Krauthammer on Churchill: The Indispensable Man

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One of the primary goals of every writer is to have those who read his work regard him brilliant. Another goal, and a far more difficult and impressive one, is to have the reader arrive at brilliant thoughts while reading that work. Whether or not Charles Krauthammer’s new book Things That Matter: Three Decades of Passions, Pastimes and Politics accomplishes the former is relative to the reader, but in my humble opinion, the book definitely accomplishes the latter.

Book%20Cover_0In the second chapter, following the requisite intro, and the requisite chapter describing the author’s days of youth –playing baseball– Charles Krauthammer posits the notion that Time Magazine got it wrong when they nominated Albert Einstein “Man of the Century”. “Einstein may have been vital,” argues Krauthammer, and he is “certainly the best mind of the century”, but Britain’s Prime Minister Winston Churchill “carried that absolutely required criterion: indispensability” in the 20th century, and to the 20th century.

One thought this reader had, while reading, is that provocative, bar stool discussion that no person had a more prominent effect on the 20th century than Adolf Hitler. While that is arguably true, a question to that provocative notion should be, were the lessons of Hitler’s evil transgressions more transcendent than Winston Churchill’s efforts to, as Krauthammer later describes it, “slay that dragon”?

Hitler is, of course, indispensable to any study of the 20th century, in that he illustrated much of what’s wrong with human nature, and he gave us a template for how we should treat countries after war (after World War I). Though evil can take many forms, Hitler provided students of history a model of unprecedented evil that we can now use as a guide to detect evil, based on the precedent he set. We will hopefully never allow an evil despot to rise to such levels of prominence in their country that they would be in a position to coerce its citizens to do such evil things to one another. With all these lessons and precedents regarding absolute evil, students of the 20th century say that Hitler has to be the man of that century.

It’s a provocative notion, and it would probably give Hitler the stature, and historical value, that he sought all along. How many men, and how many precedents of the 20th century, will be cited more often than those Hitler provided humanity for centuries to come? Young people, involved in bar stool discussions, love such provocative notions, for they provide all listeners the impression that the provocateur is intelligent with such shock and awe proclamations. Most of us love such impressions, when we’re younger. As we age, and move past the desire to be perceived as intelligent through provocation, we actually become more intelligent, and we realize that most provocative thoughts should go through careful examination and attempts to disprove. The final conclusions we reach may not be as provocative, or as memorable, but as we age, read, and learn to temper our temperament, we realize that being correct is more valuable than being memorable or provocative. There is no doubt that the lessons evil men leave behind are monumental in history, but too often these provocative conversations leave out the dragon slayers that should, at least, be considered as prominent, if not more so.

To say that Winston Churchill hasn’t already achieved a prominent place in history would be foolish, as most historians continue to rank him in their top five most prominent figures of the 20th century, and most left-leaning historians will rank him in their top twenty. Does he deserve even greater prominence than we’ve already allowed, however?

One of the reasons Churchill is not higher on the list, I would submit, is that hindsight has proven that he was so obviously correct in his doomsayer predictions about Hitler. The idea that all of his warnings were so obviously on the mark, however, makes it almost boring to declare him the most prominent person of the 20th century.  It’s an of-course statement that causes readers to yawn over the headline, when a more prominent listing of others, such as Einstein, prove more provocative, compelling, and newsworthy.

Churchill was, as Krauthammer writes, “A 19th century man parachuted into the 20th,” but “it took a 19th century man –traditional in habit, rational in thought, conservative in temper– to save the 20th century from itself.” Yawn. Such lines don’t play well on the cover of a magazine to suggest that Churchill was right about Hitler, and thus he should be nominated the Man of the Century for speaking out and saving Britain and most likely the rest of the world. Especially when compared to the exciting, and revolutionary, bullet points a writer can compile about Einstein’s accomplishments.

