Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Milan Madness
So I'm sitting here at the hospital internet cafe. Me, reduced to this. Thank you, week of nights. Hopefully the registrar's office will have a computer free later so I can do more job apps.
The news today is Milan, milan, milan - and the London underground. I remember feverishly making my Addenb. app on Sunday while not-really listening to a friend's boyfriend -- whom I've now probably rather unjustly pegged as rather a dimwit - scoffing at the Met's plans to use the public as its eyes and ears. In his world, the Labour government is spreading paranoia and admitting to the weakness of it's intelligence service by enlisting the general public. The shock and awe effect on the public will be oh so tragic.
I'm sorry, but I have to disagree.
The Spaniards had a sophisticated intelligence service of their own which stopped a previous train-bombing attempt. All the intelligence in the world merely staved off the inevitable. Over one thousand people severely injured, hundreds dead.
The scenario plays out frighteningly in my mind whenever I go to King's Cross to catch my train to work. What if, what if, what if. And I'm not even taking the underground - I'm just walking above it.
And I can't help but be glad that someone is trying to do something about it. I applaud British Transport police for trying to enlist their greatest and most numerous weapons - the lay public. I'd rather have rampant paranoia floating around than be caught in the middle of the night switching to red alert and triaging horrific casualties arriving in droves from the nearest trainline.
Or being caught in the middle of a series of mass explosions. And losing a limb. Or dying.
So I'm sorry, but I've pegged your boyfriend as a bit of a fool. You can stand up for him all you like, but the fact remains - if you died tomorrow - or he did - because the government and police thought the way he did - because a stray bag left unattended on a train - or eight - was ignored by an apathetic public (after all, how often do you see policemen on the underground? or even underground staff?) suddenly exploded --- all the blame in the world, all the guilt - would be too late.
All for what? Molly coddling the imaginary psyche of a British public bred through centuries of war on a cold, desolate island.
Is the benefit of not asking a complete stranger "excuse me, is this your bag" greater than the risk of thousands of people dying in a single, fiery moment?
********
In other news, re-minisce is slightly puzzled at how his last entry paralleled xena's.
He's also rather wishing he'd walked up to that yank/canadian bird after all...
So I'm sitting here at the hospital internet cafe. Me, reduced to this. Thank you, week of nights. Hopefully the registrar's office will have a computer free later so I can do more job apps.
The news today is Milan, milan, milan - and the London underground. I remember feverishly making my Addenb. app on Sunday while not-really listening to a friend's boyfriend -- whom I've now probably rather unjustly pegged as rather a dimwit - scoffing at the Met's plans to use the public as its eyes and ears. In his world, the Labour government is spreading paranoia and admitting to the weakness of it's intelligence service by enlisting the general public. The shock and awe effect on the public will be oh so tragic.
I'm sorry, but I have to disagree.
The Spaniards had a sophisticated intelligence service of their own which stopped a previous train-bombing attempt. All the intelligence in the world merely staved off the inevitable. Over one thousand people severely injured, hundreds dead.
The scenario plays out frighteningly in my mind whenever I go to King's Cross to catch my train to work. What if, what if, what if. And I'm not even taking the underground - I'm just walking above it.
And I can't help but be glad that someone is trying to do something about it. I applaud British Transport police for trying to enlist their greatest and most numerous weapons - the lay public. I'd rather have rampant paranoia floating around than be caught in the middle of the night switching to red alert and triaging horrific casualties arriving in droves from the nearest trainline.
Or being caught in the middle of a series of mass explosions. And losing a limb. Or dying.
So I'm sorry, but I've pegged your boyfriend as a bit of a fool. You can stand up for him all you like, but the fact remains - if you died tomorrow - or he did - because the government and police thought the way he did - because a stray bag left unattended on a train - or eight - was ignored by an apathetic public (after all, how often do you see policemen on the underground? or even underground staff?) suddenly exploded --- all the blame in the world, all the guilt - would be too late.
All for what? Molly coddling the imaginary psyche of a British public bred through centuries of war on a cold, desolate island.
Is the benefit of not asking a complete stranger "excuse me, is this your bag" greater than the risk of thousands of people dying in a single, fiery moment?
********
In other news, re-minisce is slightly puzzled at how his last entry paralleled xena's.
He's also rather wishing he'd walked up to that yank/canadian bird after all...
