One afternoon last week, four men from central Asia walked into a shop in Bermuda to buy pants. Refugees from Chinese communism, these Uighur men were swept up by US forces in 2001. They were sent to Guantánamo.

But they were not terrorists and not our enemies. The military soon realised its mistake and quietly tried to resettle them abroad. The efforts failed: no one wanted to brook the Chinese for the sake of a few dissidents whom the United States would not accept itself.

Years later, after the Uighurs' plight emerged in court, the Bush administration formally admitted they were not enemies. A judge ordered their release. The new President, who had campaigned on a vow to close Guantánamo, was on the point of admitting them to this country.

But then Congress was stampeded by the right. Congressional Democrats and many Republicans had applauded the call to close Guantánamo, but when it came to action, they ran for the exits. There were a few exceptions, like Senators Dick Durbin and Pat Leahy, and Congressman Bill Delahunt.

But they seemed like schoolteachers after the bell had rung, trying to bring order to a ruck of noisy children, looking in vain for help to the Principal's office.

And so the Uighurs, cleared in every imaginable way, were stranded at the prison.

Bermudian Premier Ewart Brown saw the humanitarian crisis that lay beneath the politics. He offered to accept four of them into the island's guest worker program.

At 3 a.m. on June 11, I watched on the Guantánamo airstrip as four innocent men were unshackled for the last time. They climbed aboard a charter aircraft. And when the sun rose, they stepped down to free soil in Bermuda, smiling broadly.

One said, "This is a small island, but it has a big heart."

Others will have to judge the American heart. Within hours, the lunatic fringe was feeding lies to Bermudian media.

A Bush ear mouthpiece joined the mugging with a false report that the men had "trained in al Qaeda camps". (Before meeting interrogators, the men had never heard of al Qaeda, and in court the Bush administration itself conceded that there was no al Qaeda link. But in the feeding frenzy truth did not matter.)

A political crisis exploded in Bermuda's Parliament. The minority called for a vote of no confidence in the government. The British loudly protested not being asked permission.

At home, Congress has already said it prefers that men cleared by courts remain in prison forever, rather than America participate in the shutdown.

Congress's idea of a solution is that we are the broom, and our allies the dustpan. So far, all allies but one have demurred. And the fracas now raging in Bermuda will not encourage others to act as Bermuda did.

Just as surely as Guantánamo today holds men who should stand trial on serious criminal charges, it holds men who never did us wrong. How the President will make good on his pledge to close the prison remains unclear.

The Democrats may yet create America's gulag — a forever prison from which innocents never leave.

In Hamilton that afternoon, as four bearded men entered a shop, a talk show was playing on the radio. The host proclaimed that terrorist jihadists had been admitted to Bermuda and were now roaming Front Street.

Shrill callers condemned the government. The shopkeeper stared for a moment at his four new customers. He glanced at the radio speaker in the ceiling. He looked at the men again. Then at the speaker.

Someone joked about Bermuda shorts and knee socks. The Uighurs smiled and demurred — might they have long pants instead? Everyone laughed.

The shopkeeper smiled broadly. "Never mind about them," he said, waving at the radio speaker. "Welcome to the island!" Small island, big heart.

Sabin Willett is the lawyer representing the four Uighur men granted asylum in Bermuda