Paul Nitze, his biographer James Graham Wilson observes, “crafted a new type of career: national security professional.” For half a century, Nitze served in high roles in American government. His career spanned nearly every president from Franklin D. Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan, encompassing the entirety of the Cold War. Highly respected, indeed sometimes feared, by his peers, Nitze never quite achieved the fame of many of his contemporaries. Wilson’s new biography of Nitze, America’s Cold Warrior, helps explain why.

Nitze was nominally one of several men, dubbed “the Wise Men,” who helped construct U.S. foreign policy at the dawn of the Cold War. They included Robert Lovett, John McCloy, George Kennan, Chip Bohlen, Averell Harriman, and Dean Acheson. Many had careers in the foreign service, law, or as investment bankers that helped prepare them for key national security roles as the United States squared off against the Soviet Union. All held pivotal roles, ranging from ambassador to the Soviet Union to secretary of state and secretary of defense, during a pivotal moment in history.

Virtually all were members of what would later be called, sometimes with derision, “the Establishment.” They were, with few exceptions, born to wealth and privilege, coming from illustrious families. Their parents were railroad tycoons, diplomats, reverends, and judges. Many had attended elite boarding schools such as Groton before going on to study at Harvard or Yale. They often knew each other.

Paul Nitze was no different. He was born in 1907 to an upper-crust family of German stock, and Nitze’s father was a professor at the University of Chicago. His grandfather, Charles Nitze, was an investment banker who helped finance the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Paul benefited from his family’s wealth and connections, attending Harvard before embarking on a career in finance.

In his early 30s, Nitze felt unfulfilled. The world was geopolitically crumbling due to international communism and fascism, which were splintering Europe and tearing Asia apart with wars. Nitze longed to be a “man of action” and more than a bystander to global affairs. Through connections to Clarence Dillon, a Wall Street titan, Nitze met James Forrestal. Forrestal would serve as secretary of the Navy and later the nation’s first secretary of defense. But first, Forrestal was tasked with helping to prepare the Selective Service Act of 1940. Nitze, whose work on public infrastructure bonds in New York had attracted attention, went to work for Forrestal.

World War II would give him his first taste of important involvement in government affairs, with Nitze working for the coordinator of inter-American affairs, Nelson Rockefeller. Much of Nitze’s initial work focused on the defense industrial base and the acquisition and use of raw materials essential for the war effort. Later, he would be drafted into a study of how strategic bombing affected the German war economy. It marked, Wilson notes, “a new phase” in Nitze’s line of work. “Rather than figuring out how to procure strategic resources in the war mobilization effort,” Nitze now “tackled the problem of how best to employ arms to defeat the enemy.” Most of Nitze’s long and storied career would revolve around different variations of this problem. But the weapons and the enemy would soon change.

After the U.S. used nuclear weapons to defeat Japan, Nitze was sent to Japan to study the effects of the weapons. The devastation he saw left an indelible impression. America’s problems didn’t end with Japan’s surrender, however. The U.S. soon found itself in a Cold War with the Soviet Union. And Washington was in dire need of men with Nitze’s skill set.

World War II had taught Nitze a key “formula” to solving problems: “Go somewhere, see for yourself, assess and analyze, and devise a plan for individuals in power” and then “repeat this sequence until power comes to you.” Nitze would employ it to great effect, as he and other “Wise Men” would take on the role of advising a new president: Harry Truman.

As head of the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, Nitze authored what would become a legendary document, NSC-68, which advocated a more muscular policy to deter the spread of communism. Nitze would retain a lifelong admiration for Truman, as well as two of his secretaries of state, George Marshall and Dean Acheson.

Nitze would work briefly for the administration of Dwight Eisenhower but would soon find himself dissatisfied with Ike’s more budget-conscious approach to defense spending. He became a fierce critic of Eisenhower and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, using a think tank that he founded, now the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, to criticize Eisenhower’s efforts to cut spending and reduce conventional forces. Dulles and Eisenhower came to find Nitze a nuisance, but they respected his good faith assessments. They learned what other presidents over the years would come to find out: Agree or disagree with him, Nitze could not be ignored.

Nitze would come to believe that his criticisms helped spur a change in Ike’s approach. At the very least, they attracted the attention of Eisenhower’s successor, John F. Kennedy. Under Kennedy, Nitze served as assistant secretary of defense and played a key role in the Berlin and Cuban missile crises. Nitze’s career would reach its height under the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, in which he served as secretary of the Navy and eventually the deputy secretary of defense. Unlike some of his fellow “Wise Men,” Nitze never achieved his ambition to become the Pentagon’s No. 1. Nor was he ever considered for secretary of state or director of the CIA. And the reasons go beyond pure fate.

