We've all lived through Dick Cheney's outrageousness. Alongside his grim reaper Addington and legal waterboy John Yoo, he's perpetrated many grievances against America's reputation and standing in the world--not to mention against human beings.
But this one makes me angry. The New York Times reports that in 2002 Cheney and his cohorts tried to persuade Bush that military action in an American city was justified. Evidently, sleeper cells were on his mind and nothing short of military action could appease him. In contrast to his almost too cool public appearances, this grim episode proves how absolutely unhinged Cheney was during this time period. To be sure, in 2002 danger was in the air, and we wanted our public officials to be acutely sensitive to the very real possibility that more strikes on domestic soil was immanent. Nevertheless, to contemplate something so drastic in a case where more or less nothing was at stake, demonstrates the underlying paranoia which had seized his mind. Of course, the military strike never took place, evidently due to Bush's cooler, more reasonable mind (sic!). But the fact that it was even seriously deliberated evinces what Bernard Williams once quipped as 'one thought too many'.
Saturday, July 25, 2009
One thought too many
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Let's do it
Monday, March 30, 2009
the Red Cross's conclusions
The allegations of ill-treatment of the detainees indicate that, in many cases, the ill-treatment to which they were subjected while held in the CIA program, either singly or in combination, constituted torture. In addition, many other elements of the ill-treatment, either singly or in combination, constituted cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment.As quoted by Mark Danner in his great New York Review of Books piece, US Torture: Voices from the Black Sites (which contains numerous excerpts from the secret Red Cross report).
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Responsibility for viciousness
In a recent article, ‘From Captive to Suicide Bomber’, the Washington Post implicitly raises the fascinating question: How much responsibility does the US bear for the violent actions of those released from Guantanamo? (For a related article, go here).
There are two conflicting positions on this question, each of which bears some truth, but neither of which is complete or satisfactory.
The subject of the Post piece is Abdallah Saleh al-Ajmi, a kid picked up in Pakistan in 2001 and then shipped to Guantanamo from which he was subsequently released—4 years later. In March 2008, he was responsible for a suicide bombing which killed 13 Iraqi soldiers and wounded 42 others.
The first kind of position will use the very fact of the suicide bombing as sufficient evidence that he was, all along, a vicious terrorist. Character is destiny, they argue, for no person of moral virtue can become someone who contemplates arbitrary killing (let alone carries it out). The crucial mistake was to have released such a person in the first place. Even if there was not sufficient evidence to prosecute Ajmi in a court of law, we now know, from the standpoint of ashes, that his incarceration was justified.
One can have some sympathy for this view, on the grounds that it is difficult to imagine the kind of transformation it would require to yield a vicious murderer from an innocent. The view holds that there was no transformation; the alleged innocent must have ‘had it in him’ all along. If so, the US is not culpable for what he became or for the actions that flowed from what he became.
The Post article, however, suggests a very different picture. In the initial stages of his incarceration, the boy was, by most accounts, respectful and hopeful. It was a consequence of, among other things, the humiliation, degradation and abuse suffered while at Guantanamo, that he morphed into the suicide bomber. On this picture, the US is responsible for either creating the man’s viciousness or, at the very least, bringing to fruition a viciousness that would have otherwise remained infant and unexpressed. Critics of US foreign policy often point to a vicarious version of this mechanism to support their claim that US action in Iraq is the greatest recruiting tool imaginable.
What can we make of this divide? Although we intuit that a traumatic experience can alter someone’s view of the world and, at the extreme, even ‘break’ him, it is nevertheless mysterious how character can be so extremely malleable. We use the word ‘break’ only as a stopgap in our understanding. For the hopeful kid picked up in Pakistan and the enraged man who bombed the Iraqi base are, for all the differences, identical--the memories are the same. Nevertheless, if not his identity something significant changed. But what, and more importantly, how?
I don’t know the answer to either question, but I can suggest a reason why the first view--that Ajmi had it in him all along--can seem so appealing. Our ethical understanding of alterations in character depends upon our ability to conceive it in ourselves. I can understand, for example, your remaining angry at the friend who betrayed you, because I can imagine how I would be in similar circumstances. However, when we reflect on our own character, it is (almost?) impossible for us to identify ourselves with, for example, the imagined driver of a truck loaded with explosives, who intends to kill as many people as possible, including himself. What could such a person be thinking and more importantly how can someone who used to find such thoughts unthinkable become one who not only thinks them but acts on those thoughts. There are pictures of despair, hopelessness and rage that fill out and help explain how someone could do such a thing, but seeing ourselves as we do, i.e. as ‘normal’, I am suggesting we cannot see from here how any such explanatory framework ever could apply to us. There is a large gap that cannot be filled by ethical imagination.
Of course, this doesn’t establish that Ajmi must have been vicious coming into Guantanamo. I don’t believe that. The evidence strongly suggests a transformation, and we can believe this because there is ample empirical evidence that such transformations can occur. To believe he transformed is partly to believe in the evidence of its possibility. This is different from being able to imaginatively project ourselves into his situation (a paradigm ethical move). From the evidential standpoint, we view the subject as an object that is completely subject to forces beyond his control. No longer an agent of his actions, he becomes a non-responsible kind of thing. If so, the US who created the conditions of duress which typically generate character change, should take some responsibility not only for what they did to him at Guantanamo, but additionally for the actions he committed after his release.
