War and Peace, &c.

On being ‘pro-war’ or ‘anti-war’; Stalin, back; Air Force One; the glory, and simplicity, of golf; and more

Photo by Maksym Pozniak-Haraburda on Unsplash

One of the most loaded words I know is “pro-war.” It was used by Peter Szijjártó, Hungary’s foreign minister, yesterday. I have written a fair amount about Szijjártó. As Viktor Orbán’s emissary, he has nurtured relations with Russia, Iran, and China. In late 2021, as Russian troops massed on the Ukrainian border, Szijjártó received the Kremlin’s Order of Friendship from the hand of Putin himself.

In a tweet, Szijjártó said that Radek Sikorski, Poland’s foreign minister, was “pro-war”—one of “the most pro-war politicians.” Oh?

A couple of years ago, Senator Mike Lee, the Utah Republican, responded to a critic by saying, “You support this war. I don’t.” He was talking about the Ukraine war.

Let me quote from a post of mine, please:

I once wrote a book about war and peace. For a meditation on peace—an essay drawn from that book—go here. The terms “pro-war” and “anti-war” are bizarre. No one supports war, except for psychopaths. (There are more than a few of those, to be sure.) As a rule, debates are between those who think that war is necessary, or just, and those who do not.

Do the Ukrainians have a right to defend themselves against invasion and subjugation? Should the United States support them? This is what people are talking about.

Another paragraph:

Marjorie Taylor Greene, the Republican congresswoman from Georgia, styles herself “anti-war.” So do others like her. You will notice, however, that they tend not to criticize Putin—who inflicted war on Ukraine. Does that tell you anything?

A final paragraph, please:

If I had my way, there would be no war. There would be no militaries, even. No nukes, no tanks, no fighter jets. No police departments. No locks on doors. But I don’t get my way. We deal with the world as it is. That is realism (true realism).

***

Back to Hungary: Several years ago, a European political analyst said to me, “He is copying Putin’s playbook, step by step. He is going in increments, Putin-style.” The analyst was speaking of Orbán. I thought of our conversation when reading an article yesterday—headed, “Hungary’s Russian-style ‘foreign agent’ bill threatens remaining independent media.”

***

In 1989, 1990, 1991, statues of Lenin and Stalin were pulled down all over Eastern Europe. In due course, the same thing happened in Russia itself. This was thrilling. The night of tyranny had given way to a better day. But history—human life—can go the other way. Vladimir Putin has succeeded in re-Sovietizing Russia.

A headline, again from yesterday: “Restored sculpture of Stalin unveiled in Moscow metro station.” That article is here. (And for a piece by me about the re-Sovietizing of Russia, go here.)

***

Are you plane’d out? Tired of hearing about an Air Force One from Qatar—the “Flying Emolument,” or “Flying Bribe,” as some people call it? I don’t blame you. But maybe I could say a quick word.

I am not particularly “America First,” in the Trumpian sense (or even the Lindberghian one). But Air Force One is important to our country: as a piece of equipment and as a symbol. To think that it should come from Qatar, or any other such country—or even a shining liberal democracy . . .

Why, that should get patriotic and nationalist backs up.

When I typed such words on social media, a reader pointed me to a speech by Calvin Coolidge—delivered to the American Legion convention in Omaha in October 1925. The whole thing is worth reading, as you can imagine. But here is a slice:

The generally expressed desire of “America first” can not be criticized. It is a perfectly correct aspiration for our people to cherish. But the problem which we have to solve is how to make America first.

Perhaps we could have those sentences in context (and Coolidge, when he speaks of “the war,” is talking about World War I, or simply “the World War,” as it was known until 1939):

During the war we were required not only to put a strong emphasis on everything that appealed to our own national pride but an equally strong emphasis on that which tended to disparage other peoples. There was an intensive cultivation of animosities and hatreds and enmities, together with a blind appeal to force, that took possession of substantially all the peoples of the earth. Of course, these ministered to the war spirit.

