Churchill: Beyond Hero or Villain
WW2 concepts such as (reverse) Lebensraum, stab-in-the-back legends and uniting enemies are still relevant today, while the mythology of appeasement narratives must be challenged.
On November 11, 1918, Germany agreed to an armistice that effectively ended the First World War. A key condition for Germany’s surrender—accepted by the Allies—was that the formal peace treaty would be based on US President Wilson’s Fourteen Points. To ensure Germany did not renege on the agreement, and to satisfy intense public animosity toward "the Huns," the Allies maintained their wartime blockade of German ports leading up to the Versailles Peace Conference. Winston Churchill, then Britain’s Secretary of State for Air and War, reported during this period to the House of Commons on the deteriorating conditions the German population was facing as a result of the continued blockade.
We are holding all our means of coercion in full operation, or in immediate readiness for use. We are enforcing the blockade with vigour. We have strong armies ready to advance at the shortest notice. Germany is very near starvation. The evidence I have received from the officers sent by the War Office all over Germany shows, first of all, the great privations which the German people are suffering, and, secondly, the great danger of a collapse of the entire structure of German social and national life under the pressure of hunger and malnutrition. Now is therefore the moment to settle.
At the time, many in England, perhaps unfairly, viewed Churchill as a buffoon due to his role in the disastrous naval assault on the Dardanelles during World War I and the subsequent massacre of British and Commonwealth troops at Gallipoli. His speech on the starvation in Germany, however, was an act of statesmanship, meant as a serious warning about the humanitarian consequences of the blockade. The French, who had suffered the most devastating losses during the war, were the primary advocates for continuing the blockade, driven by a desire for retribution. In contrast, the United States, with its surplus of grain and more distant relationship to the war's destruction, was eager to sell its plentiful agricultural bounty and end German suffering.
History may soon repeat itself since in the next year Ukraine will be compelled to surrender to Russia. Will Russia emulate the Allies by continuing to bomb Kiev’s energy infrastructure, even after laying down their arms, to ensure Ukraine’s signature on a peace treaty?
It is widely accepted that the seeds of the Second World War were sown in the Treaty of Versailles, a perspective echoed by Churchill in his post-WWII memoirs. In the aftermath of World War I, Germany, battered by defeat and the harsh terms of the treaty, found itself trapped in a world of abuse and humiliation. This led to a turn toward collective narcissism, where Germans embraced a grandiose narrative of national supremacy as a dysfunctional defense mechanism against the harsh reality of their diminished status.
Germany's trauma from widespread starvation instilled a deep-seated envy toward the United States and its vast continental living space. The rich and fertile soil of the Midwest afforded America agricultural self-sufficiency, a privilege that no enemy blockade could disrupt.
In American developmental terms, Germany perceived its geographical constraints in central Europe as analogous to the U.S. during its colonial stage. The concept of America’s Manifest Destiny, which led to the displacement of Native Americans and the annexation of vast territories, inspired a new generation of German leaders. They envisioned rejecting African colonialism and instead sought to transform Germany from an overachieving yet constrained industrial power, surrounded by hostile neighbours, into a vast continental empire stretching from the Rhine to the Ural Mountains in Russia.
As he prepared for and waged his war of annihilation on the eastern front, Adolf Hitler repeatedly drew parallels between the Nazi quest for lebensraum, or living space, in the East and the concept of manifest destiny and the treatment of Native Americans during the United States’ expansion into the West. Drawing this comparison in a conversation in October 1941, Hitler offered his vision of a “German East” populated by former soldiers settled on millions of homesteads, remarking, “Our Mississippi must be the Volga, not the Niger.” In other conversations he used the term “redskins” to describe the peoples of eastern Europe and asserted that the American West had been won after the settlers had “shot down the millions of redskins to a few hundred thousand.” (Edward B. Westermann, Hitler’s Ostkrieg and the Indian Wars, p. 3)
And so, when Adolf Hitler launched World War II, he pursued three primary foreign policy objectives. First, he sought to capture Lebensraum up to the Ural Mountains by exterminating most of the Slavic populations in Eastern Europe. Second, he aimed to avoid a two-front war while expanding eastward, a lesson learned from Germany’s failures in World War I. Third, though less clearly defined, Hitler envisioned Germany as a future global power, destined to challenge not only France and Britain but also the United States. Revenge for the Treaty of Versailles was implicit in his plans, as was his ultimate goal of securing a hegemonic position on the world stage.
