Friday, August 19, 2022

A Grand Bargain For Taiwan: Literally




We all know that the stakes are high—maybe mushroom-cloudily high—in regard to Taiwan. “A Fight Over Taiwan Could Go Nuclear,” headlines Foreign Affairs, not a publication known for sensationalism.  And that header ran on May 22, weeks before House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s August 2 trip to Taiwan.  Since Pelosi’s visit, concern about a possible Sino-U.S. conflict over the island has ratcheted even higher.  


Hence an ominous second headline from Foreign Affairs, post-Pelosi trip: “America Must Prepare for a War Over Taiwan.”  Meanwhile, headlines from around the world veer from pensive to panicky.  From Germany: “Pelosi in Taiwan—important signal or historic mistake?”; from the United Kingdom: “Horrifying escalation of tensions.”  And the fear is that the war may spread to neighbors in Asia.  Japan: “China’s planned military exercises near Taiwan may have another target: Japan.”  Smaller countries, too, are worried; Malaysia: “Crossing Red Lines to Nuclear War.”  


Just on August 15, a second U.S. Congressional delegation visited Taiwan.  To which the People’s Liberation Army responded by staging more menacing “drills.”   Meanwhile, back in Washington, D.C., on August 16, the Chinese ambassador to the U.S., Qin Gang, delivered a 90-minute tirade, which Politico characterized as “doubling down.”  Qin accused Pelosi of “political provocation” and of “changing the status quo”—and implying that China would be within its rights to change it some more.  To which U.S. Air Force secretary Frank Kendall responded, in effect, on August 19: “The military activities that China engaged in during the time of the speaker's visit increased the level of risk and they violated a number of norms, crossing the line was one, firing into the exclusive economic zone of Japan was another, and firing over Taiwan itself was another.” Kendall added, “These are not actions that are designed to promote peace and stability in the region, they are very provocative and they increase the level of risk.”


Stepping back and adding perspective on this ominous tit-for-tat, former secretary of state Henry Kissinger told The Wall Street Journal, “We are at the edge of war with Russia and China on issues which we partly created, without any concept of how this is going to end or what it’s supposed to lead to.”  


So maybe, as we seek to sort things out, we should pause to remember wisdom from Winston Churchill: “To jaw-jaw is always better than to war-war.”  As we know, Churchill never shrank from an unavoidable fight, and yet at the same time, he believed that war should always be the last resort.  


With such prudence in mind, we should consider all possible ideas for staving off a conflict, including those from outside the box.  One such outside-the-nine-dots thinker is Greg Piccionelli, a Los Angeles-based polymath who has combined law, biology, physics, inventing, music, and bird-care. He has an interesting suggestion: The People’s Republic of China should buy Taiwan.  Not conquer it. Not nuke it.  Not blockade it.  Buy it.  That’s truly a Grand Bargain.  


“The U.S. bought Louisiana in 1803,” Piccionelli says. “Perhaps we could have taken it by force from the French, but we’ll never know, because we bought it.  Same with Alaska in 1867.  The Russians were a strategic threat to us, and we were a strategic threat to them.  So instead of risking a conflict in the Pacific Northwest, we just bought the territory.  A win-win.”  So yes, with apologies to Churchill, at least in some cases, buy-buy is better than war-war.  


We can add that in 1821, the U.S. acquired Florida from Spain.  As part of the deal, the U.S. assumed some $5 million in liabilities, and yet the cession was a bit more complicated than just a purchase, in part because Florida was filling up with American settlers and also because Spain was at the time fighting revolutions all across South America.  Still, it was a peaceful addition to the U.S.  Interestingly, the Florida deal was negotiated by Secretary of State John Quincy Adams.  Today, he is remembered as an apostle of foreign-policy restraint; as he said of America in his famous oration of July 4, 1821, “She goes not abroad, in search of monsters to destroy.  She is the well-wisher to the freedom and independence of all.  She is the champion and vindicator only of her own.”  All true, and yet at the same time, Adams was a realist champion of American interests. He knew that it was better for the U.S. to have Florida than for Spain to have it—and if he could get it for a mere payment, all the better.  


