Hammond Innes reviews

Hammond Innes (1913 to 1998) was a British thriller writer novelist who wrote over 30 novels. His protagonists tend to be ordinary men thrust into perilous situations, often in extreme locations or situations. In fact in many of his novels the exotic locations are as – if not more – important than the human protagonists. I’ve always admired the fact that he was a very organised writer, spending six months travelling to settings around the world, doing thorough location research, followed by six months of writing.

Best one?

When I read them, I thought The Wreck of the Mary Deare was the best one, but years later it’s the unforgiving frozen landscape of the Antarctic in The White South which has stayed with me.

Innes’ novels

1940 The Trojan Horse Barrister Andrew Kilmartin gets involved with an Austrian Jewish refugee engineer whose discovery of a new lightweight alloy which will make lighter, more powerful aircraft engines reveals an extensive and sinister Nazi network which reaches to the highest places in the land; features a nailbiting chase through the sewers of London and a last-minute battle on the Nazi ship.

1940 Wreckers Must Breathe Journalist Walter Craig stumbles across a secret Nazi submarine base built into a ruined tin mine on the Cornwall coast and, along with local miners and a lady journalist, fights his way out of captivity and defeats the Nazis.

1941 Attack Alarm Wartime thriller set during the Battle of Britain, drawing heavily on Hammond Innes’s own experience as an anti-aircraft gunner. Barry Hanson is a former journalist now serving on an RAF airfield gun crew in 1940 who comes to believe a network of Nazi fifth columnists is planning to sabotage the airfield ahead of a major German attack, but none of his superiors believe him.

—Second World War—

1946 Dead and Alive A short post-war thriller divided into two halves. It begins on the Cornish coast, where ex–Royal Navy officer David Cunningham, emotionally adrift after the war, helps salvage a stranded landing craft with fellow veteran McCrae. They refit it as a small commercial venture, planning to trade goods in post-war Italy. A newspaper article about their efforts brings a letter from a French woman asking them to find her missing daughter, Monique, who was sent to Italy during the war. When they sail to Naples they profit from selling goods but become entangled in local criminal networks after McCrae angers a powerful figure.

1947 The Killer Mine Army deserter Jim Pryce discovers dark family secrets at a ruined Cornish mine which is being used as a base by a father-and-son team of smugglers who blackmail him into doing some submarine rock blasting, with catastrophic results.

1947 The Lonely Skier Writer Neil Blair is hired to visit the Dolomite mountains in Italy, supposedly to write a script for film producer Derek Engles, in reality to tip him off when key players in a hunt for Nazi gold arrive at the ski hut in the mountains where – they all think – the missing treasure is buried.

1947 Maddon’s Rock Corporal Jim Vardin, convicted of mutiny at sea and imprisoned in Dartmoor, breaks out to clear his name and seek revenge on the captain and crew who pretended to sink their ship, the Trikkala, but in fact hid it in order to steal its cargo of silver bullion.

1948 The Blue Ice Mineralogist and industrialist Bill Gansert sails to Norway to discover the truth about the disappearance of George Farnell, a friend of his who knew something about the discovery of a rare metal ore – an investigation which revives complicated enmities forged in Norway’s war-time Nazi occupation.

1949 The White South Narrator Duncan Craig becomes mixed up in the disaster of the whaling ship Southern Star, witnessing at first hand the poisonous feuds and disagreements which lead a couple of its small whalecatcher boats to get caught in pack ice, fatally luring the vast factory ship to come to their rescue and also becoming trapped. It then has to evacuate over 400 men, women and children onto the pitiless Antarctic ice where Craig leads his strife-torn crew to safety.

1950 The Angry Mountain Engineering salesman Dick Farrell’s wartime experiences come back to haunt him as he is caught up in a melodramatic yarn about a Czech spy smuggling industrial secrets to the West, with various people from his past pursuing him across Italy towards Naples and Mount Vesuvius, which erupts to form the dramatic climax to the story.

1951 Air Bridge Bomber pilot fallen on hard times, Neil Fraser, gets mixed up with Bill Saeton and his obsession with building a new type of diesel aero-engine based on a prototype looted from wartime Germany. Saeton is helped by partner Tubby Carter, hindered by Tubby’s sex-mad wife Diana, and spied on by Else, the embittered daughter of the German who originated the designs. The story moves to Germany and the Berlin airlift where Saeton’s obsession crosses the line into betrayal and murder.

1952 Campbell’s Kingdom Bruce Campbell, given only months to live by his doctors, packs in his boring job in London and emigrates to Canada to fulfil the dream of his eccentric grandfather, to find oil in the barren patch of the Canadian Rockies known as ‘Campbell’s Kingdom’.

1954 The Strange Land Missionary Philip Latham is forced to conceal the identity of the man who replies to an advert to come and be doctor to a poor community in the south of Morocco. Instead of curing the sick, he finds himself caught up in a quest for an ancient silver mine, a quest which brings disaster to the impoverished community where it is set.

1956 The Wreck of the Mary Deare Yacht skipper John Sands stumbles across the wreck of the decrepit steamer Mary Deare and into the life of its haggard, obsessive captain, Patch, who is determined to clear his reputation by revealing the conspiracy to sink his ship and claim the insurance.

1958 The Land God Gave To Cain Engineer Ian Ferguson responds to a radio plea for help received by his amateur radio enthusiast father, and sets off to the wilds of Labrador, north-east Canada, to see if the survivors of a plane crash in this barren country are still alive – and what lies behind the conspiracy to try and hush the incident up.

1960 The Doomed Oasis Solicitor George Grant helps young tearaway David Thomas travel to Arabia to find his biological father, the legendary adventurer and oilman Colonel Charles Whitaker, and becomes embroiled in a small Arab war which leads to a siege in an ancient fortress where the rivalry between father and son reaches a tragic conclusion.

1962 Atlantic Fury Painter Duncan Ross is eyewitness to an appalling naval disaster on an island of the Outer Hebrides. But intertwined with this tragedy is the fraught story of his long-lost brother who has stolen another man’s identity. Both plotlines lead inexorably to the bleak windswept island of Laerg.

1965 The Strode Venturer Ex-Merchant Navy captain Geoffrey Bailey finds himself drawn into the affairs of the Strode shipping company which aggressively took over his father’s shipping line, thereby ruining his family and driving his father to suicide. Now, 30 years later, he is hired to track down the rogue son of the family, Peter Strode, who has developed an obsession with a new volcanic atoll in the middle of the Indian Ocean, whose mineral wealth might be able to help the Maldive Islanders whose cause he champions.

1971 Levkas Man Merchant seaman Paul goes to find his father, eccentric archaeologist Pieter Van der Voort, another typical Innes obsessive, this time one convinced he can prove his eccentric theories about the origin of Man, Ice Age sea levels, the origin of Atlantis and so on. Much sailing around the Aegean, feelingly described by Innes, before the climax in a vast subterranean cavern covered in prehistoric rock paintings, in an atmosphere heavy with timeless evil, where his father admits to being a murderer.

1973 Golden Soak Alec Falls’ mining business in Cornwall goes bust so he fakes his own death and smuggles himself out to Australia to take up the invitation to visit from a rancher’s daughter he’d met. He finds himself plunged into the mystery and intrigue which surrounds the struggling Jarra Jarra ranch and its failed mine, Golden Soak, a mystery which leads him on a wild chase out into the desolate hell of the Gibson desert where Alec discovers the truth about the mine and the persistent rumours of a vast hill of copper, and witnesses archetypal tragedies of guilt and expiation, of revenge and parricide.

1974 North Star One-time political agitator and seaman Michael Randall tries and fails to escape his complex past as he finds himself embroiled in a plot to blow up a North Sea oil rig, a plot which is led by the father he thought had died decades earlier.

1977 The Big Footprints TV director Colin Tait finds himself caught up in the one-man war of grizzled African hunter and legendary bushman Cornelius van Delden against his old friend, Alex Kirby-Smith, who is now leading the Kenyan government’s drive to cull the country’s wildlife, especially its elephants, to feed a starving population and clear the way for farmers and their cattle, all tied up with Tait’s obsessive quest to find a remote mountain where neolithic man was said to have built the first city in the world.

1980 Solomon’s Seal Property valuer Roy Slingsby prices the contents of an old farmhouse in the Essex countryside and is intrigued by two old albums of stamps from the Solomon Islands. He takes up the offer of a valuing job in Australia and finds himself drawn into the tragic history of the colonial Holland family, the last surviving son of which is running machine guns to be used in the coup and bid for independence of Bougainville Island. Though so much of the detail is calm, rational, business-like, the final impression is of an accursed family and a fated ancestral house which burns down at the novel’s climax.

1982 The Black Tide When his wife dies blowing up an oil tanker which has gone aground near their Cornwall home, ex-merchant seaman Trevor Rodin goes searching for the crew he thinks deliberately ran her aground. His search takes him to Lloyd’s of London, to the Nantes home of the lead suspect and then on to the Persian Gulf, where he discovers several ‘missing’ tankers are in fact being repurposed by terrorists planning to create a devastating environmental disaster somewhere on the coast of Europe. With no money or resources behind him, and nobody believing his far-fetched tale, can Rodin prevent the catastrophe in time?

1985 The High Stand When gold millionaire Tom Halliday and his wife Miriam go missing, their staid Sussex solicitor Philip Redfern finds himself drawn to the old gold mine in the Canadian Rockies which is the basis of the Halliday fortune, and discovers that the illegal felling of the timber planted around the mine is being used as a front for a gang of international drug smugglers, with violent consequences.

1988 Medusa Former smuggler turned respectable ex-pat businessman, Mike Steele, finds his idyllic life on the pretty Mediterranean island of Minorca turning very nasty when he gets mixed up with mercenaries running guns onto the island to support a violent separatist movement and military coup.

1991 Isvik Wood restorer Peter Kettil gets caught up in a crazy scheme to find an old Victorian frigate allegedly spotted locked in the Antarctic ice by a glaciologist before his death in a flying accident. His partners are the nymphomaniac Latino wife of the dead glaciologist, Iris Sunderby, a bizarre Scottish cripple, Iain Ward, and a mysterious Argentine who may or may not have been involved in atrocities under the military junta.

1993 Target Antarctica Booted out of the RAF for his maverick behaviour, pilot Michael ‘Ed’ Cartwright is hired by Iain Ward, the larger-than-life character at the heart of the previous novel, Isvik, to rescue a C-130 Hercules plane off a damaged runway on the Antarctic ice shelf. It takes a lot of shenanigans, not least with a beautiful Thai woman who is pursued by the Khmer Rouge (!), before in the last few pages we realise the whole thing is a scam to extract diamonds from the shallow seabed, diamonds like the ones the survivor of the frigate found in the previous novel.

1996 Delta Connection An astonishing dog’s dinner of a story which starts out reasonably realistically following the adventures of Paul Cartwright, scrap metal consultant, in Romania during the chaotic days leading up to the overthrow of the communist ruler Nicolae Ceaușescu, before moving on to Pakistan and the Khyber Pass where things develop into a violent thriller with car chases and shoot-outs – before jettisoning any attempt at realism and turning into a sort of homage to Rider Haggard’s boys adventure stories as Cartwright and his gay, ex-Army mentor, battle their way through blizzards into the idyllic valley of Nirvana, where they meet the secret underground descendants of Vikings who long ago settled this land, before almost immediately participating in the palace coup which overthrows the brutal ruler and puts on the throne the young woman who Paul fell in love with as a boy back in Romania, where the narrative started.

Essays

Our Bodies, Their Battlefield: What War Does to Women by Christina Lamb (2025)

Warning: This review contains details of really disgusting and evil sexual violence perpetrated against women and girls that goes far beyond rape. If you’re of a sensitive disposition or prone to nightmares, don’t read it.

The more places I went to, the more prevalent I found rape was.

‘It is an everlasting nightmare.’
(Lola Narcisa Claveria, Filipino survivor of Japanese sex slavery, page 351)

This is a deeply upsetting but profoundly important book, often devastatingly depressing but sometimes genuinely inspiring. Christina Lamb is an award-winning journalist who has covered a variety of warzones in her career as well as writing 10 factual books. From early in her career she realised just how prevalent rape was as a weapon of war, not just as random outrages, but used systematically to demoralise enemy forces and terrorise entire populations. What she learned about the vicious sexual abuse of women in conflict after conflict was sickening and disgusting. But she also came to realise that the scale of the violence and abuse against women was often overlooked in journalism and history books overwhelmingly written by men (p.459); and by international bodies and courts more often than not run by men.

Everything has to start with the evidence and this means the first-hand testimony of the survivors. Telling their stories not only offers some form of closure for the victims, and the psychological validation of knowing someone believes them. It is also the start of gathering evidence, for use not only in possible court proceedings but to begin to be used in larger historical narratives, to begin to redress the gaping silence about one of the most overlooked and neglected parts of war and conflict – the unspeakable crimes, violence and abuse directed against women and girls, often on an industrial scale.

‘When I saw them laughing and humiliating us, I decided we needed to break the silence. If we didn’t talk about what we went through, and if they were not punished, what could we expect from their children but the same or greater evil?’ (Bakira Hasecic, founder of Association of Women Victims of War in Bosnia, p.167)

And so this substantial book (474 pages) records Lamb’s odyssey, over a seven year period, to track down, interview and record the testimonies of women who have suffered unbelievable horrors in conflict after conflict around the world.

Destinations

Lamb goes to:

2016 August: Leros, Greece The Greek island of Leros was used to house refugees from war in the Middle East including Yazidis who had been enslaved and trafficked by Islamic State.

2016: Baden-Wurtenberg The German province which took in 1,100 Yazidi women and children who had been treated as sex slaves by ISIS.

2016: Northeastern Nigeria: On 15 April 2014 the brutal Islamic terror group Boko Haram kidnapped 276 mostly Christian schoolgirls from the town of Chibok and carried them off into sexual slavery. #BringBackOurGirls or #BBOG went viral. Hardly any of the girls have been recovered.

2017 December: Bangladesh: Kutupalong To interview survivors of the 2017 massacres and mass rapes of Rohynga women by Burmese soldiers. In three months more than 650,000 were driven out of the west Burmese state of Rakhine, two-thirds of the Rohynga population.

Every single shack had terrible stories and I had never come across such widespread violation of women and girls. (p.75)

Bangladesh: Liberation War Museum, Dhaka and Sirajganj Up to 400,000 were women raped by Pakistani soldiers in Bangladesh’s war of independence as official Pakistan military policy. Lamb learns that the survivors were called birangonas from the Bengali word bir meaning war heroine (p.92).

‘Often when the women were raped the soldiers had grabbed their babies and stomped on them to death or thrown them so hard their brains had come out.’ (Safina; p.110)

Rwanda Aftermath of the 1994 Hutu genocide of Tutsis, itself the sequel to the 1959 Hutu Revolution, and pogroms of 1963 and 1973.

‘Of course they raped me… Wherever you were hiding under a tree a man would find you and rape you and sometimes kill you. There were lots of different men doing this and they used sticks and bottles into the private parts of many women right up to their stomach…’ (Serafina Mukakinani, p.132)

2018, March: Yugoslavia: Sarajevo The appalling atrocities of the Serbs in Bosnia, and the heroic efforts of Bakira Hasecic and her Association of Women Victims of War, founded in 2003, to bring the Serb torturers, murderers and rapists to justice.

Yugoslavia: Srebrenica Dragana Vucetic, senior forensic anthropologist at the International Commission of Missing Persons. On 11 July 1995 Serb militias took away about 8,300 Muslim men and boys, drove them out into fields or football grounds, then massacred them, shooting or bludgeoning them to death. Dr Branca Antic-Stauber who runs a charity for rape survivors and uses horticulture therapy.

2018, October: Berlin Stories of the vast mass rapes of German women and girls during the Red Army’s conquest of eastern Germany and Berlin at the end of the Second World War. In towns and villages every woman from eight to eighty was raped multiple times. ‘It was an army of rapists’ (Natalya Gesse, Soviet war correspondent, p.194) It is estimated that up to 2 million women and girls were rapes and scores of thousands of Germans committed suicide, and killed their children, rather than fall into the hands of the Russians.

2018, November: Buenos Aires In 1976 a military junta seized control of Argentina and rules for 7 years during which up to 30,000 leftists, trade unions and activists were kidnapped off the streets and ‘disappeared’. Estela Barnes de Carlotta, president of the Grandmothers or Las Abuelas (p.214).

2018, March: Mosul Lamb attends the hurried trials of a handful of the 30,000 or so people charged with being members of ISIS. Justice is a farce. The court doesn’t consider rape as a separate offence, all offences are grouped together as terrorism.

2018, April: Iraq: Dohuk The prevalence of suicide among Yazidi survivors of ISIS sex slavery.

2019, February: Democratic Republic of Congo: Bukavu In 2010 Congo was called the rape capital of the world. Lamb interviews Dr Denis Mukwege, founder of the Panzi Foundation, who has treated more rape victims than any other doctor in the world.

In the Second Congo War stories of women who were not only gang raped but then shot in the vagina, or had bayonets shoved in their vagina, or sticks soaked in fuel which was then set alight. Lamb discovers that Dr Mukwege’s clinic is seeing more and more raped babies. Some men believe that raping babies will give them magical powers; they are told this by witchdoctors (p.337).

In a gruelling book this chapter (chapter 13, pages 300 to 334) contains probably the worst atrocities (the 86-year-old who was raped, women’s vaginas set alight or hacked off, the mother who was forced at gunpoint to eat her own baby); but also the most inspiring moments. Lamb meets the inspiring Christine Schuler Deschryver, founder of City of Joy, a safe haven for survivors in Congo.

‘It’s about giving a woman value… I hug them and then they are healed and people say I have magic hands but it’s just love… I’m convinced you can change the world only by love’ (p.330)

It also contains the most telling evidence of the way rape used as a weapon of mass terrorisation is tied into broader economic and political structures. Because Deschryver points out that 1) Congo contains more of the rare metals needed to create mobile phones and batteries (cobalt, coltan) than any other country on earth; 2) if you drew a map of the rapes you’d see they cluster around mining areas, and so 3) rape is used as a strategy of terror by the militias and groups who control the mines and the regions around them. Which leads her onto her fourth point, 4) if the international community really wanted to end conflict in the Congo it could but, in Deschryver’s view, it suits multinational corporations to preserve Congo as an unstable mess the better to plunder the country of its cobalt, coltan and gold (p.331).

Democratic Republic of Congo: Kavumu Village where scores of babies and very small girls have been abducted, raped and their genitals destroyed, allegedly by the ‘Army of Jesus’, a militia controlled by a local warlord whose members have been told by a witchdoctor that the blood from raped and mutilated babies will make them invulnerable in battle (p.339). Although the warlord was eventually taken to court and convicted, the case went to appeal and none of the villagers knows whether he and his henchmen are in prison or not. Meanwhile, having lost all faith in the justice system, they have started to take the law into their own hands with lynchings and beheadings of suspect young men (p.348). Thus, chaos.

Manila Lamb meets surviving ‘comfort women’, enslaved by the occupying Japanese Army during the Second World War. They prefer to the term lolas which means grandmother in the local Tagalog language and which they use as an honorific, hence Lola Narcisa and Lola Estelita.

Concluding chapter 2020

Sexual violence against men

  • in eastern Congo a quarter of men in conflict zones have experienced sexual violence
  • in Afghanistan bacha bazi or the abuse of boys is common
  • in Syrian prisons under Bashar al-Assad, men and boys were submitted to horrifying sexual violence

The challenge of achieving justice Lamb jumps between a number of cases, showing the dedicated work of investigators, researchers, lawyers, prosecutors and judges, but how gruellingly slow it is and how pitifully few convictions are achieved. The Yazidis wait, the Rohingya wait for justice.

Guatemala During the 36-year-long civil war over 100,000 women were raped, mostly Mayans in an attempt to exterminate their ethnicity (p.387). In 2016 11 Mayan women secured the conviction of a retired army officer for sexually enslaving them.

Peru Over 5,000 women raped during the 11-year-long civil war with Shining Path guerrillas.

Colombia Sexual crimes have been included in crimes heard by the tribunal set up at the end of the 52-year-long civil war with the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC).

Chad Successful conviction of Chad’s despicable sadist president, Hissène Habré, who ruled through a reign of terror till his overthrow in 1990. In 2000 he was arrested and put on trial in neighbouring Senegal. In 2016 he was convicted of crimes against humanity, torture and rape and sentenced to life imprisonment.

Women in charge Lamb makes the telling point that most of these convictions were only secured when women were judges or prosecutors in the case.

2025 update

2022, May, Ukraine: Berestianka The Russians are back and they’re raping again. And looting everything they can to take back to their pitiful slum of a country. Gang rapes, torture, rape in front of the rest of the family etc (p,409). Rewarded by Putin on their return home. According to Lamb domestic violence is not criminalised in Russia and widely accepted. Figures. Whenever I read about Tolstoy or Dostoyevsky despising the decadent West, this is what I think of. Russia, home of domestic violence, epidemic alcoholism and rapists.

For the first time Ukraine established a court and started prosecuting Russian war criminals while the war was still ongoing (as it is today).

2023, autumn, Tel Aviv On 7 October 2023 Hamas fighters broke through the wall dividing Gaza from Israel and went on a rampage at multiple sites, massacring 1,200 civilians and taking 251 others back to Gaza as hostages. Lamb meets survivors, and speaks to the many first responders, therapists and women’s activists regarding the widespread evidence of sexual violence against the women victims: gang rapes and sexual mutilation i.e. shooting women in the vagina. In her interviewees’ opinion the intention was the most primitive one imaginable of attacking your enemies’ procreative ability, plus the more modern one of spreading not just terror but horror. The barbaric cruelty was exemplary in the sense that it was intended to traumatise an entire nation (which, arguably, it did).

Hebron in the West Bank. Lamb meets Palestinians who live under extraordinarily tight Israeli supervision, and then survivors of sexual violence inflicted by the Israeli Defence Force, and lawyers and NGOs who have reported on it. Interestingly, the main targets have been men and boys, designed to cause maximum humiliation in revenge for 7 October. The accusations of sexual humiliation in captivity sound identical to the Americans at Abu Ghraib.

‘It was me and two other prisoners and three border police. They filmed us naked then began to touch our bodies and make jokes and insulted us. One of them had a metal detector which he tried to put in our anuses.’ (Palestinian Thaer Fakhoury, p.448)

Avignon, December 2024 Lamb is introduced to Gisèle Pelicot, the woman drugged by her  husband who then invited men from a website group to come to their home and rape her. The police found thousands of videos on her husband’s laptop clearly identifying the men which allowed a trial to go forward with 50 accused. The key thing is she waived her right to anonymity in order to speak out and so became a heroine to anti-rape activists, feminists and ordinary people around the world.

Summary When she completed the first edition in 2020 Lamb couldn’t imagine that sexual violence in conflict would return to Europe, in the form of Russian soldiers raping Ukrainian women, or the horrors of the Hamas attack on Israel, or the eruption of brutal civil war in Sudan. Every year the UN presents a report on conflict-related sexual violence. The 2024 report concluded that conflict-related sexual violence is increasing.

Historical retrospective

Spain The really systematic mass rape of large populations of women probably first occurred in the Spanish Civil War 1936 to 1939. It was carried out by General Franco’s Falangist forces. ‘Not just rape but appalling evisceration of peasant women of Andalucia and Estremadura’, including the branding of their breasts with fascist symbols (historian Antony Beevor, quoted p.203).

Nanking The rape of Nanking, December 1937 to January 1938, where the Japanese accompanied mass murder of Chinese civilians with mass rape of women and girls.

Comfort women Euphemism for the hundreds of thousands of women and girls, predominantly from Japanese-occupied Asian countries, who were forced into sexual slavery by the Imperial Japanese Armed Forces before and during World War II.

Vietnam War 1961 to 1973: My Lai massacre and Tet Offensive.

Khmer Rouge 1975 to 1979. Cambodians murdered 2 million other Cambodians accompanied by mass rape.

Turkish invasion of Cyprus 1974, triggered widespread Turkish soldier rape of Greek women.

Timeline

1863 Abraham Lincoln issues general order 100 making rape carried out by soldiers of the Union Army punishable by death.

1919 Commission of Responsibilities established with rape near the top of the list of 32 war crimes.

1946 but at the war crimes tribunals at Nuremberg and Tokyo not a single prosecution for sexual violence.

1949 Geneva Convention, Article 27:

Women shall be especially protected against any attack on their honour, in particular against rape, enforced prostitution, or any form of indecent assault.

1973 Bangladesh declares rape a crime against humanity.

1993 International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY):

Men and women came forward to recount evils beyond imagining – women and girls locked up in schools and suffering repeated anal, oral and vaginal rape, people having their tongues cut off, or being burned alive as human torches as they ‘screamed like cats’ (p.160)

1994 International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) established in Arusha in Tanzania: Lamb interviews raped Tutsi women who testified in the first rape-as-war-crime trial. It was the first time rape was recognised as an instrument of genocide and prosecuted as a war crime.

‘I was raped countless times. The last group that raped me were so many people and one man shouted, “I can’t use my penis in that dirty place so I’ll use a stick.” I know many women who died like that. They sharpened the sticks and forced them right through their vaginas.’
(Cecile Mukurugwiza, p.141)

1998 first conviction for rape as a war crime.

1998 Rome Statute which established the International Criminal Court defined rape as a war crime.

2000 UN Security Council Resolution 1325 was the first formal and legal document from the Security Council that required parties in a conflict to prevent violations of women’s rights, to support women’s participation in peace negotiations and in post-conflict reconstruction, and to protect women and girls from wartime sexual violence; for ‘the greater inclusion of women in peace and security’.

2008 UN Security Council passed Resolution 1820 stating that ‘rape and other forms of sexual violence can constitute war crimes, crimes against humanity or a constitutive act with respect to genocide’.

2009 established the office of the Special Representative of the UN Secretary General on Sexual Violence in Conflict.

2010 Bangladesh sets up an International Crimes Tribunal. As of 2019 88 collaborators and party leaders had been tried for torture, murder and rape.

2011 In a video sent to a Nobel Women’s Initiative conference about sexual violence, Nobel Peace Prize laureate, Aung San Suu Kyi said:

‘Rape is used in my country as a weapon against those who only want to live in peace, who only want to assert their basic human rights. Especially in the areas of ethnic nationalities, rape is rife. It is used as a weapon by armed forces to intimidate the ethnic nationalities and to divide our country.’

2014 then UK Foreign Secretary William Hague organised a four-day conference calling for the end of sexual violence in conflict.

2016 International Criminal Court convicts Pierre Bemba of murder, rape and pillage carried out by his men during the 2002-3 war in the Central Africa Republic.

2018 Nobel Peace Prize awarded jointly to Denis Mukwege and Nadia Murad “for their efforts to end the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war and armed conflict”

2019 first conviction by the International Criminal Court for rape in wartime.

2019 report of the UN Special Representative listed 19 countries where women are being raped in war, by 12 armies and police forces and 41 non-state actors.

2019 Gambia took Myanmar to court over the Rohingya genocide, the first time one state had taken another to court over war crimes it had committed. Tried at the International Court of Justice in the Hague, resulting in orders against Myanmar carrying out any further genocide.

2020 first criminal trial of a member of Islamic State for crimes against the Yazidi, held in Germany, resulting in conviction and life imprisonment.

Learnings

Systematic mass rape, sexual violence, sexual torture and sexual mutilation are far more widespread than the bleakest pessimist could ever have expected.

Rape in conflict is rarely ad hoc, random and incidental. More often it is the result of encouragement or orders from the highest levels of military and political leadership, as in: mass rapes in Germany; mass rapes in Rwanda; mass rapes in Bosnia; mass rapes in Syria, and so on.

These kinds of mass rapes are now recognised, not as accidental by-products of the chaos of war, but as conscious war strategies, and as such, defined as war crimes. They are also associated with genocide, the conscious attempt to wipe out a people or group.

The genocidal intent is demonstrated in cases like the mass rape of Bangladeshi women and girls by the army of Pakistan, or the mass rapes of Bosnian Muslims by Bosnian Serbs, or the mass rape of Rohingya women by Burmese soldiers. In each instance the intent wasn’t sexual per se, the intent was to wipe out the victims’ ethnic group by breeding a new generation with the blood of the conquerors in them. In Bangladesh:

‘They had orders of a kind from Tikka Khan [Pakistan’s military governor in the East]… What they had to do was impregnate as many Bengali women as they could… so there would be a whole generation of children in East Pakistan that would be born with blood from the West.’ (p.97)

In Bosnia:

The victims ranged from between six to seventy years old and were raped repeatedly and often kept captive for several years. Many women were forcibly impregnated and held until termination of the pregnancy was impossible. The women were treated as property and rape was used with the intent to intimidate, humiliate and degrade. (p.156)

This same motive – ethnic triumphalism – explains why foetuses were cut out of pregnant women, babies were bludgeoned to death, and children were shot or had their throats cut.

Speaking about it helps. Sharing their stories in safe, supportive environments helps the survivors.

‘It’s all about giving them respect and them owning their stories. After a month, when they begin to tell their stories, sometimes OMG… and the transformation after six is huge. We turn pain into power and give victims strength to be leaders in their communities.’ (Christine Schuler Deschryver, founder of City of Joy, Congo, p.327)

But it never goes away. These women are profoundly damaged forever, as are their families, all their relationships, and their wider communities. And that was the intention.

‘That’s why rape really was a calculated weapon. The fellows who raped them and planned to rape them: they knew you either die now or die later but you’ll never be human again after this ordeal.’ (Rwanda Justice Minister Johnston Busingye, p.153)

As much or more healing comes from having the state formally recognise their plight, a formal recognition that it happened and that it was a crime.

‘It’s not possible to heal from this forever but it helps to speak about it as soon as possible and to share the story with someone compassionate. What I have seen definitely helps their healing is when perpetrators get punished because that gives the victim confirmation by authority she was not the one at fault for what happened to her and that she’s innocent.’ (Dr Branca Antic-Stauber, p.190)

‘Talking to the judges was the beginning of my rehabilitation. For so many years society did not want to listen… But now we could tell our side of the story… Seeing the life sentences at long last, after all they did to us, truly, it gives you your life back.’ (Graciela Garcia Romero, p.238)

In conservative societies state recognition can support recognition at local, village and family level. A striking example is the way the first president of Bangladesh, Sheikh Mujibur Rahman, who recognised the horrific scale of the mass rapes carried out by the Pakistan army and coined a term of praise for the victims, calling them Birangona, or ‘war heroines’.

Better still, though, is the healing effect of watching their perpetrators brought to justice, tried and convicted of their crimes. This validates the victims’ experiences and assures them that the world around them understands and values their suffering.

‘Their actions changed the law and criminal justice for every woman. The women showed you can take the worst trauma and turn it into a story of strength and victory.’ (Erica Barks-Ruggles, US ambassador to Kigali, on the rape survivors who travelled to the Rwanda genocide tribunal to testify against the perpetrators, p.149)

The only problem is it happens pitifully rarely.

Meanwhile, many of the women interviewed wanted their perpetrators to be killed (p.119).

‘I want the worst things to happen to the men that did this to me. I want them to die not in a quick or humane way but slowly, slowly, so they know what it’s like to do bad things to people.’ (Naima, a Yazidi enslaved by ISIS, p.264)

‘I feel so angry at what those Japanese did to me and my family, that if I saw them today I would kill them.’ (Lola Narcisa Claveria, Filipino woman enslaved by the Japanese p.357)

‘I hate them so much and wish death to all of them and Putin.’ (Vika, Ukrainian woman raped by Russian soldiers, p.403)

Charities have discovered that a good way to draw survivors out of their often disastrous mental suffering is to give them tasks, jobs, skills training and agency. Like the farm bought by Christine Schuler Deschryver, to be run by rape survivors in Congo (p.329) or Dr Branca Antic-Stauber’s idea of setting up a rose-growing business to employ survivors in Bosnia (p.185)

No index

There’s no index. Why?

