Boer Quotes

The History Teacher Trying to protect his students' innocence he told them the Ice Age was really just the Chilly Age, a period of a million years when everyone had to wear sweaters. And the Stone Age became the Gravel Age, named after the long driveways of the time. The Spanish Inquisition was nothing more than an outbreak of questions such as "How far is it from here to Madrid?" "What do you call the matador's hat?" The War of the Roses took place in a garden, and the Enola Gay dropped one tiny atom on Japan. The children would leave his classroom for the playground to torment the weak and the smart, mussing up their hair and breaking their glasses, while he gathered up his notes and walked home past flower beds and white picket fences, wondering if they would believe that soldiers in the Boer War told long, rambling stories designed to make the enemy nod off.

...(It) is to one British colonial policy-maker or another that we owe the Boxer Rebellion, the Mau Mau insurrection, the Boer War, and the Boston Tea Party

This is from "Marabou Stork Nightmares". Bernard's Poem: Did you see her on the telly the other day good family entertainment the tabloids say But when you're backstage at your new faeces audition you hear the same old shite of your own selfish volition She was never a singer a comic or a dancer I cant say I was sad when I found out she had cancer Great Britain's earthy northern comedy queen takes the rand, understand from the racist Boer regime So now her cells are fucked and thats just tough titty I remember her act that I caught back in Sun City She went on and on about 'them from the trees with different skull shapes from the likes of you and me' Her Neo-Nazi spell it left me fucking numb the Boers lapped it up with zeal so did the British ex-pat scum But what goes round comes round they say so welcome to another dose of chemotherapy And for my part it's time to be upfront so fuck off and die you carcinogenic cunt.

all i know about the bible is that wherever it goes there's trouble. the only time i ever heard of it being useful was when a stretcher bearer i was with at the battle of dundee told me that he'd once gotten hit by a mauser bullet in the heart, only he was carrying a bible in his tunic pocket and the bible saved his life. he told me that ever since he'd always carried a bible into battle with him and he fled perfectly safe because god was in his breast pocket. we were out looking for a sergeant of the worcesters and three troopers who were wounded while out on a reconnaissance and were said to be holed up in a dry donga. in truth, i think my partner felt perfectly safe because the boer mausers were estimated by the british artillery to be accurate to eight hundred yards and we were at least twelve hundred yards from enemy lines. alas, nobody bothered to tell the boers about the shortcomings of their brand-new german rifle and the mauser bullet hit him straight between the eyes...which goes to prove, you can always depend on british army information not to be accurate, the boers to be deadly accurate, and the bible to be good for matters of the heart but hopeless for those of the head, and finally, that god is in nobody's pocket.

Always more audacity.

I wanted to ask which war---the Boer or the Crimean? It was amazing how old people could talk about The War, as though that meant something.

The lounge is empty of bodies but full of debris: wineglasses, ashtrays, food wrappers, and a pair of silk boxer shorts over the Boer War rifle

We were the Bechuanaland Protectorate then, and the British ran our country, to protect us from the Boers (or that is what they said). There was a Commissioner down in Mafikeng, over the border into South Africa, and he would come up the road and speak to the chiefs. He would say: "You do this thing; you do that thing." And the chiefs all obeyed him because they knew that if they did not he would have them deposed. But some of them were clever, and while the British said "You do this," they would say "Yes, yes, sir, I will do that" and all the time, behind their backs, they did the other thing or they just pretended to do something. So for many years, nothing at all happened. It was a good system of government, because most people want nothing to happen. That is the problem with governments these days. They want to do things all the time; they are always very busy thinking of what things they can do next. That is not what people want. People want to be left alone to look after their cattle.

Rudyard Kipling, in his famous poetic description of what makes for mature and effective adulthood, wrote in part: If you can keep your head When all about you Are losing theirs And blaming it on you... If you can trust yourself When all men doubt you... This famous 1909 poem “If” was inspired in Kipling after observing one military leader’s actions during the Boer Wars (Lt. Colonel Eduardo Jany, personal communication, October, 2007).

كان يقال إن الأنسان لايكون فيلسوفا الا بدراسة فروع الرياضيات ، كالحساب والهندسة والفلك والموسيقى.

The failure of the talks between Chamberlain and the German ambassador in London, the public and private outbursts of the Kaiser, the well-reported anti-British and pro-Boer sentiment among the German public, even the silly controversy over whether Chamberlain had insulted the Prussian army, all left their residue of mistrust and resentments in Britain as well as in Germany.

For several years now, Kipling had been sprinkling his prose and poetry with anti-German barbs. He believed this war would do “untold good” for his beloved British tommies, preparing them for the inevitable clash with Germany. The Boer War, said a character in a story he wrote at the time, was “a first-class dress-parade for Armageddon.

Although Churchill was quick to believe every good thing ever said about his potential, he wasn’t willing to leave anything to chance.

