The New Cold War
America, China, and the Echoes of History
"The most fundamental method of work ... is to determine our working policies according to the actual conditions. When we study the causes of the mistakes we have made, we find that they all arose because we departed from the actual situation . . . and were subjective in determining our working policies."-"The Thoughts of Mao Tse-tung."
IN bucolic McLean, Virginia, screened by trees and surrounded by a high fence, squats a vast expanse of concrete and glass known familiarly as the "Pickle Factory," and more formally as "Headquarters, Central Intelligence Agency." Chiselled into the marble which is the only relieving feature of the building's sterile main entrance are the words, "The Truth Shall Make You Free." The quotation from St. John was personally chosen for the new building by Allen W. Dulles over the objection of several subordinates who felt that the Agency, then still reeling from the Bay of Pigs débâcle, should adopt a somewhat less lofty motto. (In those dark days of late 1961, some suggested that a more appropriate choice would be "Look Before You Leap.") But Dulles had a deeper sense of history than most. Although he was a casualty of the Bay of Pigs and never sat in the Director's office with its view over the Potomac, he left a permanent mark not only on the Agency which he had fashioned but on its building which he had planned.
Allen Dulles was famous among many and notorious among some for his consummate skill as an intelligence operative ("spook" in current parlance), but one of his greatest contributions in nurturing the frail arrangements he helped to create to provide intelligence support to Washington's top-level foreign-policy-makers.
Harry Truman, whose Administration gave birth to both the National Security Council and the Central Intelligence Agency, recalls that, "Each time the National Security Council is about to consider a certain policy-let us say a policy having to do with Southeast Asia-it immediately calls upon the CIA to present an estimate of the effects such a policy is likely to have. . . .[i] President Truman painted a somewhat more cozy relationship between the NSC and the CIA than probably existed during, and certainly since, his Administration. None the less, it is fair to say that the intelligence community, and especially the CIA, played an important advisory role in high-level policy deliberations during the 1950s and early 1960s.
To provide the most informed intelligence judgments on the effects a contemplated policy might have on American national security interests, a group especially tailored for the task was organized in 1950 within the CIA. While this step would probably have been taken sooner or later, the communist victory in China, the Korean War and growing East-West tensions stimulated the Truman administration's interest in obtaining carefully prepared intelligence assessments and projections. The Office of National Estimates (ONE) was headed initially by Professor William Langer, eminent diplomatic historian, leading authority on the American duck and master of prose-style. Under his brief stewardship he established guidelines for crisp, objective assessments that have been maintained for two decades.
Since its inception, the Office of National Estimates has maintained its independence within the hierarchy of the CIA, within the intelligence community, and within the national security and foreign policy elements of the government. Each National Intelligence Estimate is written after due consideration of contributions submitted by intelligence analysts both within and outside the Agency, but the final wording bears the unmistakable stamp of ONE's style of composition and analysis.
Estimates, about 50 a year, are written on a variety of subjects relevant to situation or policy considerations affecting the national security interests of the United States-from such elaborate, highly technical examinations as Chinese communist nuclear capabilities as they may develop over the next several years, to more speculative judgments about, say, the probable course of Japanese-Soviet relations in the light of evolving American foreign and economic policy.
The estimates are, by their very nature, a projection into the future: "What will be the effects of . . .?" "What are the probable developments in . . .?" "What are the intentions of . . .?" "What are the future military capabilities of ...?" When Pravda has been scanned, the road-watchers' reports from Laos checked, the economic research completed, Pham van Dong's recent speeches dissected, radar signals examined, satellite observations analyzed, and embassy cables read, the estimators set about their task. What emerges reflects a mass of distilled information, a painstaking search for the mot just and an assiduous effort to coördinate the views of all appropriate elements of the intelligence community. And, when all is said and done, what emerges is an opinion, a judgment. But it is likely to be the best-informed and most objective view the decision-maker can get.
The ten men on the National Estimates Board and the twenty or so on the National Estimates Staff (the Board and Staff make up the Office of National Estimates) have virtually unlimited access to classified and unclassified information concerning the political, military and economic situations of foreign countries. Their access to high-level White House, Defense or State policy thinking is much more limited; the fear of leaks which has pervaded the Kennedy, Johnson and Nixon administrations has tended to seal off even such élite intelligence groups as the Office of National Estimates from advance knowledge of sensitive "options" under serious consideration by the President. On occasion, now less frequent than in previous years, the Estimates folk are given an inkling of closely held courses of action that may be under high-level review through requests from the White House or the NSC to undertake a "Special" National Intelligence Estimate on "The Consequences of Certain Possible Steps the United States May Take Toward (let us say) Cashmania."
