In
his book, Secrecy and Democracy, the former director
of U.S. Central Intelligence Agency raised the issue that
is at the heart of a debate over America's intelligence
services. The spy service under his control, he wrote,
"strongly resisted my efforts to employ it to take
the pulse of foreign countries; first, because semi-covert
collection was not in its tradition, and such activity
was not considered espionage by the professionals. Second,
because the CIA had become too accustomed to living and
working in comfortable cities abroad; not enough of its
people were out in the remote areas."1
In
the wake of the collapse of the Soviet empire, the CIA
finds itself fighting for its institutional life. It stands
accused by former top intelligence chiefs of having failed
the mission for which it was founded: to provide political
leaders with accurate assessments of the political, economic,
and military state of the Soviet Union. Writing later
about this "enormous failure", Turner made an
extraordinary assertion in a 1991 Foreign Affairs article:
"I have never heard a suggestion from the CIA, or
the intelligence arms of the departments of defense or
state, that numerous Soviets recognized a growing, systemic
economic decay."2
The
Agency, another critic wrote, was left "virtually
in the dark about the Soviet bloc's political, economic,
and societal decay, as well as the speed with which Communism
would collapse in Eastern Europe." The CIA had kept
overestimating the performace of the Soviet economy, "leading
many to speculate that the numbers were hyped to fuel
the arms race."3
Senator
Daniel Patrick Moynihan, a former vice chairman of the
Senate Intelligence Committee, made an even more sweeping
statement: "For a quarter century," he said,
"the CIA has been epeatedly wrong about the major
political and economic questions entrusted to its analysis."4
And
another high official, General William Odom, former director
of the National Security Agency, proposed that the CIA
should be disbanded: "You could close down the DDI
(Intelligence Analysis Directorate) tomorrow and nobody
would miss it. The only serious issue here is whether
you want to continue to pay all these people. I guess
you keep idle intelligentsia off the streets. I consider
by and large their analytical effort a welfare transfer
package."5
Such
harsh judgments by the men responsible for U.S. intelligence
are astonishing, especially since they suggest that ignorance
prevailed within what was supposed to be our most capable
service, and existed particularly in the scrutiny of its
primary target. Before proceeding any further, I would
like to state that I disagree with the above quoted gentlemen.
Judgements
about the CIA's performance must be placed in context
of time - the decline and collapse of the Soviet Union.
They also must take into account an inconvenient, yet
basic aspect of espionage: all intelligence services serve
their political masters. Or to use a more colorful way
of saying it (to quote one of the prominent participants
in this round table) "however sharp may be the instincts
of an intelligence service, it is always the toy of the
government it services."6
Indeed, in my judgement, the problems that led to the
decline in the agency's prestige and self-image were caused
by the misuse of the CIA by its political masters, especially
during the Nixon and Reagan administrations. The White
House tapes reveal that Nixon's efforts to use the CIA
for domestic political purposes - a clear violation of
the law - were thwarted by its long-time director, Richard
Helms, a career CIA officer.
This
is the basic problem. Intelligence services exist to a
large extent to do the dirty work which politicians want
executed, but for which they do not want to shoulder responsibility.
The CIA has long been the favorite scapegoat for various
failures. It is easy to blame - since, by the very nature
of its work, it cannot fight back in public.
But
this is only a part of the problem. The other part is
the CIA's obsession with secrecy, and its fascination
with being covert, which has undermined its effectiveness.
The agency operates under constraints it has created for
itself. Secrecy both protects and blinds it.
What
are these self-imposed constraints?
One
is the Agency's culture of secrecy. It does not collect
information unless it is secret. Anecdotal evidence shows
the ludicrous extent of this attitude. Columnist Lars-Erik
Nelson reported a story recently in the wake of rumors
that Cuba's Fidel Castro had died. Top officials who had
gathered in the White House tried to assess the situation
just as Radio Havana was announcing that Castro had just
granted an interview to a group of Mexican journalists.
"Someone at the meeting looked at the CIA rep and
asked if we had called the Mexican to verify the report,"
Nelson wrote. "The CIA guy, said, 'We don't do covert
collection'."
Another
is its long-range approach. Despite all the movies and
books about devil-may-care, swashbuckling agents, U.S.
spies almost universally are engaged in banal paper work
under diplomatic cover. They operate inside embassies,
live in special compounds, and are content to do their
work by proxy. They sit in their offices unwilling, and
in many cases unable, to wander around their host country
and talk with local inhabitants. They have to avoid such
contact for fear of eventual problems with the polygraph.
In Moscow, for example, any "fraternization"
with Russian nationals was immediately regarded as potential
"contamination".
From
this flows a variety of problems that burden the Agency.
Frequently, CIA officers are not even linguistically equipped
to do their work. I knew the CIA station chief in Moscow
- at the height of the Cold War in the early 1980s - and
he was unable to even say "good morning" in
Russian. This was not an isolated case. Reuel Gerecht,
a former CIA officer, notes in his book that at the time
"the American embassy was taken over in Iran in 1979,
not a single Agency officer in Tehran spoke Persian."7
Now, according to one government source, if you want to
know who the agents are in the U.S. embassy, look for
the ones who don't speak the language.