Similarly no list of the organisations mentioned in each country, or organisations addressing sexual violence generally. I supply my own list below.

Human history

Well, I’ve explained my view of human history in a separate blog post:

History is an abattoir. What was written down is a tiny fraction of what happened, and it was written by the educated and privileged, mostly sucking up to kings and khans. The reality of human existence for most humans for most of human history has been unspeakably brutal.

Last thought

In his brilliant series of books about conflict and international order in the 1990s, Michael Ignatieff divides the world into zones of conflict and zones of safety. Every day I thank my lucky stars that I was born and lived all my life in what he calls a ‘zone of safety’. Way before you get to my white privilege or my male privilege, I give thanks for my safety privilege.


Credit

‘Our Bodies, Their Battlefield: What War Does to Women’ by Christina Lamb was first published by William Collins in 2020. I read the updated 2025 paperback edition.

Organisations mentioned in the text

Support organisations

At the end of the Unsilenced exhibition at the Imperial War Museum, the curators give a list of support organisations, which I repeat here:

Related reviews

Ancient India: living traditions @ the British Museum

‘God – or his avatars, manifestations – is believed to dwell in the sacred images. The clothing and adornments are devotional offerings, expressions of a loving relationship with God.’

Hinduism, Buddhism and Jainism – some 2 billion people follow these three major world religions. This fabulous, beautifully staged and atmospheric exhibition at the British Museum brings together 180 objects – imposing statues and friezes, vibrant paintings, glittering coins and bracelets, drawings and manuscripts, as well as half a dozen videos – to explain the origins of the imagery and iconography of these three religions and (in the videos) how they live on into contemporary religious practice.

The exhibition focuses on the period between 200 BC and AD 600. It was during this period that artistic depictions of the gods and enlightened teachers of these three religions dramatically changed from purely symbolic or abstract images to showing them as human figures. It was during this period that much of the iconic imagery and attributes that today’s followers are familiar with, first emerged.

A highlight of the show is the evolution of depictions of the Buddha, tracing the transformation from symbolic representations to the human form we recognise today. In contrast, images of the Hindu goddess Lakshmi, associated with wealth and good fortune, have remained largely unchanged for over two millennia.

Installation view of Ancient India: living traditions at the British Museum showing the opening three statues (photo by the author)

Right at the start the visitor is confronted by these three statues, one each from the Buddhist, Hindu and Jain traditions, and invites us to ‘meet’ (from left to right) the Buddha, Ganesha and a tirthankara.

And straightaway we are also faced with the exhibition’s strengths and challenges. Its strengths are that:

  • it is stylishly designed, with hanging curtains dividing different sections, with soft lighting and ambient sounds (featuring the sound of rivers, monsoon rains, thunder and wind blowing through grass, animals, people worshipping in temples, monasteries and shrines, bells, gongs, cymbals, horns and drums)
  • you are subtly aware of the gentle scent of sandalwood in the background
  • it is extremely informative
  • it contains many really beautiful objects, particularly the many striking statues

Installation view of Ancient India: living traditions at the British Museum (photo by the author)

Its challenge is that describing the iconography of not one but three religions entails a dazzling amount of information. To be more precise, I was a little overwhelmed by the number of numbers involved in each of these religious traditions.

As I went from one wall panel to the next I reflected on how relatively simple the Christian tradition I was raised in is: the Catholic tradition has a vast number of saints, but in essence Christianity boils down to: there is one God, he created earth, heaven and hell; humans disobeyed him and their disobedience is recreated in each generation and augmented by all our individual sins; so he sent his son Jesus to die as an act of atonement, as expiation for our sins; and everyone who truly believes in him will be saved from hell and go to spend eternity in heaven.

Similarly, the pantheon of the ancient Greeks contains numerous demigods and spirits of woods and rivers and so on, but the core is relatively straightforward: gods of heaven, sea and underworld, each with a wife; gods of war, beauty and wisdom; a messenger, a blacksmith – ten or so gods you need to remember – and these were copied or mapped onto the traditional Roman gods and then disseminated across Europe and round the Mediterranean.

It’s even simpler for Judaism which, beneath its plethora of rules and customs, depends on one creator god, Yahweh; let alone Islam, again festooned with customs, saints and so on, but which can be boiled down to the Shahada, ‘There is no god but God and Muhammad is his prophet’.

But here, right at the start of the exhibition, you learn that these three Indian religions – Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism – contained a sometimes bewildering multiplicity of entities. If you’re brought up in the tradition no doubt you know them from the cradle, or at least know which ones are important to your community. But as an outsider, trying to process the sheer number of beings, across so many interlinked but separate traditions, and stretching far beyond the borders of India (the exhibition includes a section about the spread of these religions to South East Asia and beyond), is quite a challenge.

Numbers

Jainism

Jains follow the teachings of twenty-four tirthankaras – enlightened beings – who are human rather than divine, and are attended by male and female nature spirits. They also worship some gods.

To help them, they have sixteen goddesses of knowledge called Vidyadevisvidya means knowledge in Sanskrit and devi means goddess. They are usually depicted holding a manuscript and sometimes a pen.

All 24 Jain enlightened teachers have identical bodies because they are depicted as they are about to enter the heavens – the realm of liberated souls at the top of the universe. So that devotees can tell them apart, symbols from stories connected with their lives are used.

Jains follow the Three Jewels – right faith, right knowledge, right conduct – to enable their immortal souls to live in a state of bliss. Ahimsa (non-violence) is central to their faith, as is the belief that humans, animals and plants have living souls.

Parshvanatha is the 23rd tirthankara, depicted in the exhibition in a sandstone sculpture.

The Jain universe is divided into three worlds – the hells, the middle world and the heavens. As beings advance spiritually, their souls are eventually liberated from the cycle of rebirth and reach the heavens. The three worlds are depicted in a vivid painted cotton map showing the two-and-a-half continents of the middle world, where humans reside.

Map of the Jain universe. Gujarat or Rajasthan, India (1700 to 1900) © The Trustees of the British Museum

Buddhism

Buddhism is based on the teachings and philosophy of Siddhartha Gautama, a prince who became known as the Buddha after gaining enlightenment. He taught the Four Noble Truths, helping others to also achieve enlightenment.

Hinduism

Many Hindu teachings emphasise the four aims of lifedharma (righteous duty), artha (prosperity), kama (desires) and moksha (liberation from the cycle of rebirth).

Vishnu is said to have ten principal avatars, known as the Dashavatara, who appear to restore cosmic order and protect righteousness. While these ten are the most celebrated, texts like the Bhagavata Purana suggest his incarnations are innumerable.

Hindus believe Vishnu uses the different incarnations to preserve order on earth and to save the world and humankind from disaster. His first form is Matsya the fish, who rescued the first man from a great flood. Here, Vishnu emerges from Matsya’s mouth. Rama, Vishnu’s seventh avatar, is a central character in India’s epic poem the Ramayana.

Images of Hindu goddesses have many features in common with those of female nature spirits, including floral headdresses, plentiful jewellery and full figures. During the first century AD, an important moment of artistic innovation occurred when deities began to be shown with multiple arms. Each hand was held in a particular gesture or carried something which enabled the devotee to identify the god.

Overlap

Maybe the biggest single learning from the whole exhibition is the surprising extent to which these three major religious traditions had common origins, often in local nature gods and spirits and how, even when they’d become distinct belief systems, they still strongly influenced and interpenetrated each other.

There is a surprising amount of overlap among the gods and spirits and guardians and scared figures of Buddhism, Hinduism and Jainism and the exhibition includes objects demonstrating how nature spirits or gods or guardians from one tradition morphed into another, or highlighting the common origins of many traditions, figures and stories.

Some learnings

It is an information-rich exhibition which, as I said, I struggled to fully absorb and process. Here are some choice learnings:

Nagas and naginis are male and female serpent spirits who control life-giving waters. These nature spirits grant wealth, fertility and protection but they can also kill with a single bite. Among the most ancient deities to be venerated in India, they are usually depicted as many-headed cobras. Such was their enduring power and popularity that they were incorporated into Jain, Buddhist and Hindu art.

A nagini is a female sacred serpent. She has a woman’s torso, but still has her snake tail and her canopy rising above her head. Such figures are erected at temples or by trees and bodies of water, where they are venerated for their life-giving powers.

A nagaraja or snake king. Divine snakes are usually represented as many-headed cobras and snake kings tend to have five or seven hoods. Images of sacred snakes are often placed at entrances to sacred buildings – whether Hindu, Jain or Buddhist – to protect them.

Ancient sculptures show Hindu gods taming the powerful and ancient snake kings Kaliya, Vasuki and Ananta Sesha.

Manasa is a snake goddess venerated by Buddhists and Hindus alike for her ability to provide prosperity, children and protection from snakes. She can also cause harm with a deadly snakebite. Depicted as a beautiful woman surrounded by snakes, she usually holds a serpent or a child.

Yakshas are male nature spirits associated with trees, mountains, bodies of water and wealth. Widespread across India, yakshas were gradually adopted by Jains, Buddhists and Hindus, who used their imagery and attributes when they began to depict their gods and enlightened teachers in human form.

The famous elephant god Ganesha has yaksha origins as indicated by his elephant head and potbelly. Ganesha symbolises wisdom and new beginnings.

Installation view of Ancient India: living traditions at the British Museum showing a 2nd century AD statue of Ganesha (photo by the author)

Kubera is the king of yakshas and also the god of wealth, emphasised by his potbelly and plentiful jewellery.

Yakshis are powerful female nature spirits able to bestow abundance and fertility, as well as death and disease. Originally independent goddesses, many yakshis were given male consorts when adopted into Jainism, Buddhism and Hinduism.

Yakshis are always depicted as full-figured, extravagantly bejewelled women standing and looking directly at the viewer.

A stupa is a dome-shaped memorial shrine built over sacred relics, built by both Buddhists and Jainists.

Mathura was a major ancient centre of production for Jain, Buddhist and Hindu devotional sculpture in northern India. The earliest known and definite images of Jain tirthankaras (enlightened teachers) depicted in human form are from here, perhaps dating to about 100 BC. The earliest dated figurative sculptures of the Buddha that survive today were produced in Mathura.

Incidentally, the earliest images of the Buddha in human form were created independently in Mathura (India), the Swat Valley (Pakistan) and Gandhara (Pakistan and Afghanistan).

Ayagapatas, square or rectangular tablets of homage depicting tirthankaras, shrines and deities, are a uniquely Jain innovation. They often have inscriptions from donors, many of whom were women, who gained spiritual merit through their donations.

Bodhisattvas are beings who seek enlightenment, whereas great bodhisattvas have gained additional powers over many lifetimes, enabling them to perform miracles and help others on the path to enlightenment. There are generally accepted to be eight great bodhisattvas, although other traditions speak of four (Chinese Buddhism) or as many as 16.

A distinctive feature of Buddha images from both Sri Lanka and southern India is the flame-shaped ushnisha on top of his head, representing his enlightenment.

Individual gods

According to Buddhist tradition, Hariti was associated with smallpox, and the stealing and killing of children to feed her large family. To show Hariti how much these parents were suffering, the Buddha briefly hid one of Hariti’s children beneath his rice bowl. She was so distraught that from that moment on she vowed to protect all children and women in childbirth.

Isakki and Pecci are worshipped in Tamil Nadu, India’s southernmost state, and among Tamil communities living elsewhere. Devotees believe that such goddesses were women who perhaps died during pregnancy or childbirth and were later deified.

Mount Mandara rests on the back of Kurma, a tortoise and one of the god Vishnu’s bodily forms on earth.

The great bodhisattvas include figures such as Tara and Avalokiteshvara.

Statistics

I like numbers. The show prompted me to do some research. Here’s the number of followers of each religion worldwide:

  • Hindus – 1.2 billion, 15% of global population
  • Buddhists – 535 million, 7% of global population
  • Jainists – 12 million (but tricky to pin down because many Jainists identify as Hindu), about 0.15% of global population

And in the UK:

  • Hindus – 1 million, 1.7% of UK population (cf Muslims 4 million, 6%)
  • Buddhists – 275,000, 0.4% of population (around the same as Jews, 313,000, 0.6%)
  • Jainists – 25,000

South East Asia

Buddhist and Hindu devotional art spread along sea and land-based trading networks to Southeast, Central and East Asia. Sacred imagery and religious ideas from India were adopted and adapted to merge with local beliefs and styles, producing unique depictions of Buddhist and Hindu deities and enlightened teachers. Enough core features were retained, such as the ushnisha on the Buddha’s head symbolising his wisdom, to enable devotees from different regions and cultures to still recognise the gods and teachers depicted.

New and distinct architecture also emerged to house these sacred images. Fascinatingly, the largest surviving ancient temple complexes for both Buddhism and Hinduism are found, not in India, but in Southeast Asia, such as Angkor Wat in Cambodia.

Gallery

Shiva

In some of the earliest representations of the Hindu god Shiva, he is depicted as Ardhanarishvara which represents the divine couple Shiva and Parvati. In this painting, Shiva is shown on the left with the river Ganges flowing from his matted hair while he carries a trident and drum. His consort Parvati wears a crown and holds prayer beads.

Ardhanarishvara, ‘lord who is half woman’, Shiva and Parvati combined in one deity, about 1790 to 1810 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Buddha

The Buddha was first represented symbolically, through footprints or a tree, for example, and was only later depicted in human form. This gold reliquary might represent the earliest dateable image of the Buddha shown as a man, as coins found with it could date to the late 1st century AD. The Buddha stands with his right hand raised in the gesture of reassurance and is flanked by the gods Indra (right) and Brahma (left).

Bimaran casket, about 1st century © The Trustees of the British Museum

Gaja-Lakshmi

Gaja-Lakshmi (‘Elephant Lakshmi’) has yakshi (female nature spirit) origins. She bestows good fortune and is one of the most popular Hindu, Buddhist and Jain goddesses. The dark bodies of the elephants symbolise monsoon clouds filled with much-anticipated rain ready to bring the earth to life. This image so successfully conveys the message of abundance and fertility that it has remained largely unchanged for the last 2,000 years.

Gaja-Lakshmi (‘Elephant Lakshmi’) goddess of good fortune, about 1780 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Ganesha

Hindu ideas and imagery flowed in both directions between India and Southeast Asia. The elephant-headed god Ganesha is part of Southeast Asia’s diverse religious landscapes. This sculpture shows Ganesha’s traditional attributes, such as his broken tusk, axe and prayer beads, along with some differences. Javanese artists often portrayed him with skulls, his feet together and carrying an empty bowl rather than one filled with sweets, indicating that varying communities understood and worshipped him differently.

Ganesha made in Java from volcanic stone, about AD 1000 to 1200 © The Trustees of the British Museum

A yaksha

This mottled pink sandstone figure represents a yaksha (male nature spirit). Yakshas can grant prosperity but also make life difficult if not properly placated. This is represented by the fierce or scowling expressions on these yakshas. Leaves sprout above this yaksha’s ears which possibly connects him with trees.

Head of a grimacing yaksha, about 2nd or 3rd century © Ashmolean Museum, University of Oxford

Naga

Stone plaque with the rearing figure of a five-headed cobra. Plaques like these can be difficult to date as some have been placed by sacred tree shrines for over a thousand years. Snake veneration belongs to the most ancient and potent substrate of Indian religion. Today, across India, popular veneration of divine snakes by followers of different religions still centres on devotional images such as this one.

Naga, about 17th century © The Trustees of the British Museum

Silk Buddha

From about the third century BC, following trading networks, Buddhist missionaries took their faith and its devotional art beyond India. In different regions, Buddhist art merged with local ideas and art to form new artistic styles. This is one of the oldest and best-preserved paintings from Cave 17 – the famous ‘Library Cave’ at Dunhuang. It shows the Buddha, seated between bodhisattvas, with his hands in the gesture of preaching This composition originates from earlier devotional images from India which became popular across East Asia.

Silk watercolour painting of the Buddha, China, about AD 701 to 750 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Seated Jain

This marble figure depicts a Jain tirthankara (enlightened teacher). Tirthankaras are human, not divine, and the earliest certain representations of them in human form were shaped in Mathura, possibly in about the first century BC. Seated in meditation, the tirthankara has the sacred symbol of an endless knot in the middle of his chest.

Seated Jain enlightened teacher meditating, about 1150 to 1200 © The Trustees of the British Museum


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Silk Roads @ the British Museum

N.B. You can skip my comments and go straight to the Gallery of images at the end of this review…

‘Silk Roads’ is an epic exhibition with over 300 precious and ancient objects and artefacts on display, in a myriad formats from huge Sogdalian wall friezes to tiny Anglo-Saxon coins, from a not-quite-life sized ceramic camel to fragments of Sassanid glass.

Chinese ceramics in ‘Silk Roads’ at the British Museum (photo by the author)

It contains not just a bewildering number of objects but addresses a huge time period (nominally 500 to 1000 AD, but with spillover at both ends), covers a vast geographical territory (from Korea in the East to Ireland in the West) and, above all, deals with an enormous subject.

As I heard the Director of the National Gallery say at the opening of their awesome Van Gogh exhibition, ‘Every exhibition needs a thesis’ and ‘Silk Roads’ is no exception. First I’ll explain 1) what the curators think they’re doing in this show, then 2) why I think the exhibition as it actually exists goes well beyond their intentions and, indeed, potentially blows the whole subject sky high.

1. The curators’ intentions

Many historical and art exhibitions are based on a simple premise which goes something like this: most people have a received view about X (when X stands for any historical or cultural subject you can think of, the Tudors, the Blitz, the Spanish Inquisition, what you will) but now this exhibition brings together the very latest scholarship about X to reveal that X (the Tudors, the Blitz, whatever) was far more complicated and has far more contemporary echoes than most people think!

‘Silk Roads’ starts with exactly this sort of premise. Most people’s image of the Silk Road is camels traipsing across the desert laden with treasure from the mysterious East. but now this blockbusting exhibition can reveal that the silk road was far, far more complex, more complicated, far-flung and multi-layered, and has far more contemporary resonance, than you ever imagined!

Premise 1: silk roads

To start with a small thing, the curators very deliberately place a plural in the title to make it Silk Roads, indicating that there was always more than one silk road. I read Peter Hopkirk’s trilogy of books about the silk road back in the 1980s and remember that the trading route from China split in two when it got to the great Taklamakan desert, one route going north round it, the other going south round it and then further splitting, one branch heading south into India, others carrying on to Persia, the Middle East and beyond. I thought the multiplicity of roads was well known (for people interesting in the subject).

Here’s a load of maps of the silk roads, from which you can see that the basic fact that it consisted of numerous routes is axiomatic, universal, basic knowledge, hardly a big revelation.

Premise 2: the connected medieval world

The second point the curators want to make is about how interconnected the world of 500 to 1000 AD was, with trade routes being much more complex and far-flung than anyone previously realised, linking up all manner of cultures, countries and peoples who, in the stereotypical old worldview were conceived of as being remote and separate.

They make this point right at the start of the show with one little object which is the sole exhibit in the atrium or introductory space and designed to embody their point. It’s a statue of the Buddha probably made in the Swat Valley, an early Buddhist centre in what is now Pakistan, sometime around 500 AD. But it was discovered some 5,000 kilometres away, on the tiny Swedish island of Helgö.

Buddha from the Swat Valley, Pakistan; found in Helgö, Uppland, Sweden (made late AD 500s to mid-600s) (photo by the author)

Thus this one object symbolises the breath-taking extent of trading networks across early medieval Europe and Asia in what the curators call ‘a deeply connected world’.

However, as with premise 1, this ‘revelation’ actually comes as no great news to anyone who regularly visits history museums or has any kind of interest in medieval history. Quite the contrary, this is a message the BM has been banging home since at least the turn of the century. Its blockbuster exhibitions about the Vikings (2014), Celts (2015), Scythians (2017), Stonehenge (2022) and Roman legions (2024), all of these exhibitions contained sections and panels explaining that the traffic of goods and commodities, metals and coinage, jewellery and spices, has been astonishingly widespread along chains of communication which were mind-bogglingly long, throughout most of the history (the Stonehenge one was the most revelatory in tis respect).

In fact the very farflung nature of trading routes is one of the chief findings of modern archaeology and of evermore sophisticated forensic techniques which allow us to locate with pinpoint precision the origins of specific fabrics, metals and other to mines and factories, craftshops and workings, sometimes thousands of miles distant from where the final object was found. So far from being new, this idea is a cliché or at least a basic axiom of contemporary archaeology.

So I would argue that neither of the curators’ premises of the exhibition (that there were many silk roads and that trade networks were astonishingly far-flung) is particularly new or newsworthy.

Still from the introductory video to ‘Silk Roads’ at the British Museum telling us that it was, er, ‘a deeply connected world’ with big red rings indicating the five main areas of interest and how they overlap to cover all of Eurasia (photo by the author)

On the other hand what does feel new about the exhibition is 1) that the curators have vastly expanded the definition of ‘the silk roads’, extending it so much that I wonder whether it ends up destroying the whole concept altogether.

And what is spectacularly notable about this exhibition is the sheer number of fascinating, beautiful, exquisite and entrancing artefacts the curators have assembled in one place, to convey information about a mind-blowing range of cultures, histories, religions, goods and commodities which this new, expanded concept of ‘silk roads’ allows them to explain and showcase. This is a staggering, dazzling exhibition.

2. The actual exhibition

Surprise 1: the geographic expansion of the concept

So on this point of really expanding the whole concept of the silk road, the first surprise occurs when you walk round the corner from the space devoted to the little Buddha and are confronted not with something about China, silk or the desert but with lengthy wall labels about Korea and Japan. To be precise, informing us about:

  • Japan of the Nara period (710 to 784) whose capital was Heijō-kyō (present-day Nara)
  • Korea under the Silla dynasty (676 to 935) with its capital Geumseong (present-day Gyeongju)
  • China of the Tang dynasty (618 to 907) whose capital was Chang’an

Korea and especially Japan are drastically beyond the boundaries of any previous definition of the silk roads I’ve ever read. They are as far to the East of Asia as you can get.

For this is how the exhibition is laid out, though it took me a while to realise it: the curators intend that we start in Japan (to the far East of Asia) and then shuffled past a host of displays and panels taking us slowly westwards, through Korea, into heartland China, on to the trading centre of Dunhuang (location of the famous ‘library cave’), on through Tibet and into the Central Asian republics of Uzbekistan and the like, on to the cities of Samarkand etc. Then into the Middle East – Baghdad, Damascus – onto Constantinople the gateway into Europe, through the Balkans, Italy, France of the time of Charlemagne, and finally on into Anglo-Saxon Britain to see coins from the kingdom of Mercia and treasures from Sutton Hoo in East Anglia, before we end up with some choice artefacts from Scotland and Ireland at the furthest remote periphery of Europe in the West.

Each major ‘stop’ on this journey across Asia and Europe is indicated by a big white sign hanging from the ceiling. Here’s a photo of the start of the exhibition, with areas devoted to the Chinese cities Chang’An and Dunhuang…

Installation view of Silk Roads at the British Museum showing ceiling signs (photo by the author)

And here we are half way through the exhibition, with Constantinople and Ravenna in the foreground, and the final displays about Sutton Hoo and Rhynie in Scotland in the background.

Installation view of Silk Roads at the British Museum showing more ceiling signs (photo by the author)

Thus the visitor starts out by reading about the early medieval kingdoms of Korea, Japan and China and then passes slowly through a series of kingdoms and capitals, right across this huge geographic space.

It was as I grasped the curators’ intention, to describe the classic products of every culture, religion and the trade routes between every major city from coastal Japan to the Highlands of Scotland, that it dawned on me that you could quite happily abandon the notion of ‘silk roads’ altogether and more accurately take this huge exhibition as a kind of encyclopedia of early medieval cultures, kingdoms and religions, which just happens to have an emphasis towards trade goods. In my mind it metamorphosed into an exhibition which ought to have been called ‘The Silk Roads and Beyond‘.

Surprise 2: the inclusion of sea routes

Another point – Japan is not connected to any other country by roads. Japan consists of islands. Japan’s trade takes place by sea. And so, in a drastic departure from normal thinking about the silk roads, the curators have included the oceanic trade routes of the period (500 to 1000 AD), with maps and descriptions and object from sea of routes from Japan or China or Korea, around South-East Asia, around India, the Bay of Bengal, up the Red Sea into Arabia. From other directions we are told about the sea routes around the Mediterranean and on, as mentioned to the remote islands of Britain.

A prime example is the display case about the wreck of a medieval trading vessel which was discovered in 1998 on the seabed near Belitung Island, Indonesia which had lain untouched on the seabed for over a thousand years. It is thought to have been heading from southern China to the Arabian peninsula or the Persian Gulf and was laden with a huge cargo of over 60,000 items, the vast majority Chinese ceramics.

The curators make the point that:

This shipwreck reveals the scale and importance of transoceanic connections between AD 500 to 1000. It also illustrates how maritime, as opposed to overland, routes enabled the movement of large volumes of goods.

But surely the inclusion of sea routes reinforces the impression from the points I’ve made above, that the exhibition is so wide-ranging, sets its boundaries so far beyond the traditional definitions of what the silk road was, that maybe it’s not about the silk roads at all any more. Maybe the exhibition should more accurately have been titled ‘Trade routes of the early medieval world’.

Surprise 3: the emphasis on the spread of religions

Third point supporting this argument is…I thought an exhibition called ‘Silk Roads’ might go heavy on silk and silk trading. Now it’s true that there’s a smallish section in the middle which has a film of a contemporary weaver weaving with silk, there’s one panel about silk worms and the mulberry tree and half a dozen ancient artefacts made of silk (small rugs, shirts).

But it’s much, much, much more about something closer to sociology, in particular its focus on the movement – of goods, yes, sure – but much more the movement of peoples and, above all, of religions.

There is much, much more about the origins and spread of Buddhism, Christianity and Islam than there is about silk. We are told how Buddhism spread out of north India into Tibet, China (where it encountered native Daoism) and east to Korea and Japan (where it encountered native beliefs in Shinto). There are also sections on Manicheism and Zoroastrianism, both of which came out of Persia.

We are told how Christianity spread along trade routes from Palestine down into Arabia and east through Afghanistan and into India. And then, of course, the advent of Islam which came racing out of Arabia, conquered Egypt and north Africa as far as Spain in one direction, and swept into modern Iraq and on into Persia, before settling down to conduct a long struggle with the Byzantine empire.

All of these religions are given extensive wall labels describing their key tenets, as well as maps showing how they spread along, yes, the major trading routes the exhibition is describing.

So this, if you like, is the third way the curators expand the concept of the silk road: 1) the geographical extension to extend from Japan to Galway, 2) the inclusion of all the known sea routes of the time, 3) the focus less on goods and trade, than the spread of peoples and, in particular, religions.

To some extent anyone with an interest in Dark Age history should know this stuff, especially about the rise of Islam. What feels new is the specific focus on the trade routes which religious beliefs spread along, precisely mapping out how Buddhism came to central China or Christianity penetrated into western India or Islam extended to central France.

And what is wonderful about this exhibition is the way all these ideas are given material embodiment in a huge range of fascinating and sometimes very beautiful, often priceless historical artefacts.

Gallery

All the text in this section consists of direct quotations of the curators’ artefact labels.

Chinese camel

Glazed ceramic figurines made for burials in Tang dynasty China (618 to 907) include lively representations of camels bearing goods that were imported and exported from the realm. This example from Luoyang depicts a dual-humped Bactrian camel laden with coiled silk, folded fabric, a West or Central Asian ewer and possibly a piece of rib meat, next to bags covered with monster masks.

Ceramic figure of a camel © The Trustees of the British Museum

Byzantine ivory

Ivories are strongly associated with Byzantium, but their production depended on long-distance trade routes. After the extinction of the North African elephant (AD 200s), suppliers turned to India and Aksum in northeast Africa to maintain the high demand for tusks. Elephant ivory was used for everyday, mass-produced items like this imitation wax writing tablet that was reused multiple times over centuries, finally for church services. It was also carved into astonishing works of art, such as these exquisitely carved panels depicting events before and after Christ’s resurrection.

Ivory carvings from Constantinople in ‘Silk Roads at the British Museum (photo by the author)

A Muslim map

This map was originally drawn by al-Idrisi (active 1154) for the Christian king of Sicily, Roger II (ruled
1130 to 1154). It follows a tradition in Islamic mapmaking that orientates the world southwards and places the centre of the world in Mecca, the focus of Muslim pilgrimage. It shows Arabia as part of the wider world of Afro-Eurasia, illustrating its connection to the Mediterranean coastline extending to the Iberian Peninsula and eastward across the Indian Ocean, reaching China.

Map of the world from al-Idrisi’s Nuzhat almushtaq fi ikh0raq al-afaq (Pleasure of He who Longs to Cross the Horizons), 1533 manuscript of a 1154 original © The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford

Samarkand chess pieces

This set of seven ivory chess pieces is the oldest set known to this day. It was excavated at the archaeological site of Afrasiab in Samarkand, Uzbekistan. Coin finds from the same excavated layer help date it to AD 700s. Probably originating in India around AD 500, the game of chess spread to the Sasanian empire, then across the Islamic world and to Europe.

Ivory chess pieces © ACDF of Uzbekistan, Samarkand State Museum Reserve. Photo By Andrey Arakelyan

Sogdian wall painting 1

This wall painting comes from a reception hall belonging to a Sogdian aristocrat in Afrasiab (Samarkand). Sogdians from Central Asia were once great traders of the Silk Roads. The reception hall includes depictions of figures from neighbouring and distant lands as far as the Korean Peninsula. This section of the wall painting shows a ceremonial procession on its way to pay tribute to the ancestors of the ruler of Samarkand. It highlights the prosperity and cosmopolitanism of the Sogdians in their homeland.

Wall painting from the south wall of the ‘Hall of the Ambassadors’ (Panoramic) © ACDF of Uzbekistan, Samarkand State Museum Reserve. Photo by Andrey Arakelyan

Sogdian wall painting 2

Detail showing the two camel riders in the procession.

Wall painting from the south wall of the ‘Hall of the Ambassadors’ (close up) © ACDF of Uzbekistan, Samarkand State Museum Reserve. Photo by Andrey Arakelyan

Frankish casket

This beautiful casket made from whalebone in the northeast of England was carved with intricate scenes from the Bible i.e. stories from Palestine 4,000 miles away and centuries earlier, as well as scenes from northern-European mythology and Jewish and Roman history. It is captioned in Latin and runic Old English, all evoking the designer’s worldly knowledge. The inscription on the front panel commemorates the whale from whose bones it was carved. For the curators it ‘really encapsulates the transcontinental breadth of connectivity between AD 500 and 1000’.

‘The Franks Casket’ © The Trustees of the British Museum

Anglo-Saxon clasp

The famous ship burial at Sutton Hoo in Suffolk contained the finest known examples of garnet cloisonné metalwork. Scientific analysis undertaken for this exhibition has traced the gems on this shoulder clasp to distant sources. In the curved part of the clasp, the bodies of two boars are formed by purple-red Indian garnets. Their bristly backs are tiny orange-red Bohemian (Czech) and Sri Lankan gems.

Gold Shoulder Clasp © The Trustees of the British Museum

Lombard drinking horn

The Lombards, who had migrated to Italy from Pannonia (Central Europe) in AD 568, assumed and adapted many aspects of Byzantine life, from political infrastructure to fashions and tableware. This elegant drinking-horn, found at Sutri in Italy, is a characteristically northern European form but crafted in cobalt-blue Mediterranean glass.

