Paging Winston Churchill.

But Charmley is hardly Churchill's most noxious scholarly critic. That accolade surely belongs to the notorious David Irving, who has embarked on an epic debunking (published at his own expense) of Churchill's war record. Vol. II appeared earlier this year to a skeptical reception from fellow historians. Harrumphed one Churchill scholar, "In this 1,063 page hymn of hate, it is clear that he has not managed to land one single significant blow on the reputation of Britain's wartime leader." Irving charges, among other things, that Churchill was a drunk (hardly an unknown fact), a liar, connived in the murder of a Polish general, asked for the assassination of General DeGaulle and even exposed himself in front of visiting statesmen! Irving's motivations are complex; but his well-documented admiration of Hitler has in some small part warped the reputation of his own scholarship, as does his barely concealed hatred of Churchill.

Hating Churchill has a long pedigree; the knives have been sharpened, the poison pens ready since the beginning of his career. As many want to tear him down as want to praise him. The politics of the Cold War are an unavoidable subtext in the interpretation of Churchill's war: His single-minded focus on defeating Germany paved the way for the Soviet domination of Eastern Europe, the argument goes. (Churchill, an early strident critic of the Bolsheviks, had a soft spot for Uncle Joe.) However, Lukacs recently put paid to this line of argument. "As early as 1940 (if not earlier) Churchill saw that the alternative was plain," he bluntly wrote in the Spectator, "either Hitler's Germany would rule all of Europe, or Stalin's Russia would rule much of eastern Europe; and half of Europe was better than none. "

Lukacs has an ally in Geoffrey Best, whose recent biography, "Churchill: A Study in Greatness" -- its title is an allusive riposte to a landmark 1970 work, "Churchill: A Study in Failure" -- is an ideal primer for the arguments for and against Churchill. Best's scholarship is incisive, his prose strong, his reasoning sharp. To the latter-day scholar-appeasers like Charmley, Best counters, "Churchill was right to believe that Hitler and Nazism had to be fought to the end, no matter what the cost; and the British people did well to sense that it was better for them and their posterity to follow his lead, even though the road promised to be hard and rough. The war indeed did not work out to Britain's material advantage (which was not in fact aimed at or expected), but Britain remained free, civilized and with a clear collective conscience."

For any historian, it is naturally tempting to refight World War II, and to second-guess Churchill. Yet the scholarly battles over his legacy often resemble clever parlor games: "He should have considered this," "He should have done that," ad nauseam. Revisionism in the service of understanding why leaders took the courses they did should be welcomed. Suggesting alternatives, however, is often a futile exercise.

All the wild conjecturing in the world won't restore the Empire, or change the fact that Churchill rallied an entire nation in a dark time. In his speeches, he took a great risk in not sugar-coating the difficulties of wartime, a tactic that won him even greater respect from the British people; his forthrightness during the war was a bold gambit that paid off. Some years after the war, in a moment of simultaneous vanity and modesty, Churchill remarked, "It was a nation and a race dwelling all around the globe who had the lion heart. I had the luck to be called on to give the roar." That more than anything illuminates how he led, the unique bond this aristocratic toff forged with British men and women from all walks of life.

So as we face our own difficulties, it is hardly surprising that it should be Churchill we invoke. Still, some of the comparisons are a bit ridiculous. George W. Bush, who seems like a boy doing a man's job, is fortunate to have a speechwriting team full of Churchill buffs -- and even so, his invocation of Churchillian grandeur was strained and self-conscious. He will never provide the roar. Giuliani, that great blusterer and bully, hardly trying, easily assumes the Churchillian mantle, proving that the qualities that grate in peacetime can be transformed in time of war.

In the end, Churchill remains a national monument, however tarnished by the work of revisionists and others. He was a man of many flaws who made numerous mistakes, there is no doubt, but to focus on his failings obscures his achievements -- not least of which are his words, the reason why we have turned to him now. What other 20th century statesman possessed such a style? His prose itself is a monument. While he still inspires gushing praise -- Jenkins can't help himself, calling Churchill "the greatest human being ever to occupy 10 Downing Street" -- historians will continue to probe his character, and to try to downgrade his achievements. But the writer of the "Winston Churchill" entry in the "Oxford Companion to British History" has it right: "No attempts to revise or belittle his reputation have yet proved successful."

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