The Trump government recently ordered the administration of a new wave of polygraph tests throughout the Executive Power, with the aim of discovering leaks to the press.
As someone who has gone through approximately a dozen polygraph tests during my 27 years of career in the CIA, I see this development with some skepticism.
The polygraphs have an ominous, almost mythological reputation, among the Americans. The most familiar and unofficial term – lies detector protagonists – probably feeds that perception. The television series on crimes have also contributed, often presenting the device as an oracle to discover the truth when conventional methods fail.
In those representations, the polygraph is not simply a tool, but a window to the soul.
Among those who join the public service, especially in national security, the greatest anxiety is not the background verification, but to pass the test. My advice is always the same: don’t lie.
It is the best – and perhaps the only one – guide for a process that, according to most evaluations, is a more subjective interpretation than empirical science.
Why does the polygraph persist?
The polygraphs are pseudoscientific, since they measure physiological responses such as heart rate, blood pressure and perspiration. It is assumed that liars give away themselves by peaks in those signals. But this presupposes a psychological transparency that simply does not support. A person could sweat and tremble simply for fear, anger or frustration, not for deception.
Nor are there specific physiological reactions associated with lies. The National Academy of Sciences, in 2003, and the American Psychology Association, in a 2004 review, concluded that the polygraph is based more on a theater than on facts. Recent evaluations, published in 2019, reached the same conclusion.
Consequently, the results of the polygraph are generally not admissible in US courts. Only a few states, such as Georgia, Arizona and California, allow their use even under limited conditions, and generally require the agreement of both parties for admission and approval of a judge.
Unconditional admissibility remains the exception, not the rule. However, in many national security agencies, polygraphs remain fundamental for the authorization process, a fact that I observed first hand during my time supervising the investigation of personnel background and analytical hiring in the intelligence community.
While they are not considered conclusive, polygraph results usually serve as a filter. The visible discomfort of a candidate, or the examiner’s subjective opinion that an answer seems evasive, can delay or cancel the hiring process. For example, I know that government agencies have suspended authorizations after an examiner detected exaggerated reactions to drug use questions or contacts abroad, even when no disqualifying behavior was finally documented.
In some cases, the suggestion of an examiner that a graph shows an anomaly led applicants that, otherwise, they would be very competent to offer details that had not planned to share, such as minor security infractions, unstalled relationships or occasional consumption of drugs decades ago, which, although they are not disqualifying themselves, redefine the perception of their reliability.
The power of the polygraph lies in creating the conditions for deception to be conferred. A predictable pattern.
No administration has been immune to the impulse of investigating leaks. The reflection is bipartisan and family: a shameful revelation appears in the press – contracting official statements or exposing internal dissent – and the White House undertakes to identify and punish the source. Polygraphs are usually part of this ritual.
During his first mandate, Trump intensified his efforts to expose internal dissent and leaks to the media. The department guidelines were reviewed to facilitate the agencies to obtain telephone and email records of journalists, and it was reported that polygraphs were used to press suspected officials of speaking with the press. This trend has continued and, in some areas, it has intensified.
Recent Pentagon policies now restrict the access of the press without escort, revoked the office space for the main media and favor the ideologically aligned networks. The line between legitimate prevention of leaks and surveillance or marginalization of critical media coverage has become increasingly diffuse.
In agencies such as the Department of National Security and the FBI, it is reported that the polygraph is used more frequently, and more punitively, to identify internal dissidents. Even unsolved cases, such as the filtration of the Dobbs opinion of the Supreme Court before the annulment of the ROE case against Wade, have reopened, despite the fact that previous investigations have not yielded a definitive source.
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This has been the reaction to Trump’s idea
Not all leaks receive the same treatment. The revelations that are aligned with official narratives or that offer a strategic advantage can be tolerated discreetly, even if they are not authorized. Others, especially those who are ashamed of senior officials or reveal dysfunctions, are more likely to give rise to formal investigation.
In 2003, for example, the filtration of the identity of the CIA Valerie Plame agent – widely considerate as a retaliation for the criticisms of her husband to the Iraq war – triggered a federal investigation. The revelation embarrassed senior officials, led to the sentence for perjury of the White House Advisor, Scooter Libby, subsequently commuted, and raised an intense political scrutiny.
Classified material leaks generate the toughest response when challenging the presidential authority or expose internal disputes. That was the case in 2010 with Chelsea Manning, whose dissemination of diplomatic cables and battlefield embarrassed senior officials and caused a global reaction. The government reaction often depends less on what was disclosed than who disseminated it and with what effect.
A limited set of revelations, such as those involving espionage or operational commitment, generates a broad consensus as a basis for processing. However, most leaks are out of that category. Most research fades silently. The public rarely finds out of their whereabouts. Occasionally, a vague resignation occurs, but direct accountability is rare.
What holds the future
It is unlikely that Trump’s campaign against the polygraph eliminates the filtrations to the press. However, they could have a deterrent effect that discourages internal frankness and diverts the investigative energy of fundamental security priorities.
Even if these campaigns manage to reduce unauthorized revelations, they could be detrimental to institutional resilience. Historically, the application of aggressive internal measures has been associated with the decline of morality and the reduction of information flow, factors that can hinder adaptation to complex threats.
Some researchers have suggested that artificial intelligence could eventually offer reliable tools to detect deception. A recent evaluation raised this possibility, while warning that technology is far from being ready to operate.
For now, institutions will have to deal with the tools they have: imperfect, inaccurate and more performative than predictive.
*Brian O’Neill is Professor of Practice and International Affairs at the Technological Institute of Georgia.
This text was originally published in The Conversation
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