Page 107 - Malcolm Gladwell - Talking to Strangers
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cried  and  still  do,  because  it  was  horrific.”  Daniel  Pearl  was  the  Wall  Street  Journal  reporter
                    kidnapped—and then killed—in Pakistan in January 2002. KSM brought up the subject of Pearl
                    without being asked, then got out of his chair and demonstrated—with what Mitchell thought was a
                    touch of  relish—the technique he had used  in beheading Pearl with a knife. “What was  horrific
                    about it was he acted like he had some sort of an intimate relationship with Daniel. He kept calling
                    him ‘Daniel’ in that voice like they were not really lovers, but they were best friends or something.
                    It was just the creepiest thing.”
                       But all that was later—after KSM opened up. In March 2003, when Mitchell and Jessen first
                    confronted him, tiny and hairy and potbellied, things were very different.
                       “You’ve got to remember at that particular time [we] had credible evidence that Al Qaeda had
                    another big wave of attacks coming,” Mitchell said.

                       There was a lot of chatter. We knew that Osama bin Laden had met with the Pakistani scientists
                       who were passing out nuclear technology, and [we] knew that the Pakistani scientists had said to
                       Bin Laden, “The biggest problem is getting the nuclear material.” Bin Laden had said, “What if
                       we’ve already got it?” That just sent chills through the whole intelligence community.
                       The CIA had people walking around Manhattan with Geiger counters, looking for a dirty bomb.
                    Washington was on high alert. And when KSM was first captured, the feeling was that if anyone
                    knew anything about the planned attacks, it would be him. But KSM wasn’t talking, and Mitchell
                    wasn’t optimistic. KSM was a hard case.
                       The  first  set  of  interrogators  sent  to  question  KSM  had  tried  to  be  friendly.  They  made  him
                    comfortable and brewed him some tea and asked respectful questions. They’d gotten nowhere. He
                    had simply looked at them and rocked back and forth.
                       Then  KSM  had  been  handed  over  to  someone  Mitchell  calls  the  “new  sheriff  in  town,”  an
                    interrogator  who  Mitchell  says  crossed  the  line  into  sadism—contorting  KSM  into  a  variety  of
                    “stress”  positions,  like  taping  his  hands  together  behind  his  back,  then  raising  them  up  over  his
                    head,  so  that  his  shoulders  almost  popped  out.  “This  guy  told  me  that  he  had  learned  his
                    interrogation approaches in South America from the communist rebels,” Mitchell said. “He got into
                    a battle of wills with KSM. The new sheriff had this idea that he wanted to be called sir. That’s all
                    he focused on.” KSM had no intention of calling anyone sir. After a week of trying, the new sheriff
                    gave up. The prisoner was handed over to Mitchell and Jessen.
                       What happened next is a matter of great controversy. The methods of interrogation used on KSM
                    have been the subject of lawsuits, congressional investigations, and endless public debate. Those
                    who  approve  refer  to  the  measures  as  “enhanced  interrogation  techniques”—EITs.  Those  on  the
                    other side call them torture. But let us leave aside those broader ethical questions for a moment, and
                    focus on what the interrogation of KSM can tell us about the two puzzles.

                       The deceptions of Ana Montes and Bernie Madoff, the confusion over Amanda Knox, the plights
                    of Graham Spanier and Emily Doe are all evidence of the underlying problem we have in making
                    sense of people we do not know. Default to truth is a crucially important strategy that occasionally
                    and unavoidably leads us astray. Transparency is a seemingly commonsense assumption that turns
                    out to be an illusion. Both, however, raise the same question: once we accept our shortcomings,
                    what should we do? Before we return to Sandra Bland—and what exactly happened on that roadside
                    in  Texas—I  want  to  talk  about  perhaps  the  most  extreme  version  of  the  talking-to-strangers
                    problem: a terrorist who wants to hold on to his secrets, and an interrogator who is willing to go to
                    almost any lengths to pry them free.


                                                           2.


                    Mitchell and Jessen met in Spokane, Washington, where they were both staff psychologists for the
                    Air  Force’s  SERE  program—Survival,  Evasion,  Resistance,  Escape.  All  branches  of  the  U.S.
                    military have their own versions of SERE, which involves teaching key personnel what to do in the
                    event that they fall into enemy hands.
                       The exercise would begin with the local police rounding up Air Force officers, unannounced, and
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