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"Although
there may be isolated cases of mistreatment of civilians and PoWs,
this by no means reflects the general attitude." Colin Powell
didn't utter these words last month, or even last year. He wrote
them in 1968, in a memorandum to his superiors, while serving in
Vietnam.
As the US
Secretary of State recollected recently during a conversation with
CNN's Larry King, he was part of the company responsible for the
Vietnam War's worst known atrocity: the unprovoked killing of hundreds
of children, women and elderly men - all of them unarmed - by a
bunch of soldiers who had entered My Lai with the express purpose
of eradicating all signs of life from the village.
It
is interesting that Powell, who had joined the company after the
massacre and was peripherally involved in an attempted cover-up,
should have brought up My Lai during a discussion on the abuse of
prisoners at Baghdad's Abu Ghraib prison. The allusion was ostensibly
thrown in to illustrate his point that extremely nasty incidents
are almost inevitable during war, but he may also have been trying
to send a message to the White House, whose cocky occupant-in-chief
stopped listening to Powell long ago.
At
the time of Vietnam, it took about 20 months for the horror story
to intrude upon the consciousness of the American public. By then
Richard Nixon was already losing the war on the home front, but
the unadulterated brutality of My Lai undoubtedly increased pressure
for a pullout.
That
isn't the only parallel with Abu Ghraib. Thirty-five years ago,
embarrassed US officials sought to portray My Lai as an aberration.
Of late, the Bush administration has been in damage-control overdrive,
desperately trying to drum in the impression that a handful of deviant
troops were exclusively responsible for all that went on in Abu
Ghraib by night. It wasn't true then and it isn't true now.
In
both cases, it was whistleblowers within the US army who raised
the initial alarm. And the journalist Seymour Hersh went on to win
a Pulitzer for his reports on My Lai. He's still at it. After having
been asked to hold off by General Richard Myers, the Chairman of
the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the CBS television network was obediently
sitting on grotesque images of prison abuse until it realised Hersh's
report on Abu Ghraib was about to be published. That's when it decided
to run them early last month.
In
a subsequent report, published in the May 24 issue of The New Yorker,
Hersh makes the charge that the abuse was a direct result of aggressive
interrogation tactics introduced at the behest of Rumsfeld and his
Undersecretary for Intelligence, Stephen Cambone - who reportedly
is inclined to overfulfill any tasks assigned to him.
The
office that Cambone occupies was apparently created by Rumsfeld
to gain greater control over covert operations, because he didn't
trust the CIA. A shadowy task force was subsequently set up to track
down terrorism suspects anywhere in the world and to wring information
out of those who were captured alive.
Hersh
says the strategy worked reasonably well from the American point
of view - until Rumsfeld decided to deploy some of these operatives
in Iraq. Meanwhile, Major-General Geoffrey Miller, the head honcho
at the detention facility in Guantanamo Bay, was despatched to Baghdad
to inculcate more 'effective' interrogation techniques. The innovations
led to what we've seen in the images published last month - and
a great deal that remains unseen.
According
to Hersh's sources, the sexual humiliation that supplements other
forms of torture isn't a coincidence, nor was it thought up by a
bunch of small-town perverts. Rather, it's a part of policy, based
on a reading of Raphael Patai's 1973 book, The Arab Mind, which
says that Arabs are particularly vulnerable to shame and humiliation.
Patai's book has been described as a neoconservative bible. And
it's also worth keeping in mind that Cambone's military assistant
is none other than Lieutenant-General William Boykin, who acquired
a degree of notoriety for comparing the Muslim world to Satan in
a speech last year.
Most of the seven military personnel against whom charges
have been pressed for mistreating prisoners, claim that they were
encouraged in their endeavours by intelligence officers who wanted
the detainees 'softened up' before interrogation. That's the classic
Nuremberg defence - 'we were only following orders' - which was
also employed by Lieutenant William Calley during his trial for
the My Lai massacre. (To Nixon's displeasure, Calley received a
life-sentence, which was reduced first to 20 years and then to 10;
eventually he was paroled after serving three-and-a-half years in
jail.)
However, the photographs that have entered the public domain
suggest that at least some of the American participants derived
considerable pleasure from their crimes against humanity. Charles
Graner - identified by several prisoners as a particularly vicious
specimen of genus sadisticus - and Lynndie England clearly weren't
beaming against their will behind a pyramid of naked Iraqis. Nor
is it likely anyone could have forced England to point mockingly
at the genitals of men who were being forced to masturbate.
Writing in The New York Times last month, Luc Sante remarked
upon their "jaunty insouciance" and "unabashed triumph
at having inflicted misery upon other humans," adding: "the
last time I had seen that conjunction of elements was in photographs
of lynchings" in the early 20th century.
That's not an outlandish analogy; after all, it has to do with refusing
to see other people as human beings. Where Vietnamese were referred
to as 'gooks,' the favoured epithet for Iraqis is 'hajis.' And it
isn't just in prison that Iraqis are insulted in non-hostile situations.
