Now that assassination is official American foreign policy I did not find it hard to imagine, five minutes ago, that Simon Sheikh had been poisoned and there would be more men and women of the Left so dealt with in the future.
Untune that string, and hark what discord follows, as Shakespeare’s Ulysses noted.
Diane Feinstein yesterday asked that Assange be charged with spying, an echo of Sarah Palin who wanted him shot like a moose and John McCain who wanted him lethally injected for treason. A film will open soon acclaiming the murder in a foreign city of Osama Bin Laden and his son and his friend and his friend’s wife for crimes unspecified and in a court unproven. And every month or so a drone takes out a foreign politician, and sometimes his young family. And every week or so an Arab is killed by an Israeli for his politics. And it’s not too much to imagine Simon, a very effective political organiser and publicist, might have been so treated tonight.
Perish the thought. There are no conspiracies. Yasr Arafat was not poisoned; no way. A lone madman took out Bin Laden, another took out Indira Ghandhi, another Anwar Sadat, another Olof Palme. James Ashby was deeply affronted to receive his two thousandth saucy text message, one different from all the others and from the thousands of saucy text messages he himself sent out to friends and lovers. John Edwards and John Della Bosca and John Brogden and Mike Rann were not set up. No-one tried to kill Castro, never. Both Kennedy and Oswald were killed by lone madmen, in the same city, within two days. Some cities are big on lone madmen. There is no evil intent. None. Not ever. The CIA never plots to do people harm. They earn their billions by doing cryptic crosswords and playing Monopoly in Langley, and writing scenarios they never enact.
If Simon has a history of epilepsy, fine. If he ate a dodgy oyster tonight, okay.
But you wonder, you really do.
And Assange is right to be scared. Really scared.