American leftists need an internationalist vision that universally and effectively joins anti-imperial and anti-authoritarian ethics.
This post was originally published on Dissent MagazineDissent Magazine.
Four years ago, five cousins — all civilians — were driving near the Yemeni village of Al Uqla when a missile ripped through their SUV and tossed the car into the air. Three of them were killed instantly. Another died days later in a local hospital. The only survivor, Adel Al Manthari, may soon become the fifth fatality of that U.S. drone strike.
Al Manthari’s feet and legs have recently blackened due to restricted blood flow and, this week, a doctor told him he’s at imminent risk of developing gangrene. Al Manthari needs emergency medical care that he can’t afford. His future now rests with a GoFundMe campaign.
That the limbs — and possibly life — of a civilian drone strike victim now depend on donations to a fundraising website is due to what experts said is an inadequate, arbitrary, and broken civilian casualty investigation and compensation system that has failed victims of U.S. wars for decades.
Despite a top Pentagon spokesperson’s recent claim that the military now embraces accountability regarding civilian casualty allegations, the Department of Defense failed to provide basic information about the 2018 attack and refuses to even acknowledge pleas for assistance or compensation made on Al Manthari’s behalf, much less dip into millions of dollars in funds allocated by Congress for compensation in such cases.
“It was the U.S.’s Hellfire missile that cost Adel his family and his health. It should be the U.S. that pays for the treatment to save his legs.”
“Congress cut DoD a check for millions to pay for exactly this type of scenario,” said Jennifer Gibson, a human rights lawyer and project lead on extrajudicial killing at Reprieve, an international human rights organization representing Al Manthari. “DoD’s refusal to spend even a penny of it — on Adel or any of the thousands of civilians harmed by U.S. drones — sends the message that they simply don’t care about accountability.”
In cases like Al Manthari’s, experts said that compensation is hampered by Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin’s resistance to reassessing past allegations of civilian harm.
“It was the U.S.’s Hellfire missile that cost Adel his family and his health,” Gibson said. “It should be the U.S. that pays for the treatment to save his legs. That’s what responsible governments do. They own up to their mistakes.”
A screenshot from a video recorded by a local activist and lawyer shows the aftermath of the March 29, 2018, U.S. drone strike which killed four civilians and critically injured Adel Al Manthari near Al Uqla, Yemen.
Image: Mohammed Hailan via Reprieve
The March 29, 2018, drone strike left Al Manthari, then a civil servant in the Yemeni government, with severe burns to the left side of his body, a fractured hip, and serious damage to the tendons, nerves, and blood vessels in his left hand. The injuries left him unable to walk or work, plunged him into debt for medical treatment, and caused his daughters — aged 8 and 14 at the time of the strike — to drop out of school to care for him.
A 2018 investigation by the Associated Press and a meticulously documented 2021 report by the Yemen-based group Mwatana for Human Rights determined that the victims of the 2018 strike were civilians not, as the Pentagon claimed, Al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula “terrorists.” In March, Sens. Chris Murphy, D-Conn., and Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass., asked the Pentagon to open a new investigation of the airstrike that disabled Al Manthari, as well as 11 other U.S. attacks in Yemen.
If Al Manthari’s story sounds familiar, there’s a good reason. From Libya to Somalia, Syria to Yemen, the U.S. military regularly undercounts civilian casualties, according to victims’ family members, investigative journalists, and humanitarian groups that independently investigate claims. For years, exposés by journalists and NGOs have been necessary to push the Department of Defense to reinvestigate attacks and, in limited instances, acknowledge killing civilians.
Last year, for example, a New York Times investigation forced the Pentagon to admit that a “righteous strike” against a terrorist target in Afghanistan actually killed 10 civilians, seven of them children. Times reporting also exposed a 2019 airstrike in Syria that killed up to 64 noncombatants and was obscured through a multilayered coverup. And a blockbuster investigation of U.S.-led airstrikes, combining shoe-leather journalism and U.S. military documents, revealed that the air war in Iraq and Syria was marked by flawed intelligence and inaccurate targeting, resulting in the deaths of thousands of innocents.
After the Times reporting recently won a Pulitzer Prize, the Defense Department offered praise and a rare admission. “We know that we had more work to do to better prevent civilian harm. And we’re doing that work,” said Pentagon spokesperson John Kirby. “We knew that we had made mistakes, we’re trying to learn from those mistakes. And we knew that we weren’t always as transparent about those mistakes as we should be.”
While Kirby was touting a sea change at the Pentagon, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin; Anna Williams, the senior adviser for civilian protection; and Cara Negrette, the director for international humanitarian policy, had for almost a month ignored a letter asking that department to reopen the civilian casualty assessment of the March 29, 2018, strike. The letter, sent on Al Manthari’s behalf by Reprieve, asked the Pentagon to provide Al Manthari with emergency medical evacuation and funds to obtain lifesaving treatment. To this day, no one has even acknowledged — much less responded to — the request.
“If the Pentagon is truly committed to changing the culture of secrecy and impunity that has surrounded the U.S. drone program for the last decade, then responding to Adel’s complaint would be a start.”
“It’s hard to take Mr. Kirby’s words at face value when the DoD continues to systematically evade accountability for the lives ended and wrecked by U.S. drone strikes,” said Reprieve’s Gibson. “If the Pentagon is truly committed to changing the culture of secrecy and impunity that has surrounded the U.S. drone program for the last decade, then responding to Adel’s complaint would be a start. Letting it sit on someone’s desk gathering dust while a man loses his legs screams business as usual.”
The Pentagon did not respond to a request for an interview with Kirby. Williams and Negrette both referred The Intercept to Pentagon public affairs, which promptly declined a request to interview either of them. When asked about Al Manthari’s case, a U.S. military spokesperson replied: “We have no updates.” In response to requests for basic information about the 2018 strike, Lt. Col. Karen Roxberry recommended filing a Freedom of Information Act request — a process that can take months or years to yield documents, if they are ever made available at all.
Adel Al Manthari, then a civil servant in the Yemeni government, is treated for severe burns, a fractured hip, and serious damage to the tendons, nerves, and blood vessels in his left hand following a drone strike in Yemen in 2018.
Photo: Reprieve
Earlier this week, after the Pulitzer announcement, Austin expressed a “commitment to transparency and accountability” in terms of civilian casualty incidents and declared that “efforts to mitigate and respond to civilian harm resulting from U.S. military operations are a direct reflection of U.S. values.” The memo followed a January memo directing subordinates to draw up a yet-to-be-released “Civilian Harm Mitigation and Response Action Plan,” including a review of how the Pentagon “responds to civilian harm, including, but not limited to, condolence payments and the public acknowledgment of harm.”
For decades, the U.S. has relied upon an arbitrary and degrading system of solatia: condolence payments made ex gratia, meaning they are provided as an expression of sympathy rather than an admission of fault for civilians slain or injured during U.S. military operations.
During the Vietnam War, the going rate for an adult killed was $33. Children merited just half that. Payouts in Afghanistan ranged from as little as $124 to $15,000 for one civilian life. Despite a dedicated annual Department of Defense fund of $3 million for payments for deaths, injuries, or damages resulting from U.S. or allied military actions, payments are an increasing rarity. The Pentagon’s most recent report on civilian casualties, released last June, noted that the Defense Department “did not offer or make any such ex gratia payments during 2020.”
“The United States has repeatedly failed to acknowledge and make amends for civilian harm,” Annie Shiel, the senior adviser for U.S. policy and advocacy at the Center for Civilians in Conflict, told The Intercept. “There are so many civilians like Adel Al Manthari and his family who are grieving the loss of loved ones, dealing with injuries and trauma, or struggling to survive after losing their homes and livelihoods — all while waiting for some kind of acknowledgement or response from the U.S. government that often never comes.”
Even if the United States had an effective system for providing reparations to victims of U.S. attacks, Austin has recently been vocal about not reevaluating past civilian casualty claims. Last month, when Rep. Sara Jacobs, D-Calif., asked whether the Pentagon was planning to revisit past civilian harm allegations, Austin replied, “At this point we don’t have an intent to re-litigate cases.” That may prove to be a death sentence for Adel Al Manthari.
At his May 10 press briefing, Kirby said that “at its very best,” the press “holds us to account.” At every turn, however, the Pentagon has concealed information and obstructed reporting efforts concerning Al Manthari’s case.
“The watchwords of the U.S. drone program,” said Gibson, “have consistently been ‘no accountability, no apology, no compensation,’ and a radical rethink is needed.”
Until then, victims like Al Manthari will need to rely on fundraising websites and the kindness of strangers to stay alive, as the Pentagon boasts about accountability while trafficking in secrecy and impunity.
The post Civilian Victim of U.S. Drone Strike Starts GoFundMe to Save His Legs — and His Life appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
After failing to convince the Biden administration to ship NATO fighter jets to Ukraine, the military-industrial complex is now trying to coax the White House into sending unmanned fighter jets to counter Russia’s invasion. Kyiv reportedly met with the major defense contractor General Atomics about obtaining the “Hunter-Killer” MQ-9 Reaper drone, armed with Hellfire missiles, which the U.S. has infamously used in botched airstrikes that killed and maimed civilians in Afghanistan, Somalia, and other countries around the world. The company and Kyiv’s allies in Washington are appealing to policymakers to greenlight the export, despite the high risk of escalation that could turn the devastating war nuclear.
Take retired Air Force Lt. Gen. David Deptula, dean of the influential and General Atomics-funded Mitchell Institute for Aerospace Studies, who penned an op-ed in Forbes advocating for the U.S. to give Ukraine Reapers in March, before Kyiv’s interest was publicly known. He blasted skeptics who voiced concern about offering Poland’s MiG-29 fighter jets to Ukraine, saying they’re “being cowed by Putin,” the Russian president.
In a phone call with The Intercept, Deptula reiterated his hawkish stance, arguing concern about conflict escalation “is being fed by the Russians through a very sophisticated information operations campaign to deter U.S. and NATO actions to assist the Ukrainians. Anything’s fair up to, but not including, the use of NATO forces in the conduct of hostile operations against the Russians.”
“Approve this, US Govt.,” Rep. Adam Kinzinger, R-Ill., tweeted last month when the Washington Post reported that Ukraine’s ambassador to the U.S. met with General Atomics. Notorious for calling on the U.S. to enforce a dangerous no-fly zone over Ukraine, Kinzinger, along with Reps. Ted Lieu, D-Calif., and Chrissy Houlahan, D-Penn., also asked the Defense Department to report on how long it would take to train a Ukrainian pilot to fly the MQ-9. This week, senior fellows from the General Atomics-funded Hudson Institute wrote an op-ed in The Dispatch endorsing sending Ukraine Reapers as well. And General Atomics sends lobbyists to Washington specifically to influence the strict export policy that the U.S. has enforced to limit the global proliferation of such dangerous drones.
The White House has shown an increased willingness to give Ukraine weapons as the war in Ukraine has dragged on and U.S. aims shift toward seeing a “weakened” Russia. Initially, it was only willing to give shoulder-fired missiles; backpack-sized drones called Switchblades strapped with grenades; and encrypted communications equipment. More recently, the administration has greenlighted heavy artillery weapons, armored personnel carriers, and longer-flying experimental drones called Phoenix Ghosts. Last week, President Joe Biden signed into law the first “lend-lease” program to accelerate military shipments since World War II, and this week, Democrats are trying to fast-track $40 billion to supply Ukraine with more arms and replenish the U.S.’s depleted stockpiles, at the expense of new Covid-19 relief spending.
Along the way, Kyiv and the U.S. defense industry have had a strong ally in the American media, which is constantly asking the administration why it’s not getting more involved. After the Washington Post reported on Ukraine’s discussions with General Atomics, Politico beckoned: “Ukraine wants armed drones. Is the U.S. ready to deliver?”
“It’s not every day that the United States approves the sale or transfer of armed drones to a foreign country — but Ukraine is hoping the Biden administration will heed the call of soldiers on the ground to do just that,” the story led.
If the government approves a deal, Ukraine would be one of only a few countries to receive Gray Eagles or Reapers. Unlike fighter jets such as the F-16, the U.S. hasn’t widely provided them because of an international agreement known as the Missile Technology Control Regime. Aiming to curb the spread of weapons of mass destruction, the nonbinding regime calls on exporters to use a “strong presumption of denial” standard when considering giving advanced drones like the MQ-9 to other countries.
However, following pressure from the defense industry, former President Donald Trump eased that burden in July 2020 as part of a broader effort to expand U.S. arms sales globally, opening the door for the State Department to authorize Reaper exports to the United Arab Emirates and Taiwan. The policy shift drew strong rebuke from members of Congress, who may now be tested with a transfer to Ukraine.
Describing the Trump administration’s policy shift, Sen. Bob Menendez, D-N.J., now chair of the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, said at the time, “this reckless decision once again makes it more likely that we will export some of our most deadly weaponry to human rights abusers around the world.” Sen. Chris Murphy, D-Conn., quickly teamed up with Sen. Rand Paul, R-Ky., and other Democratic and Republican senators on legislation to ban exports of advanced drones, except to NATO members and a handful of other close allies. Ukraine was not on the list.
Asked their positions on giving Ukraine the Reaper now, both Menendez and Murphy said they’d have to review the proposed deal first before taking a position.
“I have to look at that. I have to see what their ability to use it [is]. I have to see how they use it,” Menendez told The Intercept.
General Atomics has already tried to clear up such questions. A company spokesperson told Forbes last month that motivated Ukrainian forces could undergo an expedited training period much shorter than the U.S. Air Force’s mandatory one-year lessons for drone pilots.
Paul, the Senate’s strongest critic of U.S. military assistance to Ukraine, warned about the risk of NATO getting drawn in further. “I do understand that there is a danger, and I haven’t fully concluded where I am on this, but you know, there is always the danger of escalation,” he said in an interview. (He added that he would be more comfortable if Ukraine paid for weapons itself, but since MQ-9s cost tens of millions of dollars each, that is not likely.)
Bill Hartung, senior research fellow at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft, warned in an email to The Intercept that giving Ukraine armed Reapers would be a major step up from what the U.S. has already supplied. “In my view, Ukraine has the right to defend itself, and some weapons supplies are warranted on that basis,” Hartung wrote. “But supplying large, long-range drones would be a significant escalation in the types of systems supplied to Ukraine, and as such shouldn’t go forward without significant scrutiny by Congress.”
Members of Congress do have the authority to block an export, like when Paul introduced a motion to halt a missile sale to Saudi Arabia in November, which was voted down in the Senate. He distinguished that case from Ukraine, though. “Most of the battles that I’ve chosen on selling arms have been to countries where there’s a lot of people … who’ve talked about their human rights abuses,” Paul said, noting he hasn’t objected to deals with NATO allies. “Ukraine’s not NATO and I’m not a supporter of them being in NATO, but at the same time, I am sympathetic to their plight.”
Meanwhile, Ukrainian forces have reportedly used internationally banned cluster munitions during the current war, and have a sizable neo-Nazi faction. Ukraine is also home to one of the largest arms trafficking markets in Europe, meaning weapons sent to Kyiv could end up with unintended militias or in other conflicts abroad.
Meanwhile, it’s not clear whether the State Department has made any formal moves toward a possible Reaper deal. Reporter Michael Peck, writing about the meeting between Ukraine and General Atomics, speculated in Forbes: “[I]t is unlikely that such talks between Ukraine and a U.S. defense contractor would have happened without a green light from the Biden administration.” A State Department official who requested anonymity said it cannot comment on possible arms transfers before formal notification to Congress. General Atomics spokesperson C. Mark Brinkley told The Intercept Tuesday that the company remains in close contact with Ukraine and U.S. government representatives.
Hartung warned that giving Reapers to Ukraine in service of weakening Russia, as stated by Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, can especially be dangerous.
“A policy of trying to weaken Russia risks pushing Putin into a corner and increasing the risks of escalation of the conflict to a direct U.S.-Russia war, with all the risks that entails, including the possibility of the use of nuclear weapons,” he said.
The post Military-Industrial Complex Is Itching to Send “Hunter-Killer” Drones to Ukraine appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
Russian President Vladimir Putin’s invasion of Ukraine has triggered a new freeze in relations between the United States and Russia. But for some veterans of the CIA and FBI, the spy wars that punctuated the first Cold War never really ended.
During the 1980s, in the final decade of the Cold War, three Americans who spied for the Soviet Union — CIA officers Edward Lee Howard and Aldrich Ames and FBI agent Robert Hanssen — are known to have helped Moscow identify, arrest, and imprison or execute most of the Soviet agents who were secretly spying for the United States. Those agent losses left the CIA virtually in the dark in Moscow for years. Ames and Hanssen were eventually caught and arrested and today remain in federal prison, while Howard defected to Moscow, where he died in 2002.
Now there is growing evidence that there may have been a fourth major American spy who was never caught. According to a new book, a mole hunt for the “fourth man,” who was suspected of being a CIA officer, began in the 1990s, but no one has ever been arrested or charged in the case. Secret details of that investigation are being disclosed for the first time in “The Fourth Man,” a new book by former CIA officer Robert Baer, which is due to be published Tuesday.
“The story of the Russian double agent in the CIA who got away may sound like some unfinished piece of business from the Cold War,” Baer observes in his book. But “it’s starting to look more like the mystery of the fourth man is a lot more historically significant than an old-school spy tale. It’s part of the much larger story of how America completely missed Putin and the KGB’s resurrection.”
The fact that U.S. officials believe there was a “fourth man” inside the CIA was first disclosed in 2003 in “The Main Enemy,” a book I co-authored with former CIA officer Milt Bearden. Baer has now provided a wealth of new details about the case, including the key role of a KGB agent who supplied crucial information to the CIA on the fourth spy. I interviewed several former CIA and FBI officials this week who agreed that there was a fourth mole.
“I believe there is a fourth man, and a lot of things point that way,” Jim Milburn, a former FBI counterintelligence agent who was involved in the investigation, said in an interview this week. “There is more that I can’t talk about. It all leads to my sense that there is a fourth man.”
“Absolutely there was a fourth man,” added John Lewis, former FBI assistant director for national security. “We had a lot of unexplained things that couldn’t be explained by the three others.”
In many ways, the narrative of the “fourth man” investigation reads like “Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy,” the John le Carré novel about a mole hunt inside British intelligence. Baer’s book reveals that the seeds of the case go back to 1988, when a CIA officer stationed in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, first met a KGB officer named Alexander Zaporozhsky. The CIA gave Zaporozhsky the code name “GTZORRO” and nicknamed him “Max.” As a series of CIA officers continued to meet Zaporozhsky over the years, he began to provide clues revealing that the KGB had moles inside U.S. intelligence, according to Baer. At some point, Zaporozhsky suggested that the KGB had two moles, one in the CIA and another in the FBI, although he didn’t know their names. One was known inside the KGB as “Karat,” and the other as “Rubine.”
Zaporozhsky’s information about the existence of two moles came long before either the CIA or FBI was convinced that Moscow had double agents inside U.S. intelligence. Before Zaporozhsky, “there’d been devastating, unexplained losses of CIA Russian agents … and there certainly were those who suspected the problem was a mole. But there was nothing in the way of air-tight evidence to support the theory,” writes Baer.
Zaporozhsky’s evidence ultimately led to Ames at the CIA and Hanssen at the FBI, Baer writes. He describes Zaporozhsky as one of the most important Russian spies the CIA ever had. At some point, Zaporozhsky also began to tell the CIA that there was yet another KGB mole inside the CIA, one who was believed to be ranked higher in the organization than Ames. American spy hunters began to call that the “big case.”
In 1994, Ames was arrested and charged with spying for Moscow, thanks in part to the information Zaporozhsky had provided.
After Ames was arrested, the CIA secretly created a new counterintelligence team to try to determine whether there were any losses that could not be explained by Ames or Howard, who had defected to Moscow in 1985. The agency’s team, Baer writes, included CIA officers Laine Bannerman, Diana Worthen, and MaryAnn Hough. They began to sift through old tips, leads, and other evidence relating to compromised agents and operations that couldn’t be explained by either Ames or Howard. Eventually, they became convinced that there were at least two more moles. Some of their evidence pointed toward Hanssen, who was arrested in 2001.
Baer’s book discloses that the team still believed there was another, fourth mole — thus coming to the same conclusion as Zaporozhsky. This was confirmed to The Intercept by one of the now-retired CIA investigators: “I do believe there is a fourth man,” said Worthen in an interview this week.
In 1996, a CIA officer met again with Zaporozhsky, this time in Tbilisi, Georgia. He told the CIA that he believed he had come under suspicion in Moscow. But he also said he had heard that Russian intelligence had recruited another American CIA officer. This officer had been recruited in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and was now assigned to “the Farm,” the CIA’s training center outside Williamsburg, Virginia. With Zaporozhsky’s information, the CIA was quickly able to identify CIA officer Harold Nicholson as a Russian spy, and he was arrested in November 1996.
But Nicholson had never worked in the CIA’s Soviet or Russian operations and so was quickly ruled out as being the “fourth man.”
In 1998, Zaporozhsky was resettled in the United States by the CIA, pulled out of Moscow along with other agents believed to be in danger. With Zaporozhsky and its other agents gone, the CIA was in the dark in Moscow just as Putin was beginning his rise to power.
Zaporozhsky misread Putin’s Russia too. After he resettled in the United States, he made the mistake of traveling back to Russia, where he was arrested and then spent years in prison. He was released and sent back to the United States in 2010 in one of the biggest spy swaps ever conducted. Zaporozhsky was one of four people whom Moscow sent back to the U.S. in exchange for 10 Russian “sleeper” agents arrested by the United States. The story of the Russian “illegal” agents who had burrowed into American society, including Anna Chapman, who became a celebrity as a result of her spying, became the inspiration for the popular television series “The Americans.”
The post Russia Had “Fourth Man” as Spy Inside the CIA, New Book Says appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
When allegations of Russian atrocities against Ukrainian civilians emerged in the United States, Congress and the White House hit the ground running. They’ve since engrossed themselves in scouring through the legal avenues to hold the Kremlin accountable: war crime tribunals, asset seizures, and sanctions — including collective punishment of the Russian people.
Allegations of American atrocities during the so-called global war on terror have hardly evoked the same desperate calls for justice. The U.S. government has long met international demands for accountability with hostility. Starting late last year, the New York Times’s explosive investigations into civilian deaths in botched U.S. airstrikes in the Middle East arrived just weeks before Russia’s invasion of Ukraine began. No requests for a war crimes tribunal were heard from Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., now the Senate’s biggest champion for an International Criminal Court, or ICC, investigation into Russia. And a new reform initiative the Defense Department launched in the exposé’s wake is delayed with minimal pushback from Congress.
The loss of life in Ukraine has been horrific. The United Nations announced Tuesday that it can confirm Russia’s war has killed more than 3,300 civilians since the invasion began February 24, though it expects that the actual figure is thousands higher. For reference, the U.S. war on Iraq killed nearly 8,000 civilians in the first three months following the March 2003 invasion, the Iraq Body Count estimates.
“Like most of the civilized world, I have been absolutely horrified by the … assaults against Ukraine on residential buildings, schools, synagogues and churches, and even critical infrastructure including nuclear power plants,” Sen. Ben Cardin, D-Md., chair of Congress’s Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe, said during a hearing last week. Citing in particular the discovery of hundreds of bodies, some of whom appeared to be summarily executed, in the Ukrainian city of Bucha, Cardin argued: “The scale and pattern of these crimes clearly suggests to me that war crimes are being committed by the Russian military on the orders of Vladimir Putin. Mr. Putin must be held accountable for his unprovoked bloody attacks on the Ukrainian people.”
A number of countries and international entities have begun investigations to prepare for potential war crime prosecutions. Ambassador-at-Large for Global Criminal Justice Beth Van Schaack told the commission that the U.S. is supporting inquiries by the United Nations, ICC, and any national court around the world that may have jurisdiction, including the Ukrainian government, which a State Department team is already advising. Graham told The Intercept last week that he’s talking to the White House about sending $15 million to aid the Ukrainian prosecutor’s efforts.
“We are committed to robust law enforcement and diplomatic cooperation to ensure that there is no safe haven for those who might commit atrocities,” Van Schaack said during the commission’s hearing.
The U.S. is also reviewing the extent of its own legal authorities. In the House of Representatives, Rep. Tom Malinowski, D-N.J., sought to allow the White House to seize Russian oligarchs’ assets and give them away to Ukraine, but the American Civil Liberties Union helped kill it as a result of due process concerns. In the Senate, Sens. Richard Durbin, D-Ill., and Graham are exploring changes to the law to enable domestic prosecutions of noncitizens who may have committed war crimes overseas.
Graham has also been cheering on the ICC’s abilities to investigate war crimes after Republicans have spent years deriding the court. (The Trump administration sanctioned ICC personnel investigating alleged U.S. war crimes in Afghanistan and at CIA sites overseas.) In a change of attitude, the Senate unanimously passed a resolution led by Graham earlier this year pledging support for any ICC inquiry into allegations of Russian atrocities.
But the U.S. has imposed limitations on the assistance it can provide the ICC, which it is not party to, in an attempt to evade accountability. The 2002 American Service-Members’ Protection Act, for example, prevents the U.S. from sharing intelligence to support ICC inquiries in order to safeguard U.S. troops from prosecution. But there’s some wiggle room. The Justice Department determined over a decade ago, as the New York Times reported, that the U.S. can provide help for “particular cases.” And Graham told The Intercept that he’s looking to change current regulations, but only “for the limited purpose of helping ICC with information we have about Russian activity in Ukraine.”
Meanwhile, after the Commission on Security and Cooperation in Europe hearing, Cardin told The Intercept: “I’m not too concerned physically where the trials take place. I want to make sure there’s accountability.” Asked if the U.S. needs to modify laws to allow for intelligence sharing with the ICC, Cardin said he asked if there’s anything more to do, and he’s been told they have all the authority they need but “if they need anything further we’ll be glad to give it to them.”
Ukraine’s Prosecutor General Iryna Venediktova, center, and Prosecutor of the International Criminal Court, Britain’s Karim Khan, right, visit a mass grave on the grounds of the Church of Saint Andrew in Bucha, on the outskirts of Kyiv, Ukraine, on April 13, 2022.
Photo: Fadel Senna/AFP via Getty Images
While the U.S. races to hold Russia to account, very few American lawmakers have turned the scrutiny inward. A notable exception is Rep. Ilhan Omar, D-Minn., who led several of her progressive colleagues last month calling for the U.S. to join the ICC and repeal the 2002 law that restricts U.S. assistance to the court’s investigations. But otherwise, the United States has largely neglected to look at itself in the mirror.
In its groundbreaking series, the New York Times revealed earlier this year that the U.S. has killed thousands of civilians in botched airstrikes throughout the Middle East since 2015. In July 2016, the publication found, the U.S. intended to bomb Islamic State “staging areas” in northern Syria but actually massacred more than 120 villagers seeking shelter. In March 2019, U.S. jets struck and killed 70 people in the eastern Syrian town of Baghuz when the operators of separate American drones flying overhead knew them to be mostly women and children. Repeatedly, retroactive assessments by the Pentagon were downplayed and resulted in no disciplinary action, and the U.S. made fewer than 12 condolence payments to survivors.
Following these discoveries, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin, a retired four-star Army general who commanded U.S. military operations in the Middle East from 2013 to 2016, called for reform. “We strive diligently to minimize the harm that armed conflict visits upon civilian populations, but we can and will improve upon our efforts to protect civilians,” Austin wrote in a January memo to Pentagon leadership. “We will revisit the ways in which we assess incidents that may have resulted in civilian harm, acknowledge the harm to civilians that resulted from such incidents, and incorporate lessons learned into the planning and execution of future combat operations and into our tactics, techniques, and procedures.”
In the January 27 memo, Austin called for an action plan within 90 days of issuance. But it’s not yet finished. During a House Armed Services Committee hearing in early April, Austin said the review was about 30 days in. Defense Department spokesman Lt. Col. César Santiago-Santini told The Intercept that the 90-day process remained ongoing. (Asked by Rep. Sara Jacobs, D-Calif., whether the Pentagon would take another look at cases of civilian harm that were dismissed, Austin also said during the hearing that “at this point, we don’t have an intent to relitigate cases from before.”)
Marking the original three-month deadline, Sen. Elizabeth Warren, D-Mass.; Rep. Ro Khanna, D-Calif.; and Rep. Jason Crow, D-Colo. — who are members of the armed services committees — introduced two new bills in late April that would codify several of Austin’s directives into law. Asked what motivated her to propose these measures now, Warren told The Intercept: “The stories keep mounting up about civilian casualties, and the inability or outright refusal of the Department of Defense to make a careful accounting.” Referring to Austin’s memo, she added, “I want to see some results.”
In an email to The Intercept, Annie Shiel, a senior adviser at the Center for Civilians in Conflict who endorsed the new legislation, explained that having involvement from Congress can help guarantee the success of the Pentagon’s reforms. “And while it’s encouraging that civilian harm is being recognized as a high priority at the Department,” she said, “success will require sustained engagement not only from the [Defense Department], but also from Congress — to support the Secretary’s ongoing efforts, to hold the Department accountable for its commitments, and to fill critical remaining gaps.” (The bills will ensure a new center of excellence to advance civilian protection measures, for instance, will outlast the current administration.)
In the Senate, Warren’s bills have the support of Democratic Whip Dick Durbin of Illinois and Sens. Jeff Merkley, D-Ill., and Bernie Sanders, I-Vt. But otherwise, her efforts to keep pressure on the Pentagon weren’t top of mind for influential legislators. Sens. Jack Reed of Rhode Island and James Inhofe of Oklahoma, the most powerful Democrat and Republican on the Senate Armed Services Committee respectively, told The Intercept last week that they hadn’t reviewed the proposals yet. They’ll play a pivotal role in determining whether the bills make their way into the annual defense policy bill, which would be the likeliest legislative vehicle to pass them into law.
The International Criminal Court on March 29, 2022, in The Hague, Netherlands.
Photo: Alex Gottschalk/DeFodi Images via Getty Images
In an opinion column for MSNBC last month, Middle East expert Trita Parsi, executive vice president at the Quincy Institute for Responsible Statecraft, laid out a compelling argument for why many countries in the Global South have not joined the U.S.’s efforts to sanction Russia in response to its war on Ukraine. “Many of these states also see flagrant hypocrisy in framing the Ukraine war in terms of the survival of the rules-based order,” he wrote. “From their vantage point, no other country or bloc has undermined international law, norms or the rules-based order more than the U.S. and the West.”
The hypocrisy and excuses for the U.S.’s unwillingness to submit to a fraction of the scrutiny it’s now demanding of Russia were perhaps most blatant in a Washington Post op-ed last month by former Democratic Sen. Christopher Dodd of Connecticut and George W. Bush administration attorney John Bellinger III.
“The United States can help the court in appropriate cases while still strongly opposing ICC investigations (including of U.S. personnel) that do not meet the court’s strict threshold requirements,” Dodd and Bellinger wrote. “The ICC was created to prosecute only the most serious international crimes that are not addressed by the nations that commit them, not to investigate every allegation of misconduct.”
Of course, the U.S. has already managed to dodge ICC inquiries. When the court’s chief prosecutor reopened an investigation into war crimes in Afghanistan last year, it dropped allegations against the U.S. and its allies, choosing to focus only on the Taliban and the Islamic State. Just a few weeks before, the U.S. ended its 20-year war in Afghanistan with a drone attack that the Defense Department initially called a “righteous strike” against the Islamic State. The Pentagon later acknowledged the attack hit and killed 10 civilians, including seven children.
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Top leadership for Central Intelligence Agency’s venture capital arm, In-Q-Tel, have quietly launched a separate “blank check” fund that stands to fuel astronomical fortunes for former intelligence officials.
In-Q-Tel, which receives funding and directions from the CIA, was founded by the CIA in the late ’90s to spur private sector innovation with the goal of bringing the latest technology to market to fuel America’s covert national security operations. Now, its chief executive and president are taking advantage of the latest stock market fad to create financial windfall for themselves and a small set of former national security officials.
In November, a “special purpose acquisition company,” or SPAC, called Chain Bridge I filed for an initial public offering designed to raise $200 million. The fund, which had little fanfare, was formed by In-Q-Tel’s senior leadership along with a team of retired CIA leaders and technology investors.
SPACs, which have surged in popularity over the last two years, are referred to as “blank check” funds because they allow investors to pool capital in a publicly traded fund, with no underlying assets or business model, for the sole purpose of acquiring a private company. In response to the wave of inadequate disclosure and fraud in the market, the SEC has proposed new rules governing SPACs.
Chain Bridge I is still seeking to acquire a defense contractor that is, according to the firm’s annual report, “poised to benefit” from government spending on national security.
“This is a case of the revolving door on steroids — not just using connections with former government colleagues on behalf of corporate interests, but setting up an entirely new corporate entity that trades on those ties to earn them a huge potential payoff,” said William Hartung, a senior research fellow at the Quincy Institute.
The blank check fund is clear that it hopes to raise hundreds of millions of dollars by leveraging its relationships with government decision-makers. The SPAC’s 10-K disclosure states that it will seek to acquire a national security technology company that is “poised to benefit from billions of dollars in defense spending in the near-term.”
“We intend to identify businesses with emerging technologies that will advance the DoD’s strategy as well as the broader interests of the United States in a period of increasing geopolitical instability,” the disclosure further notes, referencing the Department of Defense.
Chain Bridge I is the creation of the Chain Bridge Group, a Cayman Islands-registered investment fund led by In-Q-Tel CEO Christopher Darby, In-Q-Tel President Stephen Bowsher, and Michael Rolnick, a technology investor who previously advised billionaire Michael Bloomberg’s presidential campaign. Darby, while helming the CIA’s venture capital fund, serves as chair of the SPAC and its largest investor. Darby’s Chain Bridge Group, with a 16.21 percent stake, is the largest shareholder of Chain Bridge I.
The SPAC board features former intelligence officials, such as Michael Morell, the former deputy director of the CIA; Jeremy Bash, a former chief of staff to the director of the CIA; and Alex Younger, a retired career British intelligence officer. Other board members include Edward Sanderson Jr., a former chair of SAIC, a major intelligence contractor, and Nathaniel Fick, general manager of the intelligence contractor Elastic and the former head of the Center for a New American Security, the defense think tank in Washington, D.C.
In-Q-Tel told The Intercept it approved the SPAC’s creation. “IQT’s Board of Trustees assessed and approved this activity for Mr. Darby in advance as a non-IQT activity, subject to conditions to ensure that IQT interests were appropriately protected,” said Carrie Sessine, senior vice president of marketing and communications, in an email. “This included maintaining separation with regards to potential conflicts. The Board also maintains appropriate oversight through review and reporting.” The Chain Bridge Group did not respond to a request for comment.
The high-level backgrounds of Chain Bridge I echo another controversial SPAC with elite former government officials, Pine Island Acquisition Corp., a fund formerly led by Tony Blinken and Lloyd Austin. Blinken and Austin left the fund shortly before being confirmed as the secretary of state and defense secretary under President Joe Biden.
Chain Bridge I’s statement advertises its board as a “competitive advantage” with careers “working with emerging national security and technology companies” and “strategic deal-making in the national security, technology and telecommunications sectors.”
In-Q-Tel, first chartered by the CIA in 1999, exists to “exploit and develop new and emerging information technologies and pursue R&D that produce innovative solutions to the most difficult problems facing the CIA and Intelligence Community.”
Operating as an early stage venture capital fund and as a formal link between the CIA and Silicon Valley’s innovators, In-Q-Tel invests in startups developing cutting-edge technology that can be deployed for intelligence agency purposes. In-Q-Tel backed Keyhole, a geospatial data company — technology that formed the foundation for Google Earth. Geofeedia and PATHAR, two In-Q-Tel backed startups, have been widely used by law enforcement to mine Instagram, Twitter, and other social media networks to track protests and potential criminal activity. As The Intercept reported, In-Q-Tel also quietly backed a skincare company that developed a painless method for removing the outer layer of skin, a technique for obtaining unique biomarkers, including potential DNA collection.
In addition to a budget provided by the Department of Defense and CIA, In-Q-Tel earns revenue by selling equity of startups it acquires. Its recent portfolio includes firms involved in social media surveillance, artificial intelligence, and autonomous drones.
The number of SPACS launched per year surged to 248 in 2020, more than 10 times the annual average for the decade prior, as frenzied investors took advantage of the early pandemic market boom and the surge of retail investors. The following year, a record 623 SPACs began trading.
SPACs also pose a significant risk of fraud; following the skyrocketing growth of the model has been a lengthy list of investor lawsuits and companies that failed to deliver on their promises.
Azkazoo, a music streaming service that went public through a SPAC acquisition, claimed that it had 38.2 million registered users, 4.6 million paying subscribers, and over $120 million in revenue, according to the Securities and Exchange Commission. In fact, the company had no users or revenue. The firm reached a $38.8 million settlement with the SEC.
Nikola Corporation, an electric truck company that was once a darling of the SPAC acquisition model as its stock catapulted in value in 2020, agreed in December to a $125 million settlement over claims that the company misled investors about its technology. The stock now trades at slightly below $7 a share, nearly a tenth of the value of its peak two years ago.
SPACs also pose distinct risks for outside investors because sponsors are able to acquire equity for free or at deep discounts. In many SPAC deals, sponsors have been able to walk away with profit even with a sinking stock price. In other words, the potential for fraud is higher because the risk carried by bad bets is often weighted greater on regular investors than wealthy SPAC sponsors.
“Conflict of interest doesn’t begin to capture the level of influence peddling potentially involved in this deal,” said Hartung.
Update: May 5, 2022, 3:00 p.m.
This article was updated with a statement from In-Q-Tel.
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The Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI) reported on Friday that the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) searched through the electronic data of Americans 3.4 million times in 2021.
The searches were revealed in the ODNI’s “Annual Statistical Transparency Report Regarding the Intelligence Community’s Use of National Security Surveillance Authorities” for calendar year 2021. The data shows that there was nearly a tripling of these unconstitutional searches from 1.3 million in 2020.
In typical fashion the ODNI report waives away this intensification of the surveillance state by claiming it was a technical matter related to vital national security matters, the details of which are never explained.
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Photo illustration: Elise Swain/The Intercept; Photos: Getty Images
What do CIA torturers do when they retire? According to a new Reuters article on Alfreda Scheuer, one possibility is to become a beauty and life coach for middle-aged women.
Scheuer, née Bikowsky, who spoke to reporter Aram Roston in her first-ever interview, retired from the agency in 2021. Today she speaks proudly of her participation in the CIA’s notorious rendition, detention, and interrogation program in the years immediately after 9/11. According to Scheuer, “I wasn’t on the sidelines. I didn’t bury my head in the sand.” Her CIA legacy was an inspiration for the Jessica Chastain character Maya in the film “Zero Dark Thirty,” as well as Diane Marsh in the television series “The Looming Tower.” Today she’s married to Michael Scheuer, the former head of the agency division tasked with tracking Osama bin Laden, and who has his own peculiar history.
Her work also led to her being dubbed the “Queen of Torture” by the New Yorker. According to reporting around the Senate’s 2014 conclusive investigation of the CIA’s actions, Scheuer was a primary force behind the waterboarding of U.S. prisoners; the agency’s nabbing and torment of a German citizen; a wild goose chase for Al Qaeda in Montana; and attempts to lie to Congress about the effectiveness of torture.
But now Scheuer is a life coach with a #hashtag #heavy Instagram account, where she writes that “even in my former career, my passion for all things beauty was well known, and the females who worked with me sought out my advice and saw that it was okay to embrace being both a boss and a girl.”
What does the website of her company, YBeUBeauty, look like? Currently it appears to be down. You can check out an archived version or, if you’re like us, imagine what her beauty blogs might say. We emphasize that the writing below is parody. Please do not sue and/or torture us.
Your kids have left home. Your husband is engrossed in his career and online community. But where is life taking YOU?
Do you ever look in the mirror and wonder how you even sleep at night? Do you see fine lines, tired eyes, and graying hair and wonder why the fake news media won’t stop calling you a monster?
Well, I don’t, and I can teach you how not to either! Maybe the time has come for you to start having so much confidence that the mistakes of your past simply don’t matter at all.
Hi. I’m Freda. After decades working in the most Stygian corners of recent U.S. history, I’m ready for a new and scary change! I want to help women — women just like you — to embrace their true femininity, start a new chapter at mid-life, and embrace their tortured, or torturous, past. Or we can just cut to the chase and focus on the torture part, as that’s where I have the most experience. Anyway —
Maybe there’s always been that little voice in your head whispering: I’d love to join the exciting, fast-paced, glamorous world of international war crimes. Perhaps you’re first considering it at this very moment.
What matters is that we are here together, you and I, right now, in this dark, dark place.
My coaching can teach you all this, and more!
Most importantly, I’ll help you understand you’re part of a long tradition of strong women through history, doing what needed to be done!
Some have called me the “Queen of Torture.” This is, frankly, insulting. I am the Empress of Torture.
I was recruited for the CIA in 1988 by Duane “Dewey” Clarridge, a famed operative who helped organize the Contras in Nicaragua in the 1980s and later admitted they had assassinated doctors, nurses, and judges. While I loved Dewey, I strongly disagreed with his tactics. It is much better to keep people alive, because you can’t get the dead to tell you useless or false information with no intelligence value just to please get the pain to stop please.
