We will all have our own memories of yesterday. No, the war is not over. The Baathist terrorists will continue, although they must feel somewhat demoralized. The dead-enders have now reached a real dead-end. There will be time to think about the domestic ramifications of this – and what it might mean for Iraq’s transition to freedom. Just not so fast. For me, the moment I won’t forget was the sudden roar of excitement and jubilation from Iraqi journalists in the press conference room when Jerry Bremer gave the news. Salon describes it well:
The room erupted in cheers and shouts. Iraqi reporters in the room began yelling, crying, sobbing. A middle aged Iraqi man sitting near me wept while he frantically took notes. Other Iraqis called for Saddam’s death. A man sitting in the front row wailed with his head in his hands. The press conference paused briefly while the man calmed down.
It is not for us to understand fully what these people were put through. At a moment like this, when we can see fully and clearly the evil that existed for so long – evil that we in the past did our part to maintain – it is important simply to recall the dead and their loved ones. Think of every moment when some poor soul believed he was about to die, every moment spent in hellish prisons, every person tortured beyond imagining, every child dumped in a mass grave, every person of faith treated as an enemy of the state. To watch the perpetrator of this extraordinary evil brought low – into a rat-hole in the ground – is a privilege. It happens rarely. It is a moment when some kind of cosmic justice breaks through the clouds, and all the petty wrangling and mistakes and political jockeying fall away in the face of liberation from inescapable fear and terror and brutality. It was a day of joy. Nothing remains to be said right now. Joy.
The Dish 