History – 700 pages – my copy (paperback; 2007) bought from Waterstones for £12.99 in August 2009
- 4 nods out of 5 -
I hear you ask the question immediately: ‘Why the need for another book on the wars of the first half of the twentieth century?’ And ordinarily, I would agree with you; the Kaiser and the Fuhrer have both been comprehensively studied by scholars and laymen alike for many decades. Another addition to an already bloated shelf brings with it accusations of a lazy, unimaginative historian; a writer keen for quick riches in a popular historical market. However, let the record make it strictly clear: Niall Ferguson is not cut of such cloth.
Widely noted as one of the eminent British historians of current times, Ferguson has all the hallmarks of a successful writer of enquiry and fact, mixed in with a novelist’s touch for drama. Involved at both Harvard and Oxford, he has made the successful transition to television documentary; his face fitting for today’s multi-media, being snapped on the inside book cover in his confident Del-Monte suit. His writing style is always competent and comprehensive, and at times simply stunning (such as his detailing of Stalin, ‘the most paranoid, untrusting’ individual in modern times trusting Hitler, ‘the most unscrupulous liar in history’ (p.428)). The War of the World is his interpretation on the slaughter and carnage of the two world wars, in which he covers old ground (for example, the attacks on the appeaser and failure that was Neville Chamberlain) whilst amassing a wide range of sources – including many new ones previously untapped. Indeed, the footnotes are so numerous that Ferguson apologises for not being able to actually include them in the book’s edition, instead publishing them on his website.
Ferguson argues that the twentieth century was the bloodiest period in human history – adding an interesting appendix to back up this claim. Throughout all – using a dramatist’s touch – he shocks the reader; even those already familiar with the atrocities of the time. Such an example is of a Polish man shot by Ukrainians during the Second World War, a family friend watching the following gruesome fate of his family:
‘First, they raped his wife. Then, they proceeded to execute her by tying her up to a nearby tree and cutting off her breasts. As she hung there bleeding to death, they began to hurl her two-year-old son against the house wall repeatedly until his spirit left his body. Finally, they shot her two daughters. When their bloody deeds were done and all had perished, they threw the bodies into a deep well in front of the house. Then, they set the house ablaze’ (p.456)
Shocking it is, yet that is not its only function in Ferguson’s narrative. As stated, this was the death of a Pole by Ukrainian hands – not that of popularised Nazi on democrat, or Nazi on Jew. Ferguson argues that when society breaks down, as in the case of war, all hell is let loose – the underlying antagonisms (those between culture, religion and race) are unleashed, and sometimes with horrific results. The reason why the first half of the twentieth century was the bloodiest was not one of technology and more potent bombs – if that were so then we would today be nuclear toast – rather, it was due to a world-wide social breakdown.
It is in the book’s conclusion when Ferguson attempts to summarise this understanding, citing Freud’s observations on war and peace. Man, he noted, was made of ‘well known opposites, Love and Hate’. Man has ability to create wonders, but also has the capacity to destroy (what Freud labels the ‘death instinct’). And fatalistically, says we cannot ‘suppress humanity’s aggressive tendencies’.
‘Why do we, you and I and many another, protest so vehemently against war, instead of just accepting it as another of life’s odious importunities? For it seems a natural enough thing, biologically sound and practically unavoidable’ (p.634).
The urges to rape, murder and destroy are suppressed in a civilised, ordered society. When chaos is unleashed, the existing frictions between us provide the spark to propel the explosive. ‘We remain,’ concludes Ferguson, ‘our own worst enemies’ (p.646).
Yet if that is all hot, what is not? That accusations could be made about the covering of old ground has already been mentioned; more exact would be Ferguson’s ultimate inability to successfully tie all the pieces of the story into a co-ordinated knot, such as welding the Japanese war with those in Europe. Of course, this is itself perhaps an impossible task, due to the distances of geography and philosophy. Though it must be stated that many interesting comparisons are drawn up, including that between Hitler’s and Roosevelt’s accession in 1933 (p.223), and that between Britain and Japan’s imperial ambitions (p.285-286). Furthermore, like many historians, Ferguson commits the crime of concentrating too heavily on the Nazis; whilst always falling back on his comfortable economic upbringing, stressing the monetary ties between nations (stressing the pre-1914 globalisation and the Great Crash of 1929). The author takes an accountant’s delight in listing facts and figures, many times dulling the reader, when a sufficient amount would have enlightened.
Simply put, Ferguson has attempted to bite too much of the apple, trying to comment on Britain’s decline, America’s ascent, the fascist regimes, the communist regimes, Third World wars whilst all the time noting racial violence. A book of under a thousand pages could never possibly complete such a task. Therefore, as a combined and continuous "War of the World", it doesn’t stand the weight of scrutiny.
