pounds and pounds of flesh

Tony Blair has parried with the British press and establishment for ten years. I remember with fondness his impassive reaction in late 2002 when they went after his wife, Cherie, for some seemingly fishy real estate transactions. “You’ve had your pound of flesh,” Blair said to the media. “It’s time to move on.” And eventually they did.

Today, of course, Blair makes a much richer target, as Gerard Baker notes:

People used to shout “fascist” at Margaret Thatcher but I don’t really ever think their heart was in it. With Mr Blair it’s deadly serious. Imagine the raucous, triumphant, mocking Shia at Saddam Hussein’s execution — minus the beards — and you have a sense of what most of these people feel about the Prime Minister.

So at the risk of finding myself in the dock with him when the modern elites have their Nuremberg, let me take issue. His critics excoriate Mr Blair for a decision made in the most excruciating of circumstances. And this from people whose idea of a difficult decision is whether to go The Ivy or Soho House for dinner.

Via Andrew Sullivan, who calls his post “the tragedy of Tony.”
As I was saying just yesterday, I beg to differ. The tragedy is the stupidity, cupidity, blindness, and moral cowardice of his critics.