David Calling

The David Pryce-Jones blog.

The Iron Lady


How the media hated Mrs. Thatcher! A very British snobbery was the basic impulse. The op-eds used to make sure to remind readers that her views about politics and economics derived from her upbringing as the daughter of a grocer. A blue-stocking by the name of Lady Warnock, foremost among the great and the good, once said seriously that Mrs. Thatcher couldn’t be up to much because she bought her clothes at popular stores like Marks and Spencer, while others accused her of wearing a hat and a brooch as though imitating the Queen. And her accent was much mocked. Why, she took elocution lessons. I well remember the disdain with which fellow Conservatives up to the level of her Cabinet ministers used to speak about her. In the end, they contrived to get her out, and in the process wrecked their party.

Mrs. Thatcher has been out of office for years now. A widow, whenever she appears in public she looks frail and vulnerable. Roman emperors used to have a slave behind them whispering, “Remember you must die.” That is the spirit infusing today’s much-touted docudrama, The Iron Lady. The film opens with Meryl Streep impersonating Mrs. Thatcher as a sad old crone having trouble taking the top off a boiled egg. This is a metaphor for her whole life. Yes, the film-makers allow, she had her triumphs in her day, privatizing state concerns, making Britain competitive, regaining the independence of the Falkland Islands, but all was futile, a waste of energy. Vanity of vanity, all is vanity, this Mrs. Thatcher is at last revealed as someone with no grasp of reality, hallucinating about her dead husband Denis Thatcher. The film reaches some sort of emotional climax when she throws his wardrobe out, a scene surely as fictitious as it is displeasing.

I suppose it makes some people feel better to think that old age has caught up with Mrs. Thatcher and overwhelmed her. The film convinced me that as long as there is any living memory of her, such people will always believe that intelligence and will power were qualities unsuitable in a woman like her.

‘The Pre-emptive Cringe’


Thirty years ago, Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands. At least when Saddam Hussein occupied Kuwait, there was some reasoning behind his adventure, namely to grab vast oil reserves. The Falklands have nothing but flocks of sheep to offer. The 3,000 inhabitants are all British, unpretentious people not very skilled at speaking up for them. Unanimously they insist on staying British, and so they shall, if self-determination still has any meaning when applied to the British. Taking the Falklands, Argentina would have on its hands a die-hard group unable to accept the cultural change imposed on them. Another classic colonialist confrontation would arise as the police would have to begin arresting recalcitrant natives and deporting them to some gulag in Argentina.

The Prince of Wales is due to be posted in the Falklands. He is a helicopter pilot serving in the Air Force like any other airman. For Cristina de Kirchner, president of Argentina, however, the presence of Pilot Officer Wales is an intolerable insult to national pride. Dispensing with rationality or national interest, she is threatening another invasion.

In 1982 the Foreign Office advised Mrs. Thatcher to hand the Falklands over rather than defend it. And right on cue the second time round, a Foreign Office grandee by the name of Sir Christopher Audland writes to The Times that holding sovereignty over the Falklands brings no benefit but only substantial economic costs and political rows. Britain should negotiate transfer of sovereignty to Argentina. It is a wonderfully pure example of what the great Professor John Kelly called with memorable scorn, “the pre-emptive cringe.”

This Audland has had a long career of handing British sovereignty and self-determination away to others. He was in the team under Edward Heath negotiating entry into the European Union, lying to the public that this meant only joining a single market and there would never be any loss of independence. Whereupon this Audland became an official of the European Union, working to dismantle what was left of Britain’s historic identity. Where do these people come from, and why do they despise their own identity to the point that they must diminish and even vandalize it, institutionalizing “the pre-emptive cringe.”


A Cautionary Tale



The story of Omar Othman, known as Abu Qatada, ought to be a cautionary tale. The right hand man of bin Laden in Europe, associated with Muhammad Atta and other murderous Islamists, he has nevertheless contrived to make utter fools of the British. His instrument was the law. It turns out, unbelievably, that the Islamist damage he has done is far outstripped by the damage inflicted by lawyers.

Abu Qatada and his wife and children entered Britain in 1993 on forged United Emirate passports — reason enough, you might think, to deport them. A skilled claimant of every available welfare, he lived at a high standard off the British tax-payer. When arrested, he had a six figure account of money due to be remitted to al-Qaeda. Jordan was pursuing him on a murder charge. He claimed that one of the witnesses against him had been tortured. There appears to be no independent corroboration of this, only his say so. The deportation order worked its way for years through the appeal courts, until the Supreme Court finally came to the conclusion to return him to his home country.