In 1996, I joined the section of the CIA tasked with tracking Osama bin Laden. It was run by Michael Scheuer, then my future husband and now 100 percent out of his mind. For example, in 2018 he started foaming at the mouth in anticipation of President Donald Trump killing “a long and very precise list” of Americans, and fantasized about “the sheer, nay, utter joy and satisfaction to be derived from beholding great piles of dead U.S.-citizen tyrants.”
You can see why we get along so well! Also, he’s super into QAnon; sometimes I slip into a skintight ultra-realistic mask and body suit of John F. Kennedy Jr. to keep our marriage alive. I know this country is grateful to have had such individuals as Michael and myself on the ramparts, guarding you all as you slept.
Speaking of which, in 2000 our division knew that two of the future 9/11 hijackers had visas to enter the U.S. My direct subordinate and I prevented the FBI from learning about this. Why? Certainly not because we hoped to recruit the hijackers and have them infiltrate Al Qaeda. That would have been one of the greatest fuckups in American history, and so obviously didn’t happen, and insinuating that it did is legally actionable.
As for my involvement in the torture program during the 2000s, you can learn all about it via the Senate’s report, or at least you could if my name wasn’t completely redacted.
Also, I know a ton about skin care, so you should hire me if you’re looking for someone with a truly unusual combination of skills. For instance: Polyhydroxy acid is the best way to give you that just-after-waterboarding fresh look. Any product with PHA is a must-have in your beauty bag. Think of it as a secret weapon: your own little personal “blacksite.”
How long before I can start torturing people?
You absolutely may not torture anyone, even a little, until your deposit clears.
What does the phrase “enhanced interrogation” mean?
That’s for me to know and you to find out! (It means “torture.”)
Why would I want to torture people?
To paraphrase George Mallory, the first man to summit Everest, you should want to torture people because they are there. Right there, begging to be tortured.
Does torture work?
It absolutely works, depending on what you mean by “work.”
Isn’t this highly illegal?
You’d think so! President Ronald Reagan signed the U.N. Convention Against Torture in 1988, but the Bush administration kept waterboarding — I mean enhanced interrogation techniques — legal until the press found out about it. And my experience is, it turns out that it’s fine. Not a single person even had to think about jail time!
Aren’t you a walking, talking example of what Hannah Arendt called the banality of evil?
I have never read a single book and do not know what “the banality of evil” means.
Shouldn’t your husband be institutionalized?
ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
The post The Must-Read (Parody) Beauty Blog of a Top CIA Girlboss/Torture Queen! appeared first on The Intercept.
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In the months leading up to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, two obscure American startups met to discuss a potential surveillance partnership that would merge the ability to track the movements of billions of people via their phones with a constant stream of data purchased directly from Twitter. According to Brendon Clark of Anomaly Six — or “A6” — the combination of its cellphone location-tracking technology with the social media surveillance provided by Zignal Labs would permit the U.S. government to effortlessly spy on Russian forces as they amassed along the Ukrainian border, or similarly track Chinese nuclear submarines. To prove that the technology worked, Clark pointed A6’s powers inward, spying on the National Security Agency and CIA, using their own cellphones against them.
Virginia-based Anomaly Six was founded in 2018 by two ex-military intelligence officers and maintains a public presence that is scant to the point of mysterious, its website disclosing nothing about what the firm actually does. But there’s a good chance that A6 knows an immense amount about you. The company is one of many that purchases vast reams of location data, tracking hundreds of millions of people around the world by exploiting a poorly understood fact: Countless common smartphone apps are constantly harvesting your location and relaying it to advertisers, typically without your knowledge or informed consent, relying on disclosures buried in the legalese of the sprawling terms of service that the companies involved count on you never reading. Once your location is beamed to an advertiser, there is currently no law in the United States prohibiting the further sale and resale of that information to firms like Anomaly Six, which are free to sell it to their private sector and governmental clientele. For anyone interested in tracking the daily lives of others, the digital advertising industry is taking care of the grunt work day in and day out — all a third party need do is buy access.
Company materials obtained by The Intercept and Tech Inquiry provide new details of just how powerful Anomaly Six’s globe-spanning surveillance powers are, capable of providing any paying customer with abilities previously reserved for spy bureaus and militaries.
The source of the materials, who spoke on the condition of anonymity to protect their livelihood, expressed grave concern about the legality of government contractors such as Anomaly Six and Zignal Labs “revealing social posts, usernames, and locations of Americans” to “Defense Department” users. The source also asserted that Zignal Labs had willfully deceived Twitter by withholding the broader military and corporate surveillance use cases of its firehose access. Twitter’s terms of service technically prohibit a third party from “conducting or providing surveillance or gathering intelligence” using its access to the platform, though the practice is common and enforcement of this ban is rare. Asked about these concerns, spokesperson Tom Korolsyshun told The Intercept “Zignal abides by privacy laws and guidelines set forth by our data partners.”
A6 claims that its GPS dragnet yields between 30 to 60 location pings per device per day and 2.5 trillion locational data points annually worldwide, adding up to 280 terabytes of location data per year and many petabytes in total, suggesting that the company surveils roughly 230 million devices on an average day. A6’s salesperson added that while many rival firms gather personal location data via a phone’s Bluetooth and Wi-Fi connections that provide general whereabouts, Anomaly 6 harvests only GPS pinpoints, potentially accurate to within several feet. In addition to location, A6 claimed that it has built a library of over 2 billion email addresses and other personal details that people share when signing up for smartphone apps that can be used to identify who the GPS ping belongs to. All of this is powered, A6’s Clark noted during the pitch, by general ignorance of the ubiquity and invasiveness of smartphone software development kits, known as SDKs: “Everything is agreed to and sent by the user even though they probably don’t read the 60 pages in the [end user license agreement].”
The Intercept was not able to corroborate Anomaly Six’s claims about its data or capabilities, which were made in the context of a sales pitch. Privacy researcher Zach Edwards told The Intercept that he believed the claims were plausible but cautioned that firms can be prone to exaggerating the quality of their data. Mobile security researcher Will Strafach agreed, noting that A6’s data sourcing boasts “sound alarming but aren’t terribly far off from ambitious claims by others.” According to Wolfie Christl, a researcher specializing in the surveillance and privacy implications of the app data industry, even if Anomaly Six’s capabilities are exaggerated or based partly on inaccurate data, a company possessing even a fraction of these spy powers would be deeply concerning from a personal privacy standpoint.
Reached for comment, Zignal’s spokesperson provided the following statement: “While Anomaly 6 has in the past demonstrated its capabilities to Zignal Labs, Zignal Labs does not have a relationship with Anomaly 6. We have never integrated Anomaly 6’s capabilities into our platform, nor have we ever delivered Anomaly 6 to any of our customers.”
When asked about the company’s presentation and its surveillance capabilities, Anomaly Six co-founder Brendan Huff responded in an email that “Anomaly Six is a veteran-owned small business that cares about American interests, natural security, and understands the law.”
Companies like A6 are fueled by the ubiquity of SDKs, which are turnkey packages of code that software-makers can slip in their apps to easily add functionality and quickly monetize their offerings with ads. According to Clark, A6 can siphon exact GPS measurements gathered through covert partnerships with “thousands” of smartphone apps, an approach he described in his presentation as a “farm-to-table approach to data acquisition.” This data isn’t just useful for people hoping to sell you things: The largely unregulated global trade in personal data is increasingly finding customers not only at marketing agencies, but also federal agencies tracking immigrants and drone targets as well as sanctions and tax evasion. According to public records first reported by Motherboard, U.S. Special Operations Command paid Anomaly Six $590,000 in September 2020 for a year of access to the firm’s “commercial telemetry feed.”
Anomaly Six software lets its customers browse all of this data in a convenient and intuitive Google Maps-style satellite view of Earth. Users need only find a location of interest and draw a box around it, and A6 fills that boundary with dots denoting smartphones that passed through that area. Clicking a dot will provide you with lines representing the device’s — and its owner’s — movements around a neighborhood, city, or indeed the entire world.
As the Russian military continued its buildup along the country’s border with Ukraine, the A6 sales rep detailed how GPS surveillance could help turn Zignal into a sort of private spy agency capable of assisting state clientele in monitoring troop movements. Imagine, Clark explained, if the crisis zone tweets Zignal rapidly surfaces through the firehose were only a starting point. Using satellite imagery tweeted by accounts conducting increasingly popular “open-source intelligence,” or OSINT, investigations, Clark showed how A6’s GPS tracking would let Zignal clients determine not simply that the military buildup was taking place, but track the phones of Russian soldiers as they mobilized to determine exactly where they’d trained, where they were stationed, and which units they belonged to. In one case, Clark showed A6 software tracing Russian troop phones backward through time, away from the border and back to a military installation outside Yurga, and suggested that they could be traced further, all the way back to their individual homes. Previous reporting by the Wall Street Journal indicates that this phone-tracking method is already used to monitor Russian military maneuvers and that American troops are just as vulnerable.
In another A6 map demonstration, Clark zoomed in closely on the town of Molkino, in southern Russia, where the Wagner Group, an infamous Russian mercenary outfit, is reportedly headquartered. The map showed dozens of dots indicating devices at the Wagner base, along with scattered lines showing their recent movements. “So you can just start watching these devices,” Clark explained. “Any time they start leaving the area, I’m looking at potential Russian predeployment activity for their nonstandard actors, their nonuniform people. So if you see them go into Libya or Democratic Republic of the Congo or things like that, that can help you better understand potential soft power actions the Russians are doing.”
To fully impress upon its audience the immense power of this software, Anomaly Six did what few in the world can claim to do: spied on American spies.
The pitch noted that this kind of mass phone surveillance could be used by Zignal to aid unspecified clients with “counter-messaging,” debunking Russian claims that such military buildups were mere training exercises and not the runup to an invasion. “When you’re looking at counter-messaging, where you guys have a huge part of the value you provide your client in the counter-messaging piece is — [Russia is] saying, ‘Oh, it’s just local, regional, um, exercises.’ Like, no. We can see from the data that they’re coming from all over Russia.”
To fully impress upon its audience the immense power of this software, Anomaly Six did what few in the world can claim to do: spied on American spies. “I like making fun of our own people,” Clark began. Pulling up a Google Maps-like satellite view, the sales rep showed the NSA’s headquarters in Fort Meade, Maryland, and the CIA’s headquarters in Langley, Virginia. With virtual boundary boxes drawn around both, a technique known as geofencing, A6’s software revealed an incredible intelligence bounty: 183 dots representing phones that had visited both agencies potentially belonging to American intelligence personnel, with hundreds of lines streaking outward revealing their movements, ready to track throughout the world. “So, if I’m a foreign intel officer, that’s 183 start points for me now,” Clark noted.
The NSA and CIA both declined to comment.
Screenshot: The Intercept / Google Maps
“It doesn’t take a lot of creativity to see how foreign spies can use this information for espionage, blackmail, all kinds of, as they used to say, dastardly deeds.”
“There is sure as hell a serious national security threat if a data broker can track a couple hundred intelligence officials to their homes and around the world,” Sen. Ron Wyden, D-Ore., a vocal critic of the personal data industry, told The Intercept in an interview. “It doesn’t take a lot of creativity to see how foreign spies can use this information for espionage, blackmail, all kinds of, as they used to say, dastardly deeds.”
Back stateside, the person was tracked to their own home. A6’s software includes a function called “Regularity,” a button clients can press that automatically analyzes frequently visited locations to deduce where a target lives and works, even though the GPS pinpoints sourced by A6 omit the phone owner’s name. Privacy researchers have long shown that even “anonymized” location data is trivially easy to attach to an individual based on where they frequent most, a fact borne out by A6’s own demonstration. After hitting the “Regularity” button, Clark zoomed in on a Google Street View image of their home.
“Industry has repeatedly claimed that collecting and selling this cellphone location data won’t violate privacy because it is tied to device ID numbers instead of people’s names. This feature proves just how facile those claims are,” said Nate Wessler, deputy director of the American Civil Liberties Union’s Speech, Privacy, and Technology Project. “Of course, following a person’s movements 24 hours a day, day after day, will tell you where they live, where they work, who they spend time with, and who they are. The privacy violation is immense.”
The demo continued with a surveillance exercise tagging U.S. naval movements, using a tweeted satellite photo of the USS Dwight D. Eisenhower in the Mediterranean Sea snapped by the commercial firm Maxar Technologies. Clark broke down how a single satellite snapshot could be turned into surveillance that he claimed was even more powerful than that executed from space. Using the latitude and longitude coordinates appended to the Maxar photo along with its time stamp, A6 was able to pick up a single phone signal from the ship’s position at that moment, south of Crete. “But it only takes one,” Clark noted. “So when I look back where that one device goes: Oh, it goes back to Norfolk. And actually, on the carrier in the satellite picture — what else is on the carrier? When you look, here are all the other devices.” His screen revealed a view of the carrier docked in Virginia, teeming with thousands of colorful dots representing phone location pings gathered by A6. “Well, now I can see every time that that ship is deploying. I don’t need satellites right now. I can use this.”
Though Clark conceded that the company has far less data available on Chinese phone owners, the demo concluded with a GPS ping picked up aboard an alleged Chinese nuclear submarine. Using only unclassified satellite imagery and commercial advertising data, Anomaly Six was able to track the precise movements of the world’s most sophisticated military and intelligence forces. With tools like those sold by A6 and Zignal, even an OSINT hobbyist would have global surveillance powers previously held only by nations. “People put way too much on social media,” Clark added with a laugh.
As location data has proliferated largely unchecked by government oversight in the United States, one hand washes another, creating a private sector capable of state-level surveillance powers that can also fuel the state’s own growing appetite for surveillance without the usual judicial scrutiny. Critics say the loose trade in advertising data constitutes a loophole in the Fourth Amendment, which requires the government to make its case to a judge before obtaining location coordinates from a cellular provider. But the total commodification of phone data has made it possible for the government to skip the court order and simply buy data that’s often even more accurate than what could be provided by the likes of Verizon. Civil libertarians say this leaves a dangerous gap between the protections intended by the Constitution and the law’s grasp on the modern data trade.
“The Supreme Court has made clear that cellphone location information is protected under the Fourth Amendment because of the detailed picture of a person’s life it can reveal,” explained Wessler. “Government agencies’ purchases of access to Americans’ sensitive location data raise serious questions about whether they are engaged in an illegal end run around the Fourth Amendment’s warrant requirement. It is time for Congress to end the legal uncertainty enabling this surveillance once and for all by moving toward passage of the Fourth Amendment Is Not For Sale Act.”
Though such legislation could restrict the government’s ability to piggyback off commercial surveillance, app-makers and data brokers would remain free to surveil phone owners. Still, Wyden, a co-sponsor of that bill, told The Intercept that he believes “this legislation sends a very strong message” to the “Wild West” of ad-based surveillance but that clamping down on the location data supply chain would be “certainly a question for the future.” Wyden suggested that protecting a device’s location trail from snooping apps and advertisers might be best handled by the Federal Trade Commission. Separate legislation previously introduced by Wyden would empower the FTC to crack down on promiscuous data sharing and broaden consumers’ ability to opt out of ad tracking.
A6 is far from the only firm engaged in privatized device-tracking surveillance. Three of Anomaly Six’s key employees previously worked at competing firm Babel Street, which named all three of them in a 2018 lawsuit first reported by the Wall Street Journal. According to the legal filing, Brendan Huff and Jeffrey Heinz co-founded Anomaly Six (and lesser-known Datalus 5) months after ending their employment at Babel Street in April 2018, with the intent of replicating Babel’s cellphone location surveillance product, “Locate X,” in a partnership with major Babel competitor Semantic AI. In July 2018, Clark followed Huff and Heinz by resigning from his position as Babel’s “primary interface to … intelligence community clients” and becoming an employee of both Anomaly Six and Semantic.
Like its rival Dataminr, Zignal touts its mundane partnerships with the likes of Levi’s and the Sacramento Kings, marketing itself publicly in vague terms that carry little indication that it uses Twitter for intelligence-gathering purposes, ostensibly in clear violation of Twitter’s anti-surveillance policy. Zignal’s ties to government run deep: Zignal’s advisory board includes a former head of the U.S. Army Special Operations Command, Charles Cleveland, as well as the CEO of the Rendon Group, John Rendon, whose bio notes that he “pioneered the use of strategic communications and real-time information management as an element of national power, serving as a consultant to the White House, U.S. National Security community, including the U.S. Department of Defense.” Further, public records state that Zignal was paid roughly $4 million to subcontract under defense staffing firm ECS Federal on Project Maven for “Publicly Available Information … Data Aggregation” and a related “Publicly Available Information enclave” in the U.S. Army’s Secure Unclassified Network.
The remarkable world-spanning capabilities of Anomaly Six are representative of the quantum leap occurring in the field of OSINT. While the term is often used to describe the internet-enabled detective work that draws on public records to, say, pinpoint the location of a war crime from a grainy video clip, “automated OSINT” systems now use software to combine enormous datasets that far outpace what a human could do on their own. Automated OSINT has also become something of a misnomer, using information that is by no means “open source” or in the public domain, like commercial GPS data that must be bought from a private broker.
While OSINT techniques are powerful, they are generally shielded from accusations of privacy violation because the “open source” nature of the underlying information means that it was already to some extent public. This is a defense that Anomaly Six, with its trove of billions of purchased data points, can’t muster. In February, the Dutch Review Committee on the Intelligence and Security Services issued a report on automated OSINT techniques and the threat to personal privacy they may represent: “The volume, nature and range of personal data in these automated OSINT tools may lead to a more serious violation of fundamental rights, in particular the right to privacy, than consulting data from publicly accessible online information sources, such as publicly accessible social media data or data retrieved using a generic search engine.” This fusion of publicly available data, privately procured personal records, and computerized analysis isn’t the future of governmental surveillance, but the present. Last year, the New York Times reported that the Defense Intelligence Agency “buys commercially available databases containing location data from smartphone apps and searches it for Americans’ past movements without a warrant,” a surveillance method now regularly practiced throughout the Pentagon, the Department of Homeland Security, the IRS, and beyond.
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President Joe Biden speaks in Greensboro, N.C., on April 14, 2022.
Photo: Peter Zay/Anadolu Agency via Getty Images
In a short video clip that went viral across the globe this week, President Joe Biden concluded a speech in North Carolina with a stirring call for unity among Americans. Then he turned away from the podium and appeared to reach into thin air for a handshake. The clip amused Biden’s many detractors, who allege that the U.S. president is suffering from cognitive decline, though others dispute that interpretation of the video.
Whether or not it was a sign of his deteriorating mental acuity, the image of Biden seeming to shake hands with no one is an apt metaphor for his administration’s many diplomatic failures since coming to office. At the top of the list is Biden’s inability to achieve his basic aim of reentering the 2015 nuclear deal with Iran. That’s where the handshake comes in: It looked as if Biden was pronouncing himself ready to enter into an agreement, but with no one on the other end. While there have been questions about the functioning of Biden’s brain following such incidents, what really may be plaguing the president is a lack of heart.
In 2018, President Donald Trump exited the Iran nuclear agreement in a fit of pique aimed at undermining a key diplomatic achievement of President Barack Obama. Biden initially campaigned on a pledge to return to a deal that places Iran’s nuclear program under strict controls in exchange for sanctions relief.
It should have been an easy win, reversing a dangerous foreign policy decision made on a whim by Trump. However, more than a year into his presidency, Biden has utterly failed to find his way back into the deal. Instead of preserving one of the major diplomatic accomplishments of the Obama administration, in which he served as vice president, Biden is effectively siding with Trump’s position. The nuclear agreement is now on the brink of collapsing entirely — and the blame for it lies squarely with Biden.
The impasse in the current talks, according to reports, is an issue that Trump injected into the diplomatic mix exactly to prevent his successor from reviving the deal: the listing of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps as a terrorist organization.
The 2019 listing of the group by Trump was not directly tied to the nuclear deal — he had already abandoned the agreement — but it made the deal virtually impossible to revive.
The benefit that the nuclear deal was intended to provide Iran was foreign investment and trade to rescue the Islamic Republic’s flagging economy. For better or worse, the IRGC is a major economic player in Iran, and treating it as a terrorist organization makes it highly unlikely that Western companies will feel comfortable doing business in the country at all.
In other words, making the IRGC a terror group effectively blocks whatever gains Iran would hope to make from cutting a deal in the first place. Reviving the agreement becomes a nonstarter — just as Trump planned.
Iran has demanded as part of the talks that the IRGC be removed from the terrorist list before reentering the deal. The Biden administration has refused, saying that if the group is to be removed, Iran will have to make additional concessions outside the nuclear deal, which is formally known as the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action.
“If Iran wants sanctions-lifting that goes beyond the JCPOA, they’ll need to address concerns of ours that go beyond the JCPOA,” State Department spokesperson Ned Price said, when asked about the Revolutionary Guards’ possible delisting at a press conference Monday. “They will need to negotiate those issues in good faith with reciprocity.”
Price didn’t swear off delisting the IRGC, but in response to questions, he said that the United States “will use every appropriate tool to confront the IRGC’s destabilizing role in the region, including working closely with our partners in Israel.” Several U.S. allies in the region, including Israel and Saudi Arabia, are believed to be lobbying against a revived deal. Israeli Prime Minister Naftali Bennett reportedly hopes that the IRGC listing will be a “deal breaker” that prevents a return to the agreement.
Placing the IRGC on the terrorist list is mainly symbolic from the U.S. perspective. Iran is already designated as a state sponsor of terrorism, and the IRGC is subject to numerous sanctions that remain in effect regardless of whether it is specifically listed. The IRGC listing does, however, have serious repercussions for ordinary Iranians and even dual nationals of Western countries who were raised in Iran. The IRGC operates on a conscription basis and draws recruits from across Iranian society.
Hundreds of thousands of ordinary Iranians are now potentially on the U.S. terrorist watchlist and likely to remain there as a long as the organization they served in is considered a terror group by the U.S. In addition to the economic concerns around sanctions, Iran thus has a strong motivation for seeing the IRGC, which is ultimately a branch of its military, delisted as part of any broader agreement.
“As far as the Iranians are concerned, there is definitely an element of pride where they don’t want to have a major branch of their military listed as a terrorist organization,” said Hooman Majd, author of “The Ministry of Guidance Invites You to Not Stay.” “Just as importantly, the JCPOA was also supposed to bring sanctions relief to Iran. That was not just relief in the sense that the Iranian central bank wouldn’t be sanctioned anymore; the deal was also specifically supposed to encourage foreign investment in Iran.”
“There is definitely an element of pride where they don’t want to have a major branch of their military listed as a terrorist organization.”
Majd was privy to discussions around the original JCPOA negotiation and believes that the Iranian government may walk away from a renewed agreement if it calculates that sanctions on the IRGC will prevent it from reaping the expected economic benefits.
“When other sanctions were placed on Iran in the 1990s, the IRGC became the de facto engineering arm of the Iranian government,” he said. “Everything down to the international airport in Tehran is run by the IRGC, and every aspect of business in Iran has some connection to the IRGC or former members of the IRGC. If the IRGC is listed as a terrorist organization, is Boeing going to sell them planes?”
The Iran nuclear deal was intended as a last best shot at avoiding another major crisis in the Middle East. Given the Trump administration’s obvious violation of a deal that the U.S. had signed with the support of its allies, Biden could have easily reentered the agreement upon taking office.
Instead, the U.S. waffled. It now risks restarting a conflict that the Obama administration had expended significant diplomatic and political capital to avert. Most tragic will be the fact that it was easily avoidable.
Biden may not have been grasping at the air following his speech in North Carolina earlier this week. If he fails to bring the U.S. back into an agreement in line with its own signed commitments on the Iran nuclear deal, though, the image of him aimlessly searching for a hand to shake will be symbolic of his own presidency.
The post Joe Biden Deserves the Blame for Killing the Iran Nuclear Deal appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
When the U.S. military was planning an airstrike on an Islamic State bomb factory in Iraq, it failed to adequately consider the possibility of secondary explosions from munitions stored there, according to military documents that have been hiding in plain sight for several months. The bomb factory in the city of Hawija reportedly contained more than 18,000 kilograms of explosive material — and secondary explosions from the 2015 airstrike killed scores of Iraqis and damaged or destroyed thousands of homes. One of the survivors later told an interviewer from the Iraqi NGO Al-Ghad League for Woman and Child Care, “I thought it was a nuclear bomb.”
In the wake of the carnage, the chief of targets for U.S. Central Command insisted in an email, included in a detailed follow-up assessment of the attack by military investigators, that the strike had been conducted by the book, including the pre-attack “collateral damage estimate,” or CDE. “My targeteers actually spent hours working and reworking this target just to make the CDE ‘executable,’” he wrote in the email. “This was a perfectly accurate CDE call,” he insisted, emphasizing in another email that “CDE Methodology does not account for secondary explosions.”
The emails and other investigation documents are included in 73 pages of post-strike assessments of the Hawija attack that are part of a 5,400-page archive of the Pentagon’s confidential reviews of civilian casualty allegations resulting from U.S.-led airstrikes in Iraq and Syria. The archive was published in December by the New York Times, which obtained the documents through the Freedom of Information Act. The documents, part of the Times’s award-winning “Civilian Casualty Files” series, offer an unvarnished glimpse of the faulty intelligence and inaccurate targeting that led to thousands of noncombatant deaths. They also offer a look into little-known policies and procedures — such as the failure to factor secondary explosions into estimates of potential collateral damage from an attack on a bomb factory.
Ashwaq Ebad ul Kareem Sharif, left, sits with her son Omar, whose face was burned as a result of the June 2015 airstrike and subsequent secondary explosion in Hawija, Iraq, in February 2022.
Photo: Courtesy of Ayman al-Amiri/PAX
“It is stunning that secondary explosions aren’t factored into collateral damage estimation — especially in this case, where the target was an explosives factory,” said Annie Shiel, the senior adviser for U.S. policy and advocacy at the Center for Civilians in Conflict. “It’s also illustrative of the broader ways the U.S. and its partners have failed to address not just direct civilian deaths and injuries, but also the wide range of reverberating harms that devastate communities for years to come, as civilians in Hawija have experienced firsthand — things like loss of livelihoods and essential services, displacement, public health crises, food insecurity, and long-term psychological trauma.”
The U.S.-vetted attack on the vehicle-borne improvised explosive device, or VBIED, factory in Hawija was outsourced to two Dutch F-16s that struck the site on the night of June 2-3, 2015. The attack and secondary explosions killed at least 85 civilians, may have injured 500 or more people, and reportedly damaged 1,200 businesses and 6,000 homes, according to a new report by researchers from Al-Ghad, PAX (a Dutch civilian protection organization), and Utrecht University.
“Overnight, I lost my soul, my body, my family, everything,” Abdullah Rashid Saleh, whose five children and two wives were killed in the strike, recalled in a 2021 interview with the research team that’s included in the report. “I want to meet the person who killed my family and ask him why did he do that?”
Targeting of the VBIED factory was approved by Lt. Gen. James Terry, the commander of the Combined Joint Task Force — Operation Inherent Resolve, according to an August 2015 Army investigation, which was also released in the Times’s “Civilian Casualty Files.”
Collateral damage estimates use complex modeling to predict the anticipated civilian harm from a strike, but the Hawija documents demonstrate that CDEs can be deeply flawed. While estimates take potential chemical, biological, or radiological plumes into account, bombing an “active ISIL VBIED and IED factory and weapons cache” did not raise any red flags beyond concern for a shed that the U.S. military deemed “the only collateral structure … estimated to be affected by any of the weapons.”
“I do not think that anyone could have predicted the magnitude of the explosion and effects in the surrounding neighborhood,” wrote the chief of targets, whose name is redacted from the documents. “Secondary effects are impossible to estimate with any level of accuracy.”
“One single airstrike can cause reverberating civilian harm effects that last years, even generations.”
But in 2020, the U.K.-based airstrike monitoring group Airwars reported that a Dutch Ministry of Foreign Affairs email from June 2015 noted an estimate of “probably more than 18,060 kilos of explosives stored, making this the largest ISIS IED factory ever.” Last year, when the U.S. Navy detonated roughly the same amount of explosives — 40,000 pounds — near its new aircraft carrier to test the ship’s combat survivability, it registered magnitude 3.9, the equivalent of a small earthquake.
“It may not be possible to determine the effects of a secondary explosion,” explained Sarah Holewinski Yager, a former senior adviser on human rights to the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and now the Washington director at Human Rights Watch, “but it’s clearly possible to understand that explosives are present and even the general magnitude of what an explosion might look like.”
Almost seven years after the attack, Hawija has never recovered, according to the new report. “The airstrike killed breadwinners and destroyed many workplaces and so cost many people their livelihood; because people’s homes had become uninhabitable, they became displaced; damage to the electricity network reduced civilians’ access to clean (and thus safe) drinking water,” it states. “This demonstrates how one single airstrike can cause reverberating civilian harm effects that last years, even generations.”
After Dutch media exposed the Netherlands’s responsibility for the Hawija strike, lawmakers set up a fund to help reconstruct the city. But the 4.4 million euros allocated is not spent in consultation with local authorities, according to the report, and is insufficient to meet ongoing needs. Neither the Dutch nor the U.S. government has ever offered an apology to survivors or individual compensation, which is hardly unique. “There are thousands of civilians harmed by U.S. military operations who never even received acknowledgement of the harm they suffered,” Yager told The Intercept. “Those involved in Hawija absolutely deserve amends.”
Central Command and the Combined Joint Task Force — Operation Inherent Resolve told The Intercept they were unable to answer questions prior to publication. Earlier this week, at a House Armed Services Committee hearing on the 2023 Pentagon budget, Rep. Sara Jacobs, D-Calif., asked whether the Defense Department was planning to revisit civilian harm cases, including those in the Times’s “Civilian Casualty Files.” Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin replied, “At this point we don’t have an intent to re-litigate cases.”
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This post was originally published on The Intercept.
In late November 2018, missiles obliterated three sport utility vehicles in North Africa.
“In coordination with the Libyan Government of National Accord (GNA), U.S. Africa Command conducted a precision airstrike near Al Uwaynat, Libya, November 29, 2018, killing eleven (11) al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) terrorists and destroying three (3) vehicles,” according to an Africa Command, or AFRICOM, press release issued the next day. “At this time, we assess no civilians were injured or killed in this strike.”
Madogaz Musa Abdullah, the brother of one of the victims, says that’s impossible. “AFRICOM killed 11 people on the basis that they were terrorists, but these young men were completely against terrorism,” he told The Intercept. “They were killed without evidence. I challenge AFRICOM to produce evidence that even one of these men was on a U.S. target list.”
On Friday, Abdullah, along with a spokesperson for his ethnic Tuareg community and representatives of three nongovernmental organizations, filed a criminal complaint against the former Italian commander at the U.S. air base in Sigonella, Sicily, seeking accountability for his role in the killings. They have asked the public prosecutor’s office in Siracusa, where the base is located, to investigate and prosecute Col. Gianluca Chiriatti and other Italian officials involved in the attack for murder.
“Death is a fact that we cannot deny but the injustice of eleven people being killed, accused of terrorism despite the fact they were innocent, affected us deeply especially when we had to bury them in a common grave,” said Abdullah, in a sworn statement accompanying the complaint. “This, and the hospitals refusing to issue death certificates, impacted the families of the victims psychologically, especially the mothers and fathers of the victims. We are devastated.”
According to legal documents shared exclusively with The Intercept and Italy’s Avvenire, most of the men killed were members of the Libyan armed forces; several had previously fought against Al Qaeda or even alongside the United States when it battled the Islamic State in the city of Sirte two years earlier.
The men were armed and heading from their homes in Ubari, a village in southwest Libya, toward the Algerian border to assist fellow community members who had been attacked by a gang with whom they were feuding over abandoned construction equipment. “The eleven victims were not members of Al Qaeda or any other terrorist organization and were not combatants: they were travelling to retrieve an excavator that was the subject of a dispute with another group,” reads the complaint. “These murders, committed outside of any armed conflict and therefore qualifying as an extraterritorial law enforcement operation, are in direct contrast with Italian and international regulations on the use of lethal force.”
Civilian harm allegations stemming from the attack were referenced in the Defense Department’s 2018 annual report on civilian casualties and deemed “not credible” in the following year’s report. Despite committing hundreds of airstrikes in Libya, AFRICOM has never substantiated a report of a civilian casualty there.
#Libya: Photos from the site of today's suspected #US airstrike in the area of Ifalalen/Taineghen north of Awaynat, three vehicles destroyed and nine individuals reportedly killed pic.twitter.com/c0ylGyqzc2
— MENASTREAM (@MENASTREAM) November 29, 2018
More than three years after the November 2018 strike — despite numerous media reports of civilian casualties from the attack, coverage of protests by the Tuareg community in Ubari, and assurances from then-Libyan Prime Minister Fayez al-Sarraj that he would forward a letter from the families to the U.S. government — AFRICOM stands by its initial assessment. “We are aware of the reports of civilian casualties from this strike,” AFRICOM spokesperson Kelly Cahalan told The Intercept. “U.S. Africa Command followed the civilian casualty assessment process in place at the time and determined that the reports were unsubstantiated.”
“It isn’t only that bad intelligence led to a bad strike that killed civilians. Even more damaging is the complete lack of engagement afterwards.”
“Unfortunately, this strike isn’t unique. It’s a story that we’ve heard again and again and again. It isn’t only that bad intelligence led to a bad strike that killed civilians. Even more damaging is the complete lack of engagement afterwards,” said Jennifer Gibson, a human rights lawyer and project lead on extrajudicial killing at Reprieve, one of the NGOs that filed the criminal complaint. “There’s been no attempt to properly investigate. No attempt to engage with the community for more than three years. And no attempt to learn from the mistake that was made. This all means that the cycle will repeat and, in the future, more civilians are going to die.”
From Iraq to Somalia and from Syria to Yemen, the U.S. military regularly undercounts civilian casualties, according to family members of victims, experts, and humanitarian groups that independently investigate claims. For years, exposés by journalists and NGOs have routinely been necessary to push the Department of Defense to investigate attacks and admit to killing civilians.
CENTCOM reported, for example, that between August 2014 and March 2017, U.S. attacks killed at least 352 civilians in Iraq and Syria. But a 2017 investigation by journalists Azmat Khan and Anand Gopal of nearly 150 U.S.-led coalition airstrikes targeting ISIS in Iraq found that 1 in 5 of the strikes killed civilians, a rate more than 31 times that acknowledged by the coalition. Last year, a New York Times investigation revealed that a 2019 airstrike in Baghuz, Syria, killed up to 64 noncombatants and was obscured through a multilayered cover-up. A separate 2021 Times investigation of 1,300 reports of civilian casualties found that the U.S. air war in the Middle East was “marked by deeply flawed intelligence, rushed and often imprecise targeting, and the deaths of thousands of civilians, many of them children, a sharp contrast to the American government’s image of war waged by all-seeing drones and precision bombs.” These latter two investigations followed intense media coverage of an August 2021 drone strike in Kabul, Afghanistan, that the Pentagon initially insisted was a “righteous strike” before admitting that it killed 10 civilians, seven of them children.
A 2020 study by researchers from the Center for Civilians in Conflict and the Columbia Law School Human Rights Institute of 228 U.S. military investigations of civilian harm in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria from 2002 to 2015 found interviews with civilian witnesses were conducted in just 21.5 percent of cases and site inspections carried out just 16 percent of the time.
AFRICOM offered no details about its review of the November 2018 attack. “The command’s assessment process draws from information from reliable and layered intelligence sources and classified operational reporting which are not available to the public,” Cahalan, the AFRICOM spokesperson, told The Intercept. “This can contribute to perceived discrepancies between the command’s results and those of others.”
“The U.S. military no longer interviews victims and witnesses, choosing instead to rely on their own intelligence information that helped develop strikes that led to civilian deaths,” said Marc Garlasco, once the chief of high-value targeting at the Pentagon and now the military adviser for PAX, a Dutch civilian protection organization. “By relying on their own intel, instead of including civilian perspectives, the U.S. is reinforcing the findings that led to the target engagement in the first place which creates a vicious cycle of target development, bombings, and civilian deaths instead of lessons learned that would inform the targeting process and improve civilian protection.”
The Taureg community protests drone strikes by U.S. AFRICOM in the region while holding a banner showing the photographs of their community members killed in a November 2018 lethal strike.
Photos: Courtesy of Reprieve
Members of the Tuareg community in Ubari have repeatedly called for an independent and transparent investigation of the 2018 strike. They have also consistently maintained that not only did none of the 11 men killed have terrorist ties, but also that most had served in the military of the United Nations-backed and U.S.-allied Government of National Accord, or GNA, which made them mortal enemies of Al Qaeda and ISIS. “Musa Ala al-Tuni was a field commander in the armed forces of the GNA army and a member of al-Bayan al-Marsous, the division of the GNA army which fought alongside the United States to drive ISIS out of Sirte,” the community spokesperson, a former employee of the United Nations Development Program who brought the criminal complaint and whose name is being withheld to protect his safety in Libya, said in a statement attached to the criminal complaint. “The [Libyan] head of the Sirte operation said publicly that it was impossible for Musa to be associated in any way with terrorist organizations.”
Madogaz Musa Abdullah’s younger brother, Nasser, was also a member of the GNA and had been a security officer for former Prime Minister Abdullah al-Thani. Abdullah provided Reprieve with Nasser’s military identification card. “Most of the people with my brother in the car at the time were well known and respected as soldiers in the national Armed Forces,” he said in a sworn statement. And Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb, which normally memorializes the deaths of its fighters, not only failed to announce the deaths of the 11 men, but also publicly rejected any affiliation with the victims.
A memorial card for Nasser Musa Warzmat Abdullah shows his photo, name in Arabic, and his year of birth.
Photo: Courtesy of Reprieve
In early 2021, the Biden administration imposed temporary limits on drone strikes and commando raids outside of conventional war zones. The White House launched a review of such missions and began writing a new “playbook” to govern counterterrorism operations. That policy, which was reportedly slated to be released last September, has been delayed as the White House has dealt with fallout from the chaotic U.S. withdrawal from Afghanistan and a stream of revelations about past civilian casualty incidents.
In January, Defense Secretary Lloyd J. Austin directed the military to take steps to prevent civilian deaths and improve how it investigates and acknowledges civilian casualty claims. “[W]e can and will improve upon efforts to protect civilians,” Austin wrote in a two-page memorandum. “The protection of innocent civilians in the conduct of our operations remains vital to the ultimate success of our operations, and as a significant strategic and moral imperative.”
PAX’s Garlasco expressed cautious optimism regarding the proposed reforms. “I am cautious because we have been burned in the past by unfulfilled promises,” he told The Intercept. “I am optimistic because I have been part of an NGO consortium engaging the Pentagon on the new policy and I am hopeful they will take on our recommendations.”
The end of the U.S. war in Afghanistan and Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, he said, offered the U.S. an opportunity. “After 20 years of war and countless civilian deaths, I hope this time is different and I hope the U.S. will become a champion of the protection of civilians,” he explained. “We owe it to the countless dead civilians of the past two decades to change how we wage war. Russia is showing us how not to do it. Now it is time for the U.S. to lead.”
With American courts effectively closed to victims and survivors of errant U.S. airstrikes, family members are seeking accountability in Europe. Last year, the nephew of a drone strike victim filed a complaint with Germany’s highest court regarding the role of a U.S. military base in Ramstein, Germany, in the drone war in Yemen. While that legal action seeks to alter policy going forward, Friday’s criminal complaint addresses whether Chiriatti, then the commander of Italy’s Sigonella air base, fulfilled his duty to prevent U.S. military operations contrary to Italian law, or those that clearly endanger life.
When Abdullah received a call that Nasser had been killed, he was stunned. He drove for hours to reach the wreckage of the cars. They were destroyed, and the bodies were burned beyond recognition. “What I saw was so terrible, I can’t even describe it,” he said.
“What communities in Yemen and Libya are also saying to European governments is that you’re also responsible if you facilitate the drone program.”
“This community is saying to the Italian government and the American government that enough is enough. They’re calling it what it is. Under the Italian domestic code, this strike amounts to murder,” said Reprieve’s Jennifer Gibson. “But what communities in Yemen and Libya are also saying to European governments is that you’re also responsible if you facilitate the drone program. If Ramstein can only carry out lawful strikes, there are no more strikes in Yemen. If the drones can’t launch from Sigonella, they don’t hit this community in Ubari.”
While AFRICOM is confident that the 11 men it killed near Al Uwaynat were “terrorists,” Cahalan, the spokesperson, said that if presented with new or additional information, the command “would reassess our findings.”
Abdullah wants more than that. “We ask the American people to stand against AFRICOM killing us,” he said.
He wants Nasser’s name cleared. “When they accuse you of being a terrorist and kill you for it, they take away your dignity. The person closest to my heart was accused of terrorism, but he was innocent. We want our dignity restored,” he told The Intercept. “We want justice.”
The post U.S. Airstrike Killed 11 Libyan Civilians and Allies, Human Rights Groups Say appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
ANALYSIS: By Sarah Kendall, The University of Queensland
This week, the Parliamentary Joint Committee on Intelligence and Security released its much anticipated report on national security threats affecting the higher education and research sector.
