[Congressional Record Volume 143, Number 55 (Thursday, May 1, 1997)]
[Senate]
[Pages S3891-S3894]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]




                      GROWING INTELLIGENCE BUDGETS

  Mr. KERRY. Mr. President, recently our colleague, Senator Moynihan, 
secured, or maybe not so recently, his FBI file, and it is interesting 
that in 1961, in a memorandum suggesting a meeting between himself and 
a then very youthful Daniel Patrick Moynihan, J. Edgar Hoover wrote, 
``I am not going to see this skunk.''
  Now, the Senator from New York has been called many things, as we all 
have in the course of our careers, but after considerable amount of 
reflection I concluded that the only way in which this moniker could 
stick would clearly be in a way that J. Edgar Hoover did not intend, 
and that is that the distinguished Senator from New York has long and 
often been a skunk at the garden party of the intellectually 
comfortable, challenging our thinking about the status quo.
  Most recently, he has brought this very considerable skunk-like 
presence to the matter of America's intelligence bureaucracy in the 
post-cold-war era. He has asked why it is that our vast intelligence 
apparatus, built to sustain America in the long twilight struggle of 
the cold war continues to grow at an exponential rate? Now that that 
struggle is over, why is it that our vast intelligence apparatus 
continues to grow even as Government resources for new and essential 
priorities fall far short of what is necessary? Why is it that our vast 
intelligence apparatus continues to roll on even as every other 
Government bureaucracy is subject to increasing scrutiny and, indeed, 
to reinvention?
  Our colleague's answer is an important one for all of us to reflect 
on. The answer is secrecy and bureaucracy. It is secrecy that conceals 
structure, budgets, functions, and critical evaluation from the public, 
the executive branch and most Members of Congress, including those on 
appropriate oversight committees. It is bureaucracy, the nature of the 
self-perpetuating institution like any of our intelligence agencies, 
that leads to an ongoing redefinition of purpose and ongoing creation 
of redundant systems and ongoing expansion of scope.
  The first component, secrecy, means that the normal active tools of 
democracy, that is, press scrutiny, public debate, and appropriate 
oversight from executive and the congressional branches, are absent. 
And the second component, bureaucracy, means that reform, downsizing, 
reorganization, and elimination of redundancies cannot come from within 
because, as the Senator from New York demonstrates, our intelligence 
apparatus is merely following the norms of all agencies.
  This suggests that the intelligence bureaucracy will not, indeed 
cannot, change until we act on the cultural barriers to reform.
  I ask unanimous consent that excerpts of the remarks of our 
colleague, the senior Senator from New York, at Georgetown University's 
Marvin H. Bernstein Lecture be printed in the Record. I commend this 
important commentary on the problems of bureaucracy and secrecy to all 
of my colleagues.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                    Secrecy as Government Regulation

                  (By Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan)

       Marver Bernstein was a scholar of great range and 
     authority, but his primary work concerned government 
     regulation, notably his celebrated editorship of Volume 400 
     of The Annals: The Government as Regulator. In that 
     tradition, I would like to consider secrecy as a form of 
     government regulation.
       If at times my account appears more anecdotal than 
     analytic, I plead that data is the plural of anecdote.
       And so we begin of a morning early in January, 1993, when I 
     paid a farewell call at the White House on George Bush, a 
     fine friend and a fine President. As I was leaving the Oval 
     Office, his redoubtable Chief of Staff James A. Baker, III 
     ran into me, and asked if I might wait for him in his office 
     until he had finished some business with the President. I 
     went down the hall, was served coffee, and awaited his 
     pleasure.
       In time he returned to his office, went out, and came back 
     with a small stack of what seemed like magazines. Baker 
     wanted to show me what had become of the morning intelligence 
     summary.That is to say, the National Intelligence Daily, or 
     ``NID'', which the Central Intelligence Agency had begun back 
     in 1951. It used to be ten or twelve pages long, plain cover, 
     Top Secret. Some three hundred copies were printed. The real 
     stuff, Baker now showed me half a dozen national intelligence 
     dailies from half a dozen national intelligence agencies. 