In addition, in 1854, the U.S. made the Gadsden Purchase from Mexico, gaining parts of today’s states of Arizona and New Mexico.  Just in the previous  decade, the U.S. had fought a war with Mexico, seizing substantial amounts of territory, and yet this time, the U.S. chose a peaceful approach.  In fact, Wikipedia lists some two dozens instances in history in which territory traded hands via purchase, not conquest.  In other words, there’s ample precedent for buy-buy as a way to gain land-land.  


So now to Taiwan. “If China offered $1 million to every man, woman, and child in Taiwan if they agree to vote to voluntary reunify with the mainland, the cost would be $24 trillion—24 million people times one million dollars,” Piccionelli suggests. “That $24 trillion price tag would accomplish peaceful reunification without an incredibly more costly cold war with the U.S. or an even more costly and catastrophic hot war with the U.S. and its allies.”  So there’s the deal.  


To be sure, $24 trillion is a lot of money.  And perhaps the price of $1 million per Taiwanese is too high—or maybe it’s too low.  That’s what would need to be negotiated between the parties.  However, as Piccionelli says, almost whatever the per capita valuation, war is more costly.  On August 8, Yahoo News cited a RAND Corporation study suggesting that a war with Taiwan would cut China’s $17 trillion GDP by as much 25 percent.  That’s more than $4 trillion, just in a single year.  Which is to say, stretched out over many years, the cost of a war with Taiwan would vastly exceed the possible purchase price of Taiwan.  And in the meantime, a Taiwan war would clip off about five percent of U.S. GDP, which is currently $23 trillion.  So that would be another trillion or so lost.  And there’d be sizable impact on the rest of the world, too.


Of course, we haven’t mentioned yet the price in lives, buildings, cultural artifacts, and so on—all the treasures that are being destroyed tragically, on a daily basis, in Ukraine.


We can add that the RAND numbers assume that the war would be contained—and who can make any such assumption?  Perhaps it’s fitting that I am writing this in the month of August.  It was in another August, 108 years ago, that The Guns of August roared, and World War One commenced.  Few of the war’s protagonists had any idea how destructive it would be: in lives, in money, in cultural and political capital.  


One who did foresee the true cost of a great war was Norman Angell, the British journalist and essayist.  His 1910 book, The Great Illusion, argued that war had become so destructive that it was no longer “profitable” to think of conquest.  In particular, Angell cited the importance of intangibles, such as credit—which would evaporate in a conflict.  As he wrote, these intangibles would evaporate in the event of a war: “Because of this delicate interdependence of our credit-built finance, the confiscation by an invader of private property, whether stocks, shares, ships, mines, or anything more valuable than jewellery or furniture—anything, in short, which is bound up with the economic life of the people—would so react upon the finance of the invader's country as to make the damage to the invader resulting from the confiscation exceed in value the property confiscated.” 


Angell was pro-peace, but he was tough-minded. He conceded that in countries without industry, there was gain to be found in pillage.  As he wrote, “Where Nature does not respond readily to industrial effort, where it is, at least apparently, more profitable to plunder than to work, the military tradition survives. The Beduin has been a bandit since the time of Abraham, for the simple reason that the desert does not support industrial life nor respond to industrial effort. The only career offering a fair apparent return for effort is plunder.”  But for countries and civilizations that had evolved beyond smash-and-grab, Angell insisted, war was a costly mistake.  


Angell is often mocked, because just four years after the publication of his book, World War One erupted.  But in fact, what was then known as the Great War proved his point: All the countries of Europe, even the “victors,” were, in fact, losers.  The Europeans recognized Angell’s enduring wisdom, and so in 1933, he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize


If Angell was correct a century ago, he’s even more correct today. To be sure, plenty of advanced countries go to war—and yet when they do, they are economic losers, not winners.  The recent military misadventures of the U.S. in the Middle East are a case in point.  


