Tag Archive for: culture

Culture matters in the Independent Intelligence Review 2024

Workplace culture is important. It’s time to examine it in the National Intelligence Community (NIC).

Research shows that people surrounded by behaviour contrary to organisational values are 47 per cent more likely to engage in unethical behaviour. Another finding is that average teams outperform those dominated by unpleasant superstars. We also know that high-level executive thinking is impaired under stress—not exactly ideal for human brains that rely on snap judgements, bias and decision-making shortcuts, and much less so in high-stakes intelligence analysis and reporting.

In contrast, a consciously designed high-performing team environment can set the right conditions. This may be a culture that challenges cognitive biases, fosters candour, increases accountability and drives diversity of thought. The right team culture can also help retain and grow personnel and drive shared purpose and understanding of workers’ roles, cultivating agency reputations as employers of choice.

But, working environments in the NIC can lack transparency. They are often hidden away in agency basements and secure zones. Notwithstanding formal oversight from the Inspector-General of Intelligence and Security, some NIC workplaces can be isolated from public view, and therefore be more susceptible to developing internal cultural practices that would not be accepted elsewhere. The 2024 Independent Intelligence Review, whose report has not yet been published, presents the perfect opportunity to evaluate the NIC’s cultural positioning in the evolving security environment, paying due attention to employees, their working conditions and psychological well-being.

It comes as no surprise that NIC agency internal cultures have been hidden from scrutiny for decades. The NIC is a black box, where culture has been understood in the context of legislative compliance, workforce attraction, and the post-9/11 mantra of ‘interagency cooperation’. The 2017 Independent Intelligence Review implied that recruitment and retention were a key focus area for the NIC, but it failed to fully consider how culturally astute leaders and supportive team cultures support this outcome.

First and foremost, intelligence analysts and other NIC workers are people, humans under sustained pressure. Intelligence work is demanding, unglamorous and at times emotionally draining. The work routinely exposes analysts to the worst humanity has to offer. This sets the conditions for highly capable, but increasingly desensitised teams. We can’t change our high expectations of the NIC workforce, but we can embed supportive cultures that enable our people to perform at their best. In short, culture should be considered a fundamental input to capability for supporting the NIC in their missions.

The report of the Royal Commission into Defence and Veteran Suicide released this year highlighted the tension between ‘as-designed’ and ‘in-practice’ cultures. As a complex and fluid human system, culture requires deliberate nurturing. NIC agencies must be held to account by meaningful workforce culture reporting obligations, and teams should be empowered to develop mentoring, recognition of performance, and practical examples of good behaviour.

To be fair, the NIC and Defence are getting better at this, and their maturity around diagnosing issues related to culture has been improving. Also, from the outside we can see some culture-improving initiatives, including the NIC careers website addressing myths among potential recruits and the Office of National Intelligence’s initiative to bring therapy dogs into the office. But we hope more has been done in the 2024 review to recognise productive working cultures as an enabler of performance. The importance of culture in the NIC should be expressed at the top, through the 2024 review.

We cannot afford not to get NIC cultures right. Their workers need to be empowered in psychologically comfortable, high-performing teams to drive informed, defensible, resilient and scalable intelligence outcomes.

The vexed relationship between James Bond and real-world intelligence work

James Bond first appeared 70 years ago today, playing roulette at three o’clock in the morning, in former British naval intelligence officer Ian Fleming’s debut novel, Casino Royale.

Rejected by three US publishers, the book didn’t threaten bestseller lists until 1955 after a paperback edition was released. Yet, by the time of his death in 1964, Fleming had published 11 Bond novels (The man with the golden gun was released posthumously) and sold 30 million copies—accelerated no doubt by the character’s screen breakthrough in 1962’s Dr No. Today, around half the world’s population has seen a Bond film, and Fleming’s creation defines espionage in popular culture.