Ah, not so fast. British law is splintering and there are plenty of lawyers willing to finish it off. The European Court of Human Rights, sitting in Strasbourg, was brought in on the case. All but one of them foreign nationals, the judges there also had no evidence that this putative witness in Jordan might have been tortured, but the mere possibility was enough for them. To return Abu Qatada might risk committing an injustice, infringing his rights. The government can appeal, but in the event that the European Court verdict stands, Abu Qatada will have to be set free, in effect having discovered how to make his projected victims complicit in their own destruction, while he remains a well-rewarded and successful criminal.

A country that surrenders its legal persona will not survive long, nor does it deserve to. But who could have imagined that a pack of progressive lawyers could achieve in a few years what Britain’s armed enemies could not over many centuries.

The Liam O’Flahertys of Today



Time was when intelligent men and women in all countries and all walks of life used to write books and articles in praise of Soviet Communism. The phenomenon is well known by now, but it is still an abiding example of how easily wishful thinking triumphs over rationality. Those testimonies are perpetual reminders of the frailty of civilization, and the latest example that I have come across is I Went to Russia, by Liam O’Flaherty, published in 1931. Quite a decent vaguely free-thinking fellow, O’Flaherty had knocked about the world a bit. He didn’t lose all sense of reality in Russia but nonetheless without apparent irony could let drop phrases like “this great headquarters of the world revolution.” The book ends with an account of meeting Walter Duranty of the New York Times, who spouted, “Bolshevism is real religious antidote to the materialism of the twentieth century.” The Five Year Plan was going to make Russia “exceedingly prosperous.” They do not discuss Gulag.

Today, praise for sharia or Islamic law has the same function of surrendering to wishful thinking at the expense of rationality. If only non-Muslims were to allow sharia for Muslims living in their midst, according to this line, all would be well. In England, the Archbishop of Canterbury and the head of the Supreme Court have both recommended sharia. Quite a number of Muslims in European countries have obliged by proclaiming the areas where they live as enclaves under sharia, with punishments for those who infringe the code. So honour killings, female genital mutilation, polygamy, a ban on alcohol, and other dietary taboos are normalized. Extremist Muslims openly proclaim that this is the way to install the rule of Islam, predicting that they will be colonizing non-Muslim countries by the middle of the century.

“Why Sharia deserves a fairer hearing” is the title of an article published on the News page of the London Times by Ziauddin Sardar, a university professor in Britain. Why the newspaper of record should give over this space to a opinion piece is as mysterious as the Archbishop’s endorsement of Islamic law. Sardar takes up what he considers “a captivating book,” by one Sadakat Kadri. In the manner of those who once sympathized with Communism, he glosses over the facts. Sharia law is made to seem universal — the euphemism he uses is “interconnected.” Just as the wrongs committed under Communism had nothing to do with the ideology, so whatever is wrong in Islam has nothing to do with sharia. And just as there were always progressive aspects of Communism to be found somewhere, so Ziauddin Sardar holds up Morocco and Malaysia as countries with “new and exciting” changes in sharia. In Indonesia, he says, “humanistic principles” are replacing the politics of sharia. He does not discuss the regular killings of Christians there, or the firing of churches.

Exam question. Describe in your own words what unites the Liam O’Flahertys and Ziauddin Sardars of this world, and draw your conclusions.

The Arab Jet Set



The first time I realised that there is a lot more to the Middle East than meets the eye was in the days of the Arab economic boycott of Israel. The Egyptian cotton crop was threatened by some worm, and Egypt had appealed to Israel to supply the chemical to save it. I heard about this from an Israeli friend, an industrialist, who was ordered to supply the steel barrels required for the shipment. Nor do I forget the Black September moment in Amman when I saw Palestinian women streaming out of a refugee camp to escape Jordanian troops coming for them. “We go to Moshe Dayan,” the women were shouting, perfectly well able to distinguish between potential killers and potential rescuers. Not so long afterwards, in a smart hotel in Tel Aviv I met a Palestinian poet who had become notorious for writing a verse boasting about eating the livers of Jews. Here was the poet socialising and drinking with the Israeli elite. Another friend, a specialist in the Hadassah hospital in Jerusalem, used to tell me how Saudis and Iraqis and even militant PLO members would insist on making difficult trips to have consultations with him.

Aisha Qaddafi, daughter of the late dictator, has the bad record that is only to be expected. Hers was a life of Arab jet set privilege. She was on the defense team of Saddam Hussein, whose daughters are in exile in Jordan. Now she is in exile in Algeria, and hopes to have the International Criminal Court investigate the deaths of her father and brothers. Who is she employing for her lawyer? One Nick Kaufman, an Israeli.

Perhaps there is an echo here of an ancient stereotype that the best doctors and lawyers are Jewish. And perhaps like others, Aisha Qaddafi is a realist for whom results have priority over ideology. Every so often, these intimations of a quite alternative and practical routine of accommodation and co-operation arise in the Middle East — and about which the media, either out of prejudice or ignorance, are silent.