The position of the men and women in the Office of National Estimates, particularly those on the Board, is unique in the government (their closest counterparts were members of the Policy Planning Staff of the Department of State prior to the recent reorganization of that staff). They are among the most senior civil servants in the government, but unlike their peers elsewhere in the CIA or in other agencies and departments, they have no managerial or administrative responsibilities, they are not obliged to concern themselves with the painful and mundane matter of the annual budgets, they are not asked to appear before congressional committees. Their assigned responsibility is to brood about the world's problems and to project their views about how these problems are likely to affect American national security interests. No one has ever tried to cost out the production of a National Intelligence Estimate. Even if the dollar costs could be determined, who is to weigh the nondollar value of a considered, objective judgment, based on all relevant available information, on a matter important, perhaps vital to American security? At a time when government officials of whatever stature find themselves so harried that thinking time is at a premium, a group of experts that has an opportunity to ponder is a scarce and precious national asset.
The salad days of CIA's Office of National Estimates were during the Eisenhower administration. It was in this period that the estimators sensed that they had a direct, or at least discernible, participation in the policy process. The National Security Council then played a more important role in the formulation of national security policy than it did under its creator, President Truman, or has under any subsequent administration, including the present one. Anxious to make the NSC a more orderly and effective body, President Eisenhower established a Planning Board charged with "staffing out" policy reviews and recommendations prior to consideration by the Council itself. The Planning Board was chaired by the President's Assistant for National Security Affairs and its membership included representatives from the departments and agencies which comprised the NSC. The State Department member, for example, was the chairman of the Policy Planning Staff. The CIA adviser (both the CIA and the Joint Chiefs are nominally, at least, "advisers" rather than "members" of the NSC) was the Deputy Director for Intelligence to whom the Office of National Estimates was then responsible.[ii]
The typical Planning Board arrangement involved assigning to the State Department's Policy Planning Staff the task of writing a "position paper" on the issue at hand and to the intelligence community, through the Office of National Estimates, the chore of preparing a National Intelligence Estimate. In due course, a Planning Board draft would be prepared incorporating the essence of these two documents and appropriate contributions from the Bureau of the Budget, the Department of Defense or other member groups.
While this was a far cry from having a firm assurance that the President and his advisers personally read the National Intelligence Estimates, it provided a built-in arrangement for gearing intelligence guidance into the policy-making process. Moreover, Allen Dulles, then Director, included a summary of relevant Estimates in his weekly briefings to the Council. This did not mean that every Estimate was heeded or even taken very seriously by the policy-makers. But the estimators had some confidence, then, that their views were at least considered prior to a National Security Council position and a presidential decision.
President Kennedy was more interested in dealing with selected individuals than with formal institutions. He abolished the Planning Board together with other subordinate groups that had mushroomed under Eisenhower's NSC and, like President Johnson later, used the Council primarily as a vehicle for communicating decisions already reached in smaller, more congenial forums. There were still high-level, sometimes urgent, requests for Estimates directly addressing pending policy decisions,[iii] but ONE's umbilical cord to the policy-making process was severed with the disappearance of the Planning Board. The fact that John Kennedy was a "reading" President was, of course, some compensation. (He is reported to have once called a startled young member of the Estimates Staff about a point in an estimate on Indonesia.)
Aside from momentary diversions into the Caribbean and the Middle East, the Johnson administration's foreign policy concerns were dominated by Vietnam. It is revealing that President Johnson's memoirs,[iv] which are replete with references to and long quotations from documents which influenced his thinking and decisions on Vietnam, contain not a single reference to a National Intelligence Estimate or, indeed, to any other intelligence analysis. Except for Secretary McNamara, who became a frequent requestor and an avid reader of Estimates dealing with Soviet military capabilities and with the Vietnam situation, and McGeorge Bundy, the Office of National Estimates had a thin audience during the Johnson administration. This is not to say, of course, that "current intelligence" on crisis situations was ignored. It is to say that Estimates, think pieces and in-depth analyses were far from best sellers.