Nitze was never close to the presidents he worked for. He was not, by nature, a partisan animal. As often as not, he seemed to frustrate many of his various bosses, including Secretaries of Defense Robert McNamara and Clark Clifford. The latter cited Nitze’s “impatient intellect,” which often manifested itself in “irritable peevishness and flashes of unveiled contempt.” Nitze was solely devoted to defense matters and showed little interest in “playing the game.” Most politicians, indeed the often-messy political process itself, didn’t impress him. 

Years later, a bad meeting with then-candidate Jimmy Carter would similarly sabotage Nitze’s ability to gain a top post. Nitze was unwilling to refrain from staying silent or pretending to agree with policies that he felt were flawed. It may have kept him from top Cabinet posts, but he was able to be influential as a critic and activist on the outside.

Nor did Nitze ever achieve the sort of popular fame along the lines of his friend George Kennan or his younger contemporary Henry Kissinger. As Wilson observes, both Kennan and Kissinger were talented writers, blessed with a level of literary flair that eluded Nitze. Nitze would not write widely acclaimed books. He would not serve as the preeminent national security adviser in the Oval Office. Yet Nitze’s career eclipsed many of his more famous, and more titled, peers. Nitze spent more time in government service, if in smaller roles, than any of his fellow “Wise Men.” Nitze alone would command presidential attention from 1940 to 1989. He found other ways to garner influence and make change and eventually served as a top arms control adviser to Presidents Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.

Through it all, Nitze was his own man, unapologetic and steadfastly committed to what he believed was best for his country. With its sharp prose and a balanced portrayal, America’s Cold Warrior charts an amazing life helping America navigate the gravest dangers of the 20th century.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER

Sean Durns is a Washington, D.C.-based foreign affairs analyst.

2024-08-09 09:05:00, http://s.wordpress.com/mshots/v1/https%3A%2F%2Fwww.washingtonexaminer.com%2Fpremium%2F3111176%2Fleast-famous-most-important-strategist-cold-war-paul-nitze%2F?w=600&h=450, Paul Nitze, his biographer James Graham Wilson observes, “crafted a new type of career: national security professional.” For half a century, Nitze served in high roles in American government. His career spanned nearly every president from Franklin D. Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan, encompassing the entirety of the Cold War. Highly respected, indeed sometimes feared, by,

Paul Nitze, his biographer James Graham Wilson observes, “crafted a new type of career: national security professional.” For half a century, Nitze served in high roles in American government. His career spanned nearly every president from Franklin D. Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan, encompassing the entirety of the Cold War. Highly respected, indeed sometimes feared, by his peers, Nitze never quite achieved the fame of many of his contemporaries. Wilson’s new biography of Nitze, America’s Cold Warrior, helps explain why.

Nitze was nominally one of several men, dubbed “the Wise Men,” who helped construct U.S. foreign policy at the dawn of the Cold War. They included Robert Lovett, John McCloy, George Kennan, Chip Bohlen, Averell Harriman, and Dean Acheson. Many had careers in the foreign service, law, or as investment bankers that helped prepare them for key national security roles as the United States squared off against the Soviet Union. All held pivotal roles, ranging from ambassador to the Soviet Union to secretary of state and secretary of defense, during a pivotal moment in history.

Virtually all were members of what would later be called, sometimes with derision, “the Establishment.” They were, with few exceptions, born to wealth and privilege, coming from illustrious families. Their parents were railroad tycoons, diplomats, reverends, and judges. Many had attended elite boarding schools such as Groton before going on to study at Harvard or Yale. They often knew each other.

Paul Nitze was no different. He was born in 1907 to an upper-crust family of German stock, and Nitze’s father was a professor at the University of Chicago. His grandfather, Charles Nitze, was an investment banker who helped finance the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Paul benefited from his family’s wealth and connections, attending Harvard before embarking on a career in finance.

In his early 30s, Nitze felt unfulfilled. The world was geopolitically crumbling due to international communism and fascism, which were splintering Europe and tearing Asia apart with wars. Nitze longed to be a “man of action” and more than a bystander to global affairs. Through connections to Clarence Dillon, a Wall Street titan, Nitze met James Forrestal. Forrestal would serve as secretary of the Navy and later the nation’s first secretary of defense. But first, Forrestal was tasked with helping to prepare the Selective Service Act of 1940. Nitze, whose work on public infrastructure bonds in New York had attracted attention, went to work for Forrestal.