The Church of the Nativity


The Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem celebrates the birth-place of Jesus. The entrance is deliberately narrow and small so that everyone has to stoop in humility. Columns appropriated from Roman temples line the nave. Cramped stairs lead down to a cave. Even if everything here is a matter of tradition and has no historic foundation, the Church has the numinous atmosphere fitting for the essential role it has in Christianity.

In the war of 1967, an Israeli shell came through the roof. A cleric who identified himself as the Archbishop of Pella was standing fully robed in a cloud of dust and smoke as I entered, reporting for the Daily Telegraph. Israeli paratroopers were also present. In later years I often went there, and once saw the novelist Graham Greene with his lady friend crossing Holy Manger Square in front of the church.
Gunmen from the PLO occupied the church for five weeks in the intifada of 2002, defiling and fouling it until the Israelis got them out. A two-state solution is improbable, to say the bare minimum, but if it were to materialize, the church would again be under the PLO, this time by consent.
Bethlehem used to be at least three-quarters Christian, but that figure is down to about a quarter as its inhabitants emigrate to escape the PLO. Christmas is of course the high point of the town’s calendar. Victor Batarseh, the mayor, is a distinguished medical specialist, aged 76, and Roman Catholic.  He marked this Christmas with a speech calling for a complete boycott of Israel. This would be suicide. The day the Christians are at the exclusive mercy of the PLO, and never mind their Hamas compatriots, is when this church would become a mosque. An omen: Ayia Sofia, once the Byzantine cathedral of Istanbul, was converted into a mosque, then a museum, and under rising Islamism is now a mosque again.
While the mayor was setting out his proposal, a hundred or so Greek Orthodox and Armenian monks were fighting each other in the body of the church, armed with the broomsticks they were supposed to use for a clean-up. Such disgraces have a history going back a long way. Robert Curzon describes in his classic Monasteries in the Levant a fight he witnessed in the 1830s in Jerusalem’s Church of the Holy Sepulchre in which Ottoman soldiers had to intervene to stop Christians killing each other. Once I had cause to go to the Ecumenical Institute at Tantur outside Jerusalem, only to find that a monk of one Christian persuasion had murdered a monk of another persuasion. Rivalry between Christians was one reason why the Holy Land of the Crusaders was lost to Islam. The bigotry remains as primitive and destructive as the Sunni–Shia divide is to Islam, and when there are no more Christians in any Muslim country it will be too late for regrets.
The front page of La Repubblica, the respectable Italian daily, reports a bit of news that it finds as comic and futile as children building a sandcastle. The European Union is proposing to take out a patent for broccoli. Yes, that green vegetable. Aubergines and tomatoes are to follow, but apparently not potatoes. It’s to do with genetic modification. The EU is another arena where rivals who ought to know better go in for this kind of assault under the guise of protection. The British Treasury has let it be known that preparations are in hand to deal with the collapse of the euro. With any luck, plain broccoli will outlive the EU.

To Soothe the Savage Breast




Someone I know breeds turkeys on a large scale. The birds have to be fenced behind wire. At any unexpected noise, especially at night, they panic quickly and huddle together in a corner where many of the birds suffocate to death. Music soothes them: A system has been installed and Mozart concertos have been found to be literally life-savers.


It’s much the same story in Birmingham, a pretty rough place. Assorted yobs have been in the habit of congregating in a particular mall there. All sorts of crimes, including murder, then occur. The police decided that broadcasting Mozart would give this crowd something to distract and pacify them. In fact, Mozart has dispersed them, the mall has become safe, the crime rate has dropped.


Christmas cheer, is it not?



Jacques Chirac, former French president, has just received a two-year prison sentence for corruption.  He wasn’t in court. His lawyers pleaded that he is 79 and a most important person but unfortunately bad at remembering.  The prosecution went so far as to ask for his acquittal. The court’s sentence was suspended, so justice has not caught up with Chirac.

French presidents, it is true, have their own standards. Valery Giscard d’Estaing accepted diamonds from the murderous Emperor Bokassa. Francois Mitterand was caught in an illegal deal involving an oil refinery in East Germany. Nicolas Sarkozy is accused of being mixed up in an arms deal with Pakistan, and French voters think he may well have set up the sex scandal that destroyed his political opponent Dominique Strauss-Kahn. 

