Breakage

A British man in Saudi Arabia was arrested, accused of a murder he didn't commit, tortured until he confessed, condemned to death and imprisoned for three years. Best detail: at one point he was so broken psychologically he stopped eating, and his jailers put him on anti-depressants so he would perk up and not starve to death.

Stories like this, and the repetitious stories of hapless Western contractors nabbed in Iraq, not to mention tales of Guantanamo, constantly keep the issue of torture in the news. When I read them, I always wonder: how would I fare? How long could I keep from breaking, simply to keep from giving them the satisfaction? How much would my religious faith help me? What would I be like when I finally got out -- or would I be able to face my death with any dignity at all?

These are no longer just idle questions nowadays, though chances I'll ever have to answer them are thankfully still very slim. It's like after Sept. 11, I constantly thought of what I would do if I had been stuck at the top of the WTC: Would I have jumped? And what was it like to make that decision?