Mark Felt's confession that he was Deep Throat impelled me to read Theodore White's account of Watergate, Breach of Faith, which unfortunately is out of print. I heartily recommend it. Published a year after Nixon resigned, it reflects the spirit of those times quite well, recalling memories of watching the president make his public pronouncements about the scandal, Sam Ervin and his committee peel away the layers that concealed the actions of the president and his minions, and the House Judiciary Committee come to their reluctant, but necessary judgement.
White, an insightful journalist, perhaps the best of those who covered American politics through the 1960s, put the events of those times in context. Naturally, his analysis invites comparision with today. Then as now the country was polarized. The two parties, as White saw them, stood on differents sides of a cultural divide. Sound familiar? the division then, of course, was between the those who looked approvingly at the counterculture and those who were more traditional in outlook. We define the division differently today, but the roots of todays partisanship have their basis in the same difference in outlook. Indeed, one of the elements of Bush's past that is a key to undestanding him was his aversion to the liberal and radical forces that ruled students and faculty at Yale when he went there. He is, in some respects, the counter-counterculture president.
As stark as the divisions of the early 1970s were in White's eyes, they pale before what we have now. In his account of the proceedings of the House Judiciary Committee, he describes the moderate Republicans who leaned toward impeachment and the conservative Democrats who leaned against it. Where are these creatures now? Each party has comfortably walled itself up in a strong fortress manned by the like-minded.
Few have done that more clearly than the president himself. Those who do not speak as the president thinks have short lives in the centers of power in Washington. This is a tendency that has increased as the administration has developed, to judge by the cabinet appointments made for the second term. Nixon had some of this tendency himself but, partly as a result of Watergate, was unable to follow it to the same degree.
Nixon, too, like Bush, tried to centralize power in the presidency. Both felt the need to make the bureaucracies of the Executive Branch speak and act as one. However, whereas Bush has done seems to have done this effectively, Watergate aborted Nixon's efforts to do so.
Let the reader think that I am trying to paint Bush in the same colors as Nixon, however, let it be noted that he lacks Nixon's paranoia and meanness. Nor is he a schemer, and his moral compass seems more firmly set.
He is not, therefore, prone to approach his political problems in an underhanded, illegal manner as Nixon did. Let this entry end with a warning, however, that the drama of Watergate suggests may be apposite. Nixon made his fatal errors in an almost offhand manner. This was not an evil man who planned to cross the line into illegality. Rather, he stepped across it almost casually, without realizing that he had done so. Bush has surrounded himself with people, like Karl Rove, who approach the line of legality as receivers in football approach the sideline--they know exactly where it is and what it means to cross it. Should this small circle around the president miscalculate, they may lead him to disaster, and there is no one of a different mind to tell him no. Let us hope that they, and he, are wiser than that.
28 June 2005
27 June 2005
Tolerance
Noor Huda Ismail, a Moslem from Indonesia, wrote in Sunday's Washington Post about the madrasa he attended as a teenager. Many of his fellow students, and a co-founder of the school have been arrested as terrorists. The school itself is regarded as a breeding-ground for Islamic extremists.
The article makes it strikingly clear that much the success of the extremist philosophy depends on making the student intolerant of and isolated from those who think differently. It is in stark contrast to what I think of as perhaps the greatest virtue of the American experiment--tolerance. It is this, not freedom alone, that should be our rallying cry. It should be what we seek above all to foster around the world. It is certainly a quality much of the world lacks. Intolerance is the essence of the Islamic jihad.
Americans themselves can certainly be intolerant. Much in our history proves this. The current political climate suggests that the future of this virtue in our land is not assured. Moderation in defense of the public welfare seems to be a vice; partisanship consistently trumps compromise. Yet our battles against discrimination continue, embraced in rhetoric at least, often in action, by the mainstream of both parties. Forty years ago that was not true. These battles--by and for Catholics, Jews, African-Americans, Asians, the Irish, perhaps against all ethnicities at one time or another--have been constant in American history, which can be characterized as a struggle of our best side against our worst. Thus far our best side has come out ahead far more often than not.
