GROUND ZERO, New York City, Mar. 12--Saddam Hussein bounces two of his dozen grandchildren on his knee as he watches CNN news.  He chortles over the success France, Germany, Russia and the U.N. have provided to stop the U.S.'s drive to unseat him.  After all, he promised to cleanse his country of its weapons of mass destruction.  His word is gold to all except America.  
       "You see, children, I am not the bad guy."  Saddam points to the flickering television screen. "The bad guy is President Bush.   See, my friends are helping me make America look very bad.   America, not your Grampa, is the really evil one.  Never forget that, children.  Never.  Never.  Never!"

          One of Saddam's grandchildren looks up at him with her big chocolate inquisitive eyes. Her mother is Saddam's eldest daughter.  "Grampa, how come you killed my daddy."
           "Oh, killing your daddy is nothing compared to what President Bush is trying to do," grumps Hussein, jiggling her on  his left  knee. "That finger-pointing, imperialist Bush is trying to kill your Grampa.    And you must love your Grampa more than you love anyone in the world, right?"
            "But Grampa," insists the other child, daughter of Saddam's second daughter.  She tugs at Saddam's medals to capture the dictator's attention and pleads, "I miss my daddy.   How come you killed him and then dragged his dead body through the streets of Baghdad?  How come, Grandpa?"
            Saddam turns his attention from CNN to the children.  He smiles broadly.   "Well, my children, your daddies were very very bad, bad boys.   They ran away from Grampa's country in August 1995 and fled to Jordan with your mommies,  Raghd and Rana.  Grampa didn't like your fathers running away."
               "You mean you killed them just for running away, Grampa?" the children chorused.

     "Oh no, not for that alone, my children.   You see your fathers, Husayn (Hussein) Kamel Majid and his brother Saddam Kamel, told bad secrets about Grampa's country to those terrible U.N. weapons inspectors.  They took lots of papers with them that showed where Grampa hides his secret toys. You see, your daddy, Husayn, was in charge of Iraq's weapons of mass destruction.   He was the director of the Organization of Military Industries, a very powerful position..."  Saddam paused to shift the little ones onto the edge of his knee.  "He was in charge of chemical, biological, nuclear and missile production.   Grampa had those toys to make sure nobody argues with Grampa.  Grampa is getting very old, and if someone tries to hurt him, Grampa gets very mad and can use all kinds of bad things to get back at them."
              "Like the gas you dumped on the Kurd kids, Grampa?"  Raghd's daughter looks up at her Grandfather as she asks the question.  Her face is puzzled.

        Saddam ruffles her hair and smiles. He addresses them as though both had asked the same question.  "Yes, dear ones.   Grampa has to show everybody how tough he is.   Those Kurds were nothing.  They were revolting against your Grampa.  Killing them was like drinking orange juice.   Tasty.  Refreshing."
          "Why didn't you want daddy to tell anyone about your chemicals, Grampa?"  The younger granddaughter pulled again at Saddam's medals, most of which he awarded to himself.
               "Shhhhh," Saddam says, leaning down to whisper in the children's ears.  "I'm not supposed to have them.   See, your daddies went to Jordan and told bad people all Grampa's secrets.  They told M.I.6...those nasty British...the CIA and the U.N. all about Grampa's very scary toys."
               "What did they tell them?"
               Saddam pinched the children's cheeks.   "Promise you won't tell?"
               "We promise, Grampa!"
               "Well," he paused, flicking his eyes around the palatial room lined with Special Republican Guards, each hand selected to keep him from being assassinated, and began reeling off the justifications for their fathers' deaths.   "First your daddies told them about  Project One Forty Four slash Two.  Wait. Don't ask.  I'll tell you.  Project One Forty Four slash Two is all about the development of chemical and biological missile warheads.  Your daddies told them about fifty chemical agent Scud warheads." 