The 171-page report found the sector is a target for foreign powers using “the full set of tools” against Australia, which can undermine our sovereignty and threaten academic freedom.
It made 27 recommendations to “harden the operating environment to deny adversaries the ability to engage in the national security risks in the sector”.
The committee’s recommendations, when correctly implemented, will go a long way towards combating the threat of espionage and foreign interference. But they are not enough to protect academic freedom.
This is because the laws that make espionage and foreign interference a crime could capture legitimate research endeavours.
National security risks to higher education and research
The joint committee found there are several national security threats to the higher education and research sector. Most significant are foreign interference against students and staff, espionage and data theft.
This includes theft via talent recruitment programmes where Australian academics working on sensitive technologies are recruited to work at foreign institutions.
These threats have been occurring through cyber attacks and human means, including actors working in Australia covertly on behalf of a foreign government.
Foreign adversaries may target information on research that can be commercialised or used for national gain purposes.
The kind of information targeted is not limited to military or defence, but includes valuable technologies or information in any domain such as as agriculture, medicine, energy and manufacturing.
What did the committee recommend?
The committee stated that “awareness, acknowledgement and genuine proactive measures” are the next steps academic institutions must take to degrade the corrosive effects of these national security risks.
Of its 27 recommendations, the committee made four “headline” recommendations. These include:
New & long-awaited parliamentary report (PJCIS) on foreign interference at Australian universities. It makes strong recommendations to unis & government on ways to counter state-backed harassment & intimidation & protect students & staff. https://t.co/7I8mI52gb9 pic.twitter.com/uTlMWzDCkv
— Elaine Pearson (@PearsonElaine) March 29, 2022
Other recommendations include creation of a mechanism to allow students to anonymously report instances of foreign interference on campus and diversification of the international student population.
What about academic freedom?
Espionage makes it a crime to deal with information on behalf of, or to communicate to, a foreign principal (such as a foreign government or a person acting on their behalf). The person may also need to intend to prejudice, or be reckless in prejudicing, Australia’s national security.
In the context of the espionage and foreign interference offences, “national security” means defence of Australia.
It also means Australia’s international relations with other countries. “Prejudice” means something more than mere embarrassment.
So, an academic might intend to prejudice Australia’s national security where they engage in a research project that results in criticism of Australian military or intelligence policies or practices; or catalogues Australian government misconduct in its dealings with other countries.
Because “foreign principals” are part of the larger global audience, publication of these research results could be an espionage offence.
The academic may even have committed an offence when teaching students about this research in class (because Australia has a large proportion of international students, some of whom may be acting on behalf of foreign actors), communicating with colleagues working overseas (because foreign public universities could be “foreign principals”), or simply engaging in preliminary research (because it is an offence to do things to prepare for espionage).
Foreign interference makes it a crime to engage in covert or deceptive conduct on behalf of a foreign principal where the person intends to (or is reckless as to whether they will) influence a political or governmental process, or prejudice Australia’s national security.
The covert or deceptive nature of the conduct could be in relation to any part of the person’s conduct.
So, an academic working for a foreign public university (a “foreign principal”, even if the country is one of our allies) may inadvertently commit the crime of foreign interference where they run a research project that involves anonymous survey responses to collect information to advocate for Australian electoral law reform.
The anonymous nature of the survey may be sufficient for the academic’s conduct to be “covert”.
Because it is a crime to prepare for foreign interference, the academic may also have committed an offence by simply taking any steps towards publication of the research results (including preliminary research or writing a first draft).
The kind of research criminalised by the espionage and foreign interference offences may be important public interest research. It may also produce knowledge and ideas that are necessary for the exchange of information which underpins our liberal democracy.
Criminalising this conduct risks undermining academic freedom and eroding core democratic principles.
So, how can we protect academic freedom?
In addition to implementing the recommendations in the report, we must reform our national security crimes to protect academic freedom in Australia. While the committee acknowledged the adequacy of these crimes to mitigate the national security threats against the research sector, it did not consider the overreach of these laws.
Legitimate research endeavours could be better protected if a “national interest” defence to a charge of espionage or foreign interference were introduced. This would be similar to “public interest” defences and protect conduct done in the national interest.
“National interest” should be flexible enough so various liberal democratic values — including academic freedom, press freedom, government accountability, and protection of human rights — can be considered alongside national security.
In the absence of a federal bill of rights, such a defence would go a long way towards ensuring legitimate research is protected and academic freedom in Australia is upheld.
Sarah Kendall is a PhD candidate in law, The University of Queensland. This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.
This post was originally published on Asia Pacific Report.
As residents along Australia’s east coast were smashed by unprecedented floods, the PM was talking up the need for more submarines, missiles and other military hardware. Dave Holmes argues that the ‘national security’ spin does not work in a climate crisis.
This post was originally published on Green Left.
A soldier stands guard outside a damaged residential building in the Pozniaky neighborhood of Kyiv, Ukraine, on March 17, 2022.
Photo: Marcus Yam/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
On Wednesday, the U.S. announced a flood of new weaponry into Ukraine, including advanced anti-aircraft weaponry and small arms aimed at helping the Ukrainian government repel Russia’s invasion. The weapons will almost certainly kill more Russian service members in Ukraine, adding to the thousands who are already believed to have died in the past few weeks. The arms may also, paradoxically, serve a more humanitarian purpose: helping bring the conflict to a stalemate and putting the Ukrainian government in a stronger position to negotiate an end to the war.
Ending the war by such a negotiated outcome could also serve to reduce civilian harm in a perhaps less expected way: providing an opportunity to end the economic warfare that is already doing damage to millions of innocent Russians.
The United States and its allies have waged the economic total war against Russia since the start of the invasion, quickly making Russia the most heavily sanctioned country on Earth. This economic offensive is already inflicting harm on everyday Russians, including those opposed to Vladimir Putin’s government. Yet as effective as these sanctions are at driving Russians into poverty, it’s uncertain whether they will affect the course of the war in Ukraine. Undeterred, the Russian military is still bombarding Ukrainian cities like Kharkiv and Mariupol with artillery and airstrikes on a nightly basis.
Paired with diplomatic pressure, military aid that helps the conflict reach a stalemate could end the war sooner by making it nearly impossible for the Russian military, which is already showing signs of exhaustion, to take major urban centers and win a decisive victory. With military victory off the table, negotiations could bring a meaningful end to the war, prevent a nightmare scenario of occupation and insurgency, and — crucially, for humanitarian purposes — allow many Russia sanctions to be lifted in exchange for concessions to Ukrainian sovereignty.
There are reasons for the international community to support taking a hard line in defense of Ukraine, including by providing them weaponry. What is at stake is not just one country’s sovereignty but the already-besieged post-World War II principle that large countries cannot simply devour their neighbors or reshape their borders through armed force. The final death of that principle on the streets of Ukrainian cities will make the world a more violent place than even what we see today. It will mean a regrowth of the violent jungle that characterized Europe during the period of the world wars — but spread over the entire planet.
The current, punitive approach of targeting ordinary Russians through economic warfare is likely to be both harmful and ineffective. Tailored sanctions against oligarchs and Russian officials involved in human rights abuses during the current war are warranted, but even the harshest such economic measures will not be enough to stop a regime that has already put its political credibility at stake in conquering Ukraine. Responding to Putin’s military aggression by denying ordinary Russians access to their life savings is a cruel non sequitur that does little to help Ukrainians.
The oft-unspoken aim of the present approach of trying to immiserate Russian society is that it will stoke so much discontent that it results in regime change. Yet the Russian masses have little say over their government or their leaders, who are glad to repress any serious dissent, so fomenting bottom-up revolutionary change seems extremely unlikely. Past sanctions campaigns against countries like Iraq and Iran have never resulted in such regime collapse. Even the Cuban government is still in power after decades under economic embargo.
Instead of toppling governments, there is even reason to believe that sanctions like those now being implemented on Russia can help solidify authoritarian leaders’ hold on power: forcing their middle classes to focus more on survival than political change, while regime-connected elites hoard resources and become gatekeepers to what remains of the economy. Some leaders of sanctioned countries have even turned sanctions into a means of ideological legitimization, portraying themselves as nationalist defenders against hostile foreign powers’ economic warfare.
Then there are the calls for a more robust, direct intervention against Russia. These ideas are nonstarters. The breathless calls for a NATO-backed no-fly zone fail to acknowledge that the policy would constitute an act of war, requiring direct targeting of Russian military assets. There is also the small but real possibility of nuclear escalation, a disaster that Cold War-era military officials avoided only with great care.
A significant boost to Ukrainian firepower might allow President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s government to reach terms with Putin, spurring a negotiated end to the war short of surrender. Instead, the current balance could see something like what happened in Syria, where foreign powers provided enough weaponry to the opposition to keep it fighting but not enough to win or force a permanent stalemate. The result in Syria was that much of the country was destroyed over the course of a decade, while the Assad regime remained in power.
The current balance could see something like what happened in Syria, where foreign powers provided enough weaponry to the opposition to keep it fighting but not enough to win.
Letting the Ukrainian government fall while arming a long-term insurgency against Russian control — or even a lengthy, debilitating siege where the Ukrainians hang on, but only in pockets — could make the country permanently unstable, killing Russian conscripts and ordinary Ukrainians in huge numbers while failing to bring a return to peace. Ukraine would truly become a European version of Syria — or even Afghanistan during the war against the Soviets: the social fabric destroyed beyond repair and an incubator for far-right terrorist groups established in the wreckage.
Such an outcome would be a disaster for everyone. Putin would enrage the West by deposing or killing Zelenskyy, a liberal political leader now widely viewed as a hero for his role during the crisis, and imposing a puppet in his place. The misery of de facto occupation and insurgency in Ukraine would be accompanied by the misery that a broad sanctions regime imposed on Russians for years to come.
People visit a local bank branch with a screen showing the currency exchange rates of U.S. Dollar and Euro to Russian Ruble, on March 9, 2022 in Moscow, Russia.
Photo: Konstantin Zavrazhin/Getty Images
During the Cold War, Russia and the United States fought proxy battles all over the world that did not result in conventional war between the big powers, let alone nuclear escalation. Maintaining deconfliction hotlines and avoiding scenarios that lead to NATO and Russian troops shooting at each other directly are critically important. There is no scenario that significantly raises the risk of nuclear conflict that can be tolerated, but that doesn’t mean NATO countries are constrained from giving more serious help to Ukrainians.
It scarcely needs saying, but there are no good options today in Ukraine. Sending more arms to a country at war seems like a paradoxical way of lessening harm to innocent people. Raising our eyes beyond the short-term, however, there are reasonable grounds to believe that such a policy of bolstering the legitimate Ukrainian government could spare the lives of more people than letting the country collapse into Putin’s hands — or dooming 140 million Russian civilians to life under permanent economic siege.
A continued flow of arms is a logical step given the brutal reality of Russia’s continued attacks across Ukraine. Averting disaster may now depend on whether the Western countries can prevent the fall of Kyiv in the weeks to come. Simply put, sustainable peace in Europe will not happen without a strengthened Ukraine. There is still time to save the continent from returning to the savagery that it experienced in the 20th century. That time, however, is running out — and quickly.
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As hawkish members of both parties and the press call on President Joe Biden to pursue military involvement in Ukraine, including by implementing a “no-fly zone,” a complicated tightrope act by U.S. intelligence is receiving relatively little public attention. Current and former U.S. officials knowledgeable about the operations told The Intercept that the U.S. military has deployed extensive ISR, or intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance, assets to countries neighboring Ukraine to monitor developments within the embattled nation. The sophisticated intelligence regime requires the Biden administration to walk a fine line in which one wrong step could spell disaster: providing Ukraine with as much assistance as possible without becoming an active participant in the war and risking a direct conflict with nuclear-armed Russia. The balance relies on the assumption that Russia will recognize and respect the United States’s compliance with its self-imposed rules.
The assets are largely aircraft tasked with flying along the borders between Ukraine and its NATO-allied neighbors, which must be careful not to cross into Ukrainian airspace. Capable of peering deep inside the country, the aircraft glean intelligence that is then passed onto the Ukrainians, according to two former U.S. officials knowledgeable about current operations. The aircraft include MQ-9 “Reaper” drones, Boeing RC-135 “Rivet Joints,” and Boeing E-3 Sentry “AWACS,” which have been used to eavesdrop on communications and collect imagery intelligence, according to one of the former officials, a retired CIA officer. A current U.S. Army signals intelligence officer said that the U.S. had deployed many of the ISR assets to neighboring countries in February, following Russia’s massive troop buildup along the Ukrainian border. Open-source flight data shows the same models of aircraft positioned over Poland, Romania, and the Black Sea.
Crossing into Ukrainian airspace could turn the United States into a direct combatant in the conflict, heightening the risk of a nuclear confrontation. The same risk surrounds the provision of certain kinds of intelligence. According to the former CIA official, the United States is only providing “finished” intelligence, meaning that it has already been processed by the U.S., as opposed to “raw” intelligence, like real-time video feeds or communications intercepts.
“The U.S. is using a variety of drone and fixed-wing collection assets to obtain tactical information of the battlefield,” the official said, adding that the intelligence is then passed on to the Ukrainians through a liaison officer. “But the U.S. is not providing real-time intelligence that would normally be provided to U.S. forces involved on the ground.”
But these distinctions are set on the United States’s own terms. And despite best efforts, there are always risks of accidents in which intelligence operations can run afoul of red lines. On Sunday, a Russian drone briefly crossed into Poland, a NATO member, leading to a warning from the alliance that it could respond with force — an alarming threat of direct confrontation with Russia. The drone was conducting the same kind of surveillance operations as the United States’s ISR aircraft do just along Ukraine’s borders.
Capable of peering deep inside the country, the aircraft glean intelligence that is then passed onto the Ukrainians, according to two former U.S. officials knowledgeable about current operations.
While the Biden administration tries to support Ukraine without allowing the United States to become an active belligerent itself, Russia may not see it this way. Russian Deputy Foreign Minister Sergei Ryabkov has already warned that the military will consider weapon shipments to Ukraine as “legitimate targets.” On Sunday, Russia launched a deadly airstrike on a Ukrainian military facility just 15 miles from the Polish border, killing at least 35 and injuring 134 people, per Lviv officials. The Russian government called the facility — where NATO has trained Ukrainian forces and where U.S. troops had been stationed up until a few weeks ago — a “training center for foreign mercenaries” and a storage center for foreign weapons shipments.
In addition to the intelligence support, the U.S. and NATO are also providing substantial arms assistance, having reportedly sent Kyiv over 17,000 anti-tank weapons in less than a week. On Wednesday, Congress approved a bill for $13.6 billion in emergency assistance for Ukraine, containing both security and humanitarian aid. Biden announced the same day that the U.S. is sending $800 million in more weapons to Ukraine, including anti-aircraft systems, anti-armor systems, small arms, machine guns, shotguns, grenade launchers, and drones.
Pallets of ammunition, weapons, and other equipment bound for Ukraine wait to be loaded at Dover Air Force Base in Delaware on Feb. 28, 2022.
Photo: Tech. Sgt. J.D. Strong II/U.S. Air Force
An MQ-9 drone pilot with the U.S. military also told The Intercept that Reapers had been deployed to the region. He said the U.S. was using MQ-9 services leased from private contractors before withdrawing them and replacing with government assets, which he said have been slower to stand up. NBC News reported Tuesday that the administration is also considering sending small kamikaze drones called Switchblades.
The U.S. has particular experience with this type of indirect weapons and intelligence assistance against Russia, having previously sent arms to Syrian rebels combating the Russian-backed regime of President Bashar al-Assad. Although Biden has called for an end to Saudi Arabia’s U.S.-backed war in Yemen, the Defense Department also gives intelligence and weapons support to the Saudi regime, which is engaged in a brutal offensive that has resulted in the world’s worst humanitarian crisis.
The United States amplifies data its intelligence can confirm, while discrediting what it cannot validate, in order to support partners in the region without being considered an active combatant, a retired U.S. Air Force general with experience leading operations in the Middle East told The Intercept. If the U.S. has information that a production facility also serves as a prison, for example, it will tell its partner that the target has other uses to be considered before attacking. (Two other retired military officers confirmed that such information-sharing functions this way.)
The United States would not, the retired general explained, share its sources and methods. The president and defense secretary decide how much collaboration to green light, and that intent is trickled down through the combatant commanders — in the context of Ukraine, the head of U.S. European Command.
Beyond these measures, the United States’s intelligence involvement in Ukraine has also included a secret CIA training program, Yahoo News reported on Wednesday. Under the program, following Russia’s annexation of Ukraine’s Crimea peninsula in 2014, a small group of CIA paramilitary officers were sent into the country to train the Ukrainians in the use of Javelin anti-tank missiles, sniper techniques, and covert communications. The report noted that the Biden administration had since ended the program, following concerns that its authorities might be too broad, and pulled all CIA personnel out of Ukraine last month under the threat of a Russian invasion. Along similar lines, The Intercept reported last week that shortly after Biden’s inauguration, his CIA Director William Burns sought to temporarily halt certain covert operations related to Russia that U.S. officials considered risky or provocative.
House Armed Services Committee Chair Adam Smith, D-Wash., has stressed that it is essential that the U.S. does not provide “real-time targeting” intelligence to Ukraine. “We have to help Ukraine in every way we can without widening the war and stumbling into World War III,” he said Wednesday on CNN.
“As we stand with the Ukrainian people, we must avoid the knee-jerk calls to make this conflict even worse,” Rep. Ilhan Omar, D-Minn., a member of the House Foreign Affairs Committee, said on the House floor Thursday. Condemning calls for a no-fly zone and other military escalation, she warned that “even in the madness of the Cold War, leaders around the world understood that nuclear war would mean the annihilation of humanity. There are voices now that are shockingly casual about the risk of nuclear war. I’m asking the American people: Do not believe them. ”
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Dawlat is 14 but has the face of an old woman. Her hip bones stick out like tree branches. For the past three years, Dawlat’s mother has tried every clinic in Yemen’s central Dhamar province to treat her daughter’s severe acute malnutrition. Even the local witch doctor gave up when he saw Dawlat’s mother, Fakiha Naji, carrying the wasting girl in her arms. He told Naji to bring her back once Dawlat’s swollen legs recovered so he could try his magic on her skeletal body.
Last fall, Dawlat developed severe vomiting and diarrhea. Finally, at midnight on December 1, Naji brought her to Al-Sabeen hospital in Sanaa. In the malnutrition ward, the tiny girl curled up on her right side with her knees bent as nurses hooked her to an IV delivering a rehydration solution. The moment she came out of the coma, she wriggled, cried, and grunted: “I’m starving.” She weighed 44 pounds, as much as a normal 5-year-old.
Since 2015, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, backed by the United States, have waged a relentless war against their impoverished neighbor Yemen in a bid to reinstate the pro-Saudi government toppled by a popular uprising. The unrest gave way to an armed rebellion led by the Houthis, which Riyadh accuses of being an Iranian proxy group. The United Nations has described Yemen as the world’s largest humanitarian catastrophe. The World Food Program estimates that half of all the country’s children under 5, about 2.3 million kids, are at risk of acute malnutrition, with 400,000 at risk of dying if they don’t receive treatment, according to a spokesperson for the organization who asked not to be named because even the U.N. fears the consequences of criticizing Saudi Arabia.
Since President Barack Obama, successive American administrations have given Saudi Arabia crucial support to sustain its war in Yemen. Joe Biden promised to change that. On the campaign trail, he vowed to stop the conflict and end “Donald Trump’s ‘blank check’ for Saudi Arabia’s human rights abuses at home and abroad.”
“This war has to end,” Biden said in his first address as president. Noting that the conflict had “created a humanitarian and strategic catastrophe,” he pledged to halt all American support for “offensive operations” in Yemen, including relevant arms sales. Progressives welcomed the announcement, and the new administration basked in the glow of positive press coverage. However, just over a year later, Yemen’s humanitarian crisis is worse by many accounts than when Trump was president.
Photo: Shuaib Almosawa
In the last year, Saudi Arabia tightened a devastating fuel blockade that Riyadh has long used as a war tactic. As Biden was entering the White House, commercial fuel imports to Yemen ground to a halt, with no fuel entering Yemen’s Hodeidah port for 52 days from January 28 to March 21, 2021, according to a report from the U.N. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. “This is an alarming development, considering that more than half of Yemen’s commercial fuel imports had been coming through Al Hodeidah in recent years,” the report noted, referring to the port, which is administered by the Houthi-dominated government and through which 70 percent of Yemen’s imports enter the country. The agency called the shutoff “a precedent not seen since the beginning of the conflict in 2015.”
On February 4, 2021, Biden appointed Tim Lenderking as a special envoy to Yemen. Soon afterward, Secretary of State Antony Blinken removed the Houthis from a terror list his predecessor, Mike Pompeo, had issued in his final days, which the United Nations and many aid groups had warned would severely impact the roughly 24 million Yemenis who live in Houthi-held territory. The Biden administration made clear that lifting the designation was mainly to “alleviate or at least not worsen the suffering of the Yemeni civilians who live under Houthi control.”
It didn’t work out that way. In a field visit to Yemen in March of last year, World Food Program Executive Director David Beasley sounded the alarm, saying that the dire effects of the fuel shortage included widespread power outages at hospitals. “And now, to add to all their misery, the innocent people of Yemen have to deal with a fuel blockade,” he said. “The people of Yemen deserve our help. That blockade must be lifted, as a humanitarian act. Otherwise millions more will spiral into crisis.”
Later that month, the Houthis rejected a partial ceasefire proposal offered by Saudi Arabia, asking instead for a complete halt to the blockade and the air campaign.
The intervening months brought no relief. Food prices rose in Houthi-controlled areas, according to Famine Early Warning Systems, a food security warning system created by the U.S. Agency for International Development. Goods imports through the Houthi-held north of Yemen must undergo a lengthy, U.N.-administered inspection process known as the United Nations Verification and Inspection Mechanism to check shipments for possible arms smuggling. But even after the UNVIM clears food and fuel shipments, the Saudi-led coalition controls whether and when these goods can reach Yemen. Sanaa-based Yemen Petroleum Company, which buys fuel for both the private sector and public use, says it incurs charges of $20,000 per day for delays in clearance caused by the Saudi-led coalition, which it passes on to consumers.
In 2020, such charges totaled more than $91 million, said Essam al-Mutawakil, a YPC spokesperson. Last year the charges were lower, nearly $54 million, which signals a sharp drop in the amount of fuel coming into the country, al-Mutawakil said. “Trump was an explicit and clear enemy who after all would permit entry of fuel products,” al-Mutawakil told The Intercept in a phone interview. “Biden’s administration is lying and depends on a publicity stunt.”
Lenderking didn’t respond to The Intercept’s request to be interviewed for this story. A State Department spokesperson said in December that the U.S. had raised the blockade issue with Yemen’s Saudi-backed government in exile, noting “progress” in fuel imports cleared by the Yemeni government. There was a “surge in fuel imports through southern ports, much of which ends up in Northern Yemen. However, much more is needed,” the spokesperson said. Both the State Department and Lenderking have toed the Saudi line that fuel is being confiscated by the Houthis for use in their war effort. “A more durable solution is needed that will encourage more fuel ships to come to Hodeidah and address Houthi price manipulation, stockpiling, and profiteering on the black market of fuel prices,” the State Department spokesperson said.
But U.N. figures suggest that the notion of Houthi interference is largely a red herring. Fuel imports through the Hodeidah port from January to October 2021 declined by 70 percent compared with the same period in 2020, according to a November World Food Program update. Fuel imports allowed in by Saudi Arabia per month average 45,000 metric tons, less than one-tenth of the country’s pre-conflict needs, which the World Bank has estimated at 544,000 metric tons.
Biden’s insistence on reaching a broader resolution before addressing the fuel shortage looks increasingly like a fig leaf for his administration’s support for Saudi Arabia.
Meanwhile, Biden’s insistence on reaching a broader resolution to the conflict instead of first addressing the fuel shortage looks increasingly like a fig leaf for his administration’s support for Saudi Arabia and its allies. Shortly after he was appointed, Lenderking said that ending the blockade wouldn’t work if done on its own, but only as part of a broader truce followed by negotiations between the warring parties, a much more complicated and difficult task. “In fact, as long as the war continues, the humanitarian crisis will continue to get worse,” Lenderking told a Senate Foreign Relations subcommittee last April. “There are no quick fixes. Only through a durable end to the conflict can we begin to reverse this crisis.”
Progressives in Congress pushed for a different approach. Rep. Ro Khanna, along with 78 other House members, called on Biden to end the blockade “independently of negotiations,” and Sen. Elizabeth Warren demanded that “Saudi Arabia immediately and unconditionally stop the use of blockade tactics.” Khanna described Biden’s promise to end U.S. support for the war in Yemen as historic but said “the job isn’t done,” noting continued U.S. support for Saudi Arabia. “Ending this support is key to both ending U.S. complicity in the war and using the best leverage we have to push the Saudis to lift the blockade on Yemen that is pushing countless Yemenis closer to starvation,” Khanna told The Intercept last fall.
Since December, the Saudi-led coalition has escalated air attacks on Yemen’s capital after a long lull, targeting residential areas and Sanaa International Airport, which is under Houthi control, and destroying mechanics’ shops and key bridges; another coalition strike landed near a detention facility for prisoners of war, which Saudi Arabia later misidentified as a drone manufacturing plant. Coalition strikes hit the airport’s customs department, a Yemen Airways hangar, a Covid-19 quarantine building, and an aviation training institute. On January 18, two Saudi strikes hit houses north of Sanaa, killing 14 and wounding eight, nearly half of whom were women and children. The attack came in apparent retaliation for Houthi attacks on UAE oil facilities and airports in Abu Dhabi and Dubai.
On the night of January 21 in Saada province, coalition airstrikes struck a remand prison housing over 1,000 people, including African migrants, killing 91 and wounding 236. The U.N. and other aid groups denounced the attack and called for an investigation. The Saudi coalition’s spokesperson said that the facility wasn’t on the no-target list, blaming the Houthis for failing to notify aid groups that coordinate the locations of such sites. The coalition has, however, targeted a number of detention facilities despite their being on the no-target list. Blinken, while noting that the strike was “of great concern for the United States,” stopped short of directly condemning it, seeming to equate it with a “Houthi attack on civilians in Abu Dhabi that also resulted in several casualties.”
Since March 2015, the Saudi coalition has targeted detention facilities across Yemen, killing 417 prisoners and wounding 484.
Since March 2015, the Saudi coalition has targeted detention facilities across Yemen, killing 417 prisoners and wounding 484, according to the Legal Center for Rights and Development, a Sanaa-based rights group that documents coalition casualties and has identified weapons fragments from U.S. and British arms manufacturers. Among the dead detainees were 144 Saudi-allied prisoners of war, most of whom had been defending Saudi Arabia’s border areas with Yemen, according to LCRD data shared with The Intercept. The International Committee of the Red Cross noted that it had visited one of the prisons before it was targeted in a 2019 air attack, meaning that the coalition was already aware of the facility’s coordinates and should have avoided hitting it.
The coalition claimed that the airport and Hodeidah port are launching pads for missile and drone attacks against the kingdom. Coalition spokesperson Turki al-Maliki justified bombing the Sanaa airport, saying that the Houthis have misused its special status under international humanitarian law as civilian infrastructure and that the strikes were lawful. Yemen’s aviation authority, however, denounced the coalition’s accusation as false, saying that Saudi Arabia sought to hinder the operations of aid agencies, which are the only entities using the airport. After the collapse of peace talks in August 2016, the coalition banned commercial flights from using the airport. In November 2017, the coalition bombed the airport’s navigation system.
As for the Hodeidah port, through which the vast majority of Yemen’s imports enter the country, the coalition said that it was being used to stockpile and assemble “Iranian” ballistic missiles. In January, al-Maliki held a press conference at which he showed what he claimed was “exclusive” footage of purported missiles inside a hangar at the port. There was no audio, and al-Maliki said he could not disclose the exact location where the video had been shot. It was later revealed that the footage was from a 2009 American movie and that the location al-Maliki refused to disclose appeared to be in Iraq.
The scandal went viral across social media, and al-Maliki later acknowledged the error, saying the clip had been “passed to us by mistake by some of [our] sources.” He called it a “marginal mistake” and said it did not negate the fact that the port and other civilian areas were being used by the Houthis for military purposes. In a field visit, the U.N. team in charge of monitoring the Hodeidah ports noted that they are “a crucial lifeline for millions of Yemeni people.”
The fuel shortage, meanwhile, reached a horrifying level this winter as the coalition further tightened its blockade. Long lines of cars have queued at official fuel stations across northern Yemen, and on March 1, drone footage showed a line of cars more than 2.2 miles long at the main YPC station in Sanaa. Each vehicle is only allowed five gallons at a cost of $4 per gallon at one of two YPC-run stations, and can only refuel every four days until the stations run out. The other stations, which get their fuel from the south, charge $7 per gallon. Black market fuel, which had largely vanished in recent months, is back, selling at $13 per gallon. The price of black market cooking gas, which most taxi drivers use, has also jumped from $4 to $8 per gallon since January, but there has been none to buy for the last six months, forcing drivers to rely on black market fuel. Beginning March 3, the cost of bus fare reached its highest rate since the war started, reflecting the rising costs of cooking gas.
Drone footage shows a line of cars more than two miles long waiting to pump gas at the main YPC station in Sanaa, Yemen, on March 1, 2022.
Still: Courtesy of the Yemen Petroleum Company
YPC distributes household cooking gas for $2 a gallon, about a dollar more than it cost late last year. On March 1, the UNVIM issued a clearance certificate to a ship called Caesar, carrying 32,000 metric tons of fuel, to dock at the port in Hodeidah. But as in so many other cases, the Saudi-led coalition has stopped and held the Caesar in the Gulf of Aden, as shown by MarineTraffic, an online tracking service. The clearance certificate the UNVIM issued March 1 estimated that Caesar would arrive at its destination March 2. Yemenis are still waiting.
The Biden administration has been eager to condemn Houthi attacks on Saudi Arabia and the UAE, which are in retaliation for the blockade and often result in no casualties. When Biden was asked in January if he would consider a UAE request that the U.S. redesignate the Houthis as a terror group, he said the move was “under consideration.”
On January 24, the Houthis fired two missiles at Al Dhafra Air Base in Abu Dhabi, where about 2,000 U.S. troops and civilians are stationed. The U.S. military repelled the attacks with a missile defense system and there were no casualties. In response, U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin announced that he would send the USS Cole to “conduct a joint patrol with the UAE Navy and a port call to Abu Dhabi” and deploy fighter jets “to assist the UAE against the current threat and as a clear signal that the United States stands with the UAE as a long-standing strategic partner.”
Biden had noted that ending the war in Yemen would require “the two parties to be involved to do it. And it’s going to be very difficult.” Brett McGurk, Biden’s point person on the Middle East, went further in a January 27 event hosted by the Carnegie Endowment: “It takes two to get to a ceasefire and end the war. And right now, the onus is on the Houthis.”
Photo: Essa Ahmed/AFP via Getty Images
Bruce Riedel, a senior fellow at the Brookings Institution, called the Saudi blockade of Yemen the most “offensive action” the Saudis engage in.
“The blockade is an act of war against the Yemeni people and is directly responsible for the massive humanitarian catastrophe in Yemen, especially the malnutrition of children,” said Riedel, who served as a CIA analyst and adviser on Middle East issues to four U.S. presidents until his retirement in 2006. Biden has “broken his promise to make peace in Yemen a top priority,” he said, adding that the blockade “should be investigated as a war crime.”
“The Saudis are bogged down in an expensive quagmire,” Riedel told The Intercept. “The Congress needs to step in and cut off all military assistance to Riyadh.”
Until that happens, more Yemenis will be pushed closer to famine. Acute malnutrition has increased by 284 percent among children and by 374 percent among pregnant women since October 2020, according to U.N. figures.
Last month, the World Food Program’s Beasley was back in Yemen, and noted that “it is worse than anyone can possibly imagine.”
“Yemen has come full circle since 2018 when we had to fight our way back from the brink of famine, but the risk today is more real than ever,” he said at the end of a two-day visit to the Sanaa, Aden, and Amran governorates. “And just when you think it can’t get any worse, the world wakes up to a conflict in Ukraine that is likely to cause economic deterioration around the world, especially for countries like Yemen, dependent on wheat imports from Ukraine and Russia. Prices will go up, compounding an already terrible situation.”
Fakiha Naji, Dawlat’s mother, says the loss of livelihood and rising food prices are “strangling” her daughter and the rest of the family. They subsist on yogurt and beans and usually skip dinner. When there’s no food, she said, “we can do nothing but wait.”
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Left: A Bosnian child leaves his father on Nov. 11, 1992, in Sarajevo. Right: A man says goodbye to his son and his wife on a train to Lviv at the Kyiv station, Ukraine, on March 3, 2022.
Photos: Patrick Baz/Getty Images, Emilio Morenatti/AP
This sounds like Vladimir Putin in 2022, but it’s Slobodan Milošević in 1992, when military forces under the Serbian leader’s control went on a genocidal rampage in Bosnia. The war dragged on for years and involved sieges of Sarajevo and other cities, including Srebrenica. Milošević claimed Bosnia was an artificial country that didn’t deserve to exist — the kind of lie that Putin has deployed against Ukraine. Serbs shelled apartment buildings and attacked civilians as they tried to flee — just as the Russian army is now doing in Ukraine. You can look at a picture of Sarajevo in 1992 and a picture of Kyiv in 2022 and not know which is which.
There’s a lot of guessing about what Putin will be able to achieve in Ukraine and whether he’ll survive in power, now that his opening gambit has failed. But there has been surprisingly little reference to the precedent of Miloševic and Bosnia. It’s as though what happened in Bosnia is not regarded as an authentic chapter of Europe’s history — because most of the war’s 100,000 victims were Muslim, and Muslims aren’t considered fully European. As the historian Edin Hajdarpašić noted last week: “If 1990s Bosnia is taught, it is in courses on genocide & violence, but rarely as part of European history courses.” It’s an omission that does more than reveal how prejudice tilts our choices about which history to highlight and which history to ignore; it deprives us of a greater understanding of what may lie ahead.
There are two sides to the lessons from Belgrade and Sarajevo. The first is that a leader who embarks on a violently nihilist path can remain in power far longer than you might expect. There is speculation about a possible coup in Moscow, but Milošević stayed in office throughout the war, which ended after four years, and wasn’t ousted until late in 2000 when he tried to rig an election that he lost. The second lesson is that an underdog fighting for survival can stave off, though with immense loss of life, a far larger force that lacks its motivation. The Bosnian Army was thrown together after the Serb onslaught began and persevered, despite an unconscionable arms embargo by the United Nations (imposed against all parties but hurting only the Bosnian side, because Serbs had plenty of weapons of their own).
It goes without saying — so of course I feel obliged to say it — that what happened a generation ago in the Balkans is not predictive of what will happen in Ukraine and Russia. The differences are considerable. In many ways, what we’re seeing in Ukraine is a speed-chess version of the wars in Bosnia, Chechnya, and Syria, with the pieces on the board now including nuclear weapons. But in addition to covering the war in Bosnia, I studied Russian at Leningrad State University back in the Soviet era and occasionally reported from the USSR during its collapse and afterward, including a brief stint in Ukraine when it became independent (a story I wrote in 1991 was headlined “Ukrainians Fear Border Disputes Could Bring Conflict With Russia”). What is happening today is uncanny, an old tune played in a new key with a faster tempo and higher stakes.
What is Putin’s endgame?
Michael McFaul, a former U.S. ambassador to Russia and prominent commentator on the war, has given voice to a consensus view. “Putin has no endgame,” he wrote last week. “Even if he takes Kyiv, then what? Ukrainians will never submit to him. Never.” It’s true that Ukrainians have amply demonstrated they will not give up, but in the context of the Milošević experience, McFaul’s assessment seems unimaginative.
Putin is a true believer in the idea of a greater Russia: He genuinely would like to return Russia to what he regards as its lost glory. Milošević’s embrace of Serbian nationalism was different. He was opportunistic from the start; nationalism was just a vehicle to take him to power and keep him there. With Kyiv demonstrating that it will not become Russia’s property, Putin is moving toward Milošević’s cynical position. As his army appears to move slowly, with large amounts of equipment abandoned and significant numbers of soldiers captured or killed, we’re already hearing less talk of national glory and territorial expansion. Staying in power — doing whatever is necessary to stay there — is the new endgame. The more clearly we understand that, the better we can understand what Putin’s tactics will be in the time ahead.
For context, let me take you back in time to the noisy dining room of the Serbian Parliament in Belgrade during the Milošević era. It was late in 1992, when the war and genocide in Bosnia were searingly hot. Serbia was a strange place. It wasn’t a full dictatorship; there were some independent media outlets. If you didn’t like Milošević, you could say so, within limits. The dining room was filled with political hacks and war criminals, as well as a handful of dejected reformers. One of them recognized me. He had been my interpreter a year earlier, but now he was a senior functionary in the federal Yugoslav government, a powerless entity that was nominally separate from Milošević’s Serbian government, where all power resided. Laszlo sat down at my table and laughed when I remarked that Milošević would not like the latest peace proposal because it wouldn’t give him the land he sought for a greater Serbia.
“Don’t ask what strategy is best for achieving a greater Serbia, or what strategy is best for the welfare of the Serbs,” Laszlo told me. “Ask what strategy will keep Milošević in power, and that’s the one he will follow. All of these things that he talks about, like nationalism and protecting Serbs, are just tools that he uses to stay in power. He doesn’t care about them at all. He doesn’t care about anyone at all. He cares only about staying in power.”
The pursuit of violence was the best strategy for staying in power.
The pursuit of violence was the best strategy for staying in power. War allowed Milošević to drape his regime in the national flag and blame everything — the sanctions and corruption and penury and hyperinflation — on the supposed threats Serbs faced from Bosnia’s Muslims and America’s imperialism. Those excuses eventually ran out of steam, but Milošević survived longer than expected by combining the rhetoric of national defiance with the cowardly violence of soldiers sitting in the hills and bombing civilians in the valleys below. Peace, when it finally came, was a tactic he used to maintain his rule. It was not his goal.
What does this tell us about Putin? It’s important to note, again, that it’s impossible for any of us to know what Putin will do or what’s going on in his head. But precedents are instructive.
Ben Judah, an Atlantic Council fellow who wrote a book about Putin, noted the other day that the structure of power in Russia is a “personalistic dictatorship.” Putin has been in charge for more than two decades and is surrounded by cowering “yes” men; just watch the videos of his meetings with his national security council, his generals, and top business executives. In a similar vein, when I interviewed Milošević in 1993, there was nobody else in his spacious office: no bodyguard, no note-taker, no media adviser. He ruled alone. The interests of men like Milošević and Putin come before all else. “He could either suddenly declare ‘the anti-terror operation was a success’ or escalate dramatically,” Judah wrote on Twitter, of Putin. “Depending on what he thinks is in it for him, he’s capable of ditching the offensive or ditching the entire economy as we’ve known it in massive escalation.”
The rationale for continued warfare is that it binds more Russians to Putin than would come from an acknowledgment of his blunder and withdrawal of his forces. Retreat, even if packaged as a victory by wringing a concession or two out of the Ukrainians, could wind up being a larger blow to his hold on power. The math could easily change, with Putin calculating that retreat would better serve his interests; this could happen anytime. But until then, the violence will carry on. The war crimes that horrify so many of us are unlikely to factor into his calculations, because he has done this before, in Chechnya as well as Syria, with no fallout at home. Witness, for instance, the news reports in which ordinary Russians deny their forces are bombing cities in Ukraine despite being shown evidence of it. Yes, these are early days, but denialism of this sort is not unusual years into wars and afterward too. It helps to remember that in the 1990s, only a small number of Serbs believed their forces in Bosnia were guilty of war crimes despite an inundation of proof. And they still feel that way. Despite an international tribunal ruling in multiple cases that Bosnian Serbs committed genocide, Serbia’s current president is none other than Alexander Vučić, a minister in Milošević’s last government.
AFP via Getty Images
There is good news for Ukraine from Bosnia, and it has to do with weapons.
The Bosnia war began after a majority of voters cast their ballots in favor of independence from Serb-dominated Yugoslavia. The United Nations had placed an arms embargo on Yugoslavia, using the rationale that more weapons would mean more fighting as the country broke up. In fact, the Serbs had plenty of weapons because they controlled the Yugoslav National Army and had open borders with the rest of the world to acquire whatever they did not already possess. The Bosnian government, on the other hand, had no weapons at the start and limited means to acquire them even illicitly, because it was mostly encircled by its Serb enemy and faced its off-and-on Croat allies elsewhere. The embargo meant only that the Serbs, who started the war, would never lose their advantage in armaments. At the end of one of my winter reporting trips to Sarajevo, I left my boots with my interpreter because his brother was on the snowy front lines in sneakers.
The Bosnian Army hung on and prevented Serb forces from overrunning Sarajevo and other chunks of the country that had not been conquered in the first months of the war, when the Serbs made most of their gains. This showed what can be achieved by a motivated army even if it is outmatched in firepower. Serb fighters were cowardly: At the war’s outset, they attacked towns that had no defenses, shooting people at will, and once the front lines were set, they squatted in the hills and shot at civilians from a distance. I visited Serb soldiers in their mountain bunkers; they were glad to kill but afraid to put their lives on the line. When they finally starved and broke Srebrenica in 1995, they executed more than 8,000 men and boys.
