Osama
He is dead. So it wasn’t, as some suspected, that he was already killed. No, he lived in a house with high walls, without Internet. His children lived with him — just as Gadhafi’s did, by the way.
In the aftermath, one might wonder why bin Laden showed himself so rarely. From time to time he recorded a tape, but that was it. On these poorly recorded tapes, one could not really find anything of interest. Nor did he publish great books or express great ideas. He did not give impressive speeches or repeatedly stir up crowds. We are not even sure if he actually was responsible for 9/11. It seems that he had grown all too scared. That he cared more about life than we thought. He never behaved as a real hero.
What is most surprising to me is that “his body is in the hands of the Americans.” How did they do this? They used two helicopters, I hear — one of which crashed, without casualties. But still: Did they kill bin Laden and then lift his body into that helicopter?
How did they find his residence? And how much is the total cost of this entire operation, measured since Sept. 11? Probably more than a billion dollars.
Nevertheless, a death like this holds something unsatisfactory. I would have liked to see him tried. I would have liked to have him caught alive. I would have loved to hear what he had to say.
Along the same lines, I would like to know what the rest of al-Qaida is doing. Are the members assembling to mourn? Are they planning a new attack? Will they claim that he is not really dead, and that the murdered body is the wrong one? What impact does all of this have on the Muslim community and the Arab world, and what message does it have for Mohammed B., the murderer of Theo van Gogh? Will he be sitting in his cell, thinking: What were the benefits of my actions? Will he recognize that it was all in vain?
I saw the announcement of Osama’s death coincidentally on Twitter. Followed instantly — not even minutes apart — by another tweet from someone in the United States: “Donald Trump demands Osama bin Laden’s Death Certificate.”
In the aftermath, one might wonder why bin Laden showed himself so rarely. From time to time he recorded a tape, but that was it. On these poorly recorded tapes, one could not really find anything of interest. Nor did he publish great books or express great ideas. He did not give impressive speeches or repeatedly stir up crowds. We are not even sure if he actually was responsible for 9/11. It seems that he had grown all too scared. That he cared more about life than we thought. He never behaved as a real hero.
What is most surprising to me is that “his body is in the hands of the Americans.” How did they do this? They used two helicopters, I hear — one of which crashed, without casualties. But still: Did they kill bin Laden and then lift his body into that helicopter?
How did they find his residence? And how much is the total cost of this entire operation, measured since Sept. 11? Probably more than a billion dollars.
Nevertheless, a death like this holds something unsatisfactory. I would have liked to see him tried. I would have liked to have him caught alive. I would have loved to hear what he had to say.
Along the same lines, I would like to know what the rest of al-Qaida is doing. Are the members assembling to mourn? Are they planning a new attack? Will they claim that he is not really dead, and that the murdered body is the wrong one? What impact does all of this have on the Muslim community and the Arab world, and what message does it have for Mohammed B., the murderer of Theo van Gogh? Will he be sitting in his cell, thinking: What were the benefits of my actions? Will he recognize that it was all in vain?
I saw the announcement of Osama’s death coincidentally on Twitter. Followed instantly — not even minutes apart — by another tweet from someone in the United States: “Donald Trump demands Osama bin Laden’s Death Certificate.”