Assuredly, other countries have fought similar battles. But their histories have not been shaped by them in the way that American history has. For only Americans define themselves in political terms. Others--the French, the English, the Chinese, the Arabs--define themselves in other ways, in terms of language, religion, ancestry (see Walker Connor's insightful Ethnonationalism for an extended version of this argument). To be American is to believe in the tenets of the founding documents of the United States and the political traditions that they embody,
Tolerance is one of these traditions, strongly embedded in this country from its beginning, found among the most prominent qualities of the early colonies. Its seeds lie not in Plymouth, obviously, but in New Amsterdam, the future New York, as Russell Shorto shows in his enlightening account of the Dutch colony, The Island at the Center of the World.
It is worthwhile to keep in mind not only that the citizens of New Amsterdam included a range of races, ethnicities and faiths, but also that they tolerated each other. That is, they put up with each other. They lived next to each other, dealt with each other as neighbors, merchants, customers, and citizens. They did not necessarily approve of each other. Nonetheless, they managed to create a new society in a difficult land. In truth, at its heart, toleration does not mean concord; it need mean only that people agree to live and let live.
The lesson that we can hope to extend to other peoples, including those Moslems like those Noor Huda Ismail grew up with, is merely that we will all be better off if you and I let each other be. Simple as this message is, spreading it is a Sisyphian task. Catholics and Protestants only learned it after two centuries of massacres; this country often forgets it. Yet it is an essential part, perhaps the most essential part, of what we have to offer.
The article makes it strikingly clear that much the success of the extremist philosophy depends on making the student intolerant of and isolated from those who think differently. It is in stark contrast to what I think of as perhaps the greatest virtue of the American experiment--tolerance. It is this, not freedom alone, that should be our rallying cry. It should be what we seek above all to foster around the world. It is certainly a quality much of the world lacks. Intolerance is the essence of the Islamic jihad.
Americans themselves can certainly be intolerant. Much in our history proves this. The current political climate suggests that the future of this virtue in our land is not assured. Moderation in defense of the public welfare seems to be a vice; partisanship consistently trumps compromise. Yet our battles against discrimination continue, embraced in rhetoric at least, often in action, by the mainstream of both parties. Forty years ago that was not true. These battles--by and for Catholics, Jews, African-Americans, Asians, the Irish, perhaps against all ethnicities at one time or another--have been constant in American history, which can be characterized as a struggle of our best side against our worst. Thus far our best side has come out ahead far more often than not.
Assuredly, other countries have fought similar battles. But their histories have not been shaped by them in the way that American history has. For only Americans define themselves in political terms. Others--the French, the English, the Chinese, the Arabs--define themselves in other ways, in terms of language, religion, ancestry (see Walker Connor's insightful Ethnonationalism for an extended version of this argument). To be American is to believe in the tenets of the founding documents of the United States and the political traditions that they embody,
Tolerance is one of these traditions, strongly embedded in this country from its beginning, found among the most prominent qualities of the early colonies. Its seeds lie not in Plymouth, obviously, but in New Amsterdam, the future New York, as Russell Shorto shows in his enlightening account of the Dutch colony, The Island at the Center of the World.
It is worthwhile to keep in mind not only that the citizens of New Amsterdam included a range of races, ethnicities and faiths, but also that they tolerated each other. That is, they put up with each other. They lived next to each other, dealt with each other as neighbors, merchants, customers, and citizens. They did not necessarily approve of each other. Nonetheless, they managed to create a new society in a difficult land. In truth, at its heart, toleration does not mean concord; it need mean only that people agree to live and let live.
The lesson that we can hope to extend to other peoples, including those Moslems like those Noor Huda Ismail grew up with, is merely that we will all be better off if you and I let each other be. Simple as this message is, spreading it is a Sisyphian task. Catholics and Protestants only learned it after two centuries of massacres; this country often forgets it. Yet it is an essential part, perhaps the most essential part, of what we have to offer.