Ferguson’s War of the World is a must read for anyone interested in the wars and horrors of the twentieth century; and more crucially, for those who want an attempt in answering the thought-provoking questions Ferguson never endingly poses to his readers.
Widely noted as one of the eminent British historians of current times, Ferguson has all the hallmarks of a successful writer of enquiry and fact, mixed in with a novelist’s touch for drama. Involved at both Harvard and Oxford, he has made the successful transition to television documentary; his face fitting for today’s multi-media, being snapped on the inside book cover in his confident Del-Monte suit. His writing style is always competent and comprehensive, and at times simply stunning (such as his detailing of Stalin, ‘the most paranoid, untrusting’ individual in modern times trusting Hitler, ‘the most unscrupulous liar in history’ (p.428)). The War of the World is his interpretation on the slaughter and carnage of the two world wars, in which he covers old ground (for example, the attacks on the appeaser and failure that was Neville Chamberlain) whilst amassing a wide range of sources – including many new ones previously untapped. Indeed, the footnotes are so numerous that Ferguson apologises for not being able to actually include them in the book’s edition, instead publishing them on his website.
Ferguson argues that the twentieth century was the bloodiest period in human history – adding an interesting appendix to back up this claim. Throughout all – using a dramatist’s touch – he shocks the reader; even those already familiar with the atrocities of the time. Such an example is of a Polish man shot by Ukrainians during the Second World War, a family friend watching the following gruesome fate of his family:
‘First, they raped his wife. Then, they proceeded to execute her by tying her up to a nearby tree and cutting off her breasts. As she hung there bleeding to death, they began to hurl her two-year-old son against the house wall repeatedly until his spirit left his body. Finally, they shot her two daughters. When their bloody deeds were done and all had perished, they threw the bodies into a deep well in front of the house. Then, they set the house ablaze’ (p.456)
Shocking it is, yet that is not its only function in Ferguson’s narrative. As stated, this was the death of a Pole by Ukrainian hands – not that of popularised Nazi on democrat, or Nazi on Jew. Ferguson argues that when society breaks down, as in the case of war, all hell is let loose – the underlying antagonisms (those between culture, religion and race) are unleashed, and sometimes with horrific results. The reason why the first half of the twentieth century was the bloodiest was not one of technology and more potent bombs – if that were so then we would today be nuclear toast – rather, it was due to a world-wide social breakdown.
It is in the book’s conclusion when Ferguson attempts to summarise this understanding, citing Freud’s observations on war and peace. Man, he noted, was made of ‘well known opposites, Love and Hate’. Man has ability to create wonders, but also has the capacity to destroy (what Freud labels the ‘death instinct’). And fatalistically, says we cannot ‘suppress humanity’s aggressive tendencies’.
‘Why do we, you and I and many another, protest so vehemently against war, instead of just accepting it as another of life’s odious importunities? For it seems a natural enough thing, biologically sound and practically unavoidable’ (p.634).
The urges to rape, murder and destroy are suppressed in a civilised, ordered society. When chaos is unleashed, the existing frictions between us provide the spark to propel the explosive. ‘We remain,’ concludes Ferguson, ‘our own worst enemies’ (p.646).
Yet if that is all hot, what is not? That accusations could be made about the covering of old ground has already been mentioned; more exact would be Ferguson’s ultimate inability to successfully tie all the pieces of the story into a co-ordinated knot, such as welding the Japanese war with those in Europe. Of course, this is itself perhaps an impossible task, due to the distances of geography and philosophy. Though it must be stated that many interesting comparisons are drawn up, including that between Hitler’s and Roosevelt’s accession in 1933 (p.223), and that between Britain and Japan’s imperial ambitions (p.285-286). Furthermore, like many historians, Ferguson commits the crime of concentrating too heavily on the Nazis; whilst always falling back on his comfortable economic upbringing, stressing the monetary ties between nations (stressing the pre-1914 globalisation and the Great Crash of 1929). The author takes an accountant’s delight in listing facts and figures, many times dulling the reader, when a sufficient amount would have enlightened.
Simply put, Ferguson has attempted to bite too much of the apple, trying to comment on Britain’s decline, America’s ascent, the fascist regimes, the communist regimes, Third World wars whilst all the time noting racial violence. A book of under a thousand pages could never possibly complete such a task. Therefore, as a combined and continuous "War of the World", it doesn’t stand the weight of scrutiny.
Ferguson’s War of the World is a must read for anyone interested in the wars and horrors of the twentieth century; and more crucially, for those who want an attempt in answering the thought-provoking questions Ferguson never endingly poses to his readers.