Before dismissing the obviousness of Churchill’s warnings, one has to examine what he was up against while still in the British Parliament. Most of the British Parliament, and Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, dismissed Churchill’s warnings. They did not want to view Hitler through Churchill’s simplistic, black and white lens. Churchill’s warnings were viewed as the impulsive, irrational, and the unreasonable views of a war hawk. Neville Chamberlain has been viewed, by right and left historians as one of the obvious fools of the 20th century, but is it a glaring headline that Churchill should be viewed as the most obvious hero of the 20th century, no, because it is just so obvious. It doesn’t require any creativity to back up. It just is what it is, as we now say.

Churchill suggested that the year’s delay between the Munich Pact and what he deemed an inevitable war worsened Britain’s position, in direct opposition to Chamberlain’s assessment. (Editor’s note: Chamberlain would later declare that that year allowed the British to bolster their troops, and that the British military was not prepared for war during the previous year.) In that year, between Munich and World War II, Chamberlain also exhausted the possibility of diplomacy with détente, blockades, and anything and everything the world could use to achieve “peace in our time”. To refute the Chamberlain claims, Churchill stated Hitler could have been removed from power by a grand coalition of European states to prevent World War II from happening in the year in question.

That suggestion, that in some cases waiting too long can worsen one’s position, would rear its ugly head before Hitler’s body even went cold, when U.S. General George S. Patton’s warned General Eisenhower about Russia. Eisenhower, presumably recognizing that Patton’s warnings were not unfounded, responded that Americans were simply too war-weary to make any moves against Russia. The suggestion would later haunt the world in the 21st century, with Iraq in 2003, in a manner some would suggest the reverse of the Churchill suggestion, saying that we acted too impulsively, and the suggestion will probably haunt nations around the world for many more, because the human instinct is to avoid war at all costs, no matter how black and white, and simplistic, and obvious the need for action becomes.

In later writings, “Churchill depicted Chamberlain as well-meaning but weak, blind to the threat posed by Hitler, and oblivious to the fact that (according to Churchill) Hitler could have been removed from power by a grand coalition of European states. Churchill suggested that the year’s delay between Munich and war worsened Britain’s position, and criticized Chamberlain for both peacetime and wartime decisions. In the years following the publication of Churchill’s books, few historians questioned his judgment.”{1}

It may appear redundant to call an historian a hindsight historian, since history is documented in hindsight, but some historians document the facts of an era while others provide hindsight commentary to historical events that were not as clear to the historical figures of the day. These historians provide the unlimited omniscience that hindsight provides. Hindsight historians may document Churchill’s warnings as obvious now, but most hindsight historians will not tell you how popular Neville Chamberlains “peace in our time” efforts were at the time.

Another question those who believe Hitler’s quest for power was so obvious that it’s now redundant to talk about, should ask themselves how obvious it was to Neville Chamberlain at the time. How obvious was it to the British Parliament, the isolationists in America, and the world at large? Much like today, Churchill was regarded as a war hawk, and presumably a fear monger when he spoke of what he believed to be Hitler’s aspirations. Some have said that Churchill is almost solely responsible for the meetings that occurred at Tehran, Yalta, and Potsdam with FDR and Stalin that eventually won the war for the allied forces. 

We’ve all read hindsight historians document that America shouldn’t have been “so stupid” as to allow the attack on Pearl Harbor, when so many signs pointed to its eventuality. It’s easy for them to look at the decade preceding the terrorist attack on September 11, 2001, to declare that we were obviously naïve in trying terrorists as criminals rather than wartime adversaries. It’s also easy for them to write that that the call to war in Iraq, in 2003, was impulsive based on our inability to find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. What’s not so easy, however, is for those figures that were involved in the present tense of history to stick their neck out and speak out against the conventional wisdom of their day and declare that it’s “weak and blind” to continue to follow the conventional line of thinking. Hindsight historians now slightly diminish Churchill’s role in 20th century, because it is now so obvious that Hitler was the epitome of evil. To read through an objective telling of the history, however, it obviously wasn’t so obvious to some at the time.