21 June 2005
Our Fools and Iraq
Once again, E.J. Dionne wrote a column in The Washington Post worth commenting on. His subject was whether the administration believed what they told us about Iraq before we invaded it. He suggests they did. I believe they did, and wrote the following to him:
The question of what we do now is far from a simple one. My message to Mr. Dionne lays aside the question of cost, but of course it is the costs of the war that are easiest to see: lives lost and ruined, billions spent, a military stretched too far. Can we do enough good in Iraq to justify these? The same issue of the Post carries a piece by Kofi Annan that suggests that progress is being made. The surprising turnout of the elections last January also suggests that, despite the continuing bloodshed, we may be able to leave an Iraq that is stable, democratic, and prosperous. That bloodshed and what appear to be rising tensions among the Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds make it clear that such an outcome is not assured. Anyone who believes that we will have such assurance in a year is not paying attention.
Therefore, we should not plan to begin our withdrawal in one year or even two. Our commitment to Iraq should not now diminish. Instead, we should learn from the many errors that we have made and carry on purposefully, unperturbed by setbacks that leave our goal in Iraq achievable.
E.J.,
One of the ways the world is divided into two parts is in how people see those they disagree with: Some see them as knaves, others see them as fools. So some have seen the President, the Vice-President, and the rest as knaves, determined to invade Iraq for their own reasons, perhaps out of greed, perhaps for revenge, perhaps with some other malicious motive. But your explanation, that they were fools who acted in good faith but with a mistaken understanding of the situation, is like Occam's Razor, the simplest explanation of what happened. It also happens to fit with the conclusion of the report of the WMD Commission that most of the analysts of the intelligence community believed that Saddam Hussein was a clear threat.
The question now becomes the one on everyone's lips: What do we do now? I believe that this should be divorced from how we got into Iraq. Rather, our answer should come from whether we believe we can do good by staying. To use the Pottery Barn analogy: We broke it, we bought it. Can we fix it? Unfortunately, the answer is far from clear.
Jim Voorhees
The question of what we do now is far from a simple one. My message to Mr. Dionne lays aside the question of cost, but of course it is the costs of the war that are easiest to see: lives lost and ruined, billions spent, a military stretched too far. Can we do enough good in Iraq to justify these? The same issue of the Post carries a piece by Kofi Annan that suggests that progress is being made. The surprising turnout of the elections last January also suggests that, despite the continuing bloodshed, we may be able to leave an Iraq that is stable, democratic, and prosperous. That bloodshed and what appear to be rising tensions among the Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds make it clear that such an outcome is not assured. Anyone who believes that we will have such assurance in a year is not paying attention.
Therefore, we should not plan to begin our withdrawal in one year or even two. Our commitment to Iraq should not now diminish. Instead, we should learn from the many errors that we have made and carry on purposefully, unperturbed by setbacks that leave our goal in Iraq achievable.
20 June 2005
More on Uzbekistan
In today's Washington Post Jackson Diehl makes many of the same points I did about Uzbekistan on 14 June, though he focuses on giving aid to Kyrgyzstan. He asks "Why should the Bush administration not begin to focus on Kyrgyzstan as a military and political partner, while conspicuously leaving Uzbekistan, and Karimov, in the cold?"
That question has two answers: First, as he points out, Kyrgyz democracy is not yet stable. Should we move our forces to a country where democracy may fail in the next few months? Second, alternatives to the airbase in Uzbekistan will be more costly and possibly less effective. A Kyrgyz base, for example, will increase the distance it takes to fly to either Afghanistan or Iraq.
Do these two considerations mean that abandoning Uzbekistan for Kyrgyzstan is a bad idea? No. The message of support for democratic forces and our willingness to abandon a dictator may well offset these costs. To my mind, they do. But those costs must be seen clearly.
There are other alternatives that should be considered as well. In the July-August issue of Foreign Affairs, the estimable S. Frederick Starr advocates a regional approach centered on a regional partnership for cooperation and development. Not long ago, Chris Seiple of the Foreign Policy Research Institute also argued for greater American involvement in the region.
