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" Today, like too many days, there was another battle in the president&amp;#039;s personal war. Another drone. Another dead militant. More &amp;quot;charred bodies.&amp;quot; More &amp;quot;scattered remains.&amp;quot; Another dead militant. And some more &amp;quot;others.&amp;quot; And these are just the dead others. What about the other others? What about the poor people who dove under their beds, or hid behind the goat cart, or just ran until their hearts burst when they heard the detonation? What about the people hiding behind rocks that, to them, are substantially less solid and real than the blind explosive death from the sky? What about the other others tomorrow, as they walk to work, cutting their eyes toward the clouds, jumping every time an old car backfires? How can a society \u2014 even an impoverished one \u2014 hold itself together full in the knowledge that life and death is at the whim of someone at a distant targeting station, even more remote from the actual war he&amp;#039;s fighting than the gods on Olympus were removed from Troy, since they occasionally at least visited the battlefield? The president fights these little battles once a week these days, it seems. It is said that, in the face of the country&amp;#039;s real enemies, this is the worst possible option, except for all the others. This is very possibly true. But the distance at which the war is being fought, and the slow descent of all our acts of war into the din of everyday news, can be a dangerous, narcotic thing. It can anesthetize us against the pain we are inflicting. It can make us forget about all the others who are dead, and all the other others who are still alive and who, I assure you, are thinking about us more than we are thinking about them. CLICK HERE FOR MORE ON THE LETHAL PRESIDENCY OF BARACK OBAMA &amp;amp;gt;&amp;amp;gt; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.esquire.com/news-politics/politics/a16295/yemen-drone-strike-13852857/>