"Verse, fame and Beauty are intense indeed, But Death intenser - Death is Life's high meed" (Keats)

This is about a chain of associations.

It begins with Inspire 5, within the pages of which Charles Cameron noted an article reminiscing on the author's time fighting the United States in Fallujah, Iraq. You should read Cameron's piece - he's addressing an aspect of jihadism that I think deserves more attention.

The story from Fallujah includes the following incident:

Hardship and severe exhaustion were afflicting us due to the hot weather that was in the beginning of Ramadan.

So that brother came at the time of afternoon and sought permission from the Amir to break his fast. Some brothers advised him to have patience and suggested to him that he could have a shower and then rest for a while. The brother went inside to sleep out of fatigue and we were sitting in front of that house. The brother didn’t sleep long and we saw him coming out towards us with a cheerful face saying to us that he had seen a dream while he was asleep. The brothers asked him what was it; he told them that he saw a very beautiful woman coming to him, carrying a plate full of all kinds of fruits. She was waking him up, standing by his head and telling him: O Abu az-Zubair, don’t break your fast. You are invited to break your fast with us today. The brother then said that he felt comfort and relief. There was a brother called Abu Tariq who interpreted dreams so he told him that by Allah’s will, it will be something good. After that the brother decided to continue fasting.

We had a timetable for twelve people to cook food and that day was his turn. He went to the kitchen and we stayed outside, sitting next to the wall of that house so that we weren’t seen by the spy planes. We stayed there until it was about time to break fast. Suddenly an F-16 jet showed up in the horizon and targeted that kitchen with a missile where that brother was! A while after when the dust had settled, we went in the kitchen and saw that brother had been martyred. It was amazing how the smell of musk was all over the room, how the smile was on his face!

Make what you will of the appearance of the lady. My gut reaction was that the brother's only mistake was in thinking she was on his side. It also put me in mind of the poem by Keats, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, e.g.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
   And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
   “I love thee true.”

The title of this entry is from another poem by Keats, and is, among other things, reminiscent of the jihadi refrain "We love death more than you love life." (And yes, the last word is "meed" not "mead").

What I mean to suggest is that jihadis are Romantics of a sort. I find this interesting, feel that it illuminates a portion of their mental landscape.

That is all...

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meed |mēd| noun archaic

a deserved share or reward : he must extract from her some meed of approbation.

ORIGIN Old English mēd, of Germanic origin; from an Indo-European root shared by Greek misthos ‘reward.’

Posted on 01 April 2011 @ 14:21