Ek lewe nog, meneer

they were of much the same stock, and their creeds could only be distinguished by their varying degrees of bigotry and intolerance.

In the second Boer war 26,000 Boer women and children perished in British concentration camps.

The Boers were the most humane people where white men were concerned.

After that Sylvie made sure they all went to the swimming baths in town and took lessons, from an ex-major in the Boer War who barked orders at them until they were too frightened to sink.

They are fine marksmen, the Boers. From the cradle up, they live on horseback and hunt wild animals with the rifle. They have a passion for liberty and the Bible, and care for nothing else.

The "apparently normal personality" - the alter you view as "the client" You should not assume that the adult who function in the world, or who presents to you, week after week, is the "real" person, and the other personalities are less real. The client who comes to therapy is not "the" person; there are other personalities to meet and work with. When DID was still officially called MPD, the "person" who lived life on the outside was known as the "host" personality, and the other parts were known as alters. These terms, unfortunately, implied that all the parts other than the host were guests, and therefore of less importance than the host. They were somehow secondary. The currently favored theory of structural dissociation (Nijenhuis & Den Boer, 2009; van der Hart, Nijenhuis, & Steele, 2006), which more accurately describes the way personality systems operate, instead distinguishes between two kinds of states: the apparently normal personality, or ANP, and the emotional personality, or EP, both of which could include a number of parts. p21

Although Churchill had been called many things—opportunist, braggart, blowhard—no one had ever questioned his bravery. “Winston is like a strong wire that, stretched, always springs back. He prospers under attack, enmity and disparagement,” Atkins would later write of him. “He lives on excitement….The more he scents frustration the more he has to fight for; the greater the obstacles, the greater the triumph.” Surrounded

South Africa's Revolution The Boers knew the ire that the fire felt as it moved svelte like a snake through the veldt. Nothing concerned had been left unturned as the baas grasslands burned and burned and burned.

Boers lived on their slaves exactly the way natives had lived on an unprepared and unchanged nature. When the Boers, in their fright and misery, decided to use these savages as though they were just another form of animal life, they embarked upon a process which could only end with their own degeneration into a white race living beside and together with black races from whom in the end they would differ only in the color of their skin.

His day is done. Is done. The news came on the wings of a wind, reluctant to carry its burden. Nelson Mandela’s day is done. The news, expected and still unwelcome, reached us in the United States, and suddenly our world became somber. Our skies were leadened. His day is done. We see you, South African people standing speechless at the slamming of that final door through which no traveller returns. Our spirits reach out to you Bantu, Zulu, Xhosa, Boer. We think of you and your son of Africa, your father, your one more wonder of the world. We send our souls to you as you reflect upon your David armed with a mere stone, facing down the mighty Goliath. Your man of strength, Gideon, emerging triumphant. Although born into the brutal embrace of Apartheid, scarred by the savage atmosphere of racism, unjustly imprisoned in the bloody maws of South African dungeons. Would the man survive? Could the man survive? His answer strengthened men and women around the world. In the Alamo, in San Antonio, Texas, on the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, in Chicago’s Loop, in New Orleans Mardi Gras, in New York City’s Times Square, we watched as the hope of Africa sprang through the prison’s doors. His stupendous heart intact, his gargantuan will hale and hearty. He had not been crippled by brutes, nor was his passion for the rights of human beings diminished by twenty-seven years of imprisonment. Even here in America, we felt the cool, refreshing breeze of freedom. When Nelson Mandela took the seat of Presidency in his country where formerly he was not even allowed to vote we were enlarged by tears of pride, as we saw Nelson Mandela’s former prison guards invited, courteously, by him to watch from the front rows his inauguration. We saw him accept the world’s award in Norway with the grace and gratitude of the Solon in Ancient Roman Courts, and the confidence of African Chiefs from ancient royal stools. No sun outlasts its sunset, but it will rise again and bring the dawn. Yes, Mandela’s day is done, yet we, his inheritors, will open the gates wider for reconciliation, and we will respond generously to the cries of Blacks and Whites, Asians, Hispanics, the poor who live piteously on the floor of our planet. He has offered us understanding. We will not withhold forgiveness even from those who do not ask. Nelson Mandela’s day is done, we confess it in tearful voices, yet we lift our own to say thank you. Thank you our Gideon, thank you our David, our great courageous man. We will not forget you, we will not dishonor you, we will remember and be glad that you lived among us, that you taught us, and that you loved us all.

boor (which originally just meant “farmer,” as in the German Bauer and Dutch boer); villain (from the French vilein, a serf or villager); churlish (from English churl, a commoner); vulgar (common, as in the term vulgate); and ignoble, not an aristocrat.

Believing that the soldiers of the apartheid government really did use rubber bullets and carried batons only for decoration is seriously misguided, though understandable considering that newspapers were strictly censored, while history books abounded with Blatant Boer Bias.