The parallel to Ukraine is startling, with a crucial difference.
Ukrainians are defending their homes and their independence. Russian soldiers do not really know what they are fighting for.
The Russian Army is massive compared to Ukraine’s, which is why Putin was so confident of prevailing in a matter of days, just as Milošević did not anticipate fighting for years in Bosnia (he had planned to quickly carve up Bosnia between Serbia and Croatia). But the Ukrainians, like the Bosnian forces, are defending their homes and their independence. Russian soldiers do not really know what they are fighting for; many were reportedly not even told they would be invading Ukraine. Just as lackluster Serb forces resorted to indiscriminate fire against civilian targets, the Russians are falling back on that dismal strategy in Ukraine.
But here is a key distinction: While the Bosnian Army was starved of weapons due to the U.N. embargo, Ukraine has been preparing for this war since Russia seized Crimea in 2014; it has been getting support in this effort from the U.S. and its NATO allies. More to the point, it is now on the receiving end of a massive infusion of weapons in the billions of dollars and apparently growing by the day. I don’t think interpreters in Kyiv are finding it necessary to solicit donations of winter boots for their front-line siblings.
It was a journalist from Bosnia who made this comparative point the other day. “Don’t underestimate Ukraine,” Melina Borčak wrote on Twitter. “Bosnia was independent, but didn’t have an army when it was attacked. … There was an arms embargo, so we couldn’t even buy a handful of guns. Everyone thought, we will bleed out fast. We resisted for 4 YEARS.”
The resistance came at a terrible cost. Not just the 100,000 deaths, but the physical and psychological scars that millions of survivors carry to this day, as well as internal borders that divide Bosnia still, thanks to a peace treaty, negotiated at a U.S. military base, that gave half the country to the genocidal Serbs. Let us hope, this time, that the U.S. and its allies conduct themselves in a manner that helps Ukraine arrive at a fairer and quicker endgame of its own.
The post Putin’s Endgame Is Not a Mystery. It’s Regime Survival. appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
Despite staging a massive military buildup on his country’s border with Ukraine for nearly a year, Russian President Vladimir Putin did not make a final decision to invade until just before he launched the attack in February, according to senior current and former U.S. intelligence officials.
In December, the CIA issued classified reports concluding that Putin hadn’t yet committed to an invasion, according to the current and former officials. In January, even as the Russian military was starting to take the logistical steps necessary to move its troops into Ukraine, U.S. intelligence again issued classified reporting maintaining that Putin had still not resolved to actually launch an attack, the officials said. “The CIA was saying through January that Putin had not made a decision to invade, but he was putting in place pieces for an invasion,” said a senior U.S. intelligence official, who asked not to be identified in order to discuss classified matters. “I think Putin was still keeping his options open.”
It wasn’t until February that the agency and the rest of the U.S. intelligence community became convinced that Putin would invade, the senior official added. With few other options available at the last minute to try to stop Putin, President Joe Biden took the unusual step of making the intelligence public, in what amounted to a form of information warfare against the Russian leader. He also warned that Putin was planning to try to fabricate a pretext for invasion, including by making false claims that Ukrainian forces had attacked civilians in the Donbas region of eastern Ukraine, which is controlled by pro-Russian separatists. The preemptive use of intelligence by Biden revealed “a new understanding … that the information space may be among the most consequential terrain Putin is contesting,” observed Jessica Brandt of the Brookings Institution.
Biden’s warning on February 18 that the invasion would happen within the week turned out to be accurate. In the early hours of February 24, Russian troops moved south into Ukraine from Belarus and across Russia’s borders into Kharkiv, the Donbas region, and Crimea, which Russia annexed in 2014.
The intelligence community’s assessment that Putin waited until almost the last minute to decide to start a war with Ukraine, which has not been previously reported, is significant because it could help explain how ill-prepared and uncoordinated the Russian military has appeared since it invaded. There have been widespread reports that Putin kept many Russian leaders out of the loop, that they were stunned by his decision to attack, and that the Russian government was not fully ready for war. “I was shocked because for a long time, I thought that a military operation was not feasible. It was not plausible,” Andrey Kortunov, a member of a Kremlin panel of foreign policy advisers, told Britain’s Sky News on March 2. Kortunov said that he and other foreign policy advisers had been sidelined by Putin.
The Russian president has instead surrounded himself with a small circle of like-minded military and intelligence officials who do his bidding. This has prompted outside experts to describe the current Russian government as being run by a siloviki, or a small cadre of senior people with security, intelligence, and military backgrounds. It means that an increasingly isolated Putin made the decision to invade largely by himself. But that isolation makes it difficult to control a sprawling enterprise like a major war.
It’s possible that Putin made his decision earlier than U.S. intelligence concluded that he did. Current intelligence officials who described the CIA’s reporting on Putin’s intentions refused to identify the specific intelligence the agency used to determine when he decided to invade, making it difficult to judge the quality of the assessments. For example, whether U.S. intelligence was able to determine Putin’s plans because it gained access to his personal communications — thus giving the U.S. real-time information about his thinking — remains a closely guarded secret.
The Russian president has surrounded himself with a small circle of like-minded military and intelligence officials who do his bidding.
Several former intelligence officials said they doubt that the U.S. has access to Putin’s personal communications and instead believe it is more likely that the U.S. relied in part on intercepted communications among others in the Russian government and military. As Putin issued orders, increasing numbers of government and military officials had to be notified, and those officials then had to notify others around them. As a result, the Russian president’s plans for such a large-scale invasion couldn’t remain secret for long.
While Putin’s intentions were difficult for U.S. intelligence to determine, the Russian military’s troop buildup along the border with Ukraine was much easier to monitor. Over the past year, in fact, Russia did little to conceal its huge military deployments along the border with Ukraine. Last April, U.S. intelligence first detected that the Russian military was beginning to move large numbers of troops and equipment to the Ukrainian border. Most of the Russian soldiers deployed to the border at that time were later moved back to their bases, but U.S. intelligence determined that some of the troops and materiel remained near the border, the current and former intelligence officials said. The intelligence community realized that by only withdrawing part of its forces, Russia was making it easier to mount a quick mobilization later.
In June 2021, against the backdrop of rising tensions over Ukraine, Biden and Putin met at a summit in Geneva. The summer troop withdrawal brought a brief period of calm, but the crisis began to build again in October and November, when U.S. intelligence watched as Russia once again moved large numbers of troops back to its border with Ukraine. Pentagon analysts began to warn that the scale and costs of the deployment were much larger than would be required if Putin were bluffing, said current and former officials familiar with the intelligence.
As U.S. intelligence monitored the Russian troop buildup, there was some concern among officials handling Russian operations inside the CIA about how aggressively they were being allowed to conduct spy operations against Moscow. Early in 2021, some officials involved in Russian operations inside the CIA said that they were facing at least a temporary pause on a series of sensitive covert operations related to Russia, according to a former U.S. intelligence official with direct knowledge of discussions among the officials involved in Russian operations. The former official said that William Burns, Biden’s CIA director, was seeking to temporarily halt some high-risk and potentially provocative operations to give the new administration a chance to try to reset relations with Putin after the weird and controversial relationship between Putin and Donald Trump. The former U.S. president had been investigated for his ties to Russia, and his relationship with Putin often seemed submissive, poisoning every aspect of U.S.-Russian relations.
The Biden administration “wanted to see if they could avoid kicking over a hornet’s nest called Russia.”
“There was a deep desire for a stable and predictable relationship with Russia,” the former senior CIA official told The Intercept. The Biden administration “wanted to see if they could avoid kicking over a hornet’s nest called Russia.”
A CIA spokesperson denied that there were any restrictions imposed on operations against Russia, calling the idea that Burns had sought to limit high-risk spy missions to give Biden a chance to reset relations with Putin categorically false.
Senior intelligence officials said that the only real shift in Russian operations was to increase the agency’s focus on intelligence related to Ukraine instead of pursuing other Russia-related targets. In the first few months of the Biden administration, U.S. intelligence officials began working more closely with Ukrainian intelligence to help the country prepare for a possible Russian invasion, the senior agency official said.
As the intelligence began to show the Russian escalation along the Ukrainian border, top CIA officials became increasingly focused on Ukraine long before it burst into the headlines as a global crisis. “I saw Burns in December, and he was really agitated by the Russian buildup,” said the former senior intelligence official.
Yet for several critical weeks last fall, senior policymakers in the Biden administration remained deeply split over how best to respond. At that time, the administration was reluctant to dramatically and immediately increase arms shipments to Ukraine.
Alexander Vindman, the former Army officer who handled Ukraine policy at the National Security Council and who became a whistleblower in Trump’s impeachment over the Ukraine scandal, says that Trump was largely responsible for delaying arms shipments to the country. Vindman said in an interview that the toxic politics surrounding Trump’s handling of Ukraine continued to make officials in the Biden administration wary of how aggressively to handle Ukraine policy last year.
In 2019, Trump froze military aide to Ukraine to try to pressure Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy to investigate Biden, then a contender for the Democratic presidential nomination. Trump was impeached by the House for his attempt to pressure a foreign leader to meddle in a U.S. election but was later acquitted in the Senate. “Trump’s freeze on arms transfers made Ukraine toxic for the remainder of the Trump years, and I think Biden saw it as a toxic issue too,” Vindman said. “We lost three years’” worth of aid to Ukraine because of Trump’s efforts to intimidate Zelenskyy, he added. (Vindman testified before Congress during the impeachment; he was subsequently forced out of his job at the White House and later retired from the Army, saying that his chain of command did not shield him from pressure from the Trump administration.)
By February, however, as the U.S. intelligence community issued specific warnings that an invasion was imminent, the period of indecision among Biden administration policymakers came to an end. Since the invasion, the U.S. and its NATO allies have poured arms into Ukraine to help the nation defend itself. But Biden has imposed limits, and this week he rejected a Polish proposal to transfer fighter jets to Ukraine.
A senior U.S. intelligence official said that Putin has been surprised and disappointed by the Russian army’s problems so far and by the strength of the Ukrainian resistance. A U.S. intelligence official told Congress this week that as many as 4,000 Russian soldiers have been killed since the invasion began.
The senior intelligence official said that the Ukrainian intelligence service, which worked with the CIA to prepare for the invasion, has performed well since the Russian attack, but did not provide any details.
“Clearly Putin’s expectation was that this would be a much easier enterprise than it is,” the senior U.S. intelligence official said.
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Since the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic, Peter Daszak has been at the center of a heated, and at times vicious, debate over the origins of the SARS-CoV-2 virus. The parasitologist helms the New York-based nonprofit EcoHealth Alliance, a wildlife conservation organization that aims to understand and prevent infectious diseases; the organization has received more than $118 million in grants and contracts from U.S. agencies, much of which Daszak distributes to labs around the world. Starting in 2005, he worked closely with Shi Zhengli of the Wuhan Institute of Virology, who was a key partner on a 2014 National Institutes of Health grant to research bat coronaviruses in China. The Intercept has published over 2,500 pages of documents and communications from the grant following a Freedom of Information lawsuit — information that has transformed public understanding of the research conducted under the grant.
Those documents have shown that in its efforts to head off and prepare for a pandemic, EcoHealth Alliance oversaw an experiment in which researchers intentionally made coronaviruses more pathogenic and transmissible. One grant report contained evidence that the research group also did an experiment with infectious clones of MERS, another deadly virus. While none of the experiments described in the grant materials released so far could have sparked the current pandemic, the documents raise serious questions about biosafety and oversight at NIH. Early in the grant, research on certain coronaviruses was subject to a U.S. government ban, but notes on communications between NIH staffers and EcoHealth Alliance obtained by The Intercept showed that the federal agency allowed Daszak to take the lead in shaping a plan to evade that moratorium.
Meanwhile, a grant proposal published by the internet research group DRASTIC last September showed that in 2018 EcoHealth Alliance applied for funding from the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, or DARPA, to look for novel furin cleavage sites in bat coronaviruses. According to the proposal, which was not funded, EcoHealth planned to insert furin cleavage sites into the spikes of SARS-related viruses — an idea that drew attention because scientists had already noted that such a site is unique in the subclass of viruses to which SARS-CoV-2 belongs.
The Intercept repeatedly sought comment from EcoHealth Alliance on these revelations. EcoHealth initially responded. In September 2021, a spokesperson denied that the organization had conducted the research on the deadly MERS virus that was described in the NIH proposal. After documents obtained via FOIA later showed that such research had in fact been done, Daszak stated that the spokesperson had been misinformed. EcoHealth Alliance then stopped responding to The Intercept’s questions. In late February, Daszak replied to email inquiries and offered to talk. He spoke with us on March 1. In a wide-ranging interview conducted over Zoom, he addressed questions that have swirled around EcoHealth Alliance for the past two years, defended his organization against what he characterized as unjust accusations, and railed against the questioning he has faced from congressional Republicans, the NIH, and news organizations, including The Intercept.
This interview has been edited for length and clarity.
We’re curious when you first heard about the outbreak in Wuhan.
If you look at my Twitter account, you’ll see a tweet on New Year’s Eve of 2019 —
But before the tweet, what was the moment when you first learned about it?
It was a couple of days before that. We heard from our contacts in China that something was going on, that there were cases of a disease in Wuhan. I think it was December 30. We looked on Chinese social media and found the rumors about it there. But we heard from many scientists in China.
Many of the virologists and other scientists we speak to say that we don’t have enough information to determine whether Covid-19 emerged from natural spillover or as a result of research. Do you agree with that?
Do I agree that it’s possible that Covid-19 emerged through a lab leak? Of course. It’s been widely reported that we shut down discussion on that. But in the WHO report, which I was part of — and in fact I led the animal environmental side for the WHO side — we state that it’s extremely unlikely. We don’t state that it’s impossible it came from the lab. Of course it’s possible.
One of the many reasons that the origin of Covid-19 became such a sensitive and divisive issue was the sense, based on your communications about the Lancet letter, that you orchestrated a response among scientists and then made an effort to distance yourself from that effort. Do you want to say anything about that episode?
You said, “One of the reasons why this has become so divisive is because of the Lancet thing.” You could say that about many things. It’s because we didn’t release the DARPA proposal. It’s because we didn’t release our emails. It’s because, early on, we said very strongly that this came from nature, and that this lab leak stuff is preposterous. The real reason this has become so divisive is because it’s being used politically. That’s it.
Scientists disagree over an issue where there’s no definitive proof. And for this issue, there’s no definitive proof. And there may never be. But what we do know is the weight of evidence points strongly to emergence from farmed wildlife in China.
Since the WHO report even, there are something like 12 scientific papers that have been published or put up online from good scientists pointing towards that origin. And I’ve looked at every single document that’s come out of the folks who are trying to show it came out of the lab, and there is no evidence yet for that. It’s all about implied motives, databases that were taken offline, people that aren’t on a website, or innuendo around something. Any one of those things can be explained by the normal process of doing science.
An aerial view of the P4 laboratory at the Wuhan Institute of Virology in China’s central Hubei province on April 17, 2020.
Photo illustration: Soohee Cho for The Intercept; Getty Images
Did EcoHealth Alliance or the Wuhan Institute of Virology, through its partnership with EcoHealth Alliance, ever insert a furin cleavage site into a bat coronavirus genetic sequence?
Of course we did not do that. I really don’t understand how that could be a question at this point — it’s beyond the pale. That’s not in our plans and it’s not any of our reports, so of course we didn’t do that.
But isn’t it the case that you submitted a grant proposal to DARPA to do so?
We did submit a proposal to DARPA. I’ve not checked through the one that’s online that it’s the correct document. What I do know is it was widely reported that DARPA rejected that because there were concerns about safety issues. That is absolutely untrue. The document that allegedly is DARPA’s response, their review of our proposal, I’ve never seen that before. It was never sent to us. I don’t know if it’s real.
DARPA had a process by which people who didn’t get funded could do an interview with them to find out why they didn’t get funded. So I did that. Never once did they mention any concerns or issues around safety; never once did they mention gain-of-function. The reason they told us it was rejected was because the amount we asked for was too much for them. They couldn’t afford it. They actually encouraged us to resubmit in different ways. We then had protracted conversations with them about funding specific parts of it. They liked the proposal.
Was any of the work described in that proposal completed prior to its submission? We were told by multiple sources that when you submit a grant, that at least some of the work would have been done.
When you write a grant proposal and propose to do a new line of research, which is what we did, we would not be doing that research before we submit the proposal. That’s not how it works.
When we asked if you had ever inserted a furin cleavage site to a coronavirus, you responded with outrage. But that is what was described in the DARPA proposal.
No. What you said is, did we insert a furin cleavage site? And what I said was, of course not! If we had done that work with the Wuhan Institute of Virology, it would have been published by now. It would have been made public in our reports to the NIH. The DARPA proposal was not funded. Therefore, the work was not done. Simple.
But you acknowledge that you proposed to DARPA to insert a furin cleavage site?
I refute that that was the goal of the DARPA proposal. The idea was not to insert a furin cleavage site in a virus to see what happens. That’s not what was proposed. The proposal was to look for those polybasic cleavage sites in nature because we knew that that was the potential to make a virus more able to infect people and move from person to person. If we found mutations around that polybasic cleavage site that looked like it could be evolvable, the idea was then that Ralph Baric’s lab at UNC would do some work to see how evolvable that site was. So that work never happened. The proposal was not funded.
Did you find any of these cleavage sites in naturally occurring viruses that you collected?
The proposal was not funded so we didn’t do that work. We’ve not found polybasic cleavage sites. However, they are in many coronaviruses from bats. Papers from Europe show mutations around that cleavage site that suggest strongly that that furin cleavage site could evolve very easily in nature. I’m sure there are viruses out there with it. I’m convinced that it could have easily evolved during the first stages of the pandemic, as the virus got from bats, perhaps into an intermediate host in a wildlife farm, or into people.
Did you resubmit the proposal?
We had conversations with them over many months about bits they would like to fund or they wanted to fund. We did not get funded. We did not do the work.
So you didn’t think the DARPA proposal was relevant to the investigation into the origin of the pandemic?
A proposal that was not funded and work that was never done is not relevant to the origins of Covid. Of course not!
When asked if you had done this work with the furin cleavage site, you said no.
For the furin cleavage site, you should really ask Ralph Baric. He wrote that section of the DARPA grant.
So you’re saying that that would be a good question for Ralph Baric, whether he has done any of these insertions?
I don’t know what Ralph Baric has done. But I doubt that he would go ahead and do that work without the funding.
Some virologists were dismayed to see the insertion of furin cleavage sites in this proposal.
I don’t know why anyone would be dismayed at that because furin cleavage sites were first researched in influenza viruses. And it’s well known that that’s something you should look for if you’re interested in virulence factors. Second, there’s actually a published paper from way before our proposal was submitted, way before the pandemic, where a group actually inserted a furin cleavage site into SARS-CoV-1. So we were right to look for that. And I think the proposal stands as a valid and actually quite predictive effort to understand the risk of viruses. You’ve got to look at the big picture of why we do this research. We’re not doing it as a sort of academic interest, “what would happen if you put a cleavage site there?” No. This work is done to say: What viruses are there out there in the wild that have the potential to emerge in people? And can we do something to stop them? Develop vaccines, develop therapies, stop people making contact with those animals.
Your grant, “Understanding the Risk of Bat Coronavirus Emergence,” included an experiment using humanized mice. Were other humanized mouse experiments conducted by you and/or WIV?
Not by us, no.
What about by WIV?
Well, you need to talk to WIV about what else they were doing. We were doing one line of work with them.
Were you aware of any?
No, of course. I’d tell you if I was aware.
Were there viruses from elsewhere in Southeast Asia that were sent to the WIV?
No. This is a commonly put about story that’s simply not true. WIV did not receive viruses from all around the world.
How many actual viruses do they have?
WIV does not have the biggest collection of viruses from bats in the world. There’s 20,000 bat samples, something like that, tiny fecal pellets from bats.
Right now I don’t know exactly how many bat coronaviruses are in culture and freezers at the WIV. But from our work, I know that out of the SARS-related coronavirus, they were only ever able to culture a handful. I think three cultures. It’s not easy to do.
In November 2019, you tweeted that you had identified over 50 novel SARS-related coronaviruses, including some that cause SARS-like signs in mice and didn’t respond to monoclonal antibodies.
Yes.
What are these 50 viruses? And are they public?
This is a complex thing that’s been widely misinterpreted. It’s actually quite simple. What we had were hundreds of genetic sequences of coronaviruses from bats. We published them in that paper. They’re not all new viruses. As we went through the sequence data and analyzed it, we refined what you might call a new virus versus a known virus. That’s all. It’s scientists refining and analyzing.
One ongoing point of contention between you and NIH is about lab notebooks and the communications around experiments.
NIH has made a bunch of requests that are completely reasonable, that we’ve dealt with very quickly and sent them the information that they required. And in many cases, NIH had the information already. What’s happening here is you’ve got an office of the director that’s dealing directly with us and completely cutting out the program staff who’ve got all the data they need. NIH has also asked us for a number of things which to any balanced and independent reviewer are impossible for us to supply.
Clearly in coming up with Year 4 and 5 progress reports, EcoHealth Alliance had information and draft reports on these humanized mouse experiments. Did you share those with NIH?
Of course not. You don’t share draft reports. You share the final report.
Here’s what happens, it’s a very standard procedure: We are subcontracting to a lab in China to do some work. Every year we have to file a report to NIH to tell them what we’ve done for the year, how we’ve spent the money, and whether we’ve achieved the goals of the grant. So, we contact our subcontractees and we say, “Send us the information. Let us know what successes you’ve had this year and whether you’ve had problems and issues. Put it all in a report and send it to us.” And then we use that to produce a report for NIH. That’s why there are some editing issues around that. We move them around a bit, and we send a final report. A draft report is just a worse written version of the final report. There’s no special information that’s got intelligence value or anything.
Then why not share them?
We’ve not been asked for a draft report by anybody.
You’ve been colleagues with Shi Zhengli, the Chinese bat coronavirus expert who directs the Center for Emerging Infectious Diseases at the Wuhan Institute of Virology, since 2005?
Yes.
So is it the kind of relationship where you would be generally aware of all the work that she was involved in? Can you say a little bit about what your level of awareness of other stuff she was doing?
We were aware of most of the stuff she was doing. Of course. These people weren’t hiding anything from us. They are scientists.
I’ve sat through dozens of meetings with people from Wuhan Institute of Virology, where they talk openly about unpublished work. And, by the way, RaTG13 was one of the sequences in a paper published — in I think 2015. So they weren’t hiding anything from us.
Early on, after she learned about the outbreak, Shi said she was worried that somehow a virus might have leaked from her lab. A lot of people we speak to — virologists who do this kind of work — are the ones who seem most in touch with that possibility, that this stuff happens.
Very specifically, it happens when you have cultures of viruses in flasks, and you’re then doing experiments with high concentrations of virus. It rarely happens if ever from an animal sample, especially a saliva sample from a bat. What Shi Zhengli was saying at that time was, “Oh, no, it’s a coronavirus. I need to go back and check on those viruses that we’ve got and see: Is it one of them?” And she did, and it wasn’t. That’s what any reasonable person would do.
You implied in early 2020 that RaTG13 was not fully sequenced by WIV until late 2019 or later. And then afterwards, Shi revealed that it had actually been fully sequenced in 2018. When and how did you first learn about the true date that this virus was sequenced?
I don’t actually know the true date of when this virus was sequenced. I didn’t see an interview with Zhengli where she said, “We sequenced it in 2018.” I don’t know when and I don’t think they ever got the full genome. There are parts of that virus that aren’t correctly sequenced. Bear in mind, RaTG13 was not from a sample collected under the NIH grant. So we didn’t have any oversight on that or any knowledge of it.
A colony of bats in a cave in the Maramagambo forest of Queen Elizabeth National Park, Uganda.
Photo illustration: Soohee Cho for The Intercept; Getty Images
Did you have access to the Wuhan Institute of Virology’s database of viral samples and sequences that went offline in September 2019?
I’ve never actually seen the database. I’ve seen pages of it from the internet, Twitter, chats. But I’ve never looked at the database.
Did your staff have access to it?
No. We didn’t need to! We had all the data we needed. Some folks find this missing database indicative of a cover-up or something. When we were in Wuhan [with the WHO mission] in the Institute of Virology, I said, “Why did you take the database offline?” And their response was, “We took it offline before the outbreak. We were then getting hacking attempts, hundreds, thousands of hacking attempts. So we decided it wouldn’t be wise to put it back up.” Now, you may not believe them. But it is a perfectly reasonable explanation. And I think people should try and go for the most likely reasonable explanation for these things.
So why did they take it offline in September 2019?
They told us — and it’s in the WHO report — that they were trying to update it to make it modern. WIV was trying to present itself like a globally significant virology institute, and it is. But when you look at Chinese websites, they can be really old and stuffy and clunky. What they were trying to do, they told us, was to make it interactive so that you can click on something and a map would show. They were trying to make it fit in with the national databases.
I find it quite ironic that the focus on the database of WIV is so intense, whereas what actually happened was we took the data and, with China, put the data into the NIH’s own database to make it public. That’s a great win for the U.S.
In April 2020, you wrote in an email, “It’s extremely important that we don’t have these sequences as part of our PREDICT release to Genbank at this point. As you may have heard, these were part of a grant just terminated by NIH. … Having them as part of PREDICT will being [sic] very unwelcome attention to UC Davis, PREDICT and USAID.” Why did you think that publishing these sequences would bring unwelcome attention?
Because we just had our grant terminated by NIH.
So you didn’t think it would be important to release this data, given that there was a pandemic?
Those sequences were released publicly by publishing them in a scientific paper, which is what scientists do. The email that you’re reading out is not about whether sequences should be made public; it’s about whether sequences should be made public via a USAID mechanism or via publishing through the NIH mechanism. And what I was saying to the UC Davis team that ran PREDICT was that these are NIH-funded sequences and should be reported through the NIH system. It’s really that simple.
And which paper were they reported in?
Latinne et al, published in Nature Communications. We were struggling to get that paper out. It was very, very difficult, once the pandemic started, to keep communication with Chinese scientists. The utmost priority as a scientist is to get the data published, not to upload it into some database that’s going to take months to go through. And by the way, that database is somewhere on the USAID government system. It’s very difficult to find. The paper had already been submitted for publication, and the sequences were uploaded into GenBank, the NIH system. And then once the papers were accepted, they became public. And that’s exactly what we did.
Are there sequences that have not been made public?
To my mind, there are no sequences of SARS-related coronaviruses that have not been made public. Some people think there are still viruses that are SARS-related that haven’t been put in GenBank. That’s not true. We’ve uploaded all of the SARS-related coronavirus sequences, or we’ve reported them to NIH, or we’ve published them in scientific papers. And in fact, for most of them, we’ve done all the above. We had them all uploaded before the pandemic. Most of them anyway.
You were on the WHO mission to investigate the origins of SARS-CoV-2. When the NIH grant documents were released, it was a surprise to many people that animal experiments were being done at Wuhan University. If you knew this information, did you share it?
It wasn’t a surprise to NIH because the NIH knew about them.
Right. But did you share that information with the WHO committee or with others who were investigating the origins?
The Wuhan University BSL-3 facility is what we’re talking about. They do humanized mouse work. That was not looked at by the WHO origins group. It’s a BSL-3 lab that had humanized mice under BSL-3 conditions. It’s highly unlikely to be the source of the Covid-19 outbreak.
Did you mention it to the committee?
I mentioned all my work to the committee, of course. We talked about it, for sure.
Dr. Michael Lauer at the NIH has repeatedly asked you for biosafety records from the WIV and said that he has been unable to get some of them.
He says that, but it’s not true. We’ve supplied everything we could possibly supply on the issues that they’ve asked for.
In one of his letters to you, Lauer asked about the biosafety oversight of the work at WIV. In your response to him, you wrote that it consisted of semiannual meetings with the lead investigator and assessments of compliance with all conditions of the award. Biosafety experts have said that this falls short of the level of oversight one would want for this kind of work. You mentioned in an exchange with Lauer that you were offering to pay from EcoHealth’s own coffers for additional biosafety measures. Why did you offer to do this? Did you feel that the biosafety oversight was adequate?
We’re talking about a world-class virology lab run by the Chinese government that is probably the best virology lab in China, and China is very good at virology. It’s very efficiently run, and the biosafety conditions are very good. Just because people think that Covid-19 might have come from WIV doesn’t mean that therefore our oversight of biosafety wasn’t sufficient. We did everything normal in oversight of that lab.
Then why did you suggest these additional measures, if the others were already adequate?
Because I was worried that they were going to terminate our other grants. This is the key driving force for every action we’ve taken since April 24, 2020. I don’t know why people don’t realize that.
Once NIH shows you that it’s willing to terminate your funding and kick people out of a job and put your whole organization under pressure simply because a single politician tells them to, then you start worrying about every other grant and contract that NIH controls. We live in fear that they’re going to do similar abrupt terminations with no cause and no rationale and no logic.
What I was doing then was saying to Michael Lauer, please be reasonable. We’re trying to do everything we can, within the normal bounds of what organizations do. We probably have the best biosafety and field teams in the world.
We’re overcompliant and yet still being accused of lack of compliance.
On February 24, House Energy and Commerce Committee Republicans sent a letter to NIH alleging that it is “highly suspicious” that EcoHealth reported the humanized mouse experiment results over two years, and suggesting that more work may have been done that was not reported. How would you respond to that?
This is a simple issue of Chinese nationals writing a report and then us drafting our report to NIH. So there’s a word in there where they say we continued the studies. That doesn’t mean they continued infecting mice with new viruses. No. What it means is they continued doing the research on the one experiment that they’ve done. And that continuation is a lot of work. So they did all the pathology, which means at the end of the experiment, you take all the mice, and you look at every organ in the body. You do detailed microscopical analysis. It takes months. So that’s why it dragged on because you’ve got months of after-the-experiment analysis. And we included the mortality data as part of the pathology data. That’s completely normal.
The House Energy and Commerce Republicans don’t write to us, they write to NIH. Sometimes we hear about it, sometimes we don’t. NIH doesn’t copy us on their responses. Then eventually we get a letter from NIH asking questions, which we always respond to, always within the timeframe and always refuting any allegations with evidence. So that’s what we’ve done.
The latest letter from the House Energy and Commerce Republicans accused us of being overfunded, effectively having two grants to do the same thing. It’s simply not true. The USAID PREDICT grant has completely different goals to the NIH coronavirus grant. For instance, PREDICT looks for between seven and 18 different viral families within samples, not just coronaviruses. NIH is focused solely on coronaviruses. So the goals are different.
The agencies do, as a standard procedure, a review of a grantee’s other proposals to see if there’s overlap between them, because they don’t want to fund the same thing twice. This is absolutely refutable with documentary evidence.
What’s your understanding of the Republicans’ motivation?
Any bipartisan requests for information from the House or the Senate, we’ve responded to. We’ve been working with the U.S. government since the pandemic began to get information to them about every single aspect of this pandemic, including unpublished data. The politicians who are attacking us probably don’t realize or know or care, in some cases. When there’s a request from one side of the political spectrum, we try not to respond to that. We’ve had hundreds of questions sent to us by letter, including requests for thousands of pages of documents. We don’t have the staff to do that. And bear in mind our grant has been terminated and now suspended. We don’t have access to funding. We don’t have the staff to do this work. It’s a horrible, cruel irony that, on the one hand, your funding is cut; and on the other hand, there are now outrageously huge number of demands for us to do work to show data from that funding that’s been cut.
Don’t you have ongoing funding for two other NIH projects?
Yes. Well, you can’t use that money.
What have you been asked to get by NIH that you feel you can’t get?
There are a whole series of things that we’ve been unable to get. A vial of virus. Information on a person that was removed from the website (I did ask them that, and they gave us an explanation, which is perfectly reasonable). NIH asked us for an inspection of the WIV. Every right-minded person on the planet realizes that the World Health Organization asked for an inspection of that lab, and we did go into the lab and ask questions and go around the facilities. For NIH to say that I should organize a U.S.-only, NIH-based or National Academy-based inspection of the lab facilities is a request that is way beyond what’s possible. You know, you can’t go into CDC as a foreigner and do an inspection of the lab.
NIH writing to us saying, “We demand that you do this,” puts us in jeopardy and it’s a security risk. If I was to take that letter from NIH and go to the Beijing airport and say, “I’m here to do this,” I would be arrested and put in jail and probably put on trial, in the same way that scientists from China have come to the U.S. and tried to take vials of virus back to China and been arrested and convicted. NIH doing this is clearly a way for them to try to get the public behind a decision they made that was political about terminating our grant. Ever since that decision, we’ve been put under similar pressure over and over again. The Republicans write to NIH with some fairly outrageous accusations. NIH responds and says, “Don’t worry, we will go and make EcoHealth do this, this, this, and this.”
I don’t think that those questions are posed to truly get to the bottom of the origins of Covid. While the House Republicans are putting pressure on NIH for tiny bits of administrative information, scientists are going out and finding that actually things are really pointing towards a natural origin. And meanwhile, we’re left refuting each one of those allegations. They’re all false. There’s no substance to them at all.
A good proportion of the public have been pushed by misinformation to believe a narrative — and this narrative is repeated daily — that gain-of-function work was funded by Tony Fauci as a back channel to China, and EcoHealth funneled funds to China. Those stories are very beguiling, they sort of make you feel, “Ah! I knew it.” But actually, there’s not a grain of truth to them. Every single action that EcoHealth Alliance has taken has been things that scientists do in the normal course of doing their work.
Closing down that line of research means we lose eyes and ears on the ground in China. And it doesn’t benefit us from a public health point of view or a national security point of view. It’s a huge mistake.
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This post was originally published on The Intercept.
In the days leading up to the January 6, 2021, siege of the U.S. Capitol, officials inside the Department of Homeland Security were feeling anxious. Within the department’s Office of Intelligence and Analysis, the sole component of the federal government authorized to disseminate threat information to state and local law enforcement agencies, analysts had watched as maps of the Capitol were circulated online amid talk of hanging Democrats, murdering protesters, and dying in a blaze of glory.
The Homeland Security officials warned each other to be vigilant going to and from work as the “Stop the Steal” rally to protest the results of the 2020 election approached. Expecting violence, some planned to stay home when the day finally came. Despite the measures they planned to take for their own safety, however, and the abundant evidence that January 6 was a powder keg waiting to blow, the federal office responsible for warning the rest of the government about dangerous events decided to keep its concerns to itself.
These are the findings of a DHS Office of Inspector General report released Tuesday that calls for “essential changes” to I&A, the department’s troubled intelligence office. The 50-page report documents how the various divisions of I&A — from open-source intelligence “collectors,” to its counterterrorism wing, to officials posted at “fusion centers” around the country — repeatedly encountered evidence of preparations for violence at the Capitol and chose not to report that information to a wider audience.
As early as December 21, 2020, according to the report, I&A officials internally circulated information about an individual describing plans to kill protesters by the dozens; calls to bring weapons to Washington, D.C.; an increase in weapons brandished by individuals already in the capital; and threats of violence against “ideological adversaries,” law enforcement agents, and government officials. None of that information made it outside the office prior to January 6, however. While one I&A official did submit information about the various threats to be approved for a report on January 5, the inspector general noted, that release was not approved and disseminated until two days after the siege, at which point four people who were at the event were dead, including one who was shot by a Capitol police officer.
“In the weeks before the events at the U.S. Capitol, I&A identified specific open source threat information related to January 6 but did not issue any intelligence products about these threats until January 8,” the report said. “On several occasions leading up to January 6, collectors messaged each other about the threats they discovered online.”
The inspector general pointed to two core explanations for I&A’s inaction: a rushed hiring push in 2019 that put inexperienced and untrained officials on the job and public backlash following the office’s targeting of journalists covering the George Floyd protests in 2020.
The report is the latest blow for I&A, which has long been the subject of criticism for its troubled relationship to constitutionally protected protest activities and among those who see the post-9/11 office as unnecessarily duplicative in a world where the FBI already exists. In the summer of 2020, I&A was embroiled in controversy when documents leaked showing that analysts had created files on journalists covering the George Floyd protests. Soon after that, Brian Murphy, the head of I&A at the time, filed a whistleblower complaint alleging that the two top officials at DHS pressured his analysts to downplay intelligence involving threats from the far right and to amplify intelligence supporting the president’s reelection messaging on the dangerousness of left-wing agitators. The DHS political appointees in question, Chad Wolf and Ken Cuccinelli, denied the allegation.
“As Secretary Mayorkas has said, the attack on the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021 was a violent assault on our democracy,” a DHS spokesperson said in a statement to The Intercept. “Over the past fourteen months, the U.S. Department of Homeland Security (DHS) has strengthened intelligence analysis, information sharing, and operational preparedness to help prevent acts of violence and keep our communities safe.”
In addition to implementing a first of its kind National Strategy for Countering Domestic Terrorism, the official noted that since the Capitol siege, I&A has conducted “more than 70 engagements with partners across every level of government, in the private sector, and local communities regarding emerging threat,” while the department as whole has issued “more than 95 intelligence products related to domestic violent extremism.”
In December, President Joe Biden nominated Kenneth Wainstein, a former adviser to President George W. Bush and chief of staff to longtime FBI Director Robert Mueller, to take over the intelligence office.
Rep. Bennie Thompson, chair of the House Homeland Security Committee, welcomed the inspector general’s report. “I’m glad that the IG made it clear that our intelligence agencies under the previous administration should have done much more before the January 6th attack on the capitol,” Thompson, a Democrat from Mississippi, said in a statement to The Intercept. “Thankfully, Office of Intelligence and Analysis has agreed with IG’s recommendations and I look forward to working with it on implementing them.”
Oregon Sen. Ron Wyden, a sharp critic of surveillance excesses at DHS — from Customs and Border Protection’s targeting of journalists, lawyers, and immigration advocates at the border to an Immigration and Customs Enforcement program that vacuumed up millions of Americans’ financial records — said the report was indicative of a pattern of problems at the nation’s largest law enforcement agency that had impacted his own hometown.
“The new Inspector General Report is another reminder that multiple federal agencies failed to appropriately respond to the very real, public threats to the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021,” Wyden said in a statement to The Intercept. “That failure came only a few months after DHS officials inappropriately collected and shared intelligence about reporters and other people who posed no threat to homeland security in Portland.”
“Clearly DHS Intelligence activities need an overhaul to ensure that the department is focused on real threats, not harassing reporters and non-violent protesters,” the senator added. “The public also deserves more information about DHS’s intelligence activities, and I am pleased that Ken Wainstein, the nominee to head the Department’s intelligence office, has committed to me to conduct an immediate review on how to increase transparency.”
The inspector general’s findings indicate that the dysfunction that plagued I&A in the summer of 2020 continued into the winter of 2021.
In one passage, the report presents a series of messages that two “collectors,” officials responsible for trawling through open-source information to identify domestic security threats, exchanged late on the night of January 2, after one of the officials noticed that people were sharing a map of the Capitol online.
“I feel like people are actually going to try and hurt politicians,” the official who came across the map wrote. “Jan 6th is gonna be crazy, not to mention the inauguration.”
The official suspected that their supervisors would order extra shifts for the event, writing, “Watch us get surged for that lol.”
The second official had a similar feeling, adding that the Proud Boys — a right-wing street-fighting gang — were in town the night before. A few hours later, the first official wrote again.
“Like there’s these people talking about hanging Democrats from ropes like wtf,” they said.
“They’d need alot of rope,” the second official replied. “I think DC is pretty much all democrat haha.”
“I feel like people are actually going to try and hurt politicians.”
By 2:53 a.m., the first official had arrived at a succinct description of the threats they were seeing: “I mean people are talking about storming Congress, bringing guns, willing to die for the cause, hanging politicians with ropes,” they wrote.
According to the inspector general, neither official considered filing a report describing what they were seeing. “When reviewing threats pertaining to January 6 events, the collectors generally concluded that the statements online were hyperbole, and not true threats or incitement, because they thought storming the U.S. Capitol and other threats were unlikely or not possible,” the report said.
One collector who spoke to the oversight investigators recalled describing to a colleague how “nervous” they were after seeing a group of people who looked “like they are going to battle” post about their arrival in Washington. “Yet, these collectors did not draft any intelligence products reflecting possible safety concerns in the area,” the report said.
The inspector general traced some of the inaction to shift changes in the summer of 2019 that resulted in an exodus of collectors from I&A. The office responded with a hiring blitz, bringing in replacements “mostly at entry level positions, with many not having Federal government or intelligence experience.”
“As of January 6, 2021, 16 out of 21 collectors had less than 1 year of experience, and some of these new collectors said they did not receive adequate training to help determine when threat information should be reported,” the report said.
“One collector said people were afraid to do their jobs because of the fear of being reprimanded by I&A leadership and concerns about congressional scrutiny.”
Fallout from the summer of 2020 disclosures — which included hearings on Capitol Hill and a separate inspector general report published, ironically, on January 6, 2021 — may have also played a role in the inaction. Out of the 24 collectors the inspector general interviewed, 22 said that their reporting approach “was affected by the scrutiny they received” the previous summer, when DHS deployed Border Patrol tactical teams in response to protests in Portland, Oregon, and compiled “intelligence reports” on members of the media. When considering the potential for violent actors mixed in with racial justice protests, it was an anything goes approach, the collectors said; in the runup to January 6 there was a “pendulum swing” in the other direction.
