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Tag selected: Russia
Results matching: 3
Results matching: 3
It can’t happen here; it can’t happen now — or can it? In Live Not by Lies, cultural commentator Rod Dreher answers the age-old question of how we should act in the face of falsehoods, and how we should respond to the increase of totalitarianism in our culture. Elucidating, firstly, how totalitarianism in any of its forms can take root in society, Dreher argues that while Eastern culture was threatened and devastated by an Orwellian totalitarianism that controlled everything, including the thoughts and words of its citizens, we, living in the modern Western hemisphere, are in danger not of an Orwellian system, but a Huxleyan one.
Drawing heavily on the writings of dissidents Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn and Vaclav Benda, as well as information received through extensive interviews with survivors, or children of survivors, of the Communist regimes, Dreher recounts the stories of courageous individuals who “lived not by lies.”
Arguing that “the ideal subject of a totalitarian state is someone who has learned to love Big Brother,” Dreher shows how the loss of belief in a transcendent moral order left the culture of Eastern Europe susceptible to a communist takeover, and how, more terrifyingly, the loss of this transcendent order in the West, where the very ideal of moral transcendence was founded, is leaving us open and vulnerable to the soft totalitarianism of Huxley’s Brave New World. Indeed, communism answered, and still answers, “an essentially religious longing,” which is why Dreher argues that we must understand that we are fighting not against a rival economic system, or even a political one, but rather against a completely different and uncompromising religion. This soft totalitarianism demands loyalty in every aspect of life; it demands conformity to all its dogmatic teachings; and it demands, above all, the surrender of Truth. For it, “there is no such thing as objective truth — there is only power.”
The author devotes several chapters to examples of how soft totalitarianism has become the norm in our own culture. At times, this can become overly speculative; his warnings about the PATRIOT Act — though he doesn’t mention it by name, he clearly implies it — as conducive to a totalitarian society, and his dismissal of the state as a vehicle of security maintenance, feel overly influenced by libertarian extravagance. Cultural pressures, social media outrage, and corporate conformity are real phenomena, but Dreher occasionally presents them as more unified and monolithic than they actually are. His examples are persuasive in principle but, at times, exaggerated in scope.
Dreher also proposes a solution to the hard times that we are sure to face. If the thesis were only about the fact that we, as Westerners, are in trouble, and that the totalitarianism of the previous century is rising — indeed, that it has even risen in our midst in a new and deadly form — it would be a book ending in despair. Yet through the examples of brave dissidents and Christians from the past, we too can learn how to live the truth in a culture of lies. Using quotes from Romanian pastor Richard Wurmbrand, and the stories of incarceration from multiple Christians, the author shows that suffering is not necessarily a bad thing; indeed, it can bring the community together like never before. As a reader, it was highly appreciated that Dreher did not simply make these points as statements to be accepted at face value, but rather interviewed dozens of men and women who possessed firsthand experience. This lends a level of credibility to this book that is simply not present in other political manifestos.
Central to Dreher’s argument is the concept articulated by Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn in his famous essay Live Not by Lies: the refusal to participate in falsehood. Totalitarian systems survive not merely because of the power of the state, but because millions of ordinary people repeat, affirm, and publicly comply with things they know to be untrue. The lie becomes truth, and the truth becomes unknowable. “Let the lie come into the world,” is the rallying cry. “Let it even triumph…,” but, Solzhenitsyn concludes, “not through me.”
A must read.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 12th, 2026
Idealism is not necessarily a virtue, for both tyrants and heroes have been and are idealists. In 1917, two men, different in many ways but similar in one underlying theme, were about to be catapulted to the forefront of the world. Their choices would be choices that would shape the world for the next century.
Author Arthur Herman argues that both Woodrow Wilson, the President of the United States, and Vladimir Lenin, the revolutionary Marxist who would soon be deified as the founder of the Soviet Union, were not only alike in their fervent belief that history could be bent toward a grand design, but also in their confidence that they themselves understood that design. From a distinctly Hegelian lens, one which saw progress as an inevitable force that would lead to harmony, both believed that they could use government, or, in a Bismarckian sense, “the state,” to further their ends. The state was a means to an end for both men, and as a means it was applied in every possible way.
