Principle and Pragmatism

As the news cycle of the Bin Laden death draws slowly to a close, the debate over torture -- or "enhanced interrogation techniques," under its Orwellian official moniker -- has occasionally emerged again, particularly as the investigation of several CIA operatives who employed such techniques goes on.

Naturally the question is academic for most of us, whose closest contact with torture is the dentist's office or the musical tastes of a significant other. But being academic and being irrelevant to life are two very different things. For, though we may need to consider a given question only in the abstract, such questions -- or rather, the answers that we think apt -- illustrate the principles by which we really think and and the convictions by which we really aspire to live.

The peculiar character of most debate that I've heard over torture has been its shameless utilitarianism. That is, one frequently hears one side contend that it is very effective in extorting confessions and other data, including some setting forth claims that it helped accomplish the apprehension of Bin Laden; opponents content themselves with the counterclaim that these assertions are unverifiable, and point to such problems with torture as that a person can tell an appealing or convincing lie in order to get the pain to stop, or that they may not really know the information we supposed they did. The underlying assumption of both sides is that, if torture gets the results we need (or simply want?), then it is justified.

This is not just muddled thinking, although it is certainly muddled thinking. It is a frontal assault on the nature of right and wrong. The whole point of right and wrong, as distinct from what is practical or impractical, is that they are right and wrong in themselves, regardless of the consequences. That is what the words mean. So if torture is morally permissible, then it should be used openly and without apology. If torture is never morally permissible, then it should never be used. If it is sometimes justified and sometimes not (like war itself), then the criteria that justify its use should be plainly established, and its use should conform to those guidelines.

The problem with the pragmatic approach is that it fails to appreciate the whole purpose of political discourse and action. The point of politics is to determine what goals are desirable, what means are permissible, and which of those means are the most effective, at the state level. A pure pragmatist dismisses the first question as ivory tower intellectualism, and the second as naive idealism; in other words, he crowds out everything else in politics for the sake of efficiency. The idea that we should not bother to determine what is good, so that we can get on to what is effective, makes nonsense of the purpose that this effectiveness is supposedly serving. For the whole point is: effecting what? Effective in accomplishing what? Guillotines are very effective, but I doubt that that would have persuaded Marie Antoinette that the French Revolution was therefore right to execute her.

Chesterton, in his early essay collection Heretics, states the problem very clearly. He takes the example of those who seek to replace the pursuit of the good with the pursuit of Progress, and says, "Stated plainly, this means, 'Let us not establish what is good, but let us establish whether we are getting more of it.'" A self-respecting person may approve or disapprove of torture on moral grounds; but no self-respecting person should shirk the pursuit of what is right -- and certainly not in the name of being faster and more forceful at doing nothing in particular.