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Book Review: ‘In Defence of America’

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by Antonia Marie Sheppard

Bronwen Maddox. In Defence of America. Gerald Duckworth & Co Ltd, London, 2009. ISBN  978-0715637920 Pp. 208. Paperback. 

In Defence of America: Amazon.co.uk: Bronwen Maddox: Books

In 2013, a parody Twitter account of the American actor Bill Murray (@BillMurray) caused global confusion, after tweeting:

I’m sick of people saying America is ‘the stupidest country in the world’. Personally, I think Europe is the stupidest country in the world.

Perhaps a comment on the American education system; this confusion twinned with frustration offers an amusing illustration of just one internationally recognised stereotype of the United States.

It is precisely this stereotypical, ‘unfair’ portrayal of the United States which Bronwen Maddox, former Foreign Editor of The Times, seeks to challenge in her book, In Defence of America. Her central charge is that the global perception of the United States as a neoimperialist hegemon, characterised by the breath-taking arrogance and misjudgements of its leaders is a misrepresentation deserving of a retrial. While acknowledging that the US is ‘comically’ bad at making a case for itself, Maddox attempts to re-caricature these ‘fat, trigger-happy, Christian fundamentalists’ into more appealing allies. Through an analysis of shared values, capitalist successes, the promotion of democratic principles, and the invasion of Iraq, Maddox argues that anti-Americanism is ill-founded and outdated in our globalised world. However, plagued by illogical methodology, sweeping generalisations, and a by-product of audience alienation, Maddox’s myopic perspective does not withstand scrutiny.

Hailing from an Anglo-American background, Maddox presents herself as an objective commentator. Unfortunately, this does not translate in practice. Portraying the United States as a victim, Maddox adopts the position of attorney, presumably in a case regarding defamation of character. The legitimacy of this stance is questionable. The United States does not need an apologist when it has chosen to exert its power on the global stage, nor does it have any evidence for victimisation, following its position as the predominant author of Western geopolitics. Furthermore, the employment of the English definition of the term ‘liberal’ is paradoxical. By imposing British language etic upon a study of America, does erroneous methodology not mark this interpretation void? The case would likely be thrown out in court.

Despite this, Maddox’s argument that anti-Americanism was inevitable following the fall of the Soviet Union is commendable. After half a century of Cold War animosity, the bipolar nature of the international system collapsed, and the Eastern power bloc that the West had united against disappeared. The primal urge to ‘know your enemy’ meant that this void needed to be filled. Who better to unite against than arguably the most powerful hegemon in history? Fuelled by a combination of American triumphalism and a reignition of nationalism, Western Europeans were free to vocally criticise the United States, without having to depend upon them for defence against the Soviet Union. It was from this freedom that anti-Americanism flourished. However, the United States has not helped its case. The growth of anti-Americanism is not surprising after George W. Bush’s reduction of global politics to a contest of good versus evil; the ‘good’ guys have since perpetrated around 1,000 civilian deaths in Pakistan alone. Defence of the International Liberal Order by illiberal means (see D. Stokes, American hegemony and the future of the Liberal International Order) has undermined America’s virtuous persona on the international stage, and preceded its retreat to isolationism.

Moreover, the charge that America is essentially benevolent is an unpopular opinion. Simply reaffirming that idealism is a ‘guiding inspiration’ of all American policy is an idealistic and distorted representation of the land of the free’s foreign interventions, which lacks a basic foundation in history. The argument that the United States should be applauded for ‘three decades of democracy spreading’ fundamentally ignores the nationalist aims for global hegemony that dictated the Cold War. More recently, the Bush doctrine’s call to impose democracy on the Middle East was not only a selfish pursuit of national security, but disregarded the national interests of the occupied countries. It is these national interests, under the guise of idealism, that continue to define the foreign policy of the United States today.

While America might have been the victim of anti-Americanism in 1991, their conduct in Iraq, and more recently under the Trump administration, continues to alienate international perception. Much like European opinion of America, the perspective of this book has not aged well.

