I finished the book — a good game of chess: intelligence, negotiations, interests, self-estimations in relation to others. There is no enduring belief; all moves are responses, rational albeit clouded responses, to shifting circumstances. A totally reasonable history, a history without soul, without real force.

There is no human; this is the game of gods, of human machines, of humans abstracted and sublated into machines. Of course, there are always surprises: once you have become powerful enough, you will be counted, but nobody will ask what your ‘why’ is. Beliefs are only one of the factors to take into consideration; one plays to win. There is no room for failure, for unending struggle but only missed opportunities. But oh well, one ought to move on, to accept the state of the game as it is.

But what kind of politics is this? There is no room for singular men but only generalized “people” standing behind big players. A mechanical process. Thinkers, writers, believers — they are nothing but excessive and therefore naive; they can only be recognized as illustrations for “waves” that come and pass. As Mr. Brooke says, one should only follow a creed “to an extent”; and it’s crucial to stay well informed of the latest waves.

In this kind of history, political leaders cannot be genuine inspirations but only icons (of course, there are those who truly believe in them, but they are naive), and their iconic value can be quite high. Misunderstandings happen, as when Romain Rolland (as well as not-so-naive nationalists in colonies) raved about Wilson as the hero of freedom, but it’s win-win anyway because images can always be appropriated for self-serving purposes.

This history, which is unable to recognize the human and to stare at the fundamental conflict of the time, is mediocre bourgeois history. And yet, how it likes to talk about history-writing as a revolutionary act! How it likes to quibble about power and representation and to unveil the hypocrisy of self-claimed freedom fighters! Unable to write a true tragedy, it fails even to offer a substantial comedy. A history that doesn’t move incites neither laughter nor tears.

It’s either submission or rebel; there’s no middle way. But I dare not choose and therefore will fall into the worst, basest path.