The Teflon Guerrilla's Demise

I was in the Hillel today (hunger does strange things to people..) when they just so happened to be discussing the topic du jour, the archetypical terrorist’s death, and whether of not they should feel somber. Some articulated how revolting it would be for anyone to express joy. I played the PC game for a bit, and instead of explaining why joy is perhaps at least somewhat justified, I focused on why perhaps many people rightfully feel relieved. One girl started talking how she really pitied Arafat’s daughter, thus ending my PC run…
I turned on the news reports about said terrorist, curious to see how they would spin the legacy of a mass-murder who was always “more about politics and prime time than Palestine.” In the middle of the segment, the reporter zeroed in on a small group of settlers singing and dancing. Despite their best effort to exaggerate the scene, it was obvious from the footage that there were less than 10 men present (one might have thought otherwise from just hearing the report). I felt a slight twinge in my stomach. Granted the media’s version was distorted—but dancing in the street??? That’s what some Palestinians did when word of 9-11 spread. The parallel it drew was disturbing, and came a little too close to robbing us of the higher moral ground.