FinermanWorks

Nature may abhor a vacuum but it was amused by Benito Mussolini. On this day in 1922, Mussolini and his Black Shirts wore out their Guccis marching on Rome to demand control of the government. Surprised that any Italian even cared, the government promptly (even gleefully) capitulated.

Politically, Italy is anarchy with charm. The Italians have not had a competent government since the reign of Theodoric who died in 526…and they really don’t care. It is a tribute to Italians’ enlightenment that they prefer thieves and lunatics in government than being public nuisances on the street. (Remember that Italian lunatics would be more endearing than American and–especially–German psychotics.)

Mussolini is rightfully remembered as a tyrannical buffoon. To put him in our contemporary political terms, he combined a Republican’s personality with a Democrat’s competence. Yet, he might be revered as the inspiration of “reality television.”

What happens when the most ridiculous man in Italy wants to run the country? YOU LET HIM.

In the year 2000, the show obviously was syndicated in America.

On this day in 1553, Michael Servetus was burned alive for heresy–by the Protestants. No, he was not doing anything inordinately Catholic, such as singing Irish ballads or organizing bingo nights (although the Calvinists would have killed him for that, too). The distinguished physician and scholar was a free-thinker and thought that the Trinity was an unnecessary bureaucracy.

(Hello. You have reached the department of Metaphysical Resources. Press one if you wish to pray to the Father. Press two if you wish to pray to the Son….)

Servetus knew that his views would not be appreciated in his native Spain but he imagined that the Protestants would be more tolerate. After all, they were being persecuted for their beliefs. He might have been right about the Dutch, but anywhere else he was asking to be kindling. Martin Luther didn’t like dissenters and Jean Calvin really didn’t like anyone. (Calvin’s appeal was that surly manners and stinginess were signs of divine grace; he was the pioneer of self-help motivational speakers.) Unfortunately for Servetus, he sought refuge in Geneva, the headquarters of “Rude Your Way to Heaven.”

Calvin believed in the Trinity. He probably enjoyed the idea of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit brawling with each other when they weren’t picking on mankind. However, Servetus disagreed with Calvin–and therefore God. At least, the roasted Servetus was spared one indignity; the Swiss had yet to invent the fondue.

On this day in 1415, a beleaguered CEO offered these team-building thoughts to his “stakeholders”:

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he today that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother …

Stirred by such speech, you too might well overlook the fact that your newfound brother makes 300 times more than you, and that he is the buffoon who put you in such a desperate plight.

In fact, the battle of Agincourt was decided by French incompetence, not English poetry. Outnumbering the English by approximately five-to-one, the French could have used any number of tactics to win the campaign: flanking, envelopment, siege….There was only one possible way that the French could have lost the battle of Agincourt. That would be a full-frontal cavalry assault in constricted terrain, leading to an impassable traffic jam of horses and easy shooting for English archers.

Of course, who would be that stupid? Oh, oui.

On this day in 1760, George III because King of Great Britain. It could have been worse.

But for the quality of 18th century medicine, the 13 colonies would have revolted against King Frederick I. He was the oldest son of George II and the father of George III.

Hanoverian fathers and sons tended to hate each other: George I vs. George II, George II vs. Prince Frederick. (George III was the exception. He didn’t know his father well enough to loathe him–but everyone else did.)

Whereas as George II was a lethargic figurehead content to entrust policy to his capable Whig ministers, Prince Frederick had given ample evidence of being a dynamic dolt. Just imagine him as a George Bush who kept drinking. Out of pure spite, the Prince allied himself to the Tories. Had he ascended to the throne, his rule would have been a series of tantrums.

George III was a man of personal virtue–which evidently wasn’t hereditary–and he was the first in his dynasty who didn’t have a German accent. (After forty-six years of ruling Britain, someone had finally learned English.) However, George did have his father’s politics and obstinacy. In 15 years, he drove America to rebellion. Perhaps Frederick could have done it in 8.

Today is the anniversary of Trafalgar and here is how you can reenact Lord Nelson’s spectacular victory in 1805. In a swimming pool set afloat 33 loaves of French bread to represent the French/Spanish fleet. To represent the British fleet, have twenty-seven people with shotguns firing at the bread. That accurately represents France’s chances at Trafalgar.

