"In the wake of the Iraq war, it has become clear that official
intelligence analysis was not relied on in making even the most
significant national security decisions, that intelligence was misused
publicly to justify decisions already made, that damaging ill will
developed between policymakers and intelligence officers, and that the
intelligence community's own work was politicized. As the national
intelligence officer responsible for the Middle East from 2000 to
2005, I witnessed all of these disturbing developments.

http://www.foreignaffairs.org/20060301faessay85202/paul-r-pillar/intelligence-policy-and-the-war-in-iraq.html

Intelligence, Policy,and the War in Iraq

By Paul R. Pillar

>From Foreign Affairs, March/April 2006
Summary: During the run-up to the invasion of Iraq, writes the
intelligence community's former senior analyst for the Middle East,
the Bush administration disregarded the community's expertise,
politicized the intelligence process, and selected unrepresentative
raw intelligence to make its public case.

PAUL R. PILLAR is on the faculty of the Security Studies Program at
Georgetown University. Concluding a long career in the Central
Intelligence Agency, he served as National Intelligence Officer for
the Near East and South Asia from 2000 to 2005.

A DYSFUNCTIONAL RELATIONSHIP

The most serious problem with U.S. intelligence today is that its
relationship with the policymaking process is broken and badly needs
repair. In the wake of the Iraq war, it has become clear that official
intelligence analysis was not relied on in making even the most
significant national security decisions, that intelligence was misused
publicly to justify decisions already made, that damaging ill will
developed between policymakers and intelligence officers, and that the
intelligence community's own work was politicized. As the national
intelligence officer responsible for the Middle East from 2000 to
2005, I witnessed all of these disturbing developments.

Public discussion of prewar intelligence on Iraq has focused on the
errors made in assessing Saddam Hussein's unconventional weapons
programs. A commission chaired by Judge Laurence Silberman and former
Senator Charles Robb usefully documented the intelligence community's
mistakes in a solid and comprehensive report released in March 2005.
Corrections were indeed in order, and the intelligence community has
begun to make them.

At the same time, an acrimonious and highly partisan debate broke out
over whether the Bush administration manipulated and misused
intelligence in making its case for war. The administration defended
itself by pointing out that it was not alone in its view that Saddam
had weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and active weapons programs,
however mistaken that view may have been.

In this regard, the Bush administration was quite right: its
perception of Saddam's weapons capacities was shared by the Clinton
administration, congressional Democrats, and most other Western
governments and intelligence services. But in making this defense, the
White House also inadvertently pointed out the real problem:
intelligence on Iraqi weapons programs did not drive its decision to
go to war. A view broadly held in the United States and even more so
overseas was that deterrence of Iraq was working, that Saddam was
being kept "in his box," and that the best way to deal with the
weapons problem was through an aggressive inspections program to
supplement the sanctions already in place. That the administration
arrived at so different a policy solution indicates that its decision
to topple Saddam was driven by other factors -- namely, the desire to
shake up the sclerotic power structures of the Middle East and hasten
the spread of more liberal politics and economics in the region.

If the entire body of official intelligence analysis on Iraq had a
policy implication, it was to avoid war -- or, if war was going to be
launched, to prepare for a messy aftermath. What is most remarkable
about prewar U.S. intelligence on Iraq is not that it got things wrong
and thereby misled policymakers; it is that it played so small a role
in one of the most important U.S. policy decisions in recent decades.

A MODEL UPENDED

The proper relationship between intelligence gathering and
policymaking sharply separates the two functions. The intelligence
community collects information, evaluates its credibility, and
combines it with other information to help make sense of situations
abroad that could affect U.S. interests. Intelligence officers decide
which topics should get their limited collection and analytic
resources according to both their own judgments and the concerns of
policymakers. Policymakers thus influence which topics intelligence
agencies address but not the conclusions that they reach. The
intelligence community, meanwhile, limits its judgments to what is
happening or what might happen overseas, avoiding policy judgments
about what the United States should do in response.

