity, political independence or security of any of the Parties is threatened”. The next day, I could point out to the people of Battle how a threat which had never really gone away had now come back.
The only important Nato country which has reacted fiercely enough to this key symbolic moment is Poland itself. Donald Trump, as if a social media commentator rather than President of the United States, tweeted: “What’s with Russia violating Poland’s airspace with drones? Here we go!” His tone is like that of the “Oh, what a naughty boy” messages he puts out after Putin’s bombings of Ukraine, bombings which escalate even as Trump claims to be making peace. It is a substitute for action, not a prelude.
Shortly after Trump’s inauguration, I noticed how, at a press conference, he was shifty about supporting the Baltic states, though they are all Nato allies, but much firmer in backing Poland (“great country”). But now Putin feels bold enough to test that support and may well find it hollow.
In a recent conference in Siberia, the great invader declared that Russia would regard any Nato military presence in Ukraine as a provocation justifying retaliation. He spoke as if he possesses that country’s title deeds. Western politicians tend to see such remarks as braggadocio. They are not that, or not mainly: Putin is calibrating all the time how far he can go. Each time he pushes, he finds he can push some more. Now that push directly challenges not just Ukraine but Nato itself.
Next week, Trump arrives in Britain for his state visit, a double privilege which he has earned by inspiring fear but not respect. His attempts at peace-making with Russia so far lack skill, good faith towards Ukraine or serious cooperation with allies. And although he asserts that all this killing is horrible, he never engages with why it is happening. Unrebuked by him, Russia commits the cardinal sin which the Atlantic alliance was established to prevent – changing the borders of Europe by force.
The strange version of conservatism developed by Maga, and supported here by elements of Reform who act more like Trump ambassadors than defenders of British interests, constantly attacks what it calls the “forever wars” waged by the United States pre-Trump. But as it does so, it excuses Putin, whose last 20 years as ruler of Russia have been dominated by [ital]his forever wars, which grow larger, bloodier and more threatening all the time.
One might sympathise with the Trump/Vance critique of complacent, freeloading, woke European allies (though it is unjust to those nearest to the Russian threat), but one must challenge its refusal to see that Putin’s Russia is working flat-out to destroy the peace of Europe and, more indirectly, through its alliances with China, Iran and North Korea, to bring down the curtain on a free world.
This blindness to the danger is either mad or bad. The ever-more likely consequence is war.
Here’s a slow start for a hot topic. I was brought up and still live near Battle in Sussex. This year, the Battle and District Historical Society celebrate their 75th anniversary. To mark this occasion, they kindly asked me to deliver the annual lecture in memory of my late father, the society’s former chairman. My brief was to say something about the changing history of this country in the 75 years of the society’s existence.
I decided to base my theme on the society’s motto, which my grandfather invented. It is in Latin but, in English, is a sort of pun: “Per bellum patria”, which translates as “Through battle, a country”. (You could equally translate it as “Through war, a country” but we Battle people naturally prefer the first version, since the town’s name comes from 1066.)
Why was it, I wondered, that birth-of-a-nation stories, going back to ancient times, have so often been stories of war? And why is the same also true of rebirth-of-a-nation stories? Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, for instance, cites the fact that the United States was conceived “fourscore and seven years ago”, but is now (1863) experiencing “a new birth of freedom”.
I pointed to the tragic fact that we human beings, always somewhat averse to truth, are tested in war. We learn, through war, lessons which we could have learnt in peace if only we had paid more attention. These are lessons about whom you love and whom you fear, the difference between an enemy and a friend, and the place and “patria” (hence the word “patriotism”) where you feel you belong.
To understand the history of Britain in the past 75 years, I went on, you have to see those three quarters of a century of peace in the light of the two world wars that preceded them. And to understand why things have become so alarming in the 21st century, you have to recognise that we, and other Western countries, began to forget what we had learnt from war. We ceased to scan the horizon for danger.
This permitted the rise of what people now call “luxury beliefs” and the decline of attention to basic needs, such as security in energy supply, in trade and in defence. Our current confusion and anger are the emotions of people who overslept and are now waking up.
