By John Burtis
Friday, July 28, 2006
Kofi annan loves the cocktail, lecture and the smarmy soft sell circuit and eschews all pretenses when it comes to protecting his unarmed blue topped troops in the field. Pretenses, that is, meaning he doesn't give a damn for them, their locations, or their missions.
No, poor forgetful Kofi, who suffers from such troubling short term memory lapses when it comes to the calamitous Oil-for-Food scandals, Benan Sevan the artful dodger, his son Kojo and his multifarious hijinx, the enormous financial improprieties in his acquisitions department, the lurid tales of sexual harassment filtering through his decrepit high rise, the ballooning cost of renovations on his monolithic trademark structure, and the drug running through his mail room, can certainly be forgiven for forgetting to clue in his troops in the field on the need to run from the guns.
My land, Mr. annan has far bigger fish to fry, suits and ties to buy, shoes to be purchased and shined, fat cats to yuck it up with, microphones to look grave in front of, Fox News reporters to belittle with wry turns of phrase, toadies to boss around, rich liberals to hob-nob with, wanton dictators to kow-tow to, canapés to wolf down, important calls to receive in the midst of the hub-bub, custom shirts to be fitted for, imported cheese to examine, and any number of exceedingly important tasks to accomplish as Secretary General of that great organization bequeathed him, than to worry about the boys in blue on the firing line.
Recently, somewhere along the southern border of Lebanon, where the UN has been ensconced in look out points since the late 1970s and where they have had some 258 or so members killed - nobody, least of all the UN, seems to know the exact dates of these things or number of deaths— an Israeli artillery strike smashed a UN outpost to pieces, killing some of its inhabitants.
and Kofi, scenting fresh blood in the water as a result of this wanton act, rose to the defense of his battered blue caps and raved that Israel, had pretty darned well "apparently deliberately" attacked the outpost despite all manner of calls, pleadings, e-mails, telegrams, voice-mails, letters, semiphore signals, wishings and hopings, back room chatter, pointed gossip, notes in class, flag hoists, signal lamps, flares, and the interjections on known Israeli party lines, and acted unilaterally and should be ashamed of themselves for their shabby behavior and what's to be done.
and then, within a few days of this regrettable incident, wouldn't you just know it, information begins to surface indicating that Kofi annan could have ordered the hard pressed UN observers, or peace keepers, or whatever they are, to leave at any time he so desired. Then, on top of all that, a Canadian peacekeeper reported to a General in Canada, just before he was killed, that Hezbollah was using the same out post as cover to launch rockets into Israel.
So, it now appears that the upright outré bespoke humbug, Mr. Kofi annan, could've ordered the poor bedraggled UN troops, who found themselves unarmed and naked in a pitiless crossfire between Hezbollah and the IDF, no place to be even if you're armed to the teeth, to skedaddle before the real battle got going.
Mr. Kofi annan could have saved their lives!
But no, Mr. annan had grander things to do than worry about the troops he had never lost sleep over before anyway. He certainly never lost a bit of shut eye when they raped and pillaged their way across africa, or when they did their best "What, me worry?" act in Rwanda, or dozed through the excitement in Liberia, or was it Sierra Leone or Srbrenica, who can say for sure anymore?
ask Kofi, he'll know because he missed it all, snoozing away in the warmth of his glassed in office, or shopping in the Hamptons, or gabbing with the West Side lunch crowd while the blue berets yawned themselves, pointed the other way, and thousands, or was it millions, died.
and, it now appears, Mr. annan, with his tin ears affixed to the radio calls for help and looking for their lost situation reports in his "out" box, could've saved their lives — every damned one of them.
Not content to merely save them by pulling them out, Mr. annan and the high command Wes Clark speaks so highly of, might have stopped, looked and listened to the post that was smashed by the Israeli artillery and noticed the fact that Hezbollah, the favorite tool of the moo-la-las, were using the whole ruddy place as a front for a launch pad of Katyusha rockets, and who knows what else?
But again, this tidbit of arcane knowledge would have required Mr. annan, Mr. Malloch-Brown and the associated half-wits and senseless hangers on to read the plaintive missives, digest the radio calls and decide that this might be a growing problem for the folks inside the blue flagged compounds scattered across the growing battlefield and would require action on their part.
I mean, after all, those pestiferous Israelis have blown up most of southern Lebanon, including apartment houses, private homes, street cars, busses, bridges, highways, viaducts, airports, tunnels, caves, carts, dog sleds, and most every fort and conveyance they can identify. and any sane manager of any half way going concern might start closing the peripheral offices with half of these facts in mind.
But not the blockheads and flounderers in the high command at the UN, they could've danced all night. My land, must they think a blue beret and a prayer is all that's needed to keep 155mm high explosive shells away from a Katyusha rocket battery manned by a suicide team of green bandanna clad Hezbollah in the shadow of a UN flag above unarmed men. Or perhaps they also believe Israeli gunners suffer from myopia.
Following this dreadful, heartbreaking, and completely avoidable loss, will the UN now get the word to bug out?
Doubtful.
Mr. Kofi annan's in charge. and after that recent skirmish around the microphone, he won't venture out for days, unless it's to join the cognoscenti at another upscale watering hole to bemoan the UN's fate and to damn the Israelis for their latest underhanded and premeditated assault on the UN and his "credibility."
What must it be like being Mr. annan and being so…senseless?
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