Books, China, Government, Politics, Russia, Society, United States

Book Review: Autocracy, Inc

LITERARY REVIEW

Intro: Standing up to the tyrants in the East

THERE isn’t a more rigorous and engaging analyst of the crimes of the erstwhile Soviet dictatorship than Anne Applebaum, the acclaimed author of the Pulitzer prize-winning history of the Gulag, and also of Red Famine: Stalin’s War On Ukraine.

For her gifts, the historian is also rooted in the present, as a fearsomely active journalist, and the writer’s latest work is an up-to-the moment examination of how modern-day autocracies, not just that of Russia’s President Putin, but also including China, North Korea, and Iran, act as a kind of informal bloc to challenge what they see as the West’s “hegemony”.

It’s unfortunate that the phrase “axis of evil” has already been taken, since that would be a befitting description. Alas, it was inappropriately used by George W. Bush in the wake of the 9/11 attacks to join together Iran, Iraq, and North Korea – which actually had no military or financial links at all.

Russia, China, North Korea, and Iran, do, however, connect in this way, accelerated by Moscow’s war on Ukraine.

The only minor criticism of Applebaum’s formidable book is that it never mentions the Iraq War of 2003–2011 or the later Western intervention in Libya. For these were the developments which not only gave fuel to the anti-Western agenda, but also convinced many – including in the West itself – that we had little moral authority to criticise the military escapades launched by the Kremlin.

Applebaum is especially adept, however, in setting out the remarkable success of modern Russian propaganda – beyond the scope that Stalin could ever have dreamed of – using the worldwide web, and of China’s ability both to control its own people through technology and to censor what was thought to be unstoppable.

At the dawn of the millennium the ever-optimistic U.S. President Bill Clinton proclaimed that the internet would liberalise China, by exposing its people to all the possibilities and opportunities the free world had to offer.

When arguing, on similar grounds, for China to be admitted to the World Trade Organisation, he gave an address in which he ridiculed the idea that Beijing could keep a lid on things.

“Now, there’s no question that China’s been trying to crack down on the internet,” he declared. At that point, as Applebaum records, Clinton gave a wry smile, adding: “Good luck!” – and his audience joined in the laughter.

They are not laughing now. The Great Firewall of China, and even more sophisticated tools than that, have allowed Beijing to succeed, keeping billions of its citizens in a form of intellectual slavery.

In a similar vein, the German political establishment had long believed in the doctrine known as Wandel durch Handel – “change through trade” – the idea that making nice with Moscow in terms of market access would inevitably lead to political and cultural liberalisation. This was most notable with pipelines taking Russian gas to Europe. That dream, or self-interest, in terms of the aspirations of German business, has also been shattered. The kleptocracy just got richer and far  more ruthless. 

As the deputy mayor of St Petersburg in 1992, and in his first public role, the former KGB officer Putin argued that “the entrepreneurial class should become the basis for the flourishing of our society as a whole”. That was music to the ears of Western investors, but Putin was then, already, creaming off vast sums for himself and his associates, via his control of local export licences for raw material.

As Applebaum notes, under Putin’s perpetually renewed presidency this ultimately developed into “a full-blown autocratic kleptocracy, a Mafia state built and managed entirely for the purpose of enriching its leadership”. It was for his leading role in exposing this that Alexei Navalny paid with his life.

Despite his apparent personal austerity and regular crackdowns on colossal financial corruption within the Chinese Communist Party – the inescapable consequence of permanent one-party rule – Xi Jinping is only too happy to make common cause with the multibillionaire plutocrat Putin.

Central, this is because they share a primordial terror of a popular uprising against their regimes: in this context, it was striking how in 2022 Xi suddenly abandoned his hitherto iron-cast Covid lockdown measures after a public revolt threatened to spread to the streets of Beijing and Shanghai.

And the “no limits” friendship which Xi entered into with Putin on February 4, 2022, was specifically designed to demonstrate a kind of solidarity among autocracies, against what they both constantly refer to as the West’s “attempts at hegemony”.

