Brainstormers : On a Recent Monday at the Rand Corp., the Subject Was Terrorism

It is a brilliant Monday in Santa Monica. Flags snap in the breeze as people stroll along the palisades. On the pier the disco throb from a knot of break-dancing teen-agers competes with the clang of an antique carrousel. Meanwhile, inside a pastel low-rise only a volleyball’s throw from the beach, five Rand Corp. analysts gather for their weekly session of brainstorming. The topic is terrorism.

“We haven’t addressed the issue of terrorists from abroad coming to attack this country,” begins Brian Jenkins, the former Green Beret captain in charge of the Security and Subnational Conflict research program at Rand. “Our contacts in intelligence and law enforcement have learned that Middle Eastern extremists are debating the possibility of an attack here.”

“I tend to be apocalyptic,” research assistant Geraldine Petty sighs. “In Los Angeles, we live on a reclaimed desert that is kept alive by water from outside. If the aqueduct were cut . . . “

“But every city is an artificial environment,” Jenkins interjects. “A city depends on water, food and power, and all three elements can be disrupted. It’s relatively easy to knock out electric pylons or snarl freeway traffic with a bomb, though on a Friday night I’m not sure most people would notice the difference.”

“Well, I don’t see why terrorists would strike here,” argues Konrad Kellen, a German-born senior Rand consultant who devises anti-terrorist strategies for the federal Nuclear Regulatory Commission. “Washington is the headquarters of the Great Satan, not Southern California.”

“But terrorism is possible here, because of our ethnic diversity,” Jenkins counters. “With the exception of Puerto Rican separatists, who are largely confined to New York and Chicago, Los Angeles has about every ethnic group that has carried out violence in the United States.”

“Salvadorans certainly are a large percentage of the Hispanic population here that might be sympathetic to this kind of activity,” Petty says carefully, replacing her porcelain coffee cup in its saucer.

“True, but I don’t see any likelihood of sabotage given the present level of U.S. involvement in Central America,” Jenkins responds. “The Salvadorans are sophisticated enough to know that terrorist actions could backfire. Nothing would turn a guerrilla into a terrorist faster than a bomb in Los Angeles.”

“Los Angeles is a lot like Paris,” says Bonnie Jean Cordes, a UCLA behavioral scientist whose studies of Armenian terrorists have taken her inside several Turkish prisons. “When I visited there in the summer of ‘82, 30 bombs went off and nobody seemed to notice.”

“Americans don’t notice the 20,000 murders that occur each year,” concedes Jenkins, idly glancing through a computer printout of 7,000 terrorist acts that Rand has documented since 1968. “They’re just the ordinary violence, the body count, from the weekend parties and 7-Eleven holdups. But a recent Harris poll found that 90% of the population thinks terrorism is a serious problem.”

“Because Americans in general are emotional, more vulnerable than other people,” Kellen says. “Particularly Californians, since they aren’t used to confusion and violence.”

“I find it amusing that you think we are more excitable,” Cordes says.

“Well, we certainly haven’t had that much experience with terror,” Petty says in defense of her colleague.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Kellen snaps. “It’s this relaxed way of living. It’s easier to create an atmosphere of alarm in a country that never has experienced high levels of terrorist violence.

“At least we don’t have to worry about the water being poisoned,” Kellen adds, moving the discussion on to less controversial areas.

“I agree,” Jenkins says. “You know that 95% of the water in Los Angeles is flushed down the toilet or used for agricultural and industrial purposes. You would have such a tremendous problem with dispersion and dilution that I doubt it could be poisoned.”

At first glance, the Rand Corp. seems like a small university. Offices are cluttered with monographs, newspaper clippings and fellowship announcements. The 480 research staffers, 43% of whom have doctorates, wear lots of tweed and talk about going “off campus” for lunch. But with two-thirds of its $60.4-million annual research budget concentrated on national security (the Air Force, which founded Rand 40 years ago, is still its largest client), Rand is not a place to be entered casually. Doors have electric bolts, exits to security areas have special alarms and guards constantly scan television monitors.

For academicians like Jenkins, the mild whiff of intrigue only adds to Rand’s appeal. “Arms control, immigration and espionage are topics most people just talk about at cocktail parties,” he says. “We get paid to resolve these issues, and in the process can meet anybody from an Armenian terrorist in Paris to an assistant defense secretary at the Pentagon.

“But we haven’t infiltrated any groups . . . “

“Nor,” says Kellen with a smile, “have we been infiltrated, as far as we know.”