A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd (1981)

It was a full time job getting your own back on the world, he reasoned; you couldn’t afford to weaken…

It made him sick, he hated every fucking one of them…

His scalp crawled with hatred…
(Morgan Leafy, the comic antihero of A Good Man in Africa, in characteristically misanthropic mode, on pages 51, 72 and 236)

This was Boyd’s first novel, published in 1981. Since then he’s gone on to write an enormous amount – 17 novels, five short story collections, three plays and an impressive 16 movie screenplays. His novels have been translated into 30 languages and he was awarded a CBE in 2005. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what success looks like for a British writer.

Public school

Like so many Brits who write about the British Empire, Boyd was born in a then-imperial colony (Gold Coast / Ghana) where he spent his boyhood before being packed off to one of the best public schools back in Blighty and so on to Oxbridge. Let’s just quote his Wikipedia article to get the facts out of the way:

Boyd was born in 1952 in Accra, capital of the Gold Coast, (present-day Ghana) to Scottish parents, both from Fife. His father – Alexander, a doctor specialising in tropical medicine – and mother – a teacher – moved to the Gold Coast in 1950 to run the health clinic at the University College of the Gold Coast, now the University of Ghana. In the early 1960s the family moved to western Nigeria, where Boyd’s father held a similar position at the University of Ibadan. Boyd spent his early life in Ghana and Nigeria but, at the age of nine, went to a preparatory school and then to Gordonstoun school in Scotland; after that, to the University of Nice in France, followed by the University of Glasgow (where he gained an M.A. in English and Philosophy) and finally Jesus College, Oxford.

A Good Man in Africa

A Good Man in Africa is a comedy, in the tradition of Kingsley Amis and the umpteen other British comic writers who specialise in novels about bumbling, fat, drunken, lecherous English plonkers. The book’s comic antihero, Morgan Leafy, is a fat (15 stone), bumbling drunk with a chip on his shoulder against the whole world, who gets into all kinds of comic scrapes.

Leafy works for the Foreign Office’s Diplomatic Corps and has been posted for nearly three years to a city called Nkongsamba, the only town of any size in a small state of a fictional West African country named Kinjanja, ‘a godforsaken, insignificant spot’ (p.27). All the serious embassies and consulates are in the capital, four hours’ drive away ‘on a deathtrap road’ (p.35).

Leafy is consumed by anger, hatred and vengeful thoughts against everyone. He dislikes his immediate boss at the British Deputy High Commission, the Deputy High Commissioner Arthur Fanshawe (I think Deputy High Commission indicates that it’s not the main High Commission, which is off in the capital), and absolutely loathes his immediate junior, Secondary Secretary Richard ‘Dickie’ Dalmire. The latter because he has enjoyed all the advantages in life which Leafy didn’t, namely: public school, Oxford, owns a property in the UK (inherited), was given a place abroad immediately after passing the Foreign Office exams, unlike Leafy who had to repeatedly retake the exams, eventually only scraping through, and then being allotted a godawful job in Kingsway.

The novel opens with Leafy’s resentful anger reaching nuclear proportions, because his enemy, ‘Dickie’ Dalmire, has just popped into his office to casually tell him that he, Dalmire, is engaged to the lovely Priscilla, daughter of their boss, Fanshawe. Leafy had taken Priscilla out a few times and thought he was still in a chance for her hand, so his resentment and jealousy goes off the scale. While trying to appear calm during the conversation, he imagines a nuclear bomb falling on Nkongsamba and incinerating everyone (p.19). He even hates the sun because all the other Brits develop lovely, even tans, but the tropical sun just brings Leafy out in thousands of disjointed freckles and a rash (p.19).

Date

At one point Leafy says his widow’s peak risks making him look like one of those ‘demented American marines, currently wasting the inhabitants of South-East Asia’ (p.43); later he picks up a magazine at the airport which contains photos of GIs in Vietnam (p.96) and mentions how the Americans are tied up in Vietnam (p.184). Now, since the last American soldier left Vietnam in March 1973 the novel must be set before then, in the early 1970s (?)

Cast

Page references are either to where a character first appears or, more often, to a page with a good first description.

  • Morgan Leafy, First Secretary at the High Commission in Nkongsamba, comic antihero, failure, inadequate, seething with anger and frustration at the endless humiliations he seems to be subjected to – ‘scathing misanthropy’ (p.19), ‘selfish, fat and misanthropic’ (p.66)
  • Richard ‘Dickie’ Dalmire, his junior at the High Commission, mid-twenties (p.51)
  • Deputy High Commissioner Arthur Fanshawe (p.29)
  • Priscilla Fanshawe, the Deputy High Commissioner’s attractive daughter (p.32), first impressions (p.98), Leafy is obsessed with her magnificent pert breasts which compensate for her ‘ski lift nose’
  • Denzil Jones, the (Welsh) Commission accountant, shiny fat face, pale sickly wife and two pale sickly kids, Gareth and Bronwyn (p.52)
  • Dr Alex Murray, Head of the Nkongsamba University Health Service and physician to the Commission (pages 47 and 58)
  • Sam Adekunle, Professor of Economics and Business Management at the University of Nkongsamba, and leading figure in the Kinjanjan National Party (KNP), a big man given to wearing traditional costume, perfect English tinged with American from Harvard Business School (p.56) owner of muttonchop whiskers (p.116), beefy, he looks like an African Henry VIII
  • Kojo, Leafy’s secretary/assistant, a small Roman Catholic with three children (p.23)
  • Peter, Commission driver
  • Mrs Bryce, wife of a geologist at the university who acts as Fanshawe’s secretary
  • Chloe Fanshawe, wife of the Deputy High Commissioner
  • Moses, one of Leafy’s two servants, his ‘aged cook’ (p.63)
  • Friday, Leafy’s servant (p.35) from Dahomey (modern-day Benin), early 20s, speaks French and erratic English (p.50), ‘hopelessly inept’ (p.64)
  • Hazel, Leafy’s Black mistress (p.39)
  • Selim, the Lebanese boutique owner who Leafy rents a very basic flat from as accommodation for his mistress, Hazel (p.38)
  • Geraldine Jones, friend of Priscilla Fanshawe (p.53)
  • Innocence, Fanshawe’s servant who is killed by a freak bolt of lightning
  • Isaac, Commission’s doorman and general factotum (p.73) involved in the Innocence fiasco
  • Lee Wan, Malay, now a naturalised British citizen and bar buddy of Leafy’s (p.87)
  • Femi Robinson, angry little Marxist and representative of the People’s Party of Kinjanja (p.113)
  • Chief Mabegun, governor of the state and head of the local branch of the United Party of Kinjanjan People, the party in government (p.113)
  • Celia Adekunle, Sam’s sullen wife (p.114)

Leafy overflows with inappropriate thoughts: he’s continually wondering what people look like when they have sex. Or fantasising about a nuclear bomb falling on Nkongsamba and incinerating everyone. When the Deputy High Commissioner’s wife calls, announcing herself as Chloe, Leafy is momentarily at a loss placing her:

The mental lapse came about because Morgan never thought of her as Chloe, and only seldom as Mrs Fanshawe. Usually the kindest epithets were the Fat Bitch or the Old Bag. (p.24)

Or his feelings for his boss:

He found it hard to fix or even identify his feelings about Fanshawe: they wavered between the three poles of nostril-wrinkling contempt, total indifference and temple-throbbing irritation… (p.27)

You can see how the comedy is based on the principle of exorbitance, defined as: ‘excessiveness, a situation when there’s an unreasonable amount of something, or when a person acts outrageously’ – the excessiveness being Leafy’s continual, overdriven anger and irritation at everyone and everything.

  • Morgan agreed, thinking: the conniving covert little bastard. (p.32)
  • The stupid mad shit, he thought wrathfully (p.67)
  • Fine, Morgan thought blackly, well, you can stick your advice up your tight Scottish arse… (p.95)
  • What in hell’s name, he asked himself, was the old goat bleating on about? (p.101)
  • … thinking that Fanshawe was a stupid, meddling old berk (p.115)
  • Shut up you stupid Welsh git, Leafy swore under his breath (p.117)
  • That stupid old fool Fanshawe, he railed to himself… (p.143)
  • Bloody rude black bastard, Morgan seethed to himself… (p.143)

Mind you, the universal rage this kind of personality vents at everybody is often rooted in anger and disappointment against themselves and Leafy is just as prolific with self-hatred:

  • Why did he have to sound so cretinous, he wondered. (p.30)
  • Why did Murray bring out the arsehole in him? (p.48)
  • It [Murray’s voice] made Morgan feel a fool, cretinous. (p.80)
  • He felt a complete fool… (p.94)
  • He felt ashamed at his ineptitude, his clumsy inability… He shook his head in despair… He gritted his teeth with shame and embarrassment… (p.117)
  • He had been made to look a complete fool (p.144)

According to Freud depression is a kind of anger against the self for failing to live up to the impossibly demanding ideals of the superego set for us by our superegos. Leafy seems a textbook example.

He’d handled everything so badly, misjudged and miscalculated all round. Par for the course, he thought cynically, no point in breaking the pattern. (p.82)

He is either seething with out-of-control rage against everyone else (‘he fumed inwardly’, p.29), or redirecting that rage against himself, triggering inconsolable depression, a leaden moroseness:

  • He stared morosely at the dragon-patterned rugs on the Fanshawes’ floor (p.30)
  • Morgan walked morosely back to the Commission (p.34)

He is constantly telling himself to calm down and get a grip. In one way the novel is a series of incidents strung on a spectrum between Rage and Calm. It records the hopeless quest for calm by an irredeemably angry man.

Morgan could hardly breathe from the effort he was making to stay calm. (p.149)

Physicality

About half way through the book I realised that what makes Boyd’s antihero stand out in a crowded field of British comic antiheroes is that he not only makes a fool of himself and overflows with frustrated anger, it’s the physicality of his responses, an almost continual heart attack-level of strangulation and collapse:

  • He could feel huge sobs of frustration and despair building up in his chest, crushing his lungs against his rib cage, making it increasingly hard to breathe. (p.150)
  • Panic fluttered for a moment in his belly like a trapped bird. (p.155)
  • The familiar suffocating feeling established itself in Morgan’s chest; it was like having your lungs stuffed with cotton wool. (p.156)
  • He felt his head was about to explode (p.159)

Maybe it’s just me but at various moments I, the reader, had sympathetic physical twinges, I felt premonitions of the same physical sensations Morgan experiences, so convincing and compelling does the fever-wracked character become. For example here he is having just read about the symptoms of gonorrhoea:

Morgan closed the book and thought he could actually hear blood draining from his face. He leant against a nearby wall and felt a tremor of blind fear run through his body. (p.168)

In fact it sometimes feels like you’re reading a kind of encyclopedia of stress symptoms, an extraordinarily imaginative and vivid variety of ways of expressing the physical symptoms of stress and rage and frustration.

Doing the wrong thing

Leafy has a talent for doing the wrong thing. In this respect he comes from a long line of comically bumbling English nincompoops. For some reason the figure of gauche young Ian Carmichael in countless 1950s movies comes to mind, but a closer analogy would be hapless Henry Wilt from Tom Sharpe’s series of novels about him, or any number of raging boobies from the comic fiction of Evelyn Waugh, Kingsley Amis, Lesley Thomas, David Lodge or Howard Jacobson.

For example, when he sees a deeply mad derelict standing at a busy road junction, shuffling and dancing, he suddenly feels an overwhelming identification with the man and, on impulse, gives him a pound note … which the madman proceeds to scrunch up and eat (p.18).

Or the time he took Priscilla home to her parent’s house and, noticing a grand gong in the corner of the living room, a relic of Fanshawe’s time in the Far East, impulsively hit it with the padded gong beater while mimicking the grand movie voiceover: ‘J. Arthur Rank presents…’ to be greeted with complete silence from Priscilla’s appalled parents (p.28).

He realises this about himself; he is self aware

Murray – like young Dalmire – was simply a handy scapegoat, a useful objective correlative for his own stupid mistakes, his fervent pursuit of the cock-up, the banal farce he was so industriously trying to turn his life into. (p.16)

No wonder, then, that he needs his Black mistress, Hazel, to shore up what’s left of ‘his tottering ego’ (p.39), despite the strong sense that she’s the one exploiting him. It is entirely characteristic that when he has sex with Hazel, he struggles to keep a ‘flagging erection’ (p.41). He’s pretty sure she left her two illegitimate children back in the village to become a prostitute in the big city. He strongly suspects she’s using the flat he’s renting for her to sleep with other men. But, damn! she arouses him instantly and happily has straightforward, uncomplicated sex. But the reader already senses the potential for humiliation if word gets round the pompous, pukka Commission that he has a paid African mistress.

And so his standard behaviour is muttering threateningly but impotently at everyone in his life, seething inwardly, physically shaken by anger, hatred and mortification.

The novel is cast in three parts:

Part 1 (pages 11 to 83)

It’s one of those comic novels which is packed with incident – from Leafy’s point of view, embarrassing humiliating incidents – but which has certain basic plotlines.

Adekunle blackmail

Most important is that he is being blackmailed by Professor Chief Sam Adekunle, head of the Kinjanjan National Party (KNP). The Chief studied at Harvard Business School and is a smooth operator. He is blackmailing Leafy by threatening to report to all and sundry that he has a Black mistress who was formerly a prostitute. In return, at the end of Part One, Adenkunle reveals that he wants Leafy to cosy up to the starchy Dr Murray and, when the time is right, offer him a huge bribe, because…

Adekunle has bought a plot of land on which the city university is planning to build a massive extension of its campus (a hall and cafeteria, p.230). He aims to sell it to the university for hundreds of thousands of pounds. Murray is chair of the Building Committee who need to sign off on the deal. But the conscientious Murray has rooted around in the civil planning department and discovered that the plot of land right next to Adekunle’s has been scheduled to become the city dump, and what a giant festering, poisonous dump it will become! So – Adekunle wants Leafy to cosy up to Murray and, when the time is right, offer him a whopping £10,000 to suppress his knowledge about the dump and sign off on the land sale.

Getting Priscilla back

The novel opens with the scene in which Dickie Dalmire swankily tells Leafy that he’s engaged to the gorgeous Priscilla, who Leafy used to go out with and who he had sex with on one glorious, never-to-be-forgotten occasion. But this just triggers a determination in Leafy to, in some specified way, get Priscilla back, seduce her away from Dalmire, rub his nose in it – all part of Leafy’s manic determination to get his revenge on the entire world. But you can see how Leafy’s sweaty obsession with Priscilla, and his determination on all occasions to remind her of their one night of passion a) provides a continuous running comic theme and b) promises disaster.

Father Christmas

Christmas is coming and Leafy finds himself bullied into playing Father Christmas for the local kiddies by the not-to-be-denied Chloe Fanshawe, imposing wife of his boss. This plays to the common comic trope of the man overflowing with homicidal rage forced to play nicely-nicely to a bunch of screaming kids and, inevitably, blowing his top.

Royal visit

In this kind of ‘Brits abroad’ fiction there’s often a visit by an official from back in Britain, in which everyone has to be on their best behaviour and which, of course, turns into a disastrous fiasco. Compare and contrast the visit by the Defence Secretary to the Hong Kong army barracks in Lesley Thomas’s ‘Onward Virgin Soldiers’ (1971).

In this story, it is the visit of the Duchess of Ripon, third cousin twice removed the Queen (p.103). The fact that she’s not that eminent a royal is itself comic bathos, deflating.

Election

And then there is going to be a general election, in which Chief Sam Adekunle, head of the Kinjanjan National Party (KNP), is standing.

Mother-in-law

Chloe Fanshawe, wife of Leafy’s boss, is not technically Leafy’s mother-in-law but is the butt of mother-in-law tropes i.e. Leafy instinctively hates her and she despises him. This animosity is demonstrated in his fascination with her anatomy, and especially her prodigious embonpoint. Finding mature women’s bodily shapes funny is, I imagine, nowadays effectively banned. Not so back in 1981.

Mrs Fanshawe had risen to her feet and was belting her dressing gown tightly about her waist, thereby crudely accentuating the body-forms which bulked beneath the candlewick shroud. Morgan inwardly remarked on the prodigious humps that defined her chest and how, curiously, they wobbled transversely as she marched over to her husband. (p.70)

And description of her ‘huge bosom’ (p.29).

So in part one we are introduced to all the key characters, the diplomats ‘at work’ i.e. bantering in their offices, or pretending to chummy at ‘the club’, Leafy’s beloved Priscilla, his mistress Hazel, Sam Adekunle and the blackmail plan.

Part one ends on a bizarre note with an extended sequence where Leafy is woken up after he’s gone to bed and requested by his boss to come over to their house where their maid, Innocence, has been killed by a freak bolt of lightning in a heavy storm. Fanshawe orders him to sort it out and then goes back to bed (the sanctimonious, middle-class bastard, thinks Leafy). This turns into a nightmare because none of the Black servants or staff will touch the body out of fear of the lightning god, Shango. Not even the Black undertakers will remove the body. Only the family can hire a voodoo priest to perform a ritual to cleanse the body, but that costs up to £60 if you throw in the funeral and entertainment costs. Innocence’s daughter doesn’t have that kind of money.

Then Leafy has a brainwave: Dr Murray and his team and the University Clinic. But when he phones Murray the call goes disastrously wrong: Murray refuses point blank to come out or have any of his team touch the body, since university and Commission rules insist they only treat Commission staff. Leafy has been up all night suffering successive setbacks in this stupid bloody task and finally loses it, effing and blinding at Murray who slams the phone down. At which point Leafy realises he has incredibly pissed off the one man he’s meant to be chumming up to and so has, once again, shot himself in the foot, so his chagrin, rage and self-hatred go off the scale.

He threw back his head and bared his teeth in a silent scream of pent-up anger, frustration and hostility at the universe. (p.81)

Slowly Leafy is overcome by a passionate desire to bribe Murray, to take him down a peg or two, to tarnish his saintly self-image, and so he coldly sets himself on revenge. To the reader, this seems a catastrophically bad conclusion to draw, but with immense comic potential.

Part 2 (pages 87 to 206)

Part 2 opens with a surprise – it jumps back in time to 2 or 3 months earlier, to September of the same year when the Fanshawes arrive back from their summer break with their daughter Priscilla. We see Fanshawe very excited about the upcoming national elections and the face that Adekunle, a big cheese in the Kinjanjan National Party (KNP) happens to live in the same town. The point is it’s an opportunity for Fanshawe to cosy up to the people likely to win the election and influence them towards British interests i.e. an opportunity for some real diplomatic work. Fanshawe hopes this brilliant achievement will earn him a better posting as his career comes to an end.

Fanshawe asks leafy to squire Priscilla

As a side note he explicitly asks Leafy if he could take his daughter Priscilla out, as she is feeling low on the rebound from being jilted by a pukka fiancé.

Leafy meets Dr Murray

We also watch the scene where Leafy first introduces himself to Dr Murray, bullying reception, refusing to see the other (coloured) physicians, trying to pull rank, sweaty and smelling of booze – you can see why the tidy, sober, rule-following Dr Murray would despise him.

Leafy snogs Priscilla

Then excruciatingly funny descriptions of his attempts to seduce the emotionally vulnerable Priscilla, lying that he went to a (minor) public school, lying about his dad’s profession, even saying yah instead of yes, to try and raise himself to her posh social stratum.

Cocktail party and film

Fanshawe rather absurdly names the plan to cosy up to Adekunle Project Kingpin. Leafy organises a cocktail party for local notables and we are introduced to Femi Robinson, angry little Marxist and representative of the People’s Party of Kinjanja, and Chief Mabegun, governor of the state and head of the local branch of the United Party of Kinjanjan People, the party in government. The cocktail party is a fiasco for Leafy who can’t cope with Adekunle’s suave sophistication and ends up looking like an idiot following him round the room. At one point Leafy passes on to him Fanshawe’s offer of first class flights to London and a room at Claridge’s but, to Morgan’s horror, Adekunle merely bursts out laughing at the crassness of this offer, as if it was still the days when the natives could be overawed with the offer of a trip to London (p.142). Even when the film projector gets going showing the new film about the Royal Family, Leafy finds himself still standing blocking everyone’s view, feeling yet again, chagrined with humiliation.

(Incidentally, if this is the famous film about the Royal Family directed by Richard Cawston, it was first shown in 1969. Is that the date of the events described in the novel? That would explain all the Vietnam references. And why, when the Black radical turns up to confront Leafy, he does so wearing a black leather jacket, black glasses and Afro, ‘every inch the black power activist’, p.215.)

Fishing trip

Priscilla is irritated that Morgan ignored her at the cocktail party-film show so to make up he takes her on a fishing trip to the river Olokomeji which is, of course, a fiasco, because Morgan inadvertently catches a huge fish which he has to bash against a rock so many times to kill it that it’s reduced to a pulp and he is covered with blood and scales. At which point he tries to seduce Priscilla, telling her he loves her, and she, very understandably, freezes up and asks him not to. He drives her home, she announces she’s going to stay with an American diplomatic family, the Wagners.

Leafy drives on to the hotel where his Black lover, Hazel, stays but she hasn’t been home. Which is when he decides to instal her in a flat.

Adekunle’s birthday party

Leafy is invited by Adekunle’s bored white wife, Celia, to Adekunle’s birthday party at the Hotel de Executive. He bumps into the German businessman and attaché George Muller who briefs him about Adekunles’s business interests and makes Leafy (and the reader) realise what an ignoramus Leafy is: he knows nothing not only about Adekunle, but about the ethnic, religious and political make-up of the state he’s living in. When Leafy makes what he thinks is a subtle approach he is disconcerted that Adekunle bursts into laughter, and says he’s already been approached by America, France and West Germany. Thoroughly humiliated, he rushes to see Hazel at her seedy hotel, and has sex so vigorously he makes his penis sore. At least he thinks that’s the cause. The reader realises he’s picked up a sexually transmitted infection. The comic potential is that he gives it to someone (Priscilla)?

Murray’s clinic

Only when his servant Friday says he’s stopped washing Morgan’s pants because they are soiled with a nauseating discharge is Morgan horrified into making an emergency appointment with Dr Murray, a classic example of the anxious-man-having-penis-examined trope.

Club party

The horribly provincial club dance night with dreadful jazz or loud rock music. Morgan takes Priscilla who is duly disappointed. But in the car there and on the dancefloor she had been surprisingly kissable and biddable. Morgan thinks tonight is the night he’s going to bed her. Until he bumps into Dr Murray in the corridor to the lavatories, who informs him, in a confidential whisper, that he has gonorrhoea. It is a very funny moment when, a few minutes later, Priscilla returns from her trip to the loo and remarks that Morgan is looking very red. Does he feel alright?

Humiliation with Priscilla

There follows an agonisingly embarrassing scene in which drunk Priscilla insists on being taken back to Leafy’s flat, kisses, grabs him, starts stripping off in the darkened living room, drunkenly preparing for an orgy, while Leafy comes up with a flurry of implausible excuses before he’s driven to leap up and turn the main lights on. At which point, Priscilla, seeing her state, stalks off to the bathroom to get dressed then insists on being driven home in silence. When Leafy tries to make excuses she delivers a speech describing him as a pitiful worm. Driving home, then in bed alone, his chagrin and frustration knows no bounds.

More Murray

Opens with a very funny scene of Leafy consulting a medical encyclopedia in the university library and nearly fainting as he reads about the horrifying complications of gonorrhoea. Then onto a formal consultation with Murray who confirms the diagnosis but says all it requires will be two injections with penicillin and total abstinence from sex and alcohol for four weeks. And inform all your sexual partners. When he tells his Black mistress, she admits to having three other part-time lovers.

Dickie Dalmire arrives

Leafy is at the airport to greet the ‘new man’ sent out to the Commission, and take him for lunch at the Fanshawes’ (his new boss) where, Leafy is chagrined, as usual, to see Dalmire’s pukka public school confidence putting him instantly at home with Arthur, Chloe and Priscilla in a way grammar school, suburban Leafy never achieved in three years.

Adekunle stuns Fanshawe by accepting the offer of a visit to Britain but demanding a) two weeks at Claridge’s b) an official reception at the airport c) open-ended return tickets for two. Fanshawe is dumbfounded at the reversal of the power dynamic, with the Black man now setting the terms. Trouble is more and more oil deposits are being discovered in the country and HM govt want the new Kinjanja govt to give Britain preferential treatment. Adekunle’s party aren’t a dead cert to win the upcoming election, but are the favourites.

Celia

Morgan gets accustomed to meeting Celia Adekunle almost every morning at ‘the club’ for swimming and sunbathing. She’s hard and cynical and small and bony, not at all his type, yet they have an instant rapport. She admits hers is an empty token marriage. She’d run away if she could.

Hazel’s flat

Leafy hires the seedy shabby flat where we find Hazel ensconced in part one.

Celia

Morgan and Celia are now driving to rendezvous in the country and having lovely carefree sex. They stop for a drink at a bar on the way back into town and she persuades him to come back to the house – her husband’s away and she dismisses the servant and sex in a proper bed takes on a whole new dimension.

Caught

Outside Celia’s house, fumbling for his car keys, Leafy is terrified to be buttonholed by Adekunle who proceeds to tell him he knows all about his affair with his wife, and about his Black woman in town (Hazel). Would he like his boss to find out about this, how Morgan has screwed up Fanshawe’s precious Kingpin project? No. Therefore Leafy is going to do everything Adekunle tells him to, right? Fearing he may pass out with terror or throw up, Leafy agrees and is amazed when the upshot of all this terrifying is imply that…Adekunle wants Leafy to become friends with Dr Murray. Oh and end the affair with his wife, without letting her know that Adekunle knows about it.

The engagement

The short scene ending part two turns out to lead directly into the opening of part one. It’s where Dalmire pops into the office of a Leafy who has turned into a depressed recluse, drinking heavily to compensate for the abrupt ending of the affair with Celia, and announces that he’s just got engaged to Priscilla.

This is very clever. The opening of the book put me off a bit because I didn’t understand what was going on. But anyone who persists this far, to page 204, now has an infinitely deeper grasp of the events which lay behind Leafy’s desperate, raging emotions, the way the entire universe is conspiring to frustrate his every wish and desire.

In fact it would be tempting to reread all of part one in the light of the extensive and thorough backgrounding part two gives you, to read it a second time with a much deeper understanding of all its resonances and meanings.

Part 3 (pages 209 to 312)

Part 3 opens exactly where part 1 ended, with Leafy weeping tears of frustration at the refusal of all the Black servants or public services to remove the body of Innocence, struck dead by lightning. In other words, part 2 might at one stage originally been the opening and first hundred pages of the novel but Boyd or someone had the bright idea of lifting and shifting it completely to become part 2, changing what was originally the next section, part 2, into part 2. So the narrative starts in media res (‘in the middle of things’) as the critics of ancient Greece and Rome recommended. The effect is to cleverly create all kinds of unexpected resonances and explanations. Very artful, very clever.

Leafy’s ignorance

Alongside Leafy’s overactive sex drive, his alcoholism and his shambling ineptitude goes a stunning ignorance of almost every aspect of the country he’s working in and the people he’s supposed to be studying. So, for example, he knew nothing about Adekunle’s business interests until the German, Georg Muller, told him, and various other characters tell him that this or that piece of information is ‘common knowledge’, all of which come as complete news to dim Leafy.

I suddenly realised how important this is when the Marxist leader Femi Robinson comes to see him to protest about newspaper photos of Adekunle being greeted by Foreign Office officials in London. He’s protesting because these photos give the impression that London is supporting Adekunle’s party, the KNP, in the soon-to-be-held elections. But it’s not just that which is a problem. The real issue is that this support from the old imperial power will discredit the KNP in the eyes of the army who are already disgusted with the corruption of the ruling party. There have already been small army mutinies. The risk is that the army will step in and stage a coup. Leafy asks, ‘Are you sure?’ Robinson replies: ‘Everybody knows it,’ (p.217) except, of course, dim Leafy (and, to be fair, his equally dithering boss, Fanshawe).

In this final act, Leafy’s universal ignorance has serious consequences.

Christmas fitting

To Leafy’s surprise, Mrs Fanshawe takes him upstairs to the attic but it turns out to be to try on a boilersuit she’s dyed red as part of the Father Christmas outfit she’s making up for him. She briskly tells him to strip down to his undies to try it on but when he hands it back turns a funny colour, makes excuses and rushes off. Odd, thinks Leafy, till he looks down and sees his penis has flopped out of the slit in his boxer shorts. For some reason this sexual embarrassment reminds me of the endless humiliations suffered by the Ben Miller character in the TV series ‘The Worst Week of my Life’.

It’s now the day before Christmas Eve and Leafy has two massive problems. Adekunle simply won’t accept that Leafy’s fallen out with Murray and insists, if he doesn’t want his career ruined, that he offer him the bribe. And the body of Innocence is still lying on a bench in the servants’ quarters of the Commission steadily decomposing because no Africans will touch it till the juju priest has performed his ceremony, with his boss Fanshawe becoming apoplectic that it be removed before the bloody Duchess of Ripon arrives for her two-day visit the next day.

So Leafy bullies his servant Friday into joining him at 3am to secretly carry the rotting putrid corpse to his car. Half way through a white ghost appears in the nearby trees but an unimpressed Leafy rugby tackles him only to discover he’s the poet sent by the British Council, one Greg Bilbow from Yorkshire. Leafy tells him to wait, goes back and he and Friday drag the corpse the last few yards to his car and heave it into the boot. Then he drives Friday back to his house and Bilbow back to his (Leafy’s) apartment where he’s promised to put him up. It has just turned Christmas Day.

Tribulations

He is astonished to get a call from a livid Fanshawe. Turns out when the Commission’s staff found the body of Innocence gone, they went on strike. Obviously this is a disaster what with the Duchess about to arrive, let alone the following day when there’s a massive party scheduled for 200 local dignitaries. Leafy must smuggle Innocence’s rotting body back to where it was.

He’s barely coping with this information before he has to dress up as Father Christmas and dole out presents to the kiddies at the Commission’s Christmas party. The Duchess has arrived and watches him entertain the kiddywinks.

Returning Innocence

After surviving the Father Christmas ordeal, Leafy spends the rest of the evening getting completely pissed at the Commission bar, dressed as Santa, the butt of many jokes. It’s here that a way of solving the Innocence problem comes to him. So it is that, sometime after midnight, utterly hammered, Leafy drives round to the staff accommodation, pours petrol all over the rubbish dump, lights it with a great whoomph of flame in his own face, then runs back to the car. As all the servants wake and run to tackle the fire and so are distracted, Leafy then drives further round the accommodation block, opens the boot, yanks the rotting corpse of Innocence back to more or less where he found it, leaps back into the car and drives round the perimeter road back to the Commission.

The duchess in the bathroom

He imagines the bathroom will be empty at this time of night so slips inside with a view to cleaning up. He is stunned when he sees his own reflection in the mirror, his face blackened with the flames, one eyebrow burned off, his face lined with the white tracks of his tears. But not as stunned as when he hears footsteps coming up the hallway and, to cut a long story short, it turns out that he’s using the bathroom assigned to the Duchess of Ripon. Leafy hurriedly hides in the shower but can’t help overhearing as the Duchess strips off, has a hearty dump, then whisks the shower curtain back to reveal…a mad burned Santa! Stunned into immobility, the Duchess watches as Bad Santa climbs out of the bath, opens the bathroom window and climbs out. Laughing manically, he scampers across the grass to his car, drives back to the apartment where the Yorkshire poet takes the mickey out of his ridiculous appearance, washes his burned face and collapses into bed.

The golf tournament

The Commission are hosting a golf tournament. Leafy had asked Adekunle to work behind the scenes and get him paired with Murray so he can make his move. But, to his dismay, as they stroll and chat round the course, Leafy discovers that he likes Murray.

Finally he nerves himself to make his pitch and offers Murray the £10,000 bribe. Leafy handles it in a characteristically cack-handed way, and ends up telling Murray everything about Adekunle, that he owns the land the new buildings would be built on etc and how he’s been blackmailed into making the bribe. Murray says no to the bribe and that he must report it. Leafy reaches the end of his tether and physically collapses and passes out.

When he comes round, Murray is concerned and says OK he won’t report him, but the answer is still no. He’s recommending the Committee reject the application simply because he doesn’t want corrupt operators like Adekunle to win. Leafy gives up. It’s all over. Adekunle will tell Fanshawe about his shame, his career will be over, he might as well book his flight back to London now.

Hazel’s

Once he can walk, Leafy drives to Hazel’s and holes up there for days, including during the important general election. He periodically phones his apartment where the affable Yorkshire poet tells him Adekunle has been trying to contact him for days. Eventually Adekunle tracks him down to Hazel’s and tells him he has changed his mind and doesn’t want him to offer Murray the bribe after all! What!?

Innocence solution

Convinced he’s going to be sacked, in a new mood of fatalistic resignation, Leafy tells the servants protecting Innocence’s now-restored corpse that he’ll pay for the priest and the funeral. The price goes up to £80 but Leafy doesn’t begrudge it. What the hell. His career is shot. His time here is over.

Election victory

When Adekunle rang Leafy he sounded happy and generous because the votes are in and his party, the KNP, has won a majority. They will be the new government. Adekunle invites Leafy to the victory party. As he leaves for it, his man Friday tells him to avoid the town tomorrow as ‘the soldiers will come’. He repeats the motif: ‘Everybody knows’. Everybody except Leafy, that is.

Adekunle’s victory party

Adekunle explains that he was constantly phoning Leafy in order to tell him not to offer Murray the bribe. Turns out that Adekunle has made a contact within the planning department and has made sure that, even if Murray signs off a negative report, it will be ‘lost’ by his (Adekunle’s) contact and never registered. So all the heartaching and the humiliation of offering Murray the bribe was for nothing. Leafy is gutted.

Celia

Leafy drinks himself silly all evening, eventually staggering upstairs to the loo to throw up. When he’s quite finished, he grabs a random toothbrush to clean his teeth. He’s barely staggered out onto the landing before Celia pounces and drags him into a spare bedroom. Here it becomes clear that she’s decided to leave Adekunle but needs him to get her a British visa. In a flash Leafy realises she’s been using him, the entire affair was to seduce him into providing the visa. One more delusion, one more bitter let-down. He is heartbroken and just walks away, leaving Celia still crying for his help.

The siege

But something massive is about to happen, a massively violent event which forms the climax of the book.

On his way to Adekunle’s house Leafy had seen the wizened old Marxist Femi Robinson clutching a load of placards on his way to a student sit-in and protest at the university administration buildings. With typical lack of tact and awareness Leafy had mentioned that he and Fanshawe and other officials would all be at Adekunle’s party which was by way of being a victory party. Well, we know that Robinson considered all the press photos in the papers of Adekunle being greeted by top officials on his recent trip to London had been a conscious attempt by Britain to influence the election which, in the event, Adekunle and his KNP had won.

