CISAC fellow Joseph Torigian writes in this new War on the Rocks article, "The Shadow of Deng Xiaoping on Chinese Elite Politics," that China's leadership never came to terms with the lessons of the Cultural Revolution. In recent decades, top leadership power has become increasingly concentrated in singular figures like Deng Xiaoping and current Chinese leader Xi Jinping, rather than expanding into a collective leadership framework. Joseph Torigian is a postdoctoral fellow researching the politics of China, Russia, and North Korea with a specific focus on power struggles.

After Zhao Ziyang was made acting general secretary of the Chinese Communist Party in 1987, key party elder Chen Yun asked Zhao why the Politburo Standing Committee never had any meetings. Zhao was in a bind – while Chen wanted more opportunities to express his opinions, preeminent leader Deng Xiaoping wanted to simply tell Zhao what to do. Zhao told Chen, “I am just a big secretary. As for a meeting, we can have one after you discuss with Comrade Xiaoping.” Chen muttered to himself, “A big secretary…”

Anecdotes like this one challenge the narrative that Deng, who became China’s top leader a few short years after Mao Zedong’s death but never formally assumed the party’s top post, was the father of collective leadership and institutionalization in elite Chinese politics. According to this viewpoint, after Mao’s disastrous Cultural Revolution, a radical political experiment that included the persecution of huge swathes of the Chinese elite, China’s leaders, led by Deng, are said to have introduced rules to deliberately prevent such a catastrophe from ever occurring again.

For example, Alice Miller has written of “a deliberate effort engineered by Deng Xiaoping in the 1980s to establish an effective collective leadership system that builds in checks and balances among the leadership oligarchy against attempts by any individual member – and especially by the party general secretary – to assert dominating power over the others.” Carl Minzner has concluded that “The searing experience of the Cultural Revolution convinced [Deng] and other leaders of the need for deep change… Unlike Mao, Deng never exercised one-man rule.” According to Susan Shirk, “Xi is trying to live the antithesis of what Deng Xiaoping recommended.”

We can now see that this is a myth. New research based on previously unavailable documents and memoirs decisively shows that in fact Deng does not deserve credit for introducing real changes that would restrict the power of top leaders. Journalists, analysts, and scholars writing about Chinese leadership struggles should take note.

This might seem like a tiny footnote to the arc of history, but there is more at stake. Deng, who enjoyed an astounding level of authority, was probably the last leader who could have brought real change to Chinese politics. The 1980s in China are often portrayed as a time of introspection and change in elite politics, but that is not the case. The decade was instead defined by “old person” politics and a failure to truly come to terms with the lessons of the Cultural Revolution.

These findings suggest that even if elite Chinese politics later became increasingly shaped by traditions and principles in a relative sense, policymakers have reason to doubt the robustness of those rules a hypothesis supported by recent news from Beijing about current Chinese leader Xi Jinping. Without unambiguously legitimate rules guaranteeing both collective leadership and a stable succession, Xi may feel he has little to lose and much to gain by concentrating personal power in his hands.

The Evidence

Certainly, Deng never concentrated everyday decision-making in his own hands, and he did bring more institutionalization to the promotion of cadres. He never formally led the party or the government, and he even gave up his Politburo Standing Committee membership in 1987 and chairmanship of the Central Military Commission in 1989. But on the key issue of the power of the top leader, evidence for Deng’s own lack of respect for rules is ubiquitous in the historical record.

New evidence shows Mao Zedong’s initial successor, a man named Hua Guofeng, actually did embody a spirit of consensus and collective leadership. Marshal Ye Jianying described Hua as “modest, careful, sincere, he has a democratic style.” He was a figure fundamentally different in personality from Deng. In the words of the great China watcher Michel Oksenberg, while Hua was the “reconciler” Deng was the “asskicker.” Mao called Deng a steel factory, and Marshal Ye described Deng as a man that monopolized power and did not listen to the opinions of other people. According to party elder Li Rui, “Deng Xiaoping was half a Mao Zedong.”

Warren Sun and Frederick Teiwes show that no real policy differences between Hua from Deng on economic reform. However, Deng used mean-spirited political machinations and false charges to climb to the predominant position within the party. For example, Deng accused Hua of blocking old cadres from returning to work and maintaining a dogmatic political ideology – two charges that have now proven to be false.

Scholars who believe Deng took rules and norm-based governing seriously often point to a famous speech he gave to the Politburo in August 1980. Then, Deng said, “It is not good to have an over-concentration of power” and called for a solution to “the problem of succession in leadership.” According to Miller, Deng’s desire to channel competition “within institutional constraints” was explicit in this speech, which she calls “a text that bears continual re-study and so merits placement on analysts’ bedside tables.”

Yet taking Deng at his word fails to appreciate the political context. At the time, Deng was seeking to complete Hua’s political defeat and needed to provide a theoretical justification. The notorious leftist politician Deng Liqun wrote that“this speech by Comrade Xiaoping in actuality was directed against Hua Guofeng, it was preparation for Hua to leave his position, to find a theoretical justification.” When a friend of Zhao Ziyang pointed out that this speech was a reason many people believed that Deng supported real inner-party democracy and institutionalization, Zhao, then under house arrest, discounted this analysis: “At this time Deng was primarily addressing Hua Guofeng, he was struggling against Hua Guofeng.” In October 1980, a decision was made to no longer distribute Deng’s August speech because of the political instability in Poland caused by strikes and the formation of Solidarity.

The defeat of Hua Guofeng was not only a transition in authority. This historical moment also represented the closing of a different path for Chinese politics – one of collective leadership. Unlike Deng, individuals like Hua and Ye didlearn the lessons of the Cultural Revolution and tried to honestly make collective leadership work.

Hua later told a group preparing his official biography:

After the destruction of the “Gang of Four” and when I was Chairman, collective leadership was very strongly emphasized, democratic centralism. It was not one or two people who could make decisions, collective leadership was needed. If collective leadership was good, matters would be dealt with well. The party center all lived at Yuquanshan together, stabilizing measures were all discussed collectively. All of my speeches were discussed by the Politburo collectively.

In fact, Hua was so democratic that he refused to fight for his position because he was afraid it would hurt the party:

If the party had another internal struggle, the regular people would suffer. I stubbornly resigned from all positions. I told Marshal Ye before I did it. Some said that I was a fool. Some said that I was too honest. I do not regret it.

Almost two years before Deng’s August 1980 speech, Hua had already spoken of the importance of collective leadership, both at the famous Third Plenum of the 11th Party Congress and preceding work conference in 1978. Deng’s only reference to collective leadership at those proceedings was negative: “Lenin said: using collective leadership as an excuse to avoid responsibility is the most dangerous disaster.” In Deng’s mind, the party could only have one “mother-in-law” – himself.

Deng also rejected attempts by Hu Yaobang, Hua’s replacement as general secretary of the party, to create a true system of collective leadership. Hu had wanted to create a “chairman system [主席团]” in which every individual was considered equal, had a single vote, and each would take turns running meetings.

In 1987, Deng removed Hu in a way that offended many party leaders, including Xi Jinping’s own father. The process was so obviously against party rules that when Jiang Zemin replaced Zhao Ziyang as leader in 1989, he refused to be installed in a similar process.

The protests in the spring of 1989 centered on Tiananmen Square ended with force, despite the personal opposition of a majority of the PSC, military leadership, the Chinese state legislature, and even many key revolutionary elders. In 1992, Deng flaunted his relationship with the military and threatened to remove the newly elected party secretary, Jiang Zemin, even though at the time Deng held no formal high-ranking position in the party or state.

Some scholars have argued that Deng’s power was limited because he had to compete with other formidable revolutionary figures like Chen Yun. Chinese historian Yang Jisheng, for example, describes Chinese politics in the 1980s as consisting of “twin peaks.”

However, the evidence suggests that Deng clearly dominated. Chen’s health was so bad that, after cancer surgery in 1979, he refused to plan his life any more than two years ahead. Through the early 1980s, Deng and Chen had no major differences on policy. But after reform deepened and their differences grew more important, Chen was unable to block Deng’s plans to expand the number of special economic zones, introduce price reforms in 1988, or prevent the reform process from starting again in 1992. Deng often refused to hold meetings to avoid giving Chen an occasion to argue with him. Shortly before the violent end to the Tiananmen protests in 1989, Chen even referred to Deng as the “boss” with a Chinese word that has mafia connotations (头子). This expression was so problematic that in official versions of the speech it was changed to “core.”

Deng’s behavior is especially important given the lively discussions during the 1980s at the elite level in China about how political reform within the party really could be achieved.