World War II would give him his first taste of important involvement in government affairs, with Nitze working for the coordinator of inter-American affairs, Nelson Rockefeller. Much of Nitze’s initial work focused on the defense industrial base and the acquisition and use of raw materials essential for the war effort. Later, he would be drafted into a study of how strategic bombing affected the German war economy. It marked, Wilson notes, “a new phase” in Nitze’s line of work. “Rather than figuring out how to procure strategic resources in the war mobilization effort,” Nitze now “tackled the problem of how best to employ arms to defeat the enemy.” Most of Nitze’s long and storied career would revolve around different variations of this problem. But the weapons and the enemy would soon change.

After the U.S. used nuclear weapons to defeat Japan, Nitze was sent to Japan to study the effects of the weapons. The devastation he saw left an indelible impression. America’s problems didn’t end with Japan’s surrender, however. The U.S. soon found itself in a Cold War with the Soviet Union. And Washington was in dire need of men with Nitze’s skill set.

World War II had taught Nitze a key “formula” to solving problems: “Go somewhere, see for yourself, assess and analyze, and devise a plan for individuals in power” and then “repeat this sequence until power comes to you.” Nitze would employ it to great effect, as he and other “Wise Men” would take on the role of advising a new president: Harry Truman.

As head of the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, Nitze authored what would become a legendary document, NSC-68, which advocated a more muscular policy to deter the spread of communism. Nitze would retain a lifelong admiration for Truman, as well as two of his secretaries of state, George Marshall and Dean Acheson.

Nitze would work briefly for the administration of Dwight Eisenhower but would soon find himself dissatisfied with Ike’s more budget-conscious approach to defense spending. He became a fierce critic of Eisenhower and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, using a think tank that he founded, now the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, to criticize Eisenhower’s efforts to cut spending and reduce conventional forces. Dulles and Eisenhower came to find Nitze a nuisance, but they respected his good faith assessments. They learned what other presidents over the years would come to find out: Agree or disagree with him, Nitze could not be ignored.

Nitze would come to believe that his criticisms helped spur a change in Ike’s approach. At the very least, they attracted the attention of Eisenhower’s successor, John F. Kennedy. Under Kennedy, Nitze served as assistant secretary of defense and played a key role in the Berlin and Cuban missile crises. Nitze’s career would reach its height under the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, in which he served as secretary of the Navy and eventually the deputy secretary of defense. Unlike some of his fellow “Wise Men,” Nitze never achieved his ambition to become the Pentagon’s No. 1. Nor was he ever considered for secretary of state or director of the CIA. And the reasons go beyond pure fate.

Nitze was never close to the presidents he worked for. He was not, by nature, a partisan animal. As often as not, he seemed to frustrate many of his various bosses, including Secretaries of Defense Robert McNamara and Clark Clifford. The latter cited Nitze’s “impatient intellect,” which often manifested itself in “irritable peevishness and flashes of unveiled contempt.” Nitze was solely devoted to defense matters and showed little interest in “playing the game.” Most politicians, indeed the often-messy political process itself, didn’t impress him. 

Years later, a bad meeting with then-candidate Jimmy Carter would similarly sabotage Nitze’s ability to gain a top post. Nitze was unwilling to refrain from staying silent or pretending to agree with policies that he felt were flawed. It may have kept him from top Cabinet posts, but he was able to be influential as a critic and activist on the outside.

Nor did Nitze ever achieve the sort of popular fame along the lines of his friend George Kennan or his younger contemporary Henry Kissinger. As Wilson observes, both Kennan and Kissinger were talented writers, blessed with a level of literary flair that eluded Nitze. Nitze would not write widely acclaimed books. He would not serve as the preeminent national security adviser in the Oval Office. Yet Nitze’s career eclipsed many of his more famous, and more titled, peers. Nitze spent more time in government service, if in smaller roles, than any of his fellow “Wise Men.” Nitze alone would command presidential attention from 1940 to 1989. He found other ways to garner influence and make change and eventually served as a top arms control adviser to Presidents Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan.

Through it all, Nitze was his own man, unapologetic and steadfastly committed to what he believed was best for his country. With its sharp prose and a balanced portrayal, America’s Cold Warrior charts an amazing life helping America navigate the gravest dangers of the 20th century.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER

Sean Durns is a Washington, D.C.-based foreign affairs analyst.