Glass drinking horn, Italy, AD 550 to 600 © The Trustees of the British Museum

Lothar

Charlemagne’s dynasty adapted Roman and Byzantine symbolism to craft an imperial identity for Francia. This splendid manuscript, written in Roman-style gold script, portrays his grandson and successor, Lothar I (ruled AD 817 to 855), in the garb of a Roman emperor against an imperial purple backdrop. His gem-encrusted cloak combines imported sapphires, emeralds and pearls, popular in late Roman and Byzantine culture, with traditionally Frankish red garnets. The finger ring is decorated with Carolingian-style beasts that clasp a Roman engraved gem between their paws.

The ‘Lothar Psalter’ from Aachen, Germany (AD 840 to 855) British Library (photo by the author)


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Zanzibar by Giles Foden (2002)

‘My dear boy, this is Africa.’
(Beaten-up old Brit, Ralph Leggatt, to naive young American, Nick Karolides, in Zanzibar, page 97)

This is a 389-page thriller about the 1998 embassy bombings in East Africa:

The 1998 United States embassy bombings occurred on 7 August 1998. More than 220 people were killed in nearly simultaneous truck bomb explosions in two East African cities, one at the United States Embassy in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, and the other at the United States Embassy in Nairobi, Kenya.

Like many a thriller it opens with short, elliptical sections devoted to a handful of disparate characters. Only slowly do we find out more about them and begin to realise that their paths are ‘destined’ to cross. They are:

Khaled al-Kidr, native of Zanzibar who, aged 21, comes home to find his mother and father dead with their throats cut. He wastes his inheritance on drinking and women until an uncle figure, Zayn Mujuj, confides that his father worked for a secret Islamic organisation and was murdered by American-Israeli agents (p.53). At which point Khaled signs up for jihad, travelling to work for ‘the Sheikh. in Sudan and then onto an al-Qaeda training camp in Afghanistan where, after extensive training, he is flattered to be chosen for a special mission.

Jack Queller, a former CIA agent and expert on the Arab world, conduit of resources to the mujahideen in the 1980s (p.306), who had his arm amputated after a firefight in Afghanistan, is now a consultant at the Bureau of Diplomatic Security (known as DS), in his personal life haunted by the death from cancer of his wife who we wasn’t there to support, lives an isolated depressed existence on a seafront property on Martha’s Vineyard (p.141).

Nick Karolides, an American of Greek descent, a marine biologist, taking up a new job on a coral reef protection scheme off the island of Zanzibar. Unhappily haunted by the death of his father who was a keen diver till a shark bit off his arm and he died on the way to hospital, whereupon his mother retreated into (Greek Orthodox) religious fervour.

Miranda Power, keen young American State Department trainee who, as we meet her, has been given her first posting, as an Executive Assistant, Logistical and Security, to the American Embassy at Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.

By about page 50 we’ve been introduced to these characters and have a strong feeling that their lives are going to intersect.

(Notice how all the western characters are American. So quite apart from the extraordinary range and depth of research demonstrated in the text – about life in Zanzibar or marine biology or al-Qaeda – Foden is also ventriloquising the lives and speech patterns and culture of a range of American characters, a distinct new departure from the British or African characters depicted in his previous novels.)

A book teaches readers how to read it. By about page 70, we’ve realised that Foden is going to be interleaving, interweaving and interspersing narratives about these different characters. It’s going to be very episodic. This leads to several results:

  • it creates narrative tension, because you realise they’re going to meet and interact so the interest is in seeing how, and with what results
  • it creates dramatic irony i.e. juxtaposing characters who see the same thing but from different angles (the huge example is the completely different interpretation the Americans and al-Qaeda give to the previous 20 years of history)
  • this irony can be used for comic effect, as in the chapter which juxtaposes very short, half-page fragments of dialogue of the two enemies: between, on the one hand, Osama bin Laden and his acolytes in their Afghan hideout; and lectures being given about Osama bin Laden by a series of CIA and security experts (we see these lectures because they’re attended by one of the central character, Miranda)

This kind of jumping between scenes featuring characters who are going to eventually meet up in a fateful event is standard operating procedure for many thrillers. Or you could describe the effect as musical, the deliberate counterpointing of different characters, atmospheres and motifs. Or maybe compare it to collage, in art – like cutting out images from magazines and pasting them next to each other in unexpected juxtapositions.

Cast

Page numbers refer to when someone is first introduced, or first speaks, or when a significant fact about them is mentioned. I suppose it’s a kind of index of characters. Or cast list.

  • Khaled al-Kidr, young recruit to al-Qaeda
  • Queller, retired badly injured American agent (p.7), now works at the Bureau of Diplomatic Security, known as DS (p.47), first name Jack, used to be top Arabist under Reagan (p.52), full title (p.52)
  • Lucy, Queller’s wife who died from cancer and he feels guilty about not having been around to support
  • Nick Karolides, marine biologist, born and raised in Florida – tall, tanned, handsome, fit from his daily swim
  • his mother (unnamed), who’s become a religious fanatic since the death of his father (p.14)
  • Nick’s dad (unnamed), keen diver, who had his arm bitten off by a shark and died on the way to hospital
  • Dino, wiry 60-year-old owner of Dino’s Wine Shop, was diving with Nick’s dad when the shark attacked (p.20)
  • Inspector Chikambwa, unfriendly and (it turns out) corrupt marine policeman on Zanzibar, the USAID contact for the project Nick goes to Zanzibar to work on (p.27)
  • George Darvil, Nick’s predecessor who died in suspicious circumstances, found drowned, his boat riddled with holes (p.28)
  • Mr de Souza, proprietor of the Macpherson Ruins Hotel (p.29), very short and extraordinarily beautiful (p.32)
  • Leggatt, European clove farmer who also does boat tours, Ralph by name (p.82), made his money in copper and silver then diamonds in Sierra Leone (p.121), runs a clove farm, owns a yacht, the Winston Churchill (p.96)
  • Zayn Mujuj, changes Khaled’s life by recruiting him for jihad (p.45), big man, ‘enormous’ (p.230), Palestinian (p.222)
  • Ahmed the German, Osama bin Laden’s companion and cameraman (p.45) wears a Sport Team Osnabrück t-shirt, which becomes a leitmotif identifying him as the bomber (pages 143 and 282)
  • Yousef, al-Qaeda bomb maker (p.45), last name Mourad (p.295)
  • Ayman al-Zawahari, leader of Egyptian Jihad (p.62)
  • Muhammed Atef, al-Qaeda’s military commander (p.62)
  • al-Qaeda, first mentioned (p.43), described (p.66)
  • the Taliban, keeping guard over the al-Qaeda base (p.50)
  • Miranda Power, executive assistant, Logistical and Security, American Embassy, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania (p.51), Boston Irish, dad a cop (pages 151 and 184)
  • Morton Altenburg, Director of Operations, FBI (p.55), young and successful and scornful of Queller’s obsession with al-Qaeda
  • General Tom Kirby, Department of Defence (p.56)
  • Osama bin Laden (p.62) described by Queller (p.66 and elsewhere)
  • Tim Catmull, Brit working for the Department for International Development (DFID) (p.78)
  • Sayeed, boy accompanying the thugs who beat up Leggatt and tie him up on Lyly before Nick comes to his rescue; who they coax down from the rigging of Leggatt’s yacht; and who Leggatt gives a job
  • Ray Delahoya, American comms guy at the Dar embassy (p.103), cheerfully vulgar, likes junk food and low culture, apparently gay (fancies the tough Marine guards, pages 245 and 249)
  • Turtle Mo, a big imposing East African trawler baron, who Nick hires his diving gear from (p.126)
  • Olivier Pastoreau, Belgian land reclaimer who works for the European Development Fund, proud owner of a handsome white motor cruiser, the Cythère (p.130), amusingly pessimistic
  • Clive Bayard, only African American in the Dar Embassy (p.244)
  • Nisha Ghai, Asian employee in the embassy (p.244), killed in the bombing
  • Lee Denham, the one intelligence officer at the Dar embassy (p.245)
  • Corporal Rossetti, Marine on duty when the bomb goes off, helps badly injured Ray (p.247)
  • Juma, gate guard at the embassy
  • Dr Macintyre, embassy physician (p.259)
  • President Bill Clinton phones the chargé d’affaires’ house where the wounded have been brought to condole with them (p.262), condemns the attacks on TV (p.270), makes an extensive speech on TV (pages 305 to 306), forced to defend himself in the Starr investigation that he perjured himself lying about his affair with Monica Lewinsky (p.325), announces retaliation against al-Qaeda (p.331)
  • William Cohen, US Secretary of Defence, seen on TV condemning the bombing (p.270)
  • Madeleine Albright, US Secretary of State, seen on TV (p.270)
  • National Security Director Sandy Berger, explaining America’s retaliatory strikes against Sudan (p.332)
  • Omar el-Bashir, President of Sudan, calling the American attack on the pharmaceuticals factory ‘a terrorist act’ (p.339)

Part 1

Nick settles into his new post as USAID coral guy in Zanzibar, meeting locals friendly and unfriendly. Miranda flies out and settles into her new job at the US Embassy in Dar es Salaam. Khaled undergoes further training in preparation for his mission to blow up the same US Embassy.

As usual Foden is very, very good indeed, supernaturally good, at imagining these people’s lives and thoughts, and the hundreds of details, interiors, accessories, food and drink, cars and bikes and boats and tropical stuff they interact with. It is incredibly well imagined.

Nick gets to know a raddled, grumpy old Brit named Leggatt via an adventure. He had observed Leggatt’s yellow boat slowly cruising across the bay in the same direction every day. The hotel owner tells him he (Leggat) is visiting a small island named Lyly. Nick decides to go explore in his dinghy and outboard. He finds the island and beaches his dinghy and walks along the shore where, through binoculars, he spots Leggatt digging up turtle eggs. The bastard! But then a native dhow approaches and two men and a boy get out, swim ashore. Nick thinks they must be nature wardens so is astonished when they beat up Leggatt, tie him to a tree, and take all the eggs themselves. The attackers head back to their boat, Nick runs over and unties Leggatt (he’s bleeding from the beating), they run back to Nick’s boat and start the engine and motor round the coast to find the boy up in the sails of Leggatt’s boat, ripping up the sails and rigging with a knife. He has the idea to fire a safety/rescue flare at the bad guys’ dhow, where it sets fire to their sails. Nick and Leggatt get to the latter’s yacht, climb up the side ladder, Nick tying his dinghy to the stern, Leggatt starts the yacht’s motor and they chug away from the island and the burning dhow. Nick corners the boy who is quickly subdued.

Leggatt explains that he is not the bad guy, he is the one trying to protect the turtle eggs by digging them up and moving them to a secret location. When Nick naively suggests reporting the egg thieves and boy to the USAID contact, Inspector Chikambwa, Leggatt snorts with laughter an says he’s corrupt and commission the stealing of the eggs, among many other scams (p.97).

Leggatt tells him the island’s named Lyly which comes from the Swahili lala which means sleep. It’s 2 miles wide with a lighthouse on the highest point, built by a Brit in the 1930s. Nowadays it’s owned by a rich Saudi. Leggatt tells Nick about the Black African slaughter of Arab civilians soon after Zanzibar became independent i.e. 1964 (p.99).

Leggatt’s an old hand, he’s been fishing and monitoring these waters for decades, owns a house and several boats, made his pile from diamonds. He drops Nick and his dinghy off at the hotel. A few days later Leggatt takes Nick fishing for barracuda, a strong fighting fish. This fishing expedition is a set-piece which makes you think Foden must have done it, and been shown how to do it, in order to produce such a detailed description (pages 112 to 115).

There’s a lovely description of Nick rowing a rowboat back to his oceanside hotel (the Macpherson Ruins Hotel). I used to row at school, so I know exactly what he means (p.100).

Meanwhile Miranda settles into a completely new society. I think we are meant to register the decisions she makes as small moral compromises, accustoming herself to the grotesque poverty of most of the population, while she licks ice cream by the embassy pool. She soon hires a watchman and a ‘housegirl’ for her accommodation in Oyster Bay, as all the other ex-pats do. She falls in with Ray Delahoya, cheerful, fun, not a threat or boyfriend material (only a hundred pages later is it made explicit that he’s gay).

We’re shown security reports she files which are conscientious. If the reader is paying attention they’ll spot that a character described in bin Laden’s entourage is caught on security camera himself filming the Embassy layout, from outside the walls (p.123).

Part 2

Carries on in the same style. Khaled and the al-Qaeda team (Khaled’s mentor Zayn and Yusef the bomber) drive south through Afghanistan into Pakistan, fly to Dubai, to Muscat, then direct to Zanzibar (p.139). The movement of their van is picked up by spy satellites and the message sent to the CIA etc in America. Queller is asked to comment and thinks they’re embarking on an attack and need to be monitored. But his suggestion is shot down by his enemy within the CIA, Alternburg. Queller really hates Altenburg because he a) nixed a spy operation he’d set up and b) has been politicking to get Queller sacked as a consultant.

Nick and Miranda finally meet, as he’s in Dar to pick up the scuba gear he had sent on from the States. She bumps into him, they get talking, they go for a swim. She notices he is tall, dark, fit and handsome, almost like the hero of a movie. She gets into a bit of trouble in the sea; is pulled out by his strong arms etc. She gives him a lift into town and when he says he’s shopping, drives him past security into the Embassy where he fills up at the PX, the American supermarket found in all overseas bases.

Nick goes on a solo mission to Lyly, the deserted island where he and Leggatt had the adventure with the turtle egg thieves, ‘the island of sleep’. Beaching his dinghy he scratches his ankle. He has come surprisingly unprepared, without a toilet bag, for example or, more importantly, sunblock and a sunhat. He explores the small derelict house and abandoned mosque, manages to fire up the lighthouse light using paraffin he’s brought but half-blinds himself in the process. Diving through the spectacular coral, he finds a sea cave which, amazingly, appears to have Arab writing carved into the (slime-covered) walls (p.171). Later, Leggatt explains that it’s part of a whole cave and tunnel network where slaves used to throw recalcitrant or recaptured runaway slaves. Oubliettes. Hence the long-ago writing.

Nick invites Miranda to come visit Zanzibar from Dar for a weekend. He takes her (and the reader) on a tour of the sights. (I wonder if it’s a safe place for a tourist to visit, now, in 2023.) He takes the traditional male role i.e. showing her round, explaining history etc. She takes the traditional female role, passive, deferring to his knowledge. When they dance he has ‘strong hands on her hips’ etc. All very conventionally heteronormative and well mannered. In the refined, polite tone of this book no-one fantasises or masturbates or farts or menstruates, as they do in Leslie Thomas’s vulgar comedies. Makes me realise that the thriller genre is not only serious (obviously) but also, in a strange way, prissy, at some level, respectable. It’s the tiniest details but when Miranda is upset she doesn’t cry, as you or I might, but weeps, like the heroine of a Racine play. Even when it’s at its most gritty, there’s a kind of high-minded decorum about the thriller genre.

Anyway, I didn’t like this lovey-dovey stuff at all. Also the romance dialogue is very stilted and, well, boring. Next day, Nick takes Miranda to a beachfront restaurant then onto a tropical garden where he finally kisses her.

Something had happened, a change had taken place, the needle had swung around in the compass of her heart. (p.188)

Foden is a very savvy writer indeed, capable of deploying lots of different registers and styles. Surely he knows he’s writing Mills and Boon here. For the lolz I googled ‘Mills and Boon top titles’ and found the following: ‘Song of the Waves’; ‘The Emerald Garden’; ‘Tabitha in Moonlight’; ‘Rapture of the Desert’; ‘Whispering Palms’. To which could be added these passages from ‘Romance in Zanzibar’. The only slight fly in the ointment being that we know this is all heading towards a monstrous terrorist attack. I wonder if one or both of them will be killed in it. Or maimed. Both Foden’s previous novels contain scenes of brutal violence and bump off characters you’d become quite attached to. I suppose I should savour the kisses in the tropical garden while I can…

Nick persuades Leggatt to take him and Miranda back to Lyly. He shows her how to scuba dive, they frolic, find their way to an isolated spot of beach and have sex, mercifully passed over in silence and undescribed. Then an incident where they find a huge mamba snake uncovering the turtle eggs with a view to eating them, and Nick catches it with a forked branch and throws it into the undergrowth. More interesting that her being lulled and seduced is the way Nick starts to get on her nerves, a bit charmless, a bit clumsy, unempathetic, and then assuming masculine ownership of her.

The al-Qaeda cell

What happens next utterly transforms the tone and feel of the book. When they’d left Lyly, a powerful cruiser had crossed their path, apparently en route to the island. Miranda had looked at its crew and skipper through the telephoto lens of her camera and nearly taken a photo but then it veered away.

A day or so later Leggatt and Nick had gone back to the island and discovered there were two dhows and a cruiser pulled up. Nick had gone inshore in the diving gear and this section opens with him watching them from a distance, going in and out of the buildings where he slept, apparently Arabs, some sporting sub-machineguns.

Then a huge storm comes up which sinks the Churchill. Leggatt and Nick manage to abandon ship and get into the dinghy and cut the painted just before the big yacht goes down. With heroic strength Nick rows the dinghy through the coral barrier (guided by Leggatt) and ashore. Leggatt says they’ll never make it back to the mainland in a rowing boat; the only thing for it is to steal one of the dhows and to do it now, in the dead of night and while the aftersqualls of the storm are still making bad weather. They wade through the thick jungle, emerge on the side of the island where the Arabs are, try to sneak across the beach but are spotted. The Arabs open up with the machine guns, killing Leggatt and brushing Nick’s forehead. When he comes to, he is trussed up hand and foot and the enormous Arab, Zayn, whacks him with the flat of a machete, asking if he is American, hitting him, insulting him, till he says he’ll be back tomorrow to interrogate him and…throws Nick out the lighthouse window, attached by a rope, so that he is dangling upside down, his head bangs against the outside wall of the lighthouse and he loses consciousness again.

See what I mean by changing the tone of the narrative? We were in the western world of pampered tourists, all ice cream, skindiving and scotch on the veranda. Now we are in the world of jihad and unmitigated brutality.

Thing is, the way Zayn slit their throats reminded Khaled of how he returned home that terrible evening to find his parents’ throats cut. Zayn always told him it was done by Israeli-American agents but…but what if Zayn did it? Plus Zayn has been riding Khaled, pushing him and bullying and belittling him, on one occasion pushing his face right into their campfire. This isn’t jihad. This is sadistic bullying. And so…

So he goes up to the top of the lighthouse, hauls Nick’s unconscious body up and over the window sill, then leans down with a knife…Next morning the American is gone and Zayn angrily kicks and punches Khaled to find out what happened, at which Khaled shows him the American’s ear, says he cut it off as punishment then threw the body in the lagoon. Zayn is angry because he wanted to interrogate the American and also suspicious, as is the reader.

Miranda

Cut to Miranda at the US embassy and we discover that they didn’t have sex that time, on the island. I misread it. They were goofing in the waves, walked up the beach out of sight of Leggatt and lay down…there’s a gap in the text…which resumes with ‘Later, they walked back round to the fire’ (p.197). I misread this as them having sex. No. Because now, in this section, Miranda wonders whether she should have had sex with Nick, and worries whether the kiss she let him give her in the tropical gardens ‘meant more’.

I’m not sure, but I think all this fussing about lovey-dovey is meant to be an indicator of how shallow and naive Miranda is, on a par with her not understanding why America is so hated, and being upset by slavery and African poverty i.e. generally not understanding where she is. Conversely, maybe she is there to bring out the extraordinary distance between the poorest people on the earth and the richest.

7 August 1998: the bombing

Miranda is going about her normal day when, on page 252, the bomb goes off. It was 7 August 1998. The Wikipedia article gives forensic details about the make-up of the explosives then states that at Dar es Salaam 11 were killed and 85 wounded (p.260), considerably less than the bomb which went off at the Nairobi embassy, killing 213 and wounding about 4,000 (p.261).

Part 3

Hundreds of FBI, CIA, medical and forensics experts fly in from the Sates, including the prick Altenburg and kindly old Queller. These personality traits are on display when Miranda finds herself being given the third degree in an interview by Altenburg, and then horrified to find he has gotten her suspended for dereliction of duty for not inspecting the van which is now thought to have been carrying the explosives. Distraught, her world in tatters, her self confidence shot, she goes home weeping.

Queller sees all this and takes steps, calling up his old buddy Madeleine Allbright to ask for Miranda to be reinstated and assigned to him as his personal assistant. Which is what happens.

I thought the buildup to the explosion might be tense and exciting but it isn’t. It just happens, out of the blue, while Miranda’s going about a mundane morning’s work. If ‘grip’ or excitement there is, it comes from a completely different direction, which is The Hunt For Nick Karolides. Miranda becomes increasingly obsessed with the way he hasn’t been in touch, hasn’t replied to phone calls or emails. So flies from Dar to Stone Town (capital of Zanzibar) then taxis out to the Macpherson Ruins Hotel whose owner, Mr de Souza, is just as perplexed by Nick’s prolonged absence.

When she goes out to Leggatt’s farm she finds him also absent, but persuades the boy Leggatt hired, Sayeed, to organise a boat to take her back to Lyly. On the beach at Lyly they find the rotted body of Leggatt with an ear missing. So the reader realises it wasn’t Nick’s ear that Khaled cut off.

This happens on page 302. The book is 389 pages long. In these last 90 or so pages the interest focuses on two things: Miranda’s search for Nick; and the bitter contest between the two American intelligence operatives, Altenburg (who thinks the al-Qaeda connection is poppycock) and Queller, who is sure of it.

In a flashback we learn that Queller not only helped the mujahideen in Afghanistan but met Osama bin Laden several times, helped channel funds which not only armed the fighters but built airstrips, the cave complex in the Tora Bora mountains etc (pages 306 to 315). And then, extraordinarily, that it was Osama bin Laden himself who shot Queller in the elbow at their last meeting, as a warning to him, and all American ‘crusaders’ to get out of Muslim lands.

Where is Nick?

On page 317 (of 389) we discover what happened to Nick. We haven’t seen or heard of him since page 236, so he’s been absent for 80 pages or a fifth of the text. Presumably, one aim of this is to build up suspense about his fate, amplified by Miranda’s growing concern.

We find him cast adrift in a rowing boat without oars on the open ocean. He vaguely remembers someone bundling him into the boat then throwing away the oars and himself jumping overboard – presumably Khaled, saving his life. Over several pages we watch the effects of exposure, heatstroke, sunburn and dehydration. Nick has both ears and is unharmed except for the rope burns and where the bullet grazed his head but he quickly degenerates after a few days into a burned, blistered, hallucinating wreck.

Until he is picked up by a passing Greek cargo ship. He sees it emerge from the blurred horizon, stands up, waves his arms and shouts etc. The Greek crew wash him, slowly give him water, then soft food and restore him to health. Lucky, eh? Big ocean, the Indian Ocean.

Nick is of Greek heritage so when he starts speaking Greek, the crew and captain rally to his support. Presumably this is thrown in to explain/justify why the captain lets himself be persuaded to sail close to Zanzibar and not to dock in the main port – where he’d incur ruinous charges – but get close enough to the Macpherson hotel to be rowed ashore.

Which explains why, on the night when Miranda has flown to Zanzibar and taken a taxi to the hotel to enquire about him, and persuades the manager to let her sleep in Nick’s room…she hears the chalet door opening and…Grand Reunion! He staggers into her arms, tries to explain, she makes him have a shower while she gets a first aid kit from de Souza, makes him lie on the bed, tends his wounds like a good nursey, they lie facing each other, they touch, they make love.

His pains forgotten for a while – loving her for that mercy, and for the adventure of her body – he gathered her into his arms once more. (p.330)

Well…’Romance in Zanzibar’. Apparently, Mills and Boon novels are organised into sub-genres, one of which is ‘Heroes – Enjoy a thrilling story filled with danger and finding love no matter what.’ Well, these passages are a fine example.

He moved down her body, covering her stomach and pelvis with subtle kisses till, like a hummingbird over a flower, he began flicking his tongue over her. (p.330)

I’m not sure this is what a man who’s just returned from days in an open boat, who’s still suffering from wounds to his head and knee, which are still bleeding, would be up for. But the conventions of the thriller genre override any kind of realism.

Bill Clinton

It’s a funny mix, this text, because it goes from ripe Mills and Boon-type soft porn to our newly committed couple watching President Bill Clinton on TV explaining why he ordered US air strikes on the al-Qifa pharmaceutical factory in Sudan and a complex of training bases near Khost in Afghanistan (p.332). Nick and Miranda consume the TV news in puzzlement at the randomness of this target.

Passages describing the process whereby the targets were listed, assessed and agreed, and then the process of launching the missiles, read like magazine journalism, possibly from a military magazine. At one point Foden directly quotes a US Navy press release describing the operation of Tomahawk cruise missiles (pages 335 to 339).

Foden gives a roundup of responses to the US cruise missile attacks which reads like a Wikipedia article, giving quotes from the President of Sudan, the Taliban government, Arab newspapers etc, all of which describe the Americans as war criminals operating outside the law. Tony Blair gives Clinton his whole-hearted support. This is all very interesting but a) not really a novel and b) was all to be swept away in the vast tsunami of 9/11 and the War on Terror. The US retaliation prompted Foden to snide and snarky remarks about America being ‘one nation under God, indivisible etc’ which feel like cheap sarcasm, unworthy of his extraordinary gifts.

A passage describing Osama bin Laden’s thoughts as he rides a horse, far from where the missiles struck, with his closest lieutenants – Ayman Zawahari and Muhammad Atef – and personal bodyguards.

Khaled

A passage describing Khaled al-Khidr, praying in the mosque in Jambangona, on the island of Pemba where his parents came from and his jumbled thoughts, containing an impressive number of quotes from the Holy Koran and Khaled’s theological speculations, in particular whether Zayn, with his bullying and murder, led him from the path of righteousness.

The passage quoting Bill Clinton describing America as ‘one nation under God, indivisible’ (p.337) is deliberately paralleled by Khaled thoughts about the redeemed in Islam, ‘one nation, indivisible’ (p.345) – just one of many examples where Foden juxtaposes the value systems of ‘the West’ and ‘the Islamic world’ to bring out how their belief systems are so similar and yet so different.

Khaled is giddy with guilt, confused, wanders the streets of his home town in utter confusion, falls to his knees.

Cut to Zayn Mujuj, the big strong killer. He and Khaled had escaped after the bombing and gone to meet the cargo ship appointed to pick them up but it never showed. Instead they moored off the island of Pemba for a few days, Zayn calling the Sheikh for daily updates. We learn that Zayn, himself, is motivated by revenge, namely the wiping out of his family in Beirut, by the Israeli air force and the Christian phalange. Maybe he’s talking about the Sabra and Shatila massacre in September 1982. This is the source of his burning hatred. And now we learn Khaled was right to suspect that Zayn killed his (Khaled’s parents); he did, as punishment for embezzling al-Qaeda funds (p.348).

Now the boy has disappeared. Zayn phones the Sheikh on the sat phone. They speak in light code. Zayn says the boy (the finch) knows too much and must be eliminated. He takes a dinghy from the boat up the creek to Jambangona.

Exciting climactic chase

Foden reverts to small snippets giving different characters’ points of view: this is meant to jack up the tension. Thus, Queller gets a call from Altenburg back in Washington telling him SIGINT has picked up those sat phone calls off Pemba: could he go and investigate. He asks Nick and Miranda (instead of, say, some US marines or security forces) to help him. They putter off to Pemba in the Belgian guys’ boat (seeing as all the others have been lost earlier in the story). Meanwhile the killer Zayn has arrived in Jambangona with a big knife in his long boots. Who will get to Khaled first? Will Khaled recognise Nick as the American he saved? Will Nick recognise Khaled as the boy who saved him, dragging him half-conscious into the rowing boat and casting it adrift back on Lyly?

Zayn doesn’t find Khaled in Jambangona and so chugs upriver to Chake Chake, roaming the streets with murder in his heart. Nick, Miranda and Queller arrive at the map reference given by Alternburg to find nothing so they, also, chug upriver to Chake Chake, and here they spot the same motor cruiser they saw an age ago cutting them off as they returned from Lyly, the terrorist’s boat.

The climax comes when our heroes discover that they have arrived in town at the exact same moment when an annual festival takes place, the mchezo wa ngombe, the game of the bull, when brave youths taunt and try and jump onto two enraged bulls (named Bom-Bom and Wembe, I thought you’d like to know) in an arena. Lucky coincidence. Also improbable is that, at this moment of peril for his life, Khaled, throwing caution to the winds, tries his luck in the arena against the bulls. And that Zayn, attracted by the hullabaloo, sees him. And that Nick, amid the pressing crowd, sees both of them, tells Queller, and starts elbowing towards them. You can see how this has the logic more of a move than a novel.

Long story short: Zayn chases Khaled across the arena; one of the bulls gores and tramples him; Khaled escapes over the arena fence, through the crowd, and down backstreets, pursued by Nick, Miranda and Queller. First he’s cornered in a tourist shop, then escapes, then Nick tackles him, Queller steps forward with a gun, but Khaled grabs a dagger from a stall and Miranda and puts it to her neck, backing away as in ten thousand American movies. He drags her down to the quayside and into the terrorists’ boat, finds the key, powers up, casts off and motors away, hotly pursued by Nick and Queller, suddenly feeling his age, feeling tired, overcome by a sense of depression and failure.

Out of the crowded streets emerges Zayn, bleeding and furious to see his boat cruising away so he cuffs a white tourist off his jet ski and sets off in hot pursuit. Now the narrative has gone full James Bond.

Showdown on Lyly

Khaled steers out to the island of sleep, location of quite a few nightmares by now. Nick and Queller watch him beach and drag Miranda up the sand into the jungle. Queller shoots a way through the coral breach and they, also, beach their boat. Nick tells Queller to stay behind and guard the boat, takes Queller’s gun and sets off in pursuit. God, the excitement!

Khaled drags terrified Miranda through the caves at gunpoint. Nick gets lost pursuing. Queller investigates various jungle trails and on returning to the beach notices a jet ski lying on its side. Zayn is clearly badly injured, needs a stick to lean on. Queller, binocular distance away, takes a marlinspike out of the boat and slowly sets off in pursuit.

It’s called ‘suspense’ but what it boils down to is, Who is going to die? Khaled and Zayn, I’d guess, and possibly Queller, for his sins in aiding bin Laden. But it’s anyone’s guess; Foden is a brutal writer and hasn’t hesitated to wipe out sympathetic characters in previous books.

In the slimy caves Khaled undergoes a crisis, becomes hysterical , tells Miranda about Zayn killing his parents, admits involvement in the bombing, no longer knows what is jihad, what is righteous, drops the knife, pulls out a gun he found on Zayn’s boat, then disappears into the darkness.

On the beach Queller gets to the lighthouse then loses the trail. Turns round just as Zayn smacks him in the face with a plank of wood, grabs the marlinspike, lifts it to skewer Queller.

Nick finds Miranda cowering, shivering, in the caves.

Queller looks up at the man about to kill him when there’s a gunshot and, as in a thousand American movies, a hole appears in Zayn’s forehead, he shudders, and falls dead across the terrified American. Khaled appears, explaining – to Queller – who shot Zayn. He then delivers his Speech the speech which explains his Change of Heart. It is time for him to stop killing, to turn to do good work for Muslims. Queller asks him to come back with them but Khaled very reasonably says, just because I stop trusting al-Qaeda doesn’t mean I start trusting America. Then he’s gone.

Soon afterwards Nick and Miranda appear and pull the big heavy dead Zayn off Queller. Khaleed steals the Belgian’s very expensive cruiser and shoots holes in his own one, so our guys are stranded. Nick and Miranda wash the slime off themselves in the sea, they all sleep in the lighthouse, next morning helicopters find them.

The end

Nick, Miranda and Zayn’s body are choppered back to the mainland where they find themselves celebrities, the story of their chase and shootout somehow all over CNN. Then in a convoy of those huge black FBI SUVs which appear in all the movies, to some local base.

