The CIA has earned its reputation. And it’s a nuanced reputation. Some suggest that it has been a blight on America, while others argue it is an absolute necessity for national security. Most, however, agree that the CIA’s reputation falls somewhere between these two polar opinions. In Hugh Wilford’s new book, “The CIA: An Imperial History,” he presents an agency that began with a reasonable and necessary mission: gather intelligence on foreign powers. As the author notes, “Few had foreseen the CIA’s future as a scourge of Third World nationalists when it was founded in 1947. Most officials involved in the Agency’s creation interpreted its functions as strictly limited to intelligence—observing the world, not trying to change it.”
An Anti-Imperialist Imperialist Mentality
Just as with the opinions about the CIA, there are contrasting opinions about whether America is or is not imperialist. Wilford suggests that the CIA, much like the Republic itself, has struggled to maintain its anti-imperialist identity, while often acting imperialistically. The author’s view is not a cynical one, but simply a straightforward one. His book is not an attack on the CIA, anymore than facing the reality of past imperialist actions by America does not equate an attack on the country. “The CIA” is not simply a work that points out moments that the CIA went awry; it’s a work that tries to provide some understanding of why the CIA often did so.
“If the imperial impulse eventually won out in post-World War II U.S. foreign policy, it was not for want of opposition,” Wilford writes. “Ever since the dawn of the Republic, American imperialism has had a twin: anti-imperialism.”
Wilford argues that the imperialist mentality of the CIA was formed from different angles. There was the proximity of the imperialist age, primarily of Britain and France, whose empires crumbled during the mid-20th century. Secondly, the lust for exotic adventurism that came with imperialism. And thirdly, the influence of both real and fictive characters of espionage, such as T.E. Lawrence, famously known as “Lawrence of Arabia,” and Rudyard Kipling’s fictional Kim.
A Foreign Policy Addiction
There was worry about the power the CIA was wielding. Even President Harry Truman, whose signature created the CIA, worried. President Dwight Eisenhower, who utilized the agency throughout his presidency, left office with the sobering note about the threat of the military industrial complex, of which powerful intelligence agencies are part.
President John F. Kennedy is remembered for stating that he wanted to smash the agency into a thousand pieces. These fears—and more—are recorded in the book; and yet, these presidents and other U.S. political leaders viewed the CIA as foreign policy’s “magic bullet.” It became a political addiction that provided short-term desired results, but had long-term unintended consequences. And like any addiction, it proved difficult—practically impossible—to quit.
A Return to Restriction
Covert action, however, was permitted. It was the “magic bullet” that kept American boots off the ground and made revolutions and coups appear organic. As the author indicates, even the American people (or more specifically the press corps) gave the CIA a pass on its actions. That was until the Bay of Pigs fiasco in 1961. Suddenly, the agency came under heavy scrutiny and remained so for much of the 20th century. Americans had no desire to replace the former imperialist powers; and, after the imperial powers, such as Britain and France, had been ousted, those inhabitants throughout the aforementioned regions certainly had no desire for replacements, even if the replacement claimed to be anti-imperialist.
Certainly, there was reason for the executive branch to be concerned about its foreign policy objectives, especially in the face of the growing Soviet Communist threat. The world had just endured two global conflicts, and now with the addition of nuclear warheads, the existential threat was magnified. Yes, the CIA did perform admirably when it performed correctly (that is, according to its original mission scope), like during the Cuban Missile Crisis, when obtaining necessary information, or recruiting high-ranking members from enemy states. But when the agency, whether by the order of the president or not, slipped away from that mission, things fell apart. And this mission expansion, as Wilford pinpoints, did not stop with the end of the Cold War nor with the start of the 21st century, as the Global War on Terror made clear.
“As long as America continues to behave like an empire while denying it is one, it will carry on reaching for covert action as an instrument of its foreign relations, with the same baleful foreign and domestic consequences as during the Cold War and the War on Terror,” Wilford warns.
The executive branch would do well to heed Wilford’s warning. Unfortunately, as the author noted, the intelligence failures of the early 2000s that launched a war in Iraq, were not met with the same scrutiny as that of the Bay of Pigs aftermath. For Wilford, and for Americans in general, that should be very concerning. The 1961 disaster resulted in major restrictions placed on the agency. In later decades, those restrictions were relaxed, and despite the colossal weapons of mass destruction snafu, the CIA enjoys more leeway than its reputation has earned.
“The CIA: An Imperial History” is a study on the CIA from a rather unexpected angle, but one that maintained its theoretical course throughout. I was concerned that the imperialism thread would eventually unravel, but even in the book’s final pages, the connection remained concrete. For those interested in intelligence, U.S. foreign policy, or who the primary players were within the CIA since its founding and their influence, this is a very good book.
