The essence of the independent mind lies not in what it thinks, but in how it thinks. - Christopher Hitchens

Those of us who are most genuinely repelled by war and violence are also those who are most likely to decide that some things, after all, are worth fighting for.

I got hold of a copy of the video that showed how Saddam Hussein had actually confirmed himself in power. This snuff-movie opens with a plenary session of the Ba'ath Party central committee: perhaps a hundred men. Suddenly the doors are locked and Saddam, in the chair, announces a special session. Into the room is dragged an obviously broken man, who begins to emit a robotic confession of treason and subversion, that he sobs has been instigated by Syrian and other agents. As the (literally) extorted confession unfolds, names begin to be named. Once a fellow-conspirator is identified, guards come to his seat and haul him from the room. The reclining Saddam, meanwhile, lights a large cigar and contentedly scans his dossiers. The sickness of fear in the room is such that men begin to crack up and weep, rising to their feet to shout hysterical praise, even love, for the leader. Inexorably, though, the cull continues, and faces and bodies go slack as their owners are pinioned and led away. When it is over, about half the committee members are left, moaning with relief and heaving with ardent love for the boss. (In an accompanying sequel, which I have not seen, they were apparently required to go into the yard outside and shoot the other half, thus sealing the pact with Saddam. I am not sure that even Beria or Himmler would have had the nerve and ingenuity and cruelty to come up with that.)

I used to find in arguments about Iraq that I knew right away when someone didn’t know what they were talking about. The dead giveaway would always be when they would say, "Alright, I agree, Saddam Hussein is a bad guy." I said, "That means you don’t know anything about him, if that’s what you think. You don’t know what it would be like to be sitting at home wondering where your daughter was and finding out because the police came round and, banging on the door, handed you a video, while they stood there, of her being raped by their colleagues, just to show you who was boss." The word evil … I think does need a bit of justification. Many people think that to even use the word evil is sort of naïve, or morally too judgmental, or … too simplistic. And yet it’s somehow a word without which we cannot do. Hannah Arendt, in her study of totalitarianism, borrowed from Immanuel Kant the concept of radical evil, of evil that’s so evil that in the end it destroys itself. It’s so committed to evil, it’s so committed to hatred and cruelty, that it becomes suicidal. My definition of it is the surplus value that’s generated by totalitarianism. It means you do more violence, more cruelty than you absolutely have to to stay in power. You’ve already made your point. You’ve done everything you need to do to make people realize that you’re in power, but you somehow can’t stop. There has to be a special appetite. There must be special prisons for rape. There must be special graves, mass graves, just for children. There must be the desire to see how far you can go. And even if you know this will, in the end, bring retribution, it’s worth it, in some sense, for its own sake. Maybe that’s the only redeeming thing about it. Maybe the irrationality is the one saving grace of it, but at any rate, it’s not a word, it seems, that we can abolish from our vocabulary.