John Donne wrote that every man’s death diminished him. He suggested that no one was an island; but rather, a part of the whole continent. Of course, this was as profound then, in pre-Enlightenment times, as it is now, in the New Dark Age.
In the English Divine’s world, people were disconnected by time, space, and politics. Today’s post-Orwellian universe has individuals around the globe able to speak to another person anywhere on the planet within nanoseconds. Thanks to Low Earth Orbit Satellites, no one is alone – and no one is safe… as Osama bin Laden discovered to his great discomfort a few days ago.
If a tiny island nation, which shall be nameless, had access to the acme of US technology a few years back, perhaps its own version of Public Enemy No. 1 would have been tracked, hunted down, and taken out (as the terminology of assassination has it) long before he was in fact killed. Instead, we had to rely on more conventional weapons which were as messy as they were monstrous.
The analogy of using a sledgehammer to swat a fly – albeit a nasty type of infection-carrying insect – comes to mind. But this piece is not about the modus operandi of what was arguably the world’s most (shall we say) effective conventional (for want of a better term) army. It is about what the actions of a small group of highly trained extraction specialists means for the relationship between the island mentioned above, and the planet’s sole extant superpower.
By the way, in an interesting enough coincidence, Osama – the terror of a civilized world threatened by the spectre of nuclear conflict – lost his life on the same day that Hitler – the scourge of erstwhile western powers in essentially the same way – lost his.
But back to Humpty-Dumpty, who had a great fall. And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again. Which is what tends to happen when nation-states that set up cardboard targets of their demonized foes decide to explode the man, the myth, the menace.
In this respect, the island above looks no different from the superpower above. Both had their Humpty-Dumpty moment. One, when it insisted on parading the body through a slew of photo opportunities. The other, when it expedited the disposal of the body and provoked a raft of conspiracy theories.
In both cases, the people who had been prompted and provoked to vilify the nation’s favourite villain for ever so long capitulated in the emotion of the event – and celebrated his death. For one, the killing was a foregone conclusion because of the way the civil war had been prosecuted. For the other, the assassination smacked of expedient demise because of the way the war on international terror had been prosecuted, and those deemed terrorists by Unca Sam had been persecuted. What one privateer does with a ship is condemned as piracy, but what a country does with its fleet is considered internationalism.
But the net effect on the general populace was pretty much the same. A sharp intake of breath at the sheer audacity of the state – followed by the rapid exhalation of spirit in jubilant jingoism and chauvinistic celebration. All of which goes a long way towards plastering the cracks in nations tottering not-too-far from Humpty-Dumpty’s state themselves.
Both superpower and tiny island nation are past-masters are sticking society together with political glue. The problems that beset the polity and its economy often loom so large that a Humpty-Dumpty’s death comes in handy.
Cost of living that cripples the imagination more than the inflationary milieu. Crime in high places that is covered up by closely knit cabals comprising fat-cat members of the old boys’ club. Corruption that has no need to run amok simply because it is institutionalized at virtually every warp and weft of the social fabric.
All these can be nicely relegated to the back of the top shelf, when Humpty-Dumpty has a great fall. Trust in the people’s penchant, potential, and propensity to forget what ails the nation when all about them there is the vulgar mob celebrating a common victory over a fallen villain.
Is that John Donne I see, muttering to himself in the divine estate beyond this earthly England? “Philistines, brutes, savages…” Save your breath, Jack, ’twas ever thus!
In closing, consider the idea that leaders of states which turn yesterday’s heroes into tomorrow’s Public Enemy No. 1 are likely headed for a fall themselves. Osama, Obama, same difference?
Our own king’s horses and our own king’s men, our own Humpty-Dumpty? Worlds apart. Because victors write history. And when rival nations both emerge victorious, it is the story on this side of our reality that wins out. Especially when tiny island nations want to prove a point to superpowers. |
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