Updating Angell, we can observe: In the past, if a country conquered a territory, it would get the land, and maybe, too, future subjects or slaves.  But these days, when a territory is conquered, the conqueror gets craters and ruins.  (Yes, theoretically a lightning strike could decapitate the regime and leave the nation intact—that’s what Putin was aiming for in Ukraine, and it didn’t happen.)


Yet even if the kinetic damage is somehow held to a minimum, the damage is still severe.  Not only does the credit evaporate, but so does the human capital and the intellectual property.  And if economic sanctions and capital flight are piled on to those costs, then all the more, even the winners become losers.  So the Russians will not wring profit from the parts of Ukraine that they have conquered and devastated. 


Admittedly, a few countries and regions might be so abundant with natural wealth—gold, oil, perhaps rare earth elements—that they might, in some cruel calculus, be deemed “worth” conquering.  Yet Taiwan is not one of those countries.  It’s prosperous, for sure, boasting a per capita GDP of more than $33,000, and yet that wealth is found in the brains of its people, not underground.  Moreover, Taiwan’s prosperity is built on gossamer webs of globalism, linking its crucial exports to the rest of the world.  For instance, China is Taiwan’s largest trading partner, and Taiwan is China’s tenth-largest trading partner


Specifically, the Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), which Pelosi visited, makes 56 percent of all the computer chips in the world, (other Taiwanese companies make another 10 percent), and accounts for 92 percent of the most advanced chip-manufacturing capacity.  So yes, these trade links are quite real, in the sense that the world economy relies on Taiwanese chips, and yet at the same time, the links are fragile.  On August 1, the president of TSMC, Mark Liu, spoke out about  the perilous situation, as it might affect his company—and the world.  He said that a military attack from the PRC would render TSMC factories “non-operable,” because “suddenly their most advanced components” would disappear.  Liu explained that TSMC depends on real-time exchange with partners and suppliers around the world, for everything from “raw materials and chemicals to spare parts and software.”  And so, Liu continued, “nobody can control TSMC by force.”  The result of a war, he concluded, would be “great economic turmoil on [both] sides.” 


So even if the PRC were to subdue Taiwan by non-lethal means—say, an economic blockade, or turning the electricity off—plants such as TSMC, having lost their supply chains, and also many of their tech workers, would soon be reduced to worthless hulks.  


Okay, so now to possible objections to the Grand Bargain.  Here are five:  


First, would either the Taiwanese government, or the Taiwanese people, be at all interested in this proposal?  The immediate answer is that this sovereign power should be up to the Taiwanese and their democracy. Unlike the PRC, Taiwan is a democracy, where human rights are respected—and so the nation can have a full and free debate on its destiny.  Without a doubt, it’s nice to be an independent country. (Officially, Taiwan is the Republic of China, ROC, so it’s legally arguable that it’s just a different government for China, even if, course, in reality, it’s its own nation.)  Yet at the same time, it's also nice not to have to worry about being invaded, bombed, or maybe even nuked.  So perhaps the Taiwanese will deliberate on this matter, decide to take the deal—and then take the money and run. That is, skedaddle to California or Canada with the million bucks in hand.  (This assumes, of course, that those countries would take these economic migrants in such huge  quantity; in fact, given their wealth, as well as their presumed skills, it's quite possible that a new kind of international competition for Taiwanese human capital would emerge, with shrewd host countries gaining much.) 


This author will volunteer that there’s no reason to think that the PRC would treat an owned Taiwan, and its population, any better than it has treated an owned Hong Kong.  Yet still, more than 98 percent of Hong Kongers have remained.  Evidently, in the minds of most residents of that former British colony, rule by the PRC isn’t so bad.  But once again, the choice should be made by the Taiwanese, whether to take the deal, or not—and whether to stay in Taiwan, or not.  