Chirac beats them all hands down. He was in the habit of appropriating public money for private or political party ends. Thousands of properties in Paris are unclaimed because in the war their Jewish owners were deported and murdered, and Chirac made sure that selected cronies could live cheaply in these apartments or houses. One day Chirac was discovered at the Gazelle d’Or, a fabulously expensive hotel in Morocco, paying the bill out of a plastic bag containing hundreds of thousands of dollars. It then turned out that French presidents were allocated funds for which they do not have to account. Nobody ever quite got to the bottom of how some fields around Chirac’s country house were due to be developed as a holiday site for children but instead were transferred to Chirac. Giscard d’Estaing is on record saying that if Chirac was caught holding a pot of jam and with his mouth full of that jam, he would swear that he had never eaten the stuff. Perhaps Chirac’s greatest coup was to get through a resolution that no president could be prosecuted for anything while in office. Which meant that he would do anything, no matter how cynical or misjudged, to cling to office. It says a lot about the French way of doing things that he’s got away with just two years, suspended.

In the Wake of Every Tyrant



Today 28 people are reported in one newspaper to have been shot dead in Syria, thirteen of them in two villages near the Turkish border. Furthermore, the United Nations, a body instinctively pro-Syrian, announces that the death toll has now passed 5,000 — surely an underestimate. One Syrian also describes how he was tortured, and one of his legs is gangrenous. Yet elsewhere, Muhammad Bassam Imadi, a former Syrian ambassador, has given an interview to say that popular anger could have been corrected by reforms but “the Government instead responded with repression and killing.”

Of course it did. Bashar Assad is a one-man ruler who has done great harm to his country for the usual selfish ends of accumulating power and wealth. Challenged, he and anyone in his position is certain to respond with repression and killing. Reform on his part would be interpreted as weakness and readiness to give up. The very idea of reform in these circumstances is either a chimera or the prelude to revolution. Witness the Arab Spring.

David W. Lesch is the author of The New Lion of Damascus, subtitled “Bashar al Asad and Modern Syria,” published in 2005 by Yale University Press. The dust-jacket describes him as a professor in a university in Texas and no doubt he has professional credentials. I have the book in my library, but couldn’t recall what it said so I had another go at reading it. Here is a full-throated hymn of praise to Bashar, modest, studious, good-natured, pushed about by neo-conservatives, et cetera. Lesch’s credulity is impressive. Bashar, he asks us to believe, “is, indeed the hope — and the promise of a better future.” Again, “He has the opportunity to be at the vanguard of change in the Arab world … He has the intellect, the drive, the energy, and the ideas.”

Bashar’s fiefdom of murder is completely unpredictable from this characterization of the man. It is bewildering that events can prove a qualified professor to be so wrong. The axiom of Lord Acton comes to mind: “In the wake of every tyrant comes an apologist with a sponge.” Talk of reform and democracy and hope was drivel put out for Lesch’s benefit. He uses a sponge all right, not in order to defend crime but because the imagination required to understand this very different political order is missing. With academics like that, no wonder the public can’t come to grips with Middle Eastern reality.

Russia Looking Stormy



The demonstrations in Moscow illuminate a dark sky like a flash of lightning. A storm might be on its way. Vladimir Putin has corrupted the country and thousands of outraged Russians are prepared to take to the streets in protest. More than just a reactionary, Putin is a throwback who in a process as inexorable as it is tragic has built what can only be called the post-modern version of Communism. In the manner of the old Soviet Central Committee, he and his cronies have made sure to monopolize power and wealth, those two engines of the Kremlin.

It is common knowledge that Putin has stolen an immense fortune, and has the state building him palaces and amassing collections of art for him. He has cut down freedom of speech to the point where it is virtually non-existent. It is taken for granted that he authorised the murder of anyone standing in his way, many of them journalists like Anna Politkovskaya or dissident exiles like Alexander Litvinenko. The way he bankrupted, imprisoned and arbitrarily extended the massive sentence of the oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovsky is perhaps the greatest running scandal anywhere on the continent. Press-ganged, the judiciary has no independence. Grigory Yavlinsky, a possible future democratic leader, comments bleakly about these demonstrations that in Russia, “There is no rule of law.”

Accustomed to centuries of misrule, Russians know how to steer a course through injustice and make what life for themselves they can. They might have let Putin do his worst, and he must have thought so too. When his presidential term expired according to the constitution, he devised a trick to return to office for another eight years. The result of the presidential election due next year is already known. Now he has been caught rigging the parliamentary elections. People can stand hardship and absence of law, but this open contempt was really too insulting.

Demonstrators turned out in thousands, only to be outnumbered by secret police and riot troops. In Soviet days, live ammunition would have been used. Times have changed in that many more people refuse to be intimidated. So far, about 250 arrests have been made, among them some well-known bloggers and free spirits.

Oleg Gordievsky was the head of the KGB station in Britain until he defected a few years before Communism imploded. He told me that one look into the cold and utterly expressionless eyes of Putin gives away all that anyone needs to know about the man. Should demonstrations recur in the immediate future as planned, Putin is virtually certain to go down the Bashar al-Assad route and order repression. Beggars can’t be choosers, and the same goes for pocket dictators.

Twilight of the Nerocrats?