As Krauthammer wrote in Things That Matter:

“And who is the hero of that story?  (The story of the 20th century’s ability to defeat totalitarianism, and leave it as a “cul-de-sac” in the annals of human history.) Who slew the dragon? Yes, it was the ordinary man, the taxpayer, the grunt who fought and won the wars. Yes, it was America and its allies. Yes, it was the great leaders: FDR, de Gaulle, Adenauer, Truman, John Paul II, Thatcher, Reagan. But above all, victory required one man without whom the fight would have been lost at the beginning. It required Winston Churchill.”{2}

Krauthammer, Charles.  Things That Matter: Three Decades of Passions, Pastimes and Politics.  New York, New York:  Random House, 2013.  Print.

A Story of Appreciation and Gratitude on Veteran’s Day

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Old-time soldiers, like my dad, put their military service behind them for the most part. They were proud to have served their country, and that service shaped the rest of their lives, but they usually didn’t talk about it a lot, or wear it on their sleeve. For the most part, most soldiers like my dad, were humble men who went about their daily lives as anonymously as rest of us. They never sought appreciation, or gratitude, and some of what they did receive embarrassed them a little. This is the story of one day, in my dad’s otherwise anonymous life, he received gratitude and appreciation, from otherwise anonymous people in his favorite restaurant, and how much that meant to him.

VFWMy dad wore his Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW) jacket, and hat, when he attended the local VFW, because he wanted his fellow soldiers to know that he was one of them. He enjoyed the camaraderie of speaking with fellow soldiers at the VFW, and it made him feel proud to be considered a part of that group. My dad didn’t, however, wear his VFW jacket and hat casually. I can’t remember him wearing them to the store, in restaurants, or in any establishments other than the VFW.

On one particular Veteran’s Day, my dad was feeling especially patriotic. He didn’t know why he felt that way, on that particular Veteran’s Day, he just did. He just wanted to wear his VFW jacket and hat to the restaurant he frequented for breakfast.

“A little kid came up and shook my hand,” he said, “and he said ‘thank you for your service sir’. I thought that was so cute,” my dad said with a smile, “and I shook the little feller’s hand. Then I found out that some anonymous patron in the restaurant informed my waitress that ‘that man, in the VFW jacket, will not be paying for his meal today.’ I thought they had me confused with someone else,” my dad said. “I thought, they confused me with some kind of war hero. Another man, a young man with big muscles, came up to my table and informed me that he was currently serving. He said that he was proud to carry on the proud tradition of serving the country in the manner I did. Other people asked me what war I served in, I told them, and they thanked me for my service. People who were shopping in the [attached] supermarket, came up to my table and whispered how grateful they were for their freedom, and they thanked me for it. They asked me if I was paying for my meal, and I said no. I said that someone else in the restaurant was taking care of it, and they said ‘good’ and walked away. These people would not leave me alone.”

If you knew my dad, you knew that he described these moments of his life in complaint form. He didn’t care for people making a big deal about him. It made him uncomfortable. He didn’t care to be the center of attention. He was just at that restaurant that day to eat a little breakfast, and he was admittedly feeling a little bit more patriotic on that Veteran’s Day than he had in others past, so he decided to celebrate Veteran’s Day in his own quiet, symbolic way. He was overwhelmed by the reaction he received.

“That’s actually sounds pretty cool,” I said when my dad reached a breaking point in his rant.

He paused, a little surprised by my reaction, and said, “It was,” and he continued on with his rant about how he hated being the center of attention. That little acknowledgement, those two words, would be all he would say. If you knew my dad, however, you knew this meant that he was touched by these small displays of acknowledgement and appreciation by a bunch of anonymous people that didn’t want to disturb his breakfast, but couldn’t pass him by without saying a few words of gratitude for his service.

“It has to feel nice though to have so many people appreciate what you did though,” I said. “I mean how many times have people done that to you?”

“This was the first time,” he said, and as it would turn out the only time in his life anyone ever thanked my dad for his service. I did not want to say that he may have had those days more often, if he wore his VFW hat and jacket more often, because I didn’t want to poke holes in his day, but I’m sure he would’ve had more comments of appreciation if he sought them more often.  That just wasn’t my dad. If he had any idea that that would’ve happened on that day, in that restaurant, he probably wouldn’t have worn his VFW hat and jacket.

