There is, though, no denying that the West is desperately in need of leadership. The leader may face unpalatable choices—between, say, enduring prolonged bombardment of cities by rockets and risking an international outcry by retaliating, despite the certainty of civilian casualties. Nato airstrikes in Afghanistan regularly kill civilians, even without the justification of self-defence. A statesman, therefore, will refuse to take the path of least resistance, let alone appeasement. Instead, he or she will ensure that words and actions are consistent. When in 1944-45 the Nazis subjected British civilians to the ordeal of the V1 and V2 rockets, Churchill did not hesitate to continue the bombing of German cities, which killed at least half a million civilians, until the last days of the war. Churchill and Roosevelt were no criminals. Nor was Truman when he used the atom bomb on Japan. The only crime is the hypocrisy of condemning Israel for precision attacks that minimise civilian deaths.

 

Leadership cannot be analysed, but it can be recognised. Besides sincerity and authenticity, a true leader requires courage: he will not willingly yield to the oppressor. The ultimate self-sacrifice is not required of most leaders, but they must be ready to share the same ordeal as the rest. He or she should possess a certain nobility of character. Our schools and universities do not steel us for adversity. Statesmanship, nevertheless, requires a tragic sense: the price paid for the pursuit of liberty may be very high. Of Samson, betrayed and blinded, the poet tells us: “Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him/Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.” We know how Samson chose to end his “life heroic”. Britons like to sing that they never will be slaves. They should expect Samson’s descendents to do the same.