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By Nittyam Modi
Keywords: Orientalism, Muslim, 9/11, Human Rights, Race, Religion, Guantánamo Diary Review
Just imagine yourself going to bed, putting all your worries aside, enjoying your favorite magazine to put you to sleep, you’ve put the kids to bed, your family is already sleeping. You are not afraid of being dragged out of your bed in the middle of the night to a place you’ve never seen before, deprived of sleep, and terrorized all the time. Now imagine that you have no say at all in your life—when you sleep, when you wake up, when you eat, and sometimes when you go to the toilet. Imagine that your whole world comprises, at most, a 6 by 8 foot cell. If you imagine all of that, you still won’t understand what prison really means unless you experience it yourself [1].
One of the most insidious ways to exploit someone is to keep them beyond the reach of justice. When a person is visible and protected by human rights laws, they stand a chance of legal recourse[2]. But what about those who are intentionally pushed into the shadows by the overwhelming power of the state? What if the government manipulates designations and laws to strip individuals of their visibility and protection, making them vulnerable to abuse? And when censorship is wielded as a tool to cloak their existence, controlling the narrative around them, what then? It’s a dark reality where the very fabric of justice and human dignity is torn apart. State authorities wield their formidable legal prowess and authority to attribute ambiguous designations to prisoners, thereby depriving them of their legal rights and protections guaranteed by law. By rendering individuals in_visible within the legal and political sphere, the state gains leverage to exploit and manipulate narratives, ultimately asserting control over power dynamics. The underscore in “in_visibility” serves to underscore the ambiguity inherent in the term and underscores the need to deconstruct rigid boundaries between what is deemed visible and invisible. The inclusion of blacked-out sections in the Guantanamo Diary and the Movie is not merely a symbolic gesture, but also a poignant reminder of the irreversible harm inflicted by human rights violations. State censorship mechanisms, as realms of in_visibility, are utilized to manipulate narratives and exert dominance in the political arena[3]. However, they also provide an opportunity for readers to advocate for the liberation of detainees, ensuring their voices are heard and justice is served. This paper seeks to explore the domain of in_visibility and how it underplays power relations through an analysis of the movie ‘Mauritanian’.
The legal framework, wielded by the state administration, can often serve to render individuals legally in_visible within the confines of human rights and established legal procedures. This invisibility, far from benign, exposes individuals to vulnerability and susceptibility to abuse at the hands of state authorities which can be analysed through the trial of Mohamedou. Mohamedou Ould Slahi, born in Mauritania in 1970, was detained in the Guantánamo Bay detention camp from 2002 until his release on October 17, 2016[4] . He was suspected of involvement in the so-called ‘Millennium Plot’ and was held without charges since there was no evidence against him. In the movie, Mohamedou says “I endured endless days of questioning, with no idea what crime I was accused of”[5]. And describes his daily life as a detainee with relentless physical and psychological abuse. He was sexually molested by interrogators, he was severely beaten and held in absolute isolation[6]. In January 2000, Slahi decided to return to his homeland of Mauritania after twelve years of studying and working in Germany and Canada. However, his journey home was fraught with obstacles. Firstly, he was detained by the Senegalese Police, and then by Mauritanian authorities[7].
They interrogated him about his alleged involvement in the Millennium Plot, even involving FBI agents. Later that year, on November 20th, Mauritanian police visited Slahi’s home and requested him for further questioning, which he agreed to voluntarily[8]. Unbeknownst to him, this marked the onset of a fifteen-year ordeal that would epitomize the egregious human rights violations perpetrated by American authorities at Guantanamo Bay. As Mohammedou writes “As they pursued their national security agenda, they trampled over the fundamental respect owed to every human being”[9]. This legal case became a battle not only for personal dignity but also for the fundamental respect for human rights, starkly contrasting with the state’s prioritization of national security agendas. This individual unwittingly emerged as the symbol of sponsored human rights abuse and arbitrary detention, igniting a revolution against the American establishment.
Legal Limbo in the Guantanamo Detainees’ Plight
The War on Terror, famously declared by President George W. Bush after the 9/11 attacks, created a stark binary: “Either you are with us, or you are with the terrorists.”[10] This mindset was institutionalized through the infamous Patriot Act, allowing authorities to detain suspects without trial under the guise of national security[11]. Authorities deliberately refrained from according to the detainees the status of ‘prisoners of war’, as doing so would entail protections provided by domestic and international law. Instead, they labelled these individuals as ‘barbaric’ and ‘despotic’ which are labels attributed by the Occident to the Orient, portraying them as vessels of violence stripped of rights or legal recourse[12]. Another aspect of invisibility highlighted in the film is Guantanamo’s ambiguous status as “in, yet not within” Cuba, but still under American jurisdiction. This deliberate labelling serves the authorities’ interests, as locating Guantanamo within United States territorial jurisdiction would afford detainees legal rights and privileges, further complicating matters and enabling a regime of violence and injustice to persist. Constant surveillance and without legal protections exist in a state of perpetual in_visibility within the confines of Guantánamo.
