FOG PEACE

It was by this time about nine in themorning, and the first fog of the season. A great chocolate-coloured palllowered over heaven, but the wind was continually charging and routing theseembattled vapours; so that as the cab crawled from street to street, Mr.Utterson beheld a marvellous number of degrees and hues of twilight; for hereit would be dark like the back-end of evening; and there would be a glow of arich, lurid brown, like the light of some strange conflagration; and here, fora moment, the fog would be quite broken up, and a haggard shaft of daylightwould glance in between the swirling wreaths.

NOTE:    I've been growing (as Iexpect you may have also) angry lately hearing the expression "the fog ofwar" used over and over in the news (by journalists, diplomats, evensoldiers) to describe and in a very real sense justify the "atrocity ofthe day" (most recently the terrible killing of 24 Pakistani soldierslast week in a NATO raid supposedly launched in error against"friendly" forces).  Sometimesit seems to be spoken as an answer before a question is even asked.  

I’ve always loved fog – clouds on theground -- rolling through them on foot. The passage here, in case you don’t recognize it, is from Robert LouisStevenson’s Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which contains many fogreferences.  In a fit of pique, I decidedto Google “the fog of peace,” not realizing that it too has become a cliché – atiresome “irony cliché” that has been adopted by political journalists,historians, etc.  Too bad, it’s anevocative phrase without the politics and attitude.  I’ll stick with “peaceful fog,” although that’snot very Dr Jekyll, a long short story where peace is in very small supply.