Their joint communiqué denounced “the abuse of democratic values and interference in the internal affairs of sovereign states”. Weeks later, Putin sent his tanks towards Kyiv.

There was a tantalising glimpse of a possible fracture in the relationship at that moment: it seems likley that Xi was not given a warning by Putin of what was about to happen and, some months later, Beijing made public its grave concern about the Kremlin’s threats to use nuclear weapons in Ukraine.

Nevertheless, as Anne Applebaum concludes, the challenge to “Autocracy, Inc” must come from within the West itself.

And, yet, if the forecasts are right, the American people seem likely to elect to the White House (again) their own version of Autocracy Inc: Donald J. Trump.

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Britain, Government, NATO, Politics, Russia, Society, Ukraine, United States

Give President Zelensky what he needs to defeat Putin

UKRAINE WAR

EUROPEAN leaders gathered at Blenheim Palace recently in a symposium that was a conduit for European solidarity. They surrounded Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky in an image of steadfast support.

For Zelensky, he must be wondering how stalwart those allies really are. Two and a half years into Putin’s bloody and violent war, it must increasingly seem to Zelensky that NATO is offering just enough to keep Ukraine limping on – but not enough, anywhere near enough, in smashing Russian forces completely. What else could explain the West’s ambiguity and indecisiveness over the use of long-range weapons to attack targets inside Russia?

The British prime minister, Sir Keir Starmer, has rebuffed Zelensky’s plea that he ditch the UK’s veto on Storm Shadow “bunker-buster” weapons, which have a range of up to 190 miles, easily capable of striking targets in Russia.

As it currently stands, the UK and other allies allow Ukraine to fire long-range missiles defensively at targets on Russian soil near the border, but not offensively or deep into Russian territory.

Such a position is, of course, calculated to avoid provoking Putin into wider retaliation. At the heart of that fear is the ultimate and terrifying prospect that the dictator might reach for the nuclear button, but even less apocalyptic concerns help to dictate policy.

Success in armed conflict can only be achieved if all the elements of the battlefield are dominated. In the traditional doctrine of NATO, this means winning “deep, close, and rear” battles – that is long-range strikes and raids on infrastructure (deep), front-line combat (close), and the essential support mechanisms such as logistics and headquarters (rear).

Just as Russia is hitting Ukrainian cities, factories, and infrastructure, any military general knows it is perfectly reasonable for Ukraine to do the same in order to degrade its enemy’s military capability. But with the current restrictions on missile use in place, Ukraine’s fighting forces can’t execute the “deep” battle. Zelensky is being forced to fight with one arm tied behind his back.

That’s why many are now pressing decision-makers in Washington, London, Berlin, and Paris to authorise the use of long-range weapons, such as the UK’s Storm Shadow, to strike targets inside Russia.

That would likely lead to some escalation. But as in the Cold War, many strategists are confident this war, at least, won’t go nuclear, despite the warnings of those concerned about the UK’s deepening involvement in the conflict.

For one thing, Russian tactics would probably use a tactical nuclear weapon only to stop an enemy breakthrough in Ukraine. Such a breakthrough could only occur in one of the four eastern provinces that Putin has decreed to be forever Russian. Where is the logic in irradiating many square miles of your own soil?

Then there is the relationship between China and Russia to consider. President Xi has so far offered only mild support to Putin and is unquestionably the dominant partner in the relationship. China has consistently opposed the use of nuclear weapons in Ukraine.

Of course, matters could seriously escalate long before it reached nuclear proportions.

A cyber attack on the scale of the IT outage chaos caused by CrowdStrike is well within Russia’s capability, as is severing underwater communications or energy pipelines in the North Sea. And if the Houthi rebels in Yemen were capable of striking Tel Aviv, we cannot rule out a long-range conventional missile strike on a target in Western Europe, even potentially one on the UK.

Nevertheless, military strategists and theoreticians often refer to the concept of “limited war” – that is, restricted in its aims and its geography. The war in Ukraine does indeed have limits, but history has demonstrated that Putin’s ambition is not restrained in the same way.

