Wall Street Journal (Sept. 12, 2005).
Opinion
Maker ………
A Young Lawyer
Helps Chart Shift In Foreign Policy.
Prof. Yoo Sees Broad Powers For
Presidents at War; White House Backs
Away New
Definition of Torture.
By PAUL M. BARRETT
In June, about 100 people
gathered at the American Enterprise Institute, a conservative Washington think
tank, to hear a lecture by John Yoo on "fighting the new terrorism."
Mr. Yoo recommended an unusual idea: assassinating more suspected terrorists.
A law professor at the
University of California at Berkeley, he said his proposal would require
"a change in the way we think about the executive order banning
assassination, which has been with us since the 1970s." Such a change is
needed, he said, because it is wartime: "A nation at war may use force
against members of the enemy at any time, regardless of their proximity to hostilities
or their activity at the time of attack."
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Some of those memos have
become public, but not all of them. Asked after his AEI talk whether there is a
classified Justice Department opinion justifying assassinations, Mr. Yoo hinted
that he'd written one himself. "You would think they -- the administration
-- would have had an opinion about it, given all the other opinions, wouldn't
you?" he said, adding, "And you know who would have done the
work."
A spokesman for the Justice
Department declined to comment. Mr. Yoo is playing an instrumental role in
redefining the murky area where law intersects with foreign policy. The change
underpins President Bush's claim that he possesses the sort of far-reaching
emergency powers exercised by past presidents during conventional wars.
Mr. Yoo, like others in the academic clique
known as "sovereigntists," is skeptical of international law and the idea that international
relations are ever based on principle, as opposed to self-interest. Mr.
Yoo argues that the Constitution gives Congress limited authority to deter
presidential actions in foreign affairs. The judiciary, he says, has almost
none.
At the Justice Department, Mr.
Yoo crafted legal arguments for the president's power to launch pre-emptive
strikes against terrorists and their supporters. He molded a theory for not
applying the Geneva Conventions to captured terrorist suspects. And he
interpreted the federal antitorture statute as barring only acts that
cause severe mental harm or pain like that accompanying "death or organ
failure."
In the wake of the Abu Ghraib
prisoner-abuse scandal, the Bush administration has backed away from Mr. Yoo's most
extreme ideas about interrogation. But that hasn't discouraged him from waging
an intellectual offensive in speeches, articles and a forthcoming book to be
published by the University of Chicago. His claim is that American law
permits the president to go to almost any lengths in the name of fighting
terrorism.
The Yoo Doctrine, as it
might be called, fits with the broader Bush-administration view that pursuing
American interests is best for the country and the rest of the world. Before
9/11, Mr. Yoo helped lay legal groundwork for some of the president's
high-visibility withdrawals from treaties, including the antiballistic missile
pact with Russia and the agreement underpinning the International Criminal
Court in the Netherlands, established in 1998 to deal with the gravest
international crimes.
Another illustration of the
Bush mind-set was the president's recess appointment last month of John Bolton
as U.S. ambassador to the United Nations, an institution Mr. Bolton had derided
as largely superfluous.
Not surprisingly, Mr. Yoo is
reviled on the political left. Students at Berkeley last year circulated a
petition demanding that he recant his Justice Department work or resign his
professorship. (He has done neither.) Human-rights advocates suggest he might
be a war criminal and compare his memos with Nazi legal documents. Amnesty
International urged in May that state bar associations consider sanctions
against Mr. Yoo and others.
Within the Bush
administration, former Secretary of State Colin Powell warned in 2002 in an
internal memo that Mr. Yoo's ideas about treatment of detainees would
"undermine the protections of the law of war for our troops." In
July, senior uniformed military lawyers deplored his analysis in Senate
testimony.
In person, the academic is
disarmingly mild and defends his views calmly. He has had plenty of practice,
and not just in media interviews and on campus. His wife, Elsa Arnett, he says,
disagrees with almost everything he believes about politics and policy.
"We have some heated discussions," he says. "I welcome it. It
keeps me honest."
Mr. Yoo has always enjoyed
being a conservative fly in the liberal soup. He met his future wife when they
were both Harvard undergraduates on the staff of the campus daily, where he
relished the role of token right-winger. She is the daughter of veteran war
correspondent Peter Arnett. "Elsa was always a smart, interesting person,
and that was attractive to John, even though they disagreed about everything
political," says David Lazarus, a friend since college who affectionately
refers to Mr. Yoo as "the evil one." Ms. Arnett, a writer, declined
to be interviewed.
Mr. Yoo inherited conservative
instincts from his parents, who emigrated from South Korea when he was an
infant. Both physicians, they hated communism and admired Ronald Reagan. They
sent their son to a private Episcopal high school in Philadelphia where he
studied Greek and Latin and attended chapel three times a week.