        Saddam snuck another furtive look around before continuing.   "And some..." he lowered his Voice to hush..." some were filled with VX, others with Sarin."
           "What's that, Gramps?"
           "It's very bad. Like pollution. It drives away all your enemies and makes everyone your friend because they're afraid you'll drop some on them.  One drop and they're dead, dead, dead.  Isn't it nice to have lots of friends?"
              "Sure, Grampa."
              "Well, VX and Sarin helps you make friends out of enemies."
              "Is that all they told the bad guys, Grampa?  Just your secret pollution?"
              "No! No! No!   They told them about the existence of one hundred fifty-seven aerial bombs and twenty-five Scud/Al-Husayn missile warheads filled with the biological warfare agents anthrax, botulinum toxin, and aflatoxin.   They told them about the stockpiles of eighty-five hundred liters of anthrax, nineteen thousand liters of botulinum toxin, and twenty-two hundred liters of aflatoxin."
              The children shifted on Saddam's knees, confused by strange words they didn't understand.
              "Is that a lot, Grampa. A lot of pollution?"

        "Hmmmm," Saddam said, "Well, to put eighty-five hundred liters of anthrax into perspective, a fatal dose--enough to kill a bad guy-- is one-millionth of a gram, which is so tiny it is smaller than a grain of sand. It kills in five to seven days nearly 100 percent of the time. Botulinum toxin can kill in as little as twenty-four to thirty-six hours by paralyzing the respiratory system--that's what helps you breathe in and out.  Aflatoxin is a liver carcinogen that can kill years after ingestion, uh, after you swallow the air with it in it.  I like that one the best.  It makes people suffer longer."
               "Gee, Grampa, that seems like a lot of things you have to make lots of friends."
               "You bet, kids.  Why before that terrible President Bush, the old one, attacked me in 1991, I had enough of that stuff to wipe out the human race several times over."
               "And our daddies told all your secrets to the bad guys, is that why you had them killed, is that it, Grampa?"
               "Well, not quite.  You see, I pretended to destroy all my bad stuff so nobody would attack Baghdad.    I promised I would.  But..." he shot a surveillance glance around, then cupped his palm so no one could read his lips and placed his mouth near the children's ears... ."but I kept all the important stuff.  I kept all the records and computer discs so I could make more stuff anytime I wanted. Ha," he leaned back and laughed.    "I hid all the information in people's homes and special places.  Grampa's not stupid, you know.  And I started making it all again."
                 "So then our daddies didn't do anything really bad if you really kept your secrets, right Grampa?"
                "Oh, they did, my children. They told the U.N. and the western spies what I had done. They told them I hid all the stuff  about how I was going to remake the weapons I pretended to destroy. They made me out to be a liar.   Grampa didn't like that.  Our family doesn't tell secrets to other people. It's bad.  Very bad."
         Saddam pinched each of the children's cheeks again.  "Now,  I have to keep hiding my secrets from the U.N. weapons inspectors.   Soon, they will go away, as they always do.   And I will make some more to win more friends.   Lots of people want what I have, children.   Lots of people can use what I have to make other people cower in Fear.   Fear, my children, is power."
                Saddam raised his hand quickly as though to slap the two children ferociously.  They cowered, holding their hands in front of their faces to deflect the blow.  Saddam laughed.
               "See, my children, you were afraid of Grampa, weren't you?  You see how powerful Fear is.  It made you nearly wet your pants, right?"
               "Right, Grampa.   You scared us.    So, why did you kill our daddies?"
               "Well, children, telling secrets to others is a bad crime, especially to the nosey Westerners who want to overthrow your Grampa.   Grampa couldn't let your daddies get away with defecting and telling the world what Grampa did.   Would you like somebody tattling on you all the time to the infidels?"
                The children mused the question.  "No, Grampa.   That wouldn't be fair."
                "Well, your daddies tattled on Grampa.  And I had to punish them."
                "So you killed them!"