The British make much of the fact that Nelson’s fleet was smaller: Britain’s 27 ships of-the- line against 33 French and Spanish ships. Of course, the British fleet was superior in every way. The French fleet may have had newer ships…if only to replace the vessels sunk or captured by the British. (And the French sailors were newer, too…for the same reason.) But that veteran English fleet was the best in the world and led by one of history’s greatest admirals. The English victory was never in doubt; the extent of the triumph was remarkable. The French and Spanish lost two-thirds of their fleet.

Nelson likely was more fearful of the accountants at the British admiralty. At the time, naval warfare was expected to be profitable. The fleet was maintained and the crews were paid by the proceeds of captured ships and plundered cargos. The cannons were aimed to knock down masts or shred sails, leaving the enemy ship dead in the water–and ripe for looting. Sinking the ship would have ruined this financial system.

Unfortunately, in 1798 at the Battle of Nile, Nelson had proved to be somewhat extravagant. Under unerring British bombardment, the French flagship blew up. I can only imagine how the accounting office at the Admiralty reacted to that lost fortune….

“We suppose that you expect to be congratulated, Admiral Nelson. But who is going to pay for your pyrotechnics? We no longer have those 13 colonies to tax, and it is because of spendthrifts like you we don’t!”

With the proceeds of the captured fleet, Lord Nelson made a fortune at Trafalgar. Unfortunately, he didn’t live to enjoy it. A sniper demonstrated the only French marksmanship that day. Contrary to Nelson’s wishes, the money went to his widow instead of his mistress.

And but for that French sniper, Nelson might have commanded the British fleet in the attack on Ft. McHenry.

In that situation, I imagine that Francis Scott Key would have written “The White Flag Rag.”

In 1803 Napoleon realized that even he needed more than charisma to wage war. Money was required. To raise it, Napoleon offered to sell the Louisiana Territory to the United States.

American diplomats in Paris might have seen this embarrassing spectacle….

Napoleon: Everyone loves New Orleans. Imagine owning it for just ten million dollars!

Talleyrand: Just ten million! I knew that you were a megalomaniac but I didn’t think that you were crazy. What a bargain!

Napoleon: I’ll show you how crazy I am. What if I include the entire Louisiana Territory for an additional five million dollars? That’s right: 800,000 square miles for only $15,000,000!

Talleyrand: Just $15,000,000? I would have charged that much in bribes! What a bargain!

Napoleon: The entire Louisiana Territory for only $15,000,000. But only if you order now!

France could afford to be so generous. Of those 800,000 square miles, France actually controlled only ten percent of the territory: the area comprising modern Louisiana and Arkansas. The rest of that realm was based on tenuous claims: boundaries based on where French trappers had left fecal deposits.

In fact, Spain and Britain had claims to part of that territory and could have disputed the Purchase. However, Spain preferred not to offend Napoleon. For its part, England preferred to fight Napoleon in Europe rather than Thomas Jefferson in Minnesota. Of course, the native Americans also had claim to the territory; but no one was listening to them. So, in a transaction based on French pretension and American wishful thinking, the geographic dimensions of the United States doubled overnight.

The Purchase was made on April 30, 1803. As his many creditors could verify, Thomas Jefferson was an impulse buyer. The Senate actually had to approve the Purchase, and it finally did so on this day in 1803.

But it is unlikely that Napoleon waited to cash the check.

On this day in 202 B.C., Hannibal had the character-building experience of losing a battle…and a war. If only Hannibal had read “War and Peace” (and since the Second Punic War lasted sixteen years, he might have had the time), the Carthaginian general would have known that his military genius was only as good as his men. Unfortunately, at Zama, his men really stunk.

Carthage had an all-volunteer army: in other words, mercenaries. Prior to Halliburton stock options, mercenaries usually were compensated by loot. It is a wonderful incentive when you are on the attack, rampaging through Italy. However, when you are on the defensive, protecting Carthage, looting the employer is discouraged. In those circumstances, Hannibal was not getting the best resumes.

