If we're going to make the devil's bargain with a country like Uzbekistan, we better make sure it's worth it.
Don Van Natta
reports in Sunday's New York Times on the sketchy details of the United States' "extraordinary rendition" arrangements with the nation of Uzbekistan. Prior to 9/11, the State Department listed Uzbekistan as one of the worst human rights offenders in the world, describing it as a "authoritarian state with limited civil rights". After 9/11, however, the nation took on strategic importance because of its location and its willingness to work covertly with the U.S. government to conduct clandestine intelligence operations. According to the Times:
Immediately after the Sept. 11 attacks, however, the Bush administration turned to Uzbekistan as a partner in fighting global terrorism. The nation, a former Soviet republic in Central Asia, granted the United States the use of a military base for fighting the Taliban across the border in Afghanistan. President Bush welcomed President Islam Karimov of Uzbekistan to the White House, and the United States has given Uzbekistan more than $500 million for border control and other security measures.
Now there is growing evidence that the United States has sent terror suspects to Uzbekistan for detention and interrogation, even as Uzbekistan's treatment of its own prisoners continues to earn it admonishments from around the world, including from the State Department.
The so-called rendition program, under which the Central Intelligence Agency transfers terrorism suspects to foreign countries to be held and interrogated, has linked the United States to other countries with poor human rights records. But the turnabout in relations with Uzbekistan is particularly sharp. Before Sept. 11, 2001, there was little high-level contact between Washington and Tashkent, the Uzbek capital, beyond the United States' criticism.
Uzbekistan's role as a surrogate jailer for the United States was confirmed by a half-dozen current and former intelligence officials working in Europe, the Middle East and the United States. The C.I.A. declined to comment on the prisoner transfer program, but an intelligence official estimated that the number of terrorism suspects sent by the United States to Tashkent was in the dozens.
* * *
A senior C.I.A. official, speaking on condition of anonymity, said he would not discuss whether the United States had sent prisoners to Uzbekistan or anywhere else. But he said: "The United States does not engage in or condone torture. It does not send people anywhere to be tortured. And it does not knowingly receive information derived from torture."
As an exercise in sophistry, I can quite easily parse that CIA statement to produce a legal interpretation which would facilitate the U.S. extraordinary rendition program:
1. "
The United States does not engage in or condone torture." This is correct on two accounts. First, the various agencies of the U.S. government have narrowly defined torture in such a way to allow the U.S. to conduct a long list of abusive tactics with the good faith believe that they have not actually crossed the line to torture. Note that the speaker does not say "cruel, inhmane or degrading" treatment, or "physical or mental coercion", or some broader standard. The chosen standard here is "torture", and that the U.S. has set that bar very high indeed through legal memoranda over the past four years. Second, the whole point of "extraordinary rendition" is that the U.S. does not actually engage in the torturous practices itself, but rather, contracts with its allies to conduct its "wet work". This statement is undoubtedly correct, but it is also quite revealing.
2. "
It does not send people anywhere to be tortured." Yes, but here the issue is one of knowledge and intent. As reported in Jane Mayer's brilliant
New Yorker article "
Outsourcing Torture", the relevant legal standard from the 1994 Convention Against Torture is whether there exist "substantial grounds for believing" that a detainee will be tortured abroad. As Marty Lederman said in the article, what about when you "kind of know" that they will be tortured, or you think they might be but have been promised (with a wink and nod) that they won't be? Then, the situation becomes more gray. Gray enough, at least, to allow the CIA to make this statement with a straight face. The connotation behind this quote is that the U.S. does not
knowingly and
purposefully send people abroad to be tortured. But that doesn't mean we're not doing it.
3. "
And it does not knowingly receive information derived from torture." Every lawyer's Spidey sense ought to go off when he/she sees a word like "knowingly", because it's a legal term of art that has undoubtedly been planted in this guy's mind by the CIA general counsel.
Model Penal Code Sec. 2.02 defines "knowingly" this way:
A person acts knowingly with respect to a material element of an offense when:
(i) if the element involves the nature of his conduct or the attendant circumstances, he is aware that his conduct is of that nature or that such circumstances exist; and
(ii) if the element involves a result of his conduct, he is aware that it is practically certain that his conduct will cause such a result.
The implicit message is that the U.S.
does receive information derived from torture, but our level of knowledge does not rise to the level of "knowingly". Given the track record of countries like Egypt and Uzbekistan, it's hard to imagine how this could be the case — what rational government official could conclude any differently about information squeezed from detainees there? Once again, sophisticated lawyering may be the answer here. If the relevant government officials do not know about the sources and methods used, and the detaining governments make
pro forma assurances that torture was not used, then we've got a whole different ball game.
"The gloves came off" after 9/11, or so we have been told. This was especially true in the area of "human intelligence" ("HUMINT"), because the U.S. had woefully few HUMINT assets in place before and after 9/11 which could gather information about Al Qaeda. Capturing and squeezing prisoners for intel is a time-honored tactic in warfare, and it was seized upon by the U.S. after 9/11. Time and time again, the administration has made the argument that it must pursue HUMINT with a new zeal, and in a new way, because this is a new kind of war.
