I had a great seat for the remarks by the Senior Government Official at the Unacknowledged Location.

I could say more, of course, but those were the ground rules from Walter Pincus, the grizzled reporter from the Washington Post whose beat is the Intelligence Community. He was the moderator, and had the seat on the right at the front of the room named for a man who served as Secretary of War, and later of State. Pincus is a trip, master of this game of non-attribution in the Capital of leaks.

I can’t be straight with you, which is one of those curious things. There were more than a hundred of us, and plenty of people from the press. We all knew where we were and who we were there to listen to. But that is Washington. The Gray Man isn’t going to be one for much longer, but since he is still on the government payroll, he cannot have views. Not officially. The Gray Man is thinning on top, gold-rimmed lgasses, dark suit, sensible socks, polished loafers and a blue Ivy League shirt.

He may (or may not) be part of the wholesale decapitation of the former leadership of the Central Intelligence Agency. He could have come up through the analytic ranks in the Directorate for Intelligence, and his last day on the job could be today.

Regardless, he has been seen as a partisan of the Agency as a whole and the Directorate for Operations in particular.

The breakfast meeting could have been up near Dupont Circle in a staid building perfectly in accordance with the dignity of the neighborhood. It was raining outside and parking, as always in the District, was at a premium. I interviewed the Filipino parking attendants in the underground garage across the street, since I was improbably early. The senior man was named Bam, and he was from Luzon. He had jet-black hair, swept straight back. He said, speaking on conditions of anonymity, that it was going to be a mess this morning, and I should leave my keys.

I walked up the block and crossed the street. A distinguished man in suit pants and a Mackintosh slicker and crash helmet drove up and parked his motor scooter by the door. That was a consummate Washington insider. A heavy black armored Lincoln was parked conspicuously in front, and security was visible.

My name was at the desk in the foyer, and I was directed to a table with name-tags we weren’t supposed to use and to the second floor cloakroom where there were more tan trench coats than I had ever seen before. Mine is real, though it is not paid for, so I took care to hang it in a place where it was unlikely to be grabbed by accident or someone seeking an upgrade.

Attendance was brisk, since there was always the possibility that someone might inadvertently tell the truth about something. The coffee was good, and there were long tables with juice and pastry. Nothing hot. No sausage or eggs.

I was able to secure a seat right down front and watched the notables arrive. The room was set up as an auditorium. There was a former DCI in attendance, the white-haired one who presided over the last disastrous reorganization at Langley. There was a former Assistant Director for Analysis from the Agency, and some distinguished tweedy alumni, and a cast of thousands from the think-tanks, Congressional staffs and major lobby houses.

I believe the ground rules permit me to identify the media in attendence, since they can always deny that they were there to protect their sources. Jim Hoagland and  R. Jeffery Smith of the Washington Post were present, making three from that organization with Walter Pincus. David Ensor of CNN, Louise Branson, USA Today, Lester Crystal of the News Hour with Jim Lehrer, and Michael Hirsh of Newsweek rounded out the professional reporters.

Since I was early, I had an excellent seat. I normally would have chosen something more anonymous, but I found myself adjacent to a former aide to a Speaker of the House who was on the Hill when I was. Sorry I can’t say which one. He is enjoying life in the private sector, though he misses the adrenaline of being around the Speaker. I discovered that his company has similar interests in two directorates of a major suburban agency, and I told him that if our interests ran congruent or complementary, we would be interested in having a relationship. We exchanged cards.

The appointed minute came, and the Moderator and his subject entered by the double doors at the front of the room. They took their seats, blinking in the light.

“Good to see you all up so early…just to talk,” Pincus said in his gravely voice. Then he laughed knowingly. Walter is distinguished in that distracted academic manner that evokes the old CIA, when everyone was from Princeton. There seemed to be a lot of Princeton men in the room. “Now, the ground rules are that you cannot link the name or the venue to these remarks. You may describe The Gray Man as a senior government official and you may not identify this facility.” Pincus had a merry look in his twinkling eyes. “Now of course you know the word will be out all over town the instant this is done, but there will be no leaving the room early.”

The Gray Man grimaced, saying “What am I doing here!” The audience chuckled in amusement, nearly all of us being on-or-off the record at one time or another, speaking on conditions of anonymity, or for background only.

Pincus explained that he had a prep session with The Gray Man, and that anyone who was looking for operational information on the events in Iraq was wasting their time. He then moved on to propose a series of structured questions dealing with the great events of the day.

“First question is this,” said Pincus, peering down over his half-glasses, grizzled hair wild. “Why ahouldn’t the current intelligence reform legislation be passed? Isn’t the Intelligence Community structured the same as it was before?”

