This is part four of a four-part series.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
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In this post I detail theological and moral resources that point to Christianity's absolute prohibition on the use of torture. However, before I begin I feel the need to offer some disclaimers. I have been following developments in the U.S. torture program since 2003 and after I left military school. Truly, the revelation of the abuses at Abu Ghraib and the cracks through which one could see official approval for something beyond the Army's manual of interrogations spurred my decision to do graduate work in religious studies. Over that time, particularly in 2004-2008, my interest in the subject made me the target of some truly innovative moral arguments and personal attacks. With that in mind, I offer the following thoughts.
- I have frequently been asked "Well, what about the abuse and torture that [Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Iraqi insurgents, ISIS, etc.] do to others, including American citizens?" To which I rhetorically reply: "Really? Really!?" I believe the question stems from the rhetoric of "you are either with us or against us," which dominated much of the political discourse from 2001-2006. But it is not the case that denouncing American uses of torture implies an approval of American being tortured. My denunciation of clean torture should be sufficient to note that I do not approve of scarring torture. The reason I write primarily about the torture program in the United States is because I am a U.S. citizen and a Christian living in a country where a sizable population carries pretensions of being a "Christian nation." I can and have denounced other groups using torture, but this is the context in which I find myself living out my faith while co-religionists and my government claim to torture on my behalf and for my benefit. I protest this state of affairs.
- Relatedly, I have had people tell me that "at least our torture isn't so bad as [other group/country]." To which I reply that the righteous and the courageous set the height of the moral bar. The moral monsters do not. Saying we are 'not as bad' is not the same thing as saying we are good. Our task as moral creatures is not to simply remain one notch above those we call enemies and acknowledge as resorting to evil.
- I have been asked "what would you do if torture was the only way to save [family member]?" The answer is still that I do not know if I would resort to torture. And even if I did, the only thing I can tell you is that I know that I am personally capable of significant evil acts. Any hypothetical scenario that ends with my use of torture does not make the use of torture justified, and I am very skeptical of moral arguments that leave the moral agent blameless in every circumstance. I am also wary of those who try to insert me in impossible scenarios as though doing so is some kind of rhetorical trump card.
The
Golden Rule
The Golden Rule is a basic ethical precept and certainly not
limited to religious frameworks. The
Christian formulation of the Rule is generally active in that Christians are to
treat others as one would wish to be treated; not merely refraining from
treating others in a way one would not wish to be treated.[1] It should be noted that
the Bush Administration’s decisions regarding treatment of detainees does not
match either formulation of the rule.
Reciprocity, as a restriction, which forms much of the basis of law in
regards to use of force (specifically) and treatment of other human beings (generally),
was inverted.[2] The stance taken was instead a perversion
formulated to be something like this: as
our enemies are unlawful, we may dispense with what inhibitions on our conduct
we find too constricting. This is still
reciprocal, but it is immoral. Instead
of aspiring to a higher moral ideal, it is an argument to allow one to sink
lower by affixing the moral standard to depraved terrorist actions. In principle, as long as interrogations
remained above that incredibly low bar they were acceptable.
Christians should understand such an inversion of the moral
universe pushes into the territory of the desire for revenge and retaliation,
not necessarily justice. To follow that
path leads one to an embrace of blood thirst, and it is an attractive path when
one thinks of what acts of terrorism can do, and has done. Sin is slippery and seductive in that
way. We desire to inflict a modicum of
the interior pain we feel when we experience catastrophic loss due to
terrorism. Yet we cannot allow the pain
inflicted to justify torturous retaliation, and we certainly cannot allow the
state the justification to follow that dark road for in the name of security.[3]
Some good news: In
Part One of this series, I mentioned a poll by Mercer from 2008 which asked about
whether one’s beliefs about the propriety of relying on torture were based on
religious conviction or “common sense” or “life experience.” The poll indicated
that the Golden Rule may be an effective vehicle for shifting opinions. After being asked to consider the Golden
Rule, there was a 14-point decrease in the respondents who would allow for
torture “often” or “sometimes.”[4] That is a striking example of how something
so simple could call people back to their senses.
