Thursday, July 03, 2025


The Good Intentions Road to Tyranny

July 2, 2025

Photograph by Nathaniel St. Clair

“He who saves his country violates no law,” tweeted President Trump in February. He was echoing a line often attributed to Napoleon. His supporters were electrified by Trump’s tacit invocation of a right to boundless power.

The Trump presidency is already spurring legal battles across the nation. Americans should be aware of how the judicial process and political-media culture are skewed against holding officialdom liable for its crimes.

One of the most stunning examples of federal impunity is the whitewashing of the Bush administration torture scandal. President George W. Bush unleashed a worldwide torture regime that left victims dead and maimed around the globe. But federal officials and federal judges made sure that not a single torture policymaker or CIA torturer faced any penalty for their barbarity.

Torture policymakers seemed to recognize only one possible adverse consequence from getting rough with their targets. “If the detainee dies, you’re doing it wrong,” wrote Jonathan Fredman, the top lawyer for the CIA Counterterrorist Center in 2002. A congressional hearing in June 2008 revealed that “C.I.A. lawyers believed they had found a legal loophole permitting the agency to use ‘cruel, inhuman or degrading’ methods overseas as long as they did not amount to torture,” the New York Times reported. Fredman warned other federal lawyers involved with sanctifying the interrogation regime: “If someone dies while aggressive techniques are being used, regardless of cause of death, the backlash of attention would be severely detrimental.”

The official attitude toward killing detainees was stark early on in the case of Gul Rahman. He was captured by U.S. agents in October 2002 and was suspected of being a militant. The CIA subjected Rahman to “48 hours of sleep deprivation, auditory overload, total darkness, isolation, a cold shower and rough treatment.” Rahman died in November 2002 after effectively freezing to death “after being stripped naked from the waist down and shackled to a cold cement wall in the Salt Pit, where temperatures were approximately 36°F.” Rather than face prosecution for killing Rahman, the primary CIA interrogator was recommended for a $2,500 cash award for his “consistently superior work,” according to a 2014 Senate report.

For government officials, the decisive legal question is not what federal law prohibits but what behavior will be punished. What happens when feds violate the law of the land?

Today’s legal system allows presumed good intentions to almost always exonerate the worst abuses by government officials. As long as they deny criminal intent, they will almost always be absolved by their fellow government employees.

The Intentions Test for government officials becomes almost a tautology. People work for the government because they want to help other people. Therefore, when some government official violated some legal technicality, did he intend to do something bad?

The Bush administration exploited this presumption to argue in secret memos that U.S. government agents could not be found guilty of torture regardless of their conduct. Bush-appointed lawyers showed how easily even the most aggressive interrogators could be free of a torturous intent:

“Because Section 2340 [of the federal Anti-Torture Act] requires that a defendant act with the specific intent to inflict severe pain, the infliction of such pain must be the defendant’s precise objective. If the defendant acted knowing that severe pain or suffering was reasonably likely to result from his actions, but no more, he would have acted only with general intent. As a theoretical matter, therefore, knowledge alone that a particular result is certain to occur does not constitute specific intent…. Thus, even if the defendant knows that severe pain will result from his actions, if causing such harm is not his objective, he lacks the requisite specific intent even though the defendant did not act in good faith.’

The memo offered the following illustration: “In the context of mail fraud, if an individual honestly believes that the material transmitted is truthful, he has not acted with the required intent to deceive or mislead.” Mailing brochures on bogus cholesterol cures helped set the standard for government employees who maimed detainees who did not confess quickly enough. The memo assured would-be torturers and torture supervisors: “A good faith belief need not be a reasonable one.”

Such legal reasoning spawned a world-wide epidemic of “good-faith torture.”

The Justice Department memo recited the damage of 9/11 in order to justify the presumption that torture would prevent similar carnage: “Given the massive destruction and loss of life caused by the September 11 attacks, it is reasonable to believe that information gained from al Qaeda personnel could prevent attacks of a similar (if not greater) magnitude from occurring in the United States.” But a 6,000-page Senate Intelligence Committee report finally released in 2014 concluded that the torture failed to produce any information that prevented terror attacks or saved American lives.

