September 14, 2026

Fritz Strich on The History of The Development of World Literature


Wikipedia:

Fritz Strich (13 December 1882) – 15 August 1963) was a Swiss-German literature historian.

Born in Königsberg, Strich was a student of Franz Muncker and became a lecturer at the Ludwig-Maximilians-Universität München in 1910. In 1915 he was appointed extraordinary professor in Munich and in 1929 professor at the University of Bern. In this way he escaped the persecution of Jews in the German Reich. In 1941 Strich was awarded the Swiss nationality and worked as a professor until his emeritus in 1953.

Strich received the Goethe Medal for Art and Science in 1932, the Berner Literaturpreis [de] in 1951 and the Goethe Plaque of the City of Frankfurt in 1953. Strich was a member of the German Academy for Language and Poetry.

An excerpt from, "Goethe And World Literature" By Fritz Strich, Routlege & Kegan Paul Ltd, 1945, Pg. 52 - 58:

Goethe's idea of world literature took the form neither of a command on his part that it should develop nor of a seer's vision that it was bound to do so. The idea evolved from his realisation that a world literature was in actual fact taking shape in his own time. It was only a new name for an actual historical process which Goethe was witnessing, and which presaged the dawning of a new literary age. For Goethe nothing had real existence unless he had himself experienced it. Therefore his idea of world literature developed out of his own feeling of in-debtedness to foreign literatures. The culture he had imbibed from them had helped to make him what he was, a power in the literary world of Europe. The rising generation in Europe hailed him as its leader and spiritual head. This experience indicated to Goethe that German literature was now no longer merely receptive, modelling itself on others which despised and neglected it. It now had something to contribute ; it played an active part in the development of European literatures, and in particular had a rejuvenating effect on the jaded spiritual life of Europe.

So, when Goethe speaks of world literature as something that is taking shape, we must ask the question whether it was really only beginning to develop in his time. In the Middle Ages and the Age of Humanism there existed a universal language, Latin, in which not only could the learned men of every nation exchange their thoughts but in which also an extra-national poetry grew up. Although Goethe himself refers expressly (when opposing linguistic "Purism ) to the beneficial influence which this had on the intellectual coherence of Europe, Latin literature cannot be claimed as world literature in Goethe's sense. For, in the first place, the circle which knew and used it was limited to scholars, and in the second place world literature ought to be not a colourless unity but a lively conversation. The nations ought not thereby to lose their special characteristics, but with one another's help should develop their common human qualities and learn tolerance for each other. Goethe saw in Ancient Greece a universal model for all literatures. When he developed his idea of world literature in conversation with Eckermann, and spoke of the need for aquainting oneself (as he did) with foreign literatures, he added that, however much one admired them, none could serve as a pattern. If we look for a model we must turn to the ancient Greeks, in whose works the perfection of human endeavour was represented. We must look at everything else from the historical point of view, appropriating, as far as we can, what is good in it. But Goethe certainly did not recognise as world literature merely any literature written in one universal language. On the other hand there had been, from classical times onwards, contacts between the peoples suggesting world literature in Goethe's sense. If we take German literature in particular, it has always been open to literary influences from abroad, has modelled itself on them, interested itself critically in them, and developed a vast activity in the work of translation. Through every age, German literature shows a tendency to look to the Romance literatures for guidance in form and proportion, purity and beauty. Middle High German literature took its formal and social education from France. Through the influence of Chancellor Johannes von Neumarkt (whose enthusiasm for Italy had almost the same origins as Goethe's) at the court of the Emperor Charles IV, famous writers of the Italian Renaisaance, Petrarch and Rienzi, became models for a Latin and also a German literary style. Translations from Boccaccio, Poggio and Æneas Silvius affected the incipient German Renaissance. French literature was used in the 16th century to help to overcome German crudity in art and society. Even the Baroque movement, consciously national in its ambition to raise German literature to the level of other European literatures, employed translation and imitation to show that what was possible in other languages was possible also in German. German classicism, superseding the Baroque style, copied the example of the French from whom it learned to endow German poetry with symmetry, clarity, good taste and reasonableness. And the German Rococo, the Anacreontic poetry of which Wieland's is the finest example, learned from French poetry charm, grace, and lightness, until finally both classicism and rococo were superseded by the foreign---though this time Germanic---help of England. Foreign literary influence on German literature assumed such proportions that German writers of the 16th, 17th and 18th centuries had repeatedly to oppose it. 

