Will Morrisey Reviews

William Imboden: The Peacemaker. Chapters 10-Epilogue. New York: Dutton, 2025.

 

“We cannot play innocents abroad in a world that’s not innocent,” Reagan told a joint session of Congress in his January 1985 State of the Union address. He thus explained his departure from the Nixon-Kissinger policy of “linkage,” whereby progress in one area of U.S.-Soviet relations “depended on advances in other areas.” In the 1970s, with America in the weaker position, intending to withdraw from Vietnam and to slow a nuclear arms race in which it had fallen behind, there was an argument for that. By the 1980s, however, with the Soviet regime beginning to lose momentum, linkage had become a useful tactic for the Kremlin, which could “hold American priorities hostage” to U.S. concessions. The address advanced what later became known as the “Reagan Doctrine,” the centerpiece of which was explicit support for regime change in Communist countries. This countered the Kremlin strategy, enunciated by Party Chairman Nikita Khruschev in 1962: “Communism will win, not by nuclear war which might destroy the world, not by conventional war which could lead to nuclear war, but by national wars of liberation”—proxy wars aimed at bringing regimes founded upon Marxist-Leninist principles into power. This policy had worked on every continent, but now the regimes so founded were themselves under pressure from anti-Communist revolutionaries. It was time to assist them, as Reagan had been doing all along, but without formally saying so.

The policy would bring even more substantial results than most of those who agreed with it imagined. It nonetheless had “liabilities,” as most policies do: “some of the anti-communist insurgents [America] supported were corrupt and barbarous,” and although the United States could not control their actions it did get blamed for them; “it caused frictions with important allies”; it “depended on public support and congressional backing in a divided nation,” leaving the administration with the “hard choice” of either “allow[ing] more communist advances” or “break[ing] the law.” Afghanistan proved a noteworthy illustration of both the advantages and liabilities of the Reagan Doctrine.  

1985

By now, the Soviets had escalated their attacks on the mujahideen, “signal[ing] to the Reagan team that the previous policy of providing the mujahideen with large amounts of low-grade weapons would only result in more dead Afghans.” That escalation included the use of chemical weapon and napalm on civilians, land mines that also killed and mangled them (including children, who picked up booby-trapped toys), and poison dumped into water supplies and food stocks; the international revulsion against such tactics translated into firmer support for efforts to support the insurgents. But now, America wasn’t Afghanistan’s only ally. Neighboring Pakistan, allied with China against Russia and its nemesis, India, began to support mujahideen raids across the Soviet border. The Paks judged that it was riskier to have the Soviets and their puppet government in Afghanistan to than take actions which might provoke Soviet retaliation against their country. They were also developing nuclear weapons capability, primarily as a counter to India’s arsenal but not incidentally as a signal for the Soviets to proceed with caution. As for Reagan himself, “the affable president could be ruthless in inflicting pain on the Kremlin,” not only in Afghanistan but throughout the world.

In Nicaragua, for example, where American aid to the contras had weak support on Capitol Hill, the visit of President Daniel Ortega to Moscow, during which he received guarantees of increased oil supplies and more technologically advanced weapons, revealed the geopolitical stance underlying his rhetorical pose. “Burned by Ortega’s pilgrimage,” moderate and conservative Democrats tipped the balance toward humanitarian aid to the contras, if not arms supplies. Dollars being fungible, this provided the insurgents with a military boost, reducing costs in one area and enabling more spending in another. Regime change in Brazil, which moved from military rule to republicanism, also received “quiet but instrumental support from the Reagan administration.” In Africa, Reagan targeted the Communist-leaning (and quite corrupt) regime that had come to power in the previous decade, a regime supported by 40,000 Cuban troops and substantial Soviet arms and economic aid. Once again, the magnitude of international Communist support for the regime persuaded Congress to permit aid to UNITA, the insurgent force led by Jonas Savimbi, despite support for them from “South Africa’s odious apartheid regime.” “Though Reagan detested apartheid, he considered his efforts to end it a lower priority than eradicating communism and restoring peace to the entire region.” He did soon call for voting rights for black South Africans, however, after a meeting with Nobel Laureate Desmond Tutu, an Anglican archbishop who served as a leader of anti-apartheid South Africans. Tutu persuaded him that South Africa was on the cusp of reform, and that such reforms would not bring the country into the Soviet camp.

“Virtue was in short supply in southern Africa.” It was in short supply in a lot of places. Reagan kept his eye on his overall strategic aim—bringing the Soviet regime to a “negotiated surrender” in the Cold War—in part by means of “tactical partnerships with communist regimes in China, Yugoslavia, and Mozambique, and anticommunist authoritarians elsewhere.” He well remembered the American alliance not only with Great Britain but with Stalin’s Soviet Union itself against the Axis.

In March, the “dedicated Leninist” Konstantin Chernenko became the latest Soviet gerontocrat to die. The Politburo saw that “problems festered in every direction”: restiveness among the captive nations of Eastern and Central Europe; the American arms buildup; sacrifice of blood and treasure in Afghanistan; China’s continued flirtations with Washington; “an emboldened Japan” that maneuvered its navy against the Soviet Pacific fleet; and, finally, Reagan himself, “presiding over a growing economy and modernized military.” The new Party chairman, Mikhail Gorbachev, “felt the urgent need to reform the party, the state, and the economy,” not least because the Russian people had become listless and resentful, no longer believing in the shining, glorious tomorrow the old Bolsheviks had promised them. Reform of the Soviet regime “would prove an impossible task,” an attempt to “restore legitimacy to a system that by its nature was illegitimate.” One cannot be “both a genuine communist and a genuine reformer”; “Reagan would seize and exploit this contradiction.” Beginning with Comrade Marx himself, Communist propagandists had predicted, with an air of pretended science, that the ‘internal contradictions of capitalism’ would ruin ‘the rule of the bourgeoisie.’ As it happened, the fatal contradictions were on their side, seen especially in the need for a bureaucratic oligarchy to impose social and political equality on—well, everyone else.

Gorbachev agreed to a summit meeting with Reagan in Geneva. In the two years prior to that meeting, the KGB had purged “the small cohort of agents the CIA had recruited inside the Soviet government,” leaving the United States with no ‘inside’ information of what their negotiating partner might be planning. It was a turncoat CIA officer, Aldrich Ames, who had turned over the names of the agents that were still in place at the beginning of the year. Ames had been tasked with overseeing CIA counterintelligence vis-à-vis the Soviets; still another turncoat, this one in the FBI, “betrayed even more American sources.” Neither would be detected until years after the Soviet regime had collapsed. 

At the summit, Gorbachev tried to get Reagan to abandon the Strategic Defense Initiative, which “continued to terrify the Kremlin because Moscow, bedazzled by American technology, believed it could work” and assumed that the Americans would then do what they would have done: blackmail and/or strike the enemy. He threatened Reagan and his team with putting his nuclear warning and triggering system on computers, which would, he intoned, “unleash an uncontrollable process.” Reagan calmly countered with an offer to share SDI technology with the Soviets, a promise which the Gorbachev team could scarcely believe. Gorbachev also tried to put the best possible face on dissent in Russia, dismissing religiosity as the province of the elderly, soon to die. But it turned out that Solzhenitsyn was not alone; there had been “a turn to faith among many young Soviets.” Somewhat contradictorily, Gorbachev plied Reagan with occasional references to God, which Reagan seems to have taken with sufficient seriousness to pressure him to ease off on religious persecution.

1986

“The CIA remained skeptical of the new Soviet leader”—and rightly so. Gorbachev proposed a plan to eliminate “all nuclear weapons in the world by the year 2020,” beginning with a fifty percent reduction of intermediate-range missiles in Europe. The catch was that SDI, too, would be banned and that such an agreement would preserve the Soviet advantage in intercontinental ballistic missiles for fifteen years. Reagan could hardly reject Gorbachev’s offer outright, since he too had called for a worldwide reduction and eventual abolition of nuclear weapons. He concentrated on the steps needed to get there. There was also the matter of the allies, worried that the United States would sell them out; Thatcher, especially, raised questions about Gorbachev, calling him “the same brand of dedicated Soviet communist that we have known in the past,” albeit “under the veneer” of sweet reasonableness. “The search for a world without nuclear weapons holds far more problems for the West than for the Soviet Union,” inasmuch as the Soviets enjoyed a substantial advantage in non-nuclear forces in Europe, Thatcher’s main concern. Reagan accepted the offer of Japanese Prime Minister Nakasone to join in research on SDI, “further rattling a Kremlin already fearful of the American and Japanese edge in technology.” 

Gorbachev did not transform Reagan into an innocent abroad. The president expelled more than a hundred KGB officers from the United States, where they had used their mission to the United Nations as a base of operations for many years. He also increased navy exercises in the Northern Hemisphere and increased aid to the mujahideen in Afghanistan and the contras in Nicaragua. More spectacularly, he ordered an air raid on Libya, terrifying Soviet ally Muhammar Quaddafy, who wisely “curtailed planning for over thirty terrorist plots against American targets in Europe.” As for Gorbachev himself, Reagan told his friend Canadian Prime Minister Brian Mulroney that he would like “to get the General Secretary alone without translators,” to find out if he believed in God and to attempt convert him if he did not. There is no record that he ever made that attempt at any meeting subsequently arranged.