Early in its tenure the Nixon administration publicly emphasized its determination to restore the National Security Council to its place at the pinnacle of the policy-making pyramid and to establish a more orderly process of policy planning and review. But the system that evolved relegated the National Estimates to but a tiny fraction of the studies, analyses, position papers, contingency plans, research reports and memoranda generated by the large new NSC staff murmuring the magic words, "The White House wants immediately. . . ." How much of this deluge of paper has ever been read and assimilated by even those NSC staffers who originally requested the material is a well-kept secret and understandably so. How much ever went beyond their overflowing desks to Mr. Kissinger's busy deputy, to the harassed Mr. Kissinger or to the even more harassed President can only be imagined. A safe bet would be precious little.
Most Americans concerned about foreign affairs have long had to accept on blind faith that our government takes pains to provide its highest officials with the best possible intelligence guidance-and then to squirm under our private suspicions that this advice is, all too often, regarded with indifference. Thanks to Daniel Ellsberg, those of us who have not seen a National Intelligence Estimate for many years, or who have never seen one, can address the matter with somewhat more confidence than we could have a few months ago. Although it probably did not cross Ellsberg's mind when he released the "Pentagon Papers" to The New York Times, he succeeded in doing what the Agency, on its own, has rarely been able to do for more than 20 years: he made the CIA "look good" through what inhabitants of the Pickle Factory themselves would call a "highly credible source."
By some stroke of prescience, President Truman singled out Southeast Asia as his example of a problem area where the National Security Council would call for intelligence guidance for policies under consideration. Since Truman wrote his memoirs, this troubled part of the world has given rise to a fair share of NSC deliberation, intelligence analysis and policy decisions. While the "Pentagon Papers" tell us little about what actually happened in the White House Cabinet Room, they do reveal much about the intelligence guidance made available to the policy-makers. The record, recently amplified by President Johnson's memoirs, gives us some insight into the extent to which such guidance was reflected in policy decisions. A review of the record is disquieting.
In the summer of 1954, following the Geneva conference, the Eisenhower administration was desperately attempting to erect a shield against further communist expansion in Asia. Secretary Dulles, especially, was determined to develop a strong anti-communist government south of the 17th parallel in Vietnam and to replace the French economic, military and political influence in that area with our own. The man the United States counted on to establish strong anti-communist rule was Ngo Dinh Diem. By mid-summer, the issue of American support for Diem's fledgling and untried government was high on the NSC's agenda. The CIA was requested to prepare an Estimate on the viability of a Western-supported, anti-communist government in Vietnam. According to the "Pentagon Papers," the National Intelligence Estimate of August 3 warned that "even with American support it was unlikely that the French or Vietnamese would be able to establish a strong government and that the situation would probably continue to deteriorate." The NSC, nevertheless, recommended American aid for the frail and untried Vietnamese government, a recommendation that was soon followed by President Eisenhower's fateful letter to Diem offering American support.
This estimate has long since been validated and it seems clear that the United States would now be better off if President Eisenhower had paid more heed to that warning and less to the strong pressures that were being exerted by his Secretary of State and hard-line members of Congress. But this would probably be asking too much, considering the atmosphere in Washington during the summer of 1954. In any case, the Diem régime proved reasonably effective and stable until 1959, four years after the estimate-a period about as long as any intelligence judgment can be projected with confidence and any particular policy can be expected to be viable. It is probably a moot point, therefore, whether the estimators or the policy- makers were right in terms of what they knew and what they said and did in 1954. What is worth noting for our purposes here is the readiness of the estimators to send forward a point of view very much at variance with the current policy "line." This attribute, comes through time and again over the succeeding years.[v]
The 1954 Estimate was but the first of many blinking yellow lights flashed from intelligence analysts to the Eisenhower, Kennedy and Johnson administrations on the course of events in Vietnam. In August 1960, according to the "Pentagon Papers," the National Security Council was told that unless Diem's government took "more effective measures to protect the peasants and to win their positive coöperation" the Vietcong would expand their areas of control. If adverse trends were not checked, the estimate noted, "they will almost certainly in time cause the collapse of Diem's régime." Six months later officials in the new Kennedy administration were given an even sharper warning: "An extremely critical period . . . lies immediately ahead." Diem's "toleration of corruption" and his reliance on "one-man-rule" cast doubt on his ability to lead the government. And in October 1961, when Kennedy's NSC was considering deploying SEATO (South- East Asia Treaty Organization) ground forces to Vietnam, it was cautioned that, "The communists would expect worthwhile political and psychological rewards from successful harassment and guerrilla operations against SEATO forces. The DRV (North Vietnamese Government) would probably not relax its Vietcong campaign against the GVN (South Vietnamese Government) to any significant extent." In November 1961, shortly after General Taylor and Walt Rostow returned from their trip to Vietnam recommending, inter alia, that the United States "offer to introduce into South Vietnam a military Task Force," a National Intelligence Estimate warned that any escalation of American military activities in Vietnam would be matched by a similar escalation by Hanoi: "the North Vietnamese would respond to an increased U.S. commitment with an offsetting increase in infiltrated support for the Vietcong." Kennedy turned down the recommended "Task Force," but approved a substantial increase in American military advisers.