By
contrast, regular foreign service officers (in my experience,
those dealing with cultural affairs and trade, as well
as U.S. military attaches) are encouraged to mix with
the local population and aggressively entertain. Unlike
the CIA, neither the State nor the Defense Departments
subject their people to the polygraph. Hence, State and
Defense officials usually provide sounder on the spot
assessments. Diplomats who focus on cultural matters are
particularly productive, as they can mingle freely and
snoop because they have nothing to hide, no secret identities
to protect, and no requests to account for every minute
of their day.
The
celebrated Daniloff affair illustrates the point. State
Department officials in Moscow immediately concluded that
a Russian Orthodox priest who had offered secret information
to the CIA was an agent provocateur; the CIA wrongly concluded
that the priest was genuine and was caught in the act
of trying to recruit him.
The
never-ending conflict between secrecy and intelligence
is, in fact, a vicious circle. It diminishes the value
of the Agency's output without eliminating entirely the
possibility of turncoats inside its ranks. While this
serves as a powerful justification for the Agency's obsession
with counter-intelligence - after all, it only takes one
Aldrich Ames to destroy years of work by thousands of
people - it also raises the question whether money is
being spent wisely.
The
"tyranny" of pervasive secrecy - according to
a former CIA analyst turned professor, Marvin Ott - has
isolated the Agency from the outside world about which
it is supposed to be so well informed. Its ways are incestuous.
People tend to fraternize with others who inhabit their
secret cocoon, Ott says: "The more professional contact
one has on the outside, the more likely one will have
trouble with the polygraph."8
My
experience as intelligence correspondent for the Washington
Post in 1986-87 left me with the distinct impression that
the Agency is far larger in imagination than in life.
Intelligence is a service industry; its consumers dictate
the shape of its production. During most of the Reagan
years, however, the agency was headed by William Casey,
the president's campaign manager. Bobby Inman, who served
as Casey's deputy for a year, described him publicly as
an overzealous buccaneer.
Casey
had a long-standing love for covert action, dating back
to his OSS experience in World War Two. Reagan had made
Casey a member of the Cabinet, the first time in history
that the CIA director had gained that status. Casey politicized
intelligence. He opposed arms control talks with Moscow.
He ignored legal niceties and sabotaged Secretary of State,
George Shultz, in Nicaragua and Iran, and on arms control.
The 1986 Iran-contra affair revealed that there were whole
areas of U.S. activities about which the Secretary of
State and the rest of the government knew nothing. Casey
had virtually usurped the prerogatives of the Secretary
of State and had run an alternative foreign policy.
Casey
could do all these things because he controlled the analytical
process, the estimates, covert action, and counter-intelligence.
In his memoirs, Shultz later wrote that Casey's views
"were so strong and so ideological that they invariably
colored his selection and assessments of materials. I
could not rely on what he said, nor could I accept without
question the objectivity of 'intelligence' that he put
out, especially in policy sensitive areas."9
Casey
had promoted a young Agency analyst, Robert Gates, as
his deputy, largely because of his hardline anti-Communism.
Gates systematically overstated the "evidence"
on Soviet arms procurement programs, and the state of
the Soviet economy in general, in order to buttress his
belief that, even after Gorbachev took power, nothing
was changing in the Soviet Union. When asked by the Senate
Intelligence panel on March 16, 1986, what the Agency
was doing to prepare American policy-makers for the consequences
of Gorbachev's reforms, Gates replied: "Quite frankly,
without any hint that such fundamental change is going
on, my resources do not permit me the luxury of sort of
just idly speculating on what a different Soviet Union
migh look like."
Most
serious CIA analysts did not share Gates' assessment,
but their voices were not heard. Objections advanced by
the Directorate of Intelligence were quashed. Richard
Kerr, the then DDI, attempted to get a dissenting view
(on one of the key indications of Soviet intentions) which
was included as a footnote to the National Intelligence
Estimate on Soviet strategic forces; the footnote, however,
never saw the light of day.
As
late as 1988, Gates, in his briefings to Congressional
leaders, portrayed the Soviet Union as "a mighty
nation confronting us everywhere - confident, unchanging
and determined." A full three years after Gorbachev
had begun reforms that eventually cost him his country
and his job, Gates insisted in a speech that nothing was
changing in Russia and that "the dictatorship of
the Communist party remains untouched and untouchable",
adding that "a long, competitive struggle still lies
before us." The man who made these assertions was
rewarded. Two years later, he was appointed director of
Central Intelligence.
The
author of the unfortunate footnote, Douglas MacEachin,
director of the Office of Soviet Analysis from 1984-89,
put it this way: "The period during which I felt
I had the least impact (on policy) was during the Reagan
administration. They thought of us as the enemy... The
implication was that part of the national threat was that
the CIA undercut our ability to rebuild our national forces.
The administration charged the CIA with being too liberal.