Gorbachev had a more worldly problem before him: the explosion of the nuclear power plant at Chernobyl in April. Not only did this forcefully call attention to Soviet technological deficiencies, not least to Gorbachev himself, it also “displayed the Soviet edifice of deceit.” The local officials didn’t tell Moscow about the disaster; when the Kremlin eventually heard about it, the Soviet people were not told; and “the Politburo lied to the world.” “KBG operatives followed up with an extensive ‘active measures’ campaign to deceive and harass Western journalists while planting false stories and using credulous front groups to deflect Kremlin responsibility.” All of which tended to confirm CIA and Thatcher skepticism about the General Secretary and his associates. As the British prime minister did not fail to note, “Gorbachev has been a public relations star, but this accident has shown his true Soviet colors.” In fact, Imboden writes, following the work of Gorbachev biographer William Taubman, Chernobyl struck Gorbachev as revelatory of his regime’s “rampant incompetence, coverups at all levels, and self-destructive secrecy at the top”; it also made him more mindful of the danger of nuclear weapons, since each missile carried “a hundred Chernobyls.”

Weary of Soviet violations of the SALT II provisions, Reagan suspended U.S. compliance, further pressuring his counterpart. On the arms reduction front, he proposed joint research on SDI. Whereas Gorbachev wanted to end SDI research first and then get rid of offensive weapons, Reagan “flipped this to a new position,” indeed the reverse position: “first embrace SDI and at the same time eliminate offensive weapons,” which would amount to a new kind of arms race, a race “in which both sides competed to protect themselves” and to share their research findings. At the summit meeting in Reykjavik in October, Gorbachev went in fearing amplification of the arms race. This gave Reagan an edge, especially now that he had the rhetorical armament of “Trust, but verify” with which to express skepticism over Soviet arms control bona fides in a diplomatic manner. He also intended to inform Gorbachev that he would “assess the Kremlin’s trustworthiness based in part on its treatment of political and religious dissidents.” Gorbachev, however, understandably did not believe that the U.S. would share research on SDI. The “fierce argument” that followed “masked a fundamental difference” between the two men, namely, that “Gorbachev sought to slash nuclear arms in order to preserve Soviet communism” while “Reagan sought to slash nuclear arms on the way to ending Soviet communism,” inasmuch as “a Soviet Union without its nuclear weapons would be a hollow shell.” When Gorbachev pointed that out, citing Reagan’s “evil empire” speech, Reagan presented him with an instance of its evil, namely, its one-party rule—rule not only over its own people but over the nations it had captured. And indeed, Gorbachev “knew [that] acquiescing to SDI could mean getting ousted by the Kremlin.” He also knew that a continued arms race might well ‘oust’ the Kremlin itself, wreck the regime. And so, he “consigned his country to at least another year of running an arms race that it could not win.” Reagan hadn’t quite checkmated the Soviet grandmasters. He had put them in a losing position, needing to make the right moves to set up the checkmate. 

Those moves were complicated by events elsewhere on the chessboard. In Nicaragua, a Sandinista soldier shot down a cargo plane carrying a CIA agent, who confessed that he was on a mission to resupply the contras in violation of Congressional prohibitions. a few weeks later, a Lebanese magazine published information (“almost certainly leaked by the Iranian government”) that U.S. envoys had proposed to sell arms to Iran in exchange for the release of American hostages held by Hezbollah in Lebanon. The Iranians took the weapons, Hezbollah released the hostages and then seized another set of Americans for ransom. The Ayatollah Khomeini had no intention of thawing relations with the Great Satan, America, but rather intended to defeat Iraq in the ongoing war, thereby advancing the cause of Shi’a Islam against the Sunnis. “Transformed from ill-advised policy to scandal,” the arms-hostages deal “threatened to destroy Reagan’s presidency.” Reagan initially made things worse by reacting a bit like the Kremlin did when confronted with Chernobyl: deny, deny, deny. On top of all that, the Administrator discovered that the executors of the deal, National Security Advisor John Poindexter and NSC staffer Oliver North, had taken profits the arms sales to fund the Contras. Reagan saw to it that both men left office, while refusing to acknowledge, evidently even to himself, that he knew nothing about the original deal. It was indeed “perhaps the only major scandal in presidential history motivated solely by policy goals—and noble ones at that.” This made it all the harder for Reagan to admit error or wrongdoing; “his motives were right, so how could his actions be wrong?” The former were, the latter were not.

1987

Faced with the findings of the commission he had appointed, headed by former Texas senator John Tower, Reagan finally admitted to himself that he had failed. He replaced Poindexter and North with Frank Carlucci, his former deputy secretary of defense, and General Colin Powell. He also got rid of Donald Regan, his chief of staff (who “had sealed his demise by hanging upon on Nancy Reagan during a heated phone call over the president’s schedule,” never the sort of thing to do), replacing him with another former senator, Howard Baker. As importantly, he made a nationally televised address, issuing his first public apology. Americans liked the guy and forgave him. 

After this political recovery, Reagan pressed ahead, ordering that SDI be advanced to the testing stage, ramping up other research on military technology, threatening to increase aid to the mujahideen once again, also increasing the flow of anti-Soviet books, cassettes, and pamphlets to the Soviet bloc. Gorbachev and his colleagues “blinked,” signaling a willingness to abandon their demand to stop SDI. Secretary of State Schultz took the opportunity to advise the General Secretary, whom he knew “still held fast to Marxist dogma,” that Marx’s labor-capital dichotomy “is becoming obsolete because we have entered a world in which the truly important capital is human capital, what people know, how freely they exchange information and knowledge, and the intellectually creative product that emerges.” Your regime, General Secretary, doesn’t allow that. 

For its part, the Iranians chose to apply their own means of pressure on the United States, advancing troops closer to the oil fields in Iraq, mining the Persian Gulf, and attacking the Kuwaiti oil tankers that carried Saudi oil outside the region. Uncowed, Reagan told his NSC staff, “Our Naval Strategy since World War I”—actually before that, during the Theodore Roosevelt administration—has been “to base elements of the fleet all over the world where our national interests are involved,” and that U.S. ships and planes have guarded the international shipping lanes Persian Gulf and Arabian Sea since the mid-1950s. Schultz persuaded the Kuwaiti rulers to put their tankers under U.S., not Soviet protection. 

Reagan also took a tough stand with the Japanese. By guaranteeing safe passage for oil tankers from the Middle East to Japan, he had helped America’s ally. Japan had long been unhelpful, however, when it came to its practice of selling semiconductors in the United States at prices below production cost, thereby expanding its share of the American market. The Japanese had signed an agreement not to do so, then never got round to complying. Reagan put a 100 percent tariff on Japanese consumer electronics, and Americans applauded. He also pressured the South Korean rulers to democratize their regime, emboldening the regime-change protestors there. The protestors could point to the successful regime change in the Philippines, when the Marcos dictatorship finally gave up its rule and the country became a republic. “In many ways,” Imboden remarks, “pushing an autocratic ally to democratize is even harder than promoting democracy in an adversary state,” since the United States depends upon the alliance for assistance in countering even worse regimes. “There is more at stake, and more to be lost, if the ally resists American efforts to support human rights and political reform, or if those efforts so destabilize the country that rival states exploit it from without or violent revolution ensues within. Reagan and Schulz took no small risks in supporting these democratic transitions.” In the event, “the United States-Korea alliance held firm even as the dictatorship crumbled,” showing that a nation did not necessarily need strongman rule to stay secure against enemies foreign and domestic—in this case, the grim reapers of North Korea. And Taiwan also moved toward republicanism. In supporting these predominantly peaceful revolutions, Reagan “sought to expand the perimeters of the free world and display the benefits of accountable governments as a positive alternative to communist despotism,” especially since regime compatibility, when it can be achieved, strengthens alliances. “In contrast, the United States-China-Taiwan triangle would see increased tension as Taiwan’s democracy belied Beijing’s claim that Chines people could not govern themselves,” a claim the Chinese Communist Party had stuck to, to this day. The Chinese also worried—rightfully, from the Communist oligarchy’s point of view—that, as CCP Secretary Deng Xiaoping told Schultz, “Gorbachev may be moving too fast” to sustain the USSR. It was a mistake the Chinese Communists would take care not to commit.

Despite the Iran-Contra scandal, the prospects for Nicaragua improved. When a Sandinista defector “revealed Managua’s plan to grow its army to six hundred thousand troops, funded by a new five-year agreement with the Kremlin that included advanced weapons such as surface-to-air missiles, helicopter gunships, and MiG-21 fighter jets,” Reagan pounced, calling Gorbachev to account at their next meeting held in December at the White House. It transpired that Gorbachev himself hadn’t pushed for the aid, that Kremlin hardliners (the Poindexters and Norths of Bolshevism), had pushed it through over his complaints that it would further deplete “the Kremlin’s coffers.” Later, when the accused Oliver North testified to Congress, admitting his legal wrongdoing, he counterattacked, saying “Congress is to blame because of the fickle, vacillating, unpredictable, on-again off-again policy toward the Nicarguan Democratic Resistance,” inviting “our adversaries [to] laugh at us” and “our friends [to] recoil in horror.” Polling showed that more Americans “now blamed Congress more than Reagan for the scandal.” By the next year, the two Nicaraguan factions entered into a cease-fire agreement. By then, “The Cold War…was beginning to leave Nicaragua behind.”

