On Wednesday, September 21, Shane Bauer and Joshua Fattal met their families in Muscat, Oman, after being released from Evin Prison in Iran following two years of imprisonment.
Accused of espionage when their traveling group inadvertantly strayed into Iranian territory, the story of Bauer and Fattal has added to the strain of Iranian-American relations in the post-9/11 world.
Among the well-wishers on the tarmac in Oman was Sarah Shourd, Bauer's fiancée and formerly fellow captive, whom the Iranian government released last year due to suspected illness.
Since her release, Shourd has spoken harshly of the conditions in Evin Prison, which include allegations of savage rape and other forms of torture and a fundamental lack of access to legal representation for detainees.
Shourd calls her experience with the judiciary system in Iran "a parody of justice," as neither she nor Fattal and Bauer were ever permitted private access to lawyers.
If the three hikers were not American nationals, would they now be free? Or would they be lost, like countless other political prisoners, within the bowels of an unjust legal system?
Consider the case of Murat Kurnaz. A Turkish citizen and legal resident of Germany, Kurnaz was arrested on suspicion of terrorist activity in Pakistan and imprisoned, first at the United States military base in Kandahar, Afghanistan, and later at Guantanamo Bay.
Held for four years before he filed a writ of habeas corpus with the U.S. government, Kurnaz was released in 2006 due to exculpatory evidence found in declassified documents.
Links between Kurnaz and Al Qaeda had been falsified and his connection to suicide bombers unsubstantiated.
There was approximately as much evidence against Kurnaz as there was against the hikers detained in Iran.
Yet American public opinion of the two parties—the American hikers and detainees at Guantanamo Bay—could not be more extraordinarily disparate.
It seems as if Bauer, Fattal and Shourd found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, because American citizens are generally believed to be terrorist agents working against radical Iranian ideals.
Of course, I don't deny the significance of intelligence work done to identify and eliminate terrorist threats against the United States. I am merely questioning the appropriateness of some of the methods used in protecting our homeland.
If there was one innocent man imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay—and we accept there are many still in Evin Prison—who's to say there aren't more?
The last thing the government of the United States wants is unfavorable comparisons to Iran, or any other member of Bush's infamous Axis of Evil.
In general, there is no equating the two countries on this matter.In Iran, I would be thrown in Evin Prison for even considering the subject of this column.
My president doesn't deny the existence of the Holocaust and I get to vote—or not vote—for whomever I choose.
A religious leader of any faith does not appoint my leader, and the president is subject to limits.
Still, there is a treacherous parallel to the ways in which "dangerous" political prisoners are identified and treated in both Iran and the United States.
Although the Pentagon released a report in 2009 affirming Guantanamo's compliance with the Geneva Conventions, the myriad abuses documented at the center—including, but not limited to, sexual humiliation, extreme isolation and its subsequent psychological effects, and discrimination based on religion—defy acceptability of any kind.
Even guilt does not preclude the assurance of certain rights, such as protection from bodily harm.
The framework within which enemy combatants and suspicious individuals are viewed is unstable; indeed, the very vocabulary used to describe American interests and involvement abroad is fraught.
To paraphrase President Bush concerning terrorist cells in Al Qaeda and Iraq, if we are to "smoke 'em out" and ensure the future safety and security of the nation, the notion of the opponent must be reframed to include some nuance.