In the 75 years covered, the turning point was 1989. That year marked the genuinely impressive victory of the values with which the Western allies, notably the United States and Britain, had defeated Hitler in 1945. Countries that were richer, freer and more efficiently armed had ultimately prevailed over the totalitarians. The division of Europe begun by Stalin, and the ensuing Cold War, could at last end, without bloodshed.
The problem, after 1989, was a problem of success. It felt like “the end of history”, and so our inattention allowed history to get going again with a vengeance.
In some cases, “vengeance” was exactly the right word. In 2021, Vladimir Putin published his essay “On the Historical Unity of Russians and Ukrainians”. It expressed the grudges which Russia, the Soviet Union’s successor state, felt against its former satellites and the New World Order. It sought to justify in advance the full invasion of Ukraine which he would launch, with marked lack of success, the following February.
And although few of us in the West agreed with Putin’s bad history, let alone his claim of the right to invade, we were not quite sure what to do about it. So Putin literally got away with murder, and would have prevailed completely without the stoutness of Ukrainian resistance. Having lived for more than 30 years without serious threat, too few of us recognised it early enough for what it was – not some distant and obscure ethnic dispute, but a determination to break the peace of Europe.
By grimly good chance, the events of this week enabled me to drive my lecture’s point home. In 1939, I said, Britain had gone to war to defend Poland’s sovereignty, but though we won in 1945, Poland, having finally escaped Nazi Germany, almost immediately became the vassal of the Soviet Union. Only in 1989 did that change: it had taken not six years, but half a century before Poland became truly Poland once again.
This Tuesday, Russian drones invaded Polish airspace, so the Poles shot them down. Poland activated Article 4 of the Nato charter, which mandates consultation between all member states if one of them considers that “the territorial integrity, political independence or security of any of the Parties is threatened”. The next day, I could point out to the people of Battle how a threat which had never really gone away had now come back.
The only important Nato country which has reacted fiercely enough to this key symbolic moment is Poland itself. Donald Trump, as if a social media commentator rather than President of the United States, tweeted: “What’s with Russia violating Poland’s airspace with drones? Here we go!” His tone is like that of the “Oh, what a naughty boy” messages he puts out after Putin’s bombings of Ukraine, bombings which escalate even as Trump claims to be making peace. It is a substitute for action, not a prelude.
Shortly after Trump’s inauguration, I noticed how, at a press conference, he was shifty about supporting the Baltic states, though they are all Nato allies, but much firmer in backing Poland (“great country”). But now Putin feels bold enough to test that support and may well find it hollow.
In a recent conference in Siberia, the great invader declared that Russia would regard any Nato military presence in Ukraine as a provocation justifying retaliation. He spoke as if he possesses that country’s title deeds. Western politicians tend to see such remarks as braggadocio. They are not that, or not mainly: Putin is calibrating all the time how far he can go. Each time he pushes, he finds he can push some more. Now that push directly challenges not just Ukraine but Nato itself.
Next week, Trump arrives in Britain for his state visit, a double privilege which he has earned by inspiring fear but not respect. His attempts at peace-making with Russia so far lack skill, good faith towards Ukraine or serious cooperation with allies. And although he asserts that all this killing is horrible, he never engages with why it is happening. Unrebuked by him, Russia commits the cardinal sin which the Atlantic alliance was established to prevent – changing the borders of Europe by force.
The strange version of conservatism developed by Maga, and supported here by elements of Reform who act more like Trump ambassadors than defenders of British interests, constantly attacks what it calls the “forever wars” waged by the United States pre-Trump. But as it does so, it excuses Putin, whose last 20 years as ruler of Russia have been dominated by [ital]his forever wars, which grow larger, bloodier and more threatening all the time.
One might sympathise with the Trump/Vance critique of complacent, freeloading, woke European allies (though it is unjust to those nearest to the Russian threat), but one must challenge its refusal to see that Putin’s Russia is working flat-out to destroy the peace of Europe and, more indirectly, through its alliances with China, Iran and North Korea, to bring down the curtain on a free world.
This blindness to the danger is either mad or bad. The ever-more likely consequence is war.