     Some had photographs on the cover, just like the Washington 
     Post. Some were in color, just like the Washington Times. The 
     Chief of Staff explained it was necessary for him to arrive 
     at dawn to read them all, try to keep in mind what he had 
     already read in the press or seen on television, and prepare 
     a summary for POTUS. As Paul C. Light would have it, 
     government had thickened and heightened; someone now had to 
     summarize the summations.
       I left musing about this. I had a passing acquaintance with 
     public administration theory, having been patiently 
     instructed by James Q. Wilson and Stephen Hess. I knew 
     Anthony Downs. Had even spoken to Luther C. Gulick as he 
     approached his 100th birthday in a hamlet on the banks of the 
     St. Lawrence River. I was beginning to be familiar with the 
     new ``institutional sociologists'' such as Paul DiMaggio, 
     Walter Powell, Howard Aldrich. I had read with great profit 
     the works of Suzanne Weaver and Robert A. Katzmann in the 
     M.I.T. series on Regulatory Bureaucracy. And a common theme 
     was emerging. To cite DiMaggio and Powell, ``Organizations 
     are still becoming more homogeneous and bureaucracy remains 
     the common organizational form.''
       Light calls this ``isomorphism,'' In a 1978 lecture drawing 
     on Wilson, and through him on to the 19th century German 
     sociologist Simmel, I had propounded ``The Iron Law of 
     Emulation.'' Organizations in conflict become like one 
     another. (Simmel had noted that the Persians finally figured 
     out it was best to have Greeks fight Greeks.) The United 
     States Constitution assumed conflict

[[Page S3892]]

     among the three branches of government; I traced conflict 
     techniques among them ranging from office buildings to 
     personal staffs to foreign travel. Now, however, one's 
     attention was directed to conflict techniques employed by 
     agencies within one branch, the Executive.
       The intelligence community called out for attention. 
     Perhaps it was the room I had just left, this southwest 
     corner room in the White House. I was there on the early 
     afternoon of November 22, 1963, awaiting news from Dallas. 
     The door burst open; in rushed Hubert H. Humphrey. ``What 
     have they done to us?'' he gasped. By ``they'' we all knew; 
     the Texans, the reactionaries. Later in the day one learned a 
     suspect had been arrested; associated with Fair Play for 
     Cuba. At midnight I met the cabinet plane that had been 
     halfway to Japan. I sought out the Treasury official in 
     charge of the Secret Service. We must get custody of Oswald, 
     I pleaded. Else he will never get out of that jail alive.
       After Oswald was shot, I went round in the company of John 
     Macy, head of the Civil Service Commission, pleading that an 
     investigation had to look into the jaws of hell, else we 
     would be living with a conspiracy theory the rest of our 
     lives. I carried with me a recently reprinted book of the 
     post-Civil War era which ``proved'' that the Jesuits 
     assassinated Lincoln:
       ``Booth was nothing but the tool of the Jesuits. It was 
     Rome who directed his arm, after corrupting his heart and 
     damning his soul.''
     And, of course, today something like half of all Americans 
     think the CIA was involved in the assassination of President 
     Kennedy. There is even a Hollywood movie to prove it.
       Nor can the historians disprove it. The records are sealed. 
     We have an Assassination Records Review Board that lets some 
     things out; not much. Recently, an eminent author wrote to 
     tell me of a meeting with some CIA officials a few years ago 
     in an effort to get some information on how the agency 
     handled the aftermath of the assassination:
       ``Surely, I said, the agency has an interest in countering 
     such a widely shared conspiracy theory with the truth. I got 
     . . . blank stares.''