The ambiguous legal framework surrounding Guantánamo situates its detainees at the intersection of various legal systems, fostering a dynamic interplay between visibility and invisibility. In the movie Nancy mentions “Detainees are trapped in a legal limbo, hidden from sight and denied basic legal protections”[13], Consequently, the detainees find themselves legally obscured, and subjected to indefinite detention that facilitates the unchecked exercise of extra-legal state authority, perpetuating their indefinite in_visibility. Although their lawless status renders them invisible, they paradoxically maintain a degree of visibility, as evidenced by the court’s recognition of their right to petition for habeas corpus to challenge their unlawful detention[14]. Nonetheless, the in_visible realm largely removes the detainees from lawful scrutiny and the protections afforded by the rule of law. The so-called “war on terror” fails to accord the detainees prisoner of war status, thereby exempting them from the protections guaranteed by international law, including the Third Geneva Convention and the Convention against Torture[15] (Hajjar 26). Consequently, their fundamental human rights are eroded by the government and the state, relegating them to mere vessels of violence to be handled through extrajudicial means beyond the purview of legal oversight. Within this realm, the inmates exist under the pervasive influence of constant surveillance and the arbitrary exercise of state power, perpetuating their marginalized and precarious existence.
In_visibility moreover functions through censorship as the state regulates the production of knowledge, thereby controlling power dynamics within society. In_visibility functions through censorship as the state regulates the production of knowledge, thereby controlling power dynamics within society[16]. In 2005, Mohamedou Ould Slahi handwrote approximately 400 pages, which he provided to his attorneys, and subsequently amalgamated into the book “Guantánamo Diaries.” This handwritten material emerged as an active resistance against the human rights violations perpetrated by the American authorities. The book chronicles Slahi’s narrative and his struggle to obtain a writ of habeas corpus against the United States administration, continually questioning the rationale behind his incarceration. Under the stringent censorship policies and authoritarian regime of the government, the manuscript was classified and submitted to the United States government for review before publication. It was marked as a state secret under the pretext of national security concerns, purportedly posing a threat to the security and administration of the nation. Consequently, the manuscript largely remained invisible to the public domain, accessible only to an exclusive team within the United States government, illustrating the power dynamics at play. The publication of the manuscript, despite censorship, can be interpreted as a significant stride for the author towards reclaiming both his legal and existential visibility. After years of relentless efforts, the manuscript was finally approved for public release. Despite facing censorship, it was ultimately published, serving as a stark reminder of how invisibility is manipulated to wield power. This publication highlights the intricate interplay of power dynamics, revealing the lengths to which those in authority will go to silence dissent and control the narrative.
The Myth of the ‘American Dream’
In the Guantanamo Diaries as depicted in the movie “Mauritanian,” the narrative is persistently subjected to control and interruption by the ominous black boxes of censorship, manifested as visual elements. These black boxes not only obstruct the public’s access to the objective truth but also function in a disquieting manner for readers. They are strategically inserted into the text to eradicate any chance for the authors to explore the subjectivity of “American Justice”[17]. Moreover, the concept of invisibility plays a pivotal role in the relationship between the text and the image. The presence of these black boxes initially obstructs our view of the objective truth. Furthermore, by rendering them invisible, a form of negation occurs, disrupting the narrative and abruptly silencing it. A closer examination of the censorship reveals an intriguing pattern. These black spots are meticulously utilized to conceal precisely the type of information that interrogation and torture strive to extract from a subject. In the case of Slahi, it is striking to ponder what has evaded the censor’s ink and what has been obscured. This unveils decisions that appear peculiar or even absurd at times. For instance, numerous scenes of torture remain uncensored, such as exposure to loud music, disturbing images, or sexual abuse. Conversely, a poem written by Slahi is obscured, along with certain details of his daily life. Moreover, the ink of censorship covers up confidential information, like names and locations, without genuinely diverting the narrative from the brutal interrogation methods.[18]
The visual elements that render the narrative invisible serve another profound purpose: they expose the raw violence inflicted upon the prisoner. It’s not just the detainee whose voice is stifled and suppressed; it’s the narrator himself who lays bare his wounds of oppression and human rights abuses through this censorship.[19] Every literary work has two dimensions: the artistic dimension, attributed to the author, and the aesthetic dimension, realized by the reader. According to Iser, when someone reads a text, they bring it to life through their perception, a process that also shapes the entire creative endeavour.[20] This is possible because every text contains implicit implications and unseen gaps that can be filled by the reader. The reader may interpret these gaps based on their expectations, cultural context, or the textual cues provided. In the case of Slahi, the visible bars of censorship create another type of gap, inviting the reader to fill them in[21]. Thus, these redactions do not create emptiness but instead offer an open-ended interpretation for readers to explore, prompting them to uncover what lies hidden or contemplate the visibility of the invisible.