Miranda stares blankly out the window, Nick falls asleep and Queller has last thoughts about bin Laden and al-Qaeda. Will he ever be tracked down? (Yes) Can such an organisation be defeated? (No) Queller reflects that globalisation only entrenches local elites, often working hand in glove with multinational corporations, to maintain most of their populations in resentful poverty, from which are spawned endless fundamentalisms (p.377). Improbably, he has an old man’s hope for a better world, more equality, defusing violence etc. Pipe dream. There are 8 billion humans alive today. In 20 years it will hit 9 billion. More crushing poverty. More grievance. More violence.

All improbable as it is an American security service official wishing for the end of capitalism or its superseding by a fairer system. Not very likely. Sounds more like the thoughts of some Limey pinko novelist.

(Oh, I spotted Foden’s placing of a micro-joke; the SUV convoy roars past a hoarding advertising ENVI skin cream (p.377). Now a hoarding advertising this same product plays a role at the end of ‘The Last King of Scotland’ when Idi Amin, his regime overthrown, asks the novel’s protagonist, Dr Garrigan, to meet him at the ENVI hoarding to drive him to safety. Garrigan doesn’t go. I wonder if there are other sly echoes I didn’t spot.)

Coda

Miranda’s in Washington. Queller’s being investigated, for some reason. Nick didn’t want to stay, asked her to come back to Zanzibar but she didn’t want to leave, so they’ve split up and she wanders round Washington’s memorials feeling soulful.

Queller is being called for questioning in Washington about his links with al-Qaeda in the 80s. He knows he’s being set up as the fall guy. He writes a complete documentary account of his actions and sends it to Miranda. Tries on the latest spiffy prosthetic limb that’s arrived through the post. Has a drink. Reaches for his pistol and shoots himself in the head.

Nick after toying with staying in the States, has come back out to Zanzibar, done up the derelict cottage on Lyly and made it into a home. He is going to protect the turtles as homage to Leggatt. He is trying to be mindful. He is trying not to live in illusions. But he can’t help missing Miranda. It wasn’t true love but it was a lot.

Thoughts

Moral debate?

Because of the focus on the main characters at the start, because we are given such privileged access to Khaled’s life, tragedy, training and motivation, and because the book’s blurb says that Nick and Miranda become ’embroiled’ in a terrorist conspiracy – I thought they might have met Khaled, got to know and like him, then found out what he was going to do and there might have been some kind of agonising moral debate and so on when they try to talk him out of it, he goes ahead anyway… But no.

Inventive structure?

Again, Foden writes that ‘the event’ as the Americans quickly take to calling it, messed with people’s sense of time and place and identity, severely traumatising all involved, and so it crossed my mind that Foden could conceivably have run with that idea and created a postmodern jumping back and forth in time. At a few moments when Nick or Miranda were dazed and disorientated, the psychotic fictions of J.G. Ballard briefly came to mind.

But no. The narrative is much, much more straightforward than that, almost totally vanilla. This happened then this happened then this happened then this happened. The characters do stuff then there’s a big explosion then they rush off to catch the baddies. However brilliantly imagined and vividly written every scene is, and despite a few passages of tricksy juxtapositions, for the most part, structurally, it’s a very conservative book.

Al-Qaeda

The book contains several set-piece passages where the kindly old Queller gives straight explication about al-Qaeda’s history and aims, bin Laden’s speeches, the group’s structure and bases in Afghanistan. He describes how the US government funnelled hundreds of millions of dollars worth of training and munitions to the mujahideen, building secret hideouts, training them in guerrilla warfare etc, all skills and weapons which, with world-class irony, once the Soviets had finally quit Afghanistan, bin Laden and al-Qaeda turned against their western backers.

I’m guessing that at the time Foden drafted the book, all this was relatively specialist, niche stuff, and his up-to-the-minute research was news, and it was cutting edge to include it in a novel.

Unfortunately for Foden, before his book could be published along came 11 September 2001 and the entire world’s media suddenly overflowed with everything known about bin Laden and al-Qaeda, who became the subject of hundreds of books, thousands of documentaries, millions of articles – and the novelty of Foden’s book, its claim to shed light on a little-known terror organisation, evaporated overnight.

Must have been very galling. Then came the US invasions of Afghanistan then Iraq and the chaos they caused, covered on the telly and across all the media every night for years. So for the modern reader, the passages where Queller carefully explains bin Laden and al-Qaeda to Miranda (like pages 290 to 293), interesting refreshers though they are, can’t help but feel somewhat quaint and dated.

The risk of writing about contemporary politics or world affairs is that your text will be overtaken by events even as you write it. Compare with anyone half-way through writing a novel about Ukraine when Russia invaded and rendered the whole thing academic. Imagine you were just putting the finishing touches to your book about the current situation in Israel when Hamas attacked. It’s a high-risk strategy for a novelist. Safer to go that much further back in time, to when events are settled, complete, assimilated and contextualised – which is precisely what Foden did in his next novel, Mimi and Toutou Go Forth: The Bizarre Battle for Lake Tanganyika, set during the First World War. Can’t get more past, finished and over than that.

And yet…

For all my nitpicking, it’s an awesome book, an epic book. You really feel like you’ve been through the wringer, on a long journey, had an epic adventure. I felt quite shattered by the end of this long, dense book – informed about al-Qaeda and bin Laden, thrilled by the plot, and delighted by the thousand and one precise descriptions Foden encodes in his prose.

Swahili phrases

  • chamchela – hurricane squall (p.210)
  • chibuku – the local beer (p.252)
  • dar es salaam – haven of peace (p.243)
  • mlango – door
  • mnara – lighthouse (p.224)
  • mpuga za peponi – the gardens of paradise (p.220)
  • muzungu – white man
  • mchezo wa ngombe – the game of the bull (p.355)
  • pole-pole – slowly slowly
  • papabawa – Zanzibar vampire
  • twende! – let’s go (p.295)
  • zinj el-bar – coast of the black people (p.153)

Credit

Zanzibar by Giles Foden was published by Faber and Faber in 2002. References are to the 2003 Faber paperback edition.

Giles Foden reviews

Africa reviews

The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good by William Easterly (2006)

This book will offer plenty more suggestions for experimental improvements to Western assistance, but don’t expect a Big Plan to reform foreign aid. The only Big Plan is to discontinue the Big Plans. The only Big Answer is that there is no Big Answer.
(The White Man’s Burden, page 26)

The dynamism of the poor at the bottom has much more potential than plans at the top.
(p.94)

William Easterly (born 1957) is an American economist, specialising in economic development. He is a professor of economics at New York University, joint with Africa House, and co-director of NYU’s Development Research Institute. Surprisingly for an American academic, he’s only written three books, all of them about development economics.

  • The Elusive Quest for Growth: Economists’ Adventures and Misadventures in the Tropics (2001)
  • The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good (2006)
  • The Tyranny of Experts: Economists, Dictators, and the Forgotten Rights of the Poor (2014)

This was the second one and established him, as the title suggests, as a robust critic of the entire ideology of western aid to the developing world.

Background

Right at the end of 2005 the doyen of US development economists, Jeffrey Sachs, wrote a book called ‘The End of Poverty’, an optimistic clarion call whose introduction by globally famous rock singer Bono helped propel it into the bestseller list. The book was timed to precede the G8 conference and summit held in Scotland in July 2005. The G8 leaders pledged to double 2004 levels of aid to poor nations from $25 billion to $50 billion by 2010, with half the money going to Africa

This book by William Easterly is by way of being a refutation of Sachs’s one. Very crudely, Sachs said we must give more aid, lots more aid to Africa – and Easterly says ‘oh no we shouldn’t’.

Easterly thinks the messianic save-the-world attitude of people like Sachs is perilously close to the old colonial assumption that We Know Best what to do for the natives.

Right at the start of the book he distinguishes between two types of foreign aid donors: ‘Planners’, who believe in imposing generalised, top-down, big plans on poor countries, and ‘Searchers’, who look for bottom-up solutions to specific needs. Planners are portrayed as utopian romantics while Searchers are more realistic because they focus on piecemeal interventions.

Planners and Searchers

The basic binary or dichotomy idea is repeated countless times:

Planners announce good intentions but don’t motivate anyone to carry them out; Searchers find things that work and get some reward.

Planners raise expectations but take no responsibility for meeting them; Searchers accept responsibility for their actions.

Planners determine what to supply; Searchers find out what is in demand.

Planners apply global blueprints; Searchers adapt to local conditions.

Planners at the top lack knowledge of the bottom; Searchers find out what the reality is at the bottom.

Planners never hear whether the planned got what it needed; Searchers find out if the customer is satisfied.

A Planner thinks he already knows the answers; he thinks of poverty as a technical engineering problem that his answers will solve. A Searcher admits he doesn’t know the answers in advance; he believes that poverty is a complicated tangle of political, social, historical, institutional, and technological factors. A Searcher hopes to find answers to individual problems only by trial and error experimentation.

A Planner believes outsiders know enough to impose solutions. A Searcher believes only insiders have enough knowledge to find solutions, and that most solutions must be homegrown.

Searchers have better incentives and better results.

Searchers could find ways to make a specific task—such as getting medicines to dying children—work if they could concentrate on that task instead of on Big Plans. They could test whether a specific task had a high payoff for the poor, get rewarded for achieving high payoffs, and be accountable for failure if the task didn’t work.

Foreign aid has been dominated by the Planners.

The War on Terror

The new military interventions are similar to the military interventions of the cold war, while the neo-imperialist fantasies are similar to old-time colonial fantasies.

Military intervention in and occupation of a developing country show a classic Planner’s mentality: applying a simplistic external answer from the West to a complex internal problem in a non-western country. Iraq. Afghanistan.

The aid-financed Big Push is similar to the rationale behind the invasion of Iraq = we in the West know best, we’re going to show you how to run your country. With all the disastrous consequences Easterly’s book predicts for top down, Planner solutions.

Politico-philosophical traditions

Early on Easterly claims that his binary reflects the most basic one in politics, between Utopian revolutionaries and pragmatic reformers. The French Revolution epitomises the first, with its grand Plan to introduce liberty, equality and fraternity. Edmund Burke, father of modern conservatism, epitomises the latter, believing society is best improved by targeting specific identifiable abuses and implementing limited, focused solutions. Ad hoc reforms.

In practice, the latter is how all western democracies work, overflowing with Acts and Bills and Laws fixing this, that or the other issue unaddressed by the vast quantities of previous legislation on the subject. Incremental, reformist.

Capitalism versus communism

And then he related it to another world-size binary, that between capitalism and communism.

Communists believed top-down Big Planning would deliver utopia. Capitalists believe in bottom-up, ad hoc solutions, called businesses, markets. Following on from this is his description of the often overlooked but vital quality of economic freedom which we in the West enjoy without really being aware of it.

Economic freedom is one of mankind’s most underrated inventions, much less publicised than its cousin political freedom. Economic freedom just means unrestricted rights to produce, buy, and sell. Each of us can choose the things we want and not have somebody else decide what is best for us. We can also freely choose what we are going to sell and what occupation to choose, based on our inside knowledge of what we are best at and most like doing.

Easterly overflows with fluent, articulate ways of expressing really big ideas.

The conditions for markets

Property rights, contract enforcement, rule of law, corporate accountability.

On one level, as Easterly makes abundantly clear, he is defending free market capitalist solutions to poverty. But it’s more than that, because he is very well aware that free market capitalism, pure and simple, far from delivers utopia – witness America, the most capitalist society on earth and also the most inequitable (not to mention its vast prison population and violent crime levels).

No, once he’s delivered his broadside against Planners and for Searchers, against communism and for capitalism, Easterly very interestingly goes on to describe the complex matrix of prerequisites necessary for a functioning market and productive economy and the many, many ways these can fall short, be corrupted or undermined.

To put it another way, Easterly launches into a sequence of explanations of what is required to make democratic capitalist society work and these turn out to be numerous and complicated.

No cheating

There are a myriad ways for people to cheat each other in market exchanges. The avoidance of cheating requires a certain amount of social capital or, to put it more simply, trust. He cites studies which have shown a correlation between income and trust i.e. better off people are more trustworthy; poor people are likely to cheat. Hence well off, equal societies like the Scandinavian countries have high median incomes and very high levels of trust. By comparison Mexico is a ‘low trust’ country.

Social norms also seem to be stronger among rich people than among poor people, as a rich person loses more economic opportunities and income from social disgrace.

In better off countries people can rely on the law to enforce norms of honesty although, as anyone knows who’s been to law, it is still i) very expensive ii) tardy and slow iii) has an element of randomness involved, principally in the quality of your solicitor or barrister.

The poorer the country, the less able the majority of citizens are to go to law, and the more likely aspects of corruption will creep in.

Trust networks

There are two tried and tested ways to ensure standards of trust and honesty, working within family or ethnic groups. Family is obvious and the basis of networks of trade and business around the world. Within many societies specialisation in trading is particularly prominent in minority ethnic groups.

In pre-industrial Europe, it was the Jews. In East Africa, it’s the Indians. (Indians own almost all businesses in Kenya, although they make up only 1 percent of the population.) In West Africa, it is the Lebanese. In southern Africa, it is whites and Indians. Among indigenous African groups, often one dominates trading—the Bamileke in Cameroon, the Luba in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the Hausa in West Africa, the Igbo in Nigeria, and the Serahule in the Gambia. In Southeast Asia, the overseas Chinese (the “bamboo network”) play this role.

It’s overflowing with concepts like this which he illustrates with detailed and fascinating examples, which entertain and shed light, expanding your understanding of the world we live in.

Mafias

Unfortunately, the down side of strong ethnic networks is they often have their own systems of enforcement, which easily slip into intimidation. The mafia we know about, also the triads which figure largely in Chinese business networks. Drug lords in Jamaica, the farflung Russian mafia. Most societies have criminal networks which enforce their own systems of justice, outside official systems.

Property rights

If you own property you can mortgage it or borrow against it to raise money to invest in business. My shaky understanding of the rise of western capitalism is that we pioneered unique and innovative concepts of property, developed over centuries of adaptation and common law, which enabled the development of the money-making machine we call capitalism.

One aspect of this was the invention of the limited liability company and the corporation, a type of entity. Obviously this takes you into a vast area of history of the evolution of companies, company law, and company law-breaking. Easterly gives some examples but doesn’t go into detail because all he needs is to demonstrate his basis thesis, that:

Property law in the United States, as with many other kinds of law, evolved as piecemeal solutions to deal with particular problems as they arose.

Meanwhile, ‘Poorer societies define land ownership more by oral tradition, customary arrangements, or informal community agreement than by formal titles’. He gives a detailed description of land ‘ownership’, among the Luo tribe in western Kenya.

The traditional system among the Luo was a complicated maze of swapping plots among kin and seasonal exchanges of land for labor and livestock. There were both individual and family rights in cultivated fields and free-grazing rights for the community after the harvest. Each household’s claim to land included many plots of different soils and terrains, on which many different crops grew – not a bad system with which to diversify risk in an uncertain climate. The traditional land patron (weg lowo) would often give temporary land rights to the client (jodak). There were seasonal exchanges of ploughs and draft animals for land, or land for labour.

These may work in the context of their cultures but not many of them approach the objectivity and impersonality found in western concepts of property and companies. It’s small-time, localised.

Britain versus France

Interpreting everything in the light of his binary he applies it to the European traditions of law which he divides into two opposites. Britain good:

The common-law tradition originated in England and spread to British colonies. In this tradition, judges are independent professionals who make rulings on cases based on precedents from similar cases. The principles of the law evolve in response to practical realities, and can be adapted to new situations as they arise.

France bad:

The modern civil-law tradition originated under Napoleon, in France, and spread to French and Spanish colonies. (Spain was under the control of Napoleon at the time.) In this tradition, laws are written from the top down by the legislature to cover every possible situation. Judges are glorified clerks just applying the written law. This system of law lacks bottom-up feedback of the common law that comes from having cases determine law. As a result, the law is less well adapted to reality on the ground and has trouble adapting to new situations as technology and society change.

So:

The United States, Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Pakistan and Uganda are examples of former British colonies that have well-developed property rights protection for their level of income. Algeria, Colombia, Haiti, and Nicaragua are examples of former French or Spanish colonies that have poor property rights protection for their level of income.

Surely Easterly could add in the whole of South America, repeating the centuries-old comparison between the poverty and political instability of the Hispanic south and central America and the (relative) stability and astounding economic success of Anglophone North America. (In fact he rolls on into a section on the dire financial mismanagement of Mexico in the 1990s and makes very interesting points about the limitations of Latin American societies and economies throughout the book.)

The failure to westernise Russia

At the collapse of communism in Russia, in 1991, scads of western economists and consultants descended on Moscow with the aim of showing them commies how it’s done and helping them transition to western-style democracy and capitalism in one ‘Big Push’. Planner behaviour par excellence.

One example of how not to do it is having Western lawyers and accountants rewrite the legal code overnight from the top down, as the West tried in Eastern Europe after 1990. In Eastern Europe, chief recipients of foreign aid were the Big Six accounting firms in the West. 43 who drafted new laws for Eastern Europe and trained thousands of locals in Western law. Eastern European legislatures passed the Western-drafted laws, satisfying aid conditions for the West, but the new laws on paper had little effect on actual rules of conduct.

You can pass all the laws you like for the establishment of democracy and free markets but if the population they’re imposed on has no experience of either they will continue to behave according to the old ways, via networks of identity and obligation, through widespread ‘corruption’ and nepotism i.e. favouring family, tribe, clan, ethnicity and religious group first. Economic theorist Avinash Dixit’s research:

may help explain why the transition from communism to capitalism in the former Soviet Union was such a disaster, and why market reforms in Latin America and Africa were disappointing. Even with severely distorted markets, the participants had formed networks of mutual trades and obligations that made the system functional at some level. Trying to change the rules all at once with the rapid introduction of free markets disrupted the old ties, while the new formal institutions were still too weak to make free markets work well.

The Russian people, especially managers of businesses and state industries, carried on ignoring the new capitalist rules in much the same way as they had ignored and circumvented the old communist rules. The Russian economy continued to be ineffective and corrupt. What keeps the Russian economy afloat is its huge reserves of oil and gas. In its dependence on a handful of basic commodities to sell to the rest of the world Russia is more like the petrostates of the Middle East and Africa than like a diversified, productive western economy.

Bad government

Anybody who wants to know about bad government in developing countries, particularly in Africa, should look no further than The Looting Machine by Tom Burgis (2015) and Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa by Paul Kenyon (2018).

Democracy works, but imposing democracy from the outside doesn’t.

Trying to impose it quickly failed in Russia, failed in Iraq, failed in most Arab countries after the Arab Spring, and has failed in most African countries where it has been imposed.

This is because democracy doesn’t start with elections every four or five years, but is the end point of a long, complex evolution of social norms and standards of behaviour. These standards are still undermined and not adhered to in many western countries; look at shameful recent events in the UK and America i.e. the Trump presidency and the hilarious incompetence of the Conservative Party. ‘Democracy’ is a kind of Platonic ideal which no individual country actually lives up to.

It is awfully hard to get democracy working well (p.128)

Thus the development of democracy, like that of free markets, in Easterly’s view, is something that evolves slowly over decades, centuries, to address specific social needs.

Just like markets, the functioning of democracy depends on the slow and bottom-up evolution of rules of fair play.

Democracy is an intricate set of arrangements that is far more than just holding elections.

Social norms may be the most difficult part of building a democracy – many poor countries are far from such norms. A staple of elections in many poor countries is to harass and intimidate the opposition so that they don’t vote.

What his account hints at but never quite states is that democracy might just never be the appropriate form of rule for most countries in the world. He hints as much in the section about oligarchies which explains that oligarchies i.e. the rule of a small class, generally a wealthy elite, will be economically effective for a certain period but will inevitably lead to stagnation. At some point an oligarchy realises that it has to make concessions to democracy i.e. the people, the majority of the population, in order to allow change and development, often driven by changing technologies and new economic patterns. Oligarchies stagnate and eventually acknowledge the need for change but the crux of the matter is the terms on which the oligarchy will concede power to the demos. The basis one is that it doesn’t want to give away too much of its power and too much of its money.

This explains the history of South America. All those countries were settled on the Spanish model of economic inequality – silver mines which required huge peasant labour, sugar plantations which required huge slave workforces, vast latifundia worked by big peasant workforces, with a small oppressed proletariat in the cities. A century or more of this established rule by a landed elite, that is their social model or norm.

Perpetual oligarchy is more likely in unequal agrarian or mineral societies than in more equal industrial societies, as Latin America demonstrated for most of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. (p.109)

But societies, technology, cultures and economies change and so Latin American societies see the recurrent pattern of repressive rule by an elite, which is eventually overthrown in a violent revolution which gives hope to the majority of social change and economic redistribution, which the oligarchies permit, up to a point, at which there is a violent counter-revolution i.e. military coup.

The Mexican revolution typifies one part of this see-saw, being a broad social rebellion against the entrenched rule of a narrow elite. The military coup against Allende in Chile represents the opposite end of the cycle, as the forces of money and privilege stepped in when Allende threatened to take away their money and power. South America’s challenge is getting beyond these violent mood swings to achieve the kind of middle class, social democrat stability epitomised by the Scandinavian countries, but this will always be hampered by the legacy of a large, poor, rural peasant class and, these days, by the huge numbers of the poor in the countries’ teeming slums.

Security from violence

This, of course, is a prerequisite for the development of any economy. Western aid will not do much good in a country mired in civil war. Violence is part of the human condition, well, the male human condition. One of the key causes of conflict in the past 70 years since the war has, of course, been ethnic, religious or tribal difference. All the conditions listed above for the development of either markets or democracy are void if your country is mired in conflict, worst of all a civil war.

Reasons why good government may not take hold

  • conflict
  • elite manipulation of the rules of the political game
  • landed wealth
  • weak social norms
  • the curse of natural resources
  • high inequality
  • corruption
  • ethnic nationalism and hatreds

Part 2. Aid in practice

What I’ve summarised so far is ‘Part 1: Why Planners cannot bring Prosperity’. Part 2 of the book, titled ‘Acting out the burden’ applies these ideas to the actual practice of administering foreign aid, finding the same sorts of conclusions. Easterly very frankly describes himself as one of the hordes of bureaucrats the by-now bloated aid industry:

We bureaucracies will devote effort more to activities that are more observable and less to activities that are less observable. By the same token, we bureaucrats will perform better when we have tangible, measurable goals, and less well when we have vague, ill-defined dreams. We will perform better when there is a clear link from effort to results, and less well when results reflect many factors besides effort. We will perform better when we have fewer objectives, and worse when we have many objectives. We will perform better when we specialize in particular solvable problems, and less well when we try to achieve utopian goals. We will perform better when there is more information about what the customers want, and less well when there is confusion about such wants. We will perform better when agents at the bottom are motivated and accountable, and less well when everything is up to the managers at the top. (p.157)

You need to set narrow, achievable targets. You need to listen to feedback from your customers, the poor.

Aid agencies are rewarded for setting goals, not for achieving them. Aid agencies and transnational organisations publish plethoras of reports every year. Incestuous and narcissistic these reports rarely feature the voices of the poor in the developing world. Instead they proliferate aims and goals and targets like bunnies, the vaguer the better. It actually has a name: ‘goal proliferation’.

The UN Millennium Project developed a framework in 2005 with the help of 250 development experts, commissioning thirteen reports from ten task forces. All this helped the project to come up with its framework, with its eighteen indicative targets for the eight MDGs, its ten key recommendations (which are actually thirty-six recommendations when you count all the bullet points), “a bold, needs-based, goal-oriented investment framework over 10 years,” seventeen Quick Wins to be done immediately, seven “main investment and policy clusters,” and ten problems to be solved in the international aid system. (p.164)

Western countries all too often make aid conditional on the promise it will be spent on donor country products and services. Or dependent on the recipient country’s aid in, for example, the War on Terror.

Chapter 6. Bailing out the Poor

A chapter describing the origins, aims and achievements of the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund.

The IMF needs to shed its excessive self-confidence that it knows in detail what is best for the poor, based on an analysis of the whole economy that shares the presumptions of utopian planning.

Easterly uses a fair amount of data and graphs. Here he assembles data showing that countries the IMF and World Bank have heavy involvement in tend to have disastrous political and economic records. Of course, you could argue this is because it’s precisely struggling or failing states which they ought to get involved in.

Chapter 7. The Healers: Triumph and Tragedy

A chapter on AIDS which, like everything else he discusses, Easterly fits into the terms of his primal binary:

The breakdown of the aid system on AIDS…reflects how out of touch were the Planners at the top with the tragedy at the bottom, another sign of the weak power of the intended beneficiaries. It shows how ineffective Planners are at making foreign aid work. (p.213)

Among a blizzard of facts it contains the riveting statistic that money spent educating prostitutes to be hygienic and insist on condoms can save between 100 and a thousand times more lives than money spent on (very expensive) retroviral drugs once people have contracted HIV (p.227) and both are eclipsed by oral rehydration therapy which can save babies dying of diarrhea or vaccinating against measles.

Aid, like all political-economics, is about choices and trade-offs. Easterly thinks western governments and aid agencies are unduly influenced by high profile, image-led, televisable results, what he calls ‘the bias towards observability’ (p.322). Thus a statistic like ‘number of retroviral drugs sent to Uganda to treat x number of AIDS patients’ eclipses ‘number of children vaccinated against measles thus preventing a measles outbreak and saving an unknown number of children’.

Part 3. The White Man’s Army

When I worked on Channel 4’s international affairs programme I met pundits and theorists who discussed the need for a new imperialism i.e. many developing countries just can’t run themselves and that was in the late 1980s, over 30 years ago.

A decade later it had become a fashionable idea. In Empire Lite (2003) Michael Ignatieff said the West needed to have the courage of its convictions and take control of failing states for the good of their citizens. In Colossus (2004) Niall Ferguson says America should face up to its position as sole superpower and formalise its financial and military control, claiming that there is:

‘such a thing as liberal imperialism and that on balance it was a good thing…in many cases of economic ‘backwardness,’ a liberal empire can do better than a nation-state.’

Senior British diplomat Robert Cooper wrote an article advocating for more western intervention in failing states, thinking which influenced Tony Blair’s famous Chicago speech, a set of ideas which explain his enthusiastic support of George Bush’s plan to invade Iraq and overthrow the evil dictator Saddam Hussein.

Leaving aside the vast culture wars-style furore this would cause, there’s a simpler problem with this superficially attractive idea, which is that the Iraq fiasco proved that the West isn’t, in fact, up to the job.

One reason for this is clearly stated by Rory Stewart and various other commentators on the Iraq and Afghan debacles, namely that the old imperial powers were in it for the long term. Their administrators stayed for decades, got to know and love the local languages and cultures, probably exploited the locals and their resources, but also built schools, roads, railways, abolished slavery, tried to help women (banned suttee etc).

The commentators and analysts he cites talk about ‘postmodern imperialism’. Whatever it’s called, it reeks of the same top down, Planner mentality which came to ruin in Iraq and no just ruin, but laughable, ridiculous ruin.

As he says:

One thing today’s nation-builders could learn from their colonial predecessors: once you get in, it’s very hard to constructively get out.

See America’s 20 year, one-trillion-dollar involvement in Afghanistan which reverted to Taliban rule before the last US troops had even left.

I found Easterly’s chapter on the legacy of European colonialism fascinating because its focus is on colonial incompetence rather than malice. The imperialists undermined traditional societies, imposed outside rulers, exacerbated tribal rivalries and drew preposterous borders mainly out of ignorance and stupidity. His detailed examples of blundering interference, destroying local cultures and rulers, embedding conflicts many of which are still with us today, are far more powerful and shaming than the  cheap and easy blanket accusation of ‘racism’.

This emphasis is, of course, because Easterly wants to draw the comparison with modern-day aid agencies, western governments, NGOs and so on who he accuses of comparable amounts of ignorance and outside interference ignoring the wishes and complex realities of the natives. So he presents an entertaining survey of imperial mistakes and cock-ups.

There are three different ways that Western mischief contributed to present day grief in the Rest. 1) First, the West gave territory to one group that a different group already believed it possessed. 2) Second, the West drew boundary lines splitting an ethnic group into two or more parts across nations, frustrating nationalist ambitions of that group and creating ethnic minority problems in two or more resulting nations. 3) Third, the West combined into a single nation two or more groups that were historical enemies.

He describes a detailed analysis he did with academic colleagues. They examined the percentage of the population that belongs to ethnic groups that the borders split between adjacent countries.

Former colonies with a high share of partitioned peoples do worse today on democracy, government service delivery, rule of law, and corruption. Highly partitioned countries do worse on infant mortality, illiteracy, and specific public services such as immunisation against measles, immunisation for diphtheria-pertussis-tetanus, and supply of clean water.

They then did something interesting and amusing, which is calculate a value for how wiggly a state’s borders are, on the assumption that long straight borders indicate they were drawn on a map by ignorant colonial bureaucrats, whereas wiggly borders indicate older or more ethnically aligned borders.

We found that artificially straight borders were statistically associated with less democracy, higher infant mortality, more illiteracy, less childhood immunisation, and less access to clean water – all measured today. The straight hand of the colonial mapmaker is discernible in development outcomes many decades later.

Easterly gives extended descriptions of Congo, Palestine and the broader Middle East (Syria, Iraq), India and Sudan, in each case going into much detail to show how ruinous western involvement in each country was.

Chapter 9. Invading the Poor

This brings us up to date with the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 and then the Coalition Provisional Authority’s attempt to turn Iraq overnight into a free market capitalist system. Cheerleader of neo-liberal capitalism and post-modern imperialism, Niall Ferguson, is quoted again:

The United States should be devoting a larger percentage of its vast resources to making the world safe for capitalism and democracy…the proper role of an imperial America is to establish these institutions where they are lacking, if necessary…by military force…Imposing democracy on all the world’s “rogue states” would not push the U.S. defence budget much above 5 percent of GDP. There is also an economic argument for doing so, as establishing the rule of law in such countries would pay a long-run dividend as their trade revived and expanded…

But Easterly then goes back before the Iraq adventure, back before the fall of communism to look at two case studies of American intervention during the Cold War, in Nicaragua and Angola, a country of ‘spectacular misery’ (p.277). He demonstrates how the West and America in particular never really understood the local history, culture and political dynamics of either country, and how their interventions (supporting the murderous Contra opposition to the communist Sandanista government in Nicaragua, and the psychopath Jonas Savimbi against the Marxist MPLA government in Angola) resulted in decades of misery, extreme violence, unnecessary deaths and economic ruin.

This is yet another area where the Planners’ utopian goals—universal peace, democracy, human rights, and prosperity—substitute for modest tasks that may be more doable by Searchers, such as rescuing innocent civilians from murderous attacks.

So, to summarise:

The pre-cold war, cold war, and post-cold war record on intervening militarily to promote the more ambitious goals of political and economic development yields a cautionary lesson – don’t.

Chapter 10. Homegrown development

By contrast with the sorry record of weak states created by uninformed western bureaucrats, ruled by colonial exploiters and then abandoned to their fate in the 1960s, Easterly contrasts a series of nations which have done very well economically, rising to and sometimes superseding western levels of economic development and which were never colonised. The highest per capita growth rates in the world 1980 to 2002 were enjoyed by South Korea, China, Taiwan, Singapore and Thailand. What they have in common is they were never colonised but also, more Easterly’s point, found their own paths to economic success and had little or no western aid and intervention.

Most of the recent success in the world economy is happening in Eastern and Southern Asia, not as a result of some global plan to end poverty but for homegrown reasons.

Whereas the bottom ten countries in the per capita growth league are all in Africa, are all former colonies, are all the recipients of massive amounts of western aid, which doesn’t seem to have helped them at all.