Gorbachev had been touting reform of the Soviet regime: perestroika or restructuring, somewhat easing the centralization of the state, and glasnost or openness, permitting more criticism of state officials. Very well then, Reagan would follow this logic, saying in a June speech at the Berlin Wall that if “Mr. Gorbachev” really wanted to liberalize, “Tear down this wall.” The U.S. State Department cringed; General Powell wrung his hands; the Washington Post sneered; yet Reagan intended “to test the Soviet leader’s sincerity and credibility,” and would continue to do so, repeating his demand “at least fourteen times over the duration of his presidency.” Adding spiritual insult to political injury, he went on to notice that “decades of state-enforced atheism had not quenched the religious faith of multitudes in the Soviet bloc,” and America was on their side. Within the Kremlin, Gorbachev faced a challenge from rival Boris Yeltsin, who resigned from the Central Committee “while denouncing Gorbachev’s reforms as anemic and ineffective.” Reagan ended the year more assured than ever that the Soviet Union didn’t have much life left in it. The two countries reached agreement on intermediate-range nuclear forces in Europe, while reassuring “nervous NATO allies that the United States maintained some four thousand tactical and short-range nuclear weapons in Europe to deter the Red Army.” 

1988

Reagan’s last year in office saw the Soviets’ withdrawal from Afghanistan and South Africa, in the latter case inducing the Cubans to leave, also. Iran was in better shape, continuing to mine the Persian Gulf. One mine severely damaged a U.S. naval frigate; Reagan returned the favor by destroying two Iranian naval bases and sinking six of its ships—a serious blow, since the ayatollah’s fleet had consisted of only a dozen vessels to begin with. 

Despite signs of Soviet weakness, Thatcher remained vigilant, telling her NATO colleagues, “the Soviets are the more dangerous the more sweetly they talk,” continuing their efforts “at undermining and dividing NATO [and] maintaining military superiority for themselves.” Very well then, Reagan responded in a conversation with his national security operatives, we should “convince our Allies to keep up their defense expenditures,” a bill America was mostly paying for. 

“Few people living under communism believed in it anymore.” The USSR suffered from “financial bankruptcy” along with this “ideological exhaustion.” In a speech at the next summit, in Moscow, Reagan recalled that “we fought two world wars in my lifetime against Germany and one with Japan, but now the Federal Republic of Germany and Japan are two of [America’s] closest allies and friends.” As reported by American diplomat Eric Edelman, the point was not lost on Muscovites, the oligarchy’s officials and the commoners alike. A month after Vice President George H. W. Bush won the election that determined Reagan’s successor, Gorbachev announced substantial troop and materiel reductions in Europe. A few years later, the Soviet empire collapsed, validating Deng’s warning and vindicating Reagan’s longtime prediction. In one last public speech as a private man, Reagan issued a warning of his own. He told those gathered at the Oxford Union, “With the Soviet empire defeated will we fall into petty, self-absorbed economic rivalries? Will we squander the moral capital of half a century? Will we turn inward, lulled by a dangerous complacency and the short-sighted view that the end of one Evil Empire means the permanent banishment of evil in all its forms?” As a serious Christian, Reagan knew that evil never foes away. As a statesman, he knew that victory in the First World War did not stop fascists and communists from seizing power; he knew that victory in the Second World War led to the advance of Soviet troops in Europe. Speaking to young men and women who would long outlive him, he concluded, “The work of freedom is never done and the task of the peacemaker is never complete.”

 

 

William Imboden: The Peacemaker: Ronald Reagan, the Cold War, and the World on the Brink. Chapters 1-9. New York: Dutton, 2022.

 

To call President Ronald Reagan a “Peacemaker” during his terms in office would have surprised, indeed outraged, many Americans on the Left, who called him a dangerous warmonger. One of their reasons for doing so was his deployment of the “Peacekeeper,” his name for the MX nuclear missile, a land-based missile equipped with multiple warheads, capable of striking the Soviet Union from the continental United States. Imboden shows how the “Peacekeeper,” along with other weapons built during Reagan’s tenure, served the purposes of a sincere and effective “Peacemaker”—one who actually abhorred the prospect of nuclear war and made every effort to prevent it from happening. He pursued “peace through strength.”

Imboden gives a chronological account of the last decade of the Cold War. Reagan had a knack for making things look easy. To the extent possible, he actually made surviving a murder attempt look easy. But neither that nor anything else about those years came easily, and a narration of the sequence of events proves an excellent way to show how difficult it all was, how much practical intelligence it took to implement Reagan’s strategy, which he famously described as “We win, they lose.” American victory “was not geopolitically foreordained.”

He begins with an overall account of that strategy, which consisted of “eight pillars”: “restoring the American economy as a foundation of national strength and morale”; “delegitimizing Communism as a system of government”; “building up and modernizing America’s military”; “supporting anticommunist insurgencies around the world”; “making ‘mutual assured destruction’ (MAD) obsolete through the Strategic Defense Initiative”; “promoting human rights and freedom around the world, especially in the Soviet bloc”; “pressuring the Soviet system into producing a reformist leader with whom Reagan could negotiate”; “reducing the number of nuclear weapons in the world—with the hope of abolishing nuclear weapons entirely.” In building these pillars, he sought the assistance of allies, who were not always easy to bring along, although in the end their voluntary if often reluctant cooperation proved more useful than the coerced conformity of the nations within the Soviet empire. Throughout, as Imboden emphasizes, “no options were free of the taint of risk,” which is a “perpetual challenge of statecraft.” And these risks were not only physical but moral, since Reagan often needed to ally with “authoritarian regimes” in order to defeat the main enemy. This was especially difficult because the Cold War was a regime struggle and Reagan presented it that way, “promot[ing] the better of model of free societies” against Soviet oligarchy. 

Announcing his presidential candidacy in November 1979 (his third attempt at gaining the Republican Party nomination), Reagan emphasized not the Cold War but the need for a “North American accord”—free trade among the United States, Mexico, and Canada. He did this because economic weakness was the principal concern of Americans, their lives bedeviled by high unemployment and inflation, called ‘stagflation.’ He also “believed that a free and prosperous North American held the key to the United States’ power projection in the world.” That is, he thought of American foreign policy from the inside out. Internationally, circumstances were not auspicious. In Iran, revolutionary Shi’a clergy had ousted the Shah, a longtime American ally against the Soviets and taken U.S. embassy staff hostage. Almost simultaneously, the Soviet army had invaded Afghanistan. Throughout the decade of the 1970s, the Soviets had advanced their interests by subverting the regimes of American allies and installing their own proxy rulers, adding to their existing empire in Eastern and Central Europe. 

Reagan did not formulate his interest in economic strength as his foreign policy’s foundation on his own. In a conversation in the mid-1960s, ex-president Dwight Eisenhower had recalled to him the indispensable character of U.S. industrial power during the Second World War. Eisenhower also told him that the best use of military strength consists of winning without fighting a war at all. Surprisingly to those who never watched Eisenhower very carefully, he preferred Reagan to his former vice-president, Richard Nixon, whom he had used mostly as a rhetorical attack dog and intra-Party fixer in the 1950s. He may also have trusted Reagan more, sensing greater strength of character in a man many dismissed as an intellectually superficial and somewhat frivolous former Hollywood actor. Nixon and Reagan did take noticeably different approaches to foreign policy. While Reagan considered free trade as “a fundamental principle in its own right and a key pillar of the free societies he sought to promote,” Nixon regarded “international economic policy as a mere instrument subordinate to geopolitics.” More or less in line with that, Nixon regarded communist China as “the strategic key” to Asia, whereas Reagan made Japan “the strategic cornerstone” of his policy there. As a devotee of Realpolitik, Nixon “disdained the promotion of human rights and democracy,” while Reagan “put political and religious liberty at the center of his strategic priorities.” Finally, while Nixon made detente with the Soviets the centerpiece of his foreign policy, Reagan was detente’s “most prominent critic.” Nixon and his National Security Advisor, then Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, assumed that the Soviet rulers had abandoned Marxist-Leninist ideology; they had not. They assumed that the Soviet economy was viable; it was not. They believed that “moderated American policies could change Moscow’s’ international conduct”; they did not. And they assessed the Soviet regime to be stable, durable: not necessarily so. Nixon, along with his successors in the presidency, Gerald Ford and Jimmy Carter, imagined that the treaties limiting the construction of nuclear weapons would work; this, too, was an illusion. Reagan did want arms control treaties, but only on the basis of a Russian saying he learned from an American student of Russian culture: ‘Trust, but verify.’ And the treaty conditions he wanted to verify were not those merely controlling the rate in which both countries were building their stockpiles of nuclear weapons but treaties that would require the reduction of those stockpiles and eventually eliminated nuclear weapons entirely. The prospect of retaliating against a Soviet nuclear attack with a counterattack that would kill millions of innocents sickened Reagan. At the same time, he understood that the Soviet rulers felt no such compunction. And so he concentrated on “building up American power to exploit Soviet weaknesses and force Moscow” to come to terms. Unlike his critics in America and among America’s allies, he had no illusions that the Soviets wanted peace, except on their own terms, which were antithetical to moral and political liberty.

President Carter exemplified the complacency of American Left-liberals, who had often inclined to excessive confidence in the good intentions of those farther to the Left than they. In Nicaragua, the Marxist ‘Sandinista’ regime had overthrown a right-wing thug named Anastasio Somoza Debayle. Carter and his advisers imagined that the Sandinistas were well-intentioned reformers. Reagan and his advisers correctly recognized them “as the vanguard of Marxism coopting Nicaragua and menacing the region,” allied with Castro’s Cuba and therefore with the Soviets. As it happened, the regime “would soon give up the pretense of pluralism” and “begin supporting communist insurgencies” in Central America, as predicted by Reagan campaign adviser Roger Fontaine. To this hard-headed analysis, Reagan would add support for regional governments “that answered to their citizens rather than abusing them”—abuse of citizens being what the Somoza regime had done, and what had made him vulnerable to removal. Carter’s misjudgments exasperated members of his own party; such Democrats as Jeane Kirkpatrick, Elliot Abrams, Richard Perle, Eugen Rostow, Paul Wolfowitz, and Paul Nitze eventually served in the Reagan Administration, indispensably. 

