I've been slowly making my way through A Gentleman in Moscow, a beautifully crafted work of historical fiction by Amor Towles. Before writing novels, Towles spent more than twenty years in the world of finance, giving him a front-row seat to how systems and institutions influence human behavior. That background seems to lend a unique credibility to his exploration of another system altogether—the rise of Soviet socialism and its effects on ordinary lives.
It isn't a political book so much as it is a deeply human one—a story of dignity, resilience, friendship, and what remains when nearly everything else has been taken away.
Yet as I read, I can't help but notice how often this work of historical fiction intersects with conversations taking place in America today.
With the recent successes of candidates identifying with the Democratic Socialist movement and our nation approaching the 250th anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, I've found myself reflecting on the ideas that shape civilizations. Not merely the policies they produce, but the assumptions they make about human nature, freedom, and the role of government.
Towles tells his story through the eyes of Count Alexander Rostov, an aristocrat placed under permanent house arrest by the new Soviet government. The Count isn't a political activist, and Towles isn't writing a manifesto. Instead, he quietly allows readers to witness what happens when an ideology becomes the organizing principle of an entire society.
One passage especially caught my attention. Describing the drafting of the Soviet Constitution, Towles writes that it guaranteed:
"...freedom of conscience... freedom of expression... freedom of assembly... and freedom to have any of these rights revoked should they be 'utilized to the detriment of the socialist revolution.'"
I paused after reading that.
Can a right truly be called a right if it exists only until the government determines it has become inconvenient?
That question seems as relevant today as it was a century ago.
Another observation from the novel lingers in my mind. After officials order an extraordinary wine collection 'reorganized' according to bureaucratic standards (they actually strip off the labels so that all the wines would be 'equal'), the Count reflects that each bottle had once represented "the ultimate distillation of time and place; a poetic expression of individuality itself," only to be cast back into "the sea of anonymity."
He's talking about wine, of course. But he's really talking about people.
Do we see individuals as unique persons with names, histories, gifts, and responsibilities? Or do we begin to see them primarily as members of a class, a group, or a collective?
Towles never lectures. He simply lets us watch a society wrestle with that question.
One of my favorite lines so far comes from the Count himself:
"If a man does not master his circumstances then he is bound to be mastered by them."
That sentiment reminds me that freedom is more than political. It is also moral and personal. Even when circumstances cannot be controlled, character still can be.
One concern I have is that many of our political conversations begin with slogans rather than history. We often debate ideas like capitalism, socialism, democracy, or freedom without taking the time to understand how those ideas have actually played out in different societies.
As we prepare to celebrate 250 years since the Declaration of Independence, I've been reminded that America's founding claim was not that government grants our rights. It was something far more revolutionary—that our rights are inherent because they come from our Creator, and that governments exist to secure them rather than bestow them.
Our history includes profound failures, contradictions, and injustices that deserve honest acknowledgment. But those failures have always been measured against principles that call us back to something higher. That, to me, is one of the enduring strengths of the American experiment.
For all of its imperfections, I still find our constitutional republic admirable and deeply worth preserving—not because America is flawless, but because its founding ideals recognize both the dignity and the limitations of humanity.
The constitution acknowledges that- "We the People of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union,"- not that we ARE perfect, we need to become MORE-This was wonderfully pointed out by my U.S. Congressman, Gary Palmer of Alabama, as we toured the Capitol with him this past spring. It led to a song and video:
Gary loved it and has been playing it to a number of folks.....
Back to this discussion about 'systems':
History has shown that systems promising equality, security, or even utopia often sound compelling in theory. Yet when any political ideology begins to subordinate individual liberty to the demands of the collective—or assumes that the state can ultimately redefine rights for the sake of progress—it deserves careful scrutiny.
Perhaps that's one of the gifts of historical fiction. It allows us to examine ideas at a safe distance before we encounter them in our own time.
As I continue reading A Gentleman in Moscow, I'm less interested in winning political arguments than in asking better questions.
What kind of society best protects human dignity?
What vision of freedom allows people to flourish?
What ideas deserve to be preserved for the next 250 years?
And we know the answers.. my concern is, will we stand by with apathy and neglect to vote, neglect to serve, and neglect to contend for the principles of freedom?
Quotes: Here are some of my favorite Towles’ quotes so far:
“A king fortifies himself with a castle,” observed the Count, “a gentleman with a desk.”
For eventually, we come to hold our dearest possessions more closely than we hold our friends. We carry them from place to place, often at considerable expense and inconvenience; we dust and polish their surfaces and reprimand children for playing too roughly in their vicinity—all the while, allowing memories to invest them with greater and greater importance.
Thus did the typewriters clack through the night, until that historic document had been crafted which guaranteed for all Russians freedom of conscience (Article 13), freedom of expression (Article 14), freedom of assembly (Article 15), and freedom to have any of these rights revoked should they be “utilized to the detriment of the socialist revolution” (Article 23)!]
Given Russia’s long, heartless winters, its familiarity with famine, its rough sense of justice, and so on, and so on, it was perfectly natural for its gentry to adopt an act of definitive violence as the means of resolving disputes. But in the Count’s considered opinion, the reason that dueling prevailed among Russian gentlemen stemmed from nothing more than their passion for the glorious and grandiose.
All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.
In keeping with the fashion of the times, most of the Count’s schoolmates had turned their backs on the church; but they had only done so in favor of alternative consolations. Some who preferred the clarity of science adhered to the ideas of Darwin, seeing at every turn the mark of natural selection; while others opted for Nietzsche and his eternal recurrence or Hegel and his dialectic—each system quite sensible, no doubt, when one had finally arrived at the one-thousandth page.
“Young women only die of broken hearts in novels, Charles. She died of scarlet fever.”
“Ah. Well, I imagine that becomes rather easy to achieve when you place them under house arrest.” “Actually,” corrected Glebnikov, “it is easier to achieve when you place them in the ground. . . .” The Count conceded the point.
“And the second chime (of the Count’s fathers watch)? The Count’s father was of the mind that one should never hear it. If one had lived one’s day well—in the service of industry, liberty, and the Lord—one should be soundly asleep long before twelve. So the second chime of the twice-tolling clock was most definitely a remonstrance. What are you doing up? it was meant to say. Were you so profligate with your daylight that you must hunt about for things to do in the dark?”
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