In practice, this distinction is often blurred, especially because
analytic projections may have policy implications even if they are not
explicitly stated. But the distinction is still important. National
security abounds with problems that are clearer than the solutions to
them; the case of Iraq is hardly a unique example of how similar
perceptions of a threat can lead people to recommend very different
policy responses. Accordingly, it is critical that the intelligence
community not advocate policy, especially not openly. If it does, it
loses the most important basis for its credibility and its claims to
objectivity. When intelligence analysts critique one another's work,
they use the phrase "policy prescriptive" as a pejorative, and rightly so.

The Bush administration's use of intelligence on Iraq did not just
blur this distinction; it turned the entire model upside down. The
administration used intelligence not to inform decision-making, but to
justify a decision already made. It went to war without requesting --
and evidently without being influenced by -- any strategic-level
intelligence assessments on any aspect of Iraq. (The military made
extensive use of intelligence in its war planning, although much of it
was of a more tactical nature.) Congress, not the administration,
asked for the now-infamous October 2002 National Intelligence Estimate
(NIE) on Iraq's unconventional weapons programs, although few members
of Congress actually read it. (According to several congressional
aides responsible for safeguarding the classified material, no more
than six senators and only a handful of House members got beyond the
five-page executive summary.) As the national intelligence officer for
the Middle East, I was in charge of coordinating all of the
intelligence community's assessments regarding Iraq; the first request
I received from any administration policymaker for any such assessment
was not until a year into the war.

Official intelligence on Iraqi weapons programs was flawed, but even
with its flaws, it was not what led to the war. On the issue that
mattered most, the intelligence community judged that Iraq probably
was several years away from developing a nuclear weapon. The October
2002 NIE also judged that Saddam was unlikely to use WMD against the
United States unless his regime was placed in mortal danger.

Before the war, on its own initiative, the intelligence community
considered the principal challenges that any postinvasion authority in
Iraq would be likely to face. It presented a picture of a political
culture that would not provide fertile ground for democracy and
foretold a long, difficult, and turbulent transition. It projected
that a Marshall Plan-type effort would be required to restore the
Iraqi economy, despite Iraq's abundant oil resources. It forecast that
in a deeply divided Iraqi society, with Sunnis resentful over the loss
of their dominant position and Shiites seeking power commensurate with
their majority status, there was a significant chance that the groups
would engage in violent conflict unless an occupying power prevented
it. And it anticipated that a foreign occupying force would itself be
the target of resentment and attacks -- including by guerrilla warfare
-- unless it established security and put Iraq on the road to
prosperity in the first few weeks or months after the fall of Saddam.

In addition, the intelligence community offered its assessment of the
likely regional repercussions of ousting Saddam. It argued that any
value Iraq might have as a democratic exemplar would be minimal and
would depend on the stability of a new Iraqi government and the extent
to which democracy in Iraq was seen as developing from within rather
than being imposed by an outside power. More likely, war and
occupation would boost political Islam and increase sympathy for
terrorists' objectives -- and Iraq would become a magnet for
extremists from elsewhere in the Middle East.

STANDARD DEVIATIONS

The Bush administration deviated from the professional standard not
only in using policy to drive intelligence, but also in aggressively
using intelligence to win public support for its decision to go to
war. This meant selectively adducing data -- "cherry-picking" --
rather than using the intelligence community's own analytic judgments.
In fact, key portions of the administration's case explicitly rejected
those judgments. In an August 2002 speech, for example, Vice President
Dick Cheney observed that "intelligence is an uncertain business" and
noted how intelligence analysts had underestimated how close Iraq had
been to developing a nuclear weapon before the 1991 Persian Gulf War.
His conclusion -- at odds with that of the intelligence community --
was that "many of us are convinced that Saddam will acquire nuclear
weapons fairly soon."

