The Truth About Torture
A historian in the future, or a moralist, is likely to deem the Bush administration’s enthusiasm for torture the most striking aspect of its war against terrorism.
This started early. Proposals to authorize torture were circulating even before there was anyone to torture. Days after the Sept. 11 attacks, the administration made it known that the U.S. was no longer bound by international treaties or by American law and established U.S. military standards concerning torture and the treatment of prisoners. By the end of 2001, the Justice Department had drafted memos on how to protect military and intelligence officers from eventual prosecution under existing U.S. law for their treatment of Afghan and other prisoners.
In January 2002, the White House counsel, Alberto Gonzales, who is soon to become attorney general, advised George W. Bush that it could be done by fiat. If the president simply declared “detainees” in Afghanistan outside the protection of the Geneva Conventions, the 1996 U.S. War Crimes Act—which carries a possible death penalty for Geneva violations—would not apply.
Those who protested were ignored, though the administration declared it would abide by the “spirit” of the conventions. Shortly afterward, the CIA asked for formal assurance that this pledge did not apply to its agents.
In March 2003, a Defense Department legal task force concluded that the president was not bound by any international or federal law on torture. It said that as commander in chief, he had the authority “to approve any technique needed to protect the nation’s security.” Subsequent legal memos to civilian officials in the White House and Pentagon dwelt in morbid detail on permitted torture techniques, for practical purposes concluding that anything was permitted that did not (deliberately) kill the victim.
What is this all about? The FBI, the armed forces’ own legal officers, bar associations, and other civil-law groups have protested, as have retired intelligence officers and civilian law-enforcement officials.
The United States has never before officially practiced torture. It was not deemed necessary in order to defeat Nazi Germany or Imperial Japan. Its indirect costs are enormous in their effect on the national reputation, their alienation of international opinion, and their corruption of the morale and morality of the American military and intelligence services.
Torture doesn’t even work that well. An indignant FBI witness of what has gone on at the Guantanamo prison camp says that “simple investigative techniques” could produce much information the Army is trying to obtain through torture.
It is hard to avoid the conclusion that the Bush administration is not torturing prisoners because it is useful but because of its symbolism. It originally was intended to be a form of what later, in the attack on Iraq, came to be called “shock and awe.” It was meant as intimidation. We will do these terrible things to demonstrate that nothing will stop us from conquering our enemies. We are indifferent to world opinion. We will stop at nothing.
In that respect, it is like the attack on Fallujah last November, which—destructive as it was—was fundamentally a symbolic operation. Any insurgent who wanted to escape could do so long before the much-advertised attack actually began. Its real purpose was exemplary destruction: to deliver a message to all of Iraq that this is what the United States can do to you if you continue the resistance. It was collective punishment of the city’s occupants for having tolerated terrorist operations based there.
The administration’s obsession with shock and awe is a result of its misunderstanding of the war it is fighting, which is political and not military. America’s dilemma is a very old one.
It is dealing with politically motivated revolutionaries in the case of al-Qaeda and nationalist and sectarian insurgents in the case of Iraq. It has a conventional army, good for crushing cities. But the enemy is not interested in occupying cities or defeating American armies. Its war is for the minds of Muslims.
Destroying cities and torturing prisoners are things you do when you are losing the real war, the war your enemies are fighting. They are signals of moral bankruptcy. They destroy the confidence and respect of your friends, and reinforce the credibility of the enemy.
William Pfaff is a columnist for the International Herald Tribune in Paris. Copyright Tribune Media Services International.