For example when, at a checkpoint on Baghdad's outskirts, Baghdad
University political science professor Huda Shaker, refused to let
American soldiers search her handbag, one of them "pointed
the laser sight directly in the middle of my chest, then he pointed
to his penis. He told me, 'Come here, bitch, I'm going to fuck you.'"
Shaker claims to know women who have been raped at Abu Ghraib, and
American sources have confirmed that such things have happened.
Men and boys have reportedly been subjected to similar degradation.
Prisoners have complained of being forced to take in pork and alcohol,
of being compelled to insult their religion, of being sodomised
with all manner of objects.
Whether such tactics have yielded any worthwhile 'intelligence'
isn't known, but it's unlikely, given that the resistance continues
to cause trouble on various fronts, and given that hundreds of Abu
Ghraib inmates have been freed in recent weeks. Many of those 'softened
up' for interrogation had no beans to spill, having been picked
up for no good reason during random raids.
In a previous life, Graner was a jail warden and it's not surprising
that many of the tactics he favoured were borrowed from the US prison
system. Never mind democracy, human rights and apple pie; at least
something quintessentially American has been imported into Iraq.
The only thing is that the Geneva Conventions don't apply to stateside
penitentiaries, but they do in the case of occupied territory -
and the US has managed to violate a variety of them. To cite a few
examples, civilians must be treated humanely and violence to life
and person, including murder, mutilation, cruel treatment and torture
are prohibited. The Third Convention states that prisoners of war
may not be tortured mentally or physically and no other form of
coercion may be used during interrogation. The Fourth Convention
says women must be protected against any attack on their honour,
including rape and any form of indecent assault.
The US says PoWs as well as 'security detainees' (it was decided
not to designate anyone in Iraq an 'unlawful combatant') are subject
to the conventions. Which means their rights have been repeatedly
violated.
Don't be too harsh on the US, say the apologists; after all, those
trapped in Saddam Hussein's prisons were even worse off. Besides,
most Arab regimes are pretty harsh on their opponents. That may
well be so, but the question then arises: Does the US want its behaviour
to be judged according to the moral standards of Arab regimes? The
same question can serve as an effective riposte to those who argue
that the Geneva Conventions have rarely been respected through most
of the 20th century - by Nazi Germany and imperial Japan during
the Second World war, for example. Besides, no one ever suspected
that Hitler and Hirohito were fighting for democracy and human rights.
Of course, a large number of people today have never harboured any
such illusions about the US either. But some folks did. To their
credit, many of them are currently busy removing their blinkers.
One of the most interesting phenomenon of recent months has been
the process whereby traditional conservatives among the American
intelligentsia have steadily been disabusing themselves of the silly
notion that the Bush administration can be trusted to advance US
interests. Quite a few of them have resolved that their nation's
salvation lies in a regime change at home and are gearing up to
vote for John Kerry in November. Some, wary of Kerry's intention
to stay in Iraq, are even thinking of voting for Ralph Nader.
Meanwhile, diehard neoconservative apologists, a rapidly shrinking
breed, claim with varying degrees of vehemence that the abuse at
Abu Ghraib, unfortunate though it may be, is no excuse to dump an
otherwise excellent project.
Perhaps they are right, not in praising a hopeless project, but
in suggesting that the abuse scandal is part of a much wider context.
The US is guilty of much more serious crimes than what has been
taking place in Abu Ghraib and other prisons. Tens of thousands
of Iraqis are dead. If that's the only way of 'liberating' a nation,
is it any wonder that other countries with dictatorships aren't
exactly clamouring for American attention?
On a visit to Baghdad, after rumours that he may be sacked had been
quashed by a unanimous vote of confidence from Bush and Dick Cheney,
Rumsfeld proudly proclaimed: "America isn't what's wrong with
the world." It would have been difficult to disagree with him
if he had rephrased that slightly: America isn't all that's wrong
with the world. In the same spirit, let us also concede: Rumsfeld
isn't all that's wrong with the Bush administration. There are many
nations crying out for regime change, but none so loudly and longingly
as the US of A.
At his trial in Baghdad last month, specialist Jeremy Sivits, the
Abu Ghraib cameraman, confessed: "I have let everyone down
... I shouldn't have photographed those detainees." He just
didn't get it. There was nothing wrong with the photographs - even
though they were intended to serve not as criminal evidence but
as conquerors' trophies, as well as a means of blackmailing the
compromised prisoners. It was the actions that were evil, not the
images.
But there is hope yet for America. On the same day as Sivits, another
soldier also went on trial. Sergeant Camilo Mejia served for six
months in Iraq, then, having returned home on a furlough, he decided
against going back. He had witnessed abuse of prisoners. He had
seen children being dismembered by bullets. He was being court-martialled
for desertion. Mejia, who is of Nicaraguan origin, was never comfortable
with the imperialist project, but his conduct in Iraq was exemplary.
He is wiser now. And his adopted country, as well as the rest of
the world, would do well to heed his wisdom.
"There comes a point," he told The Guardian last month,
"when you have to realise there is a difference between being
a soldier and being a human being."
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