The euro may very well be enjoying its fond farewell within a matter of days. And if the currency goes, then the European Union will also be no more, as the German chancellor and the French president moan in chorus. At which timely moment, the Daily Mail reports a special contribution of the Brussels bureaucracy: Musicians may no longer be allowed to play instruments whose strings are made of the traditional cow gut. The prohibition was apparently brought in a decade ago; there were dispensations, but these are not being renewed.

Oh, how they care for our well-being! They’ve spotted a health risk. Nobody has ever caught mad-cow disease from a stringed instrument, but you never know, they just might. Not long ago, these bureaucrats put a similar ban on organ pipes. Nobody in a thousand years has been ill from the lead content of organ pipes, but again they might have been. Never mind that we shall never be able to hear the music of Bach as he heard it. Think of the committees and the hundreds and perhaps thousands of hours spent on correspondence, consultations, and drafting the means to achieve this peculiar end, when with any luck all 25,000 of these paper-mongers will be sent back to their own countries by the end of the year, and have to begin paying taxes into the bargain. The precedent of the Emperor Nero playing his fiddle, I find, has come to mind.

On Stalin’s Daughter



A story is told about Svetlana, the daughter of Stalin, that soon after she had arrived in the United States George Kennan, the scholar of things Russian and Soviet, took her to Princeton. They called on Prince Paul Chavchavadze, a Georgian émigré married to a Romanov Grand Duchess and on the faculty. It so happened that something had gone wrong with the plumbing. Entering the house, Svetlana rolled up her sleeves and got to work. If someone had told me that Stalin’s daughter would one day clear up my kitchen, the Grand Duchess supposedly said, they would have been thought completely crazy.

Apocryphal or not, this story is in keeping with Svetlana’s character. Determined, strong willed, she asked for no favors. Mutual friends with an interest in Russia introduced me to her. She had never been to Wales, so I invited her to stay and she came for ten days. The cottage is uncomfortable, I warned her. Does it have running water? she asked. She was to spend most of the time in her room, except when she wanted to cook. She showed no interest in the Welsh landscape or the ancient churches nearby. The hooting of an owl in the wood bothered her.

Our friends had advised me that any questions about her father or her past made her angry. Anger did indeed rise quickly in her, and then she looked astonishingly like Stalin, with a sort of animal glare in her eyes. But at meals she reminisced of her own free choice. She evidently loved her father, remembering how he had spoiled her and called her his princess, helped with homework in the Kremlin, and educated her, insisting that she learn foreign languages. No less evidently, she couldn’t accommodate the knowledge that he was as frightening a murderer as anyone in history. She was sure in herself that Stalin was responsible for the death of her mother, whether he shot her or she shot herself. A photograph shows her as a child on the knee of Lavrenti Beria, head of the secret police, a Soviet Himmler. Her father’s crimes were really Beria’s, she badly wanted to believe, with that animal glare shining in her eyes.

I have a copy of her book Letters to a Friend, which in its way is a unique document because she emended it, restoring passages that had been cut out and adding commentary. After the interlude in Wales, she left for Spring Green, Wis. I suggested that we sit down with a tape recorder and collaborate on a book that would do justice to her feelings about her mother and father, to the significance of Communism and the Soviet experiment, to experiences of a life so unlike any other. It might have been a lasting memorial to the 20th century, but the wish to be anonymous proved stronger than the impulse to put herself into print for all to read. Hers was a genuinely tragic destiny, and she met it with dignity, and I am happy to add, anger.

‘Death to England’


About 50 Iranian protesters screaming “Death to England!” climbed the wall surrounding the British embassy in Tehran, entered the building, and scattered some files. At the same time, two or three hundred students gathered in the street. According to most reports, the police stood and watched. Of course they did. Demonstrations of this kind are organized by the authorities. It’s time off and a nice little earner for all participants. Capture the embassy, and they might be allowed to live in it with all expenses paid for months, like the lucky gang once before in the American embassy.

These Iranian protestors are always shouting death to someone — to the United States, to Britain, to Israel, to Saddam Hussein in old days, to poor old Salman Rushdie — and there must be quite a production of the requisite flags for them to burn. The rhetoric makes them look stuck in medieval mindlessness. A firm belief in conspiracy further testifies to it. Walls used to be defaced with the graffiti, “Khomeini, Tool of the British.” The ayatollah had done such damage to Iran, in other words, that he must have been a secret British agent. What a one-track man he was. The great Oriana Fallaci asked him what he thought of Bach and Beethoven. Those names, he answered, were not familiar to him.