The world of 1906...was a stable and a civilized world in which the greatness and authority of Britain and her Empire seemed unassailable and invulnerably secure. In spite of our reverses in the Boer War it was assumed unquestioningly that we should always emerge "victorious, happy and glorious" from any conflict. There were no doubts about the permanence of our "dominion over palm and pine", or of our title to it. Powerful, prosperous, peace-loving, with the seas all round us and the Royal Navy on the seas, the social, economic, international order seemed to our unseeing eyes as firmly fixed on earth as the signs of the Zodiac in the sky.

Guy Molony, who ran away from New Orleans at sixteen to fight in the Boer War. It was the era of romantic soldiering, when boys heeded the call of Rudyard Kipling (“Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst, / Where there aren’t no Ten Commandments an’ a man can raise a thirst,” he wrote in “Mandalay”).

Churchill, Twain said, ‘knew all about war and nothing about peace’. Twain added that he himself disapproved of the war in South Africa, ‘and he thought England sinned when she interfered with the Boers, as the United States is sinning in meddling in the affairs of the Filipinos. England and America were kin in almost everything; now they are kin in sin.

All Nature smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper." (Churchill on first seeing the southern coast of Africa)

War had turned out to be far more

She is certain[ly] very clever, in a doubtful sense of the word.

If it was not a good idea, it was at least an interesting one.

Let's stop with the 'Taylor made' organisation and let's start 'Tailor made' organizing

increased Internet usage resulted in some loss of close friendships.

Philo of Alexandria: “Be compassionate, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle.

like the Irish, if we have no external enemy we fight amongst ourselves, and this has been our custom for more than a century.

Long before it was over, the war would also change the empire in another, equally indelible way: It would bring to the attention of a rapt British public a young man named Winston Churchill.

In de weerdij van dien laatsten zomer dat ze te boere had overgebracht, was Mira van kind tot volslagen deerne uitgegroeid; slank en mager nog, onvast en los in de gewrichten, maar begaafd met al de kennis en streken om het verleidelijke van 't geen haar van vorm en vrouwelijk fatsoen nog ontbrak, als ontluikende schoonheid te doen uitkomen, en de rest als een belofte te laten gelden.

The first time you meet Winston you see all his faults,” Pamela would explain years later to Edward Marsh, Churchill’s private secretary, “and the rest of your life you spend in discovering his virtues.

She placed a protective arm around him and drew him closer to her. Her expression was pensive, her lips drawn in a tight line and her brow furrowed. Kruger saw the shadow of grief pass briefly over her features.

Chance is unceasingly at work in our lives,” Churchill would write years later, thinking back on Grenfell and the fate that might have been his, “but we cannot always see its workings sharply and clearly defined.

Unknown to the Cabinet and Parliament, a tiny cabal had made a decision fateful for Britain, the empire, and the world. Under the guidance of Edward Grey, the foreign secretary from 1905 to 1916, British and French officers plotted Britain’s entry into a Franco-German war from the first shot. And these secret war plans were being formulated by Liberals voted into power in public revulsion against the Boer War on a platform of “Peace, Retrenchment, and Reform.

Modern critics find much that is unlovely in the religion established by the Scottish reformers. It was Hebraic and Old Testament in its emphasis, stressing the thou-shalt-nots and the denunciation of sin. It was not a religion of kindness to one's fellows or of gentle manners. Scots, like their fellow-Calvinist contemporaries of the seventeenth century, the Boers of South Africa, regarded themselves as a chosen people, elect of God, and their God was an awful Majesty, given to revenge upon His enemies.

The books seemed to be arranged loosely by topic and period. Titles such as The Accidental Guerrilla, War of the Flea, Counterinsurgency, The Sling and the Stone, Counter-Guerrilla Operations, and A Savage War of Peace jumped out at the detective. Right next to Machiavelli, Epictetus, and Marcus Aurelius were books on the Boer War, the Rhodesian Selous Scouts, and various other conflicts spanning both recent and ancient history. Phil pulled a book titled The Book of Five Rings, by Miyamoto Musashi, and cracked the cover.

Prinny has been an unpopular monarch for 250 years. He spent fortunes on palaces and parks at a time when England needed all the money it could raise to finance the Napoleonic War. Well, the Napoleonic War was followed by the Crimean War and the Boer War and the First World War and the Second World War and they're all long gone. The Pavilion at Brighton and Windsor Castle and Regent Street and Carlton House Terrace and Regent's Park and the Nash Terraces are all still here. Blessings on your far-sighted spendthrift head, Prinny.

He sits in an old armchair in the corner covered with bits of blankets and a bucket behind the chair that stinks enough to make you sick and when you look at that old man in the dark corner you want to get a hose with hot water and strip him and wash him down and give him a big feed of rashers and eggs and mashed potatoes with loads of butter and salt and onions. I want to take the man from the Boer War and the pile of rags in the bed and put them in a big sunny house in the country with birds chirping away outside the window and a stream gurgling.

