John Kiriakou is often presented as a principled whistleblower, a former CIA officer who exposed the agency's use of waterboarding and paid the price. It's a compelling story: a man who spoke out against torture, went to prison, and now lectures on ethics and government overreach. But as with many similar stories that fit all too well into the public imagination, the truth is more complicated.
When Kiriakou was interviewed by ABC News in 2007, he told the world that a highly regarded detained al-Qaeda member, Abu Zubaydah, was once waterboarded and broke almost immediately. "He gave us everything he had," Kiriakou said, presenting the CIA's enhanced interrogation as effective and restrained.
However, this version of events was refuted by CIA records declassified in 2009. According to the documents, which were further confirmed by a Senate Intelligence Committee report released in 2014, Abu Zubaydah was waterboarded 83 times in a single month - not once. The difference between Kiriakou's public statement and the documented reality was not a difference in interpretation, but a demonstrable lie.
The consequences were severe. His version was reflected in political debates about torture and gave perceived credibility to both critics and defenders of the practice. But the facts undermined the very basis of his credibility.
Kiriakou has also long maintained that he has "never revealed any classified information" or identified any CIA operatives. Yet in 2012, after a detailed FBI investigation, Kiriakou was indicted on charges that included leaking the identity of a covert operative, a clear violation of the Intelligence Identities Identities Protection Act of 1982. The name he disclosed, originally shared with a journalist, was eventually passed on to defense contractor Matthew Cole, and from there made its way to WikiLeaks.
In court, Kiriakou avoided trial by accepting a plea bargain. He pleaded guilty and served a 30-month sentence in federal prison, a rare outcome in such cases. His defense attorneys say it was a punishment for exposing torture. But prosecutors and the law framed it differently: not as a case of whistleblowing, but as a case of knowingly endangering national security.
Perhaps the most enduring part of his public persona is the claim that he opposed torture when he was still in the CIA. He often implied that he took a moral stand from within and voiced objections to waterboarding and other methods before he eventually left the agency. But even this lacks any documentary support. No internal emails, formal complaints, or agency records indicate that Kiriakou ever objected to CIA practices during his employment. In fact, he left in 2004 and only began issuing public statements in 2007, when he entered the media world.
Regarding legal protection for whistleblowers, Kiriakou claims that he has been denied the protections afforded to others who expose violations. However, under US law, whistleblower status, particularly within the intelligence community, requires formal complaints to be made through designated channels: the Office of Inspector General, congressional intelligence committees, or legally sanctioned internal mechanisms. Kiriakou did none of these. The U.S. Department of Justice and the court system have never recognized him as a legitimate whistleblower under the law.
That's not to say his revelations had no impact. Kiriakou drew public attention to the CIA's harsh interrogation tactics during a politically tense period. But the way he framed his role, often minimizing what he did wrong and maximizing what he selectively revealed, raises serious ethical questions.
There is a broader lesson here. At a time when media platforms are rapidly canonizing dissidents, where the line between truth-telling and personal branding is increasingly blurred, we need to examine not only what is being said, but also who is saying it and why. The institutions that Kiriakou criticizes - the CIA, the U.S. Department of Justice, and the U.S. courts - have their own history of secrecy and abuse.
(for) Masood Chaudhary