Iraq's Dead Unnamed and Unnoticed
by Judith Coburn and Tom Engelhardt
Of those Iraqis – as opposed to the Londoners who died (or survived) the recent subway and bus bombings – there will be no stirring portraits of stiff-upper-lip courage or of horror. Hardly even the odd name. Not here anyway. In this country, there is something impersonal, numbingly distant, and unreal about Iraqi deaths, even though the dead Iraqis too had parents and relatives, friends and neighbors, husbands, wives, or lovers, possibly children of their own.
Of those Iraqis – as opposed to the Londoners who died (or survived) the recent subway and bus bombings – there will be no stirring portraits of stiff-upper-lip courage or of horror. Hardly even the odd name. Not here anyway. In this country, there is something impersonal, numbingly distant, and unreal about Iraqi deaths, even though the dead Iraqis too had parents and relatives, friends and neighbors, husbands, wives, or lovers, possibly children of their own.
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