A lizard, resting in the shade of the anthill, studied Atkinson with interest, tilting its head this way and that. Atkinson studied it in return. A small, dull brown animal, usually it would not catch Atkinson’s attention, but under the circumstances it became a thing of beauty.

Pop culture was the new religion. The era of the matinee idol was long gone. At the forefront of all things cool was the pop star, the rock artist. They were the new gods, and to be in a band, to be part of it all, was like joining an international religion, becoming part of a holy order.

Take a community of Dutchmen of the type of those who defended themselves for fifty years against all the power of Spain at a time when Spain was the greatest power in the World. Intermix with them a strain of those inflexible French Huguenots who gave up home and fortune and left their Country forever at the time of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. The product must obviously be one of the most rugged, virile, unconquerable races ever seen upon Earth. Take this formidable people and train them for seven generations in constant warfare against savage men and ferocious beasts, in circumstances under which no weakling could survive, place them so that they acquire exceptional skills with weapons and in horsemanship, give them a Country which is eminently suited to the tactics of the huntsman, the marksman and the rider. Then, finally, put a fine temper upon their military qualities by a dour fatalistic Old Testament religion and an ardent and consuming patriotism. Combine all of these qualities and all these impulses in one individual, and you have the modern Boer. The most formidable antagonist who ever crossed the path of Imperial Britain.

With effort, he concentrated on an editorial. It told of widespread industrial unrest in the Midlands and asserted that it was imperative to pay a fair wage for a fair day’s work. Another article lamented that the huge industrial machine of England was operating at only half capacity and cried that greater new markets must be found for the productive wealth it could spew forth; more production meant cheaper goods, increased employment, higher wages. There were news articles that told of tension and war clouds over France and Spain because of the succession to the Spanish throne; Prussia was spreading its tentacles into all the German states to dominate them and a Franco-Prussian confrontation was imminent; there were war clouds over Russia and the Hapsburg Holy Roman Empire; war clouds over the Italian States that wished to throw out the upstart French King of Naples and join together or not to join together, and the Pope, French-supported, was involved in the political arena; there were war clouds over South Africa because the Boers – who had over the last four years trekked out of the Cape Colony to established the Transvaal and the Orange Free State – were now threatening the English colony of Natal and war was expected by the next mail; there were anti-Semitic riots and pogroms throughout Europe; Catholic were fighting against Protestants, Mohammedans against Hindus, against Catholics, against Protestants, and they fighting among themselves; there were Red Indian wars in America, animosity between the Northern and Southern states, animosity between America and Britain over Canada, trouble in Ireland, Sweden, Finland, India, Egypt, the Balkans  . . . ‘Does na matter what you read!’ Struan exploded to no one in particular. ‘The whole world’s mad, by God!

In 1945, Churchill admitted privately, ‘The biggest blunder of my life was the return to the Gold Standard.’131 The almost total unanimity of the financial experts in favour of it, when set alongside the views of the admirals about the convoy system, and those of the generals about how to fight both the Boer War and Great War, led Churchill seriously to doubt the wisdom of experts. His willingness to attack the views of the entire Establishment over appeasement might not have been so complete had he not seen its experts proved wrong time and again, and had he not, in the case of the Gold Standard, been forced to take ultimate responsibility.

The consequences of the regulation regarding the use of footpaths were rather serious for me. I always went out for a walk through President Street to an open plain. President Kruger’s house was in this street – a very modest, unostentatious building, without a garden and not distinguishable from other houses in its neighbourhood. The houses of many of the millionaires in Pretoria were far more pretentious, and were surrounded by gardens. Indeed President Kruger’s simplicity was proverbial. Only the presence of a police patrol before the house indicated that it belonged to some official. I nearly always went along the footpaths past this patrol without the slightest hitch or hindrance. Now the man on duty used to be changed from time to time. Once one of these men, without giving me the slightest warning, without even asking me to leave the footpath, pushed and kicked me into the street. I was dismayed. Before I could question him as to his behaviour, Mr Coates, who happened to be passing the spot on horseback, hailed me and said: ‘Gandhi, I have seen everything. I shall gladly be your witness in court if you proceed against the man. I am very sorry you have been so rudely assaulted.’ ‘You need not be sorry,’ I said. ‘What does the poor man know? All coloured people are the same to him. He no doubt treats Negroes just as he has treated me. I have made it a rule not to go to court in respect of any personal grievance. So I do not intend to proceed against him.’ ‘That is just like you,’ said Mr Coates, ‘but do think it over again. We must teach such men a lesson.’ He then spoke to the policeman and reprimanded him. I could not follow their talk, as it was in Dutch, the policeman being a Boer. But he apologized to me, for which there was no need. I had already forgiven him. But I never again went through this street. There would be other men coming in this man’s place and, ignorant of the incident, they would behave likewise. Why should I unnecessarily court another kick? I therefore selected a different walk. The incident deepened my feeling for the Indian settlers. I discussed with them the advisability of making a test case, if it were found necessary to do so, after having seen the British Agent in the matter of these regulations. I thus made an intimate study of the hard condition of the Indian settlers, not only by reading and hearing about it, but by personal experience. I saw that South Africa was no country for a self-respecting Indian, and my mind became more and more occupied with the question as to how this state of things might be improved.

