The Notorious Army Field Manual on Interrogation

In line with a current national penchant for passing legislation without reading all the language, it might be acceptable to pass judgment on the Army Field Manual on Interrogation (Army FM 2-22.3, HUMAN INTELLIGENCE COLLECTOR OPERATIONS) without actually bothering to read the September 2006 document. It would even be tempting, as the 384-page tome is not about to rival a Danielle Steel romance novel or Que-vintage Excel for Dummies book as a true page turner. However, assessing its value without reading it takes the kind of double standard that only a political being could manage with a straight face.

As a practitioner of many of the arts that this manual purports to frame and bound within a sphere of political delicacy inflamed by the events of Abu Ghraib, I rate it mostly useful for evaluators, overseers, and distant observers of interrogation and debriefing operations. For such panjandrums of the periphery, the manual does its job. It catalogues, in yeoman fashion, all the prohibitions against stepping out of line while also presenting an aspirational model of what the ideal intelligence collector should possess in personality traits, education, and mastery of coordination processes. The first two-thirds of the manual deal mainly with such intricacies, offering enough jargon and acronyms to deter political staffers and dilettantes from reading too intently while convincing them that it is, after all, a serious military document.

What does this manual do for the collector, however? Not much at all. Eventually, it recounts standard interrogation techniques, such as file-and-dossier, Mutt-and-Jeff, rapid fire, and "We know all" -- none of which have changed substantially in a half century. This particular manual does a little more justice to the art of drawing intelligence from willing and unwilling sources by discussing the value of elicitation and the importance of building rapport. While interrogators and debriefers must learn these points in order to succeed, in the past, much of this knowledge was passed down like tribal ritual uttered only before trusted stalwarts over the battlefield campfire. So there is value in the manual. And it spells out most clearly the roles of all who interact with enemy prisoners of war, detainees, and other potential human intelligence sources. A key point is that military police serving as prisoner handlers and wardens are never to assume interrogation-related tasks, such as "softening up" the people in their custody prior to a questioning session. Nor is anyone ever to be allowed to treat such people inhumanely or to interact with them out of view and earshot of assigned military custodians. While this material may appease politicians looking for reassurance that America does not sanction prisoner abuse, none of it is new. The same rules have been in place for generations. This manual only draws more emphasis to them.

On the whole, the manual is a compendium of do-not instructions and laundry lists of coordination mandates and prohibitions geared more for commanders seeking to bring their intelligence collectors up on charges of misconduct than for intelligence gatherers seeking instructional material. This may be good in that the manual does serve a purpose. But no one will learn the craft of interviewing people and deriving intelligence from the interview by reading this manual alone. It would be like expecting to learn how to drive by paging through the vehicle code.

- Nick Catrantzos

The Burger Scale for Burgher Bratton

A burgher is both citizen and representative of the mercantile class, something Chief Bratton is poised to become once he steps down as Los Angeles police chief to succumb to the blandishments of the private sector. Is he as wonderful as his well packaged image proclaims, or as suspect as skeptics peering behind the veneer suggest? There is a scale which will soon point to a credible answer. But, first, here are the poles that define the spectrum.

Says James Q. Wilson, co-author of the important "Broken Windows" essay:

" ... William J. Bratton has been the best thing that happened to the LAPD since William H. Parker, the man who created our modern Police Department over half a century ago. Bratton came to a city plagued by high rates of crime, rampant gang violence, the unhappy memory of the Rodney King riots, deep distrust between the police and the black community and a consent decree in which a federal judge made clear his intention to make wholesale changes in how we were policed ... "

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Goodbye to the chief - Los Angeles Times

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Says Tim Rutten, L.A. Times author of When the going got tough, Bratton got gone www.latimes.com/news/opinion/commentary/la-oe-rutten7-2009aug07,0,440561.column

"The lasting impression created by Bratton's abrupt departure is of a leader who was happy to occupy the spotlight when his department was riding high, wide and handsome, but unwilling to get his hands dirty -- and perhaps to dent his reputation -- when the going got institutionally tough."

Working level insiders affirm Bratton's talent for self-promotion and teflon-like resistance to bad press. The chief has been said to seldom resist hijacking a subordinate's achievements as his own. Jack Maple, for example, invented Compstat. Even the television program starring Craig T. Nelson that featured that innovation in D.C., The District, acknowledged Maple more than Bratton does when he allows the innovation to surface in his resume. But Maple is deceased and unlikely to complain. Moreover, Bratton seldom appears to take as much credit for the rain as for the sunshine. Witness the LAPD after-action report on mishandled MacArthur Park protests a couple of years ago. Its tone? These lousy commanders let the chief down. Right.

Now for the scale. The LAPD Academy coffee shop has on its menu a Bratton Burger. How long will that item stay on the menu? If the chief is indeed the greatest boon to policing since badges and billy clubs, the answer is indefinitely. But, according to one former city employee with law enforcement credentials, "I give it three months" before this informal tribute fades away.

- Nick Catrantzos