Before he was removed from the leadership because of his opposition to a violent solution to the Tiananmen Square protests, former party secretary Zhao had already complained: “Many of our rules and regulations are only principles, I’m afraid that it is necessary to create specific guidelines.” He concluded that “now we always over-emphasize a ‘core,’” and that it would be necessary to more clearly delineate the relationship among various decision-making bodies.

But Deng rejected the formalization of party rules, suggesting that it was too reminiscent of a “separation of powers” and would hurt the party’s advantage of centralized leadership. For Deng, collective leadership left a potential for disagreements to split the party and imperil the drive for modernization. Instead, Deng argued that “any leadership collective must have a core, without a core the leadership is unreliable… In actuality I was the core of the second generation.”

Serious discussions of real change ended after Tiananmen Square. Zhao Ziyang, the former general secretary of the party, believed that after Deng no one would have the power to accomplish real reforms of the party. Instead of using his special authority as a revolutionary elder and military leader to lay the foundations for truly collective leadership, Deng had instead continued to emphasize the importance of a single leader unchecked by “inner-party democracy.”

Recent news from Beijing supports the argument that norms shaping collective leadership and succession are weak. At the sixth plenum of the 18th Party Congress in October, Xi Jinping was elevated to the status of “core” leader – a title never given to his predecessor, Hu Jintao. Before the plenum, major Western news outlets were already reporting that next year Xi will change the age-ceiling for membership of the Politburo and Politburo Standing Committee  and refuse to name a successor. In October, one party official described as “folklore” the supposed rule that 68-year-olds must retire from the Politburo Standing Committee, thus raising the possibility that Xi ally Wang Qishan will remain on that body despite his age.

Ambiguous rules make judgments about the future difficult. The “institutionalist” school of Chinese politics may still be right. We may not see a drastic change in leadership norms in 2017. But if that proves to be the case, Deng does not deserve the credit. In the meantime, we can see his influence in what has happened already – the naming of Xi as “core” is not a rejection of Deng’s legacy but a return to it.

Doubts about the future are already a factor of instability. Zhao’s words from before his removal may therefore prove prophetic: “With the current system, when there is no crisis it is very good. But this system cannot guarantee there will be no crisis. Chinese people are disputatious behind the scenes but face to face they are polite. Therefore, Chinese politics is never predictable.”

Today, the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists’ “doomsday clock” moved 30 seconds forward to 2 and a half minutes to midnight. The closer the minute hand gets to midnight, the closer the bulletin predicts humankind is to destroying itself. The symbolic clock was created in 1947 when Albert Einstein and Robert Oppenheimer (the father of the U.S. nuclear program) founded the publication.

The following experts from the Center for International Security and Cooperation and the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies offered these perspectives:

William J. Perry, a former U.S. Secretary of Defense and senior fellow at the Center for International Security and Cooperation (CISAC), said: "Last year the Doomsday clock was set at 3 minutes to midnight, the closest it has been to global 'midnight' since the iciest days of the Cold War. This ominous pronouncement reflected my own fears that we were now in greater danger of nuclear catastrophe than we were during the Cold War, with the growing threat of nuclear terrorism, the continued risk of accidents and miscalculation, and the possibility of regional nuclear war and continued nuclear proliferation around the world."

He added, "Today the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists announced that we have moved closer to global catastrophe, for the first time setting the clock 30 seconds ahead to 2 and a half minutes to midnight, approaching a time not seen since the United States and Soviet Russia first developed the H-bomb. We must heed this dire warning as a call to action. There are concrete steps that we can take to reduce the risk of nuclear annihilation, but we must start today."

Siegfried Hecker, the former director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory and senior fellow at CISAC, said, "The bulletin’s keepers of the clock made the correct call to move the clock 30 seconds closer to midnight. The disregard for fact-based analysis of issues such as global climate change during the recent presidential campaign is truly alarming. However, my immediate concerns focus on the world having become a more dangerous nuclear place."

He said, "Developments in North Korea top the list: 2016 was a very bad year as Pyongyang greatly expanded its nuclear complex to increase the size of its arsenal to perhaps as many as 20 to 25 weapons, conducted two more nuclear tests to enhance the sophistication of its weapons, and launched two dozen missile tests. All of this while Washington cut all communications with a regime about which we know so little, while continuing the failed policies of sanctions and leaning on China to solve the problem."

"Confrontation," Hecker said, "has replaced cooperation between Russia and the United States. For the first time since the end of the Cold War the specter of a nuclear arms race was raised in 2016. President Putin put the finishing touches on suspending or terminating most of the cooperative nuclear threat reduction programs with the United States. Nuclear safety and security concerns appear to have taken a back seat to nuclear saber rattling and cyber attacks."

He noted, "Tensions between China and the United States have increased substantially over Beijing’s more muscular role in international affairs, particularly with its actions in the South China Sea. Moreover, tensions over Taiwan prompted by President Trump’s comments about the One-China policy renew the possibility of conflict."

"South Asia has inched closer to potential nuclear confrontation between India and Pakistan. India’s expanding economy and its concerns about Chinese military expansion has prompted it to strengthening its nuclear arsenal by moving toward a full triad – land, air and sea-based nuclear weapons. Pakistan, its much smaller and weaker neighbor, feels increasingly threatened by India’s expanding military. It has moved to what is called a posture of full-spectrum nuclear deterrence, which includes very dangerous tactical battlefield nuclear weapons that lower the nuclear threshold," Hecker said.

"Preventing and responding to potential acts of nuclear terrorism require close international cooperation. Unfortunately, all signs point in the opposite direction at a time when the atrocities perpetrated by terrorists are increasing. Greatest among these pullbacks was President Putin’s decision not to participate in the 2016 Nuclear Security Summit held in Washington, DC. With President Obama’s tenure having ended, this very effective collaborative international effort is now in limbo," he said.

MEDIA CONTACTS

Clifton B. Parker, Center for International Security and Cooperation: (650) 725-6488, cbparker@stanford.edu

Chaney Kourouniotis, Freeman Spogli Institute for International Relations: (6650) 724-9842, chaney.kourouniotis@stanford.edu

Space is more important than ever for the security of the United States, but it’s almost like the Wild West in terms of behavior, a top general said today.

Air Force Gen. John Hyten, commander of the U.S. Strategic Command, spoke Jan. 24 at Stanford’s Center for International Security and Cooperation. His talk was titled, “U.S. Strategic Command Perspectives on Deterrence and Assurance.”

Hyten said, “Space is fundamental to every single military operation that occurs on the planet today.” He added that “there is no such thing as a war in space,” because it would affect all realms of human existence, due to the satellite systems. Hyten advocates “strategic deterrence” and “norms of behavior” across space as well as land, water and cyberspace.

Otherwise, rivals like China and Russia will only threaten U.S. interests in space and wreak havoc for humanity below, he said. Most of contemporary life depends on systems connected to space.

Hyten also addressed other topics, including recent proposals by some to upgrade the country’s missile defense systems.

“You just don’t snap your fingers and build a state-of-the-art anything overnight,” Hyten said, adding that he has not yet spoken to Trump administration officials about the issue. “We need a powerful military,” but a severe budget crunch makes “reasonable solutions” more likely than expensive and unrealistic ones.

On the upgrade front, Hyten said he favors a long-range strike missile system to replace existing cruise missiles; a better air-to-air missile for the Air Force; and an improved missile defense ground base interceptor.

‘Critically dependent’

From satellites to global-positioning systems (GPS), space has transformed human life – and the military – in the 21st century, Hyten said. In terms of defining "space," the U.S. designates people who travel above an altitude of 50 miles as astronauts.

As the commander of the U.S. Strategic Command, Hyten oversees the control of U.S. strategic forces, providing options for the president and secretary of defense. In particular, this command is charged with space operations (such as military satellites), information operations (such as information warfare), missile defense, global command and control, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance, global strike and strategic deterrence (the U.S. nuclear arsenal), and combating weapons of mass destruction.

Hyten explained that every drone, fighter jet, bomber, ship and soldier is “critically dependent” on space to conduct their own operations. All cell phones use space, and the GPS command systems overall are managed at Strategic Command, he said.

“No soldier has to worry about what’s over the next hill,” he said, describing GPS capabilities, which have fundamentally transformed humanity’s way of life.

Space needs to be available for exploration, he said.

“I watch what goes on in space, and I worry about us destroying that environment for future generations.” He said that too many drifting objects and debris exist – about 22,000 right now. A recent Chinese satellite interception created a couple thousand more debris objects that now circle about the Earth at various altitudes and pose the risk of striking satellites.

“We track every object in space” now, Hyten said, urging “international norms of behavior in space.”

He added, “We have to deter bad behavior on space. We have to deter war in space. It’s bad for everybody. We could trash that forever.”

But now rivals like China and Russia are building weapons to deploy in the lower levels of space. “How do we prevent this? It’s bigger than a space problem,” he said.

