Editorial: CIA's destruction of tapes isn't the worst

From the universe of disturbing revelations about U.S. interrogation techniques, the one generating the most indignation seems to be the destruction of CIA videotapes that showed those techniques in practice. Why is that?

Admittedly, the news is bad: The CIA destroyed the tapes even though other government agencies were looking into treatment of detainees and were sure to be interested in them. The CIA had been pointedly advised not to destroy such material. Official explanations for the tapes' destruction don't wash -- for example, concern that they might have fallen into the wrong hands is overblown, considering the vast amount of information that the CIA routinely keeps from the wrong hands.

There's ample reason to suspect that the CIA's idea of the "wrong" hands includes those attached to the wrists of congressional investigators. That's why those investigators must pursue this case. If the tapes were destroyed in an effort to obstruct justice, the reasons must be uncovered and those responsible held to account. To limit such an investigation to the CIA itself and the Justice Department is to invite skepticism about the investigation's results.

So much for the tapes. But what about what was on the tapes? They are reported to have shown two important detainees being interrogated harshly, which is one of the current euphemisms for torture. In particular, the interrogators are thought to have used the technique known as waterboarding. This simulated or near-drowning -- which, at least some of the time, involves forcing water into the victim's sinuses, trachea and lungs -- has long been recognized as a practice of torture. The House has wisely voted to ban it; the Senate may soon do the same, in spite of a veto threat from President Bush.

How far have we come from the days when we prosecuted enemy soldiers for inflicting such torment on our own people? This far: Candidates for president now stand on a stage and openly debate its use. Michael Mukasey, the attorney general, refused during his confirmation hearings to call it torture.

But waterboarding is not the only practice at issue. Stress positions. Sleep deprivation. Prolonged nakedness. Rendition to torture-friendly countries. The United States, which from its founding made humane treatment of prisoners a hallmark of its character, now seems to have concluded that the time for humaneness has passed. Defenders of enhanced interrogation techniques -- another of the euphemisms -- like to point out that some of the information obtained has actually helped prevent terrorist attacks. In other words, the ends justify the means.

That would be a cynical and unprincipled calculation, if it were at least true. But it isn't. Most experts agree that the information acquired by torture is, at best, only sometimes accurate. So, even if such justification were ethically possible, these ends would not justify these means.

Meanwhile, the means themselves do great damage to American standing in the world and at home. It's easy to dismiss such concerns as naïve hand-wringing; after all, some point out, the terrorists behave just as badly, or even worse. And they do. But what should be the standard that Americans aspire to? Once upon a time, it was something higher than not-as-bad.

Perhaps the significance of the destroyed tapes will be their galvanizing effect on Congress. For starters, we hope the Senate follows the House lead on waterboarding by banning any interrogation technique not specifically allowed by the Army Field Manual. There are signs, too, of a growing bipartisan incredulity at the executive branch's disregard for the normal working relationships of government -- for example, in the Justice Department's advice to CIA personnel that they not cooperate with a congressional probe of the videotapes case.

The destruction of the videotapes is a serious matter. But the use of torture represents a destruction of American character and ideals, and that's worse.