This essay proposed four lessons for the conduct of successful counterintelligence operations in the contemporary US, drawn from various case studies in the Cold War: sequentially, these included understanding the context, minimising the politicisation of intelligence, adaptation of structures, as well as awareness of the inevitability of ‘counterintelligence failures’.
Above all, are we facing an existential threat to our way of life from attacks that originate in cyberspace? More specifically, should we consider cybersecurity a matter of national security and to what extent? I argue that the way in which cybersecurity is faced and perceived by nations varies from one to another according to differences in context, principally in the sense of technological development.
It is likely that the ordinary ‘consumer’ of media who turned the channel to a coverage of military conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq in the last decade or so would have been unaware of the large presence of what has been termed private security contractors (or mercenaries, as some call them) operating in the region. This begs a very important question, indeed: why is this the case, when Machiavelli, one of the most influential political thinkers of all time, advised ‘princes’ not to ever trust mercenaries?
The publication of F.W. Winterbotham’s The Ultra Secret claims that Ultra – the codename given to the signals intelligence gathered at Bletchley Park – shortened World War Two by some certain period. Yet, I aim to address the broader context comprising the most significant elements around signals intelligence in World War Two: videlicet, alternative sources of intelligence, industrial and manpower strength, along with overall leadership.
Often referred to as the ‘father’ of the League of Nations (1920–1946), former US President Woodrow Wilson’s (1856–1924) role in the creation of this inter-continental organization remains somewhat unclear. The aim of this concise article is to furnish an understanding of the broader origins of the League, against the backdrop of such undertakings as Kazakhstan’s presidency of the UN Security Council in 2017-2018.
The proliferation of nuclear weapons is undoubtedly an acute problem in international politics today. Currently, there are nine states in possession of nuclear weapons: America, Russia, China, Britain, France, India, Pakistan, North Korea and Israel; while those capable of manufacturing at short notice are estimated to be around 30. This begs a significant question, indeed: Despite the security benefits associated with nuclear weapons, why are there still so few states that procure them in practice
As a committed “Eurasianist”, I find it odd when pundits tell us this war between the Russians and the Ukrainians should terminate in the ruin and desolation of the former nation. After all, it may be expected, in the first approaches of the confined, or simple observer, that it is certainly impossible, since they cannot be rendered subservient to the latter’s advancement; yet, if they were to have this power, in opposition to the formalities of military science, what would become of the five post-Soviet Central Asian states of Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Turkmenistan?
All being said and done, one must not forget that equity and public health go hand-in-hand, while since we are now in an uncharted territory where vital economic activity and human connections are unsettled in ways never seen before, we must be faithful to our most fundamental democratic values at the same time as safeguarding the public health by way of ensuring that our response is effective, ethical, and equitable.
Despite being written around 2,500 years ago, Sun Tzu’s The Art of War is still one of the most popular treatises on military strategy; read not only by soldiers and their commanders, but also by the public at large. The aim of this article is to demonstrate that Sun Tzu’s The Art of War is applicable to war and strategy ‘eternally’, contributing, in turn, to a fresh perspective on military affairs in all regions of the globe; from America, to Europe, to Central Asia.
A preface on the similarities between Abay Kunanbayev (father of Kazakh literature) and Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
“Sometimes I find myself thinking, perhaps it’s better to be a cow than to be a Uyghur” (69), Tahir Hamut Izgils remembers the words of his friend. Waiting to Be Arrested at Night: A Uyghur Poet’s Memoir of China’s Genocide describes under what conditions men and women lived in the Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region. Certainly, this is a significant book because it deals with the depths of their feelings; and with the fact that the writer feels a buried suffering smouldering beneath his silent revolt against the likelihood that he will be interned, and shepherded to his pen by a whole pack of hounds.
In When Disasters Come Home: Making and Manipulating Emergencies In The West, David Keen considers how powers in the Global North exploit, or even manufacture, disasters in the Global South for political or economic gain. Though taking issue with Keen’s engagement with psychoanalysis, I find the book an insightful exploration of the global power dynamics involved in disasters and their far-reaching repercussions.
Overall, this is a (small) book of history informed by anthropology that may be enjoyed by academics and lay readers alike. Graeber’s sources include contemporary oral traditions, ethnographic accounts written by a spy, narratives composed at the time for popular audiences, as well as court documents. It is witty, conversational, and light.
The majority of authors seem perfectly willing to speak down to the next generation, even though this is clearly not the intention of Fr. Robert McTeigue, S.J., in his well-researched and thought-provoking book, Real Philosophy for Real People: Tools for Truthful Living. A weighty volume clearly blazing a trail beyond McTeigue's initial collection of homilies and essays, I Have Someone to Tell You: A Jesuit Heralds the Gospel.