“They explained that they thought almost anything was reportable during the Portland protests, but they were hesitant or fearful to report information related to January 6 events,” the report said. “One collector said people were afraid to do their jobs because of the fear of being reprimanded by I&A leadership and concerns about congressional scrutiny. Another explained there was a ‘chilling effect’ on their approach to reporting following the summer of 2020.”
Despite I&A’s failure to do its core job in one of the most important moments in the nearly two-decade existence of DHS, the inspector general’s recommendations for correcting course were mild, focusing mostly on improved training and guidance. The inspector general did, however, gesture at the historical significance of the January 6 siege and the need for change, particularly in the event of another attempted government overthrow.
“I&A staff disagree about whether an intelligence product from I&A would have affected the outcome on January 6,” the report said. “Nonetheless, the issues we found during our review demonstrate the need for essential changes at I&A to ensure it is better equipped to respond to similar events in the future.”
Update: March 10, 2022, 1:47 p.m. ET
This article has been updated to include a statement from the Department of Homeland Security that was received after publication.
The post “Jan 6th is gonna be crazy. … lol”: DHS Officials Expected Violence at the Capitol, Kept It to Themselves appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
Weapons and other military hardware delivered by the United States military at Boryspil Airport near Kyiv, Ukraine, on Jan. 25, 2022.
Photo: Sean Gallup/Getty Images
The world’s largest arms dealer, the United States, is leading an effort among NATO nations to dramatically increase the flow of weapons to the besieged government in Kyiv. While the Biden administration has resisted calls for a no-fly zone over Ukraine, a move which could result in an overt hot war between major nuclear powers, the weapons transfers represent a significant escalation of Western involvement.
Despite strong efforts in recent weeks from NATO governments and many large media outlets to minimize or excise the relevant role Western powers played in the years leading up to Russia’s brutal invasion, there has been a sustained proxy war in Ukraine between Moscow and Washington for a decade. Unless the desired outcome is a full-spectrum war between Russia and the U.S.-NATO bloc, Western nations — particularly the U.S. — must ask themselves whether the current course of action is more or less likely to facilitate an end to the horrifying violence being imposed on Ukraine’s civilian population.
Throughout its two terms, the Obama administration resisted providing overt lethal assistance to Ukraine, concerned that such a move by the U.S. would provoke Russian President Vladimir Putin. Even after Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea, President Barack Obama maintained that stance, though his administration did provide a range of other nonlethal military and intelligence assistance to Ukraine, including training. That posture shifted under President Donald Trump, and Washington began a relatively modest flow of weapons shipments. Trump’s attempt to cajole Ukraine into involving itself in his electoral battle with Joe Biden notwithstanding, U.S. military support for Kyiv has ticked steadily upward.
Even before Russia’s invasion, the Biden administration had begun a process of increasing lethal aid. In his first year in office, Biden approved more military aid to Ukraine — some $650 million — than the U.S. had ever provided. On February 26, as a result of Putin’s invasion, the guardrails came off: an “unprecedented” additional $350 million weapons package was pushed through. There is now wide bipartisan support in Washington for an immediate and aggressive $13.5 billion effort to ship American arms and other assistance, including humanitarian aid, to Ukraine. The package will also cover the cost of additional deployments of U.S. military assets and troops to the region. Historically, weapons shipments to Ukraine have taken months to implement. Now they are moving within days.
The U.S. has moved at remarkable speed to deliver the weapons approved by Biden in late February: A range of Javelin antitank missiles, rocket launchers, guns, and ammunition have already made their way onto the battlefield. “The shipment of weapons — which also includes Stinger antiaircraft missiles from U.S. military stockpiles, mostly in Germany — represents the largest single authorized transfer of arms from U.S. military warehouses to another country,” according to the New York Times, citing a Pentagon official.
More than a dozen other NATO countries and several non-NATO European nations have started or expanded their weapons shipments to Ukraine. In a significant move, Germany broke with its long-standing policy of not sending weapons to conflict zones. As part of its initial package, Berlin is moving some 1,500 rocket launchers and Stinger missiles and potentially additional Soviet-era shoulder-fired Strela missiles. The European Union has also broken its own resistance to providing lethal assistance and entered the arms market with a commitment of nearly half a billion dollars in weapons to Ukraine. EU treaties prohibit the use of budgetary money for weapons transfers, so the union tapped funds from its “off-budget” European Peace Facility. “For the first time ever, the EU will finance the purchase and delivery of weapons and other equipment to a country that is under attack,” said European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen. “This is a watershed moment.”
The substantially expanded and expedited Western arms shipments, and increased intelligence support, could prolong large-scale military action. NATO has also said that any Russian attack against the supply lines facilitating the flow of weapons to Ukraine will trigger an invocation of Article 5 of the NATO charter, thus raising the specter of military action against Russia. Moscow, which has already labeled the sweeping sanctions imposed by the U.S. and its allies a declaration of “economic war,” has warned that nations sending weapons to Ukraine “will be responsible for any consequences of such actions.”
The weapons will not be sufficient to defeat Russia militarily.
The weapons will surely aid Ukrainian forces in waging counterattacks against Moscow’s invasion but will not be sufficient to defeat Russia militarily. Should Moscow succeed in forcibly taking major Ukrainian cities or even in toppling the government, the Western weapons are likely to be used in a protracted armed insurgency and war of attrition that may produce echoes of the Soviet occupation of Afghanistan.
The dominant Western media and government narrative about Putin’s invasion of Ukraine requires a total rejection of the legitimacy of any Russian security concerns. Viewing Putin as an unhinged madman coldly acting out of a love of brutality and conquest may be a more satisfying narrative, but it will not bring an end to the war. Any diplomatic or negotiated resolution of the crisis will necessarily entail Ukrainian concessions, so it’s important to understand Moscow’s point of view. In an interview with ABC World News on March 7, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky appeared to acknowledge this. “I think [Putin] is capable of stopping the war that he started,” Zelensky told David Muir. “And even if he doesn’t think that he was the one who started, he should know one important thing, a thing that cannot deny, that stopping the war is what he’s capable of.”
It is understandable and reasonable that people across the U.S. and Europe are demanding their governments send more weapons to support Ukraine in resisting the Russian invasion. Without the Western-supplied weapons Ukraine already possessed, it is very likely Russia would be in control of much larger swaths of the country. It is also vital that people advocating such a policy consider whether a sizable increase in U.S. and NATO weapons transfers will prolong the conflict and result in even more civilian death and destruction.
If the Western position is that Russia must publicly admit that it is criminal and wrong, and if such a confession is a precondition to any negotiation, then flooding Ukraine with even more weapons is a logical move — especially if you believe that Putin is insane and wants to bring the world to nuclear war and annihilation if he is not able to seize Ukraine. If, however, the aim is to end the horrors as swiftly as possible, then we require a serious analysis of the impact such large-scale weapons shipments will have on the fate of Ukrainian civilians and the prospects for an end to the invasion.
If the flow of weapons delays a negotiated settlement between Russia, Ukraine, and NATO, then it is hard to see the massive scope of the weapons transfers as a clear positive.
It may be the case that the flow of Western weapons to the Ukrainian forces will so bleed Russia that it pulls out of Ukraine, fatally damaging Putin’s grip on power and saving many lives. In that case, these shipments will be seen as a decisive factor in Ukraine’s defeat of Russia. But if it doesn’t, and the flow of weapons delays a negotiated settlement between Russia, Ukraine, and NATO, then it is hard to see the massive scope of the weapons transfers as a clear positive.
In a thoughtful analysis for Responsible Statecraft, Russia expert Anatol Lieven argued that Ukraine had already achieved a significant victory against Putin. “For it is now obvious that any such pro-Russian authorities imposed by Moscow in Ukraine would lack all support and legitimacy, and could never maintain any kind of stable rule,” Lieven wrote. “To keep them in place would require the permanent presence of Russian forces, permanent Russian casualties and permanent ferocious repression. In short, a Russian forever war.” He argued, “The Ukrainians have in fact achieved what the Finns achieved by their heroic resistance against Soviet invasion. The Finns convinced Stalin that it would be far too difficult to impose a Communist government on Finland. The Ukrainians have convinced sensible members of the Russian establishment — and hopefully, Putin himself — that Russia cannot dominate the whole of Ukraine. The fierce resistance of the Ukrainians should also convince Russia of the utter folly of breaking an agreement and attacking Ukraine again.”
Photo: Sean Gallup/Getty Images
The U.S. and NATO are not going to kick countries out of NATO, and Putin knows that, despite his call for an effective return to NATO’s 1997 footprint. NATO is not going to withdraw its forces and weapons from Poland, the Balkans, or the former Soviet territories of Estonia, Lithuania, and Latvia. But Putin clearly believes his demand that Ukraine enshrine neutrality in its laws and commit to staying out of NATO is realistic. In recent days, critics of NATO expansion have pointed to the 2008 observations of Biden’s CIA Director William Burns as particularly relevant on this point. “Ukrainian entry into NATO is the brightest of all redlines for the Russian elite (not just Putin),” Burns noted in a diplomatic cable from Moscow to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, which he quoted in his 2019 book “The Back Channel: American Diplomacy in a Disordered World.” “In more than two and a half years of conversations with key Russian players, from knuckle draggers in the dark recesses of the Kremlin to Putin’s sharpest liberal critics, I have yet to find anyone who views Ukraine in NATO as anything other than a direct challenge to Russian interests.”
Russia is also demanding that Ukraine recognize the independence of the two breakaway territories of Donetsk and Luhansk, and that Crimea is Russian territory. Since 2014, an estimated 14,000 people — including large numbers of civilians — have been killed in fighting between the government — aided by paramilitaries, including armed neo-Nazi elements — and Russian-backed insurgents, mercenaries, and paramilitaries in the eastern Donbas region. The practical reality now is that Russia appears to be on its way toward consolidating control of those areas. Barring direct NATO intervention, Ukraine would have to sacrifice an immense number of lives and resources in what would almost certainly be a failed military venture to wrestle back even nominal control of these territories.
Despite the absurdity of Putin’s sweeping portrayal of Ukraine as a state run by Nazis, there are murderous fascist elements in Ukraine, including some that have been given official legitimacy within its armed forces. Since 2018, largely because of the work of Rep. Ro Khanna, D-Calif., and other progressive lawmakers, there has been an official ban on U.S. assistance going to the far-right Azov Battalion. Verifying that the ban is being respected by Ukraine is almost impossible, especially now that Azov is an official part of the country’s National Guard. If the U.S. were blunt in publicly condemning the role of neo-Nazis and other far-right actors in Ukraine, including those within the armed forces and semi-official militias, it would help undermine Putin’s exaggerated rhetoric.
Given the long history of fascism in Ukraine, dating back to World War II, it’s dishonest to dismiss the ongoing involvement of neo-Nazis in the politics and armed forces of Ukraine. In the midst of the invasion, and with the massive flow of Western arms into Ukraine, it is unimaginable that U.S. and NATO weaponry will not fall into the hands of some of these forces. Minnesota Democrat Rep. Ilhan Omar is one of the few members of Congress to publicly criticize the increased flow of weapons. She said “the consequences of flooding Ukraine” with weapons “are unpredictable and likely disastrous,” and that she was particularly concerned about “paramilitary groups w/out accountability.” In her Twitter thread on the issue, Omar clarified, “I support giving Ukraine the resources it needs to defend its people, I just have legitimate concerns about the size and scope.”
The steady post-Cold War expansion of NATO, combined with the U.S.-backed removal of a democratically elected, pro-Russia president in 2014, along with the increased flow of weapons to Ukraine, and the bloody eight-year war against Russian separatists in the east of the country are all major aspects of Moscow’s narrative. They do not in any way constitute a reasonable justification for this brutal invasion, but this history will all be relevant to any peace settlement.
There is much discussion these days about the events in Ukraine heralding a new era in international order. Within the elite U.S. foreign policy power structure, we are witnessing evidence of a merging of neoconservative Cold War politics and the “military humanism” at the heart of the Clinton administration’s justification for military action in the 1990s. Putin’s own actions have contributed to an expansion of the very threats he claims to be confronting. His criminal invasion of Ukraine has fueled U.S. and NATO efforts to increase their ground forces near Russia; the U.S. has deployed more than 15,000 troops to Europe in response and the total number of U.S. troops in Europe is approaching 100,000. The invasion has attracted even more neo-Nazis and white supremacists as “foreign fighters,” and they are pouring into Ukraine under the cover of defending the country against foreign aggression. Russia’s actions will also further flood the region with mercenaries and weapons that can easily be transferred and trafficked. The Russian economy is being pummeled, and brave protests against the war are spreading inside Russia. Putin may have some fifth-dimensional chess he believes he is playing, but everything we currently understand suggests that he has made a monumental series of severe military and political miscalculations.
The Biden administration has made a number of decisions over the past two weeks that indicate there are influential voices of restraint at high levels of power in the administration. This week, the U.S. nixed a proposal by Poland to transfer MiG-29 warplanes to Ukraine, saying it could be viewed by Russia as escalatory and make direct conflict between NATO and Russia more likely. On March 2, the Pentagon canceled a previously scheduled intercontinental ballistic missile test, and the administration has made a consistent case against imposing a no-fly zone over Ukraine despite impassioned pleas from Ukraine and indications that many Americans want one — or think they do.
The decisions made now in Washington, other NATO capitals, and Moscow will have sweeping ramifications for years to come. Citizens of Western nations cannot control the actions of Putin, but they can advocate for commonsense responses from their own leaders. This requires considering the predictable and foreseeable long-term consequences of short-term action. In the face of heinous atrocities against civilians and a heartbreaking refugee crisis, it is understandable that good people would demand extreme action in the name of bringing it all to a halt. The tragic reality is that escalation by the U.S. and NATO will not achieve that, certainly not without grave costs, and could lead to an even worse catastrophe for Ukrainian civilians, if not a wider global conflict. In that case, the only beneficiaries will be those who are now winning the war in Ukraine: the weapons manufacturers and arms dealers.
The post U.S. and NATO’s Unprecedented Weapons Transfers to Ukraine Could Prolong the War appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
In October 2020, the FBI and the Justice Department announced the arrest of six Michigan militia members who called themselves the Wolverine Watchmen. The FBI claimed that federal agents had thwarted an elaborate plot hatched by the men to kidnap Michigan Gov. Gretchen Whitmer.
“These alleged extremists undertook a plot to kidnap a sitting governor,” FBI Assistant Special Agent in Charge Josh P. Hauxhurst said in a statement. “Whenever extremists move into the realm of actually planning violent acts, the FBI Joint Terrorism Task Force stands ready to identify, disrupt, and dismantle their operations, preventing them from following through on those plans.”
In addition to those charged federally, eight other members of the Wolverine Watchmen were arrested on state charges related to the plot. The arrests made national news, in part because a group of right-wing extremists plotting to kidnap a high-profile Democrat fit with the prevailing media narrative at the time that President Donald Trump was fomenting violence as part of his reelection campaign. The announcement of the kidnapping plan even knocked a hurricane’s landfall out of the top spot on CBS Evening News.
But the circumstances of the case and the megaphone the Justice Department used to publicize it were familiar. As with the prosecutions of more than 350 international terrorism defendants caught in post-9/11 FBI terrorism stings, in which agents or informants provide encouragement and weapons for criminal plots, questions of entrapment quickly emerged in the Wolverine Watchmen case. The FBI had used at least a dozen informants and several undercover agents to build the case. One of the group’s key members, known as “Big Dan,” was an FBI informant. Another, an apparent explosives expert whose role was critical to the alleged kidnapping plan, was in fact an FBI undercover agent.
“There’s nothing wrong with using confidential sources to help facilitate or move along an investigation, but it becomes really dicey when, in a case like this one, there are nearly as many informants as there are defendants,” Michael Sherwin, the former deputy attorney general for national security during the Trump administration, told The Intercept. “That’s a huge red flag, making you wonder if this is one of those cases that are manufactured to increase stats.”
Sherwin, a career federal prosecutor, also served as the acting U.S. attorney in the District of Columbia during the end of the Trump administration and the beginning of the Biden administration. Because Sherwin had prosecuted a Chinese businesswoman who trespassed at Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort in Florida, his arrival in Washington under Attorney General Bill Barr was initially viewed by some as further evidence of a politicized Justice Department. Sherwin approved of providing internal FBI records to lawyers representing former Trump national security adviser Michael Flynn, who was charged with making false statements to the FBI. In a controversial move, the Justice Department then sought to dismiss the case against Flynn.
Despite his role in controversial and high-profile cases, however, Sherwin wasn’t seen by everyone as a political henchman. The Miami Herald’s editorial board, whose members were familiar with Sherwin’s long career as federal prosecutor in Florida, suggested that President Joe Biden retain Sherwin at the Justice Department. And when Biden asked 56 Trump-appointed U.S. attorneys to step down, Sherwin wasn’t among them.
Sherwin was the top federal prosecutor in the District of Columbia during the U.S. Capitol riot on January 6, 2021, and he went on to lead what became the largest criminal investigation in American history, giving him a unique perspective on how the government is responding to domestic extremists and how politics and public pressure have shaped that response.
“January 6 was significant,” he said. “Were there dangerous actors there? Yes. Were there other just garden-variety criminals who got arrested? Of course. But the thing I think people are losing sight of is that this is nothing new. Going back to Ruby Ridge, going back to Waco, going back to Oklahoma City, going back to the militia groups in Michigan and Arizona — this is something that has existed for decades.”
Sherwin took the national stage in March 2021, when he gave an interview to “60 Minutes” in which he said he believed that in the cases of some Capitol rioters, the facts of their alleged crimes could support charges of sedition, a rarely filed and serious criminal offense. (His prediction came true nearly a year later, when federal prosecutors charged Oath Keepers leader Stewart Rhodes and 10 others with seditious conspiracy.) Although the Justice Department had given Sherwin permission to speak about the January 6 investigation at news conferences, they had not authorized him to speak to “60 Minutes,” and a U.S. District Court judge overseeing one of the January 6 cases complained that Sherwin’s “60 Minutes” interview had “the potential to affect the jury pool and the rights of these defendants.” The Justice Department launched an internal probe of Sherwin for violating Justice Department media protocols. The probe’s results have never been released. Sherwin later resigned from the Justice Department to take a position in private practice, a move he says he had previously been planning.
Michael Sherwin, acting U.S. attorney for the District of Columbia, speaks on the investigation into the Capitol Hill riots on Jan. 12, 2021, in Washington, D.C.
Photo: Sarah Silbiger-Pool/Getty Images
Having witnessed firsthand how the Justice Department was changing its approach to domestic extremist cases, Sherwin questions whether highly publicized FBI stings might exaggerate the threat in the same way that similar stings produced hundreds of Islamist terrorism cases and helped inflate the perceived danger of international terrorism inside the United States. The Michigan sting involving the plot to kidnap Whitmer is emblematic of his concern. “This case is a disaster,” Sherwin said.
Jury selection in the federal trial of the Wolverine Watchmen began this week. Defense lawyers have signaled that they will argue that their clients were entrapped, and while entrapment defenses have rarely succeeded in international terrorism sting cases, the Justice Department appears concerned. Prosecutors cut a plea deal on the eve of the trial with one defendant, Kaleb Franks, in exchange for his testimony that he was not entrapped by government agents.
“The key to the government’s plan was to turn general discontent with Gov. Whitmer’s COVID-19 restrictions into a crime that could be prosecuted,” defense lawyers wrote in a joint motion. “The government picked what it knew would be a sensational charge: conspiracy to kidnap the governor. When the government was faced with evidence showing that the defendants had no interest in a kidnapping plot, it refused to accept failure and continued to push its plan.”
During the first two decades after 9/11, undercover terrorism stings became common, allowing the FBI to nab would-be terrorists and justify billions of dollars in counterterrorism funding but also leading to potentially illegal mass surveillance of Muslims and accusations of entrapment.
Now, as the Justice Department creates a new domestic terrorism unit and the FBI reorients to combat a perceived growing threat from domestic extremists, the Wolverine Watchmen case suggests that federal agents may rely on the same sting tactics that helped overstate the risk of Islamist terrorism to investigate potential domestic extremists.
The conflict between right-wing extremism and federal law enforcement isn’t new in America. Nearly four decades before the creation of the FBI, the agency’s predecessor, known as the Bureau of Investigation, received authority to investigate the Ku Klux Klan and prosecute its members in federal court. More recently, the Oklahoma City bombing; the standoffs at Waco, Texas, and Ruby Ridge, Idaho; and investigations of militia groups shaped federal law enforcement agencies’ response to domestic extremists.
But after the 9/11 attacks, Congress expanded anti-terrorism laws and powers and the Bush administration reorganized the FBI into an agency focused primarily on counterterrorism, with the threat of Islamist extremism the paramount concern. The Justice Department formed an entirely new branch, the National Security Division, which was initially so consumed by the threat of international terrorist groups that domestic extremism investigations did not fall under its purview. Even after domestic terrorism became part of the National Security Division’s mandate, a double standard defined the first two decades after 9/11: Islamist extremists involved in bombing plots were always charged under anti-terrorism laws, such as using weapons of mass destruction and providing material support to terrorists, while domestic extremists engaged in similar crimes usually faced lesser explosives charges.
This double standard had the effect of playing up the threat from Islamist extremists, as the Justice Department issued press releases touting these terrorism charges and media coverage followed dutifully, while downplaying the threat of domestic extremists, whose prosecutions were often not announced with the same fanfare, if they were announced at all. Trump’s call as a presidential candidate for a “total and complete shutdown of Muslims entering the United States” tapped into the Islamophobic hysteria that the Justice Department had helped create over 15 years of high-profile terrorism prosecutions.
Photo: David Joles/Star Tribune via AP
Violence from individual Trump supporters, inspired by the candidate who went on to become president, began to alter that narrative even as the Justice Department remained hesitant to bring terrorism charges against right-wing actors. When Emily Claire Hari (who was convicted under the name Michael) led a group of people inspired by Trump-related conspiracy theories to bomb a mosque in Minnesota and try to a bomb women’s clinic in Illinois, the Justice Department didn’t bring terrorism-related charges.
Still, the Hari case was one of several during Trump’s presidency that raised questions about potential violence by his supporters. Inside the FBI, some agents eventually described these threats as “conspiracy theory-driven domestic extremists.” In the fall of 2018, a strip club DJ in Florida named Cesar Sayoc started mailing bombs to current and former Democratic Party officials and news organizations, among others. Sayoc drove a white van whose windows were covered in stickers that praised Trump and denigrated media organizations and Democratic Party politicians. His arrest made international news: a perfect vision of the feared Trump supporter as terrorist.
Sherwin, who had come to Miami in 2007 as a federal prosecutor after serving as a Navy intelligence officer in Iraq and Afghanistan, was by then a top national security prosecutor in the Justice Department. He was the lead prosecutor who tracked, captured, and interrogated Sayoc in South Florida. In line with the Justice Department’s practices at the time, Sherwin charged Sayoc with explosives violations and making threats. But the case, under withering media scrutiny that included live helicopter coverage of the FBI investigation, quickly became a political football inside the Justice Department. Sayoc was extradited to New York, where several of his bombs had been sent, in a move that Sherwin saw as the Justice Department making decisions in response to public and political pressure.
“Cesar Sayoc sent a litany of mail bombs to a lot of high-profile individuals and the media,” Sherwin said. “Those bombs were all constructed in South Florida. They were all mailed from South Florida. He was detained and arrested in South Florida. The case ends up in New York because of politics, because it got a lot of headlines, because people at Main Justice at the time hooked up different people in the Southern District [of New York] with bringing the case there.”
In Manhattan, prosecutors took the step, then uncommon in prosecutions of domestic extremists, of filing weapons of mass destruction charges against Sayoc — terrorism charges that required approval from the Justice Department’s National Security Division. This treatment was more in line with the way the Justice Department had handled bombing cases involving Islamist extremists. In U.S. law, weapons of mass destruction are defined so broadly that they could include any sort of crude improvised explosive device, making the law’s application subject to political will. (Notably, the charges in the Michigan sting case include conspiracy to use a weapon of mass destruction.)
“It goes back to feeding the beast — allowing people to get headlines and funding.”
“Cesar Sayoc was making real devices,” Sherwin said. “They were extremely low-wattage devices he learned to make on the internet with firecracker residue. They were devices my 18-year-old son could have made watching YouTube. They were active, but they weren’t constructed properly. I think they would have taken off a finger, but they wouldn’t have killed anyone. Is that a weapon of mass destruction? Look, I don’t want to fence with the definition of WMD under the U.S. criminal code, but I think sometimes labels are overextended on individuals, and it goes back to feeding the beast — allowing people to get headlines and funding. Sometimes, if a case straddles on just a regular criminal case and maybe — maybe — it has a breadcrumb of a domestic terrorism case, it’s thrown over the line and called a domestic terrorism case, because it makes the numbers look better. It justifies money and spending on Joint Terrorism Task Forces and everything else.”
That’s what happened in some international terrorism prosecutions during the two decades after 9/11, Sherwin said. The Justice Department has charged more than 80 defendants in international terrorism cases with using or conspiring to use weapons of mass destruction. In some of these cases, the bombs were just as crude and infective as Sayoc’s.
Although domestic terrorism is defined in U.S. law, the Justice Department and the FBI have been unclear about what constitutes a domestic terrorism case and how many cases are open at any given time. Through a Freedom of Information Act request, The Intercept obtained a 60-page domestic terrorism case list, from 2018, from the National Security Division. While heavily redacted, the list shows that the Justice Department had broken down domestic terrorism offenses into what prosecutors termed “affiliations,” including abortion extremism, anarchist extremism, animal rights extremism, Black separatist extremism, environmental extremism, and militia extremism.
While the list included some defendants whose crimes could be considered terrorism — such as Glendon Scott Crawford, who was arrested following an FBI sting in which he tried to build a radiological “death ray” to kill Muslims — it also included individuals whose terrorism label appeared questionable, such as a college student who sent an empty threat and a Native American activist who fired a handgun while resisting arrest during a protest.
Photo: Alex Wong/Getty Images
In recent testimony before Congress, the FBI’s director, Christopher Wray, has thrown out large numbers to describe the FBI’s domestic terrorism case load. In 2017, he told Congress that there were “about 1,000 open domestic terrorism investigations.” Three years later, he claimed that number had risen to 2,000. Six months after offering that number, Wray told Congress that the FBI was handling “around 2,700 investigations.”
Having seen how politics shaped the Sayoc prosecution and how numbers drive policy and funding in Washington, Sherwin views Wray’s numbers skeptically, since the FBI is under political pressure to show a muscled response to domestic extremism. “So of course, you pump up those numbers,” Sherwin said. “Maybe it’s 100 full field investigations, but you pump up that number to 2,000, even if it’s just the opening of a preliminary assessment on one 17-year-old in his basement in Ohio.”
Pete Musico wasn’t hiding his contempt for Michigan’s governor, Gretchen Whitmer, a Democrat who’d been elected just two years after Great Lake State voters helped send Trump to the White House.
A white man in his early 40s with a long beard and short-cropped hair, Musico aired his rough-edged political views in the oversharing way people seem to favor nowadays — through hastily recorded videos mostly from the driver’s seat of his car and then uploaded to YouTube. So what if the camera angles were unflattering, the picture jerky, and the background noise distracting? Musico had something to say.
“We all carry guns. We all got guns,” he declared in one video. “There will be a civil war in this country.”
Musico’s platform wasn’t exactly big. His videos rarely garnered more than 100 views, and some got fewer than 10. His YouTube account had started innocently, with a short video of his 13-year-old daughter dancing with her mother. But after Trump took office in 2017, Musico began recording video rants about the “deep state,” immigration, taxes, and gun control. He fashioned himself as a citizen journalist and claimed that he’d tried to secure an interview with Whitmer. “As soon as I get the interview with her, we’re going to go live … OK?” Musico told his audience from the driver’s seat of his car.
But Musico wasn’t the only one making videos during this period. The FBI was filming too.
Musico and his son-in-law, Joseph Morrison, had started the Wolverine Watchmen. They recruited people through Facebook and invited them to tactical trainings on land around Morrison’s home, about 30 miles west of Ann Arbor. Some of those who attended were FBI informants.
The training sessions evolved into talk of violent anti-government plots, some allegedly proposed by a man named Adam Fox, a then-37-year-old with a scraggly beard and a paunch. The talk of these plots took on urgency and detail during training trips to Ohio and Wisconsin, which were secretly paid for by the FBI. The Wolverine Watchmen discussed a proposal to “black bag,” or kidnap, politicians, though a few members of the group initially thought the idea couldn’t work. As alternatives, they discussed planting explosives at police stations or storming the state Capitol in Lansing with a 200-man force equipped with machine guns and sniper rifles. But Fox still allegedly pushed for the “black bag,” and the plan was very specific: They’d kidnap Whitmer, whom Fox referred to as “this tyrant bitch,” and then try her for treason in their very own kangaroo court. “Snatch and grab, man,” Fox told some members of the group. “Grab the fuckin’ governor. Just grab the bitch, because at that point, we do that, dude — it’s over.”
Protesters against Gov. Gretchen Whitmer, amid shutdown orders for the coronavirus pandemic, rally on the steps of the Michigan State Capitol in Lansing, Mich., on May 14, 2020.
Photo: Jeff Kowalsky/AFP via Getty Images
In the summer of 2020, after Trump tweeted “LIBERATE MICHIGAN!” in response to pandemic restrictions and protests erupted in the state, about a dozen members of the Wolverine Watchmen began surveilling Whitmer’s vacation home. They came up with an audacious plan: Bomb the lead car in the governor’s security detail, kidnap her, and then use explosives to destroy a nearby bridge, cutting off any police officers trying to mount a rescue. But the group’s ability to pull off this “Rambo”-style plan was questionable, even to the Wolverine Watchmen themselves. Fox, whom the government would later describe as the group’s ringleader, had so much trouble remembering the street number of Whitmer’s vacation home that the others called him “Captain Autism.” (Fox has claimed that he was often high on marijuana during this time.)
Lawyers for Fox and his co-defendants have argued that there would not have been a plot to kidnap Whitmer were it not for the FBI’s financing and encouragement through its use of undercover agents and at a least a dozen paid informants.
And so, as the trial of the Wolverine Watchmen begins, a federal jury in Michigan will grapple with a question that has been a staple of similar cases involving alleged supporters of ISIS or Al Qaeda: Was this threat real or manufactured by the FBI?
The post Echoes of FBI Entrapment Haunt Failed Plot to Kidnap Gretchen Whitmer appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
Months after the head of U.S. Africa Command announced that funding for Cameroon’s armed forces would be slashed due to human rights concerns, the Pentagon continued employing members of an elite Cameroonian military unit long known for committing atrocities — including extrajudicial killings — as proxies through a classified Special Operations counterterrorism program, The Intercept has learned.
Until late 2019, members of the unit — known as the Rapid Intervention Battalion or by its French acronym BIR — conducted the missions against groups U.S. officials designated as VEOs, or violent extremist organizations, to “degrade” their ability to “conduct terrorist acts against U.S. interests,” according to a formerly secret Pentagon document obtained through a public records request. At least some of the operations were “planned and coordinated … with input from U.S. counterparts,” the memorandum notes.
Those operations occurred under a program intended to carry out counterterrorism missions with minimum deployment of U.S. personnel. 127e programs are named after the budgetary authority that allows U.S. Special Operations forces including Army Green Berets, Navy SEALs, and Marine Raiders to use foreign military units as proxies. They differ from other forms of assistance, training, or equipping of foreign forces because they allow the U.S. to employ foreign troops to do its own bidding — often in countries where the U.S. is not officially at war and the American public does not know the military is operating. In some cases, U.S. troops even engage in combat.
A heavily redacted Pentagon document reveals details about the U.S. partnership with a unit of the Cameroonian military known as the Rapid Intervention Battalion, or by its French acronym BIR.
Image: Obtained by The Intercept
The termination of the program came eight months after the U.S. announced a drastic cut to security assistance to Cameroon, and one of the operations mentioned in the document took place nearly a month after that announcement. Those cuts followed revelations by The Intercept and Amnesty International of torture and murder by the BIR at a military base frequented by American personnel, as well as a drumbeat of subsequent reports of human rights abuses, including the cold-blooded execution of women and children.
Following that reporting, “there were discussions about the unsustainability of the Americans’ military involvement in Cameroon,” said Arrey Ntui, a senior analyst at the International Crisis Group. It was “surprising,” he added, that U.S. assistance was not cut off for several months after evidence of those abuses became public. The BIR continues to receive support from the United States through other security assistance programs.
It’s unclear how many missions BIR forces operating under the aegis of the 127e program may have carried out in 2019 but that partnership was one of 20 active 127e programs that year, according to the document, which also reveals that partnerships were underway in Africa, the Middle East, and the Asia-Pacific region at the time. Previous reporting, including by The Intercept, documented the existence of 127e operations in multiple African countries, but the memo offers the first official confirmation that the authority was employed in the Indo-Pacific Command area of operations.
The White House, the Pentagon, and Africa Command would not comment on the classified program. The State Department declined to comment specifically on the use of the 127e authority in Cameroon, and the Cameroonian Embassy in the United States did not respond to requests for comment.
U.S assistance to Cameroon’s military was intended to support its fight against the Islamist militant group Boko Haram, and later the Islamic State’s West Africa affiliate, in the far north of the country. But in recent years, Cameroon’s government has also fought its own war against Anglophone separatists in the northwest and southwest regions. Some Cameroonian troops previously operating in the north have redeployed to the Anglophone regions, raising questions about the indirect U.S. involvement in a conflict well outside the scope of its stated objectives.
The revelations about the 127e program in Cameroon come as pressure mounts on the U.S. to cut ties with its longtime ally. In a letter to Secretary of State Antony Blinken and Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin, shared exclusively with The Intercept, Reps. Ilhan Omar, D-Minn.; Sara Jacobs, D-Calif.; and Karen Bass, D-Calif., this week asked both officials to clarify the status of U.S. support for the BIR.
“We are particularly concerned about whether U.S. security assistance may be contributing to serious human rights abuses,” the legislators wrote. “We are particularly concerned in U.S. support for the Rapid Intervention Battalion (BIR), some elements of which have been accused by Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, among others, as having been directly implicated in atrocities in the Anglophone region. As you are aware, the State Department has reprogrammed some security assistance since 2019, but our understanding is that other assistance — including to the BIR — continues.”
The 127e authority, “127-echo” in military parlance, is exempt from a safeguard required of other U.S. programs supporting foreign forces known as the “Leahy law”: the scrutiny of recipients’ human rights records named after Sen. Patrick Leahy, D-Vt. A legislative effort to close that loophole by requiring 127e partners to undergo human rights vetting made it into the House version of the annual defense bill last year but was cut during negotiations with the Senate.
Critics of the 127e authority warn that it allows the Defense Department to essentially bypass oversight. Stephen Semler, co-founder of the Security Policy Reform Institute, a grassroots-funded U.S. foreign policy think tank, described 127e as an effort by the Pentagon to find “a different way to wage war.” Brian Finucane, a senior adviser at the International Crisis Group and former legal adviser to the State Department, echoed that sentiment. “The concern is that the executive branch may be sliding into war,” he said, “without adequate consideration by Congress and the public about whether use of military force is justified and adequate.”
U.S. officials have touted 127e as crucial to conducting missions in areas otherwise inaccessible to U.S. troops. “These are hand-selected partner forces. We train them and we equip them. They specifically go after high-value counterterrorism targets. And they are used to support U.S. objectives and achieve U.S. aims,” retired Army Brig. Gen. Donald Bolduc, who served at U.S. Africa Command, or AFRICOM, and led Special Operations Command Africa, or SOCAFRICA, told The Intercept in an interview.
Codenamed “Obsidian Cobra,” according to Bolduc, the 127e program in Cameroon was approved by then-Secretary of Defense Chuck Hagel in September 2014 and ran alongside a series of efforts to assist Cameroon’s fight against Boko Haram and the local Islamic State affiliate. Some 300 U.S. military personnel were also deployed to Cameroon, where they remained until early 2020.
U.S. support for the Cameroonian military faced growing scrutiny in recent years as graphic evidence of atrocities committed by the BIR and other units came to light in a series of reports by human rights groups and journalists. The U.S. State Department has also mentioned allegations of BIR abuses, including arbitrary arrests, torture, or extrajudicial killings in every annual report on Cameroon since 2010.
The Defense Department made a concerted effort to continue funding Cameroonian forces but the reports of their abuses became impossible to ignore, according to a U.S. official familiar with the deliberations who spoke on the condition of anonymity because he is not authorized to speak to the press. While he did not specifically address the 127e program, the official said that the battle had less to do with abuses by specific units receiving U.S. funding and more with the overall relationship with Cameroon. “The bigger fight was on the broader policy issue,” he told The Intercept. “As a legal matter, AFRICOM was saying that they were in the clear. But as a policy matter the Cameroonian government was allowing these abuses to happen, so how could we keep working with them?”
In early 2019, when the U.S. announced that it would withhold $17 million in planned security assistance to Cameroon, AFRICOM chief Gen. Thomas D. Waldhauser told Congress the Cameroonians “have been a good partner with us counterterrorism-wise” but conceded that U.S. officials couldn’t “neglect the fact that … there are alleged atrocities in what’s gone on there.”
Since then, the House and Senate have passed separate resolutions on atrocities in Cameroon. In 2020, the Senate called on U.S. officials to ensure that U.S. training and equipment was not being used to facilitate human rights abuses in the Anglophone regions.
But U.S. tax dollars continue to support the BIR. A State Department spokesperson confirmed that since 2019, the U.S. has aided the unit through the maintenance and operation of “command-and-control equipment,” training in the coordination of air and ground operations, and assistance to maintain and operate drones. The spokesperson said that “subunits within the BIR” that have received funding since 2019 “were formally vetted before receiving assistance to ensure they are not credibly implicated in a gross violation of human rights.”
Meanwhile, new reports of atrocities committed by the Cameroonian military in the Anglophone regions continue to emerge. Last December, BIR troops conducted house-to-house searches in Chomba village, accusing residents of harboring separatists and threatening to kill them, according to Human Rights Watch. The soldiers disappeared four residents who were later found dead, with gunshot wounds to the head. The same month, Cameroonian soldiers killed a 3-year-old girl and injured a 17-year-old girl in the town of Bamenda. Members of the BIR have also been accused of rape and the looting and burning of homes.
“They kill randomly, they arrest randomly, they arrest children, they open fire on the civilian population,” Emma Osong, an Southern Cameroonian-American human rights advocate and founder of Women for Permanent Peace and Justice, a victims-based organization, said of the BIR. “The crimes are piling up. … And they are being done by a military whose funding partly comes from America.”
Partnerships with abusive foreign forces like the BIR underscore the need for the U.S. to evaluate every unit it works with, said Jacobs, the California representative who led last year’s effort to extend human rights vetting to 127e recipients. In addition to the moral imperative, such evaluations would further the Pentagon’s stated counterterrorism objectives, she emphasized, as abuses by security forces against their own citizens are “one of the drivers of violent extremism.” Vetting “needs to be combined with sustained congressional oversight,” she added.
Defense officials sometimes vet 127e recipients even though they are not required to by law, Jacobs told The Intercept. “The problem is that as of now, the decision to do this vetting is completely up to DOD,” she said, referring to Department of Defense. “It should not be up to any federal agency to hold itself or its partners accountable.”
The official with knowledge of internal deliberations around support to Cameroon said he believed the units that received U.S. assistance had “cleared vetting” but that it took sustained public pressure to get officials to take a closer look. “The vetting process is completely a function of how hard they’re looking,” he said. “Once they started looking harder, you saw the restrictions kick in.”
Vetting also has its limitations, said a former defense official who spoke on condition of anonymity to discuss classified operations. “There’s always the risk that something awful will happen, that one of the people that we’ve supported, one of these foreign individuals who are participating in our operation, does something either immoral or illegal,” the official said.
Photo: Joe Penney/Reuters
The document obtained by The Intercept mentions two 127e operations by date: February 6 and March 6, 2019.
On February 6, 2019, BIR forces attacked a market in the southwest region of Cameroon — one of the hot spots of the Anglophone conflict — and killed up to 10 men, according to a Human Rights Watch investigation. There is no indication that the killings were committed by BIR troops associated with the 127e program, but the timing raises questions about U.S. responsibility for the actions of members of a unit it was actively engaged with.
“Anytime the U.S. works in tandem with forces known to commit abuses, as is the case for the BIR in Cameroon, it risks complicity in those abuses,” Ilaria Allegrozzi, senior Central Africa researcher at Human Rights Watch, told The Intercept. “If the 127e program has allowed the U.S. to exercise control over the BIR during abusive operations, then the U.S. is also liable for those abuses.”
U.S. forces have also taken part in combat in Cameroon under the 127e authority. In 2017, Navy SEALs accompanied Cameroonian soldiers to the outskirts of a compound flying an ISIS flag and called on the occupants to come out, according to an account, attributed to “U.S. officials,” in the footnotes of a 2021 report by the International Crisis Group. When a man emerged carrying an AK-47, a Cameroonian soldier attempted to fire on him, but his weapon jammed. A SEAL observing from a distance opened fire and killed the man.
