Time of the Octopus: Based on the True Story of Whistleblower Edward Snowden

00:17 A.M._

Kold raised his eyes to the ceiling and thought. The Lawyer switched off the recording, took a folder out of the briefcase and slid a few pieces of paper joined together from it.

“I think you’ll find this interesting. Someone called Andrew Liebman – do you know him? – has published an article about you in the Los Angeles Times. I printed it out.

“Liebman…” Kold said. “I think he worked as a deputy for the head of the National Anti-Terrorism Committee for some time. He is a member of the CIA. I wonder what he’s written, especially considering it’s the LA Times – that’s almost a tabloid. He’s probably cursing me in it…”

“Not quite,” The Lawyer moved pieces of paper towards Kold who picked them up and began to read out loud:

“’Joshua Kold, in all likelihood, is stuck in some country house as he agonisingly ponders what kind of surprises the next stage of his young life will bring him.

Having worked for 30 years in the intelligence services, I truly hope that his food is sickening, the winter is fierce and his access to the internet is awful. But I’m not so much worried about what will happen to this young man as the damage which Kold has caused and is still capable of causing to the long-term ability of America to find an optimal balance between the protection of private life and the security of the country.’”

“Bastard!”

“Well, one can understand him as well – he is still on the other side of the barrier and has to show loyalty,” the Lawyer noted.

Kold snorted as he continued reading: “’Kold was working on contract with the NSA, and from the moment he made public top-secret materials about the surveillance programmes, he and the government of the USA have pursued a fierce debate about the essence of these programmes.

Those who follow Kold’s epic should understand two main postulates. The first one is the fact that in the modern world, filled with dangers, many things must be kept secret. The line between ‘secret’ and ‘not secret’ is quite blurred, and if we prioritise security, then we should better ‘sin’ towards even higher secrecy than go in the other direction. Secondly, despite the complaints of Kold and his admirers, the government of the USA has made sustained efforts not to violate the right to privacy and not just because it respects the right to a private life (although it does respect this right) but also because the government simply doesn’t have time to read meaningless electronic messages or listen to conversations, which have no bearing on any potential plots against American citizens.

Cases like Kold’s put many of my colleagues from the intelligence community in a difficult situation. Indeed, the official explanations in regard to data collection programmes can look unconvincing, or they can be regarded as an attempt of self-justification. But they are the truth. I know first-hand that General Keith Alexander, the director of the NSA, tells the truth when he claims that many plots have been uncovered and terrorist attacks prevented thanks to information acquired by his agency. I know this because I used to work there, because I had access to the secret information and I took part in many of the operations he’s talking about.

I have spent years among those who worked at detection and discovery of attacks by Al-Qaeda. We were working in secrecy not because we were ashamed of something. We were working this way because it was necessary. Al-Qaeda and its allies are studying our actions. They learn from our mistakes. America has become safer because we made it our goal to study their methods better than they did ours.

I understand that a certain balance is necessary here. But the intelligence community hides the information from American people not because it doesn’t trust the people. The fact is, as soon as important information in connection to security becomes public, anybody can use it to their advantage, including those who want to harm us.

That is why I find the contradictions which Kold’s case revealed so discouraging. I understand that many Americans don’t trust their government. I would’ve liked to be able to change it. I would’ve liked to be able to tell people about the astonishing things I have witnessed during the 30 years of my work in the CIA. About the fact that I have never before seen people like this who would be prepared to work so hard and so selflessly. Such long hours and for such small pay. People who were prepared for their smallest mistakes to be subjected to the most thorough analysis and for their successes not to be noticed. But I have enough experience to affirm that the deeply rooted distrust towards the government cannot be shaken by the stories of people like me. Fans of conspiracy theories never stop making cries of protest at the thought that the government may find out how long they spent talking on the phone to their favourite auntie.

Let me explain the situation tactfully. The government is not interested in the least in your conversations to your auntie, unless of course she’s the head of a terrorist organisation. Last year each day more than 100 billion electronic messages were sent – 100 billion! In this huge mass are concealed some small pebbles which have immediate interest, amid masses of waste rock, which has no value whatsoever. Unfortunately, the metadata (phone numbers, length of the conversations and the like, but not the content of the conversation) in relation to your phone call to a member of your family can get into the same large basket, in which the data about a planned terrorist attack is contained. As Jeremy Bash, the former head of the CIA, once said, ‘if you are looking for a needle in haystack, you first to need to find the haystack’.

Unfortunately, in covering Kold’s case, much of the mass media has spent more time looking at how the government can misuse the information to which it has access, rather than focusing on the efforts the intelligence community is making to protect the right to privacy. We have spent a lot of time establishing how to separate the few ‘pearl seeds’ of valuable information from the huge ‘dunghill’ of useless data.

