And speaking of propaganda, Bush’s visit to Iraq is a nice piece of it.
The quote I like the best:
I’ve come to not only look you in the eye. I’ve also come to tell you that when America gives its word, it keeps its word.
Especially poignant in light of this sad history.
Conspiracy theories are widespread and exceedingly popular. They appeal to the all-too-human need to make order out of chaos, and to assign blame to a convenient and/or strategic scapegoat. They arise spontaneously, or they can be manipulated for political and propaganda reasons.
I’ve noted that, in my lifetime, the beginning of the extreme popularity of conspiracy theories seems to have been the JFK assassination, in which a charismatic and powerful President was blown away before our very eyes by what appeared to have been a protagonist too lowly and insignificant to have been worthy of the deed (I’ve written at greater length on this topic here).
But conspiracy theories have a long and illustrious history. One only has to look at the antiquity of anti-Semitism, just to give one example, to understand that. The blood libel, the Protocols of the Elders of Zion–there’s no dearth of illustrations on that score. And, to be equal-opportunity about it, conspiracy theories exist on both sides. I was appalled, for example, by the “Clinton killed Vince Foster” garbage from segments of the right not so very long ago.
No, unfortunately, conspiracy theories are not the sole province of one side or another; they appeal to something deep within human nature. However, that fact shouldn’t keep us from attempting, as best we can, to evaluate the truth or falsehood of conspiracy claims–because, just as not all conspiracy claims are automatically true, not all claims are automatically false, either. The situation resembles the old saying, “just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.”
How does this all relate to the deaths on the Gaza beach, and the way they are being reported?
In evaluating such incidents, sorting out fact from fiction, and then coming to conclusions, we must rely on Arab reports vs. Israeli reports. In the present case, initial claims from the Arab side are that the deaths were a result of Israeli shells. However, the evidence from an IDF report analyzing, among other things, the content of the scrapnel, indicates non-Israeli origins for the blast.
If the IDF reports are true, this will never convince the unconvinced. Because the power of propaganda is almost immeasurably large, and (in the words of Churchill) a lie gets halfway around the world before the truth has a chance to put its pants on.
In this case–as in all cases of investigations–one has to believe in the veracity of those issuing the report to be convinced of anything by it. If a person believes that Israel is a Nazilike state bent on the conspiratorial, racist, and evil destruction of the Palestinians, then how could an IDF report convince that person otherwise? Not possible. Even though the initial reports blaming Israel were pretty much nothing more than rumors, and the IDF report used forensics and science–which should ordinarily trump rumors–accepting the report still depends on believing that the IDF and Israel itself are not engaged in bending the truth for their own purposes.
So there’s an intrinsic problem in a report from any investigation (whether it be the Warren Commission, the OJ Simpson police, or anyone else) if it comes up with a finding that goes against the conspiracy grain in which so many believe. And that fact is relied on by anyone who wishes to spread a rumor for strategic reasons.
So, is Hamas trying to exploit some tragic deaths that may indeed have been caused by Palestinian mines, in order to stir up more anti-Israel feeling, both internally and around the world? To believe this would, of course, be to believe in still another conspiracy–this one on the part of the Palestinians (or, to be more exact, on the part of some Palestinians). But the evidence that has emerged so far from the competing Arab and Israeli “narratives”–as opposed to the rumors–points in that direction. And in evaluating that evidence one must take into account previous false propaganda campaigns on the part of the Palestinians that have been effectively proven as such: the initial inflated reports on Jenin, and Mohammad al-Durah’s staged footage (for an in-depth discussion of the latter, please take some time to peruse the detailed information at Second Draft).
For many years now, it’s been clear that the Palestinian authorities and press are among the world’s best purveyors of propaganda, and that we–and the Israelis–are quite poor at responding to it (I am not using the word “propaganda” in a solely pejorative sense here, by the way; I’m using it as I’ve defined it in a previous post: “information spread to influence a populace towards a certain opinion”).
I’m going to quote the post of mine further on the topic of propaganda:
Propaganda, by its very nature, is of course not a reasoned and leisurely debate in which both sides are given equal time and equal measure. Neither is it an academic exercise in politically correct fairness, nor a well-intentioned effort in being kind to the other side. It is most-decidedly one-sided. But the best propaganda is truthful, especially in this day of internet fact-checking. The best propaganda understands the arguments of the other side and counters them effectively. But all propaganda does have one thing in common: a conviction that it is acceptable to use it.