Bolduc, the SOCAFRICA commander until June 2017, said that the mission was run as part of the 127e program. He defended the killing on the grounds that it constituted “collective self-defense of a partner force” — the same justification AFRICOM frequently uses to justify airstrikes in Somalia.
The episode is indicative of the close involvement of U.S. personnel in some 127e operations. The 127e authority first faced significant scrutiny after four U.S. soldiers were killed by Islamic State militants during a 2017 ambush in Niger. U.S. troops have also died on other 127e missions, the former senior defense official said.
The U.S. is often deeply involved in all aspects of 127e operations’ planning and sometimes execution, said a former senior intelligence official, who also requested anonymity because the program is classified. “There is intelligence sharing, there is continuous advising on how to mission plan. In some places, we are embedding with them. We are actually going on the missions, we are essentially in their ear.”
Testifying before Congress in 2019, Gen. Richard D. Clarke, the head of U.S. Special Operations Command, said that 127e programs “directly resulted in the capture or killing of thousands of terrorists, disrupted terrorist networks and activities, and denied terrorists operating space across a wide range of operating environments, at a fraction of the cost of other programs.”
The basis for Clarke’s statement is unclear, however. Ken McGraw, a Special Operations Command spokesperson, told The Intercept that the command does not have figures on those captured or killed during 127e missions and declined to clarify Clarke’s statement, citing the classified nature of 127e. It is not known how many foreign forces and civilians have been killed in these operations.
Photo: U.S. Navy
U.S. officials maintain that they have not knowingly supported members of the unit who have committed atrocities. “At the time that the United States provided BIR units with assistance, the United States was not aware of credible information implicating those units in a gross violation of human rights,” the State Department spokesperson told The Intercept. “The agreements also provide, consistent with our statutory authorities, that any defense articles provided to Cameroon must be returned to the United States when they are no longer needed for the purposes for which they were furnished.”
But at least some weapons and equipment provided by the U.S. to support the Cameroonian military in counterterrorism operations have been employed in the Anglophone conflict, according to Christopher Fomunyoh, regional director for Central and West Africa at the National Democratic Institute, who testified before a House Foreign Affairs subcommittee in 2020. “That’s extremely worrying because we’re beginning to see some of the tactics and gross violations of human rights in the Anglophone regions of Cameroon that had been recorded in incidents happening in the extreme north,” Fumonyoh said.
Members of the BIR who had been stationed in the north, where the U.S. conducted training, were also redeployed to the northwest when the Cameroonian military opened a regional command there. While that fight is against separatist groups, the Cameroonian government began to refer to them as “terrorists,” as it did with Boko Haram and the Islamic State.
Ntui, the International Crisis Group analyst, said that the Cameroonian government’s movement of troops to the Anglophone regions is what ultimately pushed the U.S. to reduce its assistance. “The risk of Cameroon using equipment and training that had been provided for counterinsurgency in the far north was getting increasingly high.” The U.S. had asked its Cameroonian counterparts for guarantees that the assistance wouldn’t be used outside its intended scope, Ntui added. “But that is simply impractical.”
Asked about this very issue in 2018, an AFRICOM spokesperson said that “Cameroon is a sovereign nation and can transfer personnel between units.”
Christopher Roberts, a political science instructor at Canada’s University of Calgary who tracks foreign assistance to the Cameroonian military, said he “would be shocked if the Americans ever did any planning for any operations in the Anglophone region, but I wouldn’t be shocked if the Cameroonian government used both, obviously, the training, but also some of the material support that they were given to fight Boko Haram and redirected it.”
Roberts found that the sale of U.S.-made helicopters to Cameroon continued after U.S. assistance was scaled back and that aircraft supplied to the Cameroonian government as part of its fight against Boko Haram were being used in the Anglophone region instead. Armored vehicles, munitions, small arms, and surveillance drones originally intended for the north of the country were redeployed there, Roberts and Cameroon researcher Billy Burton previously pointed out.
According to the document obtained by The Intercept, the weapons and gear the U.S. had provided to the BIR were “recovered” and placed in storage or transferred to other 127e programs. At least some of the equipment provided to Cameroon through a different partnership program, however, was unaccounted for, according to a 2020 report by the State Department’s inspector general. Officials in charge of the partnership, the report noted, “were also not able to confirm if the equipment was being used as intended.”
The post Even After Acknowledging Abuses, the U.S. Continued to Employ Notorious Proxy Forces in Cameroon appeared first on The Intercept.
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In the days before his arrest, Stewart Rhodes could feel the authorities circling. He met me on a chilly Dallas evening in January in a room I’d booked at a chain hotel not far from where he lived, the neon lights of office parks and strip malls glowing outside. He wore dark jeans and a flannel shirt patterned in yellow and black, the colors of the Oath Keepers, one of the largest militant groups in the country, which Rhodes, 56, created in 2009 and has led since. He looked at me steadily with his right eye through a pair of glasses; his left eye, shot out in a handgun accident three decades before, was covered with a black patch. The Yale Law graduate normally relished the chance to spar with an interviewer, but on this night, he seemed a bit hollowed out. I asked if the prospect of prison was weighing on him. “I’m not going to give them the satisfaction of feeling like they’re getting to me,” he said.
The one-year anniversary of January 6 was approaching. That was the day Rhodes, spurred by Donald Trump’s claims of a stolen election, had led his members to the U.S. Capitol, warning of the potential for civil war and hoping that the then-president would act to stop the transfer of power. Perhaps he’d even call for assistance from Rhodes himself, along with other members of the wider militant movement that Rhodes had spent so many years helping to grow, shape, and drive closer to the new conservative mainstream. Instead, Trump had given a speech to propel the “Stop the Steal” masses toward the Capitol, then returned to the White House to watch events unfold on TV, while Rhodes had stood amid the crowd outside the Capitol in a black cowboy hat as two columns of his members pushed in with the rioters. Seventeen people with alleged links to the Oath Keepers had since been arrested, and Rhodes had spent the year as “Person One” in the sprawling FBI investigation into what happened that day.
“On January 6, [Trump] told all his followers, you know, now we are going to march on the Capitol, and I’ll be with you. And he just ghosted. Didn’t show up at his own party.”
Rhodes maintained that he’d given no order for his members to enter the Capitol. FBI agents had interviewed him and seized his phone; they’d even seized the phone of the Oath Keepers’ chief counsel, wielding a search warrant that said they were investigating sedition. The Oath Keepers had been de-platformed by tech companies and cut loose by credit card processors such as PayPal and Stripe, leaving Rhodes to post a note on the group’s website asking members to send their dues by check and listing a mailing address. He said he took no comfort from the fact that he was still free, adding that he’d heard FBI agents were out interviewing Oath Keepers around the country. He noted that around three dozen January 6 suspects were being held without bail and referred to news reports that said some were being kept in 23-hour isolation: “Just imagine they whisk you away tomorrow, come and get you in a midnight raid. They accuse you of being an insurgent, and they just toss you in jail for nine months with no bail.” I asked if he’d been imagining that fate for himself. “I signed on for this, and this is part of the ride,” he replied. “This is what it means to be a political dissident in modern America.”
It struck me that the more aggressively Rhodes was targeted in an effort to hold accountable those who sought to overturn the 2020 election, the more it reinforced, for him, the alternate reality in which he already resided. The same might apply to many of the protesters who’d descended on the Capitol and to other Americans who supported their cause. In that parallel reality, the movement that crystallized on January 6 is fighting for freedom against an encroaching tyranny. They are the ones challenging the real authority in this country, while liberals and their allies man the imperial gates. And Rhodes, rather than being an agent of entrenched power, is a potential revolutionary. His view is rooted in his reading of American history and idolization of the founding generation; one difference between Rhodes and many conservatives who’ve lately adopted this mindset is that he’s had it for a very long time. Since well before he became famous as a militant leader, his writing has been populated by specters of the gulag, of political arrests and secret police. These are extreme visions, but a stolen election would be a step down that path.
Sitting in the hotel room, Rhodes spoke of Trump’s betrayal: “On January 6, he told all his followers, you know, now we are going to march on the Capitol, and I’ll be with you. And he just ghosted. Didn’t show up at his own party.” Trump, he continued, had then left his supporters to face the investigation on their own, offering no financial or legal support to the people it targeted: “It’s like we don’t exist.” To Trump and the other big players in the “Stop the Steal” movement, he said, the Oath Keepers were “nothing. Cannon fodder.”
Yet Rhodes remained as convinced as ever by the lie Trump had spread about the stolen election — so convinced, in fact, that he could only interpret the other side’s insistence on calling it a lie as more proof of what he was up against, the deafening power of the establishment machine that had been mobilized. He refused to entertain the possibility that he could be wrong about this central fact. I thought of this when Rhodes was arrested a week later, charged with seditious conspiracy, and I saw the courtroom sketch of him standing before a judge, shackled, in prison greens and a surgical mask, entering his plea of not guilty. It would be this alternate reality itself, one inhabited by millions of Americans, that went on trial. And I wondered if anything, even the convictions of Rhodes and the other January 6 defendants, could shake people from it. The authorities, Rhodes had told me, “can browbeat people all they want, and label people terrorists, or whatever they’re going to do. They can lock a bunch of us up. It’s not going to help their credibility. It’s going to keep eroding it.”
Photo: Christopher Lee
Before the election, Rhodes told me a story. It was the summer of 2020, and I’d spent the previous few days traveling with him through the South as he spoke at militant meetings and encouraged people to get ready for resistance. He saw the enemy advancing on myriad fronts in those fevered months: the antifa insurgency, deep-state liberals for whom pandemic restrictions were just cover for a power grab, the propagandist organs of the mainstream media, and, behind it all, the conspirators plotting to rig the upcoming vote. If you asked him or the people in his orbit to sum up the threat, though, there was always one word: tyranny.
We were at a main street pub in a town in the Virginia range of the Appalachians. It had taken months to convince him to meet me; he’s wary of journalists and was especially so in my case, partly because I’d told him that I was writing a story based on a leaked database of his members. He also noted that I’d covered the Islamic State overseas and seemed worried that I’d portray the Oath Keepers as a domestic equivalent. In fact, my reporting on the Oath Keepers was driven by the same goal that had animated my work in Syria, Iraq, and Ukraine: I wanted to understand what was pushing people toward violence and what, if anything, could be done to reverse it.
At the pub, after Rhodes put in for his standard paleo order and a glass of wine, he relaxed a bit. He was going through a divorce and dealing with the stress from running his organization, and eventually he’d gotten into meditation. He was chasing the Zen mindset, and one day he decided to attend a Buddhist retreat at a sangha in Montana. He felt out of place at first, he admitted, sitting there with all those liberals, and perhaps he felt branded by the “We the People” tattoo on his forearm or his eyepatch. But everyone was told to leave their identities at the door — to remain on a first-name basis and avoid all talk of work or family.
Near the end of the retreat, after a lesson on the need to love everyone, even one’s enemies, a woman spoke up, saying she couldn’t find love for Trump. Think of him as a child, the retreat leader replied. Think of what his father must have been like. Find empathy for little Trump. Build from there. “Then he said something else,” Rhodes continued. “He’s like, ‘And something else to think about is that everything you see on TV is fake.’”
I raised my eyebrows. Rhodes kept going, explaining how the teacher had implored his students to tune out the false world of division behind their screens. “He said the real world is you, your family, your neighbors,” Rhodes said. “And he’s right.”
Look, I said, eventually. No matter what happens in November, Trump, if he loses, will say the election was stolen. What are you going to do? He paused for a bit. Then he said, sounding sincere, and maybe even worried: “I don’t know.”
Roger Stone and Trump supporters at a “Stop the Steal” rally in Washington, D.C., on Jan. 5, 2021.
Photo: Christopher Lee
After the election, Rhodes posted a pair of open letters on the Oath Keepers website, laying out a plan. In the first, published in mid-December 2020, he seemed at once enraged, believing Trump’s claims about the steal, and unsure why the president wasn’t doing more about it. He called on Trump to invoke the Insurrection Act, overturn the vote, and federalize the National Guard. Trump should also declassify the nation’s secrets, Rhodes added, so the traitors in positions of power could be identified. And he should call up irregulars like the Oath Keepers as “the militia” to help put down the unrest these moves were bound to spark.
The second letter, published ahead of the January 6 “Stop the Steal” rally, repeated those calls and painted Congress’s vote to certify the Electoral College results as Trump’s last chance to act. Rhodes called on Trump to deploy the National Guard to administer a new election using only paper ballots cast in person by citizens with government-issued IDs. Teams of Oath Keepers, Rhodes wrote, would be at the rally on a dual mission: to work protection details for keynote speakers while standing ready to help the president if called upon. “We will also have well-armed and equipped [quick reaction force] teams on standby, outside DC,” he wrote in a follow-up post, “in the event of a worst-case scenario, where the President calls us up as part of the militia to assist him inside DC.” When I read all this at the time, something beneath the inflammatory rhetoric struck me: Rhodes, who received his law degree in 2004, was asking the president for legal cover.
According to the Department of Justice indictment that was unsealed after his arrest, the Oath Keepers made significant preparations for the plans Rhodes had spelled out: arranging trainings in paramilitary tactics, coordinating travel to Washington, D.C., and stashing arsenals in nearby Virginia for potential use by the “quick reaction” teams. One member allegedly tried to secure boats that could get the teams and weapons across the Potomac River more quickly. Rhodes, meanwhile, bought more than $20,000 worth of guns, ammunition, and equipment such as a scope, a bipod, and night-vision devices, the indictment claims, while sharing advice from a purported Serbian activist explaining how, after that country’s former president stole an election in 2000, pro-democracy protesters descended on its capital, stormed its parliament, and brought down the regime.
During the protest on January 6, Rhodes was photographed standing with his fellow Oath Keepers outside the Capitol wearing a black scarf and his black cowboy hat. The indictment doesn’t accuse his members of bringing firearms to the Capitol; instead, it alleges, they brought knives, batons, body armor, and other tactical gear, along with an 82-pound German shepherd named Warrior. Videos shot during the riot show two columns of Oath Keepers pushing their way into the Capitol via different entrances; according to the indictment, members of one of these columns tried to help the rioters break into the Senate chamber until they were repelled by chemical spray, then embarked on an unsuccessful hunt for House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. Rhodes spoke by phone with the leader of this column shortly before those Oath Keepers entered the building, according to the indictment, which provides no details about what Rhodes said. Last week, the leader of the second column, 34-year-old Army veteran Joshua James, pleaded guilty to seditious conspiracy and agreed to “cooperate fully” with the investigation; he said he’d entered the Capitol to disrupt certification of the Electoral College vote and had taken part in a plan “developed by Rhodes … to stop the lawful transfer of presidential power.” James added that after he’d left the Capitol, Rhodes told him that he was “glad James and others had gone inside.”
Prosecutors have not provided evidence that Rhodes gave an order to enter the building. Instead, the indictment against him contains more general messages that he allegedly sent his members during the unrest, calling rioters “pissed off patriots” and noting that “the founding generation stormed the governor’s mansion in MA and tarred and feathered his tax collectors. And they seized and dumped tea in the water. They didn’t fire on them, but they street fought. Next comes our ‘Lexington.’ It’s coming.”
In the days that followed, the indictment alleges, Rhodes went on another buying spree: $6,000 for gun sights, mounts, and various supplies on January 10; $1,500 for scopes, magazines, and other items on January 11; $7,000 for ammunition, duffel bags, a gun light, and more on January 12; $1,000 for firearms parts on January 13; and $2,000 for ammo and equipment, including holsters and gun mounts, between January 14 and 19.
Stewart Rhodes at a “Stop the Steal” rally in Dallas on Dec. 5, 2020.
Photo: Christopher Lee
Not long afterward, in February 2021, I traveled to Dallas and called Rhodes over an encrypted app. After some argument, he agreed to let me join him for dinner at a crowded steakhouse. He insisted that our conversation be off the record, the only time over more than a dozen interviews that he made that request. He said some things, however, that he repeated on the record later, including a denial that he’d taken part in a conspiracy. In the end, he said, the Oath Keepers’ mission on January 6 hadn’t extended beyond serving as protective details for Trump ally Roger Stone and other “Stop the Steal” VIPs. Going into the Capitol, he added, had not been part of the plan; those who did so had gotten carried away in the riot. In subsequent meetings, he would paint the FBI investigation as political persecution and claim that it would uncover no evidence that he’d planned or directed the incursion. He’d also predict that prosecutors would coerce Oath Keepers into providing false testimony and “cook up” charges against him.
Rhodes is the central figure in the modern militant movement, for which the Oath Keepers have served as an ideological vanguard and grassroots recruiting machine, their reach extending from rank-and-file conservatives to serving soldiers and police. He once worked for Ron Paul, the libertarian former congressman, and has long challenged the traditional Republican establishment; in 2013, the Oath Keepers took out a billboard at the Pentagon subway station that praised the whistleblower Edward Snowden. The move was controversial among members, however, and the group’s proximity to the tea party, along with its focus on recruiting people with law enforcement and military backgrounds, have always suggested that rather than being opposed to the excesses of state power, as they claimed, the Oath Keepers might be an extension of it. The starting point for what Rhodes preaches is in the organization’s name: that members of the police and military swear oaths to defend the Constitution against all enemies and any patriotic American can do the same. The Oath Keepers, in Rhodes’s portrayal, could encourage active members of the security services to refuse unconstitutional orders; if necessary, they could also fight. The salient question, then, becomes who gets to determine the enemy. For Rhodes, a hard-line suspicion of gun control — blocking access to weapons is essential, he says, to any authoritarian push — flows into a more general demonization of liberals. He has championed the idea of a conservative “warrior class” uniting gun owners with members of the military and law enforcement communities; a belief that armed force is a valid option in American politics; and a view of politics as a struggle beyond democracy, between freedom and tyranny.
Rhodes is the central figure in the modern militant movement, for which the Oath Keepers have served as an ideological vanguard and grassroots recruiting machine.
Despite his profile, however, Rhodes could never have mustered so large a crowd even of his own members in Washington, let alone the hundreds of others who stormed the Capitol. The draw was Trump and his stolen election claims. At the steakhouse, I began to notice in Rhodes a sense of disillusionment with Trump, whom the militant crowd had treated as a standard-bearer — a president who embraced and fed their worldview and made them feel for the first time that they had a true ally in the Oval Office. Some of the Oath Keepers who’d been arrested so far were being represented by public defenders, while the former president was off giving speeches and fundraising, not for them, but for himself. Trump, Rhodes would note later, had failed to even issue pardons for January 6 suspects on his way out of office.
Yet I also thought that Rhodes couldn’t feel entirely out of place in the glare of the FBI investigation. He’d suspected since the 1990s that the government was out to get Americans of his mindset and in the subsequent “war on terror” had observed the development of the tools and narratives that he believed the government might one day employ against people like him. Now his political opponents were calling him a terrorist as former security officials with mainstream media contracts shared their counterinsurgency insights on TV. Federal agents had taken his men from their houses. And one day the knock might come at last to his own door.
Photo: Christopher Lee
Tasha Adams met Rhodes in 1991 in a working-class suburb of Las Vegas. She was an 18-year-old ballroom dance instructor and he was a 25-year-old Army veteran working as a valet. Rhodes was taking lessons at her studio, which was in a strip mall; on their first date, he took her to see the Hoover Dam. When she visited his apartment, she told me recently, he showed her his Steyr Aug automatic rifle, which she thought looked like a space gun. They both saw themselves as outsiders. For Adams, this was rooted in her devout and insular Mormon upbringing. Rhodes’s father was a white Marine veteran, Adams recalled, adding that Rhodes had been raised mainly by his mother, who came from a family of Mexican migrant laborers. He would visit these relatives during summers as a kid; he later wrote, in a 2008 blog post, that he was “quite proud” of his Hispanic heritage. He touted family lore that his maternal grandfather had fought alongside the Mexican Revolution hero Pancho Villa.
Rhodes joined the Army right after high school. His military career was cut short after three years, however; while training as a paratrooper, as Rhodes tells it, his chute got tangled in a cluster of tall trees during a risky night jump, and he fell to the ground, fracturing his spine. He was medically retired. Adams recalls Rhodes as a young man determined to find his place, with a budding libertarian worldview informed by gun shops and Ayn Rand and a passion for politics and history that made her dream he might be a teacher one day.
Adams and Rhodes married in 1994 and went on to have six children together. She filed for divorce in 2018. In a petition for an order of protection submitted days later, she alleged threatening behavior and accused Rhodes of once grabbing their teenage daughter by the neck. The petition wasn’t granted, and Rhodes has denied the allegations.
“He saw himself as a figure in history.”
Even early in their relationship, Adams told me, there was another side to Rhodes, which became more pronounced after he lost his eye and almost his life by dropping a loaded handgun, causing it to accidentally discharge. On the one hand, he was making his way through school, starting with classes at a community college, then moving on to the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, where he graduated summa cum laude, and ultimately landing at Yale. A talented sculptor, he once created statues inspired by “Liberty Leading the People,” the Eugene Delacroix painting commemorating the second French Revolution. On the other hand, his self-perception as an outsider seemed to have contributed to a chip on his shoulder while inflaming his paranoia. When he was just a student with a part-time job at a gun store and a National Rifle Association membership, Adams told me, Rhodes suspected that he might be on government watchlists. Such fears eventually became intertwined with his politics. A Constitutional “originalist,” he thought that the country had drifted dangerously far from the Founding Fathers’ vision and that America risked passing a point of no return into tyranny. Rhodes, Adams said, believed that there would be another revolution one day and that he’d be a part of it: “He saw himself as a figure in history.”
The 1993 massacre in Waco, Texas, which began with a siege by federal authorities in February of that year, was foundational to his worldview. In it, Rhodes, like many in his section of the political right, saw his vision of a tyrannical government coming to life. On one side were the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, the FBI, and a newly inaugurated Democratic administration. On the other, barricaded in their compound, were members of a hard-line Christian sect called the Branch Davidians and their guns. It started with a tip from an ATF informant about an arms cache. It ended, two months later, in a thundering fire ignited during an FBI-ATF raid. The Branch Davidians were burned so badly that the exact number of dead is unsettled; more than 70 people were killed, including children. Many pro-gun conservatives with a fixation on early American history found it hard not to dwell on the date: April 19. It was the 218-year anniversary of the battles of Lexington and Concord, when the first shot of the Revolutionary War was fired as British redcoats marched into the stronghold of the colonial militias on an order to seize their weapons.
A black-and-white photographic print shows the Branch Davidians’ compound burning to the ground during the raid by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms in Waco, Texas, on April 19, 1993.
Photo: Mark Perlstein/Getty Images
Two years later, on April 19, 1995, Gulf War veteran Timothy McVeigh detonated a truck bomb at the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City as an act of vengeance over Waco, killing 168 people. McVeigh was a racist who’d once sold copies of “The Turner Diaries,” a white supremacist manifesto disguised as a novel, and had ties to white supremacist paramilitaries. He’d also reportedly attended a meeting of a more mainstream militia in the self-styled “Patriot” movement that was surging at the time, and in the years after his attack, membership in these militias dipped as they faced increased scrutiny. In “Up in Arms,” a history of right-wing militancy in the U.S., journalist John Temple argues that the 200-plus militia groups of the time shared a belief that “Americans were losing control over their own government to globalist forces” but diverged on the issue of race. “A stubborn element of bigotry was embedded in some Patriot organizations, while other groups and leaders specifically renounced racism and anti-Semitism,” Temple writes. McVeigh showed that even when militia members tried to distance themselves from the movement’s racist element, they couldn’t escape it.
When Rhodes created the Oath Keepers, he wrote bylaws prohibiting racial and religious discrimination. “It’s a reaction to what I know is out there. I know there are actual racists that would like to worm their way in,” he once told me. “Bubba the fucking KKK guy, I wouldn’t be OK with him. He can go fuck off.” The Oath Keepers have attracted nonwhite members while still remaining disproportionately white; their grievances have overlapped at times with those of racists, even as members profess disdain for white supremacy. These same dynamics would eventually play out within Trumpism.
Rhodes portrayed Waco as a pivotal moment when the establishment’s true nature was unmasked and an indelible sign that his segment of the right existed outside the country’s true power structure. In the mid-2000s, in a post in an obscure online forum where he was a regular, Rhodes noted that some of Waco’s victims were Hispanic and Black. “But they were political and religious undesirables who dared to own guns and quote the Constitution (the audacity!) and that was enough for the Clinton regime, who thus treated them like sub-humans and unleashed the Goose-stepping American Gestapo on them,” he wrote. “When the state turns on political enemies or political and/or religious sub-groups it feels ‘safe’ to attack, the State is truly colorblind.” He added, sticking to his libertarian credo of the time: “A lefty regime will tyrannize anyone of any color that does not toe the line, just like a Right(schtag!) regime will.”
After September 11, the war on terror intensified these fears. At Yale, as a 38-year-old law student, Rhodes won a prize for a paper criticizing the George W. Bush administration’s “unlawful enemy combatant” doctrine, which allowed the suspension of habeas corpus rights for terrorism suspects, even if they were U.S. citizens. He did not see the broad war-making, surveillance, and detention powers that the government was acquiring as the exclusive province of conservatives; he thought they were just as likely to be embraced by liberals one day and turned against people like him.
In a blog post announcing the formation of the Oath Keepers in early 2009, he said that conservatives had spent the last eight years “expanding the de facto power of the Executive branch to obscene and absurd levels. Those powers are now in the hands of President Barack Obama.” He added, in a subsequent post, that the idea of treating right-wing militias as “the equivalent of foreign enemies in wartime” had been proposed after the Oklahoma City bombing by legal scholars, who argued that all suspected terrorists should be tried by military tribunals. The enemy combatant doctrine, Rhodes continued, had since established that the laws of war could apply to U.S. citizens. “Once that line was crossed,” he wrote, “nothing but raw politics stops that power from being used on you.”
As the Oath Keepers gained steam online, Rhodes began to plan an in-person event to mark its official founding. On April 19, 2009, he appeared before a crowd of newly minted members on Lexington Green in Massachusetts. Standing at a microphone in a baggy suit and tie, he led them in a recitation of the oath that soldiers and police officers swear: “I will support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
Stewart Rhodes at a “Stop the Steal” rally in Dallas in December 2020.
Photo: Christopher Lee
I next saw Rhodes in June 2021, six months after the attack on the U.S. Capitol. On a sunny afternoon, he drove north on a Texas highway in a white SUV. The Oath Keepers had started as a viral sensation on his old blog and then in the social media age racked up hundreds of thousands of followers across various Facebook pages and on Twitter. All of that was gone, deleted when those platforms banned the Oath Keepers and other militant groups before the 2020 election. He could still bring his message out himself, though, as long as he was free. “Since January 6, I’ve been preoccupied with all of our guys getting arrested,” he told me. “I miss this. This is what I do — go out and do events and talk to people.”
For all the internet buzz around the Oath Keepers over the years and all the headlines Rhodes had generated, he considered the grassroots element of his outreach essential. Watching him speak at rallies and meetings, then linger long after they were done, I’d noticed that he had a retail politician’s compulsion to make every last connection and an ideologue’s drive to make a convert in every conversation. He’d spent the last 13 years working the crowds at militant gatherings large and small, giving speeches on the self-styled “patriot” and “liberty” circuits, manning tables at tea party rallies, and encouraging his members to do the same. His push to grow the Oath Keepers had an obvious financial element — being a member required little to no vetting or participation, just signing up and paying what is now a $50 annual fee — and disgruntled former associates had complained for years about the way Rhodes lived off the organization. There was also a part of him that seemed to care not at all who signed up for the Oath Keepers and who didn’t so long as his ideas reached them. “My primary function is to advise people,” he said as he drove. “Hey, here’s what you should be doing in your local community. Here’s how you can become stronger. Here’s what you can do to unite the warrior class of America.”
That evening’s gathering had been arranged by an Oath Keeper who hoped to start a new chapter in Wichita Falls, a city of about 100,000 near the Texas border with Oklahoma. He was a veteran with good connections in the community and with the local Republican Party. One person like this was worth more than a mass of online followers — you only had to give him the ideas and some guidance, Rhodes explained, and leave him to his own momentum.
When Rhodes entered the Army, he’d hoped to join the Special Forces, one of the most revered units in the U.S. military. These elite troops are considered a “force multiplier” when they operate among the rank and file and also venture out on high-value missions. In Vietnam, Iraq, Afghanistan, and beyond, meanwhile, they’ve embedded with U.S.-aligned local forces, arming and training them and often fighting alongside them. The Oath Keepers, Rhodes told me as we sat in the SUV, have “a Special Forces mission.” I recalled that the Oath Keepers had pushed through the masses at the Capitol in a tactical formation called a “stack,” hands on one another’s shoulders. Though this isn’t a very sophisticated technique, prosecutors alleged that it helped them maneuver through the crowd and some media accounts suggested that it made them more effective than other rioters.
“You no longer have a representative form of government. The election in November was stolen.”
This aspect of the Oath Keepers, however, will also factor into Rhodes’s defense. During a bail hearing in January, one of his attorneys, Phillip Linder, got an FBI agent to acknowledge that the Oath Keepers had brought no illegal firearms into the Capitol and that the FBI had no information to suggest that any of Rhodes’s firearms purchases had been unlawful. In a subsequent filing, Linder and a co-counsel argued that the Oath Keepers who’d entered the Capitol did so after learning that people were hurt and needed help. They used the stack formation, the attorneys wrote, because they “were composed of ex-military, law enforcement and EMS personnel. Their training teaches them the best ways to enter an unknown and/or hostile situation.” Members of one stack, the lawyers continued, referencing unreleased photo and video, then “provided security and escort to overwhelmed Capitol police officers.” Some Oath Keepers and police officers, the attorneys wrote, “were interacting in a cordial and social manner.”
Rhodes was ultimately denied bail and is set to stand trial in July; if convicted, he could be sentenced to more than two decades in prison. (A trial for Oath Keepers charged with lesser offenses was initially scheduled to begin, incredibly, on April 19.) In an interview, Linder told me that a key element of Rhodes’s defense will be “to educate the public in general about who the Oath Keepers really are,” saying the defense would emphasize that “a large part of their work over the years has been charitable in nature.” He mentioned the group’s relief efforts after disasters such as Hurricane Harvey and cast its protection of conservative VIPs and rallygoers in a similar light. He added, of Rhodes’s preparations with the quick reaction teams: “He was waiting to see if the president was going to call them up, and the president never did, so he left. Plain and simple.”
The Special Forces also focus on another aspect of unconventional warfare: the so-called battle for hearts and minds. Whatever the truth of his involvement on January 6, Rhodes has worked for years to bring the ideas of right-wing militancy closer to the center of American conservatism by making that militancy more accessible and helping it reach a wider audience. He contributed to lowering the barrier for entry at a time when the Republican Party, beginning with the tea party, was already shifting toward an embrace of the far right. In the past, joining a militant group typically meant linking up with a specific outfit in a specific place, going to meetings and trainings. With the Oath Keepers, you could do all that if you wanted to, but you could also be a passive member, browsing the forums, paying your low annual dues, and receiving the mailings. Or you didn’t have to join at all. You could just pick up pieces of the ideology — maybe you caught Rhodes in one of his old Facebook posts, or one of his dozens of appearances on InfoWars with Alex Jones, or at a speech he gave at one of those small events with names like “Liberty on Tap,” or at an anti-lockdown rally.
In Wichita Falls, Rhodes pulled into the parking lot of a Walmart and walked inside to buy a whiteboard. An hour later, he was standing in a conference room inside a glistening Harley-Davidson dealership, addressing a few dozen people. Some were skeptical at first. As he spoke, though, they listened intently, at times nodding in unison in their folding chairs. His goal, he said, wasn’t to get them to join the Oath Keepers: “My actual goal is to share what I know about how to organize and strengthen your community.” He drew a pyramid on the whiteboard and started asking questions. What are the fundamental building blocks of a community? Family first — he wrote it at the base of the pyramid — and on top of that come your neighbors, along with their families. He kept asking questions, scribbling as he went. Next come the people in your church, the people in your town, the people in your county. The line for nation seemed very far from those immediate connections, tucked into the pyramid’s peak. It reminded me of the message Rhodes had heard from the retreat leader at the sangha: The people around you were most important. What he was telling these people to do for their community was to arm themselves and organize. This, he said, was part of the genius of what the Founding Fathers had envisioned: “When all of you in the town and the county are the militia, how could anyone violate your rights?”
“We’re walking the same path that they did,” he said, speaking again of the founding generation. “You no longer have a representative form of government. The election in November was stolen.”
Photo: Christopher Lee
One of the most notorious speeches Rhodes ever gave was in May 2015, a month before Trump launched his presidential campaign. At a small event in a pub in Arizona, Rhodes said that John McCain should be “hung from the neck until dead.” He was talking, he likes to note, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye, about forcing the late senator to face his own machine. The context of his remark was McCain’s support for the expansion of the security state throughout the war on terror. (Rhodes had also not forgiven McCain for defeating his political hero, Ron Paul, in the 2008 contest for the Republican presidential nomination.) The longer quote from Rhodes’s speech, which refers to the unlawful enemy combatant doctrine he’d written about at Yale, is that McCain “would deny you the right to trial [by] jury, but we will give him a trial [by] jury, and then after we convict him, he should be hung by the neck until dead.”
While Rhodes may have opposed the constitutional overreach of the war on terror, however, he embraced other aspects of it. He trafficked in overhyped fears about Islamist terrorism in the United States. He warned of a supposed creep of Shariah law into American cities and of the alleged threat of infiltration across the southern border, organizing Oath Keeper patrols to search for undocumented migrants. He sent teams to patrol social justice demonstrations in Ferguson, Missouri, warning of looting and rioting. And he tied these fears into an overarching vision of a subversive left inherently opposed to the pro-soldier, pro-cop brand of patriotism he was promoting. These views previewed Trumpism and then became part of it — a marriage captured in photos of Rhodes sitting in the front row at a 2019 Trump rally wearing a black-and-gold Oath Keepers baseball cap. Eventually, like Trump and many Republicans, Rhodes was painting Black Lives Matter activists as Marxists, an enemy domestic and foreign at once. In the summer of 2020, he called antifascist and left-wing protesters insurgents and potential terrorists and declared, as many influential conservatives did, that the Trump administration should deploy troops to stop them.
The January 6 movement may have failed to overturn the election, but it is growing, and perhaps in ways its originators never could have imagined.
Each side of America’s political and cultural divide, in the end, retains a significant grasp on the levers of power and is rushing to deploy whatever power it can against the other. It feels impossible to separate this dynamic from the perpetual enmity and moral and legal unmooring that the post-9/11 era has wrought. In his book “Reign of Terror,” the journalist Spencer Ackerman describes the war on terror as “an early red pill” for American society, “releasing an omnidirectional, violent nihilism that viewed itself as the only rational, sophisticated, honorable, and even civilized option.” It engendered a culture, he writes, “of manufactured outrage,” and power worship in disguise: “obedience to authority that convinced itself it was transgressive.”
The January 6 movement is not a challenge to authority; it’s a competing version of it. And although it may have failed to overturn the election, it is growing, and perhaps in ways its originators never imagined. One recent poll found that 47 million Americans believe Joe Biden is an illegitimate president and 21 million support the idea of removing him from office by force. Several Republicans in Congress have echoed the language of revolution and political violence, and in a resolution last month, the Republican National Committee deemed the House investigation into what happened on January 6 a “persecution of ordinary citizens engaged in legitimate political discourse.” Trump has recently signaled that if he runs in 2024, support for the January 6 movement will be central to his campaign, while also floating the idea of pardons for those who’ve been arrested. The Republican Party is replacing or marginalizing officials across the country who resisted Trump’s efforts to invalidate the vote, and Republican legislatures have advanced laws giving themselves more power to throw out ballots and even to appoint their own electors.
During my visit in June, I put it to Rhodes that if he’d gotten his wish on January 6, he would have become his own worst fear: not a defender against a tyrannical government, but its agent. The kinds of things he had been asking for — calling up irregular forces, canceling elections and organizing new ones — were things that happened in authoritarian regimes, I said.
“Well, that’s what we just had!” he shot back, saying that America was under an authoritarian regime now and had been since the election. “They stole it!”
I reminded him of the message from the sangha. What if Trump was lying about the election? What if that was part of the fake?
He glanced toward the ceiling, as if he were considering this. Then he looked at me again and smiled. “No,” he said. “You’re not pulling the wool over my eyes, man. I’m sorry. Not happening.”
The night before the one-year anniversary of January 6, I met Rhodes and the Oath Keepers’ chief counsel, a former assistant district attorney named Kellye SoRelle, at a barbecue restaurant outside Dallas. The meal was tense as the pair debated how Rhodes should respond to a congressional subpoena and he fielded calls from lieutenants anxious to know his next move. (Eventually, from jail, Rhodes testified for several hours before the House January 6 committee.) To Rhodes, the would-be revolutionary, his opponents were showing themselves as the enemy he’d always wanted them to be. He saw Big Tech, Wall Street, and even pharmaceutical companies, thanks to Covid-19 vaccines, working in concert with liberals and federal authorities. Many of the war on terror’s Republican standard-bearers — Liz Cheney, the Bush family — had joined them.
At the same time, he admitted that the Oath Keepers had been weakened by the crackdowns. The organization risked withering under the FBI investigation, with its social media presence erased and its fundraising restricted. Rhodes had hoped that January 6 would mark the start of a new struggle in America, and perhaps it had, but for him, it may have also been an ending. It seemed unlikely, meanwhile, that he or anyone else could say for sure where the movement was going. He vowed never again to support Trump and seemed comforted that the former president had recently been booed at one of his own events, thanks to his backing for vaccines. It wasn’t just Trump who’d abandoned Rhodes, though: The Oath Keepers had received no help from any major players on the right, he’d told me earlier in the trip, not even the VIPs they’d been guarding on January 6 and at prior “Stop the Steal” rallies. “What I would tell the guys, if I could go back in time, is that they don’t give a shit about you,” he said. “So let’s not put ourselves at risk.”
As the dinner wore on, he became more distracted by his phone calls and eventually left the table. Thirty minutes later, SoRelle and I stepped outside and found him sitting in his truck under the console light with his phone on speaker, isolated in the blackness of the parking lot. Maybe the revolution didn’t need him anymore, I thought. Maybe it didn’t need anyone at all.
The post Oath Keepers Leader Stewart Rhodes Has Made His Worst Fears Come True appeared first on The Intercept.
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A Ukrainian military vehicle speeds by on a main road near Sytnyaky, Ukraine, on March 3, 2022.
Photo: Marcus Yam/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images
Many governments of the world have denounced Putin’s actions. But when it comes to the U.S. and its NATO allies, these condemnations demand greater scrutiny. While many statements from Western leaders may be accurate regarding the nature of Russia’s actions, the U.S. and other NATO nations are in a dubious position to take a moralistic stance in condemning Russia. That they do so with zero recognition of their own hypocrisy, provocative actions, and history of unbridled militarism — particularly in the case of the U.S. — is deeply problematic. From the beginning of this crisis, Putin has exploited the militarism and past bombing campaigns of the U.S. and NATO to frame his own warped justification for his murderous campaign in Ukraine. But the fact that Putin is trying to justify the unjustifiable does not mean that we must ignore the U.S. actions that fuel his narrative.
In recent days, U.S. and NATO officials have highlighted Russia’s use of banned weapons, including cluster munitions, and have said their use constitutes violations of international law. This is indisputably true. What goes virtually unmentioned in much of the reporting on this topic is that the U.S., like both Russia and Ukraine, refuses to sign the Convention on Cluster Munitions.
The U.S. has repeatedly used cluster bombs, going back to the war in Vietnam and the “secret” bombings of Cambodia. In the modern era, both Presidents Bill Clinton and George W. Bush used them. President Barack Obama used cluster bombs in a 2009 attack in Yemen that killed some 55 people, the majority of them women and children. Despite the ban, which was finalized in 2008 and went into effect in 2010, the U.S. continued to sell cluster bombs to nations like Saudi Arabia, which regularly used them in its attacks in Yemen. In 2017, President Donald Trump reversed an internal U.S. policy aimed at limiting the use of certain types of cluster munitions, a move which a Human Rights Watch expert warned “could embolden others to use cluster munitions that have caused so much human suffering.” None of this exonerates Russia for its unconscionable use of cluster bombs against civilians, but these facts are clearly relevant when assessing the credibility of the U.S.
It is much easier to express outrage at the actions and crimes of a foreign autocrat than it is to come to terms with the conduct of your own government. This is why the images of masses of Russians protesting in the streets is a more powerful repudiation of Putin’s war than the rhetoric from U.S. politicians on cable news or the statements from NATO officials.
It is also true that the laws of war and international law should apply not only to the declared bad guys of the moment or to parties that unilaterally attack other nations, but also to every nation — including our own. Putin has framed his aggression against Ukraine in part as a response to NATO expansion, and he and other Russian officials have in recent weeks invoked the 1999 Kosovo war as precedent for Russia’s current actions in Ukraine.