The fragmented and disjointed nature of the text arises not from imaginary absences but from visible voids. Therefore, as Mohammedou mentions “Readers must confront these gaps, recognizing them as manifestations of silenced voices resulting from violations of free speech”[22] . It is the reader’s responsibility not only to fill these gaps to comprehend the detainee’s narrative but also to reflect on their very existence: the darkness left behind by extrajudicial violations of freedom of speech. The reader cannot erase these gaps or unmute the oppressed voice, but it is their moral obligation to make the narrator visible by acknowledging his invisibility. The reader is meant to understand the opacity of black boxes as a sign of extrajudicial violence[23]. The invisible words become agents of a transnational subject, narrating the legal and biopolitical paradoxes of Guantanamo. In this context, the image or iconic element is not merely a representation or a pointer to something else; it oscillates between revealing and revealing itself, appearing as both medium and message.
Conclusion
Slahi’s “Guantanamo Diaries” serves as a catalyst for challenging conventional understandings of visibility. Both the diaries and the film “The Mauritanian” shed light on two distinct modes of narration: one conveyed through spoken words, and the other through visual censorship, represented by the black boxes obscuring text. While the narrator communicates with fragmented speech, censorship acts as a form of violence, stifling expression. The profound connection between Slahi and his text becomes apparent; mere hours after his release, he was already discussing plans to republish his work with his editor. Now liberated, Slahi advocates for the freedom of his words, even if it necessitates a process of reinvention[24]. The rendition of black boxes and the censorship imposed on Mohamadou’s writing may suppress his voice, yet they also serve as tangible evidence of the necessity to limit free speech, revealing the egregious nature of torture and abuse. These black boxes further empower readers to empathize and grasp the essence of Mohamadou’s existence, viewing censorship not as a void but as an opportunity to ensure the prisoner feels heard. As he reflects in his diary, “I considered humanity my jury; […] I wasn’t sure if the pages I wrote and gave to my lawyers would ever become a book. But I believed in books, and in the people who read them; I always had, since I held my first book as a child. I thought of what it would mean if someone outside that prison was holding a book I had written.”[25]. Both “Guantanamo Diaries” and “The Mauritanian” place a responsibility on viewers and readers to amplify the voices of detainees who remain invisible to the public eye, urging them to advocate for justice and liberation. It is through the engagement and action of readers and viewers that those oppressed individuals can find solace and, ultimately, attain justice.
References
[1] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 30.
[2] Stella Chachali, ‘Mohamedou Ould Slahi’s Guantánamo Diary through the Lens of In_Visibility’ (2022) 13 On_Culture: The Open Journal for the Study of Culture <https://doi.org/10.22029/oc.2022.1261> accessed 12 June 2024
[3] Ibid.
[4] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 18.
[5] Id at 25.
[6] Id at) 52.
[7] Id at 71.
[8] Id at 17.
[9] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 185.
[10] ‘Bush: “You Are Either with Us, or with the Terrorists” - 2001-09-21’ (VOA2014) <https://web.archive.org/web/20150112170258/http://www.voanews.com/content/a-13-a-2001-09-21-14-bush-66411197/549664.html> accessed 12 June 2024
[11] Supra note 2.
[12] Supra note 8.
[13] The Mauritanian, Kevin Macdonald, STX Entertainment, [2021]
[14] Salahi v. Obama, 710 F.Supp.2d 1
[15] Lisa Hajjar, ‘Middle East Report’ (2015) no 275, 46-47 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/24426588> accessed 12 June 2024
[16] Stella Chachali, ‘Mohamedou Ould Slahi’s Guantánamo Diary through the Lens of In_Visibility’ (2022) 13 On_Culture: The Open Journal for the Study of Culture <https://doi.org/10.22029/oc.2022.1261> accessed 12 June 2024
[17] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 10.
[18] Id at23.
[19] W Hileman, ‘[Review of The Implied Reader by W Iser]’ (1976) 10(3) 344-347 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/45108421> accessed 12 June, 2024
[20] W Hileman, ‘[Review of The Implied Reader by W Iser]’ (1976) 10(3) 344-347 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/45108421> accessed 12 June, 2024
[21] Stella Chachali, ‘Mohamedou Ould Slahi’s Guantánamo Diary through the Lens of In_Visibility’ (2022) 13 On_Culture: The Open Journal for the Study of Culture <https://doi.org/10.22029/oc.2022.1261> accessed 12 June 2024
[22] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 316.
[23] B Harding, ‘[Review of My Guantánamo Diary: The Detainees and the Stories They Told Me by M. R. Khan]’ (2008) 33(6) New Zealand International Review 28-29 <http://www.jstor.org/stable/45235852>
[24] Supra note 21.
[25] Mohamedou Ould Slahi, The Guantánamo Diaries (Larry Siems ed, Canongate 2015) 527.
Nittyam Modi is a second-year law student at Jindal Global Law School. His main areas of interest are Constitutional Law, Criminal Law, International Law, and the intersection of society and law over socio-political issues.