Now, completely unexpectedly, Robinson brings a contingent of protesting students from the main building over to Adekunle’s grand home. Adekunle had invited important dignitaries, the Kinjanjan press and had planned to make a grand victory speech. Instead he finds his house surrounded by furious students throwing stones and bricks and, most incongruous of all, chanting ‘FAN-SHAWE FAN-SHAWE.’ This is because Leafy had incautiously told Robinson that Fanshawe was the brains behind Adekunle’s visit to London, and that Fanshawe would be at Adekunle’s party – and also because it’s easier to chant than Robinson’s long doctrinaire slogans (which he nonetheless valiantly yells through a loudhailer).

Luckily, Adekunle’s place is protected by a tough security fence, but the protesters are still managing to lob bricks and stones with accuracy through the windows and the guests are taking cover behind makeshift barricades of furniture. In this highly stressed situation, both Fanshawe and Adekunle turn to Leafy to do something and, surprisingly, Leafy comes up with a plan! This is to pretend to be Fanshawe and make an escape to distract the protesters.

So he and Fanshawe swaps clothes, the idea being he’ll run for the Commission’s distinctive official car dressed as Fanshawe, get Adekunle’s (reluctant) security people to open the front gate as he drives through it at top speed and so distract them. At which point tubby old Chloe Fanshawe, the Deputy Commissioner’s wife volunteers to come with him. As soon as she does that I knew they were going to have sex.

Freud somewhere says the traditional dislike between son and mother-in-law is actually a taboo designed to prevent its opposite, which is inappropriate sexual attraction between these roles. This had been palpable ever since we first met her and Leafy combined a detailed description of her physique with wonder at the tension and dislike between them.

The escape

It all goes to plan. Leafy-dressed-as-Fanshawe makes a break through the hail of stone for the car, hand in hand with the distinctive, party-dress-wearing and very plump Mrs Fanshawe. they jump in, drive at the gates which Adekunle’s security men open at the last minute, race through as protesters throw themselves out the way, then charge after them still throwing stones. There’s a hairy moment when the car careers into a shallow ditch and won’t move as the protesters come charging at them but this just makes the distraction tactic more successful, as the back wheels finally get traction and it roars free.

The riot police

But Leafy and Chloe’s night is far from finished because the authorities have called in the riot police to deal with the student protests and things have turned really nasty. The admin block of the university looks like a warzone with windows shattered, groups of burning cars, and row upon row of helmeted, shielded riot police approaching the building and firing rifles at the students throwing bricks, stones and office equipment at them from the windows, the whole scene drenched in stifling teargas. All this is blocking the main road out of the campus. Leafy and Chloe can get no further in the car and have gotten out to try and sneak round the warzone on foot.

A Murray moment

On the way there, still in the car, leafy had spotted a solitary figure standing by the road and screeched to a halt. It’s Dr Murray. He gives more detail about the extent of the rioting. Leafy offers him a lift. Murray says no, he’s waiting for the university ambulance to come pick him up then will be treating the injured. Leafy lingers unnecessarily because he wants, somehow, to express the complicated feelings he’s come to have for Murray, who’s gone from figure of unmitigated hatred to someone who was kind to him (when he fainted on the golf course) and whose integrity he’s come to respect. The best he can do is warn him that Adekunle has dropped the bribe offer because he has a contact in the building office who will ‘lose’ Murray’s report, so Leafy warns him to make copies and distribute them widely. Murray thanks him, there’s an awkward pause, then our man jumps back in the car and heads off with Mrs F.

(It’s worth remembering that Boyd’s own father was Scottish and served as head of the health clinic at the University College of the Gold Coast. Is this a portrait of his father, strict, stern and worthy of respect? A filial compliment?)

Escape from the campus

Long story short, Leafy and Chloe manage to escape the campus but not before having a very hairy moment when they set off running across open ground and a detachment of riot police spot them and chase them, firing their guns at them, Leafy hearing the bullets whining past his head. I thought at this point that maybe Chloe would be shot and injured, certainly this all feels too serious for them just to get away. It’s not funny any more.

But they do get away, just, running through the maze of back alleys and gardens of the university’s residential quarter until the police have obviously given up chasing. Exhausted, filthy, bleeding from wounds caused by stones and thorny bushes, they find the perimeter fence and climb it, emerging on a normal road not far from a normal cheap bar. Here Leafy offers the owner £10 if he’ll drive them out of there.

Empty Commission

When the taxi driver brings them to the Commission, Leafy and Chloe find it locked up but a note from Fanshawe saying a) the guests escaped from Adekunle’s b) Fanshawe has accompanied the daughter, Priscilla, and Dalmire into town, to the airport, where the young couple had been planning to go on holiday anyway, c) that Denzil Jones has offered Chloe accommodation for the night.

At Leafy’s

Chloe asks if she can come back to Leafy’s house to clean up so he gets the waiting taxi driver to take them there, and pays him his £10. She has a bath, he pours himself a stiff (i.e big) whisky, she emerges in a big towel and sets about darning her ruined dress so as to be as respectable as possible when she goes to stay with Jones except that…she now tells him huskily…she doesn’t want to go to the Jones house. She wants to spend the night here. Aha. As I predicted.

Remember that moment when she was measuring him up for his Father Christmas suit and, unintentionally, his limp penis flopped out of his boxer shorts not very far from her face and she flusteredly looked out the window, made an excuse and left. Well, it turns out she’s been thinking about Leafy’s penis – ‘a lot’ (p.309).

Leafy for his part feels himself strangely attracted to his one-time putative mother-in-law (paging Dr Freud), has a thorough shower, then they are in bed naked together, she stroking his growing arousal, he nuzzling her huge breasts etc, when…the phone rings.

Death of Dr Murray

It’s Inspector Gbeho from Nkongsamba police headquarters. He is duty bound to report the death of any Brits to the Commission and can’t get hold of his boss, Fanshawe (who we know is at the airport). Dr Murray is dead. He was in an ambulance carrying students to the clinic and it skidded on the wet road and, well, he was killed in the crash. Just like that.

The good man

Leafy thanks the inspector, puts the phone down and (rather like the reader) is overcome with a whirligig of images and emotions. Above all the sense of futility. Murray was a genuinely good man, probably the only good man in the story – efficient, professional and with clear moral values – unlike any of the bumbling British diplomats, let alone an out-and-out crook like Adekunle. Naked, enormous Chloe Fanshawe is calling him from the bed where she wants Leafy to ‘make their night complete’. Leafy ponders what Dr Murray would make of him bedding his boss’s wife. Wouldn’t have approved, would he?

The news of Murray’s death evaporates Leafy’s erection and arousal. He tiredly pads down the hall to the bedroom and starts to make his apologies. ‘Listen Chloe, I’ve been thinking…’ This is mostly comic, but also genuinely sad and poignant.

The difference between farce and comedy is that the former pushes beyond the limits of plausibility into the absurd, delighting in far-fetched coincidences and hair’s-breadth escapes for their own sake, the more wildly improbable the better. Farce revels in deliberately contrived plots, plots which emphasise their own structures, playing with repetition, inversion, variations.

Thus Leafy’s last-minute change of heart about sleeping with Chloe Fanshawe makes a neat parallel with the buttock-clenchingly embarrassing scene where he was forced to refuse to have sex with her daughter, Priscilla. The turn of events is humorous in its own right but also gives the reader a pleasing sense of structure and contrivance. Boyd is a technically adept author.

The coup

And while Leafy is miserably apologising to Chloe, the perspective of the narrative pulls back to pan across the campus, revealing the burned-out cars and trashed offices, and on into the city itself as the army mounts the coup which everyone, certainly all the ordinary locals, knew about well in advance, everyone except Britain’s blinkered, drunk, snobbish, self-obsessed diplomats, experts in disaster and humiliation, utter fools when it comes to understanding the country they’re posted to.

‘Good man’

The phrase ‘good man’, like the main theme in a piece of classical music, is stated right at the start, in fact make up the novel’s first two words, as spoken by lucky Dalmire announcing his engagement to Priscilla to a mortified Leafy, who pretends to take it on the chin but inside is anything but a ‘good man’, seething with rage and hatred of Dalmire.

In other words, the phrase is used ironically right from the start, Dalmire being too obtuse to realise that Leafy, at that moment, wants to kill him and blow up the entire town i.e. he is quite possibly the opposite of a good man, he is a very bad man.

Thereafter the phrase is repeated, slowly accumulating resonances and layers of irony, not least because all the people who use the expression ‘good man’ wouldn’t actually recognise a good man if he bit them on the bottom.

On page 32 Leafy’s boss, Fanshawe, fatuously calls Leafy ‘a good man’ for reluctantly acquiescing to dress up as Father Christmas, something Leafy a) hates having to do b) is only doing because it will get him closer to the superb breasts of Fanshawe’s daughter, so the phrase implicates both the sayer (obtuse, conventionally minded Fanshawe) and the addressee (lustful seething Leafy).

On page 51, Leafy is at the bar with Dalmire and Jones who is very drunk and drunkenly calls Leafy ‘a bloody good man’, slapping him hard on the back, and Leafy, to his credit, fumes at how much he hates this ‘ghastly rugger-club expression’ (p.51).

On page 89 Leafy gets drunk in a bar with the disreputable, seedy Lee Wan, a Malayan who’s secured British citizenship and uses all manner of pukka phrases to burnish his Britishness. When Lee Wan bursts out laughing at an off-colour joke Leafy makes about importing condoms, Leafy drunkenly considers him ‘a good man to have around’. Again, irony, because Lee is a creepy sycophant.

On page 192 Fanshawe calls Leafy a ‘good man’ in an unstated recognition that Leafy has been schmoozing up to, maybe even having an affair with, Adekunle’s wife Celia. No-one acknowledges it, maybe Fanshawe doesn’t really appreciate it, but that’s the point. Don’t ask questions. Leave things unsaid. Gloss over difficult realities. The English way. Leafy is, in fact, being praised for being a sneak.

As I’ve explained, part two in fact gives the 3-month backstory leading up to the opening scene of the book, which opens with Dalmire calling Leafy a ‘good man’ for accepting the news about his and Priscilla’s engagement so calmly (p.206). Having heard the full backstory we now realise that Leafy is very far indeed from being a good man in at least two senses:

a) we’ve seen what an out-of-control drunk he is, how he’s set his Black mistress up in a love nest, contracted gonorrhoea from her and came within an ace of passing it on to Dalmire’s fiancée, Priscilla;

b) far from accepting the news with equanimity as Dalmire thinks, displaying the obtuseness typical of all the characters, internally Leafy is seething with homicidal rage

So it’s another example of the complete failure of the English characters to understand the first thing about what’s going on or achieve even the simplest communication.

At the climax of the novel, when Adekunle’s luxury compound is under attack from the protesting students, useless old Denzil Jones calls Leafy ‘a good man’ for bravely volunteering to impersonate Fanshawe to draw off the protesters ( p.297).

This is a more equivocal example because, although Jones is trapped in the machine of his own predictable behaviour (he slaps Leafy on the back exactly as he did all the way back on page 51) Leafy has, in fact, and to the reader’s surprise, actually volunteered to do quite a heroic thing to save other people. It’s effective and it is heroic. For once, maybe for the first time in his life, he isn’t secretly motivated by sex or drink or promotion. It is as if he is struggling to emerge from the chrysalis of his terrible personality and, for once in his life, do the right thing.

Looking back over the whole narrative, it feels as if Dr Murray’s influence is working, fermenting a new Leafy from the shambles of the old. Everyone else remains stuck in their fixed attitudes and characters, but this, the final use of the phrase in the book, indicates that change is possible.

Four conclusions:

1. I’ve shown how the phrase ‘good man’, right from the start of the novel, more often than not has connotations diametrically opposite to its literal meaning i.e. is used to describe all kinds of dodgy characters (Lee Wan, p.89) or is applied by the English characters to each other in the deepest ignorance or bad faith, glossing over characters’ bad behaviour, or concealing raw hatred for the person talking, or is motivated by the crudest motives.

2. All of which made me come to realise how the phrase ‘good man’ is like a sticking plaster designed to cover over things that would rather not be discussed or made explicit. The British stiff upper lip is related to a cultural insistence not to delve too deep below the surface, an attitude which prefers to paper over unpleasantness with stock public school phrases.

3. The thoughtless bandying about by the English of this clubroom phrase is directly linked to their wider obtuseness and ignorance of what’s going on right under their noses. The English diplomats are depicted as a snobbish shower of incompetents, meddling with forces way beyond their comprehension, but bolstering each other’s morale with this kind of self-congratulatory clubroom catchphrase.

4. Only at the very end of the novel (presumably as intended) did I realise that there is, in fact, only one good man in the book and it is Dr Murray. He is principled and professional in a way none of the other men in the book are. It is symptomatic of Leafy’s degraded condition that he develops such a pathological hatred for a man who is simply following the rules and regulations and then, when offered an enormous bribe, briskly turns it down and insists on doing what he regards as the right thing. This itself has two sub-aspects:

a) Murray isn’t English, he is Scottish. There is a stark distinction between the bumbling incompetent English Commission staff (pompous Fanshawe, out-of-control Leafy, insufferably successful Dalmire) and Murray, who comes from a completely different tradition, of stern Scottish professionalism and moral fibre.

b) From this point of view, taking Murray as the central figure in the book and removing for a moment all the comedy and farce, the narrative could be read as Morgan Leafy’s moral education by Dr Murray, Leafy’s slow, chaotic coming-to-realise that Murray represents an alternative way of being, selfless and noble and professional. Murray is clearly intended to be the Good Man of the title.

And, as I’ve mentioned before, seeing as how Boyd’s own father was a Scottish head of medicine in a West African university, this amounts to quite a tribute from a son to a father, quite a moving gesture of filial loyalty.

Objectifying women

1981. Long time ago, wasn’t it? And most of the book probably written well before then, getting on for 50 years ago. Its age shows, maybe, in some of the disrespectful language used about the Africans (I doubt if it’s nowadays acceptable to call older Black women ‘mammies’). And also in the underlying assumption that only white people are important enough to be treated in detail while most of the Black characters are poverty-stricken, lazy, useless and inarticulate. That’s bad enough.

But I think the main problem a young modern reader would have with this novel is the objectification of women. Boyd has Leafy itemise the appearance of all the women in his life (Hazel, Chloe and Priscilla Fanshawe, Celia Adekunle) in minute, unforgiving detail. The repeated references to Chloe Fanshawe’s huge bosoms is the stuff of traditional mother-in-law jokes but the description of her white blue-veined legs or ‘the large turquoise globes of her buttocks’ (p.223) less so. Leafy pays close attention to, and describes in detail, all women’s breasts.

In a sort of exception, the repeated descriptions of Leafy’s Black misters, skinny, brown Celia Adekunle, with a wattle of loose tummy skin from her two children and her appendectomy scar, this came over to me as surprisingly tender and accepting. But, stepping back a bit, even this is still part of the minute scrutiny of women’s bodies which, I think, would offend the modern woman reader.

Boyd’s prose style

Boyd’s prose is extremely smooth and effective, clear and sensible and expressive. I came to ‘A Good Man’ from reading several novels by Giles Foden who wields a complicated mosaic of registers and tones, whose prose is characterised by unwieldy sentences, odd phraseology, clunky positioning of prepositions, numerous quirks and oddities which draw continually draw attention to themselves.

Absolutely nothing like that with Boyd: his prose is clear, modern, flowing, albeit put in the service of describing a kind of comic psychopath. But you rarely if ever notice Boyd’s prose, just register the comic extremity of Leafy’s volcanic eruptions of rage and frustration, panic and horror. A Good Man in Africa is a well-constructed, clever and very, very funny book.


Credit

A Good Man in Africa by William Boyd was published by Hamish Hamilton in 1981. References are to the 1983 Penguin paperback edition.

Related links

A War of Choice: Honour, Hubris and Sacrifice: The British in Iraq by Jack Fairweather (2012)

This is an outstandingly thorough, factual and authoritative account of the British Army’s involvement in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, maybe the most comprehensive, detailed and balanced account available.

Jack Fairweather

Jack Fairweather covered the Iraq War as the Daily Telegraph‘s Baghdad and Gulf correspondent for five years. He and his team won a British Press Award for their coverage. He went on to be the Washington Post‘s Islamic World correspondent. By the time this book was published he had become a fellow at the Centre for Middle Eastern Studies.

It’s a solid work of 430 pages, consisting of 32 chapters with good maps, thorough notes, a list of key players, a useful bibliography, index and so on. Well done to the publishers, Vintage, for such a professional package.

However, something (obviously) beyond their control is that, having been published in 2012 means the narrative does not include the rise of ISIS and the chaos that ensued. Fairweather’s narrative is now over ten years out of date, a factor I’m coming to realise is vitally important when reading about this disastrous part of the world (Iraq-Iran-Afghanistan-Pakistan) and, in particular, putting the entire conflict in Afghanistan into context, given the swift collapse of the Afghan government and return to power of the Taliban in 2021.

Companion piece to Thomas Ricks’s Fiasco

Having read Fiasco, Thomas E. Ricks’s highly detailed accounts of the US decision making and planning leading up to the war, it’s fascinating to follow the same storyline from the British government point of view. For example, how the UK government made the same mistake of failing to consider or plan for the aftermath of the war, but for different reasons.

Tony Blair was the first British premier to be fully aware of modern media and how to use them. He and Alistair Campbell were all about focus groups, opinion polling and managing the news cycle and this is all short term thinking. Fixated as he and his team were on the media, they were obsessed that concrete proof the UK was planning for war shouldn’t leak out. Therefore Blair forbade the Department for International Development from officially commissioning post-invasion planning (the kind of thing it specialises in) in case someone leaked it (p.13). Similarly, Blair forbade the Army from placing orders for the kind of kit it would need for a large-scale deployment abroad (p.14). So Blair’s obsession with media management prevented him from properly, fully considering the post-conquest management of Iraq, from commissioning adequate plans for reconstruction, and from planning for the post-invasion policing by the British Army. Inexcusable.

Key points

Fairweather covers every detail, every aspect of the story, in calm, measured, authoritative chronological order. This really feels like the account to read.

1997 Tony Blair elected Prime Minister.

1998 Blair supports the Operation Desert Fox bombing campaign against Saddam. New Labour make  the first increase to the military budget after a decade of Tory cuts.

March 1999 Blair succeeds in pushing the US and NATO to intervene in Kosovo with a bombing campaign against Serbia (with mixed results; see Michael Ignatieff’s book on the subject).

April 1999 Blair makes his Chicago speech making the case for intervention/invasion of countries on a humanitarian basis if dictators are massacring their people.

The 9/11 attacks change everything. President George W. Bush immediately starts planning an attack on Al Qaeda in Afghanistan. In October 2001 US forces began their attack, supporting the Northern Alliance against the Taliban government. The Taliban overthrown by December 2001. George Bush phones Tony Blair to sound him out about attacking Saddam Hussein.

The long tortuous process whereby the US tries to bamboozle the UN Security Council into agreeing a resolution allowing the invasion, and the New Labour government began its campaign of lies and deception, resulting in the dodgy dossier of fake intelligence, cobbled-together scraps from a PhD thesis including the ludicrous claim that Saddam could launch ‘weapons of mass destruction’ in 45 minutes. It was indicative of the way New Labour were obsessed by media and presentation and paid little attention to substance.

20 March 2003 The ‘coalition’ invasion of Iraq began. During the build-up, a variety of figures in the military and civil service discovered there was no plan for what to do after the invasion. It was mainly the Americans’ fault, Bush only set up an Office for Post-War Iraq a few weeks before the invasion and ignored advice contained in documents like Tom Warrick’s ‘the Future of Iraq’ project (p.15). Reconstruction was handed to retired general Jay Garner who rang round his pals to ask if any of them knew how to rebuild a country. Planning was ‘shambolic’ (p.21).

In London, Attorney General Peter Goldsmith had to be cajoled into reluctantly agreeing that invasion was legal without a second, specific UN resolution stating as much. How much he must regret that now (p.19). Alastair Campbell bullied ministers into kowtowing to Blair’s determination to march alongside the Americans i.e. be Bush’s poodle (p.19). Claire Short, Secretary at the Department for International Development, let herself be persuaded not to quit, something she regretted ever after.

Haider Samad and Iraqi stories

It’s worth highlighting that unlike most other books I’ve read on the shambles, Fairweather goes out of his way to include the stories of actual Iraqis. The first we meet is a man named Haider Samad. We hear about his family background, his wish to marry, intertwined with the history of Shiite religion in the southern part of Iraq. Samad will volunteer to become an interpreter for the British Army with ruinous consequences for himself and his family and Fairweather will return to his story at various points during the narrative as a kind of indicator of the British occupation’s broken promises and failures.

Names

Another distinctive feature of the book is the extraordinary number of named individuals Fairweather introduces us to, on every page, and their extraordinary range. Chapter 3 opens with Major Chris Parker patrolling Basra six weeks after the successful invasion has overthrown Saddam, to his commanding officer, Brigadier Graham Binns, a Scots Dragoon Officer Captain James Fenmore, Lieutenant Colonel Nick Ashmore, paymaster Ian Jaggard-Hawkins, Lieutenant Colonel Gil Baldwin of the Queen’s Royal Dragoons, the army’s top lawyer in Iraq Lieutenant Colonel Nicholas Mercer, SAS commander Baghdad Richard Williams and hundreds and hundreds more.

On one level the book is a blizzard of individual names and stories of soldiers engaged in this or that aspect of the occupation, which is what makes his nine-page list of Dramatis personae at the end of the book invaluable.

Back to the narrative

Defence Minister Geoff Hoon made as light of the epidemic of looting which broke out in the aftermath of the invasion as Donald Rumsfeld did, claiming the looters were ‘redistributing wealth’, which was a good idea. Idiot (p.29).

The thing is, the British had invaded Basra before, back during the Great War when we were seeking to defeat the Ottoman Empire which had allied with Germany and Austria. Hence the Commonwealth War Cemetery which Sniper One Dan Mills discovered in al-Amarah and gave him a fully justified sense of ‘What are we doing back here a hundred years later’? Now, as then, after overthrowing the ruling elite, the British discovered there weren’t many capable native Iraqis to run anything, even to form a town council. Eventually, they picked on a Sunni tribal leader to run a majority Shia town, Basra, an error of judgement which, of course, immediately triggered widespread protests (p.31). Ignorance.

Fairweather details how, struggling with the number of detainees and ‘suspected terrorists’ they were being sent, British military police and soldiers came to abuse and intimidate the rapidly increasing number of ‘terrorist’ detainees, set up kangaroo courts and deliver summary justice (p.33). This led to the scandal surrounding Corporal Daniel Kenyon and colleagues who took photos of themselves abusing Iraqi prisoners at ‘Camp Breadbasket’, which leaked out, led to their arrests and trial and conviction (pages 46 to 48). The British version of the Abu Ghraib scandal. All the politicians’ claims about moral superiority of the West went up in smoke.

After less than 2 months flailing to run an office of reconstruction, Jay Garner was fired and replaced by L. Paul Bremer who was the ‘right kind’ of Republican i.e. a devout Christian and neo-conservative (p.40). He was put in charge of the newly created Coalition Provisional Authority. He was to prove a relentless, impatient workaholic who took catastrophic decisions and plunged Iraq into a civil war and vicious ethnic cleansing.

Fairweather chronicles the key role played by Douglas Feith (under secretary of Defense for Policy from July 2001 until August 2005) in persuading Bremer to completely disband the Iraqi army and remove everyone with high or mid-level membership of Saddam’s ruling Ba’ath Party from their jobs. At a stroke this threw half a million well-trained young men (the army) onto the dole queue and a hundred thousand people with managerial experience (Ba’ath) ditto. Bremer refused to listen to the argument that most Ba’ath Party members cared nothing about the party’s ideology, that being a member was simply a requirement of holding senior posts like hospital consultant or head of the power or water systems. Bremer didn’t listen. They were all fired. Chaos ensued.

From these angry men whose lives were ruined by L. Paul Bremer sprang the insurgency. Tim Cross, a British logistics expert who worked with Garner till he quit in disgust called American efforts ‘chaotic’ and a ‘shambles’ (p.41).

Britain contributed 40,000 troops to the initial invasion. By mid-summer 2003 half had returned to Blighty. General Sir Mike Jackson became head of the British Army.

September 2003 the BBC Today programme quoted an anonymous source claiming that New Labour officials ‘sexed up’ the ‘dodgy dossier’ which we went to war on, infuriating Alastair Campbell. The label was to stick to this day (p.50).

A section about the history of the Marsh Arabs, going back to the first occupation of Iraq by the British during and after the Great War. The exploits of Gertrude Bell, who crops up repeatedly in Emma Sky’s account of her time in Iraq (p.52). The Marsh Arabs’ history of independence and revolt against central authority. The disastrous way they were encouraged to rise up against Saddam by President George Bush who then failed to provide any support so that tens of thousands were slaughtered by Saddam’s forces. Then Saddam’s decade long project to drain the marshes altogether and destroy their way of life, which he had just about achieved by the time of the 2003 invasion.

Maysan was the only Iraqi province to liberate itself from Saddam’s security forces and had no intention of kowtowing to the foreign invaders. Into Maysan province, came the Third Battalion the Parachute Regiment, famous for their gung-ho approach. Fairweather quotes Patrick Bishop’s description of the paras from his book ‘3 Para’ (2007) which I’ve reviewed.

Angry protests against the occupying forces started straight away, with stones being thrown, and then the first shots being fired. It was Northern Ireland all over again, but without the half a dozen crucial elements which made Northern Ireland, in the end, manageable (itemised in Frank Ledwidge’s outstanding book on the subject). In Basra, unlike Ulster, there was a lack of clear government authority, and the lack of a reliable police force to work alongside, the lack of a shared culture and language, and the lack of enough men to do the job.

In a series of incidents which he described in great detail (‘From the rooftop Robinson shouted, “Remember lads, you’re fucking paratroopers”‘), Fairweather traces the quick degeneration of the ‘peacekeeping’ mission into a fight for survival against hostile crowds and growing numbers of highly motivated, highly armed local ‘insurgents’.

The soldiers of 1 Para were only faintly familiar with the region’s history and how it had bred a culture of suspicion of outsiders. (p.55)

Fairweather gives a detailed forensic account of the killing of six military police by an enraged crowd after they got trapped in the police station of Majar al-Kabir on 24 June (pages 55 to 63). Critics focused on the lack of equipment, specifically a satellite phone to call for help, and their insufficient ammunition. Having read Lewidge’s book, though, I understand how the soldiers had been put into a completely untenable position by the naive over-optimism of the politicians (Blair) and the failure of the army general staff either to stand up to the politicians (to say no) and then to provide adequate intelligence, adequate equipment but, above all, a clear strategy to deal with the worsening situation.

Fairweather describes the arrival of a new British civil servant, Miles Pennett, sent to work with the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) in Baghdad and the chaos he found there created by teeming hordes of graduates all fresh out of American universities and selected solely for their adherence to right-wing neo-conservative Republican values (p.69).

(In his book ‘Imperial Life in the Emerald City: Inside Baghdad’s Green Zone’ , American journalist Rajiv Chandrasekaran tells us candidates for the CPA were interviewed about their views on abortion or neo-liberal economics rather than any technical qualifications or experience whatsoever. This explains the CPA’s reputation for chaos and incompetence.)

While things fell apart in Iraq, Tony Blair flew to the States to receive a Congressional Gold Medal and make a grandstanding speech to the Congress. It shifted a complete change in the aims of the occupation. Gone was mention of the weapons of mass destruction which had so feverishly justified the invasion. Now, it turned out, the occupation was about bringing universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty to ‘the darkest corners of the earth’ (p.70).

In other words a) indistinguishable from Victorian rhetoric about civilising India or Africa which justified control and occupation; and b) bullshit, because i) quite a few ‘places’ don’t particularly want ‘democracy, human rights and liberty’, they want food and water so they don’t starve to death and, next above that, security: maintenance of law and order so it’s safe to walk the streets. That – basic security – comes a million miles before Western values and, in the event, the occupying forces in both Iraq and Afghanistan turned out to be unable to provide them.

And ii) because as explained at the start of this review, Western-style democracy was never an option for Iraq, with its complex and corrupt matrix of tribal, ethnic and religious allegiances; and never, ever a possibility in Afghanistan.

Pride comes before a fall. The day after Balir received his congressional medal the body of David Kelly, the weapons expert, was found in a wood. He had committed suicide. He had been the source for BBC journalist Andrew Gilligan’s story about the ‘sexed up’ dossier about WMDs the government used to deceive MPs into voting for the war. Hoon and Campbell had pressed for Kelly’s name to be leaked to the press in order to discredit him. It never actually was leaked but enough information was provided for the press to be able to identify him. Snared in a political mesh he could see no way out of without ruining his reputation, Kelly took his own life. Alastair Campbell was forced to resign. The New Labour government was snared in scandal (pages 70 to 73).

All this distracted from the worsening situation in Baghdad. Fairweather’s account is super-detailed. He gives precise names, careers, quotes for hundreds of the personnel deployed to the CPA in Baghdad and to run Basra Province. It was the usual cobbled-together, last minute list of candidates as had characterised the hurried creation of Jay Garner’s short-lived Office for Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance: a former director at a merchant bank was appointed finance minister, a public schoolmaster was appointed minister of education, an internet entrepreneur was made minister for trade and industry (p.67).

The advent of Sir Jeremy Greenstock, UK ambassador to the UN, now despatched to the court of Paul Bremer at the Coalition Provisional Authority and the difficulties he encountered, namely the Americans steamed ahead doing whatever they wanted to (dissolved the 500,000 strong Iraqi army, sacked 100,000 Ba’ath Party members from their jobs, delayed elections) and ignored him.

The Anglo-American relationship that Blair had gone to war to strengthen was coming under serious pressure. In fact it was increasingly difficult to find areas where British and American views matched. (p.79)

America’s disastrous early efforts to ‘train’ a new Iraqi police force, handed to Bernie Kerik, a former New York City police commissioner (p.79). Rumsfeld tries to reduce the budget required to train a new army. Fairweather strikingly calls Rumsfeld ‘a bully’ (p.80).

Typical neo con plans to privatise Iraq’s hundreds of state-own industries in one fell swoop, to be masterminded by former venture capitalist at Citicorp, Tom Foley (p.80). Chandrasekaran is very funny about the complete lunacy of this ideas and its ruinous impact on an economy already on its knees.

As a presidential election year approaches, the politicking in the US, Bush reshuffles his team.

Rumsfeld, whose grasp on the chaos he had created was tenuous, was removed (p.83)

Condoleeza Rice takes over. Arguments about the new Iraqi constitution, when it should be drawn up, who it should be drawn up by, whether or not it could form the legal basis for elections, when those elections should be held, what kind of form they take (Bremer preferred US-style electoral colleges rather than a simple poll).

By the end of 2003 Iraq fatigue had set in in London. Blair’s entire personality was built around can-do optimism and so found it difficult to cope with the relentless bad news from Iraq. And he’d lost Campbell, his key advisor and media manipulator.

By October 2003 the British administration in Basra accepted the fact that it was, in effect, an imperial occupation, and moved into Saddam’s palace. Fairweather shows us how it worked through the eyes of Sir Hilary Synnott, Regional Coordinator of the Coalition Provisional Authority in Southern Iraq from 2003 to 2004.

The problem of the UK Department for International development, populated by progressives who strongly opposed the war, and the occupation, were desperate to escape accusations of imperialism, but were entirely dependent on the military pacifying the place before they could do a stroke of ‘development’ work.

When development minister Hilary Benn and permanent undersecretary Suma Chakrabarti flew into Basra it was to discover the army commander, Major General Graeme Lamb, mired in controversy because some squaddies from the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment had just arrested seven Iraqis, took them back to base, hooded them, abused and beat and tortured them, till one of them, Baha Mousa, died (p.86). What was it Tony Blair was saying about bringing universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty to ‘the darkest corners of the earth’?

Meanwhile the other provinces of southern Iraq needed governing. Fairweather introduces us to the men selected for the job, being: Mark Etherington, former paratrooper; old Etonian Rory Stewart, whose account of his time in the role I’ve reviewed; old Etonian John Bourne; Emma Sky, former British Council worker, whose account I’ve also reviewed (p.89).

Fairweather makes the simple but penetrating point that a certain type of posh Englishman has always ‘loved’ and identified with the Arab way of life because it echoes the primitive hierarchy and independence (for tribal leaders) which used to exist in Britain, in medieval to early modern times. They instinctively identified with the feudal setup which reminded them of their own country estates and venerable lineages.

Anyway, these Brits were handed entire provinces to run, exactly as in the high days of empire when jolly good chaps ruled provinces the size of France or more. Their efforts were so amateurish it’s funny. Adrian Weale was handed the task of organising elections in Nasariyah. He had no idea how to do this so emailed his wife, a borough councillor in Kensington and Chelsea (of course), and asked her to send him guidelines for local elections in Britain, to be adapted for Iraq. Making it up as they went along.

None of this stopped Stewart, in Maysan, having problems with the self-styled ‘Prince of the Marshes’, Abu Hatem, while Etherington, 100 miles north, appointed governor of Wasit, whose northern border touched Baghdad, was beginning to have trouble from the followers of Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr and his devoted followers. In a telling sentence, Fairweather says: ‘Sadr was organising faster than the British’ (p.91). Sadr established his own parallel provisional government for Iraq and declared any government created by the British or Americans illegitimate (p.91).

In November Etherington attended a conference of US business donors in Baghdad and was astonished at how out of touch the CPA was. Even the US military was surprised at being kept out of the loop by Bremer and his secretive cabal of advisers.

Back in Amara Stewart was involved in a complicated sequence of events which led to rioters looting the office of the local governor, who had been inserted into the job by the egregious Abu Hatem. British troops found it hard to contain brick-throwing mobs. Stewart reflected that his Victorian forebears believed in their mission and were committed to the long-term development of their countries. Deep down Stewart knew that wasn’t true of Britain.

2004 uprisings

All the allies had growing misgivings about the growing power of Muqtada al-Sadr. In March 2004 Bremer took the publication of a series of articles lambasting the Coalition Provisional Authority in Sadr’s newspaper, Al-Hawzat as a pretext to shut it down. On 3 April US troops arrested the editor, sparking protests. On 4 April fighting broke out in Najaf, Sadr City and Basra. Sadr’s Mahdi Army took over several points and attacked coalition soldiers, killing dozens of foreign soldiers. This was the start of the Sadr Uprising in the south of Iraq.