. . .The more German literature struggled by means of imitation to achieve significance, the farther it went astray. Even its efforts passed unnoticed or were regarded as barbarous eccentricities. This came to an end in the 18th century, when the nations, filled with the idea of one universal humanity, began to look beyond their frontiers and to attempt just criticism. But although Gottsched, Wieland, Gellert and other German writers now found acknowledgment and acceptance in French literature, we must remember that this happened only because these writers were themselves the product of the French school, and France was merely getting back what she had given. German literature had as yet nothing of its own to bestow. Even Lessing could hardly give anything to France which Diderot had not already expressed.

But there were signs which can be regarded as a beginning of world literature in Goethe's sense. In the first place there were the new journals which appeared in the course of the 18th century. The second half of the 17th century had of course its journals, such as the fournal des Savants (from 1665), the Nouvelles de la Républigue des Lettres (from 1684), the Bibliothegue Universelle (from 1685). They adopted a universal European tone and dealt with the German point of view, but their main concern was with scientific literature. Imaginative literature came only exceptionally within their purview. These journals were supranational in their desire to found a republic of the sciences. The 18th century, on the other hand, witnessed the founding of the Bibliotheque Anglaise (1717), the Bibliotheque Germanique (1720), the Bibliotheque Italique (1729), and these were conscious attempts to familiarise the nations of Europe, whose interests so far had been restricted to French literature, with English, German and Italian literature. While each of these journals had its specialised sphere of activity, the Bulletins litteraires of Fr. Melchior Grimm, the Journal étranger and the fournal littéraire (from 1754) and many other journals in France had real influence in the direction of world literature. This was especially the case with the Journal étranger, in the preface to which the hope was expressed that this journal would be popular in France, would find a wide circulation throughout Europe and would help to unite the individual literary republics in one single intellectual confederation, in a "réspublique des lettres". Every nation, the Journal goes on to say, will be enriched by the treasures of its rivals without losing any of its own, and so the whole of Europe will become better educated, more philosophical; and the Journal étranger hopes to have the good fortune to help in this task. Many voices were saying much the same thing. The most influential was of course Voltaire's. In a dedicatory letter for a French translation (by Antelmy) of Lessing's Fables he writes: French literature is very widely known in Germany, and journals publish reports of all our doings. There is also much just criticism. The .example that Germany gives ought to incite France to emulation, "que votre langue devînt plus commune parmi nous; que nous puissions nous intéresser à vos travaux littéraires, comme vous vous intéressez aux nôtres; qu'après avoir contribué avec deux de nos nations voisines à épurer votre goût, nous profitassions à notre tour de vos lumières (1764). These journals did justice to German literature by pointing out how far it was from being barbarous and rough. Soon, too, contributors began to mention their hopes for the wholesome and rejuvenating influence which German literature might have on French. This is particularly noticeable after France had become aware of Albrecht von Haller, Salomon Gessner and certain German writers who carried on their traditions. Huber's Choix de Poésies Allemandes, which appeared in 1766, was so successful that one can almost say there was a germanophil fashion in France in the sixties, and can trace Swiss and German influences in the works of the greatest French writers. Tacitus, in his Germania, had contrasted the simple moral and religious life among the German peoples with an over-civilised and decadent Rome. In the same way the idyllic poetry of a Haller or Gessner is contrasted as the ideal image of return to nature, to simplicity, to morality and religion. The Swiss and German writers make their entry into French literature with Rousseau. In the seventies and eighties the works of the younger German dramatists became known in France through the Thédtre Allemand, edited in 1772 by Junker and  Liebault, and the Nouveau. Thédtre Allemand by Friedel and Bonneville (1782-85). Even the early dramas of Goethe and Schiller 'are included among them. There is no doubt that this paved the way for the tremendous influence of Werther, which swept across France.

In Goethe's early years, then, world literature in his sense had made a beginning. But this was all a prelude compared with what happened in Europe after the publication of Werther; the traffic in ideas between the peoples gained not only in scope and speed but in depth and productiveness. 

Nearer, My God, to Thee



Today is the 125th anniversary of the death of President William McKinley. He was a Republican President who did everything better than Trump and probably every other President. Wars. Tariffs. Taking an assassin's bullet. He even died well.

McKinley's legacy is proof that there's nothing wrong with fighting wars and smacking tariffs on everything. But they must be done with wisdom, precision, and always with the national interest in mind, not for ideological reasons, the benefit of special interests, and the enrichment of a chosen few. 

