By Morris Davis And Rev. Richard Killmer
Originally published by The New York Daily News on 11 Jan 2012

One of us is a career military officer and former chief prosecutor for the military commissions at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba; the other is a minister and the executive director of an interfaith coalition.

We have seen the power of symbolism.

Religious symbols inspire people of faith to do good and courageous acts. Some religions even see God in their symbols.

An American military uniform has always symbolized honor and humanity. When Iraqi troops encountered American soldiers during the Persian Gulf War in 1991, tens of thousands of Iraqis lowered their weapons and rushed forward to surrender rather than fight. The Iraqis knew the U.S. military’s reputation, and by surrendering, they felt certain they would be ensured humane treatment.

But a symbol can also be destructive. The power of negative symbols to foment harm is at least as great as the power of positive symbols to foster good.

The detention camp at Guantanamo, opened 10 years ago today, stands as an internationally recognized symbol of a dark period in our nation’s history. For a country built on a foundation of courage and hope, one that is supposed to stand as a bright light on a hill and an example for the world to follow, Guantanamo symbolizes the exploitation of fear that enabled some to say no to the rule of law.

In the months between the terrorist attacks on 9/11 and the arrival of the first prisoners at the detention camp, Bush administration lawyers worked to rationalize turning our backs on what for two centuries was America’s unique strength — the law. The results of their work led to conclusions that detainees in the fight against terrorism were neither criminals nor prisoners of war and therefore had no rights under the laws of war or the Constitution — and that interrogation methods that did not produce pain equal to death or major organ failure did not rise to the level of torture.

Many of those interrogation methods — including the simulated drowning known as waterboarding — were practiced on suspected terrorists held in legal limbo at Guantanamo Bay.

Although President Obama banned torture shortly after taking office — and pledged to close the Guantanamo Bay detention camp within a year of becoming President — the facility remains open. Congress has resisted bringing detainees to the U.S. to be held and tried; Obama has failed to win the argument.

This is an outrage. The enduring, infamous symbolism of Guantanamo weakens our influence around the world and puts our troops and our citizens abroad in danger.

Even now, as we continue to hold 171 prisoners in indefinite detention on Cuban soil at our prison at Guantanamo, we undermine the credibility of our demand for the Cuban government to release American Alan Gross from two-plus years of confinement in a Cuban prison. How then, do we condone the continued indefinite detention on the other side of the island of so many people who have not been charged with crimes — or even, in the case of 89 of them, have been approved for release?

We may have allowed a legitimate fear of terrorism to cause the needle of our collective moral compass to waver for a moment, but our fundamental principles remain centered on true north. As a nation founded on religious and moral values, we cannot begin to move past the shameful symbol of the past decade until we ensure that U.S. government-sponsored torture never occurs again.

We take a major step on that path when we turn out the lights at Guantanamo.

Davis is former chief prosecutor for the military commissions at Guantanamo Bay and is now on the faculty of the Howard University School of Law. Killmer is executive director of the National Religious Campaign Against Torture.