       In his classic study, The Torment of Secrecy, which 
     appeared in 1956, Edward A. Shils defined secrecy as ``the 
     compulsory withholding of information, reinforced by the 
     prospect of sanctions for disclosure.'' But secrets are 
     disclosed all the time, and sanctions for disclosure are rare 
     to the point of being nonexistent. (In the eighty years since 
     the Espionage Act of 1917, only one person has been sent to 
     prison simply for revealing a secret, as against passing 
     material to a foreign power.) In 1995, I was asked to write 
     an introduction to a paperback edition of Shils' work, and 
     came up with the thought that secrecy is a form of government 
     regulation. If this were so, we could look for the patterns 
     those institutional sociologists keep coming up with.
       Begin with Max Weber and his chapter, ``Bureaucracy'' in 
     Wirschaft und Gescllschaft (Economy and Society), published 
     after his death in 1920, but most likely written in part 
     prior to World War I. He writes:
       ``Every bureaucracy seeks to increase the superiority of 
     the professionally informed by keeping their knowledge and 
     inventions secret. Bureaucratic administration always tends 
     to be an administration of `secret sessions' in so far as it 
     can, it hides its knowledge and action from criticism.
       ``The pure interest of the bureaucracy in power, however, 
     is efficacious far beyond those areas where purely functional 
     interests make for secrecy. The concept of the `official 
     secret' is the specific invention of bureaucracy, and nothing 
     is so fanatically defended by the bureaucracy as this 
     attitude, which cannot be substantially justified beyond 
     these specifically qualified areas. In facing a parliament, 
     the bureaucracy, out of a sure power instinct, fights every 
     attempt of the parliament to gain knowledge by means of its 
     own experts or from interest groups. The so-called right of 
     parliamentary investigation is one of the means by which 
     parliament seeks such knowledge. Bureaucracy naturally 
     welcomes a poorly informed and hence a powerless parliament--
     at least in so far as ignorance somehow agrees with the 
     bureaucracy's interests.''
       The Federal Bureau of Investigation is nearest the ``ideal 
     type'' of such a bureaucracy, and has the longest experience 
     of the secrecy system that developed in the United States 
     from the moment of our entry into the First World War and the 
     enactment of the Espionage Act of 1917. The system began as a 
     mode of defense against foreign subversion, frequently 
     exploiting the divided loyalties of recent immigrants, and 
     not infrequently stigmatizing an entire class of perfectly 
     loyal citizens. This pattern persisted through the inter-war 
     period, the Second World War, and onto the Cold War. From 
     eminences such as Theodore Roosevelt who in 1917 sounded the 
     warning against ``the Hun within,'' on to the obscenities of 
     the McCarthy era, down to the present when, if I do not 
     mistake, Islamic Americans are going to find themselves under 
     surveillance, as it were.
       I offer this proposition. The attempts at subversion were 
     real, but never of truly serious consequence. The one 
     exception was the atomic espionage at Los Alamos. But even 
     that was temporary. Soviet scientists would have developed an 
     atom bomb on their own; as they did a hydrogen bomb. 
     Espionage is intriguing, but data analysis is more rewarding. 
     One thinks of the poster in the headquarters of the Internal 
     Revenue Service. ``It Took an Accountant to nail Al Capone.'' 
     The problem is that in this, as in much else, the American 
     public, and the Congress at time, were led to believe that it 
     took the more secretive FBI.
       It happens this is not true, but heaven help anyone who 
     suggested otherwise at mid-century. Or such was my 
     experience. As an aide to Governor Averell Harriman of New 
     York in the 1950s. I became interested in the subject of 
     organized crime after a State Trooper came upon an 
     extraordinary assembly of mob leaders from around the nation 
     that convened in the hamlet of Apalachin in the Southern Tier 
     of New York. I became peripherally involved as a Senate 
     staffer with Robert F. Kennedy, who was pursuing the subject. 
     In July, 1961, I published an article in the Reporter 
     magazine entitled, ``The Private Government of Crime,'' in 
     which I argued that from its roots in prohibition, which was 
     a large scale manufacturing and marketing activity, that 
     there was something that could reasonably be termed organized 
     crime, that it was serious, and that we had not found a way 
     of dealing with it. Why, I asked, did American government 
     have so little success in dealing with this phenomenon? My 
     general thesis was that there was insufficient organizational 
     reward. Almost in passing, I noted that the FBI, which had 
     ``not hesitated to take on the toughest problems of national 
     security . . . has successfully stayed away from organized 
     crime.'' It got you nothing but institutional trouble.