Before Ukraine there was Chechnya and Georgia. Why, after Ukraine, should we not think there might be Latvia, Lithuania, or Estonia, or even all three? Why not Poland? Anxiety levels are already high in the Baltic States, and one has to wonder why at this moment in their history, both Sweden and Finland recently chose to join NATO. The fear of Russian expansion is tangible on Russia’s borders – no wonder the Poles are spending more than 4 per cent of GDP on defence and building the largest army in Europe.

Any discussion of Ukraine’s prospect of achieving military success must also confront the issue of Donald Trump returning to the White House in November. He has made the claim that he could settle the war in a day with one telephone call. If that’s the case, Ukraine must be given every chance to achieve a position of advantage on the battlefield before that call is made.

If this war is to have a successfully negotiated end, Ukraine must be in the strongest possible position at the start of any talks. The reality is that Putin must be stopped, and Ukraine is the place to stop him. The best means of doing so is by giving Kyiv what it needs to finish the job.

The price of stopping Putin now is far better than paying the price of a wider devastating war – as the history of the last century shows.

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Arts, Britain, Defence, Government, History, Politics, Russia, Society, United Nations, United States

Politicians are comparing Putin to Hitler

BRITAIN

Intro: Putin’s totalitarian regime and its war in Ukraine is synonymous with Hitler and Nazi Germany. As Churchill urged in the 1930s, that’s why we need to spend much more on defence. It’s woefully inadequate

IN May 1953, Sir Winston Churchill told a Coronation lunch being held in Westminster Hall, “Study history. Study history . . . In history lies all the secrets of statecraft.” One of the reasons Churchill was an historian himself was because he profoundly believed that a primary purpose for studying the past was to inform and encourage action in the present.

What are we to make then of Foreign Secretary David Cameron’s recent reference to history – his powerful speech to the United Nations in which he equated Russia’s actions towards Ukraine with the way that Hitler and the Nazis behaved in the 1930s?

Lord Cameron’s speech was precipitated after the Russian ambassador tried to accuse Volodymyr Zelensky of being a Nazi. The Foreign Secretary responded by saying: “The only people behaving like Nazis are Putin and his cronies who thought they could invade a country, take its territory, and ultimately the world would look away.”

There are serious political consequences that follow upon equating Putin to Hitler, and one of them is that you need to put your money where your mouth is. You cannot make such a comparison, and then not spend the necessary money to counter the threat that you have just articulated in front of the whole world.

You cannot act as Churchill did before the Second World War, which was to warn the world of the impending threat, but not then do what Churchill did, which was to call for largescale rearmament to deal with it.

There are absolutely no signs that the UK Government is prepared to do this. In last week’s spring Budget, the Chancellor made no commitment to spending more on defence.

Britain currently pays just 2 per cent of her national income on defence, and that figure can be reached only by adding the costs of such indirect defence expenditures like widows’ pensions and the intelligence services. Strip out the nuclear deterrent costs and Britain pays the equivalent of 1.75% of GDP on defence.

At a time when we are witnessing the worst war in Europe since 1945, the British Army itself cannot even fill its already-depleted ranks, the RAF is mothballing its fighter squadrons, and the Royal Navy can barely put a flotilla together to protect shipping in the Red Sea, while its recent Trident missile test was an embarrassing national failure.

Meanwhile, Moscow is threatening to put nuclear weapons into space.

In the 1930s, Churchill articulated the pressing need for boosting spending on all three services. That was pivotal in deterring the Nazis if at all possible, or to defeat them if not. Churchill started warning of the dangers the Nazis posed within weeks of Hitler becoming Chancellor, telling the House of Commons on April 13, 1933, that, “As Germany acquires full military equality with her neighbours… while she is in the temper which we have unhappily seen, so surely should we see ourselves within a measurable distance of the renewal of European war.”