His successor as Supreme Leader, Ayatollah Khamenei, still singles Britain out as “an icon of Western imperialist arrogance.” He thinks Britain has destroyed his cultural heritage when it has in fact done a great deal to rescue it. Evidently he has not heard of Henry Rawlinson roped up on the cliff face at Isfahan to record the ancient hieroglyphs; he does not know about the explorer Armin Vambéry, Professor E.G.Browne and his enthusiastic book A Year Among the Persians, or the throng of politicians, officials, and scholars from Lord Curzon and Sir Percy Sykes to Anne Lambton who one way and another publicized and interpreted the Persian heritage.

In the course of some research, I discovered that the ayatollahs had invariably written nothing except commentaries on the commentaries of others. Only a single one out of more than a hundred had chosen a subject after 1800. This ignorance from above drives the ignorance below. It is also the reason why Islamism in general, and the Islamic Republic of Iran in particular, will come to nothing. The mind-set can be expressed as “Death to creativity and invention.”

Actually, I suspect that those slogan-shouters outside the embassy are well aware that they have been put up to something worthless, and it would take very little to have them shouting meaningfully and without bakshish, “Death to the mullahs!” That was the cry in the Green Revolution a couple of years ago. The Jimmy Carters and Barack Obamas of the world do their best to appease and flatter the foolish clerics instead of showing the courage that would oblige them to change. Fifteen British sailors simply surrendered to Iranian hijackers in the Persian Gulf. The Foreign Office can’t do better than mumble about the embassy invasion being “utterly unacceptable,” when action is required to put a limit to the very real imperialist arrogance that does such harm to Iranians and so many others.

The State of Syria


The Syrian crisis is gathering inexorably, and has the potential to do open-ended harm. Bashar Assad, the Syrian president, is evidently determined to do whatever is necessary to maintain his absolute rule. In the last few days at least 100 people have been shot dead in separate cities in Syria. Some of these were government soldiers or security men engaged in repression. The choices facing Bashar are narrowing. The more he raises the level of violence, the greater the likelihood that in the end he will meet the fate of Muammar Qaddafi. Should he go down, he can always try to take other countries with him.

This last possibility implies regional war with all sorts of unforeseen consequences. Fear of chaos, foreign intervention, and spreading sectarian civil warfare is at last gripping other Arab power-holders. Meeting in Cairo, the Arab League has voted to impose sanctions on Syria in the hope of quarantining it. Assets of high-level Syrians are to be frozen and their visits abroad banned. Videos of the occasion show a solemn conclave of elderly men, some in well-cut suits and others in Arab dress, but a show is all it is. The Arab League is comprised of the 22 Arab countries. Supposedly a bloc representing Arab interests, in fact fundamental national differences have invariably reduced the Arab League to the output of mere verbiage. So it is now with sanctions on Syria. Iraq and Lebanon are dominated politically by Syria, while Algeria might be next for an uprising and foreign intervention, so all three countries have abstained from voting for sanctions. Business as usual, then.
The horror in Syria and its fall-out reveal the dangers inherent in an order in which one-man rule and absolutism is so easily able to suppress all aspirations to democracy. All that’s uncertain is the number of deaths for which Bashar will be responsible.

Sunday Schooling


The Sunday newspapers in London carry a revealing crop of stories about the way Britain is evolving. The Sunday Telegraph reports the case of Mrs. Nohad Halawi. A Christian, she came to Britain in 1977 from Lebanon, a country being torn apart at that time by civil war, with Muslim and Christian militias at each others’ throats. Mrs. Halawi has worked for the past thirteen years in a duty-free shop in one of the terminals at Heathrow airport. According to her, “fundamentalist” Muslims also working in the airport have a habit of harassing Christians there. She says, “One man brought in the Koran to work and insisted I read it and another brought in Islamic leaflets and handed them out to other employees. They said that 9/11 served the Americans right and that they hated the West, but that they had come here because they wanted to convert people to Islam.” And more yet cruder in that vein. Muslims were quick to put in a preemptive complaint about Mrs. Halawi, and the management responded by immediately getting rid of her. That would no doubt be that, except for a small private outfit called the Christian Legal Centre publicizing her case and going to court.

Another page describes how a special fund of public money is giving £35,500 to a project to study the life and times of Muhammad Abdullah Hassan, a Somali. For many years at the end of the nineteenth century he raised an army of Dervishes to fight the British, and earned the popular nickname “the Mad Mullah.” Highlighting Somali resistance to British rule is supposed to be the way “to engage disaffected Somali teenagers” who are today’s fodder for Islamism. And on yet another page is an article about how the army in Afghanistan is paying the Taliban not to fight.

The Sunday Times adds to the picture by quoting two well-known professors, Steve Jones and Richard Dawkins, each saying that Muslim biology students are boycotting their lectures, or walk out of them, on the grounds that what is being taught “is incompatible with their conviction that Allah created mankind and all the other species in a single act of will.” 

Both Sunday papers of course devote space to the gathering civil wars in Egypt and Syria. Islamists are poised to take power in both those countries, as well as in Tunisia and Libya. The evidence of British self-abasement and appeasement may be anecdotal, but in the wider context it is enough to give Islamists and “fundamentalists” every ground for hope.