Germany’s defeat in World War I left deep psychological scars, leading to the creation of a “stab-in-the-back” myth. The Nazis exploited this narrative, claiming that Germany had not lost the war on the battlefield but had been betrayed by internal enemies, specifically the Judeo-Bolshevik minority. This myth provided a convenient explanation for the nation’s psychological trauma, redirecting blame away from military failures and onto a supposed conspiracy within.
This scapegoating added a new dimension to Hitler's agenda. Beyond his geopolitical goals of territorial expansion, he adopted a domestic mission of racial "purification." The eradication of Germany’s Jewish population became central to Nazi ideology, an agenda that was deeply ingrained from the outset and would have been pursued even without the global conflict. In contrast, Hitler’s plan for the large-scale displacement and extermination of Slavic populations in Poland, Czechoslovakia, Belarus, Ukraine, and Russia was only feasible within the context of war. As Germany occupied these territories, the Slavic populations became the primary targets of racial annihilation, modelled for better or worse on 19th century American expansion westward.
Germany's desperate attempt to radically expand its territory in order to compete with America for global supremacy might seem like historical lunacy. Yet today, as we will see, the US is arguably pursuing an even more extreme form of "reverse Lebensraum" by aiming to drastically increase its population through open borders. Instead of territorial expansion, as in Germany's case, America’s focus is on demographic growth, albeit crammed into its existing “borders.” According to at least one prominent American ideologue, a population of one billion is the necessary future demographic load the US must carry to effectively compete with China and India well into the 21st century.
The ideas of Nazi ideology and its echoes continue to ricochet in Eastern Europe today, shaping narratives around the Russian invasion of Ukraine. One of Russia’s justifications for its aggression is the need to "eradicate" Nazi ideology, which it claims persists in Ukraine. While many Ukrainians reject this portrayal, there is a troubling element within the far-right Ukrainian nationalist movement that embraces aspects of Nazi ideology. These groups deny that Hitler's genocidal hatred extended to all Slavs, claiming instead that his disdain was aimed primarily at Russians, while they adopt elements of his nationalist fervour to fuel their own struggle for Ukrainian independence.
This distorted view of history has reawakened dangerous currents within Ukraine and beyond. As Ukraine’s military efforts struggle against Russia’s overwhelming force, narratives of betrayal—the infamous "stab-in-the-back" myth—have begun to resurface. Today, such accusations are being directed toward figures like former U.S. President Donald Trump. Some Ukrainians have portrayed Trump as insufficiently supportive of their cause, even blaming him for weakening U.S. assistance. This rhetoric took a violent turn recently when a pro-Ukrainian assassin allegedly targeted Trump.
The potential for political violence is even stronger in Europe. In May, Slovakian Prime Minister Robert Fico was gravely injured in an attack by a pro-Ukrainian militant, further demonstrating how the Ukrainian conflict is spilling over into broader European politics. As Ukraine faces likely defeat or a forced peace settlement, the possibility of frustrated Ukrainian extremists turning to terrorism becomes a grim prospect. Discontented factions may use drones and other modern technologies to carry out attacks on European or even U.S. targets, seeking to punish those they feel abandoned their cause in its hour of need.
In light of these historical and present-day echoes, it becomes crucial to understand the original impulses driving such narratives. Lebensraum, the "stab-in-the-back" myth, and the enduring rivalry between Russia and Ukraine are not isolated relics of the past but active forces shaping contemporary conflict. By tracing these ideas back to their origins and understanding their manipulations today, we can better anticipate the dangers they pose to European stability and global security.
