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| Colonel North's Memo |
| What could be more exciting for a writer than discovering ideas and words that help people make decisions or take actions? Yet no other writing assignment is more difficult, more vulnerable to external and internal pressures, or more likely to cause mischief. Take, for example, the text of Colonel Oliver L. North "Action Memorandum for the President," printed in the New York Times on January 10, 1987. This top-secret memo outlines an Israeli plan to "bring about a more moderate government in Iran" by "unilaterally . . . selling military matériel to Western oriented Iranian factions." The Israelis are convinced these resources will result in "long-term changes in personnel and attitude within the Iranian government." The Israelis' only requirement is "that they will be allowed to purchase U.S. replenishments for the stocks they sell to Iran." Although U.S. law requires that recipients of U.S. arms notify the government of transfers to third countries, Attorney General Smith determined that a presidential finding could authorize the CIA to sell arms "outside" the reporting provisions of the law. (The President's "Covert Action Finding," of the same date, is attached to the memo.) The heart of the memo is that the "Israelis are also sensitive to a strong U.S. desire to free our Beirut hostages and have insisted that the Iranians demonstrate . . . good intent by an early release of the five Americans. Both sides have agreed that the hostages will be immediately released upon commencement of this action. . . . [T]his approach . . . may well be our only way to achieve the release of the Americans held in Beirut." The memo notes that "since this dialogue began with the Iranians in September, Reverend Weir has been released and there have been no Shia terrorist attacks against American or Israeli persons, property or interests." After describing the details of the arms transfer, the memo calls for an "urgent response," and notes that while Secretaries Shultz and Weinberger "do not recommend . . . the plan," Attorney GeneralMeese and Director Casey believe the "objectives of the plan warrant the policy risks involved." The memo ends with a recommendation to "withhold notification of the Finding to the Congressional oversight committees until such time that you deem it to be appropriate." A handwritten note by John M. Poindexter, for whom the memo was prepared to present to the President, reads: "President was briefed verbally from this paper. VP, Don Regan, Don Fortier were present." My purpose here is not to view this memo with the advantage of political hindsight, or to argue policy. Instead, I want to focus on the writing for what it can tell us about the problems involved in writing for organizations. The memo at first seems to present a no-fault plan, conceived by another country whose own interests happily coincide with those of the United States, requiring nothing more than the purchase and shipment of arms, but with the potential for immediate, and perhaps long-term benefits for the United States. On a second reading, however, the memo, on so sensitive an issue, bringing together such disparate groups with so many different needs and values, seems disturbingly seamless. Even for an action memo, it is too perfectly constructed around its recommendation. There is no consideration of potential dangers or drawbacks, except for the unexplained reference in the next to last sentence to undefined "policy risks." The legal problem about reporting transfers of arms to third countries is brushed aside by Attorney General Smith's "determination" that the President can authorize the CIA to sell arms. Conveniently, the Israelis "well understand our position on not making concessions to terrorists." Finally, "If all of the hostages are not released after the first shipment of 1,000 weapons, further transfers would cease." With no apparent political, legal, or strategic drawbacks it seems an offer too hard to refuse. Furthermore, although the memo proposes an action in direct conflict with the President's stated policy, the style is earnest, energetic, and decisive, as if free of internal struggle. But there is something troubling here, and since the brief memo is so important it is worth reading again. Now, questions arise. Why, for example, is there no concern anywhere in the memo that the Israelis might be wrong? "The Israeli plan is premised on the assumption that moderate elements in Iran can come to power if these factions demonstrate their credibility in defending Iran against Iraq and in deterring Soviet intervention." Are there "moderate elements?" If so, who are they? Is the Israeli premise sound--that moderate elements will come to power because they acquire arms? What is the connection between this purported Israeli strategy and freeing the American hostages: what connection do "Iranian moderates" have with the fate of the American hostages? How is it that the Israelis "understand" this arms sale, with the hope of freeing hostages, is "not making concessions to terrorists?" Is their "understanding" in any way related to how other parties (terrorists, for example, or our allies enlisted in the struggle against terrorism) might interpret it? On further analysis, the memo begins to unravel. What were the objections of Secretaries Shultz and Weinberger? What were the undefined "policy risks"? Why does the memo have no sense of the other side to the argument? Surely, on