It is done with tough and well thought-through limitations. I had an opportunity to personally observe the consequences of the incursion into private life in an organization I was working for – the National Counter Terrorism Center. As deputy of the director of that center I had to fire employees, good employees, or dismiss them from their posts, for breaking rules for acquiring and use of information. It didn’t happen often and the matters were never in relation to malicious attempts to collect personal information. We had mandatory training courses and special employees who made sure that the rules relating to privacy are followed. We used our precious resources to hire lawyers and experts in the field of civil rights, who monitored our efforts. And on those few occasions when we made mistakes, the punishments were severe and would follow immediately.

Yes, some information now classified as secret may not have been in the past. Such ‘super secrecy’ can undermine the public trust in us and weaken our ability to protect the data, which requires protection. Kold hasn’t given any proof of mass errors in our policies. It’s more that he took upon himself a right to judge which instruments the intelligence community can use to provide security for our citizens. Unfortunately, Kold has attracted the public’s attention and the government’s reaction now seems too weak, too late and too self-justifying. But the intelligence community, a priori a less attractive character than a self-proclaimed informer, has a lot to say about how the government ensures the integrity of the private life. And we have to say it.”

Kold grinned, put the printout to the side and said thoughtfully:

“You were right, what you said about the barricades. And if I had stayed in America I would, in all likelihood, be thinking the same as Liebman.”

File 008.wav

“Mr. Jenkins, well, the Baseball player, came to my ward with a bouquet of wisteria and a book by Tom Clancy. I think it was the novel The Cardinal of the Kremlin, although I may be mistaken.

He took the bull by the horns straight away:

‘The English people sing “God save the queen”! The anthem for our agency should be: “God save the creator of the internet, electronic mail and social networks!”’

‘What does this have to do with social networks?’ I asked.

‘Aha, that’s where the dog is hidden!’ The Baseball player raised his finger triumphantly: ‘The information that the special services used to spend years and years of painstaking work to acquire can now be collected in seconds, thanks to the internet! Just think about it, Joshua – in seconds! And one of our main helpers in this task are social media. We now control time and therefore we can now prevent crimes and terrorist attacks before innocent people are killed. Children, old people, women – they all stay alive and the criminals get what they deserve. It’s an incredible breakthrough in the international fight for security, it’s the future! My boy, don’t shake your head, just listen to me and weigh all the pros and cons.’

‘No, I won’t work for the government,’ I said firmly. ‘Let’s end this conversation. I am ill, tired and I want to sleep.’

‘You’re as healthy as a bull!’ the Baseball player roared, then retreated straight away. ‘OK, Josh, I won’t pressure you. At the end of the day, it’s your life – so it’s your choice. Just listen to me, alright? I’ll say a few things which are very important for me – and I think for you as well.’

I continued to be obstinate. I even said:

‘You just think so.’

But in the end I agreed to give him a last chance – it was painful to see how upset he was getting. Later I often reproached myself for not finding the strength to avoid that conversation but now, rethinking my life, I may even be grateful to Mr. Jenkins. He gave me the opportunity to get everything I have today. He could even be called my Godfather, although in the documents he is named by a much more boring word: ‘curator’.

Back then in the hospital, after my nod, he paused for a few seconds, then sat on the chair more comfortably, drew himself up, and began to talk. At first he was looking me in the eye but then he got carried away like a schoolboy reciting a poem learned by heart, and began to look over me, somewhere into the distance, even though behind me there was just a white hospital wall.

‘When computers first appeared, Josh, I considered them to be useless toys unworthy of attention of a real man,’ Mr. Jenkins was saying, moving his right hand monotonously as if he was winding an invisible rope on his palm. ‘In those distant years I was a strong, athletic boy. I played my beloved baseball. I was known in my class as the main instigator when it came to fights. And every morning I chopped wood in the back yard. We lived in small town Chester, not far Saint Louis on the Mississippi. It’s very beautiful there, exactly the way Mark Twain described it in his books about Huckleberry Finn, only a bridge has been built over the river. People say that in the past the steamships going down the Mississippi used to always stop at our town – and those who had died during the voyage were buried, and they would also restock on food, water and castor oil – which in that time it was used for the lubrication of mechanisms.

And the artist Elzie Crisler Segar, who created Popeye, was born and lived there. Don’t smile, Josh, it’s true – we have a bronze monument to Popeye and the Segar Memorial Center. The residents of Chester are very proud of it and every year they organise a big Popeye festival and the woods by the bridge have now been turned into a Popeye theme park.

But I wanted to tell you about something else – about my childhood. We would spend whole days on the river or race on bicycles or play in the forest – building wigwams, making bows and tomahawks and would fry bacon stolen from home on the fire. In summer, just like all my friends, I’d go home only to eat and sleep. And none of us ever thought that instead of swimming, racing on bicycles or fighting with the boys from Kaskaskia Street one could spend hours sitting in front of a computer screen, staring at moving pictures or clicking a mouse.