At Yale Law School in 1989, he
joined the Federalist Society, a national group of right-leaning lawyers that
sponsors debates and serves as a job-referral network.
With help from Federalists, he
snared prestigious clerkships: first with Judge Laurence Silberman, an
appellate jurist in Washington much admired on the right, and then with Supreme
Court Justice Clarence Thomas. A good word from the justice, Mr. Yoo says,
helped him obtain a top staff job with Republican Sen. Orrin Hatch of Utah,
then chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee.
While on Sen. Hatch's staff,
Mr. Yoo clashed with Democrats over Clinton judicial nominees. In 2000, he
aided the Republican legal contingent that helped win the decisive electoral
brawl in Florida.
Even by the standards of elite
Washington legal circles, Mr. Yoo earned a reputation for what Justice Thomas
calls "a very high level of confidence in conclusions he might
reach." In an interview, the justice warmly recalls his former clerk as
"a real showman and a real intellectual -- a smooth talker who made good
arguments." Mr. Yoo had an unusual degree of certainty that he knew the
"original intent" of the Constitution's authors, Justice Thomas says.
"We'd kid him sometimes that he was right there at the founding."
Former co-clerk Saikrishna
Prakash recalls teasing, "John, break out the crystal ball and tell us
what the framers thought." Mr. Yoo would fire back, "Yes, I consulted
the framers. You're all wrong, and I'm right."
When he wasn't drafting
opinions in the Thomas chambers, Mr. Yoo sometimes played squash with Justice
Antonin Scalia, another conservative hero. Mr. Yoo says he didn't let the
justice win, as some other clerks did. A Supreme Court spokeswoman says the
justice recalls the matches but doesn't remember losing.
In 1996, Mr. Yoo moved to
liberal Berkeley, where he had taught briefly before. He explains this
fish-out-of-water situation in careerist terms: Berkeley was the best law
school that offered him a tenure-track job.
Mr. Yoo challenges an academic
consensus that for decades has promoted international law and other legal
restraints on U.S. war making. This thinking grew out of the post-World War II
goals of resolving conflict at the United Nations and checking executive-branch
excesses during the long nuclear standoff with the Soviets.
The majority view relies
heavily on constitutional provisions, such as the one stating that Congress,
not the president, has the power "to declare war" and "raise and
support armies."
Years before he joined the
Bush administration, Mr. Yoo was writing law-review articles arguing that this
consensus is at once outdated and -- despite the Constitution's language -- in
conflict with the intentions of the founding fathers.
Seeking to play down the
seemingly clear wording of the declare-war clause, for example, he argues that
Alexander Hamilton and his colleagues adapted the British idea that Parliament
could declare the existence of an all-out war, but such a statement wasn't
necessary before the king could launch hostilities. Congress, Mr. Yoo contends,
was given only two ways to counter the commander-in-chief: impeaching him or
cutting off funds for the military. In James Madison's words: "The sword
is in the hands of the British king; the purse in the hands of the Parliament.
It is so in America, as far as any analogy can exist."
In practice, Mr. Yoo's
assertion that the commander-in-chief has vast "inherent" authority
in times of crisis pretty accurately describes what past presidents have done.
Since the nation's earliest days, when George Washington waged war against
Indians in the Ohio River Valley and John Adams sent American ships against the
French, presidents have ordered troops into scores of conflicts without formal
congressional declarations. In fact, Congress has declared war only five times.
Mr. Yoo likes to point out
that Bill Clinton sent U.S. forces to Bosnia, Kosovo, Iraq, Sudan and
Afghanistan -- all without formal congressional declarations. And war
presidents from Washington to Abraham Lincoln to Franklin Roosevelt used
military commissions to try enemy soldiers without the usual panoply of
courtroom niceties.
It's vital, says Mr. Yoo, to
see the antiterrorism effort as a genuine war. Facing terrorists who don't obey
treaties and can't be disciplined at the U.N., the president must be able to
act swiftly and flexibly, he contends.
Mr. Yoo got a chance to put
his ideas into practice in 2001, when he received a midlevel political
appointment in the Justice Department's Office of Legal Counsel. The small office
opines on the legality of executive-branch actions.
When the planes hit on 9/11,
anxiety raced through Justice Department headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue,
recalls Robert Delahunty, then a lawyer in the counsel's office. He says Mr.
Yoo immediately asserted himself, declaring, "This is war. The law
operates differently." He "came to this first, before others,"
says Mr. Delahunty, who now teaches at the University of Saint Thomas School of
Law in Minneapolis.