Indeed, given what appears to be the increasing importance of Central Asia to the United States, the fragility of the governments there, and the proximity of the region to the bubbling cauldron that surrounds the Persian Gulf, perhaps it is time for the United States to pay greater attention to these distant states. There are solid reasons to be tentative--complications in our relations with Russia among them--but we may also benefit from improving the political and economic structures that these Islamic peoples have been building since the Soviet Union collapsed. Our effort might provide an image that can help bleach the vivid colors of terrorism that too many have found attractive.
Note: S. Frederick Starr is currently head of the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute (CACI) at Johns Hopkins University's Nitze School of Advanced International Studies. His proposal is also described in one of CACI's studies.
That question has two answers: First, as he points out, Kyrgyz democracy is not yet stable. Should we move our forces to a country where democracy may fail in the next few months? Second, alternatives to the airbase in Uzbekistan will be more costly and possibly less effective. A Kyrgyz base, for example, will increase the distance it takes to fly to either Afghanistan or Iraq.
Do these two considerations mean that abandoning Uzbekistan for Kyrgyzstan is a bad idea? No. The message of support for democratic forces and our willingness to abandon a dictator may well offset these costs. To my mind, they do. But those costs must be seen clearly.
There are other alternatives that should be considered as well. In the July-August issue of Foreign Affairs, the estimable S. Frederick Starr advocates a regional approach centered on a regional partnership for cooperation and development. Not long ago, Chris Seiple of the Foreign Policy Research Institute also argued for greater American involvement in the region.
Indeed, given what appears to be the increasing importance of Central Asia to the United States, the fragility of the governments there, and the proximity of the region to the bubbling cauldron that surrounds the Persian Gulf, perhaps it is time for the United States to pay greater attention to these distant states. There are solid reasons to be tentative--complications in our relations with Russia among them--but we may also benefit from improving the political and economic structures that these Islamic peoples have been building since the Soviet Union collapsed. Our effort might provide an image that can help bleach the vivid colors of terrorism that too many have found attractive.
Note: S. Frederick Starr is currently head of the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute (CACI) at Johns Hopkins University's Nitze School of Advanced International Studies. His proposal is also described in one of CACI's studies.
14 June 2005
State, Defense, and the Uzbeks
The Washington Post this morning had an article about a division between the Pentagon and the Department of State over whether to press for an investigation of the recent events in Uzbekistan. Karimov's post-Soviet dictatorship shot hundreds of protesters. State supported tough language in a NATO communique favoring an investigation; Defense opposed it. Defense won.
Both departments have since said that there is no disagreement between them over what to do in Uzbekistan. That is probably true in the sense that both oppose dictatorship, both would like an investiagation of some kind. Nonetheless, we should not doubt that disagreement exists. Indeed, there should be one, because we face choices there that are not easy to make. Rumsfeld was paraphrased as saying that "the Uzbekistan situation had direct implications on NATO operations in the region." He's right. It has implications not just for NATO (in Afghanistan), but the for the United States in Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere, not just in that region, but throughout the world.
What it comes down to is that there is a conflict between our goal of fostering democracy wherever it springs up and our desire to succeed in political conflicts that we have become embroiled in. This is not a new dilemma for the United States, but decades, perhaps centuries old. It gets to the heart of the ambitions of President Bush as he seeks to leave a legacy that is somewhat greater than a failed war and missing weapons in Iraq.
Rumsfeld noted that our air base in Uzbekistan--jeopardized by efforts to put pressure on President Karimov--is used to transport humanitarian aid (to Afghanistan and elsewhere). That base, made available at some cost to Karimov in his relationship with Russia, has been a key part of our efforts in the region. Were Karimov to forbid us to use it, alternatives would be difficult to find and expensive to use. The support they made possible might also be less effective. In short, opposing Karimov openly and strongly has its costs.