Furthermore, the characterisation of the European powers as the ‘losers’ from American dominance does little to serve Maddox’s argument that America does not deserve misrepresentation, but rather perpetuates her hypocritical perception of European stereotypes. Any Englishmen and women reading this will likely relish in the French-bashing of the book, sticking two fingers up at the French, as though on the fields of Agincourt. Maddox’s argument that any political affinity with the United States in France is like signing your own warrant for the guillotine reads as ill-informed prejudice. With American ratings of France reaching a record-high of 87 per cent in 2016, and Obama’s paralleling of himself and Francois Hollande as the ‘Jefferson and Lafayette’ of our time (a duo portrayed as the personification of Franco-American amity, despite the two men having no contact during the Revolutionary years (see Tom Chaffin’s Revolutionary Brothers: Thomas Jefferson, the Marquis de Lafayette, and the Friendship That Helped Forge Two Nations)), it is difficult to defend this projection of anti-Americanism against reality. While the French may be angry about Trump’s lack of common decency, following his cancelation of a centenary visit to the French battlefields due to a spot of rain, it is hardly likely that this antipathy, as Maddox argues, originates from the Treaty of Versailles.

Maddox’s incapability to garner sympathy from her target audience continues. The implication that Britain’s lack of a constitution is due to the recognition that ‘the best words have already been taken’, is not only a matter of opinion, but functions counterproductively to further alienate those she attempts to ‘defend’ America against. Additionally, while attempting to challenge the Anglican perception of the United States’ role as the world’s policeman, Maddox does not just succeed in undermining its legitimacy, but accidentally illustrates (rather effectively) the destructive authority that the ‘world’s policeman’ has exercised this side of the millennium. One is provoked to wonder why US armed forces are rarely subject to scrutiny for their actions, with accountability being an ‘orphan’, to paraphrase JFK. Who gave them license to kill? Therefore, by recognising the position of Europeans as mere agents, under the authority of this stand-alone superpower, one is ironically left to stomach the bitter taste of American exceptionalism.

Littered with generalisations and double-standards, In Defence of America ironically struggles to defend its central argument throughout. If this book was three pages, or three volumes, it could have the potential to do the central argument some justice. Ultimately, this book would be suitable for the general readership, due to its accessibility of language and concise length. It is essential reading for anyone seeking to have an intelligent debate regarding America’s changing relationship with Europe within global politics. Nevertheless, readers of this book should take every sentence with a pinch of salt. It would be wrong to suggest that it is not worth reading – it is – but purely as an exercise in futility, or for the sole function of criticism. Moreover, a word of warning to any fellow Europeans who wish to read this book, a catch-22 presents itself: if this book is not agreeable with yourself, is this as a result of your own anti-American bias?

Antonia Marie Sheppard is an MA Intelligence and International Security student at King’s College London. Specialising in counter-terrorism and deradicalisation, Antonia is a member of the ‘MPOWER Project (NY), conducting research into radicalisation and prevention through intervention. Her research focuses on the UK-USA presence in Cyprus and more specifically at Ayios Nikolaos, the largest GCHQ base outside of the UK.

Book Review: ‘Breaking Hate’

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by Isabela Betoret Garcia

 

Christian Picciolini. Breaking Hate: Confronting the New Culture of Extremism. Hachette Books, London, 2020. ISBN 978-0316522939. Pp. 272. Hardcover, £22.85.

Stories about the alt-right rarely have happy endings. Many associate the movement with white supremacists, those men and women who have left a path of violence and death in their wake. Connotations of ‘white supremacy’ tend to include men marching in a university campus in well-tailored trousers and neat haircuts chanting propaganda, such as the ones that marched in Charlottesville; or perhaps the young men who perpetrated unspeakable acts of violence in houses of worship, like Dylann Roof did in Charleston when he massacred nine people or the Christchurch Mosque Shooting where 51 were murdered. The image conjured up is that of hate, a hate that is so unforgiving to those in its path that it does not invite any kind of compassion. Yet, that is exactly what author and activist Christian Picciolini asks of us in his latest book: Breaking Hate.

