Helena Drysdale, Tibet: A Brief History (2012)

GoodReads meta-data is 107 pages, rated 4.33 by three litizens.  

Genre: History.

Verdict: Brisk and informative. 

Tibet is a geographical expression of a vast area bounded by mountains, deserts, and rivers. It was never quite consolidated into political boundaries by its god-kings over the millennia.  Absent countervailing pressures at the time, five hundreds years ago – give or take a few decades – the Buddhist tenet of reincarnation became a socio-political institution in the person of Dalai Lama, literally the big master, in a theocracy. Think of Iran today, or Vatican City. 

A born ruler removes politics from the equation, as in hereditary monarchies. (Sure.) That desire to rise above locality, personality, and regional conflicts partly underlies the institution.  Each incumbent Lama identifies, or hints at his successor.  Yes, so far, no Madame D Lama.  

Curiously, there is often a gap between the death of DL and the location, identification, and confirmation of his successor, and then the successor’s growth to manhood.  In one instance it took years to find the successor who was at discovery and confirmation a boy of five or six.  He was then whisked away to Lhasa and surrounded by a court of regents.  One imagines that regents enjoyed regenting.  The selectee is young enough to be moulded by such regents, thus assuring their pensions. The opportunities for goal displacement in this method are many.   

Confirmation involves eight criteria and the scouts who locate the successor have to be satisfied that the candidate meets enough of the criteria to be THE ONE.  Yeah, right.  Enough.  This is starting to sound like Thomas Hobbes’s analysis of political power: arbitrary.  

The criteria themselves have elasticity. Location is one. When the incumbent Lama said his own last rites, did the weather vanes on the building point South?  If so then the successor will be from the South, or found in the South, or maybe not. The other criteria are likewise vague, opaque, and readily challenged to a recount.  Indeed there have been conflicting claims, resulting in a Double Dalai Lamas. Then there are the doctrinal conflicts among the Buddhists, which are many. It all starts to sound like Reformation Europe with its religious wars.   

Though Tibet is a crossroads, there has never been a high volume of traffic on it, but Kazacks and other Muslims from the west encountered there Mongols from the North and Hans (Chinese, not Germans) from the East, and Indians from the mountainous south. In the late Nineteenth and early Twentieth Centuries when European powers competed for empire they began to intrude into this region. Defeated by the Japanese in 1905, the Russians turned this direction for softer targets. (When a serving officer in the Russian Tsar’s army, Gustav Mannerheim, later of Finland, went on an exploratory mission to these lands.  He missed Shangri-La.) This move alarmed the British in India. Meanwhile, in a dying spasm the Chinese empire reached for Tibet about the same time. 

Among Tibetans the major conflict has been between the candidates of the Red Hat monasteries and the Yellow Hat monasteries.  In effect, this was a doctrinal religious conflict like the period of Two Popes in Europe.  It involved the usual shenanigans, war, intrigue, lies, foreign alliances, theft, murder, imposters, forgery, and betrayal. A typical day in Canberra. The Yellow Hats won and the current, aged incumbent is one of their number. The Chinese propped up a Red Hat rival. It seemed a natural for the Red Chinese. 

Divided among themselves, Tibetans have often been easy pickings for outsiders, though there is little in Tibet to pick. Rather the object has often been to make it a buffer between rivals, like Russia in the north and Britain (in India) in the south, the Han Chinese in the East and the Muslims in the West, and so on in the kaleidoscope of changing political alliances. Note, India and China have had numerous armed conflicts along their Himalayan border in 1962, 1967, and as recently as 2020. 

Only in 1950, hot on the heels of the end of the Chinese Civil War in 1949 with all those soldiers and guns still mobilised the Beijing government reached to the far west to insure that neither the British nor the Soviets oozed into those wide open spaces. The Soviets were allies but not friends.  

Chinese conquest was bad for Tibetans, especially for Buddhist. Then it got even worse with the Cultural Revolution and the Red Guards who went to Tibet to destroy. (One wonders where these geriatric Red Guards are now, and what they think of their deeds in retrospect.  Pride probably. The assigned reading is Hegel on the French Revolution.)  Monasteries, temples, nuns, priests, lamas, elders, books, scrolls, tapestries, prayer flags, statues, and images, everything old (defined as Tibetan) was destroyed.  Savonarola came to mind with his bonfires.  

Following the Great Helmsman’s demise there was a brief relaxation of the death grip of Beijing but it soon re-clenched its fists. With the subtlety of a tyrant the Chinese regime decided to out-populate Tibetans in Tibet by building roads and railroads and giving incentives to Han Chinese to go West, settle, and populate, displacing the natives. Sound familiar?  Ask Crazy Horse.  

There is a major irony in the efforts of the People’s Republic of China’s efforts to eradicate Buddhism in Tibet, least it infect China itself with this opiate.  Chinese efforts at suppression and oppression drove Tibet Buddhism onto the world stage, and from thence it spread around the world more effectively than would have been the case if the Chinese had simply left it alone in Tibet and played a long game for generational change. Now there are Buddhist here, there, and everywhere.  For years there was a large rooming-house redolent of incense and murmuring of oms full of them near us. And these external Buddhists, many of them westerners, sustain and support the Tibetan Buddhists. 

In 1950 no one had ever heard of Lhamo Dhondup, that is, the Dalai Lama (14th), and now he is world figure, known everywhere and anywhere. ‘Instead of being wiped out by China, Tibetan Buddhism had spread around the world.’ thanks mainly the Chinese repression, says the author. We all obey the law of unintended consequences.    

Transition from theocracy to democracy of a sort.

Moreover, continued Chinese repression has inspired and stimulated expatriate Tibetans to unite, and there is now a global Tibetan community with a parliament-in-exile and an elected prime minister (shown above).  Check out the Facebook page for further enlightenment. The incumbent Dalai Lama renounced his secular authority in 2014, declaring that a theocracy was not the way of the future. No doubt this move was partly to head off a Chinese effort to control and manipulate the reincarnation of his successor. That has been tried before. 