At the same time, he is disavowed by actual intelligence agency heads. In 2019, for example, the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation’s director-general, Mike Burgess, said: ‘You’ve got James Bond, Jason Bourne, you’ve got the Black Widow. I can tell you this world is nothing like that of the movies.’ Paul Symon, who headed the Australian Secret Intelligence Service from 2017 to 2022, told ASPI’s Graeme Dobell in 2020: ‘There’s so much wrong with the way [Bond] performs his function. He’s licensed to kill. We don’t give people a licence to kill. He has, one would suggest, an ego, aspects of narcissism that wouldn’t fit comfortably with my people.’

The Bond association can hamper agencies’ efforts to recruit diverse staff, including women, for whom the character’s image is a significant negative. As Richard Moore, the head of the UK’s Secret Intelligence Service (MI6), tweeted in 2021: ‘#ForgetJamesBond’.

But Bond, Symon notes, is both ‘a blessing and a curse’. Agencies also associate with him. Colin McColl dubbed Bond ‘the best recruiting sergeant in the world’, and Alex Younger admitted that Bond was a ‘powerful brand’. Both are former MI6 chiefs.

In 2008, MI6’s website claimed that staff who joined the agency would ‘have moments when the gap [to Bond] narrows just a little and the certainty of a stimulating and rewarding career which, like Bond’s, will be in the service of their country’.

Or, as author Alan Judd notes, thanks to Bond’s reach, ‘MI6 officers … can go to the most remote and enclosed communities in the world and say, “I’m from British intelligence and I’d like you to help me”, and get a response. It’s not like saying, “I’m from Belgian intelligence”, and then having to explain.’

This also reflects Bond’s origins in Fleming’s actual experience with the Naval Intelligence Division. Casino Royale was inspired by Fleming’s visit to a spy-infested casino in neutral Portugal, where he lost his travel allowance playing baccarat. The designation ‘007’ comes from the double-zero code applied to top-secret signals during World War II (itself derived from the 0075 ID number of the intercepted 1917 Zimmermann telegram). The characters of Bond, ‘M’ and Moneypenny were modelled on British intelligence figures. And the account in Casino Royale of Bond’s qualifying ‘double-O’ kills—a Norwegian working for the Germans in Sweden and a Japanese spy targeting the British in New York—mirrors much more prosaic case histories to which Fleming was privy.

It’s not just public perceptions that were shaped. John F. Kennedy was known to be Bond fan. Meeting Fleming at a 1960 dinner party, Kennedy, then a presidential candidate, sought his views on how to depose Cuban leader Fidel Castro. Bizarrely, Fleming’s tongue-in-cheek suggestions found their way into serious-minded reporting back to CIA headquarters (from a CIA officer, not Kennedy). Once in office, Kennedy’s predilection for Bond helped shape his (pre–Bay of Pigs) impressions of the CIA and its director, Allan Dulles.

This extends to intelligence professionals. In his book The real special relationship, Michael Smith cites one former MI6 officer recalling that Egyptian intelligence ‘held MI6 in such high regard that its training school used James Bond books as textbooks in tradecraft’. KGB defector Oleg Gordievsky claims that the Soviet Central Committee watched Bond films and that the KGB was instructed to source Bond gadgets, as if they were real.

A public understanding of espionage as modelled by Bond is one characterised by violence: he is more assassin and saboteur than spy. He’s also an incorrigible individualist, leaning occasionally on colleagues like ‘Q’ or the CIA’s Felix Leiter—when intelligence is fundamentally a team sport.

Part of Bond’s legacy is therefore that ‘many intelligent and otherwise well-informed people assume that intelligence consists in bumping people off rather than the more prosaic reality of talking to them in order to learn what they know; spies, after all, want living sources not dead ones,’ wrote Alan Judd in the introduction to the 2012 edition of Casino Royale.

This reveals a darker side to the distortional effects of the Bond franchise. What Amy Zegart calls ‘spytainment’ fills a vacuum in the public’s and policymakers’ understandings left by reticent US agencies and governments and exacerbated by the ‘culture of secrecy’ separating intelligence professionals from the community. (A point echoed by Dan Lomas about the UK.) At its most pernicious, this extends to those making policy about intelligence, and sometimes even to intelligence professionals themselves.

