I've made some misjudgments over these past two years in trying to anticipate developments in Iraq. It has been at once the most encouraging and discouraging story I've ever witnessed as a journalist. Over time, I've tried to temper my optimism and pessimism: It's never as bad as it seems in the low moments, and never as good as it seems in the peak ones.
That wary stance – hoping for the best even as you recognize the possibility of the worst – seems appropriate now, as the world watches a new Iraqi government prepare to take the next steps. Will Iraq's newly governing Shiite majority be wise and inclusive? Or will we see another round of settling scores, more chapters written in blood, more hearts enchanted to unyielding and inflexible belief? We really can't say. We hope the sacrifices made by Iraqis and Americans will prove to be justified. But we don't know.
That uncertainty is what makes Iraq truly an Easter story this year. You can't be sure, with a scientific certainty, how the story will turn out. It's a matter of hope, of prayer, and of continuing bloody struggle. What you can plainly see is that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb of the old Iraq. Has the country been reborn? Is this a story of redemption and triumph? Nobody can tell you the answer yet. For now, it's a question of keeping faith with the people who dreamed, two Easters ago, that they had gained a new life.
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