Picciolini was born to Italian immigrants, in Illinois; by the age of 14 he had joined one of the most violent racist groups in the United States, the Chicago Area Skinheads. By 16 he had become the leader of the group, as well as formed a white supremacist punk band, W.A.Y (White American Youth). Even though he left the movement at 22, he had spent eight years helping it grow. Such a drastic U-turn came, he claims, from interactions he had with the people he had been conditioned to hate – black, Jewish, and homosexual people – and finding some common ground which left him unable to justify his hate. After leaving his former violent life, having spent some years in a dark space of apathy and depression by his own admission, he began to do what became his life’s calling: telling his story. His first book, White American Youth: My Descent into America’s Most Violent Hate Movement— and How I Got Out, focused on his life. Picciolini seemed to understand that for people to truly believe that his theory of de-radicalisation could work, they had to understand how he had come to believe in them himself.

Breaking-Hate: Confronting the New Culture of Extremism serves both as a culmination and as a new chapter. A culmination in that it is not only a collection of stories of men and women Christian has helped de-radicalise; it also allows Christian to share the steps of extremist disengagement he has come to believe. With each new chapter, however, it becomes clear to the reader that there is much work to be done, and that extremism really is an embedded cultural problem.

Christian’s proposal is clear: No one is born into hate, and violent ideologies are not what lead people down the road of extremism. When someone encounters what he calls ‘potholes’ in life, they will be in danger of never fulfilling their sense of identity, community, and purpose (ICP). De-Radicalisation is a contested concept with no single accepted process, and many doubt the effectiveness of it. In the field of de-radicalisation many scholars such as Daniel Koeher have pointed to ideology as a key aspect in the road to radicalisation. Picciolini’s theory differs significantly. It is when they trip on their search of ICP that extremism may find them, but ideology itself is the last step. Only by listening to their stories and identifying these potholes, presumably extraordinary patience and compassion, one can extend a hand to bring them back to a normal life. The process he uses includes 7 steps: Link, Listen, Learn, Leverage, Lift, Love, Live. These steps are meant to form a link with the subject, understand how their path in life brought them to radicalisation, help them make amends, and eventually life free. Though his argument is fascinating and compelling, Picciolini does not spend much time discussing alternative theories of de-radicalisation that have an ideological basis, which would lend more credibility to his argument.

“The answer is love”: the message could not be more clear (Image credit: Christian Picciolini)

The structure of the book relies on the reader connecting with the stories told within. From veterans and men recruited in prison, to a former ISIS fighter, to a seventeen year-old girl caught in a scam that seemed to lead all the way to the 2016 Presidential election— the stories Christian relates are raw and tender. They are simultaneously full of sorrow, anger, and hope. Yet there are underlining reminders that even if disengagement is successful, the subjects of the book may be atoning for their actions for the rest of their lives.

The message of the book is, for the most part, effectively conveyed and persuasive. Because most of the subjects Christian examines in the book were part of the Alt-Right we might ask if ideology truly does not matter as much as other experts say in the de-radicalisation process, and the book would benefit from exploring other theories for Picciolini to more effectively defend his own. The book’s persuasiveness does rely on the author himself, and on the anecdotal evidence he provides of the cases present in the text, which could be more effective if paired with quantifiable evidence of the success of his methods. Upon closing the book, however, a reader will likely reconsider any previously held notions on the psychology of radicalisation which rely on ideology and be willing to consider compassion, and in this point the book is undeniably successful.

Picciolini admits to sometimes almost losing patience, hope, and control when trying to help extremists disengage. But here is where he comes to the most important lesson of all: see the child, not the monster. This is not meant to excuse the actions of extremists because of the abuse they may have suffered, the severe lack of ICP that delivered them into the arms of hate. But rather to remember that basic premise, that no one is born into hate; and if they find their way into it, they can find their way out.

