If the state of the world today tells us anything, it is that the lessons of history are real, and should never be ignored or forgotten. But what is so plainly obvious is that these same lessons have always been subverted by expediency, by one forgetful generation after another, just about as far back as the history books can reveal.
As the Middle East descends into chaos, the state of the UK Royal Navy has become something of a source of national embarrassment, with too few capable ships, too many languishing in dock, and recruitment crises afflicting both the fleet and its auxiliaries.
We got here not by accident, but by long, slow policies of retrenchment and neglect, by successive governments, all of which were happy to focus on more popular priorities other than national defence and to make capital out of the illusory profits of temporary peace.
Maybe this is where history kicks in, as it informs us that just as long as there has been a Royal Navy, it has been regularly embarrassed by international crises, which have left the country exposed.
Just a few notable examples, such as the Dutch sailing into the Medway to seize and burn the laid up and neglected fleet, which had been paid off to save the King its wages. This year, the United States is celebrating its 250th anniversary, a declaration of independence that found His Majesty’s navy completely unprepared, its ships largely paid off, its officers placed on half-pay, the instant the earlier hostilities with the French had concluded, albeit temporarily.
From then on, it became a sort of accepted process, neglect, years of complacency, followed by warnings that would be largely ignored by the politicians, succeeded by panic when the reality of genuine threats emerged, then a struggle to catch up.
Perhaps even more worrying was the evident ignorance of the political classes with regard to the maritime world.
As examples, last century saw the near disasters of a failure to anticipate the submarine threat – not once but twice – shameful failures like the post-World War I “Geddes Axe”, and the desperate efforts to make good the years of neglect, as the menace of Hitler became apparent.
And after that was all over, as the Soviet empire spread its malign shadow, there was still a powerful tendency to reduce capability, with successive reviews of how defences could be shaved to save the exchequer.
For me, it became personal, as my ambition to follow my father into the Royal Navy disappeared with his warnings about his own service visibly shrinking around him, strongly advising the merchant navy alternative. These memories returned as we watched the Trumpian chaos unfold this month, emphasising UK powerlessness.
A recently published book about the life and times of former First Sea Lord Admiral Sir Jock Slater, who reached the apogee of his career as the Cold War ended, brought all of this home with a vengeance. Slater joined the Royal Navy in 1956 and as revealed in Peter Hore’s fine biography, saw, during his long and distinguished career, the descent of the navy from a global power to an also-ran.
It might generously be suggested, as some sort of excuse, that this period saw both the retreat from the obligations of empire and that such a shrinkage was inevitable and necessary in a parlous economic situation. But there was a depressing pattern to this long retreat, with successive defence reviews with succeeding governments, all of which saw the service chiefs struggling against the demands of Treasury officials for closures of bases, disposals of ships and manpower alike.
And perhaps even more worrying in an island, the common feature, as each demand for savings emerged, was the evident ignorance of the political classes with regard to the maritime world.
The lack of preparedness, and the hunger for the financial benefits of peace, come back, as they did this month, to haunt us.
Slater was appointed captain of the then-new aircraft carrier HMS Illustrious in 1981, as the navy shivered at the expected Nott Review, which, had it proceeded, would have make the recovery of the Falklands a year later impossible.
But that was to be a prelude to the far more significant “peace dividend” of the early 90s, when, in spite of the residual uncertainties around the world, the navy was in danger of becoming a “paper tiger” with its strength hollowed out.
The book does not shy away from the fact that senior officers were having to defend these periodic “hasty and ill-conceived” cutbacks. Cynics might suggest that such criticisms only seem to emerge after their retirement.
What this biography (and the lessons of history) emphasise are that those in charge of the nation’s defences are constantly surprised by events, and are invariably ill-prepared to deal with them.
Who would have thought, for instance, that drones would have suddenly emerged as a serious contender as a battle-winner? Who, a decade or so ago, would have imagined President Trump?
But in all these trials, the lack of preparedness, and the hunger for the financial benefits of peace, when such is invariably a temporary phenomenon, come back, as they did this month, to haunt us.
No Uncertain Sound: The Life and Times of Admiral Sir Jock Slater, by Peter Hore, is published by Whittles, an imprint of Porto Press (ISBN 9781849956130).