Worse yet, the Romans had outbid him for all the available cavalry. After all, working for Rome, the North African horsemen now would be entitled to loot Carthage. Hannibal hoped to compensate by using elephants, whose charging tonnage presumably would flatten the legions. Since the fearsome beasts were not really maneuverable, the tactic only worked if the Romans remained patiently still. For some reason, they wouldn’t. When confronted with a charging elephant, the Romans simply stepped aside and let the pachyderm pass.

(Despite the elephant’s tactical futility, the Italians evidently were impressed by such overblown, lumbering theatrics and would eventually invent opera.)

Hannibal lost the battle, and Carthage was at the mercy of Rome. Mercy was not a Roman trait. The Carthaginian empire was reduced to the city limits. Hannibal, however, did retain his reputation. Even twenty centuries later, the young Sigmund Freud regarded Hannibal as a hero. Battered by the blond schoolyard bullies, Sigmund loved the idea of a tough Semitic guy who could scare the id out of the foreskinned crowd.

The same solace may have occurred to Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel.

On this day in 1685, Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes which had guaranteed the freedom of worship to Protestants. Perhaps as revenge, the Mormon Tabernacle Choir has never sung “Louie, Louie.”

The Edict had been granted in 1598 by Henri IV of France, a man of steadfast principles. All his mistresses had to be married. (Of course, obligingly myopic husbands received titles and estates.) However, Henri was not so dogmatic about religion. He was born a Catholic; but when his mother became a Protestant, so did young Henri. By both rank (a member of the royal family) and actual ability, he became the leader of France’s Protestants. His marriage to Princess Margaret Valois (of the Catholic branch of the Royal Family) was supposed to establish ecumenical peace in a France rift by religious war.

Unfortunately, the Catholic side of the family celebrated the wedding by massacring the Protestant guests. (Perhaps when you are paying for the wedding, you have that prerogative.) On St. Bartholomew’s Day, as a wedding present Henri was offered the choice of death or Catholicism. Henri had found breathing to be habit-forming and wasn’t quite prepared to learn the details of the Afterlife. So he was Catholic again. Of course, as soon as he was able to flee Paris, Henri was a Protestant again and leading the surviving Huguenots in civil war.

The Protestant rebel was in the line to the French throne. The royal succession required descent through the male line, and Henri had consistent Y chromosomes dating back to Louis IX. Furthermore, none of his royal brothers-in-law was producing legitimate sons. (One had a daughter, another had the debilitating consequences of syphilis and the third liked to wear dresses.) By 1589, they were dead (possibly poison, probably 16th century medicine, and definitely assassination). Our Henri was the legitimate heir, but the Catholics of France were not prepared to accept a Protestant king.

So, once again Henri converted, rationalizing his latest contortion “Paris is worth a Mass.” No one questioned Henri’s sincerity; there was no sincerity to question. The Protestants could count on Henri’s religious tolerance but not necessarily his longevity. The Huguenots wanted a guarantee of religious freedom, and Henri obliged his former co-religionists with the Edict of Nantes.

Unfortunately, if a King can grant an edict, another can revoke it. Louis XIV certainly did not inherit religious tolerance from his grandfather. He ordered the destruction of Protestant churches and schools. The only guaranteed freedom left the Protestants was emigration. Louis did not even follow the English etiquette of bigotry: when persecuting a minority, at least offer them a colony in the New World.

Many of the Huguenots did flee France. Some found haven in the English colonies of the New World; Paul Revere was a descendant. Others made a shorter trip to the Protestant states of Germany. That would explain this irony: in subsequent invasions of France(especially the most recent) a number of German generals had French names.

On this day in 1216, King John lost the crown jewels in a flood. John was fleeing from his nobles; they seemed a bit upset after he reneged on the Magna Carta. The barons had decided to oust the little weasel and invited the French crown prince Louis (what else) to be king of England.

In his flight from the realm of England’s Louis I, John took a route along the eastern coast. Unfortunately, he had not quite mastered the concept of incoming tides. In an estuary known as the Wash, John’s baggage train was washed away.

John had an obvious talent for losing. Understandably the least favorite child of Eleanor of Aquitaine, John also had lost Normandy to the French, and his power to the barons. He would have lost the throne, too but for his rare instance of decisive initiative. He dropped dead. The death was suitably ridiculous: a surfeit of peaches and ale. Yet, it effectively ended the rebellion.