This blurring of myth and reality has led to a tendency to overstate intelligence capabilities, which can result in misperceived, simultaneous omnipotence and incompetence. Two examples are the disappointment engendered by the CIA’s inability to track down Osama bin Laden after the 11 September 2001 terror attacks and the conspiracy theories that arose in their wake. It has also led to the invocation of fake spies in efforts to make real policy, such as the citations of the ticking time bomb fallacy in US Supreme Court deliberations.

The answer, though, is not to completely eschew spy fiction. Rather, it needs to be balanced with an informed, necessarily prudent public understanding of those who act in the public’s name.

As Zegart concludes: ‘Using intelligence better starts with understanding intelligence better. Without developing a fundamental understanding of how intelligence agencies work and the trade-off involved in controversial intelligence policies, intelligence policy will suffer and the public will not know enough to demand better.’

Distinguishing between soft power and propaganda in South Korean foreign policy

As a middle power, South Korea has gone above and beyond when it comes to projecting its soft power on a global level. The worldwide success of the Korean movie Parasite, the Netflix series Squid Game and K-pop bands such as BTS are just some examples. Dubbed Hallyu (한류), or the ‘Korean wave’ in English, the mass appeal of the country’s arts and culture is regularly used as a foreign policy tool. To understand the most effective strategies through which South Korea can harness its soft power, reflecting on the former Moon Jae-in administration and the current Yoon Suk-yeol administration over the past few years is key.

Along with maintaining long-standing programs of cultural diplomacy such as the K-Pop World Festival and Korea Week, the Moon administration’s method of exploiting the international popularity of Korean culture can best be characterised as opportunistic. In 2021, Moon appointed BTS to the position of ‘Special Presidential Envoy for Future Generations and Culture’, making the seven-member boy band the first-ever special envoy from the private sector for a Korean president. In their first official assignment, BTS accompanied Moon to the UN General Assembly, where the group made remarks and performed their hit song ‘Permission to Dance’.

K-beauty has been another area of soft power that Moon and his administration had a personal hand in. Promoting K-beauty and other Hallyu products in Southeast Asian markets was a key priority for the Moon administration due to their widespread popularity in the region. In 2019, Moon personally launched the ‘Brand K’ initiative to provide assurances over the quality of Korean products such as K-beauty and household goods for global consumers. In 2021, the trade minister, Yoo Myung-hee, highlighted the enormous popularity of K-beauty and K-pop in Cambodia while overseeing negotiations over the Korea–Cambodia free trade agreement.

Moon’s speeches provide a clear indication as to why he promoted cultural exports such as K-pop and K-beauty during his presidency. On multiple occasions, he talked about the importance of reforming South Korea’s international image through soft power. Traditionally, South Korea has been associated with poverty and vulnerability in the form of repeated provocations from North Korea through missile testing. To challenge such international preconceptions, Moon highlighted the role of soft power in helping the country transform into an economically mature and developed nation with a prominent role in international affairs.

In a 2019 speech, Moon said, ‘When I meet with foreign nationals, I can sense their favourable impressions of Korea have grown.’ Similarly, in 2021 during the economic turmoil of Covid-19, Moon boasted that ‘the world is paying attention to [the South Korean] economy’s astonishing resilience and growth potential’ in part due to ‘K-pop, K-beauty, K-food and K-content’.

But Moon’s crowing was not without basis: the economic success behind Korean soft power on a global stage is clear. Between 2020 and 2021, Korean exports attributed to Hallyu increased by 1.5% to US$11.6 billion. In 2021, Netflix invested more than US$0.5 billion in Korean content in the wake of strong international interest for television series such as Squid Game.

Public opinion data also supports the notion that South Korean soft power has transformed the country’s international image. In 2021, a survey fielded by the Korean Foundation for International Cultural Exchange to over 8,500 overseas consumers of Hallyu found that nearly two-thirds experienced a positive change in perceptions about Korea after exposure to Hallyu content.

