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Taliban prisoners in Guantanamo Bay are unlike any prisoners American
soldiers have known. They are not only homicidal, but suicidal as
well, as long as they can take some Americans with them. Even in
captivity, they consider themselves at war. We have to treat them
that way — but consider also the respect they get from us,
whose innocents they still plot to murder.
In the pre-Christmas
uprising at Mazar-e Sharif, our military saw just what these fighters
are willing to do. Taliban soldiers took over their prison and eventually
traded 500 of their own lives for the death of American Johnny "Mike"
Spann and a few days of disorder. As the airlift of prisoners began
from Kandahar to Guantanamo, General Richard B. Myers, chairman
of the joint chiefs said, "Remember the situation in Mazar,
where the start of the rebellion was one of them that had explosives
… and killed himself."
"These
are people that would gnaw hydraulic lines in the back of a C-17
to bring it down."
Therefore,
our Taliban "detainees" were hooded, chained, and assigned
pairs of armed guards for the twenty-hour flight to Cuba —
and still, Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld said, there was
an "incident" on the trip that led to one of the prisoners
being sedated for the balance of the trip.
What amazes
the world just now is that Americans care so much for the dignity
and human rights of these men, even as they plot in their wire cages
ways to kill our soldiers; even as they say prayers of thanks for
the death of more than 3,000 Americans on September 11.
We respect
and provide for the most basic needs of these men. Not only that,
we are also respecting their culture and religion. Our Taliban prisoners
receive two towels, one for bathing and one for use in prayers.
They receive three culturally appropriate meals each day. They have
daily opportunities to shower, exercise and receive medical attention.
And they are not generally photographed because, of all things,
it is considered embarrassing to some of them.
Think about
it: These are followers-to-the-death of Osama bin Laden, the man
who said, "Our terrorism is a good accepted terrorism because
it's against America." We're taking steps to prevent his disciples
not only from being hungry or cold, but also from being… embarrassed.
We don't have
to do any of this, of course. When a reporter asked Secretary Rumsfeld
how he would expect American soldiers to be treated if captured
by the Taliban, he said, "I'd expect they'd have just been
shot summarily, as happened with any number of people." There
has not been much cry from the human-rights community about that
because no one expects anything better from al Qaeda.
But we expect
better from ourselves. We expect it so strongly and so naturally
that it goes almost without saying. By the standards of international
law, we don't have to adhere to the Geneva Convention in the treatment
of al Qaeda prisoners — they don't meet the definition for
prisoners of war — but Secretary Rumsfeld says we are following
those rules anyway. It's what we do.
To the extent
that these extra measures do not imperil our soldiers, we are wise
to show a little compassion, extending not only rights but also
courtesies to these most bloodthirsty of our enemies. Because the
world must see, as often as we can show them, that Americans believe
in justice more than revenge, even in the face of a bloody affront.
This after all is the point of the war: we are fighting not to achieve
American influence but to preserve respect for humanity in general
and civilization in particular.
By the lights
of much of the world, this is a shocking thing. Our logic, which
arises from the foundation of western and Judeo-Christian thought,
doesn't jibe with the hostility radiating from al Qaeda — and
from those nations and individuals who, by their silence, lend respectability
to terrorism as a means of political persuasion. Yet down in Guantanamo
Bay, our actions put on display our core beliefs: Individuals possess
certain inalienable rights, period. They can do nothing to forfeit
those rights. Dignity comes with birth.
We can set
no better example for the world than we are doing right now: we
will spare no violence in rescuing those rights under attack; but
we will spare no mercy in maintaining them, even when those we are
charged with caring for have nothing more to recommend mercy than
humanity itself. That's the lesson we're teaching the world from
Guantanamo Bay. This moment goes to the heart of what we are fighting
for in the first place.
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