Guantánamo is pants

I am beginning to wonder whether someone has a sense of humour down in Guantánamo Bay. I was visiting the base recently and noticed a sign that pronounced the Task Force “value of the week”: it was Compassion. And then came the case of the contraband underpants.

I received a letter from an officer at the base suggesting that I might have smuggled some underwear into my client, the British resident Shaker Aamer. Apparently Shaker was “recently discovered to be wearing Under Armour briefs and a Speedo bathing suit.” Shaker was apparently wearing both contraband items in his cell in Camp Echo, where he has been in total isolation almost continuously since September 24, 2005, with only the flush of his steel toilet for company.

Initially, I wondered whether someone was pulling my leg. I was not sure what Under Armour underpants were, but Google filled me in: Shaker pulling on his Speedos over some kind of form-fitting, moisture-wicking, performance apparel presented an improbable image. The authorities’ records must reflect that I have not seen Shaker for over a year, and there is a camera permanently focused on him in his cell that can hardly have missed such a splendid vision for so long. Thus, it was unlikely was the notion that I would foresake my usual task – legal briefs – for the business of supplying micro-fibre ones.

Although I was not the smuggler of this unique contraband, I felt an obligation to help solve the case. My investigation revealed the Under Armour brand to be popular with the U.S. military. Indeed, the internet tells us that this “specialty clothing maker is winning over soldiers and cashing in on war.” The company has come out with a special line called Tactical Under Armour, so the soldier can be kitted out in camouflage green in the field, even when he is caught with his trousers down. In one advertising image a soldier is posed in his Under Armour “looking as if he'd just as soon take a hill as take off on a run. His muscular arms protrude from the tight, olive-colored fabric. He's a picture of soldierliness. And he's totally dry.”

For a moment, it seemed that the this alternative prosecution case was cut and dried as well – a soldier must have supplied Shaker with the offending undergarment. But then I came across the U.S. Amateur Weightlifting Association’s website, and I learned that the unmentionables were mentioned there as well.

“I was wondering what the rule on Under Armour is?” queried one Andy Oberman. “I wear the briefs with my squat suit -- it makes it soooo much easier to get over my thighs. My first meet is coming up and I wanted to get that squared away before I show up. Thanks.”

Perhaps some powerlifter had somehow slipped the lingerie to Shaker? It seemed unlikely.

The swimming trunks posed a different dilemma: presumably the prosecution would theorise that Shaker wore his Speedos while paddling in his privy, that being the only water available to him. How to prevent such an outrage? I remembered a sign at a neighbour’s pool in my youth, and I felt that, reversing its admonition, it might prove helpful under the circumstances. The military could erect prohibitory signs in each Camp Echo cell: “We don’t pee in your swimming pool so please don’t swim in our toilet.”

I have done my part of the investigation. As I assured the officer who wrote to me, I look forward to learning the final conclusion of the case.

This article also appeared in the New Statesman.