However, despite these ongoing economic successes, the Yoon administration must ensure that soft power doesn’t devolve into propaganda. While soft power is seen as a legitimate tool for attracting and persuading international audiences about a government’s foreign policy messages, propaganda lacks legitimacy because it is premised on coercion and one-way messaging.

For example, some countries in the region have perceived South Korea’s wielding of soft power as a way to project excessive national pride and perceived cultural superiority, which has resulted in anti-Hallyu movements in some Asian countries. The Korean Foundation for International Cultural Exchange found that the proportion of respondents reporting negative perceptions towards Korea after exposure to Hallyu increased from 24% to 31% between 2020 and 2021. The overly commercial nature of Hallyu was the top reason given by respondents from Asia, Oceania, the Americas and Europe.

With these findings in mind, the Yoon administration would do well to carefully evaluate the ongoing role of this aspect of Korean soft power as a tool of foreign policy. Already, Yoon has drawn criticism for appearing to blur the line between soft power and propaganda. Last year, for instance, he faced an international backlash after it was hinted that BTS was to perform at his inauguration. One online post expressed the widespread fears about the troubling agenda behind BTS’s slated appearance, stating: ‘Please do not politically exploit BTS. They do not exist to raise your approval ratings.’

South Korean foreign policymakers should focus on using the country’s soft power as a mechanism to promote meaningful two-way cultural exchanges. An example of such an exchange can be seen in BTS’s visit to the White House last May in the wake of a 300% rise in crimes against Asian Americans the previous year. Rather than opportunistically showcasing their highly synchronised dance moves, the group took the visit as an opportunity to share their own personal experiences of racism.

Ensuring that Korean culture remains appealing and enticing to international audiences is crucial if South Korea aspires to effectively leverage its soft power. But it, as well as any other country aiming to leverage its cultural assets in foreign policy, must be careful not to cross the line into propaganda.

Letter from America: the speech of the people

‘U.S.A. is the slice of a continent … U.S.A. is the world’s greatest river valley fringed with mountains and hills, U.S.A. is a set of bigmouthed officials with too many bank accounts. U.S.A. is a lot of men buried in their uniforms in Arlington Cemetery. U.S.A. is the letters at the end of an address when you are away from home. But mostly U.S.A. is the speech of the people.’  — John Dos Passos

John Dos Passos got some things wrong in his great American novel—U.S.A.—not least that America was ready for political revolution. Outliving that mistake, Dos Passos went from being a Marxist to a Barry Goldwater Republican.

Yet Dos Passos also got big things right in his trilogy, especially the wonderful truth that ‘mostly U.S.A. is the speech of the people’.

Spending the past couple of months in America was to experience again the power and the variety of the many forms of American speech.

To enjoy the special vocabulary and vigour of the Broadway musical, that wonderfully stylised yet infinitely flexible version of American optimism set to song.

To read each day the earnest prose of great American newspapers (praise the Lord, pass the ammunition, and peruse the New York Times and the Washington Post). The first sentence of an American broadsheet yarn can be a four-clause omnibus of piled-on fact. For an Oz hack, used to a lifetime of boiled-down, single-thought 15-word intros, the American hack tradition is ornate oratory. America is so expansive, even its hacks can take a lot of space.

For a political tragic like me, it’s the Washington pilgrimage to the Lincoln Memorial. Marvel at the power of two of the greatest speeches ever delivered, their texts carved on the walls either side of Abe’s statue: the Gettysburg address and the second inaugural. At its finest, rhetoric of the American voice soars.

The American voice can be earnest, slow and deliberate, a counter to the bombastic bile of the current president. And better than Trump, the voice can be smart as well as be sharp: in its stand-up comedy, or rap, or the everyday cheerful wisdom of the guy who drives the bus.

A wonderfully tart example of what I enjoy about American speech was the version of a ‘no smoking’ sign outside a bar in Maine: ‘If you are seen smoking here we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action’.

And so, to embrace Dos Passos, America can be experienced by the variety of its accents, matching the variety of its people.

The accent assortment is one of the many differences between Australia and America.