Moscow’s argument is that the U.S. and NATO, under the “pretext” of “humanitarian intervention,” and with no United Nations authorization, unilaterally bombed Serbia for more than two months in 1999 followed by a ground incursion into Kosovo. In February, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov suggested, in remarks at the U.N., that the U.S. had set a precedent with the Kosovo war and that this negated the value of Western critiques of Russia’s plans to attack Ukraine. “I have to recall these facts, because some Western colleagues prefer to forget them,” Putin said in his February 24 speech. “When we mentioned the [Kosovo war], they prefer to avoid speaking about international law.”
Although many of Putin’s comparisons are nonsense and — even when they are cogent — do nothing to justify his own current murderous campaign, there are relevant insights we can extract from reviewing some of NATO’s actions in Kosovo. The most direct analogy in recent U.S. military history to Putin’s large-scale ground invasion of Ukraine is obviously the Iraq War. Yet it’s important to examine the Kosovo air war because it highlights military tactics that the U.S. and NATO now rightly condemn Russia for using. Like Iraq, it also illustrates the entrenched double standard that permeates the consistently hypocritical U.S. response to the actions of its enemies.
Slobodan Milošević had for many years imposed a system of minority rule, repression, and terror against Kosovo Albanians, which constituted 90 percent of the southern province’s population. Beginning in 1989, he began to hack away at Kosovo’s long-held autonomous status within the Yugoslav federation. The situation steadily deteriorated over the next decade as Yugoslavia disintegrated, and by 1998 the U.S. was threatening to intervene militarily to confront Milošević, accusing his forces of massacring and terrorizing Albanian civilians and plotting a wider campaign of ethnic cleansing.
Throughout the year leading up to the NATO bombing, Milošević’s forces regularly clashed with armed insurgents from the separatist Kosovo Liberation Army. After the killing of several police officers in early 1998, Milošević’s forces launched a murderous retaliatory campaign in which they repeatedly killed civilians, including the family members of KLA guerrillas. Human rights groups also documented abuses by the KLA, including killings and kidnappings of civilians, though on a far smaller scale than those carried out by Serbian forces. This situation, combined with the general state of repression of ethnic Albanians, brought Kosovo to wider public attention and drew sharper focus from the U.S. and NATO, which stood accused, earlier in the decade, of failing to respond earlier to the mass slaughter of Bosnian Muslims.
There were also influential voices in the U.S. — including then-Sen. Joe Biden, who advocated directly targeting Serbia and Milošević since the Bosnia war — and the worsening situation in Kosovo helped them make their case. “We talk about humanitarian interests — it far exceeds the humanitarian interest,” Biden said in October 1998. “If I were president, I would just bomb him, and I mean that sincerely, and I would have the NATO allies come along.” Belgrade’s position was that it was engaged in a fight against “terrorist” KLA militants and that the U.S. and NATO were attempting to undermine the country’s sovereignty, a position supported by both Russia and China. As the violence intensified in early 1999, and reports of Serbian police and special forces killing civilians garnered more public attention, the prospect of a U.S.-NATO war became real.
By March 1999, an estimated 460,000 residents of Kosovo had been internally displaced, forced from their homes, or fled to neighboring countries. The U.S.-NATO position was that given the mass atrocities committed by Bosnian Serb forces throughout the early 1990s in Bosnia, particularly the massacre of 8,000 Bosnian Muslim men and boys at Srebrenica in July 1995, it was necessary to stop Milošević from accelerating a campaign of ethnic cleansing against the majority ethnic Albanian population of Kosovo. Multiple subsequent war crimes trials at the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia determined the Srebrenica massacre to be an act of genocide.
NATO asserted that in order to avert a bombing campaign, Milošević would have to sign the Rambouillet Accord and agree to the deployment of as many as 30,000 NATO-led troops in Kosovo. The document, drafted by NATO and signed by representatives of the Kosovo Albanians, contained a provision that stated “NATO personnel shall enjoy, together with their vehicles, vessels, aircraft, and equipment, free and unrestricted passage and unimpeded access” not just in Kosovo but also throughout the entire Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. In mid-March, international monitors pulled out of Kosovo as NATO military action grew imminent. Milošević’s forces used the opportunity to intensify their rampages through KLA strongholds, burning Albanian homes and shops. Clinton dispatched his envoy Richard Holbrooke to Belgrade to personally meet with Milošević on March 23. “We presented the ultimatum to Milosevic that if he didn’t sign the agreement, the bombing would start,” Holbrooke recalled. “And he said, ‘No.’”
Russia was the most powerful ally of Milošević and was dead set against the U.S. and NATO bombing Serbia. Clinton failed to get U.N. approval for a military operation, in part because of Russia’s repeated threats of a veto, so he sidestepped the fierce debates in both Congress and the U.N. and, on March 24, proceeded with a NATO military operation. Congress never authorized the war despite the efforts of Biden, one of the most passionate proponents of bombing Serbia. Russia, for its part, denounced the bombing as prematurely abandoning diplomacy and characterized it as a violation of the U.N. charter. From Moscow’s perspective, NATO was steadily asserting its dominance over the republics of the former Yugoslavia, which had been a socialist, nonaligned state since the end of World War II.
At the end of the bombing, Russian forces entered Kosovo ahead of NATO and briefly took control of a key airport resulting in a showdown between NATO and Russia, which some analysts feared could have severe consequences. Putin, who at the time was head of Russia’s national security council, has actually claimed he had a role in the incident. While it was ultimately resolved peacefully, at one point during the standoff a British general refused to implement the orders of U.S. Gen. Wesley Clark, the NATO supreme allied commander, to block the runway. Lt. Gen. Michael Jackson reportedly told Clark, “I am not going to start Third World War for you.” The U.S. ultimately established a large military base in the Balkans, Camp Bondsteel, and led the effort to make Kosovo, at the time a Serbian province, an independent state. To Russia, this campaign constituted an act of aggression by NATO, in circumvention of the U.N., that carved up the territory of a Russian ally in Europe and resulted in a new U.S.-NATO military base in Europe.
“High U.S. officials confirm that it was primarily the bombing of Russian ally Serbia — without even informing them in advance — that reversed Russian efforts to work together with the U.S. somehow to construct a post-Cold War European security order,” said Noam Chomsky in a recent interview. This “reversal accelerated with the invasion of Iraq and the bombing of Libya after Russia agreed not to veto a UN Security Council Resolution that NATO at once violated.”
None of this history lends an iota of legitimacy to Putin’s invasion of Ukraine. What it does offer, however, is an opportunity for the citizens of the U.S. and NATO countries to review the history of their own forces and to examine the ways in which our conduct damages our moral standing and ultimately gives propagandistic fodder to leaders like Putin.
The fact that Milošević was a murderous gangster who orchestrated mass deportations, atrocities, and widespread killings of ethnic Albanians in Kosovo does not justify NATO’s repeated use of cluster bombs, including on a crowded marketplace and hospital in the city of Niš, killing more than a dozen people. Human Rights Watch determined NATO killed between 90 to 150 civilians in cluster bomb attacks. Nor does it exonerate Clark, the NATO supreme allied commander, for ordering the deliberate missile attack on Radio Television Serbia that killed 16 media workers in April 1999, an act which Amnesty International labeled a war crime. It does not excuse the U.S. bombing of the Chinese Embassy (which killed three journalists), or any of the other U.S.-NATO attacks that killed civilians.
The U.S. and its allies also sought, at times, to cover up or justify incidents in which they killed civilians. In one attack, NATO struck a civilian passenger train on a bridge, killing 10 people. It later released a videotape that was played at three times the speed, making it appear as though the strike was a split-second decision and a tragic mistake. But moments after the strike, NATO fired another missile at the train. In another incident, NATO bombed a convoy of Albanian refugees fleeing Serb forces on April 14, 1999. Some 73 civilians, including 16 children, were killed in the attack, which was carried out by an American F-16. After initially suggesting that Serbian forces had killed the refugees, NATO was forced — when international journalists traveled to the scene — to admit responsibility for the strike. NATO then expressed “deep regret” for what it labeled a mistake, though NATO spokesperson Jamie Shea also asserted that “sometimes one has to risk the lives of the few to save the lives of the many.” A month later, NATO bombed another convoy of Kosovo Albanian refugees in a similar strike.
The overwhelming majority of Kosovo Albanians who were killed by Serbian forces perished after the NATO bombing began. Milošević unleashed both conventional and special units as well as vicious paramilitaries in a “systematic and deliberately organized” mass killing and forced displacement operation. The Independent International Commission on Kosovo concluded, “The NATO air campaign did not provoke the attacks on the civilian Kosovar population but the bombing created an environment that made such an operation feasible.” More than 8,600 Albanian civilians were killed or disappeared between 1998-2000, according to human rights groups; more than 2,000 Serb, Roma, and other non-Albanian civilians died or went missing during the same period.
“Within nine weeks of the beginning of the air strikes, nearly 860,000 Kosovo Albanians fled or were expelled,” according to a report from the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees. They did so amid a campaign of terror, rape, and pillaging by both official and paramilitary forces. “The NATO strikes were accompanied by escalating violence on the ground and a large refugee outflow that included organized expulsions,” according to the UNHCR. “The sequence of violence and displacement underlined the importance of the Western powers in the events that produced the refugee emergency.” After the war, when NATO occupied Kosovo, some 200,000 Serbs, Roma, and other minorities fled their homes, the UNHCR found.
The crimes of despots, dictators, and thugs do not give the U.S. and NATO permission to kill civilians.
These facts do not justify a single thing Milošević and his forces did, and Milošević deserved his indictment for war crimes. International prosecutors charged that Milošević “planned, instigated, ordered, committed or otherwise aided and abetted in a deliberate and widespread or systematic campaign of terror and violence directed at Kosovo Albanian civilians.” The vast majority of the charges against Milošević were for killings and other crimes against Albanians that occurred after the start of the NATO bombing. In 2001, after being ousted from power amid his attempts to overturn an election he lost, Milošević was arrested by Serbian special forces in the middle of the night and extradited to The Hague to face trial for his role in mass killings and other atrocities in Bosnia, Croatia, and Kosovo. He died in jail before his trial ended. The crimes of despots, dictators, and thugs — including vile criminals like Milošević — do not give the U.S. and NATO permission to kill civilians. Nor do they grant authority to the U.S. to bomb other nations for 78 days, particularly when Congress has explicitly declined to authorize the action. The crimes of declared enemies also do not erase the culpability of the U.S. and its personnel for war crimes.
It is precisely the history of these actions by the U.S. and NATO that Putin has sought to weaponize in his insane attempts to justify his invasion of Ukraine. That some of these claims are rooted in fact does not absolve Putin of a single Russian atrocity. But citizens of the U.S. and other NATO nations should deeply examine whether they support the use by their own governments of some of the very tactics and weapons favored by Putin. It is also relevant that to this day there has been no accountability for the crimes committed by the U.S. in its invasion and occupation of Iraq, its 20-year war in Afghanistan, the post-9/11 CIA torture and kidnapping program, or the killing of civilians in drone and other airstrikes in numerous countries. The U.S. has systematized a self-exoneration machine. And Russia and every nation on Earth knows it.
Since the invasion of Ukraine began, people expressing horror and outrage at Putin’s actions in Ukraine while also referencing the history of the U.S. and NATO governments have been portrayed as traitors or apologists for Russia. This is a classic tactic in the history of pro-war discourse; it has been used throughout U.S. history and was a common cudgel used to attack anti-war views in the aftermath of 9/11.
The U.S. has systematized a self-exoneration machine.
There is no contradiction between standing with the people of Ukraine and against Russia’s heinous invasion and being honest about the hypocrisy, war crimes, and militarism of the U.S. and NATO. We have an undeniable moral responsibility to prioritize holding our own government accountable for its crimes because they are being done in our names and with our tax dollars. That does not mean we should be silent in the face of the crimes of Russia or other nations, but we do bear a specific responsibility for the acts of war committed by our own nations.
Some prominent U.S. politicians and diplomats have also called for collective punishment against ordinary Russian people in order to pressure them into toppling Putin’s government, and Sen. Lindsey Graham went so far as to openly encourage Russians to assassinate Putin. While many opponents of Russia’s invasion and Putin have been clear that they do not hold Russian people responsible for the crimes of their leaders, some high-profile U.S. political figures have taken a different stance. “There are no more ‘innocent’ ‘neutral’ Russians anymore,” tweeted Michael McFaul, the former U.S. ambassador to Russia under Obama. “Everyone has to make a choice — support or oppose this war. The only way to end this war is if 100,000s, not thousands, protest against this senseless war. Putin can’t arrest you all!” McFaul later deleted the tweet. Ordinary Russians will be key to any meaningful hope of ending this war and Putin’s insanity, but we can’t overlook the brutality they face from their own government. Those who are protesting inside of Russia deserve immense credit for their bravery. Sanctions aimed at billionaire Putin cronies and government officials responsible for this invasion are fundamentally different from sanctions that directly impact civilians in an effort to blackmail them into an uprising against a regime that has shown no compunction about violently repressing and at times murdering dissidents.
The global response to Putin’s war has already exposed the tragic double standard when it comes to war victims. The people of Yemen have been suffering for more than a decade under a merciless campaign of bombing initiated by Obama in 2009 that morphed into a scorched-earth campaign by U.S.-armed-and-supported Saudi Arabia, which continues to this moment. How many of the people with Ukrainian flag avatars on their Twitter profiles have spent days or weeks pleading for the world to stand up for ordinary Yemenis living under the hell of American bombs and Saudi warplanes? The same question applies in the case of the Palestinians who live under an apartheid state imposed by Israel and backed up by a sustained campaign of annihilation supported and encouraged by the U.S. How can people argue in favor of Ukrainian rights to self-defense while simultaneously stripping Palestinians of that same right?
Vladimir Putin and the Russian officials responsible for this invasion of Ukraine should face justice. Once the evidence has been gathered, every war crime should be investigated, indictments issued, and prosecutions undertaken. The obvious venue for this would be before the International Criminal Court. Yet here is an inconvenient fact: The U.S. has refused to ratify the Rome Statute, which established the ICC. In 2002, Bush signed legislation that authorizes the U.S. to literally conduct military operations in The Hague to liberate any American personnel brought to trial for war crimes. It is indefensible that the U.S. has established a precedent that powerful nations need not be held accountable for their crimes. It is a precedent that Russia knows well, exploits regularly, and will certainly use again and again.
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This post was originally published on The Intercept.
The sun was beginning to set as Kaji Dousa neared the border. It was two days into 2019, and the line she was about to cross separating San Diego and Tijuana was the site of a politicized battle over the arrival of thousands of asylum-seekers playing out on televisions screens around the world. Dousa, a prominent New York City pastor, was more than a month into her latest round of border ministry, providing religious services to mostly Central American families whom the president had cast as a national security threat and federal agents had tear-gassed the previous day.
The work was tiring enough, but as Dousa made her way through the sprawling San Ysidro port of entry, a bundle of nerves sharpened her discomfort. It was her first time crossing back from Mexico alone. She promised her husband she would return before dark and that she would give him, and their 4-year-old daughter, a call when she did. With dusk already settling in, that was beginning to feel increasingly unlikely.
Dousa wasn’t wearing her clerical collar when she approached the U.S. Customs and Border Protection officer on duty. The conversation was cordial, with the two making small talk until something on the man’s computer caught his eye. Suddenly, the officer’s demeanor changed. He told Dousa to come with him. The pastor was led to a lobby where other would-be border crossers were waiting. She decided she might need the collar after all. She asked the official who seemed to be in charge why she was there. The man told her to sit down and suggested she look up what “secondary” inspection meant. When Dousa took a seat and pulled out her phone, the officer barked at her to put it away.
As travelers trickled in and out of the room, Dousa remained. Eventually, a new CBP official arrived. He stood out from the others, a Black man in khaki pants and a polo instead of the dark uniforms of the agency’s mostly white and Latino officers. Dousa didn’t know it at the time, but the officer’s name was Jeremy Burnett, and he was a veteran interviewer in a secretive CBP counterterrorism unit. He had been called up specifically for her interview.
Burnett led Dousa to a warren of low-walled cubicles, where they each took a seat. His vibe suggested that he knew what he was doing, Dousa thought. “He seemed, for lack of a better word, smarter than your typical sort of person at the front end of things,” she told The Intercept. “He was savvier.”
The officer began with the basics: where Dousa was from, how many times she had crossed the border. Occasionally he appeared to read from his computer screen. Burnett then asked the pastor about her work in Mexico, questioning whether she was coaching migrants to cross the border illegally. She told him that she was not, that she was providing ministry to people in need. She and her colleagues did advise asylum-seekers how to efficiently relay their stories in official interviews, Dousa explained, a legal activity for which government officials like Burnett should be grateful because it made their lives easier. Burnett seemed satisfied with the answer; Dousa sensed an opening in the conversation. She told him that in New York she regularly met with U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement officials as part of her work in undocumented communities. She understood that things were different now, she said, under the current administration, and that sometimes that was rough on people in his position. Dousa told the officer that she hoped he was showing kindness and compassion to the people he met. Burnett, she thought, seemed to be listening.
Just then, Burnett’s partner, Allen Tamayo, poked his head over the low partition separating the cubicles. He was taking notes the whole time, Dousa realized. The heart-to-heart she was having with Burnett ended. She hoped he would remember it forever. Burnett handed the pastor back her travel documents and told her she was free to leave. Dousa left her business card with the counterterrorism officers and told them to call anytime if she needed to clear anything up.
Burnett would later recall his questioning in sworn testimony before a federal court. “I felt like she was being truthful in the interview,” he said. “I didn’t feel like she was being deceiving to me.” Dousa’s was one of many interviews Burnett’s Tactical Terrorism Response Team was doing at the time. The push to probe came not from the officers but from a special task force of Border Patrol agents, Homeland Security investigators, and FBI agents, cobbled together in response to the migrant caravans — and then-President Donald Trump’s ensuing speeches — that were all over the news. The interviews were one spoke in a wider wheel of surveillance targeting dozens of immigration attorneys, asylum advocates, and journalists on the border — most of whom were singled out without evidence that they had committed a crime, let alone a formal investigation or prosecution for anything remotely as serious as terrorism.
Throughout her interview, Dousa tried her best to stay cool. Outside the port building, her anxiety came crashing down. Her body shook as she dialed her husband’s number. The line rang without answer. The pastor steeled herself and continued on alone.
The Rev. Kaji Dousa poses for a portrait behind a glass door within the Park Avenue Christian Church in New York City on Jan. 19, 2022.
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
A quiet drama unfolding at the intersection of faith, surveillance, and borders, Kaji Dousa’s experience that night in San Diego began a legal fight that continues to this day. As she would later learn, the pastor was one of at least 51 U.S. citizens who were targeted and tracked by their own government for their proximity to asylum-seekers in late 2018 and early 2019.
Dousa is a plaintiff in a federal lawsuit alleging that the border dragnet violated her constitutional rights as a faith leader ministering to migrants by placing her on a secret blacklist, revoking her expedited border-crossing privileges, and calling on Mexican law enforcement to detain her. Through her litigation, filed in the Southern District of California, the pastor and her lawyers have unearthed substantial evidence of reckless intelligence sharing between authorities on both sides of the U.S.-Mexico divide.
More than 1,000 pages of recently unsealed testimony from U.S. officials deposed in the case and internal CBP communications shared with The Intercept provide an inside look at “Operation Secure Line”: a secretive, politicized, international law enforcement effort carried out during the peak of Trump-era caravan mania. The materials reveal an effort that was chaotic, unfocused, and dangerous for the people caught in its crosshairs. The testimony and communications add names, dates, and context to a Department of Homeland Security Inspector General’s investigation that was published in September. While the DHS watchdog found significant flaws in the implementation of Operation Secure Line, evidence in Dousa’s case suggests that the problems went deeper than the report indicated. Her case points to potential gaps in the office’s investigation, and Dousa’s legal team alleges that a senior CBP official at the center of the operation at best misled and at worst lied when he told the court that the pastor’s travel privileges were not affected by the surveillance program. The court cited his testimony as reason not to reinstate Dousa’s travel privileges — an issue that is the subject of ongoing litigation.
As recently as late last year, the officials involved in Dousa’s ordeal and the wider caravan surveillance episode, including those at the center of the most concerning parts of the inspector general’s report, remained on the job. In some cases, their responsibilities at the border expanded and their stature at CBP grew. The supervisor who oversaw San Diego’s ports while asylum advocates and journalists were routinely being detained and questioned, for example, is now one of CBP’s top officials in Washington, D.C., overseeing a force of 31,000 uniformed and nonuniformed personnel and managing the agency’s $6.5 billion budget for operations nationwide. Citing the ongoing nature of Dousa’s case, CBP declined to answer any questions for this article, including whether the agency implemented any policy changes following the inspector general’s report or disciplined any officials for conduct related to Operation Secure Line.
Under Trump, humanitarian aid providers and immigration activists faced federal prosecutions in the courts and snatch-and-grab deportations on the streets. For Dousa, the core harm of her experience was the threat that government surveillance poses to a pastor like her; it’s the reason she and her lawyers have argued that, in addition to the First Amendment’s prohibition on religious discrimination and retaliation, Dousa’s rights were also violated under the Religious Freedom Restoration Act. Typically known for its use as a defense for conservative causes, RFRA has twice been used in recent years to successfully defend spiritually rooted border advocacy in federal court: first, in the case of Scott Warren, a humanitarian aid provider who faced 20 years in prison for providing food, water, and shelter to migrants crossing the deadliest stretch of the Sonoran Desert; and second, in the case of Amber Ortega, a member of the Hia Ced O’odham tribe, who was arrested, strip searched, and held incommunicado in a for-profit jail for protesting border wall construction on sacred O’odham land in southern Arizona. Ministering to migrants is not just a part of Dousa’s job, her lawsuit argues. It’s also her religious calling, and it too is protected under the law.
Engaging in know-your-rights trainings, spiritual counsel, or journalism are among the most legally protected acts one can partake in, argued Brian Griffey, senior researcher at Amnesty International. Yet those are the exact activities the state zeroed in on in the cases of Dousa and others — all without any consequences.
“They were functioning like an intelligence agency that was assembling invasive dossiers on people who had no clear instance of violating the law.”
In 2019, Griffey co-authored a report examining the Trump administration’s “unlawful and politically motivated campaign” of targeting border activists, particularly through Operation Secure Line. Following its publication, he received a tranche of DHS documents that provided an even deeper look at the president’s controversial border initiative. The documents, which have not been previously reported upon, reveal how U.S. and Mexican law enforcement, military, and intelligence agencies used aerial surveillance, social media monitoring, and informants to construct detailed portraits of the migrant caravans as they moved through Mexico, documenting populations in need of medical care and under lethal threats from Mexican organized crime. Rather than preparing for their evident needs and accommodating their right to seek refuge, Griffey noted, U.S. officials devoted their time and resources to tracking journalists, immigration lawyers, and activists.
“They were no longer conducting border security,” Griffey told The Intercept. “They were functioning like an intelligence agency that was assembling invasive dossiers on people who had no clear instance of violating the law.”
The Secure Line officials who organized these efforts have faced no known repercussions, Griffey noted. “An accurate approximation would be zero accountability,” he said. Perhaps most concerning, he added, is the fact that the conditions that drove asylum-seekers and advocates like Dousa to the border in 2018 remain the same in 2022: Thanks to successively harsher restrictions in the U.S., simply beginning an asylum case at the border is next impossible without serious legal and moral support. “The Biden administration has abandoned a lot of its promises to lift these unlawful Trump policies,” he said. “It continues to implement them to this day.”
When her surveillance first became public, Dousa’s ability to assure people that they could unburden their deepest traumas and sins to her was rattled to its core.
When her surveillance first became public in 2019, Dousa argues in her lawsuit, her ability to assure people that they could unburden their deepest traumas and sins to her was rattled to its core. “I wasn’t sure that the surveillance didn’t include listening in on conversations,” she said. Her entire ministry began to change, as Dousa encouraged parishioners to download encrypted messaging apps to communicate with her. “I would have to advise people, ‘I’m not so sure that this conversation will be completely private,’ or I would have to meet them in places that I felt would be safer,” she said. Worried that whatever was happening behind the scenes at the Department of Homeland Security could affect their cases, Dousa advised undocumented people pursuing a green card to find spiritual support elsewhere.
“Worship changed significantly,” Dousa said. As one congregant told her at the time, it felt as though “they put a microphone in the confessional.”
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
A fusion of faith and activism runs in Kaji Dousa’s family. Her grandfather, Edwin Edmonds, was a renowned figure in the United Church of Christ, who devoted much his life to the civil rights movement and exchanged letters with Martin Luther King Jr. Her mother was an organizer and communications director for the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee, one of the movement’s most important organizations, which weathered its own heavy government surveillance through the 1960s. “I just grew up with granddad both of course preaching on Sundays, but also always having community meetings in the house,” Dousa said.
The pastor’s first brush with the homeland security state came nearly 3,000 miles from the border, in New York City, years before the caravans arrived in Tijuana and San Diego. Early in the Obama administration, a regular at Dousa’s Manhattan church was placed in deportation proceedings. Her efforts to save the man from removal led her to the New Sanctuary Coalition, one of the city’s leading immigrant rights organizations. Bit by bit, Dousa learned about the complex world of immigration enforcement, detention, and deportation. For her, the realities of that system — which routinely involves the capture, caging, and state-sanctioned exile of poor people— was fundamentally at odds with the doctrine of “imago dei,” the belief at the heart of her faith, which holds that every human being bears the image of God. To Dousa, deporting an undocumented mother or father in Queens or Brooklyn was no different than deporting Christ himself, the son of God and a refugee.
Dousa threw herself into work with New Sanctuary and soon became co-chair of the organization.
Her immigration experience led her to “The Table,” a UCC church in La Mesa, California, 40 miles north of Tijuana, where she was senior minister from 2013 through 2016. Dousa was on the border as tens of thousands of unaccompanied Central American children and families arrived seeking asylum in 2014. While anti-immigrant protesters chanting “go home” blocked buses carrying migrant children, she and her congregants brought supplies to Mexican migrant shelters and connected Central American kids with families in the U.S. In November 2016, Dousa returned to New York to serve as senior pastor at the Park Avenue Christian Church, becoming the first woman to lead the congregation since its founding in 1810. She arrived just in time for the election of Donald Trump, a man who campaigned on vows to seal the border and spent his first week in office signing executive orders banning travelers from Muslim countries and expanding ICE’s enforcement priorities to include virtually every undocumented immigrant in the country.
In June 2017, Border Patrol agents raided a humanitarian aid station in the Arizona desert run by No More Deaths, a faith-based organization born from the same 1980s immigrant rights movement that inspired Dousa’s New Sanctuary Coalition in NYC. With rifle-toting agents on the ground and helicopters hovering above, the operation signaled that the blast radius of Trump’s immigration crackdown would be wide, and that it would include the work of advocates as well. In the fall and winter of that year, members of New Sanctuary began noticing unmarked vehicles with tinted windows lurking outside Judson Memorial Church, their center of operations in lower Manhattan, and the homes of the coalition’s organizers. On January 3, 2018, ICE arrested Jean Montrevil, one of the group’s leading figures, outside of his home in Queens, months before his regularly scheduled check-in with the agency. Within days, Montrevil, a father of four who had lived in the U.S. for more than three decades, was deported to Haiti. One week later, ICE made an even more provocative move, taking into custody Ravi Ragbir, Dousa’s co-chair at New Sanctuary and then-executive director of the organization, at a routine check-in. In the protest that followed, New York City police arrested 18 people, including two city council members. (Following lawsuits alleging that they were targeted for their activism, both Montrevil and Ragbir were granted three years of deferred action in their immigration cases; Montrevil was reunited with his family in the U.S. in December.)
Through the arrests, Dousa came into increasingly close contact with the top brass at ICE’s New York City office. In the lawsuit she would file years later, she describes a meeting she had with Scott Mechkowski, ICE’s deputy field office director for New York at the time, shortly before Montrevil’s deportation. According to the pastor, Mechkowski spent much of the conversation lamenting ICE’s depiction in the press, before telling her: “I know exactly how to find you. You’re on the web. You’re all over the documents that I have. … Trust me, I know your network just as good as you do.” ICE did not respond to a request for comment on the deputy director’s remarks.
For Dousa, Mechkowski’s words came off like threat. “It was so scary,” the pastor said. “I was actually terrified for the whole conversation.” To her, it was clearest sign yet of a targeted effort to monitor and intimidate immigrant rights advocates; it wouldn’t be the last.
Photo: Guillermo Arias/AFP via Getty Images
While Dousa and New Sanctuary were navigating ICE surveillance and arrests in New York, pressure on the border was mounting.
In spring of 2018, the first of two large sets of caravans of mostly Central American asylum-seekers began arriving in border cities in northern Mexico. While migrant caravans through Mexico were not unheard of, past iterations were largely convened to highlight the dangers that migrants traversing the country routinely face — including extortion, robbery, assault, rape, mass murder, and criminal impunity — and they often ended in Mexico City.
As a safety-in-numbers strategy, the 2018 caravans were much larger than their predecessors and went all the way to the border itself. In an administration where border policy was designed by Stephen Miller, a man who took his talking points from white nationalist literature predicting the fall of civilization at the hands of migrant hordes, the caravans provided a pretext to ratchet up the immigration crackdown even further, including through the forced separation of thousands of children from their parents. By the fall, caravan coverage was dominating Fox News and the mind of the president, who threatened to use the military to seal the border. In late October, David Shaw, then-Special Agent in Charge of ICE’s Homeland Security Investigations office in San Diego, wrote a message to his staff about DHS deploying teams to Central America and Mexico City and the possibility of 500 new agents boarding planes to the Southwest. “There is not a defined mission for them nor do we know exactly where they would be going,” he said, adding, “DC throwing around idea of a ‘nuclear option’ to close the border if the caravan comes near.”
With the midterm elections in full swing, DHS and the Pentagon announced the launch of “Operation Faithful Patriot,” a deployment of 5,000 solders to the southern border, on November 6, 2018. The name of the initiative was later changed to “Operation Secure Line.” With support from ICE’s HSI wing and the FBI, CBP created an “Emergency Operations Center” in San Diego to coordinate the mission. The Border Patrol’s San Diego-based Foreign Operations Branch liaised with authorities on the Mexican side of the border. Both countries had staff working around the clock monitoring the caravans’ progress, checking in with informants, and combing through social media to identify potential organizers of the exodus.
More than three years later, depositions in Dousa’s lawsuit reveal a messy operation. Throughout Secure Line, the CBP official responsible for San Diego’s ports was Pete Flores. In December, Flores was promoted to executive assistant commissioner for CBP’s Office of Field Operations, the main component of the agency. Among other things, his duties include overseeing the National Targeting Center, a quasi-intelligence office focused on identifying national security threats at the border. Miguel Haro, the deputy section chief of the Emergency Operations Center, was one of several CBP officers who filed reports to Flores and other senior officials. According to the testimony Haro gave in Dousa’s case in August, the center’s job was to create “daily” presentations for CBP leadership, “informing on demonstrations and trying to identify organizers for the caravan.” Haro could not recall ever receiving training on exactly how to do this. Nonetheless, when individuals who could be caravan organizers were identified, he and his colleagues placed “lookouts” on their internal CBP files.
When those individuals attempted a border crossing, Haro often called up Burnett’s Tactical Terrorism Response Team to interview them. TTRT officers were instructed to ask the targets whether they were coaching migrants to cross the border illegally. According to the inspector general’s report released last year, “Two TTRT officers who conducted caravan-related interviews did not believe there was a need to interview many of those individuals multiple times.” One added that the counterterrorism team “did not obtain any valuable information during the follow-up interviews.” A third said “he called EOC officials on multiple occasions to ask them to remove lookouts, but they did not do so.” Burnett, the veteran CBP counterterrorism officer who interviewed Dousa, said in his deposition that the pressure from the Emergency Operations Center was not well received. “The team wasn’t interested in it,” he testified. “We were instructed by our management or chain of command to do it.”
In a briefing on November 20, 2018, Haro’s Emergency Operations Center painted a messy picture of the situation in Tijuana-San Diego area. The center had received information from the Mexican Army that “approximately 1000 migrants” were “planning to rush the Port of Entry.” EOC officials also noted that “cartels in Tijuana are threating [sic] the migrants to go back or they will be killed.” Shaw, the special agent in charge at Homeland Security Investigations, ordered his agents to begin working their sources. “We would like to compile a list of credible information obtained from any Confidential Informants (CIs) and/or Sources of Information (SOIs) regarding the incoming migrant caravans and/or cartel actions related to the caravans,” he wrote in an email following the briefing.
Dousa knew none of these behind-the-scenes details when she stepped off her plane at the San Diego airport on the night of November 26, 2018. The reason for her arrival was the “Sanctuary Caravan,” a multidenominational mission of faith leaders who came to provide ministry and support to asylum-seekers camped out in Tijuana. Over the course of 40 days and 40 nights, Dousa and her fellow clergy members accompanied asylum-seekers to the port and joined them in prayer. “I was meeting with migrants, praying with them,” Dousa said. “I officiated for several marriages.” The marriage ceremonies were spiritual affairs, she said, ritual blessings for couples at the end of a long journey and the beginning of a new one, not state-licensed or official in any capacity.
On her first full day on the border, Dousa visited a bridge overlooking the Tijuana River. The day before the pastor arrived, hundreds of migrants had marched on San Diego’s ports to protest a lack of asylum access, eventually congregating in the dried-out riverbed separating the two nations. Though some migrants in the group threw rocks, most were simply caught in the middle of what happened next, as CBP officers lobbed tear gas and rubber bullets into Mexico to disperse the crowd. Women with small children ran for cover as the choking clouds descended. Mexican authorities arrested nearly 40 people on charges of forcibly attempting to enter the U.S.
As asylum-seekers gathered in Tijuana’s streets and shelters in the winter of 2018, a view hardened within the homeland security apparatus that the people on the other side of the border wall were a magnet for criminality. By November 29, U.S. and Mexican officials were on high alert. At a meeting with local stakeholders — including San Diego police officers, sheriff’s deputies, and the fire department — the EOC reported that Mexican drones were hovering above shelters in Tijuana, while homeland security aircraft were providing aerial surveillance from the U.S. side. The situation on the ground was desperate. More than 6,000 migrants were living in and around a Tijuana stadium, nearly double the facility’s capacity, among them more than 1,000 children. Local medical officials reported migrants with a range of needs, from chickenpox and lice to tuberculosis and HIV.
Several demonstrations were planned that day, the EOC reported in a 21-page briefing, including a hunger strike and a march of women and children. The EOC warned that “an unknown number of” MS-13 gang members had entered Tijuana with the caravan with plans to penetrate the border. Alongside the shaky intelligence on a threat from Salvadoran gangsters, were the biographical details of 10 “caravan organizers.” Many were associated with Pueblo Sin Fronteras, which the briefing described as “an immigration rights group” that “builds shelters for refugees on the trek north to the Mexico/American border and provide legal counsel to them.”
In the end, the most violent acts associated with the caravan were directed not at the border but at the people hoping to cross it. In late December, 16-year-old Jorge Alexander Ruiz and 17-year-old Jasson Ricardo Acuña Polanco, both Honduran asylum-seekers, were lured from a youth shelter in Tijuana and brutally murdered.
At the time, the organization Human Rights First had documented more than 630 cases of asylum-seekers and migrants being murdered, raped, tortured, kidnapped, or assaulted as a result of U.S. “turn-back” policies at the border. Today, that number stands at more than 10,200, with the vast majority of the violence — more than 8,700 cases and counting — documented under the Biden administration.
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
In the predawn hours of January 1, 2019, while much of the country was still ringing in the new year, CBP again fired chemical agents over the San Diego-Tijuana border. Witnesses on the ground that night reported both that the gassing was unprovoked, which contradicted statements CBP made to the press, and that activists from the U.S. were helping migrants scale the border fence.
Within CBP, a belief that activists with U.S. passports were involved in illegal border crossings at best and plotting violent incursions at worst, had already taken root when Dousa first set foot on the border. By the time she crossed the line on January 2, less than 24 hours after the second gassing, it was in full bloom.
By that point, Miguel Haro had already added the pastor to a photo lineup in a growing volume of caravan-related intelligence documents. In his deposition, he explained that Dousa was not suspected of instigating a violent rush on the border. Instead, she had come to his attention through a string of secondhand information that Haro made minimal efforts to verify or substantiate.
On December 2, Haro received an email from the Border Patrol’s San Diego Sector Intelligence Unit reporting that a woman in the caravan who had been taken into custody had made a comment about the presence of U.S. pastors at a wedding in Tijuana. The woman didn’t have any names, but she did have a business card. The name on the card read Kaji Dousa. Haro looked her up online. The following morning, he emailed colleagues to report that while the woman was unable to identify Dousa by name, she “did describe a woman fitting the description of Dousa” at the wedding. Haro included a link to an article by Gothamist, a New York City news website, describing Dousa’s work with the Sanctuary Caravan. “You can see a woman who resembles her in the picture from the article,” he wrote. On December 5, Haro’s colleague, Nicolas Gonzalez Jr., reported that he had “suspended” Dousa’s membership in the expedited travel program known as “Global Access.”
Four days later, Haro received another email from the Border Patrol. The woman in custody had identified Dousa in a photo lineup as present at the wedding and had in her possession a fraudulent marriage certificate. “The certificate displays Kanji [sic] Dousa’s name as one of the pastors present,” the agent said. According to filings in Dousa’s lawsuit, Haro never sought to interview the woman in custody to substantiate her allegation; as he made clear in his deposition, despite his title as deputy section chief of the EOC and the intelligence access that came with the position, Haro possessed neither the training nor the legal authority to conduct criminal investigations. He wasn’t sure the woman’s claim was evidence that Dousa committed a crime, but he decided the pastor would remain in an internal homeland security database as a “possible coordinator” of the caravans anyway. When asked why, he testified, “I didn’t give it much thought.”
If Dousa came to the border to participate in some sort of “cross-border-marriage-fraud-asylum” scheme, she did a poor job hiding it. Following the arrival of the Sanctuary Caravan in late November, Al Otro Lado, one of the San Diego-Tijuana area’s leading immigrant rights organizations, announced on Facebook and in a press conference that clergy were in town and available to officiate wedding ceremonies. The Gothamist article Haro found also made clear that members of the Sanctuary Caravan were presiding over wedding ceremonies. “It wasn’t like it was a state-licensed marriage,” Dousa said. Few spiritual acts are more squarely in line with protected religious activity than presiding over a wedding, she argued: “By definition, I got investigated by the government for offering the ritual of marriage to migrants.”
Had CBP been truly invested in the fraudulent marriage angle, one would expect the matter to feature prominently in Dousa’s interview with the Tactical Terrorism Response Team. Burnett, in his deposition, however, could not recall the subject ever coming up when Haro called upon TTRT to interview the pastor. His partner, Allen Tamayo, remembered the issue having some relationship to Dousa’s file, but once the three sat down, the officers decided not to bring it up. “It didn’t seem necessary,” Tamayo testified. “She was a very nice person. She was answering all our questions.” He added: “I felt like if we asked that question, we were going to lose rapport with Ms. Dousa.”
Were things to go differently, Dousa could have walked out of her interview that night never knowing what unit the men who questioned her belonged to, or how she landed on their radar. Instead, the startling scope of Operation Secure Line would soon explode into public view, beginning one of the most disturbing episodes in the pastor’s life.
Dousa points to a page in her lawsuit against DHS, ICE, and CBP, which states that her SENTRI, the CBP program for expedited processing at border crossings, was “revoked” in New York City on Jan. 19, 2022.
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
The dam holding back evidence of CBP’s caravan surveillance began to break on February 1, 2019, when two top attorneys at Al Otro Lado were denied entry into Mexico. The following week, The Intercept published an investigation based on interviews with nearly 20 sources working on caravan-related issues in the San Diego-Tijuana area, including the Otro Lado lawyers, photojournalists, and asylum advocates. The sources described being shackled to benches in U.S. detention cells for hours at a time; being forced to turn over their notes, cameras, and phones; and being shown lineups of suspected caravan organizers and asked to divulge what they knew.
The sources’ claims were confirmed the following month, when a NBC San Diego affiliate published a blockbuster report based on leaked Secure Line documents showing that CBP, ICE, and FBI officials in San Diego had created a blacklist of caravan-related targets. The source of the leak was a veteran special agent in the HSI-San Diego office, who later told NBC that he raised civil liberties concerns with his supervisors when he first came across the materials, only to be told that the surveillance was “standard practice.” The documents he leaked included the photo lineups of suspected caravan organizers. Among the images in the files was a photo of Dousa with a large yellow “X” over her face. Her caravan “role” was “associate,” the document said. Her status in SENTRI, the CBP program for expedited processing at border crossings, was “revoked.”
Screenshot from a blacklist of journalists, lawyers, and activists targeted by Operation Secure Line that was leaked to NBC News in 2019; Dousa is lower left.
NBC News
The revelations made national headlines, sparking bipartisan demands for answers. For the first time, Dousa realized that her ordeal was part of a much wider program. “Everything changed after that,” she said. Filing suit against CBP and other elements of DHS in July 2019, Dousa called upon a federal judge to declare that the government violated her rights under the First Amendment and RFRA, order a cessation to any continued monitoring or surveillance, and reinstate her travel privileges. Government lawyers argued in a motion to dismiss that Dousa’s border crossing privileges were unaffected by her inclusion in the files, and that her assertions that she was “being monitored and targeted by CBP due to the exercise of her First Amendment rights and religion” were “based on speculation, hearsay, and incidents involving other people.”