In the upside-down relationship between intelligence and policy that
prevailed in the case of Iraq, the administration selected pieces of
raw intelligence to use in its public case for war, leaving the
intelligence community to register varying degrees of private protest
when such use started to go beyond what analysts deemed credible or
reasonable. The best-known example was the assertion by President
George W. Bush in his 2003 State of the Union address that Iraq was
purchasing uranium ore in Africa. U.S. intelligence analysts had
questioned the credibility of the report making this claim, had kept
it out of their own unclassified products, and had advised the White
House not to use it publicly. But the administration put the claim
into the speech anyway, referring to it as information from British
sources in order to make the point without explicitly vouching for the
intelligence.

The reexamination of prewar public statements is a necessary part of
understanding the process that led to the Iraq war. But a narrow focus
on rhetorical details tends to overlook more fundamental problems in
the intelligence-policy relationship. Any time policymakers, rather
than intelligence agencies, take the lead in selecting which bits of
raw intelligence to present, there is -- regardless of the issue -- a
bias. The resulting public statements ostensibly reflect intelligence,
but they do not reflect intelligence analysis, which is an essential
part of determining what the pieces of raw reporting mean. The
policymaker acts with an eye not to what is indicative of a larger
pattern or underlying truth, but to what supports his case.

Another problem is that on Iraq, the intelligence community was pulled
over the line into policy advocacy -- not so much by what it said as
by its conspicuous role in the administration's public case for war.
This was especially true when the intelligence community was made
highly visible (with the director of central intelligence literally in
the camera frame) in an intelligence-laden presentation by Secretary
of State Colin Powell to the UN Security Council a month before the
war began. It was also true in the fall of 2002, when, at the
administration's behest, the intelligence community published a white
paper on Iraq's WMD programs -- but without including any of the
community's judgments about the likelihood of those weapons' being used.

But the greatest discrepancy between the administration's public
statements and the intelligence community's judgments concerned not
WMD (there was indeed a broad consensus that such programs existed),
but the relationship between Saddam and al Qaeda. The enormous
attention devoted to this subject did not reflect any judgment by
intelligence officials that there was or was likely to be anything
like the "alliance" the administration said existed. The reason the
connection got so much attention was that the administration wanted to
hitch the Iraq expedition to the "war on terror" and the threat the
American public feared most, thereby capitalizing on the country's
militant post-9/11 mood.

The issue of possible ties between Saddam and al Qaeda was especially
prone to the selective use of raw intelligence to make a public case
for war. In the shadowy world of international terrorism, almost
anyone can be "linked" to almost anyone else if enough effort is made
to find evidence of casual contacts, the mentioning of names in the
same breath, or indications of common travels or experiences. Even the
most minimal and circumstantial data can be adduced as evidence of a
"relationship," ignoring the important question of whether a given
regime actually supports a given terrorist group and the fact that
relationships can be competitive or distrustful rather than cooperative.

The intelligence community never offered any analysis that supported
the notion of an alliance between Saddam and al Qaeda. Yet it was
drawn into a public effort to support that notion. To be fair,
Secretary Powell's presentation at the UN never explicitly asserted
that there was a cooperative relationship between Saddam and al Qaeda.
But the presentation was clearly meant to create the impression that
one existed. To the extent that the intelligence community was a party
to such efforts, it crossed the line into policy advocacy -- and did
so in a way that fostered public misconceptions contrary to the
intelligence community's own judgments.

VARIETIES OF POLITICIZATION

In its report on prewar intelligence concerning Iraqi WMD, the Senate
Select Committee on Intelligence said it found no evidence that
analysts had altered or shaped their judgments in response to
political pressure. The Silberman-Robb commission reached the same
conclusion, although it conceded that analysts worked in an
"environment" affected by "intense" policymaker interest. But the
method of investigation used by the panels -- essentially, asking
analysts whether their arms had been twisted -- would have caught only
the crudest attempts at politicization. Such attempts are rare and,
when they do occur (as with former Undersecretary of State John
Bolton's attempts to get the intelligence community to sign on to his
judgments about Cuba and Syria), are almost always unsuccessful.
Moreover, it is unlikely that analysts would ever acknowledge that
their own judgments have been politicized, since that would be far
more damning than admitting more mundane types of analytic error.