By definition, an IDF report about scrapnel and shells cannot possibly have the propaganda power of photos and video of grieving children and bodies on a beach. That is a simple fact, one the Palestinians have learned to exploit, most especially with al Durah. In that affair, Israel initially claimed possible responsibility, before a number of reports (including those from German and even French media) exonerated them and indicated that the al Durah footage was suspect–and that the most likely possibility was, if the boy was killed at all, that it was at the hands of Palestinians.
That in and of itself, however, smacks of a conspiracy theory, and an especially horrific one at that. Such a chain of events seems so much more far-fetched than the idea that Israel might have killed the boy, either purposely or accidentally (and yes, there’s no doubt that Israel sometimes does cause the death of innocent children as collateral damage–which is quite different from purposely targeting them).
And yet it is my contention that any fair-minded person who takes a good look at the evidence can only conclude that this far-fetched chain of events–false claims in the Durah case, and even the possibility of deliberate staging–is true. And that means that the fair-minded person comes to the conclusion that the al Durah incident did represent a conspiracy of sorts. Does that mean that the Gaza incident is the same? Not at all. But it means that, until further notice, it must be taken with a grain of salt and an open mind.
The al Durah affair, which was especially influential in Europe, could not have been effective as propaganda without the cooperation of some in the French press, in particular reporter Charles Enderlin, who was not present at the shooting but who edited the footage shot by a Palestinian stringer and who did the voiceover blaming the Israelis. This is what Enderlin had to say in his own defense about his rush to judgment, after so much criticism was mounted against him:
He insisted that he stated that the bullets were fired by the Israelis for a number of reasons: First, that he trusted the cameraman (Abu Rhama) who, he said, had made the initial claim during the broadcast, and had worked for France 2 for 17 years, and later had it confirmed by other journalists and sources, and the initial Israeli statements. He also stated that the IDF never asked his team to collaborate on an inquiry, even though they had written to the IDF spokesman proposing they do so. Second, that the idea of the IDF shooting al-Durrah corresponded with what Enderlin saw as “the reality of the situation not only in Gaza, but also in the West Bank”…
Another French journalist, La Conte, responded as follows: “I find this, from a journalistic point of view, worrying.” It smacks, among other things, of the somewhat Ratherian claim that the truth or falsehood of certain facts is not as important as the point of view they express. That this is not what journalism is about ought to go without saying. But perhaps it needs saying, once again.
The IDF appears to have learned from the al Durah incident. This time they’ve been much quicker to launch an investigation, rather than to assume that initial reports from the scene were correct and to shoulder the blame. Time and the preponderance of evidence will reveal the truth or the falsehood of the Israeli vs. the Palestinian claims on the matter.
And what has the press learned? That remains to be seen.
Every now and then I do some linking. Now seems to be one of those times:
(1) At the news of Zarqawi’s untimely demise, many in the blogosphere (including myself) reached towards “Ding Dong the Witch is Dead” for inspiration. But not the far more lyrically gifted Dr. Sanity, who’s channeling Sondheim instead.
(2) Richard Landes speculates on whether or not the latest Gaza killing of a family on the beach might be Ballywood inspired or manipulated. A tragedy any way you look at it; you be the judge (and see here for initial results of the IDF probe into the incident).
(3) At Treasure of Baghdad, an Iraqi journalist who had not heretofore been pro-American or pro-occupation expresses joy, and a burgeoning optimism and trust, at the death of Zarqawi and its ramifications.
(4) The above Treasure of Baghdad post came via a link at Alexandra’s All Things Beautiful. Alexandra herself has been working overtime lately on topics such as Haditha; as well as the manner, effect, and media coverage of Zarqawi’s death.
(5) They can smell cocaine and cancer, and cows in heat.
A few weeks ago I had a bout of laryngitis.
It’s a funny thing, laryngitis; an excellent tool for making a person feel powerless. Something most of us ordinarily take for granted—the voice—mysteriously vanishes without a word of warning. Now you hear it, now you don’t.
In this particular case, I woke up one morning (to be exact, I was awakened by a phone call), fumbled around for the receiver, and opened my mouth to say “hello,” just as I had on so many other days of my life. But alas, this time no sound emerged. I tried again, to no effect. My voice had totally and utterly disappeared.