The death and resurrection of Christ mark the incursion of the future new age into the present old age (cf de Boer 1989:187, note 17; Duff 1989:285-289). This event signifies the inauguration and the anticipation of the coming triumph of God, the overture to it, and its guarantee. It is a decisive sign, which determines the character of all future signs and indeed of the Christian hope itself. Paul can therefore designate Christ as the “first fruits” of the final resurrection of the dead, or the “first-born among many brethren” (1 Cor 15:20, 23; Rom 8:29). The resurrection of Christ necessarily points to the future glory of God and its completion.

Well, I devoutly hope Churchill is safe," Atkins wrote in his dispatch that night., hardly believing that the young man who held so much promise could be so quickly lost. "But I half fear the gods love too much a man, only twenty-four years old, who... is that rare combination, the soldier, the reckless soldier even, and the bookman.

Jan Smuts, the brilliant young Transvaal state attorney, wrote of Botha that he had a natural sympathy that made it possible for him to “get extremely close to others and to read their minds and divine their characters with marvellous accuracy. It gave him an intuitive power of understanding and appreciating men which was very rare.” Botha

Oh yes, and compulsory ferret-legging down the pub on Tuesday evenings, for the tourist trade tha’ knows.” “Ferret-legging?” Rachel looked at him incredulously. “Yup. You tie your kilt up around your knees with duct tape—as you probably know, no Yorkshireman would be seen dead wearing anything under his sporran—and take a ferret by the scruff of his neck. A ferret, that’s like, uh, a bit like a mink. Only less friendly. It’s a young man’s initiation rite; you stick the ferret where the sun doesn’t shine and dance the furry dance to the tune of a balalaika. Last man standing and all that, kind of like the ancient Boer aardvark-kissing competition.” Martin shuddered dramatically. “I hate ferrets. The bloody things bite like a cask-strength single malt without the nice after-effects.

He wrote an angry summing-up of the manifold ways in which the West subjugated weaker countries; caustically titled ‘On the New Rules for Destroying Countries,’ it could just as easily have been written by al-Afghani. Liang described the endless subtle ways in which European merchants and mine-owners had progressively infiltrated and undermined many societies and cultures. The essay detailed these methods, which included cajoling countries into spiralling debt (Egypt), territorial partition (Poland), exploiting internal divisions (India), or simply overwhelming adversaries with military superiority (the Philippines and the Transvaal). ‘To those who claim,’ Liang wrote, ‘that opening mining, railroad and concessionary rights to foreigners is not harmful to the sovereignty of the whole, I advise you to read the history of the Boer War.

Without in any way diminishing the horror on the Holocaust, to a certain extent we can understand Nazism as European colonialism and imperialism brought home. The decimation of the indigenous populations of the Americas and Australia, the tens of millions who died of famine in India under British rule, the ten million killed by Belgian king Leopold's Congo Free State, and the horrors of transatlantic slavery are but a sliver of the mass death and societal decimation wrought by European powers prior to the rise of Hitler. Early concentration camps (known as "reservations") were set up by the American government to imprison indigenous populations, by the Spanish monarchy to contain Cuban revolutionaries in the 1890s, and by the British during the Boer War at the turn of the century. Well before the Holocaust, the German government had committed genocide against Herero and Nama people of southwest Africa through the use of concentration camps and other methods between 1904 and 1907.

The Germans suffered 800,000 casualties in the same period, including three times as many dead as during the entire Franco-Prussian War. This also represented a higher rate of loss than at any later period of the war. The British in August fought two actions, at Mons and Le Cateau, which entered their national legend. In October their small force was plunged into the three-week nightmare of the First Battle of Ypres. The line was narrowly held, with a larger French and Belgian contribution than chauvinists acknowledge, but much of the old British Army reposes forever in the region’s cemeteries: four times as many soldiers of the King perished in 1914 as during the three years of the Boer War. Meanwhile in the East, within weeks of abandoning their harvest fields, shops and lathes, newly mobilised Russian, Austrian and German soldiers met in huge clashes; tiny Serbia inflicted a succession of defeats on the Austrians which left the Hapsburg Empire reeling, having by Christmas suffered 1.27 million casualties at Serb and Russian hands, amounting to one in three of its soldiers mobilised.