Imago
Dei
Christians understand, as an element of the biblical story
of Creation, that humankind was created in the image of God and all humans bear
God’s image (Gen. 1:26-28). Since such
value is intrinsic, it cannot be taken or given away, although it can be
obscured. It is also the case that not
all theologies agree upon how much emphasis should be placed on the concept of
the imago Dei. There are theological
arguments that rather emphasize the utter creaturely nature and depravity of
humankind, which strike me as theological arguments that do much work to
dehumanize all of humankind in the first place.[5] In
these theologies, humanity does not seem to have too far to “fall.”
It is vital to be mindful of these arguments, for it is easy
to claim that one who performs murder or terrorist acts (the two are closely
related) voluntarily gives up any claim to humanity and becomes hopelessly
lost. The imago Dei, however, should
give the Christian pause before claiming anyone has become subhuman, or is
without hope of recovery from the depths of murderous ideology. Once we declare others subhuman, we deny the
possibility of reconciliation.
Finally, we owe obligations to those who bear the imago Dei,
to respect the dignity and worth of that person regardless of his or her own
actions. An analogous view to the imago
Dei is the concept of intrinsic human rights.
David Gushee, an evangelical who was on the forefront of addressing
evangelical support for torture, notes Christian discomfort with excessive
“rights-talk,” yet he believes that there is cause for belief in a biblical
understanding of human dignity…particularly the right to bodily integrity.[6]
Love
of Neighbor
Jean Bethke Elshtain--writing with echoes of Paul Ramsey,
Dietrich Bonheoffer, and Reinhold Niebuhr--considered regard for neighbor in
her reflections of the ticking time bomb scenario.[7] She wrote that she was uncomfortable with
deontological rigidity and pure utilitarian consequentialism, and so she asks
instead: as to love of neighbor and
neighbor regard, to whom is the most concrete responsibility owed? To the victims or the guilty? Elshtain concludes that the more pressing
duty is to the innocent, and yet that duty would not make the act of torture
morally right—it is the less terrible option for which the practitioner must
submit herself or himself before God’s mercy.
As she would have it, no mere calculation negates the guilt of having
tortured.
It may seem strange insert an example of someone
contemplating an exception to the absolute prohibition.[8] For our purposes, which are quite limited to
establishing the relationship between Christians and all of humanity, the focus
is on the nature of this neighbor-love which encompasses both the one who sets
the bomb and the bomb’s potential victims.
The fact is that the Christian love of neighbor (the expected response
to the imago Dei) does indeed cover those whom we consider to be our
enemies. The warrant for this view is
the parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus is asked to define
“neighbor.” Jesus does so by telling a
story in which a robbed and beaten Jew is cared for not by countrymen, but by a
despised Samaritan. The two groups were
mutually distrustful of each other, but the Samaritan responded to the common
humanity and need of the robbed and beaten man.
Christians are to understand that they are to go and do likewise.[9] It is not a straight line from the parable to
not torturing as shown by Elshtain’s reasoning with regard for neighbor and
finding cause to allow an exception to the absolute prohibition on torture. But
the parable does set forth a Christian stance that finds a clear distinction
between “us” and the “other” problematic and unscriptural. Once again, the imago Dei is glimpsed. Regard for neighbor should outweigh the
shortsightedness of the extreme nationalism and “othering” that characterizes
the American antithesis (see part one).
The anti-Sacrament
In an argument against torture that is specifically targeted
to a Christian audience, theologian William Schweiker is particularly
interested in the practice of waterboarding…a practice which bears religious
significance.[10] Schweiker notes that “torture by water as it
arose in the Roman Catholic and Protestant Reformations drew some of its power
and inspirations from theological convictions about repentance and salvation”
and that those religious resonances are present in the current use of the
technique.[11] If this is indeed the case, then
waterboarding is to be understood as an inversion of the sacrament of
Baptism. The contrast could not be
starker. On the one hand, Baptism is an
affirming symbol of new life and an entrance to the baptized into the life of being
an active agent of love in the world. On
the other hand, waterboarding is the anti-Baptism, meant to invoke the fear of
drowning and death in order to completely destroy the tortured person’s will
and agency.[12] Christians should shudder at the inversion of
the sacrament given by Christ as the means of life being used to deal death and
terror.
