We wish to make an apology. Five weeks ago we remarked that, although we knew our Government would not make a military attack in defiance of its solemn international obligations, people abroad might think otherwise. The events of last week have proved us completely wrong; if we misled anyone, at home or abroad, we apologise unreservedly. We had not realised that our Government was capable of such folly and such crookedness...

These were the words of an editorial by The Observer on November 4, 1956, a week after British troops, along with the Israeli and French militaries, had invaded Egypt to seize the Suez Canal and overthrow Nasser. At the same time, the Soviet Union moved to crush the rebellion in Hungary after that country's citizens had fought the Soviet Union to a standstill. The two events are inextricably tied together and are an important lesson for anyone interested in the ways that empires work--or don't work--and for the notion of popular resistance.

As we look upon the death throes (?) of another empire, it seems important to pay heed to the circumstances that led to the monumental idiocy and hubris of the British government and the repression conducted by the Soviet government to see what we can learn and to understand what we--seemingly--cannot.

October 1956 was a good time to be young. After years of gloomy austerity, Britain was gradually awakening to the glorious possibilities of postwar affluence, and it was as though a Technicolor rainbow had suddenly lit up a slate-grey sky. If you had the money, you might spend your evenings in one of the new 'expresso' bars in the south of England, where duffel-coated students huddled around coffees and cigarettes. You might be reading the latest novel by Kingsley Amis, or perhaps Colin Wilson's existentialist tract The Outsider. You might have just bought the latest single by that new American singer, Elvis Presley, or you might be looking forward to that new film, Rock Around the Clock.

You knew that things were changing: your parents had just bought a new car, their first washing machine, their first television. Blackpool this summer had been a lot of fun. The prospect of National Service was a pain, but at least you knew there was a good job waiting for you when you finished. All in all, life wasn't too bad - and then you turned on the radio, and listened with horror to the news from Budapest and Suez.

Half a century on, the events of October and November 1956 still have an irresistible narrative momentum. The tragedy of the Hungarian revolution and the disgrace of the Suez Crisis were closely intertwined from the very beginning, jostling for space on newspaper front pages, feeding off one another so that the excitement escalated day by day. The sheer pace and complexity of events, as well as the terrible human anguish involved, left a deep impression on the British public and changed the history and image of this very newspaper. But the lasting significance of October 1956 went well beyond the confines of The Observer. It was one of those moments, like August 1914, November 1989 or September 2001, when history hangs in the balance - and afterwards, things are never the same again.

America, too, awakens, but it is a naive and overwrought awakening that we have--the kind that only those with the best of motives can have: late; incomplete; and ultimately unaware of what it is that we have been doing, what it is that we have done.

One of the most outspoken critic of the current U.S. Administration in the mainstream media--Keith Olberman--also has sharp words about his government: "We have handed a blank check, drawn against our own freedom, to a man who may now, if he so decides...declare you an unlawful combatant and ship you somewhere, anywhere."

So much for the billions outside the gate, then.

If there is a lesson from 1956 on empires, perhaps it is this: how little things change, how little they stay the same. Stay tuned for a post in about 50 years on the hubris of the Indian/Chinese hegemony.