If We're Losing, Here's Why

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From a new book about Iraq comes this excerpt about the guy put in charge of Iraq's health care system:
He liked to talk about the number of hospitals that had reopened since the war and the pay raises that had been given to doctors instead of the still-decrepit conditions inside the hospitals or the fact that many physicians were leaving for safer, better paying jobs outside Iraq. He approached problems the way a health care administrator in America would: He focused on preventive measures to reduce the need for hospital treatment.
So he focused on what, naturally? Hygiene? Fatal maladies?
He urged the Health Ministry to mount an anti-smoking campaign, and he assigned an American from the CPA team -- who turned out to be a closet smoker himself -- to lead the public education effort. Several members of Haveman's staff noted wryly that Iraqis faced far greater dangers in their daily lives than tobacco.

Words fail. The blogger who posted this comments:
The convention center in the Green Zone (where the new Iraqi parliament meets) is one of the ugliest buildings I've ever seen, a massive concrete structure that looks like a fortress. For years after the invasion, the building was a no-smoking zone. Uptight Americans would reprimand everyone who lit up, including Iraqi political leaders. A group of Iraqi politicians and aides would gather and look guiltily around until they hit a crucial number -- maybe 15 or so -- then everyone would light up at once. It was a weird sight. And then some American would tell them to put it out. Now, this is in the building that is the center of the new Iraqi government and the politicians were told by low-level hacks to not smoke. And, of course, the smoking area outside occasionally got hit by mortars.
I am happy to report though, that the new government has now installed ashtrays in the convention center and parliamentarians can now smoke in peace, and maybe try to grapple with some real issues.
Like the poor, the health fascists are always with us. Think of the good will that could have been bought if some Americans went out and smoked with them. That's where the bonds of affection and trust are built. I bet some of you can guess who sent me this.

UPDATE: I went to google something to add a similar incident to this post --and it turns out I'd already written it.