Deterring conflict in the cyber, nuclear and space realms is the strategic deterrence goal of the 21st century, Hyten said.

“The best way to prevent war is to be prepared for war,” he said.

Hyten believes the U.S. needs a fundamentally different debate about deterrence. And it all starts with nuclear weapons.

“In my deepest heart, I wish I didn’t have to worry about nuclear weapons,” he said. Hyten described his job as “pretty sobering, it’s not easy.”

But he also noted the mass violence of the world prior to 1945 when the first atomic bomb was used. Roughly 80 million people died from 1939 to 1945 during World War II. Consider that in the 10-plus years of the Vietnam War, 58,000 Americans were killed. That’s equivalent to two days of deaths in WWII, he said.

In a world without nuclear weapons, a rise in conventional warfare would produce great numbers of mass casualties, Hyten said. About war, he said, “Once you see it up close, no human will ever want to experience it.”

Though America has “crazy enemies” right now, in many ways the world is more safe than during WWII, Hyten said. The irony is that nuclear weapons deterrence has kept us from the type of mass killings known in events like WWII. But the U.S. must know how to use its nuclear deterrence effectively.

Looking ahead, Hyten said the U.S. needs to think about space as a potential war environment. An attack in space might not mean a response in space, but on the Earth.

Hyten describes space as the domain that people look up at it and still dream about. “I love to look at the stars,” but said he wants to make sure he’s not looking up at junk orbiting in the atmosphere.

‘Space geek’

Hyten has served in the Air Force for 35 years. He originally wanted to be an astronaut, but his eyesight was too bad. He got a waiver, and graduated Harvard in 1981 with an engineering degree on a ROTC scholarship. He entered the Air Force thinking he would only do four years. But then he had a close-up view of what a young Air Force officer could find in the last frontier of space as satellites and military space science were booming.

“God, I love space,” he said.

In introducing Hyten, Amy Zegart, co-director of CISAC, described him as a person of unwavering dedication and profound insights who understands the gravity of situations. “A self-described space geek,” she said.

Hyten lauded CISAC for its research and educational work on national security, and said he enjoyed being around people willing to test out new ideas and discuss potential solutions for vexing problems.

Earlier in the day on campus, Hyten met with William J. Perry, a former U.S. Secretary of Defense and senior fellow at CISAC; George Shultz, a former U.S. Secretary of Defense and senior fellow at the Hoover Institution; and Condoleezza Rice, a senior fellow at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies and Hoover Institution.

General Hyten was nominated for reassignment to head the U.S. Strategic Command on Sept. 8, 2016. He commanded Air Force Space Command from 2014 to 2016.

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MEDIA CONTACTS

Clifton B. Parker, Center for International Security and Cooperation: (650) 725-6488, cbparker@stanford.edu

Why is terrorism such a vexing problem for policy makers to solve?

The details – and not sloganeering – are important in grappling with the terrorist threat against the U.S. and West, a Stanford scholar suggests. One reason is that the study of terrorism is often confused and contentious, and the study of counterterrorism can be even more frustrating, says Martha Crenshaw, a Stanford terrorism expert and senior fellow at the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

“The conceptual and empirical requirements of defining, classifying, explaining, and responding to terrorist attacks are more complex than is usually acknowledged by politicians and academics, which complicates the task of crafting effective counterterrorism policy,” wrote Crenshaw in a new book, Countering Terrorism, with her co-author Gary LaFree, a criminal justice professor at the University of Maryland.

The researchers examined about 157,000 terrorist attacks that have occurred around the world since 1970. These are catalogued in the Global Terrorism Database at the University of Maryland. Crenshaw founded the Mapping Militant Organizations project at Stanford to identify militant organizations globally and trace how they arise, their root causes and their connections. Understanding the nature of terrorism, the diverse groups and ever-changing aspect of how they adapt is a key theme in her research.

Crenshaw said the stakes in fighting terrorism today are especially high since the consequences of missteps and miscalculations can be catastrophic. While research in what is now known as terrorism studies has made significant strides, more progress is needed on the analytical and academic fronts.

“Terrorist attacks are rare, yet they encourage immediate and far-reaching responses that are not easily rolled back. Most attempts actually fail or are foiled, so that examining only successful terrorist attacks gives an incomplete picture,” the scholars wrote.

Obstacles and hindrances

After 9/11, the U.S. reshaped its policies and institutions to deal with terrorism. Fifteen years later, Crenshaw and LaFree analyzed the lessons learned from 9/11 and how governments responded. Both authors are participating in a Jan. 25 panel discussion at Stanford on the subject of their book. Crenshaw and Lafree suggest three key principles emerge from their research. Countries like the U.S. should prepare for change, disruption, and surprise from terrorist groups.

Second, countries should resist the temptation to magnify the image of the destructive power of terrorism as well as the vulnerability of its targets. Finally, the U.S. needs to accept limits to its ability to totally manage and control the jihadist threat. As Crenshaw and LaFree noted, “Even superpowers cannot completely control their environments. Terrorist threats are constantly evolving, never static.”

A realistic understanding of the actual extent of terrorist capacity to harm national security interests is the best approach, she said. “Governments, especially the American government, should avoid both overreacting and promising or threatening overreaction, which means entertaining modest expectations about what can be accomplished in an extremely complex and uncertain threat environment that requires constant adaptation and adjustment,” they wrote.

Counterterrorism policy should be reasonable, practical, and balanced – in a word, sensible, Crenshaw said.

“There is no perfect solution,” she and LaFree said.

The top priority of the U.S. government is to prevent attacks on American soil, she said. While this is a clear goal, no one in political leadership can guarantee the public absolute security. “If the goal is set as the complete absence of terrorist attacks, then policymakers become so anxious that a terrorist will slip through the preventive security net that they risk panic or overreaction. Fear of being blamed in the aftermath of an attack starts to take precedence over all other considerations,” they wrote.

Policy paradoxes

Crenshaw and Lafree’s research revealed some policy paradoxes. One involved counterterrorism: policymakers tend to set overly ambitious policies to eradicate terrorism completely, rather than risk being called “reactive” rather than “proactive.” But Crenshaw said such goals lack clarity and realism, and can lead to unwise and unattainable objectives. For example, in the wake of 9/11, the U.S. government believed that overthrowing authoritarian regimes in countries like Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Libya and Yemen in favor of “democratic change” would serve as the antidote to terrorism.

However, the change did not take place, and the U.S. has since had to intervene militarily to restore or establish security and stability for weak and embattled allies facing terrorism. One aim for American policy should be greater precision about the strategic goals of military action abroad and that connection to security at home, said Crenshaw and LaFree.

“If the contradictions behind the paradox cannot be resolved, policymakers must find a middle ground between the tactical and strategic,” they wrote.

Another problem is measuring progress against terrorism, Crenshaw and LaFree said. Significant skepticism exists about what the metrics mean in regard to drone strikes, bombs dropped, targets struck, arrests made and cases prosecuted, convictions secured, territory seized or regained, plots foiled, websites taken down, Facebook postings and Twitter accounts deleted, and so on.

“Are these measures of success against terrorism or measures of the extent of the government’s efforts? These metrics calculate what government has done, not necessarily the effect of its actions on adversaries’ calculations and capabilities,” the researchers said, adding that government measures may be taken before a specific adversary exists.

Finally, the real agents behind terrorism are extremely difficult to identify, Crenshaw and LaFree said, because there is no standard “terrorist organization,” and groups evolve, mutate and adapt. Meanwhile, governments and researchers often struggle to establish responsibility for specific attacks. 

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MEDIA CONTACTS

Martha Crenshaw, Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies: (650) 723-0126, crenshaw@stanford.edu

Clifton B. Parker, Center for International Security and Cooperation: (650) 725-6488, cbparker@stanford.edu

Improving the U.S.-China relationship is a focus at the Center for International Security and Cooperation.

CISAC continued this tradition in co-sponsoring the 8th Sino-U.S. Security Relations and Cooperation Conference in Beijing from Dec. 14-15, 2016. The conference was hosted and co-sponsored by the Foreign Ministry's China Institute of International Studies (CIIS).

Ambassador Su Ge, president of CIIS, attended the conference and delivered an opening remark. FSI’s Thomas Fingar and Teng Jianqun from CIIS chaired the conference.

Fingar said, “Although held at a time of uncertainty about the future of U.S.-China relations, the conference included constructive exchanges on strategic stability, obstacles to cooperation in space, and other sensitive topics.”

He added, “The exchanges were frank and constructive because they built on the foundation of understanding and trust developed through years-long exchanges between CISAC and CIIS. In the next phase, small teams of American and Chinese experts will develop joint blueprints to enhance understanding of issues critical for nuclear stability and space cooperation.”

