‘Cheese-eating surrender monkeys’ deputised by the US Sheriff
From Mr Alexander Boot:
By joining the coalition with the USA and... well, the USA, François has done Americans a huge favour.
They can now resume referring to freedom fries by their original French name. They can again drink subtle wines with tannin in them, rather than the fruity products of Napa and Sonoma. They can even walk into a French restaurant without feeling guilty.
France is no longer the land of ‘cheese-eating surrender monkeys’. She’s ‘America’s oldest ally’.
That she is. Her alliance with America goes back to the insurgency against King George III, when the new friendship was first put on a firm anti-British foundation. “And the wind returneth again according to his circuits”, or what?
Britain, on the other hand, has lost her ‘deputy sheriff badge’. Dave’s Chancellor George is upset about this. Britain, he said, must undertake “national soul-searching” about her place in the world.
This shows, echo assorted commentators, that Britain is no longer a great imperial power. Right. So what else is new?
Britain lost that coveted status after the Second World War when she had to sell all her overseas possessions and gold to pay for the aid generously provided by the Americans. In fact, we paid off the last of the war-time debt only in 2006, which perhaps hints at the one-sided nature of the special relationship (American aid to Stalin came free of charge).
The Henry Jackson Society, the UK lapdog to the American neocons, bemoans the Commons vote, which they believe has damaged Britain’s reputation as a major global power. This shows that they have inherited not only the bellicosity of their American ringmasters, but also their ignorance and understated intellectual rigour.
The whole brouhaha proves yet again that the West, ably led by America, has lost its way. Cast adrift, it’s heading for the rocks, with Americans screaming ‘full speed ahead’.
To have an honourable place in the world, Dave and George, a country doesn’t have to be ‘great’. It has to be good.
In the old days, core European nations could be both. France and Holland, for example, were able to combine greatness and goodness in the 17th century, and England in the 18th. Now they more or less have to choose one or the other, especially if greatness is defined strictly in terms of riding shotgun to the USA.
Unlike greatness, goodness is a moral concept, not a geopolitical one. It involves upholding traditional values of Christendom, such as justice, respect for others, commitment to the sanctity of human life, honest work, family, pluralism, stern resolve to protect freedom.
It’s noticeable that Western nations that approximate goodness eschew greatness. Scandinavian countries, for example, last tried to pursue martial greatness in the 18th century, yet they still do have a place in the world. So does Switzerland, a highly militarised nation by the way. But the Swiss use their weapons as a guarantor of their own freedom – not as a greatness kit.
If Britain still were a Christian country, she wouldn’t be intoxicated by the heady brew of elusive greatness. She’d simply educate her children in the glory of our civilisation founded on our faith, work hard, trade with anyone wishing to do business, offer refuge to all Christians persecuted by tyrants and all Frenchmen impoverished by François.
And her statesmen wouldn’t whinge about Parliament refusing to play lickspittle to foreign socialists, congenitally committed to the characteristic belligerence of their creed, both the national and international kind.
Another endearing feature of socialists is the mendacity coded into their DNA. Desperate to express their testosteronal aggression, they are ever ready to falsify facts to suit their purpose.
Remember the Iraqi weapons of mass destruction that provided the casus belli for Tony ‘Yo’ Blair? Remember Saddam’s complicity in 11 September that got America up in arms?
Those turned out to be red herrings, and the same may well turn out to be the case with the Syrian gas attack. We’d be well advised to take any information coming out of government circles with a whole shaker of salt, especially when the information looks precise.
Any adman will tell you that seemingly exact figures can be used for all sorts of nefarious purposes. For example, John Kerry declared that the precise number of casualties in the gas attack was 1,429, including 426 children.
How did he arrive at such precision in the total chaos of civil war, with a myriad of factions fighting house-to-house? No civil war in history, in fact no war tout court, has afforded opportunities for such actuarial accuracy. Are they sure that all those people were killed by nerve gas? Have they examined every one of the 1,429 bodies? Can we see the results of the post-mortems?
Lies, of course, are a small price to pay for greatness. Goodness is something else again – it has to be paid for in the coin of honesty. For all those Baracks, Daves, Françoises and Tonies this makes it too dear at the price.
Alexander Boot is a writer on political, cultural and religious themes