Jew World Order

Through a one-way mirror, I am allowed to observe the group who are taking
part in a computer class, one of the privileges for well-behaved detainees.

While the atmosphere in the class seems relaxed, tension inside the hub, where
I’m standing is tangible.

Half a dozen military police guards are watching my every move and I sense
that my presence and that of photographer Julian Simmonds is tolerated
rather than welcomed.

The detainees, dressed in white uniforms and turbans, are being taught by a
civilian instructor, a US citizen fluent in Arabic and Pashto, the language
of the Taliban, who has positioned himself just far enough away from the
group to ensure that he cannot be attacked.

Because of the presence of a civilian, the detainees are chained to the floor,
and two burly US military police guards, armed with handcuffs and pepper
spray, watch silently, ready to react instantly to any sign of trouble.

Apart from that the class is a routine lesson in using computers, and when it
is over the detainees will be unchained and free to walk around the communal
area of the prison block.

The detainees have no knowledge of our presence. If they had, explains the
Camp VI deputy commander, they might become disruptive, even though
shackled, and the problem could become worse when they are unchained.

“After all,” he adds “how would you like people coming into your home
unwelcomed?”

Next door, in another cell block, a tall bearded detainee begins preparing
several plates of food which have just been delivered.

On the menu is pea soup, garlic chicken, and freshly-baked chocolate brownies
for pudding. A choice of Pepsi, Coke, chocolate milk or fruit juice is also
on offer.

As I peer through the mirror, a frail-looking detainee shuffles towards a
table using a Zimmer frame.

He picks up a polystyrene cup and sips slowly, before nodding approvingly to
the bearded “brother”. More detainees begin to arrive, all dressed similarly
in beige or white, some wearing small caps, others wearing turbans.

I watch fascinated and cannot help wondering how the detainees cope with the
not knowing, living in a legal suspended animation, where days blur into
weeks, and weeks into years.

Given that freedom remains at best a distant possibility, and for some an
impossibility, the only incentive for good behaviour is an increasingly
liberal regime, to minimise conflict and maximise co-operation.

Apart from freedom, the detainees appear to want for nothing given the
limitations of prison. It is all designed to achieve what senior officers
call “compliance”.

Camp VI is based around communal living, where the detainees effectively set
the rules. Cells are never locked, except in an emergency, and all detainees
have access to an inner recreational area 24 hours a day.

It is currently home to around 130 of Gitmo’s 169 inmates – strictly speaking,
164 detainees and five prisoners, those who have been found guilty of a
crime by the military tribunal system America set up a decade ago.

Camp VI inmates are housed in eight blocks of 22 cells each. The cells are 95
sq ft, each with a single bed and fire proof, plastic covered foam mattress,
a sink with hot and cold water, a lavatory and a polished stainless steel
mirror.

The temperature is kept at around 78F (23.8C), as per the detainees’ wishes,
and they are allowed to wake and sleep whenever they want.

Each block has a library of more than 200 books, in Arabic, English and
Russian, magazines – particularly National Geographic – and newspapers and
DVDs; the Harry Potter series is currently one of the favourites.

The books in English include science fiction, Star Wars and Isaac Asimov,
classical works of philosophy, novels including Hardy’s Jude the Obscure,
and perhaps strangely for a prison, travel literature, including Bill
Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island.

Two widescreen television sets are located in each of the blocks’ main
communal areas and every prisoner receives a set of infra-red head phones
through which they can hear the television.

Sixteen PlayStation 3s and 16 Nintendo DS handheld computer games are also
distributed, mainly for the use of the younger inmates – favourite games are
ones based on Nascar racing, the North American motorsport, and the Fifa
football series of games.

Life on the different blocks varies. Some are fairly liberal in their approach
to religion, with prisoners who watch television, play football, and eat a
varied diet including western food. Others run on strict religious lines
where television is restricted and prayers take place five times a day.

Every day begins with the call to prayer conducted by the block religious
leader, usually around 5am, after which some of the detainees return to
their cells to doze for a few hours.

Others may shower, launder their clothes, or work out on the treadmill,
multigym and cross-trainer in one of the outside recreational areas.

Around 8am, breakfast arrives and consists of muffins, omelette, grits (the
southern American porridge made from maize), fresh fruit or cereal together
with tea and fruit juice. Classes usually follow but these are not
compulsory.

Lessons on offer include literacy, interpersonal communication, life skills,
personal finance and business, writing success, and languages: Arabic to
English and Pashto to English.

But by far the most popular are the art classes. Adorning their cells with
artwork is one of the privileges on offer to the compliant inmates of Camp
VI.

