Secret Spies, Sacred Lies: Who guards the guardians?

“The essential skill of a secret service is to get things done secretly and deniably.” — John Bruce Lockhurt, former Deputy Chief of SIS

IT IS often suggested that prostitution is the oldest profession in the world. But from the dawn of history, people have been seeking to discover the intentions and secrets of their enemies; to penetrate the security barriers behind which their enemies work.

Secret intelligence work is not for the faint-hearted, but it is an essential weapon in the armoury of any major nation. Even Secretary of State Henry Stimson of the US, who once objected to proposals to create a US intelligence agency with the remark, “gentlemen do not read other people’s mail”, changed his view after the Japanese surprise attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941.

True, so long as our imperfect world exists, there will continue to be a need for intelligence services to seek the truth behind what Churchill called the “bodyguard of lies”.

Liars, deceivers, eavesdroppers, covert surveillance operators, thieves, burglars, lockpickers — perhaps even kidnappers or assassins. Such are some of the roles that may be required of an intelligence officer or secret agent. On the other hand, the work may consist only of humdrum administrative activities. The intelligence officer’s services to the state cannot be publicly recognised, but may entail serious danger and often long, unsocial hours.

So why are people prepared to devote their lives to intelligence — a profession that provides a conveniently silent scapegoat when there is a failure, but cannot be publicly congratulated on success?

Is intelligence work important? “Indeed,” say Brian Stewart and Samantha Newbery in Why Spy? On the Art of Intelligence. The book addresses the eternal verities and basic problems that have always been part of intelligence work.

In the fifth century BC, for example, Chinese generals compiled The Art of War (Bing Fa), attributed to Sun Tzu. Almost certainly the earliest book written on intelligence, it emphasises the crucial importance of intelligence. It says, “A General who is too stingy to spend generously on intelligence is not fit to be called a General.” Sun Tzu’s principles remain as valid today as they were over two millennia ago.

Many successful leaders have shared this view. Niccolò Machiavelli, the Duke of Wellington, George Washington, and Dwight D Eisenhower all emphasised the importance of intelligence. Churchill was an avid consumer of intelligence throughout the Second World War.

Intelligence is an essential weapon in any nation’s arsenal. But being secret, it is also the most dangerous. Safeguards to prevent its abuse must be devised, revised, and rigidly applied. As Sir William Stephenson wrote in A Man Called Intrepid: “In the integrity of that guardianship lies the hope of free people to endure and prevail.”

Yet, in a democratic society, intelligence must coexist with transparency, human rights, and the rule of law. As Didier Bigo, Emma McCluskey, and Félix Treguer argue in Intelligence Oversight in Times of Transnational Impunity: Who Will Watch the Watchers?, the tension between intelligence and democratic control is inherent and unresolved. The solution, they suggest, is not to abolish intelligence, but to regulate it.

KwaZulu-Natal Police Commissioner, Lieutenant-General Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi, has unleashed a storm in South Africa’s world of intelligence. His explosive disclosures have triggered a deluge of questions, literally opening Pandora’s Box. His press briefing resonates with wider anxieties about the “decline of trust” in democracy and the relationship between trust and democratic institutions.

Political philosopher Pierre Rosanvallon argues that distrust is the engine of democratic action — it ensures elected officials keep their promises and maintains pressure on government to serve the common good. On the other hand, trust is seen as a power-saving device for democracies, reducing the costs of citizen watchfulness and monitoring.

In Africa, the temptation of corruption is strong, especially for those in positions of public trust. The intelligence community, for obvious reasons, has not been immune. As Mkhwanazi pointed out, it has been complicit in many of the country’s ills.

The less said about South Africa’s intelligence agency, the better. The 2021 insurrectionist disturbances exposed a credibility crisis. The agency needs to rid itself of anti-state elements and rebuild its efficacy.

The Senzo Meyiwa case — still unresolved a decade later — speaks volumes about the lack of a functional, effective intelligence community. The inability to solve such a high-profile case is an indictment of South Africa’s intelligence and policing capabilities.

Heists cannot be a daily occurrence in a country with a well-oiled intelligence community. Either our intelligence community is infiltrated by corrupt officers, or it lacks the calibre of trustworthy operatives who can serve the nation with integrity.

What is not under threat is not the uncoordinated South African intelligence community, but millions of South Africans forced to endure rampant criminality. If South Africa is to remain safe from crime, effective domestic intelligence and security are needed. I recommend a new intake of intelligence operatives trained by the best in the world.

Intelligence, by its nature, is rarely discussed in public — hence the “Code of Silence”. But silence should not be confused with competence.

Failure may be an orphan, but it is often closely observed. Intelligence failures are important because they often precede costly policy failures. According to Robert Jervis in Why Intelligence Fails: Lessons from the Iranian Revolution and the Iraq War, intelligence failure is both the most important and least interesting sense of the term.

First, it is important because policy depends on accurate assessments. But it is uninteresting because identifying failure only requires comparing assessments with subsequent events. Second, judging intelligence failure involves distinguishing between what could have been collected and what analysts did with the information they had.

Third, intelligence failures often reflect organisational routines and ways of thinking. Fourth, studying only failures leads to methodological bias — we need to compare failures with successes. Finally, intelligence failures are not rare. Even with better training, intelligence officers will continue to face challenges with limited and unreliable information.

The inherent tension between intelligence and democratic control suggests that, since we cannot uninvent intelligence, it’s better to regulate it. As Emma McCluskey and Claudia Aradau argue, intelligence oversight must be institutionalised but vigilantly monitored.

Institutions tasked with oversight often fail to act independently without support from social movements, the judiciary, or parliament. Without such support, oversight bodies tend to pay lip service to the agencies they are meant to regulate. Mkhwanazi has exposed the weaknesses in South Africa’s intelligence oversight. There is an urgent need to identify key proposals to address systemic oversight failure and impunity within the SAPS intelligence community.

Intelligence oversight must move beyond trust and personal relationships. Oversight should not be based solely on trust in individuals, but on robust, depoliticised institutions that can hold intelligence agencies accountable.

* Dr Vusi Shongwe works in the Department of Sport, Arts, and Culture in KwaZulu-Natal and writes in his personal capacity.

** The views expressed here do not reflect those of the Sunday Independent, IOL, or Independent Media.

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