LITERARY REVIEWS
The Siege by Ben Macintyre (published by Viking, 400pp)
FOR six long days in the spring of 1980, the world held its breath after armed dissidents opposed to the Ayatollah Khomeini seized the Iranian embassy in London, holding 26 people hostage, among them a British policeman on duty at the door and two members of the BBC who were there to get visas.
It was a turning point, an event that broke entirely new ground. Not only was it the first time that Middle East terrorism reared its head in the West – an unwelcome chapter that is still far from finished – it was also the premier performance of Britian’s elite military soldiers, who took the embassy, gun-toting figures in black balaclavas storming it on live, prime-time television.
Most of the public had never heard of these Special Forces or Regiment before; afterwards, they were – and still are – a legend.
Ben Macintyre tells the inside story with his customary pace and panache, the tension mounting as the minutes ticked away and the terrorists threatened to murder their hostages, but also not shying away from the moral nuances of the finale in which all but one of the perpetrators died.
Macintyre’s account draws on contemporary diaries and interviews with witnesses. The Ministry of Defence cleared former special forces soldiers to speak to him. He writes: “Most of the source material is secret, pseudonymous, or privately owned.” With some justification, this has been described as “the last word on the subject”.
Queen Victoria and her Prime Ministers by Anne Somerset (Published by William Collins, 576pp)
A MONARCH reigns but does not rule – that is the unique and eccentric nature of the British constitution.
And the restrictions placed on her ability to get her own way frequently enraged Queen Victoria.
In public, her prime ministers queued up to praise her “thorough understanding” (Gladstone’s phrase) of her constitutional position, but they, of all people, knew first hand how indignant she became on being reminded of who really ran the country.
Theoretically, she had immense power – to disband the army, declare war, pardon all convicted offenders, and to dismiss the civil service. Wisely, she chose not to risk a revolution by exercising these rights, but that didn’t mean she was politically inactive. Behind the scenes, she made her presence, her views and, above all, her displeasure known to the various men – ten in all over 64 years – who headed her governments.
Her meddling led to Gladstone to whisper behind her back that she was “an imperious despot”.
The feeling was mutual. She couldn’t stand him and complained he was humourless, and unable to take a joke.
But according to Anne Somerset, Queen Victoria made an important impact through her “uncanny ability to align herself with public opinion, instinctively espousing views that coincided with those of many of her subjects”, even though her day-to-day life in palaces and country houses was far removed from theirs.
The common sense of the stout little widow in a black bonnet – drawing on what she called her “desire to do what is fit and right” – was crucial in steering the nation away from the sort of popular unrest and extremism that after her death would overtake other European countries.
Takeover: Hitler’s Rise to Power by Timothy W. Ryback (Published by Headline, 416pp)
At the back end of 1932, it was common currency among the politically aware in the Weimar Republic that the man they sneered at as the “Bavarian corporal” was a busted flush, along with his Nazi Party and its uniformed stormtroopers.
They’d failed to get anywhere near a majority in recent elections to the Reichstag, with two-thirds of German voters rejecting them and their share of the popular vote falling.
A cartoon on the front page of a national newspaper had Adolf Hitler slouching against a table holding a broken swastika in his hand like a child moping over a broken toy.
And just weeks later, at the end of January 1933, that same Adolf Hitler was all-powerful, reluctantly appointed Chancellor of Germany by the ageing President von Hindenburg.
Twice in the past, Hindenburg had sent Hitler away empty-handed, refusing to elevate the would-be dictator. This time, caught in a constitutional deadlock of rival parties, none of whom had majority backing, he gave in submissively.
How Hitler combined foot-stamping intransigence with adept political manoeuvring (i.e. lies and broken promises) to reach his objective is forensically examined by US historian Timothy Ryback. What comes across is how close the Führer came to failing and possibly sparing the world all the horrors that followed.
Instead, the complacency of his multiple enemies, pursuing their own interests instead of combining to keep him out, gave Hitler his opportunity.