I’ve lost my voice perhaps five times in my life, invariably after a cold. The departure of the voice always comes as a surprise, because one of the odd things about laryngitis is that it usually cannot be felt at all. The sufferer (and that may be the wrong word, because laryngitis doesn’t ordinarily involve any pain) opens his/her mouth, does whatever one usually do with the vocal cords to produce the sound known as a voice—an act that’s second nature. But nothing emerges.
And it continues to be a surprise as long as the laryngitis lasts—both to the one who has it, and to those he/she encounters. If you happen to be someone who relies on your voice for a living—a teacher, for example, or an actor—laryngitis is serious. But to the rest of us it’s not much more than a nuisance, something to weather and endure; it too shall pass.
In the meantime, it’s even good for a laugh. Real laughter, of course, isn’t possible with laryngitis; just a silent strained shaking or some sort of whistling wheeze.
This time my laryngitis had a unique feature. I discovered, while doing some housekeeping, that every time I bent over a small seal-like squeal would emerge involuntarily from my larynx, turning me into something akin to a dog’s squeeze toy. I kept forgetting about the phenomenon, and then every time I’d bend over it would happen again, and my squeak sounded so absurd to me that it would start me laughing silently, which in turn seemed so absurd to me that it would make me laugh all the more in a helpless vicious cycle.
Going out in public garnered misplaced compassion from all I met. In the market, in a store—any time I had to encounter people and talk—I was the recipient of incredible concern. The more I tried to say my voice loss was really nothing, the more dreadful and noble I sounded, and the more concern they expressed. I’ve never gotten so much sympathy for so little effort.
It occurs to me that laryngitis would be the perfect illness for a hypochondriac: minimal pain, maximal concern from others. Also quite easily faked. Not that I’d ever do that, of course. Although now, as I’m recovering from a recent cold, I feel a certain something coming on….
Yesterday I was in a large Asian grocery store in Seattle. When I say large, I mean mega-supermarket size. About a hundred types of soy sauce, fifty of tofu–oh, perhaps that’s hyperbole, but definitely many more than I’ve ever seen before in one place. A fresh produce section that contained the usual suspects and so many more, some of them varieties of fruits and vegetables I’d never seen before and couldn’t identify without their labels.
While I was standing in awe in front of a bunch of mysterious greens, a mysterious sound met my ears. Actually, it wasn’t a mysterious sound, it was a familiar one: the rumble of thunder. Only it was a beautiful day, with no threatening storm.
I looked about for guidance, and at that moment the sprayers that keep the produce fresh and crisp turned themselves on. So it seems that Seattle has grocery stores that display both politeness and a sense of humor: the sprayers announce themselves with a recording of a thunderstorm, so that customer can step back and avoid getting spritzed.
What a town.
Despite the chorus of “yes, buts…” on the left that, although Zarqawi was indeed a nasty man who deserved to die, his death will only serve as the inspiration for more terror and was therefore not such a great event, there is evidence cropping up that the positive repercussions of his demise (and the manner of it) could go far beyond the simple fact that he is no longer around to personally perpetrate graphic evil.
Claudia Rossett has laid out the possible/probable international ramifications of his death: the importance of a command leader being taken out of commission, the significance of the fact that it was cooperating Iraqis who were part of the reason he got caught, and the intelligence information that was gained and has resulted already in a plethora of arrests.
The whole event can have a cascading effect, both emotional and practical. Zarqawi traded on his image as not only an excessively brutal man but as one who cannily eluded capture, operating under the noses of the US and Iraqis. His myth of invincibility and power is shattered. But perhaps even more important is the fact that information gathered as a result of locating his whereabouts has led to what is perhaps the largest cleanup operation of terrorists ever:
In Iraq alone, some 16 or 17 terror cells were attacked at the same time as Zarqawi was killed. And the wave of arrests ”” just yesterday the Swiss reported they had broken up a cell planning to attack an El Al passenger plane ”” is like nothing I have seen before, bespeaking an encouraging degree of international cooperation. It goes hand in hand with the devastating campaign in Iraq against the terrorist leadership. Zarqawi is just the latest to fall; most of his top associates had been eliminated over the course of the past several months.
Even the Washington Post seems to agree that Zarqawi’s death may indeed have dealt a major tactical as well as propaganda blow to Al Qaeda and to terror around the world:
It is unclear which of 39-year-old Zarqawi’s lieutenants, or deputy emirs, will attempt to fill his role. But whoever succeeds him will be hard-pressed to achieve the same level of notoriety or to unite the foreign fighters in Iraq under a single command, analysts said.