“In fairness to Carter,” Inboden cites his belated efforts to reverse course. Carter did in fact withdraw from the second strategic arms limitation treaty from Senate consideration, increase military spending, including funding for such new missile systems as the MX. He also signed off on “numerous covert actions to counter Soviet advances in the Third World,” including not only Nicaragua but Grenada, Jamaica, El Salvador, Yemen, and Afghanistan, where he sent arms to the Islamists who were fighting against the Soviet invaders. These measures came too late to help him politically, but they did give Reagan “some policies and programs on which to build” upon taking office in January 1980. 

1981

Reagan’s accession to the White House perturbed the Kremlin. The KGB assessment described the new president as representative of “the most conservative, chauvinist, and bellicose part of American politics,” a man who had the nerve to press “for the restoration of American world leadership after the defeat in Vietnam.” As for themselves, the Soviets “had begun saying that the USSR could absorb millions of casualties and still win a nuclear war, especially as its larger arsenal could survive an American retaliatory strike”—an unspoken acknowledgment of the fact that the Soviets had indeed survived the loss of millions inflicted upon Russia by the Leninist and Stalinist mass murders of the Twenties and Thirties, and millions more inflicted by the Nazis in World War II. More modestly, “Moscow hoped to use its growing military superiority to gain diplomatic advantage over Washington and induce further American retreat in the face of communist advances around the world.” That hope proved unfounded because the Soviets weren’t so strong, Americans not so weak and, crucially, because Reagan knew both of those things. Andrew Marshall, who headed the Office of Net Assessment at the Defense Department, estimated the USSR’s GNP as twenty-five percent of America’s, with its military absorbing thirty to forty percent of that. The problem was that “even if over the long term the Soviet system appeared unsustainable, in the near term the Kremlin was ahead.” The solution was to “impose disproportionate costs on the USSR,” starting immediately. So, for example, although the Soviets enjoyed a three-to-one superiority in the number of submarines, the U.S. advantage in “quieting technologies and sensory capabilities…enabled them to both detect and evade” the Soviet forces undersea. The Soviets’ vast superiority in tank numbers, threatening Europe, could not translate into superiority in tank warfare because the United States developed tank-killing aircraft. The qualitative power of technology could counter quantitative power of industrial production.

The Politburo did not yet see that, however. KGB director and future Communist Party Secretary Yuri Andropov understood that detente “had been advantageous to the Kremlin.” Now that Reagan was president, those halcyon days were gone, and it might even be that he would launch a first strike at the Soviet Union; “this misperception made the Soviets prone to misinterpret other American actions” and “more inclined to order a preemptive strike of their own.” They probably ordered a ‘first strike’ on Pope John Paul II, who was targeted for assassination by “a Turkish gunman…likely sponsored by the KGB.” The pope had committed the sin of opposing Soviet domination of his native Poland and of other countries in that region. Reagan himself had nearly died at the hands of a would-be assassin who was, however, merely deranged, no agent of a foreign power. “That they both survived bonded them in a sort of providential kinship,” which very much included plans for accelerating their campaigns against the Soviet Union.

By mid-year, Reagan confronted “three urgent questions”: What would he do about the Soviet deployment of intermediate-range nuclear missiles aimed at America’s European allies? What would he do about the plans of some of those allies to collaborate with the Soviets on a pipeline designed to supply Western Europe with Soviet oil and gas? And how far would he go to support the Polish independence movement, Solidarity? 

The pipeline would provide the Kremlin with revenues and make the allies dependent upon it for their energy supplies. With an eye on the other two matters, Reagan chose to object to the pipeline without doing anything about it, for now. He sent emergency relief to Poland, combating the Kremlin’s economic squeeze on the country, where the Soviets’ puppet regime had declared martial law. British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, now remembered as a loyal Reagan ally, dismissed the Polish crisis as “simply an internal situation,” conceivably not knowing any better. He did advise the pope that he intended to build up America’s nuclear stockpile in order to force them to negotiate nuclear arms reductions later on—the logic being that the Soviets knew that they couldn’t keep pace with any serious American effort. As for the Allies, he demanded “an absolute quarantine of all trade as President Roosevelt had proposed in 1938” against Nazi Germany. This was the first serious challenge by an American president to the legitimacy of the Soviet regime and its empire since the Coolidge Administration. 

In the Western Hemisphere, Reagan chose El Salvador as the place “to stop communism’s advance and restore American credibility in the region.” El Salvador’s politically centrist president, José Napoleon Duarte, faced insurrections from communists and neo-fascists alike, the leftist Farabundo Martí National Liberation Front (FMLN) had the predictable Soviet backing; a “former military officer and sadistic killer,” Roberto d’Aubuisson, headed a coalition of rightists. D’Aubuisson had no important international support, but “Communist regimes around the world had chosen Central Ameria as a priority front,” calling it the “soft underbelly” of the United States. Sensitive to Latin American suspicions of American intervention in the region, Reagan sent a modest amount of aid to Duarte’s regime, including a handful of military trainers. “The symbolism mattered more than the size.” Reagan had taken “the first step in what would become not just a larger aid program for El Salvador but an eight-year immersion in Central America’s Cold War.” Here, too, he had the pope’s backing, and useful it was in that predominantly Roman Catholic landscape. For their part, the KGB targeted such liberal American religious bodies as the National Council of Churches, which dutifully (or perhaps dupefully) organized demonstrations against U.S. aid to El Salvador in front of the White House. 

In Asia, Japanese politicians had long resisted building up their own military, having reacted to the militarism which led to Japan’s crushing defeat in the war. Reagan continued the Nixon-Ford-Carter policy of selling arms to Communist China, so long as “the weapons did not threaten Taiwan and could not be used against the United States.” He considered both the PRC and the ROC as “partners” in achieving “his main priority: defeating the Soviet Union and bringing the Cold War to a peaceful end.” And in the Middle East, Israel struck a nuclear reactor in Iraq, then a Soviet ally, while Reagan mollified the Saudis by selling arms to them; the Saudis were no friends of Israel, but they were anti-Iraqi, anti-Communist, and an important oil supplier to the United States and Western Europe. “I didn’t want Saudi Arabia to become another Iran,” Reagan explained—that is, another rightist monarchy vulnerable to overthrow by anti-American fanatics, whether Communist or Muslim. He “wanted to send a signal to our allies and to Moscow that the United States supported its friends and intended to exert an influence in the Middle East not just limited to our support for Israel.”

1982

The year began with an important appointment: Reagan replaced the ineffectual Richard Allen with a capable man he trusted, William Clark, at the National Security Agency. “In short order [Clark] would become the most influential of Reagan’s national security advisors and one of the most important—albeit least remembered—national security advisers in history.” Later, he replaced mercurial and none-too-loyal Alexander Haig with steady George Schultz as Secretary of State. After a shaky first year, his foreign policy team was shaping up. For its part, the CIA issued reports indicating that Soviet economic growth had fallen substantially in the first years of the decade while subsidies to Warsaw Pact countries had increased more than fivefold since 1975. More, Kremlin cash reserves were dropping, as Saudi production lowered the worldwide price of oil, one of the most important Soviet commodities, and the inefficiencies of Soviet agriculture forced increasing grain purchases from foreign countries. “While Reagan’s national security team believed the Soviet regime was brittle, they differed on just how brittle it was.” Yet all of them diverged from the dominant view, which “saw the Soviet Union as stable and resilient.” Nonetheless, it was “militarily more powerful than ever,” even as its rulers continued to fear any American buildup as an unanswerable threat to that power. Reagan’s Director of East European and Soviet Affairs at the NSC, historian Richard Pipes, prepared a report for the president emphasizing the inherently expansionist character of Communism while remarking the crisis in the Soviet Union itself brought on by that expansion and the regime’s ever-increasing inability to pay the expenses incurred by it. Although no one in the Soviet ruling class intended to change the regime, the somewhat more reform-minded persons within it might be strengthened if the United States and its allies increased “the costs of [Soviet] imperialism.” Reagan concurred. He also endorsed Pipes’s intention not merely to influence Soviet behavior (as State Department officials usually tried to do) but to change the regime that produced Soviet behavior. “Reagan’s strategy of targeting the Soviet system itself may seem obvious in hindsight. But at the time it was risky, controversial, ridiculed by many, seen as revolutionary by others. No previous president had tried it.” Unnoticed at the time, Reagan sought not to achieve the unconditional surrender FDR and the Allies had won from the Axis powers in World War II but a “negotiated surrender,” whereby the Soviets would relinquish their empire, end its support for communist revolutions in the Third World, halt the nuclear arms race, and liberalize internally. None of this would happen soon, of course, some of it never, really, in the long term. In November, Party Secretary Leonid Brezhnev died, replaced by KGF war horse Andropov. 

In Europe, Reagan grew a bit closer to Prime Minister Thatcher, backing her military retaliation against Argentina, which had seized the Falkland Islands, then delivering a major speech at her invitation to the British Parliament in the summer. He also found a firm anti-communist ally in the newly elected Chancellor of West Germany, Helmut Kohl. These political friendships proved important because Reagan wanted to place intermediate-range ballistic missiles in Europe, so that NATO could counter the Soviet nuclear buildup, and the well-organized European Left would exert substantial pressure against that policy for the next two years. 

