I feel extremely saddened with thinking about Benazir Bhutto’s assassination, casting a shadow on the end of the year. News of her death rocketed across the blogosphere at near light speed.

On one hand, it was the first time in my life that I heard about a significant event solely throught the Internet. It illustrates the bizarre connectedness that it allows, as I scan articles from people I don’t know personally, but whom I’ve followed for upwards of almost two years now, all in my feed reader.

On the other hand, it also demonstrates how far humanity has to go before reaching any modicum of civilization. In a world where murder—indeed, mass murder—is a politically-acceptable expedient, I can’t help but wonder where the hell people ever got the idea that we were any better than animals.

I am suddenly reminded of A Canticle for Leibowitz, a prophetic speculative fiction novel written by Walter M. Miller, which poignantly portrays humanity’s penchant for cyclical self-destruction. (I am also suddenly reminded of the fact that Pakistan is a nuclear power.)

I am also reminded of the parallel with Benigno Aquino, Jr.’s assassination which occurred more than twenty-four years ago. I was way too young at the time to understand the import of that event, but its repercussions continue to echo to the present day.

A part of me hopes that Bhutto’s death can set about a revolution akin to the People’s Power Revolution in 1986. But another part of me realizes that all revolutions tend to be halted abruptly long before they attain their idealistic goals. The current political situation in the Philippines is testament to that, as is the neocon attempt in the U.S. to turn back the clock to the pre-FDR era (and some would say, to the pre-Abraham Lincoln era.)

I am horribly aware of the fact that he who has the most guns makes the rules, that people generally prefer expedience to actual justice, and that no good deed ever goes unpunished. But a new year is dawning, and as I’ve been wont to say: Dum spiro, spero.