CISAC co-founder John W. Lewis has been active for many years encouraging and supporting better ties between the U.S. and China. He is an expert on Chinese politics, U.S.-China relations, China's nuclear weapons program, U.S. policy toward Korea and health security issues in northeast Asia.

During this most recent Beijing conference, scholars and security experts from both the U.S. and China held in-depth discussions on topics including cybersecurity, outer space cooperation, maritime dispute management, missile defense, grey zone cooperation, and China-U.S. nuclear issues.

The American attendees included scholars from CISAC (Fingar, Brad Roberts, and Joseph Torigian); Brad Roberts, director, Center for Global Security Research, Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory; Major General Roger W. Burg, former commander, 20th Air Force; Vice Admiral Michael Connor (retired), U.S. Navy; Lieutenant General Susan J. Helms (retired), U.S. Air Force general and former NASA astronaut; Lieutenant General James M. Kowalski (retired), U.S. Air Force general; Steven M. Benner,chief, Strategy and Campaign Division, U.S. Strategic Command, among others.

The Chinese experts came from a variety of institutions – CIIS, China Academy of Engineering Physics, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) Rocket Force, Rocket Force College, China Defense Science and Technology Information Center, PLA Navy Academy of Military Science, PLA South Command, Chinese Academy of Social Science, Renmin University of China, National Defense University, Tsinghua University, etc. 

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Siegfried Hecker wrote the following op-ed for the Jan. 12 edition of The New York Times:

Since my first visit to North Korea’s Yongbyon nuclear complex in 2004, I have witnessed the country’s nuclear weapons program grow from a handful of primitive bombs to a formidable nuclear arsenal that represents one of America’s greatest security threats. After decades of broken policies toward Pyongyang, talking to the North Koreans is the best option for the Trump administration at this late date to limit the growing threat.

North Korea broke out to build the bomb because President George W. Bush was determined to kill President Bill Clinton’s 1994 “Agreed Framework,” a bilateral agreement with the North to freeze and eventually dismantle the North’s nuclear program. Hard-liners in the Bush administration viewed it as appeasement. Mr. Bush labeled the North, along with Iran and Iraq, part of an “axis of evil” in January 2002.

At the first bilateral meeting with Kim Jong-il’s regime in Pyongyang in October 2002, Bush administration officials accused North Korea of violating the Clinton pact by clandestinely pursuing the uranium path to the bomb. Washington had already detected this effort in the late 1990s, but it was deemed an insufficient threat not worthy of jeopardizing the gains made by the plutonium freeze.

For the Bush administration, the clandestine uranium effort was all it needed to walk away from the Agreed Framework. Yet Mr. Bush’s team proved unprepared for the consequences and stood by as North Korea resumed its plutonium program and built the bomb.

During six visits between 2004 and 2009, I watched the North continue to try to engage Washington, while the Bush administration preferred the six-party talks led by China, believing that the North would have greater difficulty cheating in the context of multilateral diplomacy. In a 2004 visit, I was even allowed to hold a piece of plutonium — in a sealed glass jar — to convince me and Washington that North Korea had the bomb.

In September 2005, China orchestrated a six-party joint statement calling for a nuclear-weapon-free Korean Peninsula. When the Bush administration concurrently slapped financial sanctions on Pyongyang, the North Koreans walked out of the six-party talks and responded with their first nuclear test in October 2006.

I was in Pyongyang three weeks later and found that although the test was only partly successful, it marked a turning point in the North’s nuclear program. North Korea became a nuclear weapon state and insisted that all future negotiations proceed from that reality. Mr. Bush left office with the North most likely possessing up to five plutonium-fueled nuclear weapons and an expanding uranium program.

North Korea greeted the Obama administration with a long-range rocket launch, followed by a second nuclear test in May 2009 — this one, successful. Unlike the Bush administration, which faced the prospect of the North’s violating the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, the Obama administration faced the North’s steady march to an expanding arsenal.

Mr. Obama was also unwilling to engage directly with Pyongyang, insisting instead that the North denuclearize before starting talks. It appears the Obama administration also viewed the regimes of Kim Jong-il and his son and successor, Kim Jong-un, as repugnant and hoped for their collapse, while also staying in step with two conservative South Korean administrations. Mr. Obama’s preferred path has been to tighten United Nations and United States sanctions and to pressure Beijing to rein in Pyongyang. Neither strategy has stopped the Kim regime from expanding its nuclear program.

Pyongyang upped the ante on its nuclear program with a remarkable revelation during my seventh and last visit in November 2010: the existence of a modern uranium centrifuge facility in Yongbyon. That facility served notice that the North was now capable of pursuing the second path to the bomb. No outsiders are known to have been in Yongbyon since my 2010 visit.

Satellite imagery of the Yongbyon complex combined with official North Korean propaganda photos and three additional successful nuclear tests point to a robust and rapidly expanding nuclear arsenal. My best estimate, admittedly highly uncertain, is that North Korea has sufficient plutonium and highly enriched uranium to build 20 to 25 nuclear weapons.

The North also launched some two dozen missiles in 2016, including partly successful road-mobile and submarine-based missiles that could potentially carry nuclear warheads.

President-elect Donald J. Trump faces a much graver threat from the North than his two predecessors. Pyongyang can most likely already reach all of South Korea, Japan and possibly even some United States targets in the Pacific.

The crisis is here. The nuclear clock keeps ticking. Every six to seven weeks North Korea may be able to add another nuclear weapon to its arsenal. All in the hands of Kim Jong-un, a young leader about whom we know little, and a military about which we know less. Both are potentially prone to overconfidence and miscalculations.

These sensitive nuclear issues require focused discussions in a small, closed setting. This cannot be achieved at a multilateral negotiating table, such as the six-party talks.

Mr. Trump should send a presidential envoy to North Korea. Talking is not a reward or a concession to Pyongyang and should not be construed as signaling acceptance of a nuclear-armed North Korea. Talking is a necessary step to re-establishing critical links of communication to avoid a nuclear catastrophe.

Mr. Trump has little to lose by talking. He can risk the domestic political downside of appearing to appease the North. He would most likely get China’s support, which is crucial because Beijing prefers talking to more sanctions. He would also probably get support for bilateral talks from Seoul, Tokyo and Moscow.

By talking, and especially by listening, the Trump administration may learn more about the North’s security concerns. It would allow Washington to signal the strength of its resolve to protect its allies and express its concerns about human rights abuses, as well as to demonstrate its openness to pragmatic, balanced progress.

Talking will help inform a better negotiating strategy that may eventually convince the young leader that his country and his regime are better off without nuclear weapons.

The following, "Dropped Into History," appeared in the January 2017 edition of Stanford Magazine. The sophomore seminar, led by CISAC's Scott Sagan and Joe Felter, gives students an intimate view of the people and places surrounding the Battle of Little Bighorn in 1876.

The following essay by CISAC's Amy Zegart -- "Trump vs. the Spies: In defense of the Intelligence Community" -- appeared in The Atlantic on Jan. 6.

Something stunning happened on Capitol Hill yesterday: Republican and Democratic members of the Senate Armed Services Committee practically stood shoulder to shoulder with senior officials from the U.S. intelligence community as they declared that America’s spies were right after all: The Russian government sought to interfere in the U.S. presidential election by hacking into election-related email and leaking information. It was a striking bipartisan rebuke to President-elect Donald Trump, who has consistently cast skepticism on allegations of Russian involvement and seemed to disparage the intelligence community. Perhaps in anticipation of that committee hearing, Trump was already backpedaling on Twitter before it started, declaring, “The media lies to make it look like I am against ‘Intelligence’ when in fact I am a big fan!”

Trump’s “never mind” tweet is unlikely to repair the dangerous breach between the incoming president and the intelligence agencies that serve him. Presidents often throw intelligence agencies under the bus when they fail. Never before has a president-elect thrown them under the bus for succeeding. But that’s exactly what Trump has been doing for weeks, in an unrelenting frenzy. Since his election, Trump has spent more time fighting Langley than ISIS. He has called the CIA’s assessment of the Russian government’s role in election hacking “ridiculous” and has insisted, repeatedly, that the culprit could be anyone, including a 400-pound hacker or “somebody sitting in a bed some place.” His transition team has disparaged and discredited the CIA as “the same people who thought Saddam Hussein had weapons of mass destruction”—even though they aren’t the same people, Russian cyber hacking isn’t the same intelligence target as Iraq WMD, the Iraq failure was 14 years ago, and intelligence agencies have radically overhauled their analytic process since then. The president-elect has also said he won’t bother getting daily intelligence briefings—making him the first president since 9/11 to skip them—because he’s smart. And just a day before Trump declared himself an intelligence fan, The Wall Street Journal reported that his team was cooking up a Nixon-esque scheme to purge the CIA and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence of suspected politicization in the ranks by trimming and reorganizing both agencies. (The Trump team has denied this report, which was based on the accounts of sources “familiar with the planning,” including at least one close to the transition.)