In Central America, Reagan lacked such reliable allies against the Communists. “Divided, plagued with ineptitude, and pocked with war criminals,” the El Salvador government was a weak reed. The Nicaraguan Contras “suffered similar maladies” and its insurgency against the Sandinistas had stalled. In Guatemala, a military government “became so barbaric in slaughtering its own people” in its ham-fisted resistance to Communist insurgents that Reagan could offer it “only token support.” Overall, he provided economic assistance, covert action, but no combat troops to America’s allies in the region. At Reagan’s insistence, El Salvador did hold national elections, which exposed the Communists to be “lacking in popular support.” Unfortunately, d’Aubuisson’s ARENA party won a majority of the vote; it took an energetic behind-the-scenes efforts by Americans to install a moderate as the new president. Rightist terrorism continued, but at least Duarte agreed to relinquish the presidency, “setting an important precedent for Salvadorean democracy.” For his part, Reagan increasingly saw that “right-wing authoritarians made bad partners,” and that “promoting democracy and human rights with friend and foe alike” was not only more consistent but quite possibly more practical.

He also learned something about Arab politics. The Palestine Liberation Organization had been active across the border from Israel in Lebanon. Reagan’s negotiator, Philip Habib, found that “his challenge was not just to persuade the PLO to leave Lebanon but also to persuade other countries to take them.” As it happened, despite “Arab leaders’ braying support for the PLO,” they well knew that the PLO and its Soviet-allied leader, Yasir Arafat were “troublemakers” whom they had no appetite to admit to their countries. Habib did manage to get the PLO out, encouraging Reagan to attempt a settlement of the Arab-Israeli dispute. None of the parties involved liked the Reagan Plan, which would have required Israel to stop its settlement of Judea and Samaria and grant Palestinians “self-government” if not quite sovereignty over parts of the area (thereby angering the Israelis) without requiring Israel to withdraw to the borders it had prior to winning the Six-Day War, “anger[ing] many Arab leaders.” Ensuing negotiations went nowhere. “Reagan never built close personal ties with any Middle Eastern leaders”; there were no Communist regimes in the region, “except destitute South Yemen,” but neither were there any Arab states “receptive to appeals to democracy and free enterprise.” No one was ready to sign a treaty.

Domestically and in Western Europe, Reagan’s proposed arms buildup provoked the ‘nuclear freeze’ movement, which called for the United States and the Soviet Union to halt any additions to their nuclear stockpiles. Since the ‘freeze’ obviously advantaged the Soviets, who possessed a much newer set of nuclear weapons than the U.S. and its allies, the movement was self-defeating, but of course that made it quite appealing to the Soviet Union, which ordered the KGB into action with financial and organizational support of naive and frightened citizens in the democracies. A June demonstration turned out three quarters of a million protestors in New York city, the “largest gathering in the city’s history.” There could of course be nothing similar in the oligarchic regimes of the Soviet bloc. What the protestors “failed to appreciate is that Reagan feared and detested nuclear weapons as much as they did…. It is just that Reagan detested Soviet communism even more.”

Of even more substantial concern for Reagan was the U.S. economy, which was undergoing a major recession. His economic policies were in place, and they would work. But not yet. In the Congressional elections, the opposition Democratic Party gained 26 seats in the House of Representatives, one in the Senate. The Democrats also netted seven governorships. Wishful thinkers on the Left hoped to oust the president himself in the next election cycle, and that was not an unreasonable expectation at the time.

1983

By now, Reagan’s Asia strategy had been set and serious diplomacy in the region could begin. The strategy consisted of five “strategic triangles”— groups of three countries allied on some well-defined basis, whether moral, political, economic, military, or some combination thereof. The first of these consisted of the U.S., Japan, and Australia—commercial republics. The second was primarily military: the U.S., Japan, and South Korea, which at that time was not a republic. It aimed at containing Soviet expansion into the Pacific Rim, the Soviets having been the principal ally of North Korean during the peninsular war. The third was military and to some extent diplomatic; the U.S., Communist China, and Japan needed to coordinate their efforts against the Soviets despite the acknowledged regime rivalry between China and the other partners. The fourth, “the triangle of the Taiwan Strait” (U.S., Communist China, Taiwan) “delivered more headaches than benefits,” as the United States navigated the tensions between Beijing and Taipei while trying to maintain stable relations with both. As assistant secretary of state for East Asia Paul Wolfowitz explained, “The best way to rebalance relations with China [was] to make them realize that Japan [was] number one and [we wouldn’t] give awa anything more on Taiwan.” Finally, “the strategic triangle” of the U.S., China, and the Soviet Union was intended to keep communications among the three rivals open, to prevent a world war and to manage the crises that would likely occur. 

Having survived the ‘nuclear freeze’ movement and the Congressional elections it was intended to influence, Reagan sharpened his critique of the Soviet regime and continued his military buildup. In one of his most famous speeches, delivered in March at the annual meeting of the National Association of Evangelicals, Reagan called the Soviet Union an “empire of evil.” Predictably, that phrase “offended American liberals and outraged the Kremlin.” It also “inspired the victims of Soviet tyranny,” including the imprisoned dissident Anatoly Sharansky, who tapped out the phrase in code to his fellow inmates after reading it in a spluttering Pravda editorial. On the military front, Reagan pushed ahead with his Strategic Defense Initiative—a planned system of anti-missile missiles intended to provide a shield against nuclear attack. This was another instance of the Administration’s quality-over-quantity approach to the arms race, each element of which would “neutralize Soviet weapons capabilities, bedevil Soviet planners, impose costs on the Soviet economy, pressure the Soviet system, and strengthen Reagan and Schultz’s hands at diplomacy.” “Reagan sought to outsmart the Soviets as much as outspend them.” The Soviet shoot-down of a South Korean passenger airliner that had inadvertently violated Soviet air space reminded Americans and the citizens of allied countries that the Moscow regime tended to shoot first, ask questions later.

Resistance to Soviet inroads in Latin America also intensified. Suriname had become the first South American country to align itself with the Soviet Union, following a coup by the Marxist Dési Bouterse in 1980. Although small, Suriname was big enough to hold a base for Soviet surveillance aircraft and, in the words, of National Security Advisor Clark, “the potential to control the Southern Caribbean and endanger shipping lanes.” Wary of military intervention in view of the likelihood of “regional backlash,” Reagan persuaded Brazil to pressure Suriname to back away from the Soviets and their Cuban allies. 

Fears of Latin American reaction did not deter Reagan from ordering the invasion of Grenada, an island country off the Venezuelan coast, in October. Grenada had become independent from the British Empire nine years earlier, remaining in the Commonwealth. Its Marxist prime minister, Maurice Bishop, had formally maintained a non-aligned position in the Cold War, although in fact he allied with Cuba after his New Jewel Movement ousted a corrupt predecessor. Bishop resisted pressure from hardliners in his party to align openly with the Soviet bloc, earning him overthrow and murder. His government was building an airport capable of accommodating Soviet aircraft at the time of the intra-Communist coup. The American invasion left Queen Elizabeth II unamused and infuriated Prime Minister Thatcher, although she supported it publicly. “The invasion unearthed a hive of Soviet bloc personnel active on Grenada, including 800 Cuban troops, 49 Soviet advisors, 15 North Koreans, 10 East Germans, 17 Libyans (the tyrant Muhammar Quaddafy aligned with Moscow), and 3 Bulgarians. Captured documents confirmed that the Soviet Union, Cuba, and North Korea “had embarked on major military assistance programs to Grenada.” Almost immediately following the invasion and removal of the Communist regime, the U.S. agreed to install a government headed by the British governor-general; “an election restored full democracy the next year.” This was “America’s first use of ground troops in combat since Vietnam and the first fighting by the all-volunteer force since the end of the draft in 1973.” Domestic critics of the American military took note. So did foreigners. The successful invasion also counterbalanced the shock of the terrorist attack on a Marine Corps barracks in Lebanon, which had occurred only a few days earlier. They had been inserted after the Israeli withdrawal and were intended to guard the country against renewed sectarian violence, a mission that obviously had proved too much for such a slender force. The perpetrators of that assault were members of a then-shadowy group called Islamic Jihad, later renamed Hezbollah.

1984

By this re-election year, the American economy had recovered from the recession without sparking any serious inflation. Reagan was heading for a landslide victory at the polls, the only lingering question being his mental status which, his enemies persisted in claiming, at best verged on senility. Both they and the foreign statesman with whom he dealt eventually discovered otherwise. 

Early in the year, Secretary of State Schultz met with his counterpart, the old Soviet war horse Andrei Gromyko, whom he described as “a man of dignity and intelligence” who “believed in Marxist dogma he preached,” including the assurance that world peace was achievable as soon as “all the world turned communist.” Schultz added, “That was clearly not happening.” Reagan followed up on this diplomatic outreach without deflecting his administration from the military buildup and political pressure that promised to make his diplomacy effective. Delay occurred when Andropov died his unregretted death, replaced by Konstantin Chernenko. When Vice President George H. W. Bush met with him, he came away with the false impression that the United States could make progress in arms negotiations. But Chernenko turned out to be still another Party hack. The CIA’s director, William Casey, had a more realistic assessment, predicting that Chernenko would be the last Stalinist-era Party Chairman, and that subsequent chairmen would be less hidebound. Meanwhile, the KGB did its best to interfere with the American elections and failed. False claims included the lie that the United States had developed the AIDs virus. 