The Chinese, by the way, have also made it illegal to reincarnate without permission. Remember that! 

Helena Drysdale

The author acknowledges the propensity of Tibetans, just like so many others, to murder each other in the name of god. Buddhism is not all chanting ‘oms.’  Indeed this writer is much even-handed than the fiction writer of Water Touching Stone, discussed in an earlier post. I wanted some background while reading that novel and from a few alternatives, selected this short, easy to read book. It is volume seven (7) in a series of such brief histories.  On Amazon Kindle it is credited with 107 pages, but on GoodReads is shrank to 91 pages. What’s in a number? 

Make Russia Great Again (2020) by Christopher Buckley

Make Russia Great Again (2020) by Christopher Buckley

GoodReads meta-data is pages rated 3.72 by 1,372 litizens.  

Genre: Satire.

Verdict:  Mission impossible to parody reality.

A satire that parodies the Other Guy mercilessly and yet isn’t funny because it is too much like reality. How many different ways can i-m-b-e-c-i-l-e be spelled. Not many.  

It is couched as a prison therapy project for The Other Guy’s seventh Chief of Staff, who writes a memoir of his turbulent, if short, career in the White House. Herb Nutterman had been happy as a catering manager, until he got the offer he couldn’t refuse. 

Many names have been changed to protect the guilty.  Though on GoodReads I see those who feel their pouts deserve a wider readership don’t get it. It is Dickensian. Get it?  (No, well, look it up.)

Buckley’s imagination is unequal to the task of thinking of some grotesque stupidity, indecency, or crime The Other Guy did not commit. Buckley sets out to exaggerate and ends up with understatement.  

I chose it because the author is a prince of the capital ‘C’ Conservative priesthood, scion of the singular William Buckley, who along with other keepers of that flame like George Will and Gary Wills have remained human and humane in the tsunami of offal that continues.   

The Life and Death of Olof Palme: A Biography (2015) by Pelle Neroth.

The Life and Death of Olof Palme: A Biography (2015) by Pelle Neroth.  

GoodReads meta-data is 181 pages (it seemed like a lot more), rated 3.30 by ten litizens.

Genre: Biography (ostensibly). 

Verdict:  Bah!  

Olof Palme (1927-1986) was bigger than life, or so it seemed at times.  He was here; he was there; he was everywhere promoting this cause and that. It seemed to me that his talkfests were in fact productive in the long run, and that is why I wanted to read about him. What motivated him to start the marathons and what kept him running?  I am still wondering after reading this, the second book I have been through about him.  

While there is some information about Palme’s background as a child of privilege, as an army officer, as a Labor party apparatchik, as a minister, and prime minister, there is very little about the man inside. If there are letters he wrote to friends, personal acquaintances who knew him, insightful associates, they are absent from these pages which increasingly became a chronicle of his public life taken from his official calendar, punctuated by rambling asides about the Cold War, environmentalism, Swedish class structure, or sonar technology as the context, and then – inevitably – the assassination where the Bermuda Triangle of speculations continue unencumbered with either rhyme or reason in a cocktail of stupidity, credulity, and worse. Idiocy is not confined to MAGAites.  

Some obvious points are elided.  Swedish prosperity from 1945 was founded on neutrality in World War II which meant it did not have to rebuild after the war, unlike most of the rest of Europe, and also its role in administering the millions of the Marshall Plan. This prosperity paid for much that followed until the rest of the Europe caught up.  By the way, Count Bernadotte whom Napoleon put on the Swedish throne established Swedish neutrality in the early 19th Century. Until then Sweden had long been a major aggressor in northern Europe. 

The claim is made in this book that Sweden began to lag in science and technology because Palme governments had other priorities.  The evidence for this slide is the decrease in the number of Nobel Prizes going to Swedes.  ‘Oh dear, is there not an obvious explanation?’  The process of Nobel Prize selection has become less parochial and more systematic, international, and transparent and that led to a wider distribution of prizes than Swedes awarding Swedes. See Burton Feldman, The Nobel Prize (2001), discussed elsewhere on this blog. To wit, there was a time when I had the word ‘Dean’ in my title, when I got a letter from Stockholm every year inviting me to nominate someone for the Nobel Prize in Economics. The net was cast very widely.  

On the subject of Nobel Prizes my question is why Palme did not get a Peace Prize for endless good works in the Middle East and Africa?  When I think of some Peace Prize winners, well, not naming any names, ahem, but Palme was far more significant than some named Al or that one-term senator from Illinois.    

What with all the rather confused asides I never had a feeling for whom his constituents were, or even how many elections and votes the Social Democratic party won with him leading it. Nor is there any effort to show him on the campaign trail. Did he meet-and-greet? Remember names? Did his speeches register with auditors?  Was his electoral appeal generational?  Gendered? Could he laugh at himself?     

I did learn a few things. The Sweden Palme was born into was a conservative, religious, rigid society with sharp class distinctions underscored by the use of language in ways unfathomable to me. Think of the sclerotic Ingmar Bergman movies of the 1950s. Palme was born to the haute mercantile class and related to other members of the second-tier elite, like Max von Sydow and Raul Wallenberg.  His paternal grandmother was a Baroness who spoke German. The first tier, by the way, were those with inherited wealth from the residual aristocracy. There were many more tiers in a finely calibrated social structure that had the rigidity of an Indian caste system.  

He grew up in a multi-lingual environment, and spoke freely in German, Swedish, and English.  But he was often cryptic, perhaps impatient, and that led to many misunderstandings.  An example is his often quoted remark that his experiences in the United States as an exchange student for one year at Kenyon College in Ohio made him into a socialist.  Most of the references to this remark have it that he was repelled by the poverty and racism he saw (and he was) on his many Greyhound bus travels before and after school, but in fact he meant that he was inspired by the can-do attitude he found into thinking great things could be accomplished by energy and perseverance in a rich society.      