The actual politicization of intelligence occurs subtly and can take
many forms. Context is all-important. Well before March 2003,
intelligence analysts and their managers knew that the United States
was heading for war with Iraq. It was clear that the Bush
administration would frown on or ignore analysis that called into
question a decision to go to war and welcome analysis that supported
such a decision. Intelligence analysts -- for whom attention,
especially favorable attention, from policymakers is a measure of
success -- felt a strong wind consistently blowing in one direction.
The desire to bend with such a wind is natural and strong, even if
unconscious.

On the issue of Iraqi WMD, dozens of analysts throughout the
intelligence community were making many judgments on many different
issues based on fragmentary and ambiguous evidence. The differences
between sound intelligence analysis (bearing in mind the gaps in
information) and the flawed analysis that actually was produced had to
do mainly with matters of caveat, nuance, and word choice. The
opportunities for bias were numerous. It may not be possible to point
to one key instance of such bending or to measure the cumulative
effect of such pressure. But the effect was probably significant.

A clearer form of politicization is the inconsistent review of
analysis: reports that conform to policy preferences have an easier
time making it through the gauntlet of coordination and approval than
ones that do not. (Every piece of intelligence analysis reflects not
only the judgments of the analysts most directly involved in writing
it, but also the concurrence of those who cover related topics and the
review, editing, and remanding of it by several levels of supervisors,
from branch chiefs to senior executives.) The Silberman-Robb
commission noted such inconsistencies in the Iraq case but chalked it
up to bad management. The commission failed to address exactly why
managers were inconsistent: they wanted to avoid the unpleasantness of
laying unwelcome analysis on a policymaker's desk.

Another form of politicization with a similar cause is the
sugarcoating of what otherwise would be an unpalatable message. Even
the mostly prescient analysis about the problems likely to be
encountered in postwar Iraq included some observations that served as
sugar, added in the hope that policymakers would not throw the report
directly into the burn bag, but damaging the clarity of the analysis
in the process.

But the principal way that the intelligence community's work on Iraq
was politicized concerned the specific questions to which the
community devoted its energies. As any competent pollster can attest,
how a question is framed helps determine the answer. In the case of
Iraq, there was also the matter of sheer quantity of output -- not
just what the intelligence community said, but how many times it said
it. On any given subject, the intelligence community faces what is in
effect a field of rocks, and it lacks the resources to turn over every
one to see what threats to national security may lurk underneath. In
an unpoliticized environment, intelligence officers decide which rocks
to turn over based on past patterns and their own judgments. But when
policymakers repeatedly urge the intelligence community to turn over
only certain rocks, the process becomes biased. The community responds
by concentrating its resources on those rocks, eventually producing a
body of reporting and analysis that, thanks to quantity and emphasis,
leaves the impression that what lies under those same rocks is a
bigger part of the problem than it really is.

That is what happened when the Bush administration repeatedly called
on the intelligence community to uncover more material that would
contribute to the case for war. The Bush team approached the community
again and again and pushed it to look harder at the supposed Saddam-al
Qaeda relationship -- calling on analysts not only to turn over
additional Iraqi rocks, but also to turn over ones already examined
and to scratch the dirt to see if there might be something there after
all. The result was an intelligence output that -- because the
question being investigated was never put in context -- obscured
rather than enhanced understanding of al Qaeda's actual sources of
strength and support.