While the Kremlin remained mired in its reality-skewing Marxist distortions, Reagan saw the enemy regime quite clearly. He told Chancellor Kohl, “The Soviets seem to have created an aristocracy such as the one they overthrew.” He elaborated in a conversation with British Foreign Secretary Geoffrey Howe: “The Soviets have created their own aristocracy, and are primarily interested in maintaining the power of that aristocracy.” For a man often judged to be in his dotage, he remained unusually clear-headed.

Looking to the future, Howe’s boss, Prime Minister Thatcher, met with Mikhail Gorbachev, widely and rightly expected to be the Party Chairman in waiting. “I certainly found him a man one could do business with.” Gorbachev focused his diplomatic attack on the planned SDI system, which Thatcher also opposed, privately. Gorbachev “detected [this] as an alliance rift that he might exploit.” When she took her doubts to Reagan, however, he remained firm, insisting “that SDI would work and that it was central to his dream of escaping the insanity of mutual assured destruction.” As Schultz put it, “We may be moving from…mutually assured destruction to mutually assured defense.” A CIA analysis concluded that the Soviet Union simply could not afford to “compete successfully” with the United States in this are because they were a long way from developing the high-grade computers necessary to operate such a complex system.

Central America saw advances in El Salvador, setback in Nicaragua. Vice President Bush was detailed to deliver “a blunt message” to the military: “immediately cease terrorism, extrajudicial killing, and other death squad activity, or Reagan would terminate all American aid.” The officers capitulated. The administration successfully to pressure Congress, he delivered a televised address to the American people, reporting the $4.9 billion in aid to Cuba and Nicaragua from other members of the Soviet bloc. This would have worked, except that a CIA attempt to mine the harbor at Corinto and other port cities resulted in damage to ships from friendly countries. “Congress immediately passed a law forbidding any future mining operations, and House Majority [James] Wright led ten congressional Democrats in writing a fawning letter to Ortega” criticizing “those responsible for supporting violence against your government.” On top of that, Congress banned the use of U.S. funds to the Contras, and Reagan needed to abandon “any notions of overthrowing the Sandinista government.” He turned instead to a plan for a “negotiated settlement that would wean Managua from the Soviet and Cuban orbit,” enhancing an already existing lineup of Latin American countries which aimed at promoting democracy there. Some elements of his administration refused to relinquish efforts to arrange military aid. The new National Security Adviser Robert “Bud” McFarlane approached Saudi ambassador to the United States, Prince Bandar, to provide aid to the Contras—the “small first step toward what would become the biggest scandal of Reagan’s presidency,” the ‘Iran-Contra Affair,’ which was implemented and exposed in Reagan’s second term.

The main initiative in Asia was Reagan’s visit to China in April. By this time, both countries had “shed the illusory hopes each had cultivated in the previous decade, whether Beijing’s dream that the United States would jettison Taiwan entirely, or Washington’s ambition that a United States-China partnership would by itself transform the region.” While Chinese Party Chairman Deng Xiaoping had introduced some economic liberalization to the regime, this was nothing more ambitious than Lenin’s efforts in 1920s Russia: an attempt to bring in ‘capitalist’ investments to prop up the existing regime. Reagan remained focused on stepping on the paws of the Soviet bear, agreeing to increased “cooperation between the two governments on intelligence, arms sales, and trade” while remaining more closely allied with Japan. 

In the Middle East, Reagan cut America’s losses in Lebanon. Pope John Paul II regretted the withdrawal of the Marines to ships offshore Beirut, correctly expecting “an orgy of bloodletting” against Maronite Christians. The problem was that the American strategy had depended upon making the Lebanese army into a solid fighting force capable of protecting the country. But the army was hopelessly riven by the same factions that plagued the nation as a whole. Absent a massive influx of American and allied forces, nothing could be done; such an effort being out of the question, nothing was done and Lebanon descended into the misery it has suffered every decade since then.

In the ongoing war between Saddam Hussein’s Iraq and the Iranian mullah regime, Reagan continued to back the tyrant Hussein—reluctantly, preferring a stalemate. His strategic purpose in the region was to keep “other hostile powers out of the region while preserving the stable energy supplies on which the United States and its allies depended.” This straightforward approach was complicated by the fact that “the gulf monarchies” that produced the oil wanted to keep U. S. aid secret, lest they inflame the passions of the more radical Muslims in the region, “while NATO members and Japan wanted the benefits of secure oil without paying the costs.” As elsewhere, “allies were hard to live with but harder to live without.”

 

 

 

 

Jonathan Neumann: To Heal the World? How the Jewish Left Corrupts Judaism and Endangers Israel. New York: All Points Books, 2018.

 

‘Social justice’ has become a code word for socialism. Socialism requires the redistribution of wealth, as Neumann puts it, “in order to achieve economic egalitarianism” and, he sees, to achieve social egalitarianism as well. It is a “political ideology”; if not necessarily any one kind of regime, in practice it has inclined toward tyranny and oligarchy. In recent decades, this ideology “has become embedded in all aspects of American Judaism–including education and worship at all ages,” to the point that many congregations discourage the traditional Jewish practice of charity because it deflects attention from the supposed “root causes” of inequality, typically ascribed to ‘capitalism.’ The “bible of Jewish social justice” is a collection of essays titled Righteous Indignation: A Jewish Call for Justice, edited by Rabbi Or N. Rose of Hebrew College, Jo Ellen Kaiser of the Jewish News of Northern California, and Rabbi Margie Klein. The Hebrew term adapted for the purposes of socialist ideology is tikkun olam, held up as “a divine commandment” and indeed “Judaism’s first principle and most fundamental message.” Neumann denies that it has any foundation in Judaism at all. “It was conceived by Jews who had rejected the faith of their fathers and midwifed by radicals who saw it as a pretext to appropriate Jewish texts and corrupt religious rituals…to further political ends.” Neumann intends “to slaughter the sacred cow of tikkun olam.”

In preparation for this, Neumann recounts the history of the efforts of some American Jews to reconfigure Judaism, beginning with the Reform Judaism of the 1880s. The Reform movement had roots in Europe—specifically, in the emancipation of Jews, hitherto confined to ghettos, that commenced in the late eighteenth century. Although Enlightenment philosophes often despised religion, in their political writings they propounded religious toleration, and eventually European politicians followed through on it. Jews responded to their new circumstance in several ways. Orthodox Jews “either rejected modernity and retreated back into the ghettos or began to seek ways to sustain observance of Jewish law while living in gentile society.” Others assimilated into that society, either as secularists (many becoming businessmen) or as Christian converts. Still others became socialists. And some “looked to remake Judaism in order to facilitate easier integration into local society.” To do that, they abandoned the centuries old Jewish aspiration to return to the Land of Israel, to Zion, and embraced the nationalism that prevailed in Europe during and after the Napoleonic Wars. In Germany, where Reform took hold most vigorously, “Berlin was the new Zion, Germany the new Promised Land, and the new role of Jews–their new Torah, as it were–was to serve as a local model of the universalist ethics of the great German philosopher Immanuel Kant.” Kant hardly derived his categorical imperative from the Bible (he called for the “euthanization” of Judaism), but the Protestant theologian Julius Wellhausen, a follower, “argued that the great contribution of ancient Israelite religion was the universal ethical message of its prophets.” A purely ethical Judaism would eschew Jewish ritual and even Jewish law, along with Jewish particularism, becoming a sort of Protestantism without Christ. In the United States of the nineteenth century, “Reform Judaism gradually made inroads and eventually became the dominant denomination, a status it still retains.”

The leading figure of American Reform Judaism was Rabbi Isaac Mayer Wise, who had emigrated to the United States from Bohemia in 1846. Wise and his colleagues were troubled by the traditional claims of Jewish chosenness, which “could not be reconciled with their drive to eliminate differences between themselves and their compatriots.” Accordingly, they rejected the doctrine of chosenness along with “the hope in a messianic restoration of the Jews to the Land of Israel and of the Davidic kingdom there”; they also rejected restoration’s secular, nationalist counterpart, political Zionism. They eschewed the term ‘synagogue’ for Jewish houses of worship, preferring ‘temple.’ “Rather than promote and celebrate Jewish difference, the new messianic aim of the Jewish People was the union of all the children of God.” According to the Reformers’ Pittsburgh Platform of 1885, “We consider ourselves no longer a nation, but a religious community, and therefore expect neither a return to Palestine, nor a sacrificial worship under the sons of Aaron, nor the restoration of any of the laws concerning the Jewish state.” Instead, “we deem it our duty to participate in the great task of modern times, to solve, on the basis of justice and righteousness, the problems presented by the contrasts and evils of the present organization of society.”

Initially, the Reformers partook of the nationalist liberalism popular in the nineteenth century. By the early twentieth century, however, they hearkened to the democratic-socialist precepts Social Gospel Christianity propounded. The Social Gospel demanded not so much church-based charity but “coercive philanthropy,” whereby the modern state took on many of the charitable services churches had traditionally undertaken. That is, the Social Gospel consisted of a superficially Christianized Hegelianism, teaching (in the words of its proponent, Richard T. Ely, that “if anything on earth is divine, it is the state.” In Hegel, of course, divinity means the Absolute Spirit, not the Holy Spirit, a distinction Social Gospelers tended to elide. the claim was that “Christ could only return to rule in the end of days after a millennium of heavenly rule on earth,” a millennium of social justice “to be achieved and sustained by man” using the modern state as his instrument.