”Well, you must remember that 9/11 was the equivalent of the first Battle of Bull Run, and that we are now fighting at Gettysburg. Times have changed,” he said. ”We got it. We have reorganized and are doing much better.”

Thediscussion of the  intelligence restructuring bill was painfully techincal, discussing the various drafts of the Bill that had flown around town while the conference committee was trying to hammer out differences.

The Gray Man wandered off into wonkish monographs discussing the role and relations of a new Director of National Intelligence, who would report to whom, whether it would slow things down and add confusion. He seemed embarrassed to speak of such technicalities. But since he could not, and would not, speak of operational matters, what else could he talk about? Besides, we were all wonks in the room anyway.

I was surprised to hear that the legislation still is not dead. It has risen more times than I can count. It may be raised again in the ultimate lame-duck session of this Congress. The Leadership of the House is clearly smarting over the two committee chairmen who faced down the President and the Senate.

And so it continued. I could go on from there, verbatim. Only video and audio recorders were prohibited under these ground-rules. But I will not. The substance of the remarks will be in the Post, after all, and most will make tonight’s TV news cycle as the views of a senior government official. Suffice it to say there was no surprise in The Gray Man’s positions, and his spin on the nation’s intelligence posture, which he says is day and night from the one prior to 9/11.

He took time to specifically praise the Terrorist Threat Integration Center (T-TIC), a new organization directed by another CIA alumni, who spoke under the ground rules of anonymity at the Fall Intelligence Symposium of another organization with strict non-attribution policies. The Gray Man used the words I wish I could have copied down verbatim at the time, which were:

“It’s very complicated. The 9/11 did a fine job on reporting events, but the recommendations were simplistic.” The Gray Man spoke the same words. It sounded like a mantra, or something written on a note-card and memorized.

It was clear from The Gray Man’s remarks that he opposed the establishment of the Director of National Intelligence. It would take away the leadership role the CIA has had for a half century. That was clearly what it was about. The rhetorical flourishes were unremarkable. The illustrated the lack of vision that anything could ever be different than it is now. “Who will brief the President?” said The Gray Man with a rhetorical flourish.

As if there would be no one qualified to do so, if not for the Director of Central Intelligence. “Come on,” I thought. “That is ridiculous.”

Whether he intended it or not, he laid out the political alliance of the community quite clearly. From his remarks, it was clear that the National Security Agency and the National Geo-spatial Intelligence Agency were considered “National” resources, while the Defense Intelligence Agency went unmentioned. In any reorganization, it would appear that the CIA would like to co-opt those national mission areas, and leave DIA as the sole DoD intelligence resource.

But now I sound like the wonk.

When asked, he opposed the notion that Defense should be entrusted with responsibility for clandestine operations. In general, and as a point of honor, The Gray Man was determined to go down with the ship, all flags flying, with honor and grace.

When pressed, near the end of the hour, the root question was laid before him. “If the intelligence reform legislation is brought to the floor next week, do you think it should be passed?”

He did not want to say it, but he finally had to. ”Well, if that is what is going to happen, then it should be.” He wistfully added that it would be better to do it right than rush it, but in the end, it appeared that The Gray Man was acknowledging the authority of the President. ”If they are going to pass it, they may as well just get on and do it.”

After the thing ended and I resuced my coat, there was pandemonium at the garage across the street. The rain had stopped, but there were a dozen cars down below that now had to be pulled out just as the morning commuters were arriving. Bam was frantic, running down the ramp, bringing the Mercedes up from the sub-basement. He had no time to offer comments, either on or off the record.

I stood in a knot of trench-coats waiting for my car to emerge. ”Well worth the time to attend,” I wrote in my after-action report, justifying my absence from the office. ”Truly one of those Washington mornings.”

The matter may or may not be raised next week, at a disclosed location under the dome of the Capitol. Congressional sources, speaking on condition of anonymity this morning, said the White House had leaned on General Richard Meyer, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, and he dropped his objection to the reform bill. The President is also reported to be ready to provide the House with a letter assuring them the measure will not interfere with the military’s chain of command, the criticism raised repeatedly by House Republicans when the measure was derailed.

There is a placeholder on the Senate calender for the morning of the anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. In brief, the announcement on the official website says the Senate will meet at 9:30 AM for morning business, the prayer and the stuff no one shows up for, and again at 12:30 PM, for possible consideration of the Intelligence Reform bill conference report. You can contact the Republican Cloakroom, 202-224-8601, or Democratic Cloakroom, 202-224-8541 for additional information, if you care.

With all the moving parts coming together, it will be interesting to see what happens. The Gray Man will be a private citizen that morning, and finally free to say whatever he wants, with no ground rules at all.

Copyright 2004 Vic Socotra

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