While I Was Away


In common with other fortunate folk, I have just enjoyed time out of life on the latest NR cruise. While we were sailing in the sunshine oblivious to events, the international order was shaking to pieces that little bit faster. So many decisions taken by the powers-that-be are irrational or mistaken that we have no choice except to endure. To step off the cruise ship and catch up with what’s happening in the Middle East and Europe illustrates the great human lesson that actions really do have consequences, and we all have to pay the price for rulers or politicians who behave as if that wasn’t the case.

Egypt is in the hands of a few senior officers who have no intention of giving up their financial and political hold on the country. The Muslim Brotherhood believes the moment has come to start a test of strength. The Brothers are dragging hapless liberals along with them into protesting in Tahrir Square in the centre of Cairo. The military junta is responding with force, and it is an illusion to suppose that this is any kind of solution. Syria is in the hands of Bashar Assad and his family, and there again the Muslim Brothers are dragging hapless liberals along with them into protesting ever more violently. Civil war is quite likely, with the further spectre of intervention by outside powers such as Turkey or Iran, even the United States and NATO. Responsible for the irrational and mistaken measures that have led to these crises, the Egyptian committee of generals and Bashar and his hangers-on show themselves incapable of comprehending how human beings react. All they seem able to do is to count their money and their guns.

The European Union proves an equally efficient mechanism for destabilization. The governments of Greece and Italy, Portugal and Ireland, have been put through the inflexible grinder devised by the Eurocrats to serve their interests, and now it is the turn of Spain. As outgoing prime minister, Luis Zapatero gladly fulfilled all the demands the EU made of him, and has consequently and deservedly lost the trust of the voters. His successor, Mariano Rajoy, nominally a conservative, has no prospect of being able to make the rational policy choices that might rescue the country. No government can expect to survive in conditions when politicians and bureaucrats in other countries are able to impose their will upon them.

The Arab Spring has long since been a misnomer for the attempt to introduce more rational governance. The European Spring with luck will not involve resorting to force and bloodshed in the Arab style, but it will last so long as the Eurocrats refuse to understand that the malignant turn of events is the outcome of their illusions and mistakes.

Two Dismissals


So Angela Merkel and Nicolas Sarkozy have got rid of the prime ministers of Greece and Italy within a few days of each other. It’s very remarkable that two politicians can take it upon themselves to throw out of office the democratically elected prime ministers in other countries where they themselves have no vote. They sacked George Papandreou and Silvio Berlusconi in exactly the way that the man in the Kremlin used to dismiss first secretaries or Party bosses in satellite republics. The moment Papandreou proposed to call a referendum he was doomed. Ask the people what they want? The very idea of it! Greece and Italy are now German protectorates.

At a press conference, in full view of the public, Merkel and Sarkozy gave amused grimaces at the mention of Berlusconi. Actually the latter is still quite popular at home. He fits a national stereotype immortalised in Donizetti’s masterpiece Don Pasquale of an elderly rich man deceived by the wiles of young ladies until in the end everyone contrives to live happily ever after. That he could fall asleep during an international gathering of politicians out to finish him off brings these proceedings down to their proper level of comic opera.

Greece has already defaulted, and Italy looks like doing so in the face of debt that cannot be repaid. Merkel and Sarkozy can’t remedy this, they haven’t access to funds on the scale required, and their electorates wouldn’t allow them to make fiscal transfers even if they could. Their unilateral and undemocratic decisions to prop up the euro will finish by destroying it, and the European Union into the bargain. The capitalisation of French banks is already under question, and here is Sarkozy begging China for money, in other words so desperate than he is ready for any humiliation. In another form of begging, namely anxiety to please, he didn’t realise journalists could hear him telling Obama, “I cannot bear Netanyahu any more, he is a liar.” (And if the Israeli prime minister had been a European no doubt he too would be pushed out of office.) To which Obama replies, “You’re fed up with him, but I have to deal with him every day.” This happens just when the Atomic Energy Agency provides the information that Iran’s nuclear program has military purposes. And these two are going to take care of that? The fate of millions is in their hands?

The Eurocrats in Brussels have just decreed that all jars of honey must carry a label specifying that there might be pollen in the contents. Let nobody say that those people can’t recognise a crisis when they see one.

Like Inspector Clouseau


Someone has thrown Molotov cocktails into the offices in Paris of Charlie Hebdo, a satirical magazine (whose title amalgamates the first name of the founder and a shortened version of the French for weekly). Computers, files, everything has been burnt out though nobody was hurt. The French Minister of the Interior, Claude Guéant by name, said the police were looking into the possibility that this was an act of terrorism. This is pretty brilliant detective work on the part of the Minister and the authorities.

