The moment of truth is the moment of crisis. During the slow buildup, the essence of a policy or a man is concealed under embroidered details, fine words, strutting gestures. The crisis burns these suddenly away. There the truth is, open to eyes that are willing to look. The moment passes. New self-deceiving rags are hurriedly tossed on the too-naked bones.
A truth-revealing crisis erupted in Katanga for a couple of days this month, to be quickly smothered by the high-pressure verbal fog that is kept on tap for such emergencies. Before memory, too, clouds over, let us make a note or two of what could be seen.
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