Shortly after filing her complaint, Dousa sought an injunction against the government and requested internal records related to her questioning. She asked the court to order the government to restore her SENTRI privileges and refrain “from taking any future adverse action against” her “based on her protected expression, association, or religious exercise.” Government lawyers described Dousa’s request for records as “a colossal burden” and called up Saro Oliveri, a senior CBP official responsible for the Trusted Traveler Programs in San Diego and cross-border coordination with authorities in Mexico, in response.
In September 2019, just eight months after Dousa’s questioning, Oliveri said in a sworn declaration that the pastor’s travel privileges had “never been revoked or suspended” and that he queried an internal CBP database to check. Chief U.S. District Judge Larry Alan Burns granted Dousa’s records request two months later, resulting in a limited release of records, but in January 2020 denied her injunction request based largely on Oliveri’s testimony.
If CBP revoked Dousa’s privileges and she could show that the revocation was related to activity protected under the First Amendment, Burns wrote, the court would have “no problem” issuing an injunction — but as Oliveri’s testimony indicated, the revocation never happened.
Despite the setback, Dousa pressed on. In January 2021, her lawyers obtained a December 2018 email chain in which Haro circulated a photo of Dousa. The subject line read: “SENTRI poss caravan organizer.” In the message, Haro wrote, “we would like to have her interviewed to see if she is helping the coordinate the caravan in Tijuana.” The deputy EOC chief told his colleagues that Dousa’s “continued enrollment” in the program was up to their “discretion.” He followed up with the email that included the Gothamist article, adding that Border Patrol had discovered “various pictures of Kaji S. Dousa from the internet,” as well as information from her church. In a third email, Haro asked if CBP was “in a holding pattern” until Dousa could be interviewed by TTRT. It was then that Haro received the email from Nicolas Gonzalez Jr. informing him that Dousa’s travel privileges were suspended. “Today I suspended her Global access as well,” Gonzalez wrote.
Oliveri was copied on each of the emails. In fact, Oliveri himself wrote emails regarding Dousa’s travel privileges. One week after Gonzalez reported Dousa’s suspension, Oliveri sent a three-word message to Haro that read: “We revoked her.”
Screenshot from internal CBP communications reporting the revocation of Dousa’s expedited border crossing privileges in December 2018.
CBP
The communications raised major questions about the truthfulness of Oliveri’s declaration and the guidance he received from government lawyers beforehand. In June, Dousa’s lawyers got the opportunity to ask those questions themselves, when Oliveri, by that point a branch chief at the Otay Mesa port of entry overseeing the Trusted Traveler Programs, sat for a deposition in San Diego. The senior CBP official said that the email he sent was incorrect — where that information came from, he could not recall — and that the statement he provided to the court was accurate.
“This is just an e-mail,” Oliveri testified. “It’s nothing that was official. I mean the record that I stated in my declaration was official records from the database under current status.” He added: “We could have been talking about someone else or mistaken.” Oliveri disagreed that his email was relevant to Dousa’s litigation and told the court that he forgot who directed him to query CBP databases for information pertinent to the case.
Oliveri was also asked about an unencrypted email he sent to a Mexican immigration official on December 10, 2018, which featured the names, birthdates, and nationalities of 24 caravan “organizers/instigators.” Among them were 14 U.S. citizens, including Dousa. “Most of these people are United States citizens, and it’s highly likely that they lack the proper documentation to be in Mexico,” Oliveri told his Mexican counterpart at the time. “CBP wishes to interview them all and respectfully requests that [Mexican Immigration] deny them entry into Mexico. If located, please return them to the United States so that CBP can proceed with their interview.”
Though Oliveri acknowledged that the request was highly unusual — he testified that he had never made one before — he claimed he forgot who had directed him to send it, where the names he sent came from, and when they were put together or why. When asked what basis he had to assert to a foreign government that the U.S. citizens on his list had no authority to be in the country and that they be stopped by law enforcement as a result, he replied: “What basis? I don’t know.”
“We came up with the language pretty quick,” Oliveri testified. “Being with the liaison unit, I knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere.” He added: “The Mexican government wasn’t going to take any action on this. … They’re not very proactive.”
Dousa’s legal team deposed two other CBP officials involved in her case over the summer of 2021. In July, they interviewed Gonzalez Jr., the official who reported suspending the pastor’s trusted traveler status. “In this case I used the wrong word,” he testified. “She was never revoked.” The lawyers deposed Haro the following month. They read him an email he wrote that said, throughout Secure Line, the EOC’s intelligence group’s job was to “identify any individuals involved in instigating violence within the caravan in addition to collecting intelligence on known instigators.” Haro acknowledged that his responsibilities included selecting individuals who could fit those descriptions for interviews, that there was never evidence that Dousa did, and that he selected her anyway. When asked if it was possible for individuals like Dousa to be cleared by CBP of any suspicion, he testified: “I guess it could be possible. I’m not — I’m not sure, though.”
Throughout the deposition and discovery process, Dousa had a limited window into her case. Owing to an agreement between the lawyers on both sides, evidence, such as the blacklist Oliveri sent to Mexico, was temporarily sealed from her view, as were the transcripts of the depositions.
Dousa was permitted to attend the interviews with CBP officials, and she did — “I wanted them to have to face me and see that I’m a real human,” she said — but she was asked to leave the room when subjects deemed sensitive by law enforcement were discussed. Oliveri’s confirmation that he put a target on the pastor’s head for Mexican law enforcement was one of those moments.
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
While Dousa’s lawyers were gathering testimony from CBP officials last summer, the Department of Homeland Security inspector general’s office was quietly wrapping up its own investigation into Operation Secure Line. On September 21, the results of that investigation were made public.
The inspector general found that while CBP “had legitimate reasons for placing lookouts on U.S. journalists, attorneys, and others suspected of organizing or being associated with the migrant caravan,” many officials were “unaware” of the policies for adding and removing those flags; the policies have not been updated since 1990. The office found that nearly half — 25 of 51 — of the Secure Line lookouts “were on people for whom there was no evidence of direct involvement in illegal activity.”
With CBP offering “little guidance and few restrictions,” the report described one instance in which 15 U.S. citizens were given lookouts for having crossed the border with, or being connected on social media to, an individual whom the agency suspected of plotting violence. “CBP had no information to suggest these 15 individuals might be involved in planning violence or were present at one of the incursions,” the report said. In another case, CBP learned that a suspected caravan organizer had crossed the border in a particular car. “The EOC placed lookouts not only on the owner of that vehicle but also on someone who crossed the border with the vehicle owner one time, 9 months earlier, well before the migrant caravan started traveling towards the United States.”
The inspector general attributed these events less to malice and more to a dangerous mix of unregulated power and incompetence. “We did not find that CBP placed lookouts to retaliate against U.S. citizens for performing lawful work related to the migrant caravan,” the report said. “To the contrary, witnesses told us, and contemporaneous emails and documents corroborated, CBP placed lookouts to gain information about suspected illegal activity and then generally sought information consistent with that purpose during the resulting interviews.”
The report reserved its harshest criticism for the ways CBP officials handled the sensitive private information of U.S. citizens, Dousa included, and documented moments in which those officials either withheld information from, or misled, the inspector general’s investigators. One official — identified as “EOC Official 1,” who was said to have “placed more caravan-related lookouts than anyone else and was in regular contact with the TTRT throughout Operation Secure Line” — told investigators that many of the U.S. citizens who were flagged did not need to be interviewed multiple times. The official said that they personally accessed CBP databases to remove their lookouts. The inspector general accessed those systems to substantiate the claims and found them to be untrue. Presented with this information, the official insisted that they attempted to remove the lookouts and “speculated that a technical glitch may have prevented that from happening.” The report “confirmed that no such glitch occurred.” Instead, investigators found that 18 of the 20 lookouts that the official placed that resulted in secondary inspections were not removed.
In the case of Oliveri, who is not named in the report but is clearly identifiable as “FOB Official 1,” referencing the Foreign Operations Branch, the inspector general focused on the information on U.S. citizens that he shared with Mexican law enforcement. The report noted that “despite the constitutional implications of restricting international travel, CBP has no policies, procedures, guidance, or training that specifically address asking or advising foreign countries to deny entry to Americans.” Still, while CBP may restrict a citizen’s international travel rights in certain circumstances, the agency “could not articulate any genuine basis” for the list Oliveri sent to Mexico and “in fact later admitted that the reasons provided to Mexico were not true.” The report added: “CBP officials at various levels who knew of the request, including the official who oversaw CBP’s entire regional response to the migrant caravan, denied or minimized their involvement and told us the request was neither typical nor appropriate.”
At first, Oliveri, whose assumed truthfulness was the basis for the injunction denial in Dousa’s case, told the inspector general that he never made the request to Mexico. He continued the denial, the report said, until the investigators showed him his own email. According to the report, Oliveri “could not recall anything about most of the 24 individuals, other than he did not think they were involved in illegal activity.” In his email to Mexican law enforcement, Oliveri claimed the U.S. had information indicating that Dousa and the other Americans on the list did not have legal authority to be in Mexico. In his interview with DHS investigators, he admitted that was not true. According to the report, “CBP had ‘no knowledge of whether they did or didn’t have documentation’ when he sent the request.”
Oliveri was not solely responsible for the creation and dissemination of the list. On the contrary, investigators found that he coordinated with at least two officials in the EOC, including one who provided the “target list” that the request was based on. When questioned by investigators, that official “disclaimed involvement with the request” and said Oliveri shouldn’t have sent it, but then “could not explain” why they sent him targets in the first place. In fact, investigators found that the official forwarded Oliveri’s request to their supervisor. The supervisor told investigators that they did not recall seeing the request and “could not explain” why their subordinate sent it. Investigators, however, uncovered “contemporaneous emails” showing that just hours after Oliveri sent the request, the supervisor had asked if a list of U.S. citizens was given to Mexico “to deny them entry into Mexico,” stating that he had spoken to Oliveri about the matter.
In an interview, the supervisor explained that while they could not recall the episode, they probably spoke to Oliveri because they were concerned about what he had done. As the supervisor noted, those rare requests, normally reserved for cases where “an American is wanted by Mexican law enforcement relating to serious concerns,” should be routed through embassies and consulates. The inspector general’s report, however, identified “another possible explanation” for the follow up: that the supervisor ordered the request and was making sure Oliveri carried it out. “If someone was truly concerned about this request, we would expect him to recall asking about the request, express his concern or disapproval in writing, admonish [Oliveri] for sending the request, or take corrective action,” the report said. “We did not find any evidence of such actions.”
Oliveri’s haphazard request to a foreign security service was not an isolated incident. The inspector general identified three CBP officials in the Foreign Operations Branch of the Border Patrol’s San Diego Sector who shared the personal identifying information of U.S. citizens with Mexican authorities on at least eight occasions. What, precisely, these officials asked for is unclear because, as the investigators found, CBP personnel made a habit of sharing information with Mexican officials in large WhatsApp groups, whose members sometimes numbered in the hundreds, and then deleting their messages afterward.
In one case, an FOB official used his work email to send an unencrypted message that included the private information of six U.S. citizens to a Mexican intelligence official’s Yahoo account. The official told investigators that the message was necessary to prevent “a very serious” event from occurring in the future, but their own email showed that was untrue. That same official also admitted sending the document with private information to their own personal Gmail account — “He could not tell us why he did this,” investigators noted — along with images of several caravan associates’ driver’s licenses. Another CBP official, who “repeatedly denied” having shared information about U.S. citizens with Mexico, was shown to have “retroactively attempted to seek approval from his then-supervisor” for having done that very thing. The inspector general’s office identified a fourth CBP official, working outside the FOB in the agency’s Virginia-based National Targeting Center, who entered into an “internal” and “non-binding” agreement with Mexico’s national intelligence office to share information on “organizers, inciters, and supporters of the migrant caravans.” According to the report, the official shared names, photographs, and other personal identifying information of U.S. citizens on at least five occasions.
In none of these cases were the CBP officials in question authorized to do what they were doing.
In none of these cases were the CBP officials in question authorized to do what they were doing. In the San Diego sector, sharing information on U.S. citizens requires three levels of written approval, the inspector general’s report noted. That never happened. The National Targeting Center official, meanwhile, claimed to have received verbal approval from a supervisor, but such approval requires a written request beforehand, and the investigators found no evidence those requests were ever sent. “All four CBP officials who sent information to Mexican officials about Americans told us they communicated with their Mexican counterparts using WhatsApp,” the report said. “None of the four officials retained all their relevant WhatsApp messages.”
This was a serious problem, considering CBP officials’ sudden bouts of apparent amnesia when speaking with congressionally mandated oversight investigators. As the inspector general’s report noted, “the CBP officials’ inability to recall key details about their communications with Mexican officials, or in some cases, whether they even shared information about U.S. citizens with Mexican officials, raises questions about whether there were other instances of Mexican and CBP officials’ sharing information about American caravan associates.”
The Rev. Kaji Dousa looks over her shoulder on the steps of the Park Avenue Christian Church in New York City on Jan. 19, 2022.
Photo: Elise Swain/The Intercept
By late September, Dousa’s lawyers were deep into drafting a motion for official sanctions in the pastor’s case based on the discrepancies in Oliveri’s statements. They knew the inspector general was investigating Operation Secure Line, but nobody knew when the official conclusions would drop. On the day they planned to file, the report went up online. “It so much confirmed what we had been saying in the lawsuit,” Dousa said. The pastor and her team decided to stop what they were doing and mine the materials for evidence to bolster their case.
“Their whole intelligence structure is really just … a system of surveillance against people they don’t like.”
The document was a revelation for Dousa on two levels. “It was clear when I read the OIG report that they hadn’t seen the deposition testimony from Saro Oliveri,” she said. “I’d be very curious to see if they update once some of this information comes back to them.” At the same time, Dousa herself had no idea that CBP had requested her detention by Mexican authorities; the documents and testimony surrounding the request had been sealed. It was, for her, the most shocking of the Secure Line revelations of the past three years. “The Trusted Traveler issue was one thing. The idea of being kidnapped by Mexican authorities or others is a whole different thing,” she said. “They were basically asking the federales to get us.”
“We all know that the cartels and other bad actors monitor these communications, especially with the Mexican government, very closely, that they easily could have been warned that I was the high target,” Dousa added. “The idea of the U.S. government asking the Mexican government and its law enforcement to apprehend me, a pastor, is just terrifying.”
In December, Dousa’s lawyers asked the court to sanction Oliveri for “submitting a false or at best misleading sworn declaration” to the court and “failing to correct the record upon learning” of his faulty declaration. “Pastor Dousa does not file this motion for sanctions lightly,” the request said. The government has yet to respond to the claims. “CBP just doesn’t care,” Dousa said. “They just say what they want, and they get away with it.” That’s the reason for filing the sanctions request, she added, “because I think truth actually is important.”
More than three years after being added to the border blacklist, the pastor is navigating conflicting feelings. On the one hand, she believes her case is stronger than ever. “I don’t feel like I’m screaming into a void anymore,” she said. At the same time, she added, “I also just hate thinking about this. I hate talking about it. It’s a painful memory.” After the NBC story broke in 2019, Dousa’s congregation was inundated with death threats. The church hired private security to protect her. Each fresh round of media coverage prompts a new anxiety. “Anytime a news story comes out, I’m like, ‘Oh no, is that gonna start up again?’” Dousa said. Still, she remains resolute: “I want there to be consequences here. I want there to be disciplinary action taken against these folks.”
CBP, the nation’s largest police agency, is due for a major overhaul, the pastor argued. “Their whole intelligence structure is really just, as you’ve seen, a system of surveillance against people they don’t like,” Dousa said. “They don’t need to have an intelligence division at all. I’ll tell you because I’ve met those intelligence officers. It’s a misnomer.”
The post A Pastor’s Legal Fight Against CBP Exposes a Reckless Surveillance Operation appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
An engineer examines the engine of an SS-19 intercontinental ballistic missile in Dnipro, Ukraine, on July 26, 1996.
Photo: Efrem Lukatsky/AP
Ukraine was once home to thousands of nuclear weapons. The weapons were stationed there by the Soviet Union and inherited by Ukraine when, at the end of the Cold War, it became independent. It was the third-largest nuclear arsenal on Earth. During an optimistic moment in the early 1990s, Ukraine’s leadership made what today seems like a fateful decision: to disarm the country and abandon those terrifying weapons, in exchange for signed guarantees from the international community ensuring its future security.
The decision to disarm was portrayed at the time as a means of ensuring Ukraine’s security through agreements with the international community — which was exerting pressure over the issue — rather than through the more economically and politically costly path of maintaining its own nuclear program. Today, with Ukraine being swarmed by heavily armed invading Russian troops bristling with weaponry and little prospect of defense from its erstwhile friends abroad, that decision is looking like a bad one.
Nations that sacrifice their nuclear deterrents in exchange for promises of goodwill are often signing their own death warrants.
The tragedy now unfolding in Ukraine is underlining a broader principle clearly seen around the world: Nations that sacrifice their nuclear deterrents in exchange for promises of international goodwill are often signing their own death warrants. In a world bristling with weapons with the potential to end human civilization, nonproliferation itself is a morally worthwhile and even necessary goal. But the experience of countries that actually have disarmed is likely to lead more of them to conclude otherwise in future.
The betrayal of Ukrainians in particular cannot be understated. In 1994, the Ukrainian government signed a memorandum that brought its country into the global Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty while formally relinquishing its status as a nuclear state. The text of that agreement stated that in exchange for the step, the “Russian Federation, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and the United States of America reaffirm their obligation to refrain from the threat or use of force against the territorial integrity or political independence of Ukraine.”
Ukraine’s territorial integrity has not been much respected since. After the 2014 annexation of the Ukrainian territory of Crimea by Russia — which brought no serious international response — Ukrainian leaders had already begun to think twice about the virtues of the agreement they had signed just two decades earlier. Today they sound positively bitter about it.
“We gave away the capability for nothing,” Andriy Zahorodniuk, a former defense minister of Ukraine, said this month about his nation’s former nuclear weapons. “Now, every time somebody offers us to sign a strip of paper, the response is, ‘Thank you very much. We already had one of those some time ago.’”
Ukrainians are not the only ones who have come to regret signing away their nuclear weapons. In 2003, Libyan dictator Muammar Gaddafi made a surprise announcement that his nation would abandon its nuclear program and chemical weapons in exchange for normalization with the West.
“Libya stands as one of the few countries to have voluntarily abandoned its WMD programs,” wrote Judith Miller a few years later in an article about the decision headlined “Gadhafi’s Leap of Faith.” Miller, then just out of the New York Times, added that the White House had opted “to make Libya a true model for the region” by helping encourage other states with nuclear programs to follow Gaddafi’s example.
Libya kept moving forward. It signed on to an additional protocol of the International Atomic Energy Agency allowing for extensive international monitoring of nuclear reserves. In return, sanctions against the country were lifted and relations between Washington and Tripoli, severed during the Cold War, were reestablished. Gaddafi and his family spent a few years building ties with Western elites, and all seemed to be going well for the Libyan dictator.
Then came the 2011 Arab Spring uprisings. Gaddafi found that the same world leaders who had ostensibly become his economic partners and diplomatic allies were suddenly providing decisive military aid to his opposition — even cheering on his own death.
Promises, betrayals, aggression: It’s a pattern that extends even to countries that have merely considered foreclosing their avenues to a nuclear deterrent.
Missile silos abandoned by the Gaddafi regime are left in the desert at a military base in Lona, Libya, on Sept. 29, 2011.
Photo: John Cantlie/Getty Images
Take Iran: In 2015, the Islamic Republic signed a comprehensive nuclear deal with the U.S. that limited its possible breakout capacity toward building a nuclear weapon and provided extensive monitoring of its civilian nuclear program. Not long afterward, the agreement was violated by the Trump administration, despite the country’s own continued compliance. Since 2016, when Trump left the deal, Iran has been hit with crushing international sanctions that have devastated its economy and been subjected to a campaign of assassination targeting its senior military leadership.
To date, no nuclear-armed state has ever faced a full-scale invasion by a foreign power, regardless of its own actions.
The nuclear deal was characterized at the time as the first step toward a broader set of talks over regional disputes between Iranian and U.S. leaders, who had been alienated since the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Instead, the deal marked another bitter chapter in the long-troubled relationship between the two countries.
To date, no nuclear-armed state has ever faced a full-scale invasion by a foreign power, regardless of its own actions. North Korea has managed to keep its hermetic political system intact for decades despite tensions with the international community. North Korean officials have even cited the example of Libya in discussing their own weapons. In 2011, as bombs rained down on Gaddafi’s government, a North Korean foreign ministry official said, “The Libyan crisis is teaching the international community a grave lesson.” That official went on to refer to giving up weapons in signed agreements as “an invasion tactic to disarm the country.”
Perhaps the starkest contrast to the treatment of Ukraine, Libya, and Iran, however, is Pakistan, which developed nuclear weapons decades ago in defiance of the United States. Despite being criticized at the time for contributing to nuclear proliferation and facing periodic sanctions, Pakistan has managed to insulate itself from attack or even serious ostracism by the U.S. despite several flagrant provocations in the decades since. Today Pakistan even remains a security partner of the U.S., having received billions of dollars of military aid over the past several decades.
Given the mortal hazards that nuclear weapons pose to life on Earth, nonproliferation remains a worthwhile collective goal. Humanity will not benefit from a renewal of the nuclear arms race, and the ideals behind a U.S.-backed rules-based liberal order are morally attractive. A world in which they were truly applied would probably be a fairer and more peaceful one than what has existed in the past, yet we must also recognize that the liberal order can and will fail. That lesson is especially true for small nations outmatched by great powers.
Given the tragedy we are witnessing in Ukraine today — where, despite its past assurances, the international community has remained a passive observer — leaders of small countries must be forgiven for thinking twice before sacrificing their deterrent, regardless of what the leaders of great powers already armed with nuclear weaponry may say.
The post Lesson From Ukraine: Breaking Promises to Small Countries Means They’ll Never Give Up Nukes appeared first on The Intercept.
This post was originally published on The Intercept.
Late last month, Vice Adm. Timothy Szymanski, deputy commander of the Special Operations Command and a longtime member of SEAL Team 6, retired from the Navy. At a ceremony in Tampa, Florida, SEALs past and present came to celebrate Szymanski’s four decades of military service. Szymanski retired as SOCOM’s second in command at the apex of the Navy SEALs. By all appearances, his departure marked the end of a storied career as one of the top SEAL officers, having served many of his 36 years with SEAL Team 6 during the post-9/11 wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Szymanski in many ways exemplified the SEALs in the age of America’s forever wars, and his legacy extends beyond his battlefield experience: He is an author of the Navy SEAL Ethos, which codifies the elite unit’s aspirational moral code. But his rise speaks as much to the SEALs’ failures as it does to their successes.
Szymanski personified the Navy SEAL’s code of silence and moral drift after 9/11. Over two decades, the Navy kept promoting him despite battlefield decisions in Afghanistan that contributed to the deaths of a member of SEAL Team 6, an Air Force special operator, and five other American service members. The promotions seemingly overlooked Szymanski’s efforts to shield a SEAL Team 6 operator from repercussions for trying to behead a Taliban fighter; his protection and hiring of a senior enlisted SEAL after Team 6 blacklisted the operator for issuing orders to shoot unarmed Afghan men and for telling members of his unit that he wanted a Taliban “head on a platter”; and his aggressive politicking for the same SEAL to receive the nation’s highest military award, the Medal of Honor. Although Szymanski did not respond to my requests for comment, SEAL Team 6 and the larger Naval Special Warfare command defended his record by pointing out that all accusations of misconduct are investigated and that none of the allegations against Szymanski have ever been substantiated in an official, formal investigation.
But it is precisely this culture of impunity that has insulated Szymanski and other senior SEALs from accountability. Beyond all else, Szymanski built a career on loyalty to his fellow SEALs and protecting the military’s most famous brand. But if SEAL officers can cover up war crimes on their way to becoming admirals, why should any enlisted or lower-ranking SEAL officers follow the rules or adhere to the military’s most fundamental demand of its members, that they serve with good order and discipline?
After two decades of war with little accountability, the SEALs’ ship has run aground. War crimes, drug use, sexual assault on deployment, and homicide are just some of the charges against active-duty SEALs in recent years. In a span of two years, two SEAL Team 6 operators killed a Green Beret while deployed to Mali; a group of SEALs turned in their platoon chief, Eddie Gallagher, accusing him of an array of war crimes, including the stabbing death of an unarmed, injured Islamic State fighter; rampant drug use was discovered in an East Coast SEAL unit; and an entire SEAL platoon was sent home from a deployment to Iraq after military leaders learned that they’d been drinking excessively and one of operators was accused of sexual assault.
Gallagher’s case in particular became the public face of an internal culture war raging inside the SEALs. By the time Gallagher’s war crimes court-martial began, Naval Special Warfare Command’s lead officer, then-Rear Adm. Collin Green, wrote to his SEALs admitting that their community had “a problem.” Green left the command in 2020 after his efforts to hold Gallagher accountable were thwarted by former President Donald Trump.
Navy special operations chief Eddie Gallagher walks out of military court in San Diego on July 2, 2019.
Photo: Sandy Huffaker/Getty Images
One might argue that Szymanski’s retirement marked the end of a troubled period for the SEALs. His retirement will not, however, fix the problem Green highlighted when he noted: “We must now take a proactive approach to prevent the next breach of ethical and professional behavior in our formations, instead of continuing on our current consequence management approach.”
When Green stepped down as Naval Special Warfare commander, the Navy sought to replace him with an admiral who would clean up the SEAL teams, with a mandate from both the Navy’s civilian leadership and Congress. On September 11, 2020, Rear Adm. Hugh Wyman Howard III was sworn in as the new commanding officer for the 3,000-strong Navy SEALs.
In the years since he’d led SEAL Team 6 as a captain, Howard had served in the Pentagon, Joint Special Operations Command, and then a tour as the commanding officer of the Special Operations Command Central, which organizes special operations in the Middle East for the military’s Central Command. But as a Team 6 commander, Howard had a more dubious claim to fame: He had procured for his SEALs custom-made tomahawks, which some used to mutilate and desecrate enemy fighters killed on the battlefield. The two-star admiral — who had once shown off a bloodied hatchet after an operation and whose loyalty to the SEAL teams above all else had once led him to advise a peer to “protect the brand” at all costs — was given the task of holding the SEALs accountable. For SEALs old enough to have served during the height of the Afghanistan and Iraq wars, Howard’s promotion to lead the elite unit was a clear case of the fox guarding the henhouse. His promotion, like those of Szymanski and Gallagher, suggested that the bad guys had already won the SEALs’ internal culture war.
The public has been given a different account of SEAL Team 6 and the larger Navy SEAL community. During a Senate Armed Services Committee hearing last year, Howard testified that he had created an instruction program focused on preventing war crimes, an implicit acknowledgment of the SEALs’ troubling history. “It is a defining characteristic of our community that we value ownership and accountability for our actions,” Howard told senators. “We will be strong in character, strong in accountability, strong in moral and ethical foundations, and strong in leadership.” Howard’s efforts to fix the SEAL community’s problems also involved drastically reducing the size of the force and limiting the number of SEALs who serve overseas. The SEALs are “a team humble in triumph and fully accountable in failure,” Howard wrote to his command and then provided to a Washington Post columnist for a glowing paean to his leadership.
Photo: Anthony W. Walker/U.S. Navy
There is no moment more solemn in the life of a SEAL than when he receives his Trident. The American eagle pin, with its tripartite symbol, which combines an anchor, flintlock pistol, and trident, is affixed to the chest of each graduate of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL school, known as BUD/S. It is worn only by those who have demonstrated the capacity to survive their training and operate at the highest level amid the most arduous conditions. Few designations are more coveted within the U.S. military. And few, if any, command as much respect.
For all the bravery of the Navy SEALs, they have shown a consistent lack of moral courage when it comes to facing the truth.
But the Trident embodies a contradiction central to the SEALs: We ask these men to do terrible things and to do so with the utmost honor. Like so many tasks assigned to the SEALs, this may seem impossible. But it is not. It requires exceptional men capable of exceptional courage — both physical and moral. Many of the SEALs I’ve spoken to in my decade reporting on the unit have demonstrated that. Unfortunately, the teams haven’t fulfilled this ideal. Instead, too many SEALs have taken an easier path, navigating this contradiction through lies, cover-ups, and silence. The Naval Special Warfare Command and SEAL Team 6 have enabled this — through willful blindness to misdeeds and the use of promotions and medals as a distraction, even for those whose conduct has been questioned by many of their peers.
The SEALs are not alone in this state of denial. The American public launders this uncomfortable truth through the hero myth of the SEAL. This mythology is perpetuated — and commodified — by the media, publishing, and Hollywood. We celebrate the SEALs’ acts of bravery and bask in their victories, but we fail to show the courage to confront the truth — and what it means for our nation each time the Trident is awarded to a new SEAL.
Actor David Boreanaz as “Jason Hayes” on the CBS television show “SEAL Team,” filmed in Los Angeles, on Feb. 7, 2020.
Photo: Aaron Epstein/CBS via Getty Images
For all the bravery of the Navy SEALs, they have shown a consistent lack of moral courage when it comes to facing the truth. In the days and weeks after 9/11, the George W. Bush administration wrote a blank check for a military action that continues two decades later. In August 2021, President Joe Biden withdrew the last U.S. troops from Afghanistan, formally ending the war there 20 years after it began. But withdrawing the troops did not end American conflict abroad. Even as the Biden administration withdrew forces from Afghanistan, it made clear that it would shift some of those same resources to nearby countries so that the U.S. military could conduct “over-the-horizon” counterterrorism operations. “Our troops are not coming home,” Rep. Tom Malinowski, D-N.J., said at a congressional hearing shortly after the Afghanistan withdrawal. “We need to be honest about that. They are merely moving to other bases in the same region to conduct the same counterterrorism missions, including Afghanistan.”
The Afghanistan War represents only part of the endless war on terror. The political decision by the Bush administration to invade Iraq, topple Saddam Hussein’s regime, and occupy the country, for example, may represent America’s single worst foreign policy decision in its history. Each conflict generates the next. American forces will remain in Syria, Somalia, Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, Yemen, and the Philippines, where they will potentially be used to conduct lethal operations. The collective toll is not over. And for almost as long as these conflicts have been going on, we have been paying their price.
How do we weigh the SEALs’ mythic status against the corrupt and violent acts carried out — and covered up — by SEAL operators and leaders?
The American government has portrayed the SEALs as our mightiest warriors. The public has come to view them as the most heroic and brave among us. But the SEALs themselves, who have been marketed as the best of what the American military has to offer, know that they too are casualties of these conflicts. Some of their wounds occurred when bullets and bombs hit their bodies on battlefields. Many more lay deeper, developing night after night, deployment after deployment, year after year, when they were sent to kill those deemed America’s enemies. The psychological and physical tolls are significant. Nearly every operator who served in these wars exits the military with varying levels of measurable disability: hearing loss, brain injuries, scars, arthritis in their knees, back, and joints. Many more carry a kind of collective moral injury, a burden that all Americans must share.
Even those who have exploited their service for wealth and celebrity are conscious of these moral injuries. In 2014, after former SEAL Team 6 operator Robert O’Neill — who according to several former SEAL Team 6 members, including a former teammate on the raid, had publicly misrepresented himself as the man who killed Osama bin Laden — separated from the Navy and began a new public speaking career, he expressed concern for how his men would fare after finishing their service. “All of these guys have killed more people than any criminal in American history,” O’Neill once told me. “I worry about how they are going to handle getting out.”
No American service members have ever conducted as much war, in such a personal way, as those from SEAL Team 6 and the rest of the forces that make up special operations. There is no precedent in our history, and so we are collectively embarking on a journey whose destination is not clear. The indications so far are not promising.
Chris Kyle, a retired Navy SEAL, poses for a photo with his book “American Sniper: The Autobiography of the Most Lethal Sniper in U.S. Military History” on April 6, 2012.
Photo: Paul Moseley/Tribune News Service via Getty I
How, then, do we weigh the SEALs’ mythic status against the corrupt and violent acts carried out — and covered up — by SEAL operators and leaders? There is oversight built into the structure of the Naval special forces and the military more broadly. The enlisted answer to officers; the officers answer to civilians; civilians answer to Congress; and Congress answers to American citizens. It is with ordinary American citizens, then, that the responsibility to hold the SEALs accountable ultimately rests.
There have been very few, if any, reform efforts, and the ones that may have happened have not been made public, a surprising outcome given all the books about leadership and character written by SEALs themselves. My reporting on SEALs has shown me just how entrenched the problems are, but I also know that change is possible, and what it might look like. The culture and code of silence and deceit can be eradicated, but it requires, ultimately, that the SEALs face what they already know to be true about what has occurred in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, Yemen, and beyond, and those responsible admit that they betrayed their duty to their country.
One place to look for an accountability blueprint for addressing the SEALs’ transgressive code is in Australia. In November 2020, the Australian Defense Force released an inspector general’s report on alleged war crimes committed by Australia’s special forces in Afghanistan over 11 years, ending in 2016. The report detailed allegations of 39 unlawful killings as well as incidents of prisoner abuse. In most of the unjustified killings, the Afghan victim was unarmed, and most of the victims were in Australian custody when they were executed.
Nineteen Australian commandos were identified as being directly involved or complicit in war crimes. The report traced a culture of impunity, violations of the laws of war, and cover-ups. All the incidents involved the Special Air Service Regiment, the Australian equivalent of SEAL Team 6, or a sister special operations unit. The author, Maj. Gen. Paul Brereton, described one alleged war crime, which was redacted in the public version, as “possibly the most disgraceful episode in Australia’s military history.” The report was thorough and largely accepted as accurate by military brass and the public.
Nineteen Australian commandos were identified as being directly involved or complicit in war crimes.
The inquiry originated from a study conducted by a civilian sociologist, Dr. Samantha Crompvoets, who surveyed the Australian special forces community for the head of the command, Maj. Gen. Jeff Sengelman. Crompvoets looked at the sociology and cultural traits of special forces, conducting dozens of interviews with current and retired soldiers. In her study, the soldiers began to casually disclose witnessing or participating in war crimes, including murder and torture of detainees. After completing and submitting her report, Crompvoets shared what she’d heard in interviews with Sengelman, who was by then serving as the Australian army chief of staff. She understood that what she heard likely reflected just a small fraction of a larger problem. The inspector general’s report released in 2020 was the result of Crompvoets’s recommendation.
The Australian report placed responsibility for war crimes mainly with the enlisted soldiers at the tactical and battlefield level in the 2nd Commando Regiment, a special operations unit. But it also recognized that officers in Australia’s premier commando unit are too well trained not to understand how the unit’s ethos could end up creating a culture that enabled war crimes. The officers, the report said, “bear significant responsibility for contributing to the environment in which war crimes were committed, most notably those who embraced or fostered the ‘warrior culture’ and empowered, or did not restrain, the clique of noncommissioned officers who propagated it. That responsibility is to some extent shared by those who, in misconceived loyalty to their Regiment, or their mates, have not been prepared to ‘call out’ criminal conduct or, even to this day, decline to accept that it occurred in the face of incontrovertible evidence, or seek to offer obscure and unconvincing justifications and mitigations for it.”
The report recommended that the 19 commandos identified in the investigation, all of whom appeared to be enlisted, be referred for possible criminal prosecution for murder. In the fallout, 13 of the soldiers were issued notices that they were likely to be discharged. The report also recommended that the military revoke meritorious service awards that had been given at the conclusion of several of the deployments.
Photo: Mick Tsikas/Getty Images
The report — and the fact that it was made public — were significant. News stories about some of the alleged war crimes also helped the public understand how broken their elite military commandos’ moral compasses had become. One video of an operation in Afghanistan showed an Australian soldier executing an unarmed and compliant Afghan man for no other reason than to kill. As shown in the video taken by a teammate on the mission, the shooting was an unambiguous murder.
There were few in Australia who defended the incident, but that didn’t equate to widespread support for the inspector general’s accountability recommendations. One of those recommendations was that unit be stripped of any collective military awards they’d received from any deployment during which war crimes were committed. The report did not suggest that most of the commandos, who had not behaved illegally or dishonorably, deserved to be punished along with those who did, but rather that the military could not in good conscience issue a unit an award for meritorious conduct when members of the unit had committed war crimes. Don’t punish the group for a few bad apples, the military and its public supporters argued in response. And in 2021, the Australian Defense Force rejected the recommendation.
Without Congress’s involvement, there is no chance of reform.
If replicated by the U.S. Department of Defense, a similar process would mean an independent investigation into Naval Special Warfare and SEAL Team 6, perhaps reporting the findings to congressional committees that oversee the military. Investigators would likely have to offer immunity to induce SEAL cooperation, and the investigation could serve as an informal truth-and-reconciliation commission for SEAL crimes. A final report would need to make substantial recommendations to both the Pentagon and Congress about potential consequences of the findings as well as reforms. What is certain is that without Congress’s involvement, either through oversight or administering the investigation itself, there is no chance of reform.
To date, the U.S. military has not chosen to follow the Australian example. In the fallout from the SEAL scandals, which were frequently and widely covered by the U.S. media, Congress required the Special Operations Command to conduct ethics training, accountability, and culture reviews in 2018 and 2019. In 2020, SOCOM determined that the recommendations from the previous studies had not been incorporated. That report, too, found that ethics were no problem in their units, including the Navy SEALs.
Days after Biden’s inauguration, the Defense Department’s inspector general announced in an internal department memo that the office would conduct a review of how the Special Operations Command had implemented the department’s Laws of War regulations and whether possible war crimes had been reported or investigated as required. The independent review covered special operations forces, such as the Navy SEALs and Army Green Berets, as well as the geographic command that oversees the areas where most special operations forces have fought since 9/11. Like the Obama administration when it dismantled the CIA’s torture program, the inspector general’s review sought to look forward rather than back. As a result, nothing changed.
In his first seven months as SEAL commander, Howard cut the number of SEAL platoons while expanding the number of men in each unit. The administrative move was meant to reduce the overall number of Navy SEALs in the hopes that by reducing quantity, the command could increase the quality of SEALs in the service. Howard does have his supporters. The military’s civilian leadership frequently praises him as a savvy, capable commanding officer. One former senior Pentagon official who worked with Howard described him as highly intelligent and hardworking, judgments that even his detractors share. “I don’t think there was anyone else in the SEAL officer corps who was better equipped to lead [Naval Special Warfare],” a former SEAL Team 6 officer told me.
All the same, it is unclear how committed Howard will be to reforming the force’s culture. A few months after he took over, after Biden won the 2020 presidential election, Howard set his sights on a different job. During the transition, Michèle Flournoy, the former under secretary of defense for policy in the Obama administration, became Biden’s leading candidate for defense secretary. Flournoy agreed to make Howard her military assistant, a position that would ensure him a third star. The move evaporated when Biden nominated Gen. Lloyd Austin instead. Howard has previously refused to respond to detailed questions about his career and conduct. Through an aide, he declined to speak to me for this article.
Howard’s ambition is legion in the teams. Last year, I interviewed a former special operator who served under Howard on more than one battlefield. The special operator told a story that one of Howard’s former peers had described years prior: Early in the war in Afghanistan, Howard led a successful assault mission, with the SEALs suffering no casualties and killing their targets. Afterward, while Howard briefed the operation, he got into a strenuous argument with an Air Force combat controller over who had killed one of the Afghan enemy fighters.
An official Navy portrait of Rear Adm. Hugh W. Howard III, head of the Naval Special Warfare Command.
Photo: U.S. Navy
Their choice, according to Howard: Howard himself. He has told as many as will listen that he intends to be the first Navy SEAL president.
Given the promotions and career achievements of SEAL leaders like Howard who have failed to check the force’s excessive violence, there is reason to doubt that anything will change in the teams without significant pressure from Congress.
There is reason to be hopeful, however, about bringing an end to the SEAL code of silence and corruption. One distinctive Team 6 characteristic is that SEALs withhold virtually nothing among themselves. Their team room is their ultimate safe space, a place where honesty is not only consistent but also prevalent. It is from these SEALs that I gathered accounts of some of their teammates’ most damning crimes. These SEALs spoke because they were frustrated, disheartened, and disillusioned with Naval Special Warfare. They described the reality of what they did, saw, and knew while dedicating themselves to uphold American values and protect the Constitution. They represent the most patriotic among their peers precisely because they seek accountability and reform in their community.
Some will decry public accountability as a form of second-guessing our warriors, but nothing could be further from the truth. Democracy and freedom are founded on an informed public, vigorous public debate, and the accountability of our government institutions, which serve the nation. This is true whether it is the president who lies for political gain or an enlisted SEAL who lies for financial profit. If the American public truly cares about the fate of the men who have shouldered too much of our national burden — knowing what they did, what they went through, and how they continue to pay for their service — then it is critical that citizens demand accountability. Americans who celebrate the heroics of SEAL Team 6 must also understand the cost of their exploits.
This article was adapted from “Code Over Country: The Tragedy and Corruption of SEAL Team Six” by Matthew Cole, which will be published on February 22, 2022, by Bold Type Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc. Copyright © 2022 by Matthew Cole. All rights reserved.
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