Some European and Arab intelligence officials said they had seen signs before Zarqawi’s death that the number of foreign fighters going to Iraq was already waning. For recruitment efforts, the importance of Zarqawi’s death “cannot be overestimated,” Germany’s foreign intelligence chief, Ernst Uhrlau, told the Berlin newspaper Der Tagesspiegel.
Of course, the killings in Iraq continue, as expected. But although they are still full of sound and fury and personal tragedy to these they directly effect, they may indeed signify less than they used to. New recruits to the jihadi cause seem to have few of the skills of the old ones, according to this AP report.
And this is no accident. The days of the training camps in Afghanistan are gone, many of that generation wiped out. It may be getting a great deal more difficult to recruit “quality” people, not to mention keeping them. High turnover is always a serious personnel problem.
Yes, we don’t know what the future will bring. But the signs right now are good, and we should be heartened by the fruits of the incredible effort mounted by our military, worldwide intelligence, and the Iraqi people.
[ADDENDUM: Zarqawi’s body may not be all that welcome in his country of origin, Jordan, since he enraged a few people there a while back.]
I was rummaging around the house where I’m staying, looking for something to read, when I encountered an old favorite from my childhood, choreographer Agnes De Mille’s memoir And Promenade Home.
While skimming through it, I came across a passage in which De Mille, a newlywed whose husband has gone off to fight World War II (he was to remain abroad for the two remaining years of the war but returned unharmed), describes some of the conversations she endured at social events during her long wait:
For dark, personal reasons, many people could not resist this chance at cruelty. There were the intellectuals who demanded aggressively if we believed in war and asked across our dinner tables did we relish the idea of being the widows of dead heroes? There were men of peace who fulminated against destruction and argued that no idea was worth fighting for that leveled Casino or Dresden….There were the newscasters who, after the fourth Martini, swore with something akin to professional pride that the war would last another eight years….
And this was World War II, the Good War. Interesting, no?
As Alan Dershowitz quite rightly points out (via Solomonia), the manner of Zarqawi’s death is really no different from what is known as “targeted assassinations,” often condemned when performed by Israel, and yet in the case of Zarqawi roundly applauded throughout the Western world.
Why the distinction? The Dershowitz piece is short and doesn’t really attempt an analysis, except to say that the difference between the two acts appears to be that Israel can do no right in the eyes of many in the international community.
But, although I pretty much agree with Dershowitz that an enormous double standard is always applied to Israel, certainly the international community is not ordinarily in the habit of cutting the US much slack, either.
So I believe something additional is involved here, and that is the fact that Zarqawi was a terrorist whom even extreme leftists and Hamas apologists have had trouble wrapping their minds around. He resembled nothing more than the bogeyman, a figure of horrific brutality more appropriate to the nightmares of childhood.
And yet here he was, seeming to revel in his status as the biggest, baddest, meanest, most-sadistic sonofabitch in the world. With video to prove it. Only the furthest gone on the left (such as, unfortunately, Nicholas Berg’s father; see here for a transcript and discussion of Berg’s post-Zarqawi’s death interview) can find empathy for Zarqawi himself.
The terrorist mastermind targets of Israel’s bombs are for the most part faceless to most of us. Their propaganda machines are much slicker than Zarqawi’s, and their profiles are much lower. Zarqawi made the error of getting most of the world to hate him with great passion. It’s what he wanted, of course; but the consequence is that even most of those who condemn the same acts when committed by Israel can’t find it in their hearts to condemn this one.
The form the condemnation takes is rather, a bunch of “yes, buts…”, especially the idea that this killing won’t help–that, like the proliferating broomsticks in “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” of Disney’s “Fantasia” (another archtypical child’s nightmare), striking down a terrorist only causes a thousand more to spring up in his place.
This is a statement of faith rather than a proven fact, but no matter; it makes good copy. My guess is that not too many have been inspired by the Z-man or the manner of his death, but I certainly cannot prove it.
But in news that has been somewhat overshadowed by Zarqawi’s death, it is appears that only hours after the announcement a stalemate was broken and three appointees of the new Iraqi government were approved by its legislature. Austin Bay is paying attention, however, and he has an excellent roundup of the positive strategic implications of Zarqawi’s death and of developments in the new government of that beleaguered country. These do not seem insignificant; please take a look.
So, once again: Ding-dong. He’s really most sincerely dead.
