Suppose it were Friday li: we might share a more beautiful picture

Had I never been struck before,

by the aberrancy of following

the Great Men of our nation,

chasing each other across our

land for preferments that they

crave, by spreading terror in

their wake, I would be drawn 

into any schoolroom where I've

sat to gain respect and under- 

standing of the human being.

Sometimes I get caught up in

a kind of puzzled wonder at

things and think of all the

work and effort and unlimited

money that is used today to

'destroy' and not so long ago

there was no money or work and

it seems so wrong somehow ..

that money and effort could al-

ways be found to pull down and

destroy rather than build up.

This could have been written by any American at the expiration of the Cold War, so endlessly quiescent under end-less spending for war, so docile as towns and bridges and roads and manu-factures collapsed, capital turning from production to scavenging, from expanding society to shrinking it, from creation to consolidation.

That letter was written by a middle-aged house-wife in Lancashire, England, in the summer of 1940. Max Hastings cited it to illustrate the point that Churchill's wartime leadership of Great Britain had its very deep limitations in the aspirations of his people. I happen to think these limitations to Republican panics will decide this election.

So where do they go, but to 
South Carolina to scare the 

faithful about a war on the 

church, to shout the closest 

allusion they can dare to a 

Nat Turner in the White House, 

and to discuss marriage as a 

nourishment of grudges. They 

are doing this to control the 

people's wealth, to turn the 

Treasury of the United States 

into a protection racketeer's 

dream come true.

But there comes a question in

in the schoolroom, and again,

the beautiful picture.

Max Hastings

All hell let loose

  Britain Alone

op. cit.