Isabela first completed a Foundation Programme in International Relations and is now a third-year War Studies and History BA. She also works as an International Relations and Politics Tutor for King’s Foundations. She is Mexican-Spanish and lived most of her life in Mexico until she moved to London, and this background has given her a keen interest in migration. She is also interested in how the every-day has become politicised through media, and what this means for the future of journalism and politics. You can follow her on Twitter @isa_betoret.

Book Review: ‘Dying to Serve’

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by Kamaldeep Singh Sandhu

Maria Rashid, Dying to Serve: Militarism, Affect, and the Politics of Sacrifice in the Pakistan Army. Stanford University Press, Stanford, California, 2020. ISBN 978-1-5036-1198-6 Pp. 267. Paperback. £19.41

Dying to Serve: Militarism, Affect, and the Politics of Sacrifice ...

Are military deaths in an armed conflict avoidable and prodigal or are they a necessary and sacred sacrifice required for the protection of the state and society? Maria Rashid’s new noteworthy book, Dying to Serve: Militarism, Affect, and the Politics of Sacrifice in the Pakistan Army, carries this sensitive and difficult debate forward through a study of the Pakistan military’s relationship with its soldiers and citizens. The Pakistan military’s use of religion and the idea of ‘shahadat’ (martyrdom) as a motivator for training, fighting, and dying for the nation are well established (p. 33). This book is a comparative study of narratives provided by the Pakistani state and military on the one hand and the subject soldier and his family on the other.

Pakistan is one of those states that thrive on a strong military spirit. This militarism establishes war as normal and necessary and, in turn, demands sacrifices from its subjects. Dying to Serve is an attempt to understand the mechanisms through which such sacrifices are made sacred by the military narratives of heroism, and meaningful, glorious, and honourable deaths. This mechanism, in turn, extracts legitimacy and unquestioned support from the citizenry. The book explores this phenomenon through the dead soldiers, considered as heroes, mourned for long periods by communities, and taken as social examples. The author also briefly examines the same through retired and disabled soldiers.

In Rashid’s own words, ‘the book examines the role of affect­—such as grief and its accompanying notions of death, dying and sacrifice as well as feelings of attachment, pride, and fear—in maintaining the military’s hegemony in Pakistan’ (p. 9). The study is based on fieldwork conducted in five villages in the Chakwal district of Punjab over a period of thirteen months where the author interviewed more than one hundred people.

The author begins the book by examining the Youm-e-Shuhada (Martyrs’ Memorial) and Youm-e-Difah (Defence Day) ceremonies, described as ‘spectacles of mourning’ (p. 23) that define the narrative and valorise military service. The story proceeds by comparing the narrative of Chakwal as the ‘land of the valiant’, a name the district has earned through its martial tradition since colonial times, versus its location in the Salt Range of Northern Punjab that lends it to an economic dependency on the armed forces for providing the main source of employment. The district is located between the valleys of Indus and Jhelum Rivers and its terrain is partly covered with scrub forest, featuring plains interrupted by dry rock. Approx. 96 per cent of agricultural demand for water is met by rainwater, which naturally leads to ‘gurbat’ (poverty) and ‘bhukh’ (hunger) amongst the inhabitants. It is from this economic deprivation that the author questions the authenticity of the ‘martial tradition’ narrative.

The author begins with the process of military training, where the bonds of kinship are broken to develop affective relationships with fellow soldiers, who signify their new family, and group leaders who stand in for father figures (p. 97). The affection thus sculpted by love and loyalty for the regiment and determination to uphold its honour prepares them to kill or die in combat. It highlights the depersonalisation that soldiers experience along with a sense of emotional distancing, a silencing from others who can no longer understand or relate to what soldiering is about (p. 106). The story also highlights how the military commands the right to ask you to die or kill in its name as a response of love, loyalty, and attachment of familial connections reimagined according to the concerns of the state (p. 207).