       By now I had joined the Kennedy administration as an aide 
     to then-Secretary of Labor Arthur J. Goldberg. In a matter of 
     weeks from the publication of the article, the Department of 
     Labor building on Constitution Avenue was literally raided by 
     G-Men. They hit the Secretary's floor in unison, went door to 
     door, told everyone save the hapless author but including the 
     Secretary himself, that a dangerous person had infiltrated 
     their ranks with the clear implication that he should go. I 
     can't demonstrate this but offer the judgment that at this 
     time in Washington at any other department the person in 
     question would have gone. Hoover had files on everyone, or so 
     it was said. He and Allen Dulles at the CIA were JFK's first 
     announced appointments, rather reappointments.
       The Department of Labor was different only insofar as 
     Arthur J. Goldberg was different. On August 2, C.D. ``Deke'' 
     DeLoach had informed the Secretary that ``it would appear to 
     be impossible to deal with Moynihan on a liaison basis in 
     view of his obvious biased opinion regarding the FBI.'' The 
     Secretary called me in, said: ``Pat, you have a problem. Go 
     and explain your point of view to the Director.'' The next 
     day, DeLoach agreed to see me, but made plain he could barely 
     stand the sight. There is a three-page, single-space 
     memorandum of the meeting in my FBI file, sent to the 
     Director through John Mohr. It concluded:
       ``Moynihan is an egghead that talks in circles and 
     constantly contradicts himself. He shifts about constantly in 
     his chair and will not look you in the eye. He would be the 
     first so-called ``liberal'' that would scream if the FBI 
     overstepped its jurisdiction. He is obviously a phony 
     intellectual that one minute will back down and the next 
     minute strike while our back is turned. I think we made 
     numerous points in our interview with him, however, this man 
     is so much up on ``cloud nine'' it is doubtful that his ego 
     will allow logical interpretation of remarks made by other 
     people.''
       The Director appended a handwritten notation, ``I am not 
     going to see this skunk.''
       I survived: in part, I think, because the agency had no 
     fall-back position. One raid had always done the trick; no 
     Secretary ever asked that a 34-year-old get in to see the 
     Director.
       Organizational maintenance is nowhere more manifest, and at 
     times ruinous, than in matters of national security. Hoover 
     was present at this creation during the war hysteria of 1917 
     and 1918 and the anti-radical rumpus that followed, including 
     Attorney General A. Mitchell Palmer's celebrated raids. The 
     FBI was on to Communist activities fairly early on, and not 
     about to cede territory. Richard Gid Powers has related the 
     struggle with the Office of Strategic Services during World 
     War II--Hoover wanted to go overseas. There were social 
     tensions, as Powers records. ``Oh So Social,'' for the Office 
     of Strategic Services; ``Foreign Born Irish,'' for the FBI.
       However, there is another perspective, perhaps best evoked 
     by the tale of British Foreign Secretary Ernest Bevin, 
     sometime head of the Transport and General Workers Union, on 
     his return from the 1945 Potsdam conference. What, he was 
     asked, were the Soviets like? ``Why,'' he replied, ``they're 
     just like the bloody Communists!'' By contrast, it is quite 
     possible that Harry S. Truman had never met a Communist until 
     he sat down with Stalin at the same conference. Similarly, 
     Hoover may never have met a Communist in his own circles. It 
     was a matter of regionalism, in what was then a much more 
     regional nation. The clandestine activities of the Communist 
     Party of the United States of America were common knowledge 
     within political and intellectual circumstances of Manhattan 
     in the 1930s. They were a given. Such urbanity, if that is 
     not an offensive phrase, was unknown to the ward politics of 
     Kansas City, and equally to the Protestant churches in young 
     Hoover's Seward Square on Capitol Hill.