Wikipedia:

William McKinley (January 29, 1843 – September 14, 1901) was the 25th president of the United States, serving from 1897 until his assassination in 1901. A member of the Republican Party, he led a realignment that made Republicans largely dominant in the industrial states and nationwide for decades. McKinley successfully led the U.S. in the Spanish–American War and oversaw a period of American expansionism, with the annexations of Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Guam, the Philippines, and American Samoa.

. . .On the morning of September 13, McKinley's condition deteriorated. Specialists were summoned; although at first some doctors hoped that McKinley might survive with a weakened heart, by afternoon they knew that the case was hopeless. Unknown to the doctors, gangrene was growing on the walls of McKinley's stomach and slowly poisoning his blood. McKinley drifted in and out of consciousness all day, but when awake he was a model patient. By evening, McKinley too knew he was dying, "It is useless, gentlemen. I think we ought to have prayer." Relatives and friends gathered around the death bed. The first lady sobbed over him, saying, "I want to go, too. I want to go, too." Her husband replied, "We are all going, we are all going. God's will be done, not ours", and with final strength put an arm around her. He may also have sung part of his favorite hymn, "Nearer, My God, to Thee", although some other accounts have the first lady singing it softly to him.

At 2:15 a.m. on September 14, 1901, McKinley died. Theodore Roosevelt rushed back to Buffalo and took the oath of office as president. Czolgosz, put on trial for murder nine days after McKinley's death, was found guilty, sentenced to death on September 26 and executed by electric chair on October 29, 1901.

 
 

September 13, 2026

David Lynch on Mulholland Drive


I've been on a Criterion Picks binge on YouTube this weekend, just trying to fall in love with films again by watching filmmakers passionately discuss them. 

I can't remember the last movie I watched in one sitting without any interruption. And I miss being in that state of total surrender. The problem I have these days is picking what to watch. So I just choose nothing and read a book instead. 

But it's always good to revisit favourites and start from there. Exercising the movie muscles is easier when you know you're in for a good time.


Video Title: David Lynch on Mulholland Drive. Source: Laurent Touil-Tartour. Date Published: November 18, 2021.

Mocha




Related: 

The Protestant Prophecies: Britain, Prussia, And Palestine In 1840.


An excerpt from, "Promised Lands: The British and the Ottoman Middle East" by Jonathan Parry, Princeton University Press, 2022, Pg. 67-73:

The Indian army's voyage towards Egypt in 1801 required an accommodation with the Arab chiefs along the Red Sea coast. Two were regarded as particularly important: the sharif of Mecca and the imam of Sanaa. The sharif of Mecca was the hereditary guardian of the Holy Cities, the most important political influence in Jeddah, Mecca's port, and the most powerful local embodiment of Ottoman sovereignty over the Hijaz. At the southern end of the Red Sea, the independent imam of Sanaa rather than the Ottoman sultan exercised sovereignty over Yemen and the Yemeni ports, of which the most significant was Mocha. Indian merchants, especially the Banyan, had had trading links with Jeddah and Mocha for centuries, which the French occupation of Egypt had badly damaged. Overwhelmingly, British interest in 1801 focused on the eastern shore of the Red Sea. On the western coast, the two main harbours south of Kosseir, at Suakin and Massawa, still owed the Ottomans allegiance.

As Britain had learned in the 1770s and 1780s, Muslim concern to safeguard Mecca and Medina gave Red Sea politics its distinctive flavour. From 1798, British policymakers stressed that their pursuit of influence in the Red Sea would rest on defence of Islam---against the French soldiers from a revolutionary secularist regime who were now so near the Holy Cities of the Hijaz.

In July of that year, Spencer Smith pledged to the Porte that British ships there would show the "most exact and scrupulous respect" for Islam, and for "religious institutions of every persuasion," just as Britain did in India. In 1801, Baird's army brought presents from Governor-General Wellesley for the sharif of Mecca, the imam of Sanaa, and the sultan of Aden, together with letters reassuring them that the British troops were there "to provide for the security of the Mahomedan possessions on the Arabian side of the Red Sea." On landing at Kosseir in Upper Egypt in 1801, Murray made the same pledge, urging the inhabitants to "fulfil the sacred precept of the Koran which teaches 'you must put to death your enemies wherever you may find them, and rout them out from places from whence they have driven you', for the loss of your religion is more to be dreaded than death itself." This was shrewd politics, but it was not original. Napoleon had initiated this game by sending warm letters in early 1799 to the sharif and to the imam of Muscat, at the same time as to Tipu Sultan in Mysore, urging mutual cooperation to defeat "the Iron yoke of England." These letters were intercepted by Captain Wilson at Mocha, and alerted Bombay to the urgent need to woo the Arab chiefs.