But

in time of peace these sentiments are not helps but hindrances; they are not constructive. The generally expressed desire of “America first” can not be criticized. It is a perfectly correct aspiration for our people to cherish. But the problem which we have to solve is how to make America first. It can not be done by the cultivation of national bigotry, arrogance, or selfishness.

I will return to this speech next week. (And I will return, as I often do, to President Coolidge’s speech of July 4, 1926—the 150th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence. Next year, of course, we will have the 250th anniversary.)

***

Okay, let’s talk about race—color. A topic we are all mighty sick of, I bet—except that life is not sick of it. (I think of the saying attributed to Trotsky: “You may not be interested in war, but war is interested in you.”)

I believe in the now-antique principle of colorblindness. There are about eleven of us left. Colorblindness is disparaged by people of various political stripes.

Now, “colorblindness,” in a proper understanding, I think, does not mean blindness to racism and inequality. It means: “People are people, whatever their skin says.”

Readers may be interested in a piece I wrote last fall: “Wrestling with Race: Thoughts personal, political, and social on America’s ongoing dilemma.”

I was impressed by a piece I read yesterday, by Mark Hertling, a retired lieutenant general (Army). His piece is titled “The Army Draws Strength from Diversity.” The word “diversity” gives a lot of people the heebie-jeebies, for good reason. It has often done the same to me.

But hear him out—hear Hertling out—I say.

“Just days ago,” he writes, “I learned of the passing of Maj. Gen. (Ret.) Fred A. Gorden—a friend, a mentor, and a trailblazer whose legacy looms large within the Long Gray Line, though far too few know his name.”

Some more:

Maj. Gen. Gorden was a pioneer. He was the only black cadet to graduate in the Class of 1962, the first black commandant of cadets at West Point in the late 1980s, and commander of the 25th Infantry Division “Tropic Lightning.” A soldier’s soldier, he was revered by those who served under his command. In his quiet, dignified way, he embodied the best of what we strive to be as soldiers who wear the cloth of our country: disciplined, humble, and relentlessly competent, with an unwavering focus on character, people, and mission.

I love that phrase “relentlessly competent.” Would that we were all so.

“But beyond all this,” writes Hertling, “Maj. Gen. Gorden had a deep passion for telling the story of those who came before him—the Buffalo Soldiers of the 9th and 10th Cavalry Regiments.”

And so on and so forth.

Reading this article, I thought of Charles Q. Brown, the Air Force general who became the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in 2023. He was relieved of that position in February.

I love something that Brown once said: “When I’m flying, I put my helmet on, my visor down, my mask up. You don’t know who I am—whether I’m African American, Asian American, Hispanic, white, male, or female. You just know I’m an American airman, kicking your butt.”

***

In a column on Wednesday, I spoke of first lines: “I was born in the house my father built.” (That’s Nixon, in his memoirs.) I have two favorite openers, I said: “Job was not a patient man” (Marchette Chute, The Search for God) and “It was a morning when all nature shouted Fore!” (P. G. Wodehouse, “The Heart of the Goof”).

A lot of people like the opening of “Knock,” the short story by Fredric Brown of 1948. This is two sentences, not one—still: “The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door . . .”

Darn good, right?

***

I’d like to offer you a music podcast: the latest episode of my Music for a While. Here. You have some well-known composers: Sibelius, Fauré, Stravinsky. And some less-known ones: Catalani, Tveitt—and Frank Churchill. Who he? Well, he wrote, among other things, “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?” (Universally known, or close to it.)

***

Yesterday, a colleague e-mailed me, “I am around today except from 11 to 2, as I am playing nine holes with my 80-year-old neighbor, Dave.” That warmed my heart—and made me think of Dottie Pepper.

She is a golf champion who has been a prominent broadcaster in her post-LPGA career. I podcasted with her a couple of weeks ago. When I asked for closing words, she said this:

“Golf at its simplest is golf at its best. There’s always this big push to go play these big-name places, in perfect conditions, and all that. But I think golf at its best is golf at its simplest—when it’s just you and whoever you’d like to spend time with. You don’t even have to bring a full set of clubs. Just go enjoy being in and around the game.”

Thank you for joining me, y’all. Have a good day, golf or no golf. Appreciate you.