He has sections about two of the home-grown high-growth success stories, Singapore and Hong Kong, analysing the reasons for their success. Both were, in fact, British colonies but, crucially, ones where the British authorities were wise enough to leave the local merchants and businessmen to their own devices.

He then goes on to the two giants of Asia, China and India. China’s story is simple. It stopped being a backward country, and took a huge leap forward as soon as the ruling communist party replaced Mao’s repressive, ruinous tyranny with measured, controlled form of Chinese-style capitalism.

In the mid-2000s I worked at the UK Department for International Development for 18 months. On the first day, as I was being shown round, my guide made the frank and disconcerting point that over the past 20 years nearly half a billion people had been lifted out of poverty and it was absolutely nothing to do with western aid; it was entirely down to China adopting capitalism.

You could argue that China has developed a strange hybrid version of capitalism:

It is an unconventional homegrown success, failing to follow any Western blueprint for how to be modern. It combines lack of property rights with free markets, Communist Party dictatorship with feedback on local public services, and municipal state enterprises with private ones. (p.310)

But that plays right into Easterly’s thesis, which is that each country has to work out its own way to economic success, precisely by not having identikit western models (à la World Bank and IMF) forced on them.

After China and India, Easterly gives us 3 or 4 page summaries of the success of Turkey, Botswana and, surprisingly, Chile. I quote his conclusion at length because it’s an important, succinct summary of his position.

The success of Japan, China, the East Asian Tigers, India, Turkey, Botswana, and Chile is turning into a comic relic the arrogance of the West. Americans and Western Europeans will one day realise that they are not, after all, the saviours of ‘the Rest.’

Even when the West fails to ‘develop’ the Rest, the Rest develops itself. The great bulk of development success in the Rest comes from self-reliant, exploratory efforts, and the borrowing of ideas, institutions, and technology from the West only when it suits the Rest to do so.

Again, the success stories do not give any simple blueprint for imitation. Their main unifying theme is that all of them subjected their development searching to a market test, using a combination of domestic and export markets. Using the market for feedback and accountability seems to be necessary for success. But we have seen in chapter 3 that creating free markets is itself difficult, and the success stories certainly don’t all fit some pristine laissez-faire ideal.

We know that gross violations of free markets and brutal self-aggrandizing autocrats usually preclude success. Beyond that breathtakingly obvious point, there is no automatic formula for success, only many political and economic Searchers looking for piecemeal improvements that overcome the many obstacles described in chapters 3 and 4.

Bottom-up, diverse, culture-specific, exploratory, open-minded, experimental, market-driven, are the characteristics of economic success in developing countries. Piecemeal solutions to defined problems. NOT the top-down, highly planned, centralised, vague and unspecific utopian visions of western aid donors.

Chapter 11. The Future of Western Assistance

When you are in a hole, the top priority is to stop digging. Discard your patronising confidence that you know how to solve other people’s problems better than they do. Don’t try to fix governments or societies. Don’t invade other countries, or send arms to one of the brutal armies in a civil war. End conditionality. Stop wasting our time with summits and frameworks. Give up on sweeping and naive institutional reform schemes. The aim should be to make individuals better off, not to transform governments or societies.

Aid cannot achieve the end of poverty. Only homegrown development based on the dynamism of individuals and firms in free markets can do that. Shorn of the impossible task of general economic development, aid can achieve much more than it is achieving now to relieve the sufferings of the poor.

Put the focus back where it belongs: get the poorest people in the world such obvious goods as the vaccines, the antibiotics, the food supplements, the improved seeds, the fertilizer, the roads, the boreholes, the water pipes, the textbooks, and the nurses. This is not making the poor dependent on handouts; it is giving the poorest people the health, nutrition, education, and other inputs that raise the payoff to their own efforts to better their lives.

He then gives examples of ground-up, localised interventions which have improved the lives of poor people, especially children, in Mexico, Kenya and India. He does a survey of small-scale interventions and also new methods of evaluation which he thinks could be replicated. Then a list of 6 basic principles which, again, I quote in their entirety so as to share the ideas and knowledge:

  1. Have aid agents individually accountable for individual, feasible areas for action that help poor people lift themselves up.
  2. Let those agents search for what works, based on past experience in their area.
  3. Experiment, based on the results of the search.
  4. Evaluate, based on feedback from the intended beneficiaries and scientific testing.
  5. Reward success and penalize failure. Get more money to interventions that are working, and take money away from interventions that are not working. Each aid agent should explore and specialize further in the direction of what they prove good at doing.
  6. Make sure incentives in (5) are strong enough to do more of what works, then repeat step (4). If action fails, make sure incentives in (5) are strong enough to send the agent back to step (1). If the agent keeps failing, get a new one.

And a restatement of his core position:

Aid won’t make poverty history, which Western aid efforts cannot possibly do. Only the self-reliant efforts of poor people and poor societies themselves can end poverty, borrowing ideas and institutions from the West when it suits them to do so. But aid that concentrates on feasible tasks will alleviate the sufferings of many desperate people in the meantime. Isn’t that enough?

If we can’t sort our own countries out, how can we expect to sort out other peoples’?

Since the turn of the century inequality has increased in all western countries, as the rich get richer, public services collapse, and the middle and working classes get poorer.

If we cannot ‘abolish poverty’ in our own countries, what kind of deluded hubris makes us think we can solve it in countries completely unlike ours, with wildly different cultures and traditions?

The fallacy is to assume that because I have studied and lived in a society that somehow wound up with prosperity and peace, I know enough to plan for other societies to have prosperity and peace.

Western social scientists don’t begin to comprehend fully the complex process of state formation and rule of law in the West, so they shouldn’t be too quick to predict how it will work anywhere else.

The rules that make markets work reflect a complex bottom-up search for social norms, networks of relationships, and formal laws and institutions that have the most payoff.

To make things worse, these norms, networks, and institutions change in response to changed circumstances and their own past history. Political philosophers such as Burke, Popper, and Hayek had the key insight that this social interplay was so complex that a top-down reform that tried to change all the rules at once could make things worse rather than better.

In the section titled ‘You can’t plan a market’, he writes:

Introducing free markets from the top down is not so simple. It overlooks the long sequence of choices, institutions, and innovations that have allowed free markets to develop in the rich Western economies.

Markets everywhere emerge in an unplanned, spontaneous way, adapting to local traditions and circumstances, and not through reforms designed by outsiders. The free market depends on the bottom-up emergence of complex institutions and social norms that are difficult for outsiders to understand, much less change…Planners underestimated how difficult it is to get markets working in a socially beneficial way.

But, as Easterly indicates, the arrogance never stops, and each new generation of politicians wants to strut and swank upon the world stage, and pledge billions to ‘aid’ and ‘poverty reduction’, commissioning the same kinds of Grand Plan, which will spend hundreds of millions on western consultants and experts and advisers and banks and planners with, in the end, little or no permanent effect on most of the inhabitants of the poorest countries.

Conclusion about the book

It might be 15 years old but ‘The White Man’s Burden’ is like an encyclopedia of ideas and arguments, every page exploding with explanations and concepts told in a clear, punchy, often humorous style. It’s hugely enjoyable and massively enlightening.

Thoughts about the West

Easterly’s book, written in 2004 and 2005, comes from a position of confident superiority – I mean it takes for granted that the West is rich and has an obligation to sort out ‘the Rest’ i.e. the Third World, the developing world or the Global South, whatever the latest term is for the poorest countries.

But nearly 20 years later it feels to me like the whole picture has changed. I can’t speak for America but the fact that Donald Trump might be re-elected president tells you all you need to know about the state of its ‘democracy’ and its deeply divided society.

But as for the country I live in, Britain no longer feels like a rich country. For thirteen years it has been mismanaged by a Conservative party in thrall to the neoliberal mirage that Britain can ever be like America, that – if only the state could be reduced to a bare minimum, all state-provided services slashed to the bone, personal and corporate taxes significantly cut – then the British people’s inner capitalist would be set free, Free Enterprise would flourish and Britain would become a high-education, high-tech, 21st century economy like the Asian Tigers (Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan).

In pursuit of this grandiose delusion the Conservative Party has undermined all Britain’s social services,  sold off our utilities, privatised state industries, making Britain a poorer, dirtier, more polluted and miserable place for most of its inhabitants to live in, with most public services on the verge of collapse (English town halls face unprecedented rise in bankruptcies, council leaders warn).

Easterly takes it for granted that the West is rich and will continue to be rich, and is democratic and will continue to be democratic, so that we can continue to intervene in other countries from a position of stable superiority. But what if this assumption is wrong?

Easterly’s book amounts to a long list of all the elements which need to be in place to secure wealth and democracy and, the longer the list went on, the more nervous I became about its viability. Democracy seems so unnatural, so against human nature, requires such a concerted effort to maintain and, in the 15 years since the book was published, so many forces have arisen, within western countries themselves and her enemies abroad (Russia, to some extent China), which seek to actively undermine it, not least the forces of the authoritarian, nationalist right.

And then there’s global warming. Severe weather conditions are coming which threaten to permanently damage food and water supplies, make parts of the planet uninhabitable and uproot billions.

The net effect of this book was to terrify me at the fragility and uncertainty of western wealth and democracy. What if Vladimir Putin is correct and liberal democracy is doomed? Personally, I don’t think  he is, Putin said that for propaganda effect. On the other hand, it’s fairly clear that liberal democracy is in trouble. Easterly’s book is nominally about our obligation to save the poorest countries in the world. But what if we can’t even save ourselves?


Credit

The White Man’s Burden: Why the West’s Efforts to Aid the Rest Have Done So Much Ill and So Little Good by William Easterly was published by Penguin Books in 2006. All references are to the 2007 Oxford University Press paperback.

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The World’s Most Dangerous Place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia by James Fergusson (2013)

Caado la gooyaa car alle ayey leedahay
(‘The abandonment of tradition calls forth the wrath of Allah’, Somali proverb, quoted in The World’s Most Dangerous Place, page 398)

James Fergusson worked on this book with help from a grant from the Airey Neave Trust, a charity whose objective is to promote research ‘designed to make a discernible impact and to contribute in a practical way to the struggle against international terrorist activity’ (p.447). So at least one of the book’s aims is to provide a background to, and history of, the rise of Islamic terrorism in the Horn of Africa.

But it also explains something else, which isn’t immediately obvious, which is that the book is in two halves and only the first half (parts one and two) are set in Somalia (part one in and around Mogadishu, part two further afield, in Puntland and Somaliland). The entire second half of the book (part three) is not set in the most dangerous place in the world at all, but in the West, first in London, then in Minnesota, then back in London again.

This makes it different from your average reporting-from-Africa book because Fergusson is less reporting from Africa than investigating a problem (Somali Islamic extremism) which has both an African dimension (obviously) and, less obviously, ramifications for the Somali diaspora in the West.

So the title is a little misleading because over a third of the text is not from the most dangerous place in the world but from West London and the American Mid-West and, although he meets lots of politicians, soldiers and locals in Somalia, it is in London and Minneapolis (and, right at the end of the book, in France) that he has his longest and most thought-provoking conversations with Somali emigrants.

Contents

The locations, dates and themes of the book are conveniently indicated by its chapter titles:

Part 1: Living on the Line

  1. An African Stalingrad: the war against al-Shabaab (Hawl Wadaag district, Mogadishu, March 2011)
  2. At the Bancroft Hotel: America’s proxy war (By Aden Adde International Airport, March 2011)
  3. The field hospital: What bombs and bullets do to people (AMISOM HQ, March 2011)
  4. Aden’s story (AMISOM HQ, March 2011)
  5. The failure of Somali politics (Villa Somalia presidential complex, March 2011)
  6. What makes al-Shabaab tick? (Hodan District, June 2011)
  7. The famine (Badbaado refugee camp, Dharkenly district, June to July 2011)

Part 2: Nomad’s Land

  1. In the court of King Farole (Garowe, Puntland, August 2011)
  2. Galkacyo: Pirateville (Galmudug, August 2011)
  3. Hargeisa Nights (Hargeisa, Somaliland, July 2011)
  4. How to start a border war (Taleh, Sool, June 2011)

Part 3: The Diaspora

  1. The Somali youth time-bomb (London, July 2011)
  2. The missing of Minneapolis (Twin Cities, Minnesota, September 2011)
  3. ‘Clanism is a disease like AIDS’ (London, February 2012)
  4. Operation Linda Nchi: The end for al-Shabaab? (Besançon to Nairobi, March to June 2012)

Postscript to the paperback edition (Edinburgh, November 2013)

Fergusson’s enduring interest in Islamic affairs

Prior to a spell working with the UN, Fergusson was a journalist with a special interest in Muslim affairs, reporting from Algeria, Bosnia and Taliban-controlled Afghanistan. After serving in several administrative positions (press spokesman for the Office of the High Representative in Bosnia, 1998 to 2000) Fergusson returned to journalism and wrote a run of factual books including:

  • A Million Bullets (2008), a critique of Britain’s military engagement in Afghanistan
  • Taliban – Unknown Enemy (2010), a plea for greater engagement with Nato’s Afghan enemy

This present book follows on from those two, evidence of his long-term engagement with Islamic warriors and terrorism. As Fergusson says in his introduction, it was triggered by the rise of al-Shabaab in the Horn of Africa. Members of al-Shabaab came from the same kind of poor, neglected societies as the Taliban, and some of its leaders had fought alongside the Taliban in Afghanistan, so it felt like a natural progression to move from covering an Islamic insurgency in one country (Afghanistan) to a closely connected new one (al-Shabaab in Somalia).

Out of date

This book is, alas, 10 years old. A lot of its predictions i.e. that Somalia was turning a corner, the peace deal might stick etc, turned out to be hooey. Somalia now (2023) has an official government but continues to be mired in violence. Al-Shabaab are still there, killing people.

Why do I keep reading these out-of-date books? Well, a) because they’re cheap and the most up-to-date books about these countries are in hardback and very expensive, but b) because there aren’t that many popular journalistic accounts of these countries and conflicts available.

Fergusson’s book is very people-focused. It goes long on the people he meets and interview and hangs out with and gets to know, from as many walks of life as he can, from as many parts of the country as he can. I really liked Paul Kenyon’s book, ‘Dictatorland’, because it includes interviews and whatnot in it, but each chapter is focused on just one country, and pared back to give you the essential info. Fergusson’s is much more chatty, diffuse and long, at 464 pages including index.

Somalilands

It’s important to understand that ethnic Somalis live scattered across five countries, Ethiopia, Djibouti, Somaliland, Somalia and northern Kenya, and that, during the colonial era, there were no fewer than three colonies named Somaliland. At the north-west was the small French colony of French Somaliland. This won its independence from France in 1977 and called itself Djibouti. Next door to it was British Somaliland and, in the territory containing the actual Horn of Africa and then round to the south, was Italian Somaliland.

British Somaliland was granted independence in June 1960, with the name of Somaliland, and promptly united with the former Italian Somalia to form the Somali Republic. However, at the overthrow of the Somali dictator Siad Barre in May 1991, representatives of the leading clans and Somali National Movement proclaimed Somaliland an independent state. Almost no other states accepts it as an independent nation; the West, the United Nations etc all regard it as an autonomous province of Somalia.

Spanning the actual Horn of Africa is another statelet, the province of Puntland, which has its own elections, assembly, prime minister and president, but remains a part of Somalia. Spanning the Horn, Puntland is the epicentre of Somali piracy, as Fergusson discovers when he goes to meet the president, and then is introduced to actual pirates via local fixers and contacts.

As to the Somalis across the border in Ethiopia, in 1977 Somalia’s dictator, Siad Barre, invaded the Ogaden region of eastern Ethiopia in a bid to claim it and its ethnic Somali population for Somalia, but was badly defeated by the (Marxist) Ethiopian regime, backed by the Soviet Union.

Tension between the two neighbours remains. In 2006 Ethiopia, with the backing of the US, invaded Somalia in order to overthrow the Islamic Courts Union. This, as you would expect, triggered a wave of Somali patriotism, which the newly formed al-Shabaab exploited to the full. The war lasted from 2006 till 2009 when Ethiopia withdrew, having thoroughly destabilised Somalia, yet again.

When Fergusson goes to America to explore the largest Somali community there, sited, incongruously enough, in wintry Minneapolis, he finds a lot of anger at how America supported Ethiopia in invading their country, and at the three years of fighting which left Mogadishu even more destroyed and displaced hundreds of thousands. All things considered, it seems to have been a very bad move.

So, the complex colonial heritage of badly conceived administrative regions has been a central contributor to Somalia’s collapse.

Somalia’s clans

Somali culture is dogged by its clan system. Every single Somali is born into a clan, sub-clan and sub-sub-clan, and these have been at war with each other forever. There are an estimated 140 clans, sub-clans, and sub-sub-clans, but there are five major clans which sit at the top of the tree:

  • Hawiye, 25%
  • Isaaq, 22%
  • Darod, 20%
  • Rahanweyn, 17%
  • Dir, 7%

This map gives a good sense of how the Somali people and clans spill over the borders imposed by European colonialism and inherited by modern states.

(However, in London Fergusson interviews the founder of the Anti-Tribalism Movement, and makes the point that the younger generation of Westernised Somalis consciously reject the tribalism of their elders and tradition, p.379.)

The Somali civil war

Nobody agrees exactly when the Somali Civil War started. It grew out of resistance to the military junta which came to power in 1969, and came to be dominated by General Siad Barre, resistance which grew during the later 1980s. Numerous rebel groups formed, generally structured around Somalia’s very strong clan structure. The Siad Barre regime fell in 1991 and no central authority replaced it, instead the start of a multi-sided civil war.

In the chaos of civil war, during the 1990s, local Islamic courts were established amid the chaos to enforce basic law and order. When warlords attacked them, they united in around 2000 to form the Islamic Courts Union (ICU). Although fractious and disagreeing among themselves, the Islamic courts offered pretty much the last remaining source of authority and justice in a ruined society.

In 2006 ICU forces defeated a coalition of warlords backed by the US and established a period of peace and security for the first time in a generation. This was wrecked after just six months when Ethiopian forces, backed by the US, invaded, leading to the 2006 to 2009 civil war. As a result of the war, much of the leadership fled abroad, leaving the youthful and most zealous members, who set up the party they called al-Shabaab, ‘the Youth’. These called for jihad against the Ethiopian invaders and their US sponsors, and this cry was answered not only inside the country but by small numbers of young men in the West’s Somali diaspora, notably in the UK and USA.

In 2009 a former chairman of the Islamic Courts Union, Sharif Sheikh Ahmed, became president of Somalia and replaced the Transitional Government with the Federal Government of Somalia. In 2012, the country adopted a new constitution that declared Somalia an Islamic state with Sharia as its primary source of law.

Al-Shabaab

Al-Shabaab, also known as Ash-Shabaab, Hizb al-Shabaab, and the Popular Resistance Movement in the Land of the Two Migrations (PRM). In Arabic, al-Shabaab simply means ‘the youth’ so Hizb al-Shabaab simply means ‘the Party of Youth’.

Numerous interviewees tell Fergusson that al-Shabaab’s mindset, dogmatic Islamism and violence are alien to Somali traditions. Somalis have traditionally been Sufis, a peaceful, spiritual version of Islam. They reverence their saints and build shrines to them. It is well-known that the top rank of al-Shabaab is dominated by foreigners, hard-liners from Pakistan, Afghanistan or Saudi, who impose a brutally puritanical version of Islam. For example, in areas they hold al-Shabaab has embarked on programmes of blowing up shrines to Somali Sufi saints, to the horror of the locals; but their punishments are so extreme and violent that no-one dare speak out. Fergusson meets many Somalis who says Islam is a religion of peace and forgiveness and so al-Shabaab, with its doctrine of unrelenting violence and vengefulness, are not Muslims.

Al-Qaeda in Islamic Maghreb

Al-Qaeda in Islamic Maghreb or AQIM is an Islamist militant offshoot of al-Qaeda Central that is engaged in an insurgency campaign in the Maghreb and Sahel regions. AQIM raises money by kidnapping for ransom and is estimated to have raised more than $50 million in the last decade.

Osama bin Laden put off a closer alliance with al-Shabaab. But after his assassination in May 2011, his successor as leader of al-Qaeda, Ayman al-Zawahari, agreed to a merger between Al-Shabaab and al-Qaeda (p.128).

Islam, identity and purpose

Fergusson cites Gerald Hanley, a British officer who spent years among the northern Somali in the 1940s, making a related and broader point:

‘Islam does wonders for the self-respect of non-white people.’ (quoted p.54)

Islam offers discipline, focus, purpose and self respect in people who feel themselves second or third-class citizens, citizens of states so obviously failed and impoverished compared to the wonderlands of the West which they can see via the internet or in the astonishing wealth of UN and Western and aid agency staff, fabulously well fed, living in air-conditioned bases and hotels, swanning round in their big white land cruisers like new imperialists.

Militant Islam offers a source of identity and self-respect in the face of all the batterings young men are subject to in these kinds of impoverished chaotic societies.

This long book contains contributions from numerous interviewees about why Islamic terrorism arises, flourishes and spreads, but this is an important one of them.

The African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM)

Fergusson’s narrative opens in March 2011. A UN-approved force raised by the African Union is fighting its way through Mogadishu, trying to restore order. Most of the soldiers came from the Ugandan People’s Defence Force (UPDF). They were fighting for the Transitional Federal Government or TFG, which was established in 2004. The AU mission as a whole was called the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). Fighting had been fierce. AMISOM’s casualty rates were worse than those of NATO in Afghanistan.

Fergusson is effectively a guest of AMISOM, and stays in an air-conditioned portakabin on the military base at Mogadishu airport (p.37).

The problem of young men

Early on Fergusson makes a profound point which is relevant to all developing countries, to some extent all states. In his opinion, the problem with all these (developing) countries is what to do with the young men.

‘I just don’t know what we’re going to do about our young men,’ [says an elderly man, Abdulkarim, who’s been injured by a stray bullet]…Abdulkarim was expressing the despair of a patriarchal society that had lost all control of its successor generation. With the traditional bonds broken, the young men were rudderless, and now, exploited by foreigners and misled by extremists, their mad and endless violence was slowly destroying Somalia…(p.64)

Their corrupt dictators have run failing or rentier states with little interest or understanding of how to invest across all sectors of their economies in order to grow and develop them but people have kept on breeding at rates appropriate to pre-industrial societies. Lots of babies who grow up into lots and lots of unemployed young men hanging round on street corners.

(In his book The Shadow of The Sun: My African Life, Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuściński says that in West Africa these unemployed hopeless young men are called bayaye. He uses the example of Samuel Doe, president of Liberia from 1986 to September 1990, who started life as an unemployed peasant without a future, who trekked from a remote impoverished village though trackless jungles to the capital, Monrovia, in search of work, food and a purpose:

The trek from the jungle to Monrovia requires many days of difficult marching across roadless tropical expanses. Only young, strong people can manage it. And it is they who arrived in the city. But nothing awaited them here: neither jobs, nor a roof over their heads. From the very first day, they became bayaye – that army of the young unemployed squatting idly on all the larger streets and squares of African cities. The existence of this multitude is one of the chief causes of turmoil on the continent: it is from their ranks that local chieftains, for a pittance, often with only the promise of food, recruit the armies they will use in their struggles for power, organising coups, fomenting civil wars. (‘The Shadow of The Sun: My African Life’ by Ryszard Kapuściński, page 244)

Mind you, when I googled bayaye one of the first results is from the Oxford Dictionary of African politics, which defines it as: ‘A Bantu term that has come to refer to idle youth or ‘street thugs’ in Uganda, i.e. people who are unemployed and can be seen hanging out on street corners’. So it looks like a commonly used term across central Africa. )

The West tries to broker peace deals, to oversee ‘democratic’ elections and continues to give hundreds of millions of dollars in aid, and all the aid adverts you ever see will feature either young children, girls and women because these are the sentimental, wallet-opening faces of poverty. But no development in any Third World country can take place until you stop the fighting. And the fighting won’t stop until you give unemployed, aimless young men roles and goals which give them more dignity, self-worth and camaraderie than joining an Islamic militia.

Somalia had always been riven by clan rivalry and warfare. But over the years a system had evolved of controlling and limiting the violence, known as xeer, an ancient and sophisticated system of customary laws traditionally administered by the elders of rival clans who would meet and agree compromises and solutions to disputes and feuds. The dictator Siad Barre deliberately ran down this system while promoting his socialist revolution, thus helping to eliminate ancient ways of controlling or moderating clan violence.

In the old days, said Aden, the young men of al-Shabaab would have been brought into line by their elders and betters. The problem was that the war had destroyed that system. ‘It is not possible to convene a council of elders because there are no elders,’ he said (p.90)

Fergusson makes a striking visit to a camp for reformed or defecting al-Shabaab fighters. He expects to find ideologically hardened fanatics so is taken aback to encounter a group of boys, 15, 16 and 17 year olds, who lark around and take the mickey, pulling faces and giving sarcastic answers, like any other gang of unruly lads.

Everywhere he goes Fergusson sees ‘unemployed young men one saw in every Somali town, hanging about on street corners’ (p.220). The bayaye.

A criminologist named Daniel LeDouceur explains that the entire situation in Somalia needs to be seen through the prism of gang culture and gang psychology: the clans are really extended gangs; the pirates are formed in gangs; the people smugglers (across the Red Sea to Yemen) work in gangs; and al-Shabaab is really another congeries of gangs. So the solution is not ‘democracy’ etc etc, but the same approach to solving gang culture anywhere, which is to give young men, the bayaye, meaningful work and prospects (p.146).

‘Every man who has nothing will try something to get money.’
(Abdi-Osman who tried life as a pirate before being recruited to al-Shabaab, p.147)

Poverty

Poverty is one cause. Recruits to al-Shabaab, like recruits to the Taliban in Afghanistan, were attracted by the simple promise of pay; no matter the risks, it was better than being utterly unemployed and penniless. When the famine hits in spring 2011, Fergusson comes across three lads who were in a school classroom when an al-Shabaab recruiter asked for volunteers and stuck up their hands. ‘Why?’ Fergusson asks. Because they were paid a piece of fruit per day. That’s all it took (p.176).

Or the extended story told by Dahir Kadiye of the family who make $48 from each sheep they sell which will feed the family for three weeks, or a million dollars from one successful pirate hostage which will mean the entire family of eight never has to work again (p.401).

Ignorance

No schools and a very primitive nomad existence for the majority of the population explain the high levels of illiteracy and ignorance. (The literacy rate in Somali adults is currently estimated to be 40%.)

The root problem he [AMONO Chief Medical Officer, Colonel James Kiyungo] thought, was lack of education. ‘The fighters here learn to read the Koran, but they have no skills. There are no carpenters, no cooks, no plumbers – only the gun.’ (p.69)

Ignorant boys are easily led, specially by glamorous older boys with guns and money, and food.

The poverty and ignorance of the young which fuelled the insurgency were genuine grievances and had to be addressed. (p.178)

In fact this theme forms Fergusson’s conclusion. We need to address the problem of bored, rootless, alienated young men if we are to address al-Shabaab and militant Islam more generally, to address it in its heartlands before its violence spreads to Muslim diasporas in the West.

In Western cities, as in the Horn of Africa, sustained engagement with Somalia’s young men is the key to a better future for us all. (p.21)

Mohamed Alin

Somali politicians recognise and try to address the issue. Fergusson meets Mohamed Alin, who had returned from exile in Northolt, Middlesex, to make himself president of the self-declared autonomous region of Galmudug, a small statelet on the border between south Somalia and Puntland in the north. Alin explains that he wants to properly fund schools ‘to educate young men about the perils of piracy’, with skills training to provide livelihoods such as carpentry, electrical engineering and so on (p.226).

But such a thing requires, above all, peace, law and order: security; and then, proper funding, which has to come from abroad. And any link in the fragile chain of requirements can be sabotaged at any moment by outbreaks of clan or Islamic violence.

Thus peace remains elusive, aid donors are reluctant to give money which will disappear in corruption, and so ‘piracy’ remains a viable career for thousands and thousands of young Somali men, many of whom travel hundreds of kilometres from the drought-stricken, famine-stricken interior on the promise of rich pickings which will allow them to splash the cash, buy fancy cars, live high on the hog, take a wife and generally be a man (p.233).

Somalis in Britain

The book includes a long, deeply scary chapter about Somalis in Britain. No-one knows how many Somalis there are in Britain, maybe as many as 200,000. They have a lot of social problems. Only half of Somalis have any qualifications and only 3% have a higher education qualification. With the result that unemployment among Somalis runs at 40%, the highest of any immigrant community (p.299).

What scares various experts, educators, and Somali community leaders Fergusson speaks to is Somalis’ hyper-violence, ‘feral’ behaviour according to a teacher in a state school a third of whose pupils are Somali (p.304). Hundreds are permanently excluded from the education system because of bad behaviour and violence (p.306).

Evidence that Somali gangs have trounced white or Jamaican gangs in immigrant hotspots (Southall, Leytonstone). Some of this is down to having experienced hyper-violence in Somalia before immigrating (p.322). Many lack the restraining influence of a father (pages 306, 319) – ‘the specific Somali problem of paternal absenteeism’ (p.374). (In Minneapolis Fergusson discovers that 90% of the young men who’ve absconded to fight in Somalia grew up in fatherless households, pages 336, 348).

Mothers are failing to discipline their sons (p.307). It doesn’t help that many of these mums can’t read, write or speak English. This feeds into lack of educational achievement and a cycle of alienation and violence. According to a community worker, young Somali men are harder to reach than any other ethnic group, and often this is because they are just thick – stupid, uneducated, violent and proud of it (p.322). Fergusson comes to think it is a distinctive Somali trait, to be pig-headedly obstinate, even at your own expense (p.340)

Some Somali young men, raised in the UK, have travelled to Somalia to join al-Shabaab and become suicide bombers. Fergusson expresses the concern that homegrown Somalis will carry out terrorist attacks like the 7/7 bombings. In fact, of the major terrorist attacks carried out since the publication of his book, none involved Somalis:

  • 22 March 2017: Khalid Masood, a 52-year-old black Briton, drove a car into pedestrians on the south side of Westminster Bridge, injuring more than 50 people, four of them fatally, crashed the car into the perimeter fence of Westminster Palace grounds, ran into New Palace Yard where he fatally stabbed an unarmed police officer before being shot dead by an armed police officer. Five dead.
  • 22 May 2017: the Manchester Arena bombing carried out by Salman Abedi, a British citizen of Libyan descent, killing 22 people and injuring 1,017.
  • 3 June 2017: three men drove a van into pedestrians on London Bridge, then attacked shoppers at Borough Market with carving knives, killing eight people and injuring 48. All three attackers were shot dead by armed police. They were: Khuram Shazad Butt, a Pakistan-born British citizen; Rachid Redouane, a failed asylum seeker of Libyan or Moroccan origin; Youssef Zaghba, an immigrant with joint Italian/Moroccan nationality.

No Somalis.

Foreign aid

In the 1990s an estimated 80% of foreign aid to Somalia never reached its intended recipients, being stolen by corrupt officials or warlords. In 2010 an estimated 50% of foreign aid was being stolen by contractors, warlords or al-Shabaab (p.170).

Somali snippets

Somalia’s most famous novelist is Nurrudin Farah (p.31).

The very first novel to be published in the Somali language was ‘Ignorance is the Enemy of Love’ by Faarax M.J. Cawl, as recently as 1972 (p.269).

Somalis refer to the civil war period as Burburki meaning, simply, ‘the destruction’.

Everyone in Somalia chews qat which releases a substance which affects the brain like amphetamine i.e. gives you a speedy buzz (p.39).

Warriors of all varieties drove ‘technicals’, the nickname of pick-up trucks with a massive anti-aircraft gun bolted to the back of its load bay. Apparently, ‘the technical’ was invented in Somalia (p.135), although the idea of bolting heavy machine guns on to light trucks actually goes back to the Second World War, according to this article about technicals in The Conversation.