1917 explores how the visions of these two men collided in a colossal way during the terminus of the Great War. Wilson entered the war reluctantly, despite the clamor from those in the Republican Party, such as Theodore Roosevelt, who urged him to stand with their European allies from the start. Yet when he entered, he applied his vision of liberal democracy and an international order to every aspect of the conflict. It would be the mission of the United States Expeditionary Force, under the talented command of “Black Jack” Pershing, to secure a peace, but it would be, Wilson urged, a peace without victory.
Herman argues that that is exactly what he got.
On the other hand was the Russian exile living in Switzerland, the avowed Marxist Vladimir Lenin. Unlike today’s perception of Lenin as a fundamentally different man from his successor, Joseph Stalin, Herman points out that it was Lenin, and not Stalin, who was in command of the purges following the Bolsheviks’ triumph in the Revolution of ’17. It was Lenin, though this applied as well to Stalin or to Stalin’s nemesis Trotsky, who was the brutal warlord who murdered his political opponents, no matter their innocence. Yet Lenin too was an idealist, and Lenin also was willing to use the state to achieve progress. While Wilson viewed progress as that which could be achieved by peaceful coexistence, Lenin saw it in starkly different terms. Well might Mao Zedong’s motto, “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun,” have served as the unofficial motto of Vladimir Lenin’s revolution. Where Woodrow Wilson spoke the language of diplomacy, congresses, and international law, Lenin spoke the language of force, class war, and revolutionary necessity. Yet both men believed they were accelerating the march of history. The difference lay not in their certainty, but in the methods which they believed history required.
The irony is that Lenin need not have succeeded. The Soviet Union was an experiment, and like all experiments, was not bound to succeed. By its very nature, communism, argues Herman, eats its own creation, and indeed, following the stories of the leaders of the Revolution, such as Trotsky, such a proposition is historically evident as well. Rather than being bound to an inevitable victory of the proletariat, as Lenin firmly believed, the Russian Revolution nearly ended in failure many times. Alexander Kerensky and the fragile Provisional Government might well have crushed the Bolshevik movement had events taken only a slightly different course. The Whites, under the command of Alexander Denikin, could have stood up to Lenin had not inner turmoil and distrust between Denikin and Kerensky bloomed. Indeed, had Woodrow Wilson himself not intervened on behalf of the Bolsheviks, it is likely that the experiment in communism would have ended not in 1991 with the quiet dissolution of the Soviet Union, but in 1919 amid the smoke and confusion of the Russian Civil War. Ironically, it was the Hegelian idealism of Wilson that preserved the Soviet Union from destruction.
Wilson himself would fail, his idealism running aground when the Republican Senate, under the leadership of Henry Cabot Lodge, blocked Wilson’s pet project, the League of Nations. It was idealism that prevented Wilson from acceding to the demands made by the Republican Congress. It was idealism that made Wilson see the entire conflict over the League as a conflict for the future of humanity rather than an opportunity for compromise, which could have led to a fundamentally better League, one backed by both parties. It was idealism that drove Wilson mad with fury and would lead to several massive strokes that would leave him incapacitated for the remainder of his term and that would sink all hopes of running for a third term in 1920.
In clear prose, Herman successfully defends his central thesis: that the idealism of both Wilson and Lenin led to the disorder of the next century. The naivety of Wilson’s Fourteen Points and his belief that World War I was “the war to end all wars” would lead to the appeasement of Nazi Germany. The desperate, Machiavellian, yet at heart idealistic policies of Vladimir Lenin would lead to the deaths not only of Russians during the fifty-plus years of Soviet rule, but would also, albeit indirectly, cause the surge of bloody communist revolutions across the globe, from Mao’s China, where seventy million people died, to Pol Pot’s Cambodia and Kim’s North Korea. Although Herman makes no attempt to disguise his contempt for Wilson, and his hatred of Lenin, from beginning to end, the facts are neatly ordered, the thesis is well defended, and the writing is masterfully articulated.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 8th, 2026
Idealism is not necessarily a virtue, for both tyrants and heroes have been and are idealists. In 1917, two men, different in many ways but similar in one underlying theme, were about to be catapulted to the forefront of the world. Their choices would be choices that would shape the world for the next century.