[Mayor]: As Mayor of the Munchkin City,
In the County of the Land of Oz,
I welcome you most regally.
[Barrister]: But we’ve got to verify it legally, to see
[Mayor]: To see?
[Barrister]: If she
[Mayor]: If she?
[Barrister]: Is morally, ethic’lly
[Father No.1]: Spiritually, physically
[Father No. 2]: Positively, absolutely
[Munchkins]: Undeniably and reliably Dead
[Coroner]: As Coroner I must aver,
I thoroughly examined her.
And she’s not only merely dead,
she’s really most sincerely dead.
[Mayor]: Then this is a day of Independence
For all the Munchkins and their descendants…
I’ve barely scratched the surface of the Seattle experience, but I already have the following observations:
Seattle is indeed a very green city. It’s not only green in the literal sense, because of all the rain, but in the political sense as well.
The area where I’m staying, Mercer Island (with some wonderful and exceptionally hospitable relatives), approaches rain forest dimensions–if not by strict climactic definitions, then at least visually. Swooping vistas of mossy ferny dense vegetation, lush and massed, interspersed with towering evergreens. Canyons and curves and tasteful woodsy-appropriate homes and tiny little lanes that strain the driving skills of residents who wield their SUVs down them.
Yesterday I had occasion to drive on one of the local freeways, and since there was more than one human in the car we were able to use the diamond lane. It was rush hour, so one would think that in eco-conscious Seattle there would be many other cars there as well, reflections of conscientious carpooling.
But no. As far as the eye could see, we had the diamond lane nearly to ourselves. Glancing to my right, I could see only a solitary driver in car after car–proving, not that residents of Seattle are evil; but that, like most people, they like independence in their wheels.
To continue the green theme, last night I ate dinner at a restaurant called Cedars, which I now hereby plug. Crowded, warm, noisy but not so noisy you couldn’t carry on a conversation, and an interestingly eclectic menu of both Indian and Mideastern. Why so crowded? The winning combination: good food, plenty of it, and very reasonably priced.
I woke up today to the news of Zarqawi’s death.
This is the best day of its kind since the announcement of Saddam’s capture. And it does not seem this time as though reports of Zarqawi’s death have been greatly exaggerated; this appears to be the real deal at last.
There’s an especially interesting roundup of views at Pajamas Media. Note particularly the ones from Iraqi bloggers. And please contrast their attitude with Dr. Sanity’s compendium of views on the left, fine exemplars of the art of the “yes, but…”.
The NY Times reports an interesting incident of Tony Snow’s prescience:
As news that United States forces had killed the most wanted terrorist in Iraq began to spread through the American security apparatus late Wednesday afternoon, President Bush and his top advisers were meeting in the White House with congressional leaders, who were nervous about continued trouble in Iraq.
“What you really need to do,” Representative Ray LaHood of Illinois told the president, “is go get Zarqawi,” according to an account by the White House press secretary, Tony Snow, who was at the meeting.
“I said ‘Yeah, we’ll just order that up right now,’ ” Mr. Snow recalled in an interview this morning.
Minutes after that exchange, at 3:45 p.m., the national security adviser, Stephen J. Hadley, left the room in response to a Blackberry message to call the American ambassador to Iraq in Baghdad, Zalmay Khalilzad.
“We think we have Zarqawi,” Mr. Khalilzad told him.
Was Zarqawi the source of all evil in Iraq? No. Will his death make the insurgency go away? Not a chance. But it’s another victory on the long slow and arduous road to some sort of functioning and democratic government in Iraq, and a message to others of his ilk as to what fate awaits them. And, if the Iraqi bloggers are any indication, a cause for ordinary Iraqis to rejoice.
Celebration at the death of an evildoer–and if there was a clearer example of an evildoer than Zarqawi on the face of this earth I can’t quite think of one at the moment–is a tricky phenomenon. Zarqawi was human, of that I am certain. As a human being, he deserves some sort of respect. But a long time ago he forfeited the right to be mourned in the usual way, and it is appropriate to be glad of the fact that he is no longer among us to inspire whomever it might be who found his particular brand of sociopathic thuggery impressive and charismatic.
For a sociopathic thug he almost undoubtedly was, with roots in garden-variety criminality, writ large over time through political opportunity and positioning so that he could work his evil on a vaster scale than most ordinary psychopaths. If we or anyone else shed a tear for Zarqawi, it should be for the fact that a human being can become so corrupted and lost, so brutal and bereft of humanity, that his death would cause such universal and justifiable rejoicing.