such an emotional and politically sensitive issue as the hostages, there were other perspectives or reservations. Why does the memo contain no evaluation of the moral and political implications? For example, any reader might ask: Should we be involved in an attempt to bring "moderates" to power in another country? What would the political impact be if our role became known? An action memo for the President should necessarily represent the most thorough analysis as the basis for a decision. Is that what we have here? The memo raises many of the familiar questions about any poorly written argument. It substitutes energy and urgency for evidence; it distances the writer and the reader from responsibility; it attempts to fill in the gap left by lack of analysis with an unquestioning faith in its own efficacy: "Both sides have agreed that the hostages will be immediately released upon commencement of this action." Reading this memo simply as a piece of writing, it is hard to believe that anyone could take it seriously. Could all of these questions have been discussed earlier? Were they resolved when Mr. Poindexter "verbally briefed" the President? If that were the case, what is the status of so deficient a memo? Why write it as if it were the basis for a decision if it is entirely lacking in analysis? (What if Mr. Poindexter added his own interpretation when he briefed the President "verbally"?) Perhaps the memo simply confirms a policy already agreed to by the President, and merely records the grounds for his presidential finding. But if that is the case, how could a presidential finding be based on such precarious evidence? The function of the memo could not have been to inform; it may have been to persuade or confirm. But despite its seamless surface, the lowcost, fault-free appearance of its recommendation, there is chaos and fantasy within. Beneath the concise, decisive exterior, there is defensiveness, inflexibility, and desperation in the writing. In its context, among consenting adults in the White House, the memo may have made perfect sense. Perhaps it really was meant to justify one policy by linking it as if through good luck to another: ransoming the hostages as a fortuitous by-product of an Israeli plan to reach moderate elements in Iran who, with the acquisition of 4000 TOW missiles as a demonstration of their "credibility in defending Iran against Iraq and in deterring Soviet intervention," will topple the Ayatollah. A need for justification, even after the fact, might explain the unsettling indications that it is a fantasy memo: too perfect; too eager; and totally lacking in analysis and perspective. There are other possible scenarios here, from North's point of view as the writer. Perhaps the memo presents what North thinks the President wants to hear. But by writing what you think a superior wants to hear, you may be ignoring the very data he or she needs the most; and in making such a decision before writing a memo, you may be putting him or her in jeopardy. This may have been the case with North. If the President depended almost entirely on North's memo, without counter- vailing arguments or more comprehensive discussions, then, in a broader context, North's interpretation of what the President wanted to hear would be extremely dangerous. Another possibility is that North is presenting his own view in the most persuasive way he can, deliberately omitting an assessment of the possible problems and alternatives. This, too, would leave the President in a vulnerable position, and his vulnerability would extend far beyond the walls of the Oval Office. In the end, your reader may not want to know the truth; but as the writer, you must provide the basis for an informed decision. Any writer in an organization faces such questions. He or she does not want to write a memo that will displease a superior, or is afraid to write a memo that includes the "cons." But as we have learned with North's memo, the results can be disastrous, putting in jeopardy not only individuals or agencies, but even the nation. To write well in an organization is not simply a matter of writing clear, concise, persuasive prose. The writer's ultimate responsibility, especially when making the best case for an argument, is to give the reader a comprehensive, analytical view of the problems and alternatives, a balanced perspective, and an honest look at the other side. As a writer you can not assume the responsibility of the decision maker. Your own point of view must not be allowed to distort the data. Your role as the person who culls the material and presents a point of view is crucial, because the decisionmaker depends on your honesty and thoroughness. It may never be clear whether North's memo was intended to create, affirm, or obscure policy, but his presumed dedication and loyalty backfired: the memo left the President blind-sided. North's responsibility in constructing his memo, whether he was assuming or supporting a goal of the President or presenting his own strategy, was to keep the President fully informed. North's memo reads as if it were written in a political and moral vacuum, an extreme case of the problems inherent in writing that is intended to help other people decide or act. Writing in an organization can be exciting or frustrating; it can strengthen or undermine policy. But to be able to do it well, it is necessary to understand some of the causes of our communication problem. |
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