I hate killing. Almost all of us hate killing. I would rather catch a spider and put it outside than kill it. So we do find it difficult to purely celebrate the killing of Osama Bin Laden especially since he did not even have a weapon on his person.
But I can’t help thinking about Bin Laden’s situation. He was no longer a rebel leader hiding among a string of probably somewhat tricked-out caves. He must have fallen in love with his wives or not, married, had children, and decided, perhaps for their sake, to build a more stable life. He lived in a nice neighborhood, maybe somewhat like a prisoner and without any luxuries, but it was not a rough life. He had the comfort of living with his wives and children every day.
He planned and executed a terrorist act that killed 3,000 Americans. They are no longer able to enjoy life with their families. They cannot go home at night to their wives, or their husbands, or their children. No one can give them comfort now except God, and no one can give their families the pleasure of their company ever again.
And yet here is this man, the architect of all their sorrows, living within the pleasures of his family. I can’t think about it too much because it makes me so angry. Maybe killing anyone in cold blood is wrong but it would also be terribly unjust if this man got to live out the rest of his life amid the simple and best rewards of a doting family life when he robbed so many people of these same simple satisfactions.