Knowing What We Know

Knowing What We Know

The “revelations” of WikiLeaks demonstrate the futility of diplomatic relationships and of the secret services that transmit and archive only what was already known.

Much has been said about the WikiLeaks affair, but it seems that there is always something more to say. For example, as a first approach, WikiLeaks reveals an apparent scandal regarding content, although in actuality there is something more.

A scandal is apparent when it brings something to the level of public discourse that everyone knew and said privately but that remained, in a manner of speaking, only whispered for reasons of hypocrisy (for example, that in certain departments, the sons of barons are on their high horse). Any person — though I don’t mean those well-versed in diplomacy, but anyone who had seen some movies featuring international intrigue — knew very well that, at least since the end of World War II and ever since heads of state have been able to call each other or fly to meet for dinner, the embassies have lost their diplomatic function (was an ambassador in a cocked hat sent to Saddam to declare war?). And except for small periods of representation, they had been transformed, in the most straightforward cases, into centers of documentation in the host country (with the ambassador that, when he is good, does the work of both sociologist and political scientist), and in the most closed cases, into true and proper centers of espionage.

However, the act of saying this out loud today compels American diplomacy to admit that this is true, and therefore suffer a loss of image on the level of form. With the curious consequence of this loss, it escapes the steady trickle of confidential information; rather than harm the alleged victims (Berlusconi, Sarkozy, Gheddafi or Merkel), it harms the alleged perpetrator and poor Mrs. Clinton, who probably only receives messages that embassy employees send her out of professional duty, seeing as how they were only paid to do this. According to all evidence, this is also what Assange wanted, seeing how the grudge he bears is against the American government and not against Berlusconi’s.

Why have the victims not been touched, except superficially? Because, as everyone has realized, the famous secret messages were an “echo of the press,” and they merely reported what everyone in Europe knew and said, and that even in America had already appeared in Newsweek. Therefore, the secret reports were like the files that press offices of a company send to the CEO who, with all the work he has, cannot even read the newspapers.

It’s clear that the reports not regarding secret matters sent to Mrs. Clinton were not spying “notes.” But even if they regarded apparently more confidential information, like the fact that Berlusconi has personal, profit-sharing interests in the affairs of Russian gas, even then (true or false the matter may be), the notes wouldn’t do anything but repeat what’s being said by those who, under fascism, were branded as “coffee strategists,” those who talk about politics at coffee shops.

And this does nothing but confirm another thing that we all know very well; each dossier assembled for a secret service (of any nation) is made exclusively of material already within the public domain. The “extraordinary” American revelations regarding Berlusconi’s crazy nights report what could be read in any Italian newspaper (minus two) for months now, and Ghaddafi’s satrapal manias were, for a while, prime material — however antiquated — for caricatures. The rule that the secret files should only be made of news already known is essential to the dynamic of the secret services, and not only in this century. It’s the same reason why, if you go to a bookstore dedicated to esoteric publications, you will see that every new book repeats (on the Holy Grail, on the mystery of Rennes-le-Chateau, on the Knights Templar or Rosicrucianism) exactly what was written in earlier books. This is not only and not so much because the author of occult works loves to create unpublished research (and not because he knows where he could find information on the non-existent), but because the devotees of the occult believe only in what they already know, and that it reconfirms what they already learned. This is the same mechanism behind the success of Dan Brown.

The same happens with secret files. The lazy informant and the lazy, or narrow-minded, officer of the secret services (otherwise he would be, say, the editor of “L’espresso”), believes only what he recognizes.

Therefore, given that the secret services of every country don’t help to prevent cases like the attack on the twin towers (and in certain cases, being regularly deflected, even create them) and archive only what we already knew, it might as well be worth it to eliminate them. But, in times like these, to cut more jobs would be really insensitive.