But there are clear costs on the other side as well. These will be especially high if, as I believe, President Bush is sincere, earnest, and determined in his efforts to bring democracy to Iraq and elsewhere in the Muslim world. It is incontestable that he seeks an Iraq that is strong enough and popular enough for American troops to leave with a sense that they--we--have laid a foundation that will make it possible for Iraq to become a prosperous country with a lasting, democratic government.
Yet a weak reaction to Karimov will undermine Bush's efforts. Our wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are now less military than political. Indeed, while our stage may be in those countries, the audience extends across the Arab world, into the broader Muslim world, and beyond. If we play a realpolitical game in Central Asia, the rest of the Muslim world will note that, when push came to shove, narrow interest came before the broader concerns of local, Muslim population. Moreover, Karimov will not last. Age alone will take its toll--Karimov is 67--even if there is no Uzbek equivalent of the rose or orange revolution. What will happen then? I submit that there is no long term value to our interests in Central Asia that anything but a harsh policy toward Karimov can offer.
In short, Bush's aspirations across the southern part of Eurasia are likely to benefit from a policy toward Karimov that does not mince words. Yet these benefits are somewhat speculative: we do not know what will happen in a country and a region that we but dimly understand. The costs of a firm stand opposed to Karimov are clearer. We have faced a similar choice before--with Marcos, the Shah, Pinochet, and others. This time, the costs the dictator threatens seem to weigh less than the possible benefits of opposing him firmly.
Both departments have since said that there is no disagreement between them over what to do in Uzbekistan. That is probably true in the sense that both oppose dictatorship, both would like an investiagation of some kind. Nonetheless, we should not doubt that disagreement exists. Indeed, there should be one, because we face choices there that are not easy to make. Rumsfeld was paraphrased as saying that "the Uzbekistan situation had direct implications on NATO operations in the region." He's right. It has implications not just for NATO (in Afghanistan), but the for the United States in Afghanistan, Iraq, and elsewhere, not just in that region, but throughout the world.
What it comes down to is that there is a conflict between our goal of fostering democracy wherever it springs up and our desire to succeed in political conflicts that we have become embroiled in. This is not a new dilemma for the United States, but decades, perhaps centuries old. It gets to the heart of the ambitions of President Bush as he seeks to leave a legacy that is somewhat greater than a failed war and missing weapons in Iraq.
Rumsfeld noted that our air base in Uzbekistan--jeopardized by efforts to put pressure on President Karimov--is used to transport humanitarian aid (to Afghanistan and elsewhere). That base, made available at some cost to Karimov in his relationship with Russia, has been a key part of our efforts in the region. Were Karimov to forbid us to use it, alternatives would be difficult to find and expensive to use. The support they made possible might also be less effective. In short, opposing Karimov openly and strongly has its costs.
But there are clear costs on the other side as well. These will be especially high if, as I believe, President Bush is sincere, earnest, and determined in his efforts to bring democracy to Iraq and elsewhere in the Muslim world. It is incontestable that he seeks an Iraq that is strong enough and popular enough for American troops to leave with a sense that they--we--have laid a foundation that will make it possible for Iraq to become a prosperous country with a lasting, democratic government.
Yet a weak reaction to Karimov will undermine Bush's efforts. Our wars in Afghanistan and Iraq are now less military than political. Indeed, while our stage may be in those countries, the audience extends across the Arab world, into the broader Muslim world, and beyond. If we play a realpolitical game in Central Asia, the rest of the Muslim world will note that, when push came to shove, narrow interest came before the broader concerns of local, Muslim population. Moreover, Karimov will not last. Age alone will take its toll--Karimov is 67--even if there is no Uzbek equivalent of the rose or orange revolution. What will happen then? I submit that there is no long term value to our interests in Central Asia that anything but a harsh policy toward Karimov can offer.
In short, Bush's aspirations across the southern part of Eurasia are likely to benefit from a policy toward Karimov that does not mince words. Yet these benefits are somewhat speculative: we do not know what will happen in a country and a region that we but dimly understand. The costs of a firm stand opposed to Karimov are clearer. We have faced a similar choice before--with Marcos, the Shah, Pinochet, and others. This time, the costs the dictator threatens seem to weigh less than the possible benefits of opposing him firmly.