, Paul Nitze, his biographer James Graham Wilson observes, “crafted a new type of career: national security professional.” For half a century, Nitze served in high roles in American government. His career spanned nearly every president from Franklin D. Roosevelt to Ronald Reagan, encompassing the entirety of the Cold War. Highly respected, indeed sometimes feared, by his peers, Nitze never quite achieved the fame of many of his contemporaries. Wilson’s new biography of Nitze, America’s Cold Warrior, helps explain why. America’s Cold Warrior: Paul Nitze and National Security from Roosevelt to Reagan; By James Graham Wilson; Cornell University Press 336 pp., $32.95 Nitze was nominally one of several men, dubbed “the Wise Men,” who helped construct U.S. foreign policy at the dawn of the Cold War. They included Robert Lovett, John McCloy, George Kennan, Chip Bohlen, Averell Harriman, and Dean Acheson. Many had careers in the foreign service, law, or as investment bankers that helped prepare them for key national security roles as the United States squared off against the Soviet Union. All held pivotal roles, ranging from ambassador to the Soviet Union to secretary of state and secretary of defense, during a pivotal moment in history. Virtually all were members of what would later be called, sometimes with derision, “the Establishment.” They were, with few exceptions, born to wealth and privilege, coming from illustrious families. Their parents were railroad tycoons, diplomats, reverends, and judges. Many had attended elite boarding schools such as Groton before going on to study at Harvard or Yale. They often knew each other. Paul Nitze was no different. He was born in 1907 to an upper-crust family of German stock, and Nitze’s father was a professor at the University of Chicago. His grandfather, Charles Nitze, was an investment banker who helped finance the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad. Paul benefited from his family’s wealth and connections, attending Harvard before embarking on a career in finance. In his early 30s, Nitze felt unfulfilled. The world was geopolitically crumbling due to international communism and fascism, which were splintering Europe and tearing Asia apart with wars. Nitze longed to be a “man of action” and more than a bystander to global affairs. Through connections to Clarence Dillon, a Wall Street titan, Nitze met James Forrestal. Forrestal would serve as secretary of the Navy and later the nation’s first secretary of defense. But first, Forrestal was tasked with helping to prepare the Selective Service Act of 1940. Nitze, whose work on public infrastructure bonds in New York had attracted attention, went to work for Forrestal. World War II would give him his first taste of important involvement in government affairs, with Nitze working for the coordinator of inter-American affairs, Nelson Rockefeller. Much of Nitze’s initial work focused on the defense industrial base and the acquisition and use of raw materials essential for the war effort. Later, he would be drafted into a study of how strategic bombing affected the German war economy. It marked, Wilson notes, “a new phase” in Nitze’s line of work. “Rather than figuring out how to procure strategic resources in the war mobilization effort,” Nitze now “tackled the problem of how best to employ arms to defeat the enemy.” Most of Nitze’s long and storied career would revolve around different variations of this problem. But the weapons and the enemy would soon change. (Illustration by Tatiana Lozano / Washington Examiner; Getty Images, Dennis Brack / Newscom) After the U.S. used nuclear weapons to defeat Japan, Nitze was sent to Japan to study the effects of the weapons. The devastation he saw left an indelible impression. America’s problems didn’t end with Japan’s surrender, however. The U.S. soon found itself in a Cold War with the Soviet Union. And Washington was in dire need of men with Nitze’s skill set. World War II had taught Nitze a key “formula” to solving problems: “Go somewhere, see for yourself, assess and analyze, and devise a plan for individuals in power” and then “repeat this sequence until power comes to you.” Nitze would employ it to great effect, as he and other “Wise Men” would take on the role of advising a new president: Harry Truman. As head of the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, Nitze authored what would become a legendary document, NSC-68, which advocated a more muscular policy to deter the spread of communism. Nitze would retain a lifelong admiration for Truman, as well as two of his secretaries of state, George Marshall and Dean Acheson. Nitze would work briefly for the administration of Dwight Eisenhower but would soon find himself dissatisfied with Ike’s more budget-conscious approach to defense spending. He became a fierce critic of Eisenhower and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, using a think tank that he founded, now the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies, to criticize Eisenhower’s efforts to cut spending and reduce conventional forces. Dulles and Eisenhower came to find Nitze a nuisance, but they respected his good faith assessments. They learned what other presidents over the years would come to find out: Agree or disagree with him, Nitze could not be ignored. Nitze would come to believe that his criticisms helped spur a change in Ike’s approach. At the very least, they attracted the attention of Eisenhower’s successor, John F. Kennedy. Under Kennedy, Nitze served as assistant secretary of defense and played a key role in the Berlin and Cuban missile crises. Nitze’s career would reach its height under the Kennedy and Johnson administrations, in which he served as secretary of the Navy and eventually the deputy secretary of defense. Unlike some of his fellow “Wise Men,” Nitze never achieved his ambition to become the Pentagon’s No. 1. Nor was he ever considered for secretary of state or director of the CIA. And the reasons go beyond pure fate. Nitze was never close to the presidents he worked for. He was not, by nature, a partisan animal. As often as not, he seemed to frustrate many of his various bosses, including Secretaries of Defense Robert McNamara and Clark Clifford. The latter cited Nitze’s “impatient intellect,” which often manifested itself in “irritable peevishness and flashes of unveiled contempt.” Nitze was solely devoted to defense matters and showed little interest in “playing the game.” Most politicians, indeed the often-messy political process itself, didn’t impress him.  Years later, a bad meeting with then-candidate Jimmy Carter would similarly sabotage Nitze’s ability to gain a top post. Nitze was unwilling to refrain from staying silent or pretending to agree with policies that he felt were flawed. It may have kept him from top Cabinet posts, but he was able to be influential as a critic and activist on the outside. Nor did Nitze ever achieve the sort of popular fame along the lines of his friend George Kennan or his younger contemporary Henry Kissinger. As Wilson observes, both Kennan and Kissinger were talented writers, blessed with a level of literary flair that eluded Nitze. Nitze would not write widely acclaimed books. He would not serve as the preeminent national security adviser in the Oval Office. Yet Nitze’s career eclipsed many of his more famous, and more titled, peers. Nitze spent more time in government service, if in smaller roles, than any of his fellow “Wise Men.” Nitze alone would command presidential attention from 1940 to 1989. He found other ways to garner influence and make change and eventually served as a top arms control adviser to Presidents Richard Nixon and Ronald Reagan. Through it all, Nitze was his own man, unapologetic and steadfastly committed to what he believed was best for his country. With its sharp prose and a balanced portrayal, America’s Cold Warrior charts an amazing life helping America navigate the gravest dangers of the 20th century. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER Sean Durns is a Washington, D.C.-based foreign affairs analyst., , , https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/08/books-sean-durns-paul-nitze-080824B1-1024×591.webp, Washington Examiner, Political News and Conservative Analysis About Congress, the President, and the Federal Government, https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/cropped-favicon-32×32.png, https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/feed/, Sean Durns,