When his father died young, Olof had been sent to a boarding school (like Eton), where as a sickly weakling he was bullied but found the schoolwork easy. It is also said he failed to wash himself and continued that habit for years. My inference is that this ninety-pound weakling avoided the communal showers where he would have been tormented, but the author draws no such conclusion. The author peers down the psychology lens and supposes that much of Palme’s later reforming zeal was payback to the elite for these experiences, reducing the political to the personal. That elite would have included most of his friends and family. 

He had a budding career as an army officer where he proved adept at intelligence work and kept a cool head under pressure.  While still a reserve officer in the army he was the president of the Swedish National Union of (university) Students, an unpaid position, where he proved to be an adept organiser and motivating force. He concentrated on international cooperation especially with the emerging nations of the post-colonial world. How he could afford to work full time for nothing is not explained.  

He came to the notice of the incumbent Social Democrat prime minister, Tage Erlander, who in 1953 hired him as an executive assistant, because his party needed a broader international outlook in the post-war world and more engagement with youth. This selection of an outsider irked many entrenched interests with the SD tent.  

Erlander became a father figure for Palme who was his number one protégé. The Social Democratic party at the time was dominated by trade unionists and their aspiration was a comfortable living for their members in the existing social order. These were sewer socialists with no program of social change such as Palme later envisioned.   

Palme resigned from the army and very much against the wishes of his family went into politics, winning election to parliament in 1957. His first major assignment in politics was to mastermind the switch from left-hand to right-hand driving in Sweden to align it with Norway, Finland, and Denmark with which it had land borders. That must have been an enormous challenge, but it is barely mentioned in these pages. Yet it would have brought him into contact with a broad cross section of the society, and given him a network for the future.  

He married Lisbet from a similar social background who influenced him greatly with her work in child psychology, first as minister of education and then minister of communication, under her influence, he made children a priority. Opponents saw this as indoctrinating youth. Take that Sesame Street! (She was omitted from the Palme biography on Wikipedia when I looked. Figure that out.)   

In the 18th Century warrior King Charles XII had made church attendance compulsory and put pastors on the government payroll, making them agents of the state. They visited homes twice a year for inspections, reporting findings up the line. The pastors were to make sure everything was done the right way at home. this intrusion became a state function in the 1930s with home visits by officials. (This Swedish practice is parodied in Kitchen Stories [2003], a Norwegian film.) The pressure for conformity backed by the fear of damnation explains much of the oppressive weight in Bergman films.   

(Charles wanted healthy boys, and lots of them, for the endless wars he waged in Poland, Denmark, Russia, Ukraine, Moravia, Saxony, Lithuania, Crimea, and more.  In the end he depopulated Sweden of men, that story is mentioned in my review of a biography of this dynamic but destructive king elsewhere on the blog.)

This preoccupation with national health and fitness followed the science in the late 1920s down the path of eugenics and then euthanasia, which continued far too long.  Yes, the sanctified Social Democratic government of Sweden practiced forced sterilisation for generations. And dare it be said, murder of the unfit. It was Prime Minister Palme who put a stop to such practices.  See New Mankind (2007), a Finnish movie about these activities in Sweden. It seems Sweden’s closest neighbours are least blinded by its halo, and its most severe critics.     

‘Sanctified,’ I wrote above. The Anglo-American hagiography of Sweden was founded by Marquis Childs, a significant journalist of his time, with three books that set the mould for much of the perception of Sweden for the next several generations: Sweden: Where Capitalism is Controlled (1934), Sweden: The Middle Way (1936), and This is Democracy (1938). These texts became the old testament gospel of Sweden which has continued to this day.  Reformer, idealists, dreamers, many of them thought Sweden was the pot of utopian gold at the end of rainbow.  Pilgrimages to Stockholm to see this land of dreams has remained a coming of age ritual for many English-speaking intellectuals.  Even in Australia of the 1980s this cult of Sweden was strong with Laurie Carmichael’s government sponsored report Australia Reconstructed (1987) based on the mirage of Sweden. Dig up a copy for amusing reading today.  Hint the State Library lists in the online catalogue but the University of Sydney Library does not, despite the pontifications about it by members of that university.

Australia was not the only place where this sanctification occurred.  Stateside, I once gave a conference paper on the superficial stupidity of worshipping the Swedish model as utopia, pulling my punches as usual, to a glacial reception of PhDs who visibly cringed at hearing criticisms of Swetopia. (Just coined that term – Swetopia.) It was a struggle to get that paper published, though persistence finally paid off, but I also remember well some of the inane comments of anonymous referees defending Swetopia, but I failed to keep the copies when I vacated my office in 2010.Tant pis!  

Andrew Brown’s Fishing in Utopia (2007) remains the best book I have read on Sweden because it is about his life day by day. Its most memorable take-away is that Swedes work hard and do so because no one owes them a living either as individuals or as a country. I was tempted to add a layer of Protestant Ethic to his explanation. He contrasted that to the England he had left, where work was to be avoided at all costs. This simple but fundamental insight is not to be found in the Swetopia hagiography like Australia Reconstructed (1987).

Count Bernadotte whom Napoleon put on the Swedish throne to get him out of the way, founded the Swedish foreign policy of neutrality as the best way to survive great politics and war. 

Went I first visited Stockholm I made a pilgrimage to the site of Palme’s murder. (Saw a man urinating on the street mid-morning on the way, something I never saw in Italy.)  On SBS a few years ago I saw a Swedish four-part series on the investigation into the Palme murder which I thought then was excellent: The Death of a Pilgrim (2013). Must have another look now that I know more of the time and place. 

