The Watchers

by Shane Harris

  All the information needed to positively identify a person had been made public. “Protecting anonymity isn’t a fight that can be won. Anyone that’s typed in their name on Google understands that,” Kerr declared. That was an astounding admission. Not because Kerr was the first person to say it, but because he was the number two spy in the United States. The ability to positively identify an individual is one of the most important and powerful tools available to an intelligence agency that is in the business of tracking people. And now that tool was available to anyone with an Internet connection. A major shift had occurred. Kerr knew that. “I think people here, at least people close to my age, recognize that those two generations younger than we are have a very different idea of what is essential privacy, what they would wish to protect about their lives and affairs. And so, it’s not for us to inflict one size fits all.”

  Kerr’s remarks still stand as the most frank public assessment by the government of where we are in our surveillance state. The meaning of privacy has changed and anonymity no longer exists. The nation should come to terms with that fact. As Kerr made clear, the intelligence community already has.

  There’s another candid assessment from deep inside the intelligence community that gives us an idea of how far the Watchers have come—and how far they have to go. In September 2006, the five-year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, the Office of the Director of National Intelligence launched one more program aimed at Poindexter’s ultimate goal—a fully integrated, self-teaching “system of systems” for detecting signals of terrorist planning. Quietly, officials spread the word about a plan to lash the old TIA programs into a new model. They called it Tangram, after an old Chinese puzzle that arranges seven geometric pieces into hundreds of distinct figures. The same set of shapes—five triangles, a square, and a parallelogram—can be made to look like a dog, a bird, a steamboat, even a woman pouring tea. It was a fitting metaphor for Poindexter’s own narrative: breaking himself into pieces only to reemerge in new forms.

  But Tangram was hardly a triumph. A document soliciting technical proposals for the system stated that intelligence agencies hadn’t been able to move beyond “guilt by association” as the best indicator of whether someone was, or wasn’t, a terrorist. That was an arresting fact. For all the money spent, the hours consumed, for all the programs run in secret and at extraordinary political and social cost, the government was not much better at detecting bad guys than they were on 9/11.

  “To date, the predominant approaches have used a guilt-by-association model to derive suspicion scores,” the Tangram document stated. “In the cases where we have knowledge of a seed entity in an unknown group, we have been very successful at detecting the entire group. However, in the absence of a known seed entity, how do we score a person if nothing is known about their associates? In such an instance, guilt-by-association fails.”

  The group running Tangram was the successor to the NSA outfit that inherited Poindexter’s programs. This was where cutting-edge terrorism research was being conducted, and even these bright minds had come up short. Hunting terrorists in data was still a clumsy business, built on suspicion. The warnings of Erik Kleinsmith’s Able Danger analyst echoed in the Tangram document: “Do you have any idea how many people on the planet would go to jail just because they knew somebody bad?”

  We cannot truly protect the nation this way. The Watchers know that, which is why they’ve devoted so much energy to the considerable technical challenge that Poindexter first posed in 2002. But just because it’s hard to identify terrorists with data doesn’t mean that the government will stop trying. As Kerr’s remarks made abundantly clear, the government has no shortage of access to information about people. Our current surveillance laws are engineered to allow the intelligence community to consume huge amounts of data, in the hopes that some of it will prove useful. Again we see that the Watchers have become very good at collecting dots but not at connecting them. When we come to terms with this we can begin to think about what function we want our intelligence agencies to serve in the twenty-first century. Now is the time to have this debate—not after the next assault on the United States. If we can’t have an honest discussion and form sensible policy in a time of relative stability, with the last major attack more than eight years behind us, then we will end up making momentous decisions in a moment of panic, just as we did after September 11. In that case, we will all suffer the consequences.

  Where are the Watchers now? Of the five principal characters in this story—John Poindexter, Erik Kleinsmith, Jeff Jonas, Mike Hayden, and Mike McConnell—not one has abandoned his life’s work. None of them is currently serving in government, but they still exert enormous influence through their personal connections, their business relationships, and the sheer force of their ideas. Each still embodies that dynamic mix of guardian and spy. They have come down on different ends of a political spectrum and enjoy different levels of prominence; but they are still Watchers to the core.

  McConnell returned to Booz Allen in early 2009, to the same job and the same corner office. He continues to focus much of his public efforts on cybersecurity, and he still speaks publicly—and off-the-cuff. As of this writing, he has no plans to retire.

  Hayden also left government in early 2009, following a last-ditch public relations campaign to stay on as CIA director. In the weeks preceding Obama’s inauguration, newspaper stories citing unnamed “senior intelligence officials” warned that the new president would have his hands full with the economic crisis, and so he might want to consider keeping some steady leadership in the intelligence community. Hayden even appeared on the NPR news quiz show Wait, Wait . . . Don’t Tell Me! and said he’d be happy to stay at his post.