Western contractors nicknamed Somalis ‘skinnies’ (p.161).

Vivid description of Somali piracy (pages 213 to 233).

The ‘Somali rose’ is the nickname for the shreds of plastic that snag on the thorn bushes that grow in all the country’s abandoned urban spaces (p.224).

gaalo is the Somali word for white person or Westerner.

Grim account of female genital mutilation in the Somali community (pages 234 to 238).

Sayid Mohamed Abdullahi Hassan (1856 to 1920), a Somali religious, military and political leader who headed the Somali Dervish movement in a twenty-year struggle against British, Italian, and Ethiopian power in Somalia. Referred to as simply the Sayyid, he is often considered the father figure of Somali nationalism. Fergusson gives a biography of the great man, along with excerpts from his improbable epic poem on the death of a British officer, on a trip to the ruins of his garrison fortress at Toolah (pages 258 to 264).

The importation, distribution and consumption of qat or khat, chewing whose leaves cause stimulation, loss of appetite and mild euphoria (pages 367 to 377). marfish is Somali for qat-chewing den (p.368).

P.S. Black Hawk Down

The Battle of Mogadishu took place nearly 20 years before Fergusson arrived in Somalia. It’s the name given to the ill-fated attempt by American special forces to seize warlord Mohammed Farah Aidid, who they blamed for an attack on UN forces, on 3 October 1993. During the attempted abduction of Aidid, two US helicopters were shot down and the marooned soldiers were quickly surrounded by mobs and militias. American reinforcements went in with overwhelming force to rescue their boys, leaving an estimated 700 Somalis dead, but despite their efforts, 18 Americans were killed and some of their bodies dragged through the streets, amid cheering crowds. Home-made footage of these chaotic bloody scenes was widely broadcast with two consequences:

1. President Clinton was horrified and ordered the termination of US involvement in Somalia. Reluctance to risk footage of American boys being treated the same way underlay America’s extreme reluctance to get involved in the Rwandan genocide, which commenced just 6 months later, in April 1994, at exactly the same time that the last US forces were withdrawing from Somalia.

2. In 1999 journalist Mark Bowden published a forensic account of the disaster, titled ‘Black Hawk Down’, and in December 2001 a movie of the book was released, directed by Ridley Scott, featuring an all-star cast. Fergusson talks to people who, at the time of his visit 10 years after the movie release, claim the film had a very negative impact on the image of Somalis, painting them all as fanatical psychopaths, a charge also made by Somali community groups in the US who objected to the way not a single Somali was consulted about the script or filming, and not a single Somali actor appears in it.


Credit

The World’s Most Dangerous Place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia by James Fergusson was published by Bantam Press in 2013. References are to the 2014 Black Swan paperback edition.

Related links

More Africa reviews

Investment in Blood: The True Cost of Britain’s Afghan War by Frank Ledwidge (2013)

Before the British burst onto the scene, Helmand was ‘stable’ in the sense that there was almost no Taliban presence and little prospect of any. After three years of British presence, the province was the most savage combat zone in the world. With British forces and their commanders out of their depth, it was only the intervention of a powerful US force of marines that brought some level of control to the situation.
(Investment in Blood, page 217)

This is by way of being the sequel to Ledwidge’s critically acclaimed book Losing Small Wars: British Military Failure in the 9/11 Wars (2011). Ledwidge is formidably well qualified to discuss the issues. He has had an impressively wide-ranging career both in and outside the military. He started life as a barrister, then served as an intelligence officer in the naval reserve in Iraq before going on to act as a civilian justice adviser in Afghanistan. These days he’s an academic.

The true cost

Nowadays you can just google ‘cost of Afghan war’ and get a host of topline figures. Delve into a few articles and you quickly get a sense of the quagmire of conflicting estimates and figures.

According to the top result, from Brown University, as of 2023, since invading Afghanistan in 2001, the United States has spent $2.313 trillion on the war, which includes operations in both Afghanistan and Pakistan.

As to the UK, I came across this BBC page ‘Afghan withdrawal a dark chapter for UK, says Defence Committee chair‘ which puts the cost to Britain of its Afghan adventure at nearly £30 billion. Everyone has an axe to grind, everyone has an angle.

So why read a book about a subject so readily available on the internet? Well, for two reasons: 1) because books give context, angles, interpretations and, above all, ideas, in ways which ‘objective’ sources like the BBC, Wikipedia, newspaper articles, generally don’t. And 2) for the style and personality and character of the author, enjoyable, fluent, enlightening or dim and patronising, as they may be.

Investment in Blood is in three parts.

Part 1. Casualties

Chapter 1. Why we went there

And why a small peacekeeping force found itself thrown into a full-scale war. For Ledwidge a leading reason the heads of the British Army wanted to deploy to Afghanistan had nothing to do with peacekeeping or tackling the opium trade, it was a self-interested wish to keep Treasury funding coming, to bolster the business case for maintaining the army the size it was, to hang on to battalions which were threatened with being disbanded, on the principle of ‘use them or lose them’ (pages 21 and 120).

Chapter 2. The human cost i.e. army casualties

Starting with the 454 British dead, then the thousands who suffered life-changing injuries, especially amputations, and then the psychological impact, especially the much-vaunted post-traumatic stress disorder.

Chapter 3. Afghan civilian casualties

Abdul Zia has been living for six years in the dirt-poor camp of Nasaji Baghrami, set in sea of mud, excrement and pathetic tarpaulins…It is located in Kabul’s particularly dirty and unpleasant fifth police district…There was a time when life for Mr Zia was much better: he used to have a small farm and seven children. That farm was in the Lashkar Gah district of Helmand. But then one day in 2006, shortly after the British entry into Helmand, for no reason that he can fathom his house was hit by a missile or a bomb from a NATO plane. Whatever it was, it killed six of his children. (p.94)

Afghan dead

Ledwidge explains his methodology which restricts itself to Afghan civilians killed by NATO forces according to reliable, certifiable sources then proceeds through each year, carefully accrediting the numbers. He reaches a total of at least 542 Afghan civilians killed by NATO forces. Compare and contrast with these figures from the US Institute of Peace: 70,000 Afghan military and police deaths, 46,319 Afghan civilians (probably a significant underestimation) and some 53,000 opposition fighters.

Afghan wounded (p.91).

He has no figures and so gives anecdotal evidence of the number of wounded civilians attending the NGO-run civilian hospitals. Other sources claim numbers to be in the hundreds of thousands.

Afghan refugees

Then there are the refugees forced to flee their homes (p.93). According to the UN Refugee Agency, as of December 2021, the total number of people displaced by conflict inside Afghanistan is 3.5 million.

Part 2. Financial costs

Chapter 4. The cost of the vast logistical effort of installing and maintaining a brigade in Afghanistan

The American government is admirably open about the money it spends on its military campaigns, the British government is secretive and hostile to researchers.

This turns out to be impossible to ascertain because of the byzantine and different methodologies used by the Ministry of Defence and the Treasury. Ledwidge quotes several army officers and civil servants saying nobody really knows the cost of a war like this. Instead there is a confusing range of estimates depending on accounting methods and definitions, but some of the figures cited are staggering.

According to the MoD’s own figures it costs about £400,000 to keep one soldier in the field for one year, plus about £60,000. In 2012 a parliamentary question revealed the ‘net additional cost’ of military operations since 2001 as £17.3 billion. Between 2006 and 2012 it cost about £15 million per day to maintain the UK’s presence in Afghanistan.

The most gobsmacking fact, for me, was the chief of logistics to General Petraeus saying the cost of air conditioning alone to all US army bases in Iraq and Afghanistan was over $20 billion.

He has a passage describing the scale of the vast Camp Bastion in Helmand which, at its peak, was home to 22,000 troops and support personnel for 12 different nations.

The blackly Catch-22 aspect of the war is that most of the supplies are not flown in but driven into landlocked Afghanistan by brave lorry drives, much of it contracted out to security companies. Much of this is through Taliban-held territory so many of the security companies have come to arrangements with local tribal and Taliban leaders, paying them retainers not to attack their convoys. So UK taxpayers money goes to the Taliban to bribe them into not attacking the supplies being sent to the British Army so they can carry on fighting them (p.113).

Billions of pounds were spent on kit – transport, guns, ammunition – which we handed over to the Afghan police and army and which, in 2021, they handed over to the Taliban without a fight. Ledwidge predicted this would happen in 2012 (p.117).

Chapter 5. The cost of caring for the wounded and the role of charities

There used to be a number of hospitals run by the armed forces solely for military casualties. One by one these have been closed due to government cuts and now there are none. Instead there are Ministry of Defence Hospital Units, or MDHUs, embedded within civilian National Health Service hospitals. Ledwidge explains why it is quite a loss in security and psychological well-being for veterans not to be treated in units entirely staffed by their own people, who understand what they’ve been through. Ledwidge repeats reports that some wounded veterans have been barracked by other patients in NHS hospitals.

A lot of care for wounded soldiers, whether physical or mental, has been funded by charities, especially the high profile and successful Help for Heroes, founded in 2007, which complements the work of older service charities such as the Royal British Legion.

In his Afterword, written in March 2014, Ledwidge explains his methodology for calculating that the cost of supporting the nearly 3,000 troops who were evacuated from Afghanistan and the thousands more who will apply for medical and psychiatric help, for the rest of their lives, will probably cost some £10 billion (p.238).

Chapter 6. The civilian efforts i.e. the cost of development: has it really gone to help ‘the poorest of the poor’?

An eye-opening account of the work of the Department for International Development which Ledwidge calculates to have spent over £2 billion in Afghanistan. The obvious problems are that the majority of that has gone to the Afghan government, which is a byword, both among its population and internationally, for corruption. In fact it’s debatable whether it is even a government at all in the normal sense of the word or a collection of regional warlords and narco-bosses (of ‘gangsters and warlords’, in Ledwidge’s words, p.170). So that, in the words or a security officer:

‘The only Afghan lives I’ve seen transformed by western aid agencies are warlords who’ve used siphoned funds to build mansions, amass huge overseas property portfolios and arm private militias.’ (p.148)

The other thing about aid money is the surprising amount of it which is spent on freelance aid consultants, earning £500 to £1,000 a day. Whenever these leave a fortified camp i.e. Camp Bastion, they must be accompanied by armed security guards who cost much the same amount, per guard, per day. The fatuousness of so many misguided ‘development’ projects is brought out by the next chapter.

Neocolonialism not colonialist enough

Ledwidge makes a point also made by Jack Fairweather, and quotes Rory Stewart among others making the same point: which is that, in imperial times, imperial administrators of a province would make it their life’s work, often stayed in post for a decade or more, learned the language, got to really know the local people, culture, religion, economy and maze of feuds and tribal allegiances. Slowly they built up a sense of what is possible and how to do things with the locals’ consent.

That entire approach has been lost. In modern ‘nation building’, advisers and consultants and experts are flown in for short-term placements, often with little understanding of the local culture, to implement off-the-peg ‘development projects’ which they’ve applied in Sierra Leone or Uruguay or some other completely different culture (p.157).

Thus Ledwidge gives the comic anecdote of a senior British woman official instructing a provincial governor what to do in front of his Pashtun colleagues, which amounted – in their culture – to a public humiliation and guaranteed that he would not do what she was telling him (p.153).

He also hints that so-called ‘experts’ hired for development and nation building don’t know what they’re talking about. He met experts in his own specialist subject, international law, who had never done a day’s work abroad i.e. hadn’t a clue (p.157).

To return to the first point: we laugh at them, we criticise them, we abhor them; but our imperial forebears were much, much better at this kind of thing than we are. The British government spent £40 billion, lost 440 soldiers and killed thousands of civilians and…for nothing.

Part 3. Assessment of what was won or lost

Chapter 7. What was achieved in Helmand?

Did the British Army presence bring peace and security? Did it eliminate the Taliban threat? Is the improvement, if any, sustainable? Did we eliminate opium as the mainstay of the economy, as Tony Blair promised we would? The answer to all these questions is a resounding no.

At the time of writing, Afghanistan had received tens of billions of dollars in international development assistance plus at least $900 billion from the international community and yet: according to the UN development index the country was ranked 181 out of 182; it was the poorest country for which reliable figures exist; it came bottom on lists for access to safe water and enrolment in all stages of education. It had the third highest infant mortality rate in the world and the lowest life expectancy, at 43.6 years. 42% of the population live on less than a dollar a day (p.168).

More importantly, the relentless focus on finding a military solution i.e. fighting the Taliban, has led to a new level of the militarisation of society.

The executive director of the charity War on Want believes that ‘Western intervention has managed to produce a country which, even after the 20 years of civil war which preceded it, is even more fractured and militarised than it was before’. (p.170).

One of the many reasons for the failure of Western efforts is because they were built around the idea that the central government was ‘elected’ and therefore had a ‘democratic mandate’, and all efforts flowed from this premise, two leading ones being a) training the Afghan police force and b) giving the majority of aid money to this government and training them how to run a country and disburse it responsibly.

Unfortunately, the ‘democratically elected’ government is little more than a bunch of ‘gangsters and warlords’ (p.170), who sent their aid money straight on to their Swiss bank accounts or to buy real estate in Europe or to pay their tribal supporters, while the Afghan police continued to be a byword for uselessness and corruption with a lot of rape and child abuse thrown in.

Afghan legal officers – Ledwidge’s area of expertise – had a habit of being assassinated (p.172). In practice, lots of local legal officers and enforcers quietly made deals with the Taliban about what they were or weren’t allowed to do i.e. in effect, the Taliban ran law and order (p.172).

Ledwidge says policy makers in theses nation building efforts bang on about building schools and hospitals to win over hearts and minds, but this policy has two very obvious flaws: 1) it’s relatively easy to build the buildings, but then who staffs them? Training doctors and teachers will take years and years. In fact, the allies had to stop building schools and hospitals in Afghanistan because there was no-one to man them, a problem euphemistically referred to as ‘overbuilding’ (p.173).

2) Northern Ireland had an insurgency for 30 years and it had all the schools and hospitals you can imagine. That wasn’t what the people needed. What they needed was a political settlement which would offer security for all. That’s what the people in all these trouble spots want first and foremost. Security. And that’s what the coalition forces failed to provide in either Iraq or Afghanistan (p.173).

Fascinatingly, the Soviets did understand the long-term nature of this kind of commitment and took tens of thousands of Afghan doctors, lawyers, soldiers, policemen, prison officers and so on back to Russia and trained them over many years. With the result that many of the current Afghan officials Ledwidge met as part of his work spoke fluent Russian. But none of the occupying powers were prepared to make that kind of commitment (p.174).

He tells a funny story about UK Foreign Secretary David Miliband visiting Helmand and inviting two Afghan ministers for dinner. In all innocence he asked these ministers how long he thought central government officials, civilian and military, would remain in the provincial capital, Lashkar Gah, after the NATO forces withdrew, and they replied…about 24 hours (p.174). Exactly. And this is indeed what happened when the Americans withdrew their last forces in August 2021. The security forces fled or melted away and the Talinan was back in power within days.

Opium

The Taliban almost completely banned Afghan farmers from growing opium (p.176). As the incoming NATO forces pushed the Taliban out, opium growing returned and, Ledwidge asserts, this time around the Taliban allowed it to and took a cut to pay for their weapons.

By 2007 Helmand, just one of Afghanistan’s 34 provinces, supplied over half the world’s poppy crop. He makes the basic point that, at the time of writing, a hectare of wheat was worth £475 to an Afghan farmer, whereas the same area of opium might be worth £6,500 (p.177).

Ledwidge has a good handle on this because when he served as a ‘justice adviser’ in Afghanistan he was actually paid out of the UK’s counter-narcotics budget (p.178).

Women’s rights

After the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan they attempted to develop its economy and modernise its society. A key aspect was promoting women’s rights in this fantastically conservative, patriarchal society. By the time they quit the country in 1989, some 70% of teachers, 50% of government workers and 40% of doctors were women (p.184). The point is, the West armed the mujahideen for ten long years in order to overthrow the Soviet occupation and eventually succeeded. Whereupon the country collapsed into civil war, from which chaos emerged the Taliban who, as we all know, plunged the country back into the Dark Ages, part of which was sacking all women from all jobs and banning them from leaving the house unless accompanied by a male relative.

Which regime was better for women, Soviet rule or Taliban rule? Their Afghan adventure was seen as the Soviets’ Vietnam, and the long drag on their national resources, and the social unrest it caused contributed, maybe, to the final collapse of the Soviet Union. Still. It makes you wonder whether life for many Afghans, and pretty much all Afghan girls and women, would have been immeasurably better if the Soviets had been allowed to continue their rule of the country.

By the end of this withering chapter it’s hard to avoid the thought that Afghanistan exists as a kind of mockery of all notions of international development, state building, foreign aid and so on. Or, as Ledwidge puts it:

The attempt to impose Western-style government and legal systems on a country that has no real inclination to adopt either – and to do it a matter of a decade or so – was always doomed to failure. (p.187)

Poll results

Ledwidge shares the hilarious results of opinion polls which have been from time to time carried out on the Afghan population. In one just 8% of Afghans living in Helmand Province (Helmandis) had even heard of the 9/11 attacks in New York. This is really important because it indicates the way that hardly any of the population understood why the NATO forces were there; most of the population thought they were just the latest in a long line of murderous invaders. Further, only 30% believed that NATO protected the population from attack, while 65% believed NATO killed more of the population that the Taliban did. When informed that the main aim of NATO forces was to introduce democratic values, 72% of those polled couldn’t explain what that meant (p.188).

These and other stats help explain why so many young Afghan men didn’t understand any of our high-falutin’ ambitions about nation building and development and democracy and all the rest of it, and just thought of themselves as patriotic heroes combating the latest wave of brutal, destructive invaders, like their fathers and their grandfathers before them.

Chapter 8. Have we in Britain been made safer by both wars?

Are we ‘safer’ as a result of Britain’s involvement in the invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan, as Tony Blair and Defence Secretary John Reid claimed? Was it ever in out best interests to pursue these wars?

No. Ledwidge claims that most army officers know the simple truth: that both the wars, in Iraq and Afghanistan, were fought primarily to satisfy Tony Blair’s misguided wish to keep in with the Americans (p.205). The second campaign, in Afghanistan, was mainly fought because the army desperately wanted to rehabilitate itself in the eyes of our American masters after ballsing up big time in Basra. Neither had any relevance at all to Britain’s actual, present or future security needs. Fighting the Taliban was always a stupid, stupid thing to do. Ledwidge quotes a former NATO official at the time:

‘[The Taliban] pose no threat to Britain and not one Afghan has ever been involved in any terror attack in Europe or the US. It is simply rubbish to assert that British soldiers are fighting impoverished opium farmers and $10 a day gun-for-hire insurgents in Helmand Province to protect the British people from terror attacks. These Afghans are fighting our soldiers because they just don’t like foreigners and never will.’ (quoted page 198)

In the event, both Ledgwidge and Jack Fairweather give plenty of evidence that the British Army’s dismal failures in Basra and Helmand irreparably damaged the so-called ‘special relationship’ with America. Ledwidge cites former Chief of Staff of the US army, General Jack Keane, addressing a conference at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst in 2013:

‘Gentlemen, you let us down; you let us down badly’ (quoted page 233)

And this is the view widely held in the US military. Then again this may be no bad thing if it forces the UK political and defence establishments to distance ourselves from America and think through our likely defence threats and strategies from a purely British position. Don’t hold your breath, though. The ludicrous embarrassment of Brexit was proposed partly by Conservative politicians convinced that our future lies with America, 4,000 miles away, rather than with the continent just 20 miles away.

The people who run the British establishments, in politics, the military, the arts and media and many other sectors, will continue to kiss American arse for the foreseeable future. As Ledwidge puts it: ‘The results of this are toxic and go far beyond the military’ (p.206).

The so-called ‘special relationship’ has led Britain into the invasion of two Islamic countries. Her confused and inconsistent strategy (or the lack of any strategy) in the ensuing wars and her over-enthusiastic and totally uncritical following of US policy have been intensely damaging to British (and Afghan) interests. The policies pursued have been entirely counter-productive and literally self-defeating. (p.208)

As a result of tagging along behind America on these two misguided interventions we in Britain have been made less safe in two ways. 1) We have generated a home-grown generation of angry young men here in the UK, outraged by our invasion of Muslim countries and killing of Muslim civilians. Some of these have carried out terrorist attacks on our own soil as a result of British intervention in Iraq and Afghanistan. As Pakistan and security expert Anatol Lieven puts it:

‘UK policy has been an absolute disaster in the perception of the Muslim population and has produced a significantly increased terrorism threat.’ (quoted page 210)

The second way in which these disastrous wars have made us less safe is we have wasted billions investing in the wrong kind of armed forces. In particular all the money has gone to the army (which, it turned out, was incapable of supplying its soldiers with the kind of equipment they needed) at the expense of the other two branches of the armed service, the navy and air force.

This explains why, when NATO wanted to support the anti-Gaddafi forces in Libya, it was the French who led the attacks – because they have a fully functioning aircraft carrier and lots of planes; we don’t.

By emasculating the Royal Navy to pay for the army and its operations in the Afghan desert, the UK has jeopardised the defence of our island nation’s vital interests. (p.213)

All the time, intellect, energy, money, material and resources ploughed into fighting badly organised peasants 5,000 miles away have completely distracted attention from the very real threats we face from a) larger, more conventional armies i.e. Russia, fighting in Europe and b) the serious emerging threat of cyber-attacks.

Thoughts

Out of date

The most obvious point is the book is fabulous as far as it goes, but is now out of date. Ledwidge wrote it in late 2012-to-early 2013 i.e 10 long years ago. Since then, residual units of the British Army racked up more time in Afghanistan alongside the much bigger US presence, and the fight against the Taliban ground on, with accompanying NATO losses and civilian collateral damage, for another 8 years. And it all led up, of course, to the humiliating US withdrawal which concluded in August 2021.

So most if not all Ledwidge’s figures are out of date. What remains valuable, though, on a procedural level, is his careful structuring of the entire subject and his explanations of the methodologies he used; and on a conceptual level, the questions he asks and the searingly critical conclusions he comes to. All of these shed new light and angles on the story of the war.

Slow starting, ferocious ending

The second point is that, at least to begin with, this is a less impressive book than its predecessor. It feels more hurried. In the first book he took the reader with him, his points were carefully argued, we shared his slowly growing sense of disgust and horror, so there was a dynamic aspect to the narrative.

In this book he takes his anti-war attitude for granted and so doesn’t so much take us on a journey but just restates his disgust. An example of this is the way he uses the same small number of negative quotes from people involved in the wars not as the punchline of extended arguments, but as short-hand, as quick reminders, and uses them repetitively. So he tells us more than once that the former UK ambassador to Afghanistan Sir Sharrard Cowper-Coles thought the war was a waste of time. These kind of quotes are used as a kind of shorthand, summarising the more extended forms of the arguments he gave us in the preceding book.

That said, the final two chapters, 7 and 8, finally become really angry, rising to the level of evidence-based excoriation found in the first book and leaving you shaking with fury at the idiocy and incompetence of British politicians and army leaders. What a shambles. As an Afghan friend of Ledwidge puts it:

‘We were promised good governance: where is it? We were promised economic growth: where is it? We were promised stability: where is it? (p.190)

454 British troops killed, thousands badly injured and crippled. Tens of thousands of Afghan dead. Tens of billions of pounds wasted. And a week after we left, the Taliban rolled back in and took power again, as if nothing had happened. It’s hard to think of a more complete definition of futility.


Credit

Investment in Blood: The True Cost of Britain’s Afghan War by Frank Ledwidge was published in 2013 by Yale University Press. References are to the 2014 YUP paperback.

Related links

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Occupational Hazards: My Time Governing in Iraq by Rory Stewart (2007)

‘If you put my cousin on the council, I will slit his throat.’
(Typical threat from an Iraqi sheikh, Occupational Hazards, page 231)

Rory Stewart

Stewart (born 1973) is posh. He comes from a family of Scottish landed gentry. Like lots of poshos born into a family which helped administer the last shreds of empire, Stewart was born abroad, in Hong Kong in his case, and then brought up in Malaysia. He, of course, was sent back to the old country to be educated at Eton and Oxford. After a brief spell in a posh regiment in the British Army (the Black Watch) he went on to work in the Diplomatic Service. Absolutely stock, standard posh-boy career. Then, in the footsteps of the posh travellers of the 1920s and 30s (Wilfred Thesiger et al), he left the Diplomatic Service to undertake a two-year walk across Afghanistan, Iran, Pakistan, India and Nepal, and then, of course, wrote a best-selling book about the experience, ‘The Places in Between’ (p.8).

Post-war Iraq

Stewart’s posh boy qualifications, his experience in the Foreign Office, his (supposed) knowledge of Arab and Muslim culture (he’s very candid about his shortcomings in speaking or understanding Arabic, as he is about everything else) meant that when the Coalition Provisional Authority (the provisional Western power set up in Iraq after the American invasion of March 2003) put out feelers to the British Foreign Office for volunteers to work as ‘governorate co-ordinators’ in the southern provinces of Iraq (which had been assigned to the British to manage) Stewart was a prime candidate.

In fact, surprisingly, he received no response to his initial application and so, with the confidence borne of his Eton-Oxford-Foreign Office pedigree, he flew to Jordan, took a taxi to Baghdad and lobbied for the job on the spot. He was vouched for by the Director of Operations and Infrastructure at the CPA, Andy Bearpark and was duly appointed (p.73).

Stewart in Iraq timeline

Thus it was that on 28 September 2003 Stewart found himself on a flight from Baghdad down to Amara, capital of Maysan Province in southern Iraq (p.10). Here he worked as ‘governorate co-ordinator’ running a team of ten or so civil affairs officers, alongside the British Army’s (completely separate) military operations for the next 6 months.

Map of Iraq’s provinces, by Orthuberra and published under Creative Commons attribution Attribution-Share Alike 3.0

In November 2003 the American diplomat Molly Phee arrived, assuming the position of Governorate Co-ordinator and Rory switched to become her deputy (p.188). A few days later, Paul Bremer announced the CPA would hand over authority to a provisional Iraqi government on 30 June 2004. In the same month an opinion poll revealed that two-thirds of Iraqis described the allies as ‘an occupying force’ (p.220).

In January 2004 the security situation suddenly deteriorated and the compound at Amara started coming under attack (p.288).

In March 2004 Stewart was moved from Maysan to its western neighbour, Dhi Qar, and its capital Nasiriyah, where he served as senior advisor to the civil affairs team. There were mounting attacks on occupation garrisons throughout Iraq.

In April 2004 the Shiite cleric, politician and militia leader Muqtada al-Sadr unleashed his supporters’ insurgency against the occupying forces, leading to attacks against Coalition offices throughout Iraq, and against Stewart’s compound in Nasiriyah. The very fierce fighting would continue until al-Sadr declared a ceasefire in September 2004.

Meanwhile, in June 2004, the Coalition Authority handed all its powers over to the Iraqi Provisional government, and Stewart’s job came to an end.

He revisited Iraq a couple of times, later in 2004 and in 2005, but his day-to-day involvement at that point came to an end.

A memoir not a history

I bought this paperback when it came out in 2007. I remember being disappointed. Now I realise this was because I was expecting a historical overview, a comprehensive chronological account of the coalition invasion of Iraq and its aftermath, and Stewart’s book is definitely not that. For that kind of objective, historical and analytical overview, I recommend Jack Fairweather’s thorough and authoritative account, A War of Choice: Honour, Hubris and Sacrifice: The British in Iraq (2012).

I now realise I was disappointed by Stewart’s account because it is something else entirely: it is a highly personal memoir of the day-to-day challenges he faced, first in Maysan and then in Dhi Qar, and doesn’t even attempt to be an overall survey.

Instead, it is much more like a diary account (it’s not quite a diary because, as he tells us, he didn’t have time to keep a day-by-day record) of where he went and who he saw, and the issues and challenges he had to address, of the countless conversations and arguments with innumerable Iraqi officials, political leaders, sheikhs and clerics, interspersed with conversations with senior officers in the British Army in both provinces, and occasional meetings with masters in the CPA up in Baghdad. Above all, it is an odyssey through the amazingly convoluted networks of tribes and parties and gangs and warlords and militias which made up the immensely complicated tapestry of political life in his province.

And it is very deliberately provincial in focus. Occasionally he mentions politicking up in Baghdad or outbreaks of violence in the rest of the country, but only the briefest of mentions because his focus is overwhelmingly on the multiple parties and sects and forces at work in his province that he has to deal with.

This explains several things about the book:

1. At 434 pages, it is surprisingly long. But as you get into it you realise this is because it takes a long time to get to know all the many, many tribal and political leaders in Maysan. Stewart’s understanding only inches forward via long conversations, arguments, meetings, pledges, threats and unexpected revelations. In all these ways his book is more like a novel than a history: it’s not to be read for the facts; it’s to be read so as to allow the behaviours, conversations, promises, threats and actions of the various factions to slowly build up a complex, multi-layered portrait.

2. It also explains why, right at the start of the book, there’s a 4-page list of dramatis personae i.e. key figures from the narrative, just as in a classic nineteenth century Russian novel. Initially I thought I could skip these, but slowly realised that reading the book only makes sense if you maintain a good grasp of who’s who and, more to the point, who is conspiring against who, rubbishing them behind their backs, and why. Or at least, why Stewart thinks they’re doing so.

At which point I realised something quite important: that there are more Iraqi, Arab and Muslim voices in this than any other book I’ve read about Iraq or Afghanistan.

The clash of cultures

This point brings us to one of the two central themes of the book which is the immense, unbridgeable cultural gulf between this highly educated, objective and dispassionate civil servant, and the maze of Iraqi politicians he struggles to understand and manage. Over the book’s 430 pages he (and we the readers) obviously gain insight into people’s characters and motivations; but it’s delusive. Tribal leaders still abruptly reverse their positions, or pull out of agreements, for no motive that Stewart can fathom. One minute he’s enjoying a cup of tea in his pokey office in the CPA compound in Amara with a Shia cleric who promises to work with Stewart’s plans to set up a provincial council. A week later the same person is leading an angry mob on the same compound, inciting them to riot, chanting ‘Death to the Coalition’ and publishing a leaflet calling for all devout Muslims to assassinate CPA officials like Stewart (p.228). It is an impassable gulf:

Even in the stable context of our office, with good translators, it was often difficult for us to understand Iraqi guests and for them to understand us…the truth was that the most basic concepts like, ‘civil society’ or ‘sharia law’, meant very different things to each of us. (p.242)

The more he understands, the more he realises he’ll never understand. Not least because quite a few of the local players themselves don’t fully understand what’s going on. In a Hobbesian world where everyone’s hand is against everyone else’s, nobody can be sure of any of their pacts or alliances or deals.

‘These people talk randomly,’ said the governor in a tense, tired, quiet voice. ‘Even among themselves they agree about nothing. It is impossible even to get a consistent demand from them.’ (p.294)

This explains something else absolutely central which is that, when push comes to shove, if you’re in doubt about who was your ally and who was conspiring to have you assassinated, the One Thing that was guaranteed to win you brownie points with almost all the other Iraqi parties, was declaring ‘Death to the West! Death to the Coalition!’

Stewart doesn’t say it in so many words, but it emerges naturally from his countless stories of promises broken and double crosses, that opposition to the Coalition, to the occupying forces, and the West in general, was so vehement because it was, at bottom, the only policy on which almost all the squabbling Iraqi parties could unite on.

Being political illiterates, having absolutely no concept whatsoever of democratic processes or conventions, ‘Death to the West’ was the one and only policy that could (for a while) unite parties, tribes and interest groups who were, otherwise, at each other’s throats (for example, at the first meeting of the council Stewart has himself selected, p.277).

