Timothy Snyder is the Levin Professor of History at Yale, a member of the Council on Foreign Relations, and a permanent fellow of the Institute for Human Sciences in Vienna. Among his many books are: Bloodlands: Europe between Hitler and Stalin (2010), Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Warning (2015), On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century (2017, and, most recently, The Road to Unfreedom: Russia, Europe, America. (May 2019)
“Politics is the art of identifying and neutralizing the enemy.” —Ivan Ilyin, 1948 The Russian looked Satan in the eye, put God on the psychoanalyst’s couch, and understood that his nation could redeem the world. An agonized God told the Russian a story of failure. In the beginning, there was …
Pozdrowienia z Noworosji [Greetings from Novorossiya]
by Paweł Pieniążek
Entscheidung in Kiew. Ukrainische Lektionen [Decision in Kiev: Ukrainian Lessons]
by Karl Schlögel
The new Russian wars are a Bonapartism without a Napoleon, temporarily resolving domestic tensions in doomed foreign adventures, but lacking a vision for the world. Ideals are recognized in order to be mocked.
Ukraine is not a theater for the historical propaganda of others or a puzzle from which pieces can be removed. It is a major European country whose citizens have important cultural and economic ties with both the European Union and Russia. To set its own course, Ukraine needs normal public debate, the restoration of parliamentary democracy, and workable relations with all of its neighbors.
By “unequivocally rejecting efforts to create analogies between the Holocaust and other events, whether historical or contemporary,” the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum is taking a radical position that is far removed from mainstream scholarship on the Holocaust and genocide. The Museum’s decision to completely reject drawing any possible analogies to the Holocaust, or to the events leading up to it, is fundamentally ahistorical. And it makes learning from the past almost impossible.
It is not just that we are staring at our phones as catastrophe looms. It is that by staring at our phones we are collaborating with our hydrocarbon and digital oligarchs in the catastrophe. The future disappears both because we are distracted and because our thoughtlessness summons the darkness. Without a sense of time flowing forward, analytical thought cannot occur, and there will be no technological solutions. Our digital beings—the stupefying aggregate of algorithms that prompt us, bots that herd us, doppelgangers that follow us, and categorizers that sell us—are taking us apart.
Writing for White Russian émigrés in the 1920s and 1930s, Ivan Ilyin provided a metaphysical and moral justification for political totalitarianism, which he expressed in practical outlines for a fascist state. But his ideas have now been revived and celebrated by Putin: because Ilyin found ways to present the failure of the rule of law as Russian virtue, Russian kleptocrats use his ideas to portray economic inequality as national innocence. And by transforming international politics into a discussion of “spiritual threats,” Ilyin’s works have helped Russian elites to portray the Ukraine, Europe, and the United States as existential dangers to Russia.
The aspiring tyrants of today have learned the lesson of the Reichstag fire of 1933: that acts of terror—real or fake, provoked or accidental—can provide the occasion to deal a death blow to democracy. The most consequential example is Russia, so admired by Donald Trump, but the use of terrorist threats to create or consolidate authoritarian regimes has become increasingly frequent worldwide.