Second, would the Beijing government have any interest in this idea?  After all, Chinese Communist Party leader Xi Jinping might think to himself, Taiwan is already ours, so why should we pay for it?  To which we can point out: Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and the PRC does not actually possess Taiwan.  So maybe Xi will see the value in a war-free, blood-free way to tidy up that geopolitical discrepancy.  Indeed, a purchase might be a face-saving way for the PRC to gain sovereignty over Taiwan, without the risk of Putin-Russian type Ukraine debacle.  Better to gain Taiwan by moving in on little weiqi cat feet. 


Third, there’s that $24 trillion price tag.  Rich as China might be, that’s a lot of money.  So here’s perhaps where international finance could help.   And why might the Rest of the World (ROW) be helpful?  Because the ROW realizes that a war over Taiwan would be an economy-tanker across the planet, and that would be bad for ROW asset values.  And if the war went worldwide, well, that would be even worse—much worse. To stave off potential planetary peril, the ROW might see the value in creating some sort of financial instrument to help the purchase along, perhaps by providing the money upfront to the Taiwanese, with Beijing operating on a longer-term installment plan.  Indeed, it’s quite possible that fear of a war over Taiwan is already “priced in” to the value of stocks and currencies—that is, depressing their value—around the world.   So if the threat of war were to go away, those valuations would rise, worldwide.  And there’re quants on Wall Street—and in London,  Tokyo, and Shanghai—who can figure out how to securitize, and monetize, that potential good news.  In other words, properly thought through, a permanent peace between China and Taiwan would be remunerative good news.  Plotting peace and getting richer as a result surely counts as a virtuous kind of market manipulation. 


Fourth, some will say that any suggestion that there’s an impermanence to Taiwan as an independent state undermines the freedom and autonomy of the Taiwanese people.  That is, the mere thought that Taiwan might be “for sale” could undercut its sovereignty and become a self-fulfilling prophecy.  This is a valid concern.  However, the idea that world could go to war over Taiwan—and maybe it would even be a nuclear war—is also a valid concern.  And the idea that the world, including the United States, might, in fact, “blink” on the defense of Taiwan is yet another valid concern.  For half a century, the U.S. has had a policy of “strategic ambiguity” on Taiwan; that is, we won’t say what we will or won’t do, militarily.  President Joe Biden has said three times that the U.S. would, in fact, defend Taiwan, the administration has unsaid it three times.   So there are many valid concerns, there is much ambiguity—and very high stakes.   So maybe it’s not so bad to consider different solutions—even outside-the-box bargains.  


Fifth, many on the right, as well as the left, will be concerned that paying money for territory and nationality would represent a further commodification of mankind.   Perhaps the most revered of all conservatives, Edmund Burke, sighed that the age of noble chivalry was being yielded up to “sophisters, oeconomists, and calculators.”   And Karl Marx’s declared that the bourgeoisie was reducing all human interactions to the “egotistical calculation” of the cold cash nexus.  Myriad thinkers and philosophers, before and since, on the left and the right, have further scorned the idea that human affairs can be reduced to a price point.   So how would Taiwan Grand Bargainers plead to these charges?  That they are crassly auctioning the organic, the intrinsic, the historic, and the heroic?   In their defense, the financializers might argue that over the last two or three centuries, innovation, including financial innovation, has increased the standard of living some 20-fold.  Still, it’s hard to address non-monetary concerns with money, because one side is talking taboo, while the other side is talking tradeoff.  But it’s worth trying to make these minds meet; that’s what diplomats are for.  With apologies to Churchill, jaw-jaw is good.  Indeed, the beginning of bargaining could be a path to the resolution of other international disputes.  Around the world, there’s plenty of territory that’s probably better paying for than killing for.  