Security, security, security

All of which is related to the other, deeper, central message of the book which comes over loud and clear. Young Rory arrived with the naive belief that people are basically decent; that, if given space, law and order emerges naturally from the culture of a society; and so he initially allowed himself to be dazzled by the enormous number of economic and social development projects being worked up by the ten-person civil society team which he found in Maysan before him.

Only slowly and brutally, does he realise that the locals don’t give a monkeys about educational programmes on human rights, the free market, feminism, federalism and constitutional reform (p.82) or ‘gender-awareness workshops’ (p.83).

What they wanted was security security security. What they wanted was law and order. What they wanted was to be able to walk down the street at night (or even during the day) without being held up, mugged, sexually assaulted, kidnapped and held to ransom, or tortured and murdered.

And that, as it turned out – the provision of basic security, elementary standards of law and order – was something the occupying forces turned out to be completely incapable of providing. And Stewart’s account is a priceless testimony as to why. You might as well try to get a box of frogs to put on a military tattoo as get the endlessly bickering Arabs who Stewart profiles to agree about anything.

The rivals

Amid the blizzard of other projects and responsibilities, the central consuming project of the first, Maysan, part of the narrative, is Stewart’s attempts to appoint a provisional council which can then meet and agree a) a new provincial governor and b) a new chief of police.

The police are poorly trained, cowardly and corrupt (p.83). For example, tribal leader Abu Rashid drafted hundreds of his militia followers into the police, some of them as young as 12. The day before a meeting with Rashid Stewart hears that, when Abu Rashid’s mother had been told to wait when she went to hospital, some of these boys had drawn their weapons and threatened to shoot the doctors unless she was treated immediately (p.87). What can you do with a society split into such fiercely partisan warlord groups, and where that kind of instant resort to extreme violence is normal?

Pretty much all the sheikhs and party leaders he has to deal with are criminals. When Stewart appoints Abu Rashid chief of police it is in the knowledge that Rashid’s cousins run the major smuggling operation in the area. Stewart’s thinking is it’s better to have the big gangsters inside the organisation and let power slowly educate them, than simply making them eternal foes.

Most of the leaders he deals with are involved in some kind of criminal activity, such as smuggling drugs or diesel. Most have threatened to assassinate each other and some are responsible for murders, while most had had some member of their family killed over crime or tribal vendettas. Most of them run extortion and blackmail rackets. All the contractors he allots CPA funds to for ‘development’ projects, skim some or most of the money into their personal accounts, with sometimes hilarious results.

‘There were 54 political parties, 20 substantial tribes, and a dozen leading political figures in the province’ (p.169). Broadly speaking there are:

  • tribal sheiks: there are two massive tribes in the province but innumerable sub-tribes and smaller tribes all jostling for power, slow to forgive ancient feuds (‘Most urban Iraqis perceived the sheikhs as illiterate, embarrassing, criminal, powerless anachronisms,’ p.231)
  • some of these sheikhs had forebears who had proudly fought against the British occupier and coloniser in the 1920s and so, even if they’d wanted to be co-operative, family tradition and pride insisted that they be seen to be as unco-operative and obstructive as possible
  • there are the various candidates and parties which are all fronts for the self-styled Prince of the Marshes, a charming, educated and thoroughly untrustworthy figure, who leads a gang of semi-literate criminals who, immediately after Saddam’s fall, comprehensively looted Amara
  • clerics, all Shia, but with a surprising number of fierce rivals; incongruously to British readers, many of these religious leaders have their own militias which regularly kidnap or assassinate opponents
  • Iran-backed parties: during Saddam’s long tyranny (1968 to 2003) tens of thousands of political and religious leaders fled abroad; only a handful of them were ‘secular’ (or what passes for secular in a Muslim country); most of them were various flavours of Shia and fled east to Shia Iran; here they were kept on the Iranian government payroll awaiting the day when Saddam (a Sunni) was overthrown; so Stewart had not only to deal with Shia clerics who remained in the country, but with a whole cohort who had returned from Iran and were all, to some extent or other, in hock to Iran and carrying out pro-Iran policies; thus, the Supreme Council for the Islamic Revolution in Iraq, which was funded by Iran and represented Iran’s interests (p.65), lobbying for wilayat-e-faqih, meaning government of the jurists i.e. a Shia theocracy identical to Iran’s
  • then there were the Sadrists, followers of Shia cleric, Muqtada al-Sadr, who shouted the same kind of anti-Coalition slogans from their pulpits as the returners-from-exile but with one key difference: Muqtada had never gone into exile and was a fierce Iraqi nationalist i.e. opposed the Iran-backed parties as violently as they opposed the Coalition; his militia calls itself ‘the Army of the Redeeming Imam’ (p.86); Muqtada ‘created his own armed militia, assassinated clerical rivals, declared an alternative government and called for the immediate departure of the infidel Coalition’, p.253; Stewart makes the point that all the Shia groups seem to be represented by younger and younger men who reject the moderation of their elders; in other words, political Islam was becoming more unstable (p.230)
  • there weren’t many Sunnis in Maysan (the further south in Iraq you go, the more Shia it becomes) but by and large the Sunni were more moderate and better educated than the Shia, who they regarded as uneducated, backward heretics (p.46)
  • last and least, quavering in the shadow of all these fierce and violent factions, were the handful of genuinely secular, middle class, liberal democratically minded Iraqis and the handful of ‘feminists’; none of these stood a hope in hell of being elected to anything but Stewart and his boss, Molly Phee, appointed some to their provincial council because it’s what the CPA in Baghdad, and all the Western politicians bankrolling the whole thing, had told their populations we were doing in Iraq – building a modern democratic state which respects the human rights of all blah blah blah

The point is that nobody in Iraq trusts anybody else; they are all prepared to believe the absolute worst of all the other tribes, clans, groups, militias, police forces and so on; and, knowing no other way of calmly settling disputes, and also conceiving of power as a zero sum game where you are either in total control or nothing, they routinely try to kidnap or assassinate each other.

A society where nobody believes in anybody else’s good intentions, yes, it probably does require a strong, authoritarian ruler to quash all these rival sources of authority and, above all, of violence. Only a really strong, violent man with a strong, violent security apparatus can quell all the other violent rivalrous groups into submission. Stewart starts off believing this is anti-Arab propaganda, but runs into trouble when Arab after Arab tells him it is true.

‘We Iraqis, we admire strong men. We have tough heads. You must be strong.’ (His first Iraqi interpreter, page 32)

How many Iraqis are you going to ignore when they tell you point blank that their society just won’t function unless it is governed with a fist of steel? It may be racist for us to make such sweeping statements, but isn’t it just as racist to ignore an Arab’s description of their own society because we supposedly know better than they do?

Thus various tribal and religious and political leaders tell him again and again that only an extremely strong, dictatorial authority can enforce security in Iraq (pages 59, 81, 82). When he and Molly finally agree settle on the members of the provisional council they’ve nominated, Stewart gives a characteristically droll summary of them:

I knew these people well. Most had killed others; all had lost close relatives. Some wanted a state modelled on seventh-century Arabia, some wanted something that resembled even older, pre-Islamic tribal systems. Some were funded by the Iranian secret service; others old oil on the black market, ran protection rackets, looted government property, and smuggled drugs. Most were linked to construction companies which made immense profits by cheating us. Two were first cousins and six were from the same tribe; some had tried to assassinate each other. This dubious gathering included and balanced, however, all the most powerful political factions in the province and I believed that if anyone could secure the province, they could. (p.268)

And at their very first meeting the Sadrist member announced that the council was illegal, poisoned by the presence of the Coalition and forbade anyone from taking their oaths. Lolz, as my kids would say.

Or when, after the first guy they appointed as chief of police is assassinated, after much heart-searching Stewart and Molly appoint the Prince of the Marshes’ brother, Riyadh Mahood Hatab on the basis that he is a competent administrator with 20 years experience in the civil service, the respect of the ministry directors, the power of his brother’s militia behind him and contacts in Baghdad. Yes, he’ll do. And then the comic horror with which Molly and Rory listen as the newly installed chief of police outlines his programme: he wants to take full control of the police, set up a secret intelligence service, ban demonstrations, arrest a journalist who had insulted him and expel his Sadrist opponents from the council (p.275).

This is how everyone they try to negotiate thinks about power; it is a zero sum game and, if they are given a position of power, they must immediately move to assume complete control as quickly as possible in order to forestall the inevitable attempts and assassinations and coups which all their rivals will mount against them. Given half a chance, everyone turns into Saddam. No-one turns into the kind of mild liberal democrat the CPA in Baghdad, and their masters in Washington and London, fantasised about.

Violent rhetoric

In the build-up to the Iraq war Saddam Hussein promised the Mother of all Battles but as soon as the invasion started most of his soldiers ran away (some didn’t; some stayed at their posts and fought very hard until obliterated by bombs from the air). I have read serious, sympathetic, Arab writers trying to explain that flowery and impassioned rhetoric is part of their culture. Alternatively, maybe they genuinely are as bloodthirsty and cut-throat as the characters in Stewart’s book suggest.

Stewart visits one of the many schools he’s helped refurbish with CPA money only to bump into the Prince of the Marshes who is ranting about the shoddy quality of the plasterwork, leading up to the blood-curdling threat:

‘Now I need to know the name of the contractor who did this work – tell me his name and I will rip out his tongue.’ (p.98)

Is this bombastic showing off, especially as he said it for the benefit of the school’s headmistress who was standing nearby? Even so, it’s hard to fit this kind of language into anything that might be said in a civilised society. Or was it meant literally? After all, there was always a low level current of mafia-style violence across the province and that was before the insurgency began, which itself degenerated into sectarian civil war, when thousands of people were kidnapped, had their eyes gouged out, their kneecaps drilled through and otherwise hurt in the most cruel and sadistic ways imaginable.

If it was rhetoric, it paved the way for real life atrocities. But more likely, the language just matched the actions.

Tribal fights were still very common – it was not rare for two or three men to be killed in a week in tribal disagreements. (p.143)

Stewart helps a sheikh of the Suwaad tribe who graciously invites him for lunch. Next day the sheikh’s house is firebombed. At an art exhibition he is introduced to Dr Kifiyah, a confident woman who is working for an aid organisation educating women (p.175). He supervises the election of a mayor for the town of Ali Al Sharj. Three days later, the mayor is ambushed and killed (p.226).

The central event of the first section, set in Maysan, is the assassination of the chief of police who Stewart and the CPA had put all their hopes on, which unleashes a kidnapping, and various forms of sectarian violence. The point is that everyone has so many enemies that they’re not at all sure who carried out the assassination.

Under siege

The first 300 pages chronicle Stewart’s time in Maysan. Around page 300 he leaves that post and is driven across the border into Dhi Qar province and on to the Coalition’s base in the provincial capital, Nasiriyah. He discovers it is a far bigger, more populous place than Maysan. He discovers that the team here held elections to appoint a provincial council and they were judged a success, shedding light on his decision to appoint a council, which led to all the problems which made up most of the text about Maysan.

The next most important thing he discovers is the military presence here is Italian and, living down to their hard-won reputation, they are useless. Never on time, never serious or committed, they rarely lose an opportunity to run away from a fight. To be fair this was because, a few months earlier, in November 2003, a huge truck bomb had detonated at the Italian headquarters in Nassiriya, killing 17 Italians. At which point Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi ordered his 2,300-strong contingent not to take any risks. Any more casualties and negative public opinion would force him to withdraw from the Coalition. There were strong political and operational reasons for the Italians’ tardiness and unreliability.

All of which is important because Stewart is in Nassiriya when the dual insurgencies, of Sunnis in Fallujah and Sadrist Shia militias across the entire south, kick off in April, and the CPA compound in Nassiriya comes under sustained attack. It’s a really serious situation, with the compound besieged, running low on water, two guards at the gate are seriously injured, scores of mortars and RPGs attack the compound continuously, the entire civilian staff have to take cover.

Eventually he manages to get them extracted from the besieged base in a convoy of armoured patrol vehicles, only for them to trundle straight into an ambush and be bombarded with machine guns and RPGs and, having remained behind in the base, he has an agonising half an hour wondering if he’s just sent his entire team to a violent death, before getting a phone call to confirm that they had all arrived safe at the allied base at the airport outside of town.

Even here there’s Waughesque comedy, as the incompetent driver of the first APV unexpectedly throws it into reverse, nearly running over Stewart and a colleague who were remaining behind. When his infuriated commander leans down to cuff the harassed driver round the ear, he then accelerates into a pile of barbed wire which promptly tangle up the wheels and prevent it going any further, till the wire is slowly painfully untangled.

There’s page after page detailing the amazing ineffectiveness and cowardliness of the Italians, and it’s not just Stewart who is gobsmacked. A team of British and American security contractors from Control Risk Group (CRG) remain in the base with him and cannot believe how useless the Italians are (pages 390 to 393). Eventually after 3 days of siege a Coalition Spectre plane uses its night sights to locate the mortar bombers and pick them off one by one, killing or wounding the entire insurgent group. Next day the city is back to its normal bustling self. Stewart is full of praise for the consultants (aka mercenaries) who manned the machine gun posts and prevented the Sadrists storming over the walls and massacring Stewart and the garrison.

But Baghdad orders the compound to be evacuated. Obviously, the minute they’ve left the looters move in and strip the place of any moveable values, right down to the wiring, before gutting and burning it.

Once safely ensconced in the Italians’ main base at Tallil Stewart comes to like them. Wherever they go, they build pizza ovens and their food is extraordinary. In fact, once you stop thinking about the Italian Army as soldiers, but actually as great chefs in fancy uniforms, what’s not to love about them?

The CPA

In case I’m accused of being anti-Arab, Stewart also has a chapter devoted to a visit to the Coalition Provincial Authority in Baghdad which overflows with details of the inane, out of touch, ludicrous, over-ambitions of inexperienced Yanks who worked all the hours that God sent and yet somehow presided over a complete shambles (pages 105 to 121). I particularly liked the deliberately comic passage where he describes going to one of the evening discos in the Green Zone and being introduced to two men who were both under the impression they had been appointed acting Interior Minister. A little later he meets two men who both think they are the Media Commissioner (p.112). Chaos.

More seriously, Stewart describes talking at different times to two soldiers, one American, one British, who both try to get him to admit that the whole war and occupation was to do with taking Iraqi oil. If even the troops on our own side believe this myth, Stewart reflects, what hope of stopping most of the Iraqi population from believing it, too (p.108). After all, Iraq is sitting on the second biggest oil reserves in the world and yet throughout the Coalition’s rule, ordinary Iraqis had to form long lines at petrol stations. Why else could that be except that the West was stealing their oil? The real explanation, that Saddam’s extraction and refining industry was on its last legs and insurgents kept blowing up pipelines and facilities, was believed by no-one (p.152).

Talk of blowing up stuff raises the point that the Iraqis devoted an extraordinary amount of energy not just to killing each other, but to destroying the infrastructure of their own country (pages 205 to 206). The Great Looting in the days after the allied victory wasn’t an anomaly but a revelation of the true character of the Iraqis, a nation of looters and thieves.

Long after those days of chaos the looting continues. Everything not tied down is stolen. Factories are looted, warehouses are looted. In January, rioters storm the governor’s compound and loot every single piece of moveable furniture or equipment, even the filing cabinets (pages 289 to 297).

Several times Stewart mentions the practice of Iraqi criminal gangs who blow up power pylons so they can strip the copper from the coil, melt it down and sell it on the black market. The criminal gangs get tens of thousands of dollars from the venture but it costs the Americans tens of millions to rebuild series of pylons and rewire them. Obviously, most of the rest of the population suffers even worse power shortages than they already did.

As soon as he, the Italian garrison and the mercenaries withdraw from the CPA compound in Nasiriyah, it is comprehensively looted and trashed.

In a sentimental mode he describes the huge mudhif, a building built entirely out of marsh reeds using ancient skills of local builders, which had been constructed in such a way as to let light through a latticework of openings. It is ornate and beautiful as a cathedral. The Sadrists burn it to the ground.

When you have a people so absolutely determined to loot and vandalise their own country, what can you do? Leave them to get on with it.

On 28 June the CPA formally handed over authority to local council and governors in Iraq’s 34 provinces. The ones Stewart was involved in immediately plunge into chaos and violence. The Prince of the Marshes promptly allies with the Sadrists against the Iranian-backed parties. He shoots the chief of police of Majar dead. The remaining Coalition compounds such as the one where Stewart spent his first 6 months, in Amara, are now under continual, ferocious attack.

Church and state

It’s my view that it took hundreds of years for us in Britain to break the power of religion over the state. Three hundred years ago it took a civil war and a revolution to loosen the grip of the church over the nation’s political life. During the long Victorian century and well into the twentieth, the Christian denominations still exercised a very negative, anti-progressive influence, especially on what is loosely called the nation’s morals (anti-sex, anti-abortion, anti-free speech, anti-gay). It was a long, hard battle to overthrow religious influence on our national life.

Here, in this book, are countless examples of Muslim clerics insisting that their religion, their religious values, their ancient forms of social organisation and their dark age forms of political process eclipse, trump and obviate the need for ‘modern, ‘western’ ideas like democracy or human rights or women’s rights. A cleric named Seyyed Faqr puts it with particular clarity:

‘What matters is not the law. What matters is God, children, possessions, lives. These things are more important than the law. Forget the law. God is above the law and I represent God.’ (p.222)

But what happens if two clerics claim to represent God, a Sadrist and an Iranian? And if you throw in a Sunni cleric? And one from this tribe and one from that tribe? And they all claim a direct line from God so that they can’t negotiate or compromise? Then you have a recipe for endless civil war, as in Libya, Sudan, the Yemen, Iraq and Syria.

Only when all sides agree to abide by a law which is above all of them, impersonal and objective, and agree to thrash out their disagreements via legal channels, can you have a civil society. This is the lesson the Coalition Provisional Authority should have been trying to teach the fractious Iraqis. A legal system to which everyone submits, an independent judiciary, and an impartial police force, these are the bedrock of a civilised states, not the flashy trappings of elections. Elections and the trappings of democracy are a subset of law and order, which trumps every other concern. (cf p.315)

Humorous stories

Anyway, so far this summary has failed to mention the single most important thing, not about the book’s subject and themes, but about it’s style and manner. For this is an extremely readable and enjoyable book. I thought I’d had enough of books about Iraq and took it down off my shelf one evening only because I was bored watching TV. To my surprise, the next time I looked up, I was on page 50. I was hooked.

Occupational Hazards is beautifully written and by far the easiest to read of all the books I’ve read about Iraq and Afghanistan. A large part of that is down to Stewart’s appealingly British irony and deadpan humour which you may or may not attribute to classic upper-class sang-froid and irony. He expects things to go wrong and is never upset when they do. Many of the accounts of his meetings, with tribal leaders or top army officers, or foreign civilians in non-governmental organisations (NGOs) end with a bathetic, ironic, darkly humorous punchline.

It helps that so many of the facts are themselves blackly, bleakly comical, in the style of Evelyn Waugh’s comic accounts of Africa, walking a fine line between horror and hilarity. The secret is in the very dry, clipped phrasing. Here he is reflecting on the rather ludicrous title the Prince of the Marshes had awarded himself:

In truth, of course, Iraq didn’t have princes any more, and it hardly had marshes. The last princes were murdered on the kitchen steps of the palace in 1958 and disembowelled and mutilated in the streets, where the mob used the Regent’s intestines as necklaces. (p.18)

This is the Waugh tone, the casual, ironic, drawling half-humorous description of shocking criminality or scandalous behaviour:

I had spent my first two weeks almost entirely in my office or in camp and I was eager to visit rural towns, which I had heard were bastions of corruption, inefficiency and political tension. (p.90)

On one of these rural rides Stewart stops at an isolated compound to chat with a genuine farmer, not some politico with an axe to grind:

As I left I asked him what I should be doing. ‘Don’t trust the police chief, he replied. ‘He is a gangster. Don’t trust anyone who lives south of Al Amara. They are thieves and bandits.’
‘But you live south of Al Amara,’ I protested.
‘Don’t trust me either,’ he said. He presented me with a live guinea fowl in parting as a gift. (p.96)

The guinea fowl clinches the comedy of the anecdote. Whether this encounter ever happened or took place as Stewart recounts it, who cares? It’s not as if it made the slightest difference to what actually happened in Iraq. It’s these throwaway details at the end of each anecdote or cadence which give it the true Waugh feel.

The Bazun sheikhdom was in dispute between the two main families, one of which had stolen all the heavy digging equipment from the Ministry of Municipalities and Public Works. (p.234)

And:

We drove past the main government building, which Nate had seen demolished by rockets: only a fragile facade of coloured tiles remained, and a sculpture commemorating the Iraqis’ 1920 uprising against the British. It depicted a British officer being shot in the back of the head. (p.303)

Of course horrible things happen. For example, quite a few of the Western civilians, administrators and soldiers Stewart meets on his first arrival end up dead, shot or blown up in suicide attacks. And then, in April, the four US contractors are lynched and their burned bodies hung from a bridge in Fallujah (p.342) which so infuriates President George W. Bush that he orders the US Army to storm the city to find their murderers and ‘bring them  to justice’ ho ho ho. In the same week Muqtada al-Sadr starts his Shia rebellion across the whole south of the country. Hundreds and then thousands died as a result of these parallel insurgencies, one by Sunnis (Fallujah), one by Shias (Muqtada’s).

Black comedy

An extended comic sequence is provided by the story of the kidnapping of a British hostage, Gary Teeley. The first part is all panic and concern among CPA officials and the military to establish who kidnapped him and why and how to get him back. In the event, some of the many tribal leaders Stewart has been having lengthy discussions with simply turn up at the gates of the compound and hand over the filthy and disorientated Brit, directly to Stewart, in person, expecting thanks.

Over the next few days various other tribal and religious factions, including the Sadrists, contact Stewart to claim the credit for releasing Teeley, even though it seems fairly certain that some of them were the ones who kidnapped him in the first place.

But that’s just the start. Stewart debriefs the shattered and disorientated hostage, who had been kept blindfolded for a week, then packs him into an ambulance to be taken to the nearby Italian hospital. Walking back through the compound he is accosted by an irate British woman who tells him she is a hostage negotiator who has been on high alert for 3 days, why didn’t he contact her? Because he didn’t know she existed. Why did he hand over Teeley to the Italians? Because he clearly needed to go to a hospital to be checked over. Yes, says the woman, but he should have been sent to the British hospital at Basra.

By now Stewart realises there is a propaganda battle going on between the British and Italian military, both wanting to be seen to be the hostage’s liberators, not least for the benefit of the Americans and the CPA in Baghdad. Thus the Italian commander sends an email round claiming the release was the result of the Italians working with their favourite tribal leader, Sheikh Talib of the Beni Rikaab tribe.

But it’s not finished yet. The released Teeley turns out to be selling his story to the papers, and – in the style of Evelyn Waugh’s comic novel of Fleet Street, Scoop – three different British newspapers print three completely conflicting accounts of his ordeal. The Daily Telegraph leads with a big photo of the Italian general shaking hands with Teeley as if the Italians negotiated his release. Then The Sun reported that Teeley had been released by Italian forces who used a helicopter to track a suspicious car to an apartment which they then stormed, discovering the captive bound by the legs. Then The Mail on Sunday led with the scoop that the Italian forces who had been credited with finding and releasing Teeley were in fact elite SAS officers wearing Italian military outfits!

Three different packs of lies, each more outrageously untrue than its predecessor.

The moral(s) of the story

1. Stewart’s book shows in more granular detail than any other account the sheer folly of expecting a backward, illiterate, tribal, sectarian society full of cut-throat, corrupt, criminal and hyper-violent tribal, religious and political leaders to become anything like a democratic society in the sense we understand it.

In Stewart’s account any Iraqi leader who gains even a modicum of power immediately moves to reinforce their position, arm their followers, and harass, arrest or assassinate any possible rivals. Saddam politics. This is what even the Shia Prime Minister, Nouri al-Malaki, did as soon as the Americans finally withdrew, in 2011. I love the fact that the very day after the last US forces withdrew, Maliki issued an arrest warrant for his own vice president, the Sunni Tariq al-Hashemi, who was forced to flee to Turkey and, convicted of terrorism, was swiftly sentenced to death in his absence. Saddam politics.

2. If there’s one message from all this, as from all the other books I’ve read about the British effort in Iraq and Afghanistan, it’s not to believe a word about the Britain’s foreign exploits, either a) given in press releases by the military but b) even more by the British newspapers, who will fall over themselves to invent any old lies to promote their respective agendas (The Sun: ‘Our Brave Boys Save The Day’; The Telegraph: ‘Secret SAS Mission’; The Guardian: ‘Shame of British Troops’ etc).

Lasting thought

As I closed the book and reflected on it for a few days, one thought rose above all the others, which is that there are more Iraqi, Arab and Muslim voices in this than any other book I’ve read about Iraq or Afghanistan. OK, not saying things the Coalition or the West or Iraqi apologists or themselves would be very pleased to read. But all the other books I’ve read focus on Americans and Brits and Westerners and the occupiers – Stewart’s book, alone, goes way out of its way to focus on the actual Iraqis he met and talked to and tried and failed to manage.

In fact, this ends up being the conclusion of the epilogue he added to the paperback edition of the book published in 2007. By that point the insurgency had become general and had evolved in many places into a sectarian civil war. Stewart criticises politicians, academics and journalists for dealing in fine words, abstract concepts and abstract statistics.

No one is offering a granular and patient account of the insurgency in all its evolving and surprising multiplicity. We prefer the universal and the theoretical: the historical analogy and the statistics. But politics is local, the catastrophe of Iraq is discovered best through individual interactions.

And it’s precisely a multitude of such ‘individual interactions’, bleakly disillusioning though most of them are, that this impressive, illuminating and drily humorous book offers, in abundance.


Credit

Occupational Hazards by Rory Stewart was published by Picador in 2006. References are to the revised 2007 Picador paperback edition.

New world disorder reviews

3 Para by Patrick Bishop (2007)

‘Whatever the difficulties and risks of this deployment…those risks are nothing compared to the dangers to our country and our people of allowing Afghanistan to fall back into the hands of the Taliban and the terrorists. We will not allow that. And the Afghan people will not allow that.’

(Defence Secretary John Reid lying to the House of Commons on 26 January 2006 to justify the British Army deployment to Helmand Province, south Afghanistan. Sixteen years later Afghanistan is back in the hands of the Taliban. We allowed it. And the Afghan people allowed it. And do our country and our people feel scared by all those dangers Reid grandly warned us about? No)

But the Taliban kept on coming.
(Situation at Sangin and all the other British outposts, p.230)

This is a thorough, detailed and gripping account of the deployment of the Third Battalion, the Parachute Regiment (3 Para) to Helmand Province in southern Afghanistan from April to October 2006. It’s designed to be a popular and accessible account, as the cover of the paperback edition suggests, with its tell-tale embossed letters on the cover and shouty straplines such as you’d see on a movie poster:

AFGHANISTAN 2006. THIS IS WAR.

REAL COMBAT. REAL HEROES. TRUE STORY.

But the text isn’t as dumb as the cover suggests. You can question Bishop’s fairly uncritical acceptance of the Parachute Regiment at their own estimation (men’s men from the best regiment in the British Army) and question his downplaying of some of the issues mentioned but not really explored in his account (notably the vexed issue of collateral or civilian casualties). But that’s not his purpose. He’s not a historian of the entire campaign, writing at a high strategic level. His narrative is deliberately and breath-takingly a boots-on-the-ground, soldier’s eye-view of desperate fighting, against the odds, in an alien country, 5,000 miles from home.

3 Para is a detailed, gripping and immensely authoritative depiction of what the face of modern warfare looks like to the men on the receiving end of Kalashnikovs mortars and rocket-propelled grenades (RPGs). This book does what it sets out to do really well, crisply and efficiently.

The Parachute Regiment

Bishop gives a good potted history of the Parachute Regiment, describing its formation during the Second World War, notoriety gained in Northern Ireland from the Bloody Sunday killings, glory won in the Falklands. He describes the gruelling training required to join this elite force and the sense of pride teetering on arrogance this gives ‘Toms’, as members of the regiment call each other, over every other regiment in the army, who they collectively dismiss as crap hats or just ‘hats’. (Incidentally, all the officers and men refer to themselves as ‘the blokes’, not guys or lads. It’s always ‘the blokes’, ‘my blokes’ etc, for example p.220.)

He gives a pen portrait of the Paras’ commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Stuart Tootal, like many senior officers in the British Army, a formidably intelligent man, with a Masters Degree in International Relations from Cambridge and an MA in war studies from King’s College London.

He describes the background to the deployment of British forces to Afghanistan in April 2006, including Defence Secretary John Reid’s notorious claim that he hoped the three-year deployment would pass without a single shot being fired.

The force package

There’s a great deal about the make-up of the British force which was deployed to Afghanistan. I always find these bits of military books extremely confusing containing, as they do, a bewildering array of names and numbers of regiments and brigades.

The Helmand Task Force was drawn from 16 Air Assault Brigade based in Colchester. At its heart was 3 Para. Air support was provided by seven Chinook helicopters provided by the RAF. The big choppers were only lightly armed and so had to be accompanied by eight Apache attack helicopters which were provided by 9 Regiment of the Army Air Corps. (One Chinook was shot down in Afghanistan, killing all 16 soldiers aboard. The Apache bodyguards were vital, p.67.) Four Hercules C-130 transports were supplied by the RAF.

3 Para, like all infantry battalions, is configured in tiers. It consisted of A, B and C companies which were rifle companies, augmented by Support Company (machine guns, mortars, anti-tank weapons) and D company (intelligence, signals, target acquisition [snipers] and reconnaissance). 3 Para were supported by a company from the Royal Gurkha Rifles and a detachment from the Royal Irish Regiment. The armoured element was provided by the Household Cavalry Regiment with their Scimitars and Spartans. The Royal Horse Artillery’s 7th Parachute Regiment would contribute a battery of 105 light guns. The operation was supported by a parachute-trained squadron of light engineers from 23 Engineer Regiment, units from the Royal Logistics Corps and the Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers and medics from 16 Close Support Medical Regiment. An advance force of engineers were deployed to build camps protected by a company from the Royal Marines 42 Commando (p.28).

I give the list verbatim to show two things. One, it really brings home the importance and the responsibility placed on the planners who had to work out what was needed, where it was going to come from, and how to send it all half way round the world.

Second point is how challenging it must have been for commanders like Brigadier Ed Butler or Lieutenant Colonel Tootal to fully grasp what was available to them and who could be pulled into planned missions or called upon when emergency struck. Their roles required an in-depth understanding not just of the names and numbers but a good working knowledge of what all these personnel were good at, or could be called upon to do, in a pinch, in a crisis.

Too many aims

Bishop explains the problems facing the deployment which were of roughly three types and which were to snarl up and undermine the mission.

1. Confused aims

The NATO deployment was meant to be:

a) helping ‘the Afghan people build a democratic state with strong security forces and an economy that will support civil society’ (as you can see, there are actually three distinct goals in that one sentence). At the same time

b) it was to work with the Department for International Development to deliver ‘a tailored package of political, developmental and military assistance’ to the Afghan people

AND c) the troops would be expected to ‘support international efforts to counter the narcotics trade which poisons the economy in Afghanistan and poisons so many young people in this country.’ (p.27)

2. Chain of command

Brigadier Ed Butler was chosen to command the force. Canada was in overall command of the NATO effort, with its base in Kandahar. Because of Canadian army base was also being commanded by a brigadier, army etiquette demanded that Butler step aside allow a more junior officer to command his men. This meant Butler would have to oversee operations from Kabul (p.45) Meanwhile Tootal discovered he would have to answer to a new layer of command with Colonel Charlie Knaggs put in formal charge of the Helmand Task Force. Then Butler discovered his headquarters would not be doing the operational planning but that a staff officer from army headquarters in Northwood would be drawing up the crucial operational plan.

The words ‘piss-up’ and ‘brewery’ spring to mind.