Questioning the Narrative
In an early September interview with Tucker Carlson, podcaster Darryl Cooper sparked widespread reaction by declaring Winston Churchill to be "the greatest villain of the Second World War." This provocative statement quickly shot his podcast to the top of Spotify, a clear testament to his marketing skills. Even Cooper, however, admitted to using hyperbole in his characterization of Churchill, suggesting that his statement was more about generating engagement than historical accuracy.
Cooper went further with a second, even more controversial claim: that the German massacre of Slavic prisoners of war was merely an "oversight." This argument is not only indefensible but also contradicted by extensive evidence found in German archives captured after the war. Additionally, memories of this targeted violence continue to influence Russian war narratives today, particularly in their conflict with Ukraine, where the presence of units displaying neo-Nazi symbols fuels deep-seated historical grievances. Cooper's dismissal of these atrocities disregards the profound and lasting impact they had on the region.
Cooper and Carlson appear motivated by an understandable desire to dismantle the "appeasement" myth, a favourite tool of neoconservative ideologues who rely on it to justify keeping the U.S. in permanent geopolitical offensive mode. This myth paints any diplomatic compromise as weakness, drawing comparisons to the supposed failures of British negotiators in the runup to World War II. For Cooper, reframing the narrative around Churchill and WWII may be a way to challenge this neoconservative stance, though his approach seems to rely more on distorting historical facts than in offering a trenchant critique.
In the years following WWII, Churchill did face considerable criticism for the war's aftermath. Some argued that after millions of lives were lost and cities were reduced to rubble, Europe’s new enemy, the Soviet Union, emerged as an even more formidable threat than the Nazis. This outcome has led some to question the strategic value of the war's devastating cost. However, dismissing Churchill’s leadership or downplaying the atrocities committed by Germany during the war obscures the broader historical context.
Engaging with WWII’s legacy requires more than hucksterism or counter-myth making. Flipping Churchill from hero to villain is to remain within the realm of a morality tale without undermining the fundamental power of the appeasement argument. To challenge the ways in which this myth is deployed, the discussion is best grounded in alternative approaches to military strategy.
Critiquing Churchill: The WW2 Iran-Iraq Gambit
In the years following World War II, Basil Liddell Hart and J.F.C. Fuller, two of the most influential military theorists of the 20th century, offered scathing critiques of Winston Churchill's wartime leadership. They particularly focused on the failure of Britain’s primary war aims: preserving Polish independence and eliminating security threats in Europe. By the war's end, Poland languished under Soviet occupation rather than being liberated, and Europe faced a new, even greater threat from the expanding Soviet empire. Western Europe, meanwhile, had become heavily dependent on American military and economic support, which, in their view, severely compromised European independence. From this perspective, calling the war’s outcome a "victory" for Europe seemed far from accurate.
Fuller proposed a Machiavellian alternative to Churchill's strategy of full-throated support for Russia. He argued that Britain, France, and by extension, the United States, should have encouraged a conflict between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union. By strategically aiding the weaker side, the war between dictators could have been prolonged, thereby weakening both totalitarian regimes. This approach foreshadowed the "Iran-Iraq War gambit" seen later in the 1980’s.
Because Bolshevism and National Socialism were equally repugnant to the Democracies, and because Hitler’s aim was to establish a Lebensraum in Eastern Europe, which would inevitably entangle him with Russia, there can be no doubt whatsoever that in 1939 the best policy for France and Great Britain would have been to keep out of the war, let the two great dictatorial Powers cripple each other, and in the meantime have re-armed at top speed. Had they done so, a time would have come when they could profitably intervene. Should Russia then be winning, Hitler would be discredited, and support could be given to Germany, and should the reverse be the case, Germany could be invaded from the west under favourable conditions. This, however was rendered impractible by Chamberlain’s pledge to Poland. (Fuller, The Conduct of War 1789-1961, p. 264)
According to Fuller, Neville Chamberlain's policy of "appeasing" Hitler by encouraging German expansion eastward toward the Soviet Union was strategically sound. Instead of calling it appeasement, it should be understood as ushering or channelling Nazi Germany’s forces towards the east. According to Fuller, far from ending after the debacle of Czechoslovakia, Chamberlain should have doubled down on driving Hitler eastward right up until the German dictator invaded the USSR.