I had hoped to learn something of Palme’s biography from reading the book about his murder, but not so.  Ergo I went back to this title, though I found the sample tabloid, but it is all there is.  Fears confirmed.  

Blood on the Snow: The Killing of Olof Palme (2005) by Jan Bondeson.

Blood on the Snow: The Killing of Olof Palme (2005) by Jan Bondeson.

GoodReads meta-data is 233 pages, rated 3.60 by 62 litizens.

Genre: Non-Fiction 

Verdict: [Not what I was looking for and not much else.]

On 28 February 1986 Olof Palme (1927-1986), long-serving Prime Minister of Sweden was shot dead on the street in Stockholm at about 11:20 pm when he was walking home from a movie.  Who dun it remains a mystery and with that why it was done.  Into these voids much speculation has flowed.  

Hedge: this is my only source though I did cast an eye over the entry for Palme on Wikipedia in the original search for a biography as explained below.  Of course I remember him from the times as a lightening rod for many good causes and some not so good.  

The author describes early police reaction as Keystone Kops:  the panic line (+ 000, or 911) went unanswered, and the first person to call in the incident hung up before it was answered.  When another caller got an answer, the officer taking call did not believe anyone would be shot on the street and regarded the call as a hoax.  Only when two officers in a patrol car passing-by saw a small crowd gathering and stopped did police action, of a sort, start.  Again their first reaction was that it was joke of some kind, nor did they recognise the fallen Prime Minister or his accompanying wife who, covered in his blood, stood stunned. These two hapless traffic cops seem to have had no training in management either crowds or crime scenes, and it got more chaotic as more officers and medics arrived.  

The author describes all this in pitiless detail and more of the like was to follow, as no one seemed to have been in or taken charge of the investigation.  Even when the realisation dawned that it was a shooting murder and then that the victim was the incumbent Prime Minister, the major crime or murder squads with their experienced detectives, forensic specialists, and equipment were not mobilised. Instead there was a stampede by senior police administrators for the glory of the case before world media, and the grandstanding started the very next day. Yes, there were press conferences, but no there was no management of the investigation. Indeed, in general one of the major faults the author finds is that the investigation was handled by administrators who themselves had no police experience.

The mass of witness statements collected, eventually, were contradictory and confused as any experienced officer (or reader of krimis) would expect, and the author narrates these on end, but never puts them in any discernible explanatory or analytical framework that I could fathom. The result is a confusing mass of detail with no contours which perhaps mimics the police approach.  

The initial response of the grandstanders was to round up the usual suspects (druggies, pushers, violent criminals) and fit one of them to some of the eye witness descriptions (take your pick) of those around the time and place.  When that failed the first grandstanders were pushed aside by the another lot who next went for foreigners (immigrants, refugees, or spies [Russian, American, South African, Iranian, Iraqi, Swedish, or in combination]).  There followed a conspiracy theory focussed on a Bofors contract with India, implicating Indians, and a host of international arms traders. Then the police officers themselves became suspects as a way to explain the incompetence. There being no end to stupidity as we have seen in D.C., another school of thought was that his own immediate family murdered him, i.e., his wife and his son(s) either collectively or individually. Finally, well probably not ‘finally,’ there is also the belief that he arranged his own death as either suicide, or by cleverly swapping someone else so he could take off to a life of ease in one of the sunny but poor African countries he was always banging on about.  

No doubt somewhere both Hillary Clinton and aliens have also been blamed. Check Pox News. 

In each case vast time and money with attendant media irresponsibility went into the exercise to come up with nothing and the decades dragged by.

Because of the glory to be had in the case, the first officials to direct the investigation were managers who per the McKinsey testament had themselves no policing experience to influence, i.e., taint, their management activities. It is an article of faith in the Church of McKinsey, supported by faith alone and no evidence, that managers should not be contaminated with experience of what they manage. While that seems normal these days, and explains much incompetence, they must not have watched any krimis on TV either because they omitted the most basic procedures, like securing the crime scene, avoiding witness contamination, systematic finger printing, cross-referencing files, identikit pictures, and so on. (All these things were eventually done piecemeal after the fact.) These omissions were compounded by the desire to manage the investigation without assigning experienced homicide detectives in preference to officers personally dependent on and so loyal to the managers, including officers seconded from regional offices unfamiliar with Stockholm who were free of local prejudices, yes, but also unaware of the most basic geography of the city. The litany of blunders is Trump-like.  

When the investigation proved intractable and the quotient of glory available evaporated these managers abandoned the project leaving no one in charge.  Anyone who has worked in a large organisation has seen some or all of these behaviours by the McKinsey bots in our midst: The rush for CV glory; when things go wrong the flashing blame bat that strikes subordinates, the hasty departure before the trumpeted change fails, and so on. ‘Fail and Move up’ is surely a chapter title in the McKinsey manual.    

If all one knows of Sweden is what we read in these pages, the real question is how such an unpopular, reviled, and despised man ever got to be PM. There are long roll calls of vitriol about Palme. It remains that the party he led won election after election, and when it lost it was by a hair. That electoral popularity might explain why he was feared by some, but this angle is not explored in these pages.   

In these pages following the great tradition of blaming the victim much responsibility for everything is implicitly applied to Lisbet Palme, his wife, who was walking with him at the time of the murder. She went into hysteria and shock – who would not – but this obvious fact seemed to have escaped the notice of the on-site police officers (when they arrived) who said she was inconsistent and uncooperative.  And in this case and all others that followed, cheque-book journalism ensured everything said under the veil of secrecy was broadcast within twenty-four hours.    

After getting off on that note, she thereafter was reticent with the police – again who would not.  Because the investigation was disorganised with even junior officers competing for glory, she was questioned repeatedly by different officers. In one notable instance four different sets of officers tried to interview her on the same day. And no they did not share their findings with each other, and in some cases no notes were taken in the name of secrecy, opening the door to wild speculation. It might be that she soon concluded the police were using her as a dupe – who would not – and she became ever less cooperative.  

