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09/17/06
U.S.
wartime prison network grows into legal vacuum for 14,000
By PATRICK QUINN
Associated Press Writer
BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) -- In the few short years since the first
shackled Afghan shuffled off to Guantanamo, the U.S. military
has created a global network of overseas prisons, its islands
of high security keeping 14,000 detainees beyond the reach
of established law.
Disclosures of torture and long-term arbitrary detentions
have won rebuke from leading voices including the U.N. secretary-general
and the U.S. Supreme Court. But the bitterest words come from
inside the system, the size of several major U.S. penitentiaries.
"It was hard to believe I'd get out," Baghdad shopkeeper
Amjad Qassim al-Aliyawi told The Associated Press after his
release -- without charge -- last month. "I lived with
the Americans for one year and eight months as if I was living
in hell."
Captured on battlefields, pulled from beds at midnight, grabbed
off streets as suspected insurgents, tens of thousands now
have passed through U.S. detention, the vast majority in Iraq.
Many say they were caught up in U.S. military sweeps, often
interrogated around the clock, then released months or years
later without apology, compensation or any word on why they
were taken. Seventy to 90 percent of the Iraq detentions in
2003 were "mistakes," U.S. officers once told the
international Red Cross.
Defenders of the system, which has only grown since soldiers'
photos of abuse at Abu Ghraib shocked the world, say it's
an unfortunate necessity in the battles to pacify Iraq and
Afghanistan, and to keep suspected terrorists out of action.
Every U.S. detainee in Iraq "is detained because he poses
a security threat to the government of Iraq, the people of
Iraq or coalition forces," said U.S. Army Lt. Col. Keir-Kevin
Curry, a spokesman for U.S.-led military detainee operations
in Iraq.
But dozens of ex-detainees, government ministers, lawmakers,
human rights activists, lawyers and scholars in Iraq, Afghanistan
and the United States said the detention system often is unjust
and hurts the war on terror by inflaming anti-Americanism
in Iraq and elsewhere.
Building for the Long Term
Reports of extreme physical and mental abuse, symbolized by
the notorious Abu Ghraib prison photos of 2004, have abated
as the Pentagon has rejected torture-like treatment of the
inmates. Most recently, on Sept. 6, the Pentagon issued a
new interrogation manual banning forced nakedness, hooding,
stress positions and other abusive techniques.
The same day, President Bush said the CIA's secret outposts
in the prison network had been emptied, and 14 terror suspects
from them sent to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, to face trial in military
tribunals. The U.S. Supreme Court has struck down the tribunal
system, however, and the White House and Congress are now
wrestling over the legal structure of such trials.
Living conditions for detainees may be improving as well.
The U.S. military cites the toilets of Bagram, Afghanistan:
In a cavernous old building at that air base, hundreds of
detainees in their communal cages now have indoor plumbing
and privacy screens, instead of exposed chamber pots.
Whatever the progress, small or significant, grim realities
persist.
Human rights groups count dozens of detainee deaths for which
no one has been punished or that were never explained. The
secret prisons -- unknown in number and location -- remain
available for future detainees. The new manual banning torture
doesn't cover CIA interrogators. And thousands of people still
languish in a limbo, deprived of one of common law's oldest
rights, habeas corpus, the right to know why you are imprisoned.
"If you, God forbid, are an innocent Afghan who gets
sold down the river by some warlord rival, you can end up
at Bagram and you have absolutely no way of clearing your
name," said John Sifton of Human Rights Watch in New
York. "You can't have a lawyer present evidence, or do
anything organized to get yourself out of there."
The U.S. government has contended it can hold detainees until
the "war on terror" ends -- as it determines.
"I don't think we've gotten to the question of how long,"
said retired admiral John D. Hutson, former top lawyer for
the U.S. Navy. "When we get up to 'forever,' I think
it will be tested" in court, he said.
The Navy is planning long-term at Guantanamo. This fall it
expects to open a new, $30-million maximum-security wing at
its prison complex there, a concrete-and-steel structure replacing
more temporary camps.
In Iraq, Army jailers are a step ahead. Last month they opened
a $60-million, state-of-the-art detention center at Camp Cropper,
near Baghdad's airport. The Army oversees about 13,000 prisoners
in Iraq at Cropper, Camp Bucca in the southern desert, and
Fort Suse in the Kurdish north.