[[Page S3893]]

       In this sense, it was as easy for Harry S. Truman to 
     believe that there were no Communists in government as for J. 
     Edgar Hoover to believe they were everywhere. Neither had 
     any experience with a political community in which some 
     persons were Communists, some had been, some had nuanced 
     differences, some implacable hostility. The world, you 
     might say, of Whittaker Chambers. Or, for that matter, the 
     late Albert Shanker, President of the American Federation 
     of Teachers. His February 1997 obituary records his 
     struggle with Communists in the teachers' unions of New 
     York City in the 1950's. Thus: ``The anti-Communist 
     Teachers Guild was a weak group of 2,400 members.''
       In the tumult and torment that followed World War II, it 
     would appear that at first Hoover tried to ``warn'' Truman of 
     suspected Communists in or about the American government. We 
     have in the Truman Library a four-page letter of May 29, 
     1946, from the Director to George E. Allen, then head of the 
     Reconstruction Finance Corporation, and a friend of the 
     President, concerning ``high Government officials operating 
     an alleged espionage network in Washington, D.C., on behalf 
     of the Soviet Government.'' Almost everyone of consequence 
     was implicated. First of all, ``Under Secretary of State Dean 
     Acheson,'' ``Former Assistant Secretary of War John J. 
     McCloy,'' ``Bureau of the Budget--Paul H. Appleby.'' It 
     happens I had a slight acquaintance with McCloy, rather more 
     with Acheson, and was close to Appleby. Anyone with the least 
     sense of the Marxist mindset would instantly understand that 
     such men lived in a wholly different world.
       There now commenced a tragedy of large consequence and 
     continued portent. On December 20, 1946, Meredith Gardner of 
     the Army Signal Agency across the Potomac ``broke'' the first 
     of the coded VENONA dispatches sent mainly by the KGB from 
     New York to Moscow. It was dated December 2, 1944. There were 
     names of the principal nuclear physicists working at Los 
     Alamos. Treason most vile had indeed taken place, was still 
     going on, was indeed occurring, even as Acheson and Newman 
     and Marks and others worked at establishing some kind of 
     international post-war regime to control the bomb. They knew 
     well enough that the bomb would not remain a secret long. 
     Science does not keep secrets. But they did not know that the 
     Soviets had got hold of our plans, and in consequence, would 
     get their own bomb two to three years sooner than otherwise, 
     and hence would want no part of an international regime.
       They did not know because J. Edgar Hoover did not tell 
     them.
       Army Signals decrypted the cables, leaving it to the FBI to 
     identify the individuals designated by code words. Julius 
     Rosenberg was LIBERAL. Another atomic spy, the 19-year-old 
     Harvard graduate Theodore A. Hall, was MLAD (Russian for 
     ``youngster'').
       The National Security Agency has now made public the VENONA 
     decryptions.\8\ We never broke more than perhaps 10 percent 
     of the traffic, such is the impenetrability of one-time pads. 
     But all of a sudden, in 1995, the American public learned 
     what we had known.
       The awful truth, however, is that when the President of the 
     United States needed to know this, which is to say Harry S 
     Truman, he was not told.
       As best we know, and we never will know until the FBI opens 
     its own files, President Truman was never told of VENONA. Nor 
     it would appear, was Attorney General Tom Clark.
       The consequences for American foreign policy were almost 
     wholly negative. The realism about the Soviet Union 
     exemplified by George Kennan, and embodied in the policies of 
     such as Acheson and McCloy, gave way to an agitated anxiety, 
     rhetorically on the part of Republicans, but as a matter of 
     practice and policy on the part of Democrats. A realist view 
     would have seen the Soviet Union as an absurdly overextended 
     colonial colossus which would collapse one day, essentially 
     along ethnic lines. (What, after all, had happened to the 
     other European empires in the second half of the 20th 
     century!) Instead, Democrats, launched an invasion of Cuba, 
     bringing the world close to a nuclear exchange, and leaving 
     an absurd problem with us to this day. Off we went to 
     Vietnam, quite oblivious to the Russian-Chinese hostilities 
     that broke out at the same time. And so on. In 1974, Donald 
     L. Robinson described this as ``The Routinization of Crisis 
     Government.'' After all, regulatory regimes seek routine!