What made the situation ten times worse was that on 31 March gunmen ambushed four American contractors outside Falluja to the west of Baghdad, beat them to death, burned their bodies and hung them from a bridge over the river Euphrates. Footage was beamed round the world. Bush was horrified and vowed revenge.

Suddenly the occupying forces were faced with a Sunni uprising in the so-called Sunni Triangle to the West of Baghdad, and a parallel but separate uprising by violent forces loyal to Sadr in every town in the south.

Fairweather details the experience of Mark Etherington in the Cimic compound at Kut as fierce fighting breaks out between the Shia militia and the Ukrainian UN troops. Here and in all the other towns of south Iraq, the UN and CPA compounds came under intense fire. The Americans’ actions against Sadr in Baghdad effectively plunged southern Iraq into war. Etherington knew all about the catastrophic defeat of a sizeable British Army at Kut by Ottoman troops during the First World War one hundred years earlier (p.109). Fairweather gives a brilliantly vivid and nail-biting description of Etherington and his staff abandoning the compound at Kut. The same kind of thing was happening at Nasariyah under its Italian governor, Barbara Contini.

Meanwhile, the President had ordered the US army to enter the town of Fallujah and find the people responsible for the murder of the civilian contracts. This ridiculously impossible task of course led to all out war 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 a George Bush speech which epitomises one of the American’s conceptual stupidities, where Bush says: ‘the American people want to know that we’re going after the bad guys’ (p.111). These 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 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 where there’s a wide variety of bad actors and it becomes impossible to figure out who the ‘good’ ones are, if any.

Obviously, 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 American soldiers were killed and over 600 Iraqi civilians. Huge parts of a major city were devastated. Inevitably, the supposed murderers of the contractors were never found.

Apart from the obvious security issues, it caused a political issue because the entire Sunni membership of the provisional Iraqi government which Bremer was trying to cobble together threatened to quit, and could only be made to support coalition forces with an extreme of arm-twisting and promises of money and influence.

Meanwhile, in the south of Iraq, US forces retook the CPA compounds in Kut, Amarah and Nasariyah, but the British consuls who returned to their posts had abandoned all thoughts of reconstruction and development. Not getting killed became their number one priority (p.113).

Bremer was strongly critical of the British failure to secure the south, exacerbated by negative coverage of the American butchery in Fallujah in the British press, plunging American-British relations to a new low and this led to a significant outcome. Bremer banned British representatives from the ongoing discussions with local politicians about the forthcoming constitution and elections.

Britain’s effective involvement in shaping Iraq’s political future was over. (p.114)

In late April the photos of American abuse of Iraqi prisoners at the notorious prison at Abu Ghraib to the west of Baghdad emerged. I’ve described it elsewhere. Bringing ‘universal values of democracy, human rights and liberty’ eh?

For a spell Fairweather’s text overlaps the narrative of Sergeant Dan Mills, sniper with the Princess of Wales’s Royal Regiment, in his bestselling book, Sniper One. Mills describes how, on the very first patrol on the very first morning of the very first day of their deployment, Danny and his patrol parked up outside the local headquarters of Sadr’s Mahdi Army or Jaish al-Mahdi as it was properly called, JAM as the Brits called it. Mills’s patrol did this in complete and utter ignorance of the local geography, town layout, and local sense of bitter resentment of the infidel occupiers.

The JAM attacked, using machine guns, rocket propelled grenades and mortars, and Danny and his mates found themselves in the middle of a series of intense firefights and attacks which continued on a daily basis until their eventual withdrawal from the Amarah government compound four months later.

The Americans had now surrounded al-Sadr who was holed up in the Imam Ali Shrine in the holy city of Najaf where their attempts to break in had damaged some parts of the shrine. Shia anger was off the scale. Danny and his mates and all UK forces across the south of the country had to deal with the consequences. Fairweather gives a series of absolutely gripping, vivid, terrifying eye witness accounts of the running battles and firefights which followed.

The Prince of the Marshes, Abu Hatem, threw in his lot with the Sadrists. When the Brits made a raid to capture insurgents and took prisoners back to their prison, the detainees were subject to abuse and heard screams and torture sounds from other cells. When eventually released these stories helped recruit more insurgents and incentivise existing ones into a life or death struggle against the invader. Public relations catastrophe (p.123).

Escape to Afghanistan

In January 2004 the Hutton Inquiry into David Kelly’s death acquitted the government of blame and BBC Director General Greg Dyke resigned, but much of the media accused the report of being a whitewash. Fairweather quotes cabinet colleagues who noticed the impact the strain was having on Blair’s face. Hs hair started to turn grey.

In June 2004 a NATO conference decided the US-led mission had languished because of the focus on Iraq and volunteered NATO forces to take a more active role in Afghanistan. Why? Use it or lose it. NATO had big budgets from member countries who periodically wondered why they were spending so much. This would give the organisation the sense of purpose it needed.

In London Blair and his team saw it as an opportunity to regain the initiative. In Iraq we were not only visibly losing but being sidelined in every way imaginable by the Yanks. Deployment to Afghanistan offered the British Army a chance to redeem its damaged reputation and Tony Blair a way of restoring his reputation as an international statesman.

In fact the Americans had specifically asked the Brits to relocate NATO’s Allied Rapid Reaction Corps to the south of Iraq. It was crunch time. Fairweather describes the nitty gritty of discussions, with pros and cons on both sides. But the Brits decided to cut and run. Iraq was a swamp where the Americans disrespected us. Afghanistan offered a second chance. But could we fight a war on two fronts? The decisive view was given by director of operations at the Ministry of Defence, Lieutenant General Robert Fry. He argued that troop deployments to Afghanistan would be ramped up as troops in Iraq were drawn down. This was ratified by Chief of the Defence Staff Michael Walker. They’re the men to blame.

Fairweather gives a detailed analysis of the politics around successive Defence Reviews, with the Treasury constantly trying to cut the military budget and the top brass looking for any arguments to increase it. This in turn was meshed with the bitter rivalry between Blair the international grandstander and Gordon Brown, morosely hunkered down as Chancellor of the Exchequer. So another reason for the Afghan Adventure was entirely due to Whitehall politicis, in that the deployment forced a reluctant Treasury to release more money to the Ministry of Defence.

Chapter 13

Cut to a fascinating chapter about dismal attempts to train a new Iraqi police force, told through the eyes of Brit trainer William Kearney, 12 years in the Special Branch and now manager of ArmorGroup security, one of the many contractors who worked in Iraq. Compare and contrast with the American approach which was to flood the streets with poorly trained ‘police’ provided with uniforms, guns and ammunition which they quite regularly sold onto the insurgents.

We meet up again with Iraqi Haider Samad who is working for the Brits in Basra as an interpreter and the time he was beaten to the ground by four strangers who tell him next time they’ll kill him if he carries on working for the infidel. Haider’s experience is a peg to introduce the wider issue that many, many of the new ‘police’ being recruited at such speed in order to make Western politicians happy, were themselves members of the Shia militias.

Chapter 14

Introduction to the leader of Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra, Ahmed al-Fartosi, and his aim to utterly destroy the British occupation. He was convinced the Brits wanted to extend their occupation forever because their real aim was to steal Iraq’s oil. He had spent some time in exile in Lebanon and so on return to Basra reorganised the militia along the lines of the Iranian-backed Hezbollah. That said, Fartosi was no fan of the Iranians who had fought Iraqis in a bitter eight-year-long war. Half a million Iraqis died in that war and Iran came close to capturing Basra.

Another one of Fairweather’s gripping descriptions of a firefight which broke out on 9 August in Basra between British forces and the Shia militia led by Fartosi who ambushed a patrol forcing them to take refuge in nearby houses and call for backup etc.

Amara Fairweather cuts to the similar situation in Amara where sniper Mills and his buddies were included in the 150 or so coalition troops defending the Cimic House compound from daily attacks and hourly mortar bombs. After a particular intense firefight all the Iraqi cooks and ancillary staff leave, taking as much loot with them as they could carry. Fairweather then gives his version of the siege of Cimic House, the intense battle which forms the centrepiece of Mill’s book, Sniper One (pages 155 to 158).

Soon afterwards al-Sadr caved to majority Shia opinion and called off his insurgency. The far more influential cleric Grand Ayatollah Sistani had returned to the country, gone to Najaf and seen the damage to the shrine which he, and moderate Shia opinion, blamed on Sadr. Hence his climbdown.

Fairweather switches from his intense description of combat right up to the highest level of politics and the scheming by Iraqi exile Ayad Allawi to curry favour with the Americans and get himself appointed new president of Iraq. All the accounts I’ve read describe Allawi as a plausible swindler who promised Bush and Rumsfeld whatever they wanted to hear, thus materially aiding the misconceptions and lack of planning on which the invasion was launched.

Fairweather drolly explains that this plausible chancer was put on the payroll of MI6 and ‘supplied the British government with some of the most flagrantly misleading intelligence before the war, namely the completely bogus claim that Saddam could launch weapons of mass destruction in 45 minutes (p.131). This crook had Bush and Blair’s enthusiastic personal support.

In November the Americans launched the Second Battle of Fallujah with a view to exterminating Sunni insurgents and establishing the rule of law. The battle saw some of the heaviest urban combat the American army had been involved in since the ill-fated Battle of Hue City in Vietnam in 1968. 95 American and 4 British soldiers were killed, along with up to 2,000 ‘insurgents’. Over a fifth of the city was destroyed.

2005 election A general election for the interim Iraqi parliament was held on 30 January 2005. Sunni Muslims, despite being a minority in Iraq (64% Shia, 34% Sunni, 2% Christian and other) had historically held power. Saddam and his clique were Sunnis. Now, in protest against the battle of Fallujah and the perceived bias of the occupying force towards Shias, large numbers of Sunnis boycotted the elections. This was self-defeating as it gave sweeping victory to Shia parties backed by Grand Ayatollah Sistani. Allawi’s parties polled just 14%.

Both Americans and Brits now had to deal with an ‘elected’ Iraqi government dominated by Shias who, far from being grateful to their liberators, were deeply suspicious and resentful of them.

Chapter 16

Fairweather switches focus to a new location, the south of Afghanistan, giving us a potted history of Britain’s ill-fated military adventures here during the nineteenth century, notably the swingeing defeat at the Battle of Maiwand, 27 July 1880, heaviest defeat of a Western power by an Asian power until the prolonged Ottoman siege and massacre of the British at Kut in southern Iraq in the winter of 1915/16

Cut to 2004 as the British Army staff begin to plan a deployment to Afghanistan. Now that elections had taken place, British planners and politicians looked for a way to extract the army from Iraq. The task fell to Major general Jonathon Riley who adopted the formula of the Americans: as the Iraqi police force ‘stepped up’, the British forces would ‘step down’. Sounded good but conveniently ignored the fact that the so-called ‘police’ were very poor quality, corrupt if you were lucky, at worst – during many of the clashes of the Sadr Uprising – joining the insurgents in shooting at British troops. When the police were objective and reasonably independent, they were themselves liable to attack. In the first half of 2005 350 police officers were killed in attacks on police stations and recruiting centres.

We remeet the Brits handed the challenging job of training Iraqi police, namely William Kearney and Charlie MacCartney, police mentor of the Jamiat; SIS station chief Kevin Landers. Fairweather details the process whereby all these guys come to realise that the head of the Serious Crimes Unit (SCU) Captain Jaffar, was deeply in league with the insurgents. In fact the SCU was to become a growing bugbear in the Brits’ side, and establish itself as a centre of criminality and extortion against the civilian population.

Elections are all very well but the January 2005 ones put Sadr party members into Basra’s provincial council and into the governor’s seat. But the Brits didn’t want to stir up a hornet’s nest. They were now planning to withdraw all but 1,000 British troops from Iraq by end of 2005, with a view to redeploying them to Afghanistan at the start of 2006.

How did the Brits get deployed to Helmand, right next to the historic battlefield of Maiwand, home of the fiercest, most invader-resistant traditions in all Afghanistan? Well, remember the whole thing was a NATO operation. The Canadians had lobbied hard to have overall control of the deployment to south Afghanistan and called first dibs on the biggest town, Kandahar. Considering the alternatives, the Brits learned that Helmand Province had now become the biggest single source of heroin, which would please the army’s civilian master, Tony Blair. And it was also the historical homeland of the Taliban, so combatting them would also give political brownie points to Blair, keen to rehabilitate his ailing reputation.

Chapter 17

At this point Fairweather cuts away to catch up on the career of interpreter Haider who was now working for a private security firm. His boss was William Kearney who we’ve seen trying to train the Iraqi police. Haider has saved up enough money to propose to his childhood sweetheart, Nora, whose family previously banned the match due to his lack of money.

Chapter 18

Reg Keys’s son, Tom, was one of the six military policemen murdered by the mob at Majar al-Kabir police station in June 2003. Fairweather devotes some time to chronicling Keys’s campaign to get to the bottom of his son’s death but his increasing frustration with MoD prevarication. The army board of enquiry published its findings nine months later. The families of the dead were not invited to contribute or to attend. They asked for advance copies on the eve of publication but were refused. They were given just an hour to read the 90-page report ahead of a meeting with Defence Secretary Geoff Hoons. Despicable.

Arguably the limited and obviously parti pris ‘enquiries’ into the launching of the war, the David Kelly affair and the red caps’ deaths went a long way to discrediting the entire idea of a government enquiry.

The angered parents set up a support group, Military Families Against the War (p.253). But they went further and funded Keys to stand in Tony Blair’s constituency of Sedgemoor in the 2005 general election. Fairweather gives a characteristically thorough and fascinating description of how what started as a jokey suggestion over a coffee was turned into a serious political reality, giving us lots of information about the working of modern British political parties and the media.

Just before the election Channel 4 News leaked a March 2003 memo from Attorney General Peter Goldsmith giving his opinion that he didn’t think the case for war would stand up in a court of law. Only days later a soldier in Amarah was hit by a roadside bomb and killed. The war wouldn’t leave Tony Bair alone. You broke it; you own it.

In the general election Blair’s share of the vote went from 65 to 59% and Reg won 10%. Labour’s majority in the House of Commons was cut from 200 to 66 MPs. So not a defeat. In fact pollsters considered the Iraq war a minor issue. The economy was booming and lots of people didn’t care all that much (as, arguably, most sensible people don’t care about any form of politics).

(Page 197 quote from Ibn Saud, future king of Saudi Arabia, on the irredeemably rebellious nature of the Iraqi tribes who can only be governed by ‘strong measures and military force’.)

Chapter 19. Iran

Rocky relations between the Brits in Amarah tasked with patrolling the porous border with Iran, just 50k away, and the newly elected governor, Adel Muhoder al-Maliki. More descriptions of firefights and attacks the latest troop of British soldiers come under within minutes of leaving the heavily defended Amarah air base. The point is that the incredibly brave bomb disposal officer, Captain Simon Bratcher, not only neutralised a clutch of roadside bombs but provided the first evidence that they were being supplied by Iran.

The Shia government It’s all very well organising ‘free and fair elections’ until they end up voting in people you strongly disapprove of. Two months after the January 2005 elections, Ibrahim Jaafari, the leader of Dawa, one of the two main Shia parties, was announced as the next Iraqi Prime Minister. The Interior Ministry was handed to Bayan Jabr, a former commander of a Badr Brigade i.e. one of the main Shia militias. These men continued to further Iran’s influence at every level of the Iraqi administration. The Interior Ministry was said to have set up death squads to kidnap, torture and execute former Ba’ath Party members and Sunni leaders.

Jack Straw learns of an American plan to set up death squads to ‘take out’ leading Iranian agents working in Iraq militia leaders, but vetoes it (p.. (Did they go ahead anyway?) Straw’s objections were about not upsetting the Iranians at a difficult time of negotiations with the West about Iran’s nuclear power programme. But it’s one example among hundreds of how Iraqi politics became steadily more entangled with Iranian.

Fairweather makes an interesting point. Iranian policy in Iraq often seemed contradictory – at the same time supporting the Shia-led government but also backing anti-government militias. But why shouldn’t Iran be like Western countries, with conflicting parties and factions jostling for power and implementing different, sometimes conflicting strategies? Also: why not make it a conscious strategy to back different parties and factions while it was unclear who would win (p.204). In the end, of course, Iran won.

Chapter 20. Jamiat

This was the name of the police station in Basra which had become the focal point of corruption, extortion, kidnapping, torture and militia influence. Major Rupert Jones of the newly arrived 12 Mechanised Brigade decided to do something about it and asked for a list of possibly corrupt policemen. It became an uncomfortably long list. The Brits asked for them to be removed. Nothing happened. Then they asked for Fartosi to be arrested but learned that Fartosi had been put on a ‘no lift’ list because the prime Minister didn’t want to antagonise the Sadrists on whose support his government rested.

Kidnap of two SAS officers

Then three British soldiers were killed by roadside bombs and Brigadier John Lorimer, the eighth brigade commander in Basra in two years, decided to act. On 17 September an SAS detachment infiltrated Fartosi’s home and arrested him. Two days later two SAS officers on patrol were kidnapped. Fairweather describes in detail the complex standoff which then followed as several sets of British officials ascertained that the two soldiers had been taken to the notorious Jamiat police station. When British officials went to the station they were themselves promptly arrested and detained. Negotiations involved an Iraqi judge, and an increasing battery of coalition lawyers and officers. The negotiators were themselves hustled at gunpoint to the cells where the two soldiers were being kept, as fighting broke out at the front of the police station, with Iraqi police officers who the British had spent time and money training now opening fire on British forces. British relief forces were surrounded by angry crowds throwing bricks and a succession of Warrior vehicles were set on fire.

Sergeant Long escaping from his Warrior armoured vehicle after a petrol bomb was thrown down the gun turret (source: Reuters)

Eventually the SAS men and the other Brit hostages were rescued by an attack by SAS men who were brought all the way from the regiment’s HQ at Herefordshire to help them. The political fallout was threefold. 1) Pictures of George Long on fire escaping from his Warrior tank covered the front pages of British newspapers alongside articles claiming the British softly-softly police in Basra was a shambles. 2) More specifically, it revealed that the entire concept of training the Iraqi police force which politicians from Blair downwards had put such emphasis on, was in fact a sham. 3) The Shia governor, Muhammed al-Waeli, forced to take sides, came down on the side of his Shia constituency, accused the Brits of terrorism, led a tour of the now devastated police station, and declared he would never have anything to do with the Brits again.

Fairweather is outstanding at giving detailed forensic accounts of this kind of event (compare his description of the murder of the military police at Majar al-Kabir).

Chapter 21. Helmand

7/7 suicide bombers

On 7 July 2005 four British Muslims carrying backpacks full of explosives detonated them on London Underground trains and a bus. These were the first suicide bombs on British soil. They killed 52 and injured over 700. In a pre-recorded video one of the bombers described his motivation as revenge for all the innocent Muslims the British Army was killing in Iraq and Afghanistan. So much for our invasions of Iraq and Afghanistan making Britain safer. The exact opposite.

But when news came out that the men had been trained at terrorist training camps on the Pakistan-Afghan border, government spin doctors turned it into a justification for deploying British troops to Afghanistan.

In September 2005 Lieutenant General Rob Fry, the individual most responsible for the plan to deploy to Helmand, presented John Reid with the MoD’s plans to deploy 3,150 troops, mostly drawn from the Parachute Regiment. British forces would take over an American base named Camp Bastion in the desert north-west of the province’s capital, Lashkar Gah. He promised that Taliban fighters crossing from Pakistan would be easy to identify and eliminate. ‘The senior SIS men in the room rolled their eyes’ (p.225). Brigadier Ed Butler was chosen to command the force.

Fairweather shows the gulf between the top of the army (Fry and Chief of the General Staff Sir Mike Jackson) who assured sceptical politicians that it could be managed as long as the Brits withdrew their forces from southern Iraq at the same speed that they deployed them to Helmand – and many of the officers on the ground who thought it was madness. Defence Secretary John Reid was sceptical. ‘Won’t British troops be isolated and exposed?’ he asked (p.225). Fry assured him not. Reid was right. Fry was way wrong.

Split command

Right from the start it was ballsed up. The British formed part of a NATO force commanded by the Canadians. Because the Canadian force was being commanded by a brigadier, army etiquette demanded that Butler step aside to allow a more junior officer to command his men, and so Colonel Charlie Knaggs became commander of the British deployment. This meant Butler would have to oversee operations from Kabul. Then he 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.

Crucially, Butler would only have four Chinook helicopters at his disposal, barely enough to support one offensive mission a month and, it would prove, not nearly enough to extract British soldiers from the umpteen dangerous contact situations they were going to get into.

After the Jamiat police station siege, senior officers considered advising against the deployment, realising that the situation in south Iraq was far worse than previously understood, and would entail a much slower withdrawal than planned but they never made their opposition clear enough.

Sher Mohammed Akhundzada

Before the troops arrived the Brits made another mistake. UK ambassador to Kabul, Rosalind Marsden, persuaded president Hamid Karzai, to remove the province’s long-time governor, Sher Mohammed Akhundzada. He was notorious for rape, murder and involvement in the drugs trade, so getting rid of him played to press releases about Tony Blair’s counter narcotics policy. Unfortunately, Muhammed may have been a criminal but he was the only person with the contacts and authority to keep a lid on the province. Later, he cheerfully told British officers that, removed from his position of influence and no longer able to pay them, he let his 3,000-strong fighting force defect en masse to the Taliban. At a stroke the Brits made violent conflict inevitable and created a huge opposition force. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. That motto should be carved on Tony Blair’s tombstone.

Fairweather describes the efforts of the chief planner Gordon Messenger and development experts to assess the province, their dismay at the illiteracy and corruption of the Afghan administrators and police they met, and their equal dismay at the ignorance about Helmand displayed by British politicians and army staff. The politicians had assigned the army a three-year deployment. Development expert Minna Jarvenpaa said it would take ten years, probably longer, to begin to develop such a place (p.233). Politicians didn’t want to hear. No-one listened.

Details of the deployment were announced in January 2006, just in time for a conference of Afghan donors’ which Tony Blair was chairing. John Reid declared we were going to spend three years in the south of Afghanistan, bringing peace and security and helping the locals reconstruct their country. None of this was to happen.

Gil Baldwin, head of the Post Conflict Reconstruction Unit resigned in disgust, saying it beggared belief that Britain was preparing to go into Afghanistan even worse prepared then it had been for Iraq (p.234).

Chapter 22

Introduces us to the first soldiers to deploy to Afghanistan including Will Pike and Harvey Pynn of the Third Parachute regiment, 3 Para. This part of the narrative exactly matches the account of 3 Para’s time in Helmand (April to October 2006) given by Patrick Bishop in his rip-roaring soldier’s eye view of endless firefights in ‘3 Para’.

Fairweather repeats the surprising fact that, of the 3,500 British troops being deployed, all but 600 were support staff, engineers, cooks, drivers, quartermasters, ammunition handlers and so on. Governor Daoud wanted the Brits to deploy to protect towns in the north of the province from the Taliban. Butler was reluctant but agreed to support local Afghan army units. Development consultant Minna Jarvenpaa knew the tribal situation around Sangin was complicated with the town divided between two tribes, and both involved in rival drug operations.

In May 2006 Daoud sent the British commander, Charlie Knaggs, a desperate message that the district centre in the town of Naw Zad was being attacked by Taliban forces. A force of Paras is despatched, who were later replaced by Gurkhas. Soon Daoud was asking British troops to protect other towns and the Americans asked them to bolster the small force protecting the important Kajaki Dam. Step by step the Brits were forced into abandoning the initial plan of securing a relatively small area bounded by Camp Bastion, Geresh and Lashkar Gah in the south, and instead found their forces scattered thinly across half a dozen outposts which came under increasingly fierce attack.

Far from being a gentle peacekeeping and reconstruction exercise, the deployment was turning into a full scale war against the Taliban. Fairweather is brilliant at conveying the complex political cross-currents which led to the decisions, and the shambolic last-minute way they were carried out.

Will Pike led the deployment to the northern outpost of Sangin. As the Paras set about fortifying the district centre a delegation of town elders came and asked them to leave. They knew the Taliban would attack. They knew it would develop into a siege of attrition. They knew their town would be badly damaged. They were right on all three counts, but Pike had to turn them down. So much for listening to the locals, democracy etc. Instead of peace, the Brits brought war and destruction wherever they went.

Days later the Sangin district centre was hit, 3 killed 3 badly injured. If Butler had been in Camp Bastion maybe he’d have changed his mind but he was in Kabul where his job had evolved into trying to manage Governor Daoud and his master, Afghan president Karzai. So he overruled his junior officers’ concerns and the troops remained in Sangin in what developed into a relentless, daily barrage from the surrounding Taliban.

Already it was clear the critics had been right: a) the deployment to Afghanistan was too small; b) it had truckled to political pressure and spread its forces too thinly; c) it wasn’t going to be a peacekeeping deployment but a full-on conflict.

Chapter 23. Counterinsurgency in Iraq

Fairweather’s account of the revolution in military doctrine brought about by General David Petraeus who tries to re-orient the US Army approach from a ‘capture and kill the bad guys’ approach to a more imaginative deployment of counterinsurgency doctrine. The Americans referred to the British Army’s experience in the Malaya ’emergency’ i.e. how it handled an insurgency by revolutionary communist guerrillas. The main thing is to shift the goal from capturing or killing insurgents to winning over the general population by ensuring security. This shift in thinking is the central theme of Thomas E Ricks’s two books, Fiasco and The Gamble.

I believed all this until I read Frank Ledwidge’s devastating book, Losing Small Wars. There he points out two fundamental factors which the counterinsurgency proponents didn’t take into account. In Malaya, as later in Northern Ireland, a) there was one government whose fundamental legitimacy the majority of the population didn’t question; and there was b) an effective, impartial, well trained police force. Neither of these factors was present in Iraq or Afghanistan. On the contrary the ‘governments’ of both countries were deeply contested by large parts of the population, were widely seen as corrupt and parti pris; and the police forces in both countries were bywords for corruption and backsliding i.e. running away or turning their guns on their supposed Western allies whenever it came to a fight.

As the redeployment to Helmand began to be thought through, officers in Basra came under pressure to speed up the process of handing over responsibility to the Iraqi police and army. Only problem being, they were often corrupt and ineffective. Didn’t matter:

The army leadership was preparing to dispense with its commitment to create a competent Iraqi security force in the name of political expediency. (p.251)

Security in Basra was collapsing. The News of the World published a video of British soldiers beating detainees which triggered 48 rocket and mortars fired at the Abu Naji camp. Sectarian strife increased. A Sunni cleric was killed and new corpses turned up every day.

In January 2006 a further round of elections were held. Now, after weeks of horse trading, following the elections, Shia politician Nouri al-Maliki was finally appointed Prime Minister. He hated the British. British forces had arrested his grandfather in a 1920 Shia uprising. He saw the British presence as a continuation of its old imperial ambitions. On his first visit to Basra he told the British authorities he didn’t want to meet them.

Fairweather gives an illuminating account of the Ministry of Defence and army’s notorious problems with commissioning the right kit and equipment. While the army spent hundreds of millions on hi-tech, computerised gewgaws to fight the next world war, it neglected basic transport vehicles solid enough to resist improvised explosive devices.

Six month rotations ensured that just as each set of officers and men was coming to know the people and the job, it was rotated back to the UK and a completely new set came in. These were often led by a commanding officer determined to ignore everything his predecessor had done and implement his own pet theories. This was a recipe for inconsistency and incoherence. Fairweather cites the replacement of the bullish General Shireff with the scholarly General Jonathan Shaw in January 2007 (p.302).

He has an upsetting passage about post-traumatic stress disorder and the inadequate care the army takes of its psychiatrically damaged veterans. American studies suggest that 15% of veterans will suffer PTSD (p.256). The poor care for the physically wounded veterans at the Selly Oak hospital in Birmingham caused a scandal in the media (p.281). The scandal was to lead to the establishment of the extremely successful Help for Heroes charity (note, p.393).

The entire policy of withdrawing from south Iraq in order to redeploy to Afghanistan was thrown into doubt when the Brits handed over the main base in Muthanna province to the local security services then, a few days later, a crowd of several hundred assembled and stormed the base, the Iraqi security forces melting away as they were wont to do, whereupon the mob stripped the base of all the expensive equipment, looting all the arms and equipment the Americans had stocked it with. Farce (p.270).

In August British forces handed over Camp Abu Naji outside Amarah to local security forces. Within an hour word had spread, a few hours later a mob had assembled, and a few hours after that the crowd entered the base and comprehensively sacked and looted it. After spending £80 million trying to reconstruct the province the British were leaving it in the worst possible state. A ‘debacle’ and ‘fiasco’, the loss of Abu Naji brought the British army’s reputation among the Americans to a new low.

6 September 2006

The dreadful day when four Paras defending the Kajaki Dam in Helmand got caught in a minefield, one fatality, three terrible injuries and the heroism of Chinook pilot Mark Hammond who flew sorties not only to the dam, but to Sangin and Musa Qaleh, too (p.275). In fact it was only a week later that the elders of Musa Qaleh came to Butler and brokered a ceasefire deal between him and the Taliban. Both sides would withdraw and fighting would cease. An eerie quiet descended over the battletorn town which had been badly damaged during 6 months of fighting. The British talked about reconstruction but brought only destruction.

Meanwhile in Basra new commander, Genera Richard Shireff proposed a bold new plan of increasing his force and embarking on a policy of clearing the city neighbourhood by neighbourhood of the JAM, handing it over to Iraqi police to hold and then civilian experts to deliver high impact development projects. Of course none of this ever happened. He could never get enough British troops and the Iraqi police were useless. After some civilian contractors were killed Margaret Beckett ordered the entire DFID contingent to leave Basra Palace base and be evacuated to Kuwait.

Back to the story of Haider the interpreter. He has married his sweetheart, Nora, and had a baby. Now he is thunderstruck to be told by his sympathetic boss, William Kearney, that the security firm is pulling out of Basra. Haider is going to lose his job and become more exposed to the JAM thugs who want to kill him for working with the infidel.

Chapter 28 The Surge, 2007

General Petraeus and retired general Jack Keane lobbied and persuaded president Bush not to quit and withdraw from a ruined Iraq but to take a gamble and increase troop numbers, by 30,000, the famous ‘surge’. General Casey was replaced by Petraeus as commander in chief.

The so-called Surge coincided with the so-called Sunni Awakening which was when Sunni tribes finally sickened of being threatened and dominated by al Qaeda militias. Delicate negotiations persuaded many Sunni tribes to accept American money and support to take on the terrorist group.

Baghdad had now become the epicentre of the civil war between Sunni and Shia, with mass ethnic cleansing, 200 deaths a week, and concrete walls separating ethnic neighbourhoods. Fairweather mentions the role of British civilian and pacifist Emma Sky as an unlikely adviser to hulking American general Ray Ordieno (pages 292 to 296).

Detailed description of the negotiations initiated by British General Graeme Lamb and James Simonds to convert Sunni militia leader Abu Azzam over to the Coalition side, with a mixture of flattery, promises of jobs and money for his 1,000-strong militia. The central achievement of Emma Sky in making friends with a female member of Maliki’s cabinet, Basima al-Jadiri and from then onwards keeping lines of communication open between the coalition commander and stroppy Maliki (p.298).

The Brits had been working through the latter half of 2006 towards finally withdrawing from Basra, deceiving themselves about the readiness of the Iraqi security forces to take over, or that Shireff’s policy of clearing neighbourhoods was working. But just as the withdrawal began to be implemented the Americans were embarking on the exact opposite policy, bringing in more troops as part of their Surge. In this context British policy looked more than ever like running away.

The British were under pressure to look tough and so undertook daring missions, including seizing Jaish al-Mahdi leaders. At the same time they sought interlocutors to negotiate a peace with. Most important was to be the leader of Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra, Ahmed al-Fartosi, who they had arrested and imprisoned three years before, and whose arrest led to the reprisal kidnapping of the two SAS men.

The British made him a simple offer: call off militia attacks and in return the British would cease patrolling the city and release his imprisoned cadres on cohorts. The clincher was telling Fartosi he had to take the deal in order to get his men freed and enrolled in the security services before Iranian agents and politicians took over. Fartosi was Shia, fanatical Shia, he had taken money and arms from Iran – but drew the line at letting Iran take over his patch.

These are the kinds of subtleties or complexities created by ethnic, religious, tribal, warlord and gangland allegiances which the coalition failed to get to terms with. Emma Sky is described trying to persuade Ray Ordieno that he needed to stop lumping all opposition groups as al Qaeda or Ba’athists or ‘insurgents’ and learn to distinguish between them. Only then could the coalition figure out what they wanted and even start to find negotiated, political solutions to the chaos.

June 2007

Gordon Brown became Prime Minister after Tony Blair stepped down as Labour Party leader. According to Fairweather everyone in Whitehall and the military knew that Brown regarded Iraq as Blair’s folly and had no interest in throwing good money after bad. He wanted all British troops withdrawn as soon as reasonably possible. As always, politics. When the army staff told Brown cutting and running would infuriate the Americans Brown said ‘good’. In Britain, and further afield (in the European countries which were always against the war) it would draw a stark line between Brown and his predecessor, and win him kudos for standing up to the Yanks. Army planners at the British military command centre in Northwood drew up five withdrawal scenarios. Brown unhesitatingly chose the quickest (p.315).

Some top brass thought a rapid withdrawal would make the British public question the sacrifice made so far. But in the three months during which Blair had extended the British occupation to mollify the Americans, 11 more British soldiers had been killed. The opposite line was that the British had fought shoulder to shoulder with the Americans for four bloody years and enough was enough.

The Brits released Fartosi’s deputy, other detainees and complied with their side of the bargain to halt all patrols in Basra. However violent attacks continued, with relentless bombarding of the British HQ in Basra Palace. American command in Baghdad gave the British senior officers who came to explain their withdrawal timetable short shrift. As the Brits claimed that Basra’s police force was ready to enforce security, American officers laughed.

In August 2007 the deal with Fartosi began and he was given a small office in the the base prison complete with phone and fax machine. From here he organised a complete ceasefire and an uneasy calm fell over Basra. On 3 September the British commander handed over security governance to the Iraqi government general assigned the job, and 600 soldiers left Basra Palace in a convoy of Warriors, armoured cars, lorries piled high with office furniture. They drove the ten miles to Basra airport. The idea is a residual force would stay there for up to a year to continue to train Iraqi army and police force. The JAM militia held wild celebrations at the ‘liberation’ of their city.