It is also pretty clear that some members of the Pox media did not want a resolution, but a continued melodrama with which to castigate authority. This is another angle omitted in this text. Rather like the 1970s murder of Australian journalists in East Timor which is periodically revived to boast circulation and hits, not to resolve the incident. 

I wonder if any police investigation subjected to the same intense and enduring examination would prove to be similar?  Mistakes are made, and concealed. Short cuts are taken and hidden.  Officers are unfamiliar with or contemptuous of protocols.  Equipment does not work. Analyst cannot use the expensive systems they have. And so on. I wondered that at the time of Chamberlain Trial(s). I did ask a judge of my acquaintance about this but he fobbed me off.    

I also wondered what all those Swedes were doing on the sidewalks at near midnight in Stockholm on a cold winter night. There seemed to be many people dawdling about. Is that typical in sub-zero weather?  Are those Nordics that tough?   

Jan Bondeson

For film buffs try Death of Pilgrim (2013), a four-part series, for a gripping account of one of the (many) subsequent investigations into the original investigations.  

While mentally in the Nordic world I went looking for a biography of Palme but after reading the Kindle sample of the only one on that source I decided against it – breathless, sensation-seeking, and superficial journalism it seemed to me – and opted for the above title, though I did not like its sample any better – it read like a failed thriller script – but it came from Cornell University Press and that bespoke quality, a rigorous editorial process that would prize order, facts, dispassion, and analysis.  And the blurb on the Amazon Kindle entry said this book would lay to rest the innumerable conspiracy theories. That seemed promising. So I had hoped when I pressed on. As if!

Sweden, the Swastika and Stalin: The Swedish Experience in the Second World War (2011) by John Gilmour.

Sweden, the Swastika and Stalin: The Swedish Experience in the Second World War (2011) by John Gilmour.

GoodReads meta-data is 336 pages rated 3.67 by six litizens.  

Genre: History.

Verdict:  A good book about a grim subject. 

Sweden spent the years 1939 – 1945 between a rock (Nazi Germany) and hard place (Soviet Russia).  By dint of careful diplomacy, a determination to temporise, and a good dose of secrecy it managed to stay out of the war, despite threats, pressures, sanctions, and counter pressures from Great Britain which made difficult things worse. The incumbent Social Democratic (SD) government won a wartime election in 1942 and continued to do nothing and that was indeed hard going.  The election produced a SD majority but the incumbent PM chose to retain a coalition to express national unity (and share the responsibility).  

August 1939: Was the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact a harbinger of the unity of totalitarians to make war on western democracies? This possibility threw Swedish thinking into a spin that only got worse when the war started in September 1939 with Poland followed by the Finnish Winter War in November 1939. It seemed both totalitarians were concentrating on the Baltic, a conclusion confirmed when the Soviet Union occupied Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania in short order.  

Finland had been part of Sweden until the Congress of Vienna in 1815 when after the defeat of Napoleon it became a spoil of war for Russia.  Because of its long integration into Sweden there were many ethnic Swedes in Finland caught up in the Winter War, and popular pressure was great in Sweden to do something to help them. There was also a strategic elements, too, because Finland’s Åland Islands had an almost exclusively Swedish population of 10,000. These islands block entry into the Gulf of Bothnia from the Baltic Sea and were bound to be a Soviet target to deny sea access to Finnish ports on the the west coast. That would also strangle eastern Swedish ports on the Gulf.   

During the Russian Civil War the Bolsheviks had lost Finland; did the Red Tsar want to reclaim Finland as a Soviet Socialist Republic? That would put the Red Bear on Sweden’s doorstep. There was no good news in any of this. It got worse.  

Then came the German invasion of Norway in April 1940, which had also been part of Sweden until 1905 in the living memory of a good part of both populations. These next door neighbours spoke a similar language, followed the same habits, had similar democratic governments, and worshipped the same gods.  Ditto Denmark with an even smaller population and with even less of an industrial base and a smaller army.  After being offered the chance to join the Aryan side, the Norwegians chose to fight and fight they did. The Swedish government stood back as its neighbour and blood relative went down.  That passivity convinced democratic Finland it could not count on anything from democratic Sweden and it began to ally itself more closely with Germany against the next Soviet attack which was only a matter of time.

The Swedish government quickly realised it could not withstand a German attack, and tried very hard to negotiate a modus vivendi with Germany, Soviet Union, and Great Britain. The diplomatic activity was Herculean.  

The result was a negotiated neutrality that yielded to the inevitable and remained flexible rather than an absolute neutrality that brooked no exceptions and broke when tested.  Some may see hypocrisy in this approach but its purpose was to spare Sweden those privations inflicted upon warring and occupied nations, and was that not the main responsibility of the government, to shield its people as best it could? There can be little doubt that before say February 1941 any resistance to German demands would have led to an invasion and occupation. It would have been a form of national suicide to defy the Germans before the tide turned at Stalingrad in 1943.  Had Sweden done so there would have been a brief battle with many encouraging words from Great Britain, followed by defeat, and occupation. The privations inflicted by such an occupation would have been far greater than those suffered in its neutral isolation.  

One product of the negotiations was a triangular trade whereby the Germans allowed four merchant ships to enter Göteborg Harbour each month with food and fuel from England.  The merchant ships were British or Swedish. In return the British accepted Swedish exports of iron ore to Germany. Great Britain also imported Swedish ball bearings by air freight. Yes, these flights were sometimes attacked by the Luftwaffe.   

It is also true that Swedish commercial interests prospered during the war supplying Germany with iron ore and ball bearings in return for food stolen from Poland and Ukraine and paid for by gold stolen from Jews and others, e.g., melted down teeth extracted from murdered corpses.  

