Brian M. Downing
Few men realize that their life, the very essence of their character, their capabilities and their audacities, are only the expression of their belief in the safety of their surroundings. The courage, the composure, the confidence; the emotions and principles; every great and every insignificant thought belongs not to the individual but to the crowd: to the crowd that believes blindly in the irresistible force of its institutions and of its morals. . . .
Joseph Conrad, An Outpost of Progress
In 1984, after a few years of grad school, I interviewed for an analyst position with the CIA. On the appointed morning, I drove down the George Washington Parkway, took the turn-off leading to the Agency’s campus, and stopped at the checkpoint. The guard dutifully checked for my name on a roster and then directed me to the appropriate parking area.
As I walked to the main entrance along with scores of employees coming to work, I noticed several cars – a strikingly high portion – had bumper stickers reading “PTL” (Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker’s bailiwick) and “The 700 Club” (Pat Robertson’s rival bishopric). I entered the lobby and saw the well known wall with stars for each fallen employee. An escort guided me through security and into the Company.
The first few meetings went well. The division heads, attired like college teachers in the 1960s, were personable and bright. Then came my appointment with the head of a new section; I listened attentively as he outlined his bailiwick’s mission. The Soviet Union was actively engaged in destabilization programs around the world, and his section kept tabs on them. By way of concluding, he leaned back proudly and stated, “Basically, we make sure the KGB doesn’t create another uprising like the one it created to oust the Shah.”
The KGB ousted the Shah of Iran?
My facial expression, I’m sure, turned somewhat quizzical. Ah, he must be testing me – seeing if I had the moxie to argue. I countered with my view that looked more to Iranian rural dwellers coming to the cities and being radicalized in Islamist study groups and to bazaaris threatened by the Shah’s development programs. But he just shook his head, smiled compassionately at the naivete on the outside, and leaned forward. “The demonstrations, riots – the whole nine yards – were directed by the KGB.” He leaned back again and folded his arms, as though he expected me to gush fawning praise.
I didn’t. The KGB choreographed scores of competing mullahs, would-be imams, and legal scholars? I couldn’t buy it; it was preposterous. Revolutions are immense tides, not man-made splashes. If this was how the institution thought. . . .
We looked at each other for several uncomfortable moments. We both soon recognized that a yawning chasm separated us – like two strangers who after a brief exchange of views realized they had opposing and irreconcilable positions on gun control or abortion or the wisdom of a president. There was no middle ground, no room for debate or rapprochement. At best there could be a friendly handshake and a parting of the ways.
After some desultory talk, we shook hands and parted ways.
As I walked down the corridors toward the lobby, I saw his form, his ideological twins and institutional soul mates, going in and out of every office, every elevator, every conference room. Confident in their surpassing knowledge and prestigious aura, they went about their business of defining national security and overseeing the world.
In the parking lot, I once again saw the bumper stickers that proclaimed the car owners’ religiosity, and I pondered if some outlooks were unhelpful in seeing complexities and ambiguities in global affairs. I left the outpost, drove back up the George Washington Parkway, and headed home. On the way, I thought about the wall and the stars. I wondered how they died, why they died; what presuppositions, fears, hypotheses, pet theories, hunches, consensus-based certainties, or faction-based compromises had sent those poor guys off to their deaths. I wondered if they died true believers, or if some had at least begun to question the thinking in Langley.
© 2008 Brian M Downing
Brian M Downing is a national security analyst who’s written for outlets across the political spectrum. He studied at Georgetown University and the University of Chicago, and did post-graduate work at Harvard’s Center for International Affairs.