Not all lies are created equal

It was a beautiful morning. The king woke up early and opened the widow of his bedroom to get some fresh air.  He caught a glimpse of two tiny figures in one corner of his garden. They seemed to be having a serious argument. He paid a close attention. They were a couple of pigeons. The male was trying to convince the female that they could feel at home in that area of the garden. The female didn't share his assessment of the situation. 

Female (Barghuta): No, we can't. The king might see us, and he may find our act objectionable. We don't want to incur his wrath.

Male (Barghut): Well, look, you speak as if the king's authority and power are beyond challenge. If he remains silent, I won’t care. But if he raises his voice, I will strike with my wing his palace and turn it into rubble. You seem to clearly underestimate the man standing before you. Ask my friends and you will learn who truly I am.

(The cooler heads prevailed, and the king had to close the window to provide much needed privacy.)  

While the Barghut napped in the afternoon, Barghuta took the opportunity to go shoot the breeze with her best friend. She was eager to share with her their morning story, of course with the needed embellishments. Instead of simply making an empty threat, Barghuta spoke of a spectacular drama that unfolded before her own eyes, a drama where Barghut was the unrivaled hero. Barghut, who was a little upset with the king’s meddling into their conversation, flew high and with one strike shock the massive building. If it weren’t for king’s prompt and candid apology, Barghut would have certainly brought the structure to the ground.

Later that evening, the king sent an emissary to invite Barghut for diner. When the two finally met and Barghut had a course of pastry and the chicken soup he had craved for too long, helping himself in the process to some of his favored orange juice, the king felt it was time to discuss the main issue.

King: This morning...

Barghut interrupting him: Oh year, this morning—did you notice how beautiful it was, cool without being cold, and cloudy without rain. I liked it.

King: true, the weather has been magnificent lately, but I have something more serious to speak to you about.

Barghut: quaffing another cup of orange juice, yeah, I am ready for serious. I know in the world of kings there is no dinner without serious conversation afterward. That’s why I prefer to take my time with food because the other part is inevitable like the punishment of the disbelievers on the Day of Judgment and their proclivity to grave errors in this world.”

King: I overheard you this morning making a threat about hitting the palace with your wing and turning it into rubbles. I want to inform you that I am aware that you made that threat, and that it made me laugh, and would like to give you the chance to explain exactly what went in your brain as you issued that statement.

(At this point, Barghuta had gathered all the other Barghutas in town and was entertaining them awaiting the return of Barghut from the meeting decorated as the king’s new head of armed forces. Secretly though, Barghuta was worried that he might be in some trouble because of his earlier statement. And if it wasn’t for the king's reputed compassion and good sense of humor, she would have started mourning him. But she didn’t want to spoil the occasion and wanted to live the moment of glory for whatever it is worth. Life is transient and its moments must be cherished.)

Barghut: Well, do we really need to speak about this? I am extremely grateful for the invitation, but I was hoping that you wouldn’t bring that story in the conversation.

King: I am just curious to know what you were thinking. You should fear no retribution. It was if anything amusing. And it wasn’t only me who found it funny. I could hear the merriments of the guards on the upper floors as you made your declaration.

Barghut: dear king, you have lived longer and you understand that we men lie to our significant others, and that they often pretend to believe our lies and pass them along with whatever happy packaging needed to make them look prettier and more credible.

Lesson: Not all lies are created equal. Some are better than others.

I recalled the story of this Barghut and that king as I was reading a report by the Syrian press. The report mentions that Asad assured his supporters/significant others (you can use in this case the English equivalent of that which starts with the letter B), that Syria is capable of repelling the enemy, and that should the international community intervenes because of the use of chemical weapons,  he will set the whole region on fire.

Of course, Bashar who has the habit of coming hard on defenseless population and needing a change of cloth every time a foreign power strikes his country, is not exactly in position to threaten anyone and no one outside Syrian will take him seriously. His third graders' army has been unable to defeat poorly trained and poorly armed insurgents for two years. But like Barghut, he knows the statement serves his immediate needs of looking like a president before the few significant others (again you can use in this case the English equivalent of that which starts with the letter B)he still has.

Indeed, unlike many, I am not naïve to think that the colonial Britain, its oversized daughter, France or their Arabia mistresses (KSA, UAE) will intervene to simply save the Syrians.  All these actors have made sure that the war drags on in the past two years so that Syria turns into the Stone Age. That goal has been accomplished. Now time has come to engineer the outcome of that process in ways that guarantee that the groaning of the sick, injured or hungry doesn’t spill over the border and upset the current order.

But whatever the outcome is, I will not be shedding tears over Asad or his regime of  mumana'a, rhetorical resistance.’ Because of the hundreds of thousands that Asad killed, the many he displaced, because of the recent massacres in Egypt, I have too few tears left for something frivolous like mourning a dictator.