All I know about the Bible is that wherever it goes there’s trouble. The only time I ever heard of it being useful was when a stretcher bearer I was with at the battle of Dundee told me that he’d once gotten hit by a Mauser bullet in the heart, only he was carrying a Bible in his tunic pocket and the Bible saved his life. He told me that ever since he’d always carried a Bible into battle with him and he felt perfectly safe because God was in his breast pocket. We were out looking for a sergeant of the Worcesters and three troopers who were wounded while out on a reconnaissance and were said to be holed up in a dry donga. In truth I think my partner felt perfectly safe because the Boer Mausers were estimated by the British artillery to be accurate to 800 yards and we were at least 1,200 yards from enemy lines. Alas, nobody bothered to tell the Boers about the shortcomings of their brand new German rifle and a Mauser bullet hit him straight between the eyes.’ He puffed at his pipe. ‘Which goes to prove, you can always depend on British army information not to be accurate, the Boers to be deadly accurate, the Bible to be good for matters of the heart but hopeless for those of the head and, finally, that God is in nobody’s pocket.

point of comparison, over the previous century, during which it had expanded its empire to five continents, the British Empire had been involved in some forty different conflicts around the globe—colonial insurrections mostly, but including the Crimean and Boer wars—and had lost some forty thousand soldiers in the process. Over the next four years, it would lose over twenty times that number. In the disastrous Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71, France had suffered an estimated 270,000 battlefield casualties; in the present war, it was to surpass that number in the first three weeks. In this conflict, Germany would see 13 percent of its military-age male population killed, Serbia 15 percent of its total population, while in just a two-year span, 1913 to 1915, the life expectancy of a French male would drop from fifty years to twenty-seven. So inured would the architects of the carnage become to such statistics that at the launch of his 1916 Somme offensive, British general Douglas Haig could look over the first day’s casualty rolls—with fifty-eight thousand Allied soldiers dead or wounded, it remains the bloodiest single day in the history of the English-speaking world—and judge that the numbers “cannot be considered severe.” The effect of all this on the collective European

Wanneer ik probeer na te gaan wat ik aan de kant van Méséglise te danken heb - de bescheiden ontdekkingen die daar hun toevallige decor of onmisbare inspiratiebron hadden - herinner ik me dat het op een van die wandeltochten was, dat najaar, bij de dichtbegroeide helling die Montjouvain beschut, dat ik voor het eerst werd getroffen door die onevenredigheid tussen onze indrukken en de gebruikelijke uitdrukkingswijze daarvan. Toen ik, na een uur monter tegen regen en wind te hebben opgetornd, aankwam bij de plas van Montjouvain, bij een met dakpannen afgedekt hutje waar de tuinman van M. Vinteuil zijn gereedschap opborg, was de zon weer doorgebroken, en zijn in de stortbui schoongespoelde verguldsel glansde als nieuw in de lucht, op de bomen, op de muur van de hut, op het nog natte pannendak, waar boven aan de nok een kip rondstapte. De blazende wind rukte horizontaal aan de grassen die in het muurbeschot groeiden en aan de donzen veren van de kip, die, het ene zowel als het andere, gerekt tot in hun volle lengte, meegaven op het waaien met de overgave van inerte, lichte dingen. Het pannendak bracht in de plas, die de zon opnieuw liet spiegelen, een roze marmering teweeg waar ik nooit eerder acht op had geslagen. En toen ik op het water en op het muurvlak een bleke glimlach de glimlach van de hemel zag beantwoorden, riep ik in mijn enthousiasme, zwiepend met mijn weer dichtgevouwen paraplu: 'Allemachtig, allemachtig.' Maar tegelijkertijd besefte ik dat het mijn plicht zou zijn geweest het niet bij die ondoorzichtige woorden te laten, maar te proberen iets van mijn verrukking te begrijpen. En het was ook die dag - dankzij een voorbijkomende boer die er al uitzag of hij vrij slechtgehumeurd was, wat erger werd toen hij bijna mijn paraplu in zijn gezicht kreeg, en die mijn 'mooi weer hè, goed om te lopen' stug beantwoordde - dat ik te weten kwam dat dezelfde emoties zich niet tezelfdertijd, volgens een al van tevoren vaststaand patroon, bij alle mensen voordoen. Altijd als ik, later, door het wat langdurige lezen in een spraakzame stemming was gebracht, had de schoolvriend met wie ik maar al te graag een gesprek wilde beginnen er juist plezierig op los gepraat en wenste nu ongestoord te kunnen lezen. Als ik net vol genegenheid aan mijn ouders had gedacht en bezield was van de beste voornemens, die hun het meest plezier zouden doen, hadden zij dezelfde tijd gebruikt om achter een - door mij vergeten - pekelzonde te komen waar ze mij streng om berispten terwijl ik naar hen toe rende om hun een zoen te geven.

Val prayed the remaining two weeks would fly past. The dangers of being picked off on patrol, or being overrun and killed by Boers in British uniforms, was infinitely preferable to the grimness of social availability in Pretoria

I maintain that it is the Bible’s intention to reduce humanity’s problem to their delivery from slavery.

