Those of you who follow this blog know that I’ve previously reviewed Kindly Inquisitors: New Attacks on Free Thought by Jonathan Rauch. Rauch was very concerned that Progressive Liberalism, aka Marxism, with its ideas of political correctness and hate speech codes was the greatest threat to freedom of speech in the West. Liberals promote political correctness in the name of not offending people (the humanitarian angle), but they also have prescribed ideas of what accounts as offensive dialogue and refuse to admit ideas or topics which run against their political ideology (fundamentalism). Hence, if you combine these two factors, one rightly dubs them “Humanitarian Fundamentalists.” Their philosophy is no less dangerous to free debate than Islamic fundamentalism or other kinds of religious fundamentalism.
Note that Rauch’s subtitle goes deeper than freedom of speech. The title calls out “New Attacks on Free Thought.” Words express ideas. If one cannot speak the words, the ideas attached to these unspoken words die a slow death. What good is a Christian who refuses to show his faith to others for fear of his peers’ opinion? A person who will not speak of his faith in times of peace will not defend it in times of persecution. Political correctness with its litany of sins (sexism, racism, xenophobia, transphobia, homophobia, Islamophobia, etc.) tries to prevent people from voicing legitimate concerns when dialogue sheers away from mindless equality. The very fact that there are men and women, different races, different cultures, different expressions of sexuality, and different religions implies inequality. If all was the same, why would we have names to mark distinctions?
I just thought that I’d share Ronald Reagan’s “A Time for Choosing” speech, which he delivered during the candidacy of Barry Goldwater for president. I can’t think of a better speech delivered in recent memory, and it should be a real treat for liberty-loving Americans who have never hear it before.
Stuka Pilot by Hans-Ulrich Rudel counts as one of the most famous memoirs from WWII. Rudel can rightly be called the greatest combat pilot of all time. During his 2,530 missions, he destroyed 800 vehicles, 519 tanks, two cruisers, the battleship Marat, and many other targets. His victories cost the Soviet war machine billions of dollars. He accomplished most of this work in the slow Stuka dive bomber. Though he also flew the faster FW-190, one senses a clear favoritism for the Stuka. As a side note, his memoirs and personal presentations on close air support inspired the developers of the A-10 “Warthog.” Also, he personally instructed Argentina’s air force, which proved highly effective during the Falklands War. Rudel’s influence spanned far beyond his time in World War II!
Rudel favored the motto: “Only he is lost who gives himself up for lost.” His combat record of flying as many as seventeen missions a day and flying through serious injuries like a gunshot wound in the shoulder, badly torn up feet after escaping Russian patrols following an unsuccessful rescue attempt of a downed Stuka crew, two 13mm bullets putting his left leg in a cast (Yes, he flew with a cast on his leg), and having his right leg amputated due to machine gun rounds. Part of Rudel’s secret lies in him engaging in sports of all kinds, hiking, and mountain climbing, which built up a strong body. The only sport he did not excel in is hunting: the one outing he describes in his memoirs almost ended with him shooting his friend Fridolin! Rudel’s favorite drink was milk, and he avoided alcohol assiduously.
I recently discovered that the term “new KKK” has been applied to Black Lives Matter. That’s a valid jibe against an organization which has instigated riots, but the term could more aptly apply to Anti-Fascist Action and the other violent protesters of recent weeks. After all, Antifa goes around wearing black clothing and masks. How would they look if they wore white instead? Perhaps a change of color would help the Democratic party understand the viciousness and illegitimacy of Anti-Fascist Action–despite its noble sounding name. (Sort of like how all the most oppressive countries refer to themselves as “Democratic People’s Republics.”)
One has not heard more than a peep from liberals condemning the protests at UC Berkeley. (That peep comes from Peter Beinart of The Atlantic.) One cannot help but be reminded of the silence and denials of Southern Democrats concerning the KKK during Reconstruction. Antifa deserves to be called “the Invisible Empire” every bit as much as the KKK. Worse, we’ve experienced riots and violent protests from the left frequently over the past three years; yet the Democratic hierarchy and their Leftist media are more than willing to justify groups like Black Lives Matter and Anti-Fascism Action and to place the blame on the Alt-Right or conservatives for expressing their opinions. After a similar length of time, the hierarchy of the Old South had become disturbed with the KKK and been convinced that it was a liability. And so, Nathan Bedford Forrest disbanded the KKK in Tennessee (the organization’s birthplace) during the fall of 1869 with other states following suit over the next several years. It would not rise again until Woodrow Wilson’s administration, and this time in a more prejudiced and sinister form.
Ian Fleming’s master espionage agent with a license to kill has proven an enduring character, as the dozens of James Bond movies with their rotating cast of leading men would attest. However, Fleming did not simply craft Bond out of thin air; rather, he was, by most accounts, heavily inspired by the WWII British double agent Dusko Popov, a Serbian playboy who narrowly escaped being executed by the Nazis in 1937 and went on to join the Abwehr and British intelligence. Larry Loftis chronicles Popov’s wartime career and explores the influence on Fleming, who shadowed Popov at least once during the war, in Into the Lion’s Mouth.
Loftis’ book is meticulously researched, and includes a lengthy bibliography, an expansive set of end notes, and reproductions of the some of the key source documents he uncovered in the course of his research. He also includes a table comparing the characteristics of Popov, Bond, and others who have been cited as inspirations for Bond. In addition, one of the appendices to the book includes a rather lengthy list of sources supporting the proposition that Popov was the primary inspiration for Bond. Loftis is forthright about the primary source material that chronicles Popov’s activities during the war. Where there are inconsistencies, Loftis explores them and offers his own explanation for both the source of the inconsistency and the probable truth.
Much has been written about U-Boat warfare in the Atlantic during WWII and the convoys of ships that kept Britain supplied, but The Mathews Men is the first book I’ve encountered that tells the story of the U.S. Merchant Mariners who sailed the ships that carried the supplies that kept the Allied war effort in Europe going and weathered the wrath of the German U-Boat force assigned to stop them.
The book focuses not on a seafaring family named Mathews, as the subtitle might be read to imply, but on the residents of Mathews County, Virginia, a small county with a long history of supplying sailors, mates, and captains to U.S. merchant ships. It sets the stage in Mathews County by introducing the reader to the Hodges family, the source of the seven brothers featured in the book’s subtitle, then goes on to tell the tales of the Mathews men who sailed during WWII and the women they left behind.
Recently, my reading has revolved somewhat around the topic of Word War II. All the Gallant Men is one of those books, and I’d recommend it to anybody interested in the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. Much has been written about Pearl Harbor, but All the Gallant Men stands out as an first-hand account from Donald Stratton, a sailor from the U.S.S. Arizona who survived the attack even though his ship did not.
Stratton seeks to provide some context to Pearl Harbor, to go beyond the statistics and give the reader a glimpse of the lives lost and the men who weathered the storm of Japanese bullets and bombs. He tells of his childhood growing up in small-town Nebraska during the Great Depression. He explains why he joined the Navy, reminisces about boot camp, and describes life aboard the Arizona, both at sea and at anchor. He talks about the ship’s band, well on its way to earning the distinction of being one of the best of all the bands from the ships moored in Pearl Harbor. He describes the night of December 6, 1941. And of course, December 7, 1941. He chronicles the chaos of the attack and memorializes the actions of a sailor on another ship, who disobeyed orders in order to save Stratton and a group of survivors from the Arizona.