In fact, the lethality of warfare is ever increasing.  That’s not just because of nuclear weapons, but also due to artificial intelligence, which makes possible new agents of mass destruction, from drones to robots to gain-of-functioned viruses.  To put it bluntly, dark technological innovation is making the planet more dangerous, and that’s not even including environmental concerns such as climate change.  Stepping back on all the dangers confronting Spaceship Earth, Piccionelli espies all the dangerous techno-trends and labels them the “doomsday curve,” which is not curving in a good direction for humanity.  So perhaps, as a possible partial solution, we need nuanced political and financial innovation that offers new hope for not only peace, but survival.  


Let’s let Piccionelli have the last word: “A purchase of Taiwan is, first, good for the world order; second, gets the U.S. off the hook for Taiwan’s defense; third, makes China look like a responsible superpower.  A win-win-win.”  


An intriguing argument.  Now we’ll have to see what Taiwan, China, —and the rest of the world—make of it.  


Addendum: I am reminded that I wrote in praise of a report that Donald Trump wanted to buy Greenland.  






Wednesday, August 17, 2022

America’s Dilemma: Power Abroad, Weakness at Home—and What to Do About It

First of Five Parts





Part One: The Power of the Anglosphere


It’s paradoxical that American soft power—that is, our political and cultural influence around the world—seems never to have been greater, and yet at the same time, America itself seems to be fissured.  That is, our politics riven and our population polarized.  Over time, this fissuring is assuredly problematic, not only for the sake of our beloved republic, but also for the sake of the free world coalition, which is under dire threat in Ukraine, and, also, to a lesser extent, in Taiwan. 


“Soft power,” of course, is a concept coined by Harvard’s Kennedy School academic, Joseph Nye.  He first used the term in his 1990 book, Bound to Lead: The Changing Nature of American Power, and then elaborated on it in his 2004 book, Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics.  As he wrote


Everyone is familiar with hard power.  We know that military and economic might often get others to change their position.  Hard power can rest on inducements (“carrots”) or threats (“sticks”).  But sometimes you can get the outcomes you want without tangible threats or payoffs. 


Applying the same carrot/stick concept to nations, Nye continued, 


A country may obtain the outcomes it wants in world politics because other countries—admiring its values, emulating its example, aspiring to its level of prosperity and openness—want to follow it.  In this sense, it is also important to set the agenda and attract others in world politics, and not only to force them to change by threatening military force or economic sanctions. This soft power—getting others to want the outcomes that you want—co-opts people rather than coerces them.  Soft power rests on the ability to shape the preferences of others.


Shaping the preferences of others, for better or worse, is exactly what the U.S. does best.  We might consider: Just in the past decade, such distinctly American concepts as Occupy Wall Street, #MeToo, the Green New Deal, and Black Lives Matter have resonated around the world.  In 2020, for instance, Keir Starmer, the leader of the British Labour Party, took a knee.  Starmer might well be a future prime minister of the United Kingdom; and yet he’s been imitating the gestures of an American football player.  We can add that the Dobbs case, reversing Roe v. Wade, was the subject of worldwide commentary, including from heads of state.  


Indeed, American memes are so strong that they even regularly infect adversaries; in March 2022, Russian autocrat Vladimir Putin railed against "cancel culture."  (Strange to think that Moscow was once a master of meme-generation, streaming out to the Communist International, but that was then; now, the Russians grope for our memes.) 


Part of American meme-mastery, of course, is American social media.  We can ask: Is there any important country in the world that does not have a Twitter account?   Is there anyone in the world who does not know about Donald Trump?  The yellow hair?  The red tie? MAGA?  


This is all part of the Anglosphere, the quasi-geopolitical notion that the world’s English-speaking peoples are destined for some sort of political unity, as well as cultural unity.  In fact, some 1.5 billion people around the world speak English—that’s about a fifth of the world’s population.  However, among the elite, the chattering classes, the percentage of English speakers is surely far higher.  So it was that the American journalist Ben Smith could declare that his forthcoming publication, Semafor, will target these English speakers, wherever they are on the planet.  “There are 200 million people who are college educated, who read in English, but who no one is really treating like an audience, but who talk to each other and talk to us,” he said. “That’s who we see as our audience.”


