Along with victims of abuse and oppression more broadly, torture victims often get blamed by others for their own misfortunes, and tend to search for their own responsibility (i.e. blame themselves) for what happened to them.
Actors
Having once identified various physical and psychological states and behaviours as possible impacts of torture, it is necessary to read backwards to find the actors involved. Much of the literature on torture and genocide draws on a model of perpetrators, bystanders and victims. The term perpetrator, as used by Staub, encompasses not only ‘the torturers themselves, but also those who are in charge of a system which perpetrates torture.’ (Staub 1990:106).
The bystander group includes all those who either observe directly or at least are aware that torture is being committed, but take no action to prevent or stop it, despite having some potential to do so. This inaction may be because they are intimidated as a result of being aware of the torture of others, or because they share some of the perpetrator group's values (Staub 1990, 1995, Hilberg 1992). Staub distinguishes ‘internal’ bystanders who are individual ‘members of society who are neither victims nor part of the perpetrator group’, from ‘external’ bystanders whom he considers to be ‘other nations’ who fit into an international relations model of nations as metaphorical individuals in a community of states.
Closer scrutiny of the relationship between the actions of perpetrators and those of ostensibly passive bystanders suggests that over time the distinction between the two can break down. As Staub himself points out, using the example of the doctors who help to keep torture victims alive, it is disturbingly easy for actors to shift between bystander and perpetrator positions: ‘although their participation may be seemingly humane, it usually serves the perpetrators not the victims – by helping to revive or keep alive victims for more torture or selecting methods of torture to minimize visible signs’ (Staub 1990: 68).
Futhermore, there is reason to suppose that some victims become perpetrators themselves – possibly against a less powerful third party – as a means of dealing with their situation. Gilligan, for example, argues that ‘The violent criminals I have known have been objects of violence from early childhood’ (Gilligan, 2000: 45). As such, in analysing torture, it is necessary to hold two viewpoints simultaneously; on the one hand the snapshot or cross-sectional view, in which the perpetrator-bystander-victim distinctions are clear, on the other the filmed or longitudinal view over time, in which individuals shift between roles or indeed experience several roles simultaneously.
Benefits and Functions
Staub makes a convincing case that, alongside its overt functions of coercing direct victims into particular behaviours (e.g. yielding a confession, handing over information about ‘rebel co-ordinators’), torture serves a psychological function for its perpetrators. He argues that rich and poor alike – when they experience ‘difficult conditions of life’ such as ‘severe economic problems, persistent and intense political conflict, and rapid, substantial social change’ – are liable to develop certain psychological needs. These include the need for a sense of security, a sense of ‘positive identity’ (both individual and group), ‘a meaningful comprehension of reality, a sense of how the world is ordered and of one's place in it’, and also a ‘connection to others’. Turning against another group is one of a number of processes whereby groups will seek to meet these psychological needs rather than addressing the actual difficulties they face. Within this, scapegoating, victimisation, devaluation and dehumanisation of others all help people to recover a positive sense of self, and adherence to ideologies (whether religious or secular) helps to create a sense of how the world is ordered.
Devaluation and dehumanisation can be achieved in many ways. In Kelman's analysis, torturers label their victims as ‘terrorists, insurgents, or dissidents who endanger the state’ as a part of the dehumanisation process. To move from this kind of dehumanisation of a limited number of individuals to dehumanisation of an entire social group is relatively easy, as demonstrated by the post-September 11 2001 blurring of distinctions between the categories ‘terrorists’ and ‘Muslims’ by western governments and media. This is the more so if individuals behave in ways which appear to confirm the negative qualities already ascribed to the social group from which they stem. Once catalysed, the processes of devaluation and dehumanisation can quickly acquire their own momentum. As Staub points out, torture often renders victims ‘bloody, dirty, undignified’ such that ‘they can easily be seen as less than human’ – and as Gilligan establishes, when victims be-come perpetrators the fact they were once victims is forgotten, resulting in interventions focused on punishment rather than rehabilitation or reintegration.
Such processes for devaluing others and creating a sense of order are more easily catalysed where there is already a ‘history of devaluation of a group of people’, a ‘monolithic rather than a pluralistic society’, a cultural concept which has been frustrated, ‘strong respect for and a tendency to obey authority’, a history of aggression in which violence is normalised and made acceptable, and an ‘ideology of antagonism’ (Staub 1990, 1995: 101–103).
Alongside the military and psychological functions it is possible to identify political and economic ones. The links between the psychological and political ones are likely to be intimate in a situation such as Uganda; it seems probable that with the colonial legacy still within living memory, and with neo-colonial forms of control being exercised through concepts of ‘modernisation’, ‘democracy’, ‘good governance’ and ‘structural adjustment’, the psychological need for a strong sense of positive identity will be considerable. Achieving this is likely to entail, through devaluation, the subordination of minority groups, and, through the signals this sends, the control of the wider society as a whole.
The economic benefits arising from social torture scenarios, I would suggest, are likely to resemble those emerging in other situations of widespread suffering, as identified by Keen in The Benefits of Famine (1994); they could include the establishment of activities such as humanitarian relief interventions, the establishment of niche activities focused on identifiable ‘victims’ such as child soldiers, and the exploitation of captive markets by particular individuals and groups. The management of these in turn is liable to be linked to political functions, such as using economic rewards to buy off dissidents and potential critics.
Justifications
While the multiple possible functions of torture explain some of the incentives for keeping it going, it is also necessary to explain how the perpetrators and bystanders justify it.
In terms of justifying torture to themselves, the psychological processes adopted by perpetrators for immediate legitimation are similar to the mechanisms used to meet their underlying psychological needs discussed above. Staub summarises them as ‘differentiation, devaluation, and moral exclusion’ (1990: 52). Clearly the three are linked. Differentiation into an ‘in’ and an ‘out-group’ allows devaluation of the ‘out-group’. Devaluation in turn makes the moral exclusion of the out-group more feasible, thereby enabling their torture. Kelman similarly describes ‘dehumanization’, along with ‘routinization’ and ‘authorization’, as what makes possible ‘the exclusion of torture victims from the torturer's moral community’ (1995: 31).
The psychological mechanisms employed by ostensible ‘bystanders’ to justify their apparent passivity share some characteristics with those used by the perpetrators. Staub points to their