Thane Rosenbaum is a name I don't remember hearing about
before. But he just wrote an article which I read, and almost immediately felt
he deserves an award that will represent his great achievement in grabbing a
rope and hanging himself with it. Since he stands at the pinnacle of those who
do so, he must be viewed as an icon, and his trophy must be a rope made of
gold.
In a Wall Street Journal article dated July 22, 2014, that
came under the title: “Hamas's Civilian Death Strategy” and the subtitle:
“Gazans shelter terrorists and their weapons in their homes, right beside sofas
and dirty diapers,” Rosenbaum writes that “Hamas is playing the long game of
moral revulsion.” These people do what they do, he says, by putting their
children where the Israelis are about to bomb so that the children die when the
bombing happens, and the Hamas people score a propaganda victory.
Well, it is a good thing that Rosenbaum never applied for
the job of propaganda planner with the kibbutz crowd because these people know
a thing or two about using people, especially children, to score propaganda
points. What the kibbutz propagandists know is that the face of a child in
distress is more poignant to a viewing audience than a dead child. In fact, if
you look at the face of a child that has died, what comes to your mind is the
pain that the mother must be feeling. You too will feel sympathy for her, but
tears will most likely not come down your cheek. Look, however, at the
expression of fear and bewilderment on the face of a child, and you'll most
likely shed tears.
Having children in basements where they were safe but
frightened when the bombs exploded nearby, produced the kind of footage that
won the kibbutz crowd the sympathy of many around the world. By that same sort
of human response – as mysterious as it is – the sight of a frightened child
grabbing the hand of its mother and running alongside her, or one that is being
tossed onto a cart drawn by a donkey, or one that is shoved into the back seat
of a car – have a more powerful impact on a viewing audience than a dead body,
be it that of an adult or that of a child.
Thus, if the Hamas people wanted to win the sympathy of the
world, they must be doing a good job because they are not interfering with what
the Journalists are doing which is to photograph the people who flee the bombed
up places more than they do the people that died. And when people flee the
places that are being bombed or about to be bombed, they do not serve as human
shield. Thus, the accusation that Hamas is using them as shields is not just a
lie or even a damned lie; it is worse than that because it is a Jewish lie.
As if these moronic accusations were not enough, Rosenbaum
and other characters of his ilk come up with all kinds of stories relating to
what Hamas is doing even though they are not on the scene, cannot claim they
saw any of what they say has happened, and have no proof to back what they
claim. One such example would be this: “When Israel warned them of impending
attacks, the inhabitants defiantly refused to leave.” Sometimes they call this
sort of thing, rumors and yet, they always treat them as if they were gospel
truths.
Not only that, but they build on them as well. And what they
do is no joke because this guy Rosenbaum has gone as far as to legitimize and
advocate the deliberate wiping out of the entire population of Palestine both
in Gaza and in the West bank. Read the following unedited passage and see for
yourself:
“On some basic level, you forfeit your right to be called
civilians when you freely elect members of a terrorist organization as
statesmen, invite them to dinner with blood on their hands and allow them to
set up shop in your living room as their base of operations. At that point you
begin to look a lot more like conscripted soldiers than innocent civilians. And
you have wittingly made yourself targets.”
To me this is a call to genocide, and I wonder what the
editors of the Wall Street Journal think of it. It seems that the Journal hangs
itself every once in a while, leaving the world to wonder how many times it
must hang itself before it expires for good.