Initial Thoughts on the Memos

by Mark Thompson on April 17, 2009

I’ve had time to give the Bybee memo a good read, and I’ve gotten pretty far into the first Bradbury memo.  First, let me say that I think my position on the techniques stated therein has been made pretty clear over the last several years I’ve been blogging.  My moral outrage is undiminished.

One thing that is clear about the Bybee memo is that it is not a particularly legalistic memo – it should be quite accessible to the layperson.  However, there are some things he ignores and glosses over that undermine his arguments pretty severely.  The big thing that immediately jumped out at me – and, apparently Dale Carpenter at Volokh – was the explicit and obviously inaccurate assumption that SERE training provides a valuable metric for assessing the effects of these acts on an actual detainee.  Another thing that jumped out was the way in which Bybee simply dismisses the notion that “muscle fatigue” could constitute “severe pain” – logic dictates that over a long enough period of time, the pain from muscle fatigue could indeed become unacceptably “severe.”  Similarly, he uncritically accepts the idea that sleep deprivation and close confinement were not intended “to disrupt profoundly the senses or the personality.”

I think it’s really difficult to read that memo in April 2009 and conclude that its authorizations are well-reasoned or are accurate depictions of the law of torture.  I also think that it would have been really difficult to write that memo in July/August of 2002, knowing that its findings would be applied solely to the single most significant terrorist then in custody, and come to the correct legal conclusion.

Much like Carpenter, my initial thought about the memo was that the essential part of Bybee’s analysis was implied in this paragraph:

The interrogation team is certain that [Abu Zubaydah] has additional information that he refuses to divulge. Specifically, he is withholding information regarding terrorist networks in the United States or in Saudi Arabia and information regarding plans to conduct attacks within the United States or against our interests overseas. Zubaydah has become accustomed to a certain level of treatment and displays no signs of willingness to disclose further information. Moreover, [CIA] intelligence indicates that there is currently a level of “chatter” equal to that which preceded the September 11 attacks. In light of the information you believe Zubaydah has and the high level of threat you believe now exists, you wish to move the interrogations into what you describe as an “increased pressure phase.”

In the comments to E.D.’s aggregation of reactions to the memos, I expressed my opinion that the Office of Legal Counsel isn’t supposed to act like an advocate for the Executive Branch, providing a legal justification for a preordained action, but is instead supposed to act more like a compliance attorney providing guidance on what the law is.  But in that situation, knowing those facts, working in a city that at the time often felt like it was under siege, how many of us would truly have been able to remain the staid compliance attorney and avoid the temptation to become an advocate? I think that’s what happened here – Bybee accepted without question the facts provided him by his “client” the CIA, and he prepared a memo in which he adopted the role of an advocate for that client.   

This doesn’t make the Bybee memo right, legally or morally.  It just makes it human. 

As for the Bradbury memos - they’re a much different animal, and less accessible to the layperson, I think.  One thing I am finding quite striking is the heavy use of footnotes and caveats, not to mention double and sometimes triple negatives.  They read as if the author was quite uncomfortable with the advice he was giving.  But they are also chillingly detailed in their advice, in a way that is unusual for a legal memo.  There is a clear sense in these memos that the author is aware that the acts he is approving have dubious moral and legal support.  The amount of specific detail involved would ordinarily suggest that there is a very clear line between what is and is not illegal – when there are clear lines, it’s pretty easy to say “X is legal, but X+1 is not.”  Except that the memos go out of their way to argue that there is no bright line.  It’s hard for me to avoid the conclusion that these memos thus did in fact draw a bright line even as they claimed not to.  That line, it would seem, was drawn such that anything that would otherwise have been in a “gray area” was defined as “not torture.”  Thus, for something to be “not torture,” all that was necessary was to come up with a superficially plausible-sounding argument that it fit within the “gray area.”

{ 1 comment }

1 Roque Nuevo April 18, 2009 at 7:25 am

What jumped out at me when I read the Carpenter post you link to was this:

What Bybee is describing here can’t quite be called a “ticking bomb” scenario one might see in a movie or read about in a law review article, but it’s about as close as one gets in real life. With the danger believed to be high and the detainee obviously knowledgeable, time becomes critical.

One can imagine a couple of default rules in cases of uncertainty about what constitutes torture: (1) err on the side of respecting the human dignity and health of the detainee, in accordance with longstanding national and international commitments and aspirations, or (2) err on the side of getting information believed to be necessary to protect human life, using techniques believed to work. The choice of default depends on which values seem paramount at the moment. It seems silly to think that these default rules and the values they represent are never in tension. And it seems too hard and pure to imagine that there aren’t cases and times, like America in 2002, where one might sometimes choose the latter default rule over the former.

Where one could fault Bybee is in his initial call about which techniques are close to the line of torture and thus subject to an uncertainty default rule at all. Putting someone in uncontrollable fear of imminent death by drowning — as in water boarding — is a death threat. Forcing someone to stay awake for up to 11 days, perhaps by making them stand, shackled to a ceiling or wall (the precise method for keeping them awake is, incredibly, not even considered in the Bybee memo), at least runs a serious risk of causing severe physical or mental pain or suffering.

Bybee had before him a prospect we do not confront. If he refused to authorize the techniques the CIA told him it wanted to use, and on that basis the CIA did not use the techniques and did not get further information from Zubaydah, and a devastating terrorist attack followed, his high regard for human dignity would today be seen as a foolish and even calloused disregard for human lives.

All of this may argue for more precision in the definition of torture, including the banning of specific techniques of interrogation in federal law (as opposed to executive policy). Of course that would limit the flexibility one needs to meet unforeseen and dire circumstances. But one way or another torture will be given clearer definition: either in open democratic debate or in secret memos and prisons.

Carpenter’s conclusion here supports my point about Congress’s responsibility for legislating in the face of asymmetric warfare.

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