Story of Haider the interpreter, continued

Since the start of the year a number of interpreters had been executed by the militias. Terrifying story of him attending his brother-in-law’s wedding procession of twenty or so cars when it was intercepted by trucks with no plates, armed men leapt out, ran across to the car which contained Haider and his wife but grabbed Nora’s cousin by mistake, hauled him out of the car, threw him in the trucks, and roared off while the women screamed and wept. Next day the cousin’s corpse is found with a scrap of paper telling Haider to ring a mobile phone number. Haider’s wife’s uncle, Ali, arranges for him to flee to Iran with a fake passport and a little money. Then the militiamen kidnap Ali and call Haider, saying he must return or Ali will be murdered.

Haider makes a plan, to return to Basra, collect his family and go to the British base. Gordon Brown had announced a fast track visa process for Iraqi interpreters. He takes a minivan cab and collects his wife, mother, sister and three brothers but when they get to the British base, security won’t let them through.

Anyway, it turns into a real odyssey. They walk to a gas station where an old geezer has a taxi. Haider tells them they’re refugees and the old guy takes them home and lets them sleep in his apartment. But next morning he starts getting suspicious. Haider’s contact inside the British base tells him the precise paperwork he needs, but it involves getting an old style Iraqi passport which will take ages.

Haider has a brainwave and rings up a doctor he knew at medical school. Reluctantly, the doctor agrees to house them all in a spare room in his clinic, knowing he’s risking reprisals from the militia. Haider has a phone so he rings his old boss and friend William Kearney. Kearney jumps into action ringing round contacts to get Haider’s paperwork approved asap. He commissions a journalist to write a piece about the plight of interpreters and he even – and at this point we start to realise why we’ve been hearing so much about this poor man – arranges for Haider to do an interview with Radio 4’s Today programme, from the spare room at the clinic where he’s in hiding. Atmosphere of Anne Frank’s loft. Every time they heard footsteps in the corridor they froze in fear.

There are more hurdles to jump through, judges to be bribed, paperwork to be secured, relations pressed into running round the city getting the right documents. After a week they take another cab to the British base but Haider is now told that his brothers and sister aren’t eligible. He loses his rag.

When the British had needed him he had risked his life, but when he needed their help all he got was red tape. (p.326)

And now, 16 years later, the same treatment dished out to Afghan interpreters fleeing the Taliban. What a disgraceful, disgusting country Britain is.

Abandoning Basra

So the British abandoned Basra and the Shia militia took over, quickly intimidating the Iraqi police into staying in their stations, while black hooded armed men patrolled the streets, hitting women who weren’t properly covered and embarking on a campaign of murder and extortion. The Iraqi Way. A British officer, Colonel Andy Bristow, helps the new Iraqi governor of Basra, General Mohan al-Faraji, but quickly realises the deal with Fartosi to allow us to leave in peace, effectively undermined the police i.e. bankrupted the whole reason for us being there in the first place. When Mohan found out the British had gone behind his back to do a deal with the head of the militia to release back onto the streets over 1,000 criminal detainees, he was apoplectic.

It was just the sort of double-dealing the British were infamous for during their colonial days. (p.330)

On 31 December 2007 Fartosi himself was finally released from prison and within days (January 2008) war broke out between Jaish al-Mahdi and Mohan’s police force. The British base itself came under sustained mortar attack. The deal with Fartosi had failed. Not only that but the situation in Helmand was deteriorating, Ceasefires with local Taliban commanders had failed and the fighting was fiercer than ever. The army desperately needed to move its Basra forces to Helmand.

Fairweather then gives a typically detailed account of the way the new advisor to General Mohan, the Brit Colonel Richard Iron, conceives a plan to deliver a US-style surge but just to Basra. As mentor to Mohan he is outside the British chain of command and so a) gets Mohan to present it as a request to the Basra commander, something the Brits are meant to help with, b) schmoozes with the Americans in Baghdad who love it. Petraeus is won over and the Yanks begin making plans to send troops to help the meagre British presence from the air base.

BUT. At one of these co-ordination meetings everyone is stunned to learn that Prime Minister Nouri al-Malaki, having been briefed about it some weeks before, has taken the bull by the horns, and ordered his own surge in Basra, using native Iraqi troops!

Long story short: the Iraqi army took on the Jaish al-Mahdi in Basra and won! Over 6,000 Iraqi troops marched on Basra and Maliki himself flew in to supervise. To begin with it was chaos, with Iraqi units disintegrating or being blown to pieces by the heavily armed and motivated JAMsters. But the Americans couldn’t allow this to fail and so diverted troops and planes south to join the fight. The British administrator on the ground was humiliatingly denied entrance to meetings between Maliki and the American commander in chief. Maliki blamed the British for letting Basra sink to this level. The American military no longer trusted the Brits to do anything. Anyway, bureaucracy and reluctance to overturn the withdrawal plans meant only a handful of British officers were available. The Iraqis and Americans got on without them. National embarrassment. Humiliation.

Meanwhile Mohan was sacked and a new Iraqi commander put in place. American General Flynn told British brigade headquarters he’d flown in to stop the Brits failing again. Fairweather calls it ‘a damning indictment’ and laments ‘Britain’s battered reputation’. The senior British officers hung their heads in shame (p.337).

Then, to everyone’s surprise, there was a ceasefire. Unknown to the Brits or Yanks Maliki had sent delegations to the Iranian city of Qom to ask al-Sadr and the commander of the Iranian al-Quds Force to broker a ceasefire. Maliki knew that the Iranians had a vested interest in seeing him re-elected, as a moderate Shia Prime Minister, whereas defeat in Basra risked plunging the south into chaos and also triggering a resurgence of Sunni resistance. On balance it was in Iranian interests to rein in their proxies. So The message came back to Fartosi to cease fire. The guns fell silent. The Jaish al-Mahdi forces disappeared. Fartosi and other notorious leaders left Iraq altogether.

A few days later Iraqi forces occupied all the Jaish al-Mahdi strongholds. The insurgency in Basra was over and it had nothing to do with the Brits or the Americans but backroom deals between Middle Eastern players. In an ironic way it was a triumph because it showed that normal Middle Eastern politics, with all its corruption and sectarian horsetrading, had been restored.

But there was nothing the British C-in-C, Brigadier Julian Free, could do ‘to restore American faith in British competence’ (p.339).

Epilogue: summer 2011

In Fairweather’s view the retaking of Basra was a watershed. The Iraqi army then retook Amara (where Sergeant Danny Mills and his sniper platoon had such a torrid time in 2006) and routed Jaish al-Mahdi from Baghdad.

In the January 2009 provincial elections Maliki’s party defeated Sadrist politicians (i.e. politicians loyal to Muqtada al-Sadr). Maybe it was even some kind of democracy. A very corrupt form of democracy, Iraq sits on the fourth largest oil reserves in the world. Fortunes are made by politicians with fingers in the pie. Leaked documents and other evidence show the Iraqi police force settling back into old Saddam methods of arbitrary arrest and gruesome torture.

In Iraq’s March 2010 elections the slippery old chancer Ayad Allawi won the popular vote, with the backing of Saudi Arabia, because he is a Sunni Muslim. (On a simple geopolitical level, Iraqi politics are riddled with the rivalry between Sunni Saudi Arabia to the south and Shia Iran to the east). However, in the backroom horsetrading Iran leaned on Muqtada al-Sadr to get his supporters to support Maliki who therefore re-emerged as Prime Minister in November 2010 (serving till 2014).

Through the summer of 2009 the British troops left Basra airbase. In total more than 120,000 British soldiers served in Iraq. As many as 15% of them might be expected to suffer mental illness as a consequence i.e. 18,000. 179 British personnel died, 5,970 were injured. Best guesses are that in the region of 100,000 Iraqis lost their lives.

Fairweather’s figures are that the war cost roughly £1 billion a year, total about £8 billion. Fairweather injects a political note (remember he wrote for the Daily Telegraph, what is now a very right-wing newspaper):

As schools go unbuilt in the UK, hospitals close, and tens of thousands of teachers, nurses, soldiers and policemen lose their jobs, the Iraq war has become a symbol of the profligacy and waste of the New Labour government. (p.344)

As to Afghanistan, in 2009 the Americans were forced to intervene as the British, yet again, lost control of the situation, sending a surge of 30,000 US troops to retake the province from the resurgent Taliban. The economy is still dirt poor. And there is no educated middle class to provide administrators and politicians.

As of summer 2011, 374 British service personnel had died in Helmand, 1,608 had been injured, 493 seriously. More than 10,000 Afghans had died. Gordon Brown estimated the war cost Britain £10 billion.

And Haider the interpreter, the Iraqi who Fairweather uses as a kind of barometer of Britain’s failing efforts in Basra? At the time of writing he lived in Hull, in accommodation provided by the British government, with his wife and two children. He’d like to return to Iraq but is still scared to.

The blame

As you’d expect, Fairweather holds Tony Blair chiefly to account for committing Britain to two wars it couldn’t win – but he’s harsher on the army. Senior generals gave consistently poor advice and the army as a whole was guilty of institutional failings, most importantly it’s continually over-optimistic predictions, its wrong assessments of the situation in both Iraq and Afghanistan, its insistence it could carry out both deployments with what quickly became clear were inadequate men and resources. In both places they ignored the well-informed warnings of experts in the field.

Most tellingly, senior officials at the MoD and armed services have come to see war as a way of maintaining their budgets. Fairweather wonders if the fact that this is the only way the MoD can secure adequate funding explains why Britain’s armed forces have been in conflict almost continuously for the past 15 years.

Short-termism. All kinds of delusions led planners to think a 3-year deployment to Helmand would be enough. The average length of a counter-insurgency campaign is 14 years. Proper state building takes even longer. Either commit, or don’t intervene.

Summary

This is an outstanding chronological history of Britain’s deployment to Iraq and Afghanistan. Fairweather not only explains the complex political and financial realities at work in the British government and the fraught relationship with our American ‘allies’, but switches scene and focus with extraordinary confidence.

He gives what must surely be definitive accounts of specific firefights and battles (his 5 pages describing the murder of the six military police is exemplary) but he is just as confident describing conversations between the top power players, be they Yanks like Rumsfeld, Rice and Bremer, or Brits like Blair, Brown and Campbell.

And his narrative introduces us to an extraordinarily wide range of named individuals through whose stories and eyes we get really insider insights into every aspect of the situation, from Brits appalled at decisions in Whitehall or the chaos of the CPA, through the civilian governors struggling to control their provinces, to the experiences of scores of officers and men involved in fierce firefights on the ground.

It’s a panoramic, encyclopedic account. It really is outstanding.


P.S. A study in ignorance

Seen from another angle, this excellent book a study in several types of stupidity and ignorance.

The obvious, easy-to-see kind of ignorance, is how everyone involved in the planning and implementation of the quick invasion of Iraq in March 2003 and then the painfully slow, ineffective ‘reconstruction’ of the ruined country, had poor-to-zero grasp of the reality of Iraqi society, politics and culture. That was obvious to anyone with a brain before the war started, and became obvious to people without a brain, eventually even to the American neoconservatives who had planned and launched the war, as the years went by and their efforts became evermore expensive and futile.

The less obvious kind of ignorance is a fundamental premise of this blog and my worldview, which is that we don’t understand our own society or our selves. In his 2015 book, ‘The Soul of the Marionette’, John Gray explains that there will never be true artificial intelligence because nobody understands what human intelligence is. Sure, we can define and measure numerous aspects of intelligence like solving complex maths problems or winning at chess, but the full package of what makes a human being human, the complex interplay of calculation, hunch, guesswork, emotion and intuition – nobody understands it, how it works, let alone how it is produced by the brain.

So if we don’t understand what intelligence is, how can we artificially create it? We may be able to produce computer programs which solve problems faster than any human, and are able to teach themselves better and better techniques etc, and can answer any question plausibly, but it will never be anything like human intelligence, and those who think so are fools.

Same with democracy. Simpletons like George W Bush and Tony Blair thought all you had to do was overthrow a dictator and organise some cobbled-together elections, and you’d have yourself a functioning democracy. What this imbecile level of naivety shows is not so much that neither of them had a clue about Arab or Muslim societies, and about Iraq in particular (which they didn’t, and which this book demonstrates at humiliating and embarrassing length) – what it showed is they hadn’t a clue about how our own democratic societies work.

1. The civic basis of democracy

They didn’t have a clue about their own political evolution: about the very long history, the centuries-long evolution, through trial and error and revolutions and civil wars, and the taming of religion and the controlling of aristocracies and oligarchies, and the campaigns of working class parties and trade unions and then the long struggle for women’s suffrage – which lie behind the present form of the far-from-perfect, so-called ‘democracies’ which operate in the USA and UK.

2. The Christian basis of democracy

And that’s without going into the huge part of the story derived from religion: the slow evolution of Christianity with its emphasis on the value of the individual, through the overthrow of Catholic ideology at the Reformation, and the Protestant Revolution which ushered in new ideas about the individual, about individual agency, responsibility, rights and duties, which had to be painfully thrashed out during centuries of civil war and political turmoil, the overthrow of kings, the grudging allowance of limited forms of religious tolerance in Britain the late 17th century, which struggled against the odds throughout the 18th and inspired the American revolutionaries to their clear statement of principles in the American constitution. There’s no evidence of this kind of huge, conceptual, long-term evolution taking place in the political-religious ideology of modern Islam. The opposite: reactionary forms of Islam have been on the rise throughout the Middle East since the Iranian revolution of 1979.

3. The economic basis of democracy

And all that is without going into the economic history which lies behind our democratic societies, whose development paralleled the political, religious and philosophical strands. Modern progressives are keen to attribute the rise of the West to ruthless exploitation, to the profits from the Atlantic slave trade and the rapacity of European imperialism. The older, traditional school of history attributed ‘the rise of the West’ to a huge range of intellectual inventions, from the establishment of the Bank of England and a national debt, through the invention of copyright and business law which created incentives for innovators and inventors, to the inventors themselves who devised the seed drill or the steam engine among thousands of other world-changing technologies (ideas handily summarised in Niall Ferguson’s Civilization: The West and the Rest).

However you combine these and other elements to explain ‘the Rise of the West’, there’s no denying that Britain, most of the other European nations, and then America and Japan, represent a level of legal, social and technological achievement which far outranks the other 180 or so nations on earth.

Neo-con delusions

Now do you get a sense of the depth of the ignorance of the American neo-cons and their poodle, Tony? They thought overthrowing a dictator and getting his dazed population to line up at voting booths would be it, job done, creation of ‘democracy’. They thought creating an unstable government and holding a few phoney elections amounted to ‘nation building’ and stood any chance at all of transforming Iraq in a few short months into a beacon of peace, plenty and democracy for the rest of the Middle East to follow.

That’s what George Bush, Dick Cheney, Donald Rumsfeld, Douglas Feith and their supporters thought would happen. Surely the word ‘imbecile’ isn’t forceful enough to describe this level of fatuous ignorance – not only about what Iraqi society was like, but about what makes their own country tick – about what makes the 20 or so developed western nations what they are, and why this unique religious, philosophical, legal, cultural, social, economic and technological history can’t just be bundled up into vacuum packs, flown into a developing country in the holds of Hercules transport planes and handed out to cheering crowds like bottled water. What morons!


Credit

A War of Choice: Honour, Hubris and Sacrifice: The British in Iraq by Jack Fairweather was published by Jonathan Cape in 2012. References are to the 2012 paperback edition.

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The War of Running Dogs by Noel Barber (1971)

‘I always had a great deal of time for Chin Peng. He was by far the most intelligent of all the Communists, calm, polite, very friendly – in fact almost like a British officer.’
(Senior District Officer and Chin’s escort to the 1955 peace talks, John Davis)

There are several basic facts about Malaya which you need to grasp in order to understand the so-called ‘Malayan Emergency’ (1948 to 1960).

British Malaya

Malaya was never a unified nation. ‘British Malaya’ (1896 to 1946) consisted of the Federated and Unfederated Malay States. The Federated states were four protected states in the Malay Peninsula – Selangor, Perak, Negeri Sembilan and Pahang – established by the British government in 1896, which were British protectorates run by their own local rulers. The Unfederated Malay States was the collective name given to five British protected states, namely Johor, Kedah, Kelantan, Perlis, and Terengganu. Unlike the federates states, the unfederated states lacked common institutions and didn’t form a single state in international law. They were standalone British protectorates. In addition, there were the Straits Settlements, established in 1896 and consisting of the settlements of Penang, Singapore, Malacca, and Dinding, to which were later added the Christmas Island and the Cocos Islands.

After the war, in 1946, the British colony of the Straits Settlements was dissolved. Penang and Malacca which had formed a part of the Straits Settlements were then grouped together with the Unfederated and Federated Malay States to form the new Malayan Union.

Map of Malaya 1952 to 1954 © Monash Asia Institute, from the Cambridge University Press book ‘Templer and the Road to Malayan Independence

Racial heterogeneity

Of the population of about 6 million, 40% were Malay, almost as many were Chinese, and the remainder Indians, Europeans or other.

The three non-European communities – Malay, Chinese and Indian – had different traditions, religions, languages, cultures and tended to cluster round different professions and occupations. For example, the sultans of each of the states was Malay, as was his court and advisers, whereas a high proportion of the country’s successful businessmen were Chinese.

There were some 12,000 British, consisting of the Malayan Civil Service, policemen, rubber planters, tin miners, doctors and businessmen.

Following the Second World War, in 1946 the British authorities announced a new administrative structure named the Malayan Union, which aimed to distribute power and influence among the three main ethnic groups, Malays, Chinese and Indians. This prompted an outcry and mass opposition, particularly from Malays who saw their influence diminish in what they considered their own country, as well as objections to other implications of the plan.

Protests led to the formation of the United Malays National Organisation which organised a campaign of civil disobedience, boycotting council meetings and so on. Bowing to pressure the British authorities scrapped the Malayan Union and in 1948 replaced it with the Federation of Malaya, consisting of states ruled by sultans as British protectorates i.e. with British advisers, with Penang and Malaca defined as colonies, and Singapore given separate and unique status.

Chinese communists

The 1948 reorganisation took power away from the Chinese community which made up about a third of the population and which responded with negative newspaper articles and political action. Distinct from the Chinese community as a whole (which included many rich and influential businessmen) was the relatively small Malay Communist Party, almost entirely staffed by Chinese. Many of these communists had fought alongside British irregular forces in guerrilla campaigns against the Japanese after the Japanese captured Malaya in 1942, in fact many of them had been armed and trained and served in Force 136.

The post-war authorities were able to monitor the activities of the Malay Communist Party for the simple reason that its leader, Lai Teck, was a British double agent. However, in 1947, his cover was blown and Lai absconded (taking the party’s disposable cash with him).

His replacement, Chin Peng, aged 26, son of a bicycle repairshop owner, was more ruthless and cunning. Barber’s book explains all this background and then describes the crucial Communist Party meeting held in a remote jungle location in Pahang, the largest state, in May 1948 (that pivotal year in the Cold War).

During the war many of the party’s members had fought a jungle insurgency as part of what was called the Malayan People’s Anti-Japanese Army, led by British army officers. Now, simply by changing one word, it became the Malayan People’s Anti-British Army. Many of the members, their arms, training and tactics remained exactly the same, but now they were dedicated to kicking out what they saw as just another colonial occupier and oppressor. In an irony which escaped no-one, many of the new communist terrorists (CTs) were fighting officers and men they had previously fought alongside against the Japanese.

Chin Peng divided his army up into two parts: the armed force of 5,000 fighters, organised up into nominal regiments, but in fact broken down into attack units of as little as half a dozen men, to be distributed around the country, based in the jungle near the network of arms caches they’d helped establish during the war. The second part was the Min Yuen, meaning ‘Masses Movement’, consisting of hundreds of thousands of normal everyday citizens who would operate on every level of Malay life, as waiters in British clubs, clerks in government offices, as schoolteachers, newspaper reporters and so on (p.37) who would supply the active army with food, money and information.

The primary aim was to sow terror, pure fear, among the British colonial community and its native assistants and workers (collaborators, in the communist view). As the campaign spread, Chin intended for the European community to become demoralised and increasingly enfeebled while the tentacles of the Min Yuen spread at all levels of Chinese society until it was so powerful and numerous that a communist revolution became inevitable.

Barber details Chin’s three-phase plan:

Phase one

Guerillas attack isolated planters, tin mines, police and government officials, creating a climate of fear, forcing these scattered Europeans to abandon the country and seek the cities for safety.

Phase two

Areas abandoned by the British would be named ‘Liberated Areas’ and become the settings for guerrilla bases. The army’s numbers would be increased by recruits from the Min Yuen.

Phase three

Moving out from their bases in the Liberated Areas, the expanded army would attack towns and infrastructure, roads and railway, electricity and water supplies, while the Min Yuen sabotaged urban services. The expanded guerrilla army, supported by China or Russia, would confront the weakened and demoralised imperial forces in a final revolutionary struggle.

What is notable about all this is that the communists were overwhelmingly Chinese, relied on the active support of part of the Chinese community, and expected the revolution to come with help from China, and yet… the Chinese made up a distinct minority of the Malay population. As you might expect, the largest element of Malaya’s population was Malay. And lots of the plantations and other businesses the communists targeted were staffed by Indians, especially Tamils.

The use of terror

Barber views the Malay Communist Party campaign through the teachings of Lenin and Mao. Lenin had written that, through the application of terror, a well-organised minority could take over a country (p.36). Mao had written extensively about the organisation and strategy necessary for a peasant army taking on a larger, better-funded, full-time army. Be mobile and flexible. If you meet resistance, withdraw.

To spread fear you practice murder with maximum cruelty. Barber doesn’t hold back on his descriptions. The emergency is commonly dated from the murder of three British planters, two at one plantation, the other at a nearby one, on the same day, 16 June 1948. He goes on to describe, in detail, the CTs’ tactics and types of attacks: they crept up on native Malay or Tamil tappers (the workers who tapped the rubber trees), captured them and slit their throats like farm animals. They seized workers and chopped off their arms with the large Malay knife. They regularly attacked isolated plantation owners’ houses or bungalows, using British Sten guns or grenades. They made road ambushes by falling trees across roads then subjecting stalled vehicles to barrages of fire. That is how they murdered High Commissioner Sir Henry Gurney (p.156).

The casualties were never enormous – not on the scale of an actual war – but still significant, with around 500 European settlers or officials being killed each year, and several times more communists. In total, during the entire emergency, 1948 to 1960, 1,346 Malayan troops and police were killed, 519 British military personnel, about 6,710 communists, with civilian casualties of around 5,000.

The British response

The British responded with a number of co-ordinated strategies: most Malay settlements had so-called ‘squatter’ camps surrounding them, occupied by immigrants from China, some of whom helped the communists, but many of whom were victims of the communists if they didn’t help or were suspected of collaborating. Therefore the British created a network of ‘New Villages’ and relocated the 600,000 squatters to them. Surrounded by barbed wire, they certainly protected the inmates from attack, but also could be seen as concentration camps.

The British authorities enforced a photo identity scheme, and tried to starve the communist guerrillas by implementing a food denial campaign by enforcing food rationing on civilians, killing livestock and using chemical herbicides to destroy rural farmland. Policing was expanded and re-organised to provide protection for workers going to work on rubber plantations or tin mines.

It is ironic to learn that the outbreak of the Korean War in June 1950 led to boom market for rubber and boom period for Malayan economy (p.182). Nonetheless, when the Conservatives won their election victory in October 1951 victory, they discovered that Britain was on verge of bankruptcy. The country had lower food stocks than ten years earlier, in 1941. By 1951 huge numbers of men involved – 40,000 regular troops including 25,000 from Britain, 10,000 Gurkhas, 5 battalions of the Malay Regiment, plus 60,000 full-time police and 200,000 Home Guards. The war was costing £500,000 a day. (p.162) No wonder Correlli Barnett railed against the stupidity of spending all our Marshall Aid running the ridiculous empire.

The incoming Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, sent Colonial Secretary Oliver Lyttleton on a fact-finding mission which reported back that the situation was dire and highlighted disagreements between army and police and divisions even within the police. Churchill appointed General Sir Gerald Templer to take over. Templer was a splendid example of the imperialist education system, having attended Wellington, Sandhurst, been an Olympic hurdling champion, and served in post-war Germany where he’d realised the Germans needed encouragement, carrots, promises of better times, to prevent communism.

It was Templer who realised the British had to win the ‘hearts and minds’ of the population, not with military force, but simply by showing that democratic capitalism would give the native populations and their families a better future. So he combined expanding the police force, and especially its Special Branch wing, with social works, the building of hospitals, schools, an increase in teacher training, setting up of women’s groups and so on.

Barber’s approach

Noel Barber (1909 to 1988) was a journalist who worked as foreign correspondent for the Daily Mail in the 50s, 60s and 70s. He also managed to write some 22 non-fiction books about the many countries he reported from (Hungary, Tibet, India). Late in life, a car crash ended his career as a journalist and he switched to writing novels, producing half a dozen, none of which I’ve heard of.

The War of the Running Dogs: How Malaya Defeated the Communist Guerrillas 1948-60 was Barber’s 15th non-fiction book. I picked it up in a second-hand shop because I want to understand more about Britain’s decolonisation beyond the glut of books and documentaries about the two usual suspects, India and Israel.

I think it’s safe to say that Barber’s approach is old school. Writing at the end of the 1960s, he himself came from a solidly upper-middle-class family, good public school, well-connected family (his brother, Anthony, was a Conservative politician, who rose to be Chancellor of the Exchequer in Ted Heath’s government 1970 to 1974).

Thus we get the story predominantly from the British side and from a perspective which is now disappearing, told with a hearty patriotism which often reads like it’s from one of the Famous Five children’s book. The senior British figures are often described as ‘magnificent’, policies and outcomes are ‘splendid’. Men are men, especially the gruff, no-nonsense Lieutenant General Gerald Templer who was sent by Churchill to replace the assassinated High Commissioner Sir Henry Gurney. Templer barks out orders, insists things are done the same day, issues red orders which must be carried out by underlings or else, insists on shaking hands with all the Malay staff at government house (in fact, King’s House) in Kuala Lumpur. Shakes colleagues by the hand and tells them, ‘You’re a man‘.

Other ‘men’ include Sir Harold Briggs, First Director of Operations, Sir Robert ‘Bob’ Thompson of the Malayan Civil Service, Colonel Arthur Young, Police Commissioner, Bill Carbonell Commissioner of Police, and Peter Lucy, the amazingly brave rubber planter. It is a winning aspect of the book that it opens with a one-page ‘cast of principal characters’ [which isn’t all-white, it includes Malayan politicians and all the key Communist leaders]. Somehow this crystallises the impression given by much of the text that the war was a spiffing affair with manly chaps like General Templer grasping Colonel Young with a firm handshake, looking straight into his eyes, and saying, ‘You’ve done a man’s job, sir.’

Stories and comedy

Barber tells a number of funny or wry anecdotes. For example, the occasion when Templer addressed the population of one of the New Villages which had passively let CTs walk in, take all their weapons, and then walk out, the British general tried to convey his anger, but the Malay translator produces a comically rude mistranslation.

Or the amazing tale of 14-year-old Terence Edmitt who drove the family armoured car (!) through a CT roadblock and ambush, carefully ramming the car blocking the road into the ditch, while the car echoed to fusillades of bullets from CT sten guns and his mum and dad fired back through slits in the side (p.227).

Or the astonishing story of Peter Lucy and his tough, no-nonsense wife Tommy, who refused to abandon their remote plantation bungalow, so they fortified it, ringed it with barbed wire, and regularly fought off CT attacks with Sten guns and hand grenades even when Tommy was nine months pregnant!

Barber finds the astonishing or the amusing, the gossipy and heroic, in everything. This is one of the aspects which makes it more of a popular magazine article than a work of serious history.

There are other reasons why I doubt a book like this could be published nowadays:

1. Race and ethnicity

As Britain ceases to be a white country (estimates vary, but by about 2070 it’s thought whites will be in a minority in the UK) and its academic and publishing industries become ever-more hypersensitive to issues of race and ethnicity, the book’s unstinting support of ‘our boys’ and of colonial administration generally, has, I think, nowadays, become untenable. Barber would be picked up on countless places where he makes no-longer-acceptable generalisations about the Malays, the Chinese or the Indian population of Malaya.

In fact, Barber goes out of his way to praise the three different racial groups in Malaya, and also brings out Templer’s and the British authorities’ deliberate policies of racial integration. He tells the story of Templer being outraged to learn that some ex-pat club refuses membership to Malays and Chinese, gets the entire board sacks, and forces them to take non-European members. So Barber and his heroes are very pro race equality and racial integration. Templer and many other Brits realised it was vital not only to winning the war but to ensuring a smooth transition to independence. That wouldn’t save them from being damned by modern academics and critics.

And Barber goes out of his way to detail the intelligence work of the CT defector Lam Swee and, especially, of C.C. Too, a Chinese brought in to head British psychological operations, who became responsible for the propaganda war, including dropping millions of leaflets in the jungle telling the terrorists they would be treated well if they gave themselves up, describing the joys of civilian life (which amount to ‘women and cigarettes), as well as planes which were commissioned to fly low over huge expanses of jungle broadcasting the same message from big loudspeakers (p.139).

So I wasn’t aware of any racial bias or bigotry at all, rather the reverse. Bet that wouldn’t save him, though. And although he goes out of his way to give a positive impression of the remote communities of ‘aboriginal’ peoples, the peoples who inhabited Malaya before either the Malays or Chinese arrived, I suspect he would be hammered for calling them ‘abos’ and not the currently acceptable term, which appears to be ‘Orang Asli aboriginals’.

2. Women

Since the complete triumph of feminism in academia and the media, the slightest disparaging remark about women in any capacity is enough to end careers.

Again, Barber is surprisingly liberated for his day (he must have written this book in the late 60s and 1970 for it to be published in 1971) and goes out of his way to praise women at every level. For example:

a) He describes the tremendous good works done by Templer’s wife, who threw herself into organising hospitals, schools, women’s groups and generally improving the status of women in Malay society.

b) He gives specific examples of amazing courage and bravery among women in the war, for example, Lucie Card who one minute is living a middle-class life in Surrey, volunteers for the St John’s Ambulance, and a month later is driving an ambulance through bandit-infested jungle in Malaya (p.237 ff.)

Barber devotes a long passage to the surprising fact that Chin Peng selected as head of the communist army’s courier network, a determined young woman, Lee Meng. Not only do we hear about her legendary efficiency and ruthlessness, but there is a long passage devoted to the hard work the Malay Special Branch put in to a) identifying her b) arresting and interrogating her.

It is just as surprising to learn that a key player in tracking her down was British operative Eileen Lee. The complexities of the operation to identify Lee Meng sound as if they’re from a James Bond story (as does the very unlikely-sounding story of CT double agent ‘the Raven’ attending a dinner party of local Brits disguised as a servant in order to leave a secret message on the District Officer’s pillow! p.286)

Elsewhere Barber remarks more than once that female comrades in the Liberation Army were generally thought to be tougher and more ruthless than most of the men.

So Barber goes well out of his way to sing the praises of women in general, and to single out some remarkable examples of female braveness, toughness and ingenuity in particular – but I don’t think that would be enough to save him. He routinely refers to these heroic women as ‘girls’, sometimes as ‘young and pretty girls’ (p.203), ‘she was young, extremely beautiful and very pregnant’ (p.284). Tsk tsk. His entire attitude would, nowadays, be dismissed as the patronising stereotypes of a patriarchal, pro-imperialist, white supremacist male. I’m surprised his book is still in print.

It’s very obvious that anyone interested should read a more up-to-date account of the war, but all the aspects I’ve just mentioned mean that Barber’s account is interesting not only for its subject matter, but for the strong flavour of the 1970s prism through which he views them.

3. Unquestioning patriotism

For Barber, the high commissioners, heads of police or special branch, are ‘magnificent’, so a ‘splendid’ job, are real ‘men’. He mentions at some length the two trials of Lee Meng and how, when the authorities couldn’t get a guilty verdict from the first trial, they simply held another one with a more European panel of ‘advisers’ (instead of a jury). This caused controversy at the time. Similarly, he mentions the ‘Batang Kali massacre’ when 24 unarmed Chinese prisoners appear to have been murdered by British troops. He mentions these things, presents the evidence and says they left question marks over ‘British justice’. He makes brief mention of regulation 17D which gave the government the power of detention without trial and that some 30,000 civilians were interned under it, but not much more. He mentions these things but I bet a modern historian would use them to flay the racist imperialist British.

Key developments

By October 1951

It had become clear to Chen Ping that his initial three-phase plan wasn’t working. He duly called another big meeting of senior Malay Communist members and issued a new Directive. This refocused the communist campaign – stop killing innocent bystanders and Chinese, focus more on police, soldiers, direct officers of imperialism – but at same time boosted political efforts to infiltrate trade unions and create communist sympathisers through legal means.

January 1952

The appointment of Templer as High Commissioner, who comes in with sweeping new policies. One is to place enormous bounties on the heads of the CT senior command, double if caught alive, half if caught dead. He wanted them alive so he could convert them and use them as propaganda. Also to interrogate them and get intelligence about camps and strategies.

September 1952

One of the stupidities of the entire thing was that the British fully intended to quit Malaya, and had made this known to all the sultans and the general population. Throughout the period Britain made attempts to get more local figures into politics, to make more places open to locally elected officials. Then on 14 September 1952 a new citizenship law gave 60% of the Chinese population and 180,000 Indians full and immediate citizenship, with procedures established for all other inhabitants to apply for citizenship (including any Europeans who had one parent who’d been born in the country).

Spring 1953

Chin Peng makes a momentous decision to relocate his forces across the border into Thailand. Barber describes eye-witness accounts of the jungle meeting where this was announced to the communist cadres and the mood of disillusion and demoralisation which it led to.

Winding down

By mid-1953, five years into the war, a number of key communist leaders had been captured, killed or had defected. The British had sealed the squatter Chinese population off in the New Villages, enforced citizen id cards on everyone else, granted citizenship to large numbers of the population with processes for everyone else to gain full, legal citizenship, and had laid out a timetable towards full and free democratic elections to be held in 1955. Independence, in other words, was only a few years away. In the meantime Templer had overseen the inauguration of a sort of welfare state into which legal citizens paid, and which would contribute towards medical care or pensions. Tours were organised of government offices which included each citizen being taken to a bank and show how much money they had accrued, and led up to a speech by Templer himself. More and more CTs began to defect, giving themselves up and were astonished when they were not shot out of hand, but carefully treated, questioned, then freed and given clothes, money and jobs, and encouraged to spread the word to their comrades still in the jungle.

It became harder and harder for the communists to persuade peasants or urban dwellers that theirs was the correct route to freedom when the British route was so obviously better, for everyone.

This is what Templer meant when he had announced his ‘hearts and minds’ strategy. Barber really emphasises that right at the start of the emergency the government took the right decision which was to keep the emergency in the hands of the civil authorities – to make it a law and order issue. To make the police and Special Branch the key arms of law enforcement, with the army solely as backup and for specific defined operations (p.245 and throughout).

