Written by: Ailsa Namira Imani, Staff of Literacy and Writing Division LK2 FHUI.
“…Crime is something relative; it’s something the government defines and re-defines whenever it pleases.”
Mohamedou Ould Slahi, Guantánamo Diary
This book is far from ordinary,
One reason, out of multitudes of them, is that this book used to be a top-secret transcript. Aside from that, it was written in the most ominous of circumstances. Initially handwritten in the summer and fall of 2005, Guantánamo Diary was penned by Mohamedou Ould Slahi, in a tiny prison cell of the infamous high-security detention camp, Guantánamo Bay.
Guantanàmo Bay, abbreviated as GTMO (pronounced ‘Gitmo’), is a military prison located inside the United States’ military base in Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. The facility was established in 2002 by the Bush administration for detainees taken in from President Bush’s so-called ‘war on terror’ (Bundcombe 2016). This ‘war on terror’ was initiated as a response towards the 9/11 attacks that hit the United States in September 2001.
The nature of its formation as described by the Bush administration seemingly marks Guantanamo Bay as a place for the most despicable of individuals; however, the programs that are held within the facility is, to say the utter least, despicable in itself. Amnesty International has condemned Guantánamo Bay and its immoral practices, which included arbitrary detentions and ‘enhanced interrogation techniques’ involving the most brutal types of torture. All of this is approved, enclosed in a ‘list of techniques’, directly by the US Secretary of Defense (Bravin 2004). In addition, comprehensive data from the New York Times also show that the majority of the roughly 780 detainees that have been held there have not been charged with any crimes, whereas indefinite detention without trials are banned according to the Geneva Conventions (Koren 2016).
Slahi had been alleged to be a part of al-Qaeda, and also contributing to the 9/11 attacks and the so-called Millennium Plot to attack Los Angeles’s airport. Slahi had applied for a writ of habeas corpus, demanding the US courts to show him a legitimate reason for his imprisonment. These allegations were later found to not have any substantial evidence. In 2010, a federal judge had ruled that there was no legitimate proof of him being involved in al-Qaeda, and that Slahi can no longer be detained (ACLU 2016).
But Slahi was not released immediately after the ruling; he remained in the facility and went through said forms of torture for the better part of a decade, without facing any charges. It is in Guantánamo Diary that Slahi, who has been dubbed the ‘most tortured man in Guantanamo’, recounted his experience.
The beginning parts of the book weaves Slahi’s life before he was taken in to GTMO: he was an IT engineer respected and trusted by his colleagues and clients; he lived in Germany, and afterwards briefly resided in Canada with his wife to pursue his studies and a career.
After twelve years living abroad, Slahi returned to live in his homeland, Mauritania. Slahi decided to leave Canada because he sensed that he was being watched by the police, saying “the US had pitted their security services on me”. In one passage, he recounted how he found a hole in his shared apartment, which was used to insert a small camera inside. Unnerved by the surveillance, Slahi decided to move away from Canada and return back home – a decision he later regretted: “Being watched is better than being put in jail, I realize now…”
Slahi embarked on a 5-hour flight from Montreal to Dakar, went through all immigration formalities at the local airport, met his brother at the front gate of the airport – only to be suddenly arrested: “As we crossed the road, I honestly cannot describe what happened to me… in less than a second my hands were shackled… I was encircled by a bunch of ghosts who cut me off from the rest of my company.”
This first arrest in Senegal marked the beginning of what he called an “endless world tour” of detention and interrogation. In an intertwined series of events, the local Mauritanian police summoned him multiple times, before Slahi was taken in and then forcefully escorted to several countries – Jordan, Afghanistan – before finally being flown and admitted to GTMO in Cuba.
Later passages in the book describe the vexing ordeals Slahi experienced in Guantánamo Bay. He recounts conversations with the various interrogators he encountered during his ‘reservations’ (a code, Slahi described, to denote interrogation sessions), and describes the torture techniques he had to endure. The methods used were varied; some were physical (such as waterboarding – intended to simulate drowning), some were psychological (intense lights and sounds, forced nudity, sexual abuse) – but all were very harsh, explicit, and intended to stir off its subjects.
Slahi described every moment in riveting detail, from the mundane to the momentous occasions. Editor Larry Siems recognized Slahi’s talent for prose, and also noted his ability to bring out the humane traits in every person he encounters and interacts with in the facility – to fellow inmates, to guards, and even towards the people who tortured him. It’s incredible to see that Slahi was still able to see the good within those moments of distress.
Slahi’s accounts are not only daunting; it also poses some very serious questions. What is exactly the purpose of the criminal justice system? Is it to punish, to rehabilitate, to protect, or to deter? Are these acts of enhanced interrogation techniques and indefinite detention within its capacity of authority? Aren’t incarcerations without indictments unlawful?
The Bush administration argued that international laws do not apply for “these unlawful enemy combatants” (Koren ibid.). Is this rightly the case? Does the end goal of winning the ‘war on terror’ ineludibly justify the means?
It becomes clear that the system that takes place in Guantánamo Bay undermines representation of prisoners’ rights. From Slahi’s own accounts in Guantánamo Diary, it can be seen in the way he and other inmates are treated, and how it is very difficult for them to even demand basic necessities that are rightfully theirs. Many inmates have protested in the little ways they can; inmates in Guàntanamo Bay have held hunger strikes, and some have been force-fed liquid nutrients through nasal passages (Koren ibid.).
Of the roughly 780 people that have been incarcerated in Guantánamo Bay, only 80 now remain (Koren ibid.). Despite the poor record it has brought upon itself, efforts to close down Guantánamo Bay have been futile. Former US president Barack Obama had made it one of his promises during his 2008 presidential campaign, however he did not manage to do so before he stepped down last year. It remains open, costing over four hundred million dollars to run in 2015 alone (Bruck 2016).
Guantánamo Diary serves as a very important record, a telling witness. In light of recent events and developments – of the increased alarm of terrorism, of the amplified use of racial profiling, of controversial policies surrounding global security and international prosecution – Guantánamo Diary is an important book to read, to catch a glimpse of how such policies impact the world, especially the people who are most affected – or, one should say, tied up in its web.
And even with the publishing of this previously classified manuscript, many parts of the book are still in the dark. Another distinctive feature of this book is its numerous redactions; words, phrases, paragraphs, even a few whole pages replaced by thick black lines, covering possibly essential details – names, places, dates, contexts, even certain parts purposefully censored by the US government.
As I learn that Mohamedou Ould Slahi had been released on October 2016 (ACLU op.cit.), I personally wait for the moment Slahi re-publishes this book, and fill in the gaps of what is to be an important story of our times.