The Purpose of Pain

Torture is one of the most uncomfortable subjects humanity avoids talking about.

Not because it doesn’t exist.

Not because it’s rare.

But because it forces us to confront something terrifying about ourselves.

That human beings are capable of deliberately inflicting suffering on other human beings — not by accident, not in self-defense, not in desperation — but intentionally, methodically, and sometimes even proudly.

Torture isn’t a relic of ancient history.

It isn’t confined to dusty textbooks or distant civilizations.

It exists wherever power exists.

And that alone should make us pause.

Most people assume torture is about extracting information. That’s the excuse often given. But history, psychology, and modern research show something different. Torture rarely produces reliable truth. Under extreme suffering, people say anything to make the pain stop. Lies become survival tools.

So if torture doesn’t reliably produce truth…

Why does it keep happening?

Because torture isn’t primarily about information.

It’s about control.

Torture is the ultimate expression of dominance. It strips a person of autonomy, dignity, and identity. It reduces a human being to a body that reacts. A nervous system responding to stimuli. A creature desperate for relief.

To the one inflicting pain, this creates an illusion of absolute power.

And power is intoxicating.

Humans have always been drawn to hierarchies. Kings, empires, dictators, gangs, abusive relationships, corrupt institutions — all rely on the same foundation: someone must feel above someone else.

Torture becomes a ritual of that superiority.

It sends a message.

You are powerless.

I decide what you feel.

I decide how long you suffer.

I decide if you deserve mercy.

That message echoes far beyond the victim.

It’s meant for everyone watching.

Fear is a weapon.

Torture turns fear into policy.

Another uncomfortable truth is that torture doesn’t require monsters.

It requires ordinary people placed inside systems that reward cruelty.

History is filled with examples of regular individuals who became participants in horrific acts, not because they were born evil, but because they were taught that their actions were justified, necessary, patriotic, or righteous.

When cruelty is framed as duty, conscience weakens.

When orders replace thinking, responsibility disappears.

When dehumanization becomes language, empathy collapses.

This is how torture becomes normalized.

First, the victim is labeled something less than human.

Enemy.

Criminal.

Traitor.

Threat.

Once someone is no longer seen as fully human, harming them feels easier.

Not right.

But easier.

Torture also exposes a darker psychological desire: the urge to externalize pain.

Humans carry frustration, anger, shame, and helplessness. When people feel powerless in their own lives, they sometimes look for ways to feel powerful elsewhere.

Inflicting pain can create a temporary sense of control.

It doesn’t heal anything.

It doesn’t solve anything.

But for a moment, it makes the person feel bigger than their own suffering.

That’s a dangerous illusion.

Because it requires another person to become the container for your unresolved darkness.

The long-term consequences of torture are rarely visible on the surface.

Survivors often carry invisible scars that last longer than physical wounds.

Trust becomes difficult.

Safety feels imaginary.

The nervous system stays stuck in survival mode.

Even in quiet rooms, the body expects danger.

Trauma doesn’t end when the pain stops.

It embeds itself into memory, identity, and perception.

It shapes how someone sees the world.

It shapes how they see themselves.

Torture doesn’t only damage individuals.

It poisons societies.

When a system uses torture, it teaches its people that cruelty is acceptable under certain circumstances.

That some humans deserve fewer rights.

That morality is flexible.

Once that door opens, it rarely closes neatly.

Today, many people believe torture is something that happens “somewhere else.”

Another country.

Another culture.

Another time.

That belief is comforting.

And false.

The potential for cruelty exists in every society.

Including the ones that call themselves civilized.

The question isn’t whether humans are capable of torture.

History already answered that.

The real question is whether humans are willing to confront that capacity honestly.

Because pretending we are naturally good doesn’t make us good.

It makes us blind.

Preventing torture doesn’t start with better tools.

It starts with better values.

With accountability.

With education that teaches critical thinking, empathy, and moral courage.

With cultures that reward compassion instead of domination.

With systems that value human dignity even when it’s inconvenient.

Torture reveals the worst version of what humanity can become.

But it also quietly highlights something else.

That every generation gets to choose what kind of power it builds.

Power based on fear.

Or power based on respect.

Power that crushes.

Or power that protects.

The existence of torture is proof of human darkness.

The refusal to accept it is proof of human hope.

And that tension between the two may define our species more than anything else.