This particular piece is not about trying to get you to thank a soldier for their service on this Veteran’s Day. I know that some people feel a little queasy doing this. I know that some people accidentally take their freedoms for granted, and they don’t equate the sacrifice most soldiers have made with the ability to take freedom for granted.  I also know that some people feel that being patriotic is a sign of a lack of intelligence, and this particular piece is not about changing any minds in that regard. This is just a little thank you note, I wanted to send to those people that made my dad feel extraordinarily special for one day in his life.

‘P’ is for Potential

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“You have to create some dung to fertilize the flower,” Martin Sheen said when he was asked how he could only be proud of three movies in a career that listed 69 titles.

The fact that this was my favorite quote, for years, should’ve told me something about the dreams I had of becoming a writer. I believed that I had a capital ‘P’ emblazoned on my chest, until I realized that everyone else did too, and I hadn’t done enough to separate myself from the pack. The thing with the ‘P’ word that those in the card carrying ‘P’ world don’t know is that there is another ‘p’ word in the vocabulary of those that watch you. This is an evil ‘P’ word to those in the card carrying ‘P’ world. That ‘P’ word is performance.

HaloSome may have their ‘P’ word swinging before their face, in the manner a farmer puts a carrot on a stick before their horse. They may also wear it in every smile they give you, and those smiles tell you they are meant for something more, but they just don’t know what yet. When one runs across a true ‘P’ word, they know it when they see it, and it diminishes their capital ‘P’ a little by comparison. Most people are not unusually jealous, they’re happy, and they lead a great life, but when they run across one that carries a true ‘P’ on their various smiles, they decide that they would do just about anything for just one of those smiles.

When they speak of events that have occurred in their life, and they speak about them in a casual manner, the observer knows that the career that we currently share with them is just a way station for them, and we can’t help but be genuinely jealous in that moment.

Others wear this letter ‘P’ as a costume, in conversations, to cover for the fact that they haven’t achieved as much as they once thought possible. We’ll know these people when we see them too. All of these people teach us the various definitions of the ‘P’ word. We see the beauty in their smiles, and we perceive their limitlessness, but we’ll also see the evil ones. We’ll see that these definitions are defined by how the user uses it, and if they use it.

I thought I had a capital ‘P’ branded into my chest at one point. I didn’t. I thought I did though, and that thought prompted me to work my tail off to convince myself, and others, that it was truer than true. The idea that I pursued something, for which I had so little talent, amazes me now in retrospect, when I look back on the actual performances that convinced me that there was, at least, a lower case ‘P’ somewhere on my chest.

Those that manage their ‘P’ word correctly, rarely comment on it. They don’t have to say it. It is the conclusion their observers reach soon after getting to know them. Those that wear the letter ‘P’ on their chest, as a costume, know this also. They know that most in their audience are so loaded with insecurities that those insecurities can be translated into a variety of ‘P’ words, and ‘P’ word synonyms, if they do it right.  In order to do it right, however, they know to avoid performing in front of them. Give them silence, and let them fill in the rest.

“I can’t hang out with those two anymore,” a friend of mine told me one day after an outing with co-workers. I initially thought he was being a cool guy. A cool guy tells those around them that a fun and exciting night was boring; a cool guy tells those around them that a great movie, or album, sucked; and a cool guy stops all the plastic people, with all of their plastic proceedings, and drops a quick quip like: “The world sucks!” Cool guys can also reveal those nerds around them by saying that what we thought was such a great time, was time spent with nerds. I attempted to dispel what I thought were my friend’s cool guy condemnations by saying that those two were fun and entertaining, and that fun and entertaining people don’t usually hang out with two drips like us. He said that wasn’t it. He said his concern was work-related.

I attempted to dispel this notion by saying that our company didn’t discourage senior agents hanging out with employees, only managers. My friend believed he was born with a capital ‘P’ on his chest, and I thought this was another moment where his delusions of grandeur had gotten away from him. “It’s not that,” he concluded. “It’s that, they know what I think now.” Here I thought that all the symptoms I was witnessing added up to the fact that my friend had come down with a simple case of delusions, but as it turned out he was suffering from a complex case of grand delusion.