The moral
hazard of prolonged exposure to sin
Christians understand that prolonged exposure to evil (such
as the use of torture) has spiritual consequences that touch not just the
primary actors but the entire community.
It has already been remarked that torture is dehumanizing to the victim,
but the same can be said for the torturer.
It is possible for virtuous people to lose their souls when they are
about the business of destroying the souls of others. Abu Ghraib serves as an example of such soul-destroying
sadism run amok. Yet, more controlled,
“professional” interrogation invites the same results because of the temptation
of sadism and the nature of the project of softening up (dehumanizing)
detainees.[13] Such dehumanizing tactics become easier over
time with exposure and practice. Indeed,
it has been shown that the American populace—Christians included (especially?) are
becoming more habituated to the practice.
Torture
as a mechanism for idolatry
In the literature of torture, there are clear accounts of
torturers explicitly trying to replace God in the mind of the tortured. In fact, torturers will say that they are
God. There was a tactic that Nazi
interrogators would use on Jewish detainees in World War II. The interrogator would beat the detainee
nearly to unconsciousness, and right before the detainee went unconscious,
someone would fire a shot from a gun.
When the detainee awoke the interrogators would be there, and say
something to the effect of “You died, and ask you can see there is no God to
greet you. Just us.” They then resumed their torture. I also point you to Sr. Dianna Ortiz’s
statement at the beginning of Part Three of this blog series. Finally, there was a scandal at the facility in
Guantanamo Bay about the mistreatment of the Quran by U.S. military personnel
in front of detainees, including throwing the book in the toilet. I believe this was an intentional use of this
tactic.
As mentioned in Part Three, torture is an attempt at total
control of the tortured, which is an attempt of the torturer to take the place
of God. The attempt to take the place of
God in the other person’s world (constricted under torture) can be accurately
labeled as idolatry regardless of the motive of the torturer. It is an attempt to sever one’s connection to
the source of life and place oneself in that spot. As such, allowing torture is not merely allowing
idolatry, but the intentional cultivation of idolatry in which the torturer (and
state) replaces God. And this lesser god
is a god of pain and torment and domination--not peace, or love.
Our
Tortured Savior
All of the
accounts of Christ’s Crucixion are essentially stories of torture. In short, Christians profess faith and follow
a tortured savior. It is our
responsibility to remember that it was this world which deemed Christ’s death
as necessary. Our pointing to the cross
must attest that it was not only Christ work that saved us, but it was and is
our wickedness that put Christ and countless others through suffering for the
sake of power and control.
As Jesus falls silent before Pilate’s questions about his
identity, Pilate asks “Do you not know that I have power to release you, and
power to crucify you?”[14] That
is a terrible power—the power given him by the state—even as Jesus reminds
Pilate that he has this power only through God. But Jesus knows something
else. The threat to use this power is a sign of fear. It is a grasp
for control of the situation. It is the way earthly power works.
Earthly power is borne out of the desire to control our own fear. Torture
and Crucifixion are examples of this worldly power. The desire to control
others. To control circumstances. To bend the will of a person to our own
use. Its use is borne out of fear. This power is used when the lie of
control we continually tell ourselves fails.
This is the horror of the cross and
the necessity of remembering its purpose. God chose to conquer the cross
as the judgment on our capacity for cruelty. The crosses we wear, and
that we use to decorate our churches and homes ought to confront us with that
judgment of God against us. And that makes us witnesses not only to
Christ’s salvation, but to the crucifixions, torture sessions, and deaths we now
know about as the practitioners of worldly power try to justify them.
Christians inherit a story of an
innocent man killed because the state demanded it. At the very least, we ought to be suspicious
when the state keeps claiming it needs to continue the practice.