With fans like this, who needs enemies?

Some skepticism toward intelligence is healthy. And tension between presidents and their intelligence agencies is nothing new. Lyndon Johnson was said to compare the intelligence community to his boyhood cow, Bessie, who would swing her “shit smeared” tail through a bucket of milk as soon as he’d finished milking her. Bill Clinton met so infrequently with his CIA Director, Jim Woolsey, that when a plane crashed on the White House lawn, aides joked that it was Woolsey trying to get a meeting. (Woolsey, incidentally, had been advising the Trump transition team until resigning yesterday, reportedly due to “growing tensions over Trump’s vision for intelligence agencies.”) Nearly all presidents leave office disappointed and disgruntled with their intelligence apparatus, for two reasons: because presidents want crystal balls and even the CIA’s smartest people don’t have them; and because presidents resort to covert operations for the toughest of problems, when all else fails—which is why covert operations usually fail, too. But no president until now has entered office with such a profound, publicly vented distrust of his own intelligence establishment.

Trump’s doubts are both understandable and alarming. Understandable because we live in an era where threats are moving faster than bureaucrats, and where hacks, tweets, leaks, and internet “news” (both real and fake) make information available everywhere, all the time, instantly. In this digital age, it is reasonable to ask just what America’s intelligence community still brings to the table.

The answer is a lot. U.S. intelligence agencies have one overriding mission: giving the president decision-making advantage in a dangerous and deceptive world. Intelligence officials risk their lives to recruit foreign assets, they intercept foreign email and cell-phone communications, they build and deploy spy satellites, they track obscure foreign government reports and trends for vital clues about the stability of a regime or the health of a foreign economy. Sure, you can find a Wikipedia page on just about anything these days. Where intelligence agencies add value is by integrating the best open-source information and integrating it with the secret nuggets they gather. All intelligence is information. But not all information is intelligence. Agencies like the CIA or NSA sort through a crushing daily stream of information and marry it with secrets to yield insights that keep Americans safe and advance the country’s national interests.

Do they get it wrong sometimes? Of course. In 1962, just weeks before an American U-2 spy plane discovered unmistakable evidence of Soviet nuclear missile installations in Cuba, the intelligence community completed an assessment that concluded the Soviets would not dare place missiles in Cuba. Today Americans remember the U-2 photos but forget the intelligence failure that preceded them and led the United States to the nuclear brink. The intelligence failures of 9/11 and Iraq WMD are still fresh and searing.

But castigating intelligence officials because they don’t succeed every time is like saying Stephen Curry is a terrible NBA basketball player because he doesn’t make every 3-point shot he takes. Intelligence agencies are paid to pierce the fog of the future as best they can. They tackle the toughest targets—trying to divine the capabilities and intentions of adversaries who hide in caves, send children to be suicide bombers, enrich uranium in secret underground facilities, seek space weapons that could destroy GPS and every digital system people use, and would detonate a nuclear bomb in a New York minute to take out New York City if they ever got one. As one former senior intelligence official told me, if the intelligence community is getting it right 100 percent of the time, then they should be fired because they aren’t asking hard enough questions.

This is serious business, and intelligence agencies take it deadly seriously. They are the silent warriors of America. There’s no holiday in their honor. There’s no big public memorial on the National Mall. There are no Air Force flyovers or standing ovations at football games for them. There are only unmarked stars on the walls at Langley and Fort Meade honoring those at CIA and NSA who died in silent service to their country. Mr. Trump should visit those walls and feel their sacrifice. Better yet, he should honor America’s intelligence professionals by listening to what they have to say—starting with the daily intelligence briefing.

The president cannot afford to delegate intelligence briefings to underlings in today’s threat environment, for three reasons that Mr. Trump should know well from his experience in the business world. First, nothing generates knowledge and results like face-to-face meetings. That’s why CEOs fly around the world to meet in person instead of Skyping. Whether in the boardroom or the Oval Office, good briefings are two-way interactions that build trust and insight. They’re golden moments for a senior intelligence official to converse with the nation’s leader, to better understand what’s on his mind, what he wants to know, what he finds unconvincing, and how the vast assets of the intelligence community can better serve him. Second, good briefings inform—they arm the commander-in-chief with a view of what matters right now and what could matter tomorrow, so that he isn’t surprised. Because in foreign policy, surprises are never the good kind. Third and finally, the daily briefing boosts morale. It says to the men and women of the intelligence community, “you matter.” Nothing signals importance like minutes of the president’s schedule. Given the dangers America confronts, the nation needs the intelligence community now more than ever. The 45th president needs to show that he thinks so, too.

Amy Zegart is the co-director of the Center for International Security and Cooperation and a senior fellow at the Hoover Institution and the Freeman Spogli Institute at Stanford University. She is the author of three books examining U.S. intelligence challenges, including Spying Blind: The CIA, the FBI, and the Origins of 9/11.

The story below -- "Bill Perry is Terrified. Why Aren't You" -- appeared in Politico Magazine on Jan 6. The writers were John F. Harris and Bryan Bender. William Perry also wrote this Washington Post op-ed on why America needs creative diplomacy now to avoid a nuclear catastrophe with North Korea, which is quickly accelerating its ICMB capabilities to launch nuclear warheads.

At this naked moment in the American experiment, when many people perceive civilization on the verge of blowing up in some metaphorical sense, there is an elderly man in California hoping to seize your attention about another possibility.

It is that civilization is on the verge of blowing up in a non-metaphorical sense.

William J. Perry is 89 now, at the tail end of one of his generation’s most illustrious careers in national security. By all rights, the former U.S. secretary of Defense, a trained mathematician who served or advised nearly every administration since Eisenhower, should be filling out the remainder of his years in quiet reflection on his achievements. Instead, he has set out on an urgent pilgrimage.

Bill Perry has become, he says with a rueful smile, “a prophet of doom.”

His life’s work, most of it highly classified, was nuclear weapons—how to maximize the fearsome deterrent power of the U.S. arsenal, how to minimize the possibility that the old Soviet arsenal would obliterate the United States and much of the planet along the way. Perry played a supporting role in the Cuban Missile Crisis, during which he went back to his Washington hotel room each night, fearing he had only hours left to live. He later founded his own successful defense firm, helped revolutionize the American way of high-tech war, and honed his diplomatic skills seeking common ground on security issues with the Soviets and Chinese—all culminating as head of the Pentagon in the early years after the end of the Cold War.

Nuclear bombs are an area of expertise Perry had assumed would be largely obsolete by now, seven decades after Hiroshima, a quarter-century after the fall of the Soviet Union, and in the flickering light of his own life. Instead, nukes are suddenly—insanely, by Perry’s estimate—once again a contemporary nightmare, and an emphatically ascendant one. At the dawn of 2017, there is a Russian president making bellicose boasts about his modernized arsenal. There is an American president-elect who breezily free-associates on Twitter about starting a new nuclear arms race. Decades of cooperation between the two nations on arms control is nearly at a standstill. And, unlike the original Cold War, this time there is a world of busy fanatics excited by the prospect of a planet with more bombs—people who have already demonstrated the desire to slaughter many thousands of people in an instant, and are zealously pursuing ever more deadly means to do so.

And there’s one other difference from the Cold War: Americans no longer think about the threat every day.

Nuclear war isn’t the subtext of popular movies, or novels; disarmament has fallen far from the top of the policy priority list. The largest upcoming generation, the millennials, were raised in a time when the problem felt largely solved, and it’s easy for them to imagine it’s still quietly fading into history. The problem is, it’s no longer fading. “Today, the danger of some sort of a nuclear catastrophe is greater than it was during the Cold War,” Perry said in an interview in his Stanford office, “and most people are blissfully unaware of this danger.”

It is a turn of events that has an old man newly obsessed with a question: Why isn’t everyone as terrified as he is?

Perry’s hypothesis for the disconnect is that much of the population, especially that rising portion with no clear memories of the first Cold War, is suffering from a deficit of comprehension. Even a single nuclear explosion in a major city would represent an abrupt and possibly irreversible turn in modern life, upending the global economy, forcing every open society to suspend traditional liberties and remake itself into a security state. “The political, economic and social consequences are beyond what people understand,” Perry says. And yet many people place this scenario in roughly the same category as the meteor strike that supposedly wiped out the dinosaurs—frightening, to be sure, but something of an abstraction.

