The Spy Who Stayed Out in the Cold

To understand the mess in Ukraine and the man behind it, Vladimir Putin, I have read sober, learned pieces by David Remnick in the New Yorker and David Ignatius in The Washington Post and by the former head of Georgia in The Wall Street Journal.

I have listened to talking heads disagree on the Sunday news shows and on Diane Rehm. I’ve listened to Republicans who think Obama’s weakness emboldened Putin, but then W.’s weakness must have emboldened him in Georgia and Clinton and Bush share the blame for letting him brutalize Chechnya.

Right or left, no one has a plausible course of action to offer. In short, like Omar Khayyam I “did eagerly frequent/ Doctor and Saint and heard great argument/ About it and about. But evermore/ Came out by the same door as in I went.”

In fact, no European coalition or American administration has any stomach for doing what it would take to prevent Putin from proceeding with his project of bucking up the Russians for the loss of their imperial pretensions. The Europeans want Russia’s oil so don’t favor economic sanctions and have no force to use in a show of force. America is weary of wars in faraway places where all the victories have seemed pyrrhic and may have done little to enhance our security.

So Putin will probably continue unimpeded on his path of suppressing dissent (murdering critical journalists, for example), flaying decadent modernity (criminalizing gays, jailing and siccing his pet Cossacks on outspoken girl bands), and trying to bully former satellites and Soviet Republics back under Moscow’s thumb.

The question is why Putin doesn’t devote his efforts to helping his country become a more prosperous and successful state instead of a crumbling basket case. The place is a wreck. Yes the kleptocrats at the top, including Putin himself with an estimated net worth of $70 billion, are having a fine time looting it. But the birthrate is dropping. Alcoholism is epidemic. The health statistics are those of a third world country. The economy outside the energy sector is backward and the mass of people are in the condition of serfs 150 years ago.

So what is to be done? We are dealing with a former KGB careerist who called the end of the Soviet Union “the greatest geopolitical catastrophe of the 20th century.” So his reality is clearly not ours. He abominates the West and all it stands for – democracy, rule of law, capitalism, individual free expression, self determination. He wishes us ill for having survived and thrived while the Soviet Union crumbled and failed. So he opposes us at every turn and strives to make mischief in Syria, the Middle East, Iran.

He fears further diminution of Russia’s power and role so reacts extravagantly to any wish by a former vassal state to lean to the West, to seek to join the EU or Nato. He imagines himself surrounded by ravening wolves who seek to dismember him and so his goal is not just to resist but to reassemble the empire that gave the illusion of might.

Russia is not the first country to fall low and brood on the injustice and seek to return to glory. The Fuehrer believed Germany lost the First World War not because the war was folly or because greater force was eventually massed against the Kaiser but because it was stabbed in the back by traitors from within. Similarly Putin seems to feel Russia has fallen so low not due to its own errors but due to outsiders and liked-minded enemies within. Hitler’s big lies led to an attempt at empire building and a purging of the traitors that coast millions of lives.

Putin may be able to sell his countrymen on their superiority and the outside world’s malice and hostility. That kind of demagoguery always finds an audience among the aggrieved. But the Russians aren’t likely to be as enthusiastic about the hard work it would take to rise to the challenge of compete with the West (unlike the Chinese, say) and are weary of the bloody fights Putin keeps getting them into.

So maybe he’s not Hitler but a plantation owner after Appomattox with Kossacks and KGB instead of the Klan. The defeated Confederacy too believed in a Lost Cause and blamed not their own folly but a wicked ideology that preferred industrial modernism to their chivalric feudalism and that had destroyed the slave basis of their economy. The defeated South couldn’t refight the war and win, but it could undermine the reforms of reconstruction, keep out the winners, opt for isolation rather than adaptation, oppress those inside willing to change and try to live in the past.

If that is closer to the truth of Putin’s position, the goal ought not to be to confront and defeat, but to isolate and outlast him. His project is doomed and combating it head on is not worth the blood and treasure it would cost. But that is small comfort to his own people and those on the periphery who have to live in close proximity to the death throes of an illusion.

I can’t help thinking of a high school age girl who guided a tour of Estonia not long after the end of the Soviet Union. She spoke English beautifully, was smart and charming, provided lucid and knowledgeable commentary on her homeland to a bus load of tourists and was waiting to hear if she had been accepted to attend college at Oxford. But as we were about to say good-bye her amiable face disappeared and she said with great seriousness that living under the Soviets had been hell and that they hadn’t liked giving up her lovely little country. Indeed, many still lived there. And suddenly there was fear in her eyes. “Please,” she said, “Don’t forget about us. Don’t let them come back.”

Realistically, we need to contrive to limit the mischief Putin can make and wait until his countrymen tire of living in a rotten system, but such waits can be long and the innocent victims of it ought to trouble our sleep. Sometimes realpolitik is a bitch.