In his new book, In Obscura: Adventures in the World of Intelligence, Peter Theroux offers a look into his unconventional life, from Los Angeles to Langley. Theroux comes from a famous literary family. His older brothers, Alexander and Paul, are noted novelists. His nephews and cousins include journalists, filmmakers, and the actor Justin Theroux. Peter himself garnered acclaim as a journalist and linguist. His translations of Arabic literature are widely considered among the best.

Theroux spent years working as a journalist, filing dispatches for National Geographic and the Wall Street Journal, among others. His job took him across the world, but largely focused on the Middle East, writing stories on Syria, Egypt, and elsewhere in the region. He authored two books: Sandstorms, on his travels in the Middle East, and, much closer to home, 1995’s Translating Los Angeles.

But in his mid-30s, feeling unfulfilled, Theroux began to look elsewhere for work. A visit to Syria, where even domestic opponents of the Assad regime celebrated anti-Jewish violence, proved to be one of the final straws. Syria, he noted, “felt like strike one against the idiot boss: self-employed me.” In between hanging out with Gore Vidal and the stuntmen of James Cameron’s 1997 hit film, Titanic, Theroux began the process of launching a career in the intelligence community. “I sensed a kinship with the stunt actors, who worked in the shadows, whose names would never show in bright lights, but who made the mission work,” he writes. Indeed, “as a translator, I already had a taste of that.”

Theroux had previously done contract work translating for the Joint Publication Research Service, a division of the now-defunct Foreign Broadcast Information Service, which served as an open-source intelligence collector for the CIA. But Theroux wanted something more, initially choosing to apply to the National Security Agency and then the CIA itself. “In Obscura,” he explains, is an old CIA operational term referring to the status of clandestine work. An intelligence officer engaging in espionage who has successfully evaded enemy surveillance so that they can commit an operational act is said to be “IO.”

