Bhutto's Blood Cries From The Ground

I remember hearing some smarter-than-thou NPR analyst–you know the kind, a coward-liberal trying to convince us that the right-wing isn’t really insane–telling us that the house arrest of Benezir Bhutto was part of a “kabuki dance” between her and Musharraf, it was just for show, and Musharraf needed her to avoid an ouster by the Islamists.

I’m sure that analyst still has his job, just like all the analysts who told us Iraq would be a cake walk. And I’m sure the bloggers who doubt are still shrill, still not “serious,” and still dismissed by base, common, and popular America.

For Americans still trying to hold on to middle class life in the new petro-theocracy that daily redefines “Orwellian,” there isn’t enough time in the day to comprehend the chess board and what this move means, or may mean.

It may mean the total destabilization of Afghanistan, Pakistan, and India. Southern Asia has been a region marked by pre-WWI interlocking and secret alliances that is only a spark away from a giant war. It may just mean that Musharraf hangs on to military rule a bit longer, and nothing of significance happens.

It also doesn’t matter whether it was al-Qaeda, the Taleban, Musharraf, the ISI, or whoever that did it. The perception will matter more than the facts in the heat of the moment.

It means that democracy’s resurrecting corpse is dead again in another country with an economy and middle class capable of supporting it, and our American hands are filthy with the stains, just as they are with countries all over the world.

Forgotten names and places like Aquino in the Philippines, Allende in Chile, Rabin in Israel, Colosio in Mexico, Guernica, Haiti, Sierra Leone, and memories more etched in our memory, like JFK. They are all the holy martyrs of the pax Americana and its false flag of democracy.

But their blood still cries from the ground, and those who hear it can’t be counted on to act with a pure and rational response. They are radicalized, they feel the drug of vendetta in their veins, and they act out.

The world’s on fire.

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