Neither prisoners of war nor criminal defendants, they are
just "security detainees" held "for imperative
reasons of security," spokesman Curry said, using language
from an annex to a U.N. Security Council resolution authorizing
the U.S. presence here.
Questions of Law, Sovereignty
President Bush laid out the U.S. position in a speech Sept.
6.
"These are enemy combatants who are waging war on our
nation," he said. "We have a right under the laws
of war, and we have an obligation to the American people,
to detain these enemies and stop them from rejoining the battle."
But others say there's no need to hold these thousands outside
of the rules for prisoners of war established by the Geneva
Conventions.
U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan declared last March that
the extent of arbitrary detention here is "not consistent
with provisions of international law governing internment
on imperative reasons of security."
Meanwhile, officials of Nouri al-Maliki's 4-month-old Iraqi
government say the U.S. detention system violates Iraq's national
rights.
"As long as sovereignty has transferred to Iraqi hands,
the Americans have no right to detain any Iraqi person,"
said Fadhil al-Sharaa, an aide to the prime minister. "The
detention should be conducted only with the permission of
the Iraqi judiciary."
At the Justice Ministry, Deputy Minister Busho Ibrahim told
AP it has been "a daily request" that the detainees
be brought under Iraqi authority.
There's no guarantee the Americans' 13,000 detainees would
fare better under control of the Iraqi government, which U.N.
officials say holds 15,000 prisoners.
But little has changed because of these requests. When the
Americans formally turned over Abu Ghraib prison to Iraqi
control on Sept. 2, it was empty but its 3,000 prisoners remained
in U.S. custody, shifted to Camp Cropper.
Life in Custody
The cases of U.S.-detained Iraqis are reviewed by a committee
of U.S. military and Iraqi government officials. The panel
recommends criminal charges against some, release for others.
As of Sept. 9, the Central Criminal Court of Iraq had put
1,445 on trial, convicting 1,252. In the last week of August,
for example, 38 were sentenced on charges ranging from illegal
weapons possession to murder, for the shooting of a U.S. Marine.
Almost 18,700 have been released since June 2004, the U.S.
command says, not including many more who were held and then
freed by local military units and never shipped to major prisons.
Some who were released, no longer considered a threat, later
joined or rejoined the insurgency.
The review process is too slow, say U.N. officials. Until
they are released, often families don't know where their men
are -- the prisoners are usually men -- or even whether they're
in American hands.
Ex-detainee Mouayad Yasin Hassan, 31, seized in April 2004
as a suspected Sunni Muslim insurgent, said he wasn't allowed
to obtain a lawyer or contact his family during 13 months
at Abu Ghraib and Bucca, where he was interrogated incessantly.
When he asked why he was in prison, he said, the answer was,
"We keep you for security reasons."
Another released prisoner, Waleed Abdul Karim, 26, recounted
how his guards would wield their absolute authority.
"Tell us about the ones who attack Americans in your
neighborhood," he quoted an interrogator as saying, "or
I will keep you in prison for another 50 years."
As with others, Karim's confinement may simply have strengthened
support for the anti-U.S. resistance. "I will hate Americans
for the rest of my life," he said.
As bleak and hidden as the Iraq lockups are, the Afghan situation
is even less known. Accounts of abuse and deaths emerged in
2002-2004, but if Abu Ghraib-like photos from Bagram exist,
none have leaked out. The U.S. military is believed holding
about 500 detainees -- most Afghans, but also apparently Arabs,
Pakistanis and Central Asians.
The United States plans to cede control of its Afghan detainees
by early next year, five years after invading Afghanistan
to eliminate al-Qaida's base and bring down the Taliban government.
Meanwhile, the prisoners of Bagram exist in a legal vacuum
like that elsewhere in the U.S. detention network.
"There's been a silence about Bagram, and much less political
discussion about it," said Richard Bennett, chief U.N.
human rights officer in Afghanistan.
Freed detainees tell how in cages of 16 inmates they are forbidden
to speak to each other. They wear the same orange jumpsuits
and shaven heads as the terrorist suspects at Guantanamo,
but lack even the scant legal rights granted inmates at that
Cuba base. In some cases, they have been held without charge
for three to four years, rights workers say.