It was vital that the majority of the population see that law and order and government continue in its same form. The classic mistake to make in such situations, is to appoint a military overseer who invariably puts military units in charge, maybe imposes martial law, sets up special army-run detention centres and so on, with the inevitable result that sooner or later some atrocity is committed or photos leak out of inmates being mistreated in military gaols, and the general effect is to alienate the majority of the non-combatant population and encourage them to give passive or active support to the insurgents. As the Americans did in Vietnam and then again, astonishingly, in Iraq.

The Brits may have bent the law in some trials, been responsible for one well-publicised massacre (Batang Kal: 24 terrorists shot; My Lai: over 500 unarmed men, women and children killed), and the New Villages policy doesn’t sound as benign to me as Barber makes it sound. But overall, eventually, the non-military nature of the British response worked.

Communist desertions

The British placed huge bounties on the heads of the CT leaders. They offered huge sums for information. And they paid CTs who handed themselves in. Millions of leaflets offering safe passage were dropped over the jungle (93 million in 1953 alone, p.246, 525 million in total, p.321).

So many took up this offer that in the summer of 1953 Templer set up the Special Operational Volunteer Force, 180 ex-communist terrorists grouped into twelve platoons of 15 men each (p.233).

Barber describes in detail the defection of a number of the highest CT leaders, including the elusive Osman China ‘one of the most brilliant propagandists in South-East Asia’ and Hor Leung, a high ranking communist official (pages 250 to 265).

Elections

In July there was the first full general election in Malayan history. Barber had already introduced us to Tunku Abdul Rahman who had emerged as a canny political operator in the regional elections of 1952. Now he built a coalition between the ethnic parties to take overall power. 85% of the electorate voted and the Tunku’s Alliance won 51 of the 52 seats. He immediately began criticising the British veto on all laws passed by the assembly and pushing for the British to leave and relinquish full political power as soon as possible. The Tunku immediately issued a complete amnesty to all remaining CT fighters and had it distributed by leaflet, loudspeaker, the press and so on. Chin Peng replied calling for an immediate ceasefire.

The Tunku and his party were keen to hold talks but the British stalled. They were still responsible for the country’s security and felt admitting Chin Peng to a conference table would subvert the democratic process they had put in place, would give the communists influence not merited by their dwindling band of malnourished jungle fighters, and would hand a propaganda coup to the communist cause across wider South-East Asia (not least in Vietnam). But the Alliance party and many others saw this as simply excuses for the British to hang onto ultimate power. As long as the emergency remained, the British remained, and so the imperial power had a vested interest in dragging it out.

We now enter the complex world of multi-party politics, in which there are factions within the ruling Alliance party, these disagree with the old sultans, many of whom trust their British advisers more than these upstart democratic politicians, and the British administration itself which was divided about policy, and a British political community which was, of course, also divided between Conservative ruling party and the opposition internationalist Labour Party. The story gets more complex and, frankly, more boring, more bureaucratic.

The solution to this particular conundrum was simple: the British announced that they would leave whether the emergency was over or not. The existence of the emergency would not prevent full independence. And so Chin Peng was offered and amnesty and the opportunity to emerge from the (Thai) jungle and hold talks with First Minister Tunku.

In the event Malaya finally became fully independent (achieving Merdeka or independence) in August 1957, ending 83 years of British rule. Although under a British-Malayan Defence Pact, the Malay Army was run by Director of Operations Sir James Cassels (p.305), British soldiers continued to provide ‘defence’ for the Malayan state, and continued to be ambushed and killed by the 1,000 or so remaining CTs left in the jungle.

Despite independence the Communist insurgency continued until 1960. The final 30 or so pages don’t cover any of the political, social or economic ramifications of independence, but instead continue to give us exciting stories of derring-do, describing the cat and mouse campaigns to kill or capture the last remaining CT leaders, who are regularly portrayed as fiendish, cunning, clever, zealous and indoctrinated opponents of tall, tough, multi-lingual British Special Branch or SAS officers with mops of unruly hair and piercing blue eyes.

These last couple of extended adventures made me suddenly realise who Noel Barber reminds me of – Frederick Forsyth. A lot of the passages of action – the ambushes and attacks, the forays into the jungle, the top secret intelligence work – and the stereotyped characters – bluff British army officers, slight twinkly-eyed Chinese fanatics, beautiful girls, fast cars, Sten guns and armoured cars – read like an airport thriller, an airport thriller, a lot of which just happens to be true.

On 31 July 1960 the ’emergency’ was declared over and there was a huge victory parade through Kuala Lumpa which Barber describes in joyous detail, and then wraps his account up with a purple prose description of free, independent Malaya, unchanged and yet completely changed, enduring forever…

Thoughts

1. I must read a more modern account of the emergency, one which will probably contain a far more damning version of British behaviour.

2. Ideally, this modern version would go on to cover the longer period after independence up to the 1990s, say, so that the long-term effect of not only the emergency but of colonial rule can be assessed in the longer perspective.

3. Barber’s book is a very accessible, rip-roaring boys adventure version of events. The thing is, this may not be so misleading because quite obviously a lot of the British participants took part in that spirit, had that gung-ho, patriotic ‘come on chaps’ attitude. Certainly in his interviews with Peter Lucy and his wife, with Lucie Card and the dashing Scottish officer she met and married in Malaya, David Storrier (p.239), they all talk like that, they describe acts of everyday heroism and bravery with a dashing disregard for the danger.

4. And this is connected to the many scenes and descriptions of events where Barber deploys the techniques of a popular novelist, setting scenes whether in ex-pat clubs or jungle guerrilla camps, giving vivid descriptions of emaciated CTs, terrified Tamil workers, jolly fun-loving sultans and dashing Brits which come from movies, novels or comics of the 1950s:

Gallery of characters

Colonel Robert ‘Bob’ Thompson, son of an English clergyman, fluent Chinese scholar, fought with the famous Wingate Chindits, had a ‘brilliant’ war record, looked like a film star, was ‘a dashing, handsome, highly intelligent bachelor with a ready chuckle’ (p.24)

Sir Edward Gent, the High Commissioner… at Oxford gained a double first and was a rugger Blue… (p.44)

Malcolm MacDonald, Commissioner-General for South-East Asia… was something of a ‘character’ and over the years had developed a public image of a shirt-sleeved, approachable democrat… (p.47)

Police-Superintendent ‘Two-Gun’ Bill Stafford, a stocky, broad-shouldered barrel-chested aggressive man with grey-green eyes, who had been a ‘crime-buster’ before the Emergency and was already something of a legend in Malaya. (p.66)

[David Storrier] had sharp features, straight fair hair and the bluest eyes she [Lucie Card] had ever seen.

[Sir Henry Gurney’s] panache had become a legend in Palestine during the last frightful months… known to close friends as Jimmy, he had gained a blue for golf at Oxford and was a keen tennis player. (p.73)

Colonel Nicol Gray was a strong man in every sense of the word. (p.81)

John Davis, Senior District officer was ‘a broad-shouldered man of forty-nine with twinkling blue eyes and a shock of unmanageable hair’ (p.276)

The commanding officer chosen for the task was a spectacular character – literally: Major Harry Thompson, seconded from the Royal Highland Fusiliers, stood six feet four inches, had a thatch of fierce red hair and a boxer’s nose (p.311)

Evan Davies was a master of the technique of using double agents… He had impeccable manners… he was ‘feared yet respected in every CT camp in Malaya’… he drove a cream, two-seater sports car ‘with his usual dash and verve’…He had ‘a remarkable ability to think like a Chinese…’ ‘He had been a policeman on the beat in London before being promoted to Special Branch, followed by a spell as a Commando during World War Two..’ (pages 281 to 24)

Commando: Marching to Glory: Six of the Best Commando Army Books Ever! (Commando for Action and Adventure): Amazon.co.uk: Low, George: 9781853758966: Books


Related history reviews

Related literary reviews i.e. about Malaya

RE/SISTERS: A Lens on Gender and Ecology @ the Barbican, version 2

This is a huge, stunning, world-bestriding and often very challenging exhibition. Its 250 photographs (and some films and video installations) cover the subject of women and the environment, providing a wide-ranging survey of the multiple ways the planet is being exploited and degraded, how women too often bearing the brunt of environmental destruction, and the scores of ways women artists and activists are fighting back, often creating a sense of female community in the process – hence the punning title of the show which is designed to promote the work of re-sisters, in the realms of social politics and art.

Huge volume of material

It’s a challenging exhibition to get your head around because the curators interpret the notion of environment in such a wide way as to bring together a huge variety of specific instances and examples of environmental degradation, each one of which is like reading a Sunday supplement feature. You could say it’s like reading about 50 serious magazine articles in a row i.e. quite demanding on your ability to process facts and figures. But it’s challenging in other ways, which I list below.

Environmental stories

Firstly, it’s about such a huge subject, the industrial-scale destruction of the environment, which comes in such a huge variety of forms and prompts some pretty big and scary thoughts.

Eyes and Storms #1 by Simryn Gill (2012)

Some of the subjects, such as vast open-cast mining in places like Australia or Namibia (in photo series by Simryn Gill and Otobong Nkanga), or the catastrophic impact of oil extraction in the Ogoniland area of southern Nigeria (depicted in the photos of Zina Saro-Wiwa), I knew about already.

Similarly, the ruinous pollution of the world’s oceans, as conveyed in a video given a room of its own, A Draught of the Blue by Minerva Cuevas (2013) is a topic I feel I’ve been reading about for years.

But other subjects were completely new to me, such as the ruinous extraction of sand from places like the Mekong Delta in Vietnam (photos by Sim Chi Yin); or the impact of oil extraction in Azerbaijan. Although I knew about Azerbaijan’s historic importance, going as far back as the First World War, I don’t think I’d seen pictures of the area and its culture as evocative as the series of photos on display here by Chloe Dewe Matthews.

From the series Caspian: The Elements by Chloe Dewe Matthews (2010) Courtesy of the artist

I don’t think I’d come across the word extractivism before, which the curators define thus:

‘Extractivism is the exploitation, removal or exhaustion of natural resources on a massive scale. Rural, coastal, riverine, and Indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by mining and other extractive industries, resulting in severe negative consequences on local livelihoods, community cohesion and the environment.’

There was lots and lots of new information about numerous aspects of environmental destruction to be read, understood and processed.

Women as victims

The curators move on to claim that environmental destruction or ‘ecocide’ particularly targets women, and especially women from Indigenous communities, and they’ve chosen exhibits and stories to back up this claim. Shanay Jhaveri, Head of Visual Arts at the Barbican, is quoted as saying:

‘In this era of deepening ecological crisis, we are proud to present RE/SISTERS which interrogates the disproportionate detrimental effects of extractive capitalism on women and in particular Global Majority groups.’

The curators claim there is a direct link between men’s degradation of the planet and men’s oppression of women. They are part of the same oppressive system. They call for the same kinds of resistance.

Straight men as culprits

Because the exhibition asserts (repeatedly) that the environmental crisis is caused by men, that it derives from male capitalism, from a male colonial and imperial mindset, from masculinism and white supremacism, from male-led multinational corporations, all of which are underpinned by patriarchal, masculinist, cis-heterosexual ideologies.

In the 80 or so very wordy, very theory-laden wall labels and picture captions, the curators claim that only men run ‘the mechanical, patriarchal order that is organised around the exploitation of natural resources’ and deploy the ‘masculine cultural imperialism’ that underpins it.

‘Terms such as Capitalocene, Plantationocene and Anthropocene act as cultural-geological markers that make clear that the violent abuses inflicted upon our ecological processes are inherently gendered, and shine a light on the toxic combination of globalised corporate hegemony and destructive masculinities that characterise the age of capitalism.’ (Catalogue page 16)

‘The violent abuses inflicted upon our ecological processes are inherently gendered’ and that gender is male.

‘Ecofeminist scholars have long critiqued feminised constructions of “nature” while challenging patriarchy, the masculinism of capitalism, and colonial abuses against nature, women and marginalised communities.’

And:

‘Caycedo’s photographs of rivers and waterfalls are remixed into pulsating, fractal, perception-shifting images that invite the viewer to reflect on the fluidity of bodies of water, which consistently resist the phallogocentric logic of extraction.’

The exhibition is based on notion of:

‘the connections between patriarchal domination and the violence perpetrated against women and nature’

The notion that the ongoing destruction of the environment, ravaging of nature, destruction of ecosystems and disruption of traditional ways of life of Indigenous peoples around the globe is a distinctively heterosexual male practice, with which women have no share or responsibility, is obviously controversial and debatable. It may be true in many aspects, and certainly when viewed through the exhibition’s strongly feminist lens, but surely some women somewhere are a bit involved in the capitalist extractive system, buy products, run companies, benefit from consumer capitalism?

Can the destruction of the earth really be blamed on just one gender? That’s what the curators are claiming. Along with the idea that only by overthrowing male power can the world be saved:

‘Critical of the term “revolution”, in 1974 the French ecofeminist Françoise D’Eaubonne proposed the term “mutation”, which, she argued, would enact a “great reversal” of man-centred power. This grand reversal of power does not imply a simple transfer of power from men to women, instead it suggests the radical “destruction of power” by women – the only group capable of executing a successful systemic change, one that could liberate women as well as the planet.’

Women as political resisters

But women aren’t just victims, no feminist would leave it at that. The curators move on to give lots of examples of the way women as individuals or groups are fighting back against all this ecocide. They are, in the curators’ words, practicing ‘a radical and intersectional brand of eco-feminism that is diverse, inclusive, and decolonial’.

I also found this theme challenging to get my head around because the examples of women’s resistance were so varied. For example, there are two big sections devoted to the anti-nuclear weapons protests led by women in the 1980s, one in the UK, one in the US (as documented by American photographer Joan E. Biren). The UK one was the women’s camp at Greenham Common airbase.

Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp: Embrace the Base action 12/12/1982 by Maggie Murray (1982) © Maggie Murray / Format Photographers Archive at Bishopsgate Institute Courtesy of Bishopsgate Institute

I worked my way along the wall of photographs from the camp’s heyday and the display case of posters and leaflets and badges and was a bit confused. I suppose this is an early example of women very consciously organising as women to resist an obviously destructive technology, but it felt different from protesting the environmental degradation of the mines or oil pollution or ocean pollution. OK, the nuclear missiles imported into the base threatened nuclear armageddon but…It felt slightly askew from the theme of the environment.

Not only that, it felt very old and a bit, well, clichéd. Greenham has been trotted out in umpteen different contexts, in anti-war exhibitions I’ve been to or shows about the 1980s or about political art and, well, it feels like trotting out a tired old favourite. Better to have had much more up-to-date and specifically environment-focused content.

Third World resistance

This was highlighted, somehow, by the series of photos in the same room by Poulomi Basu’s who has been documenting the activities of the People’s Liberation Guerrilla Army who are fighting, with actual guns, against the activities of mining companies in south central India and the Indian security forces. Women take a lead role in the group and are depicted looking very warrior-like. But this obviously jarred with the message that conflict is somehow a very male creation, which emanated from the Greenham Common display.

Untitled from the series Centralia (2010 to 2020) by Poulomi Basu

It was also at odds with the other striking exhibit in the same room, which is a series of black-and-white documentary photos taken by Pamela Singh of the Chipko movement of women from the villages of the Garhwal Hills in the Himalayas in Uttarakhand, northern India. These protesters took to peacefully embracing trees to save them from state- and industry-sanctioned loggers.

Chipko Tree Huggers of the Himalayas number 4 by Pamela Singh © Pamela Singh Courtesy of sepiaEYE

According to the curators, these women ‘became emblematic of an international ecofeminist movement eager to showcase the subordination of women and nature by global multinationals while underscoring women’s environmental consciousness.’

Women artists

So far I’ve given the impression that this is a very political exhibition, and it is, and movements such as Greenham Common or the People’s Liberation Guerrilla Army or the Chipko treehuggers are obviously collective movements or organisations which brought women together to achieve social and political goals.

However, this is an art exhibition in an art gallery and half or more of it has a significantly different feel from the early sections I’ve been describing with their factual, documentary feel.

Interwoven from the start are works by all kinds of artists who interpret the subject of the environment in the widest possible way and generate a very wide range of environment and protest-themed art. So in the early sections about mining and ‘extractivism’ are hung huge long flowing abstract fabrics by Carolina Caycedo.

Installation view of ‘Multiple clitoris’ by Carolina Caycedo (2016) (Photo by the author)

These, we are told, are part of her multidisciplinary project Be Dammed, which critiques the ‘mechanics of flow and control of dams and rivers’ to address ‘the privatisation of waterways and the social and environmental impact of extractive, large-scale infrastructural projects’.

These specific hangings are part of a series titled Water Portraits (2015 to the present), printed on silk, cotton or canvas and portray the water that carves through the long, narrow chasm known as Garganta del Diablo (Devil’s Throat), a canyon in the Iguazú Falls, on the border between Argentina and Brazil.

Now this is conceptually challenging because how are we meant to understand these lovely, colourful, semi-abstract hangings (there are 3 or 4 hanging from the ceiling throughout the show) as in any way really ‘resisting’ the activities of mining companies. They obviously don’t, or not in the same way that the Greenham women or the tree huggers were carrying out ‘direct action’ and explicit protest.

These kinds of works exist purely in the realm of art and art galleries, a realm which is, above all these days, extremely conceptual and intellectual. What I mean is Caycedo’s work is the result of a deep training in modern art and in turn triggers lengthy commentary from the art curators.

It’s a different world and a different type of discourse from that surrounding the political activity of Greenham and the huggers, which itself felt very different from the opening sections about the mining of oil and sand and ore.

What I’m getting at is there’s not just a lot of stuff and stories to read and process, but that they are drastically different types of information, from the kind of engineering stuff about extraction, to the rather nostalgic politics of the 1980s anti-nuke protests, through to something like this, what you could call traditional contemporary art, which asks to be processed and assessed partly for its ‘political’ intent, maybe (addressing ‘the privatisation of waterways and the social and environmental impact of extractive, large-scale infrastructural projects’) but also as works of art i.e. how you react to the size and shape and pattern and design, the fabric and the way it hangs in space. Whether you like it.

This requires activating a different part of your brain, a more floaty open receptive part, than the bit which had just been reading about mining techniques, or the bit which is activated by nostalgic photos from the 1980s.

Art about women’s bodies

But that’s not all. As the name of the work suggests, Multiple Clitoris is also saying something not just about women’s politics but about women’s bodies. According to the curators, Caycedo’s fabrics evoke ‘the feminist, orgasmic energy of our “corporeally connected aqueous community”‘ and are an example of the importance women artists give to their bodies.

It’s a truism of healthcare that women are more aware of, and take better care of, their bodies than men do. This is reflected in much contemporary art where women artists, and especially consciously feminist women artists, often take their own bodies as their subject, finding endless material in reflecting on and depicting their own or other women’s bodies.

This gender difference in attitudes stands out to me, in so many of the art exhibitions I’ve visited, because I’m a typical bloke and think of my body as a dumb machine which I use to carry around my mind, which is the thing which interests me. I consider my body boring. Not so many many many feminist artists.

Thus it is that, as the exhibition develops, the idea of organised political resistance which we encounter in the first few rooms develops into the idea that women’s bodies are themselves somehow a force of resistance or sites of resistance.

Whenever you go to an exhibition of women’s art you are going to read about ‘the male gaze’ and women’s attempts to escape, evade it and reclaim their own bodies, not as objectivised objects for male pleasure, but as the vehicles for their own perceptions and thoughts, to do with as they please. To reclaim ‘agency’ over their bodies.

And so it is that on the upper floor of the show that the visitor comes to a room devoted to feminist body art i.e. women artists who get naked, paint themselves, carry out performances naked, and so on. A good example is ‘Immolation’ from the series ‘Women and Smoke’, where, in the dim distant past of 1972, performance artist Faith Wilding got naked in the Californian desert, painted her body, set off smoke bombs and had herself photographed by artist and photographer Judy Chicago.

Immolation from Women and Smoke. Fireworks performance Performed by Faith Wilding in the California Desert by Judy Chicago (1972) © Judy Chicago/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York Photo courtesy of Through the Flower Archives Courtesy of the artist; Salon 94, New York; and Jessica Silverman Gallery, San Francisco

The curators explain that:

‘In Immolation Chicago captures the performance artist Faith Wilding sitting cross-legged in the desert, enveloped in orange smoke. This work referenced the ongoing Vietnam War, the self-immolation of Buddhist monks, and similar acts by people in the United States, who were setting themselves alight to protest the war and advocate for peace, while the orange smoke alludes to Agent Orange, the herbicide that was sprayed to devastating effect in Vietnam.’

Women’s bodies and nature

I’ve always been confused by the disagreement among feminists themselves as to whether women – because their bodies are designed to conceive and bear children and they have historically done most if not all of the child care – are uniquely nurturing and caring and, therefore, have a kind of mystical understanding of Mother Nature unavailable to men. Or whether that’s a load of patronising, sexist, stereotyping garbage cooked up by the heteropatriarchy to keep women in their place.

The great universe of feminist thought seems to contain both, completely opposed, points of view. This exhibition seems to lean towards the women-as-nurturing and close-to-nature view. Here’s another example. I include the curator’s commentary in full.

Nature Self-Portrait #5 by Laura Aguilar (1996)

‘For Laura Aguilar, photography was instrumental in visualising her identity, and in the mid-1990s she began creating powerful black-and-white nude self-portraits in nature. In contrast to the heteropatriarchal settler-colonial tradition of landscape photography, Aguila’s portraiture homes in on her identity as a large-bodied, working class, queer Chicana woman. Mirroring the natural forms of the rocky desert landscape of the American Southwest, in her Nature Self-portrait series, Aguilar inserts herself into a “racially stratified landscape” to become a boulder or perform as a tree. As Macarena Gomez-Barris notes, Aguilar seems to want us to “trespass into the territory that feminists have long considered taboo by considering a profound relationship between the body and territory, one that provides a possibility for ecology of being in relation to the natural world. In that sense, her self-portraits provide a way to foreground modes of seeing that move away from capitalism, property and labour altogether, into a more unifying relationality that allows for haptic and sensuous relations with the natural world.” Ultimately, by affiliating her body with the natural beauty of the landscape, Aguilar’s work both empowers and transcends the various categories of her identification.’

Of this specific photo they say:

‘In these works, Aguilar photographs herself resting beside large boulders that seem to echo her curvaceous bodily form. Facing away from the camera, and folding inward, her body emulates the cracks and dents of the boulders while the shadows cast from her body intensify the affinity with the stones before her. In a sense she has “grounded” herself in a landscape that oscillates with “the largeness of her own body”.’

Nature Self-Portrait #5 by Laura Aguilar (1996) © Laura Aguilar Trust of 2016

The sequences of photos of women taking their clothes off and painting themselves in natural settings could be considered as the kind of entry level of the women-and-nature theme. However, some of the artists here have gone one step further to play with the idea of women turning into nature or natural objects; certainly moving beyond the merely human. Here’s what I mean:

The Body Covered with Straw by Fina Miralles (1975)

‘Fina Miralles’s conceptual photo-performance works from the 1970s embody a return to a profound relationship with nature. As she wrote in 1983 following a transformative five-month journey travelling through Argentina, Bolivia and Peru: “I am abandoning bourgeois culture and embracing Indigenous culture. The World Soul, Mother Earth and the protective and creative Pachamama.” Read through this lens, Miralles’s series Relating the Body and Natural Elements, in which the artist cocoons herself in straw, as seen here, or surrenders her body to sand or grass until she disappears, her body merging with the land, illustrates Donna Haraway’s concept of “becoming with” and offers a metaphysics grounded in connection, challenging the illusion of separation – the erroneous belief that it is somehow possible to exempt ourselves from earth’s ecological community.’

Relationship: The Body’s Relationship with Natural Elements. The Body Covered with Straw by Fina Miralles (1975) Courtesy of MACBA

The most striking variation on this theme of women-as-nature is the series of photos by Tee A. Corinne, titled Isis, where she photoshopped large close-up photos of a woman’s vulva into traditional landscape compositions so as to create surreal, disturbing (and beautiful?) juxtapositions.

Isis in the Woods by Tee A. Corinne (1986)

The curators explain that landscape painting has not only long been historically dominated by men, but in its very conception contains the idea of land ownership, precisely the kind of capitalist-colonial mindset which has brought the earth to the brink of ruin. So these ‘vulva landscapes’ are a way of subverting the male tradition of landscape painting and reclaiming it. They’re certainly about as in-your-face as the women-as-nature theme can be.

It is typical of the curators that they can’t explain the purpose of this kind of women’s art without taking a pop at  the men’s equivalent. I was saddened that they have a go at Land art which I love and have always thought of as promoting the value of walking through unsullied nature, leaving environmentally friendly, transient works, like a circle of stones. But, alas, Land art has mostly been created by men and so, in the eyes of the curators, is invalid:

‘In contrast with much Land art, which has staged large-scale and controlled interventions into the natural environment predominantly by men, the ecologically oriented works presented here by women artists place the body in communion with the land.’

Anyway, to go back up a couple of levels, my overall point is that all these women stripping off in the desert have brought us a long, long way from the highly factual documentary items which opened the show and recorded actual political resistance to open cast mines or oil exploitation in Nigeria, to tree felling in India or the deployment of nukes to Britain.

Taking photos of yourself naked in the woods or superimposing the image of a vulva onto landscapes is obviously a different register of information: it’s a different kind of subject matter, treated in a different way, to be processed with a different part of the mind.

It was this continual switching of subject matter, approaches, tones and registers which I found so challenging and exhausting about this exhibition. Which explains why, having read my way through the extensive wall captions on the ground floor, I realised I needed a break. I walked out of the gallery and spent five minutes staring out over the grey Barbican pond at the church of St Giles Cripplegate, trying to let all this information and babel of concepts soak in, before going back in to tackle the 12 further rooms on the first floor.

Other-than-human

Up here, on the first floor of the show, the curators arrive at the idea of the animals who live in these destroyed environments. In fact animals and wildlife in general are surprisingly absent from the exhibition. Maybe wildlife is excluded because the focus is overwhelmingly on women as the endangered species in this narrative.

When plants and trees, animals, birds and fish do crop up, it’s under the slightly odd terms of ‘other-than-human entities’, ‘other-than-human organisms’, ‘other-than-human habitats’, ‘other-than-human communities’ and so on.

The only exhibit which actually focuses on all the animals we’re driving to extinction is a film, ‘Ziggy and the Starfish’ by Anne Duk Hee Jordan (2018) which, characteristically, isn’t about pollution or extinction, but the curators’ number one subject, which is gender and sexuality. The curators turn animals into symbols of the kind of gender-fluid, anti-binary type of sexuality we are all nowadays meant to admire:

‘Taking its name from Ziggy Stardust, the androgynous, extraterrestrial rock star persona that musician David Bowie personified in the early 1970s , Anne Duk Hee Jordan’s sculptural video environment that houses the film Ziggy and the Starfish (2018) celebrates the fluidity of marine sexuality. The film pictures the sexual exploits of various ocean creatures with an exuberance and playful excitement, recalling the earlier work of the French photographer and filmmaker of marine life, Jean Painlevé. The effects of human-made climate change on the hydrosphere have become a key factor impacting the reproductive lives of marine animals, and by focusing on this aspect of the ecosphere Jordan underscores our deep entwinement with our fellow earthly inhabitants. In response to the present ecological crisis, the work offers a portal into the vivid world of our nonhuman cohabitors and looks to their colourful erotic lives as an example of how not only to think against binary dualisms, but to desire the seductively plural.’

Referring to other life forms on earth as other-than-human, defining them solely in terms of the species that is destroying them, feels like an odd conceptual strategy. I doubt whether the feminist curators would like being referred to as other-then-men.

The rights of ice

The theme of the non-human reaches a kind of logical conclusion with Susan Schuppli’s film reflecting on ‘the right of ice to remain cold’, as advocated by the Inuk activist Sheila Watt-Cloutier. Conceptually mind-bending though this sounds, in reality it is a lament for the global warming-triggered melting of sea ice of a pretty conventional, David Attenborough kind.

Queer art

It is axiomatic of contemporary art that the only good man is a gay man, preferably Black. Toxic heterosexual white men have been oppressing women and destroying the planet for centuries so what we need is the opposite; gay Black men. So it is that a handful of men were allowed into this exhibition about women resisters, on the strict condition that they are gay.

This reminded me very much of the last big exhibition I came to here, the ‘Masculinities’ exhibition where, after a sustained and prolonged rubbishing of white heterosexual men, the ideal of masculinity held up by the curators was the writer James Baldwin, American, Black and gay. Same mentality here: white heterosexual men bad; Black gay (ideally American) men good.

Looking for ‘Looking for Langston’ by Ada M. Patterson (2021)

‘Looking for “Looking for Langston” by Ada M. Patterson is both inspired by and directly references Isaac Julien’s eponymous 1989 film, which offers a meditation on the life of the queer poet Langston Hughes and the wider cultural scene of the Harlem Renaissance in 1920s New York. As the title of the work suggests, Patterson, whose quest to learn more about the film ended in failure, constructs her own response that borrows from Hughes’s poetic imaginary as well as fragments she’s gleaned about Julien’s film. The result is a surreal and phantasmagoric exploration of Blackness and desire, using symbols such as the sailor and the sea to explore the fluidity of queerness. Patterson’s film also incorporates allusions to the histories of colonialism extant not only in Barbados (the artist’s birthplace and where this film was mostly shot) but also in Hughes’s United States and Julien’s United Kingdom. The film pays homage to these forebears, connected through oceanic bodies, legacies of Blackness and queerness, and the forever speculative pursuit of desire.’

Looking for ‘Looking for Langston’ by Ada M. Patterson (2021) Courtesy of Maria Korolevskaya and Copperfield

Personal favourite

A lot of the photography, especially the documentary photography, was good, very professional, but didn’t really pull my chain. My favourite image from the whole exhibition was this:

Mud by Uýra (2018)

‘Uýra is an indigenous artist, biologist and educator from Brazil who works in and around the riverine communities of the Amazon region. In these photo-performances, Uýra transforms into multi-species characters, fluidly merging the human and non-human by adorning herself with organic matter. Borrowing from the aesthetic language of drag, and its ability to disrupt the stasis of gender-normativity, Uýra exuberantly shows how other binaries, such as the one between human and nature, can also be understood to be fluid states that are performatively constructed. As an educator, Uýra also uses her works as pedagogical tools to uncover different forms of knowledge about the land that have been suppressed by the logic of Western extractive capitalism. In doing so, the works call for a material and spiritual restoration of the ravaged ecologies to which we belong.’

Lama (Mud) by Uýra (2018) Courtesy of the artist

Last word

Although I of course understand what the curators are getting at, and wouldn’t dispute the claims that women, especially in the developing world, often suffer most from the rapacious activities of multinational extractive corporations and of environmental destruction in general.

(It’s such a sweeping claim, it’s difficult to see how you’d even start to gather the evidence for the other side of the debate. I guess you’d start by pointing out that plenty of countries have or have had women leaders; plenty of multinational companies are run or staffed by women; plenty of women benefit from the products of all this extractivism e.g. cars, airplane flights, cheap clothes, cheap food, digital gizmos, that kind of line of argument).

But granted the truth of a lot of what the curators say, nonetheless, I still think I fundamentally disagree with their premises or, rather, I approach the whole situation from a different, more totalising angle.

For me it is blindingly obvious that it’s not heterosexual white men, it’s humans who are the problem. Whether they’re men or women, gay or straight, white or Black, from the developed or the developing world, humans everywhere are degrading and destroying the environments and ecosystems they live in.

I can see that the curators have a gallery to fill and so need clear, strong propositions to hang their exhibitions on. I appreciate that they are women, and feminists, so naturally see the environmental crisis through their personal and professional biases, through the ‘lens’ of their title. I can understand that women artists, even contemporary ones, might be considered overlooked and under-represented and so an exhibition which pulls together works from half a century by 50 or more women photographers and artists a) redresses the balance b) promotes the specifically womanist point of view and c) creates a sense of community and continuity between them. I think I do understand where this is all coming, and the sizeable merits of a feminist exhibition like this.

But, in my opinion, trying to portray all men as capitalist villains and all women as heroic resisters is not only patronisingly simplistic, it misses the bigger, more obvious point: that it’s people, people of all genders and skin colours who are destroying the world, the Chinese and Indians and Brazilians every bit as much as the wicked white Eurowesterners.

By trying to exempt women from any blame and cast them either as tragic victims or heroic resisters, I think the exhibition seeks to hide a bigger, bleaker truth: If you want to overthrow something, it isn’t the subset of issues to do with the cis-heteropatriarchy or white Western neo-colonialism, it isn’t one particular gender who you can pin everything onto – you should be trying to overthrow the tyranny of Homo sapiens over all the organisms of the world. We have to abolish ourselves.


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RE/SISTERS: A Lens on Gender and Ecology @ the Barbican

This is a huge, stunning, world-bestriding exhibition of some 250 photographs (and some films and video installations) on the subject of women and the environment, a wide-ranging survey of the multiple ways the planet is being exploited and degraded, how women too often bearing the brunt of environmental destruction, and the scores of ways women artists and activists are fighting back. At least that’s the exhibition’s aim.

A review in six parts

My review is in six parts. In part one I summarise the hyper-feminist premises or assumptions which underlie this very text-heavy and theory-driven exhibition.

In part two I give a selection of some of the feminist theory and critical theory keywords which abound in the wall captions and which were new to me.

In part three I go through the exhibition itself, quoting in full the wall labels for the introduction and the six themes or categories into which the exhibition is divided, to give you a good flavour of the text-heavy, theory-rich discourse surrounding it. Under each theme I show one or two works from that section, mostly photographs, accompanied by the complete wall caption for the relevant artist and work.

My aim is to show not only how text-heavy the show is but also how parti pris, propagandist and chauvinist the curators’ commentary is. ‘Parti pris’ means ‘preconceived, prejudiced or biased’. ‘Chauvinist’ means ‘displaying excessive or prejudiced support for one’s own cause or group’. This may sound unfair or itself biased as you read it here, which is why I’m going to quote the curators at such length, to back up this opinion and so you can judge for yourself.

Part four lists all the participating artists a) for your information and b) to show that, despite the curators’ fine words about empowering artists from the developing world or Indigenous communities, a full 40% of the artists on display are, of course, from America, home of rapacious capitalism, international finance, the biggest industrial-capitalist complex in the world, and proud birthplace of Donald Trump. So the show has a kind of inbuilt irony between its radical aspirations for diversity, and its all-too-familiar reliance on American voices and perspectives.