It’s out of our hands.” “What do you mean it’s out of your hands? Your hands are the ones creating it, aren’t they?” [asked Williams]. “You don’t understand, the corporation is its own entity. Nobody sitting around the boardroom believes any one of them can change things. Even we who run Procter & Gamble speak of ‘it’ as though it is something outside ourselves.”5

A “public position” means that “the first freedom you surrender is the freedom to speak impulsively, from the heart.

Leadership is a primary quality people expect of pastors, even if no one is precisely sure what leadership actually is.

Sometimes I fear that English Anglicanism has given up on holiness. . . . I note now that many, even most, advertisements for new Anglican incumbents seek a minister who is gifted in ‘leadership,’ or one who is ‘energetic’ and ‘efficient’. Rarely do they ask for one who is ‘prayerful’ . . . But this ecclesiastical trend towards secular models of personal efficacy is odd; for if ever an age yearned for authentic sanctity, it is surely ours. Think of the magnetism of John Paul II, of Mother Teresa, of ‘Father Joe’.3

Having heroes can come at the expense of the truth.

Some “leaders” are enveloped in hagiographical mystique: their laudably commendable achievements are the only lens through which we view them, while we disregard other facts about them.

North American evangelicals are preoccupied with leadership. Evangelicals describe the process of winning conversions as “leading someone to Christ.” Numerous parachurch ministries are named after founders, sometimes fostering personality cults. Evangelicalism frequently “focuses on individual personalities and rallies around charismatic leaders, who often need and seek out acclamation.”4

I do not recall anyone commended for being a “disciple” or “faithful follower of Jesus.

As Luke recounts events leading up to Jesus’s birth, he deliberately names luminaries of his day—Emperor Augustus, King Herod, Governor Quirinius. Yet he startlingly shifts focus to unimportant, unlikely folks—Zechariah, Elizabeth, Mary, Joseph—who are in fact the unexpected channels of God’s work, the real sphere of God’s transforming activity.

public noteworthies are not where the greatest changes and most important events happen; acknowledged public leaders, people at the front of organizations or on top of pyramids, are merely “like the foam on the waves of a deep ocean.”7

We need . . . church leadership that risks a robust correlation of its scripture and theology with the very best that secular leadership studies can offer. What we get is church leadership that congratulates itself for dabbling in secular leadership studies twice borrowed, church leadership with a preference for simplistic formulas, catchy buzz words, and inane parables.” Such “Church Leadership Lite” is both “short on biblical and theological integrity and oblivious to serious leadership study.

Much leadership literature—even from “Christian” publishers—dwells on executives or “stars” in big businesses, professional sports, and the military. Frequent are the celebrations of leadership in Disney, Apple, Southwest Airlines, or Shell. While there are things to be learned, caution is also appropriate. These kinds of books reinforce the interests and perspectives of the status quo.

Many corporations earn success by questionable ethical practices, too frequently externalizing real costs,

Leadership literature promotes envy with false promises. Casinos and lotteries encourage gambling with two messages: first, you, too, can win buckets of money, and, second, this is only possible if you gamble. Most gamblers and lottery ticket consumers do not win but lose. The truth is: “You can be a loser too.”12 When leadership books dwell on five-star generals, corporation executives, metropolis mayors, and megachurch CEOs, the implicit promise is like gambling: you can only win if you enter the game, and you, too, might hit the big time. But the majority of people, no matter how talented, motivated, and connected, will never be generals, executives, mayors, or megachurch pastors.

The church doesn’t need to be run like a business,’ a mentor once told me, ‘but it surely shouldn’t be run like a bad business.’”15 Nevertheless, caution is in order. Bottom line concerns about profits, shareholder interests, and value-added priorities do not necessarily add up in God’s economy.

Klein verschilletje mag bestaan tussen een waarachtige boer met erf of boersheid.

It’s a bitter irony of contemporary American life: it is in our most progressive spaces that we see the most social inequality. As the urban sociologist Richard Florida has demonstrated, those cities that are the most liberal—New York, San Francisco, Austin—also are home to the greatest income inequality and wealth segregation.

All Nature smiles, and here at last is a land where white men may rule and prosper. As yet only the indolent Kaffir enjoys its bounty, and, according to the antiquated philosophy of Liberalism, it is to such that it should for ever belong.

but in front of all, as a special recognition of their devoted valour, marched the Dublin Fusiliers, few, but proud.

we can learn more from failure: There is a strong sentiment among many organizational scholars that copying the success of others . . . cannot work. They argue that so many factors have to come together for a program to work that it is all but impossible for an outside observer (or even for an insider) to determine which of the factors contributed most to the success of the program. These scholars believe, by contrast, that less-than-successful endeavors are more educational because we . . . point to the moment when things started to go wrong. Their point is that eliminating known mistakes is often a far more effective way to improve than emulating perceived successes.3

much leadership literature promotes “functional atheism”: working from “the unconscious assumption that if I don’t make something good happen here it never will.”17 Relying on techniques and best practices, we may forego reliance on God; we act like atheists. We effectively deny God’s existence or efficacy.