Author Arthur Herman argues that both Woodrow Wilson, the President of the United States, and Vladimir Lenin, the revolutionary Marxist who would soon be deified as the founder of the Soviet Union, were not only alike in their fervent belief that history could be bent toward a grand design, but also in their confidence that they themselves understood that design. From a distinctly Hegelian lens, one which saw progress as an inevitable force that would lead to harmony, both believed that they could use government, or, in a Bismarckian sense, “the state,” to further their ends. The state was a means to an end for both men, and as a means it was applied in every possible way.
1917 explores how the visions of these two men collided in a colossal way during the terminus of the Great War. Wilson entered the war reluctantly, despite the clamor from those in the Republican Party, such as Theodore Roosevelt, who urged him to stand with their European allies from the start. Yet when he entered, he applied his vision of liberal democracy and an international order to every aspect of the conflict. It would be the mission of the United States Expeditionary Force, under the talented command of “Black Jack” Pershing, to secure a peace, but it would be, Wilson urged, a peace without victory.
Herman argues that that is exactly what he got.
On the other hand was the Russian exile living in Switzerland, the avowed Marxist Vladimir Lenin. Unlike today’s perception of Lenin as a fundamentally different man from his successor, Joseph Stalin, Herman points out that it was Lenin, and not Stalin, who was in command of the purges following the Bolsheviks’ triumph in the Revolution of ’17. It was Lenin, though this applied as well to Stalin or to Stalin’s nemesis Trotsky, who was the brutal warlord who murdered his political opponents, no matter their innocence. Yet Lenin too was an idealist, and Lenin also was willing to use the state to achieve progress. While Wilson viewed progress as that which could be achieved by peaceful coexistence, Lenin saw it in starkly different terms. Well might Mao Zedong’s motto, “political power grows out of the barrel of a gun,” have served as the unofficial motto of Vladimir Lenin’s revolution. Where Woodrow Wilson spoke the language of diplomacy, congresses, and international law, Lenin spoke the language of force, class war, and revolutionary necessity. Yet both men believed they were accelerating the march of history. The difference lay not in their certainty, but in the methods which they believed history required.
The irony is that Lenin need not have succeeded. The Soviet Union was an experiment, and like all experiments, was not bound to succeed. By its very nature, communism, argues Herman, eats its own creation, and indeed, following the stories of the leaders of the Revolution, such as Trotsky, such a proposition is historically evident as well. Rather than being bound to an inevitable victory of the proletariat, as Lenin firmly believed, the Russian Revolution nearly ended in failure many times. Alexander Kerensky and the fragile Provisional Government might well have crushed the Bolshevik movement had events taken only a slightly different course. The Whites, under the command of Alexander Denikin, could have stood up to Lenin had not inner turmoil and distrust between Denikin and Kerensky bloomed. Indeed, had Woodrow Wilson himself not intervened on behalf of the Bolsheviks, it is likely that the experiment in communism would have ended not in 1991 with the quiet dissolution of the Soviet Union, but in 1919 amid the smoke and confusion of the Russian Civil War. Ironically, it was the Hegelian idealism of Wilson that preserved the Soviet Union from destruction.
Wilson himself would fail, his idealism running aground when the Republican Senate, under the leadership of Henry Cabot Lodge, blocked Wilson’s pet project, the League of Nations. It was idealism that prevented Wilson from acceding to the demands made by the Republican Congress. It was idealism that made Wilson see the entire conflict over the League as a conflict for the future of humanity rather than an opportunity for compromise, which could have led to a fundamentally better League, one backed by both parties. It was idealism that drove Wilson mad with fury and would lead to several massive strokes that would leave him incapacitated for the remainder of his term and that would sink all hopes of running for a third term in 1920.
In clear prose, Herman successfully defends his central thesis: that the idealism of both Wilson and Lenin led to the disorder of the next century. The naivety of Wilson’s Fourteen Points and his belief that World War I was “the war to end all wars” would lead to the appeasement of Nazi Germany. The desperate, Machiavellian, yet at heart idealistic policies of Vladimir Lenin would lead to the deaths not only of Russians during the fifty-plus years of Soviet rule, but would also, albeit indirectly, cause the surge of bloody communist revolutions across the globe, from Mao’s China, where seventy million people died, to Pol Pot’s Cambodia and Kim’s North Korea. Although Herman makes no attempt to disguise his contempt for Wilson, and his hatred of Lenin, from beginning to end, the facts are neatly ordered, the thesis is well defended, and the writing is masterfully articulated.
Review Written by C. A. Gerber
March 8th, 2026