        "No, I didn't do it, little ones.   Your uncle, Udai, did.  Grampa just nodded his head."
          "Why did our daddies come back to Iraq from Jordan if they knew they would be killed by Uncle Udai, Grampa?"
           "Well," Saddam sighed, "They wouldn't come at first.  They had my daughters, you know, your mothers with them.  That really made me mad. And they had you kids too.   I didn't have you around to play with and teach so that you would know how to rule the world someday as I do.   Grampa likes to teach you children the ways of the world."
            Saddam squeezed the children to his chest and continued.  "So after nine long months, I told your daddies I would give them amnesty if they came back to Iraq."
            "What's amnesty, Grampa?"
            "It means, I promised I'd forgive them.  You know, if you do something bad and your mommy tells you she is going to spank you, you get afraid.  But then, if your mommy tells you if you apologize, she'll not spank you, you don't get punished.  Well, amnesty is kind of like apologizing.   So, they came back."
                 One of Saddam's grandchildren took Saddam's big hand and squeezed it.   "But, Grampa, I heard mommy saying the other day that daddy came back because you said you were going to kill all his family members if he didn't.  Is that true, Grampa?
                  Saddam flashed his thick white teeth and brushed his moustache.   "Yes, children, that is true.  You see, the amnesty I offered your fathers was to not kill all their extended family members.  I let them live.   In a way, your fathers were great heroes.  They died so your other grandmother, your uncles and aunts and cousins could live."
                The youngest girl's eyes watered.  "But why did you drag their bodies through Baghdad, Grampa?   That made me cry, you know."

                Saddam squeezed the children again to reassure them of his love.   "I had to, children.   One day, when you lead a nation, you'll need to know how to make everyone in your country Fear you so much they won't try to overthrow you.   I had to drag your fathers' bodies through Baghdad to remind anyone thinking about talking to the West about our secrets, or anyone thinking about trying to take over control of Iraq,  would suffer the same fate.  You see, if people know I would kill my sons in law, the fathers of my grandchildren, why, why then I would kill anyone.  And, to rule with power, you must rule with Fear, Intimidation and create Complacency in the people.   If you don't, they will revolt.  That's why you keep the prisons full and you execute as often as you can, and..." he whispered, "you keep your scary toys ready to use all the time against the bad guys."
              "But Grampa, you said Udai, our uncle, your first son, killed them.  Now you say you did?"        
               "Ah, children.  You have caught Grampa!   Good job.   You see, good leadership means you pretend to not do things that you have others do.  That way you can always say, 'I didn't know he did that?'    It makes you look good."
               "So you did kill our fathers and drag their bodies through Baghdad?"

          "It was only my job, children.  I was protecting you and all the children of Iraq from evil people like President Bush and Tony Blair.   They want to make Grampa go away, but Grampa is showing them.  You see, I have France and Germany and Russia on my side. And, I have the U.N. in my pocket.  They all hate America's arrogance and they all want my oil.  And, of course, I want to sell it to them for arms.  You see, they sell me arms for oil.  They always have.  Plus, they want to make America look very stupid.   And so do I.   They want to make themselves important and rule the West as I am ruling the Middle East.  Why, I have so much power I've turned the world against America and for me.  I'm their hero.  They will let me to live and prosper as an ongoing insult to American braggadocio.  I'm the salt they rub in President Bush's wounds--the ones on his back that the U.N. have been stabbing into him."
               "Would you like to drag President Bush through Baghdad, Grampa?"
               "I don't have to, children."
               "Why not, Grampa?
               "Because France, Germany, Russia and the U.N. is already dragging him through the streets of the world." Saddam tossed his head back and laughed.   "I'm the good guy, kids.   Bush is the bad guy.  Don't forget it. Would you kids like a sucker?  It's time for Grampa to take his nap."

* * * * * *

(links to various stories about Saddam's killing of his two son-in-laws)
  Saddam's Son in Law: The Real Story
http://www.francona.com/commentaries/kamil.html

The interview with Hussein Kamel: the text of the transcript is here
http://middleeastreference.org.uk/kamel.html

Mar. 11--The Morality Of Killing A Peace Advocate's Sorrow