Basil Liddell Hart contended that guiding the German war machine eastward toward the Soviet Union was indeed Britain’s implicit strategy during the early stages of the conflict:
[Hitler’s] conclusion was that Germany must obtain more ‘agriculturally useful space’ — in the thinly populated areas of Eastern Europe. It would be vain to hope that this would be willingly conceded her. ‘The history of all times — Roman Empire, British Empire — has proved that every space expansion can be effected only by breaking resistance and taking risks. . . . Neither in former times nor today has space been found without an owner.’ The problem would have to be solved by 1945 at the latest — ‘after this we can only expect a change for the worse’. Possible outlets would be blocked while a food crisis would be imminent.
While these ideas went much farther than Hitler’s initial desire to recover the territory that had been taken from Germany after World War I, it is not true that Western statesmen were as unaware of them as they later pretended. In 1937-8 many of them were frankly realistic in private discussion, though not on public platforms, and many arguments were set forth in British governing circles for allowing Germany to expand eastwards, and thus divert danger from the West. They showed much sympathy with Hitler’s desire for lebensraum — and let him know it. But they shirked thinking out the problem of how the owners could be induced to yield it except to threat of superior force.
The German documents reveal that Hitler derived special encouragement from Lord Halifax’s visit in November 1937. Halifax was then Lord President of the Council, ranking second in the Cabinet to the Prime Minister. According to the documentary record of the interview, he gave Hitler to understand that Britain would allow him a free hand in Eastern Europe. Halifax may not have meant as much, but that was the impression he conveyed — and it proved of crucial importance. (Basil Liddell Hart, The History of the Second World War p. 8)
Stalin quickly recognized a troubling pattern among Western leaders: they seemed content to "appease" Hitler as long as his expansionist ambitions were directed eastward. This growing suspicion turned to outright paranoia when Western governments rejected the Soviet strongman’s offer to militarily support Czechoslovakia against Nazi aggression. Stalin saw this as a clear signal that the West was willing to sacrifice Eastern Europe to Hitler.
The decision to allow Hitler to march through Czechoslovakia, a nation with well-fortified, hilly terrain and a strong, well-equipped army, only deepened Stalin’s concerns. By surrendering this defensible region, the Western powers had effectively opened the vast, flat and vulnerable Eurasia Steppe to Hitler's armoured forces, making the Soviet Union the next likely target. For Stalin, this was a strategic disaster, reinforcing his belief that the West was either indifferent to, or actively complicit in, facilitating Nazi expansion into Eastern Europe.
Both Liddell Hart and Fuller argued that Britain’s fatal mistake occurred on March 31st, 1939, when Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain, overwhelmed by fear and shame, erratically shifted policy by guaranteeing Polish independence in an attempt to halt Hitler’s eastward expansion. The problem was that neither Britain nor France had the capability to protect Poland militarily, and both nations failed to make any serious effort to bring Stalin into an alliance. By this point, Stalin had completely lost confidence in the West, leading him to strike a deal with Hitler through the Nazi-Soviet Pact, buying him precious time to bolster Soviet defenses.
By giving security guarantees to Poland, Britain and France in effect threatened Hitler’s western front if Hitler launched a Soviet invasion. In Diplomacy, Henry Kissinger quotes Hitler’s message to a diplomat from August 1939, weeks before he concluded his non-aggression act with Stalin:
Everything I undertake is directed against Russia. If the West is too stupid and too blind to comprehend that, I will be forced to come to an understanding with the Russians, to smash the West, and then after its defeat, to turn against the Soviet Union with my assembled forces. (Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy, p. 346)
Kissinger goes on to affirm the accuracy of Hitler's statement:
It was certainly an accurate statement of Hitler’s priorities: from Great Britain, he wanted noninterference in Continental affairs, and from the Soviet Union, Lebensraum, or living space. It was a measure of Stalin’s achievement that he was about to reverse Hitler’s priorities, however temporarily. (Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy, p. 346)
Kissinger then concisely explains why Britain and France lost World War II while Stalin emerged victorious:
Stalin had a strategy but no principles; the democracies defended principle without ever developing a strategy. (Henry Kissinger, Diplomacy, p. 348)
One of Fuller’s strongest critiques centred on Churchill's failure to engage with anti-Hitler factions within the German elite. Instead of throwing 100% of the West’s support to Stalin, Fuller believed that Churchill’s black-and-white portrayal of the Germans as uniformly hostile missed an opportunity to collaborate with elements of the German resistance. This cooperation, Fuller argued, could have significantly weakened Hitler’s regime from within. Fuller drew a parallel between Churchill’s mistake and one of Hitler’s own critical strategic errors: Hitler's refusal to present himself as a liberator to Soviet minorities, such as the Ukrainians. When Germany invaded the Soviet Union, many Ukrainians initially welcomed the Germans as liberators (some still do), but Hitler's war of racial extermination quickly alienated most of them, driving many into the ranks of the Red Army.