Guantanamo received its first prisoners from Afghanistan --
chained, wearing blacked-out goggles -- in January 2002. A
total of 770 detainees were sent there. Its population today
of Afghans, Arabs and others, stands at 455.
Described as the
most dangerous of America's "war on terror" prisoners,
only 10 of the Guantanamo inmates have been charged with crimes.
Charges are expected against 14 other al-Qaida suspects flown
in to Guantanamo from secret prisons on Sept. 4.
Plans for their trials are on hold, however, because of a
Supreme Court ruling in June against the Bush administration's
plan for military tribunals.
The court held the tribunals were not authorized by the U.S.
Congress and violated the Geneva Conventions by abrogating
prisoners' rights. In a sometimes contentious debate, the
White House and Congress are trying to agree on a new, acceptable
trial plan.
Since the court decision, and after four years of confusing
claims that terrorist suspects were so-called "unlawful
combatants" unprotected by international law, the Bush
administration has taken steps recognizing that the Geneva
Conventions' legal and human rights do extend to imprisoned
al-Qaida militants. At the same time, however, the new White
House proposal on tribunals retains such controversial features
as denying defendants access to some evidence against them.
In his Sept. 6 speech, Bush acknowledged for the first time
the existence of the CIA's secret prisons, believed established
at military bases or safehouses in such places as Egypt, Indonesia
and eastern Europe. That network, uncovered by journalists,
had been condemned by U.N. authorities and investigated by
the Council of Europe.
The clandestine jails are now empty, Bush announced, but will
remain a future option for CIA detentions and interrogation.
Louise Arbour, U.N. human rights chief, is urging Bush to
abolish the CIA prisons altogether, as ripe for "abusive
conduct." The CIA's techniques for extracting information
from prisoners still remain secret, she noted.
Meanwhile, the U.S. government's willingness to resort to
"extraordinary rendition," transferring suspects
to other nations where they might be tortured, appears unchanged.
Prosecutions and Memories
The exposure of sadistic abuse, torture and death at Abu Ghraib
two years ago touched off a flood of courts-martial of mostly
lower-ranking U.S. soldiers. Overall, about 800 investigations
of alleged detainee mistreatment in Iraq and Afghanistan have
led to action against more than 250 service personnel, including
89 convicted at courts-martial, U.S. diplomats told the United
Nations in May.
Critics protest that penalties have been too soft and too
little has been done, particularly in tracing inhumane interrogation
methods from the far-flung islands of the overseas prison
system back to policies set by high-ranking officials.
In only 14 of 34 cases has anyone been punished for the confirmed
or suspected killings of detainees, the New York-based Human
Rights First reports. The stiffest sentence in a torture-related
death has been five months in jail. The group reported last
February that in almost half of 98 detainee deaths, the cause
was either never announced or reported as undetermined.
Looking back, the United States overreacted in its treatment
of detainees after Sept. 11, said Anne-Marie Slaughter, a
noted American scholar of international law.
It was understandable, the Princeton University dean said,
but now "we have to restore a balance between security
and rights that is consistent with who we are and consistent
with our security needs."
Otherwise, she said, "history will look back and say
that we took a dangerous and deeply wrong turn."
Back here in Baghdad, at the Alawi bus station, a gritty,
noisy hub far from the meeting rooms of Washington and Geneva,
women gather with fading hopes whenever a new prisoner release
is announced.
As she watched one recent day for a bus from distant Camp
Bucca, one mother wept and told her story.
"The Americans arrested my son, my brother and his friend,"
said Zahraa Alyat, 42. "The Americans arrested them October
16, 2005. They left together and I don't know anything about
them."
The bus pulled up. A few dozen men stepped off, some blindfolded,
some bound, none with any luggage, none with familiar faces.
As the distraught women straggled away once more, one ex-prisoner,
18-year-old Bilal Kadhim Muhssin, spotted U.S. troops nearby.
"Americans," he muttered in fear. "Oh, my God,
don't say that name," and he bolted for a city bus, and
freedom.
___
EDITOR'S NOTE -- The Associated Press staff in Baghdad and
AP writers Andrew Selsky in San Juan, Puerto Rico; Matthew
Pennington in Kabul, Afghanistan; Anne Plummer Flaherty in
Washington, and Charles J. Hanley in New York contributed
to this report.
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