Yet the soft power of the Anglosphere is more than just the hegemony of the English language.  It’s also the appeal of the Anglo-Saxon idea—or, if one prefers, the liberal idea— of freedom of speech.  One needn’t argue that Francis Fukuyama was right about the worldwide “End of History” to nonetheless concede that he was right about the preference of many people.    


For many—and by many, I mean billions—this endless give and take that comes with freedom is what makes American debates, cultural as well as political, so exciting.  In the most literal sense, you don’t know what’s going to happen next, because there’s no controller and no censor.  Whatever comes spewing out of American media, including social media, is whatever people are thinking.  And if much if it is unappetizing, there’s always some of it that is appetizing, and there’s always much of it that is compelling.  


So we might be reminded of what Thomas Jefferson wrote from Paris in the 1780s: If he was faced with a choice of “a government without newspapers or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate a moment to prefer the latter.” This endless contention of media not only makes for interesting news consumption (even if it takes some effort to smelt away the dross) it also makes for better governance, as a free press checks and balances the state.  This point made by Jefferson, our first secretary of state, was well articulated by the 71st secretary of state, Antony Blinken.  On March  18, 2021, in an impromptu debate with the Chinese foreign minister, Wang Yi, Blinken declared


. . .  there’s one more hallmark of our leadership here at home and that’s a constant quest to as we say, form a more perfect union.  And that quest, by definition, acknowledges our imperfections, acknowledges that we’re not perfect.  We make mistakes.  We have reversals, we take steps back.  But what we’ve done throughout our history is to confront those challenges, openly, publicly, transparently. Not trying to ignore them.  Not trying to pretend they don’t exist.  Not trying to sweep them under the rug.  And sometimes it’s painful.  Sometimes it’s ugly.  But each and every time we’ve come out stronger, better, more united, as a country.


Fact check: True.  At least for most of U.S. history.  Yet today, many argue that “disinformation” is such a threat that something must be done, such as Sovietly named—and mercifully short-lived—Disinformation Governance Board.  Yet whatever the U.S. government does, or doesn’t do, about “disinformation,” there are easily a hundred, if not a thousand, non-profits, all monitoring, analyzing, and warning against “disinformation.”  Of course, as a reminder of the power of the Anglosphere, one can go to the internet and google (two more agents of the Anglosphere) and read all about it.  


Of course, a Google search for “civil war” and associated concepts will yield up a gazillion hits.  And it’s hard not to agree with at least some of the concerns about the future of our union.  As I wrote in March for The American Conservative, “The United States has all the preconditions for a civil war today except one: the willingness to actually fight for the sake of disunity.”  I still think that’s true, even if I’m a little less sure about the unwillingness to actually fight. 


So this is the dilemma of American power: Around the world, the Anglosphere is robust, and yet here at home, America is deeply divided.   So can this divided house still stand?


This question is likely to be sharpened if America continues to show success in Ukraine.   As of mid-August, it seems that Western military aid is so enhancing the courage of the Ukrainian armed forces that it’s possible, maybe probable, that Ukraine will fight Russia to some kind of draw.  A Korean-style stalemate seems likely—and given the early expectations of a swift Russian victory, that’s a comparatively positive outcome.  To be sure, it’s tragic to think that Russia will hold on to a single acre of Ukrainian territory, and yet the good news is that Ukraine is now firmly anchored in the West.  At this rate, it will soon be obsolete to speak of Russia’s implied dominion over Ukraine, just as it is anachronistic to speak of Japan’s dominion over Manchuria, or of Britain’s dominion over Palestine. 


