by TASSC International
November 7, 2007, 4:21 pm

Torture survivors stood outside the committee room for nearly two hours, waiting for the doors to open that would usher us into the presence of the Judiciary Committee.  There, committee members would cast their votes for or against torture.  They may have substituted the name Mukasey, but the subject was torture.

The doors opened.  Reporters were let in. A staff person went up and down our line inviting any senate staffer who happened to be in the vicinity to enter.  Many did, some perhaps with special guests in tow.  Finally, it was our turn—the public's turn to enter, to be witness to this public committee meeting.

The first nine in the long line were allowed to enter, including four of us who were survivors.   Then abruptly all was stopped.  More survivors were in line but they and all the rest were told the room was "absolutely filled."  No one else might enter.  Sorry.  They were invited to go to the TV room where they might watch the proceedings.  One of the survivors replied, "I didn't come here to watch TV." And so, many remained in line, remained to see twenty-three more  "special" persons admitted to the absolutely filled room.   

I was one of the lucky ones, or so, some might say.  Although others might think it strange, I brought a companion into that room.  I brought faith, a faith that finally for the first time since the Bush administration began torturing, Congress would say, "No more."  We four survivors, witnesses-to-be in a struggle over torture prayed for a miracle.  Specter, Graham, Schumer, Feinstein, surely they understood torture. Surely they would not vote for it.  But of course, they did.

No miracle happened there. Faith is a fragile thing, easily torn much like the fingernails torturers tear from a young child. All hope that for once, Congress would stand against torture ended in the ayes and nays—some barely audible, some strong and proud.  Republicans, one after another "aye."  Democrats, Leahy, "nay." Kennedy, "nay," Biden, "nay," Feinstein, "aye," Schumer, "aye."   The deed is done.   No matter how they try to mask it, torture wins, 11-8.

With each "aye," my thoughts turned to Nasim, a former law student from Ethiopia.   With each "aye," it was as if I were witness to the forcing of her head into feces-filled water—every gasping breath she took.   The final count …11-8.  Mukasey, the man who cannot say whether waterboarding is torture, who does not even know what it is, if he is to be believed, is in line to become the next U.S. attorney general.  Those who voted for torture have recommended his nomination to the full Senate. 

Did those who cast a vote for Mukasey give any thought to what their actions mean to torture survivors—to those of us who live with the remnants of our torture day after day?  We do not have the luxury of trading our torture for some political advantage.  Those who voted for torture will go unconcerned to their dinners and cocktail parties, while we go home to our nightmares. 

By Dianna Ortiz

Subjects: Congress | Justice Department | Survivor's Voices

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