In June 1964, CIA analysts challenged the validity of the hallowed "domino theory." According to the "Pentagon Papers," President Johnson asked the Agency: "Would the rest of Southeast Asia necessarily fall if Laos and South Vietnam came under North Vietnamese control?" "With the possible exception of Cambodia," the President was told, "it is likely that no nation in the area would quickly succumb to Communism as a result of the fall of Laos and South Vietnam. Furthermore, a continuation of the spread of Communism in the area would not be irreparable. . . ." So long as the United States retained its offshore bases in Asia, China and North Vietnam could be deterred "from overt military aggression against Southeast Asia in general." But, as President Johnson himself confides, the "domino theory" continued to dominate his thinking about Vietnam: "... from all evidence available to me it seemed likely that all of Southeast Asia would pass under Communist control, slowly or quickly, but inevitably, at least down to Singapore but almost certainly to Djakarta ..." if the United States "let South Vietnam fall to Hanoi."[vi]
Intelligence officers apparently have been consistently bearish about the effectiveness of American bombing of North Vietnam. During late 1964, when a group of contingency planners were examining the costs and advantages of bombing North Vietnam, intelligence analysts took issue with those who maintained that bombing would force Hanoi to cease supporting the insurgency in South Vietnam: "We do not believe that such actions [i.e. bombing the North] would have a crucial effect on the daily lives of the overwhelming majority of the North Vietnam population. We do not believe that attacks on industrial targets would so exacerbate current economic difficulties as to create unmanageable control problems. . . . [The Hanoi régime] would probably be willing to suffer some damage to the country in the course of a test of wills with the United States over the course of events in South Vietnam." As the Pentagon historians note, this view had little influence on the contingency paper which emerged.
In November 1965, after eight months of American bombing without any discernible effect on Hanoi's ability to continue the war, there was a quest for more "lucrative" targets. The Joint Chiefs proposed bombing North Vietnamese petroleum storage facilities, and Secretary McNamara asked for the views of the Board of National Estimates. "Hanoi would not be greatly surprised by the attacks," the Board responded. "Indeed ... it has already taken steps to reduce their impact. . . . We believe that the DRV is prepared to accept for some time at least the strains and difficulties which loss of the major POL facilities would mean for its military and economic activity." After the petroleum storage facilities had been bombed in June 1966, it became clear that Hanoi had pre-positioned adequate oil caches throughout the country.
A month later, McNamara asked the Board to estimate the effect on Hanoi of a substantial escalation of American ground and air activity. There must be many officials of the Johnson administration who now wish they had taken more cognizance of this in late 1965: "Present Communist policy is to continue to prosecute the war vigorously in the South. The Communists recognize that the U.S. reinforcements of 1965 signify a determination to avoid defeat. They expect more U.S. troops and probably anticipate that targets in the Hanoi-Haiphong area will come under air attack. Nevertheless, they remain unwilling to damp down the conflict or move toward negotiation. They expect a long war, but they continue to believe that time is their ally and that their own staying power is superior." "An escalation of the bombing would not be decisive: the DRV would not decide to quit; PAVN [North Vietnamese Army] infiltration southward would continue. Damage from the strikes would make it considerably more difficult to support the war in the South, but these difficulties would neither be immediate nor insurmountable."
