The Dilemma of Dissent

In early July 2002 I went to see Condoleezza Rice, President George W. Bush's National Security Advisor, in her West Wing office. I was meeting Condi in my capacity as director of policy planning, the State Department's internal think tank. But we were longtime friends, dating back to our work together for the first President Bush more than a decade before, and our get-togethers were not part of any formal interagency process.

As usual, I prepared on a yellow pad a list of the half-dozen or so issues I wanted to discuss during what normally was a 30- or 45-minute meeting. At the top of my list was Iraq. For several weeks, those on my staff who dealt with Iraq and other Middle East issues had been reporting back that they sensed a shift in tone within the government. Their counterparts working at the Pentagon, the National Security Council (NSC) and the vice president's office who favored going to war with Iraq were sending signals that things were going their way. I did not share this enthusiasm for going to war, believing that we had other viable options and fearing that any conflict would be much tougher than the advocates predicted. I was also concerned that an invasion would take an enormous toll on the rest of American foreign policy at the precise moment in history that the United States enjoyed a rare opportunity to exert extraordinary influence.

I began my meeting with Condi by noting that the administration seemed to be building momentum toward going to war with Iraq and that I harbored serious doubts about doing so. I reminded her that I knew something about this issue given my role in the previous Bush administration, where I had served as the president's senior Middle East advisor on the NSC staff. And I asked her directly, "Are you really sure you want to make Iraq the centerpiece of the administration's foreign policy?"

I was about to follow up with other questions when Condi cut me off. "You can save your breath, Richard. The president has already made up his mind on Iraq." The way she said it made clear he had decided to go to war.

I was taken aback. Policy had gone much further than I had realized—and feared. But, for several reasons, I did not argue just then. As in previous conversations when I'd voiced my views on Iraq, Condi's response made it clear that any more conversation at that point would be a waste of time. It is always important to pick your moments to make an unwelcome case, and this did not appear to be a promising one. I figured as well that there would be additional opportunities to argue my stance, if not with Condi, then with others in a position to make a difference.

Another factor in my uncharacteristic reticence was the fact that my own opposition to going to war with Iraq was muted. At a recent dinner with two close friends, I had said I was 60–40 against initiating a war. My opposition was not stronger because of my assumption (derived from the available intelligence) that Iraq possessed both biological and chemical weapons. I also believed that if we went to war we would go about it in a way reminiscent of how we had waged the previous war with Iraq—that is, only with considerable international and domestic backing and only with enough troops and sensible plans. Had I known then what I know now, namely, that there were no weapons of mass destruction and that the intervention would be carried out with a marked absence of good judgment and competence, I would have been inalterably opposed. Still, even then, I leaned against proceeding.

I am hardly the first U.S. official ever to be in a position of disagreeing with his bosses, and I will not be the last. Dissent is as American as cherry pie. This country was born of dissent (the Revolutionary War), defined by it (the Civil War) and changed profoundly by it. The labor, suffrage and civil-rights movements, as well as the anti-Vietnam protests, were all transformative American experiences. Dissent has been hailed as noble and necessary by our leaders. None other than President Dwight Eisenhower said that Americans should "never confuse honest dissent with disloyal subversion." Former senator J. William Fulbright declared, "In a democracy, dissent is an act of faith."

This is all well and good, but in my experience, dissent tends to be more honored in the abstract than in practice. Joseph Heller captures this reality all too well in his wicked 1979 political novel "Good as Gold," in which Ralph, a presidential aide, tells a job applicant, "This President doesn't want yes-men. What we want are independent men of integrity who will agree with all our decisions after we make them."

Dissent is difficult. It can constitute a real dilemma for the person who disagrees. On one hand, you owe it to your conscience and to your bosses to tell them what they need to hear rather than what they want to hear. Speaking truth to power is actually a form of loyalty. It is the best and at times only way to make sure that government (or any organization) lives up to its potential. No matter how good the advice, however, there will be times when it is resented or rejected. It may be rebuffed on the merits, or because of politics or personalities. Sometimes, smart people just see things differently. It doesn't matter.