In one of the most stunning assertions, the Justice Department stressed that even intentionally killing people during an interrogation might be okay: “The necessity defense may prove especially relevant in the current circumstances. First, the defense is not limited to certain types of harms. Therefore, the harm inflicted by necessity may include intentional homicide, so long as the harm avoided is greater (i.e., preventing more deaths).

“Second, it must actually be the defendant’s intention to avoid the greater harm….

“Third, if the defendant reasonably believed that the lesser harm was necessary, even if, unknown to him, it was not, he may still avail himself of the defense….

“Clearly, any harm that might occur during an interrogation would pale to insignificance compared to the harm avoided by preventing such an attack, which could take hundreds or thousands of lives.

The Justice Department preemptively exonerated U.S. government officials who violate the Anti-Torture Act: “If a government defendant were to harm an enemy combatant during an interrogation in a manner that might arguably violate Section 2340A, he would be doing so in order to prevent further attacks on the United States by the al Qaeda terrorist network.” The Justice Department did not explain why preventing a catastrophic attack is the only reason why a suspect might be maimed during interrogation.

The memo sanctified boundless power by stressing the uniqueness of the post–9/11 world: “The situation in which these issues arise is unprecedented in recent American history…. [These] attacks aimed at critical Government buildings in the nation’s capital and landmark buildings in its financial center.” But President James Madison did not announce that the U.S. government was obliged to start torturing people after the British burned down Washington in 1814.

After the Abu Ghraib photos became public, Bush continually stressed America’s good intentions as proof that the U.S. government did not torture. On June 22, 2004, Bush responded to criticism: “Let me make very clear the position of my government and our country…. The values of this country are such that torture is not a part of our soul and our being.” Bush continually recited his praise about American values whenever he was challenged about the torture he authorized.

In late 2005, 18 months after leaked memos revealed the Bush administration’s belief that the Anti-Torture Act was null, Congress passed the Detainee Treatment Act, which prohibited the use of “cruel, inhumane, or degrading” interrogation methods. Top Justice Department officials responded to the new law with a secret internal memo declaring that all the interrogation methods currently being used — head slapping, waterboarding, frigid temperatures, and blasting with loud music to assure sleep deprivation — were not “cruel, inhumane or degrading.” The secret torture memos, written by assistant attorney general Steven Bradbury, relied on “a Supreme Court finding that only conduct that ‘shocks the conscience’” would go too far.

Other administration officials used the same standard to exonerate themselves. Vice President Dick Cheney, who largely dictated the Bush policy, was asked in a television interview, “What’s the president’s prerogative in the cruel treatment of prisoners?” Cheney invoked the “shocks the conscience” standard, and then mentioned that “what shocks the conscience” is to some extent “in the eye of the beholder.” This standard leaves it up to government officials to decide whether they are personally offended about how they are using their power. If a policy does not shock a politicians’ conscience, it must be okay.

The “shock the conscience” test becomes a slippery slope. The more abuses government commits, the more numb people become. What would have been condemned one year evokes shrugs and yawns a few years later. This becomes Barbarism on the Installment Plan. Cheney publicly declared his approval for simulated drowning of detainees, even though the U.S. government had considered this a war crime for over a century.

In 2007, the New York Times detailed how, after 9/11, the CIA constructed an interrogation program by “consulting Egyptian and Saudi intelligence officials and copying Soviet interrogation methods long used in training American servicemen to withstand capture.” For decades, the U.S. government condemned Soviet, Egyptian, and Saudi torture. But interrogation systems designed to compel victims to sign false confessions supposedly provided the model for protecting America in the new millennium.

In a July 2007 executive order, Bush offered a “good intention” definition of torture. Bush stressed that interrogators are prohibited from “intentionally causing serious bodily injury” and “acts intended to denigrate the religion, religious practices, or religious objects of the individual.” Bush banned “willful and outrageous acts of personal abuse done for the purpose of humiliating or degrading the individual in a manner so serious that any reasonable person … would deem the acts to be beyond the bounds of human decency, such as sexual or sexually indecent acts undertaken for the purpose of humiliation.”