Rashid talks of the families of the dead soldiers gripped with grief, guilt, and regret who, yet, have to put on the mask of a social reality scripted with the themes of ‘pride in the act of sacrifice for the motherland and a belief in eternal life’ in order to make sense of the death of their loved ones. They must also accept the money and benefits offered because, after all, it was for material needs that the tribute to the nation was risked in the first place (p. 138). It explores the mechanisms through which a violent and preventable death is transformed into a necessary, honourable, and meaningful sacrifice (p. 149).

One chapter, in particular, brings out the hollowness of this narrative. Describing the disabled soldiers as ‘the bodies left behind’, Rashid argues that although in reality the maiming is socially induced as a result of modern war and armed conflict, it is managed by the military within some perfunctory and feeble attempts at promoting narratives of empowerment, pride in resilience, and sacrifice for the nation (p. 169). The author argues that the military’s ability to depict service and sacrifice as noble and draw foot soldiers from society will be sustained as long as ‘war’ is imagined to be glorious, and the dead to be heroes; whereas in reality, it is merely a viable source of ‘pakki naukri’ (permanent employment) (p. 217).

The author has articulated militarism and its effect accurately in the context of the Pakistan Army. It is a must-read for all, especially those who once believed in the narrative of militarism and the sanctity of military deaths but were confused when the layers of this social construct began to peel off. While Rashid provides a new humbling and soothing perspective on this issue, the one place the book falls short is in providing definitive answers or an equally acceptable alternative belief system.

Despite being a case study on the Pakistan Army, which has played a dominant role in state formation over the years, the arguments made here are applicable to the phenomenon of militarism across the globe. Hardly any society collectively calls its military deaths avoidable or unnecessary.

When viewed through Charles Tilly’s famous cyclic aphorism ‘war made state, and the state made war’ the comparison of narratives highlighted in the book holds firm within the context of ‘state makes war’. However, as this axiom shows that war is inevitable and ultimately perpetuated through the imperfection of human thoughts, whether the same arguments still hold when the ‘war makes state’ and the state merely takes advantages or is victim of its inevitability, remains debatable.

Kamaldeep Singh Sandhu is a PhD Candidate in the Defence Studies Department at King’s College London. His research interests include South Asian security, military culture, and defence diplomacy. An alumnus of National Defence Academy, Pune, Army War College, Mhow and The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, he has served as an Officer with the Indian army’s Parachute Regiment for ten years and currently serves as an Officer in the Reserve Army, UK. You can find him on Twitter at kamal_sandhu78.

Strife Review – Khaled Hosseini, Sea Prayer: Refugees, Storytelling and the importance of Human Dignity

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By Anna Plunkett

Khaled Hosseini (Credit Image: UNHCR/Paul Wu)

 

“I have heard it said that we are the uninvited.

We are the unwelcome.

We should take our misfortune elsewhere.

But I hear your mother’s voice,

Over the tide,

And she whispers in my ear,

‘Oh, but if they saw, my darling.

Even half of what you have.

If only they saw.

They would say kinder things, surely.”

-Hosseini, Sea Prayer 

 

Like many others, it was Khaled Hosseini’s novels that brought the vibrancy of conflict alive for me. His books have enraptured thousands, detailing lives under oppressive regimes, insecurity, and conflict. He has detailed the normalisation of violence, the varying levels and stages of fear, and the wide-ranging uncertainty. Though, perhaps more importantly, he’s illustrated the moments of normalcy, joy, sadness, and tenderness that are part of life, even in extenuating circumstances.  His stories focus around the family unit and how the developments, challenges, and changes to these fundamental ties transcend the cacophony of chaos that conflict brings.

As such, I was thrilled when, as part of the Literature and Spoken Word programme at the Southbank Centre, Khaled Hosseini presented his latest work – Sea Prayer.  A move away from the mountains of Afghanistan that first inspired the Afghan-American doctor to turn his talents to writing. Sea Prayer was inspired by the death of Alan Kurdi who was found washed up on the beaches of Turkey. The image of the three-year-old boy became one of the most iconic images of the Syrian War in 2015 after the boat he and his family were fleeing on capsized just minutes after leaving the shore. The illustrated novel pays homage to those who lost their lives whilst crossing the Mediterranean and narrates the stories of those who survived.

