You may have heard that the Armed Services Committee has released the
results of its investigation into the United States' torture policy. And that those results are "we definitely have one, and it's quite extensive." So, in honor of the report's release, I'd like to get something off my chest that's been bothering me for quite a while:
Torture isn't okay. And I am worried that we have lost sight of why.
The problem with torture isn't the pain, or the humiliation, or the physical harm, or even the death. All of those are bad, but slightly beside the point, and to focus on any of them is a mistake because inevitably they invite comparison with other things that are not torture. They lead us down wrong but comforting paths. (Are stress positions really worse than standing for long hours at work? Should we care that detainees are forced to wear dog collars and leashes when teenagers do the same thing for fun? How can we justify a ban on techniques that cause pain "akin" to death, when we do not ban the death penalty itself?)
And the problem with torture is not that it produces untrustworthy information. That is
a problem, certainly -we should not expend resources on useless results- but torture would still be unacceptable if it produced the sterling truth every time.
The problem with torture is different.
Torture is the subversion of the body to overthrow the soul. When a person breaks, he is broken: he will give up any information, do whatever is asked of him. He no longer exists as an independent being, a member of society. He is only an instrument of his torturer. His sole aim becomes "make it stop." That is a cancer on any free society.
What's that you're thinking? That I'm overreacting, because the use of torture was limited to certain groups? Certain bad actors? Terrorists and such? It's not as if our government has been torturing
everyone. (Just people at Guantanamo. And Abu Ghraib. And Navy brigs. And maybe a few others). That it's not a cancer on
society, because most of us aren't even affected by it.
And there it is! The second problem with torture! Namely, that it invites society to divide itself in order to maintain some semblance of security. To say "I don't have to worry about my loved ones, because they're not terrorists/Arabs/foreigners/Muslims." As soon as we start to rely on the cold comfort of such thoughts, we lose again. We lose our ideals, of course, because we've abandoned any claim to the belief that "all men are created equal." (That guy in the hood? Less equal than the dude with the cattle prod standing next to him.) And we lose more than that, every time an activist pauses before he inks his protest sign to think of his non-citizen wife and what might be done to her if the government does not like what it says; every time the academic pauses to wonder whether she really ought to publish that op-ed while her family is still in Afghanistan; every time the journalist wonders if it is
actually a good idea to publish that story. We lose. We are less free when thoughts of torture are part of the calculus of whether to exercise the rights we claim.
Worse, we lose power over our own government, because any belief that "torture can't happen to us" requires a less-noticed corollary: "they must be correct about who to torture." If it were a mistake, or random, or deliberate but based in lies, then we could not be confident of our own safety. It is too frightening to believe that what happened in Abu Ghraib could happen to
us. So we choose to believe that the government
must know what it is doing. That these techniques
must be limited to scary terrorists with ticking bombs, not to garden-variety criminals, or garden-variety revenge. But then we end up in even more trouble, because if the government
must know what it is doing, but cannot tell us, then we have struck a bargain with our leaders that changes the rules from "we give you certain power, but it stops at the water's edge of our rights," to "your power doesn't have to stop, because we've removed the limits based on information we've never seen and never will."
Torture subverts our soldiers' and police officers' best impulses, as well as their worst ones. It is a good impulse to say "we will not stop trying to solve this problem until we have exhausted all of the options." But when torture is on the list, at least some of the time, how do you say when you have really exhausted
all of the options? How do you say that
this situation doesn't allow torture, because there is no ticking bomb -just the lives of ten kidnapped civilians. Or two missing members of your platoon. Or one missing child. And how can you say if you have tortured
enough? If you stop before reaching the outer boundaries of cruelty and imagination, how can you know whether you really got everything you needed? So where do you stop? Do you set up an arbitrary boundary for how much pain you can cause? (No, because you can never know the answer.) Do you limit yourself to certain methods? (No, because if we
need that information, then it is a necessary evil, right?) Do you branch out onto the victim's loved ones, in the hope that he will break faster? (Really? You don't want to do that? Why? Have you forgotten the missing child? How will you feel if she dies?) There are no satisfying answers to those questions.
And once torture is on the "we've tried everything" list, then why bother with anything else? If you can just
make him tell you, just
beat it out of him, then what would be the point in other investigation? Just cut to the chase, and get it over with. Time is of the essence.
Chop, chop.
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