       Part of this disorder may be ascribed to the development of 
     a vast culture of secrecy within the American government 
     which hugely interfered with the free flow of information. 
     The Central Intelligence Agency came into being, rather to 
     the annoyance of the FBI which was slow to cooperate with it. 
     (For that matter, it was not until 1952 that the Pentagon 
     felt comfortable enough with the CIA to share the VENONA 
     decryptions.) Scientists such as Frederick Seitz protested 
     secrecy, but with small success. The problem was that the 
     secrecy was secret. No one knew what was in the NID. And so 
     matters of large import were never really debated.
       The most important area was that of the Soviet economy. 
     From the mid-1960s on, the intelligence community perceived 
     the Soviets growing at a considerably greater rate than the 
     United States. Inevitably, a ``crossover'' point would come 
     when the GDP of the USSR would exceed that of the United 
     States. In fairness, in the early years there were outside 
     economists who seemed to agree, notably Samuelson. But 
     this fell off. In the summer of 1990, Michael J. Boskin, 
     then-chairman of the Council of Economic Advisers, 
     testified before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee on 
     this matter. He estimated that Soviet GNP came to ``only 
     about one-third of the GNP of the U.S.'' He volunteered 
     that ``as recently as a few years ago, the CIA estimates 
     were at 51 percent.'' In a question, I noted that the 
     highest published figure was 59%, but that the secret 
     estimates were even higher. It is hard not to conclude 
     that the Agency had simply acquired an institutional 
     interest in the view that the Soviets were gaining on us. 
     We will debate for some time--say a century--whether the 
     arms build-up, begun by President Carter in the Cold War 
     mode, but continued for some time by President Reagan, 
     somehow ``bankrupted'' the Soviet Union. But the Cold War 
     did end, and the West did prevail. There cannot be too 
     much fault to be found with this outcome. But surely there 
     are lessons.
       The first lesson is that a culture of secrecy kept the 
     nation from learning the extent of Communist subversion in 
     the 1930s and 1940s. (Subversion was present from the first. 
     John Reed was a paid Soviet agent. But it didn't much matter 
     until World War II came in sight.) Unlike the anti-German 
     hysteria of the First World War, and the anti-Japanese 
     hysteria of the Second, concern with Communist subversion 
     from the 1930s into the Cold War was entirely appropriate. 
     Even so, the Soviet success was limited, and was waning by 
     the time we began to be aware of it. (The Soviet threat was 
     another matter; an adversary with nuclear weapons, comething 
     wholly new to the human condition.) ``The American visage 
     began to cloud over,'' Shils wrote:
       ``Secrets were to become our chief reliance just when it 
     was becoming more and more evident that the Soviet Union had 
     long maintained an active apparatus for espionage in the 
     United States. For a country which had never previously 
     thought of itself as an object of systematic espionage by 
     foreign powers, it was unsettling.''
       The larger society, Shils continued, was ``facing an 
     unprecedented threat to its continuance.'' In 
     these circumstances, ``The phantasies of apocalyptic 
     visionaries now claimed the respectability of being a 
     reasonable interpretation of the real situation.'' A 
     culture of secrecy took hold within American government 
     which abetted a form of threat analysis which led to all 
     manner of misadventure.
       The permanent crisis perceived in Washington was surely 
     overdone.
       I offer what follows somewhat as conjecture, but with a 
     measure of conviction. The Soviet Union never intended to 
     invade Western Europe, or generally speaking, engage in a 
     third World War with the West. The leaders in Moscow were, 
     for a while there at least, Marxist-Leninists. That doctrine 
     decreed that class revolution would come regardless. It had 
     been hoped for in 1919-20, again in 1945-48. It hadn't 
     occurred, but it surely would. In the meantime, build 
     socialists at home. Early in the Cold War the United States 
     developed surveillance techniques, beginning with the U-2 
     ``spy plane'' and leading on to satellite imagery of today's 
     National Reconnaissance Office.