3. National and local politics

The brigade and even the British contingent as a whole didn’t have autonomy. They were fitting into an international force whose members had rival agendas. The Americans had little interest in the reconstruction effort and wanted the Brits to support Operation Mountain Thrust, their campaign of ‘decapitation’ i.e. seeking out and killing Taliban leaders. In contrast, the government of Afghan president Hamid Karzai didn’t want the Brits to do anything which would alienate local tribal chiefs who, of course, got tribute from all the farmers growing poppies. He wanted the Brits to extend the authority of the Kabul government without ruffling feathers.

Diary of fighting

But all this background is in a sense just the setting, the stage, for the guts of the narrative. This consists of a kind of diary of the deployment and, above all, of the fierce fighting the unit quickly found itself engaged in. Dates are prominent and used to specify the day-by-day series of events. These are all-too-often optimistic outings from the various bases which almost immediately encountered problems and turned into devastating firefights.

Bishop must have had extraordinary access to 3 Para because the text is crammed full of direct quotes from officers and men commenting on all aspects of the story, from the initial deployment and the pitiful state they found Camp Bastion in, through these numerous hair-raising engagements.

A Company arrived at Camp Bastion on 15 April to find their accommodation not built yet. They dossed in tents on the desert sand with no showers or toilet facilities. Tootal arrived 18 April. His brigade was to patrol the triangle formed by Bastion, the provincial capital Lashkar Gah, and the market town of Gereshk, 20 miles north east of the base.

Even on their first patrol of Gereshk seasoned paras who’d served in Northern Ireland recognised the signs. There was a charged vibe and many of the young men stared at the troops challengingly. They realised they were being dicked, ‘dicking’ being a term coined in Northern Ireland to describe the way IRA sympathisers signalled to gunmen the passage of British patrols.

Less than two weeks later on 1 May a convoy returning from a first shura with elders was briefly hit by a scoot and shoot attack i.e. a single concealed gunman letting off a burst from a kalashnikov. Paradoxically, Gereshk remained peaceful for the rest of the deployment; it was all the other towns which kicked off.

The Brits discovered the Afghan police were even more corrupt than the Iraqi version. Some of the 22 checkpoints at the entrance to Gereshk had been subcontracted to gunmen to extort whatever they wanted from civilians who wanted to pass. The training course NATO had set up was at Kandahar 80 miles away. Even keen recruits only stuck it out for a few days then absconded.

18 May Gunmen attacked on the district centre at Musa Qala. On 20 May a convoy carrying Afghan Army soldiers, American and French trainers was ambushed: 15 soldiers and 2 Frenchmen were killed. Convoys got attacked or lost. Troops had to be sent out to rescue them who themselves came under attack and radioed for air cover.

The Afghan government asked for protection for the village of Now Zad and Butler sent a troop of Gurkha soldiers. These were to become stuck in the town and come under fierce attack. A few days later the provincial governor, Daoud, requested help for a village a hundred miles north where one of his supporters was coming under attack, so Butler dutifully flew some men up there, to discover no attack at all.

Butler didn’t like the way the deployment was evolving. 1) He was having to deploy troops to beleaguered towns like Now Zad and Musa Qasa, which then became magnets for heavily armoured attacks by Taliban. Any reinforcements setting out from Bastion were bound to be ambushed on the way. Or 2) he was acting as paid security for Daoud and his backers a job the Afghan police or army or both should have been doing. Both of which were replacing the supposed strategy of securing the Bastion triangle and then systematically expanding the area of peace and security from there. He was becoming too reactive, reacting to events (i.e. the ambushes and firefights launched by the Taliban), losing the initiative (p.85).

There was a feeling among the men that the British were too compliant with the wishes of the Afghans and that their own mission was being twisted put of shape by local political considerations. (p.110)

General points

1. The NATO forces were screwed without air cover. Again and again and again and again, when they come under attack, the Paras radio for jet fighters to come in and strike the enemy positions with 1,000 kilo bombs. Or, when there are casualties, they desperately radio for Chinook helicopters to come and evacuate them. But a) there were never enough Chinooks and b) the Chinooks were so lightly armed and vulnerable that they could only enter the battlespace if accompanied by Apache attack helicopters (p.58).

All these desperate radio calls for air back-up prompt one simple thought. In the end the Taliban won without any super-expensive, gee whizz, air support at all. Just by having the numbers and dogged persistence. Just like the Viet Cong.

2. Second thing I noticed is how, in the second quarter of the book i.e. after the Paras have arrived and as they each individually experience their first engagement, once back at base they each congratulate themselves on how well they’ve performed, how their training had worked, how nobody had faltered or frozen and everyone behaved as trained. Good lads!

‘Everyone was elated, We had all succeeded. No one had backed down or done anything cowardly.’ (p.66 and p.82)

They had blooded themselves, been put the test and proven true, proved worthy of their regiment, their training and, in many cases, of their father and grandfathers who served before them. They had become men.

‘For the first time you felt legitimised. You felt that you had done it for real now and it was good, it was good.’ (p.83)

I know it’s understandable, I dare say I’d feel the same. But it’s a small example of what Frank Ledwidge calls the inward-facing mindset of the British troops in both countries. As the security situations deteriorated, commanders’ number one priority became protecting their men. As time went by, the attacks became more fierce, the outings from fortified platoon camps more rare, simply surviving became the sole priority.

All talk of development, talk of eradicating the poppy crop and restructuring the entire rural economy – something that even in peacetime would have taken years of government funding and careful planning – all this stuff vanished like morning dew (p.265). Within a few months Butler and Tootal had placed their men in situations of mortal danger and their overriding priority had become trying to protect their men from ceaseless attack.

Notable engagements

4 June Operation Mutay to surround and capture an ammunition store, possible IED factory, in Now Zad, which degenerates into a long hard-fought battle in the confusing back alleys and smallholdings of the town.

11 June Mission to retrieve a Desert Hawk unmanned air vehicle that had crashed in the desert. Ambushed by Taliban the convoy of NATO troops get into real trouble.

13 June American convoy ambushed, A company told to fly to the last reported location and extract surviving Americans. The Paras are themselves attacked and forced to bunk down in the desert overnight as water runs dangerously short until a Chinook finally arrives to extract the wounded and drop water. It took 30 hours in all rather than the 2 they were told.

Early June the Support Company’s mortar platoon was sent to reinforce a handful of American security guys and Afghan Army forces guarding the prestigious Kajaki dam, a major source of power and irrigation for the entire province, built with American development money in the 1950s and still just about functioning. The dam was coming under steadily heavier attack which was demoralising the Afghan army inside it. Support company was sent to surprise the next Taliban attack by replying in force with mortars and machine guns.

27 June C Company with support elements rumbled in a convoy to the village of Zumbelay east of Gereshk. After a shura the village elders recommend they leave by a different road on which they run into an ambush, with different troops becoming separated and caught in localised firefights which went on after sunset.

21 June The Paras were sent on an operation to Sangin which should have lasted at most a few days but led to them being stuck there for the remainder of their time in Helmand. It was another reactive and policing action. Two days earlier the Taliban had ambushed a convoy carrying a former district chief killing him and his bodyguards. A posse of relatives set out to retrieve the bodies and they too were ambushed and 25 killed. Among the wounded was the son of the district chief. Once again governor Daoud asked Charlie Knaggs if his troops could rescue the boy and once again the Paras were sent on what was really a policing job. The justification was that it would maintain and/or extend the reach of central government.

The second half of the book focuses on the paras taking over the compound of the district centre just on the edge of Sangin, fortifying it, then coming under probing fire, then sustained attack.

1 July The FSG directly hit by a RPG which killed three and badly injured five. Desperate scenes as the medical officer Harvey Pinn tried to save the wounded. The Chinooks take a long time coming to evacuate them. After this murderous night Tootal considered evacuating the entire force from Sangin but they had got themselves into a political trap. With each new attack fought off Sangin became more and more symbolic for both sides. Defeat and withdrawal would amount to a huge victory for the Taliban and a defeat for both governor Daoud and the Kabul government which 3 Para were there to support. So stay they had to.

5 July Troops were ordered to secure the area south of the compound for helicopters. They are ambushed which develops into a fierce fight during which Damien Jackson was shot through the torso and bled to death despite his colleagues’ frantic efforts.

By now there were contingents posted at Sangin, Now Zad, Musa Qaleh, Kajaki and Forward Operating Base Robinson i.e. the force was spread thin. Contrary to everything the army general staff told the politicians and the politicians told the country:

  • There were simply not enough men to do the job. (p.147)
  • The problem was there were never enough soldiers. (p.201)

Cut to the Pathfinders who were sent on a temporary mission to Musa Qaleh and ended up getting stuck there. Bishop describes repeated attempts to relieve them which were driven back by fierce attacks, and the nightly attacks on the compound, until the Pathfinders began to run low on food and ammunition. A Danish relief force under Major Lars Ulslev broke through the Taliban siege on 26 July to reinforce and resupply the garrison, and the two nationalities fought alongside each other for a further 2 weeks. The Pathfinders didn’t leave Musa Kaleh until 6 August. In fact it took an entire battlegroup operation to get them out. A couple of day deployment had turned into 52 gruelling days, subject to daily attacks.

During the endless night attacks, one of the planes the Pathfinders called in for support bombed a mosque. When the Danes met the town elders the latter demanded that the coalition pack up and leave. All their presence did was bring trouble (p.165). When Ulslev made it clear the NATO forces were staying many of the townspeople packed up and left until Musa Qaleh became a ghost town. The NATO mission there would turn out to be a disaster for them (p.256).

14 July Operation Augustus, allotted to the Brits by the American senior officer, Major General Benjamin Freakley, to seize a Taliban leader running a madrassas a few miles north of Sangin. Two hundred Paras were choppered in protected by a Spectre gunship, a UAV, Harriers and Apaches. Bishop gives a vivid detailed description of this major engagement. A lot of blowing up and air support plus the arrival of the Canadians in armoured vehicle, but when they finally blast their way into the compounds the Taliban has left and there’s no sigh of the leader they were sent to capture.

Chapter 13 describes the prolonged ordeal of the 40 or so Gurkhas who held the district centre at Now Zad against wave after wave of Taliban attacks. When they’d arrived the town elders asked them not to stay, knowing it would attract the Taliban, but they remained, in accordance with the wishes of Governor Daoud and were subject to an amazing intensity of attack, in one week being attacked 35 times. Soldiers were forbidden to move around the compound during daylight hours for fear of being sniped by Taliban sharpshooters.

They survived and called down repeated air strikes which exterminated Taliban positions and must have killed over a hundred of them. Yet they kept on coming back. Two points emerge. One: it was a big mistake to be forced to ally with the Afghan police, nominal representatives of the Kabul government, who were in fact a byword for corruption, kidnapping, extortion, rape and paedophilia (pages 184 and 211). Allying with them ruined the NATO forces’ reputation.

Second: as the Taliban moved in, townspeople wisely left. By the time the Gurkhas were relieved by a force from the Royal Fusiliers, the town was a) empty, a ghost town and b) very badly damaged. They had survived, astonishingly with no mortal injuries. But mission accomplished?

Chapter 14

27 July and back to Sangin, manned by B Company which endured up to six firefights a day. A digression on the setup and kit used by snipers (p.195). The Taliban were becoming more organised and effective. Intelligence speculated that losses of local fighters had been made up with imports from neighbouring Pakistan who were much better trained and tactically imaginative (p.217). Hence the Brits rarely patrolled with fewer than 40 troops. Nerves and defeatist talk spread as the soldiers realised that every single patrol would be attacked, some as close as 40 metres from the outpost.

20 August A patrol aiming to find a new path through the area north of the outpost runs right into Taliban fighters. In moments three of Corporal Bryan Budd’s eight-man 1 Section are wounded and down. On the spur of the moment Budd charged the Taliban single handed firing continuously making them desist firing or retreat long enough for the rest of his squad to extract the casualties. Later his dead body was recovered. He was posthumously awarded the Victoria Cross (p.218). His death demoralised the blokes.

29 August A full battle group operation to convoy in and install an air-portable bridge across the river Helmand west of the Sangin outpost. This triggers a fierce firefight in which platoon sergeant Paddy Caldwell is shot in the neck.

The experience of the Danish force, nicknamed the Griffins, which came to Musa Qaleh, 140 strong with 46 light armoured Eagle vehicles. A force from the Royal Irish Regiment replaced the Pathfinders to fight alongside the Griffins and discovered an outpost under unrelenting daily bombardment. They destroy houses close to the base which could provide cover, they blow the backs of houses off so they can see silhouettes moving about.

The battle group’s tenure of Musa Qaleh appeared to be achieving nothing other than the steady destruction of the town. (p.232)

The Royal Irish came to call it ‘Camp Shit Hole’.

14 August a Taliban attack so intense, from so many angles, that the platoon commander described it as like World War III. Our boys withdraw to a large container as shelter from a relentless barrage of mortars.

The incoming commander of the International Security Assistance Force in Afghanistan dislikes the outpost system and wants to withdraw troops from the platoon forts, but is prevented by the Prime Minister who says this would be handing the towns over to the Taliban. Corporal Danny Groves is quoted as very sensibly pointing out the Taliban already control the towns; all the allies control is an area about 100 metres from the walls of their forts and barely that, seeing as they are subjected to hourly attacks (p.235).

The Danish government withdraws its men from Musa Qaleh who are replaced by a cobbled together British force. The Danes had better food, better equipment and more medical officers. And they were a laugh. They were missed. The Danes were extracted in a full battle group operation with a convoy of lorries, persuading the Taliban the outpost was now ripe for taking.

26 August A concerted Taliban attack to take the Musa Qaleh outpost, phased attacks staged by some 150 fighters (p.240). There were seven attacks in the next 24 hours. It didn’t stop and attrition was wearing down the defenders.

1 September Intense mortar attack gets a direct hit on the main mortar launch site, killing a popular Fijian solder, wounding another who died later in hospital.

2 September Mass attack on Musa Qaleh results in six Royal Irish casualties.

6 September Back to the Kajaki dam, which had come under regular attack throughout the period. When Taliban are seeing setting up a roadblock on a road a mile away our boys go to investigate and blunder into a minefield. One is killed, five severely wounded. It’s a traumatic account. On the same day there were casualties at Sangin and Musa Qaleh, causing casualties. Bishop’s account of the bravery of Chinook pilot Mark Hammond who flew to all three sites to evacuate casualties under heavy fire made me cry. What incredible bravery. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross (p.250). As Dan Mills says, in Sniper One, balls the size of watermelons.

The occupiers of the Musa Qalej outpost had beaten back over 100 attacks in 40 days. Three had been killed and 15 injured.

Soldiers’ humour

The district centre/compound at Musa Qaleh is under attack, as usual:

Three of the Pathfinders grabbed their kit and ran across open ground swept by fire, up a ladder and along a 30-foot makeshift bridge that led to the roof of the outpost. They began returning fire. Among them was Lance Corporal Tony Robinson, an Australian on an exchange posting. Robinson was keen to fire the 51mm mortar located on the Outpost, something he had never done before. He dropped a bomb into the barrel and it soared off into the night. But there was no explosion. Someone asked him whether he had removed the safety pin. He replied, ‘There’s a safety pin on these things?’ The collective shout of ‘Knob!’ could be heard over the gunfire. (p.160)

How to win a medal

Quite a few of the soldiers received medals after the deployment and Bishop devotes an appendix to carefully listing them all. It’s interesting to learn what kind of behaviour wins a medal. On 24 July the Outpost at Musa Qaleh was attacked and two RPGs hit the sangar, destroying it and destroying the western edge of the roof which collapsed to the ground below. Two Danes were on the roof and when the smoke cleared one was seen doggedly returning fire. But the other, Lieutenant Thomas Rydahl, had fallen with the roof, two storeys down into a pile of rubble where he lay in full view of the attacking Taliban, a sitting duck.

Several Paras ran under fire along a walkway to the roof to join the shooting Dane. The Australian Tony Robinson looked over the damaged bit of roof down at Rydahl lying exposed and had a brainwave. There was an old bedstead on the undamaged part of the roof and Robinson hung it over the side, then climbed down it under direct fire from the enemy. He quickly learned the Dane had a broken leg so wasn’t able to shin up a vertical bedstead, so Robinson rooted around in the rubble and found a ladder, placed it against the rubble stack and pushed the wounded Dane back up onto the roof where his colleagues pulled him up, and so to safety.

For this act of extraordinary bravery under fire Robinson won the Military Cross (p.164). (See also the valour of Bryan Budd, mentioned above.)

A Para poem

The Paras nicknamed the enemy ‘Terry Taliban’. This anonymous poem was pinned up in one of the sangars at Sangin.

Watch out Terry, we’re hunting you down
There’s nowhere to hide in Sangin town
You shit yourself when the .50-cals are fired
No point in running, you’ll only die tired
Got A-10s on call for brassing you up
No food or water, we don’t give a fuck
So do one, Terry, you’ve plenty to fear
We run this town now. The Paras are here.
(p.197)

Bit tough on any of the Brits who were actually named Terry.

In the last furlong of the book more and more of the blokes change their tune and pay tribute to the Taliban. They must have taken casualties in the hundreds of dead with many more wounded but they absolutely would not stop and the tempo of attacks only increased.

The end

As September 2006 drew to a close the mood music changed. The British had intelligence that the Taliban had identified the helicopters as the weakest element in the allied force. Ed Butler realised that all it would take would be for one helicopter to be shot down for him to be faced with the agonising decision of whether to send in another one to extract the casualties but risk undergoing the same fate.

The incoming head of ISAF, General David Richards thought the situation he inherited, with the force distributed among the outposts, had been a mistake. He thought Butler had been mistaken in acceding to Governor Daoud’s wishes to ‘save’ this or that town from the Taliban. But he didn’t want to unilaterally withdraw. That would look like a NATO defeat (as it indeed would be).

While the senior brass agonised about what to do the elders of Musa Qaleh solved it for them by brokering a peace. They asked the Taliban to stop the fighting which was destroying the town and, once this was agreed, Ed Butler willingly agreed, too. A ceasefire was declared on 12 September just 6 days after the disastrous minefield day. In a historic event 60 or so of the town elders walked out to the bullet-riddled fortress, were welcomed in and given soft drinks, accompanied by a cohort of young intense-looking men dressed in black, who said nothing. The deal agreed was a month of peace then the British would withdraw. The elders would provide family members to police the town. The Taliban would withdraw. Handshakes all round. Within hours the centre of the town began to come back to life.

The Paras expected attacks to start up at any moment but they didn’t. The entire month went by without a shot being fired. In mid-October the garrison of the Musa Qaleh outpost was withdrawn.

But Terry hadn’t given up across the rest of the province, Incidents fell away but whether that was because the Taliban were exhausted, were running short of fighters, that local elders were intervening or it was the start of the poppy season, noone knew. There were 76 shooting incidents between 18 September and the official end of the battle group’s tour on 6 October.

The Para cohort in Sangin were relieved by Royal Marines. The Paras and their battle group comrades had been in Sangin for 91 days during which time they clashed with the Taliban 138 times (p.264). One by one A, B, C and the new E company were moved out. Tootal handed over responsibility for the British Battle Group to the Marines on 31 October 2006.

As to the aid and development we promised all the Afghans in all these different towns and communities, by the time the Paras arrived they’d been hearing the same promises off and on for five years. Bishop describes Para officers attending shuras and making the same promises which the Afghan elders listened to again, with polite disbelief. And then nothing happened. For the full three years.

Little progress had been made on reconstruction, the underlying purpose of the deployment. No ‘quick impact’ projects had been delivered…Instead of construction there had been destruction…the areas around the district centres of Musa Qaleh, Now Zad and Sangin were scarred and battered by the continuous battles. The people of these places had no reason to love the British. (p.266)

A foreign view

The Brits were part of a much wider NATO operation. Bishop occasionally mentions members of other nations’ forces, like the French who are killed in a Taliban attack, or the Danes who battled through to relieve the Pathfinders at Musa Qaleh.

It would be really interesting to read about their experiences, about a different national approach from the Americans or the Brits who I’ve been reading about. Their opinions of the Afghans, the deployment, about us. Would be interesting.

Even more obviously, I wonder if there are any accounts of the Taliban view of all of this, the allied invasion of 2001 or the NATO deployment of 2006.

Broader context

Which leads onto another obvious thought which is – this book is very limited in both subject and time. The British deployment was only part of the much larger NATO deployment. If you look at maps of the campaign you immediately see that US forces held camps and outposts to the north and south of the British, while the Canadians held Kandahar and other NATO members other areas. Presumably it was all kicking off there, as well, but Bishop gives little or no indication of how the other allies were faring, what methods they pursued, how the British effort and experience differed from our allies’.

And, timewise, Bishop ends his account in spring 2007 with a premonition that the Paras are going to be deployed back to Afghanistan but, of course, that was 16 years ago. A huge amount has happened since, up to and including the final US withdrawal in 2021. This is an incredibly vivid of a snapshot in time but reminds me, again, that I need to be reading more up-to-date accounts.

Ledwidge’s view

I came to Bishop’s full-on, soldier’s eye-view account from reading Frank Ledwidge’s high-level strategic analysis of both the campaigns, in Iraq and Afghanistan. Ledwidge gives perspective. I can see why Bishop, in order to get full access to all the soldiers in 3 Para writes with enormous sympathy and takes them largely at their own valuation. Ledwidge is far more distanced and objective:

Ledwidge says it was a very bad idea to break up the British forces deployed to Afghanistan into small units deployed to miniature ‘forts’ in ten or so regional towns. They should have remained concentrated in the capital, Lashkar Gah, from where they could have projected maximum force. Instead, distributed as small troops to remote and difficult-to-supply towns, the Brits quickly became targets of local insurgents and malcontents, determined to avenge the slight to their honours and manhood created by these invaders.

Their stated aim was to decapitate the Taliban leadership, neutralise the insurgency, and restore law and order so that reconstruction and aid projects could go ahead. In the event, none of those objectives were achieved during the Paras’ tour or, indeed, during British Army’s 13 years in Afghanistan.

Instead the scattered squads found themselves besieged in an archipelago of isolated Alamos, subject to relentless mortar and rocket propelled grenade attacks and liable, the second they tried to leave their compounds, to murderous attacks which almost always caused casualties, thus necessitating the very dangerous visit of evacuation helicopters which, half the time, came under such intense fire they had to retreat without landing. Or calling in air strikes which, no matter how careful both callers and pilots were, unavoidably caused collateral damage. Bishop acknowledges the bombing of the mosque in Musa Qaleh but only once address the question of how many innocent civilians must have been killed or wounded in the endless firefights and regular air attacks (p.205).

Bishop’s entire narrative presents this as the courageous endurance of our brave boys and I don’t for a minute doubt that they showed personal courage which I couldn’t imagine or dream of. But they were only having to fight against such odds because their superiors fucked up. In several places Bishop refers to the Paras’ tradition of holding out and punching above their weight. But to quote Ledwidge:

There is no virtue in entering a fight at a disadvantage. Heroic, outnumbered actions are not primarily accounts of courage; they are often testaments to inadequate contingency planning and poor strategy. The purpose of military action backed by well-thought-out strategy is to apply maximum force to an enemy’s key centres of gravity, not to allow forces too small for the task to be in a position where they can be overrun or fail. (Losing Small Wars by Frank Ledwidge, page 276)

The plucky underdog trope

You can’t help noticing the way Bishop’s narrative of endurance in last-ditch situations plays to tropes embedded deep in British popular history and culture about the plucky Brits battling against the odds.

The Charge of the Light Brigade, Zulu, the Somme, Dunkirk, The Battle of Britain, A Bridge Too Far, and now struggling to survive in embattled forts in Iraq and Afghanistan – movies and books have created a deep reservoir of narratives and images and national feeling about our brave boys fighting against the odds, and Bishop’s book is squarely in this tradition.

This explains why it has so many endorsements from reviewers plastered across the back and inside pages – because it reads not just like a movie but a movie filled with reassuring, comforting stereotypes. Tough guys don’t make a fuss when their legs are blown off, the heroic group leader makes firm decisions under great pressure, the brave helicopter pilot goes back into the battle zone to collect the last of our brave boys, the devoted medical officer braves a hail of bullets to try and save the mortally injured man.

This all works very well on its own terms. It’s a gripping and inspiring narrative. But unfortunately Ledwidge, operating at a higher, strategic level, says it’s all bullshit, because it didn’t have to be this way. It only ended up like this – plucky heroes fighting against the odds in embattled outposts – because of a whole series of mistakes made by higher-ups, from the general staff who suggested the deployment and the politicians who believed their overoptimistic claims, and involved lack of clarity about an end point and how to get there, ignorance about the complexity of the political and cultural situations we were blundering into, and bad tactical decisions.

Bishop is aware that the decision to dilute the force by deploying small squads to isolated outposts which would be hard to defend and very hard to resupply was controversial, even at the time. He devotes space to quoting Ed Butler and Stuart Tootal explaining that their task was to extend the rule of the Kabul government, so when the provincial governor told them they had to prevent the town of Now Zad or Musa Qaleh falling into Taliban hands, there was a strong case for doing what he – the local representative of the Kabul government – requested (repeated on p.266).

Nonetheless, it was an operational mistake which doomed the mission to failure.

Footnotes

1. ‘Cracking on’

Frank Ledwidge has a lot to say about the British Army’s mantra of ‘cracking on’ in the face of growing difficulties. This, he says, is entirely wrong. A mature army would step back, assess the situation, rethink the overall strategy. ‘Cracking on’ is the strategic equivalent of throwing good money after bad.

‘Cracking on’ was the Paras’ answer to all setbacks. They tried to forget what was happening and carry on with the mission that now seemed starker and more daunting. Things had stated to go wrong. (p.129)

Having read Ledwidge, then, influenced by my reading of all the places in Bishop’s text where he describes just this attitude of ‘cracking on’, made me realise the words he describes it in betray his and the Paras’ ambivalence about this dogged attitude.

  • [After the death of Budd, Lieutenant Andy] Mallett prepared himself to deliver the inevitable ‘cracking on’ pep talk. (p.222)
  • The only answer was to crack on, not out of any belief in the War on Terror but from a sense of duty to your mates, your unit and your regiment. (p.224)

At tactical level, this is, indeed, necessary, But at a higher, operational level, this, Ledwidge says, is when you need to stop and rethink your whole approach. In fact, tellingly, this is the final thought in the final sentences of this extremely good book. At the time of writing, early 2007, it seems like the Paras might be sent back to the ongoing conflict in Afghanistan:

In Colchester preparations are already under way for another deployment. The Paras are approaching it with an enthusiasm which seems undiminished by their recent ordeal. There are no dramas. They are just cracking on. ‘It’s what we do,’ said [Regimental Sergeant Major] John Hardy. (p.269)

Exactly.

(In his impressive history of the war, Jack Fairweather links the army mantra of just ‘cracking on’, in which showing emotion was seen as a weakness, to the failure to take post traumatic stress disorder seriously enough or provide adequate psychiatric care for soldiers coming out of combat. See A War of Choice, page 256.)

2. The influence of films

I’m predisposed against films, especially American Hollywood movies. I think movies, as a form, are a corrupting and degrading influence. To put it at its simplest, many American movies send one message – that you’re not a real man, or nowadays a real person, till you’ve picked up a gun and shot someone.

Justified revenge

To justify killing, many American movies set up a scenario where the professional assassin, government spook etc has retired, left the business – but then someone kills his wife and children and from that point onwards the film is just a list of horrific revenge murders. Thousands of American movies tell one story, the narrative of Justified Revenge.

Good guys, bad guys

And they’re always numbingly simplistic: there’s good guys (often just one guy, single) and bad guys. The good guy gets to kill tens (these days scores and scores) of bad guys. The John Wicks movies make entertainment from showing a superhumanly gifted killer shooting scores and scores and scores of people in the head.

Arguably these two dumb stupid tropes – justified revenge and good guys/bad guys – underlay George W. Bush’s entire War on Terror. Bad guys attacked us; we are justified in taking unlimited revenge.

To give a concrete example, from Iraq not Afghanistan, on 31 March 2003 gunmen ambushed four American contractors outside Fallujah, a city to the west of Baghdad, beat them to death, burned their bodies and hung them from a bridge over the river Euphrates while jeering crowds danced in celebration. Footage of all this was beamed round the world. Bush was horrified and vowed revenge. He ordered the US Army to go into the city to seize the ‘bad guys’.

This ridiculously impossible task of course led to all-out war with the insurgents and the First Battle of Fallujah. All round the world were beamed footage of houses being destroyed, terrified civilians being rounded up, and thousands of refugees fleeing the city as the civilian casualties grew into the hundreds. All round the Arab world young men decided they had to go to Iraq to fight these genocidal invaders.

Fairweather quotes part of the Bush speech on the original atrocity where Bush says: ‘the American people want to know that we’re going after the bad guys’ (p.111).

The simple-minded dichotomies, the binary polarities of a thousand Hollywood movies, which divide people up into the Good Guys (John Wayne, Bruce Willis) and the Bad Guys (wearing black hats), governed US policy throughout the twentieth century. This worked fine when there really were unambiguously Bad Guys, like the Nazis, but not so well in societies riven with complex ethnic, religious, social and political divides, such as Vietnam or Iraq.

Back in Fallujah, inevitably, in order to bring the ‘murderers to justice’, many times more US troops were killed and injured than the original 4 contractors. In the end 37 US troops were killed and over 600 Iraqi civilians. The city was devastated. Thousands fled. America suffered a huge PR disaster across the Arab world. Not only this but it imperilled US policy at the highest level when the entire Sunni membership of the provisional Iraqi government threatened to quit.

Lastly and with thumping inevitability, the supposed murderers of the contractors were never found. So was this a wise decision, balancing tactical kneejerk response in the broader framework of strategic requirements? No. It was a crass, dumb and counter-productive move.

So, back to films. All this explains why, when I read the inevitable comparisons the Paras make to firefights and situations to movies, it triggers the thought process outlined above and makes me realise how deep the baleful, immoral and misleading influence of simple-minded movie narratives extend into both American and British military thinking and policy making, with disastrous results.

  • ‘It was like a case of duelling mortars, like you imagine gunslingers in the Wild West. You stand at one end of the street and you go for your guns and the first one who hits the other guy wins.’ (Captain Nick French, p.98)
  • The dilemma of the citizens of Sangin was close to the plight of Wild West settlers threatened by marauding outlaws, as seen in many an old cowboy movie. Like the peace-loving townsfolk of the Wild West Sangin residents hated the intimidation and extortion imposed on them by the bad guys. (p.115)
  • ‘It was like the gunfight at the OK Corral. There were rounds whizzing by us. (Corporal Stuart Giles, p.209)
  • ‘The bass throb of the .50-cals put heart into the men in the ditches.’ C Company’s sergeant Major told Mackenzie afterwards that ‘when they heard us firing, they felt their whole morale lift – it was like something out of Star Wars.’ (C Company’s sergeant major, p.104)
  • Before the convoy arrived the American quick reaction force that had arrived from the forward to rescue their comrades conducted a ‘clearance by fire’ – drenching the area with heavy machine guns and grenades from rapid-fire Mark 19 launchers. ‘It was like a scene from Apocalypse Now,’ said [Major Nick] Wight-Boycott. ‘The green zone just erupted in flames.’ (p.155)

Thus the simplistic tropes of Hollywood movies influenced Allied thinking from the highest strategic level (President Bush) down to the lowest tactical level (Paras on the ground). Not an influence for detached rational thought but for gung-ho mindless aggression, not an influence for the better understanding of the highly complex societies we were invading, but encouraging the tendency to reduce entire societies down to the simplistic binary of good guys and bad guys. With disastrous results.


Credit

3 Para by Patrick Bishop was first published by Harper Press in 2007. References are to the 2008 Harper Perennial paperback edition.

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