Part five briefly mentions some of the other recent big art exhibitions on the subject of the environment, global warming etc, as a comparison.

Part six gives my own responses, to the subject of eco-activism, to the art works and to the feminist discourse which dominates the exhibition. I wouldn’t blame you if you skip this bit. I’m not sure how much of it I myself fully believe. I spoke to two strangers at the exhibition and both of them were finding it as challenging to process the sheer amount of information, the range of issues, and the fiercely feminist perspective of the exhibition, as I was.

Why the extensive quotes

The sweeping generalisations in part one are as much as possible based on the curators’ own words. They may seem extreme or satirical to begin with but: a) I base the summary on quotes from the exhibition press release or wall labels or catalogue and have indicated quotations by single speech marks; and b) as you read on into the section quoting all the wall labels, I hope you’ll see that wild though they at first seem, they simply reflect the spirit and rhetoric of the show.

This is one of the most text-heavy exhibitions I’ve ever been to. There are six themes or categories and about 50 artists, each of whom gets a long explanatory wall caption and then additional ones for many of the works. There are maybe 80 wordy captions in total.

Not only that, but the captions come straight out of contemporary feminist and critical theory and are dense with jargon, using terms I’d never come across before (which is why I select some of these terms for consideration in part 2).

The sheer number and length of the captions means that if you read all them (as I did) Re/Sisters is like being trapped inside a book, a degree-level textbook on feminist theory, ecofeminism and post-colonial theory. I had to take a ten-minute break after doing the ground floor before going up to the first floor rooms because my brain was reeling.

I’m going to quote the introductions to each of the six sections in full to give you a sense of a) how long they are and b) how densely laden with the assumptions and jargon of feminist and critical theory.

And I’m question lots of it. Just because it’s written on a gallery wall doesn’t mean it can’t be pondered, questioned and, sometimes, rejected.

Part 1. The feminist premises of the exhibition

In the feminist discourse of this exhibition all women are fabulous. All women are creative. All women have an instinctive feel for nature and mother earth. All women are nurturing and caring and so, obviously, all women are environmentalists. No women drive cars, fly in planes, buy wasteful consumer goods or run companies and corporations which contribute to pollution and ecocide. No woman is responsible for in any way harming any part of the environment. Only men do any of these wicked things, only men run ‘the mechanical, patriarchal order that is organised around the exploitation of natural resources’ and deploy the ‘masculine cultural imperialism’ that underpins it.

‘Terms such as Capitalocene, Plantationocene and Anthropocene act as cultural-geological markers that make clear that the violent abuses inflicted upon our ecological processes are inherently gendered, and shine a light on the toxic combination of globalised corporate hegemony and destructive masculinities that characterise the age of capitalism.’ (Catalogue page 16)

‘The violent abuses inflicted upon our ecological processes are inherently gendered’ and that gender is male.

Men are not only destroying the planet but, in the process, oppressing all women everywhere and all Indigenous peoples everywhere, via ‘the oppression of “othered” bodies’. There is a direct link between men’s degradation of the planet and men’s oppression of women and men’s oppression of Indigenous societies.

Battling against oppressive men and their destruction of the planet are brave women activists and artists all around the world. They practice ‘a radical and intersectional brand of eco-feminism that is diverse, inclusive, and decolonial’. They celebrate the fact that merely by being born a woman means you are morally, spiritually and environmentally superior.

This exhibition, ‘RE/SISTERS: A Lens on Gender and Ecology’, celebrates the women (or gender non-conforming) artists and the women activists who are fighting against male oppression and male capitalism, against the cis-heteronormative patriarchy, against masculinist capitalism, against phallogocentrism to save the planet.

RE/SISTERS brings together 50 international female (and gender non-conforming) artists to ‘show how women are regularly at the forefront of advocating and caring for the planet’.

The curators claim that environmental and gender justice are indivisible parts of a global struggle for equality and justice. Art exhibitions can ‘address existing power structures that threaten our increasingly precarious ecosystem’.

Shanay Jhaveri, Head of Visual Arts at the Barbican, is quoted as saying:

‘In this era of deepening ecological crisis, we are proud to present RE/SISTERS which interrogates the disproportionate detrimental effects of extractive capitalism on women and in particular Global Majority groups.’

In other words, the planet is being destroyed – women and minorities suffer most.

So the exhibition includes not just women but artists from ‘the Global Majority and Indigenous peoples’ because these peoples are even more intrinsically sympathetic to the environment than women are, and even more the victims of heteropatriarchal global capitalism. Including Indigenous peoples in this way offers ‘a vision of an equitable society wherein people and planet alike are venerated and treated fairly’.

It’s usually about this point in the press release that you learn that the exhibition was sponsored by BP or the Sackler family and burst out laughing. Not this time. Big art galleries have finally cleaned up their acts. This exhibition was sponsored by environmentally-friendly companies such as the Vestiaire Collective:

‘Our mission is to transform the fashion industry for a more sustainable future. As the world’s first B Corp fashion resale platform, we champion the circular fashion movement as an alternative to overproduction, overconsumption and the wasteful practices of the fashion industry. Our philosophy is simple: Long Live Fashion.’

And the Helen Frankenthaler Foundation, which sponsors the Frankenthaler Climate Initiative (FCI). In the gallery bookshop there’s a space where you can donate your ‘pre-loved’ clothing to the Vestiaire Collective.

Part 2. New words

Here’s some quotes from the exhibition catalogue to get you in the zone, and also so you can check how up-to-speed you are with the latest terminology from feminist, eco-feminist, post-colonial and critical theory.

The infrastructural gaze, as in:

‘[Sim Chi Yin’s] works juxataposes the aestheticisation of the “infrastructural gaze” with the human gaze’.

Heteropatriarchal, as in:

‘Operating at the nexus of race, gender, urban ecological infrastructure, systemic injustice, environmental racism and heteropatriarchal capitalism, LaToya Ruby Frazier’s striking series “Flint is Family” exposes the segregation and racism that persists in the contemporary American landscape.’

Or:

‘In stark contrast to the received dualistic, heteropatriarchal value system of the Global North that views nature and culture as fundamentally opposed ways of being, Caycedo’s work advocates an interspecies politics that recognises nature as having agency.’

The heteropatriarchal gaze, as in:

‘Directly refuting the freighted position that men are producers of culture and that women are synonymous with nature and are therefore objects, subjects and products to be dominated by the heteropatriarchal gaze, Kruger’s searing, defiant and radical work opens our eyes and minds to the possibility of a third way, a new mode of being in our womanist bodies, freed from the shackles of masculine cultural imperialism while embracing non-separability from our ecological community.’

Cis-heteropatriarchal, as in:

‘Today, with climate catastrophe breathing ever more oppressively down our necks (egged on, of course, by the murderous white-supremacist, colonial and cis-heteropatriarchal systems that are its enablers), dealing with these questions seems all the more pressing.’

Other-than-human as an adjectival phrase as in ‘other-than-human entities’, ‘other-than-human organisms’, ‘other-than-human habitats’, ‘other-than-human communities’ and so on.

Raced, as in:

‘Understanding the body as situated, raced, gendered and sexed is not a novel idea, but the muscular geographies of petropolitics, and the populist narratives of masculinity and extraction, are rarely attended to as subjective geosocial practices that need to be undone before new earth geographies can take hold.’

Or:

‘As Esperanza makes clear, exploitation within these geophysics of extraction is intersectional, that is, it is raced and gendered. In the mine, race and gender intersect as a stratigraphic relation that becomes a mode of governance.’

Extractivism, as in:

‘These interventions gesture towards a broader understanding of how extraction – rather than extractivism, which becomes a specifically geologically-inflected formation – functions as an ideological undercurrent to colonial dispossession, racial subjection and gendered violence.’

Or:

‘I am, first, reminded not to draw easy – and, as [curator Lindsay] Nixon emphasises, colonising – equivalences between Indigenous women’s and nonbinary people’s struggles for land and life, and the movements that have expressed, in various ways, my own situated feminist and queer opposition to capitalism, colonialism, militarism and extractivism, which began in the 1980s and continues, albeit in much-changed form, into the present.’

Masculinism, as in:

‘Ecofeminist scholars have long critiqued feminised constructions of “nature” while challenging patriarchy, the masculinism of capitalism, and colonial abuses against nature, women and marginalised communities.’

Phallogocentric as in:

‘Caycedo’s photographs of rivers and waterfalls are remixed into pulsating, fractal, perception-shifting images that invite the viewer to reflect on the fluidity of bodies of water, which consistently resist the phallogocentric logic of extraction.’

Speciesism, as in:

‘As Greta Gaard notes: “Most provocative is her [Carolyn Merchant]’s intersectional linkage of racism, speciesism, sexism, colonialism, capitalism, and the mechanistic model of science–nature via the historical co-occurrence of the racist and colonialist “voyages of discovery” that resulted in appropriating indigenous peoples, animals, and land.’

Survivance, as in:

‘[Zina Saro-Wiwa] asks complex questions about Ogoni survivance that are unique to the people and place and that resist incorporation into Eurowestern narratives of environmental and climate politics.’

Eurowestern, as in:

‘Extraction as abstraction works as a representational genre precisely because within a Eurowestern context we are visually trained in the colonial (then modernist) optics that present a disembodied, planimetric view from above.

Or:

‘In this same light, then, I must also make a clear distinction between the works in RE/SISTERS that echo and amplify the Chipko women’s embodied protests as part of a contemporary network of Indigenous feminist and nonbinary activisms, and a framework emerging from more current Eurowestern discursive formations that might fold these embodied actions into queer, trans or even multispecies feminist ecological projects.’

Positionality, as in:

‘This view demands of Eurowestern environmentalists, including ecofeminists, a deep reckoning with our own positionalities, philosophies and politics.’

Part 3. The exhibition

  • features about 250 works by 50 artists
  • includes work from emerging and established artists in the specific fields of photography, film and installation
  • after an initial introduction, is organised into six categories or themes

Introduction

‘RE/SISTERS surveys the relationship between gender and ecology to highlight the systemic links between the oppression of women and Black, trans and Indigenous communities, and the degradation of the planet. It comes at a time when gendered and racialised bodies are bending and mutating under the stresses and strains of planetary toxicity, rampant deforestation, species extinction, the privatisation of our common wealth, and the colonisation of the deep seas. RE/SISTERS shines a light on these harmful activities and underscores how, since the late 1960s, women and gender-nonconforming artists have resisted and protested the destruction of life on earth by recognising their planetary interconnectedness.

‘Emerging in the 1970s and 1980s, ecofeminism joined the dots between the intertwined oppressions of sexism, racism, colonialism, capitalism, and a relationship with nature shaped by science. Ecofeminist scholars have long critiqued feminised constructions of ‘nature’ while challenging patriarchal and colonial abuses against our planet, women and marginalised communities. Increasingly, feminist theorists recognise that there can be no gender justice without environmental justice, and ecofeminism is being reclaimed as a unifying platform that all women can rally behind.

‘Uniting film and photography by over 50 women and gender-nonconforming artists from across different decades, geographies, and aesthetic strategies, the exhibition reveals how a woman-centred vision of nature has been replaced by a mechanistic, patriarchal order organised around the exploitation of natural resources, alongside work of an activist nature that underscores how women are often at the forefront of advocating for and maintaining our shared earth.

‘Exploring the connections between gender and environmental justice as indivisible parts of a global struggle to address the power structures that threaten our ecosphere, the exhibition addresses the violent politics of extraction, creative acts of protest and resistance, the labour of ecological care, the entangled relationship between bodies and land, environmental racism and exclusion, and queerness and fluidity in the face of rigid social structures and hierarchies. Ultimately, RE/SISTERS acknowledges that women and other oppressed communities are at the core of these battlegrounds, not only as victims of dispossession, but also as comrades, as protagonists of the resistance.’

This is the first work in the exhibition:

Untitled (We won’t play nature to your culture) by Barbara Kruger

‘In Barbara Kruger’s seminal work “Untitled (We won’t play nature to your culture)” a close-cropped image, likely culled from a 1950s fashion magazine, shows a glamorous white woman lying against a grassy background with her eyes gently covered by leaves, entangling woman and nature in a symbiotic whole. With the woman’s face sandwiched between the title’s liberatory feminist message, which serves as a jarring reminder of women’s historical role in society, the work signals how women have been straitjacketed in the West by reductive Cartesian dualisms and dichotomies – culture/nature, male/female, mind/body – and a hierarchically ordered worldview. Directly refuting the freighted position that men are producers of culture and women are synonymous with nature and are therefore objects, subjects and products to be dominated by the heteropatriarchal gaze, Kruger’s searing, defiant and radical work opens our eyes and minds to the possibility of a third way, a new mode of being in our womanist bodies, freed from the shackles of masculine cultural imperialism while embracing non-separability from our ecological community.’

Untitled (We won’t play nature to your culture) by Barbara Kruger (1983) Courtesy of Glenstone Museum, Potomac, Maryland

Theme 1. Extractive Economies / Exploding Ecologies

‘Extractivism is the exploitation, removal or exhaustion of natural resources on a massive scale. Rural, coastal, riverine, and Indigenous communities are disproportionately impacted by mining and other extractive industries, resulting in severe negative consequences on local livelihoods, community cohesion and the environment. Women often face the worst impacts of a violent politics of such practices, and yet they are leading the resistance against extractivism and stepping outside of traditional gender roles to champion movements fighting these destructive tendencies.

 ‘Over the past century rivers, forests, deserts and other natural environments have been subject to multiple forms of extraction, domestication, enclosure, erasure and pollution on an unprecedented global scale. This has entailed the profound transformation of the flow of rivers and the disappearance of once lush, fertile land, raising questions about ecological justice for the communities that rely on these environments.

‘Through their work Carolina Caycedo, Sim Chi Yin, Mabe Bethonico, and Talo Havini survey the material impact of extractive activities on rivers and dams, from Colombia to Vietnam, that support both human and more-than-human life in their nourishing embrace.

‘Meanwhile Simryn Gill, Otobong Nkanga, Chloe Dewy Matthews, and Mary Mattingly investigate the effects of industrial scale mining on landscapes and communities, from Australia to Namibia. Ultimately the works gathered here consider how extractivism operates as a material process underpinned by a pervasive colonial-capitalist mindset towards the exploitation of disempowered bodies and land.’

From the series Caspian: The Elements by Chloe Dewe Matthews (2010)

‘From images of bodies coated in the prized, thick brown crude oil found in the semi-desert region of Azerbaijan, to worshippers on pilgrimage to Shakpak-Ata, believed to have been home to a goddess of fertility and womanhood, Chloe Dewe Matthews’s photographs of the countries that border the Caspian Sea bear witness to the sticky entanglement of their geologic material realities, industrial scale extraction, and the myths, folklore and traditions that have shaped the contours of their individual cultures.

‘Over the course of six years, Dewe Matthews travelled across Azerbaijan, Iran, Kazakhstsan, Russia and Turkmenistan, photographing the diversity of the region’s cultures, their unique connection to the land, and these countries’ ever-increasing economic reliance on global petropolitics, something that threatens to destroy and already fragile ecological landscape.

‘From dramatic images of the eternally burning gas crater known as the Door to Hell in the Karakum Desert in Turkmenistan to elaborate mausoleums built to service a generation newly rich on oil, Dewe Matthews’s striking series reminds the viewer of the ecological, corporeal and cultural cost of energy politics.’

Of this specific image:

‘A young woman bathes in crude oil at the sanatorium town of Naftalan. This ‘miracle oi’ is found exclusively in the semi-desert region of central Azerbaijan, and it is claimed that bathing in it for ten minutes a day has medicinal benefits.’

From the series Caspian: The Elements by Chloe Dewe Matthews (2010) Courtesy of the artist

Multiple clitoris by Carolina Caycedo (2016)

‘Part of her multidisciplinary project Be Dammed, which critiques the “mechanics of flow and control of dams and rivers” to address “the privatisation of waterways and the social and environmental impact of extractive, large-scale infrastructural projects”, Carolina Caycedo’s Water Portraits (2015 –) float across gallery spaces, suspended from ceilings and cascading along walls.

‘Printed on silk, cotton or canvas, Caycedo’s photographs of rivers and waterfalls are remixed into pulsating, fractal, perception-shifting images that invite the viewer to reflect on the fluidity of bodies of water, which resist the phallogocentric logic of extraction.

‘Ultimately, Caycedo’s work encourages us to view these bodies of water as life-sustaining, life-embracing, other-than-human living organisms and not just as resources for human extraction. A portrait of the water that powerfully carves through the long, narrow chasm known as Garganta del Diablo (Devil’s Throat) – a canyon in the Iguazú Falls, on the border between Argentina and Brazil – Caycedo’s vibrantly coloured Multiple Clitoris evokes the feminist, orgasmic energy of our “corporeally connected aqueous community”.’

Installation view of ‘Multiple clitoris’ by Carolina Caycedo (2016) (Photo by the author)

Theme 2. Mutation: Protest and Survive

‘Women have a long history of protesting ecological destruction – from creative acts of civil disobedience and non-violent protest to armed resistance and climate legislation. Pamela Singh’s photographs of the Chipko movement document women resisting the felling of trees in northern India, while Format Photographers and JEB (Joan E. Biren) captured the women-led anti-nuclear peace movements of the 1980s in the UK and US, respectively.

‘Susan Schuppli’s film reflects on the right of ice to remain cold, as advocated by the Inuk activist Sheila Watt-Cloutier. Offering insights into the connections between patriarchal domination and the violence perpetrated against women and nature, the works in this section highlight the intertwined relationship between the survival of women and the struggle to preserve nature and life on earth.

‘Critical of the term “revolution”, in 1974 the French ecofeminist Françoise D’Eaubonne proposed the term “mutation”, which, she argued, would enact a “great reversal” of man-centred power. This grand reversal of power does not imply a simple transfer of power from men to women, instead it suggests the radical “destruction of power” by women – the only group capable of executing a successful systemic change, one that could liberate women as well as the planet.

‘Artists such as LaToya Ruby Frazier, Format Photographers, JEB, Pamela Singh and Poulomi Basu explore how communities of women – from web weavers to tree huggers and water defenders – have joined forces to combat violence against their bodies and land.’

Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp: Embrace the Base action 12/12/1982 by Maggie Murray

Greenham Common Women’s Peace Camp: Embrace the Base action 12/12/1982 by Maggie Murray (1982) © Maggie Murray / Format Photographers Archive at Bishopsgate Institute Courtesy of Bishopsgate Institute

Chipko Tree Huggers of the Himalayas #74 by Pamela Singh

‘Pamela Singh’s powerful black-and-white documentary photographs of the Chipko movement depict women from the villages of the Garhwal Hills in Himalayas in Uttarakhand, northern India, calmly and peacefully clinging onto and embracing trees to save them from state- and industry-sanctioned loggers. Positioning themselves as human shields, with their arms interlocked around tree trunks, the women of this successful nonviolent protest became emblematic of an international ecofeminist movement eager to showcase the subordination of women and nature by global multinationals while underscoring women’s environmental consciousness.

‘The women were directly impacted by the rampant deforestation, which led to a lack of firewood as well as water for drinking and irrigation; by successfully opposing the planned fate of the trees, the women gained control of the means of production and the resources necessary for their daily lives, demonstrating the entangled relationship between the material needs of the women and the necessity to protect nature from domination and oppression.’

Chipko Tree Huggers of the Himalayas #74 by Pamela Singh (1994) © Pamela Singh Courtesy of sepiaEYE

Cold Rights by Susan Schuppli (2020)

Theme 3. Earth Maintenance

‘The practice of earth maintenance and the labour of ecological care stand in direct opposition to the masculinist value system of the capitalist economy. In the late 1970s and early 80s, feminist artists such as Mierle Laderman Ukeles and Helène Aylon practiced earth care as a form of resistance, linking classed, racialised and gendered struggles to ecological justice.

‘Further, the works assembled here make clear the link between maintenance work in the domestic sphere, which was traditionally defined as “women’s work”, and the undervalued labour required to care for the planet.

‘From 1979 to 1980, Mierle Laderman Ukeles set out to make visible the overlooked yet fundamental work of New York’s sanitation workers, the caretakers of the city who repeatedly cleaned up the refuse and waste polluting its environment. Around the same time, Helène Aylon politicised earth care by gathering toxic soil from nuclear military sites, placing it inside pillowcases and carrying the soil to institutions of power in her “Earth Ambulance”.

‘Seeking new modes of earth maintenance and protest against the continuous exploitation of nature, through the mid-1990s Fern Shaffer performed private rituals at locations in need of healing. melanie bonajo’s film Nocturnal Gardening (2016), part of their series Night Soil Trilogy (2014 to 2016), positions women as agents of political and social change by studying how communities come together to forge alternative ways of living in harmony with the land. The audio installation The Grindmill Songs Project, from the People’s Archive of Rural India, brings into the gallery the collective singing of women from central India who are typically silenced while their daily existence is absorbed into a local and global system of value creation from which they do not benefit.’

A Draught of the Blue by Minerva Cuevas (2013)

Nine Year Ritual of Healing: April 9 1998 by Fern Shaffer

‘Over the course of nine years at locations across North America, Fern Shaffer performed private healing rituals at sites affected by the industrial-agricultural complex and impending extinction. Shaffer performed these self-designed spiritual performances at places including Big Sur, on California’s Pacific Coast; a cornfield outside Mineral Point in Wisconsin; on the summit of the Blue Ridge Mountain in Virginia; and at the Cache River basin in Illinois, among others. Photographed by her collaborator Othello Anderson in sequential images, Shaffer is pictured twisting and twirling in a handmade garment that conceals her bodily form and face, rejecting a human-centred and individualistic relationship to nature.’

Nine Year Ritual of Healing: April 9 1998 by Fern Shaffer (1998) Photo by Othello Anderson Courtesy of the artist

Theme 4. Performing Ground

‘For women artists in the 1970s and 80s, to locate the body as part of the natural world was to perform a highly politically charged act. At a time when even the countercultural “return” to nature was bound up in the discourse of patriarchy, picturing and performing the body as ecologically entangled carried with it radical feminist potential. Entwined, cocooned, or concealed, artists such as Laura Aguilar, Tee A. Corinne, Ana Mendieta, Fina Miralles, and Francesca Woodman blurred the boundaries between body and ground, undoing the distinction between human and more-than-human in their merging of animal, vegetal, and mineral. By deploying camouflage strategies, the artists gathered here resist demands for gendered and racialised bodies to be contained by settler–colonial politics or extractive logics, and rather forge mutual relationships with their environments.

‘To “perform ground” is to deliberately and strategically locate the self not merely in the world, but of it. It asks us to rethink established hierarchies of relations between the human and the more-than-human. In contrast with much Land art, which has staged large-scale and controlled interventions into the natural environment predominantly by men, the ecologically oriented works presented here by women artists place the body in communion with the land.

‘Judy Chicago, The Neo Naturists, and Xaviera Simmons heighten the visibility of their bodies in relation to the more-than-human world by painting themselves in vivid colours and patterns or using paint to critique racial stereotypes. In doing so, these artists explore how the representation of women and nature has always been an act entangled in history, power, and agency.’

Immolation from Women and Smoke, performed by Faith Wilding, photographed by Judy Chicago (1972)

‘In Immolation Chicago captures the performance artist Faith Wilding sitting cross-legged in the desert, enveloped in orange smoke. This work referenced the ongoing Vietnam War, the self-immolation of Buddhist monks, and similar acts by people in the United States, who were setting themselves alight to protest the war and advocate for peace, while the orange smoke alludes to Agent Orange, the herbicide that was sprayed to devastating effect in Vietnam.’

Immolation from Women and Smoke. Fireworks performance Performed by Faith Wilding in the California Desert by Judy Chicago (1972) © Judy Chicago/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York Photo courtesy of Through the Flower Archives Courtesy of the artist; Salon 94, New York; and Jessica Silverman Gallery, San Francisco

The Body Covered with Straw by Fina Miralles (1975)

‘Fina Miralles’s conceptual photo-performance works from the 1970s embody a return to a profound relationship with nature. As she wrote in 1983 following a transformative five-month journey travelling through Argentina, Bolivia and Peru: “I am abandoning bourgeois culture and embracing Indigenous culture. The World Soul, Mother Earth and the protective and creative Pachamama.”

‘Read through this lens, Miralles’s series Relating the Body and Natural Elements, in which the artist cocoons herself in straw, as seen here, or surrenders her body to sand or grass until she disappears, her body merging with the land, illustrates Donna Haraway’s concept of “becoming with” and offers a metaphysics grounded in connection, challenging the illusion of separation – the erroneous belief that it is somehow possible to exempt ourselves from earth’s ecological community.’

Relationship: The Body’s Relationship with Natural Elements. The Body Covered with Straw by Fina Miralles (1975) Courtesy of MACBA

Nature Self-Portrait #5 by Laura Aguilar (1996)

‘For Laura Aguilar, photography was instrumental in visualising her identity, and in the mid-1990s she began creating powerful black-and-white nude self-portraits in nature. In contrast to the heteropatriarchal settler-colonial tradition of landscape photography, Aguila’s portraiture homes in on her identity as a large-bodied, working class, queer Chicana woman. Mirroring the natural forms of the rocky desert landscape of the American Southwest, in her Nature Self-portrait series, Aguilar inserts herself into a “racially stratified landscape” to become a boulder or perform as a tree.

‘As Macarena Gomez-Barris notes, Aguilar seems to want us to “trespass into the territory that feminists have long considered taboo by considering a profound relationship between the body and territory, one that provides a possibility for ecology of being in relation to the natural world. In that sense, her self-portraits provide a way to foreground modes of seeing that move away from capitalism, property and labour altogether, into a more unifying relationality that allows for haptic and sensuous relations with the natural world.”

‘Ultimately, by affiliating her body with the natural beauty of the landscape, Aguilar’s work both empowers and transcends the various categories of her identification.’

Of this specific photo:

‘In these works, Aguilar photographs herself resting beside large boulders that seem to echo her curvaceous bodily form. Facing away from the camera, and folding inward, her body emulates the cracks and dents of the boulders while the shadows cast from her body intensify the affinity with the stones before her. In a sense she has “grounded” herself in a landscape that oscillates with “the largeness of her own body”.’

Nature Self-Portrait #5 by Laura Aguilar (1996) © Laura Aguilar Trust of 2016

Isis in the Woods by Tee A. Corinne (1986)

The Isis series photoshop large close-ups of a human vulva into traditional landscape compositions creating surreal and disturbing juxtapositions.

Isis in the Woods by Tee Corinne (1986)

Theme 5. Reclaiming the Commons

‘Reclaiming the Commons considers the power dynamics of capitalist land ownership, environmental racism, and environmental memory, while reflecting on who has access to our common land, who owns the land and how earth-beings – both human and more-than-human – move through our increasingly enclosed natural world. Notions of ‘the commons’ are grounded in forms of egalitarian land stewardship in which members of a community have access to common land for pasturing animals, growing crops, and foraging, with feminists arguing that the commons are also social and economic sites that are crucial for female empowerment.

‘Questions of access to land are considered in Fay Godwin’s photographic series Our Forbidden Land (1990), which tracks how the long history of enclosures in Britain has shaped a sinister landscape in which fields and pathways are emptied of people through physical barriers, legal measures, and acts of dispossession. Diana Thater’s work RARE (2008) investigates the effects of enclosures from an interspecies perspective, focusing on the disappearing habitats of endangered species in the iSimangaliso Wetland Park in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. In Al río/To the River (2016 to 2022), Zoe Leonard uses photography to testify to the weaponisation of landscapes through the transformation of waterways such as the Río Bravo/Rio Grande from a source of life and means of migration to a militarised border.

‘Environmental racism and memory are explored in the work of Ingrid Pollard, Dionne Lee, Mónica de Miranda, and Xaviera Simmons, who variously interrogate the racialised histories of settler–colonial and plantation landscapes. Their photographs – which are often manipulated with embroidery, collage, hand-tinting, and more – call into question the heteropatriarchal tradition of landscape photography and draw attention to the entwined struggles of decolonisation and the healing of our planet.’

Karikpo Pipeline by Zina Saro-Wiwa

Theme 6. Liquid Bodies

‘Liquid Bodies explores the relationships between the human cultures of gender and sexuality and the world of water. The works assembled here imagine a relationship between human animals and the non-human world that rejects the dualisms of ‘natural and unnatural’, ‘alive and not alive’, or ‘human and non-human’ – colonial ways of seeing that divide the world into humans and everything else. Rather, the artists in this section start from a simple point of departure: we, too, are water. They look to the potential of this natural resource to destabilise a binary sense of gender and the categorisation of the world into neat taxonomies that shape conventional Western ideas of the human experience.

‘Ideas of watery immersion, submersion, and transformation unite the work of Nadia Huggins, Anne Duk Hee Jordan, Josèfa Ntjam, Ada M. Patterson, and Uýra. Cross-species becoming is explored in the Indigenous queer artist Uýra’s arresting photo-performances, in which the artist fuses with Amazonian plants, creating what she describes as hybrids of human, animal, and plant. Nadia Huggins’ striking self-portraits depict her becoming one with the corals that hug the coast of her Caribbean home. Playing out in the vast continuum of oceanic space, Anne Duk Hee Jordan’s film Ziggy and the Starfish (2018) depicts marine life as powerfully sensual. Bobbing along to a soundtrack culled from vintage erotic films and underwater sounds, it considers the porous boundaries of multispecies kinship that is presented as endlessly subversive. Colonial, mythic, and queer histories of water are further addressed in Josèfa Ntjam’s installation that considers Black being in the afterlives of Atlantic slaver.’

Ziggy and the Starfish by Anne Duk Hee Jordan (2018)

‘Taking its name from Ziggy Stardust, the androgynous, extraterrestrial rock star persona that musician David Bowie personified in the early 1970s , Anne Duk Hee Jordan’s sculptural video environment that houses the film Ziggy and the Starfish (2018) celebrates the fluidity of marine sexuality. The film pictures the sexual exploits of various ocean creatures with an exuberance and playful excitement, recalling the earlier work of the French photographer and filmmaker of marine life, Jean Painlevé. The effects of human-made climate change on the hydrosphere have become a key factor impacting the reproductive lives of marine animals, and by focusing on this aspect of the ecosphere Jordan underscores our deep entwinement with our fellow earthly inhabitants. In response to the present ecological crisis, the work offers a portal into the vivid world of our nonhuman cohabitors and looks to their colourful erotic lives as an example of how not only to think against binary dualisms, but to desire the seductively plural.’

Looking for ‘Looking for Langston’ by Ada M. Patterson (2021)

‘Looking for “Looking for Langston” by Ada M. Patterson is both inspired by and directly references Isaac Julien’s eponymous 1989 film, which offers a meditation on the life of the queer poet Langston Hughes and the wider cultural scene of the Harlem Renaissance in 1920s New York. As the title of the work suggests, Patterson, whose quest to learn more about the film ended in failure, constructs her own response that borrows from Hughes’s poetic imaginary as well as fragments she’s gleaned about Julien’s film. The result is a surreal and phantasmagoric exploration of Blackness and desire, using symbols such as the sailor and the sea to explore the fluidity of queerness. Patterson’s film also incorporates allusions to the histories of colonialism extant not only in Barbados (the artist’s birthplace and where this film was mostly shot) but also in Hughes’s United States and Julien’s United Kingdom. The film pays homage to these forebears, connected through oceanic bodies, legacies of Blackness and queerness, and the forever speculative pursuit of desire.’

Looking for ‘Looking for Langston’ by Ada M. Patterson (2021) Courtesy of Maria Korolevskaya and Copperfield

Mud by Uýra (2018)

‘Uýra is an indigenous artist, biologist and educator from Brazil who works in and around the riverine communities of the Amazon region. In these photo-performances, Uýra transforms into multi-species characters, fluidly merging the human and non-human by adorning herself with organic matter. Borrowing from the aesthetic language of drag, and its ability to disrupt the stasis of gender-normativity, Uýra exuberantly shows how other binaries, such as the one between human and nature, can also be understood to be fluid states that are performatively constructed. As an educator, Uýra also uses her works as pedagogical tools to uncover different forms of knowledge about the land that have been suppressed by the logic of Western extractive capitalism. In doing so, the works call for a material and spiritual restoration of the ravaged ecologies to which we belong.’

Lama (Mud) by Uýra (2018) Courtesy of the artist

Part 4. Participating artists

The curators claim that ‘at its core, the exhibition seeks to platform the work of artists from the Global South and Indigenous communities’, but does it? Here’s a full list of the contributors in alphabetical order:

  • Laura Aguilar (US)
  • Hélène Aylon (US)
  • Poulomi Basu (India)
  • Mabe Bethônico (Brazil)
  • JEB (Joan E Biren) (US)
  • melanie bonajo (The Netherlands)
  • Carolina Caycedo (Columbia)
  • Judy Chicago (US)
  • Tee Corinne (US)
  • Minerva Cuevas (Mexico)
  • Agnes Denes (US)
  • FLAR (Feminist Land Art Retreat) (US)
  • Format Photography (UK)
  • LaToya Ruby Frazier (US)
  • Gauri Gill (India)
  • Simryn Gill (Malaysia)
  • Fay Godwin (UK)
  • Laura Grisi (Italy)
  • Barbara Hammer (US)
  • Taloi Havini (Bougainville / Australia)
  • Nadia Huggins (St Vincent & the Grenadines)
  • Anne Duk Hee Jordan (Korea/Germany)
  • Barbara Kruger (US)
  • Dionne Lee (US)
  • Zoe Leonard (US)
  • Chloe Dewe Mathews (UK)
  • Mary Mattingly (US)
  • Ana Mendieta (Cuba)
  • Fina Miralles (Spain)
  • Mónica de Miranda (Angola/Portugal)
  • Neo Naturists (Christine Binnie / Jennifer Binnie / Wilma Johnson) (UK)
  • Otobong Nkanga (Nigeria)
  • Josèfa Ntjam (France)
  • Ada M. Patterson (Jamaica)
  • PARI (People’s Archive of Rural India) (India)
  • Ingrid Pollard (UK)
  • Zina Saro-Wiwa (Nigeria)
  • Susan Schuppli (Canada)
  • Seneca Women’s Encampment for the Future of Peace and Justice (US)
  • Fern Shaffer (US)
  • Xaviera Simmons (US)
  • Pamela Singh (India)
  • Gurminder Sikand (India)
  • Uýra (Brazil)
  • Diana Thater (US)
  • Mierle Laderman Ukeles (US)
  • Andrea Kim Valdez (UK)
  • Francesca Woodman (US)
  • Sim Chi Yin (Singapore)

As you can see, in this list of 49 artists, 19 (39%) are from the USA, heartland of rapacious global capitalism. 5% of the global population; 40% of global art. And it’s always a pleasure to have Americans lecturing the rest of us about the environment. Compare with the American activists lecturing the visitor at the Hayward Gallery’s recent ‘Dear Earth’ exhibition. The full score is:

  • US – 19
  • UK – 6
  • India – 5
  • Brazil – 2
  • Nigeria – 2
  • Angola/Portugal – 1
  • Bougainville / Australia – 1
  • Canada – 1
  • Columbia – 1
  • Cuba – 1
  • France – 1
  • Italy – 1
  • Korea/Germany – 1
  • Malaysia – 1
  • Mexico – 1
  • The Netherlands – 1
  • Singapore – 1
  • Spain – 1
  • St Vincent & the Grenadines – 1

US and UK participants number 25 or just over half the total. If you add in another 5 or 6 from Canada, Australia and Europe that makes roughly 30 out of 49. Whether having 60% of the contributors come from Europe and America equals platforming ‘the work of artists from the Global South and Indigenous communities’ is open to question.