The Australian accent goes in a relatively small range from rough to rounded. From Cottesloe to Cairns, from Darwin to Dimboola, it’s hard to pick where an Australian is from merely by the sound of their vowels.

The American accent cartwheels and transforms repeatedly, almost as it crosses state lines. And lots of other elements overlay those regional differences, especially these days the Hispanic influence.

As mentioned in a letter from America last year, an Australian in the US is branded on the tongue—the moment I open my mouth, they know I ain’t from ’round here.

The thought attributed to Oscar Wilde, George Bernard Shaw and Winston Churchill applies to us: America and Australia are two allies separated by a common language.

The separation works in ways both large and small. One of the new, funny elements these days is that Australians feel quite superior about our coffee culture. The Americans sent coffee drinking around the world—now, if they’d only learn to make a good cup! Long prosper the Oz contribution to café world: the flat white.

On the large differences, the former Liberal leader and ambassador to Washington, Andrew Peacock, listed four areas where the national beliefs of Australia and the US differ sharply:

  • interpretation of the meaning of political freedom
  • the role of religion in public life and the challenge of American exceptionalism
  • the place of wealth and economic status in society
  • attitudes towards war and the standing of the military.

Michael Evans uses those Peacock points in a fine essay for Quadrant on the different political cultures of the two allies. He adds a fifth: different frontier legacies.

America’s frontier produced the personal liberty, individual energy and spirit of innovation of the land of the free and the home of the brave.

In the Great Southern Land, the harsh bush frontier fostered social equality and collective endurance alongside a talent for improvisation.

Americans distrust government and seek to divide and balance the powers of Washington. Australians are disillusioned with Canberra, not because they want it to do less, but to do more.

A tragic illustration of difference these days is in attitudes to guns and the right to bear arms.

John Howard tells a nice yarn about speaking at the George W. Bush presidential library and being asked about his proudest political achievements. The first two (joining the US in the war on terror and balancing the budget) got loud applause. Then the third on the list: ‘We brought in national gun control laws. The audience went “uuuhhh” … it was like the sound of air exhaling from a balloon.’

From guns to education to health care, the Oz–America contrasts pile. Common languages (just), deeply contrasting cultures. No wonder Australians enjoy the place so.

Defence: towards social inclusion

Australian Defence Force Academy (ADFA) third year undergraduates, keep warm during the ADFA Exercise Leadership Challenge III.

Diversity and social inclusion have been key issues for Defence. The Defence strategy for cultural change and reinforcement, Pathway to Change, has mandated a focus on those issues, and others, in Defence’s cultural evolution. But what do they mean? And why does Defence remain focused on them?

Diversity is about increasing the kinds of people working in Defence, and social inclusion is about ensuring that the different kinds of people feel part of, or a sense of belonging in the organisation.

Diversity and social inclusion have become important because Defence has traditionally been an organisation predominantly of men from a narrow cultural background, which doesn’t currently reflect the increasing diversity of the community Defence serves. Also importantly, Defence isn’t meeting some of its recruiting targets and that impacts its ability to fulfill its mission. We need a fully resourced Defence force to ‘defend Australia and its national interests’. Read more

Does Australia need thinking ANZACs?

Ngunnawal elder, Aunty Agnes Shea conducts the Welcome to Country ceremony held at the Australian Defence College, Canberra.

In a new book (and recent excerpt), James Brown argues that the Australian defence organisation is fearful of what today’s ANZACs might say if they were allowed to. This means that ‘one of the ADF’s defining traits is a lack of professional debate’. He considers that militaries improve and are more likely to be operationally successful through being self-critical, and that the profession of arms is enhanced by free-wheeling debate and discussion. This thought comes from notions of a market-place of ideas, where the best and strongest thrive, and the rest expire. This liberalist concept contrasts with authoritarianism, where all are compelled to conform and be amenable team players.

James’s constructive criticism of today’s defence force is powerful but I would like to discuss a somewhat contrarian position tangential to his argument. From my narrow perspective, I think James may be onto something concerning the last decade or so but I don’t think it was necessarily as prevalent before then. Read more