This process represented a radical departure from the textbook model
of the relationship between intelligence and policy, in which an
intelligence service responds to policymaker interest in certain
subjects (such as "security threats from Iraq" or "al Qaeda's
supporters") and explores them in whatever direction the evidence
leads. The process did not involve intelligence work designed to find
dangers not yet discovered or to inform decisions not yet made.
Instead, it involved research to find evidence in support of a
specific line of argument -- that Saddam was cooperating with al Qaeda
-- which in turn was being used to justify a specific policy decision.

One possible consequence of such politicization is policymaker
self-deception. A policymaker can easily forget that he is hearing so
much about a particular angle in briefings because he and his fellow
policymakers have urged the intelligence community to focus on it. A
more certain consequence is the skewed application of the intelligence
community's resources. Feeding the administration's voracious appetite
for material on the Saddam-al Qaeda link consumed an enormous amount
of time and attention at multiple levels, from rank-and-file
counterterrorism analysts to the most senior intelligence officials.
It is fair to ask how much other counterterrorism work was left undone
as a result.

The issue became even more time-consuming as the conflict between
intelligence officials and policymakers escalated into a battle, with
the intelligence community struggling to maintain its objectivity even
as policymakers pressed the Saddam-al Qaeda connection. The
administration's rejection of the intelligence community's judgments
became especially clear with the formation of a special Pentagon unit,
the Policy Counterterrorism Evaluation Group. The unit, which reported
to Undersecretary of Defense Douglas Feith, was dedicated to finding
every possible link between Saddam and al Qaeda, and its briefings
accused the intelligence community of faulty analysis for failing to
see the supposed alliance.

For the most part, the intelligence community's own substantive
judgments do not appear to have been compromised. (A possible
important exception was the construing of an ambiguous, and ultimately
recanted, statement from a detainee as indicating that Saddam's Iraq
provided jihadists with chemical or biological training.) But although
the charge of faulty analysis was never directly conveyed to the
intelligence community itself, enough of the charges leaked out to
create a public perception of rancor between the administration and
the intelligence community, which in turn encouraged some
administration supporters to charge intelligence officers (including
me) with trying to sabotage the president's policies. This poisonous
atmosphere reinforced the disinclination within the intelligence
community to challenge the consensus view about Iraqi WMD programs;
any such challenge would have served merely to reaffirm the
presumptions of the accusers.

PARTIAL REPAIRS

Although the Iraq war has provided a particularly stark illustration
of the problems in the intelligence-policy relationship, such problems
are not confined to this one issue or this specific administration.
Four decades ago, the misuse of intelligence about an ambiguous
encounter in the Gulf of Tonkin figured prominently in the Johnson
administration's justification for escalating the military effort in
Vietnam. Over a century ago, the possible misinterpretation of an
explosion on a U.S. warship in Havana harbor helped set off the chain
of events that led to a war of choice against Spain. The Iraq case
needs further examination and reflection on its own. But public
discussion of how to foster a better relationship between intelligence
officials and policymakers and how to ensure better use of
intelligence on future issues is also necessary.

Intelligence affects the nation's interests through its effect on
policy. No matter how much the process of intelligence gathering
itself is fixed, the changes will do no good if the role of
intelligence in the policymaking process is not also addressed.
Unfortunately, there is no single clear fix to the sort of problem
that arose in the case of Iraq. The current ill will may not be
reparable, and the perception of the intelligence community on the
part of some policymakers -- that Langley is enemy territory -- is
unlikely to change. But a few steps, based on the recognition that the
intelligence-policy relationship is indeed broken, could reduce the
likelihood that such a breakdown will recur.

On this point, the United States should emulate the United Kingdom,
where discussion of this issue has been more forthright, by declaring
once and for all that its intelligence services should not be part of
public advocacy of policies still under debate. In the United Kingdom,
Prime Minister Tony Blair accepted a commission of inquiry's
conclusions that intelligence and policy had been improperly
commingled in such exercises as the publication of the "dodgy
dossier," the British counterpart to the United States' Iraqi WMD
white paper, and that in the future there should be a clear
delineation between intelligence and policy. An American declaration
should take the form of a congressional resolution and be seconded by
a statement from the White House. Although it would not have legal
force, such a statement would discourage future administrations from
attempting to pull the intelligence community into policy advocacy. It
would also give some leverage to intelligence officers in resisting
any such future attempts.

