NPR ombudsman Shepard responds

NPR ombudsman Alicia Shepard has responded to my item of last week in which I criticized her for defending NPR's policy of refusing to refer to waterboarding as "torture." She writes:

Yes, President Obama and AG Eric Holder have said that waterboarding was torture. I'd personally call it torture. But if you were an editor at the Globe, would you say that someone tortured another person? Or would you want to use a direct or indirect quote, i.e., "John Smith said the guard tortured him"?

I'm not trying to say what is and is not torture, but is every abuse classified as torture now or are there degrees? When a police officer throws a suspect to the ground and handcuffs them, is that torture or simply abuse?

Would it be better to, say, describe the technique and then say some call it torture? I do not think enhanced interrogation techniques is acceptable either. That's why I come down on describing the technique and adding that some call it torture.

Shepard asks, so I'll attempt a few answers.

I'm not sure what Shepard thinks there is to gain by skiing down the slippery slope from waterboarding to getting rough with a suspect during an arrest. In my original item, I strictly limited my remarks to waterboarding, recognized as torture by just about everyone on the planet.

The opinions of Obama and Holder are entirely unnecessary to determining whether waterboarding is torture.

As John McCain and others have pointed out, the United States executed several Japanese military officers for waterboarding American prisoners of war after World War II. And as I wrote last week, if NPR really can't bring itself to use the T-word, perhaps it can describe waterboarding as "an interrogation technique once considered so heinous by the United States that it hanged Japanese officers for doing it to Americans."

So yes, if I were an editor at the Boston Globe, you're damn right I would refer to waterboarding as torture. That seems about as solid as referring to oil as a fossil fuel, or baseball as a sport. By eschewing the term "torture" to describe a practice that the entire international community regards as such, NPR is not being neutral. Rather, it is embracing a euphemism that places the network squarely on the side of the torturers and their enablers.

NPR should not use enhanced interrogation techniques on the English language.

Thursday update: I was not as precise as I wanted to be when I wrote about "everyone on the planet," as I was in a rush and had lousy Internet access. Last week, Bob Garfield of "On the Media" interviewed Shepard and made the point I was trying to make:

The U.N.'s High Commissioner for Human Rights says that waterboarding is torture. The International Committee of the Red Cross have called what the U.S. did "torture." Waterboarding is unambiguously in violation of the International Convention on Torture, which has been ratified by 140-some countries.

The United States is among those 140 countries, but, as the Associated Press reported in 2002, the Bush administration sought to block enforcement of the measure when inspectors wanted to visit Guantánamo.

Torture is not only a moral problem, but it has a precise legal meaning that most definitely encompasses waterboarding.

Calling torture torture

Alicia Shepard is as sharp a media observer as they come. A longtime writer for the American Journalism Review and the author of "Woodward and Bernstein: Life in the Shadow of Watergate," she is a serious and respected voice.

That said, I'm scratching my head over how wrong Shepard gets it on NPR's refusal to use the term "torture" to describe the "enhanced interrogation techniques" practiced during the Bush years. Shepard, now NPR's ombudsman, writes:

I recognize that it's frustrating for some listeners to have NPR not use the word torture to describe certain practices that seem barbaric. But the role of a news organization is not to choose sides in this or any debate. People have different definitions of torture and different feelings about what constitutes torture. NPR's job is to give listeners all perspectives, and present the news as detailed as possible and put it in context.

Let's forget "certain practices" and focus on just one: waterboarding, long recognized as torture. In November 2007, Sen. John McCain pointed out that the United States executed Japanese officers after World War II for waterboarding American prisoners of war.

And when McCain was challenged, the Pulitzer Prize-winning Web site PolitiFact.com investigated McCain's assertion. Its conclusion: McCain was right — a number of Japanese officers were hanged, and others were sentenced to long prison terms, because they had engaged in waterboarding.

Shepard writes that rather than describing waterboarding as torture, it makes more sense just to say what happened: "To me, it makes more sense to describe the techniques and skip the characterization.... A basic rule of vivid writing is: 'Show, Don't Tell.'"

All right. Perhaps NPR can eschew the T-word and instead describe waterboarding as "an interrogation technique once considered so heinous by the United States that it hanged Japanese officers for doing it to Americans."

Torturing the language

Civil-liberties lawyer and friend of Media Nation Harvey Silverglate explains in the Guardian why the Washington Post is wrong to claim that it can't use the word "torture" because of libel concerns.

Torturing our values

Rory O'Connor has an excellent post that illustrates how torture has warped the thinking of otherwise sensible folks like Slate's Jacob Weisberg and the New York Times' Tom Friedman.

He also takes on the Philadelphia Inquirer's bizarro decision to give a column to torture advocate John Yoo.

How to avoid prosecuting Bush and Cheney

Prosecuting George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and others for torture-related war crimes would be madness, and President Obama clearly doesn't want to do it. But torture is serious business. What should we do?

At ThePhoenix.com, civil-liberties lawyer Harvey Silverglate shows us the way out.

High crimes and misdemeanors

In my latest for The Guardian, I dismiss the notion — put forth by the dean of the Massachusetts School of Law — to put President Bush and other top officials on trial for war crimes. But if Nuremberg II isn't the answer, surely there must be some way of holding him — and us — accountable for the past seven and a half years.

Torturing the law

Earlier this month, civil-liberties lawyer Harvey Silverglate had this to say on his blog at ThePhoenix.com about Attorney General Michael Mukasey's testimony regarding waterboarding:

[A]cknowledging that the CIA's torturers might have been acting in good faith — that they believed the lawyers when the lawyers told them certain highly coercive interrogation techniques were legal — hardly ends the inquiry. Why are these lawyers not being investigated in order to determine whether they wrote their legal opinions in good faith, or instead made up fanciful legal theories to appease the administration's interest in taking the gloves off when it came to dealing with suspected terrorists?

And here we go, from today's Washington Post:

An internal watchdog office at the Justice Department is investigating whether Bush administration lawyers violated professional standards by issuing legal opinions that authorized the CIA to use waterboarding and other harsh interrogation techniques, officials confirmed yesterday.

Mukasey had a good reputation coming in, but was craven in his confirmation hearings and has been overly cautious in his subsequent congressional appearances. It looks like we're going to learn what he's really made of.

Investigate the lawyers

Let's see, now. If Attorney General Michael Mukasey refuses to investigate CIA torture because government lawyers had approved those practices as being legal, doesn't it then follow that he — actually, someone else — should investigate the lawyers? That's what Harvey Silverglate proposes at ThePhoenix.com.