Do you know, Josh, when I realised that computers are the future for the first time? In 1970 an oxygen cylinder exploded on board Apollo 13 on the way to the Moon and the lives of the astronauts were in danger. Back then, briefings from NASA were shown on TV every hour and we, with the whole class, watched how out there in space they were trying to correct the trajectory of the ship without a computer, because it had been switched off to save energy. We had a computer in school, it was a huge electronic computer which occupied the whole hall. So, while the lads inside the metal box of Apollo 13 were struggling with calculations, our math teacher Mr. Fincher went and calculated everything in half an hour. Then he rang NASA and passed his calculations on to them. They thanked him and said that they, of course, had also carried out the calculations, but Mr. Fincher’s calculations were more precise because he took into consideration key parameters and used algorithms. So when the crew of Apollo 13 safely returned to Earth, Mr. Fincher was invited to work in the Center for Space Research. For me, it was like thunder in the clear sky. I always thought that there are only two worthy occupations a man could pursue to make himself rich and successful – sports and military service. But it turned out that science, this computer stuff, could also be a spring board, capable of throwing even such a jerk as Mr. Fincher – and he was a true jerk, a useless weakling, even though he was a teacher – into NASA!

Of course, I didn’t make it as a computer technician – I still chose the military and then when the United States needed my services as an agent, I moved to the service in Fort Meade. But I ended up being right when after the rescue of Apollo 13 I said to my friends: ‘Hey, lads, the time will come when people like Mr. Fincher will rule the destinies of the world and we big boobies will be bringing them coffee and guarding their peace, while they are fighting the enemies of the USA.’

I understand, you probably find it unpleasant me talking about jerks and so on, but God created us all different – some with strong muscles, and some with strong minds. And, to be honest, I was deeply touched and astonished by your desire to serve the United Stated in the marines. It’s hard, dirty and sometimes nasty, and most importantly very dangerous work, but you chose it like a real man. Of course, it’s not your fault that the log on the obstacle course turned out to be harder than your bones, but I see the hand of providence in it. Joshua, your strength is in something else! There are always plenty of those who want to run with an assault rifle, parachute from a helicopter and stuff canned food, especially because you get money and status for doing it. Give the opportunity to the lads with a green card to earn an American future for themselves. The country is expecting something else from you, my boy. Don’t frown – there are things which cannot be said without using words so pompous, as you consider them.

The modern world – is the world of computers and information systems, the world of the internet, hacker attacks and invisible fights which take place in virtual reality. That’s where the front line is. Tense work is going down there. People are working through the night there, hammering their hatred for the enemy into the keyboard. We don’t have enough fighters because, as it turns out, you can’t just train good specialists from anybody, it’s not like the marines or G.Is. A true IT specialist is God’s gift. It’s a talent like the talent of a musician, artist or writer. You – you’re a creative person, that’s why in your time you were attracted to the Garage, and we didn’t impede you, understanding that you needed to discover the world of bohemia, that you have to taste of this fruit and get poisoned in order to recover afterwards. You are a chosen one, Joshua; there are very a few people like you. That’s why you have to think properly before wasting yourself for nothing.

But most importantly, Joshua, I envy you! I envy you and I’m not ashamed of it even if God told us that envy is a sin. In essence, who am I? I am an ordinary clerk with a narrow range of skills and professional abilities. I’ll never be able to fight on the virtual front. I won’t be able to stop the main threat heading this way. I won’t be able to serve my country behind the computer monitor. But you – you will easily replace me. All you need to do is attend a half-year course. America needs you, son. Islamists, China, Russia, Koreans, drug mafia, leftists, anarchists and anti-globalists – all our enemies mastered cyberspace long ago. They are mobilising all their human resources. It’s not a secret that the best hackers nowadays are not Americans, that the best warriors in data fights aren’t from our country. It’s not a secret that we are losing our position in the virtual world precisely because we don’t have enough people. A version of the most far-reaching and super-modern program which will allow us to change the balance of power is being prepared for launch now. Joshua Kold, sir, America needs your talent, your knowledge and your hot heart of a patriot!’

I said:

‘No.’

And he stood up and left.

I was discharged three days later. And a week after that I was working in Fort Meade in the department with the bleak name of ‘information processing’.

Why did I decide to do it? Fuck knows… I don’t think the Baseball player’s words, his flattery or hints convinced me. It’s more likely something else: he offered me an alternative to the dead end into which I had driven myself.

And I found that alternative quite attractive!

I can’t and don’t want to and I will not tell you in detail what the essence of my job was –what I consider necessary has already been published in the newspapers. Also, my frankness can harm America and I promised, you know to whom, that no matter what the circumstances are, I won’t do it.

Anyway we’ll come back to the BRISM programme later, and the internal kitchen of NSA is not for a stranger’s eyes. At the end of the day I am not a defector, spy or double agent. I am only an whistleblower and beyond that I really want to kill the octopus which has smothered the whole of my country – and the whole world – with its tentacles.”