Throughout 1966 intelligence analysts were to continue to maintain that the American bombing of North Vietnam would not produce "either a military victory or early negotiations." During a sober moment of rethinking about the bombing in the spring of 1967, McNamara requested three intelligence assessments on this issue. According to the "Pentagon Papers," one CIA study concluded that 27 months of bombing "have had remarkably little effect on Hanoi's overall strategy in prosecuting the war, on its confident view of long-term communist prospects, and on its political tactics regarding negotiations." Another described North Vietnamese morale as one of "resolute stoicism with a considerable reservoir of endurance still untapped." And a third noted that although the bombing had "significantly eroded the capacities of North Vietnam's industrial and military bases," the damage had "not meaningfully degraded North Vietnam's material ability to continue the war in South Vietnam."
The snippets of intelligence guidance which the "Pentagon Papers" reveal may not, of course, be the whole story of intelligence judgments offered and intelligence judgments heeded. The complete text of the documents which were cited may have couched the conclusions in a more tentative form; Intelligence Estimates and memoranda tend to be generously sprinkled with "on the one hand and on the other hand" and "on balance we believe." The Pentagon historians refer to other documents which countered or at least dissipated the effect of those prepared in the intelligence community as a whole or within the CIA itself. For example, the "Pentagon Papers" frequently refer to assessments of American bombing submitted by the Joint Chiefs which were typically more bullish than those generated within CIA or produced by the Office of National Estimates with contributions from and the concurrence of the Defense Intelligence Agency. The extent to which Defense Intelligence analysts had a hand in the Joint Chiefs' assessments is unknown, but one must assume that they played some role. Secretary McNamara may have become concerned about this apparent schizophrenic tendency within the Defense Intelligence staff because he tended, increasingly, to rely on the Board of National Estimates or other components within CIA for their own, uncoordinated, views on current or projected U.S. courses of action regarding Vietnam. Who besides McNamara was influenced by the CIA judgments, and who by the JCS, the "Pentagon Papers" do not say.
But they do indicate that the CIA's estimators and analysts, if not those within the Pentagon, appear to have passed the test of time, the sternest test of all. Confronting one of the most passion-laden, persistent and dangerous foreign crises the United States has confronted since World War II, they consistently seem to have kept their cool, they remained impeccably objective, and they have been right. But if the record was so good, why wasn't anyone Up There listening?
Sherman Kent, a seer among the professional intelligence analysts and a long-time Chairman of the Board of National Estimates, has said, "The nature of our calling requires that we pretend as hard as we are able that the wish is indeed the fact and that the policy-maker will invariably defer to our findings. . . ." He feels that his associates' concern about their influence is misplaced; "no matter what we tell the policy-maker, and no matter how right we are and how convincing, he will upon occasion disregard the thrust of our findings for reasons beyond our ken. If influence cannot be our goal, what should it be? ... It should be to be relevant within the area of your competence, and above all it should be to be credible."[vii]
This exemplary admonition must be satisfying to Mr. Kent's co- professionals, but it is less than nourishing to those of us who are not as lofty-minded nor so high above the battle. Intelligence judgments on Vietnam, we now know, were both "relevant" and "credible" but were ignored or cast aside. Why? Because, since at least the early 1960s, they ran counter to the mood prevailing in the upper reaches of the policy-making community.
With the notable exception of Secretary McNamara (whose eventual change of view on the wisdom of our Vietnam policy may in no small part have been influenced by the seriousness with which he regarded CIA's assessments), senior officials seem to have dismissed the intelligence judgments as "just another opinion." It would be surprising if President Johnson had actually read the intelligence documents referred to in the "Pentagon Papers." Indeed, as he points out in his memoirs, the "Wise Men" he had assembled to examine American policy alternatives following the communists' 1968 Tet offensive were receiving "gloomier" assessments of the situation in Vietnam than he had been aware of. On important and sensitive political questions, intelligence judgments were virtually excluded from consideration. The State Department's Intelligence Bureau, for example, was cut off from the distribution of telegrams dealing with negotiations initiatives in 1966 and 1967, and thus was precluded from playing any useful role in this area. Intelligence analysts were thus banished to the darkness of official indifference. We know much less about the disposition of the Nixon administration, but it is no secret that the word has been passed down that Nixon officials are interested in "facts, not opinions."