For ninety minutes, Hosseini held the stage in the cavernous Royal Festival Hall speaking to an audience and an interviewer, Razia Iqbal, who were equally rapt and charmed. Born in Afghanistan in 1965, he left in 1976 when his family relocated to Paris for his father’s diplomatic career but was unable to return after the 1979 Soviet invasion. Hosseini spoke about his first-hand experience of becoming a refugee – watching the invasion on TV in Paris as a teenager and realising that his life was about to change, dramatically. From there, he relocated to the US, and attended school whilst speaking no English, and watched his parents struggle to understand and overcome the challenges they now faced in a completely alien situation. It is easy to see the links he draws between his own life and those of his characters.

Hosseini delivered his message clearly. He stressed the importance of storytelling in understanding and overcoming the challenges of the refugee experience. As many qualitative researchers will attest, figures and statistics can miss vital details and experiences that need to be considered when understanding social and political phenomena. Hosseini adds to this, noting how the use of statistics has distanced and dehumanised the refugee plight whereas personal stories can help to overcome the misconceptions and misunderstandings around such complex issues.  Storytelling, in Hosseini’s eyes can make seemingly inconceivable situations and choices, such as putting your loved ones on a boat that you know may not make it to the other side, understandable and relatable.

Additionally, drawing heavily on his time as a UNHCR Goodwill Ambassador since 2006 and his trips to Uganda, Lebanon, and Sicily, Hosseini also spoke about the importance of human dignity and why this should challenge our current thinking about the refugee experience. Engaging with numerous refugees and communities who are at different stages in their journey to finding a new home, Hosseini noted three essential rights that he believes are critical when considering the refugee experience: the sanctity of families; the right to asylum; and the right to human dignity.

The first is clearly an issue close to Hosseini as can be seen throughout his work. On the importance of family, he joked that “privacy was another word for being lonely” and family, as he was sure every Afghan in the audience could attest, was everything. Thus, as he rightly identifies, refugees need to be respected – families should not and cannot be separated. The precedent that they can is not only a dangerous one but one that can have disastrous consequences.

The right to asylum is protected under the UN Declaration of Human Rights under article 14. However, as the mobilisation of populations has increased recently and especially since the refugee crisis has hit along the Mediterranean’s shores, this human right has increasingly come under threat. With borders closing to such asylum seekers across regions previously welcoming to refugees, new solutions need to be found.  Hosseini remains resolute – he believes that this is not a problem for refugees and asylum seekers alone. He avers that we, as a society, must own and be responsible for guaranteeing this right.

The last of these rights, the right to human dignity, is probably the most under threat among them. With growing dehumanisation of migrants, the rights of these people are often forgotten. People fleeing conflict, in fear of their lives, risking the ‘vessels of desperation’[1] have become caught in a system that rarely provides the materials or opportunities for dignity and purpose. It does not have to be this way – Hosseini acknowledged alternative, progressive strategies being piloted in Uganda where South Sudanese refugees receive plots of land in local communities three days after entering the country.

Overall, the book is a slim volume that is exactly what it says on the tin – a prayer from a father to the seas for safe passage of his precious cargo. The short verses bring work in harmony with Dan Williams’ beautiful artwork to bring the hauntingly sad story to life. Hosseini attempts to capture the essence of the refugee’s plight and the loss that comes with it – it is a story Hosseini admits hearing told to him time and again by refugees during his visits with UNHCR. Hosseini noted that storytelling invites listeners to perceive the world from a plurality of perspectives and this, in all its forms, helps overcome the misconceptions and instead build communal understanding. Storytelling may be the bridge over misunderstandings between the two communities – refugee and the local recipient community. However, there is a social obligation by us all that must be realised – the refugee crisis does not belong to refugees. It belongs to us all as a society. We must improve our collective action to ensure that human dignity is guaranteed to all people, including those refugees who so clearly deserve it.

