Bonhoeffer, Torture, and America
By David P. Gushee,
Distinguished University Professor,
Mercer University and President of Evangelicals for Human Rights
“We begin this section by calling attention to one of the most astounding experiences we have had during the years of trial for all that was Christian. Whenever, in the face of the deification of the irrational powers of blood, of instinct, of the predator within human beings, there was an appeal to reason; whenever, in the face of arbitrariness, there was an appeal to the written law; whenever, in the face of barbarism, there was an appeal to culture and humanity; whenever, in the face of their violation, there was an appeal to freedom, tolerance, and human rights . . . then this was sufficient to evoke immediately awareness of some kind of alliance between the defenders of these threatened values and Christians.” Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Ethics (339-340).
I spent the summer immersed in the massive Fortress Press critical edition of Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Ethics. I needed Bonhoeffer. I had been licking my wounds from three years heavily engaged in the fight against torture as an official instrument of United States foreign policy. That fight, in one sense, was won on January 22, 2009, when Barack Obama signed executive orders that marked a near total repudiation of Bush-Cheney policies which had officially permitted waterboarding and other forms of brutal abuse toward prisoners.
But before one could breathe a sigh of relief, the counterattack began. Led by former Vice President Cheney, President Obama was charged with endangering national security by taking such “valuable tools” as waterboarding and wall slamming out of the “interrogation” repertoire of the CIA. President Obama has not changed course, but the counterattacks have had their effect. Spring 2009 polling by Pew revealed that half of the American public said torture of terrorists could “often” or “sometimes” be justified, with only 25% saying it could never be justified.
These results were bad enough. But what made them worse was that support for torture was positively correlated with religiosity, especially evangelical religiosity. Sixty-two percent of white evangelical Protestants supported torture often or sometimes, with only 16% of this group answering Never to torture. These results were higher than any other religious group and far higher than non-churchgoing secularists.
After the poll created a stir, Pew comforted us with the reminder that “Religion is only one of many factors correlated with views on the justifiability of torture . . . [Political] party and ideology are much better predictors of views on torture than are religion and most other demographic factors.” Basically, two-thirds of Republicans support torture as opposed to roughly one-third of Democrats. Because most white evangelicals are Republicans, most support torture. So the problem, if it is a problem, isn’t really religion.
Forgive me if I am not particularly comforted by this caveat. I somehow think that commitment to Jesus Christ, and grounding in the resources of Scripture and Christian faith, ought to function as the primary source of moral discernment for self-identified Christian people. And somehow it ought to be possible to move from commitment to Jesus Christ to unequivocal opposition to torture. In various ways over these years, I and others have sought to make this case.
While our side has won some victories and gained key supporters, we have to face the fact that despite everything, if a president announced today that it was time to start torturing again, three-fifths of my co-religionists would support such a decision. We haven’t won the argument about torture in our own faith community. This president will not authorize torture. But the next one might, and would find considerable support from the crowds who gather to sing “Amazing Grace” on Sundays.
This brings me back to the quote from Bonhoeffer with which I opened this reflection. Reading it brought to mind the many wonderful human beings and organizations I have encountered as allies in this fight against the descent into legally-sanctioned torture. While the Christian Right remained silent or supported torture; while the Christian “street” acquiesced in or supported torture; while the media engaged in he said/she said debates about the effectiveness of torture, these other people simply said a clear no.
I have met people I consider heroes. I applaud lawyers like Mark Denbeaux, John Chandler, Gita Gutierrez, and Tom Wilner, all of whom have represented Guantanamo detainees. I honor those who work with and for victims at the Center for Victims of Torture. I honor Jewish leaders like Rabbi Charles Feinberg and Rachel Kahn-Troster of Rabbis for Human Rights, and Muslim leaders like Yahya Hendi, and Mohamed Elsanousi of the Islamic Society of North America. I honor intrepid scholars and writers like Karen Greenberg, Jane Mayer, and Mark Danner, who have told us the truth when no one else would. I honor retired military leaders like John Hutson, Don Guter and Steve Xenakis who said no to torture at the time and today. I honor the human rights bulldogs at places like Human Rights First, the ACLU, and the Open Society Institute.
And so, to rework Bonhoeffer: I call attention to some astounding experiences we have had during the years of trial and Christian apostasy. Whenever, in the face of the deification of nation, security, and the Way of Jack Bauer; whenever there was an appeal to reason, to international law, or American law before it was corrupted; to culture and humanity, to freedom, tolerance, and human rights . . . it was possible immediately to discern some kind of alliance between the often “secular” defenders of these threatened values and to that minority of Christians who saw such values as an aspect of their own faith.
