Winning the war while losing
our balance
Commentary by ADAM TANOUS
President Bush will forever be
associated with the attacks of Sept. 11, 2001. His presidency, whether
one term or two, will be defined by a theme of national security. And
certainly the nation now seems more secure than it did in the first days
following the terrorist attacks.
A secure and lawful nation is,
however, inextricably linked to civil liberties. The two exist in a sort
of symbiotic tension—each is a necessary condition for the other. That’s
why the current flap over President Bush’s service in the National Guard
is a civics lesson in irrelevance. People are trying to get at his
national security credentials by examining a questionable five-month
period of National Guard service more than 30 years ago, long before he
was leading this nation. A more valid criticism of his national security
credentials has to do with the way in which he has veered around civil
liberties in the pursuit of law and order.
Our entire history is an
optimistic yet endless fumbling toward greater freedom. But freedom is
more than some abstract quantity associated with a democratic nation. A
free society means nothing until it is extrapolated down to the level of
the individual living in that society. The degree to which we live by
and enjoy civil liberties within an organized society is a truer measure
of our success than is our ability to destroy criminal elements in or
around us. It is also a true measure of a president.
Any police state can rid itself of
threats and bad elements. The question is, can a free society do it? Can
President Bush do it? Can he find that balance between the power of
government and the individual?
I admire the president’s
conviction when it comes to his sense of right and wrong, but I do think
that such rigid conviction is, in a perverse way, limiting his vision
and understanding of complex problems—specifically the balance between a
lawful society and individual freedoms. The Bush administration has
consistently opted to tip the balance away from the latter.
Most recently, the Justice
Department subpoenaed six hospitals for medical records of patients who
had what some call "partial-birth abortions." Attorney General John
Ashcroft has said that the subpoenas are necessary in order to defend a
new law prohibiting the medical procedure also known as "intact dilation
and extraction." A group of doctors has challenged the law in court,
arguing that it prevents them from doing medically necessary abortions.
But the Bush administration wants to examine the cases to determine for
themselves what exactly is "medically necessary." To do that they want
to sift through hundreds of patients’ medical records over the course of
the last three years.
Individual rights, like privacy or
due process, should never be compromised unless there is some
extraordinarily compelling reason. Defending an abortion law that was
controversial in the first place is not a compelling reason.
Many argue that national security
is one of those compelling reasons. In the abstract I would agree, but
the gerrymandering around civil liberties in the name of national
security has become self-defeating.
The CAPPS II system, coming this
summer, is the administration’s effort to ferret out security risks on
commercial airlines. Every passenger’s name, address and phone number
will be fed into a computer, then run through huge consumer databases
maintained by the LexisNexis Group and the Acxiom Corporation. That
cross-referenced information is then checked against military and
terrorist intelligence. A passenger will then be assigned a designation:
regular screening, extra screening or apprehend. Every single piece of
electronic information about a person will be analyzed and processed,
then sent zinging from computer to computer.
The privacy concerns associated
with the computer age are not that computers can store large amounts of
personal data. The great concern has always been that someday, which
seems to be upon us, large computer systems could share and integrate
information about people. It’s the communication between systems that
threatens privacy.
Still worse is what is taking
place at the Guantánamo Bay naval base in Cuba. While the number of
prisoners held at the naval base at Guantánamo Bay, Cuba, is relatively
small—just under 700—the issues continue to get bigger.
It is no accident, nor an
ill-thought plan, that all of the prisoners in the war on terror are on
a 45-square mile patch of Caribbean coastline. Like the war on terror,
the base at Guantánamo Bay and the rules that govern it fall into a
nebulous zone of sovereignty.
Curiously enough, Cuba fought
alongside the U.S. in the Spanish-American War of 1898. When the Spanish
were kicked off the tiny island, the American forces just stayed. In
1903, Cuba agreed to lease the land to us, in perpetuity.
So, while we control the base, it
is not technically U.S. soil. Do our laws of criminal justice apply
there? Maybe, maybe not. What’s more, those brought there have been
labeled "unlawful combatants," not prisoners of war, which would afford
them some internationally-recognized rights. Even prisoners of war are
allowed a hearing of their individual cases.
The end result is that people can
be held at Guantánamo Bay without charges, without access to counsel and
for an unspecified time. Some have been held for two years now. To make
matters worse, no one is allowed to even know the names of who is in
there. Perhaps the primary purpose of our enumerated rights is to
provide a foil to the prosecutorial arm of the justice system. The
tension between the two provides a means to truth. The adversarial
nature of those forces is intentional—they work against each other
simply with the aim of finding justice for any given situation.
As serious and threatening as this
war on terror is, we can’t just win it by destroying or locking up all
the bad guys. We also have to preserve the belief that the system will
muddle its way towards truth.