09 June 2005
India, China, the United States, and the Rest
Two columns that appeared this week, by Thomas Friedman in The New York Times and Jim Hoagland in The Washington Post, bring me back to a subject that I’ve been pondering for some time—how the world will change in the next half century. There are already signs that the changes that are coming will the least match those that we have seen since World War II. Consider which countries dominated the world in that period: the Soviet Union and the United States, of course. In economics, they were joined by Japan and the countries of the European Union, particularly Germany, France, and the United Kingdom. Not coincidentally, all these countries, save France, were among the 10 most populous countries in 1950, according to the U.S. Census Bureau. The most populous countries, China and India, were prostrate from internal troubles, economic and political, for part of the period, and only learning how to compete effectively in the economic realm for most of it. (This is a reminder that it takes more than a crowd of people to make a country rich.)
As Friedman and Hoagland point out and many others have also noted, India and China are hitting their stride. Their growth is beginning to have strong effects on parts of the rest of the world economy—China’s growing thirst for oil is helping drive prices to heights never seen; the consternation of Lou Dobbs and other commentators about outsourcing to Bangalore testify to the growing sophistication of Indian technology.
The contrast to the powers that dominated the globe in the last few decades is striking. Russia, as part of the Soviet Union, saw its economic growth rates soar through the 1950s, shrink to nothing in the last years of the Soviet period, and turn sharply negative in between 1990 and 2002 (see the UN Development Programme's Human Development Report 2004 for GDP growth rates). Its economy is growing now, thanks to the rising price of oil, but it can hardly be said to be undergoing an economic miracle.
The United Kingdom continues to grow at a reasonable pace, the rest of “Old Europe” creeps. France’s economy grew at an annual rate of only 1.7 percent between 1975 and 2002. Germany grew sclerotic, its rate slowing from 2 percent between 1975 and 2002, but only 1.3 percent after 1990. Japan did much the same: it matched Germany’s growth rate through the entire period, but slowed even more in its last dozen years. The United States has grown steadily, 2 percent through the period, but far more slowly than the two Asian giants. India grew 3.3 percent after 1975, accelerating to 4 percent from 1990 to 2002; China was spectacular: its growth exceeded 8 percent throughout (whether that data is accurate might be questioned, but it is the data we have).
As your broker might say, past performance is no guarantee of future results. But the shrinking, aging populations of Europe, Russia, and Japan, and, less severely, the United States will guarantee that the robust, youthful energy that brought these countries to global power will not be available to keep them in the positions to which they became accustomed.
Assuming that these trends continue (a tenuous assumption at best), the world is growing into something much different than we are used to. Europe is fading from the global stage. The great hopes that accompanied the unifying reforms of 1992 have not been realized; it is no longer the vital force, but a stagnating one. Russia will remain a regional power at best, but may well weaken even there as its immense Asian neighbors and the more dynamic of its former colonies grow. Japan will join it in weakness.
And the United States? We are dominant as no power has been before. That will not change completely, we will be powerful still. Yet we will see our dominance fade and our vitality pale before the brightening beacons emerging from Asia.
That begins a set of arguments that these few words cannot exhaust.
As Friedman and Hoagland point out and many others have also noted, India and China are hitting their stride. Their growth is beginning to have strong effects on parts of the rest of the world economy—China’s growing thirst for oil is helping drive prices to heights never seen; the consternation of Lou Dobbs and other commentators about outsourcing to Bangalore testify to the growing sophistication of Indian technology.
The contrast to the powers that dominated the globe in the last few decades is striking. Russia, as part of the Soviet Union, saw its economic growth rates soar through the 1950s, shrink to nothing in the last years of the Soviet period, and turn sharply negative in between 1990 and 2002 (see the UN Development Programme's Human Development Report 2004 for GDP growth rates). Its economy is growing now, thanks to the rising price of oil, but it can hardly be said to be undergoing an economic miracle.
