Saddam Hussein’s execution day arrived as many things do in Iraq — with delays, uncertainty, and loss of life. But this day at least one of those who died deserved it.

Saddam was one of the last of his kind, a nationalist socialist Arab strongman. He rivals Egypt’s Nasser as the archetype, though Nasser had the good sense or good luck to occupy the political grey area between the superpowers, and die of natural causes. Saddam played that game as well, until the collapse of Soviet power. When he invaded Kuwait in 1990, he unwittingly brought about the inevitable end of his regime, and of his life. The U.N. Security Council resolutions passed in the wake of that invasion were the basis for all the came after, the economic sanctions, the weapons inspections, and ultimately the 2002 threat of “serious consequences” should he continue to defy the international community. At the time there was some debate over what this expression meant. By now it should be clear.

Saddam was in one way or another at the center of U.S. national-security policy for 15 years, and an object of interest for much longer. He was one of the great dictators of history, an orphaned peasant who rose to ultimate power in a critically important part of the world. His rule was total, terrifying, and ostentatious. Looking back over his reign I was drawn in particular to a family portrait. Here is Saddam flush with power, looking young, vital, and undeniably charismatic. He was very stylish before he adopted the olive-drab uniform/black beret look. He wore designer suits, expensive sunglasses, he was meticulously groomed, the essence of dictator chic. There was a hint of this Saddam at the trial, once they cleaned him up — feisty, defiant, swaggering, and sometimes witty. He never showed fear, not until his sentencing, when there was a hint of it in his eyes. He had been in tough situations many times in his life and always found a way out. But he knew there was no way to cheat the fates this time. He was staring death in the face, but this time not as an accomplice.

Also noteworthy in this portrait is that all the men in it are dead. His sons, Ouday and Qusay, killed in a shootout with Coalition forces. Hussein Kamel and Saddam Kamel, second cousins who had married his daughters, inexplicably defected to the west in 1995, and as inexplicably returned to Iraq in 1996. They had been promised that all was forgiven, but when they arrived home they were instructed to obtain divorces, and then gunned down while being arrested.

It must have been ironic to Saddam that he was hanged for the Duijail killings, which were committed in response to an assassination attempt. It was not a massacre on a grand scale, not even by his own standards. Some Iraqis had wanted Saddam to die for other, more extensive crimes, or for all of them. Furthermore, he was not sentenced to death for crimes against humanity, but simply for murder. However, these are technicalities. The end is the same.

Saddam’s crimes were vast, chaotic, and brutal, but his end was businesslike, and brief. There was little ceremony. Saddam was read the execution order, during which he showed no remorse. He moved self-assuredly to the scaffold, carrying a copy of the Koran, advising a witness to not be afraid, declaring “Long live Jihad!” among other things.

There is something grimly primordial about death by hanging. Surely it as ancient a method of execution as rope itself. The placement of the noose, the pause, a final appeal to God, the clatter of the trap door, the snap of the rope, the jerk. A cold and definitive end to a significant historical figure. And the formality ended there, as the witnesses broke into cheers and danced around the body. A native custom I suppose.

Saddam’s final spoken words, “God is great,” were a political statement. They were the last words of a man expecting to be remembered not as a criminal but as a sacrificial victim. This attitude is clear in Saddam’s final missive, released days earlier. He expressed no regrets, apologized for nothing. He counseled his followers against hate, but called for continued violence. He said he would be raised to stand with the martyrs if and when God wills it. But Saddam gave up his genuine chance to be a martyr, unlike his sons. He will not be a greater inspiration dead than alive. The concept of the martyr is overrated — none of history’s villains became more powerful or influential after death. In time it was if they had never existed, except for the evil that they have done, the lives they have destroyed, and the fading memory of just how deadening it was to live in constant fear.

The blandishments of the Baathist holdouts that Saddam’s execution will bring about attacks on the U.S. is hard to take seriously. Are they not already seeking to kill our troops on a daily basis? If they could attack our homeland, wouldn’t they have done it by now? Could they possibly be more violent? Likewise the prevalent non-opinion in the media that this event is not a turning point, that it does not change anything, is hard to take seriously. Saddam’s fate was more than just a loose end that was tied up. It was one of those rare occasions on which we are given the opportunity to witness an act of unqualified righteousness. It was justice made manifest. And it was about time.

— James S. Robbins is senior fellow in national-security affairs at the American Foreign Policy Council, a trustee for the Leaders for Liberty Foundation , and author of Last in Their Class: Custer, Picket and the Goats of West Point. Robbins is also an NRO contributor.