What do you think?
Rate this book


384 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 13, 2010
Midway through his monumental flyover of Western Civilization, Charles Hill informs his readers that the first principle of grand strategy is to understand what is happening in the world. Action follows knowledge. Yet, knowledge, as opposed to information, is difficult to attain. “Those who are living through great historical events can rarely even glimpse the significance of what is going on all around them.” Taken out of context, it’s a rather anodyne pronouncement, but halfway through Grand Strategies, the reader will already well understand how the greatest works of literary art throw open the floodgates, allowing knowledge to pour forth.
Charles Hill’s Grand Strategies is a text about texts, seventy-nine of them to be exact. From Homer’s Iliad to Calasso’s The Ruins of Kasch, Hill reveals himself as a first rate reader, able to distill the lessons of history from the heights of literature. Yet his expertise is not from reading alone. Though his resume includes time at Brown, Penn, Harvard, and now Yale, he’s not a lifelong academic. Instead, he made a career out of exactly that about which he writes—as a practitioner of diplomacy, a close observer of statecraft, and a sentry of world order.
Some of the most interesting observations contained within Grand Strategies, therefore, come not from other texts, but instead from Hill’s own experiences. He observes the vaunted cold warrior Paul Nitze reading Shakespeare late into the night on long transatlantic flights, and listens to the laments of Abba Eban, the legendary Israeli statesmen, as the two sipped orange juice overlooking the Mediterranean while Hill was posted to Israel as a junior State Department officer. Even aside from the personal reminiscences, it’s clear that Hill’s experiences inform his understanding of what he reads.
He is particularly strong with the ancients. After a close reading of Homer’s Iliad, specifically The Embassy to Achilles, Hill recognizes that Odysseus has violated two fundamental precepts of diplomacy: he has failed to follow the instructions of his principal (the Greek King Agamemnon) and he has failed to report back an accurate accounting of his meeting with the wayward Greek warrior Achilles. Yet, Hill counsels his readers not to be fooled, for this is diplomacy. He understands through personal experience that Ambassadors must be able to, in the words of Montaigne which Hill perfectly employs, “frame and direct by their own advice and counsel, the will of their master.”
It’s in the discussion of another ancient text, the Orestia that the reader will glean not only the origins of civilization, but perhaps also the underpinnings of Hill’s conservative-minded outlook on the world. The Orestia documents a series of interfamilial killings all prompted by the curse of an earlier generation. After sacrificing his daughter so the Greek fleet can sail to Troy, Agamemnon, upon returning victoriously from Troy, is murdered in revenge by his wife, Queen Clymnestra. In turn, she is murdered by her son Orestes. After a dramatic trial Orestes is acquitted, a decision in which the goddess Athena elevates the sanctity of the contract (the marriage, in this case) above kinship ties, transfers power from the family to the state, and ultimately signals that justice, as administered by the state, will be the only legitimate form of violence. Thus, argues Hill buttressing Locke, “the death penalty is the foundation stone of civilization.”
With civilization comes the state, but not until the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648 would it become the basic unit of governance and over the subsequent three centuries render empire obsolete. Hill’s articulation of how the Thirty Years War shaped the modern world order is impressive in scope and detail. Furthermore, it elucidates just how profound an impact that literature, from Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels to Schiller’s The Wallenstein Trilogy, shapes our contemporary understanding of the governance of states. Sources of Modern World Order, more than any other chapter in Grand Strategies, generously unpacks historical events in an orderly way, an especially useful exercise for many who will be unfamiliar with the period and its seminal importance to Western Civilization.
Throughout Grand Strategies Hill counts himself a staunch defender of the state and therefore the status quo. Though as he notes, defending an institution of governance that includes among its ranks Nazi Germany and Stalin’s Soviet Union can be a thankless task. While the state itself continues to be the subject of contemporary rhetorical attacks from both the right and the left, it’s revolutionary ideology in action that keeps Hill awake at night. His take on the Paris Commune of 1871 is deeply pessimistic, a notable departure from the way it is often depicted, romantically, in literature. He also notes that the German philosopher Nietzsche, the French poet Rimbaud, and the Russian author Dostoevsky were all on hand, their understanding of the world shaped by that monumental moment of European history.
The bottom line, Hill concludes, is that “the state, and the Westphalian international system of which it is the basic entity, remain the only working mechanism for world order.” This rather unimaginative outlook, were it not the conclusion of such an erudite assemblage of text, analysis, and experience, would be understandably frustrating. In certain instances, such as Hill’s sympathetic analysis of Israel’s appearance on the international stage, one can sense ideological creep encroaching upon the less impassioned tone that characterizes much of the book. Even his selection of Spark’s The Mandelbaum Gate seems inserted as the basis for a charged discussion of history rather than because the text itself belongs among the classics of statecraft.
Another such instance is plainly visible in Hill’s discounting of the New Left and its criticism of the American War in Vietnam, done not through a text, in this case; but instead, via the personage of Lee Kuan Yew, the founder of modern Singapore, at a 1970 dinner with Harvard faculty. Hill, present at the dinner and having just served a tour at the American Embassy in Saigon, would have been well versed in the potential negative implications of a communist victory in South Vietnam, a sentiment that Prime Minister Lee, also trying to prevent a communist takeover of his nascent state, shared. When the Prime Minister vociferously defended the American war as buying time for other Southeastern Asian states to consolidate their independence, Hill appears to accept the statement uncritically.
Yet just as the reader will begin to question if Grand Strategies has reached the limit of dispassioned analysis, Hill turns to the East, demonstrating a familiarity with a selection of both ancient and modern Chinese texts. His section on China and its continuing evolution from empire deserving of tribute to insecure state within the world system is another high point of the book. As opposed to the Thirty Years War period where contemporaneous literature would later shape our modern understandings, modern Chinese texts appear to be profoundly out of sync with the direction of the modern Chinese state. Contemporary Chinese works of literary merit harken back to ancient texts, both Chinese and Western, a phenomena that would seem to explain the contemporary Chinese fascination with the American political philosopher Leo Strauss.
In fact, though his readings are essentially conservative, Hill’s conservatism is aesthetically Straussian in nature, borne with an eye to the classic texts of Greek civilization. Because of that the reader will be disappointed to find no mention of Strauss’s analysis of Plato or the other ancients including the Hebrews; one can only imagine with delight the exchange of ideas on statecraft between two such learned scholars of the state as Strauss and Hill. Despite his essentially conservative bent, Hill’s scholarship is so neatly ordered, his logic chains so artfully constructed, that even the most partisan of readers will be captivated by the analysis behind Grand Strategies.
At the same time, this book is a goldmine for someone both a bibliophile and a student of international affairs. The most thrilling of Hill’s personal reminiscences contained within Grand Strategies took place on a cold January night in 1986. Hill, then serving as a Senior Aide to Secretary of State George Shultz, accompanied his boss to a meeting of the PEN Society, the literary world’s foremost promoter of free expression, held at the New York Public Library. Shultz, maligned as a member of the Reagan administration, was roundly condemned by much of the gathered audience, even by the likes of Grace Paley and Norman Mailer. Yet his speech, and the rousing defense of the freedom of expression that he made, stand as a model for the good state. Hill, understandably proud to be among the representatives of a state that protects the freedom of the writer to create even works antithetical to the state itself, and ensconced within “the only civilization in history whose major artists and intellects have radically questioned or rejected its core values” has strongly made, through this immensely learned contribution to the scholarship of statecraft, the same case his boss made more than a quarter century earlier.
© Jeffrey L. Otto, September 8, 2013