What can we realistically strive for in closing the yawning gap between the ultimate analytical product of an elaborate and costly intelligence structure and the tight if not always orderly process of arriving at national security and foreign policy decisions? Obviously, it is unrealistic to expect that policy-makers should be bound by the advice of intelligence analysts or even that intelligence judgments or guidance should be influential in every major decision; we already have acknowledged that other considerations may override intelligence assessments concerning the probable risks or advantages in a particular course of action. But the operative verb should be "override," not "disregard." We do have a right to expect that the findings of Intelligence Estimates be put forward in policy councils, pondered upon and then accepted or, by conscious decision, set aside.
The policy-making process comes into final focus and decisions are ultimately reached through oral rather than written communication. It is at this critical juncture that officials should perceive, as clearly as possible, "the effects a policy is likely to have." And it is at this point that the men whose métier it is to render such judgments should be directly involved. But longstanding practice has insulated the estimators from face- to-face confrontation with those who grapple with policy issues and options. Clearly if they are to play a more direct and useful role, the estimators must be brought out of their cloister into the real world. They must, in short, engage the policy-makers.
If not the Board of National Estimates, a Board should be given a broader charter which would assign it responsibilities well beyond that of presiding over National Intelligence Estimates. In effect, Board members should function within their special areas of experience and expertise as senior intelligence advisers to the policy community. The issues they should undertake or be called upon to examine and the nature of their participation obviously call for discrimination. The value of their contribution will stem from their unique opportunity to form considered judgments and to maintain cool objectivity; indiscriminate participation in every policy discussion is likely to erode both of these precious attributes to the point where they are just one more group in Washington living by its wits in an atmosphere of advocacy and passion.
The recent reorganization of the intelligence community provides an opportunity to increase the prestige and the influence of an Estimates Board. The Director of Central Intelligence has been relieved of his day-to- day responsibilities for running the Central Intelligence Agency and has been given greater authority over all the government's intelligence services. The Director in his new role will need a strong, knowledgeable policy support staff experienced in extracting, digesting and using the information and analysis available throughout the intelligence community. One way of meeting this need would be to provide the Director with a senior personal staff which would work closely on issues under consideration in high policy councils and represent him in consequential, subordinate forums.
Another, more draconic alternative for giving a greater emphasis to intelligence judgments would be to remove the estimating responsibility from the Central Intelligence Agency and place it within the National Security Council structure. In essence, this would expand the role of the new Net Assessments Staff created by the recent reorganization. Broad political and economic judgments as well as more quantitative assessments of the strategic balance could then be channeled directly into policy forums. Such a move would also give the estimators a more sensitive feel for policies under consideration. Close association with the policy element of the National Security Council would permit an Estimates Board to initiate intelligence analyses and estimates that would squarely confront national security issues in their early stages of review. Under these circumstances, estimates would be more relevant as well as more influential.
But what about objectivity, the quality that has distinguished the estimates over the years? The risk of sacrificing this in the quest for influence cannot be dismissed lightly. Obviously the objectivity-influence trade-off must be closely examined before giving the National Security Council ultimate responsibility in making intelligence judgments. On the assumption that the objectivity issue can be resolved, direct access to an Estimates Board by the President's Special Assistant for National Security Affairs and, on occasion, the President himself, would make available what every President since Truman has said he wanted, but what none of them has been able to obtain on a routine basis-the best possible first-hand intelligence judgments on critical international problems.
A move of this kind would obviously involve consequential changes in organization and philosophy within Washington's intelligence and policy hierarchies. It would also add to the influence on foreign policy exerted by the White House-an influence already a matter of congressional criticism and State Department concern. But, the price would appear tolerable if a more thoughtful and prudent approach to the world was the result.
[i] "Memoirs of Harry S Truman." New York: Donbleday, 1958.
[ii] ONE has since been removed from the Intelligence Directorate of the CIA and now operates under the Office of the Director.
[iii] During the Cuban missile crisis, for example, the President's "Executive Committee" requested several estimates.
[iv] Lyndon Baines Johnson, "The Vantage Point: Perspectives on, the Presidency, 1963-1969," New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971.
[v] The Vietnam estimate of August 1954 was by no means the first example of this kind of objectivity; many estimates on East Asia written during the 1950s went squarely against the policy inclinations of the time.
[vi] Op. cit., p. 151.
[vii] Sherman Kent, "Estimates and Influence," Foreign Service Journal, April 1969, p. 16.