But is that really true?
As I wrote to some friends last week on an academic list-serv, this is
not a new kind of war in the general sense. There are aspects of this war which look like deja vu to anyone who's studied the
British effort in Malaysia, the French efforts in Algeria, the British and Israeli experience in Palestine and Israel over the past several decades, the
U.S. Marines' experience in the Philippines and Latin America, the recent Philippine experience fighting Abu Sayyaf, et cetera. Much as some may think otherwise, counter-insurgency and its cousin counter-terrorism are old businesses with a lot of history. It may be another example of American exceptionalism that we think we're the first ones to face these questions, or that somehow, we're the first ones to properly answer them.
At least two
arguments which have been offered to reject the "old" paradigm of war in favor of new rules for detentions and interrogations. I would sketch those out this way:
1. "
Today's enemies are wily and trained to resist conventional interrogation techniques." Perhaps. But so are conventional soldiers, and they're fully entitled to Geneva III protection. Every U.S. soldier is trained to abide by a "
Code of Conduct". DOD has also promulgated a specific
Code of Conduct for personnel captured by terrorist groups. We also train every U.S. pilot and special operations soldier to resist enemy interrogation techniques (much like those used at Abu Ghraib and Gitmo) during the military's Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape (SERE) course. These codes grow from norms which have existed within Western militaries for some time that have a great deal to do with basic notions of honor, loyalty and fidelity. The basic idea is that you should not dishonor your brothers still in the fight by spilling your guts to the enemy, and that you should resist as much as possible. Some of the most powerful writing on this has come from those servicemembers held as POWs during WWII by Japan, and by North Vietnam during the Vietnam conflict.
However, all of this is basically irrelevant, because I can't find "wily" or "resistant to interrogation" anywhere in Geneva's definitions of who should be entitled to Geneva protection. (See
Geneva III;
Geneva IV) If any nation mistreated U.S. personnel held as prisoners, and then justified it on the basis of their Code of Conduct or SERE training, we would immediately brand them as war criminals and call for a retaliatory strike. Yet, when the shoe is on our foot, we're willing to accept this line of argument.
2. "
Today's terrorists are more important interrogation targets than yesterday's soldiers." Here, I think there may be a more valid argument. If we're talking about interrogating the senior leaders of Al Qaeda, like Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, then I think that you can make the argument that he's analogous to someone like Japanese Adm. Isoroku Yamamoto or North Vietnamese Gen. Vo Nguyen Giap, and that the information locked within his head is of strategic importance. I also think there's some merit to the contention that you cannot get a lot of information on terrorist organizations through conventional means — there are no ships and silos to watch via satellite, and tracking "troop" movements through the world's airports and train stations is quite difficult. (Although, this would be a good argument for programs like Total Information Awareness that can do such surveillance, not for interrogations
per se.)
However, my agreement here hinges on one giant assumption: that we actually have people who hold strategic intelligence value, and a second assumption that our interrogation methods will get the information we want. All of the reporting that I've seen from Iraq and Afghanistan indicates that we have appallingly poor mechanisms for screening detainees — and that the mechanisms in place have contributed to an overwhelmingly unimportant detainee pool at Gitmo and in Iraq. There is really very little evidence to suggest that we've used our high-stress interrogation techniques only on those detainees with something approaching intelligence value. At best, it appears that we're using it on low-level foot soldiers or local commanders, who at best have a "grunt's eye view" of the Al Qaeda organization, but whose intel value diminishes rapidly over time. This is valuable, but certainly not as valuable as hyped — and certainly not valuable enough to justify the jettisoning of the entire law of armed conflict.
The second assumption is perhaps more problematic. The evidence is so muddled and conflicted when it comes to the efficacy of coercive interrogation that I find it hard to justify these tactics at all, especially given the blowback from their use. Here, I think the "nuclear ticking bomb" hypo is overused as a way to justify *any* methods which might find the bomb. And if we had methods that would lead to finding the bomb, I might agree. But this is not "24" — our methods are more likely to produce a false confession than anything of value, assuming the guy we've got under the lights actually knows a damn thing (a dubious assumption). It's theoretically possible that some coercive tactics, such as those detailed in the
CIA's KUBARK manual, administered in highly controlled settings by highly trained professionals, could lead to a confession. But they also just might break the mind and soul of the person without producing anything. Here again, I refer to the literature from Vietnam, where POWs like John McCain endured hell but were still able to either resist or BS their captors.
In the final analysis, I remain highly skeptical of any tradeoffs between ideals and interests. As I
wrote for
Slate in August 2004:
"... there are few slopes more slippery than that from small war crimes to large ones. Any wartime action, no matter how heinous, can always be justified by some battlefield exigency. We must give our field commanders the legal and ethical framework they need to decide which war crimes are really worth it, if any."
I'm not convinced our
deals with Uzbekistan are worth it.