A Spy's Journey

by Floyd Paseman

  Shortly thereafter I received an e-mail asking me if I might be interested in “a private firm with a government contract looking for experienced investigators. Training to be provided. $25 per hour starting salary. Part-time work.” Since I was now retired, I thought this sounded pretty good because I didn’t want to work full-time again. I sent a positive note in, and was asked to travel to their corporate headquarters, spend four days being trained in their methodology, and then go on a one-year contract, renewable year by year. I went to their training session, and I discovered, as I suspected, it was vanilla work, or investigative work designed to avoid running up big bills. Nevertheless, I took a one-year contract to be a contract investigator to see how it would work out. I was one of only three people out of a class of 50 to be issued immediate credentials.

  Basically, I investigated people for security clearances. Over the next year, my worst fear came true—I was working almost fulltime. I learned that my employers were mainly interested in clearing out a huge backlog so they could keep their cushy government contract. They operated on the cheap, and I terminated my contract after one year. But I fulfilled my part of the contract—I worked through their entire Wisconsin backlog. I learned again what I already knew about the world of background and security investigations—most of us know very little about our neighbors. During the year, I discovered cases of bad debts, spousal abuse, and generally unacceptable behavior by many needing security clearances to do their jobs. There were more problem cases than even I would have thought possible.

  Two other things occurred after I retired. The CIA established a reserve cadre of retired people who kept their security clearances in case the Agency needed to ask people back to active duty (as has been the case since September 11, 2001). They asked me if I was available for the reserve, and, of course, I said I was. I was told the director of the reserve program would take care of processing the clearances. Six months later, I returned to headquarters on other business and discovered that the director hadn’t gotten around to processing my clearance. I started from scratch and filled out all the forms again. And this after 35 years of work. I figured this didn’t bode well for the reserve program, and told them that if I were called, I would serve, but I wouldn’t volunteer.

  My next offer was from a major European manufacturer of armored security vehicles, which offered me a salary three times greater than my highest CIA salary. They wanted me to move to Europe to carry out the work from their headquarters. My wife and I decided we wanted to stay in the United States for a while to spend time with our kids. Plus, I wanted to do some writing. So, we turned the offer down, reluctantly.

  I continued to see signs that all was not well at the CIA. Traditionally, CIA employees are given a retirement medallion, and people typically received one within 90 days after finishing their service. Six months into my retirement, I had received nothing indicating that I had retired, other than a reduced paycheck. I called several times to inquire about the delay, and finally asked to speak to a supervisor. After much fussing, a supervisor told me, “Sir, we have no record that you ever worked for the CIA. Consequently, we cannot send you a medallion.” I did finally get my medallion, but it took a couple more calls to get it.

  Meanwhile, I returned to the CIA as a guest lecturer at the newly formed Kent School of Intelligence Analysis. The idea of establishing a professional school for analysts came from Marty Petersen, who had served as the chief analyst on China, and later was the director of the office of East Asia analysis. Marty and I had traveled together with the DCI when I was chief of the East Asia division. Marty was exceptionally astute, and particularly effective at briefing foreign dignitaries. He moved on from his Asian analyst positions to become associate director of intelligence, arguably the number-two analyst in the business. There he proposed the creation of a school to professionally train our analysts, much as we have always done with our case officers. The DCI enthusiastically supported it, and the school has made a major contribution to improved analytical product. I made two trips to lecture in two different courses, and was enthusiastically received on both occasions.

  Several months after retiring, I received a call from Cardinal Stritch University, a Franciscan university with about 6,500 students in Milwaukee, and only eight miles from my home. They asked if I could put together and teach a course on intelligence and foreign policy for their political science/history department. The dean of the department, Terry Roehrig, discussed it with me. He was very persuasive, and Cardinal Stritch was extremely flexible in allowing me to schedule my hours around other commitments. I agreed and began teaching in fall 2001. The class went quite well. I got to know and respect both Dr. Roehrig and others at Cardinal Stritch, and they treated me well. Cardinal Stritch has a well-thought-out development plan and also one of the best PR departments I have seen.

  Then came the terrible events of September 11, 2001. Cardinal Stritch asked me to address the student body about the incident—to help them cope with it and understand the underlying causes and consequences. They also asked if I could speak to the local news media about 9/11. I agreed, because after 36 years in the business, I felt obligated to do anything I could to offer people some modicum of understanding about this tragedy.

  The demands for me to speak exploded. Over the next six months, I did 13 television/commentary appearances, six newspaper interviews, and four radio talk-show pieces. Further, I participated in a panel appearance at the Wisconsin Institute for Peace Studies, and made additional presentations at Marquette, Cardinal Stritch, and numerous service and civic organizations. I was honored as well by being invited to deliver the 2002 commencement address at Cardinal Stritch—probably the only CIA operations officer ever to deliver such an address.