The United Kingdom continues to grow at a reasonable pace, the rest of “Old Europe” creeps. France’s economy grew at an annual rate of only 1.7 percent between 1975 and 2002. Germany grew sclerotic, its rate slowing from 2 percent between 1975 and 2002, but only 1.3 percent after 1990. Japan did much the same: it matched Germany’s growth rate through the entire period, but slowed even more in its last dozen years. The United States has grown steadily, 2 percent through the period, but far more slowly than the two Asian giants. India grew 3.3 percent after 1975, accelerating to 4 percent from 1990 to 2002; China was spectacular: its growth exceeded 8 percent throughout (whether that data is accurate might be questioned, but it is the data we have).
As your broker might say, past performance is no guarantee of future results. But the shrinking, aging populations of Europe, Russia, and Japan, and, less severely, the United States will guarantee that the robust, youthful energy that brought these countries to global power will not be available to keep them in the positions to which they became accustomed.
Assuming that these trends continue (a tenuous assumption at best), the world is growing into something much different than we are used to. Europe is fading from the global stage. The great hopes that accompanied the unifying reforms of 1992 have not been realized; it is no longer the vital force, but a stagnating one. Russia will remain a regional power at best, but may well weaken even there as its immense Asian neighbors and the more dynamic of its former colonies grow. Japan will join it in weakness.
And the United States? We are dominant as no power has been before. That will not change completely, we will be powerful still. Yet we will see our dominance fade and our vitality pale before the brightening beacons emerging from Asia.
That begins a set of arguments that these few words cannot exhaust.
06 June 2005
The FBI Without a Case (File)
One of the running stories in the Washington area IT industry is the failure of the FBI to develop its Virtual Case File (VCF). This has been a program that the Bureau has been trying to develop for years to replace the paper-based system it has used for decades to handle the mass of evidence collected during investigations. Earlier this spring, Director Mueller fired the contractor, SAIC, and declared the program a failure. Each side has blamed the other. The truth is, though, as in most such disputes, plenty of fault can be found on both sides.
A story in today's Washington Post touched on the VCF case again. The Post was given a copy of a report from the House Appropriations Committee that largely blamed the FBI for the problem. Indeed, some of what the FBI was amazingly bad. For instance, they found 400 flaws in the program a year ago, but did not tell SAIC, because "because it did not want the contractor to think these were the only issues remaining"! Yet the bureau kept SAIC on the contract for another year.
That story led me to write a friend at the Congressional Research Service:
My friend replied to largely agree with me, though he was easier on SAIC than I am. It would, indeed, be difficult to walk away from the millions of dollars involved, particularly as they were bound up in a cost-plus contract, which can be lucrative indeed. Yet a firm is going to get burned if it does not follow practices universally lauded as good and insist that its client does the same. In this case, as in many others, it is a matter of both sides communicating with each other so that both understand what is needed, what can be done, and what the costs are.
The amazing thing, though, is how often contractors and their clients mess things up in similar ways. Too often, an adversarial relationship is taken on one or both sides. I once worked on a project where the federal contracting officer confided to an associate that one had to keep the contractors under a tight reign. Not shy about his views, he did that within earshot of my program manager.
That seems to be part of what happened here. The FBI was determined to bring SAIC to heel and appears to have treated the firm as inalterably obligated to do as the bureau wished. When it failed to produce, the bureau snapped angrily. SAIC, which played into the Bureau's game, has replied in kind.
The truth is, however, that the two scorpions, caught in the same same bottle, have stung themselves. And so we, who rely on the FBI to do its duty, are stuck with an agency whose agents must still to things the old, hard way.
A story in today's Washington Post touched on the VCF case again. The Post was given a copy of a report from the House Appropriations Committee that largely blamed the FBI for the problem. Indeed, some of what the FBI was amazingly bad. For instance, they found 400 flaws in the program a year ago, but did not tell SAIC, because "because it did not want the contractor to think these were the only issues remaining"! Yet the bureau kept SAIC on the contract for another year.