The adoption of the second picture requires that we take a clinical, and wholly objective, view of him. He, and his actions, were a product of forces beyond his control. This is a difficult view to sustain, for being human beings we cannot continue to see other human beings as mere objects who are the products of social forces. After all, Ajmi did not become an automaton. Even in his second incarnation, he had thoughts and he made decisions, ones for which we would typically hold him responsible. Once we view a human being as a product of forces beyond his control, it is difficult to know where to stop. Sure, the US contributed to making him who he became, but so did his parents and his community. Moreover, for those who were either victims of the suicide bombing or else knew them, we are hit with the truth that resentment needs a local target. Of course, it is possible, and I believe appropriate, to direct such anger at the US, but is it possible or appropriate to leave it at that? If the victims' loved ones continue to resent Ajmi, can we say that they are simply mistaken?
The tension between these two views does not mean we cannot adopt both of them. In fact, excepting those with an agenda or who are personally connected, moral ambivalence attends familiarity with these kinds of cases. Ajmi became vicious and intended to kill, and for that he is subject to blame; however, when we learn of the horrific circumstances which nurtured and conceivably gave birth to his viciousness, we (want to?) believe that blaming him is inappropriate. Neither is wholly satisfactory, but neither are completely unfounded either.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
John Yoo’s ‘torture memo’
John Yoo works now at Berkeley Law (can one think of Berkeley the same way again?). He used to work for the Office of Legal Counsel. His work included writing the legal justifications for torture that the Defense Department used to ground its policies in 2003.
Yesterday, the Washington Post published his work, which was previously classified for reasons of national security (can anyone explain that?).
I don’t have the expertise to parse the legal language, but I am confident that the reasoning is flawed, because I am confident that there can be no justification of torture and a fortiori no legal justification of torture. One could argue, I suppose, that moral reasoning and legal reasoning are different. I disagree, but at any rate they are not different with respect to torture.
Perhaps the most obnoxious things about Yoo are his hubris and his contempt for the public. In his response to the WaPost article he asserted, “Far from inventing some novel interpretation of the Constitution, our legal advice to the President, in fact, was near boilerplate." Not having ever worked for the OLC or knowing anyone who has ever worked there, I am nevertheless pretty sure that he is blatantly lying. I am sure that he will be called out on this by someone at the OLC. He is lying because surely and obviously there is no legal template justifying unconstrained presidential powers.
But his lie reveals a damning truth, at least as applied to his own work. This is because by boilerplate he might be referring to his understanding of the OLC’s charge of providing legal justification (really, merely legal language) for whatever actions the executive wants justification. That is, he bought into his own reasoning: in times of war, crisis, turmoil, distress, stress, discomfort (where’s the bottom?), do whatever the president says. Since our president wanted to 'fight terror' by any means necessary, that's what John Yoo sought to justify.
Murat Karnaz and Guantanamo
Mr. Karnaz is a German national who was ‘picked up’ while traveling in Pakistan and transported by the U.S. government to Afghanistan where he was (per his testimony) interrogated and tortured. He was then shipped to Guantanamo where he wallowed for 4 years.
60 Minutes just ran an interview with him. Check it out here.
The absolute horror of this story is this: the tribunal system set up to assess the standing of detainees ignored its own government’s exculpating evidence, ruling instead to detain Karnaz based on an unsubstantiated claim made by sources unknown. Since the documents used by the tribunal have been declassified, this establishes, assuming at the minimum the sincerity of the proceedings, that they are extremely risk averse. The upshot is this: give the tribunal anything suggesting that the detainee has committed or might commit an act of terror and, even when it is overwhelmingly disconfirmed and contradicted by other available evidence, they will decide to detain him, if it were solely up to them, forever. Ticking time bombs, everywhere.
In light of this, it seems moot to insist, as the D.C. Court of Appeals has done (in Bismullah v Gates, if you’re interested), that detainees have a right to demand that the tribunal make their judgment based on all the available evidence (in particular, the evidence held by the government). It is, of course, a reasonable judgment, but what does it change for the detainees if the tribunal system is irrationally risk averse? Well, legally, it would give those responsible for reviewing the tribunal’s decisions access to relevant information. That is an advantage, but it is one to be enjoyed by the detainee only after the years it will take for review to occur. (I am assuming that the reviewing court will not be irrationally risk averse as well.)
In the nature of things, even in the face of de facto victories, the Bush administration filed an emergency petition to the Supreme Court, asking it to review the Court of Appeals decision. Evidently, they are not satisfied with having the power to detain innocent people indefinitely, they want it made into a right.
Guantanamo is a circus. The mental and legal gymnastics it forces upon us and our legal system cannot be worth it.
I saw an interview with John McCain last night. He is evidently dead set upon closing the prison. Thus, along with the commitments made by Obama and Clinton, we can be assured (hopefully) that the nightmare will end in 2009.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
How (not) to Respond to Terrorism?
It's been confirmed that Imad Mugniyah was killed by a bomb in Damascus. He was widely considered a dangerous terrorist hence his death has been celebrated by many, including US officials. True, the fewer terrorists the better. But there's something unsettling about the event: some suspect Israel of perpetrating the attack. If this were true, it would set a very dangerous precedent. For this kind of actions, when perpetrated by states, legitimizes international terrorism. Let's hope (probably in vain) that should the suspicion be confirmed, in addition to celebrating the incapacitation of one more terrorist the international community (including the US, of course) will condemn the method for achieving the goal.