Part 5. Other environmental art reviews

Artists have been worrying about the environment for decades but it’s only recently that exhibitions on the subject have broken through into the mainstream i.e. the big London galleries. RE/SISTERS is just the latest of a clutch of high profile eco-art exhibitions in London:

There is, as you might expect, some overlap: the work of Agnes Denes appears in both Dear Earth and RE/SISTERS, specifically her Agnes Denes’s ‘iconic’ 1982 work ‘Wheatfield: A Confrontation’, where she planted 8,000 square meters of wheat at Battery Park Landfill within sight of the Twin Towers in New York. I reviewed Mónica de Miranda’s recent exhibition at Autograph ABP. Here she’s represented by a piece I liked, Salt Island, five photographs into which have been sewn fine green threads hanging from the surface like the lianas of a tropical forest. They feel genuinely ‘chill’ as my son would say.

Installation view of ‘Salt Island’ by Mónica de Miranda. What you can’t see is the gossamer-fine green silk threads dangling from the foliage

What makes this exhibition sharply and distinctively different from the Hayward and Royal Academy shows is the fierce and unforgiving feminism which colours every aspect of it and every word of every caption.

Part 6. My responses

It’s a huge exhibition. The more you study it, the bigger and wider, the more confrontational or thought-provoking the issues become.

As to the actual subjects and images, a lot of these are very familiar: the ravages of open-cast mining, the oil spills which destroy rivers and lakes, the destruction of the rainforests, I feel like I’ve been reading about these all my life. How me and my friends thrilled to the film ‘Koyaanisqatsi’ with its vision of a world being heedlessly destroyed, and that was back in 1982!

In fact there are two ways of processing a huge, text-heavy like this. Or maybe three. 1) One is to read the captions and focus on the environmental and pollution aspect. On this perspective, although I felt I knew about a lot of the topics already – knew about the destructive effects of oil and mining, that we’re killing the oceans, I knew young women who actually took part in the Greenham Common protests, and so on. On the other hand, I’d never heard about the very bad effects of sand extraction documented by Sim Chi Yin, and about many of the other resistance movements in the developing world, such as the People’s Liberation Guerrilla Army in India.

2) Second way is to react to the hyper-feminism of the captions, nod approvingly, rise to the bait, or be immediately struck by the illogic or contradictions of various parts of it. Rather than comment, I’ve quoted the wall captions at such great length so you can make up your own mind.

3) Third way is like my friend Andrew the gay designer. He prides himself on rarely if ever reading the wall captions at any exhibition, and instead reacting purely to the works themselves, liking them, disliking them (or making a note to pinch good ideas). Andrew avoids the captions because they almost always create a barrier between visitors and works. More and more often these days, as in this exhibition, they dispense a polemical discourse designed to coerce you into responding to all the works in an officially approved and constraining way. He hates that.

In contrast, I read every single caption, was appalled by a whole series of terrible environmental degradations they described, was irritated by the sanctimonious and misandric tone of most of them, and generally let my head be filled up with caption clutter which stopped me seeing what was actually in front of me. I need to be more like Andrew: stop reading the captions – just respond to the work.

Feminist discourse

Feel free to skip this bit. I’m not even 100% sure I completely believe what I’m writing. I’m just trying to work through my responses to the very strong feminist point of view shouting from every caption on every wall of this show:

In my review of Women, Art and Society by Whitney Chadwick (2012) I develop a sustained critique of this feminist theory way of thinking and writing. In brief, it feels like feminism has personally empowered hundreds and hundreds of millions and girls and women to feel more empowered and confident in their lives, which is an unqualified good thing. But that at the same time, on a purely political level, a weird dialectic is playing out in which feminist discourse – which has overrun and saturates all academic study of the humanities, art studies, media studies, film studies, feminist, gender and queer studies, history, literature etc etc, as it becomes more powerful, dense with theory and new terminology – has, at the same time and quite obviously, withdrawn from the real world. It has become the discourse of an academic elite, or of an intensely committed but very restricted membership.

Inside this group of university-educated middle-class women, of professors and lecturers of feminist studies, gender studies, queer studies and of generations of their students who have gone out into the world to make films, make art, make documentaries, write novels, become journalists and commentators – the zeal of the committed to their cause is matched only by the dazzling virtuosity of their jargon and the fierce extremity of their beliefs (which is why I’ve quoted the wall captions at such length, so you can see what I’m talking about).

Inside the cause, once you’ve accepted its basic premises (‘women’ are wonderful and have nothing to do with capitalism or environmental destruction; all men are toxic, are entirely responsible for the industrial revolution, for capitalism and raping the planet, are perpetrators of everyday sexism, sexual harassment, sexual abuse, mansplaining, manspreading, the manosphere etc etc) then everything makes sense and every event in the news, every word said by any man anywhere, every news story about some powerful man abusing his position, confirms this self-reinforcing worldview.

And the sustained bombardment of this exhibition’s captions work hard to cajole or coerce you into this looking glass world where all men are toxic capitalists and all women are heroic artists and activists.

It’s only when you step outside the bubble and shake your head, pinch yourself and awake from the dream, that you return to the real world, a world in which women in positions of supreme power are nothing like the portrait of ‘women’ created by the exhibition. Not long ago Liz Truss was Prime Minister of the UK and Priti Patel was Home Secretary. Today Suella Braverman is Home Secretary and the UK Environment Secretary is Thérèse Coffey. Both have acquiesced in Rishi Sunak’s rolling back of climate commitments. At least 5 million women voted for Boris Johnson’s Conservative Party, around 7 million women voted for Brexit. All this without going into women who voted for Donald Trump in the US. It’s a lovely statistic, though contested, that some 53% of white women voted for Trump in the 2016 Presidential election.

The precise figures don’t particularly matter. I’m just making the obvious point about the drastic disconnect between the rhetoric of this exhibition, and of so much feminist rhetoric, which:

  • claims to speak for all women, which uses the word ‘women’ as if all women agree with radical feminism, when they quite obviously do not
  • and claims that radical feminists are making ‘radical’ changes to the world, reshaping the world, overthrowing the cis-heteropatriarchy and so on when, in the real actual world that we live in, the exact opposite is happening; the forces of anti-feminism seem to be triumphing everywhere

Denying responsibility

Deep down, I think feminist exhibitions like this and the rhetoric which accompanies them (not the actual artists and certainly not the often brave and resourceful activists whose efforts shine through the miasma of jargon) are really about trying to escape blame, trying to place yourself on the side of the saints and martyrs, identifying with the nobility and righteousness of the cause.

After all, if you can blame everything terrible in the world on masculinist capitalism, on toxic masculinity, on extractivism and phallogocentrism, on the patriarchy, and on the heteropatriarchy and on the cis-heteropatriarchy, then you can escape blaming yourself.

(As a digression, note the inflation in terminology. The term ‘patriarchy’ no longer gives members of the tribe the same psychological kick that it used to, so it’s been escalated to become the ‘heteropatriarchy’ (i.e. rule of straight men); but maybe that is no longer enough to get the same kick and buzz so the dose has been increased to cis-heteropatriarchy. I understand that the people who coined these terms would say they are needed to the capture new insights into non-binary and gender-fluid identities of the younger generation. Nonetheless, at the same time, my view is that the the clear rhetorical escalation epitomised by the expansion of the original boo word ‘patriarchy’, also function as a form of magic: this increasingly hyperbolic jargon comes more and more to resemble chants and incantations designed to bind together the faithful and ward off the outside world. In this context, of global ecocide, to resist acceptance of your own responsibility; they are spells to help you deny that you too are completely embedded within the extractive capitalist economy.)

The exhibition’s section about extractivism tells us that the US military is the largest user of precious metals such as cobalt which are mined by virtual slave labour with disastrous ecological consequences in places like the Congo. Fine. But nowhere does it mention the well-known fact that the same kinds of rare metals, also ravaged out of the earth by forced labour in the poorest places, are also used in domestic smart phones, laptops, Alexa boxes and all the other digital accoutrements of modern life.

If you have a smart phone in your hand – and everyone I saw going round this exhibition did have a smart phone in their hand – then you’re guilty, you’re part of the extractive economy. No amount of railing against the patriarchy, or the heteropatriarchy, or the cis-heteropatriarchy, gets you off the hook.

My personal view is that all of us in ‘the West’, men and women, are guilty and that we should start from this frank acknowledgement of our mutual responsibility. The streams of complex jargon-laden discourse reeling at the visitor from every direction are, in my opinion, designed to hide this one fundamental truth because they continually exonerate ‘women’ i.e. half the population, as in some way magically not responsible. If all women are artists and activists resisting the destruction, then it follows that no women can be to blame.

My position is that all of us, men as well as women, are in the same boat, facing the same peril, and must work together to try and find solutions. Privileging all women and denigrating all men i.e. sowing division and recrimination, feels like the last thing we need to be doing right now. We should be building bridges and finding allies and forming coalitions to try and force major change.

In my view, everyone in the western world needs to drastically alter their lives in order to reduce their carbon footprint and to keep their involvement in environmental destruction to an absolute minimum. That means not having a car, never flying again, having few if any digital gizmos, as well as going vegetarian, if possible dairy free and vegan, and try to reorganise your finances to support environmentally friendly banks, insurance and pension companies. The same prospectus outlined by Christiana Figueres 5 or 6 years ago. On a political front, lobby your council or MP to take green and environmentally friendly policies wherever possible. Vote for the parties most likely to carry out green policies, which in the UK, at the next election, means Labour, since any Green vote risks splitting the anti-Conservative vote, as at the recent Uxbridge by-election.

The mindset of an exhibition like this which tells all its female visitors that all the bad stuff can be blamed on men, and that simply being a woman automatically qualifies you for membership of the sisterhood of artists and activists, allows you to deny your guilt and your complicity in the extractivist systems this exhibition so vividly depicts.

Revolutionary rhetoric without the revolution

To take another angle, so much of this kind of rhetoric, the ‘radical’ rhetoric shouting from every picture caption, is just right-on revolutionary posing without the slightest intention of doing anything ‘revolutionary’.

In this respect hardly anything has changed since Tom Wolfe’s 1970 essay ‘Radical chic’ satirised the haute bourgeoisie gathered for an evening at Leonard Bernstein’s New York apartment to lionise members of the revolutionary Black Panther Party, who were simply too too adorable for words! So radical, darling.

Something similar can be felt here in texts which flirt with the rhetoric of revolution without the slightest intention of upsetting the cosy worlds of the Barbican Friends and Corporate Sponsors who have gathered to cheer this marvellous exhibition and applaud the curators for their wonderful work.

This thought occurred at the moments when the texts occasionally reverted to pure, old school Marxist rhetoric, revealing the ancient communist assumptions which underpin them. Thus the catalogue, when describing the achievement of the tree huggers of Chipko, praises them for regaining ‘control of the means of production’.

This is of course a straight quote from The Communist Manifesto and the millions of communist books, pamphlets, lectures which repeated it all around the world for the subsequent 140 years (1848 to 1988) with, in the end, zero effect. How many countries in the world currently implement the Marxist-Leninist social and economic policies of which this used to be a central plank? None.

The exhibit which most repeatedly invokes the word ‘revolutionary’ is the series of Poulomi Basu’s photographs which capture (very vividly) members of the People’s Liberation Guerrilla Army who are actually fighting, with actual guns, against the activities of mining companies in south central India and the Indian security forces. They describe themselves as a revolutionary force. A panel in the catalogue is devoted to ‘Comrade Matta Rattakka’ who died a ‘martyr’ to the cause. This is the rhetoric of the old Soviet Union and its satellites and Cold War guerrilla movements. These are phrases I haven’t read, delivered straight, with no irony, for decades.

Untitled from the series Centralia (2010 to 2020) by Poulomi Basu

On one level Basu’s work is gripping photojournalism of a real conflict. But its inclusion in this exhibition incorporates it into what is, in practice, revolutionary chic without the slightest possibility of a revolution. Because revolutions are difficult, violent and, even if they initially triumph, we now know, over the long term, degrade and collapse.

What the godly revolution in Britain in the 1640s and the French revolution in the 1790s and the Russian revolution in the 1910s and the Iranian revolution in the 1970s all demonstrated is that it’s relatively easy to overthrow a tyrannical regime and seize power. But it is then fiendishly difficult, if not impossible, to impose your revolutionary values on the vast majority of the population who don’t share them and never will share them. On the whole, revolutions can only it can only be carried forward with large scale repression of and execution of the classes which oppose you, more often than not, the bien-pensant liberal bourgeoisie. The liberals tend to be first up against the wall in any revolution. I.e. exactly the kind of people who attend exhibitions about revolutions.

The beautiful thing, for its exponents and their followers, about this kind of feminist rhetoric about ‘revolutions’ and overthrowing masculinism and abolishing the patriarchy and rebelling against the military-industrial complex, the summaries of Françoise D’Eaubonne’s theory of a ‘great reversal’ of man-centred power, and countless thousands of variations on the theme – the great thing about it is that they will never happen.

Feminists get to thrill in the writing or reading of extensive urgent texts bravely declaring radical change and revolutionary overthrow and interrogating gender stereotypes and all the rest of it, all the time confident in the knowledge that any actual revolution, any genuinely transformative overthrow of the existing structures of power, won’t actually ever happen.

It’s bourgeois play acting. It’s bourgeois posing with the rhetoric of ‘revolution’ with absolutely no intention of ever carrying it out. Because if anything like it ever was carried out, the revolutionary feminists would make the same discovery as the Puritans in the 1640s, the Jacobins in the 1790s, the Bolsheviks in the 1920s and the Party of God in the 1980s, that the majority of the population they would find themselves governing don’t share your values and don’t want your revolution.

That’s what I mean by saying that this kind of bourgeois feminism exists in an academic dreamland, will never be tested against reality, and so its followers will be able to live their entire lives without ever having to experience the disillusions of real power, instead enjoying a pleasing sense of righteousness to the end of their days.

Non humans

The exhibition does have interesting things to say about non-humans. All of these struck me as being more interesting and more true than just blaming men for everything. Quite obviously humans of all sexes are the problem. The world would be better off without us and, at moments in the show, this basic truth peeped through, struggling against the curators’ aim of redeeming and absolving women. But no humans are free of guilt. Eurowestern liberals like the curators like to fetishise the lifestyles of Indigenous peoples, whether in the Amazon or Australia, but they kill animals, they burn the bush, they poo in the rivers, there are just a lot, lot fewer of them. Given modern medicine to help them survive, they also breed quickly, overfill their ecosystems, start degrading everything. By trying to exculpate and valorise women the exhibition seeks to hide the bleaker truth: If you want to overthrow something, you shouldn’t be bothering with the cis-heteropatriarchy, you should be trying to overthrow the tyranny of Homo sapiens over all the organisms of the world.

Saving the environment?

Lastly, do exhibitions like this do anything at all for ‘the environment’? No. Like all art exhibitions, they preach to the converted, to the white liberal bourgeois bien-pensant converted who I saw strolling round snapping everything with their latest model camera-phones, white, middle-aged, university-educated women who are already signed up to ‘the revolution’, chat confidently about the complete transformation of masculinist society, discuss how ghastly cis-heteropatriarchal capitalism is, before rushing off to their next viewing, clutching their phones and their designer bags, before catching the plane back to New York.

At the press launch I heard the American accents of some of the American artists and journalists who’d flown over to cover it. Maybe when they drive their big American cars or take their plane trips to Australia or Amazonia, planet earth realises that they’re feminist flyers and drivers and so their carbon dioxide, magically, doesn’t count. In my opinion we have to stop, we all have to stop, men, women and every other gender. The era of cheap foreign holidays and long road trips, of commuting by car and taking weekend city breaks to the continent, the era of new gizmos every Christmas, buying new clothes to be in the fashion, of steaks and burgers and unlimited meat, of vast hecatombs of slaughtered pigs and cattle and chickens taking up huge resources, pumped full of antibiotics, their chemical waste poisoning drinking water, the era of boundless mindless consumption is drawing to a close, even if most people haven’t realised it yet.

Well, I’ve given you enough visual and textual evidence. What do you think?


Related links

Related reviews

Women’s art book reviews

Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq by Thomas E. Ricks (2006)

Perhaps the worst war plan in American history.
(Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq, page 115)

‘It failed utterly.’
(Verdict of Marek Belka, Prime Minister of Poland which contributed troops to the coalition, describing the entire American project to invade and ‘liberate’ Iraq, p.347)

Bad assumptions

The US Army invaded Iraq on 20 March 2003. The moving forces behind the invasion – Vice President Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld, Deputy Defence Secretary Paul Wolfowitz and Under Secretary of Defence for Policy, Douglas Feith – said the war would be over in a matter of months, would require the bare minimum number of troops and would pay for itself out of Iraq’s increased oil revenue. They based these conclusions on the assumptions that:

  1. large numbers of Iraqi security forces would be willing to change sides and help the occupiers
  2. the ‘international community’ would pick up a lot of the task of reconstruction, meaning other Western countries, NGOs etc
  3. a provisional Iraqi government would spring into being within months which the US could hand interim authority over to i.e.  they could stop being responsible for everything
  4. the war would not cost much ($1.7 billion, the head of the US Agency for International development, Andrew Natsios, told Ted Koppel on the Nightline TV show, p.109) and this would all be paid for out of the new democratic and grateful Iraqi government’s oil revenues

All four of these premises, along with most of the other assumptions made by the invasion’s planners, turned out to be completely fallacious. To take one very specific example, the advance units of the American Army were told to expect the Iraqi forces they faced to quickly surrender or maybe even desert to them. In the event, none did. Everything else was like that – completely wrong and unexpected.

The US-led invasion was launched recklessly, with a flawed plan for war and a worse approach to occupation. (p.3)

There were plenty of critics who warned of the probable consequences:

  • Michael O’Hanlon from the Brookings Institute
  • Pentagon official Alina Romanowski (p.65)
  • Marine Corps General Anthony Zinni (p.51)
  • a conference of 70 national security and Middle East experts (p.72)
  • General ‘Stormin” Norman Schwartzkopf (p.82)
  • Air Force strategist Colonel John Warden (p.108)
  • defence consultant Gary Anderson (p.137)

and plenty of others, predicted that the Americans would be entering an ethnic and religious minefield and get drawn into a country which was likely to collapse and split along ethnic or religious lines, requiring US forces to be there for 5 years or more. All correct predictions, all ignored or rubbished by the hawks, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Feith.

More than one critic assigns the consistent errors of the neo-con Republican hawks to ‘intellectual arrogance’ (p.99). Like Liz Truss and Kwazi Kwarteng, they knew they were right and all the critics, all the academics, regional experts, and senior army officers were dismissed as unduly negative, lacking vision, enemies of growth or America, anti-patriotic pessimists. ‘Rumsfeld’s self-confident stubbornness made him a big part of the problem’ (p.169).

They think it’s all over

The most profound mistake was thinking that once they had seized Baghdad, the Americans would have won the war. In fact, as they quickly found out, it was only the start of the conflict. The Rumsfeld-Wolfowitz clique thought they would be greeted like an army of liberation, like the Allied armies who liberated France in 1944. Instead, almost all Iraqis quickly came to regard them as an army of occupation, and many of the soldiers behaved like one, bullying, abusing and threatening all the locals they met. Aide to Rumsfeld, Lawrence Di Rita, told the press that US forces would be in Iraq for 120 days, tops (p.106). In fact US forces were to remain in Iraq for over 8 years.

No phase IV plan

And here’s where the greatest fiasco occurred. The Americans had no plan for what to do once they had overthrown Saddam Hussein, no planning at all for what was called, in military terms, Phase IV of the invasion i.e. the aftermath (p.151). Ricks, with his typically forensic and cerebral approach, cites two of the most famous theorists of war on just this subject:

  • The first requirement in war is not to take the first step without considering the last (Karl von Clausewitz)
  • To win victory is easy; to preserve its fruits, difficult (Sun Tzu) (p.59)

For the crucial months of April, May and June 2003, after they had won the actual war, the Americans delayed and prevaricated while they tried to cobble together a plan for the reconstruction of the country and installation of interim government. It was, as Captain David Chastain, a 3rd Infantry Division officer put it, ‘a clusterfuck’ of chaos (p.151).

President Bush realised the need for some kind of post-war administration late in the day and, just a month before the invasion, appointed retired Lieutenant General Jay Garner to post of Director of the hurriedly cobbled together Office for Reconstruction and Humanitarian Assistance for Iraq (ORHA).

In the event Garner’s term in post lasted less than a month, from 21 April to his abrupt replacement by L. Paul Bremer on 11 May. In fact the entire ORHA was abruptly closed down and replaced by another hastily cobbled organisation, the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA). Neither ORHA nor CPA were properly staffed or organised, with new staffers being hired and flown out to Baghdad in a mad hurry, with minimum or zero qualifications, handed roles they were woefully inexperienced for, throughout the spring.

‘No clear strategy, very little detailed planning, poor communications, high personnel turnover, lots of young and inexperienced political appointees, no well-established business processes,’ (Colonel Ralph Hallenbeck who worked at the CPA, p.203)

Crucially – decisively – with no actual plan to hand, the Americans’ delay meant they lost the initiative, which passed over to the various types of religious, political and ethnic opposition groups or allowed these groups to come into existence and establish themselves. These groups seized abandoned government arms, organised, made plans, and commenced the ‘insurgency’ which was to bring havoc, violence and death across Iraq for the next 8 years.

Thomas E. Ricks

Thomas E. Ricks was a reporter for the Wall Street Journal for 17 years, latterly a specialist in the US military, until he joined the Washington Post in 2000 as senior Pentagon correspondent. His extremely detailed and thorough account of the invasion and its aftermath was published in 2006, three years into the painful and protracted unravelling of America’s plans.

Far from…

Far from being over in a few months with minimal casualties, the war in Iraq was to drag on until December 2011, lasting 8 years and nearly 9 months.

Paul Wolfowitz predicted the locals would welcome the Americans, there would be no ethnic fighting and that within a few months of victory, the troop numbers would be down to 34,000 (pages 97, 98 and 106). However, far from requiring a minimal army of 130,000 the troop numbers rose to a peak of 200,000 which most commentators still thought wasn’t enough. The Rand Corporation published a report claiming the task the US set itself would have required 500,000 troops. According to Army Central Command planner Colonel Agoglia, Wolfowitz suffered from ‘a complete and total lack of understanding’ of what was need to invade Iraq and create a new, independent state (p.128).

Far from costing a few billion dollars which would be paid for by the country’s own oil revenue, the US Congressional Budget Office has estimated the total cost of the war in Iraq to the United States will be around $1.9 trillion.

Legacy of the Gulf War

Many people thought Bush Jnr wanted to complete what his dad, George Bush Senior, began with his ejection of Saddam from Kuwait in 1991. Republicans and foreign policy hawks came to regret how the father ended the 100-hours war as soon as the Iraqi forces were expelled back onto Iraqi soil. Specially when Saddam went out of his way to prove what a bastard he was by massacring the Marsh Arabs who Bush Senior had encouraged to rise up against their dictator, and then turned his wrath on the Kurds in the north, who he drove from their towns and villages into the freezing mountains where many perished before the ‘international community’ stepped in to enforce a no-fly zone (Operation Northern Watch, p.13).

Throughout the 1990s the Allies maintained this no-fly zone despite Saddam’s policy of continually nagging and provoking them, and also enacted strong sanctions against the regime. He remained a thorn in the side of successive American administrations. Foreign policy hawks became obsessed with the idea that Saddam was moving heaven and earth to build facilities for creating weapons of mass destruction i.e. chemical, biological and nuclear weapons.

In response to these provocations and paranoia, in October 1998 removing the Iraqi government became official US foreign policy with the enactment of the Iraq Liberation Act. This followed the creation of an advocacy group of neo-conservative Republicans, the Project for a New American Century, set up in January 1998 to lobby then-President Clinton for regime change in Iraq. Members included Rumsfeld, Wolfowitz, Richard Armitage, future UN ambassador John Bolton and other hawks, who were to come into power when George W. Bush was elected president in November 2000.

Choosing to attack Iraq on a false prospectus

Hence, within days of the 9/11 attacks, President Bush and senior figures in his administration (vice-president Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defence Donald Rumsfeld) began soliciting opinions from State Department officials and the military about the feasibility of completing the job of getting rid of Saddam.

Little over a month after 9/11 the US attacked Afghanistan whose Taliban rulers had refused to surrender Osama bin Laden who had emerged as the culprit for the 9/11 attacks. But alongside the Afghan plan, a definitive assault on Saddam’s Iraq was being planned.

Throughout 2002 the administration ramped up the pressure with an escalating series of deadlines for Saddam to surrender his weapons of mass destruction, obey sanctions and so on. Saddam’s truculence and mishandling of UN weapons inspectors played with into the US hawks’ plans.

Colin Powell’s day of shame

Early in 2003, on 5 February, Bush sent Secretary of State Colin Powell to the UN to make America’s case, to present ‘evidence’ that Iraq was hiding unconventional weapons. His presentation to the UN was later shown to be wrong and misleading in every single detail (pages 90 to 93). The Americans were warned by British and other security services, at the time, that this ‘evidence’ was very flaky, based, for example, on the claims of an Iraqi emigrant living in Germany who later admitted having falsified his testimony (p.91). The monitoring efforts of the International Atomic Energy Agency had found no evidence of WMD at all – but the Bush administration ignored anything which stood in the way of their determination to overthrow Saddam.

The Bush White House case was based on the claims that a) there was a direct link between Saddam Hussein and al Qaeda and b) that Saddam had ‘weapons of mass destruction’ that posed a serious threat to the West. Whereas:

  • in 2004, the 9/11 Commission concluded there was no evidence of any relationship between Saddam’s regime and al-Qaeda
  • and no stockpiles of WMDs or active WMD program were ever found in Iraq (p.375)

Has any US president ever told such a pack of lies with such catastrophic consequences? Ricks doesn’t hold back.

  • Blame must lie foremost with President Bush himself, but his incompetence and arrogance are only part of the story. It takes more than one person to make a mess as big as Iraq. (p.4)
  • President Bush’s response to the growing violence in Iraq was even more painfully wrong than Rumsfeld’s. (p.172)

Ricks’s intelligence and authority

What makes Fiasco such a blistering record of the intellectual arrogance, blinkered ignorance, chaotic mismanagement, wishful thinking and stupidity which characterised the American invasion of Iraq is the supreme intelligence and incisive analysis Ricks deploys on every page. He is an extremely clever guy, a deep thinker, with the added huge advantage of managing to get pretty much all the key players, all the senior people at the State Department (America’s Foreign Office) and Pentagon (the military), to talk to him and give often scathing and bitterly critical insights into the chaos and mismanagement which operated at every level of the US administration.

But it wasn’t just the US government and key figures in the US army who made terrible mistakes and miscalculations. The press was shamefully complicit in this slack, badly planned wishful thinking. Ricks names and shames the cheerleaders for the invasion in the American press and TV, some of whom saw their careers destroyed for recklessly supporting the administration (Ricks singles out New York Times reporter Judith Miller for particular criticism, p.35).

And Congress pitifully failed in its duty to review the executive’s plans, especially war plans. Members of Congress were intimidated by the great wave of patriotic rhetoric flooding the airwaves. In the feverish mood after 9/11 Congress didn’t want to seem unpatriotic and so subjected the administrations plans to pitifully inadequate questioning, and failed in its duty of overseeing the Executive branch of government (p.88 and p.387). Fail fail fail.

Ricks subjects specific each of the main players, in the White House, State Department, Pentagon and Army to detailed and authoritative profiles and then withering analysis of their failures, which leave virtually none of their reputations intact.

General Tommy Franks, the man given overall charge of the invasion, was widely thought to have no grasp of strategy; he was a tactical, operations man incapable of seeing the big picture.

  • ‘[Franks] ran an extremely unhappy headquarters’ (p.33)
  • ‘the intellectually shoddy atmosphere that characterised war planning under Franks’ (p.34)

Thus it was that Franks fell in with Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz, who both continually demanded a smaller force, chipped away at the proposals, demanding that army commanders reduce their numbers to a size which was to prove completely inadequate for the task ahead. As late as April 28 Wolfowitz was insisting the Americans only needed the 135,000 troops they had so far deployed, even as the evidence came in that this was completely inadequate. Ricks’s description of the shambolic office run by Under Secretary of Defense for Policy, Douglas Jay Feith, beggars belief:

  • The owlish Feith was a management disaster who served as a bottleneck on decision making. (p.76)
  • ‘the dumbest fucking guy on the planet’ according to Tommy Franks (p.78)
  • ‘incredibly dangerous’, according to general Jay Garner (p.78)

Franks announced his retirement very soon after combat operations finished, on 22 May 2003. He was replaced by General Ricardo Sanchez who, according to the sources Ricks speaks to, struggled with the scope of the role. Lieutenant Colonel Christopher Holshek: ‘He was in over  his head. He was a fulfilment of the Peter principle’ (p.173).

‘Historians will remember Sanchez as the William Westmoreland of the Iraq War – the general who misunderstood the nature of the conflict he faced and thereby played into the enemy’s hands,’ retired army Colonel Andrew Bacevich (p.392)

Who would have suspected so many senior administration officials were so incompetent and divisive?

Strategy versus tactics

Quite apart from the riveting and mind-boggling stories on every page, two big concepts underpin Ricks’s account. One is the difference between strategy and tactics. He explains that to ascertain strategy you must ask four questions:

  1. who are we?
  2. what are we trying to do here?
  3. how will we do it?
  4. what resources and means do we need to do it?

Answering those questions completely and correctly gives you your strategy (p.127). Once you have established this, tried and tested it against the evidence, then you are in a position to start developing the tactics which you will apply in specific situations or areas which will all work towards achieving your overall goals.

Ricks shows in fascinating detail how the general in overall command of the war, Tommy Franks, was great at working out detailed tactics but completely failed to grasp the overall strategy, which was itself laughably unrealistic, the ambition not only to overthrow Saddam but to re-engineer the entire Middle East to suit America and Israel’s convenience. The result was that the US effort more closely resembled a coup in a banana republic than a deeply through-through, carefully worked out, large-scale, long-term plan to alter the politics of a crucial part of the globe (p.128).

The neo-conservative Republicans who drove the invasion thought there was no need for a phase IV because the Iraqi population would greet the Americans with flowers and kisses (p.96), Iraqi politicians would quickly set up their own government, and their army and police would manage the transformation of Iraq into a shiny new democracy. They were completely and utterly wrong (p.170).

The looting

Before the invasion phase of the war (19 March to 30 April) had even finished, Iraqi society began to fall apart. The TV cameras caught the pulling down of the massive statue of Saddam at the centre of Baghdad on 9 April 2003 (I remember watching it live on TV; it took ages). But even as they did so the epidemic of looting, burning and destruction of the country was beginning. The French, liberated from their Nazi occupiers carried on with their civic duties. The Iraqis, liberated from Saddam’s totalitarian rule, went mad with a spectacular outburst of civil disorder and chaos on the streets.

And did the Americans have the manpower to enforce security, law and order? No, because Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz and their creature at the Pentagon, Douglas Feith, and the many other true believers, had moved heaven and earth to have the smallest possible supply of boots on the ground.

Interviewed on TV Rumsfield famously dismissed the looting by saying freedom is messy (p.136). In other words, he was a cretin. He and his fellow believers didn’t realise that it was in those early days that America lost the respect of the nation they had conquered, that an entire people saw American soldiers standing by idly while ministry buildings were comprehensively sacks, looted and set on fire, criminal gangs roamed the streets, cars were hijacked, civilians kidnapped, women raped. Not my problem, said Rumsfeld.

Excellent at sending laser-directed bombs at infrastructure targets, the American Army turned out to be useless at enforcing law and order. Within days many Iraqis began to pine for the good old days under Saddam. At least under the tyrant the streets were safe to walk or drive through. It is vital for an invading force to gain the population’s trust and to display competence and command. During the orgy of looting the US forces lost all this and never regained it (p.136).

Mission accomplished?

On 1 May Bush made his Mission Accomplished speech aboard the USS Abraham Lincoln cruising off the coast of California (p.145). Ricks goes out of his way to say that Bush never used the phrase ‘mission accomplished’, it was just the words on a huge banner hanging behind him. But even to an informed amateur like myself it was obvious what a stupid, short-sighted and profoundly ignorant speech it was. The Americans’ problems were just starting, as anybody who knew anything about the Middle East or the Arab world could have told the hawks for the price of a pint.

Weapons of mass distraction

It is amusing to learn how, during these crucial first days and weeks, US forces wasted an immense amount of time and resources searching for the non-existent weapons of mass destruction instead of policing the streets, which is what a country descending into chaos needed (p.146).

What’s more, in the quest for phantom WMD, American forces left hundreds of thousands of conventional weapons untouched, partly for fear that detonating them might blow up gas or chemicals, mostly because they were looking for the phantom factories and warehouses. And so they allowed insurgents-in-the-making to walk in and loot vast amounts of arms and munitions and walk off with them at their leisure. Breath-taking, amazing stupidity.

hence the jokey phrase that the non-existent weapons of mass destruction in practice turned out to be weapons of mass distraction, distracting US forces from the more straightforward and useful task of securing Iraq’s armouries. Not only were WMDs a fake reason for the invasion but they then significantly contributed to the arming of the insurgencies which were to bedevil the American occupation.

Definition of ‘the initiative’

In late April and early May the Americans, with no clear plan in place and insufficient personnel to secure the country, lost the initiative. In most people’s hands this would be a phrase, but what makes the book outstanding is the way Ricks gives these terms careful definitions, often within the specific context of military doctrine. Thus he defines ‘the initiative’ as ‘the ability to choose the time and location of battle, a key and often decisive factor in any military engagement’. Instead, the Americans’ drift and lack of direction handed the initiative over to countless angry insurgents.