Who turned him in? He certainly didn’t lack enemies, including those in Jordan angered by his killing his own, like a rabid dog. The twenty-five million dollar reward probably sweetened the pot.
But celebration is clearly in order today, so sing it high, sing it low.
I found them deep in the bottom of the safe deposit box, put there so long ago they’d been virtually forgotten. Three US Savings Bonds, gifts to me on the occasion of my birth.
The denominations didn’t seem huge: 100, 50, and 25 dollars. But, readjusted for the rate of inflation, the gifts were very generous indeed at the time they were given. You’ll have to guess the date of issue yourself; as you can see, a little judicious editing has been performed by a friend less technically challenged than I on the above reproduction of one of the bonds.
I’m not sure who the donors were, but I know they had to be family friends or relatives. The stamp on the bond in the photo says “The First National Back of Millburn,” so that’s a pretty good clue; my mother had first cousins who lived there.
When I took the bonds out of the box to study them, they seemed old–older than they ought to, far far older than I. Something like the Confederate money I remember my grandmother showing me in my youth, or the far more interesting mourning jewelry her mother had worn–chains made from the hair of the deceased, on which lockets containing the loved ones’ photos were hung.
These US Savings Bonds were evidence that, as a newborn, I was surrounded by a group of people who didn’t even know me yet but who wished me well. And not only did they wish me well, but they were putting their hard-earned money where their mouths were, and planned that some day these bonds would pay me back with interest.
And now that day had come, belatedly. No doubt the givers thought the bonds would have been redeemed quite some time ago, perhaps even to help pay for a college education, when that kind of money could actually get you something more than a textbook or two. But somehow, instead, the bonds had been laid aside long ago and forgotten.
The bonds made me think of the banks of my youth, so different from today’s user-friendly ones. Those 50s banks were meant to be intimidating; they were manned (and “manned” was not just a figure of speech; the employees were all males) only until two o’clock in the afternoon or so, the classic “banker’s hours.” They featured a lot of icy marble, and the tellers hid behind grates, with only a bit of their faces showing. The effect was enhanced by the fact that I was too small to really see up that high; I just presented my savings account book and they gave it the mysterious and official stamp.
Now, of course, the bank I visit to redeem the bonds is a wide-open space, full of light and artwork. The tellers are all women–although actually, to me, they look like young girls–with nary a grate in sight.
I present my bonds, and the teller studies them, her eyes widening, her mouth forming a little “O” and giving out a slight puff of air. She actually calls the others over to look, and soon the lot gather around, murmuring “We’ve never seen one of these before; look how OLD!!” and gaze up at me in wonder.
I’m a bit hurt. “Hold on about old, that’s me you’re talking about. They were given to me the day I was born,” I say, and they smile and shake their heads. Others are called in, and a consultation ensues. What to do? How to look this up?
A higher-up comes out and determines that, with interest, the bonds are worth $921.92, which respresents a nice windfall, and an unexpected one as well. I can feel those long-ago givers smiling on me, joyful at the birth of that baby girl so long ago. What were their hopes and dreams for her, their fears and secret sorrows? I don’t even really know who they were; just that they wished me well–and that, so many years later, I receive their gifts once again.
Varifrank has a good roundup and summary of news about the Canadian explosives arrests.
The situation was potentially explosive in more ways than one. As Varifrank points out, not only was the alleged network international in scope, not only did it involve Canadian nationals and even minors, but the target was–Canada.
It’s hard to imagine anything so logical as a reason for targeting Canada. But I supose the country represented what might be called a target of opportunity. Like Everest, it’s there; although unlike Everest, it may have been tempting because it was thought to be relatively easy to operate in. It’s also Western, of course, and America-like.
It’s encouraging that intelligence and law enforcement worked together on an international scale to thwart this particular effort. The Canadian authorities have certainly not been lulled into a false sense of security because of their country’s politics. Of that I–and many millions af Canadians–am glad.
The fact that we are all potential targets is not fearmongering, as many will no doubt say. It’s a simple fact. And saying it doesn’t mean the speaker is especially afraid–although it’s not a pleasant prospect, to be sure.
But it’s reality. And if that reality wasn’t already as clear as the billiant blue skies of a certain Tuesday in September of 2001, then it certainly should be that clear by now.