So Perry regards his last great contribution of a 65-year career as a crusade to stimulate the public imagination—to share the vivid details of his own nightmares. He is doing so in a recent memoir, in a busy public speaking schedule, in half-empty hearing rooms on Capitol Hill, and increasingly with an online presence aimed especially at young people. He has enlisted the help of his 28-year-old granddaughter to figure out how to engage a new generation, including through a series of virtual lecturesknown as a MOOC, or massive open online course.

He is eagerly signing up for “Ask Me Anything” chats on Reddit, in which some people still confuse him with William “The Refrigerator” Perry of NFL fame. He posts his ruminations on YouTube, where they give Katy Perry no run for her money, even as the most popular are closing in on 100,000 views. 

One of the nightmare scenarios Perry invokes most often is designed to roust policymakers who live and work in the nation’s capital. The terrorists would need enriched uranium. Due to the elaborate and highly industrial nature of production, hard to conceal from surveillance, fissile material is still hard to come by—but, alas, far from impossible. Once it is procured, with help from conspirators in a poorly secured overseas commercial power centrifuge facility, the rest of the plot as Perry imagines it is no great technological or logistical feat. The mechanics of building a crude nuclear device are easily within the reach of well-educated and well-funded militants. The crate would arrive at Dulles International Airport, disguised as agricultural freight. The truck bomb that detonates on Pennsylvania Avenue between the White House and Capitol instantly kills the president, vice president, House speaker, and 80,000 others.

Where exactly is your office? Your house? And then, as Perry spins it forward, how credible would you find the warnings, soon delivered to news networks, that five more bombs are set to explode in unnamed U.S. cities, once a week for the next month, unless all U.S. military personnel overseas are withdrawn immediately?

If this particular scenario does not resonate with you, Perry can easily rattle off a long roster of others—a regional war that escalates into a nuclear exchange, a miscalculation between Moscow and Washington, a computer glitch at the exact wrong moment. They are all ilks of the same theme—the dimly understood threat that the science of the 20th century is set to collide with the destructive passions of the 21st. 

“We’re going back to the kind of dangers we had during the Cold War,” Perry said. “I really thought in 1990, 1991, 1992, that we left those behind us. We’re starting to re-invent them. We and the Russians and others don’t understand that what we’re doing is re-creating those dangers—or maybe they don’t remember the dangers. For younger people, they didn’t live through those dangers. But when you live through a Cuban Missile Crisis up close and you live through a false alarm up close, you do understand how dangerous it is, and you believe you should do everything you could possibly do to [avoid] going back.”

***

For people who follow the national security priesthood, the dire scenarios are all the more alarming for who is delivering them. Through his long years in government Perry invariably impressed colleagues as the calmest person in the room, relentlessly rational, such that people who did not know him well—his love of music and literature and travel—regarded his as a purely analytical mind, emotion subordinated to logic and duty.

Starting in the 1950s as a technology executive and entrepreneur in some of the most secretive precincts of the defense industry, he gradually took on a series of high-level government assignments that gave him one of the most quietly influential careers of the Cold War and its aftermath.

Fifteen years before serving as Bill Clinton’s secretary of defense, Perry was the Pentagon official in charge of weapons research during the Carter administration. It was from this perch that he may have had his most far-reaching impact, and left him in some circles as a legendary figure. He used his office to give an essential push to two ideas that transformed warfare over the next generation decisively to American advantage. One idea was stealth technology, which allowed U.S. warplanes to fly over enemy territory undetected. The other was precision-guided munitions, which allowed U.S. bombs to land with near-perfect accuracy.

During the Clinton years, Perry so prized his privacy that he initially turned down the job of Defense secretary—changing his mind only after Clinton and Al Gore pleaded with him that the news media scrutiny wouldn’t be so bad.

The reputation he built over a life in the public sphere is starkly at odds with this latest highly impassioned chapter of Perry’s career. Harold Brown, who also is 89, first recruited Perry into government, and was Perry’s boss while serving as Defense secretary in the Carter years. “No one would have thought of Bill Perry as a crusader,” he says. “But he is on a crusade.”

Lee Perry, his wife of nearly 70 years, is living in an elder care facility, her once buoyant presence now lost to dementia. Perry himself, lucid as ever, has seen his physical frame become frail and stooped. Rather than slowing his schedule, he has accelerated his travels to plead with people to awaken to the danger. A trip to Washington includes a dinner with national security reporters and testimony on Capitol Hill. Back home in California, he’s at the Google campus to prod engineers to contemplate that their world may not last long enough for their dreams of technology riches to come true. He’s created an advocacy group, the William J. Perry project, devoted to public education about nuclear weapons. He’s enlisted both his granddaughter and his 64-year-old daughter, Robin Perry, in the cause.

But if his profile is rising, his style is essentially unchanged. He is a man known for self-effacement, trying to shape an era known for relentless self-promotion, a voice of quiet precision in a time of devil-take-the-hindmost bombast. The rational approach to problem-solving that propelled his career and won him adherents and friends in both political parties and even among some of America’s erstwhile enemies remains his guide—in this case, by endeavoring to calculate the possibilities and probabilities of a terrorist attack, regional nuclear war, or horrible miscalculation with Russia.

“I want to be very clear,” he said. “I do not think it is a probability this year or next year or anytime in the foreseeable future. But the consequence is so great, we have to take it seriously. And there are things to greatly lower those possibilities that we’re simply not doing.”

***

Perry really did not expect he would have to write this chapter of his public life. His official career closed with what seemed then an unambiguous sense of mission accomplished. By the time he arrived in the Pentagon’s top job in 1994, the Cold War was over, and the main item on the nuclear agenda seemed to be cleaning up no-longer-needed arsenals. As defense secretary, Perry stood with his Russian counterpart, Pavel Grachev, as they jointly blew up missile silos in the former Soviet Union and tilled sunflower seeds in the dirt. 

“I finally thought by the end of the ‘80s we lived through this horrible experience and it’s behind us,” Perry said. “When I was secretary, I fully believed it was behind us.”

After leaving the Pentagon, he accepted an assignment from Clinton to negotiate an end to North Korea’s nuclear development program—and seemed agonizingly close to a breakthrough as the last days of the president’s term expired.

Now, he sees his grandchildren inheriting a planet possibly more dangerous than it was during his public career. No one could doubt that the Sept. 11 terrorists would have gladly used nuclear bombs instead of airplanes if they had had them, and it seems only a matter of time until they try. Instead of a retreating threat in North Korea, that fanatical regime now possesses as many as eight nuclear bombs, and is just one member of a growing nuclear club. Far from a new partnership with Russia, Vladimir Putin has given old antagonisms a malevolent new face. American policymakers talk of spending up to $1 trillion to modernize the nuclear arsenal. And now comes Donald Trump with a long trail of statements effectively shrugging his shoulders about a world newly bristling with bombs and people with reasons to use them.

Perry knew Hillary Clinton well professionally, and says he admired both her and Bill Clinton for their professional judgment though he was never a personal intimate of either. He was prescient before the election in expressing skepticism about how voters would respond to the dynastic premise of the Clinton campaign—a healthy democracy should grow new voices—but was as surprised as everyone else on Election Day. Donald Trump was not the voice he was looking for, to put it mildly, but he has responded to the Trump cyclone with modulated restraint. Perry said he assumes his most truculent rhetoric isn’t serious, the utterances of a man who assumed his words were for political effect only and had no real consequences.

Now that they do, Perry is hoping to serve as a kind of ambassador to rationality. He said he is hoping for audiences soon, with Trump if the incoming president will see him, and certainly Trump’s national security team, which includes several people Perry knows, including Defense Secretary nominee James Mattis.

There is little doubt the message if the meeting comes. “We are starting a new Cold War,” he says. “We seem to be sleepwalking into this new nuclear arms race. … We and the Russians and others don’t understand what we are doing.”

“I am not suggesting that this Cold War and this arms race is identical to the old one,” Perry added. “But in many ways, it is just as bad, just as dangerous. And totally unnecessary.”

***

Perry had been brooding over the question for a year. It was in the early 1950s, he was still in his 20s, and the subject was partial differential equations—the topic of his Ph.D. thesis. A particular problem had been absorbing him, day in and day out, hours and hours on end. Then, out of nowhere, a light came on.

“I woke up in the middle of the night, and it was all there,” Perry recalled. “It was all there, and I got out of bed and sat down. The next two or three hours, I wrote my thesis, and from the first word I wrote down, I never doubted what the last word was going to be: It was a magic moment.”

The story is a reminder of something definitional about Bill Perry. Before he became in recent years an apostle of disarmament, before he sat atop the nation’s war-making apparatus in the 1990s, before he was the executive of a defense contractor specializing in the most complex arenas of Cold War surveillance in the 1960s, he was a young man in love with mathematics.