We also must speak forthrightly where Christian faith has different priorities. We settle for neither uncritical embrace nor wholesale rejection; we can opt for redemption.

While history focuses on victors and the powerful, people at the top and in charge, the Bible pays an astonishing amount of attention to regular, normal folks who are nevertheless the unexpected means of God’s dramatic work.

In the history of warfare, a succession of bold ideas and weapons had promised to curb the tyranny of distance. The horse and the cavalry had revolutionised warfare and tamed distance; but the Boer War, where more than 300,000 horses were killed in the fighting, foreshadowed the declining role of the horse. In the First World War the flimsy aircraft flourished high above the trenches without seeming likely to conquer distance; and yet in the Second World War the Japanese launched their devastating aerial attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, and the huge American aircraft dropped the first atomic bombs on two distant Japanese cities in 1945. In various other phases of the war, however, distance was still a powerful obstacle. In the following decades the latest American and Soviet missiles covered vast distances, but many military leaders in the nuclear era believed that ‘the tyranny of distance’ was far from ended.

If a white man wants to lynch me, that’s his problem. If he’s got the power to lynch me, that’s my problem. Racism is not a question of attitude; it’s a question of power.

Khrushchev backed down, Kennedy wisely instructed his staff not to betray any hint of gloating—a provocation to Soviet credibility and pride could lead to a later war. Similarly, he rejected additional plans for an invasion, which Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara put before him in case the Soviets did not honor a promise to remove their missiles. Kennedy continued to see an invasion as carrying huge risks: “Consider the size of the problem,” he told McNamara, “the equipment that is involved on the other side, the Nationalists [’] fervor which may be engendered, it seems to me we could end up bogged down. I think we should keep constantly in mind the British in the Boer War, the Russians in the last war with the Finnish and our own experience with the North Koreans.” Given his concerns about getting “bogged down” only ninety miles from U.S. shores, would Kennedy have been as ready as Lyndon Johnson to put hundreds of thousands of ground troops into Vietnam?

The concept of the end of policing and prisons was not new in 2020. There have been leftists advocating for police and prison abolition for as long as I’ve been politically conscious. Activists demanding the abolition of police had a large corpus of theoretical writing to draw from. But there was usually a key difference between the older school of police and prison abolition and the demands of the most impassioned days of 2020: the former almost always imagined that a world without formal policing would emerge only after other society-altering changes had taken place. Typically, this was defined as the fall of capitalism and the establishment of some sort of socialist system, a system without poverty and deprivation. In other words, the radicals I knew might imagine the end of the police, but they imagined that end would come after the revolution. To debate the concept in 2020 was to skip a lot of steps. This was a general issue in the first year after Floyd’s murder, a sense that people wanted to dodge the hard work that would have been necessary before society-altering changes could take place. In part because of the extremely low odds of success for a police abolition movement, many who supported defunding the police insisted that the intent had never been to abolish the police at all. In this telling, “defund the police” means reducing the budgets of police departments, drawing down their resources, and redirecting some of those funds to other uses,

For Paul (de Boer’s primary concern) just as for the John of Revelation, apocalyptic eschatology ‘is thus as much a matter of a past eschatological event (the resurrection of Jesus, the Messiah) as of an event still to occur (the parousia)’.20

He had no idea where he was, but, he thought with a small twinge of consolation, neither did anyone else.

Finally, in a desperate attempt to protect its fiercely guarded reputation and stem the potential damage, the Transvaal government claimed that, before Churchill's escape, it had planned to let him go.

We took eight selections. Our first five picks, Stephen Hill, Hayden Ballantyne, Nick Suban, Zac Clarke and Michael Walters, all became significant players for us. We took another five selections in the rookie draft, with Matt de Boer, Clancee Pearce and Greg Broughton in particular playing major roles in the club’s climb up the ladder.

Since the beginning of the war, however, the city had been overwhelmed by refugees, coming in ever-growing waves of increasingly desperate British subjects. In his offices at the British consulate, in the heart of the city, the consul general, Alexander Carnegie Ross, was harried and exhausted, with no idea what to do with them all.

In sharp contradiction to Kipling, Mark Twain had no wish to succeed the British in any imperial role. He abhorred what his country had done to the people of the Philippines as much as what the British had done to the Boers, and so he finished introducing his English guest with the playfully reproachful words: ‘We are kin. And now that we are kin in sin, there is nothing more to be desired.

The Boers ‘must be helped to rebuild their farms; the gold mines must do that. What more fitting function for the wealth of South African soil (better build farms in South Africa than palaces in Park Lane!†).’ This change, from the happy warrior to the young MP who could now say, ‘I hate and abominate all this expenditure on military armaments,’ was one of his first transformations.

Emma loved her father and understood the nature of him, but he had disturbed her not a little in the last few months. Her dad just wasn’t the same since he had returned from the Boer War.