Critique For Levin's Case For Torture

There are real-world scenarios which not only allow for the use of torture, but which in fact necessitate it. This is Michael Levin's core argument in The Case for Torture (Newsweek, 1982). Levin effectively advances his argument primarily by presenting a number of hypothetical cases, designed to force the skeptical reader to question whether his opposition to torture is truly absolute. Levin's argument also relies on employing analogy as a rhetorical device and considering a number of counterarguments to his position, which he rebuts in a logical, if not incontrovertible, manner. What the casual reader may fail to notice, however, is how weak the scope of Levin's argument really is.

Levin captures his readers' attention with his discussion of three hypothetical scenarios. The first, the dramatic case of the atomic bomb hidden in Manhattan, he acknowledges to be an extreme example, unlikely to occur in real life. However, he argues, the conclusions drawn from this first scenario can be extrapolated to more realistic ones, such as his second scenario, the terrorist hijacking of an airplane with a bomb.

Levin's third hypothetical situation, in which a mother chooses to torture the terrorist responsible for kidnapping her newborn baby in order to get her back, at first appears to be an appeal to the emotions of his readers. This is not the case. The emotional response is that of the mother in the scenario, not of the reader, whose sympathy for the mother is not the author's main concern. The author's goal is not to generate sympathy for someone willing to employ torture, but to illustrate the empirical fact (however poorly tested), that most rational women would favor torture in at least one particular situation. In so doing, Levin emphasizes that the decision to use torture is often an emotional one, and further, that since rational people can see at least some value in torture, its taboo cannot be absolute.

Midway through his article, Levin has scored a number of points. After all, who wouldn't torture a terrorist to save millions of lives? Or to save the life of her newborn baby? Isn't torture analogous to assassination and pre-emptive strikes, when used as an extraordinary, extralegal means of preventing future harm? And who would oppose having assassinated Hitler? Levin has successfully forced inquisitive readers to question the idea that torture is never permissible, and sown the seeds to suggest that there are in fact situations which require it. He has also addressed a number of counterarguments: yes, torture violates the rights of the terrorist, but by virtue of his antisocial and destructive actions the terrorist has forfeited his rights by removing himself from the very society which granted them to him. Yes, torture is barbaric, but it is less barbaric than the alternative in many cases. After establishing all this, The Case for Torture loses much of its momentum.

Torture, Levin asserts, is only justifiable in order to save lives, and only when administered to parties "known to have innocent lives in their hands." Torture can never be used as punishment, nor as a deterrent, nor can it ever be employed unless the subject is "obviously guilty." While these restrictions serve to moderate Levin's stance, they also narrow the scope of The Case immeasurably, by grossly curtailing the number of scenarios which demand the use of torture. It reduces this number so drastically, in fact, that Levin is unable to name one real-world example to which his argument applies. The author's failure to list even one real historical event in which the use of torture was or would have been warranted is overwhelmingly