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This chapter discusses the intelligence services in Germany and its decision making process. The most important characteristic of the intelligence community is that it was dominated by the military. The intelligence services were located within the army, naval, and air force general staffs and were staffed by officers from these services. Intelligence was not integrated into the decision making process and this has been endorsed by historians of French intelligence. Intelligence became marginalized in the process of decision making.

This chapter discusses the information provided by the Hutton Report and the Butler Report concerning the bases of the British government's decision to join the U.S. in overturning Saddam Hussein for his alleged possession of weapons of mass destruction (WMD). It suggests that nothing revealed in the reports could bring an agreement to whether British Prime Minister Tony Blair was right in his decision, but those who have read the reports could surely conclude that the government, the intelligence services, and the BBC fell short of what have been expected of them at a time when Britain was on the brink of being taken into a war. It discusses the similarities between the Iraq War and the Suez Canal conflict.

This chapter focuses on the Munich Agreement which has served as a touchstone for historians who argue that French leaders surrendered to drift and indecision before the Second World War. This interpretation of Munich is based on two assumptions: that decision makers did not understand the nature of the threat of the Nazis, and that going to war with either Germany or Czechoslovakia was the right decision to make. However, these assumptions do not stand up to careful analysis. Most were convinced that France could not go into war against Germany in 1938. Central to the Munich policy of France was the picture of the balance of power presented to decision makers by the intelligence services.

A crucial factor determining the success of intelligence analysis is how analytical units are managed. This chapter highlights the importance of everyday bureaucratic practices to the intelligence policy dynamic, including hiring, training, offering exchanges and secondments, and available career paths. Given the decentralized nature of the Canadian intelligence and national security community and the importance of personalities, we find that the management practices of analytical units lack standards in terms of hiring, training, and career paths. This makes beneficial practices, such as exchanges and secondments and/or community interactions and transfers, more difficult. The chapter ends with a case study of the Intelligence Assessment Branch of the Canadian Security Intelligence Service.

Chapter 4 describes Rusch’s experience from the time of his repatriation to the United States to his service as a personnel officer for the Military Intelligence Service Language School. Rusch’s task was to recruit Japanese Americans for the U.S. Army, where they would learn Japanese to serve the war effort. Rusch was also part of a speaker’s bureau, through which he would appear at public functions to discuss Japan’s military capabilities. On some occasions, before audiences of the Protestant Episcopal Church, Rusch spoke against America’s policy of interning Japanese Americans. But more often than not, Rusch’s remarks mirrored American policy and sentiments of the day, calling for the fiery destruction of Japan’s militarist regime, which he acknowledged would require the killing of Japanese civilians. At other times, Rusch used his position to implore army officers to treat Nisei soldiers as individuals, not as members of another race. Occasionally, Rusch spoke of World War II in terms of a race war, of Japanese leaders bent on expelling Caucasians from Asia, casting Americans in the role of the fearless pioneers who fought off Native Americans to secure their westward expansion. Rusch remained committed to returning to help Japan rebuild after the war.

This chapter analyzes the components of the intelligence communities of the Five Eyes countries and describes the ways in which their forms and functions have converged over time. It argues specifically that the allied countries have structured and organized their intelligence services in similar ways, and regulated them with similar oversight mechanisms, outlining a theory of institutional convergence that explains this phenomenon. Four main processes gave rise to this phenomenon: competition, coercion, normative persuasion, and acculturation. The chapter examines the consequences of institutional convergence for rights protection and intelligence cooperation and recommends areas for further investigation before suggesting how the Five Eyes model of the oversight and structure of intelligence agencies might become the international norm.

This chapter illustrates how a paradigmatic structure emerged in the news coverage of February 28, 2002 and the following days, in which the depth of a story is constructed not through certainty of fact or evidence but through allusion and accumulated suggestion. One person's suggestion is supplemented by another person's insinuation that, in turn, results in a tale without closure told repeatedly. The word imagery throughout Sandesh is generally one of sacrifice, blood, revenge, and martyrdom. While pretending to describe violence, the paper is actually mobilizing for it through word suggestions and evocations. The chapter looks at the overlapping of three discrete themes: the fear of terrorism (the ISI, or Pakistani intelligence services), traditional ritual practices and butchering, and the register of the supernatural.