“The Social Gospel had an indelible effect on Reform Judaism, rousing it from its utopian dreams to practical action,” in which the Reformers “eventually surpassed the gentiles” in their zeal. Not only the Reformers but another denomination, Reconstructionist Judaism, also followed the demi-Christian lead. Its founder, the theologian Mordechai Kaplan, had emigrated to the United States in 1881, eventually seeking a middle way between Orthodoxy and Reform. He never embraced the de facto assimilationism of the Reformers but did follow their universalist rejection of chosenness and of Zionism. Still another denomination, Conservative Judaism, also occupied the middle way, but retained many traditional Jewish rituals and other particularist Jewish traditions. Conservatives “believed that Judaism needed to be updated for the modern era, but they still wanted it to be recognizably Jewish.” Yet they, too, eventually followed the social justice movement, taking it up after the Second World War and the Holocaust, while expressing its doctrines “in Scriptural and rabbinic terms, rather than purely as a secularist philosophy.” This turned out to be an unintended move toward tikkun olam, a movement no one would call conservative.

A sharper turn to the Left occurred in the 1960s, with the Havurah (“Fellowship”) movement. Taking their cue from the Sixties ‘counterculture,’ the Havurahs founded prayer and study groups asserting “the liberty to adapt Jewish law” by adhering to what Neumann gently calls the “expressive individualism” of the New Left. “Their interest in Judaism was prompted by the general turn toward minority identity in America at this time, particularly in the context of the Civil Rights and Black Power movements, but also by the amazement and ethnic Jewish pride surrounding Israel’s striking victory over the armies of the Arab world in the Six-Day War of 1967.” “Lacking basic knowledge of Judaism or the tools to acquire it,” and lacking the resolve to acquire either, “more familiar with Eastern philosophy, political radicalism, and the American counterculture than they were with Judaism,” men like Arthur Waskow and Michael Lerner simply turned to the politics of the New Left. But while Reform Judaism had indeed been reformist-liberal-progressive, any politics animated by the ideas of the New Left must be revolutionary. One important feature of the New Left was its emphasis on ‘cultural’ Marxism—dialectical struggle no longer centered on class warfare, preferring instead to do battle in the fields of the academy, religious institutions, and the media. The revolution effected within Judaism claimed not to reform Judaism but to ‘revolve’ it back to its alleged core, back to “real Judaism”—namely, tikkun olam. Lerner, who had been Herbert Marcuse’s teaching assistant as Berkeley and had headed the campus chapter of Students for a Democratic Society, founded Tikkun, which quickly became the flagship publication of the movement.

The term ‘tikkun olam’ appears nowhere in the Torah or in the Talmud. But there is a traditional Jewish prayer, “Aleynu,” which calls upon the congregants to “perfect the world under the Kingdom of God.” This prayer had already been appropriated for the purpose of world-perfection by Mordechai Kaplan; his student, Alexander Dushkin (in a move reminiscent of the secular Progressive, John Dewey) then took tikkun olam to Jewish educators after the Second World War. Thus, an opening had occurred, which Lerner and his allies could walk through. “A radical leftist group called New Jewish Agenda was founded in 1980 and adopted tikkun olam to summarize its objectives,” tying it to the tradition of Jewish prophecy. “It was in New Jewish Agenda and its offspring organizations that tikkun olam was properly married to social justice and radical leftist politics.” Although the organization itself disbanded twelve years later, by then its ideology had been embedded in both Reform, Reconstructionist, and Conservative Judaism and “is even making inroads into Orthodoxy.” “One simply cannot understand American Judaism today without understanding tikkun olam.”

How do tikkun olam advocates manage to reinterpret Jewish Scriptures in this manner? They focus their attention on six texts: the Genesis account of Creation, “which establishes universalism as the foundation of Jewish social justice”; Abraham’s appeal to God to show mercy to the inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah; Joseph’s ‘economic policies’ as an advisor to the Egyptian pharaoh; the Exodus from Egypt, reconceived as a revolutionary act; the Prophets’ critiques of corrupt practices in Israel; and a variety of rabbinic writings, duly decontextualized, which can be bent to their purposes. Neumann addresses each of these, seriatim, after noting that “Tikkun olam is not about turning Jews into Marxists” but “about rebranding Marxism as Judaism.” 

The Jewish social justice movement makes “three significant theological claims” about God’s creation as revealed in Genesis: first, that “all persons have the same dignity, deserve the same opportunities, and are entitled to similar outcomes” because they are all equally human; second, “since God didn’t create solely humans but all of nature, the environment has a streak of divinity of its own” (pantheism); third, because God shaped man from the dust of the earth, “mankind shares its origins with the rest of nature,” a claim that reinforces the movement’s environmentalist activism. Neumann does not hesitate to call this theology “a contrived religious system, a sort of New Age mysticism that distorts the biblical Creation story and Kabbalistic (Jewish mystical) motifs in order to portray the politics of social justice as an organic Jewish teaching” In order to “facilitate the quiet absorption of liberal politics,” itself redefined in ‘social justice’ terms, “into Judaism.” Under this pretended interpretation, the ‘God’ who ‘created’ the heavens, the earth, and human beings “is obviously not the personal God of the Bible,” a Being that Rabbi Arthur Green dismisses as “a mythical projection” of human consciousness into the heavens. Instead of that God and His creation, Rabbi Green takes creation to be evolution, natural history; evolution is what reveals itself. Ergo, “Creation equals revelation”–a clever way of rewriting the Bible to make it come out the way he wants it. This also abrogates the chosenness of Jews, inasmuch as there is no Person to choose them, a revision of Scripture that fits with Judaism as a form of universalism. 

As to the claim that human equality under God requires social and economic equality, sexual ‘liberation,’ or pacifism, Neumann again dissents. “The fact is that no particular contemporary politics necessarily flows from the Creation story in itself.” In the Torah, God’s commandments form part of God’s covenant with the Israelites. But Rabbi Green “rejects the idea of a distinct Jewish people in toto” as “too narrow and chauvinistic.” At most, what Moses handed down from God at Sinai was “merely ‘awareness’ of the Oneness of Being”—the sort of insight one might glean from the practice of yoga or the ingestion of psychedelic drugs. But, as Neumann insists, “The Torah is essentially a constitution for a single people living in its own land under God, where obligations are designed to benefit the other citizens who have accepted the same laws and can be held to account for any lack of reciprocity.” Jewish social justice universalizes what Scripture clearly intends as particular. This is not to claim that God requires nothing of non-Jews. Quite the contrary: the Noahide laws enunciated at Genesis 9:6 apply to everyone. And, unfortunately, human beings generally do a very poor job of following them. But at any rate, when it comes to the “theology of Jewish social justice,” “there is very little Jewish about it,” and designedly so.

The failure of human beings to obey the Noahide laws led to God’s turn to Abraham and thus to Judaism proper. “The patriarch Abraham truly became the father of the Jewish People when he heeded God’s call to adopt the sacred purpose of spreading righteousness and social justice in the world,” according to Reconstructionist rabbi Sidney Schwarz, the founder of Panim: The Institute for Jewish Leadership and Values—the use of ‘values,’ by the way, being a giveaway of the Institute’s secularist orientation. Panim holds up Abraham as the Jewish exemplar in a way that advances the cause of social justice by citing Abraham’s dialogue with God, in which he protests the destruction of Sodom. This supposedly teaches the importance of protest in Judaism, of ‘speaking truth to power,’ even to the ultimate Power. Joshua Stanton, a Reform rabbi, goes so far as to call “a testament to the sacred nature of protest.”

To which Neumann replies, some protest. “I am but dust and ashes,” Abraham says to God, meekly. If that is a protest, it is more reverential than indignant, more “hopeful entreaty than protest.” In fact, “the entire conversation is a pedagogical exercise initiated by Abraham himself, who is curious to learn ‘the way of God,'” not to correct Him or bring Him to the bar of some standard of justice independent of God. And even if Abraham cannot understand God’s suspension of His law prohibiting the destruction of the innocent, this has nothing to do with calls for socioeconomic equality.

For this, however, social justice warriors turn to the Bible’s account of Joseph’s economic policy as advisor to Pharaoh. According to Sandra M. Fox, a clinical social worker, and Martin I. Seltman, a member of Physicians for Social Responsibility, Joseph’s hard-earned “compassion and wisdom” animate his “responsible planning” with respect to Egypt’s food supply, which “save[d] the lives of countless Egyptians and his own estranged Israelite family during a grave famine.” Conservative social justice rabbi Jill Jacobs concurs: Joseph, she writes, “us[es] political authority to protect the lives of all members of society.” Not so fast, Neumann cautions. “If you read the text more attentively, you realize that this isn’t what happened.” What Joseph actually does is to take “the opportunity of the famine to enslave the Egyptian people to Pharaoh”; having expropriated and stored surplus grain during times of good harvest, Joseph doesn’t return it to the people during the famine. “He sells it to them,” saying, for good measure, “Behold, I have bought you this day and your land for Pharaoh,” inducing them in turn to proclaim, gratefully, that they are now “slaves to Pharaoh.” “Not only is the ‘lesson’ of the Joseph story not what these activists wish it were, but, remarkably, its real lesson seems to be the very opposite: reliance on government leads to dependency, and dependency can lead to much worse.” While “Joseph does indeed save Egypt from famine,” the consequent augmentation of ruling authority “had grave consequences” for Egyptians. And for Israelites, who eventually chose to escape.