Jonathan Duncan, governor of Bombay, had a more ambitious plan to mobilise Arab Muslim sentiment. He sent Mahdi Ali Khan, a financially astute Persian Muslim and long-time associate of his, to Jeddah and Mecca to lead an Arab revolt against the French, to coincide with the arrival of Baird's army. Mahdi Ali Khan had made the pilgrimage to Mecca twenty-five years before and claimed that, by repeating it, he could rouse an independent Arab army. His formal function would be to recruit camels and horses for Baird's impending invasion of Egypt, but his underlying obiective would be to find "7 or 8 principal people among the Arabs to send them as agents among the different tribes of the wild Arabs to bring these last into the interest of our government," and ideally to begin an Arab land march up the eastern Red Sea coast into Egypt. Duncan allowed any "reasonable expense" for this mission, and Mahdi Ali Khan set off with 61,000 rupees, plus a pearl rosary, muskets and pistols, mirrors, a watch, fine cloths and spices for the sharif of Mecca. After arriving at Jeddah in May 1801, he claimed to have arranged that the sharif would supply the cause with six thousand Arabs. Within a couple of months, he expected also to assemble, from desert tribes, a force of potentially one hundred thousand, "some thro motives of gain, and others influenced by religious zeal."

Mahdi Ali Khan's plan was probably always fanciful, but any initial warmth that the sharif may have displayed to the enterprising pilgrim dissipated once he realised his connection with the impending arrival of over five thousand Indian troops under Baird, seeking to replace the French in Egypt with a revived Ottoman sovereignty. The sharif was dependent for corn on the French regime in Egypt; he also enjoyed great practical independence from the sultan in Constantinople, which Baird seemed to threaten. When Baird arrived at Jeddah with this army, the sharif became hostile to all his British visitors. He complained about an outrage inflicted on one of his merchants who had been arrested at Bombay, and demanded a more beneficial customs arrangement for his coffee there. Baird realised that it was prudent to leave Jeddah as soon as possible, and sail to Kosseir, taking the gamble that Murray whom he had sent ahead, could get camels and horses there.

The negotiations between the British and the sharif at Jeddah were led by the naval officer Home Popham, who was accompanying Baird. He had arrived in the Red Sea in order to pursue the trade mission to the sharif, the imam, and the sultan of Aden that he had planned with Dundas in 1800. Popham's aim was to knit these chiefs, and the Mamluks in Upper Egypt, into a network of commercial allies. None would become too powerful; all would be bound into British trade: there would be no reason for them to side with French agents instead. Popham claimed that his mission was in the interests, and in the name, of the sultan.

The sharif, however, successfully disputed Popham' claim to speak for the sultan, asserting his own loyalty to his caliph and understanding of his interests. Popham's attempt to intimidate him with British power was a failure. Moreover, Popham had to rescue Mahdi Ali Khan, whom the sharif had effectively imprisoned, and to pay his debts. Mahdi Ali Khan had not helped himself by supporting the party of the sharif's rival Abdullah. Popham had likewise hoped---albeit more subtly---to help the local faction opposed to the sharif's rapacity, confident that replacing him would boost British popularity. Wellesley, however, vetoed any British challenge to the guardian of Mecca, on the grounds that it risked inflaming "every Mussulman state in India." As it happened from 1803, Sharif Ghalib's local power was seriously compromised, not by Britain, Constantinople, or local enemies, but by the Wahhabi, and eventually by Mehmet Ali.

Popham was no more successful on the western side of the upper Red Sea, where he faced a similar problem in deciding how far to distance himself from the Ottoman interests that he was in principle sent to uphold. His main aim was a treaty with the powers of Upper Egypt, which would get the corn of Kosseir into British hands. In April 1802, when he returned to Kosseir to escort Baird's troops home, he tried to make a trade arrangement directly with the Mamluk leaders there. This was, naturally, vetoed by the Ottomans, and also by Wellesley, who insisted that any arrangements for Egyptian trade must be made only with those who had been authorised to do so by Constantinople.

Popham was left with nothing to show for his efforts in the northern Red Sea. Once the French had been removed from Egypt, Arab chiefs had no incentive to pursue his offers of alliance, British assertiveness now risked appearing alien and threatening. Once again, it was clear that Europeans interfered in the Hijaz at their peril. There was less and less urgency on the British side as well. From 1803, civil war in Egypt and Wahhabi incursions in the Hiiaz underlined regional instability. The Red Sea remained almost impossible to navigate in the monsoon season.