 

Khaled Hosseini presented Sea Prayer in conversation with Razia Iqbal at the Southbank Centre on the 4th September 2018. Sea Prayer was released for sale in the UK on the 30th August 2018, and in the US on the 18th September 2018. It was written in collaboration with the UNHCR and illustrated by Dan Williams.  

 

Anna is a doctoral researcher in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. She received her BA in Politics and Economics from the University of York, before receiving a scholarship to continue her studies at York with an MA in Post-War Recovery. She was the recipient of the Guido Galli Award for her MA dissertation. Her primary interests include conflict and democracy at the sub-national level, understanding how minor conflicts impact democratic realisation within quasi-post conflict states. Her main area of focus is Burma’s ethnic borderlands and ongoing conflicts within the region. She has previously worked as a human rights researcher focusing on military impunity in Burma and has conducted work on evaluating Bosnia’s post-war recovery twenty years after the Dayton Peace Accords. You can follow her in Twitter @AnnaBPlunkett

Notes:

[1] Hosseini in conversation about the boats used to cross the Mediterranean at the Southbank Centre, 4th September 2018.

 

Image Source:

Banner: http://www.unhcr.org/khaled-hosseini.html

Image 2: https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/sea-prayer-9781526602718/

 

Book Review: ‘Blinking Red: Crisis and Compromise in American Intelligence after 9/11’

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Reviewed by Ioana Ilie

 

Michael Allen, Blinking Red: Crisis and Compromise in American Intelligence after 9/11. USA, University of Nebraska Press, Potomac Books, Inc., 2013. ISBN: 978-1-61234-823-0. Pp. 280. Paperback. £13.99.

 

Michael Allen’s book Blinking Red attempts to be the authoritative legislative history of the U.S. Intelligence Reform and Terrorism Prevention Act (IRTPA) of 2004. Following the shock of the 9/11 attacks and the subsequent public demand to ‘do something’, a reorganisation of the intelligence community was overdue. Having been considered, debated, and researched for a long time beforehand, a reform was finally in the works. The reform resulted in the creation of two institutions – the National Intelligence Director (DNI) and the National Counterterrorism Center (NCTC). Blinking Red is an account of the legislative process surrounding IRTPA while also depicting the great sense of urgency to make the U.S. safer post-9/11, that was bestowed upon the U.S. government. More striking, perhaps, is Allen’s focus on the personalities and interpersonal relationships that shaped this bill. Individuals such as Scott Palmer (the House Speaker’s chief of staff), for example, who made significant efforts to revive the legislation even after the 2004 re-election because he truly believed in it and its importance. Or, then Director of Central Intelligence, George Tenet who made the position he held more powerful due to his charismatic personality. The book also gives the reader a real taste of the internal and external pressures under which policymakers had to work. Pressures from the President, especially before the re-election campaign, and from groups such as The 9/11 Families for a Secure America are just a couple of the many examples put forward in Blinking Red.

Allen’s position as the legislative affairs officer for the Homeland Security Council in the White House gave him access to many high-level officials and meetings. The book brims with information, that Allan either acquired himself as an eyewitness; or through interviews. In this context Blinking Red is an invaluable resource for students of government and intelligence studies, as the reader develops a good understanding of the working relationship between the legislative and executive branches of government. The book is also very readable despite its handling of complex legislative procedures and the many actors involved. Chapters like ‘Dirty Bombs’ are true page-turners due to their vivid description of political intrigue.

