The CIA Channels its Inner Authoritarian

On Monday, the US Director of National Intelligence delivered the second of at least three tranches of newly declassified government documents concerning Argentina’s 1976-1983 dictatorship. This latest batch seemed to hold greater promise than the first, as its contents are drawn largely from the briefings, memos, and reports prepared for three presidents (and one unusually powerful vice president) by the Central Intelligence Agency and other intelligence organs. Despite scattered sensationalistic claims in the press, the documents do not appear to include any true bombshells. Indeed, the closest that they come to shocking is their confirmation, reported by the National Security Archive yesterday, that the CIA knew of attempts by agents of the six-country Operation Condor network to assassinate targets in Europe, possibly including human rights activists. (Scholars and journalists have already documented these efforts, though we have never seen such clear proof that the CIA itself knew about them.)

What these documents lack in explosive power, however, they make up for in granularity, illuminating in remarkable detail one aspect of the “intelligence community” (IC) that has received far too little attention: its relationship to the presidency. Then as now, the briefing materials that the CIA and other agencies prepare for the president are key shapers of (sadly still just) his worldview. This dynamic is particularly salient at present, with the incoming president refusing to receive Presidential Daily Briefs and the CIA using charges of Russian election interference to all but openly declare its opposition to Trump. So let’s dig in and take a close look at one particularly interesting document from the tranche: a November 1978 CIA assessment of Southern Cone perceptions of Jimmy Carter’s human rights policy in the region, which in this case includes Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay — five countries led at the time by extraordinarily repressive right-wing authoritarian regimes.

First, though, some background. When it comes to relationships with the IC, Carter is to my mind the most interesting of recent presidents. He came into office having decided, at the tail end of his presidential campaign, to overhaul the United States’ relationship to the world — and its own Vietnam War-bruised self-image — by making human rights the center of US foreign policy. This proved to be a tremendous challenge. While a slice of the State Department, led by Assistant Secretary of State for Human Rights and Humanitarian Affairs Patricia Derian, worked to execute Carter’s promised turn, they met fierce resistance from a foreign relations and security establishment willing to brook little deviance from the “pragmatic” Kissingerian approach of the past. And future, of course — the establishment largely won in the end. Nonetheless, for a few years in the late 1970s and early 1980s, Derian and a band of sympathetic Congressional Democrats did manage to make human rights an issue central to the US’ relationship with the Southern Cone — and, in turn, to the president’s relationship with the IC.

It was within this context that the CIA presented Carter with its November 1978 analysis of Southern Cone reactions to the US emphasis on human rights. Readable in its entirety at the bottom of this post, the memo reveals the subtlety of CIA manipulation at work. Take, for example, the summary that opens the document:

The Southern Cone governments of Argentina, Brazil, Chile, Paraguay, and Uruguay have a somewhat cynical view of US policies toward Latin America. The perspective is shaped by the conviction that Washington’s preoccupation since the mid 1960s with other parts of the world has left the US out of touch with Latin American realities. They view US policy toward their region as inconsistent, incoherent, and unreasonably punitive. There is a strong feeling that in the broader arena the US has been outmaneuvered by the Soviets and is losing its ability to lead the West.

By tying US economic and especially military aid to improvements in civil liberties and detainee treatment, Carter and his allies have fallen “out of touch” with the “realities” of the region — in other words, with the view, long championed by the CIA and by the security establishment at large, that Latin America was at risk of falling into Soviet hands, a risk that only strong (and bloody) leadership could mitigate. The risks are so great that in the next two sentences the report’s authors go right for the jugular, labeling Carter’s policies not only “inconsistent” and “incoherent,” but indicative of a broader failure of the US to keep the USSR in line and effectively “lead the West.”

But wait, you might object, isn’t the CIA simply relaying the perceptions of others? Indeed — and therein lies the very brilliance of the report. By channeling the voices of their stated subjects (the title promises an approximation of “Southern Cone perceptions,” after all), the memo’s authors can deliver a damning critique of U.S. foreign policy without appearing insubordinate, and thereby maximize their chances of countering opponents like Derian.

Nonetheless, the authors’ voice slips through at times – though they can be hard to spot, given how little they depart from the regimes’ own perspectives. For instance, in discussing an upcoming UN vote concerning Chile, the memo’s authors explain that “the Chileans will be interested in the US vote on the UN Human Rights Committee’s attempt to provide funds to ‘victims’ of Chilean human rights violations.” The word “victims” surrounded by quotation marks stands out as an inadvertent revelation, suggesting the authors’ skepticism as to the status of these individuals, then denounced as terrorists by regime sympathizers.