Herein lies a potential flaw in Fuller and Liddell Hart's idea of Britain directing Germany’s aggression eastward. What if Hitler had decisively defeated the USSR as a result of this “WW2 Iran-Iraq Gambit” between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union? What if Hitler had indeed swallowed his racial pride and feigned being a liberator to the oppressed Ukrainian masses? A lightening fast Nazi victory over the Soviet Union would have drastically altered the balance of power in Europe and the world. Instead of Germany exhausting itself in the East, such a conquest would have provided Hitler with vast resources—territory, oil, and manpower—that could have fuelled his war machine to unprecedented levels of strength.
In the aftermath of any such victory, it’s certain that Hitler would have turned his attention westward after securing such a historic victory. The strategic advantage gained from controlling the Soviet Union’s vast lands and resources would have made Germany an even more formidable power, emboldening Hitler to settle scores with Britain, France, and possibly other nations he viewed as rivals.
This raises the unsettling possibility that even the United States, still weighing its role in global conflicts at the time, might have hesitated before entering a war against a triumphant Nazi empire. A Germany that had conquered Russia would have presented an intimidating prospect for the U.S., especially without a strong British and Soviet presence to counterbalance Nazi power in Europe. The U.S. might have reconsidered its commitment to liberating Europe, calculating the risks of fighting a Germany flush with victory, and controlling vast new territories and resources.
On the other hand, it is hard to imagine a more dire strategic situation than the one the Allies stumbled into during the winter of 1942:
In the "WW2 Iran-Iraq Gambit" scenario, Britain and France, with American support, retained the option of launching an offensive on Germany’s western front once it became clear that a Nazi victory over the Soviet Union was imminent. This would have been a calculated move to prevent the total collapse of the Eastern Front and to divert German forces back to the West. However, considering the nature of the war on the Eastern Front, where the Nazis pursued a policy of racial annihilation against the Soviet population, it's difficult to imagine a scenario in which the USSR would willingly surrender.
For the Soviets, this was a war of survival, not just politically but existentially. Nazi ideology called for the eradication or enslavement of Slavic peoples, leaving no room for compromise or surrender. Even as Germany advanced eastward, the sheer brutality of the occupation—targeting civilians, prisoners of war, and entire communities—would have fuelled fierce resistance. The further Germany’s armies marched, the more their extended supply lines would have become vulnerable to partisan attacks. Soviet partisans, supported by the local population and driven by the awareness of their own annihilation, would have intensified their guerrilla warfare, making it difficult for Germany to consolidate gains in the East.
As the German war effort began to falter, Britain and France could have explored the possibility of developing ties with German opposition groups, a strategy they largely dismissed during the actual course of World War II. This decision not to engage with internal German resistance, such as military officers, political dissidents, and anti-Nazi factions, has been seen as a missed opportunity. Had the Allies pursued such relationships, they might have created a pathway to destabilize the Nazi regime from within, offering potential alternatives to a prolonged and devastating conflict.
In the actual war, Allied policy—particularly Britain’s and the US’ stance—was to demand "unconditional surrender" from Germany. This rigid approach discouraged any meaningful dialogue with internal dissidents, and ensured Soviet domination of Eastern Europe at the conclusion of the war.