By November of that year, Churchill was speaking of “the obvious fear which holds all the nations who are neighbours of Germany”. This also has modern parallels with the way that Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, and Poland view Putin’s Russia. In a 2021 essay written before the full-scale invasion in which Putin laid claim to Ukraine being Russian territory, he mentioned Lithuania in a similar vein no fewer than 17 times.

Yet the British Army is in danger of becoming merely “a domestically-centred land force” with no capacity for projecting force overseas to defend our allies. That was a view expressed in a leaked letter from the Chief of the General Staff, General Sir Patrick Sanders. There is no hyperbole in what he writes.

By early 1934, Churchill was saying the RAF needed far more fighter and bomber aircraft. Following the declaration of war by Germany, Churchill warned: “Within the next few hours the crash of bombs exploding in London and cataracts of masonry and fire and smoke will apprise us of any inadequacy which has been permitted in our aerial defences.” The nation was still mourning the Great War and refused to listen, fearing that rearming might provoke another, or by his own government which thought him an opportunistic warmonger.

Churchill recognised that far from provoking war, heavy Western rearmament might instead deter the man whom David Cameron has now compared to Putin. “I could not see how you could prevent war better,” Churchill said in July 1934, “than by confronting an aggressor with the prospect of such a vast concentration of force, moral and material, that even the most reckless, even the most infuriated leader would not attempt to challenge those great forces.” Instead, however, public apathy won the day, and British rearmament was postponed until it was almost too late.

“Moral and material.” Churchill understood that the demoralisation of the West, in the sense that democracies such as Britain and France were weak and divided, influenced the decision-making of the totalitarians in Nazi Germany, Fascist Italy, and Imperial Japan. Similarly, moral vigour is desperately needed on the part of the United States, the G7, NATO, and Britian today in order to deter countries such as Russia, China, and Iran from ripping up the rules-based international order.

No message would be stronger, especially in the aftermath of the suspicious death in custody of Alexei Navalny, than if the West were to sequester the $300billion of Russia’s frozen assets presently being held in Brussels and give it to Ukraine for its defence and reconstruction.

That would be the Churchillian approach. But does our present Government have the anti-appeasing moral vigour to do it?

Fervently, we should all hope so. In stark truth, the Government needs to do far more than just this. It must increase defence spending to a minimum of 3.5 per cent of GDP. The Budget would have been an ideal moment to show it plans to do so, but – as we have seen – the Treasury continues to sit on its hands.

It’s not as if an increase to 3.5 per cent would be an earth-shattering break with custom and practice. Historically, defence spending was around 5.5 per cent of GDP during much of the 1970s and reached 6 per cent during the Falklands War in 1982.

Neville Chamberlain’s government finally woke up to the Nazi threat, and it was able to build the Hurricanes and Spitfires that saved Britain. The year of peace bought by the humiliating Munich Agreement was used by the Nazis to build much more weaponry and train many more soldiers than Britain, but nonetheless British air defences were in a much better state in 1940 than in 1938.

Modern defence industries require far longer research and development lead times today than in the 1930s, so if rearmament is to take place using new technologies, there can be no time to waste. Logistically, we currently have only enough 155mm shells – the standard type – in this country for one week of fighting at the rate experienced in Ukraine today. That’s how limited we are.

Churchill would be sickened by the brinkmanship being practised by Britain in the presence of a clearly growing global threat to democracy by evil totalitarian and murderous regimes.

Aldous Huxley, the English writer and philosopher, once wrote: “That men do not learn the lessons of history is the most important of all the lessons that history has to teach us.” Lord Cameron may have correctly used the Second World War as the analogy by which to judge our present dangers, but where is the clear counterpart to go with that, namely large-scale rearmament?  

Back in the 1930s, Churchill wrote in his war memoirs how his exhortations were ignored by fellow parliamentarians. “Although the House listened to me with close attention,” he said, “I felt a sensation of despair. To be so entirely convinced and vindicated in a matter of life and death to one’s country, and not to be able to make Parliament and the nation heed the warning, or bow to the proof by taking action, was an experience most painful.”

Are we to undergo something similar now?

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