The 9/11 Commission Report was put together by the 9/11 Commission, formally known as the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks Upon the United States, which comprised of ten members, five Republicans and five Democrats. While Allen does not address this point specifically in his book, the even split between Democrats and Republicans is an important display of unity and compromise at a time of great partisan division. It can perhaps also be interpreted as an attempt at objective reporting on a divisive and controversial topic. Its main recommendations, put forward in the Executive Summary, fall into two categories – ‘what to do’ and ‘how to do it’. The ‘what’ can be summarised as a strategy, one that aims to match the means to the ends. The Commissioners proposed a three-pronged approach: ‘attack terrorists and their organizations, prevent the continued growth of Islamic terrorism, and protect against and prepare for terrorist attacks.’ In terms of ‘how’, the report calls for a better organised government and the need ‘to build unity of effort across the U.S. government.’ The Commissioners gave five suggestions towards achieving that. The first, to bridge the foreign-domestic divide by establishing a NCTC. The second, to work towards ‘unifying the intelligence community’ under a DNI. The third, to create a ‘network-based information sharing system’ in order to improve the inter-agency counterterrorism effort. The fourth, to spare no effort in ‘unifying and strengthening congressional oversight’. Finally, the fifth, to ensure the ‘strengthening the FBI and homeland defenders.’[1]

However, theory did not translate into practice, as Allen clearly argues towards the end of the book. What ended up being implemented was rather disappointing for many who expected a reform of the intelligence community. Instead of having a DNI who could easily and quickly move money and people across the intelligence community in order to meet the new threats of the post-Cold War world, the DNI was given a vague job description and limited powers. In fact, Allen gives an illuminating account of how differently officials – from the President, to the Senate, and the DNIs themselves – saw the job of the DNI.

The law gave the DNI some authority over budget and personnel but not enough to be the unifying leader of the intelligence community. Indeed, one cannot help but wonder how effective an intelligence director can be without being involved on a strategic and operational level. Allan argues, that in the end, the DNI is only as strong as the President allows him or her to be, a situation which does not inspire continuity or stability. While President Bush believed in a strong DNI, President Obama was not sold on the idea and was against the strengthening of the DNI role. Ever-hostile towards the intelligence community, President Trump also doubts the need for a DNI.[2]

At the centre of the book lies the discussion about the DNI, what he or she should be able to do and how. The reader gets real insight into many different opinions and demands that needed to be considered and managed when formulating the bill. Chapters such as ‘The Devil in the Details’ and ‘Attackers’ describe the difficult task of reaching a compromise, and the clash of ideas between three main groups: the group that was interested in a strong DNI, which was mainly the White House; the group that was interested in strengthening the Director of Central Intelligence (DCI) instead, opinion voiced by the CIA and many of its former DCIs; and finally a third group, which was not interested in creating either a DNI position or a NCTC. This was the view of the Department of Defence, as well as Rumsfeld’s, arguing that such a drastic reform would only hurt the military in the field in the middle of two raging wars. Such big differences settled in a short amount of time (about four months from the time The 9/11 Commission Report was published until IRTPA was passed) resulted in a weak law. In order to get enough votes and to please all conflicting sides, the language of the bill was left intentionally vague.

‘Americans should not settle for incremental, ad hoc adjustments to a system created a generation ago for a world that no longer exists’[3], warned the Commissioners. However, four months later the U.S. settled exactly for that.

 

Ioana Ilie is a recent War Studies and History graduate from King’s College London. She is passionate about Anglo-American foreign policy and grand strategy as well as geopolitics and intellectual history.You can follow her on Twitter @ioana_a_ilie

Notes:

[1] National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States. The 9/11 Commission Report. Executive Summary. [Washington, DC] :[National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States], 2004.

[2] NPR, http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2017/02/16/515590646/wheres-the-director-of-national-intelligence. Accessed 30th of October 2017.

[3] National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States. The 9/11 Commission Report. Executive Summary. [Washington, DC] :[National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States], 2004.

Image Source

Banner: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Aerial_view_of_the_Pentagon_during_rescue_operations_post-September_11_attack.JPEG

 

Bibliography:

National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States. The 9/11 Commission Report. Executive Summary. [Washington, DC] :[National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States], 2004.

NPR, http://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2017/02/16/515590646/wheres-the-director-of-national-intelligence. Accessed 30th of October 2017.