Let’s get away from that for a moment to larger issues of what human history is. I want to suggest the following points in roughly ascending order of importance: (1) Historical associations cheapen themselves when they pretend to speak for a wide membership on public issues not related to the profession they represent. (2) “Torture” is a powerful word that demands clear definition. (3) Human history is filled with difficult and ambiguous situations that do not lend themselves to soundbite moral judgment.

There is no need to spend much time on number one. I’ll just remark that the members of the American Historical Association have many ways to express themselves on the large political and social issues of the day. The AHA just loses credibility when it does so, especially when resolutions are adopted by a business meeting of less than 100 people. I suppose this is all irrelevant to those members who want to make a moral or political point in any forum, anywhere, anytime.

Number two is more important and deserving of thought. “Torture” is a horrific word precisely because it has a precise historical meaning: the infliction of extreme pain, often accompanied by physical mutilation —broken bones, dislocated joints, severe lacerations. Waterboarding is distasteful. Maybe it is torture, maybe not. Maybe mental anguish, disorientation, and other questionable interrogation methods are. But let’s be clear that the word has been used loosely in much of the debate about treatment of terrorist prisoners, who would happily do much worse to us.

Makes no difference? We need to preserve our own virtue? Well, perhaps. That’s an attractive idea. Is it practical? Is it possible?

Many of us have probably seen one of the survivors of 9/11 on television. A youngish woman employed at the World Trade Center, she walked into the lobby of her tower just after an aircraft had crushed into the building, exploded, and sent a fireball down the elevator shafts. It engulfed her and tossed her out the door. She survived after months of intensive care, lost one eye, endured multiple skin grafts, and has a face still hard to look at. That’s what I call torture. And I don’t much care what happens to the people who had a hand in it.

Point number three is basic. Simple categorical morality is often unfeasible in human situations. We talk glibly about the Geneva Conventions, but they were designed as guides to the treatment of uniformed soldiers in conventional combat who observed the rules of the game. By and large in World War II, Germans treated American prisoners decently and vice-versa. During the Battle of the Bulge, after SS troops massacred Americans who had surrendered at Malmedy, Americans routinely shot SS prisoners. No one seemed to think this was a war crime at the time. In general, moreover, the United States won World War II by doing things that none of us can be proud of, including the incineration of numerous cities and their civilian populations. Some people like to think the war could have been won by doing none of this. I doubt that, but even if it had been the case, these were responses to an enemy that specialized in doing even worse. One thing we all need to understand is that human nature and human history do not facilitate moral simplicity, that aspirational ideals usually give way to amoral reality.