Former Marine Corps Commandant Paul X. Kelley condemned the new guidelines for encouraging abuses: “As long as the intent of the abuse is to gather intelligence or to prevent future attacks, and the abuse is not ‘done for the purpose of humiliating or degrading the individual’ — even if that is an inevitable consequence — the president has given the CIA carte blanche to engage in ‘willful and outrageous acts of personal abuse.’” Georgetown University law professor David Cole noted that Bush’s order “appears to permit cutting or bruising a suspect so long as the injury does not risk death, significant functional impairment or ‘extreme physical pain,’ an entirely subjective term.” The key portion of the executive order — the list of approved interrogation techniques — was kept secret. Tom Malinowski of Human Rights Watch observed, “All the order really does is to have the president say, ‘Everything in that other document that I’m not showing you is legal — trust me.’”

Thanks to this legal framework, none of the deaths that occurred during interrogations by U.S. government agents were homicides. Instead, they were simply accidents, regardless of how much force was used or how many bones were broken. The CIA made tapes of its vigorous interrogations but destroyed them, even though a federal court had ordered their preservation. Attorney General Michael Mukasey refused to appoint a special counsel to investigate possible crimes because “certifications were given” by the Justice Department which absolved the CIA agents “who permissibly relied on it.” Sen. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) derided this position “as the Nuremberg defense…. I had authorization and therefore I’m immune from prosecution.”

But the Bush torture policymakers got away with their crimes — thanks in part to President Obama betraying a campaign promise and issuing a blanket exoneration for interrogation abuses.

The presumption that government officials have good intentions provides a license to destroy evidence. The CIA taped many of its brutal interrogations of detainees after 9/11.  In 2005, a federal judge ordered the agency to preserve the videotapes as potentially criminal evidence.  Federal judges need not apply at Langley: CIA headquarters ordered agents around the world to destroy 92 tapes.  What were the legal consequences of scorning the court order? Gina Haspel, the lady who drafted the order for the shredding, was confirmed as CIA chief in 2018.   After President Trump  nominated her, Sen. Ron Wyden (D-OR) complained  of an “A to Z cover-up” of Haspel’s torture record. The National Security Archive, a private nonprofit organization, noted that Haspel “personally supervised the torture of a CIA detainee in 2002 leading to at least three waterboard sessions, subsequently drafted the cable that ordered destruction of the videotape evidence of torture, and served as a senior CIA official while the Agency was lying to itself, Presidents George W. Bush and Barack Obama, the Congress, and the public about the effectiveness of torture in eliciting useful intelligence.” As the New York Times noted in 2022, though Haspel’s “role as chief of base at the [torture] site in Thailand  is widely known, it is still considered a state secret.”  

When it came time for the Senate to vote on Haspel’s nomination to become CIA chief, she has miraculously morphed into the best hope for America.  Sen. Mark Warner (D-VA) declared, “I believe she is someone who can and will stand up to the president, who will speak truth to power if this president orders her to do something illegal or immoral, like a return to torture.”  Promising that someone will “speak truth to power” is one the favorite accolades in the least trusted city in America.  Former senator and then-current Director of National Intelligence Dan Coats promised that Haspel is someone who would assure “we never have to relearn lessons of the past.”  But what if the biggest lesson is the folly of trusting federal intelligence agencies to obey federal law? Former CIA chief Mike Pompeo boasted of CIA machinations: “ We lied, we cheated, we stole. It’s – it was like – we had entire training courses.”  No wonder Haspel was easily confirmed by the Senate. 

Freedom cannot survive blanket immunity for the most powerful individuals in the land. The government uses strict liability to judge companies and industries that deal with hazardous substances. With this standard, an individual can be found liable even without proof of negligence or reckless behavior. The more force a government official uses, the more he should be judged by a strict liability standard.

The more power a person seeks, the less credit his unverifiable intentions deserve. Politicians and the media encourage people to judge rulers by the same standard used for aunts and uncles. But good intentions are far more dispositive in private life than in political life. This is especially true of high-ranking government officials, who almost always avoid vigorous courtroom and congressional examinations of their conduct — much less depositions.

“Meant well” is sufficient apology for bone-headed birthday presents but not for the destruction of rights and liberties. Sen. Daniel Webster warned in 1837 that “the Constitution was made to guard the people against the dangers of good intentions. There are men in all ages who mean to govern well, but they mean to govern. They promise to be good masters, but they mean to be masters.” The Founding Fathers crafted the Constitution to protect Americans against politicians who claimed good intentions. Nothing has happened in the subsequent centuries to justify giving any politician a good intention license for tyranny.