Chapter Two looks at Ministerial use of, and attitude towards, intelligence after Labour’s 1945 Election victory, drawing on the papers of the Joint Intelligence Committee (JIC). While it has been argued that Attlee, a committed internationalist, was opposed to any hostility towards the Soviet Union, the chapter shows that he was kept fully aware of Soviet interests and intentions despite his commitment to renewed Anglo-Soviet relations. In addition to highlighting the role of intelligence in early Cold War crises, particularly the Berlin Blockade, it also looks at Ministerial doubts about the intelligence community, particularly those of Attlee himself. By 1949, he had grown increasingly critical of the intelligence services and, a year later, ordered a review of the intelligence community by the Cabinet Secretary, Sir Norman Brook, which is explored here for the first time.

This chapter reviews the place of intelligence in post-Second World War Official Histories (and some analogous productions) and the current ‘state of the art’, as represented by the recent Official (or ‘authorised’) Histories of the Security Service (MI5) and the Secret Intelligence Service (SIS). It concludes that Official Histories should only be a starting point, a kind of brush-clearing exercise, upon which others can build and which others can use to apply more sophisticated (and less theoretically impoverished) analyses of the matters concerned.

This chapter introduces the idea of “peer constraints” in intelligence oversight. Peer constraints are an important component of an increasingly thick transnational legal ecosystem that constrains intelligence services. Peer constraints describe the limitations imposed on an intelligence service in excess of those imposed by the intelligence service’s own laws, which arise because of the need for cooperation to mitigate common threats. Through various mechanisms—formal and informal, public and private—one state’s intelligence service affects how a peer service conducts interrogation, detention, and surveillance; the amount and type of intelligence the other service receives; and, less tangibly, the way in which the other service views its own legal obligations. These constraints complement the more public, transparent, and expected sources of oversight and offer unique benefits, including a granular understanding of operations and ability to minimize the politicization that frequently accompanies intelligence critiques. Because of leaks, litigation, and a growing volume of domestic laws and regulations, peer constraints are leading Western democracies towards more rights-protective intelligence practices.

This chapter examines how the resettlement of West Coast Japanese Americans in the Midwest and Northeast after internment irrevocably transformed the population of Japanese Chicagoans. As both Allan Austin and Gary Okihiro have demonstrated, many young Nisei managed to leave the camps earlier than expected by filing education waivers. They matriculated predominantly at midwestern and East Coast schools, and some of their campmates were recruited for Japanese-language immersion at the Military Intelligence Service Language School, based at Camp Savage, Minnesota. Yet residual delinquency among Nisei bachelors and the lack of children's playgrounds still made the North Side area less than appealing to Nisei families; hence, another critical mass of Japanese Americans congregated on the South Side.

This chapter focuses on Elena Modrzhinskaya's report, which revealed that shortly before the German attack on the Soviet Union, “intelligence services” (IS) circles began to turn their minds to a possible Anglo-Soviet war. In that connection, a special IS bureau was set up to study the situation in the Caucasus, the Ukraine, and Bessarabia. The Russian Bureau staff included such British intelligence experts on Russia as Clively (Head of the Russian Section of the British Ministry of Economic Warfare's Intelligence organization); David Roberts (who had worked in British Intelligence against the USSR since 1926 and who was Air Attaché in the [British Embassy in the] USSR); Allen, a specialist on the Caucasus; and others. According to agents' reports, in his instructions to Cripps in the first months of the war, Eden suggested that steps be taken to set up British consulates in Baku, Tbilisi, Astrakhan, Novosibirsk, and Vladivostok.

This chapter focuses on Kim Philby's role in the British Secret Intelligence Service's (SIS) campaign against communism as well as his contribution to the struggle against Axis espionage. It considers Philby's dealings with Frank Roberts, head of the Central Department of Britain's Foreign Office, on such matters as German ships in the harbours of Spain. The chapter also looks at the SIS practice of withholding ISOS (Intelligence Service Oliver Strachey) to protect the security of its codes or agents. Furthermore, it analyses the defection of Igor Gouzenko, a cipher officer at the Soviet Embassy in Ottawa, to Canada with documents on the Soviet Union's espionage in the country. Finally, the chapter assesses Philby's treachery during his time as head of anti-communist and counter-intelligence sections in SIS.