  In January 2009, just a few days before Obama took office, Hayden, McConnell, and their Bush administration colleagues won an important victory on the legality of warrantless surveillance. A special appeals court, the Foreign Intelligence Court of Review, publicly announced its decision in a challenge to the Protect America Act, the temporary surveillance law that was enacted in 2007. The government had issued a surveillance order under the PAA to an unidentified telecommunications company, which refused to comply on the grounds that the broad electronic monitoring the government wanted would violate its customers’ privacy. It was a clear, and perhaps rare, demonstration of a company’s power to push back against the government. Federal officials appealed to the court of review, asking the judges to force the company to comply. The court had met only once in its thirty-year history. That time, it sided with the government and in favor of broader surveillance authorities. This time, it did the same. While not endorsing what the court called “broad-based, indiscriminate executive power,” the judges nevertheless ruled that the executive branch is exempt from the Fourth Amendment’s warrant requirements in certain circumstances. If surveillance involves national security and the collection of foreign intelligence, then the government need not name the specific places, or people, it wishes to monitor. The court ruled that the bucket-style orders allowed by the Protect America Act—and which were also contained in the law that replaced it—were constitutional. Hayden had always argued this was so, at times questioning whether his detractors had even grasped the meaning of the Fourth Amendment. Shortly after the court’s ruling was announced, a reporter asked Hayden what he thought. “My reaction?” he answered. “Duh!”

  After leaving the CIA Hayden joined a new consulting firm founded by former Homeland Security secretary Michael Chertoff. Hayden was a vocal critic of Obama’s decision to restrict CIA interrogators to the techniques described in the Army Field Manual, and he rebuked the president for releasing Justice Department memos that formed the legal foundation of the interrogation program.

  Kleinsmith continues to work as an analyst trainer for Lockheed Martin. He is writing a book about intelligence, and he speaks publicly about his experience on the Able Danger program. Like a lot of former intelligence officials, Kleinsmith has seen that the privat
e sector is usually more willing to embrace risky new ideas. He feels that he’s making more progress transforming intelligence and educating a new workforce than he ever was as a military officer.

  Jonas is now a senior scientist with IBM, where he’s working on new concepts for understanding data. He lives in Las Vegas. Though he has become publicly aligned with civil libertarians and privacy activists, he retains professional and personal ties to officials in the intelligence community. A few years ago Jonas threw a cocktail party at a Washington-area hotel to thank his associates in both spheres for their support over the years. People who battled one another for a living seemed drawn together by Jonas’s exuberant quirkiness, which was on display as he stood on a chair and gave a rambling but heartfelt toast to his guests.

  Poindexter is a source of philosophical gravity in the world of the Watchers. His ideas have had a more far-reaching effect than his technology, but he still devotes much of his energy to Saffron, the firm where he sits on the board of directors. He believes that its “associative memory” technology could revolutionize intelligence analysis, and he continues to pitch the idea to high-level officials in government. A few years ago an identity thief obtained Poindexter’s Social Security number, filed a tax return in his name, and obtained his personal stimulus check. Poindexter wrote a letter to a top IRS official arguing that the agency should use Saffron to spot anomalies in the tax system that could expose criminal activity. He also thought that a strong privacy appliance would have protected his personal information. While he still sees counterterrorism as the most obvious application for his ideas, Poindexter has broadened his vision and now thinks a TIA system could reduce online crime, assist genetic researchers looking for cures to complex diseases, and maybe even do something about rush-hour traffic.

  That dream has attracted followers in other countries. The government of Singapore hired Poindexter as a special consultant to a project based on TIA called Risk Assessment and Horizon Scanning. Officials in the tiny island nation, known for its curious blend of democracy and authoritarianism, first met Poindexter in 2003, when the deadly SARS virus sweeping through Asia took Singaporean officials by surprise. They intend to scan the horizon for signals of the next crisis, and Poindexter has helped them, making a number of trips to Singapore in recent years.

  He looks back fondly on his second career in government, but he retains a bitter humor about the experience. Before he left DARPA, Poindexter’s colleagues signed and framed a copy of the Information Awareness Office logo. It now hangs on the wall of his family room, along with his other prized memorabilia—photos of him and Reagan, and a painting of USS England, the cruiser he commanded in the midseventies. But in the workshop in his basement, where he kept that primitive laptop computer during his White House days, Poindexter has hung a second version of the now infamous logo. This one replaces the open eye on the pyramid with a closed eye, and the globe with a yellow smiley face. In place of the Latin Scientia est potentia, it reads “Ignorantia est beatitis”—Ignorance is bliss.

  Poindexter continues to keep close ties to current and former national security officials. In late 2007, Steve Hadley invited all the living former national security advisers to a private dinner at Blair House, across the street from the White House. It was an extraordinary gathering. Poindexter reminisced with Colin Powell, Condoleezza Rice, Henry Kissinger, and Tony Lake, among others. Everyone in that room, Republican and Democrat, had had their brush with scandal or a moment in time they might prefer to forget. But that night they were a club, and in some way, I suppose, a family. Poindexter may well go down in infamy. But in that tiny circle of presidential advisers, he will always hold a position of esteem.