Ah, but Jewish social justice proponents have Exodus covered, too. According to them, Exodus demonstrates the need for revolution. That is the point of the “Freedom Seder” invented by Institute for Policy Studies co-founder Arthur Waskow. In keeping with tikkun olam univeralism, the Seder “wasn’t just for Jews” but “for everyone.” And indeed, as Naumann observes, it is “barely Jewish at all.” The rhetorical gimmick is that, in Waskow’s words, “we all live under Pharaohs” now. “In Waskow’s telling, Moses is a militant trade unionist and God plays practically no role at all,” being “nothing more than a figure of speech.” As Waskow puts it, “the profound conversation” between God and the people of Israel amounted to “the conversation between the Promise and the Work, the Vision and the Creation; freedom, justice, sustenance, and law were all made real by [the Israelites’] own hands.” In his Exodus and Revolution, Michael Walzer makes similar moves, pretending that Exodus amounts to “a how-to guide for political revolution” by turning “Egypt” and the “Promised Land” into metaphors and God into a nonentity. Naumann perceptively remarks that it was Christians who first treated the Promised Land and Jerusalem as metaphors for “a spiritual condition,” but it must be said that Augustine and those who came after him did not forget God while doing so. After all, in Exodus God says, “Let my people go, so that they may serve Me.” Not themselves. Not humanity. Naumann concludes his refutation of the tikkun olam rhetoric by recalling that the Promised Land in the Bible is “no metaphor” but “a real territory that has been known as the Land of Israel for millennia.” When God punishes the Israelites, He exiles them from that real territory, and when they repent and He relents, He allows them to return “to the same actual land.“

With the abrogation of ritual, the prophetic character of Judaism comes to the fore. Rituals are conventions; prophecy challenges convention in the name of God. Michael Lerner deplores what he calls “the ritualization of Judaism” at the expense of justice, which is not only unconventional but universal, according to social justice proponents. Ritual may be readmitted after prophecy has been heeded and new, reformed, or redirected rituals conforming to the prophetic message have been introduced. But as Neumann sees, the prophet Isaiah (for example) does not oppose ritual; he opposes ritualism, ritual without grounding in prophecy and covenant. “The prophets rebelled against hollow ritual.” Ethics or moral law require right behavior toward other human beings; ritual entails right behavior toward God. Ritual rightly understood must be anything but “hollow.” As to the universality of ethics, Jews are commanded to respect it without homogenizing it; they have moral obligations towards non-Jews but they owe additional, stricter moral obligations toward one another. Isaiah himself lambastes not all of mankind but Israel for its moral failings. That is because “Israelites have a sacred responsibility to one another as they are bound together in covenant. That covenant does not extend to other peoples,” at least not immediately. As Isaiah puts it, “out of Zion shall come forth the law” whereby swords shall be beaten into ploughshares.” There is a sequence. Israel comes first; it must obey its own covenant with God before God will permit it to be extended to ‘the nations.’

“As it happens, God also warns the people not to believe false prophets in their midst.” In fact, rabbis have traditionally “insisted that, following the prophetic epoch, prophecy is suspended” because “prophetic pretensions ae conceited and can easily become hazardous.” Social justice ‘prophets’ might well take note.

Neumann returns to a consideration of tikkun olam itself. As he mentioned before, it “isn’t mentioned in the Bible anywhere.” It has “no connection to tax rate, the labor movement, abortion, immigration reform, healthcare provision, education concerns, environmentalism, or any of the many other political issues in which social justice is concerning,” having no relation to social justice at all. In the Aleynu, the line “to perfect the world under the Kingdom of God” refers to Jewish monotheism, to having no God before the God of Israel, to “the elimination of all other forms of religious practice” among Jews “in favor of the exclusive and universal worship of the God of Israel.” There is some question whether the original phrase meant not to “repair” or to “perfect” the world under the Kingdom of God but to establish it. If so, then it is only God Who can do so: “Therefore we put our hope in You,” the prayer goes on to say. Not in ourselves, as secularists must claim.

And would the perfection, repair, or establishment of “the world” under God’s Kingdom mean social justice as defined by social justice proponents? The Aleynu makes no such claim. The Torah makes no such claim. What about the Talmud?

The Mishnah, the older section, uses the phrase “for the sake of tikkun ha’olam” on several occasions, but only with reference to existing laws, with no calls for revolution or even reform. “Perfection” there entails “mostly minor legal adjustments to safeguard the existing system,” to perfect it, not “systemic change.” Further, the authority of the rabbis who wrote the Talmud “did not extend beyond the Jews.” As for the Gemara, it consists of homiletic teachings, “commentaries that build on nuances, ambiguities, discrepancies, and other textual anomalies in the Bible to make more general theological, mystical, or normative claims that often depart radically from the plain meaning of the words in the biblical text.” This might appear to offer a more promising field for social justice proponents.

Except that it doesn’t. The Midrash does not anticipate, much less express, social justice ideology. Overall, “the Talmudic tikkun olam…seek[s] to protect the existing system” of Jewish law “through minor adjustments.” Nor has it ever been treated as a set of commands or “religious imperatives.” Its spirit is explanatory and exploratory, not revisionist or revolutionary.

“These activists care about social justice independently of Jewish texts, from which they have no interest in actually learning.” Accordingly, they practice not exegesis but eisegesis, the imposition of “preconceived views and biases onto the Bible.” Two of the most prominent eisegesists are the aforementioned Michael Lerner and Judith Butler. Lerner deplores “the violence of the Bible,” the way that God at times rewards or commands violence. Lerner denies that the books of Joshua, Judges, Samuel, and Kings, which assert “Jewish sovereignty over the Land of Israel,” backed by the sword, really record the voice of God, in this echoing the claim of Martin Buber, who claimed that Samuel misunderstood God’s will in taking Him to have commanded the destruction of the Amalekites. Lerner associates what he calls the “voice of cruelty and fanaticism and intolerance and oppression” with the modern political Right, whereas the “voice of love, justice, and transcendence” belongs to the modern political Left. In this, he evidently overlooks his contemporary tyrants on the Left, while leaving Rightist critics of military intervention conveniently unnoticed. For her part, Butler tends a bit more toward the sanguinary, denying Israel’s right to exist and lauding Hamas and Hezbollah. Jews belong in the Diaspora, not in any one land. “Her argument is that exilic Judaism is about imbibing the idea of living with others and not being exclusively Jewish.” This is necessary, as she explains because “the notion that to be a Jew is to be a Zionist [is] a historical equation that is to be countered if Jewishness is to remain linked with the struggle for social justice,’ which is universal, ‘ethical,’ devoid of anything specifically Judaic.

Naumann correctly traces the intensification of contemporary Jewish anti-Zionism on the Left to the aftermath of the 1967 Six-Day War. While the Reformers had already rejected Zionism a century earlier, “anti-Israel activism in the Jewish community emerged less from Classical Reform…than from the milieu of 1960s anti-American radicalism.” Until 1967, the United States had not been Israel’s primary foreign ally. The Soviet Union had favored it (as a socialist state) in the years immediately following the Second World War. Israel then enjoyed the patronage of France from the early 1950s, on. However, President Charles de Gaulle advised the Israeli government against a pre-emptive attack on the Arab forces massing all around it; when the Israelis quite sensibly went ahead and rolled up its enemies, de Gaulle rebuked them. Americans, mindful of their need of a reliable ally in the region (Egypt’s ruler, Gamal Nasser, leaned toward the Soviets), worked out an alliance. All of this infuriated the New Left and those Jewish activists who had adopted its ideology. These included the usual suspects: Waskow, Lerner, and others in that network of organizations and their publications. Many endorsed the Palestine Liberation Organization, backed by the Soviets. Such efforts have knocked against the more established and sane Jewish organizations, which recognize a threat to Israel as a threat to Jewish interests everywhere. More recently, some on the Jewish Left, such as Jewish Voice for Peace (Butler, Noam Chomsky, Tony Kushner, among others), want Israelis to withdraw from Judea and Samaria (the ‘West Bank’) and East Jerusalem while recognizing an Arab ‘right to return’ to those ‘occupied territories.’ They add the removal of Israel’s naval blockade of Gaza, where, up until the late war, Hamas held sway. These moves obviously would spell the end of Israel itself, which Jewish Voice for Peace wouldn’t mind, as its members “have been known to question the historical Jewish connection to the land of Israel.” 

In sum, in the eyes of the Jewish Left, neither Israel nor Judaism itself should survive. “The triumph of ethics over Judaism is ultimately the triumph of philosophical morality”—once Kantian, now neo-Marxist—over “religious law out of the sources of Revelation.” But if rationalist ethics “were sufficient, then there’d be no need for a religious legal code,” as human thought would suffice to guide human action. “Most liberal Jews involved in general social justice activism are either indifferent to pursuing their agenda within a Jewish context or positively opposed to doing so,” preferring “to do their work without any Jewish connection.” That makes sense, from their standpoint, since “social justice and Judaism are fundamentally at odds with one another,” beginning with the underlying question of the reality of the God of the Bible. Or, to put it more comprehensively, “unlike Judaism, which is built upon a personal God, Revelation, the particularistic covenant, and the commandment, Jewish social justice holds a preference for man, Creation, universalistic morality, and reason”—not reason as such, but reason unassisted by divine Revelation. Meanwhile, it is “inconceivable that advocates of Jewish social justice would tell African-Americans or Muslims that ultimately they should abandon their particular cultures, practices, or beliefs”; “the Jewish people alone must become obsolete.”

But, according to the Bible (Genesis 22:18), “through Abraham’s progeny all the peoples of the earth will be blessed.” That being so, “Jews and non-Jews alike should be alarmed by the prospect of tikkun olam succeeding in assimilating the Jewish People into all of humanity, for then that blessing will be no more.”