The Tribune

“THE antidote to hubris, to overweening pride, is irony, that capacity to discover and systematize ideas.” - Ralph Ellison, African American author.

Operation Barbarossa, the code name for Adolf Hitler’s and Germany’s invasion of the Soviet Union in 1941, exposed the hubris, delusions of power, and psychological isolation of both Hitler and Soviet Premier Joseph Stalin.

During the brutal months of the Operation, named after the 12th century Holy Roman Emperor and German king, Frederick Barbarossa (“red beard”), the depth of the isolation and mania of the Russian and German leaders was demonstrated in stark and terrifying relief.

Earlier in his life, then further articulated in his “1925 autobiographical manifesto”, Mein Kampf (“My Struggle” or “My Battle”), Hitler expressed his burning desire to conquer the western Soviet Union, realising his dream of a German empire, including repopulating the area with Germans.

Many of Germany’s Axis allies joined in the mammoth operation and the ambition he articulated from his prison cell in Mein Kampf: “We terminate the endless German drive to the south and the west of Europe, and direct our gaze towards the lands in the east. If we talk about new soil and territory in Europe today, we can think primarily only of Russia and its vassal border states.”

Hitler had long telegraphed his intentions toward the Soviet Union. The Germans amassed a four and a half million-strong force for the Operation. As described in The Atlantic: “Hitler had long had his eye on Soviet resources. Although Germany had signed a non-aggression pact with the USSR in 1939, both sides remained suspicious of one another, and the agreement merely gave them more time to prepare for a probable war.”

Stalin sent his Foreign Minister, Vyacheslav Molotov, an old Bolshevik and politician, to meet with Hitler, who tried to convince the cunning diplomat that the two countries could work together to carve up various parts of Europe.

Molotov knew that Hitler was deceiving him on a number of fronts but the former was convinced that Germany was not ready to invade Russia, which he reported to Stalin.

But a German officer, who was secretly spying for Russia, started sending urgent communications warning of an impending invasion, as did Stalin’s spies in Switzerland, Romania and Japan.

Soviet general, Georgy Zhukov, who was terrified to communicate information Stalin did not want to hear, summoned his courage and warned of the coming invasion.

Refused

Stalin refused to believe him, some of the reasons for which historians still question. Did Stalin simply tune out what he did not want to believe or hear? Why was he immobilised? How isolated was he?

British Prime Minister Winston Churchill warned Stalin, as did US President Franklin Roosevelt, who said, “It was as certain as that the night followed the day that as soon as Hitler had conquered France he would turn on Russia.”

The History Channel reports: “Soviet intelligence purportedly named the exact, or almost exact, date of the invasion no fewer than 47 times in the 10 days before ‘Operation Barbarossa’ went into effect.”

Both autocrats and democrats in office are often isolated, in a bunker mentality, believing what is in their minds to be correct. Yet they are often wrong.

From the Bay of Pigs under John F Kennedy to terrible miscalculations in Vietnam under Lyndon Johnson, and the 1956 Suez disaster for the British and French, even leaders in democracies make terrible mistakes because of their delusions.

Democracies enjoy open and free media, opposition parties, cabinets with varying viewpoints, differing opinions from public officers and experts. Yet, despite contrasting information, prime ministers and presidents are often hobbled by hubris, one of the perennial human challenges for those who have great power.

What is it about power that sometimes blinds and deafens leaders to the obvious, including countervailing views? Theodore Roosevelt learned an essential lesson during the Coal Strike of 1902: do not always believe what your officials are reporting. Go see for yourself what is really occurring on the ground during a crisis.

The Atlantic continues the storyline on Operation Barbarossa: “The Soviets were unprepared for the sudden blitzkrieg attacks across a border that spanned nearly 2,900 km (1,800 mi), and they suffered horrible losses. Within a single week, German forces advanced 200 miles into Soviet territory, destroyed nearly 4,000 aircraft, and killed, captured, or wounded some 600,000 Red Army troops.

“By December of 1941, German troops were within sight of Moscow, and they laid siege to the city. But, when the notorious Russian winter (nicknamed ‘General Winter’) set in, German advances came to a halt.

“By the end of this, one of the largest, deadliest military operations in history, Germany had suffered some 775,000 casualties. More than 800,000 Soviets had been killed, and an additional six million Soviet soldiers had been wounded or captured.”

Failure

Hitler’s massive failure, somewhat mirroring Napoleon Bonaparte’s 1812 invasion of Russia, proved to be a turning point in World War II. The historic blunders recall the advice of British Field Marshall Bernard Montgomery, who famously declared the first rule of war: “Don’t march on Moscow!”

Hitler was also told to concentrate his attacks and that there were great risks of moving on too many fronts, which included Kiev in Ukraine. The Babi Yar massacre of approximately 33,000 Jews occurred during the Operation.

What has often been less reported are the pivotal days as German and Axis troops were headed toward Moscow. Paralyzed with fear and indecision, Stalin left his headquarters for a dacha near Moscow.

For some days there was chaos and panic. Some historians believe that Stalin feared that his colossal blunder of not believing the German invasion was imminent and not preparing for the assault might result in his being removed by his generals.

Molotov travelled to the dacha and appears to have saved the day for Stalin, steadying the latter’s nerves and resolve. Because he was not removed from power, Stalin reportedly realised that his associates were weaker than him. In the years to come, he would become even more murderous, brutal and paranoid.

Power

Another lesson of power: Those who fail or refuse to execute the king when given the chance, will likely play a great price if the king survives.

Writing recently in the Wall Street Journal, the US columnist and academic, Walter Russell Mead, posits the historical worldview of Russian President Vladimir Putin, grounded in the Russian sense of empire and imperial conquest: “Under the Romanovs, the communists and Mr Putin, Russian political thought has been shaped by three beliefs: that Russia is different, that the difference is transcendentally important, and that it gives Russia a unique role in world history.”

Mead chillingly concludes: “Mr Putin and those around him know that in Ukraine they aren’t fighting only for an adjustment of frontiers. They are fighting for their world, and it may be psychologically impossible for them to accept defeat until every measure, however ruthless, and every weapon, however heinous, has been brought into play.

“For Vladimir Putin and the people around him, the stakes in Ukraine are almost infinitely great.”

We do not know how the war in Ukraine will end. But thus far, it appears that Putin and Russia may have miscalculated on a number of fronts, driven by hubris, delusions of power and chronic isolation.

To understand hubris, Hitler, Stalin, the excesses of power, and Putin today, the wisdom of the ancients, found in the classical literature and history of the Greeks and other civilizations, offer warnings and lessons, which leaders have ignored to their peril and that of their nations for centuries.

Perhaps some misread the warning of Julius Caesar: “It’s only hubris if I fail.” The oldest surviving play from Classical Athens is The Persians, written by Aeschylus, the Greek tragedian, considered the father of tragedy. The story is told by the vanquished Persians.

Xerxes the First or Xerxes the Great, who ruled from 486 to 465 BCE, was an extraordinary ruler and conqueror. But dazzled by his foolhardy pride and colossal hubris, he is cast in history as “offending the gods with his arrogance and nearly [losing] his empire in the process.”

Why do we foolish mortals, including our leaders, relentlessly repeat the same historic blunders and obvious miscalculations?

The brilliant African American writer and scholar Ralph Ellison, author of Invisible Man, offers a similar conviction of the Greeks: “The antidote to hubris, to overweening pride, is irony, that capacity to discover and systematise ideas.”

And at the heart of irony is humour, the ability to pierce one’s isolation and egomania with the ability to laugh at oneself and to appreciate why others might find our conceits and prideful excesses laughable.

• More next week