Death of a Terrorist

Now is that perfect time between a news story first breaking and everybody coming out with their first reactions, and a story fading into the noise of the 24-hour news cycle. So I’d like to weigh in while I can.

I wasn’t immediately jubilant after learning of Osama bin Laden’s death, it took a little while. The first I learned of it was when I turned on the local news in the morning, looking for the weather. The banner across the bottom had the big news in all caps, and the anchor was sitting in a lounge chair interviewing the family of a 9/11 victim. When I finally grasped what was going on, the first thing I heard was “Well, I’m glad justice has been served, but it won’t bring back my son.”

You can imagine how it’d be hard to be jubilant when that’s the first impression of the situation.

But later on, after seeing the pictures from the party at the White House that I had missed (a friend of mine had called, but I was too slow to pick up because I was passed out after a concert), I started to get into the swing of things. Finally, after ten years, it was our turn to dance in the streets like maniacs in celebration of the demise of a despised enemy. But this feeling didn’t last long. I don’t think I even made it through the entire day before I started feeling guilty about it. I remembered how the Jews did not celebrate after the death of the Egyptians in the Red Sea. People died. Death is not a celebratory occasion, regardless of who it was.

Some people have argued vehemently against the way in which he died – shot in the head twice, unarmed. They say he should have been captured alive so that we could try him, convict him, and then execute him; the way things are supposed to go, to show just how civilized we are. They say his assassination is no more honorable than a common murderer. Personally, I couldn’t care less about the fact that he didn’t get a trial. Aside from the logistical nightmares of where he would be detained, where the trial would be held, and where the hell we’d get an impartial jury of his peers, the fact of the matter is that he’s guilty. He owned up to it. He’s proud of it. So go ahead and gun him down, I say. This isn’t Saddam Hussein; we don’t need to do a quick show trial before executing him.

One of the things I found most interesting was the exposition of his hypocrisy. He hated the West. Hated us. And it wasn’t a religious thing; religion was more of a way to recruit people who were willing to blow themselves up than a personal doctrine. It wasn’t necessarily Christians and Jews he hated, it was Americans. Yet as it turns out, all he ever wanted was to be like us. There he was, in an affluent suburb, in a multi-million dollar mansion with a young, pretty wife, a bunch of body guards, and a big ‘ol gun. His story literally has the same ending as Scarface.

But the victory is a hollow one. No one within Al Qaeda will ever understand his hypocrisy. Those who do will be shunned. Someone else will come along to take OBL’s place. He might not make as big of a name for himself, at least not immediately, but this is far from over. Assuming it will ever end.