Had Germany not become completely fixed on preparing for war with the Soviet Union an invasion and occupation of Sweden might well have happened no matter how craven the Swedish government became.  But the demands of the Russian invasion absorbed all the mental and material resources of Germany and made dickering with Sweden a minor nuisance.  

Thereafter, as the balance of the war turned against Germany, Sweden dared to act more independently in a series of small tests concerning interned Norwegians ships, military training, use of railroads, and the like. Likewise after the United States entered the war, the Allied diplomacy became much more aggressive in its demands on Sweden, technicalities and legal fictions the British had (pretended) to take seriously were brushed aside by American representatives.  Our author regards this as bad manners.  

Perhaps it should be noted that Germany wanted to use Swedish railways extensively to supply its occupation of Norway to avoid coastal shipping in North Sea exposed to British air and sea attacks.  Goods and men could go by ship from Germany through the Gulf of Bothnia to Sweden and then by train through Sweden to Norway or Finland putting them, all pretty much beyond British reach at the time. One element which the author omits is that shipping men and goods by train through Sweden would have used Swedish neutrality to discourage aerial attacks on the trains by either the British or the Soviets, surely that was part of German thinking that the author passes in silence.   

I found nothing about the many American bomber pilots who flew to Sweden and were interned.  There were a lot, I believe, and many did it to avoid Catch-22. SEE  https://wikivisually.com/wiki/Sweden_during_World_War_II

One interned US air crew.

Life was hard in wartime Sweden without a doubt, yet nothing like that endured in Norway during the occupation or in England during the Blitz nights or V-rocket days. The Swedish government managed to protect its population from forced labour in Germany, genocide, Allied bombing, starvation, and the like as inflicted on Norway where the the cold shoulder of Sweden is still well remembered.

When in Stockholm years ago a Swede proudly told me that a princess of the Swedish royal family, living in an apartment that looked onto the German embassy, had drawn a curtain in 1940 so as not to look at the Germans. Take that you Nasties!    

I wondered about Waffen SS recruitment from Sweden when other sources say there were 15,000 from Norway, and 5,000 from Denmark, who went to the Russian front.  The author is  largely silent on popular support for Germany though surely there was some, especially once it went to war with the Bolsheviks.    

John Gilmour

An excellent last chapter sums up and concludes the foregoing discussion.  I wish more books had that and did it as well. Throughout the book there are a lot of typos which may have come from the OCR conversion to a digital copy.    

Double Star (1956) by Robert Heinlein

Double Star (1956) by Robert Heinlein

GoodReads meta-data is 243 pages, rated 3.90 by 20,380 litizens.

Genre: Sy Fy

Verdict: Zippy. 

An actor is hired as a stand-in for an incapacitated politician who just has to make a public appearance.  Actor is reluctant to get tangled up with this exercise but the money is good and the thespian challenge is irresistible, and then there is the woman.  These are the typical ingredients for a Heinlein novel with some Sy Fy window dressing which is seldom integral to either plot or character.  Nonetheless it is a diverting ride to be sure.  

Once in-role our hero finds he cannot leave it. The principal he is doubling combines being hors de combat with so many admirable qualities that Actor stays in part.  The end.  

While Martians figure in the early going, they more or less disappear and with them much of the Sy Fy element about other lifeforms.  Though there are some good scenes, as when Actor discovers that not everyone is fooled by his flawless impersonation.  That was nicely judged.  

There are also some fumbles.  Much is made of dropping a candidate from a cabinet nomination and then that line disappears. Surely such a victim of trade-offs would have had to be compensated.  There are a few other glitches like this, but overall I was pleasantly surprised at the presentation of the political process.  Subtlety is not something I associated with Heinlein’s fiction, but it is manifest here, especially in the realisation that a political campaign can do some good and for it to do that a team effort is best.  

Dotted throughout are alternative history tidbits that add spice to the narrative.  

Robert Heinlein

In my prejudice these day I usually associated Heinlein with Ayn Rand bellowing about rugged individualism while enjoying the benefits of a well-ordered community made possible by everyone else.  What I expected to find was there, albeit in a minor register: namely, many blokes furiously engaged in displays of manhood, aka, pissing contests that fascinate so many chaps.  However they neither dominated proceedings nor put me off the story line this time.  

I was reminded of this title (which I had read when a high school boy) after I posted a review of Il general della Rovere, a film with Vittorio de Sica, where a lowlife impersonates a hero and comes to live up to that heroic standard. There are parallels in that summary but the telling by de Sica is compelling and I cannot say the same about Heinlein, but I did read it to the end, and that is not something I do not automatically any more.   

The Library at Night (2006) by Alberto Mangual

The Library at Night (2006) by Alberto Mangual

GoodReads meta-data is 373 pages rated 3.99 by 3,333 litizens.

Genre: Bibliomania.

Verdict: Ruminative.

While converting a French barn into his private library Mangual thinks about libraries, books, and readers.  Alberto Mangual, Argentine born, is a cosmopolitan writer, editor, translator, and — most of all — reader.  How will he house his 35,000 books?  What kind of shelving is best?  Should the shelves be enclosed against dust and light?  If so, can he afford that?  Where will the readers go for e-books? How will the books be arrayed on the shelf?  Each of these and many other practical questions sent him to the books for answers reaching back beyond the fabled library at Alexandria and forward past the internet.  

By the way, Alberto, I recommend Henry Petroski, The Book on the Bookshelf (2010), mainly about bookshelves and shelving.  

The chapter titles all have the same stem:  The Library as ….

  • Myth
  • Order
  • Space
  • Power
  • Shadow
  • Chance
  • Workshop
  • Mind 
  • Island
  • Survival, and finally 
  • Home

The insights are many and the prose is textured but supple.  Savour a few passages with me.

