“Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Clichés are clichés, and truisms are truisms. But Lord Acton’s most famous cliché posits enough truth to cause any thinking American to tremble with fear.
When the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, most westerners rejoiced. This symbol of Soviet totalitarianism had crumbled, and freedom was singing a new song. However, a handful of those rejoicing also began to tremble. They asked, “What will become of America if it remains the lone superpower in the world? Will she muster sufficient character and courage to contain the corrosive effects of unchecked power in this new world?”
When the earlier Bush government felt compelled to send troops to Kuwait to defend its ally against the Iraqi invasion there, it achieved its basic goals. The military withdrew, encouraging the hope of other nations that we would not over-assert our power.
Then 911 happened. The appearance of invulnerability was shattered. Americans were taken hostage by fear of further attacks. Ends now could justify means, that is, if the ends in view included the preservation of American’s freedoms. And what of those means? What about a second invasion of Iraq driven by a complicated mix of incomplete espionage regarding alleged weapons of mass destruction over there, alongside a hunger for justice (vengeance?) over here. Would dubious ends justify the means of a new war? What should we do with the resulting prisoners of war? Could we extract information from them that might avert more terror-caused carnage?
Interrogation of prisoners has a storied history, with many instances producing sufficient information to avert further bloodshed. However, our government has signed international treaties that draw clear distinctions between interrogation methods considered ethical and those deemed inhumane. When our mistreatment of POWs in the Abu Ghraib Prison was caught on film, the U.S. military managed the scandal by prosecuting the hands-on perpetrators while keeping a cloak of innocence around commanding officers.
In recent months the truth about our torture of other POWs has come to light, and to our horror, it has been rationalized as a means necessary to protect the U.S. from the dangers of terrorist attack. Watch an episode or two of television’s “24” and you can see instance upon instance when a pressing threat has legitimized the protagonist’s use of wretched means of torture to extract information from a captive. Do such ends justify such means?
Pat Robertson’s recent proposal to assassinate a foreign head of state as a way to avoid military action (thereby allowing a single death to save hundreds of soldiers’ lives) illustrates the dangers inherent in our power. Immediately hit by outrage and scorn, Robertson recanted his proposal. However, few seemed to notice that he was mirroring a mentality to which we all are inclined. Has a group of folks mistreated you? Who can you blame and on whom can you exact justice? Does someone else’s possible exercise of power threaten your own use of power? None of us is innocent of the desire to choose evil means to accomplish good ends.
What’s to be done?
First, we must tremble with fear. We must name our own self-justifying “righteous indignation” for the sin that it is and resist every form of vengeance that would take root in our hearts. Second, we must fearlessly confront the sin we perpetuate ourselves along with fellow family members, fellow church members, or fellow citizens. Finally, we must take action. In the present case, today’s torture victims need us to place phone calls and send letters of protest to the president (whose administration is directly responsible for the torture) and to members of Congress (where corrective legislation has stalled). Letters to editors of local newspapers can raise others’ concern. Protests in other forms deserve consideration, too.
At a time such as this, when the corrosive effects of absolute power must be countered by character and courage in our citizenry, we do well to voice the clichés that serve as life’s truisms. Lord Acton got it right. So did Edmund Burke in his oft-quoted cliché-truism: “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”