In those days, Perry had planned on a career as a math professor. His attraction to math was not merely practical, in the way that engineers or architects rely on math. The appeal was just as much aesthetic, in ways that people who are not numbers people—political life tends to be dominated by word people—cannot easily comprehend. To Perry’s mind, there was a purity to math, a beauty to the patterns and relationships, that was not unlike music. Math for Perry represented analytical discipline, a way of achieving mastery not only over numerical problems but any hard problem, by breaking it down into essential parts, distilling complexity into simplicity.

This trait was why Pentagon reporters in the 1990s liked spending time around Perry. When most public officials are asked a question, one studies the transcript later to decipher a succession of starts and stalls, sentence fragments and ellipses, that cumulatively convey an impressionistic sense of mind but no clear fixed meaning. Perry’s sentences, by contrast, always cut with surgical precision. It was one reason Clinton White House officials often held their breath when he gave interviews—Perry might make news by being clear on subjects, such as ethnic warfare in the Balkans or a nuclear showdown in North Korea, that the West Wing preferred to try to fog over.

“I’ve never been able to attack a policy problem with a mathematical formula,” he recalled, “but I have always believed that the rigorous way of thinking about a problem was good. It separated the fact from the bullshit, and that’s very important sometimes, to separate what you can from what you would hope you can do.”

Perry wishes more people were familiar with the concept of “expected value.” That is a statistical way of understanding events of very large magnitude that have a low probability. The large magnitude event could be something good, like winning a lottery ticket. Or it could be something bad, like a nuclear bomb exploding. Because the odds of winning the lottery are so low, the rational thing is to save your money and not buy the ticket. As for a nuclear explosion, by Perry’s lights, the consequences are so grave that the rational thing would be for people in the United States and everywhere to be in a state of peak alarm about their vulnerability, and for political debate to be dominated by discussion of how to reduce the risk. 

And just how high is the risk? The answer of course is ultimately unknowable. Perry’s point, though, is that it’s a hell of a lot higher than you think.

Perry invites his listeners to consider all the various scenarios that might lead to a nuclear event. “Mathematically speaking, you add those all together in one year it is still just a possibility, not a probability,” he reckons. “But then you go out ten, twenty years and each time this possibility repeats itself, and then it starts to become a probability. How much time we have to get those possibility numbers lower, I don’t know. But sooner or later the odds are going to get us, I am afraid.”

***

Almost uniquely among living Americans, Bill Perry has actually faced down the prospect of nuclear war before—twice.

In the fall of 1962, Bill Perry was 35, father of five young children, living in the Bay Area and serving as director of Sylvania’s Electronic Defense Laboratories—driving his station wagon to recitals in between studying missile trajectories and the radius of nuclear detonations. 

Where he resided was not then called Silicon Valley, but the exuberance and spirit of creative possibility we now associate with the region was already evident. The giants then were Bill Hewlett and David Packard, men Perry deeply admired and wished to emulate in his own business career. The innovation engine at that time, however, was not consumer technology; it was the government’s appetite for advantage in a mortal struggle against a powerful Soviet foe. Perry was known as a star in the highly complex field of weapons surveillance and interpretation.

So it was not a surprise, one bright October day, for Perry to get a call from Albert “Bud” Wheelon, a friend at the Central Intelligence Agency. Wheelon said he wanted Perry in Washington for a consultation. Perry said he’d juggle his schedule and be there the next week.

“No,” Wheelon responded. “I need to see you right away.”

Perry caught the red-eye from San Francisco, and went straight to the CIA, where he was handed photographs whose meaning was instantly clear to him. They were of Soviet missiles stationed in Cuba. For the next couple weeks, Perry would stay up past midnight each evening poring over the latest reconnaissance photos and help write the analysis that senior officials would present the next morning to President Kennedy.

Perry experienced the crisis partly as ordinary citizen, hearing Kennedy on television draw an unambiguous line against Soviet missiles in this hemisphere and promising that any attack would be met with “a full retaliatory response.” But he possessed context, about the capabilities of weapons and the daily state of play in the crisis, that gave him a vantage point superior to that of all but perhaps a few dozen people.

“I was part of a small team—six or eight people,” he recounted of those days 54 years earlier. “Half of them technical experts, half of them intelligence analysts, or photo interpreters. It was a minor role but I was seeing all the information coming in. I thought every day when I went back to the hotel it was the last day of my life because I knew exactly what nuclear weapons could do. I knew it was not just a lot of people getting killed. It was the end of civilization and I thought it was about to happen.”

It was years later that Perry, like other more senior participants in the crisis, learned how right that appraisal was. Nuclear bombs weren’t only heading toward Cuba on Soviet ships, as Kennedy believed and announced to Americans at the time. Some of them were already there, and local commanders had been given authority to use them if Americans launched a preemptive raid on Cuba, as Kennedy was being urged, goaded even, by Air Force Gen. Curtis LeMay and other military commanders. At the same time, Soviet submarines were armed and one commander had been on the verge of launching them until other officers on the vessel talked him out of it. Either event would have in turn sent U.S. missiles flying. 

The Cuban Missile Crisis recounting is one of the dramatic peaks in “My Journey on the Nuclear Brink,” the memoir Perry published last fall. It is a book laced with other close calls—like November 9, 1979, when Perry was awakened in the middle of the night by a watch officer at the North American Aerospace and Defense Command (NORAD) reporting that his computers showed 200 Soviet missiles in flight toward the United States. For a frozen moment, Perry thought: This is it—This is how it ends.

The watch officer soon set him at ease. It was a computer error, and he was calling to see whether Perry, the technology expert, had any explanation. It took a couple days to discover the low-tech answer: Someone had carelessly left a crisis-simulation training tape in the computer. All was well. But what if this blunder had happened in the middle of a real crisis, with leaders in Washington and Moscow already on high alert? The inescapable conclusion was the same as it was in 1962: The world skirting nuclear Armageddon as much by good luck as by skilled crisis management.

Perry is part of a distinct cohort in American history, one that didn’t come home with the large-living ethos of the World War II generation, but took responsibility for cleaning up the world that the war bequeathed. He was a 14-year-old in Butler, Pennsylvania when he heard the news of the Pearl Harbor attack in a friend’s living room, and had the disappointed realization that the war might be over by the time he was old enough to fight in it. That turned out to be true—he was just shy of 18 at war’s end—a fact that places Perry in what demographers have called the “Silent Generation,” too young for one war but already middle-aged by the time college campuses erupted over Vietnam. Like many in his generation, Perry was not so much silent as deeply dutiful, with an understated style that served as a genial, dry-witted exterior to a life in which success was defined by how faithfully one met his responsibilities.

Perry said he became aware, first gradually and over time profoundly, of the surreal contradictions of his professional life. His work—first at Sylvania and then at ESL, a highly successful defense contracting firm he co-founded in 1963—was relentlessly logical, analyzing Soviet threats and intentions and coming up with rational responses to deter them. But each rational move was part of a supremely irrational dynamic—“mutually assured destruction”—that placed the threat of massive casualties at the heart of America’s basic strategic thinking. It was the kind of framework in which policymakers could accept that a mere 25 million people dead was good news. Also the kind that in one year alone led the United States to produce 8,000 nuclear bombs. By the end, the Cold War left the planet with about 70,000 bombs (a total that is now down to about 15,500).

“I think probably everybody who was involved in nuclear weapons in those days would see the two sides of it,” Perry recalls, “the logic of deterrence and the madness of deterrence, and there was no mistake, I think, that the acronym was MAD.”

***

Perry has been at the forefront of a movement that he considers the sane and only alternative, and he has joined forces with other leading Cold Warriors who in another era would likely have derided their vision as naïve. In January 2007, he was a co-author of a remarkable commentary that ran on the op-ed page of the Wall Street Journal. It was signed also by two former secretaries of state, George Schulz and Henry Kissinger and by Sam Nunn, a former chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee—all leading military hawks and foreign policy realists who came together to argue for something radical: that the goal of U.S. policy should be not merely the reduction and control of atomic arms, it should be the ultimate elimination of all nuclear weapons.

This sounded like gauzy utopianism, especially bizarre coming from supremely pragmatic men. But Perry and the others always made clear they were describing a long-term ideal, one that would only be achieved through a series of more incremental steps. The vision was stirring enough that it was endorsed by President Obama in his opening weeks in office, in a March 2009 address in Prague.

In retrospect, Obama’s speech may have been the high point for the vision of abolition. “A huge amount of progress was made,” recalled Shultz, now 93. “Now it is going in the other direction.” 

“We have less danger of an all-out war with Russia,” in Nunn’s view. “But we have more danger of some type of accident, miscalculation, cyber interference, a terrorist group getting a nuclear weapon. It requires a lot more attention than world leaders are giving it.” Perry’s goal now is much more defensive than it was just a few years ago—halting what has become inexorable momentum toward reviving Cold War assumptions about the central role of nukes in national security. 

