Bibi, Duke of Wannabe
This week, our Prime Minister compared himself to the Duke of Wellington, a controversial figure in his day who, by the way, led his second government to downfall with the unpopular (at the time) Catholic emancipation bill.
The insinuation in Bibi’s little parable is that Wellington was hindered in his battles against Napoleon because of internal investigations into the British army’s spending. Here is the actual quote from Wellington: “Unfortunately the sum of one shilling and ninepence remains unaccounted for in one infantry battalion’s petty cash and there has been a hideous confusion as the number of jars of raspberry jam issued to one cavalry regiment during a sandstorm in western Spain. This reprehensible carelessness may be related to the pressure of circumstance, since we are war with France, a fact which may come as a bit of a surprise to you gentlemen in Whitehall.”
Bibi’s insinuation is that Wellington eventually lost to Napoleon at Waterloo because of the raspberry jam incident. Aside from the fact that he is, apparently, comparing Yahya Sinwar to Napoleon, nothing could be farther from the truth. Because the French troops, battling on two fronts against both the British and Prussians (sound familiar?) had to concede following that famous battle, and Napoleon was then exiled (as any student of high school history may recall). The raspberry jam, in other words, was neither here nor there in the big picture.
What can we learn from this, aside from the fact that keeping your accounts straight and transparent is actually desirable, even when you believe yourself above the law and your aggression is being funded by the immense wealth reaped in previous conquests or by your rich uncle?
Here is the rest of Wellington’s quote: “This brings me to my present purpose, which is to request elucidation of my instructions from His Majesty’s Government so that I may better understand why I am dragging an army over these barren plains. I construe that perforce it must be one of two alternative duties, as given below. I shall pursue either one with the best of my ability, but I cannot do both: 1. To train an army of uniformed British clerks in Spain for the benefit of the accountants and copy-boys in London or perchance. 2. To see to it that the forces of Napoleon are driven out of Spain. Your most obedient servant, Wellington.”
Bibi can only rightfully compare himself, in this story, to Spencer Perceval, the British PM at the time
Okay, having to keep the books straight chafes. As, apparently, does admitting your mistakes, errors and crimes. But look a bit closer at the sentence: “request elucidation of my instructions from His Majesty’s Government so that I may better understand why I am dragging an army over these barren plains.”
If we’re going to be literal, Bibi can only rightfully compare himself, in this story, to Spencer Perceval, the British PM at the time (who was assassinated that year and replaced by Robert Jenkins). Wellington’s haughty whine prefigures the repeated insistence of our own major-general, Halevi, that the government stop nitpicking, get to the point, and give the army some firm direction. Here’s something else Bibi might consider: Wellington is remembered for the victory, while hardly anyone remembers Perceval or Jenkins.
As opposed to Bibi (or Perceval, for that matter), Wellington was a general who had seen battle all over the world as he rose through the ranks. His missive reeks of disdain for the politicians who were eating pheasant in London while their soldiers were being killed and wounded in France, Spain and Portugal.
He was also, one might recall, a hero for Britain’s golden age of conquest. I have some possibly unwelcome news for our present government, however: The world has changed since 1812. Wellington’s image is pretty-well tarnished; Waterloo is remembered more as loss for Napoleon, less as a British victory; the British gave up the last of their conquered territories decades ago. We are heading, today, not toward a decisive victory won in a day, but at best to a grinding standstill, at worst to a long war of attrition.
I wonder if Bibi is so deluded, at this point, he expects a marble statue of himself astride a majestic steed to be erected in Jerusalem. I would laugh at the sheer farce of it, if I did not find it so dangerous.
As I see it, the man is culpable for losing, wasting or destroying much more than a few jars of raspberry jam. And, while I am not calling for assassination, if Wellington’s story can teach us anything, it is that changing prime ministers during wartime does not necessarily harm the country. In the least.