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Foreword Lawrence Freedman

With one step, Panagiotis Dimitrakis has extended the study of contemporary intelligence and crisis management into the Aegean, providing a unique account of how Greek policymakers forged their assessments of the Turkish threat during a tense two decades following the Turkish occupation of half of Cyprus. He draws on the conceptual literature on intelligence and surprise attack, largely developed in the AngloSaxon world with some notable Israeli contributions and uses it as a template against which to evaluate the performance of successive Greek governments. It soon becomes apparent that while the familiar dilemmas concerning the relationship between intelligence and policy may take on distinctive forms in quite different political cultures in many respects they are all too recognisable. In the process fascinating light is thrown on how Greece has sought to manage its relations with Turkey. Even during the Cold War these two NATO allies were as prepared to fight each other as they were the Warsaw Pact, creating great anxiety among their alliance partners.

It is important to keep in mind that until well into the 1960s, intelligence did not seem a suitable subject for serious study. Apart from a few pioneers, who did what they could with memoirs, snippets of gossip, occasional leaks to newspapers and the sparse information released by governments, it seemed much easier to concentrate on areas where the government was relatively transparent, the archives were plentiful and past practitioners were not muzzled by vows of silence. In the United States, where government was less tight-lipped than in other countries, gradually headway began to be made. As it became apparent that the cover of secrecy had made possible dubious enterprises and misleading assessments, demands for more information grew. Even in the United Kingdom, where the culture of secrecy has deep roots, the roles, structure and leadership of the relevant agencies are now openly discussed and past assessments are subjected to critical appraisals. Yet even in the AngloSaxon countries, where the field of intelligence studies is now quite mature, it is still poses challenges for scholarship. Dr Dimitakis has been unable to draw on the extensive archives and so in many respects has to use the techniques of the pioneers – trawling all available sources and, in this case, making use of extensive interviewing with key participants that has allowed him to fill in many of the gaps left by the limited documentary evidence.

This has enabled him to address the vital issue of the relationship between intelligence and policy. In the classical AngloSaxon view, the proper relationship between the two should be one of separation. Intelligence should be tasked to answer questions of interest of policy but not in such a way as to unduly influence policy one way or another and certainly not in such a way as to support a pre-determined policy even at the risk of distorting the evidence. As has become painfully apparent over the past decade even in the AngloSaxon world, matters are not so simple. It is hard to keep an arms-length relationship between the two. If the intelligence professionals do not get close enough they are apt to answer the wrong questions and address issues of no evident policy relevance. If they do get close they can make sure that the policymakers do not make errors on the basis of prejudice and untested assumptions, but if they get too close then there is a danger of gaining influence by reinforcing rather challenging prior convictions and sacrificing integrity for the chance to become part of the inner circle. Once intelligence has become politicised, then it can become more a source of domestic political cover than policy enlightenment. While the tendencies were there in the Greek case, it is interesting that no example has been found of pressure to change an estimate for political convenience.

The problem, however, is more complex. Even when proper distance is maintained between intelligence and policy they will both reflect the broader assumptions about foreign policy in general and specific issues prevalent in their societies and governing class. Intelligence is never a matter of providing accurate and objective analysis based on full information. It is always a matter of ‘joining the dots’, of making sense of sparse and often contradictory information. Because of this, the foundations of an intelligent assessment may involve only slightly more evidence than an analysis put together by someone who can only follow open sources in academic contexts and the media. In some respects overreliance on secret sources, which are often inaccurate, can produce its own distortions. In practice, as demonstrated clearly in this case, the framework for thinking about and debating foreign policy may be widely shared, embracing the worlds of both intelligence and policy. Lastly an intelligence estimate is not the same as a threat assessment. To find something threatening depends not only on concern about external hostility but also on awareness of internal vulnerability.

At times of crisis the fault lines between intelligence and policy become even greater. At one level the policymakers become even more dependent upon intelligence, for their standard perceptions of adversary behaviour may be under strain as they fear being caught out by a surprise move, possibly one involving armed force. Unfortunately at such times the intelligence professionals may also be struggling, fearful of letting their government down but having to make the most of limited information. It is one thing when long-term strategic assessments are based on limited secret intelligence, for they can be bolstered by past experience and open sources, but when it comes to tactical intelligence, intended to guide short-term actions, these limitations can result in serious errors. If it is the case, as appears to have happened during the crisis over two islets within Greek territorial waters that erupted in 1996, then the consequences can be deadly. Politicians with a poor grasp of how intelligence works and Dr Dimitrakis gives the example of Prime Minister Costas Simiitis in 1996, risk allowing themselves to become far too reliant on weak data. This book confirms basic but important lessons.

Even when it is politically awkward for them to do so, intelligence agencies can play a vital role by challenging the preconceptions and predispositions of their political masters. As this book demonstrates, whatever the elite suspicions of long-term Turkish intentions, a cool look at Ankara’s actual diplomatic, economic and military resources would have demonstrated the unlikelihood of any aggressive adventures. At the same time they must never ‘over-sell’ their product, especially at times of crisis, needing to make sure that policymakers and the wider public are aware that not everything can be known about the attitudes and behaviour of adversaries.

Sir Lawrence Freedman KCMG, CBE, FBA, FKC May 2010