More recently he’s added yet another recruit to his cause: California Governor Jerry Brown. Brown, now 78, met Perry a year ago, after deciding that he wanted to devote his remaining time in public service mainly to what he sees as civilization’s two existential issues, climate change and nuclear weapons. Brown said he became fixated on spreading Perry’s message after reading his memoir: He recently gave a copy to President Obama and is trying to bend the ear of others with influence in Washington.

If Bill Perry has a gift for understatement, Brown has a gift for the theatrical. In an interview at the governor’s mansion in Sacramento, he wonders why everyone is not paying attention to his new friend and his warnings for mankind.

“He is at the brink! At the brink! Not WAS at the brink—IS at the brink,” Brown exclaimed. “But no one else is.”

A California governor can have more influence, at least indirectly, than one might think, due to the state’s outsized role in policy debates and the fact that the University of California’s Board of Regents helps manage some of the nation’s top weapons laboratories, which study and design nuclear weapons. Brown, who was a vocal critic in the 1980s of what he called America's "nuclear addiction," reviewed Perry's recent memoir in the New York Review of Books, and said he is determined to help his new friend spread his message. 

“Everybody is, 'we are not at the brink,' and we have this guy Perry who says we are. It is the thesis that is being ignored."

Even if more influential people wake up to Perry’s message—a nuclear event is more likely and will be more terrible than you realize—a hard questions remains: Now what?

This is where Perry’s pragmatism comes back into play. The smartest move, he thinks, is to eliminate the riskiest part of the system. If we can’t eliminate all nukes, Perry argues, we could at least eliminate one leg of the so-called nuclear triad, intercontinental ballistic missiles. These are especially prone to an accidental nuclear war, if they are launched by accident or due to miscalculation by a leader operating with only minutes to spare. Nuclear weapons carried by submarines beneath the sea or aboard bomber planes, he argues, are logically more than enough to deter Russia.

The problem, he knows, is that logic is not necessarily the prevailing force in political debates. Psychology is, and this seems to be dictating not merely that we deter a Russian military force that is modernizing its weapons but that we have a force that is self-evidently superior to them.

It is an argument that strikes Perry as drearily familiar to the old days. Which leads him the conclusion that the only long-term way out is to persuade a younger generation to make a different choice.

His granddaughter, Lisa Perry, is precisely in the cohort he needs to reach. At first she had some uncomfortable news for her grandfather: Not many in her generation thought much about the issue. 

“The more I learned from him about nuclear weapons the more concerned I was that my generation had this massive and dangerous blind spot in our understanding of the world,” she said in an interview. “Nuclear weapons are the biggest public health issue I can think of.”

But she has not lost hope that their efforts can make a difference, and today she has put her graduate studies in public health on hold to work full time for the Perry Project as its social media and web manager. “It can be easy to get discouraged about being able to do anything to change our course,” she said. “But the good news is that nuclear weapons are actually something that we as humans can control...but first we need to start the conversation.”

It was with her help that Perry went on Reddit to field questions ranging from how his PhD in mathematics prepared him to what young people need to understand.

“As a 90s baby I never lived in the Cold War era,” wrote one participant, with the Reddit username BobinForApples. “What is one thing today's generations will never understand about life during the Cold War?”

Perry’s answered, as SecDef19: “Because you were born in the 1990s, you did not experience the daily terror of ‘duck and cover’ drills as my children did. Therefore the appropriate fear of nuclear weapons is not part of your heritage, but the danger is just as real now as it was then. It will be up to your generation to develop the policies to deal with the deadly nuclear legacy that is still very much with us.”

For the former defense secretary, the task now is to finally—belatedly—prove Einstein wrong. The physicist said in 1946: “The unleashed power of the atom has changed everything save our modes of thinking and we thus drift toward unparalleled catastrophe.”

In Perry’s view the only way to avoid it is by directly contemplating catastrophe—and doing so face to face with the world’s largest nuclear power, Russia, as he recently did in a forum in Luxembourg with several like-minded Russians he says are brave enough to speak out about nuclear dangers in the era of Putin.

“We could solve it,” he said. “When you’re a prophet of doom, what keeps you going is not just prophesizing doom but saying there are things we do to avoid that doom. That’s where the optimism is.”

John Harris is Politico’s editor-in-chief and author of The Survivor: Bill Clinton in the White House.

It's rare to get a brain download from a former CIA chief, both in the classroom and at the lectern.

But that will occur at CISAC during Feb. 6-11, when Michael Morell will spend time with students, faculty and scholars discussing the changing global landscape for U.S. national security.

Morell, who worked at the CIA for 33 years, served as its deputy director and acting director twice, first in 2011 and then from 2012 to 2013. He was at President George W. Bush’s side when the U.S. was attacked on Sept. 11, 2001. And he was serving as the CIA’s deputy director when President Obama gave the order to kill Osama bin Laden in 2011.

Among Morell’s scheduled activities are a CISAC seminar, participation in a two-day simulation for a political science class, and a lecture. 

In his seminar talk, Morell described terrorism as the top threat facing the U.S. He also discussed the potential of conflict with a rising China, an aggressive Russia, and a nuclear North Korea. He defined the role of the CIA as putting "facts and factual analysis" on the table of the president so the best decisions can be made. Effective intelligence, he noted, strives to understand what is happening now, and what will happen in the future.

Class simulation

Amy Zegart, CISAC co-director who co-teaches POLISC 114S, said Morell will be doing a "CISAC world tour -- giving a public FSI Wesson lecture about all issues intelligence-related, meeting with faculty and fellows, guest lecturing in CISAC's signature course, 'International Security in a Changing World,' and leading a country team during our class's South China Sea crisis simulation with 125 undergraduate and graduate students."

For the class simulation, Morell will be joined by Under Secretary of State Nick Burn; they will play world leaders, and about 20 other faculty and postdoc fellows will work with student "country" teams. Zegart said some version of the simulation has been taught at Stanford for 20 years. One year students went "rogue" and hacked into emails in a covert attempt to derail a hypothetical deal between Russia and China.

This year's exercise for POLISC 114S involves a special emergency session of the United Nations Security Council following the collision of a U.S. Navy warship with a Chinese Navy ship. The scenario takes place in the context of esclating real-world tensions in the South China Sea in recent years. China has built artificial islands hosting military bases, and the region is home to the world's busiest commerical shipping corridors. The simulation and its pre-planned scenario changes are designed to be plausible and timely.

Learning from someone with Morell's experience is invalauble for the students, she said. "Having him involved in the class is a priceless opportunity for our students to gain real-world insight into how intelligence works in crises, and to work with one of the nation's most distinguished intelligence leaders."

Terrorism, cybersecurity

In an email, Morell said he plans to talk about the key national security issues facing the new Trump administration, the importance of intelligence in dealing successfully with those issues, and the importance of a close relationship between a president and an intelligence community.

As for the most pressing risks now facing the U.S., Morell said it is “still the threat posed by international terrorists groups, but the threat posed by a variety of cyber actors is number two and growing.”

Morell described CISAC's research and teaching in national security and intelligence as “one of the best in the nation. It is an honor to spend some time there.”

After leaving the CIA in 2013, Morell authored a memoir entitled The Great War of Our Time while working in the private sector. In the book, he offers a candid assessment of CIA's counterterrorism successes and failures of the past 20 years and, noting that the threat of terrorism did not die with the death of Osama bin Laden. He has criticized the Senate Intelligence Committee's 2014 report on the CIA's use of enhanced interrogation techniques, and has spoken in favor of the CIA’s use of drones to kill terrorists.

Morell endorsed Hillary Clinton in the 2016 election, explaining his view in a New York Times op-ed. “My training as an intelligence officer taught me to call it as I see it,” he wrote in that piece.

On the issue of Russian hacking during the 2016 election, Morell noted in a Times' essay on Jan. 6 that President-elect Trump’s public rejection of the C.I.A. is a danger to the nation. "The key national security issues of the day — terrorism; proliferation; cyberespionage, crime and war; and the challenges to the global order posed by Russia, Iran and China — all require first-rate intelligence for a commander in chief to understand them, settle on a policy and carry it out."

Morell has a bachelor of arts from the University of Akron and a master of arts from Georgetown University, both in economics.

Zegart’s co-instructor in POLISC 114S is Stanford political scientist Stephen Krasner. The class surveys the most pressing global security problems facing the world today. Past guest lecturers include former Secretary of Defense William Perry, former U.S. Ambassador to Afghanistan Gen. Karl Eikenberry, and former Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Study topics include changing types of warfare, ethics and conduct of war, nuclear proliferation, insurgency and terrorism, Russia, and ISIS.

Follow CISAC at @StanfordCISAC and www.facebook.com/StanfordCISAC.