(The barons realized that John’s heir, his nine year-old son Henry, would make a much more malleable king than an adult French prince. In return for the barons’ allegiance, the regency of Henry III un-reneged the Magna Carta.)

Yet, for all of John’s losing, he could keep a woman. John and Isabelle d’Angouleme had an unique courtship. Upon seeing the beautiful twelve-year-old, John was so obsessed that he kidnapped her and coerced her into marriage.

For some reason, John never quite trusted her. He suspected that she was having an affair with a young noble, so the King arranged a surprise for his queen. She found the murdered noble hanging in her bedchamber.

Queen Elizabeth is a descendant of this happy union.

On this day in 331 B.C.J. (Before Cousin Jesus), Alexander of Macedonia–as well as Greece and every leather bar from Athens to Babylon–completely justified his megalomania by defeating the Persian horde at the battle of Gaugemela. So it can be done. Notify the President immediately.

In fact, I am providing him with this Executive summary.

How to Conquer Iran

Iran couldn’t be more belligerent if it were broadcasting Wagner from minarets. So as long as we are in the neighborhood, transforming Iraq into Norway, we might as well change Iran into Sweden. However, let’s not be as giddy as we were invading Iraq. That adventure was planned by intellectuals who had no military experience, unless you count playing Risk at Cornell. This time we should first consider the successful invasions of Iran.

Iran wasn’t born Moslem, and you can’t attribute the conversion just to Arab charm. In the seventh century, religious fanaticism and cavalry made Islam nearly irresistible. Even the desolation of Iran was no hindrance to an army accustomed to the deserts of Arabia. The conquered pagans were presented with a compelling argument for Islam: conversion or death. Since the indigenous theological mix of Zoroastrianism and animism hadn’t proved much of a protection, the Iranians conceded the superiority of Allah.

So strategy #1: We have to be more psychotically devout than the Iranians. The armed forces could dispense with intelligence tests and let Pat Robertson recruit for us.

In the thirteenth century, Iran was introduced to the renowned entrepreneur Genghis Khan. A master of marketing, he demonstrated free samples of massacres and then let word-of-mouth do the rest. The towns that did not comply with immediate and abject surrender would learn the Mongol hobby of collecting decapitated heads and building them into pyramids. Such recreation perpetrated Mongol rule in Iran for more than two centuries. Over time, the Mongols did convert to Islam; jihads and harems had such a spiritual appeal. Known by the more Arabic pronunciation of Mogul, they overran India and made Islam so very popular there.

So strategy #2: We have to be more barbaric than the Iranians. Our recruiting ads should be developed by Wes Craven and broadcast on “South Park.”

The only successful invasion by a western army was by-who else—Alexander the Great. The unnatural wonder of the world really knew how to shock and awe. Beholding Alexander’s resplendent phalanxes, the Iranians felt so shabby. Chic yet practical, Greek bronze could stop weapons and conversation. The Persian Empire was embarrassed into extinction.

So strategy #3: We have to stress the camp in campaign. Of course, that would require one particular change in military policy. Instead of “don’t ask, don’t tell,” now we would have to insist upon it. However, the transition from Sousa to Sondheim might be surprisingly easy. Our officers already adorn themselves with garish costumes and have a habit of accosting young men.

Of course, any of these strategies would require armed forces; but ours are currently preoccupied in Iraq, on loan to Halliburton. That leaves us with the Byzantine approach: let someone else do the fighting for us. Through guile and manipulation, the medieval Greeks maintained an empire extending from Italy to Persia. Without the military resources to overwhelm Persia, the Byzantines made an art of undermining it. Where there was an idle tribe of barbarians on Persia’s border, Byzantium would subsidize an invasion. If there were a surplus of Persian princes, the Greeks would generously encourage a civil war. Through its pawns and proxies, Byzantium divided and distracted its eastern enemy; yet Constantinople could claim a sanctimonious innocence.

So, strategy #4: find a convenient but unincriminating ally. Israel would love to help, but how would we explain its air force refueling in Baghdad? No, we need an Arab leader who loves war and hates Iran. Fortunately, one comes readily to mind. Unfortunately, Saddam Hussein now is unavailable.

copyrighted 2006

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