+ An earlier version of this piece was published by The Future of Freedom Foundation.

James Bovard is the author of Attention Deficit DemocracyThe Bush Betrayal, and Terrorism and Tyranny. His latest book is Last Rights: the Death of American Liberty. Bovard is on the USA Today Board of Contributors. He is on Twitter at @jimbovard. His website is at www.jimbovard.com




BOOK REVIEW

A “Hyper-Local” View of Climate Change Activism


 July 3, 2025

Mike Tidwell, director of the Chesapeake Climate Action Network, is one of those climate activists that supports an “all of the above “ approach to social change: Lobbying for broad progressive policies at the federal, state and local level while engaging in direct action, including civil disobedience, to embarrass policy-makers and corporate polluters to reform their evil ways. But Tidwell is also a strong believer in bringing the climate change issue “home” – in this case, by documenting the perilous decay of hundreds of once-majestic oak trees in his beloved Takoma Park, Maryland neighbood due to the effects of 30 years of ever-worsening global warming.  

In this his fourth book, the 68-year old veteran activist tracks in minute detail how these beloved floral giants that once lined Willow Avenue  systematically withered, lost their limbs and leaves, and in many cases were reduced to lifeless stumps after chainsaws were brought in to prevent their decay from spreading.

The decay wasn’t slow, Tidwell shows. The main trigger was the dramatic shift in weather beginning in 2018 that inundated the mid-Atlantic with a deluge of rainfall and flooding that soaked the giant oaks in their own roots while exposing them to insects and bacteria that literally ate them alive. Trees began losing their limbs, their branches, their leaves, and started collapsing – by the thousands – in Takoma Park and the local environs. Longtime residents grieved these losses just as they would the death of close family members, Tidwell notes. Indeed, many had moved to Takoma’s tree-lined neighborhoods precisely to enjoy the overarching protection and sense of awe and wonder that these great floral sentinels could provide. These weren’t just tall trees, they were elders, symbolizing deep “roots” and an ancestral legacy; young families seeking comfort and stability basked in their shade during the neighborhood’s hot summers, and for years enjoyed the unmistakable whooshing of the wind through their highest branches, until the onset of extreme weather and the deluge silenced them.  

That deluge wasn’t a “natural” climatic event. It was an “atmospheric river” the likes of which the nation hadn’t recorded for at least 500 years – and it would happen not once, but twice, in successive years. Thanks to long-term climate change, the usual jet stream of summer air that passed through lower Canada had been forced much further south, eventually pulling up tons of water from the Gulf of Mexico and then dumping it the length of the mid-Atlantic. Maryland experienced 10 inches of rain in just two hours in a single day, May 27, a record. Other massive unexpected downpours soon followed. In 2023, the sudden convergence of extreme heat and humidity and a cold front from Canada caused near tornado conditions that downed thousands more trees and blacked out Takoma Park and the surrounding areas for days. Tidwell recalls the herculean efforts of local rescue crews and power company workers to limit the damage to life and limb – but it was only a warning of potentially far worse things to come.

This is an elegantly written book much like the author’s richly evocative chronicle of Hurricane Katrina’s environmental devastation, Bayou Farewell, published back in 2004. As a one-time widely published travel journalist, Tidwell has a keen eye for ethnographic observation of people and their reactions to local events. Here he takes the reader from the halls of Congress and state legislatures to the homes and hearts of Takoma residents as they watch their tree-lined neighborhoods become denuded, their homes flooded, and their dreams of a carefree halcyon idyll for themselves and their families tarnished. 

The residents of Takoma Park, a town of just 17,000 people perched on the outskirts of the nation’s capital, are accustomed to speaking out. Many, and perhaps most, are fierce Bernie Sanders supporters, and quite a few are employed in public sector agencies as scientists and surveyors. But the recurring weather crises are taking their toll, and many of them wonder if they can undo the damage before it’s too late, especially for their children.