The authors then turn to broader Chilean frustrations with the US, noting that Chile’s leaders

…believe that there is a small coterie in Washington that is actively working to undermine the Pinochet regime. They find it incomprehensible that the US does not realize that the stringent government controls in Chile were a necessary course of action after the overthrow of the Marxist Allende regime.

By “stringent government controls,” the authors mean, of course, the extrajudicial execution of some 3,000 and the torture of many thousands more.

Such abuses, however, are never enumerated in the report. Instead, the authors include list after eulogistic list of the many human rights improvements made by these regimes in recent years. These improvements are the only exception to the otherwise unfailingly negative tone of the memo. Indeed, while Southern Cone states are clearly upset about Carter’s approach to diplomacy,

This does not mean that US human rights policy has had a completely negative impact on the area. On the contrary, police and military officials in these countries are now sensitized to human rights considerations. Every chief of state in the area claims to have made clear to his subordinates that torture and arbitrary arrest will no longer be tolerated. All of these countries have shown general improvement during the past year in their treatment of prisoners.

The CIA has eyes and ears across the continent; while it can report honesty that every regional leader now “claims” to have told police and military officials to stop torturing, it cannot possibly have believed that these statements carried the weight of truth. Yet rather than question these purported advances, the authors find an altogether distinct concern to raise. Southern Cone governments feel, they explain, that “these improvements go unacknowledged by Washington, and moreover, the torrent of criticism, adversary treatment, and antagonistic US legislation has continued.” The implication is clear; Congressional Democrats and the White House need to reward “these improvements” by loosening human rights-based restrictions and drawing valuable allies closer to the US.

The worldview undergirding this implication comes most clearly into focus in the report’s most fascinating section, “Public Views of US Policies.” While conceding the difficulty of getting an accurate view of public sentiment in the Southern Cone, the authors nonetheless claim that “most citizens seem to support the military governments; the rest are either unconcerned with politics or belong to a declared opposition.”“Judging from newspaper commentary and personal conversations,” moreover, “US human rights policy has had little impact on the general populace.”

This characterization of public sentiments may indeed by correct; what little research has been done on the question suggests that the region’s dictatorships did indeed enjoy substantial popular backing, especially from the middle and upper classes. Yet the CIA memo includes no discussion of the factors that could have contributed to such sentiments, questions of great relevance to US policymaking. Southern Cone dictatorships worked hard to exaggerate the threat posed by armed insurgents already decimated by repression, limit access to information concerning abuses, and terrify those who might think to step out of line and publicly criticize the regime. Those who dared to do so nonetheless receive no credit in the CIA’s discussion of “public views”; instead, they are cast uniformly — and suspiciously — as members of the “declared opposition.” Indeed, the authors continue, “some political groups that have long opposed the various governments and other groups representing civil and human rights causes have used the policy to air their own specific grievances. Liberal clergy have also cited the policy as being similar to their own programs.” If you’re familiar with the CIA of the 1970s, you’ll know that dissent is only celebrated east of the Iron Curtain, and “liberal clergy” is a phrase never uttered admiringly. The implicit criticism of these characterizations is echoed later in the report, in the authors’ contention that Chile’s longstanding opposition political parties “view US human rights policy as made to order for their own campaign against the government.”

“Their own campaign,” “declared opposition” — these are phrases designed to emphasize that by failing to appreciate the complex political realities of the Southern Cone, Carter is playing the stooge, allowing the US to serve the interests of those who aren’t likely to put Washington’s needs front and center. Reading this sustained but ingeniously packages assault on the coherence and effectiveness of Carter’s human rights policy, I can’t help but wonder: when its authors note, toward the middle of the report, a “growing opinion in Brazil that the US has lost or is losing its resolve and even some of its capacity as a world power,” might they really have meant to say, in the CIA?

Southern Cone Perceptions

Medical Complicity in US State Torture

Last week, M. Gregg Bloche, a doctor and professor of law at Georgetown, published a compelling op-ed in the Times. Drawing on recently declassified government documents, Bloche shows that US doctors employed by the CIA played an active role in the design and implementation of state torture after September 11, 2001. With the president-elect still unsure about his preferred approach to interrogation — the leading possibilities range from “bring[ing] back a hell of a lot worse than waterboarding” to giving detainees “a pack of cigarettes and a couple of beers” — the piece could hardly be more timely.

Sadly, the CIA’s torture doctors do not stand alone among medical professionals. We’ve known for years that psychologists on government contracts designed the torture program, and that doctors were present to regulate torture. Moreover, an American Psychological Association report released last year showed that individuals at the highest level of the profession (and the APA) worked to shield “enhanced interrogation” from criticism.