In the months that followed,
the White House asked Mr. Yoo's office for memos on antiterrorism authority. He
served as primary draftsman of key documents, such as one dated Sept. 25, 2001,
that said the president had broad constitutional power to launch military
attacks on terrorist groups or states that support them, "whether or not
they can be linked" to 9/11.
A Jan. 9, 2002, memo concluded
that neither the federal War Crimes Act nor the Geneva Conventions
constrained the administration in its handling of al Qaeda and Taliban
detainees held at Guantanamo Bay.
The most startling memo in
this series was an Aug. 1, 2002, analysis concluding the federal antitorture
statute forbids "only extreme acts" that cause either "lasting
psychological harm" or physical pain "akin to that which accompanies
serious physical injury such as death or organ failure." As
commander-in-chief, the opinion stated, Mr. Bush could bypass U.S. law and
international treaties prohibiting inhumane treatment of prisoners.
These opinions remained secret
until abuse at Abu Ghraib came to light in spring 2004. The memos began to
leak, and then, in June 2004, the White House released a batch of them as part
of a damage-control effort. Alberto Gonzales, then the White House counsel and
now attorney general, disavowed the Aug. 1, 2002, memo on interrogation. He
dismissed its analysis of presidential authority to disregard antitorture laws
as "irrelevant and unnecessary."
By then, Mr. Yoo had completed
his planned two-year stint in Washington and returned to Berkeley. Disappointed
by the administration's response -- "They kind of ran and hid," he
says -- he wasn't surprised when he became a target for Bush critics.
A White House spokeswoman
declined to expand on Mr. Gonzales's earlier comments.
Massachusetts Democratic Sen. Edward
Kennedy suggested in a speech in April that Mr. Yoo and others deserved formal
disciplining. "No action -- criminal, administrative, or otherwise -- has
been taken against the high civilian officials responsible for the
authorization of torture and mistreatment by U.S. officials," he said.
Jeremy Waldron, a law
professor at Columbia University, gave voice to a common view in legal circles,
calling the Yoo memo on torture "shocking as a jurisprudential
matter" and a mark of "dishonor for our profession."
While publicly the
administration has kept its distance from Mr. Yoo, other arms of the
conservative establishment, including this newspaper's editorial page, have
defended him. (Mr. Yoo worked as a summer intern for The Wall Street Journal's
news department before starting law school and has written articles for its
opinion pages.)
Mr. Yoo says his former boss,
Justice Thomas, no stranger to personal controversy, privately offered moral
support but warned that "these things will always be harder on your family
than on you." Indeed, Mr. Yoo's wife only learned about the memos along
with the rest of the country. While at the Justice Department, her husband
hadn't talked about his classified work at home.
In explaining the fallout to
her, Mr. Yoo says he stressed that as a lawyer, he had described the reach of
statutes and treaties, leaving policy choices to more senior officials. The
torture memo, he says, responded to a question posed by the Central
Intelligence Agency: "How far are we allowed to go?" A CIA spokesman
declined to comment.
Contrary to critics who say
his work started the U.S. down a "road to Abu Ghraib," Mr. Yoo says
none of his most controversial memos applied to ordinary prisoners in Iraq,
only to alleged terrorists who might know about future mass attacks. He says he
deplores the abuse at Abu Ghraib, but attributes it to military misbehavior,
not legal interpretations.
Mr. Yoo says al Qaeda members
don't qualify for prisoner-of-war protections under the Geneva Conventions,
because those treaties are between nations. Al Qaeda isn't a nation and doesn't
respect rules of war, he says, such as not intentionally attacking civilians.
The president ordered American
officials in February 2002 "to continue to treat detainees humanely"
and "in a manner consistent with the principles" of the Geneva
Conventions. But he added the caveat that this should be done "to the
extent appropriate and consistent with military necessity." The Bush
administration says that it complies with the United Nations Convention Against
Torture, which the U.S. ratified in 1994.
Mr. Yoo takes solace in that
most of the ideas he advocated are very much alive in Washington. The military
and CIA continue to operate secretive detention-and-interrogation centers. The
indefinite imprisonment of terrorism suspects and use of military commissions
have survived legal challenges.
In
June 2004, the Supreme Court ruled that federal courts can review the
grounds for detaining foreign enemy combatants held outside the U.S. The
justices separately ruled that American citizens held as terrorism suspects
must have access to lawyers and fair hearings.
But beyond providing for the
barest sort of judicial oversight, the court seemed to accept the idea that the
country is at war and that the president and his subordinates have exceedingly
broad latitude to run it. If confirmed, Supreme Court nominee John Roberts is
expected to be a strong proponent of this view.
"It seems to me,"
says Mr. Yoo, "that the leaders in government and the judges and some
legal thinkers, too, accept now that the fight against terrorism is a real
war."