We Never Did It

During war, terrible things happen. People are at their worst, acting worse than animals. Once, this country was invaded. The army included mercenaries who thought the slaughter of surrendering soldiers was acceptable. Towns were burned to the ground. Fellow citizens betrayed their neighbors and atrocities abounded. The fledgling nation teetered close to obliteration, much closer than it has ever been since. Yet, George Washington and the new Congress never considered the use of torture, either as a means of obtaining information, or in the pursuit of revenge.

Three decades later, we were invaded again, by the same nation. Our capitol was burned to ashes. And yet the idea of initiating torture as a policy was never discussed.

It is common wisdom that the worst sort of war is civil war. We suffered the most war deaths, 600,000, in that contest, that this country has ever experienced. Innumerable evil deeds were perpetrated by both sides, extending for years before and after the conflict. Individual soldiers and commanders used loathsome means to pursue their ends. It took a campaign though the heart of the South to end that war. Still, the use of torture never became policy. It was simply unthinkable. We never did it.

In the First World War, whatever our soldiers may have done in the heat of battle, however misguided or ignorant our policies may have been, at least the stated intention of our involvement was the hope that the world would be made a better place for our effort.

For America, the Second World War began because we were attacked in the Hawaiian Islands. Over three thousand men were killed in a surprise assault. People literally believed that another attack on our west coast was imminent. The Japanese seemed to be everywhere, and there were many false reports of invasions sightings, which many people held to be true. And there were over one hundred thousand American citizens of Japanese descent living among them. They did the cowardly, unnecessary thing. They sent them off to camps to live out the war. Even then, they never considered the use of torture. As scared as they were, as infused with racial hatred of the kind that contemplates all manner of atrocity, they never resorted to torture as a policy against their enemy. It was against our core beliefs. It was what the other side did. It was something that set us apart, and something we would never do.

Even in Viet Nam, where we shamed ourselves, torture was off the table, at least as far as what was allowable by our government. In fact, a soldier who waterboarded a Viet Cong suspect, was tried and convicted of a war crime.

Then, in September of 2001, nineteen men of Saudi, Egyptian and Yemeni descent, flew planes into buildings and over three thousand people died. Our government immediately panicked, or allowed themselves to be consumed by their impotent rage, or decided to put into place what had been in their black hearts all along. They made torture American policy. And with that, they blithely tossed aside centuries of honor and rectitude. They felt that it was necessary, that it worked, that it was good.

We may never be able to wash away the stain. But we can hold them accountable. We can drag them howling from their dark little holes and hold them up to the light of scrutiny, make them reveal all of their wickedness.

Because it’s in the past doesn’t mean that it is over. We do not do these things. We do not agree with them. But they were done in our name. We can’t distract them away with the scandal of today. We must address them clear-eyed and make the amends that history requires. To do less perpetuates the shame.