A more effective way of identifying and exposing improprieties in the
relationship is also needed. The CIA has a "politicization ombudsman,"
but his informally defined functions mostly involve serving as a
sympathetic ear for analysts disturbed by evidence of politicization
and then summarizing what he hears for senior agency officials. The
intelligence oversight committees in Congress have an important role,
but the heightened partisanship that has bedeviled so much other work
on Capitol Hill has had an especially inhibiting effect in this area.
A promised effort by the Senate Intelligence Committee to examine the
Bush administration's use of intelligence on Iraq got stuck in the
partisan mud. The House committee has not even attempted to address
the subject.

The legislative branch is the appropriate place for monitoring the
intelligence-policy relationship. But the oversight should be
conducted by a nonpartisan office modeled on the Government
Accountability Office (GAO) and the Congressional Budget Office (CBO).
Such an office would have a staff, smaller than that of the GAO or the
CBO, of officers experienced in intelligence and with the necessary
clearances and access to examine questions about both the
politicization of classified intelligence work and the public use of
intelligence. As with the GAO, this office could conduct inquiries at
the request of members of Congress. It would make its results public
as much as possible, consistent with security requirements, and it
would avoid duplicating the many other functions of intelligence
oversight, which would remain the responsibility of the House and
Senate intelligence committees.

Beyond these steps, there is the more difficult issue of what place
the intelligence community should occupy within the executive branch.
The reorganization that created the Office of the Director of National
Intelligence (DNI) is barely a year old, and yet another
reorganization at this time would compound the disruption. But the
flaws in the narrowly conceived and hastily considered reorganization
legislation of December 2004 -- such as ambiguities in the DNI's
authority -- will make it necessary to reopen the issues it addressed.
Any new legislation should also tackle something the 2004 legislation
did not: the problem of having the leaders of the intelligence
community, which is supposed to produce objective and unvarnished
analysis, serve at the pleasure of the president.

The organizational issue is also difficult because of a dilemma that
intelligence officers have long discussed and debated among
themselves: that although distance from policymakers may be needed for
objectivity, closeness is needed for influence. For most of the past
quarter century, intelligence officials have striven for greater
closeness, in a perpetual quest for policymakers' ears. The lesson of
the Iraq episode, however, is that the supposed dilemma has been
incorrectly conceived. Closeness in this case did not buy influence,
even on momentous issues of war and peace; it bought only the
disadvantages of politicization.

The intelligence community should be repositioned to reflect the fact
that influence and relevance flow not just from face time in the Oval
Office, but also from credibility with Congress and, most of all, with
the American public. The community needs to remain in the executive
branch but be given greater independence and a greater ability to
communicate with those other constituencies (fettered only by security
considerations, rather than by policy agendas). An appropriate model
is the Federal Reserve, which is structured as a quasi-autonomous body
overseen by a board of governors with long fixed terms.

These measures would reduce both the politicization of the
intelligence community's own work and the public misuse of
intelligence by policymakers. It would not directly affect how much
attention policymakers give to intelligence, which they would continue
to be entitled to ignore. But the greater likelihood of being called
to public account for discrepancies between a case for a certain
policy and an intelligence judgment would have the indirect effect of
forcing policymakers to pay more attention to those judgments in the
first place.

These changes alone will not fix the intelligence-policy relationship.
But if Congress and the American people are serious about "fixing
intelligence," they should not just do what is easy and politically
convenient. At stake are the soundness of U.S. foreign-policy making
and the right of Americans to know the basis for decisions taken in
the name of their security.





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