  In the highest reaches of the intelligence community, and particularly among the career class of the national security bureaucracy, Poindexter is still revered as a wise man. Those who’ve known him well enough to form an opinion generally size him up this way: “He’s one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever met, but he has a tin ear for politics.” They say that with a tinge of admiration. Poindexter is one of the few people on the national stage willing to charge headlong into controversy. He courts disaster at every step and yet remains undeterred. He says what he thinks. He does what he thinks is right. These are rare qualities in Washington.

  Many times over the course of our interviews, Poindexter told me that despite what people say, he does understand politics; he just chooses not to play it. The fact that he recognizes politics is a game and yet believes that he is somehow exempt from participation tells me that he does have that tin ear. Poindexter is many things. He’s a brilliant man. He’s an honest man, despite his deceptions in the Iran-Contra affair, for which I believe he has more than paid his debts. And he is a wise man. But he is not, and never has been, bigger than “the system.”

  Several years ago, not long after I first met Poindexter, I sent him a note to ask if it was accurate to write that he “spends his retirement enjoying his sailboat and thinking of new ways to improve the craft of intelligence.” I wanted to write words to that effect in a story. He replied yes, that was true, but he was also “trying to change the world.” It was a shocking moment of candor, and I nearly blushed because it seemed so naive. Had someone of his stature, of his hardened experience, really said something so grandiose? The professional skeptic in me dismissed it as an attempt to burnish his own image. But the more I got to know Poindexter, I realized that this was one of the most honest and personal things he’d ever told me. I still think that.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This book would not have been written without the unceasing devotion of two people, whom I am proud and grateful to call friends.

  There is my agent and advocate, Tina Bennett. Throughout this journey she has been my guide, my clear-eyed adviser, and my partner. On top of all that, she was as excited as I was about every step along the way. She reassures me with her judgment and enlightens me with her counsel. Tina, my self and this book are better because of you.

  And there’s my editor, Eamon Dolan. I trusted him with every fragile idea, every midnight notion, and every tiny triumph. The future of storytelling is brighter and more assured because of his presence and his incomparable judgment. Eamon, this book is as much a result of your energy as mine. We started this trip as writer and editor. As blissful as the journey has been, I am happier that we ended it as friends.

  I tip my hat as well to Tina and Eamon’s able colleagues, Svetlana Katz and Nicole Hughes. Each shepherded this book—and me—through the subtle mechanics of writing and publication. People had told me this was an intimidating process. They obviously didn’t have the benefit of these women’s guidance. Thanks also to Rachel Burd, who’s elegant copyediting improved the manuscript.

  I am also indebted to another pair of editors who have overseen my work at two magazines. There’s my mentor, Anne Laurent, who first allowed me to write narrative nonfiction. Years ago, she grabbed me by the collar and demanded that I start telling stories on the pages of her magazine, Government Executive. She will find her fingerprints on every page of this book, and on great pieces of my life. I also thank my editor at National Journal, Patrick Pexton, who gave me the encouragement, the space, and the often unseen support that allowed me to flesh out the essential pieces of this book. He was a tireless supporter of my work, and often its fiercest advocate.

  I am fortunate to have two best friends, both arbiters of taste and judgment, who influenced this book in distinct ways. Dave Singleton talked me through each stage of the writing as only a fellow writer can. And Christopher Kerns challenged all of my assumptions and made me a sharper, better thinker.

  Katherine Mangu-Ward and Garrett Graff read my manuscript closely, and they offered crucial insights that changed and improved the story. They are also dear friends and luminaries in the next generation of American journalism.

  Noah Shachtman and Patrick Radden Keefe provided professional support and friendship. Heidi Hill was invaluable in the
early stages of writing my book proposal. I also thank Tim Naftali, an energetic and insightful sharer of bylines and a keen adviser on publishing, and Pam Simmons, who gave me my first break.

  My career was fostered and accelerated by a core of men and women, each of whom I’ve been happy to call boss: Anne Jordan, Elder Witt, Tom Shoop, Tim Clark, Charlie Green, John Fox Sullivan, and David Bradley. Journalism is stronger because of their efforts, which often defy the odds.

  Certain friends and colleagues in particular have enriched my life and this book. Alexis Simendinger was an undying source of good humor in the workplace, and equally of trenchant insight. Kirk Victor’s perseverance uplifted me on numerous occasions. I’m also indebted to a few close friends and writers who have influenced my work in ways that took years for me to realize: Matt Crenshaw, James Buescher, Mary Dalton, and Kristen Eppley and Jenny Harrison Bunn, the two most constant friends I’ve ever known.

  I offer insufficient thanks to the people who brought me here: my father, Ed Harris, and my mother, Carolyn Harris. Whoever I am, whatever I have done, none of it was possible without you. This is a debt I cannot repay. I can only live by your example.

  And finally, there is Joe de Feo, my partner in life and my light. You listened to me talk for two years about other people’s lives, but you reminded me that ours was the most important. You are the sharpest mind, the best writer, and the most loyal man I have ever known. You are my watcher.

  NOTES

  First and foremost, this book is a story. A true story. I have written journalism for the past decade, but I wanted to depart from the conventional style of writing used in magazines and newspapers and create a new narrative here. The reader will discern that stylistically this book has more in common with a novel than it does with reportage.