About Hunting Bin U.S. Laden
The annihilation of the enemy, a constant in the political history
For Israel Lotersztain
Columnist Plural Construction , Fernando Mauri program.
The first hours of virtual hunting Al Qaeda leader from the U.S. much talked about whether the objective of the Mission called Geronimo was to capture or kill Osama directly Bin Laden.
statements, marches, reversals and denials of government officials Barack Obama have been far from clarifying the issue. Bin Laden was armed, who tried to defend himself, which he used as a human shield of women, etc etc.
and certainly for different reasons that go beyond this analysis, we believe that the U.S. openly sought to end the life of a fundamentalist Saudi Arabia. In this sense, and beyond ethical precepts, over history, politics prevails and are repeated cases in which they sought to follow through the "enemy" to physical annihilation.
The Bin Laden does not set any new development. The Romans followed a harmless and Anibal Barca after Battle of Zama until he committed suicide by poison in Bithynia before being delivered to the Roman ambassador. The Mongols pursued for years the defeated king of Kiev to beyond Hungary, hit him and executed him, Stalin ordered the killing of Trotsky in Mexico when he did not offer any danger to their hegemony in the USSR.
In our country, the brothers and their montonera Aldao first beat and then chased in Tucumán Laprida Francisco until he overtook and killed him, resulting in that Borges wrote his best poem, the "Conjectural Poem."
POEM
conjectural
Dr. Francisco Laprida, murdered on September 22, 1829 by montoneros of Aldao, think before you die:
bullets buzz in the last week.
There is wind and there are ashes in the wind,
disperse the day and the battle
deformed, and victory is another.
Beat the barbarians, the Gauchos win.
I, who studied the laws and canons,
I, Francisco Narciso de Laprida,
whose voice declared independence
of these cruel provinces, defeated
blood and sweat stained face,
without hope or fear, lost
fled south on recent suburbs.
As that master of Purgatory
, fleeing on foot and disfigure the plain
was blinded and knocked down by death,
where a dark river loses its name,
and I shall fall. Today is the end.
The night side of the marshes
stalking me and I delay. I hear the hooves
of my death to me looking hot
with riders, with lips and spears.
I longed to be someone else, be a man
sentences, books, opinions,
open will lie between swamps;
but I deifies unexplained chest,
a secret joy. I finally find
with my South American destination.
This afternoon I had ruined
multiple steps maze
my days woven from one day
childhood. I finally discovered
the hidden key to my age,
the fate of Francisco de Laprida,
the missing letter, the perfect
way known to God from the beginning.
In the mirror of this night
my unsuspecting face eternal. The circle
be closed. I am looking that way.
My feet tread the shadow of the spears
that I seek. The taunts of my death,
riders, their manes, the horses,
hanging over me ... Now the first blow,
the hard iron and ripping my chest,
the intimate knife to her throat.
Jorge Luis Borges
June 1943.
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