What is new in Bloche’s op-ed is the confirmation of doctors’ willingness to go above and beyond the practices ruled “legal” by the Bush Justice Department’s infamous torture memos. The premise is, on its face, absurd; international legal instruments from the Geneva Conventions to the Convention Against Torture leave no room for practices like simulated drowning and sleep deprivation. Yet the Justice Department did claim that these practices were allowed. Nonetheless, Bloche’s CIA doctors refused even this cellophane cover, pursuing waterboarding in such a way as to make it “more terrifying and dangerous than what government lawyers permitted.” (Indeed, these doctors turned the practice from a simulation of drowning into the real thing.)

Reading all of this left me frustrated and surprised, though not for the reasons one might expect. Yes, the Hippocratic Oath demands that doctors do no harm, but in each of the instances of systematic torture that I have studied, psychologists were critical to the development of “scientific” torture, and doctors helped to calibrate and respond to the deliberate infliction of pain in order to ensure maximal distress while keeping their victims alive. Likewise, US doctors may have exceeded the bounds of the officially approved torture program, but this too is a constitutive aspect of systematic torture. Indeed, any centrally planned apparatus of state repression presumes to operate within limits, yet in practice such “controls” never last long. Even the CIA has recognized as much. Its 1983 Human Resources Exploitation Training Manual, used across Latin America, included, along with instruction in “coercive interrogation,” this warning: “The routine use of torture lowers the moral caliber of the organization that uses it and corrupts those that rely on it.”

No, the real surprises in Bloche’s op-ed were altogether more depressing. The first isn’t news, but still worth underscoring: it is shocking that the Bush administration opted to bring so many outside experts, namely lawyers and psychologists, into its torture program. If the Justice Department and the APA hadn’t gotten involved, and CIA interrogators and doctors had been left to run it alone, I suspect we’d know as much about this latest round of “coercive interrogation” as we do about the prior half-century of US state torture. Whatever approach Trump ultimately alights on, I’m confident he won’t make this particular mistake.

The same cannot be said for the CIA’s doctors and other operatives, however. Since the first revelations, in the early 2000s, of US detainee treatment in Iraq, there has been no legal accountability for those implicated in the design and execution of torture. Indeed, few have even called for them to be tried. Violators of international law and the most elemental norms of decency, then, have suffered few adverse consequences beyond those imposed by their own consciences. This abandonment of accountability extends to Bloche’s op-ed as well, and in the process it demands a logical leap so large that it sails clear beyond the page. After spending sixteen paragraphs carefully outlining the horrific and (even under the loosest, torture-memo-iest interpretation of US law) illegal behavior of these doctors, Bloche concludes his piece with this call:

“An independent inquiry into what those physicians did and how they lost their ethical moorings is vital. So are clear lines between acceptable and improper use of medical expertise for national security purposes. The law of armed conflict sets standards for access to medical care for detainees, and clinical assessment is a potent tool for detecting abuse.

“Meanwhile, it’s urgent that American medicine sends a powerful, public message to President-elect Trump that there can be no place for medical participation in the engineering of cruelty, even in clandestine service to the nation. And it’s critical that C.I.A. and military doctors heed this message, even if they must defy orders to the contrary.”

Independent inquiries are all well and good, but how will we draw “clear lines” without acknowledging a cut-and-dry violation of the law? And how can we argue with a straight face that there “can be no place for medical participation in the engineering of cruelty,” when Bloche has just devoted 800 words to demonstrating the opposite?

In a remarkable twist of fate, the very day after reading Bloche’s piece in the Times, I came across this news clipping at Chile’s Museo de la Memoria y los Derechos Humanos:

Version 2

It’s a special October 1986 issue of the Chilean newspaper La Hora, about torture in Uruguay. The headline reads, “The Complicity of Military Doctors in Torture was Systematic and Extensive.” It’s a translation of an article published earlier that year in the prestigious Journal of the American Medical Association by — wait for it — M. Gregg Bloche! After reviewing the evidence for medical participation in widespread state torture under Uruguay’s 1973-1985 dictatorship, Bloche 1986 concludes by reflecting on the individual responsibilities of physicians to denounce torture, and by endorsing efforts by Uruguay’s then-president and its medical community to cast those responsible out of the profession. It’s a far cry from full legal accountability, but it’s much more than Bloche 2016 is calling for here in the US, today.

Reading Bloche 1986 tempts me to invert one of Bloche 2016’s more striking phrases. If history teaches us anything hopeful about the relationship of medicine to torture, it is not that there can be no medical participation in the engineering of cruelty. Instead, it’s that there can be no engineering of cruelty without medical participation. So let’s revoke some medical licenses — or better still, let’s put some doctors in jail.