However, the sea's southern end was more promising. There had twice been an EIC factory at Mocha, reflecting its historic importance as a coffee trading port, though in recent decades most coffee had been taken north by Ottoman traders. Since the seventeenth century, Mocha had owed allegiance to the imam of Sanaa, rather than to the Ottomans. Murray had been based there when Red Sea commissioner, and had left behind a Bombay surgeon, John Pringle, as acting resident. American merchants from Salem had started buying coffee there in 1801 as an alternative to Java, which suggested that an international market could be re-established there. In 1801, Baird and Popham sent Pringle to Sanaa to court the imam, with Wellesley's letter, and he agreed to allow the British expedition to use Mocha as a base for their expedition up the sea. Popham returned in 1802, invested by Wellesley as ambassador to Arabia and commissioner for the Red Sea (replacing Murray), in order to underline his authority to make commercial treaties. Popham's idea was to resurrect the Mocha trade on such a large and lucrative scale that the imam and the local chief, the dola of Mocha, would become dependent on British wealth rather than Ottoman or French.

His planned treaty making failed. Popham and his guard got only a quarter of the way inland to Sanaa, encountering many indignities en route. They were waylaid and tricked by a "hoary villain"; some of the party had their buttons torn off by Arabs looking for gold; their surgeon was lucky not to be judged guilty of killing a dying man by giving him an opium pill. Where they had hoped to encounter commercial potential, they found grinding poverty and hostility. Moreover, the imam had little power in Mocha itself, where the local chief, the dola, treated Popham's party with "every insult." This was perhaps because he saw no reason to disrupt the existing trade links, especially in view of the promising new connection with Massachusetts. Popham left Pringle in Mocha and appointed him resident---an appointment resented by Bombay, which had to pay for it. Popham fell back on Aden, and in September 1802 signed a treaty of amity and commerce with its ruler, Sultan Ahmed, securing a low duty of 2 per cent for British goods for ten years, which would then rise to a maximum of 3 per cent. Popham hoped thereby to make the imam jealous of Aden's trade benefits. He was also aware of Aden's strategic potential, just as Murray had been, and anxious to stop France taking it. 

Soon after Popham's mission, Mocha, like most of the Red Sea's east coast, became vulnerable to a new threat---the expansionist Wahhabi Arabs from the centre of the peninsula. They had taken Mecca briefly in 1803, and forced the sharif to recognise their interpretation of Islam. Over the next few years, they imposed heavy tolls on the hajj, took effective control of Medina. and raided the Yemeni ports. Wellesley sent his own man to report on the area in 1804, partly in order to find out more about their threat and their popularity. This was Viscount Valentia, an Irish peer and political connection of his, who had arrived in Calcutta from Britain in early 1803, fascinated with Wellesley's new Indian empire, but also seeking to reinvent himself. He had left home after his wife had had a child by another man, alleging his preference for male servants: these affairs were aired in two court cases, which gripped society. In Calcutta, Wellesley and Valentia hatched a plan for the latter to explore and chart the Red Sea and its peoples, an adventure with clear geographical, anthropological, and strategic benefits. Valentia had been inspired by William Vincent's 1800 edition of the Periplus. He believed that Britain and India could learn valuable lessons from its account of the Roman-era Red Sea trade route, its peoples, and its navigation difficulties. He sought to make a name for himself as intellectual and patriot, by applying modern science to supplement the ancient Alexandrian author's observations. Wellesley agreed to give him a Bombay cruiser, the Antelope, and a captain to go with it. Armed with the Periplus, he left Bombay for the Red Sea in March 1804.

Valentia found his trip very frustrating. Captain Keys did not want to sail hundreds of miles up an uncharted coast under the orders of a vain, camp, and headstrong Irish peer---who seized much of the cabin as his private space. Keys preferred the security of Mocha, which Valentia hated because there was much less respect for Britain, and himself, than he had imagined. This was typifed by the behaviour of the dola, who ran a system of kidnapping sailors off boats, getting them drunk, forcing them to convert to Islam, and selling them into slavery as "renegadoes." Valentia blamed the upstart American traders for tolerating this practice, and exploiting Arab avarice in other ways, in order to get preferential access to local coffee. He was even more annoyed that neither Keys (who acquired two boy slaves) nor the resident, Pringle, seemed willing to challenge this system. Pringle had succumbed to drink, leaving Valentia to fight to liberate the sailors on his own. Valentia's contempt for the dola extended to the seventy-eight-year-old imam of Sanaa, a debauchee preoccupied with his "sooty harem." Valentia prophesied that neither man could resist the oncoming Wahhabi, who would subdue and purify the area as Muhammad had swept away previous dissolute Arabian rulers. There was no point in relying on existing authorities. Britain's future relationship would probably have to be with the Wahhabi.