  1. ‘The Alexandria Library that wanted to be the storehouse for the memory of the world was not able to secure the memory of itself.’ Now we know very little about it.  
  2. A satire from the third century BC refers to the in habitants of that library at Alexandria in this way: ‘A horde of well-fed scribblers constantly squabbling among themselves in the cage.’  Universities it seems have a long history.
  3. ‘The ancient dead who rise from books to speak to us.’
  4. A book on papyrus has lasted longer than any book on a digital media.  Indeed CDs decay after little more than a decade, despite the claims of manufacturers, even if one still has the device to play them.  
  5. The universal library is the world itself.
  6. In the Koran we read that ‘one scholar is more powerful against the Devil than a thousand worshippers.’
  7. Every person’s library is autobiographical.
  8. In my mental library many books are reduced to a few remembered lines. By the way, his mental library also includes all the library books he has borrowed to read.  
  9. We can imagine the books we’d like to read though they have not (yet) been written.
  10. Reading was once considered useful and important, then become at times dangerous and subversive, and now is condescendingly accepted as a pastime for others [by those who do not have time to read]. (Corollary: No one has the time to do something they regard as unimportant, and everyone has the time to do the things they think are important.)  
  11. He might have added this thought from me:  there is no book so dreadful that some idiot on GoodReads scores it a 4+ and praises it.  

It is all trip and no arrival, though there is a subsequent, similar book by Mangual called Packing My Library (2018) when it came time to move that carefully wrought Barn Library.  It is much shorter and perhaps I will continue with it. 

Alberto Mangual

He does say something about organising the books by language which is overridden by content in some cases, e.g., all the krimis are together.  But he does not discuss the systems libraries use from Dewey on, nor does he mention the software now available for private libraries such as I use – Book Collector.  Zip on cataloguing or shelving, yet these are the gears of most libraries.  

Sherlock Holmes and the Red Demon (2001) by Larry Millet

Sherlock Holmes and the Red Demon (2001) by Larry Millet 

GoodReads meta-data is 404 pages rated 4.04 by 1552 litizens.  

Genre: Sherlockiana

Verdict:  Elemental.  

In the dry summer pine forests of deepest Minnesota fire is an ever present danger compounded by the sparks flying from railroad trains owned by Robber Baron J. J. Hill.  Meanwhile, Eugene Debs has been organising railway men into unions hostile to Hill.  Trouble is brewing.  

A new ingredient comes to this combustible mix when Hill begins to receive threatening letters signed by the Red Demon which promise ruin to the businessman.  While having the character of blackmail threats, strangely the letters do not demand money. This is a new one for Hill.  

When pursuing these letters his own trusted investigator disappears, Hill goes to the top of the tree by sending an agent to recruit Mr Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street, London SW.  Hill offers a princely sum for Holmes’s services who he is more intrigued by the the situation than attracted by the dosh.  He and Watson set sail for the new world and then take the train to the NorthWest frontier of St Paul. 

There follows a lengthy game of cat-and-mouse in the later 19th Century woods of Minnesota with much detail about railroads, engines, tracks, switches, flying sparks and embers, trestles, telegraphs keys and posts, along with the axe men who live among the pines.  Holmes and Watson pose as London Times journalists doing research for a feature piece on rough-hewn ways of life in the north woods.  As if.  

They discover a cast of characters among the rustics, which includes a retarded sheriff, a clever brothel madame, a prissy woodsman, a flannel-shirted thug, a skeptical newspaper editor, while Holmes and Watson consume vast American servings of food.  It comes to a head when the summer drought makes a perfect fire storm.  

Larry Millet

The text has footnotes relating to the Holmes cannon, and the historic events upon which the story is based. The telling is all rather theatrical as though the book aspired to being a screen play and much of Holmes’s work seemed pointless to this reader.  Still it is diverting.  

This is the first of a series.  

The Burgas Affair (2017) by Ellis Shuman

The Burgas Affair (2017) by Ellis Shuman  

GoodReads meta-data is 327 pages rated 4.0 by 48 litizens.  

Genre: krimi.

Verdict: [Grrrr.]

A bus loaded with Israeli tourists in Bulgaria is bombed on the way to a Black Sea coastal resort.  A joint Israeli-Bulgarian investigation follows.  Sort of…

A Bulgarian detective who is a man’s man, constantly smoking, drinking, and cursing, and having a pissing contest with every other man he meets, is half of one team; the other is a Mossad data analyst who has never been in the field before, but her father came from Bulgaria and she has a smattering of the language. The set-up is promising, combining spreadsheets with head banging.  

What follows is a disjointed series of backstories, punctuated by Man’s Man clumsy efforts to rape/seduce the Israeli who proves resistant to his crude efforts.  None of it is played for laughs, and we all know that in time she will relent because he is, after all, a man’s man.  The clichés abound without any substance.  Blind Freddy spotted the mole about two hundred pages before Man’s-Man did.  

Nor is the Israeli any better.  After riding for several hours in a car just as bored as the reader is, she is asked to drive for a while, and after taking the driver’s seat goes ballistic to find the car has a stick shift and not an automatic transmission.  Was she asleep for the preceding four hours when they drove down the road that she didn’t notice the gear changes up and down the hills of eastern Bulgaria with her single companion driving. And she is an intelligence analyst. Doh! (Don’t blame her, she is written that way.)

Much is made of identifying the bomber in the first half of the book and then this theme disappears.  Evidently it did not really matter that much. It seems there was little reason to follow the trail.  

There is some to’ing and fro’ing in Bulgaria and I preferred that travelogue to listening to that man’s man feel sorry for himself.  What a snowflake! Nor is the Israeli any more interesting.  A five-second scan of the reviews on GoodReads reminded me why I never bother to do that.  