December 1978: Uruguayan Torturers Commemorate Human Rights Month

Researching torture and counterinsurgency produces plenty of through-the-looking-glass moments, but this morning has yielded one striking enough to warrant a quick report. In the 1970s, during Uruguay’s civil-military dictatorship, the country’s authorities found themselves inundated with requests for information concerning the thousands of detainees being held by the executive under the arbitrary authority granted by the country’s ongoing “state of internal war.” To streamline its responses to these requests, the state created a pair of offices named in Newspeak: the Oficina de Información de Personas (haven’t yet figured out how to render reasonably in English, but you get the idea), and the Comisión de Respeto de los Derechos Individuales, or Commission for the Respect of Individual Rights.  The latter of these two released periodic reports containing information about particular detainees, in a demonstration of the regime’s commitment to the vigorous protection of their “individual rights.” “How remarkably discordant,” you might be saying to yourself — but wait! Check out the header on this report, issued in December 1978*:

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That’s right — it’s December 1978, time for the propaganda arm of a regime responsible for the torture of thousands to commemorate the Month of the 30th Anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights! If 1968 was the International Year for Human Rights, it seems, then 1978 was the International Year for the Appropriation of Human Rights in Defense of Violent Dictatorship. (C.f. Argentina’s “Los argentinos somos derechos y humanos” campaign of that same year.)

While efforts like these may seem absurd to the point of parody, to my mind they offer two striking reminders of the ambiguity of “human rights” as the concept moved forcefully onto the global stage. First, international human rights advocacy was undoubtedly changing the rules of the game for state repression, prompting behavioral modifications by violent dictatorships like those of Uruguay and Argentina. But these changes were not always for the better, as illustrated by ramped-up information control in both countries, and by Argentina’s newfound preference for extermination over detention. Second, in the late 1970s, it was still far from clear what the emergent global human rights regime would look like. Anti-communist dictatorships like Uruguay’s genuinely believed themselves to be the true defenders of fundamental individual rights against the murderous totalitarianism of the left, and they made every effort to wrest the human rights mantle from their enemies.

The rise of international human rights, at least in South America’s Southern Cone, doesn’t reflect a new alternative to political struggle. Instead, it demands a nuanced look at the retrospectively strange, even mind-boggling, forms that political violence, and its justification, came to assume in the era of counterinsurgency and human rights.

[*The report is taken from the Universidad de la República’s remarkable 2008 Investigación histórica sobre la dictadura y el terrorismo de estado en el Uruguay, available here.]

The Amazing Generosity of Academic Research in Brazil

More than two weeks have passed since I arrived in São Paulo, marking this afternoon as high time for the first of what I promised would be many updates punctuating a year and a half of primary research abroad. Fortunately for the world’s stock of optimism, today’s brief note brims with nothing but positivity for what I have experienced so far here in Brazil. (And with the infestation of fleas that greeted me at my first Sampa apartment rental still rather fresh in my mind, this is perhaps a stronger statement than might, on its face, be apparent.)

In fairness, I fell in love with this country on my first archival visit to Rio and São Paulo in the (northern) summer of 2014, so the joys of these two weeks have come as little surprise. And any country that brings together tropical fruit, strong coffee, and top-notch Levantine dips is running strong out of the gate.

See what I mean?
See what I mean?

Nonetheless, I have been bowled over by the truly spectacular generosity of the professors and graduate students whom I have met in this decidedly more focused phase of research. In only two weeks, I have received two invitations to lunch, one to dinner, another to a senior scholar’s birthday party, an MA thesis’ worth of bibliographic references, a standing offer for a ride to the University of Campinas (a graduate-focused university an hour and a half outside the city, with which I am affiliated here), and more emails of introduction than I can count on two hands. That these many kindnesses have been extended against the backdrop of this country’s stomach-churning, and ever-deepening, slow-motion coup has only strengthened my sense that I am, at present, exactly where I ought to be.

More soon on the research itself. For now, though, just a small expression of gratitude for the bounteous magnanimity that makes this work not simply possible, but a pleasure.

(Throw)Back to BA

As I prepare to head back to South America for dissertation research (I will be in Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay, Paraguay, and Chile from September 2016 through February 2018), I’m reminded of the last long stint I spent there. From 2010 to 2013, I lived, worked, and studied in Buenos Aires. Though not without their challenges, these three years were an amazing time in my life, bursting with art, nature, and more new experiences than I could possibly have deserved. More than a few of these memories have been captured in pixels on the previous iteration of my blog, which is still hanging around at comoelpulpo.wordpress.com. (The name, by the way, is a reference to Pulpo Paul, the clairvoyant German octopus who captured Argentina’s imagination with his creepily accurate 2010 World Cup predictions.) The blog’s replete with long-form stories about pop-up street art shows, quick notes about fun (once-)new music, and even a celebrity sighting or two. If you’re inclined to join me on a trip back in time, please do poke around.