Thus, an alternative history might have unfolded had Britain and France considered working with these German opposition groups, potentially making the Soviet invasion of Eastern Europe unnecessary.
Recipe for Defeat: Uniting Enemies
In 1939, Britain was a global power in undeniable decline, grappling with the aftershocks of World War I, a struggling economy, and the mounting costs of maintaining its empire. Meanwhile, the United States, fuelled by its booming economic growth and industrial strength, was emerging as the obvious successor to British dominance. The sheer scale of America’s resources, technology, and population made it clear that it was positioned to take on global leadership. Germany, recognizing the power of America's model, sought to emulate many of its economic and industrial advantages in a bid to secure its own place as a global power.
Today, a similar shift seems to be unfolding, but this time with China in the role of a rising power and the U.S. in the position Britain once occupied—a hegemonic power facing the inevitable strains of overreach and decline. China, like the U.S. in the late 1930s, is benefiting from decades of rapid economic growth, technological advancements, and a growing influence on the global stage. Its ambitions in trade, infrastructure, and military capabilities mirror the U.S.'s rise in the early 20th century.
The United States, by contrast, is beginning to show signs of its hegemonic limits. After decades of dominance, its political polarization, economic challenges, and overstretched military presence evoke the twilight years of British global influence. Just as Britain faced internal decay while struggling to maintain an unsustainable empire, the U.S. today finds itself challenged by rising powers, shifting alliances, and the demands of maintaining its global commitments.
Historians looking back may indeed view the United States' most fundamental geopolitical errors as its failure to embrace and respect Russia after the collapse of the Soviet Union, while simultaneously integrating China as a low-status economic partner. In the aftermath of the Cold War, the U.S. had a unique opportunity to build a cooperative relationship with post-Soviet Russia. However, driven by a combination of neoconservative hubris and a triumphalist view of its own power, the U.S. instead embarked on a path of antagonism. Rather than fostering a partnership with Russia, Washington sought to expand NATO into Russia's traditional sphere of influence, targeting former Soviet states like Ukraine, Georgia, and Muslim regions in the Caucasus, much to Russia’s alarm.
At the same time, the U.S. welcomed China into the global economy, in a way that sought to cap its development beyond the status of a low-cost manufacturing hub, without fully anticipating China’s eventual rise to global prominence. This dynamic allowed China to leverage access to U.S. markets, technology, and investment to fuel its rapid economic growth. While Washington was fixated on containing Russia, and in trying the make the Middle East safe for Israel, it overlooked China’s quiet but steady ascent. The loss of US factories to Asia led to a breakdown of traditional American social cohesion.
By the time it became apparent, around 2010, that China was on a trajectory toward global economic dominance, the U.S. shifted its focus to countering Beijing’s rise. This culminated in President Obama’s “Pivot to Asia,” which was designed to reassert American influence in the Asia-Pacific and to contain China's growing power. However, this shift came too late, at a time when China had already built substantial economic and military influence throughout the region. Nor did wealthy Americans ever fully embrace the idea of reindustrializing America, preferring a policy of punitive immiseration of the US working classes.
These dual geopolitical offensives—against Russia in the post-Soviet space and against China in Asia—eventually backfired, pushing the two powers into a closer strategic partnership. The emergence of the so-called "Dragon Bear" alliance, a term reflecting the formidable Russia-China partnership, has dramatically altered the global balance of power. As Russia sought alternatives to Western partnerships and China sought to shore up its position against U.S. containment, the two nations found mutual interest in coordinating their geopolitical strategies. This alliance now poses a significant challenge to the U.S., one that may have been avoidable had Washington pursued a more nuanced and balanced foreign policy following the end of the Cold War.
The Lessons of History
In many ways, the rise of Nazi Germany was indeed a reaction to the establishment of communism in the Soviet Union. For many Germans, communism represented an existential threat to traditional values, national identity, and social order. Hitler’s regime capitalized on this fear, positioning itself as the vanguard against the Bolshevik menace. Given this ideological clash, one might think it would have been straightforward for Western statesmen to pit these two totalitarian powers against one another. However, Britain, through strategic miscalculations under both Chamberlain and Churchill, inadvertently facilitated a temporary and unnatural alliance between the two giants—the Nazi-Soviet Pact of 1939. Yet, the ideological incompatibility between Nazism and Bolshevism meant that this union was always destined to unravel.