Tidwell’s not a pessimist by nature. After more than 20 years deep in the trenches – and after building the award-winning Chesapeake Climate Action Network (CCAN) from a team of one to more than two dozen full-time employees spread out across the region – he’s accustomed to waging the good fight – bloody but unbowed. He’s watched as the tide of public concern over climate change has risen almost as fast as the continued melting of the polar icecap. His book celebrates the Biden administration’s historic commitment to climate action with passage of the Inflation Reduction Act in 2022. And he’s cautiously hopeful that growing public alarm will finally reach a tipping point, creating a new consensus for more forceful global action.

But if climate change is to be halted, or its effects softened, simply halting fossil fuel use – though paramount – won’t be enough, the author insists. More radical measures must now be contemplated. One of the beauties of Tidwell’s book is his review of some of these extraordinary measures, once considered experimental and controversial, but these days, no longer. One is the strategy of “negative emissions,” which would suck the excess carbon out of the air and store it in the ground in crushed rock, or with giant carbon-filtering machines or through some newfangled and still-experimental agricultural practices. These expensive new technologies might well work – on paper, at least – but once developed, it’s not clear they will work in time to make a real difference, Tidwell notes, with some concern.

Another possible strategy – even more futuristic and fantastic sounding – is “solar radiation modification,” sometimes called “solar geoengineering.” It’s a grand scheme for deflecting solar rays away from the Earth, in effect, by cooling the planet from above. “Think of it as a giant tree canopy for the whole world,” the author writes, “a kind of solar shade high in the sky that would effectively replace – for a while – the dying oaks in my neighborhood and the wildfire-ravaged pines in California.”

But there are other lower-tech – and likely more feasible innovations – available, too – like preserving and storing fallen trees, especially the giant oaks, even after they’ve perished. Tidwell cites a neighborhood friend and highly-trained scientist, Ning Zeng, who insists that downed trees can be buried in enormous “wood vaults” to prevent their stored carbon from being released into the atmosphere – boosting methane emissions – after ending up in a landfill or being used for mulch. In fact, Zeng’s efforts are already underway, impeded only by the reluctance of some government agencies to grant the permits required to authorize dead tree storage on federal properties or unused private lots. Tidwell says Zeng has made prodigious progress of late, even convincing the entire Maryland General Assembly, Democrats and Republicans alike, to back his ambitious plans.  And the US Department of Energy has just awarded Zeng a $50,000 grant to begin building wood vaults in four states – a start, but a far cry from the huge multi-million dollar grant he’d hoped to receive from Elon Musk.

All of these broad national and state efforts need more grassroots support – but prophylactic neighborhood action is still essential, Tidwell insists. He spent years working with his former Maryland Democratic state senator – and now US congressman Jamie Raskin – and others to implement local initiatives to protect neighborhoods from the threat of more climate change-induced flooding. In the book he briefly surveys ongoing campaigns in Takoma Park to build neighborhood “berms” to stem rising flood waters as well as “evacuation canals” that can channel excess water to local streams and creeks. Other seemingly wild-eyed ideas – like building underground concrete water catchments under selectively demolished houses – should also be considered, Tidwell insists. But all such proposals would be expensive and some may not be politically feasible, he admits.

What about solar? Takoma Park has become a leader in the field, supporting the first all-solar powered EV gas and charger station in the nation. Solar panels are going up everywhere, often on the very commercial and residential rooftops once shaded by the town’s dying and fallen oaks. And young volunteers fan out across the neighborhood on weekends, planting new seedlings and removing troublesome vine growth that poses yet another threat to tree survival. As Tidwell argues, climate change is devastating neighborhoods like his but it can also compel them to become stronger and more politically self-aware, deepening their resilience and will to fight.

“All politics is local,” former Democratic House speaker Tip O’Neill once opined. Tidwell’s book reminds us that all politics is also “hyper-local.” Takoma Park has already spawned at least one climate action hero, and this book is something of a love letter from the author to the community that helped raise him and still sustains him in the fight. If he’s right, communities across America can tell much the same story he tells here – of climate ravaging and resistance – and they can gird their loins for the momentous political battles still to come. But they better get started; time is running out.

 

Stewart Lawrence is a long-time Washington, DC-based policy consultant.  He can be reached at stewartlawrence811147@gmail.com.