A few years after Theroux joined the Agency, al-Qaida perpetrated the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. The United States was at war, and Theroux’s linguistic gifts and years spent traveling the Middle East made him uniquely qualified to help. Theroux would display a knack for always being “at the most interesting place at the most important time,” as his friend Lee Smith, the writer, observed. In Obscura is replete with anecdotes and impressions as the onetime Hollywood-based writer navigates the various national security bureaucracies. Theroux is careful to note the very different cultures that make up these agencies, from the more informal CIA to the rigid and process-obsessed State Department. The book pulls back the curtain on how the policy sausage, so to speak, is made and implemented.

Yet Theroux is gracious. Many spy memoirs, he notes, are authored by “heavily disgruntled, partisan, axe-grinding” types. Thankfully, this memoir is different. Theroux is proud of his service to his country and proud of the men and women that he served with. Some of them were the “most erudite, congenial, and witty people that I had ever met.” As he notes in the book’s introduction, he is not seeking to settle scores. Rather, his model for his memoir is Lynda Obst, whose 1996 book Hello, He Lied, offered an insider look at what producers, directors, agents, writers, actors, and editors do on a day-to-day basis to make movies. Theroux hopes to do something similar for the intelligence world.

This does not mean, however, that Theroux is naïve. Indeed, his book is filled with biting commentaries on how the D.C. foreign policy establishment functions — or, just as often, doesn’t. One comes away with a good understanding of how institutional cultures can shape national security. The State Department, for example, is depicted as often too keen to please host countries instead of prioritizing the wishes of America’s elected leaders. Theroux also notes the “disconnect from the policy world of the executive branch” and those tasked with implementing their wishes.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER

Unsurprisingly, there are aspects of Theroux’s work that he can’t write about. He is still bound by secrecy agreements, some of which will have expired by the time he writes his projected second volume. “‘Tell as little as possible’ isn’t the sexiest way to start a book,” he admits. Nonetheless, In Obscura doesn’t suffer for it. Theroux still offers insights into what it was like to debrief and target Islamist terrorists in Iraq. One also garners interesting tidbits. For example, the Palestinian terrorist Yasser Arafat was known to hog the air conditioning. Arafat, he notes, was a “physical coward” who had “won most of his battles at a microphone.” And a former U.S. national security adviser, later busted for trying to steal confidential documents from an archive, is described as a “creep.”

Yet, the revelations in his book extend beyond Theroux’s work as a spy. The author’s time as a journalist, including his stories on how Middle Eastern governments from Cairo to Damascus try to manipulate news coverage, is both informative and relevant. Ditto for his frank admissions on how Western journalists often self-censor to preserve access to repressive regimes. “Beware of obsequious human beings,” Obst wrote in her Hollywood memoir. “The most dangerous wolves are in sheep’s clothing.” As Theroux observes, this piece of advice applies to the sometimes-murky world of national security, too.

Sean Durns is a Senior Research Analyst for CAMERA, the 65,000-member, Boston-based Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis.

2024-07-26 02:25:00, http://s.wordpress.com/mshots/v1/https%3A%2F%2Fwww.washingtonexaminer.com%2Fpremium%2F3096609%2Fplenty-of-action-peter-theroux-spycraft-tell-all%2F?w=600&h=450, In his new book, In Obscura: Adventures in the World of Intelligence, Peter Theroux offers a look into his unconventional life, from Los Angeles to Langley. Theroux comes from a famous literary family. His older brothers, Alexander and Paul, are noted novelists. His nephews and cousins include journalists, filmmakers, and the actor Justin Theroux. Peter,

In his new book, In Obscura: Adventures in the World of Intelligence, Peter Theroux offers a look into his unconventional life, from Los Angeles to Langley. Theroux comes from a famous literary family. His older brothers, Alexander and Paul, are noted novelists. His nephews and cousins include journalists, filmmakers, and the actor Justin Theroux. Peter himself garnered acclaim as a journalist and linguist. His translations of Arabic literature are widely considered among the best.

Theroux spent years working as a journalist, filing dispatches for National Geographic and the Wall Street Journal, among others. His job took him across the world, but largely focused on the Middle East, writing stories on Syria, Egypt, and elsewhere in the region. He authored two books: Sandstorms, on his travels in the Middle East, and, much closer to home, 1995’s Translating Los Angeles.

But in his mid-30s, feeling unfulfilled, Theroux began to look elsewhere for work. A visit to Syria, where even domestic opponents of the Assad regime celebrated anti-Jewish violence, proved to be one of the final straws. Syria, he noted, “felt like strike one against the idiot boss: self-employed me.” In between hanging out with Gore Vidal and the stuntmen of James Cameron’s 1997 hit film, Titanic, Theroux began the process of launching a career in the intelligence community. “I sensed a kinship with the stunt actors, who worked in the shadows, whose names would never show in bright lights, but who made the mission work,” he writes. Indeed, “as a translator, I already had a taste of that.”

