"Damn Your Eyes"

When I was knee-high to a grasshopper, my father used to sing a version of the venerable English ballad "Samuel Hall," to annoy my mother if for no other reason. One version I found on the Web goes like this:

Now my name is Samuel Hall,
Samuel Hall, Samuel Hall
Oh my name is Samuel Hall, Samuel Hall
Oh my name is Samuel Hall,
and I hate you one and all
You're a bunch of mucker's all
Blast your eyes.
You're a bunch of mucker's all
Blast your eyes.

Now I killed a man they said
So they said, so they said
Oh I killed a man they said
Yes they said
I killed a man they said
And I left him layin dead
Cause I bashed his bloody head
Blast his eyes.
Caused I bashed his bloody head
Blast his eyes.

Now they put me in the quad
In the quad, In the quad
Oh they put me in the quad, in the quad
Oh they put me in the quad
and they left me there by God
Fastened to a bloody chain rod
Blast there eyes.
Fastened to a bloody chain rod
Blast there eyes.

Now the preacher he did come
He did come, he did come
Oh the preacher he did come he did come
Oh the preacher he did come
And he looked so doggone glum
As he talked of Kingdom Come
Blast his eyes.
As he talked of Kingdom Come
Blast his eyes.

And the sheriff he come too
He come too, he come too
Oh the sheriff he come too he come too
Oh the sheriff he come too
With his yellow boys and blue
Sayin Sam I'll see you through
Blast your eyes.
Sayin Sam I'll see you through
Blast your eyes.

Oh it's up the rope I go I go I go
It's up the rope I go I go
Oh it's up the rope I go
While you critters down below
Are sayin Sam I told you so
Blast your eyes.
Are sayin Sam I told you so
Blast your eyes.

Oh it's swingin I must go
I must go I must go
It's a swingin I must go, I must go
It's a swingin I must go
Just because she loved him so
Just because she loved him so
Blast her eyes.
Just because she loved him so
Blast her eyes.

I must hang until I'm dead
Til I'm dead, Til I'm dead
I must hang until I'm dead
I must hang until dead
Caused I killed a man they said
And left him layin dead
Blast his eyes.
And left him layin dead
Blast his eyes.

Johnny Cash recorded a version, minus the slur on the preacher. This slur--the preacher was so "goddamn glum"--was the subject of a sermon once given by the late Rev. Wm. Sloane Coffin, when he was acting chaplain at Andover many years ago (fifty, in fact).

This reminiscence serves to remind us that once, not so long ago, public hangings were de rigeur and were occasions for a kind of carnival. Hanging has gone out of style in the United States, even if, performed properly, it provides a quick, bloodless death. (Performed improperly, it can lead to a prolonged agony or the separation of the head from the body.)

The President has hailed the death as an act of justice, while the usual suspects have lamented the application of capital punishment even in the case of Saddam.

I have never been opposed to capital punishment in principle, even as I question its application in practice. And if anyone deserves the ultimate penalty, it is Saddam, a mass murderer and torturer. As long as he lived, he would be like Napoleon on Elba, a potential rallying point for the Ba'ath and the Sunnis generally.

And yet . . . even before the cell-phone video came out, the still of Saddam with the rope around his neck chilled me. There was something so seeemingly deliberate about it. The cell-phone video presented a different picture. Rather than an orderly, dignfied, if chilling procedure, we saw a rush to punishment with taunting and angry words back and forth, including an invocation of the sinister Muqtada as-Sadr.

A thick analysis of the event (pace Clifford Geertz) discloses much that is disturbing. Marc Cooper, who is more judicious than his commentators, some of whom are quite rabid, offers his observations, and surprisingly, links to Christopher Hitchens, apostate from the left though he may be, and then ducks for cover as the gang of urchins that comment on his blog (including Yours Truly, sometimes) descend like New York pigeons when some deranged crone throws down bread crumbs for them.

Surely losing 3,000 lives and God knows how many limbs and eyes to trade Saddam for Muqtada is a terrible trade. The means and manner of the execution were as mangled as anything in the Iraq adventure. And yet . . . Iraq is a bloody place. King Faisal was not merely overthrown, but dragged through the streets Baghdad behind a car, while Nuri As-Said, his Prime Minister, was arrested dressed as a woman and killed. Most Iraqi leaders lost not only power, but their lives. In that context, even a flawed trial and a rushed and sordid execution-cum-pep-rally is a kind of step forward. Perhaps the next Iraqi head of state to fall can retire to a villa in some backwater, as Khrushchev did and our ex-Presidents often do, when they avoid the assassin.

The execution was an unseemly, premature mess, and it is likely to enrage at least a section of Sunni opinion, fearful as it is, of Shi'a domination. The truth is, Americans are incompetent imperialists. We conquered the place easily, but we can't run it. Our allies in Iraq (other than Kurdistan, which is doing fine, thank you), as it turns out, are dominated by a coalition heavily weighted toward the thug Muqtada, who appears to be an implacable foe.

When old men send young men like Sgt. Charles King to risk their lives, they ought to be damned sure that what they are doing. Our old men appear to be dotards more than statesmen.

As for Saddam, let his family weep for him, if they can.