What his last sentence told me was that he knew his thoughts were never as complex, or as complicated as he wanted them to be, but those two didn’t have to know that. He was despondent. They knew. He told them what he thought. All those weeks and months he spent quietly sitting in the background cultivating, harvesting, and weaving the idea of his brilliance into gold by allowing these people to fill in the blanks for him were gone, shattered, in one night.

He feared that the grand delusions he had perpetrated in their world, had just been popped, and he feared that when Monday rolled around, they would know that he was just one of them, in the present, with a future that probably wouldn’t be that much different than theirs. On Monday, they would see him quietly typing away at his keyboard, in an office, and that visual would take on an entirely different meaning than it had on the Friday before our weekend outing.

The other employees around him took their jobs less seriously. They always got their work done, but they played, and talked, and joked. He didn’t. He was serious. He even went so far as to shush employees when management walked by. He had always been a quiet guy with few friends, and in the real world this defined him as an awkward person that had a difficult time mixing with other people. In the office world, these characteristics can lead to an employee gaining a mystique of being a model employee with a serious future. That night, spent with our two co-workers, revealed him as more of a quiet, socially awkward guy that feared authority. It made everything he had done to procure those grand delusions in their head feel pointless.

He feared that they would now believe he was what they saw, nothing more. The idea that he didn’t mix well with others, was once a silence thing, but silence begets the ‘P’ word if one does it often enough and allows others to fill that silence in with their own exciting and intoxicating words. Why does he behave so well? Why doesn’t he mix well with others? I’ll tell you why, that boy’s got the ‘P’ word in spades. They fill that silence with words that you wouldn’t believe, until you accidentally fill those blanks in for them one night, while drinking, and there’s no turning back after that, or so he feared.

There were times when he spoke his mind during that night, and our two co-workers realized he didn’t know everything. He wasn’t as wise as they feared in their silent, insecure comparisons. There were other issues he wouldn’t discuss with them that he found too revealing, because he said he couldn’t discuss it with them. In the latter, he attempted to convey the notion that he had proprietary information that he could not divulge, due to his position in the company. When we reminded him that he was not management, and he could reveal whatever he thought on the matter without fear of recrimination, he went silent. It was revealed that he simply didn’t know what we were talking about. We accidentally took away his shield of silence. He thought these co-workers had given him a capital ‘P’ followed by an exclamation point, and he feared that that ‘P’ had replaced by an ‘R’ word, reality, that would shatter all the myths he had worked so hard to create.

My friend wanted to be like a politician that stood for nothing, but allowed his constituency to fill in the blanks that he left for them, until they had other ‘P’ words dancing in their head, and ‘P’ words that had question marks behind them, as opposed to his preferred exclamation point.

The thing with the ‘P’ word is that it can be beautiful. It can drive a person to become better tomorrow than they are today, if they’re willing to engage in the naughty ‘p’ word of the ‘P’ world vocabulary, performance. The reason that most card carrying ‘P’ words regard performance as a naughty word is that performing can lead to another ‘R’ word, revelation. It can reveal if the card carrying member truly has a ‘P’ word or not. It can tell reveal whether a person is truly special, gifted, and meant for more, or if they’re just a regular guy, collecting a regular paycheck, with as many limits on your ‘P’ word as everyone else.

I identified with my friend. I thought I had a capital ‘P’ behind my name that was followed by a big, old gleaming exclamation point. I thought God whispered things in my ear, and I wrote down everything I heard. I wrote short stories. I wrote novels. I wrote anything and everything I could fit in one mind. I thought it was my job in life to see this calling to its end. I thought I was a few steps below Stephen King and Dean R. Koontz, and Robert McCammon. I thought I just had to perform my way through that hole.

I’ve read through all those whispers recently, and I realize that if they happened today, I would turn to my wife and say, “I just had a thought.” I would then say those two sentences, and be done with it. Back then, a part of me believed that those whispers were telling me to be a writer, and I listened to these whispers, until I had enough material that it should’ve come true, and then I wrote some more, until I reached a point where I may have fertilized that ground so well that all the cultivating, harvesting and turning of those lies might have accidentally produced a truth.