Unfortunately, many current Western leaders seem to have drawn the wrong lessons from World War II. Instead of recognizing the importance of strategy, timing, and diplomacy, they seem to interpret Churchill’s legacy as one of unyielding bellicosity toward any perceived enemy. "Playing Churchill" today seems to mean pushing for confrontational policies without a clear endgame, as evidenced by the ongoing conflict in Ukraine. This approach mirrors the flaws of a policy rooted in blind aggression, assuming that simply standing firm equates to strength without considering the broader geopolitical and economic consequences.
The war in Ukraine, which Western leaders continue to support through arms and financing, is an example of this misguided "Churchillian" strategy. Despite calls for escalation and military solutions, the reality is that there are significant limits to what the financialized and socially fragmented West can do beyond supplying Ukraine with weapons and economic aid. Direct intervention seems implausible given the loss of martial values in the decadent West, and diplomatic options remain limited as neither side shows signs of compromise.
What’s often forgotten is that the only reason Britain did not surrender to Germany after the fall of France was a promise by the US to eventually enter the war. Despite its efforts to expand the conflict, Ukraine has no hope for a NATO intervention in its favour. Since Russia is winning the war, they have no incentive at all to negotiate. The meagre trickle of arms the West sends to Ukraine only ensures Russia will conquer even more valuable territory.
The Sincerest Form of Flattery
There are many competing theories as to why America's ruling class has thrown open the nation's borders to a flood of global migrants. Some suggest it stems from racial self-loathing among European-American elites, a relentless oligarchic pursuit of higher profits through cheaper labour, or even a bourgeois craving for ever more exotic ethnic cuisine. However, if there is a broader geopolitical strategy behind open borders, it could be seen as a form of "reverse Lebensraum." In this case, the goal isn’t to expand territorial control but to radically boost the domestic population, positioning the U.S. to better compete with global giants like China and India.
Matt Yglesias, in his book One Billion Americans, argues that in order to maintain its position as a global superpower, the U.S. should aim for a population of one billion like China and India. This reverse Lebensraum policy is a way of competing with China, whose sheer size gives it an inherent geopolitical edge. This desire to imitate geopolitical rivals is reminiscent of the German drive for Lebensraum in order to eventually compete with a rising early 20th century America.
In a "reverse Lebensraum" scheme, where the U.S. seeks to significantly grow its population through immigration to rival demographic giants like China and India, one of the most pressing challenges would be maintaining social and cultural cohesion. China, with its vast population, has spent decades promoting a strong Han cultural identity to unify its many ethnic minorities. Through a combination of state-sponsored education, propaganda, and political control, China aims to reinforce the dominance of Han culture and maintain social harmony. The West often accuses China of achieving social cohesion through coercive measures. In contrast, the U.S. has recently begun to pride itself on being a more pluralistic and diverse society. But how can such a diverse population maintain any sort of social unity, especially as it scales up to one billion people?
Germany’s plan to deal with the social cohesion problem Lebensraum would create was as simple as it was brutal: massacre the vast majority of the indigenous Slavs, leaving only a few to serve as a semi-slave Helot class living on native reservations.
At some point, Americans may recognize that the cost of maintaining global hegemony outweighs the price they are paying. In this context, the idea of transitioning to a dynamic regional power may not seem so undesirable after all. Embracing such a shift could enable the U.S. to concentrate on domestic stability and cohesion rather than overextending itself into a freakish billion-person behemoth on the global stage.
The first step in this process will involve cancelling the neoconservative permanent geopolitical offensive fuelled by the appeasement narrative. Instead, the U.S. should adopt a more sustainable defensive alignment, akin to the Cold War containment policy. This strategic pivot would prioritize strengthening domestic institutions and fostering social cohesion while reducing the pressures of endless foreign entanglements. By focusing on internal development and unity, America can better enhance its long-term stability and security.
Great article thanks