Closing Guantanamo and Saving our National Soul

The excitement leading up to Tuesday’s inauguration of Barack Obama is palpable. Radio and TV news outlets alternate between stories on the logistical preparations D.C. is making as it braces for the tidal wave of hope filled pilgrims and the daunting challenges awaiting the 44th President. Among stories that fall into the latter category, I have been surprised, and encouraged, by the level of attention given to President-elect Obama’s promise to close the detention facility at Guantanamo Bay.  Given the continual downward spiral of the economy and the ongoing violence in Gaza, I had expected this particular blight on the American soul to fade into the background, at least for a while. And, while it is true that the acknowledgment made this week by a senior Bush official that the United States has indeed engaged in torture has not attracted nearly the level of attention it deserves, the fact that precious room in the nation’s attention span is being given to Guantanamo at all is commendable.

I am ashamed to say that, like millions of Americans, the issue of U.S. torture is one to which I was oblivious until relatively recently. I was horror-stricken when the first reports about Abu Ghraib emerged and I never bought in to the Bush administration line that these were “just a few bad apples.” Nevertheless, when the stories faded from the national scene, they faded from my mind as well. The U.S. continued to use coercive, abusive, and yes, torturous tactics and the vast majority of the country persisted in its woeful (perhaps willful) ignorance. Since Abu Ghraib, however, the stories detailing U.S. torture have continued to come out (this article in Vanity Fair is an instructive overview of the legal justifications that permitted “enhanced interrogation techniques”, and in Commonweal magazine, Michael Peppard details the dangerously overlooked use of religious torture) and the evidence is now irrefutable. Our country stands indicted by the gravity of our actions and only history will determine if we can ever be pardoned.

This is why, when I heard Attorney General designate Eric Holder state unequivocally in his confirmation hearing that waterboarding is torture, something inside me shifted, the way the shifting of tectonic plates can have effects that are simultaneously subtle and colossal. After years of hearing government officials scoff at accusations that the U.S. was engaging in torture while we were doing so, it is amazing how powerful a simple statement of truth can be. For the first time I allowed myself to believe that redemption may be possible. President-elect Obama has been frank about the difficulties involved in closing the Guantanamo detention center and the solutions that must be found before it can be done. But he remains steadfast in his pledge and in his assertion that under his administration the U.S. will not engage in torture. And so I am filled with the same hope that led me to vote for him, the hope that once more I will be able to trust my leaders and that morality will be a guiding principle in our governance, not just a political smokescreen. We cannot undo what has been done, but we can forcefully depart from the path that leads to torture. We can definitively declare that torture is not an American value and we are not a people who will condone its use in our name. We already took one step down this path the night of Nov. 4.

And so I am filled with hope. But it is a hope tempered by caution. While I believe Obama and his nominees when they speak to my ideals, I also know that no government should be given blind trust. What the Bush administration has done is deplorable, but even more inexcusable is the ease with which these act were committed. Beyond the lies and the violation of human rights, I am haunted by the deafening silence with which they were met. As citizens in a democracy, we have a responsibility to hold our leaders accountable for their actions. As Christians, we have a calling to speak truth to power and defend human dignity. Where was our moral outrage? And what are we going to do now? It is true, there were numerous people who had the courage to decry torture. The National Religious Campaign Against Torture‘s slogan “Torture is a Moral Issue” and their push to have churches nationwide take up the cause is laudable. I have been profoundly humbled by the stories of lawyers who have tirelessly defended the legal rights of detainees. But as a nation we are guilty of inaction, apathy and fear.

It would be easy for us to pardon our culpability, to convince ourselves that electing Barack Obama is enough. We can trust him to do the right thing; we no longer need to bear the burden of moral responsibility. But we cannot wash our hands so easily. I do trust Barack Obama to honor his word. Moving forward, I do believe we will do better. But the full measure of our responsibility for this dark period still weighs upon us. As a nation we have sinned and we must find our way to redemption. I do not claim to know how exactly we can restore our moral standing. As a Christian, I believe in the power of repentance, of acknowledging our sins and asking for forgiveness. I also believe in the power of symbolic acts. Just this week, Faith in Public Life sent out this petition asking President-elect Obama to sign an executive order banning torture. That is one way to signal that we will not stand idly by any longer, that we demand moral leadership to match our national values. Churches across the country are holding special services to raise awareness of this issue. This is a start. But we must treat it as such. The election of Barack Obama is the beginning of our path to redemption, not the end. The final responsibility of ensuring we continue as a beacon of hope and a symbol of the inherent value of all life does not rest upon him, but upon us. I pray that this time we will not fail.