By Karan Thapar

Have you noticed how often in their exuberance Americans get things wrong? Perhaps it’s their naiveté or lack of guile – qualities that are, in themselves, endearing – which mislead them or, at least, prevent any understanding of how others will judge? Or may be they see things in definite shades of moral black and white and fail to spot the vast indeterminate expanse of grey that lies in between? I don’t know the cause but today I want to share with you my concern for or, at least, my bemusement with the end result.

If Churchill had captured Hitler or, earlier, when Kerensky took the Tsar captive, the one thing they would have consciously struggled to avoid is making a martyr or hero of their prisoner. Every fibre of their being and every political instinct in their head would have been on guard against any action or statement, deliberate or accidental, that could end up resurrecting a fallen and crushed villain. This is so obvious they would have laughed with derision if anyone had tried to warn them.

But don’t you get the feeling the Americans were blissfully unaware of any such possibility when fate or fortune placed Saddam in their possession? Almost from the moment it happened – or, at any rate, from the first visual proof of it – the vile and nasty dictator seems to have metamorphosed into a helpless and pitiable old man. Instead of reviling him and reinforcing our dislike, how we saw him evoked sympathy, a sense of pain and even resentment of the Americans.

It wasn’t only on the streets of Baghdad that Saddam’s capture brought forth storms of protest. Even in Delhi there were echoes of similar anguish.

“I feel sorry for Saddam and cannot forgive America for what they’re doing to him” said my colleague Ashok. Normally he’s a hardheaded current affairs producer. But eight months earlier, when Saddam’s statue was toppled, Ashok was barely able to contain his excitement. That night he must have phoned a hundred friends to “switch on the BBC”. By the 14th of December his emotions had come full circle.

Yet the amazing thing is Ashok’s sympathy is a direct result of America’s unthinking presentation of its prisoner. The first shot was of a disoriented Saddam, resembling a woebegone and bedraggled tramp, under physical examination. As his hair was checked for lice, his teeth examined under torchlight and DNA swabs taken from the inside of his mouth the indignity of his position, the humiliation he was being subjected to and distaste for seeing a man brought so low started to replace the anger and revulsion thoughts of Saddam usually produce.

I accept that America had to prove the capture and display its prisoner. But why did they not simply show Saddam sitting in a chair? Why was his physical examination broadcast? Did his captors realise what impact it would have? Oddly enough, I think not.

But that’s not all. When the full story began to emerge we were given details that only enhanced Saddam and showed up his captors. We were told he crawled out of his lair and introduced himself with the words: “I’m Saddam Hussain, President of Iraq”. And then he added: “I’m willing to negotiate.”

Perhaps the Americans thought this would provoke laughter and ridicule. But it had the opposite effect. It reminded me of the defeated Porus. When asked by Alexander, after his surprise surrender on the banks of the Akesines, how he wanted to be treated he replied : “The same way as a king treats another king.” It had the touch of the heroic to it. Defeat, it seemed to say, is of the flesh. The sprit is unvanquished.

Even more telling is the contrast between Alexander’s response and that of the Americans. Alexander restored Porus to his throne. America subjected Saddam to a televised medical check-up which touched the hearts of even those who had reason to hate him. Alexander won respect and loyalty from Porus. America might have created sympathy for Saddam.

But don’t misunderstand me. I’m not arguing that America should have restored Saddam to the Iraqi presidency leave aside forgive him. Saddam must pay for what he did. My point is that justice is not revenge and the victor must ensure that personal humiliation, deliberate ill-treatment and foolish, thoughtless publicity of pointless details doesn’t create sympathy for the prisoner.

The truth is that so confident, in fact so cocksure, were the Americans they overlooked the fact that human emotions are changeable. They forgot that the underdog evokes consideration. They did not remember that generosity and magnanimity sit well with power.

The kindest thing you could say is that America behaved with childish innocence. The cruel thing would be to insist this proves their irresponsibility.