       I conjecture that this technology, and associated 
     underwater devices, gave us first of all the security of 
     knowing we would get a heads up on any serious Soviet 
     preparations for an attack. Not, perhaps, a spasmodic nuclear 
     strike by a crazed commander but anything approaching 
     mobilization of the sort that said to have triggered World 
     War I. (Once one side starts, the other must start, else a 
     five-day advantage prove decisive, etc., etc.)
       Similarly, in time, the Soviets had their own satellites: 
     could track NATO forces, the various U.S. Fleets, our bombers 
     and so forth. We never planned to invade the Soviet Union. We 
     were obsessive about the Western Hemisphere: nothing new 
     since Monroe's time. And seemingly incapable of understanding 
     that when an idea dies in Madrid, it takes two generations 
     for word to reach Managua. But never warlike as regards the 
     Soviet Union itself.
       A second lesson is less sanguine. The Cold War has 
     bequeathed us a vast secrecy system, which shows no sign of 
     receding. It has become our characteristic mode of governance 
     in the Executive Branch. Intelligence agencies have 
     proliferated; budgets continue to grow, even as the military 
     subsides. Every day we learn of some new anomaly. As, for 
     example, the Commerce Department employee who took his Top 
     Secret clearance with him to the Democratic National 
     Committee. (Look for the day when it is a mark of 
     institutional prestige to have an honest-to-goodness spy 
     discovered within one's ranks!) In 1995, there were 21,871 
     ``original'' Top Secret designations and 374,244 
     ``derivative'' designations. Madness.
       In the meantime, as old missions fade, the various 
     intelligence agencies seek new ones.
       This has been painful to observe. I cannot say I could wish 
     for the return of J. Edgar Hoover, as he thought I was a 
     skunk. But someone needs to learn from Hoover's caution about 
     taking on problematic missions. For example, keep the CIA out 
     of drug trafficking. Stick to terrorism and weapons 
     technology, including, of course, biological weapons. Same 
     for most of the other agencies that now fill up our 
     embassies, turning our ambassadors into room clerks.
       And so to sum up. The twentieth century saw the rise of the 
     administrative state.

[[Page S3894]]

     Government regulation has become the norm. However, we have 
     developed not one, but two regulatory regimes. The first is 
     public regulation for which we developed all manner of 
     disclosure, discovery, and due process. This regime is under 
     constant scrutiny. Thus, the 104th Congress enacted the 
     Congressional Review Act which establishes a sweeping 
     procedure whereby Congress, with Presidential approval, can 
     nullify regulations.
       There is, however, a second regulatory regime concealed 
     within a vast bureaucratic complex. There is some 
     Congressional oversight: some Presidential control. Do not 
     overestimate either. Not that the public is excluded 
     altogether, save as bureaucracies or bureaucrats think it to 
     their advantage to make some things pubic. As, for example, 
     it being budget time, we find on the front pages the report 
     that:
       ``The Central Intelligence Agency has severed its ties to 
     about 100 foreign agents because they committed murder, 
     torture and other crimes. . . .''
       This is surely a welcome development. Although it could be 
     asked why in the first instance public monies were disbursed 
     to murderers, torturers and sundry criminals.
       This second regime is in need of radical change. We have 
     sensed this for some time. But I now submit that change will 
     only come if we recognize it as a bureaucratic regime with 
     recognizable and predictable patterns of self-perpetuation 
     which will never respond to mere episodic indignation.

  Mr. DeWINE addressed the Chair.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Ohio.
  Mr. DeWINE. Mr. President, I yield such time as he may need to the 
sponsor of the bill, the Senator from Missouri.
  The PRESIDING OFFICER. The Senator from Missouri is recognized.

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