Conclusion
The above theological resources are expandable, and are offered to inspire fruitful reflection on how Christianity can answer calls for the necessity of torture. For the moment, this ends our coverage of the Senate Torture report, though the question that remains is what will happen next. There is evidence of the wrongdoing, but will any perpetrators be brought to justice? And what should the Church's response be? What does prayer and action look like?
In terms of prayer: remember the words of the writer of Hebrews, who exhorts Christian communities to “remember
those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are
being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured (Heb 13:3).” The exhortation may be to speciifcally remember fellow CHristinas--and there is certainly nothing wrong with that given that religious persecution affecting all religious groups rose in the past two years--but the exhortation passes through the lenses of neighbor love and a recognition of the imago dei that expands to all whom God seeks a reconciled relationship. We are called to remember all who suffer for the sake of conscience, for those in prison, and especially those who suffer needlessly while the powerful seek control and dominance. We are also to confess; to repent of the evil that enslaves us, the evil we have done, and the evil done on our behalf.
In terms of action, consider joining the National Religious Campaign Against Torture and/or organize an event in June for Torture Awareness Month. Continue to read about the practice of torture in the modern world. Finally, say something. Be willing to challenge the worldly narrative of torture's necessity. Be willing to give voice to someone no one wants to hear. Call people to recognize their will to power over others and their willingness to allow others that opportunity. Strive to respect the dignity of every person.
Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart, and especially the hearts of the people of this land, that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
[1] This principle is also
derived from the parable of the Good Samaritan, as well as Matthew 7:12 and
Luke 6:31.
[2] For an excellent
discussion of these considerations, see Noah Feldman, “Ugly Americans,” in The
Torture Debate in America, ed. Karen Greenberg (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2005), 267-279.
[3] In a recent personal
conversation, a woman responded to my statement that we should not torture
suspected terrorists by saying “we shouldn’t coddle them.” Note the duality in the statement: It is either torture or coddling, and
terrorists deserve to be tortured, even with the designation of only being
suspected of terrorism.
[4] "New Poll of White
Evangelicals Shows Faith, Golden Rule Influence Attitudes on Torture,"
Faith in Public Life and Mercer University,
http://blog.faithinpubliclife.org/upload/2008/09/FPL%20Mercer%20Torture%20Poll%20Memo%20Final-no%20embargo.pdf
(accessed September 11, 2008). I do not
have the specific wording of the question, but the gist of it was to ask if the
U.S. government should use methods that the respondent would not want used on
American soldiers. No other theological argument could boast the similar
results (the pollsters tried three but do not detail which arguments were
tried). I attribute the lack of success
of the other theological frameworks to the break mentioned earlier, that
theological considerations do not enter into consideration of national security
concerns for these Christians, and that overall congregational silence on the
issue of torture means theological resources for denouncing torture are not
propagated. A question about a
theological framework that may be unknown to the poll respondent is not likely
to get an immediate affirmative response.
[5] John MacQuarrie, Principles
of Christian Theology, 2nd ed. (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1977),
229-31.
[6] Gushee, 356.
[7] Jean Bethke Elshtain,
“Reflection on the Problem of “Dirty Hands,”” in Torture: A Collection, new.
ed., ed. Sanford Levinson (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2004), 77-89.
[8] Dr. Elshtain argued that
“enhanced interrogation techniques” do not necessarily count as torture; or if
they do, they certainly do not deserve to be categorized as equivalent to more
horrific forms of torture. I agree that
there may indeed be differences in degree, but the differences do not
necessarily mean the techniques should not still be understood as torture or as
more permissible. I consider many of the
commonly called “enhanced interrogation techniques” to fall under the category
of clean torture and worthy of prohibition.
[9] Luke 10:25-37.
[10] William Schweiker,
“Torture and Religious Practice,” Dialog: A Journal of Theology 47, no.
3 (Fall 2008): 210.
[11] Ibid, 214. Darius Rajali
in his book Torture and Democracy
tentatively confirms the presence of waterboarding (which he refers to as a
method pioneered by the Dutch) as practiced by American interrogators as a
technique used against Italian heretics.
Rejali, 281, 285.
[12] Schweiker, 215.
[13] Gushee, 358-360.
[14] John 19.
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