  I am pleased to have contributed to people’s understanding of 9/11. Being able to help like this reinforces my belief in the relevance of the CIA OIR program, and in the importance of the American public having an opportunity to understand what the U.S. intelligence community and the CIA are all about.

  Building on my 9/11 lectures, Cardinal Stritch invited me to teach a new course on international terrorism. Due to intense interest, the course was overenrolled, so they broadcast it live on TV to three other private universities in Wisconsin.

  SEVENTEEN

  MANAGING THE AMBASSADOR AND THE INTELLIGENCE COMMUNITY

  I want to offer a few thoughts on the role of the chief of the CIA overseas in relation to the broader intelligence community. The chief holds a powerful position, with authority given directly from the DCI, who in turn receives his authority from the president. The ambassador is often consulted about a designee for the position, but he does not have the authority to approve or reject the assignment. This is important, because it frees the chief from spending too much time satisfying the ambassador, and frees him to report and present intelligence without fear of reprisal. This arrangement works well, and most ambassadors get along well with their CIA colleagues. There are exceptions, but in general, good ambassadors understand the value of this arrangement and use the CIA and its product quite wisely.

  One of my ambassadors loved to get our intelligence—and the more controversial it was, the more he liked it. I recall an instance in which we received some reporting from an excellent source saying that the local government leader intensely disliked our ambassador. One of my officers argued that we dared not show this piece to the ambassador. I immediately decided that we would—this was just why we had the independence we did. I knew that this had to be handled discreetly. I arranged a private session to show the information to the ambassador myself, with no other copies to be distributed. I was concerned about his reaction. The report in question said the senior government minister involved referred to our ambassador as “an a——e.”

  I handed him the report. He hemmed and hawed, and finally chuckled and said, “Wow, this is terribly useful. All I hear from the rest of my staff is how much he likes me. Keep this kind of stuff coming so I know what
I’m really dealing with.” He knew the importance of real feedback and used it to craft his future dealings with that local official.

  It is critical to guard the independence of the CIA and for the chiefs to tell it like it is. One ambassador I worked for continually tried to change this arrangement. He told me several times he was thinking of demanding that he be allowed to write my fitness report. (We received one annual evaluation from our headquarters each year.) I told him that he was free to offer whatever evaluation he wished, but my future did not depend on his evaluation—the DCI was my ultimate boss. He and I got along well; he just didn’t like me being so independent.

  This same ambassador arrived at his posting after a long political wait. He immediately set out to cow all the heads of agencies at the post at a special meeting. It was a big gathering—the official community was really large. The ambassador kept us waiting 30 minutes, then strode into the conference room and simply said, “I just wanted to gather all of you together. My DCM [deputy chief of mission] will listen to what you have to say. There is nothing that any of you could tell me that I don’t already know.” With that, he got up and left the room.

  I waited a few minutes, then put my papers together and headed for the door. The DCM asked me where I was going, and I said, “If it’s not important enough for the ambassador to be here, it is not important enough for me to be here either. I’ll send my deputy over.” And I did.

  The ambassador called me to come up and see him. He started to fuss with me, and I explained my position—I recognized he was the number-one American in the country and I had responsibilities to him. I suggested, however, that our relationship depended on two things: complete honesty and trust between us, and the fact that I would move heaven and earth to see him whenever he wanted to see me. By the same token, I would never bother him unless it was something he really needed to know. We talked this out for a while.

  He told me he didn’t like the fact he didn’t know the names of our agents. I told him the reasons behind this. I also told him that I would never let him go into a meeting with one of our sources without warning him in advance that he was about to meet with one of our sources. He accepted this as fair. He said he felt he should decide what we were to report on instead of headquarters making that decision. I explained how the requirements system worked, and that the entire policy community, including the secretary of state, vetted the requirements that came to us.

  This same ambassador tried one end run on me. He took the liberty to call and make an appointment with the chief of intelligence in the local government. He didn’t tell me he had done this, as he should have. I got a call from the local chief, who told me he considered the call from the ambassador inappropriate, and he would not meet with the ambassador unless I was present. I took this case to the ambassador, who was greatly embarrassed that I found this out. He sputtered about the chief calling me, and I let him off the hook. “Sir,” I said, “this man is very important to us, so I would like to suggest you keep the appointment, and I will simply meet you there and join you for the meeting.” The ambassador concurred, and never excluded me from any meetings with intelligence personnel for the remainder of our time together.

