Darius Rejali: Why have modern democracies been such important innovators of torture?
[Darius Rejali is a professor of political science at Reed College. His latest books are Torture and Democracy, recently published by Princeton University Press, and Approaches to Violence, forthcoming this year from Princeton.]
Americans were shocked at the photographs of tortured Iraqi prisoners incarcerated at Abu Ghraib. They were horrified by the assault on Abner Louima, the Haitian immigrant molested with the broken end of a broomstick by New York City police officers in August 1997. A decade earlier, they were horrified by revelations that New York police officers had used stun guns to coerce confessions from young Hispanic and African-American suspects in 1985 and 1986.
Our outrage is predictable because we reject the idea that democracies engage in torture. That's something authoritarian states do — in the words of a World War II poster, "the method of the enemy." But torture has been documented in many modern democracies, not just our own.
So why is torture still occurring in democracies? Just bad people in power? Sadists in the police? Human nature? Think again: Whenever we ask ourselves why something is still happening, it's a sign that something's wrong with the way we understand our past.
It is tempting to think of democracies as inherently less likely to torture than authoritarian states are. After all, the people elect democratic governments, and the people don't want to be tortured themselves. Even if we view democracy cynically, as a game in which elites take turns running things, we believe that it has a quiet gentleman's agreement — we don't torture you when we are in power, you don't torture us, and we'll keep it all tidy. However you cut it, we think that democracies are bargains in leniency, and that until recently they had little to do with torture.
But that view is incorrect as a matter of historical record. Indeed, democracies often set the pace in torture innovation. Legalized torture was a standard part of Greek and Roman republics, our ancient models of democracy. Roman judges used various tortures, most famously the short whips, ferula and scutica, to coerce confessions and get information. Torture was also a standard part of Italian republics like Venice and Florence, our other historical models of democracy. Those city-states adopted some of the same techniques as the inquisitors of the Roman Catholic Church. They often used the strappado, a technique in which guards tied a victim's hands behind his back, hoisted him from the ground by means of a hook and pulley, and repeatedly dropped him to the floor. The political theorist Niccolò Machiavelli was subjected to that process thrice. Before World War II, the British, the Americans, and the French all practiced torture: the French in Vietnam, the British in their mandate of Palestine, the Americans in the Philippines, not to mention what our police were doing in cities large and small. Police in democratic states used electrotorture, water torture, painful stress positions, drugs, and beatings. They did so sometimes on their own, sometimes in collusion with local citizens, and sometimes with the quiet approval, if not explicit authorization, of their governments. All this before the Central Intelligence Agency ever existed.
Our memory, however, usually starts with World War II. Torture was something done by the Nazis and then the Stalinists. The good news is that we made sincere and often effective efforts to prevent torture at home and to encourage human rights abroad — the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the United Nations in 1948. The bad news is that we came to believe that no one on our side was ever a torturer. Never had been. Being a winner was all about being morally pure.
By torture I mean the systematic infliction of physical torment on detained, helpless individuals by state officials for police purposes: that is, for confession, information, or intimidation. No doubt one could slice torture in other ways, but whatever you want to call these practices, they have a long history in the world's democracies.
Let me be clear: The democratic record of torture is not as bad as that of authoritarian states. Nevertheless, from a scholar's perspective, the relation of torture to democracy requires an explanation. The question is not, Is torture compatible with democracy? Obviously it has been for some time. The questions are: Under what circumstances is torture compatible with democracy? Why were democracies such powerful innovators of torture?...
Read entire article at Chronicle of Higher Ed
Americans were shocked at the photographs of tortured Iraqi prisoners incarcerated at Abu Ghraib. They were horrified by the assault on Abner Louima, the Haitian immigrant molested with the broken end of a broomstick by New York City police officers in August 1997. A decade earlier, they were horrified by revelations that New York police officers had used stun guns to coerce confessions from young Hispanic and African-American suspects in 1985 and 1986.
Our outrage is predictable because we reject the idea that democracies engage in torture. That's something authoritarian states do — in the words of a World War II poster, "the method of the enemy." But torture has been documented in many modern democracies, not just our own.
So why is torture still occurring in democracies? Just bad people in power? Sadists in the police? Human nature? Think again: Whenever we ask ourselves why something is still happening, it's a sign that something's wrong with the way we understand our past.
It is tempting to think of democracies as inherently less likely to torture than authoritarian states are. After all, the people elect democratic governments, and the people don't want to be tortured themselves. Even if we view democracy cynically, as a game in which elites take turns running things, we believe that it has a quiet gentleman's agreement — we don't torture you when we are in power, you don't torture us, and we'll keep it all tidy. However you cut it, we think that democracies are bargains in leniency, and that until recently they had little to do with torture.
But that view is incorrect as a matter of historical record. Indeed, democracies often set the pace in torture innovation. Legalized torture was a standard part of Greek and Roman republics, our ancient models of democracy. Roman judges used various tortures, most famously the short whips, ferula and scutica, to coerce confessions and get information. Torture was also a standard part of Italian republics like Venice and Florence, our other historical models of democracy. Those city-states adopted some of the same techniques as the inquisitors of the Roman Catholic Church. They often used the strappado, a technique in which guards tied a victim's hands behind his back, hoisted him from the ground by means of a hook and pulley, and repeatedly dropped him to the floor. The political theorist Niccolò Machiavelli was subjected to that process thrice. Before World War II, the British, the Americans, and the French all practiced torture: the French in Vietnam, the British in their mandate of Palestine, the Americans in the Philippines, not to mention what our police were doing in cities large and small. Police in democratic states used electrotorture, water torture, painful stress positions, drugs, and beatings. They did so sometimes on their own, sometimes in collusion with local citizens, and sometimes with the quiet approval, if not explicit authorization, of their governments. All this before the Central Intelligence Agency ever existed.
Our memory, however, usually starts with World War II. Torture was something done by the Nazis and then the Stalinists. The good news is that we made sincere and often effective efforts to prevent torture at home and to encourage human rights abroad — the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was adopted by the United Nations in 1948. The bad news is that we came to believe that no one on our side was ever a torturer. Never had been. Being a winner was all about being morally pure.
By torture I mean the systematic infliction of physical torment on detained, helpless individuals by state officials for police purposes: that is, for confession, information, or intimidation. No doubt one could slice torture in other ways, but whatever you want to call these practices, they have a long history in the world's democracies.
Let me be clear: The democratic record of torture is not as bad as that of authoritarian states. Nevertheless, from a scholar's perspective, the relation of torture to democracy requires an explanation. The question is not, Is torture compatible with democracy? Obviously it has been for some time. The questions are: Under what circumstances is torture compatible with democracy? Why were democracies such powerful innovators of torture?...