Valentia drew the same conclusion as Murray and Popham: the best local port was Aden, which was independent of the Ottomans and could become free of Sanaa if the British induced the Yemeni coffee trade to switch there from Mocha. The Periplus's account of its history and harbour confirmed his conclusion. But the Bombay government wanted no territory in this confused part of the world, nor to make a deal with the Wahhabi: it worried that their recent victories so far from their base at Diriyya might be contested and temporary. It recalled Pringle in 1805 and Mocha was once again left without a resident.

The British might have given up on the Red Sea, had the European situation not got progressively worse. In 1805 and 1806, it seemed that the war with France would probably spread to the East again, and several rumours arose about French activities in the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean, instigated from their Mauritius base. One fear was that France would exploit local tensions over the island of Kamaran near the mouth of the Red Sea, between the Yemeni ports of Luhaya and Hudayda. In late 1805, a powerful merchant, Sayyid Muhammad Aqil, bought the island from the sharif of Abu Arish, who had established an independent position in northern Yemen. Aqil probably did so in order to assert himself against the Wahhabi, but three French naval officers from Mauritius visited the island with him, apparently seeking to restore a French factory in the area. Pringle and Valentia both reported that Aqil was courting French support in order to safeguard his position, and would offer them Kamaran. In April 1806, his "pirate" followers boarded an American ship from Salem, the Essex, and killed all but one of the crew. This showed his power and ruthlessness, but also justified a British intervention. In July 1806, two warships were sent from Bombay to force him from the island, though in fact he had already left. This intimidating military expedition had the side benefit of impressing the local Arab chiefs. Sharif Hamud of Abu Arish now confirmed that the sale of the island had been a mistake, pledged peace with Britain, and promised to supply the EIC with two thousand bales of coffee. This arrangement passed the test of Jonathan Duncan in Bombay--that visiting British naval officers could make deals with Arab coastal chiefs as long as they did not ofend the Wahhabi, or the imam.

The End of Saudi Arabia And Ukraine

The God of War has no sectarian sympathies, nationalist loyalties, or special affiliations. He is cruel, but just.


Ukrainian Nazis and Saudi Wahhabists dutifully played their roles in the imperial wars. They were great useful idiots for the Neocon projects in Ukraine, Syria, and throughout the Middle East. 

But their time is coming to an end.

War is primarily about manpower, willpower, resources, and geography. Russia can check off all four in Ukraine. It will win. It is only a matter of time. 

I have a strong suspicion that Putin is taking his sweet time in this war because he wants Ukraine repopulated with his Jewish allies and cronies. The less Ukrainians the better seems to be the Russian logic from afar.

The Ukrainians themselves have nowhere to turn to but Russia. Europe will always view the makeshift country as a cesspool and a backwater. 

Their evil leaders are reaching the point of grabbing fetuses from mothers' wombs to fill their zombie army. They don't have the oil money to buy stupid mercenaries like the Saudis do. And you can only beg so much before the global goodwill dries up.

Sooner or later the bill comes due.

And that is true for Ukraine. 

An army of fetuses, cripples, and geriatrics is what it is rolling out with these days. All the best and most willing soldiers have already been sacrificed.

The war has reached the level of the absurd. Ukraine must cease its aspirations to join a dying NATO and a collapsing EU. 

I don't have much hope for the future of the country unless Russia fully takes it over and remolds it again in its own image. This time with a Christian bent, not a retarded socialist one. 

But I don't see that happening. Russia lacks the resolve for that. They don't have the ambition or the spirit. They surrendered Syria without much of a fight. And Syria is the key link in the West Asia puzzle. 

The road to Jerusalem goes through Damascus. Russia and Iran did not fight to the last man for it because they're not strong or wise enough. They let a jewel slip from their hands. I think the same will be repeated in Ukraine. Russia will bleed and die for it but it won't inherit it.

As for Saudi Arabia, what is there to inherit? 

What is Saudi Arabia without the world's need for oil?

Nothing.