Theroux had previously done contract work translating for the Joint Publication Research Service, a division of the now-defunct Foreign Broadcast Information Service, which served as an open-source intelligence collector for the CIA. But Theroux wanted something more, initially choosing to apply to the National Security Agency and then the CIA itself. “In Obscura,” he explains, is an old CIA operational term referring to the status of clandestine work. An intelligence officer engaging in espionage who has successfully evaded enemy surveillance so that they can commit an operational act is said to be “IO.”

A few years after Theroux joined the Agency, al-Qaida perpetrated the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. The United States was at war, and Theroux’s linguistic gifts and years spent traveling the Middle East made him uniquely qualified to help. Theroux would display a knack for always being “at the most interesting place at the most important time,” as his friend Lee Smith, the writer, observed. In Obscura is replete with anecdotes and impressions as the onetime Hollywood-based writer navigates the various national security bureaucracies. Theroux is careful to note the very different cultures that make up these agencies, from the more informal CIA to the rigid and process-obsessed State Department. The book pulls back the curtain on how the policy sausage, so to speak, is made and implemented.

Yet Theroux is gracious. Many spy memoirs, he notes, are authored by “heavily disgruntled, partisan, axe-grinding” types. Thankfully, this memoir is different. Theroux is proud of his service to his country and proud of the men and women that he served with. Some of them were the “most erudite, congenial, and witty people that I had ever met.” As he notes in the book’s introduction, he is not seeking to settle scores. Rather, his model for his memoir is Lynda Obst, whose 1996 book Hello, He Lied, offered an insider look at what producers, directors, agents, writers, actors, and editors do on a day-to-day basis to make movies. Theroux hopes to do something similar for the intelligence world.

This does not mean, however, that Theroux is naïve. Indeed, his book is filled with biting commentaries on how the D.C. foreign policy establishment functions — or, just as often, doesn’t. One comes away with a good understanding of how institutional cultures can shape national security. The State Department, for example, is depicted as often too keen to please host countries instead of prioritizing the wishes of America’s elected leaders. Theroux also notes the “disconnect from the policy world of the executive branch” and those tasked with implementing their wishes.

CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER

Unsurprisingly, there are aspects of Theroux’s work that he can’t write about. He is still bound by secrecy agreements, some of which will have expired by the time he writes his projected second volume. “‘Tell as little as possible’ isn’t the sexiest way to start a book,” he admits. Nonetheless, In Obscura doesn’t suffer for it. Theroux still offers insights into what it was like to debrief and target Islamist terrorists in Iraq. One also garners interesting tidbits. For example, the Palestinian terrorist Yasser Arafat was known to hog the air conditioning. Arafat, he notes, was a “physical coward” who had “won most of his battles at a microphone.” And a former U.S. national security adviser, later busted for trying to steal confidential documents from an archive, is described as a “creep.”

Yet, the revelations in his book extend beyond Theroux’s work as a spy. The author’s time as a journalist, including his stories on how Middle Eastern governments from Cairo to Damascus try to manipulate news coverage, is both informative and relevant. Ditto for his frank admissions on how Western journalists often self-censor to preserve access to repressive regimes. “Beware of obsequious human beings,” Obst wrote in her Hollywood memoir. “The most dangerous wolves are in sheep’s clothing.” As Theroux observes, this piece of advice applies to the sometimes-murky world of national security, too.

Sean Durns is a Senior Research Analyst for CAMERA, the 65,000-member, Boston-based Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis.