That story led me to write a friend at the Congressional Research Service:
I just read the Post report on the FBI's experience with the VCF. Of course, I haven't seen the report from Congress either, but two conclusions seem clear from the Post's account (and other reports I have read):
1. Basic good practices in software development were not followed. In particular, the FBI failed to set firm requirements early and change them only after consulting with the contractor and getting the contractor's agreement--in writing--to make the changes needed. It was as if you signed with a contractor to build a colonial-style house, then changed it to a ranch half-way through.
2. The contractor did not hold the FBI to its word. It contracted to build one system, then in effect and only implicitly, agreed to build a different one after the requirements changed. It should have been willing to drop the contract rather than allow the FBI to continue as it did. That may be a lot to expect from anyone holding such a big contract, but the costs of doing otherwise--both to its finances and its reputation--are precisely what SAIC is paying.
My friend replied to largely agree with me, though he was easier on SAIC than I am. It would, indeed, be difficult to walk away from the millions of dollars involved, particularly as they were bound up in a cost-plus contract, which can be lucrative indeed. Yet a firm is going to get burned if it does not follow practices universally lauded as good and insist that its client does the same. In this case, as in many others, it is a matter of both sides communicating with each other so that both understand what is needed, what can be done, and what the costs are.
The amazing thing, though, is how often contractors and their clients mess things up in similar ways. Too often, an adversarial relationship is taken on one or both sides. I once worked on a project where the federal contracting officer confided to an associate that one had to keep the contractors under a tight reign. Not shy about his views, he did that within earshot of my program manager.
That seems to be part of what happened here. The FBI was determined to bring SAIC to heel and appears to have treated the firm as inalterably obligated to do as the bureau wished. When it failed to produce, the bureau snapped angrily. SAIC, which played into the Bureau's game, has replied in kind.
The truth is, however, that the two scorpions, caught in the same same bottle, have stung themselves. And so we, who rely on the FBI to do its duty, are stuck with an agency whose agents must still to things the old, hard way.
In Security, Plus Ça Change...?
Richard Bejtlich is one of the leading lights in network security these days. He wrote The Tao of Network Security Monitoring, which is a guide to what we are trying to do in my day job. He also runs TaoSecurity and the associated blog, where he recently quoted Marcus Ranum, another bright light working in the gloom of network security. Ranum had written about the lack of progress in security, wondering whether we having been doing anything but spinning our wheels for the last few years. I thought we had, though it is easy to see why is appears otherwise:
Two people responded, but neither disagreed with me, in truth.
Something I did not say is that we may be up against a paradox: if we improve how we count something, there may be more of it, whereas it is simply our improvements that account for the increase. With computer security, we have more people, both black hats and white hats, looking at vulnerabilities than we have ever had before. Not surprisingly, they are finding them. It would not be surprising to find, five years hence, that many of our current worries were past. Not that I'm counting on it.
It may be true that "Plus ça change..." in security, as you and Marcus Ranum suggest. But the nature of the Internet has been changing dramatically in the last decade. So have the requirements for security.
Remember that access to the Internet was once confined to a small number of like-minded people, mostly Americans in academia and government. It is now open to everyone, with an endless variety of expectations for the Internet, and an endless variety of approaches to it.
By analogy, the Internet was a small town. It has become New York. We didn't need to lock our doors before, now we do. We could safely walk anywhere, anytime. We now must be more careful.
And the changes continue. For one thing, the nature of the bad guys is changing. Instead of solo bandits, they are forming gangs and, perhaps, larger, more institutional agglomerations.
In this environment, is it surprising that things seem to be getting worse?
Two people responded, but neither disagreed with me, in truth.
Something I did not say is that we may be up against a paradox: if we improve how we count something, there may be more of it, whereas it is simply our improvements that account for the increase. With computer security, we have more people, both black hats and white hats, looking at vulnerabilities than we have ever had before. Not surprisingly, they are finding them. It would not be surprising to find, five years hence, that many of our current worries were past. Not that I'm counting on it.
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