“It provides a creative outlet. It’s important to keep their minds occupied,”
says a senior officer, who, like almost all the officials I speak to, is
unwilling to be named.

Around midday the detainees begin to prepare for lunch, with a choice of five
different main courses.

All tastes and dietary requirements are catered for, including vegetarians,
those with palate problems or an aversion to rich food. All meat is halal
and the food is prepared in accordance with Islamic rules.

The regime may appear liberal but security is paramount. A guard standing in a
steel cage, known as a Sally Point, monitors the activities of the
detainees, while above dozens of CCTV cameras track their movements 24 hours
a day – there is absolutely no privacy.

All the Guantánamo Bay prisons are ringed by 20ft fences wrapped in great
sheets of green plastic netting to keep out prying eyes, topped with razor
wire and surrounded by watch towers, manned by armed guards at all times.

Floodlights are spaced every 100ft and a series of wires running across the
tops of open areas are designed to thwart any attempt to escape by helicopter.

The Caribbean buffets the coastline just yards from the camp gates, but the
detainees have no knowledge that they are beside the sea.

However, there are things they do know, and one of them is the death of the
man they are said to have followed before their detention.

“What was the response from the detainees when Osama bin Laden was shot dead?”
I ask Brig Gen James Lettko, the deputy commander of Joint Task Force
Guantánamo.

“Well, you know what? Nothing,” he says with a smile.

“They sat glued to the television screens for three days. I was told though
that one of the brothers said, ‘Why was he living in a house for years when
we were in here?’ ”

The brigadier and other senior officers I spoke to during my four day visit
insist great strides have been made in improving conditions. Although
families aren’t allowed to visit, all prisoners have access to lawyers, are
allowed four phone calls a year and can send and receive mail.

In the Task Force headquarters, I meet the cultural adviser, a 54-year-old
Jordanian-American who agrees to being called Zak, and who came to
Guantánamo in 2005.

“You couldn’t hear yourself think when you walked through the camps,” he
recalled.

“There was nothing for the detainees to do so they were bored and angry,
shouting all the time. But things have improved. The detainees have changed.
In the past they would sit down in circles and talk about jihad and
al-Qaeda, nowadays they are fighting over what they want to watch on TV.

They have seen that the Arab Spring was achieved with little violence and they
are questioning that change can only be achieved by violence.”

But situated adjacent to Camp VI is Camp V, the “discipline status” prison –
an altogether different environment where “non-compliant belligerents” are
held. Detainees wear orange suits, in part to remind the guards that they
are dealing with high risk individuals.

There are no privileges, no access to any form of media or television and just
two hours’ recreation a day – the rest of the time is spent in solitary
confinement.

Most of those in Camp V have committed an assault, usually carried out by what
is known as a “splash” – mixing human waste, blood and saliva in a cup and
throwing it in a guard’s face.

The first attack is known as a “baptism” and most guards expect to be attacked
at least once during their year-long tour.

“A splash is designed to get the guards to respond,” said a platoon sergeant
serving with 193rd Military Police Company 1st (Mercenaries) Platoon, a
watch commander on duty in Camp V.

A splash can land an inmate in Camp V for 30 days, at the end of which he will
be assessed as to whether he can return to Camp VI.

If he commits another splash, or another infraction such as covering the cell
CCTV, he will serve more time in Camp V but there is always a three-day
break from the hard regime after 30 days. Some Camp V detainees have been
there for months – and are likely to remain there for a long time, according
to the sergeant.

I ask if he is proud to work at Gitmo. “Yes sir,” he responds
enthusiastically.

“There is no better job in the world than leading American soldiers. I’m proud
to serve my country.”

His platoon leader, a 28-year-old officer, with just 18 months’ service, tells
of his experience of life in Guantánamo.

“You can’t talk to the detainees for a few minutes – they bring up the issue
and then they will reiterate, over and over and over again.

“Some are very minor and for them minor issues are a big issue. The other day
a brother wanted to speak to me because he had a big problem.

“I was called over to his cell and he said, ‘I didn’t want a blueberry muffin,
I told them I didn’t want a blueberry muffin, I’d like it cherry, I want a
cherry muffin. I had cherry for years and they give me a blueberry muffin, I
really want a cherry muffin, give me a cherry muffin.’

“And this can go on for a long time, so the simple thing is for me to go and
get a cherry muffin – you give it to them and they are like ‘thank you’ and
they’re done, resolved.”

Then he adds a sentence which sums up life in Guantánamo: “We are not trying
to get them to trust us or change their thought processes. There is no
rehabilitation process.”