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Guantánamo: no more words, its time to act on US torture
Una Mullally



FIVE years ago, 20 men, hooded and shackled were smuggled into a makeshift prison camp in an American naval base in Guantánamo Bay on the south-eastern tip of the island of Cuba. Their crimes? Well, we weren't too sure. Gradually, the public was told that these men, in bright orange jumpsuits with dust masks over their mouths were a threat to global security. We were told that they were senior members of the Taliban and alQaeda - the former armed and supported by the US, the latter armed by proxy.

With prisoner status in limbo, the US military - as it so often does with each new wave of war - set about inventing more soft phraseology with the pupose of detracting from the sinister nature of what is being described.

These men could not be 'prisoners of war', because that would afford them rights.

So they became 'enemy combatants'. The Bush administration must think that by making up meaningless phrases that obviously aren't referred to in the Geneva Convention, they thereby omit their actions from international law. Even after the US Supreme Court ruled that detainees were entitled to the protections that much flouted convetion offers, there has been little change at the camps that make up GITMO; Camp Delta, Camp Echo and Camp Iguana (Camp X-Ray has been closed. ) In fact, expansion is inevitable.

In June 2005, the great friends of the Bush administration, Haliburton, were awarded a contract from the US Department of Defense to build a new detention centre and security fence worth $30.

As you read this, there are around 400 prisoners in Guantánamo Bay detention camp, eight of whom are British residents. None of the detainees have been brought to trial, although 70 are due to appear before military courts, despite a ruling by the US Supreme Court last June that aimed to restrict the use of such methods to try prisoners. Just 8% of those detained have been accused of fighting for a terrorist group, 10 have been charged. And most tragically, three men have killed themselves while in custody at Guantánamo Bay. 40 others have attempted suicide. The American commander in charge of GITMO saw this not as an awful articulation of depression and desperation but "an act of asymmetric warfare waged against us." No sympathy, even in death.

On the fifth anniversary of the opening of Guantánamo Bay, 9year-old Londoner Anas el-Banna reiterated his unanswered plea to British Prime Minister Tony Blair, "Why is my dad in prison? Why is he far away in that place called Guantanam bay [sic]? ! I miss my dad so much. I have not seen my dad for three years. I know my dad has not done anything because he is a good man. I hear everybody speak about my dad in a nice way. Your children spend christmas with you, but me and my brothers and sisters have spent Eid alone without our dad for three years. What do you think about that?"

His father, Jamil, was seized in Gambia, four years ago. He was accused of having a suspicious device in his luggage. That suspicious device turned out to be a battery charger. He has been refused medication for his severe diabetes and is now going blind.

Chances are, like many of the other prisoners, Jamil has had to endure torture, abuse, beatings and sexual and religious humiliation that are commonplace at the camp. And this facility is not the only one. The imagery of Guantánamo - the orange boiler suit; the crouching hooded and shackled detainee - has entered the popular consciousness, yet 14,000 more people languish in secret American detention camps around the world. This number includes those who have been subject to another US military euphamism 'rendition', and the equally nonsensical 'extraordinary rendition';

the process of handing over suspects for torture to America's less squemish allies. And this, we must remember, is a war crime with which Ireland has been complict, by allowing American war planes transporting prisoners to some of the CIA's many secret jails around the world to land and refuel at Shannon airport.

When the history books that document these crimes against humanity are read in years to come, those in the future will ask, how did we let this happen? Why did we allow innocent people to languish in illegal detention camps? In the past, history has let the general population off the hook by assuming ignorance.

How were they to know? But today, there is an abundance of information. Despite restraints on allowing journalists access to Guantánamo Bay, and despite the misinformation that the Bush administration feeds to media outlets, we still know a lot about Guantánamo. There have been countless reports published condemning the site, its treatment of so-called 'prisoners' and calling for its closure. The Internet - the largest tool of democracy in this century - buzzes with accounts of the savagery of Guantánamo Bay and its ilk. So, five years on, what do we do with this information?

Because without action, it's just words.




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