A top scholar reveals how the Espionage Act gave rise to a vast American security state that keeps citizens in the dark
In State of Silence, political historian Sam Lebovic uncovers the troubling history of the Espionage Act. First passed in 1917, it was initially used to punish critics of World War I. Yet as Americans began to balk at the act’s restrictions on political dissidents and the press, the government turned its focus toward keeping its secrets under wraps. The resulting system for classifying information is absurdly cautious, staggeringly costly, and shrouded in secrecy, preventing ordinary Americans from learning what their country is doing in their name, both at home and abroad.
Shedding new light on the bloated governmental security apparatus that’s weighing our democracy down, State of Silence offers the definitive history of America’s turn toward secrecy—and its staggering human costs.
We take the classification system for granted today. Shadowy agencies declare certain data Confidential, Secret, or Top Secret, which only a select national security priesthood can read. But the institutions of secrecy in America took time to develop, and are on shakier legal ground than most people realize. Lebovic does an excellent job explaining how and why this unfolded. I'd like to do a more formal review at some point.
My inaugural Goodreads book review is dedicated to "State of Silence" by Sam Lebovic, a gem I stumbled upon in the library that hasn't yet been reviewed here. This compelling read delves into the complexities of the Espionage Act, a law that, despite its convoluted and vague language, remains a cornerstone of American legal enforcement. Before reading this book, I was unaware of the intricate history and the expansive interpretation of terms within the Espionage Act, particularly the evolution of "information related to national defense" to align with the concept of "classified information," a notion that did not exist until the 1950s.
Lebovic's critique focuses on the Act's ambiguity, which facilitates selective enforcement by the government. He highlights a significant issue where lower-level officials who leak information that might embarrass the government are prosecuted, whereas higher-level officials may leak for ostensibly noble reasons without facing similar consequences. The book cites the example of David Petraeus, who disclosed classified information yet evaded charges under the Espionage Act. Furthermore, Lebovic addresses the absence of a "public interest" defense for whistleblowers, a complex proposition given the subjective nature of what constitutes the public interest.
A particularly sobering aspect of Lebovic's analysis is the inherent motivation for government employees to over-classify information, with the enforcement of the Espionage Act exacerbating this tendency by equating "classified information" directly with "information relating to national defense." This practice leads to an overclassification of documents that bear no relevance to national defense, driven by the perceived prestige and importance of classified information.
The book, however, left me curious about international perspectives, especially regarding how nations within the Five Eyes alliance manage the disclosure of classified information and whether they incorporate a "public interest" defense in their legislation.
"State of Silence" is a must-read for anyone keen on understanding the intricacies of American political history and the nuanced challenges of legislating in the realm of national security. It provides a profound critique of the Espionage Act's legacy and its implications for transparency and accountability in government.
This is an important, fairly complicated, but well-written treatise on the current U.S. security state, and its historical underpinnings - which is poorly, if at all, understood by the average American.