Charlie Hebdo was in the process of bringing out  an issue with the title “Shariah Weekly,” leading with a caricature of the Prophet Muhammad and a promise put into his mouth, “100 lashes if you don’t die from laughter.” The front cover reports the laws forbidding representation of the Prophet, and there had been quite a bit of media coverage about this. Journalists at the paper were receiving anonymous threats and their website was hacked. These threats, Claude Guéant said with that flash of intuition that makes him so great a Minister and defender of Europe, might imply Muslim terrorists and “we can’t ignore this lead.”

Surely not, but fishermen in the Faroe Islands are upset by quotas on their catches, and sports coaches in Germany are complaining about inadequate facilities. They are far likelier suspects of throwing Molotov cocktails at satirists and the French law enforcement agencies, inspired by the memory of Peter Sellers’ immortal Inspector Clouseau, must pursue them with diligence.

Will the Greeks Save Democracy?


A bombshell! This is one to bring the house down. The Greeks are to have a referendum on whether to accept the terms of the bail-out cobbled together a few days ago in crisis conditions. The country has no possible means ever of repaying its debt, and the Brussels mob came up with a bail-out, inadequate in itself, vague except for the strings attached. Essentially they issued a diktat whereby in return for token cash, Greeks are to hand their economy to the Brussels mob, or in plain language, give up their sovereignty. Aux barricades! Of course, they have taken to the streets. Much more of it, and the country will reach social break-down.

Prime Minister George Papandreou may look moth-eaten, but the announcement of this referendum is pretty brilliant politics. He ducks the blame for giving in to the Brussels mob, and he heads off the threat of a general election that he and his Socialist Party are certain to lose. Better still, he can be sure that the voters are going to say no and reject the bail-out by a large margin. Ouf! Greece will then be able officially to default, scrap the doom-laden euro, return to the drachma that it should never have abandoned, and devalue. That way, they can become competitive again, and the society will hold together.

The panic of the Brussels mob is wonderful to behold. Of course they may yet devise another of their anti-democratic tricks to keep the show on the road, and in the great quip of long ago British prime minister David Lloyd George, die with their drawn salaries in their hand.  They may somehow rout Papandreou, or refuse to accept a referendum that says No, and insist on a second one that delivers Yes.

Everybody with a head on their shoulders has been forecasting for years that the euro was certain to come to a crisis like this. The sovereignty of nations is stronger than the Brussels mob. Union was a historic mistake. The Greeks invented democracy, and it will be poetic justice if they save it now and free us all.

A Shameful Stand-off


Put yourself in the shoes of Bashar Assad, the fellow who inherited the presidency of Syria from his father Hafez Assad. Everyone in the country knows that Bashar hasn’t a shred of legitimacy, and most of them want him out. Fearing that the successor might be an Islamist monster, a minority hope Bashar can somehow hold things together. And how to do that?  In the ten years that he has been in power, he has regularly dropped hints about reform. This is only pro forma. Reform, he knows, is the slippery slope that leads to the end of his power. So when the Arab Spring forced the issue, he chose repression. Now he has been responsible for the deaths of 3,000 people and the arrest or disappearance of probably 30,000 or more. A film on television just now shows a large apartment block in the city of Homs being shelled by tank fire. This is war against the people he is supposed to be presiding over. Protesters are in the streets in growing numbers and he cannot fail to realise that if they lay hands on him he will be executed in the Qaddafi style. An American president who understood the Middle East would have long since made it impossible for Bashar to stay in office. Now even the protective Russia and China are pressuring him. Turkey is openly backing the embryo Syrian opposition. The defection of soldiers from the Syrian armed forces has the prospect of civil war.

As an urgent exercise in public relations, he has to get across that he’s not your usual blood-stained Arab dictator but just doing what anybody would do in his position. So he gives an interview to the Sunday Telegraph, a media outlet supposed to be conservative. Sure enough, Andrew Gilligan, an investigative journalist and no fool, gives Bashar the chance to describe himself as a perfectly normal chap, living in a bungalow without security, driving his own car to take the kids to school, concluding, “That’s why I am popular.” What he’s bringing, he wants Gilligan to report, is stability, keeping down the ill-wishers of the Muslim Brotherhood paid and armed to create trouble. The pitch is that everyone should back his stand against the Islamists. “If you play with the ground you will cause an earthquake … Do you want to see another Afghanistan, or tens of Afghanistan?”

“I will do such things —” raved King Lear, “What they are yet I know not, but they shall be the terrors of the earth.” Bashar’s threats of more Afghanistans reveals how deeply he fears Western intervention, and like King Lear would ward it off with rhetoric, the only available weapon. What we have here, then, is a shameful stand-off between an individual who has no idea what to do except kill, and the international collective that has no idea at all, period.


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