Assad Makes A Crucial Error

Revolutions start sometimes over items where they are least expected. The entire “Jasmine Revolution” which began in Tunisia was sparked by a vegetable vendor setting himself alight (poor pun there) and becoming a world wide sensation.

In Libya I believe that Gaddafi had the opposition on the ropes and his tanks and heavy weapons were about to take Benghazi when he made the critical error of telegraphing his plans for human rights abuses which I wrote about here.

In Syria, the government just made a horrendous tactical mistake that seems to be a combination of the two items listed above. While protests have rocked Syria, their brutal authorities have taken extreme measures to combat the protestors including sending tanks into cities and stationing snipers on rooftops to limit movement and terrorize the civilian population (I fear that the Arab dictators have seen the power of snipers through the US involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan and are now turning this against their people).

The government tortured a 13 year old boy to death named Hamza al-Khateeb and then returned his mutilated body to his parents a week later. You can read the details here but they are very gruesome and apparently there is a video of this on the internet as well. It appears that the Syrian government gives back these tortured remains to their parents in order to show how vengeful that they can be and to intimidate the population, the term used in the article was to “advertise their crimes”.

“This is a campaign of mass terrorism and intimidation: Horribly tortured people sent back to communities by a regime not trying to cover up its crimes, but to advertise them.”

People apparently poured out into the streets and this has been picked up around the world. Syria now will have significant issues even attempting to re-integrate with other nations now that these sorts of crimes have been documented; they will likely be poison even among those normally willing to do business with barbarians.

I don’t know if it is related but it might be – the Syrian government has promised to release all political prisoners, which would be a significant move if in fact they follow through on this promise; on an analogous note the ruler of Yemen has been promising to step down for some time now but always finds a reason for delays.

When you really think about it these sorts of regimes are amazing; there are entire armies and paramilitary groups that are focused solely on keeping the ruling dictator in power; they think nothing of torturing, maiming and indiscriminately killing THEIR OWN PEOPLE en masse. Generally for this type of behavior there is some sort of political theory (fascism, communism, socialism, etc…) but for these types of thugs it is just to utilize every lever of the state to stay in control. I would be interested to hear what their rationale is for killing their own people. And at what point, if ever, they’d be willing to stop.

They may have gone too far with torturing and killing this 13 year old boy. This type of behavior emboldens protestors even those facing death. This event may lead to the eventual downfall of Assad. I certainly hope so.

On Memorial Day

The following is a Memorial Day post that I wrote last year for my old blog:

And so it rained two years in a row on Memorial Day, but this year the rain was less gentle and something more fierce. Hard silvery lines bouncing off the black pavement. Asphalt covered in puddles and rivulets and running water everywhere. The thunder and lightning were violent: windows shuddered, they shaked and rattled and car alarms went off. Everything just a little bit mad, a little bit wild, a little bit out-of-control. As the day went on the rain eased and slowed and stopped and the sun came out, a soggy late afternoon sun peering through a humid and blurry mist.

No parade for me today. I worked at home and waited for the on-call pager to go off, the cell to ring, the hospital to beckon, but it only rained and thundered and “lightning-ed”.

And how many years has it been now?

In 2003, I got an email message in my inbox. An ordinary work day for me, filled with trays and trays of biopsies and phone calls from aggrieved physicians. “The patient is calling. Is the biopsy result ready yet?”

There it was: the photo of a young man in uniform with a flag displayed behind him and a message written below the photograph:

“Our beloved….”

A woman that I’d met a few times – once while we both served as bridesmaids at the Los Angeles wedding of a mutual friend – had sent me an email, one in a long line of messages to everyone in an email list. He looked so young.

He was young.

It’s curious how often during the course of a normal day that I think of you, and of your sister, and of that small stylish wedding before the war where your sister and I helped our friend Kimberly with all the final little wedding details.

RIP, Joe. People that never even met you – never even knew you – miss you.

Repose

I have so much I should be doing I keep clamping down so I don’t have a panic attack.

But, its Memorial Day and I am taking it easy. I have been going to read Robert Musil’s The Man Without Qualities for a long, long time. And I finally bought the highly praised recent translation last year. As a devotee of all things literary pertaining to the final years of the Austro-Hungarian Empire (e.g. the three masterpieces: The Radetzky March by Joseph Roth, and The Snows of Yesteryear by Gregor von Rezzori and The World of Yesterday by Stefan Zweig), Musil is long overdue.

So, I managed to evade the rest of the family and get a few minutes on the front porch with Musil and a stiff glass of lime, ice, tonic water and Tanqueray gin — which was in the back of the cabinet and forgotten until a few days ago.

Chicken and grilled veggies up next.

God bless America.

Memorial Day

God bless our veterans, living and dead. God bless America.

Recessional, by Rudyard Kipling (1897)

God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!

For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Amen.

Here is a version of Recessional being sung by Leonard Warren.

(“Far-called, our navies melt away…” I have always found something very stirring about that phrase. I always imagine the shock of some final military disaster striking, and the news spreading, and weeping and numbed silence, the end of hope, the knowledge that the tide has turned against you at last and forever. May we never see such days. And this: “All valiant dust that builds on dust, and guarding calls not Thee to guard.” I think of that one all the time.)