So that’s the good news: The perimeter of the Free World has been expanded, with Ukraine firmly within the perimeter.  As has long been the case, the perimeter of freedom is mostly safeguarded by the hard power the American military, bolstered and amplified by American soft power.   


Yet the bad news is the aforementioned weakness at home.  The fierce debate over the legal issues surrounding Donald Trump are likely enough to resolve themselves soon enough—the American legal system may move slowly, but it grinds hard—and yet the deeper conflicts of geography and demography are likely to remain, and that could undercut our hard power, and maybe even our soft power.  As I argued in that March piece, red vs. blue could be the new Austria and Hungary. 


But I’m getting ahead of myself.  My only point now, in part one of this four-part series, is to emphasize the strangeness of our situation: Our soft power abroad is manifest, and yet our soft underbelly at home is obvious.  So it’s useful to explore how past realms managed their soft power.  


Next in Part Two: How the Romans wielded soft power.   


(Picture credit: Wikipedia) 

Thursday, May 05, 2022

A Vindication of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn—From an Unexpected Source

At a time when everything Russian is being canceled—from the Bolshoi to vodka to the music of Tchaikovsky, who died in 1893—the May 12 issue of The New York Review of Books provides a welcome respite to indiscriminate and anachronistic Russophobia.  Gary Saul Morson, a professor of Slavic literature at Northwestern University, reviews two new translations from among Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s many published works: March 1917: The Red Wheel, and Between Two Millstones: Exile in America, 1978-1994, both bravely published by the University of Notre Dame.


Morson’s ultimate point is that Solzhenitsyn was simultaneously political and anti-political.  The Russian author (1918-2008), was honored with the Nobel Prize in 1970 “for the ethical force with which he has pursued the indispensable traditions of Russian literature.”  And yet his most famous volume is non-fiction, The Gulag Archipelago, published in English in 1974.  That was the title that rocked the world of this American Baby Boomer, who had previously been schooled mostly in liberal-left dogma about the moral equivalence of the United States and the Soviet Union—except, of course, when “Amerika” was said to be worse. 


So sure, when necessary, Solzhenitsyn, himself a survivor of the Gulag—as a decorated Red Army officer fighting the Nazis, he was arrested in 1945 and imprisoned for eight years for the offense of cryptically critical comments about Stalin—could be political.  If, that is, by “political” we mean standing up for human dignity.  


At the same time, Morson emphasizes that Solzhenitsyn was firstly a spiritual man who wrote, “Political activity is by no means the principal mode of human life . . . The more energetic the political activity in a country, the greater is the loss to spiritual life.  Politics must not swallow up all of a people’s spiritual and creative energies.  Beyond upholding its rights, mankind must defend its soul.” 


Yet in recent decades Solzhenitsyn’s reputation has been besmirched by accusations of anti-Semitism and also, in strange posthumous way, by his identity as a Russian Orthodox Christian, which has put him, in the minds of some, in the same pot with the odious (and hypocritically sacrilegious) Vladimir Putin.  Both accusations, according to Morson, are unfair.  He writes of the first, “The charge of anti-Semitism particularly offended Solzhenitsyn, who, as some critics conceded, defended Jewish dissidents and the right of Jews to emigrate in order to avoid religious and other persecution in the USSR.” 


Solzhenitsyn was also political insofar as he was an ardent anti-Communist.  Notably, he lamented the failure of meliorative monarchism to stave off the red tide.  In Solzhenitsyn’s telling, the event that canted Russia to perdition came in 1911, when Pytor Stolypin, the reformist prime minister of Tsar Nicholas II, was assassinated.  And the assassin happened to be Jewish.  As Solzhenitsyn argued, in the absence of reform from above, the Bolsheviks—led by the gentile Lenin—could plot revolution from below.  In Solzhenitsyn’s words, “Russia and Communism had the same relationship as a sick man and his disease.”


