In the past month we lost two people who in my estimation were among the most influential world leaders of my lifetime.
Both presided over enormous changes that took place in their respective countries.
Both saw the vast empires they ruled over, diminish greatly during their watch.
One represents a bygone era, the other, a seemingly anachronistic institution still going strong.
The death of one caused the world to stop in its tracks, while the other was barely noticed.
I can honestly think of no world leader who single-handedly brought about as much change during my life as did Mikhail Gorbachev. Gorbachev did not set out to destroy the Soviet Union, nor did he aim to bring about an end to Communism. Much like Alexander Dubček, the President of Czechoslovakia during the brief period of reform in 1968 known as Prague Spring, Gorbachev was a devoted Communist who also happened to believe in human rights, especially the right of people to choose their destiny. Given the unprecedented opportunity thanks to Gorbachev, the people of the Soviet Union overwhelmingly chose to not be under the sphere of influence of Moscow anymore, And just like that, the Soviet Union came down like a house of cards. The current dictator of Russia, himself not a believer in Gorbachev's glasnost and perestroika, would describe the breakup of the Soviet Union as the greatest catastrophe of the twentieth century. Like all the king's horses and all the king's men, Putin is doing his damndest to put his Humpty Dumpty empire back together again, to little success. Where he'll stop, nobody knows, even if it means destroying his own country and its people in the process, The only thing certain is there will be much more needless bloodshed before he's finished with his evil work.
You can read about Gorbachev. through the lens of the Czech and Slovak people here.
And here I wrote about Queen Elizabeth II, through the lens of her parents and what they passed on to their daughter, the commitment of service to their people.
I was about to say something I thought was profound on the Queen's passing this month but thought the better of it after I read the following, written by one of her "subjects".
These are the words of Simon Watney, a Facebook friend of a friend, by far the most eloquent, thoughtful and powerful comments I've read or heard on the Queen since her death a few weeks ago. In between all the hagiographic biographies and the tiresome critiques of the evils of colonialism we've been subject to in the past few weeks, Mr. Watney's words ring honest and true:
The old queen is dying and in spite of all the groveling and gushing of banal television commentators, it strikes me as an immensely moving moment, temporarily frozen between two eras, as time moves into an altogether different, symbolic gear, and ancient protocols obtain which mark the passing of monarchs, which have happily not been exercised since the death of her father back in 1952. The butt of countless jokes and parodies, the woman’s true dignity now emerges with touching clarity, as she was seen only last week visiting a bleak hospice and cheerfully dispensing her own inimitable brand of what one might simply term “life-joy” to its fortunate recipients. This I take to be the sense of being valued by someone who matters, of being close to some immensely powerful spring of energy, which is what remains of the royal healing touch, and the most atavistic and shamanic core of monarchy. Societies live by symbols as much as anything else, and as we reach the end of this long Elizabethan age, it is difficult not to wish that it could continue indefinitely, since it ties us in to far more glorious times than ours, to the post-war optimism which gave us the NHS and our membership of the European Union, to an England where altruism was the norm, rather than the incomprehensible and indeed reprehensible nonsense that it so clearly seems to our current national leadership. Indeed, nothing could provide more contrast than the crudely individualistic selfishness, which is celebrated in the toxic cult of Mrs Thatcher, and the endearingly dotty, dog-loving aura of H.M. Queen Elizabeth II. At this moment of her passing, how could one not think of her great Tudor sister and noble predecessor, whose memory remains warm and vital with a popularity which she took the greatest care to fuel in her lifetime, just as I expect the memory of our Elizabeth will remain, as long as anything worth cherishing remains of our sadly dented national identity? Now is the appropriate time to sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings, and queens. Our Elizabeth was the queen who moved the monarchy out from its castles. Whether it can survive the move is an open question. Soon the bells will start to ring, appropriately muffled.
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