This chapter examines Dai Li's rise in the intelligence services of the National Revolutionary Army of China. After serving under the command of Hu Zongnan, Dai Li was later appointed to become head of a special communications and intelligence unit that was set up in January 1928 at the instruction of Chiang Kai-shek. This chapter discusses Dai Li's relationship with Deng Wenyi and his role in strengthening Chiang Kai-shek's in-formal secret service organization by establishing a Special Services Department. It also highlights the appointment of Dai Li as head of the intelligence or espionage divisions where he was given special authority to train backbone cadres for special services work.

This chapter examines how Kim Philby turned from a secret agent for the Soviet Union into a British intelligence officer. Before discussing how Philby infiltrated the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS), it first describes the agency and some of its most influential figures, including Brigadier Stewart Menzies and intelligence officer Claude Dansey. The chapter then considers Dansey's derision for counter-espionage and the importance of the German Enigma encoding machine known as Ultra. It also analyses Philby's work at SIS, including teaching subversive propaganda and devising propaganda techniques for Britain, and Soviet intelligence's resumption of contact with Philby from December 1940 after a break of nearly a year. Finally, the chapter looks at the incarceration in, and eventual deportation from, India of Philby's father Harry St John Bridger Philby and how it helped Kim's career as a spy.

This chapter focuses on Section V of the British Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) and its task of obtaining counter-espionage information from the Iberian peninsula. It first considers the expansion of Section V and the role of Kim Philby in helping it provide more intelligence on Axis spies in Spain and Portugal. The chapter then examines Philby's appointment as head of a SIS sub-section that formed part of Section V, as well as his responsibility for counter-espionage in Portuguese East Africa or Mozambique and his work against the extensive German espionage networks in Portugal. It also describes the three main Axis espionage agencies in Lisbon: Italian intelligence, the intelligence service of the Nazi Party, and the Kriegs Organisation Portugal of the Abwehr. Finally, the chapter discusses Philby's role in channelling the results of Britain's counterintelligence concerning Portugal to the Foreign Office.

Chapter Five investigates the impact of moral technocracy—the ways in which doctrinalized moral panic suffused security institutions and made inroads into repressive practice. Categorical alarm about youth, decadence, media, and working women manifested itself throughout Brazil’s security establishment. These notions, moreover, did not merely percolate at the higher levels of government authority. Police and security forces on the ground, the foot soldiers of countersubversion, also bound sex and morality into their approaches to the “enemy.” Intelligence and political police agents surveilled sexual deviance; the nation’s spy agencies shared information about supposed orgies among leftist educators and their students; state representatives, from top-brass intellectuals to cops on a beat, wrung their hands over the “loss” of young people via sexualized subversion; and military and police guides to identifying and dealing with subversion outlined sexual seduction, “free love,” and public eroticism as tactics of communist insurgency. The intensity of repression, like the reasons for arrest and atrocity, varied over time and in keeping with the multifarious paranoias of police; but the notion of sexual, gender, and moral deviance as a communist conspiracy framed police work in important ways.

Chapter 3 details the shadow government and the edifice of power that was built to ensure the MPLA’s longevity but more importantly the survival of the Presidential circle. It explains the structures upholding the securitized and shadow state, dominated by the Casa de Seguranca (Security Cabinet, SCP) of the Presidency. It briefly describes the central structures and the multiple portfolios it managed which allowed it, via a vertical reporting system, to command the security apparatus and key areas of the cabinet. This chapter explores the contours of the SCP and the parallel army that sustained it. It analyses the role played by the three intelligence services that took on a broader surveillance role, spying on the elites, opposition and infiltrating society. I use the example of three cases – the book club coup, the Kalupeteka religious sect massacre and the assassinations of activists Cassule and Kamulingue – to highlight the dysfunctions, overactions and violent underpinnings of the system.