, In his new book, In Obscura: Adventures in the World of Intelligence, Peter Theroux offers a look into his unconventional life, from Los Angeles to Langley. Theroux comes from a famous literary family. His older brothers, Alexander and Paul, are noted novelists. His nephews and cousins include journalists, filmmakers, and the actor Justin Theroux. Peter himself garnered acclaim as a journalist and linguist. His translations of Arabic literature are widely considered among the best. In Obscura Part I: Adventures in the World of Intelligence; By Peter Theroux; Station Square Media; 130 pp., $14.95 Theroux spent years working as a journalist, filing dispatches for National Geographic and the Wall Street Journal , among others. His job took him across the world, but largely focused on the Middle East, writing stories on Syria, Egypt, and elsewhere in the region. He authored two books: Sandstorms, on his travels in the Middle East, and, much closer to home, 1995’s Translating Los Angeles. But in his mid-30s, feeling unfulfilled, Theroux began to look elsewhere for work. A visit to Syria, where even domestic opponents of the Assad regime celebrated anti-Jewish violence, proved to be one of the final straws. Syria, he noted, “felt like strike one against the idiot boss: self-employed me.” In between hanging out with Gore Vidal and the stuntmen of James Cameron’s 1997 hit film, Titanic, Theroux began the process of launching a career in the intelligence community. “I sensed a kinship with the stunt actors, who worked in the shadows, whose names would never show in bright lights, but who made the mission work,” he writes. Indeed, “as a translator, I already had a taste of that.” Theroux had previously done contract work translating for the Joint Publication Research Service, a division of the now-defunct Foreign Broadcast Information Service, which served as an open-source intelligence collector for the CIA. But Theroux wanted something more, initially choosing to apply to the National Security Agency and then the CIA itself. “In Obscura,” he explains, is an old CIA operational term referring to the status of clandestine work. An intelligence officer engaging in espionage who has successfully evaded enemy surveillance so that they can commit an operational act is said to be “IO.” A few years after Theroux joined the Agency, al-Qaida perpetrated the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. The United States was at war, and Theroux’s linguistic gifts and years spent traveling the Middle East made him uniquely qualified to help. Theroux would display a knack for always being “at the most interesting place at the most important time,” as his friend Lee Smith, the writer, observed. In Obscura is replete with anecdotes and impressions as the onetime Hollywood-based writer navigates the various national security bureaucracies. Theroux is careful to note the very different cultures that make up these agencies, from the more informal CIA to the rigid and process-obsessed State Department. The book pulls back the curtain on how the policy sausage, so to speak, is made and implemented. (Illustration by Tatiana Lozano / Washington Examiner; AP, Getty Images) Yet Theroux is gracious. Many spy memoirs, he notes, are authored by “heavily disgruntled, partisan, axe-grinding” types. Thankfully, this memoir is different. Theroux is proud of his service to his country and proud of the men and women that he served with. Some of them were the “most erudite, congenial, and witty people that I had ever met.” As he notes in the book’s introduction, he is not seeking to settle scores. Rather, his model for his memoir is Lynda Obst, whose 1996 book Hello, He Lied, offered an insider look at what producers, directors, agents, writers, actors, and editors do on a day-to-day basis to make movies. Theroux hopes to do something similar for the intelligence world. This does not mean, however, that Theroux is naïve. Indeed, his book is filled with biting commentaries on how the D.C. foreign policy establishment functions — or, just as often, doesn’t. One comes away with a good understanding of how institutional cultures can shape national security. The State Department, for example, is depicted as often too keen to please host countries instead of prioritizing the wishes of America’s elected leaders. Theroux also notes the “disconnect from the policy world of the executive branch” and those tasked with implementing their wishes. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE FROM THE WASHINGTON EXAMINER Unsurprisingly, there are aspects of Theroux’s work that he can’t write about. He is still bound by secrecy agreements, some of which will have expired by the time he writes his projected second volume. “‘Tell as little as possible’ isn’t the sexiest way to start a book,” he admits. Nonetheless, In Obscura doesn’t suffer for it. Theroux still offers insights into what it was like to debrief and target Islamist terrorists in Iraq. One also garners interesting tidbits. For example, the Palestinian terrorist Yasser Arafat was known to hog the air conditioning. Arafat, he notes, was a “physical coward” who had “won most of his battles at a microphone.” And a former U.S. national security adviser, later busted for trying to steal confidential documents from an archive, is described as a “creep.” Yet, the revelations in his book extend beyond Theroux’s work as a spy. The author’s time as a journalist, including his stories on how Middle Eastern governments from Cairo to Damascus try to manipulate news coverage, is both informative and relevant. Ditto for his frank admissions on how Western journalists often self-censor to preserve access to repressive regimes. “Beware of obsequious human beings,” Obst wrote in her Hollywood memoir. “The most dangerous wolves are in sheep’s clothing.” As Theroux observes, this piece of advice applies to the sometimes-murky world of national security, too. Sean Durns is a Senior Research Analyst for CAMERA, the 65,000-member, Boston-based Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting and Analysis., , , https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/books-peter-theroux-spycraft-sean-durns-072524B1R-1024×591.webp, Washington Examiner, Political News and Conservative Analysis About Congress, the President, and the Federal Government, https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/11/cropped-favicon-32×32.png, https://www.washingtonexaminer.com/feed/, Sean Durns,