It said we underestimated the military threat, underestimated
the Soviet threat in the Third World."
Kirsten
Lundberg, who interviewed scores of CIA officers for the
Harvard study, said many of them "felt that Casey
and Gates had ensured that the (Agency's) final product
made the most damaging case possible against the Soviets,
based on what they considered flimsy evidence." Dissenters,
however, were intimidated. Some were accused of being
"soft" on Communism. People whose assessments
differed from Casey's were considered "Communist
sympathizers."
Robert
Blackwell, a senior CIA officer, described the tension
in the CIA headquarters: "It was palpable. Whether
anything was being twisted or recorded upstairs or not,
people felt that they were under an extra burden to somehow
be very careful about how things were said. Papers that
were exceptionally hard hitting and very negative about
whatever ... didn't seem to get quite as much critique
as ones that weren't, or at least many felt that."
I
dwell upon the politicization of the CIA in an effort
to underscore the basic proposition that all intelligence
services are the toy of the government they serve. On
key strategic issues, Casey and Gates routinely skewed
intelligence. The degree to which this changed the terms
of public debate in Washington with respect to Afghanistan
and arms control was extraordinary indeed. Consider Gorbachev's
speech in February, 1986, when he talked of Afghanistan
as a "bleeding wound." Post editors demanded
changes in my story, which alleged that Gorbachev's remarks
foreshadowed a decision to withdraw Soviet troops from
Afghanistan - a judgment soon to be confirmed in reality.
U.S. diplomats who reached this conclusion had similar
experiences. The U.S. Ambassador to Moscow, Jack Matlock,
described the reaction of his consumers in Washington:
"There was an absolute unwillingness to accept the
notion that the Russians might be willing to get out and
wanted to finally negotiate. I always attributed that
in part, frankly, to the stake that the CIA had in the
counterinsurgency program in Afghanistan."
Robert
Blackwell revealed the result of the inflated projections
of Soviet military power: "Never mind that the Soviet
Union never in ten years, from the late 1970s through
the entire decade of the 1980s, ever lived up to the projections
that were made... We projected these huge forces, then
used those projections as a rationale for our spending
- and they (the Soviets) never lived up to those projections."
Bill
Casey died in the spring of 1987, but his ghost hovers
over the CIA headquarters at Langley. He and Robert Gates,
in my judgement, inflicted enormous damage on the Agency.
The end of 1991 should have been, by any measure, the
Agency's moment of greatest glory; instead, the CIA came
under attack for having failed the mission for which it
was founded. The Bush administration continued to censor
dissenting views within the bureaucracy; Robert Gates
was Bush's CIA director. Shortly before the collapse of
the Soviet empire, Bush's vice president, Dan Quayle,
publicly insisted that no real changes were taking place
in Russia and referred to perestroika as "a form
of Leninism."
Did
the CIA fail in its mission? I don't think so. By the
very nature of its mission, the Agency was unable to advertise
its accomplishments. Its failures, by contrast, were widely
publicized. But if you examine the sources of these failures,
they were grounded more often than not in actions of political
leaders.
Which
brings me back to Markus Wolf's assertion that "however
sharp may be the instincts of an intelligence service,
it is always the toy of the government it serves."
It is unlikely to expect that the behavior of politicians
in the new century will change dramatically. Some things
never change.
But
the CIA does have the capacity to adapt itself to the
new international climate. First and foremost, it must
jettison its culture of secrecy, and its preoccupation
with covert action. Critics argue that the constraints
of security have often overwhelmed the Agency's ability
to find out what is going on in the world. Even before
the onset of the information age, some of the top officials
of the Reagan and Bush administrations said that they
had gained sufficient information about Russia by reading
the New York Times and the Washington Post.
Fritz Ermarth, a retired CIA analyst, recently published
a masterful analysis of the current conditions in Russia.10
How much could he have added to the national debate on
Russia over the years if he had been free to publish in
scholarly journals or newspapers?
This
is not a theoretical question; it is vital to the way
a reasonable government should operate. The fact is that
our congressional leaders and policy makers do not have
time to read secret analyses, nor do they react to them
the way they do to an Op-Ed article in the Washington
Post.
Ironically,
as Lars-Erik Nelson revealed recently, censorship of U.S.
officials dealing with Russian affairs has grown worse
since the collapse of the Soviet Union. In particular,
Clinton administration support for Boris Yeltsin led to
a ban on writings that might cast doubt on Yeltsin's competency
and corruption.
A
former CIA analyst, Robert Steele, who now runs a private
intelligence firm called Open Source Solutions, has openly
questioned the Agency's secrecy. In a presentation before
the President's Foreign Intelligence Advisory Board, Street
proved that he could produce more usable information more
quickly by using open sources and the Internet than the
CIA could get from its secret sources (the presentation
included satellite photographs and military battle orders).
This
is not to suggest that the United States should contract
its intelligence needs to Steele's firm. But this is a
wake-up call. Ultimately, what is the purpose of intelligence?
It is, I believe, to provide national leaders with reasonable
and accurate assessments about adversaries.