I’ve been watching PBS’ “Rise of the Nazis,” which focuses on the Eastern front of World War II’s European Theater, and I’m just astounded at the parallels between that conflict and the one in Ukraine. Then as now, you have the irresistible force of a dictator — well, two in fact — determined to maintain chaos to stay in power and the immovable object of a people determined to go all in to save their homeland. The names have changed, but the issues behind the Nazi siege of Russia and the Russian siege of Ukraine remain depressingly familiar, particularly as brought home in the recent episode on Stalingrad, the turning point of World War II in Europe.
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Covid, Ukraine and the meaning of suffering
“Hippo King” — a recent episode of PBS’ “Nature,” a show I find difficult to watch but am nonetheless drawn to — tells the story of a hippopotamus from birth through violent maturity to his becoming the primary bull in his pod and eventual death at age 35. In a key moment, the young hippo, on his own for the first time, is eyed by a pride of lionesses. But they turn their attention to a swift gazelle that flashes before them until they attack and devour it as our hippo protagonist watches and moves on, perhaps relieved that it was not his day.
I find myself thinking of that hippo of late as Passover approaches and Holy Week begins in a saason that has always symbolized death and rebirth. Why do we suffer? Well, I think we know why we suffer — OPS (other people’s selfishness) for one thing and then there are those calamities the flesh is heir to that we generally have no control over, like many illnesses.
Read MorePutin and narcissism -- a cultural perspective
With the ground war raging in Ukraine having been played to a standstill — thank God, although the shelling continues — many have attempted to analyze its sole instigator, Russian President Vladimir Putin. Analysts have considered the so-called encroachment of NATO, a defensive organization that would probably not exist without Russian aggression; the supposed failure of American presidents to read the 800-pound gorilla in the room; the obliviousness of a Europe that reportedly saw Russia as nothing but a giant gas station with onion domes; the alleged corruption of the former Soviet satellites that Putin would seek to crush to corral — Chechnya, Crimea, Ukraine.
But as with any analysis of his former BFF, President Donald J. Trump, the political with Putin must begin with the personal. As with Trump, Putin is a narcissist. The difference is that while Trump is an ultimately ineffective narcissist — too intellectually lazy and disorganized to be Machiavellian — Putin is the worst kind of narcissist, a wily malignant nihilist.
Read MoreThe Ukraine invasion and a new kind of culture war
In Bernard Taper’s biography of Russian-American choreographer George Balanchine, he describes a moment of deprivation during the Russian Revolution that haunts me still: A horse drops dead in the street, and the starving populace rushes out to carve it up.
Historically, the Russian people have careened from one kind of oppression to another, from the czars to the Soviets, whose empire Vladimir Putin is now seeking to reconstitute with his brutal siege of Ukraine.
Read MoreIphigenia in Beijing: the inexorable politics of the Olympics
Held in a country known for its abuses of nature and human nature, attended by the president of a nation banned for doping but whose athletes are still allowed to compete, how could the Beijing Games not be a hot, hypocritical mess?
Read MoreRethinking history: Churchill and cancel culture
Recently, I bought a copy of October/November issue of Military History magazine, which featured a cover story on Alexander the Great, who readers of this blog know has been a lifelong passion of mine, along with the ancient Greeks.
I was soon disappointed. His conquest of the Persian Empire in 331 B.C. was written off as pure narcissism. There was no mention of possible motives (the backdrop of the Greco-Persian wars; his father Philip II of Macedon’s dream of conquering Persia; his mother Olympias instilling in him a divine sense of purpose; his tutor Aristotle schooling him in the Homeric idea of arete, or excellence, which often saw its fulfillment in military glory; and finally his own inexplicable pothos, or longing, for the next horizon.)
There was no discussion of Alexander, having conquered Persia, instituting self-rule in the disparate regions of his far-flung empire. The notion that he killed all the men and enslaved the women and children is laughable. Who was going to run things and do the work? He wasn’t importing Greeks and Macedonians to do this.
Finally, there was no sense of his legacy, which includes the dissemination of Hellenistic culture, including Greek, the lingua franca of the empire. Centuries later, Greek translations of the Gospels would enable the spread of Christianity. In a sense, Alexander — who came from a world that knew how to spin stories and identities in words and images — made Jesus’ story more readily available. (Plus how could Alexander have no legacy? More than 2,000 years later there he was on a magazine cover.)
I thought about all this as I read The New York Times chief White House correspondent Peter Baker’s review of Geoffrey Wheatcroft’s “Churchill’s Shadow: The Life and Afterlife of Winston Churchill.” To sum it up: He’s not a fan.
Read MoreTo have and have not
Earlier this evening, a publicist sent me a pitch about a law professor’s take on the trend among the rich and famous, like CNN anchor Anderson Cooper, to leave their heirs with less rather than more — the idea being that children who inherit vast sums of money would be de-incentivized to get off their keisters and work for a living.
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