Ellis Shuman

The mechanical Turk alerted me to this title after I read a concise history of Bulgaria.  I tried the sample and found it not to my taste but assuming there were not many Bulgarian krimis in English and this might be the only one to hand, even the best one, I persisted.  Grrr, as above. 

l Came as a Shadow (2020) by John Thompson

l Came as a Shadow (2020) by John Thompson

GoodReads meta-data is 352 pages, rated 4.78 by 27 litizens.   

Genre: Autobiography.

Coach Thompson is a legend and it is easy to see why.  This man is a straight-shooter with a fast draw.  He transformed the Georgetown Hoyas from also rans to leaders with dozens of titles and trophies and what is more important, and singular, 97% of his players graduated.  Coach was an educator on and off the court.  

It is a long gruelling story of racism as Coach learned the games behind the game, and he learned them well.  Among his teachers were Red Auerbach who saw this gangly youth in a pick-up game on a playground one summer and encouraged him to stay in the game.  Coach later played two season with the Celts as back-up to Bill Russell, giving Coach plenty of time to study the game, front and back.  (Bill never sat down.) 

But most of all there were his parents whom he wanted to make proud of himself, and so he worked at it. Did he ever! The towel on his shoulder became a signature.  It reminded him that his parents spent their lives working 60 or more hours a week cleaning up behind white people so he could better himself, and when he said that in an interview a storm of angry protest broke with the Pox News haters who regarded it as a provocative remark. In another of his trademarks, he shrugged and repeated it, because after all it was true.  But as we know truth has no value to Pox News.  

In one telling passage he takes a list of examples of things coaches do, like arguing with officials, defending players before the media vultures, benching players, and shows how such actions are reported when a white coach does them, and when a black coach does them.  When he argues a ref’s call a white coach is feisty, when a black coach argues he is intimidating; when a white coach defends a player he is fair and a black coach who does that is stubborn; in benching a player a white coach is disciplined and a black coach is angry; and so on. Some of the examples can be found in 2020, by the way.

When he started recruiting for the Hoyas at Georgetown he often went after unschooled athletes that were regarded as high risk by other colleges, including at least two with prison records to whom he gave a second chance. As long as they kept their grades up to graduate, he guaranteed their scholarships even if they did not make the team. This arrangement so impressed parents that they drove their boys to take it and to make the team to pay off the implicit debt. Rival coaches were not sure if this was madness or underhanded, and made a fuss about it both ways. One of those second-chances was AI. The cognoscenti will get The Answer. The fine upstanding white young men who played against AI taunted him as a jailbird. Yep.  [Swish.]  AI always had the last laugh.  

Hard though it is for this cynic to believe, the University administration stood behind Coach even when his teams lost, and he was burned in effigy, labeled ‘nigger,’ on campus.  On other occasions his university office was ransacked with a message for this African boy to go home!  Need I say it, Georgetown University is Catholic school and a bastion of the liberal elite, and yet scratch the surface and there it is.  

He himself had been cut from the Olympic team because of the unspoken quota on black players, and he knew it.  This is one of the reasons why he was never grateful for his accomplishments.  He had earned them, and he knew others had also done so but were denied them by unseen, unspoken, unbreakable racial quotas.  

One observer (Michael Jordan) called him the Aristotle of basketball for his training of kings of the court. Coach thought of himself as a teacher who used a basketball to instruct in the use of one’s talents, in teamwork, in courtesy, in civility, in responsibility, in the value of education…..in the Georgetown way, never back down and always applaud an opponent’s well-earned victory.        

I have always liked Patrick Ewing, and now I know why.  Surely the best NBA center never to make it to a final. This is the coach that channeled the Van Gogh of basketball, Allen Iverson, into a productive career without parallel.  

The Answer.

Coach has some choice words for that old chestnut that blacks have biological superiority as athletes, too, seeing in it yet another way to belittle the accomplishments of blacks. He attributes the success of black athletes to intelligence and a drive to succeed, and the ability to succeed where there are fewer racial barriers, sports being one of the domains where the barriers are lowest these days.          

The janitors, laundrymen, ballboys, porters, ushers, maids, attendants, security officers, and doormen at hotels and arenas all welcomed his teams because the players said ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and never left a mess for someone else’s mom and dad to clean up.  A player who violated such norms of courtesy and civility would find himself with his 21-point scoring average on the bench until he learned that 70% of Hoya basketball was off the court.  

John Thompson was the first Division I coach to hire an academic advisor for the team, a woman.  He then hired a trainer, a woman, whom he promoted to assistant coach so that she could sit on the bench in games (and also get on a higher pay grade), readily available for injuries.  Both appointments threw the NCAA into a frenzy trying to find rules to block such changes since both were white women it also set off a media feeding frenzy.  Use your imaginations just a like a Pox journalist. Both these women worked for Coach for many years.  

Hoya scheduling had been historic. Every year was the same as last year.  No more when Coach came on the scene. He wanted to play arch rivals at home, or not at all.  (And if these rivals refused to schedule at Georgetown, he leaked it to the press to embarrass the rivals.) He wanted to play and beat teams that dominated post season tournaments in early season games. He also wanted a better gymnasium for his team(s) and fill it with shouting fans.  To further these ends he engaged in an infinity of negotiations in the games behind the game. He seldom compromised, and that got him the reputation as a trouble-maker, but he noticed white coaches were seldom asked to compromise and he stuck to his guns.   

Then there is the deflated basketball he kept on his desk about the other 70%, but, well, read the book. The title is explained on the last page, but I didn’t get it.  

Coach admits his many mistakes, civil, social, and tactical, and hands out praise to many who worked with the Hoya teams.  The telling is episodic marked by basketball seasons.  In that respect it is not easy to read though the ghostwriter’s prose is smooth.  

Coach with Patrick Ewing, lately his successor at Georgetown.

Recent news from GT suggests things have gotten worse in subsequent days. Autobiography is never a completely reliable source, to be sure.