And Morson makes clear that the other charge—that Solzhenitsyn shares psychic space with the murderous nationalism of Putin and his bearded Russian Orthodox “Rasputin,” Aleksandr Dugin—is equally absurd.  In fact, Solzhenitsyn was the opposite of a nationalist: “Nationalism, as we usually envisage it, appalled him.”  


Morson adds that three decades ago, Solzhenitsyn urged Russians not to object to the breakup of the Soviet Union.  In particular, he was happy to see the non-Slavic parts of the fallen evil empire go their own way.   And while he might have wished that the Slavic lands of Belarus and Ukraine would have remained with Russia, he thought it was their right to declare independence. Writes Morson: “Foreseeing the conflicts likely to arise eventually if Ukraine, with its large Russian-speaking population and its close cultural ties to Russia, chose to secede, Solzhenitsyn, who considered himself both Russian and Ukrainian, hoped to preclude the devastating conflict we see today.” 


Morson dwells upon the self-descriptively apt title of one of Solzhenitsyn’s books, Between Two Millstones; the two millstones being communism and liberalism.  So Solzhenitsyn, being more mystical than political, resembles another Russian writer, Leo Tolstoy (1828-1910).  In his time, Tolstoy—best known for his novel War and Peace, with he himself being a pacifist—was equally hard to peg into familiar categories. 


Today, it’s heartening to see such nuance—Solzhenitsyn being shown as an exemplar of a distinct strain of Russian thinking and creating, far apart from Russo-Bolshevik barbarism—in the pages of The New York Review of Books.  The tome-y publication, founded in 1963, is certainly on the left, and yet it’s not in the least woke: the same May 12 issue includes admiring reviews of books on the sculptor Bernini, the painter David, and art audiences in 19th century France.  


So by that reckoning, perhaps @nybooks is finding itself sliding to the right.  After all, by regarding the canon as something worth remembering, it is defending the canon—and thus the defender is on the other side of the barricade from the attacking zero-year iconoclasts.  So make room, cultural conservatives; some new recruits are heading our way, however reluctantly. 


Interestingly, in his historical novel March 1917, Solzhenitsyn is unsparing in his critique of proto-woke public officials, namely the liberal Russians who took office after Tsar Nicholas II abdicated.  These weak men could not bring themselves to defend their office, their country, or their civilization against marauders—first, common criminals, and soon, the Bolsheviks.  Hence the historical figure Prince Lvov, who served for a few months as the first prime minister of post-tsarist Russia, says to his colleagues, “Why does a free state need police at all?”  Such naiveté has a short life expectancy. 


Morson doesn’t mention it, but such mush-headed liberalism echoes that of the Hungarian Mihály Károlyi, who misruled Hungary at around the same time.  Like Lvov, Károlyi drew the wrong lesson from World War One, namely that nothing was worth defending.  And so Károlyi abolished the army, leaving his country to be overrun by foreigners; moreover, Károlyi’s weakness made it possible for the communist Béla Kun to seize power in Budapest for a brief but bloody epoch of red terror.  


So we can see: In both instances, Russia and Hungary, easy-on-evil libertarianism allowed the absolute worst forces to triumph.  And that’s certainly a warning message that Americans need to hear. 


Solzhenitsyn’s faith gave him a keen apprehension of wickedness.  “Evil refuses to know the truth,” says one of his characters. “Evil people usually know better than anybody else just what they are doing.  And go on doing it.”  No society-is-to-blame relativism here.  


Still, Solzhenitsyn sought more than just outward good behavior, important as that was.  He wanted a deeper inward search for the good.    Morson closes by quoting Solzhenitsyn’s warning against the siren call of secular utopianism: “How could you remake the world if you couldn’t figure out your own soul?” 


Such wisdom is timeless.  And so we can hope, and maybe pray, that Solzhenitsyn’s voice will be heard in Russia, long after Putinism is consigned to the ash heap of history.  And come to think of it, there are a few world-girdling systems in the West that could benefit from the same graced humility.