Yes, I Know What It Means

To miss New Orleans, that is. If at no other time of the year, then as Mardi Gras nears the Big Easy, the Crescent City, The City that Time Forgot forces itself back into one’s consciousness.

I haven’t been to New Orleans since Katrina, I think because I’m afraid to see how much it’s changed. Before that there was a brief period when I was lucky enough to visit every couple of years.

I’ve never experience the actual Mardi Gras weekend madness, which a lot of locals bemoan as having been too infested by the tourist onslaught to retain its authenticity. But the several weeks prior to the finale, with their many parades and celebrations of by and for the people of New Orleans, are fabulous fun, like witnessing the rites of a tribe you wish you could join, Proud bands strut their stuff and proud Krewes pitch their beads and doubloons to
folks lining the streets.

On one memorable occasion my wife pitched in herself, waving her arm so vigorously to attract a throw that she lofted her own bracelet off her arm and into the crowd, never to be seen again. A classic New Orleans moment redolent of the raffish, rotting, corrupt, beautiful, impossible, improvised place. Southern, but too much of a cultural gumbo to be merely Dixie – French and Creole and Cajun and Caribbean and God-knows-what all infuse the place with an ambiance like no other.

I miss barge traffic on the river, above ground cemeteries, Spanish moss hanging over retro streetcars creaking through the Garden District, the odor of tropical blooms competing with the aromas wafting out of restaurant doors. Oh my, the food. I can taste it now – some from restaurants still thriving and some from others sadly long gone.

I miss Bayona and Brigsten’s, Commander’s Palace, NOLA and Galatoire’s where no reservations were ever accepted. Even Huey Long had to stand in line for the duck and andouille gumbo. The only exception, allegedly, a pope. I miss the tiled interior and fried oysters at Casamentos, the fried chicken and soulful sides at Dooky Chase where Duke Ellington dined.

I miss red beans and rice and blackened redfish, the etouffee, the shrimp remoulade and, maybe most of all, the turtle soup. New Orleans cooking is to food what jazz is to music. And the two are connected, a mash up of influences from hither and yon to create something unique. The liner notes for a Dr. John album include a heartfelt thank you to The Upperline for the food. Where else would that happen?

Do I know what it means to miss New Orleans? Yes, and “I know I’m not wrong, this feeling’s getting stronger the longer I stay away.”

Top 10 Reasons to Distrust Top 10 Lists

A recent email from Orbitz provided a list of the ten best islands. Not in the Great Lakes, mind you. Not the best desert islands or tropical islands, Greek islands or Caribbean islands. No, the 10 best islands in the world.

To which the obvious response is, “Says who?” Followed quickly by, “How do they know?” Have the raters visited every island on earth, all 180,000 of them? Probably not even the 7,000 Japanese islands. And on what criteria were they being rated? Climate, beaches, number of penguins?

It’s all nonsense. Totally subjective. Impossible for anyone, or even a huge team, to have vetted the many possible entrants in most categories. Nor should one dismiss the possibility that the fix is in. How many of the top ten on the island list got there by offering the judges a free trip to the island to experience its many charms.

This is hardly an isolated absurdity. Every year we are inundated with lists of the Best Colleges, Best Hospitals, Best Resorts, the Top 10 restaurants in Biloxi, the Top Ten supermodels or pickup trucks. At least the Forbes 400 and S&P 500 are based on something quantifiable; how much money they are worth. But most of the rest are sheer moonshine, a way to sell magazines or whet your appetite for what the adjacent ads are selling. But would you really want to bet your life on such a list, as in the case of Top 10 Open Heart Surgeons?

These lists used to thrive because of a natural desire for some sort of authoritative advice to help sort the wheat from the chaff in a big universe of data. But lately the internet seems to have displaced the supposedly knowledgeable guide, the restaurant or movie critic, say, with crowd sourcing. But the wisdom of crowds may be over rated, as most riots suggest.

For instance, you go to Yelp or Urbanspoon and ask which Mexican Restaurant in town is the best and find that one is rated really poorly. Oh, oh, red flag. But then you read the reviews and find things like this: “My boyfriend said I should try Mexican for once in my life and I got really drunk on margaritas which was cool. But I didn’t like the food which had a lot of beans in it and some kind of sauce and was sooo spicy. Yeck! Not nearly as good as Wendy’s chili?”

Despite the populist appeal of rating everything from lunch to cancer hospitals by the number of “Likes,” it may have certain drawbacks. A huge number of reviews by people who know nothing is probably not preferable to one or two reviews by people who have a lifetime of experience and are willing to share it. Sadly, all opinions are not created equal.

So read all the lists you like, but caveat lector.