Another day, another suicide bomber in Baghdad. This one at the Monsour Hotel on the Tigris River.
I've stayed there and, when I did, I felt like I was in a cacoon: reasonably safe in a place that is surrounded by madness and death. Well, death walked right into the lobby of the Monsour this morning, and with a very specific target in mind: tribal sheiks who have displayed a determination to bring some order to their troubled land. In other words, the tribal sheiks were good guys.
Good deeds get punished in Iraq. The risk of doing the right thing is almost impossible to calculate. When U.S. commanders come calling, promising help in any number of ways, locals know that it will come at a price. Imagine, being able to see the long view, knowing that democracy in some form is a better choice than the tyranny of the thugs and killers that hide in the shadows of every neighborhood, and knowing that one could cost you your life.
Another day, another bombing in Iraq; one step forward, two steps back.
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By Harry Smith