  Ambassadors are generally appointed from two distinct groups: professional diplomats, and political appointees. The political appointees can be either major monetary contributors to the predominant political party or former members of the legislative branch or governors. Both can be great ambassadors—or jerks. Most ambassadors take their jobs very seriously and try to do the best they can. I was very lucky in my career, and had a mix of both political and professional appointees. Frankly, I never had an ambassador I did not respect, or could not work with. Working with an ambassador is a two-way street, and our CIA chiefs need to keep in mind that ambassadors are very uncomfortable with the independence and power that our chiefs have. I always felt it was our job to make them comfortable. Every ambassador I ever worked for finally appreciated that we were the one part of the embassy whose charter was to tell the truth, however unpalatable it might be, and that we had no political ox to gore. Despite occasional differences, we’ve been working this way for over half a century, and it works well.

  But we must maintain our independence. In the rare cases in which we discover something wrong, we must take firm action to right it. When I was chief of the East Asia division, I dealt with 26 different ambassadors in Asia. I tried to meet each one personally and give them the time they wanted and needed with me, as well as the respect they deserved.

  On one occasion, however, I had to step in forcefully. In one of our Asian capitals, a State Department employee was declared persona non grata for activities incompatible with his position—a euphemism for being caught spying. In this case, however, he was neither a CIA operative, nor was he doing anything outside his official charter. The local government was absolutely convinced he was spying, and threw him out of the country. This caused a major crisis in our official relationship with that country.

  Our chief in country reported to me that, despite the crisis in relationships, he was still in touch with our counterpart in the internal security department of that country’s intelligence service. Meanwhile, the host government’s foreign policy folks refused all contact with our ambassador. I told him to keep our contact open and see what could be done to help defuse the situation. Everything was fine so far.

  However, our ambassador ordered my chief to go to the chief of their intelligence service and tell them that the United States wanted to defuse the situation. I had no objection to this. We establish all these good relationships to be used when needed. However, after our chief did so, I read a sensitive cable from our embassy there reporting, “The local government has sent us indications that they wish to defuse this situation.” This was plainly not true and gave the false impression that the local government was caving. I called our chief, who told me that the ambassador indeed did send the cable over his objections. I sent a cable to our chief and told him to show it to the ambassador. In it, I frankly told the ambassador that he needed to either send in a statement with the real facts of the meeting, or else I would go to the State Department and tell them that his cable was incorrect and I would relate events as they really occurred. The ambassador was livid, but he did send the retraction. The crisis blew over, and our reputation for telling the truth survived.

  The CIA does everything it can to help the members of our embassies abroad. We hold individual briefings for all heads of agency; we often invite their spouses in for special talks about their countries; and we work a lot with military attachés assigned overseas. We run special courses to explain our mission to them and assure them we’re there to support them. We stress that we aren’t there to compete with them. In all, our relationships overseas are generally very good.

  It occasionally takes a firm hand to retain the statutory position our chiefs have as the ambassador’s point man on all intelligence activities in their assigned country. Most ambassadors strongly endorse openly and publicly that they expect all intelligence activities to be coordinated through and approved by the chief. For the ambassador, it’s one-stop shopping, but sometimes the shopping cart turns down the wrong aisle.

  In one of my overseas assignments, we had a large military presence. I always got along well with the military, which I both admired and respected. I served in the Army Reserve for over 20 years and pulled active duty tours every year, which gave me some real clout in dealing with the military. In one case, where I was chief of facility, I called a meeting of military intelligence representatives stationed in the country to coordinate our activities to ensure we weren’t duplicating efforts. Things went well until one army colonel stood up and said in a direct challenge, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I think I need to tell you that I don’t work for you, and I will decide what issues to coordinate through you and which ones I won’t.” The room was silent, and I asked the colonel if he had a finance officer.
/>   “Yes, why?” he responded.

  “Because,” I said, “you need to draw enough money to get your ticket home tomorrow.” He was stunned. I told him he could make whatever phone calls he wanted, but he would either live up to his responsibilities to coordinate activities under my authority from the DCI, or I would make three phone calls. First, I would call the ambassador and tell him the colonel was leaving short of tour. Second, I would call the DCI and tell him to expect a call from the army. Third, I would call his boss in Washington and tell him why the colonel was taking the next flight home. After a short break, the colonel stood up and said he had reconsidered, and he looked forward to being a part of the team. From that point on, I had no trouble coordinating activities with the military.

  I traveled a lot as the representative of the DCI and the ambassador, and I left most of my organizational work to my assistants. I believe that being physically present—and available—to community members is a critical part of being a chief. I learned early on that you can gather more information by walking around and being available than by any other means. And I learned that it is critical that our chiefs not be desk bound. For that reason, I always declined having a coffee pot in my own front office. I preferred wandering the halls to get my coffee, so I could chat with the staff. This way I frequently came across issues I would never have heard of if I had stayed at my desk.