My Enemy, My Saddam, My Dear Hamlet

by Mahmood Sanglay

I am an Iraqi, a professor of English literature. I had just witnessed the execution of Saddam Hussein.

The still, dignified body of Saddam lies before me, covered in a blood-stained white shroud. And I am reminded of Hamlet, the Prince of Denmark, who suffered what I suffer. My father was no king of Iraq, but he was king in our erstwhile home. My mother was no queen of this land, but she is the deflowered monarch in our erstwhile home.

Saddam’s death squad executed my father. His soldiers raped my mother. Hamlet’s father, the king of Denmark too, was murdered by the usurper Claudius. His mother, the queen of Denmark too, was ravaged by the usurper Claudius.

Am I like Hamlet?

No, Hamlet had the opportunity to kill the king at prayer. He chose not to because a man slain whilst in prayer, seeking God’s forgiveness, is a man dispatched to heaven. Hamlet was tempted, yet he had a choice, to slay or not to slay. He chose not to slay. He chose not to send the usurper to heaven. Claudius the usurper lived because Hamlet chose not to offer him the chance of mercy and forgiveness. Saddam is dead and he had that chance. Am I like Hamlet?

No, because Saddam lies here before me. And I am torn with compassion and anger because his death does not become him. His death sits not well with him. His crimes no longer speak for him. Saddam is not an other. He is a leader, a martyr before me, before the people of Iraq. He suffered indignity before he died. He was a victim of a human rights violation before he died. He recited his kalimah before he died. He held the Qur’an as he died. He died before he died. He is not an other, but a martyr.

Am I like Hamlet?

No, Hamlet killed the usurper Claudius whilst amusing himself with drama inside a drama. A drama of pure, sweet, thirst-quenching, satisfying revenge it was. The usurper Claudius died at the hands of the oppressed Hamlet. It was a good death. Death became the usurper Claudius. It sat well with him, in defeat and in justice. True justice was served as the oppressed Hamlet killed the usurper Claudius.

Am I like Hamlet?

No, because Saddam did not taste justice before he died. Saddam tasted injustice before he died. Injustice in death is a healing, just as prayer at death is a cleansing, even for the tyrant. Saddam is dead and chastened even before his questioning by the angels. Saddam is not alive and ready to face justice served by the oppressed. His death was visited on him by a justice system and a power rejected by the people of Iraq, a power that is powerless without the occupier.

Is this like Hamlet’s Denmark?

No, because the usurper Claudius was brought to justice by Hamlet within a sovereign power. The tyrant Saddam was brought to injustice in an Iraq occupied by a foreign power. In my faith and my culture, justice in the crime of murder involves rights granted to the family of the murdered. The family has the right to forgive or to exact retribution or compensation. This right has been taken away from me and from the people of Iraq. The occupier killed him in the fashion that suited them, swiftly, so he could not implicate Americans. The occupier created the tyrant, armed the tyrant and killed the tyrant when he no longer served their interests. Yet Saddam remains an Iraqi tyrant and he deserves true Iraqi justice.

What justice is there when our land is invaded and occupied, when our wealth is plundered and when our people revolt? What justice is there when the occupier will not leave because its interests are threatened and because it is propping up an illegitimate government? The occupier set up the puppet government with farcical justice masquerading as true justice. The occupier delivered him into the hands of their puppets who executed him on the sacred day of Eid. The occupier took away our justice and trampled on our dignity, our sanctity.

Saddam lies executed before me and there is no joy for me in his death. There is no justice that can be had from death by execution under rule of occupation. There is no peace that can come from the death of a tyrant in an ongoing war.

He lies executed before me and I hear him answer the prosecutor when asked to state his name, his occupation and his address: “My name is Saddam Hussein, I am the president of Iraq and I live in the house of every Iraqi.” This is the tyrant whose death squad killed my father, whose soldiers raped my mother. Why do I feel no satisfaction as he lies executed before me? Why am I not consumed by a loathing for this war criminal?

It is because the occupier made him part of the home of every Iraqi, including my home. It is because the occupier’s transgression is infinitely greater than Saddam’s tyranny. It is because the occupier is a foreign invader looking with disdain at my morals, values and culture, whilst Saddam is the tyrant among us, an Iraqi, like us.

The occupier is not of us. Saddam is of us. And he lies here executed before me. He is responsible for the death of my nearest and the rape of my dearest, yet I feel no loathing, for the loathing is devoured by the occupier.

Alas, my dear Hamlet, unlike you, true justice escapes me. Saddam is dead, but has a place, hated or beloved, in the home of every Iraqi because he is an Iraqi. The occupier is alive and still occupies our homes, but remains an alien invader.

But my dear Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, I can yet redeem my trampled dignity. The occupier is still in my home. And vengeance is mine.

Mahmood Sanglay is the former editor of Muslim Views, South Africa’s leading Muslim newspaper. He is a Fulbright fellow in journalism and a media activist for previously disadvantaged, small and grassroots media in Southern Africa.