According to the Pentagon, 250,000 tons of ordnance was looted, providing a significant source of ammunition to the future insurgents. In addition, the Iraqi army and Republican Guard had created hundreds of hidden weapons caches before the invasion in preparation for prolonged resistance.

There weren’t enough US troops:

  • to stop the looting which wrecked then occupiers reputation and damaged important infrastructure
  • to secure the borders, specially in the west with Syria, across which streamed zealous jihadis
  • to train new Iraqi police, a task delegated to contractors
  • to supervise detainees who swiftly filled the gaols to overflowing

Chronic lack of personnel in each of these areas – on the direct personal orders of Rumsfeld – was have catastrophic consequences (p.147).

The scandal of Abu Ghraib

The most florid and attention-grabbing was the complete failure to prepare to handle the large number of detainees the army soon started rounding up and sending to prison to be interrogated. Which prisons? The same ones Saddam had used such as Abu Ghraib just west of the capital, only even more degraded and squalid than during his time. So much for ‘liberation’.

There weren’t enough trained interrogators who could speak Arabic, so interrogation often ended up as a lot of slapping and shouting, plus the new techniques of waterboarding and other forms of abuse and torture. What was required was Military Police but large units of these had been deliberately and specifically dropped from the invasion plan by Rumsfeld in person. And it was this Rumsfeld-created shortage of Military Police or soldiers trained to run such facilities meant they were run by the likes of the badly trained and inadequately supervised junior soldiers who took all those photographs of terrorising Iraqi prisoners at Abu Ghraib which leaked out with a catastrophic loss of reputation for America, for all time. A reputation for holding the moral high ground, around the developing world, which it will never really capture (pages 197 to 200 and 290 to 293, 296 to 297).

The notorious photos from Abu Ghraib prison showing untrained low-ranking American soldiers abusing Iraqi prisoners

One of the keys to winning a counterinsurgency is to treat enemy captives well; if won over with leniency and understanding, today’s captive may be converted to tomorrow’s mayor or council member, a useful ally in reconstructing civil society (p.421). So how did America treat its prisoners? Worse than animals. Hence 8 years of war.

Bremer’s historic mistakes

Within a week of taking over command of the Coalition Provisional Authority, L. Paul Bremer made his two infamous decisions (pages 158 to 165):

  • Coalition Provisional Authority Order 1 banned the Ba’ath party in all forms and banned from public life anyone who had been a member of the party, no matter how lowly
  • Coalition Provisional Authority Order 2 dismantled the Iraqi Army, 23 May 2003

The first one deprived over100,000 generally honest Iraqi citizens of their livelihoods. The second did the same to about 400,000 members of the armed forces. Both were overnight deprived of their livelihoods, income and the respect so important in an Arab country. Some were angry and protested outside the newly established Green Zone. Others took steps to join the nascent insurgencies, many of which offered them cash to join.

Ricks quote numerous army officers such as Major General Renuart, saying things like: ‘That was the day that we snatched defeat from the jaws of victory’ (p.163) or Colonel Alan King: ‘May was the turning point. When we disbanded the military and announced that we were occupiers, that was it’ (p.164); Colonel Paul Hughes: ‘When we disbanded the Iraqi army we created a significant part of the Iraqi insurgency’ (p.191) and many more like them.

More strategically, in a country riven by ethnic and religious divisions, the army had (as in so many developing countries) been one of the few unifying national institutions. Not only did abolishing it turn hundreds of thousands of angry and well-trained soldiers into insurgents, it hugely exacerbated ethnic division (p.163).

Counter-insurgency

The other Big Idea which increasingly comes to dominate Ricks’s accountt is that of counter-insurgency. In brief, it became more and more obvious to intelligent observers (i.e. nobody in the Bush administration) that the Americans were fighting the wrong kind of war. The army had been briefed from top to bottom to fight a conventional war, advancing in formation, accompanied by tanks and air support overhead, against conventional forces arrayed in trenches or battle formation etc.

First of all the military was blindsided when, having won the conventional war in a matter of weeks, it turned out that they were being called on to maintain the peace, enforce law and order, manage the never-ending influx of detainees, something none of them had been trained for (Abu Ghraib).

But then the situation took a further turn, as the insurgents, taking advantage of the Americans’ complete lack of a plan, began to launch an insurgency. It took the people in charge, in the Pentagon and State Department months and months to realise this was what was happening. The conflict changed from the quick, easy war they’d been bragging about into another Vietnam-style, prolonged, small-scale, low-level insurgency, precisely the kind of thing they’d sworn blind would never happen.

What is counter-insurgency?

In a conventional war your aim is to kill as many of the enemy as necessary until they surrender and cease to be combatants. The civilian population are uninvolved bystanders to the clash between two uniformed, centrally organised armies. In an insurgency the opposition does not wear uniform, blends in with the civilian population, launches small attacks on vulnerable targets (police stations, foot patrols) before disappearing back into the population.

Therefore, the key plank of counterinsurgency warfare is to win the population. The population are the battle space and the goal of counter-insurgency. Only with the passive assistance of the general population can an insurgency survive. If you win over the population, the insurgents have no background to slip back into. The general population is the goal and therefore you do everything in your power to win them over.

How? By providing what they need: bringing security, enforcing law and order, getting the electricity and drinking water working. Above all you are polite and respectful. A country like Iraq gives great importance to personal dignity, especially of the male head of households or the elders of communities, villages and tribes. Therefore extreme respect must be shown at all times. The army must go out of its way to win the respect and trust of the civilian population. That is the only way to slowly, patiently, strangle an insurgency, by steadily reducing the pool or recruits and the places it can hire.

Did the Americans practice counter-insurgency?

No, they did the exact opposite. Hence the 50 page-section Ricks ironically titles ‘How to create an insurgency’ (pages 149 to 200).

The Americans stood by while the country collapsed into chaos, the Americans did nothing as criminal gangs roamed the streets. The Americans allowed government ministries, museums, schools and hospitals to be looted and destroyed.

On a personal level, the Americans were extremely rude and aggressive with Iraq civilians. They forced other road users off the roads. They drove round pointing their guns at everyone. They shot first and asked questions later, killing unarmed civilians in the process, on several notorious occasions killing Iraqi policemen who they themselves had helped to train (by accident and incompetence, rival night patrols opening fire on each other, that sort of thing).

And the Americans carried out systematic abuse of prisoners or ‘persons under control’ (PUC). Ordinary soldiers developed an attitude called ‘Fuck a PUC’ (p.278), yelling and abuse was the start which often escalated to beating, punching, up to breaking bones, threatening with guns etc.

As the insurgency ramped up, US forces took to raiding entire quarters of any town or city where an insurgent attack took place, kicking open the doors of domestic houses, waving guns around, chucking hand grenades into cellars, corralling women and children screaming with terror into the main room and telling them to shut the fuck up. Very often they deliberately humiliated the man of the house in front of his women and children, forcing him to the floor, kneeling on his neck, yelling abuse, letting off pistols right by his ear. Ricks tells the story of the soldier who told an older man he was going to execute one of his two sons and to pick which one to save and which one to condemn to death before taking one of them outside, out of sight and firing his gun, reducing the father to tears of hysteria (p.273).

At a higher, operational level, the Americans made the bad mistake of regularly rotating troops back to the States. This meant that individual commanders and soldiers on the ground were just beginning to establish relationships with local communities, civic leaders and so on, building trust and respect, when they were moved on and a new bunch of soldiers came in who had to start all over from scratch (p.142).

In short, the Americans broke every rule in the counter-insurgency guidebook and did everything they possibly could to turn the entire population against them.

Ricks makes the specific point that men who had been publicly humiliated in the way I’ve described, were compelled by their culture’s sense of honour, to redeem their manhood. Even if they didn’t particularly want to, or weren’t naturally violent, their culture demanded they strike back to redeem themselves and so hundreds of thousands of men were recruited to give active or passive assistance to the insurgency.

It took over a year for the Americans to realise they were fighting the wrong kind of war. Ricks’s book is absolutely riveting as he describes the way some military leaders (Major General David Petraeus, Marine Corps General James Mattis) always knew this or learned it and promulgated it to the divisions under their command.

Classic guides to counter-insurgency

Ricks’s description of counter-insurgent warfare is so insightful and clear and useful partly because he cites classic works on the theme. These include:

Galula’s book lays out four principles:

  1. The aim of the war is to gain the support of the population rather than control of territory.
  2. Most of the population will be neutral in the conflict; support of the masses can be obtained with the help of an active friendly minority.
  3. Support of the population may be lost. The population must be efficiently protected to allow it to cooperate without fear of retribution by the enemy.
  4. Order enforcement should be done progressively by removing or driving away armed opponents, then gaining the support of the population, then strengthening positions by building infrastructure and setting long-term relationships with the population. This must be done area by area, using a pacified territory as a basis of operation to conquer a neighbouring area.

These echo the four principles laid out by a British soldier, Sir Charles Gwynne, who wrote in his 1939 textbook ‘Imperial Policing’ that, because counter-insurgency is primarily a political strategy (p.266):

  1. the civil power must be in charge
  2. civilian and military powers must cooperate closely in everything to ensure one chain of command and unified approach
  3. if required, action must be firm and prompt
  4. but force should always be kept to an absolute minimum to avoid losing the population

Or to put it another way:

  • A lesson of every successful modern counterinsurgency campaign [is that] violence is the tool of last resort, especially for troops foreign to the local population (p.225)
  • The great body of successful counterinsurgency practice…holds that firepower should be as restrained as possible. (p.234)
  • One of the most basic concepts of counterinsurgency campaigns, that they succeed when a minimum of firepower is employed. (p.250)

For in counterinsurgency warfare, the population is the prize (p.318):

  • Classic counterinsurgency doctrine…holds that the objective is first to gain control of the population and then win their support. (p.250)
  • ‘The population…becomes the objective for the counterinsurgent as it was for his enemy’ Galula, quoted p.266)
  • ‘Success in a counterinsurgency environment is based on winning popular support, not on blowing up people’s houses’ (p.315)

The immensely complicated effort required for modern warfare

Obviously the US invasion and occupation of Iraq was catastrophic in all sorts of ways which Ricks’s book describes in excruciating detail. But what really comes over is a sense of how complicated it is a mount a modern military campaign, at how many levels or aspects you have to manage to manage so many people with so many conflicting priorities and opinions.

At the very least there’s the international diplomatic scene to be managed, relationships with NATO partners as well as with the usual antagonists at the United Nations, Russia and China.

There’s public opinion which has to be managed and, in this case, lied to about weapons of mass destruction, in order to psych it for war.

But Ricks’s book makes abundantly clear that the real struggle comes within your own administration itself, where you need a) the right person as minister of war and b) the right person in charge of the Army; you need c) both to be in charge of functioning, well-managed organisations, and d) the two top guys to be able to communicate and work together to a shared goal.

One small criticism

Obviously the book only goes up to early 2006, when it was published, whereas the conflict continued on until 2011. My 2007 paperback edition has an afterword in which Ricks gives several scenarios to how he thinks the conflict might play out.

It’s not really a criticism but the one big thing I wish the book had contained was more about the contemporaneous situation in Afghanistan. Given the tremendous detail Ricks goes into about the structure and bureaucracy and funding and planning and key personnel of the US military in Iraq, it feels like a big piece of the jigsaw is missing in that he only occasionally mentions that the US was fighting a whole other war, in Afghanistan, at the same time.

I would expect that the commitment to Afghanistan caused all kinds of problems for the Army planners mapping out the plans for Iraq, but you don’t get any detail on that. I would also have expected lessons learned in one place to be applied to the other i.e. there must have been dialogue between the occupying forces in both countries, but Ricks gives no sign of it.

Relevance to Ignatieff’s theories

The aim of Michael Ignatieff’s 2003 book Empire Lite is to argue that, given the chaos which has engulfed numerous weak and failing states in the light of the withdrawal of the two superpowers from their imperial dominance at the end of the Cold War, America, if it wants to achieve geopolitical security, needs to really commit to imperial intervention in the worst of these failing states and to ‘state building’ there.

Some countries, Ignatieff argues, can only conceivably be saved by imperial intervention, by which he means long-running and deep commitment to put troops on the ground and stay the course, to establish peace between warring ethnic groups and build the apparatus of a state, not just the usual guff about ‘internationally supervised democratic elections’, but the infrastructure stuff which really counts, from education to clean water.

My reply to Ignatieff is that the Americans tried to do this – in a reasonably planned way in Afghanistan, for a good 20 years, in a far more chaotic, make-it-up-as-they-went-along way in Iraq. And the point is that they failed in both. America’s engagement in both countries amount to two different but extended and very expensive attempts to implement Ignatieff’s proposal for longer, deeper Western involvement in developing countries riven by ethnic conflict and civil war. Surely the conclusion of both experiments is that such extensive and expensive commitment by the West does not work.

In reality America, and her half-hearted allies in NATO, are committed to trying to control situations in a huge number of countries round the world:

  • the US controls about 750 bases in at least 80 countries
  • in 2020 the US had around 173,000 troops deployed in 159 countries (source: al Jazeera)

But never again will the US and its allies invade a country with the blithe confidence that it can impose western norms of law, politics and democracy.

Iran triumphans

According to a 2019 US Army study, the only country to emerge as victor of the Iraq war was America’s long-time nemesis, Iran. Although they make up a majority of the population of Iraq, Shia Muslims were liable to repression and imprisonment under the rule of Saddam, a Sunni Muslim, especially in light of the terrible Iran Iraq war (1980 to 1988). The overthrow of Saddam and American promises to implement democracy immediately placed Shia parties in a commanding position. This led to internecine fighting between Shias and Sunnis with entire areas of Baghdad ethnically cleansed at the cost of much torture and bloodshed. It led to the sudden rise to prominence of Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr.

But above all it meant that, whichever party won power, which ever government ran Iraq, would include figures who had been in exile in Iran, were mentored by Iran, were under the control of the Iranian government. Twenty years later Iraqi politics remain fraught and complex but the one unqualified winner to emerge from the whole shambles was Iran. And it was the increased ‘threat’ from Shia Iran which hardened hawkish attitudes in Sunni Saudi Arabia, and which explains why Iran and Saudi Arabia are fighting proxy wars against each other in Yemen and Syria.

Back to Ricks who cites an unnamed US intelligence officer drolly commenting that:

‘The difference between Tommy Franks and Tehran was that the Iranians had a good Phase IV plan.’ (p.123)


Credit

Fiasco: The American Military Adventure in Iraq by Thomas E. Ricks was published by Penguin Books in 2006. References are to the 2007 paperback edition.

New world disorder reviews

Orientalism by Edward Said (1978) part 2

Orientalism is the generic term that I have been employing to describe the Western approach to the Orient; Orientalism is the discipline by which the Orient was (and is) approached systematically, as a topic of learning, discovery and practice.
(Orientalism, page 73)

Said’s fundamental premise is that knowledge is power – and so the entire discipline of Orientalism, along with all related types of scholarship such as the sociology and anthropology of the East, the study of Oriental languages, culture, religions, history, customs, economies, geography, ethnic groups and so on, all of them contribute to a vast interlocking system of self-reinforcing ideas about the ineradicable difference between the West and the East, and the ineradicable inferiority of the latter:

The essence of Orientalism is the ineradicable distinction between Western superiority and Oriental inferiority (p.42)

Ideas which, obviously enough, were designed to bolster, justify and explain the inevitability of imperial rule. It all circles back to the fundamental premise that Knowledge is power:

To have knowledge of a thing is to dominate it, to have authority over it. (p.32)

Knowledge of subject races or Orientals is what makes their management easy and profitable; knowledge gives power, more power requires more knowledge, and so on in an increasingly profitable dialectic of information and control. (p.36)

Straightaway you can see how Said’s thesis is premised on a basically Marxist interpretation of the compromised, parti pris nature of bourgeois culture. The naive bourgeois thinks that their culture and their scholarship is objective and truthful, beacons of rationality and self-evident truths. Whereas Marxists from the 1850s onwards developed the idea that bourgeois culture was no such thing, but in every aspect a justification for the political control of their class.

Antonio Gramsci in the 1930s extended the idea that the bourgeoisie held power by extending their values through every aspect of capitalist culture to achieve what he termed hegemony.

Michel Foucault, in a series of studies in the 1960s and 70s, gave really practical examples of how this power or hegemony extended into the furthest recesses of hospitals, lunatic asylums, prisons and other state institutions.

And Said took these ideas, very current and fashionable in the mid-1970s when he was writing, and applied them to the subject closest to his heart, to imperial rule in the Middle East or Arab world.

But the idea that so-called scholarship and academic knowledge is never pure but always tainted by the power structures of the society it is generated by, is a straight Marxist idea.

Chapter 1. The Scope of Orientalism

[Chapter 1] draws a large circle around all the dimensions of the subject, both in terms of historical time and experiences and in terms of philosophical and political themes.

1. Knowing the Oriental

In western discourse the Oriental is an object to be studied, recorded, measured and ruled. He is always in a subordinate position vis-avis the Westerner. All this scholarship doesn’t depict the Oriental as they actually are: it creates an avatar of the Oriental as inferior in every way to the Westerner, and places this image within numerous ‘frameworks of power’. So study of the Orient produces a kind of ‘intellectual power’ (p.41).

Given its enormous impact and reputation it’s a surprise to discover that Orientalism is poorly conceived and poorly written. Said really struggles to develop an argument or present evidence. Instead he asserts the same core idea over and over again. In this section he opens with a speech by Arthur Balfour to the House of Commons in 1910, then goes onto some passages from the writings of Lord Cromer, consul-general in Egypt from 1883 to 1907.

Despite his repeated lists of big categories and ideas Said is decidedly poor at placing either speech in its historical context or at performing even basic practical criticism on them. He says both demonstrate the assumption of Western superiority over the East, but I thought that was the thing he was going to analyse, and whose history and development he was going to explain. Instead he just redescribes it in much the same terms he used in the Introduction. Repetition is going to be a central tactic of the book.

It’s surprising and disappointing that, having not got very far with what ought on the face of it to be two exemplars of the heyday of Orientalising imperialism he then, abruptly, jumps to an essay by Henry Kissinger (!?), ‘Domestic Structure and Foreign Policy’, published in 1966. Said says that when Kissinger, in this essay, discusses foreign policy he divides the nations of the world into the developed world and the developing world and then claims this is the same kind of binary opposition which he, Said, sees as the basis of Orientalism (West superior, East inferior). Kissinger adds the idea that the West is superior because it went through the Newtonian scientific revolution whereas the rest of the world is inferior (less developed politically and economically) because it didn’t. I see what he’s doing but it feels like a thin and predictable interpretation.

Moreover, at this early stage, it confirms the suspicion you have from the Introduction that, in one sense, Said’s deep aim in researching and writing the book is simply to attack American foreign policy, in particular US policy regarding Israel and Palestine. He doesn’t artfully combine his personal situation and history in a subtle way with objective history and scholarship, rather the reverse; his supposed scholarship keeps collapsing to reveal the pretty straightforward political agenda lurking underneath.

Lastly he comes to another contemporary essay, ‘The Arab World’ by one Harold W. Glidden published in the American Journal of Psychiatry in 1972. By now we recognise that the title alone would be enough to get Said’s goat and, sure enough, he extracts from the article a whole load of clichés about ‘the Arab world’ (based on its patriarchy, its ‘shame culture’, the way it’s structured through patron-client relationships,  the importance given to personal honour and revenge) which, predictably enough, set Said’s teeth on edge.

We’re only at part one of the first chapter and the book is in danger of turning into little more than ‘grumpy middle aged Palestinian reads the news and is outraged by anti-Arab stereotypes’.

2. Imaginative Geography and its Representations: Orientalising the Oriental [in fact this section is about historic Western attitudes to Islam]

The academic discipline of Orientalism dates its origin to the decision of the Church Council of Vienne in 1312 to establish a series of university chairs in Arabic, Greek, Hebrew and Syriac (p.50). Until the 18th century Orientalism meant chiefly study of the Biblical languages. Then in the later 18th century the field exploded and by the mid-19th century was vast.

Modern Orientalism can be said to have started with Napoleon’s expedition to Egypt, 1798 to 1801. He took scores of scholars who explored, excavated, measured, sketched and recorded every scrap of ancient Egyptian relics they could find. The result was the vast Description de l’Égypte (‘that great collective appropriation of one country by another’, p.84), the work of 160 scholars and scientists, requiring some 2,000 artists and technicians including 400 engravers. Published in 37 volumes from 1809 to 1829, at the time of its publication it was the largest known published work in the world.

In a way the sudden fashion for all things Oriental was a transposition further East of the great awakening of interest in ancient Greece and Rome which we call the Renaissance (p.51). In 1820 Victor Huge wrote: ‘In the time of Louis XIV one was a Hellenist; now one is an Orientalist.’ There was an explosion of Asiatic and Oriental and Eastern Societies devoted to studying ‘the Orient’.

But whereas the Renaissance was based on plastic relics i.e. buildings and statues, Orientalism, indicating its origins in Bible scholarship, was overwhelmingly textual. It concerned languages and belief systems. Orientalists went to the area looking to bolster and confirm what they had in ancient texts from the region.

Said’s structuring of the material is poor. In one paragraph he says there was an Oriental school of writers i.e. Western writers who were captured by its mystique, from Goethe to Flaubert. This is an interesting idea to explore, but in the very next paragraph he is discussing whether it’s valuable for university departments which study this region to retain the name ‘Oriental’. These feel like completely different topics, each would merit a page or two of thorough investigation. Instead he plonks them haphazardly side by side and doesn’t explore either of them properly. Frustrating.

He cites the anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss on the fundamental human tendency to give ‘poetic’ or emotional meaning to our immediate surroundings and the people who inhabit them, and define them by contrast with the land beyond our ‘borders’ and the strange people who live there. Good. But in my opinion this has always seemed a weak point in Said’s argument, because he admits that ‘othering’ ‘the Other’, far from being some wicked Western vice, is in fact a universal trait and all peoples and cultures do it.

He says he wants to investigate the geographical basis of Orientalism but, characteristically, kicks this off by summarising two classic Greek plays, The Persians by Aeschylus and The Bacchae by Euripides. It’s sort of relevant as the first one is one of the earliest Greek dramas to survive and depicts ‘the East’ as a military threat in the form of the Persian Empire. The second is one of the final ancient Greek plays which has come down to us and is also about ‘the East’ which it associates with frenzied religious cults – but discussing history via literature (and therefore ignoring the evidence of archaeology and history) is always a shaky procedure.

Next thing we know Said is talking about the rise of Islam. His account is inferior to every other account I’ve ever read, lacking detail, interest or insight. Compare it, for example, with the final illuminating chapter of Peter Brown’s wonderful book, ‘The World of Late Antiquity’ (1971).

Said is blinkered by his need to twist every aspect of history to suit his thesis, to make out the West to always be blinkered, limiting, constraining, ignorant, creating the East in its own negative image. Hence he underplays the completely real threat which militant Islam actually posed to Christendom for nearly a thousand years. He refers to the West’s ‘anxiety’ as if it is an over-nervous neurotic, whereas Islamic armies captured and colonised half of Christendom, seizing all of North Africa, Spain and the entire Middle East from what had been Christian rule, then capturing the great Christian city of Constantinople and then pressing on through the Balkans into central Europe until Ottoman conquest was only finally halted just outside Vienna. See the quote from Edward Gibbon, below. Of course the West was terrified of these unstoppably conquering armies. Of course we were scared shitless of these plundering hordes. He himself admits this in a sentence thrown away while he’s discussing something else:

During its political and military heyday from the eighth to the sixteenth century, Islam dominated both East and West. (p.205)

Only someone with a poor grasp of deep history can dismiss eight centuries of Islam’s military, cultural and economic domination as if it’s nothing, a speck, a detail which we can quickly hurry past in order to get to the juicy part, the West’s wicked wicked domination of the Muslim world for, what, all of 300 years.

Having broached the topic of Islam, Said goes on to describe the way medieval authors vilified Mohammed as a kind of failed impersonator of Christ. He emphasises the West’s ‘ignorance’ and ‘narcissism’. On the next page he is claiming that this kind of ignorance created the Orient as a kind of theatre attached to Europe on whose stage were presented a whole series of Oriental types and stereotypes, from Cleopatra onwards. His text moves fast and deals with a confusing variety of topics, all of them very superficially. The only constant is his relentless criticism of every aspect of ‘the West’.

He introduces us to the Bibliothegue oriental of Barthelemy d’Herbelot (1697), which was to remain the standard reference work on the subject for over a hundred years, before going on to explain how this kind of encyclopedic work narrows and constrains its subject matter until readers could only approach this knowledge of the Orient via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the Orientalist.

Said makes this sound like some awful conspiracy, as if the worst thing anybody could ever do would be to write a book on a factual subject, because that would involve imposing ‘grids and codes’ on it and so preventing any reader ever struggling through to a ‘true’ understanding of it.

In fact Said frequently uses these scare tactics, as if he’s letting you in on the shocking truth! The text as a whole has the obsessively repetitive feel of a conspiracy theorist letting you in on a secret which is even worse than the fake moon landings, who killed JFK and what really happened at Roswell, yes, this previously covered-up, hush-hush secret is that…a lot of Western literature and culture stereotypes the so-called ‘Orient’ and ‘the Arab world’ and ‘Islam’.

Next Said has a couple of pages revealing that Dante, in his great masterpiece The Divine Comedy, put Mohamed right in the lowermost pit of hell, next to Satan, for the sin of being a sensualist and religious impostor. He takes this as an epitome of the West’s fundamental Islamophobia.

Said broadens his critique out to describe how conquering Islam came to be seen in Christendom as the vital ‘Other’ against which European Christendom defined itself. Far from being some kind of revelation, this just strikes me as being obvious, really bleeding obvious, particularly to anyone who’s ever read any medieval history. Of course European Christendom defined the Islamic Arab world as ‘the Other’ because it was the Other. India let alone China were just rumours. Nobody had ever been to sub-Saharan Africa. Nobody knew North or South America or Australia existed. To anyone living in medieval Europe, in a society drenched at every single level at every single moment in Christian belief and practice, all there was was Christendom and facing it the enemy at the gates who threatened to overthrow and destroy everything they knew and cared for. Of course the Orient was depicted as alien, because it was alien. Of course it was depicted as threatening, because it had overrun and conquered half of Christendom. Even Said at one point admits this:

From the end of the seventh century until the battle of Lepanto in 1571, Islam in either its Arab, Ottoman or North African and Spanish form dominated or effectively threatened European Christianity. (p.74)

Said goes on to quote Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire without, apparently, realising the full implications of what he’s citing:

In the ten years of the administration of Omar, the Saracens reduced to his obedience thirty-six thousand cities or castles, destroyed four thousand churches or temples of the unbelievers, and edified fourteen hundred mosques for the exercise of the religion of Mahomet. One hundred years after his flight from Mecca, the arms and the reign of his successors extended from India to the Atlantic Ocean.

‘Destroyed four thousand churches.’ How do you think that struck a society completely dominated by Christian belief? With horror and terror.

3. Projects [turns into a list of French Orientalists]

Starts with more stuff about the rivalry between Christianity and Islam. Yawn. By page 75 I was remembering my impression on first reading this book 40 years ago, that Said just doesn’t have the intellectual chops to manage such a huge subject, with all its vast conceptual ramifications, that he is trying to address. He’s bitten off far more than he can chew and the symptoms of this are his repetitiveness, his superficial analyses, his raising complex issue only to move swiftly on. And his superficial and often wrong versions of history.

The Ottoman Empire had long since settled into a (for Europe) comfortable senescence, to be inscribed in the nineteenth century as the ‘Eastern Question’. (p.76)

1) The Ottoman Empire did not settle into a ‘comfortable senescence’ in the later 18th and 19th centuries. There was a good deal of upheaval and violence in the palace of the Sultan, not to mention endless uprisings and rebellions by national groups around the empire.

2) Said’s tone is unpleasantly patronising, condescending to the both the contemporary politicians who had to deal with and the modern historians who write about the Eastern Question. The use of the modish, pretentious, would-be Parisian intellectual verb ‘inscribed’ tries to hide the fact that Said doesn’t know what he’s talking about. The ‘Eastern Question’ is the term given to the series of geopolitical tensions and international crises brought about by the obvious decline and fall of the Ottoman Empire, crises which included, for example, the Crimean War and a stream of military and diplomatic crises in the Balkans in the 1870s and 1880s which threatened to drag all Europe into war. See my review of Andrew Roberts’s life of Lord SalisburyThat book was extremely well researched, intelligently analytical and beautifully written. Next to Roberts, Said looks like a blustering frog puffing up his throat to try and persuade everyone how important he is.

The next orientalist book of note after Barthelemy d’Herbelot‘s Bibliothegue oriental, was Simon Ockley‘s History of the Saracens (1708). Ockley shocked contemporaries by recording how much of the ancient world only survived because the Muslims saved it.

Next major Orientalist was Abraham Hyacinthe Anquetil-Duperron (1731 to 1805), the first professional French Indologist, whose work on Avestan texts prompted him, unlike previous scholars, to actually go to India. (The Avesta is the primary collection of religious texts of Zoroastrianism, composed in the Avestan language.) Anquetil’s publications (including a translation of the Upanishads), opened up huge new vistas of Indian literature to European readers.

Next major Orientalist was Sir William Jones (1746 to 1794), British philologist, orientalist and scholar of ancient India. It was Jones who first suggested the relationship between European and Indo-Aryan languages which is now widely accepted. Said doesn’t like him. Jones was a polymath who embarked on a deep immersion in the languages and texts of India. He founded the Asiatic Society of Bengal in 1784. According to some he was ‘the undisputed founder of Orientalism’ (p.78).

As Said went on about Jones, and the other Brits who gathered round him, studying and translating Sanskrit texts (e.g. Charles Wilkins, first translator of the Bhagavad-Gita, in 1785), I suddenly realised we had made a huge leap away from Islam, Mohammed and the Arab world to India, a completely different civilisation.

That is the primary problem with Said’s use of the word and concept ‘Oriental’, that it can refer to the Near East, Middle East, Far East, India, China, Japan you name it – and Said doesn’t help. He offers no conceptual or lexical clarification, no way of making the term more geographically or conceptually precise. In fact you realise that it suits his political agenda to keep it as open and slippery as possible. This allows him to jump from one criticism to another of ‘the West’ and its awful Oriental scholars all the more easily, to shift his ground, to continually move the goalposts.

His narrative moves on to Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt which, you will remember, was described just 40 pages ago. He repeats some of the key facts from the earlier passage, but adds new details. This, you feel, is how Said’s mind works, going round in circles, covering the same ground albeit with new wrinkles, making the same points again and again – Western Orientalism was (and is) an artificial construct, a self-referential system, built on self-serving stereotypes of Oriental backwardness, laziness, corruption and sensuality, which paved the way for and justified Western (French and British) imperialism.

The most interesting new bit is a (typically brief) account of Constantin François de Chassebœuf, comte de Volney (1757 to 1820) who wrote an extremely practical record, Voyage en Egypte et en Syrie (1787), which detailed the obstacles an invader would face in conquering Egypt, and was consulted and used by Napoleon. Many of Napoleon’s Orientalist scholars had trained under de Sacy and Said tells us his pupils dominated the field of Orientalism for the next 75 years.

de Sacy was the first Frenchman to attempt to read the Rosetta stone (discovered by some of Napoleon’s soldiers in 1799) and he was a teacher of Jean-François Champollion who went on to play a key role in deciphering it and Egyptian hieroglyphics.

The introduction to the vast Description of Egypt was written by Jean-Baptiste Joseph Fourier (1768 to 1830) known to history as a mathematician but who accompanied Napoleon’s expedition as scientific adviser. Fourier was appointed secretary of the Institut d’Égypte and contributed papers to the Egyptian Institute (also called the Cairo Institute) which Napoleon founded with the aim of weakening British influence in the East.

Said, characteristically, sees these institutes devoted to study of the Orient (and the others founded around Europe at the same time) as ‘agencies of domination and dissemination’ (alliteration is an important element of critical theory; sounds impressive) (p.87).

Said gives a handy half-page list (God, he loves lists) of the aims of Napoleon’s project, as summarised by Fourier himself, which amounts to a shopping list of Orientalism, namely:

  • to restore Egypt from its present fallen state to its former glory
  • to instruct the Orient in the ways of the modern West
  • to promote ‘knowledge’ of the East
  • to define ‘the East’ in such a way as to make it seem a natural appendage or annex of the West
  • to situate European scholars as on control of Oriental history, texts, geography
  • to establish new disciplines with which to control even more ‘knowledge’ about the Orient
  • to convert every observation into a ‘law’ about the eternal unchanging essence of ‘the Orient’
  • to bring ‘the obscurity’ of the Orient into the light and clarity of Western science

Above all, to convert the 3D ‘reality’ of the multivariant Orient into texts, the fundamental sources of power and control in Western ideology, sources written by Westerners, edited by Westerners, updated by Westerners, for the minds and imaginations of Western politicians and public. Fourier goes on to confirm all Said’s ideas when he writes that Egypt will provide ‘a theatre’ for Napoleon’s ‘gloire’ (p.86).

The Orient as stage for Western glory. Out of this matrix of dominating discourses come classics of Orientalising literature such as:

  • François-René de Chateaubriand’s Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem (1811)
  • Alphonse de Lamartine’s Voyage en Orient (1835)
  • E.W. Lane’s Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians (1836)
  • Richard Burton’s Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to El-Medinah and Meccah (1856)
  • Gustave Flaubert’s Salammbô (1862)

In the world of scholarship the next milestone was Ernest Renan’s Histoire générale et système comparé des langues sémitiques (1855).

Said’s text progresses not logically and chronologically, but crabwise, digressively, one thing leading to another. It’s fairly well known that the Suez Canal was conceived, designed and supervised by Ferdinand de Lesseps. Less well known that his father Mathieu de Lesseps went to Egypt as part of Napoleon’s huge expedition and stayed on after the Napoleonic forces withdrew in 1801.

It’s a mental tic of Said’s that he often writes a sentence or paragraph or topic about a subject, then shoehorns in a sentence in parentheses because it’s in his notes and it’s relevant but he can’t think of a way of including it in a logical exposition. An example is the way he ends his discussion of the Suez Canal’s symbolic significance (uniting East and West, ‘opening’ Egypt to the modern world etc) with a really throwaway reference to the Suez Crisis of 1956. He should either have given the Suez Crisis a paragraph of its own, where its significance could have been properly developed, or not mentioned it all. A brief throwaway reference is the worst of all worlds, but very typical of his scatter-gun, repetitive and badly structured approach.

For Said the Suez Canal finally dispelled the notion of the Orient as somehow remote and barely reachable. The Suez Canal dragged ‘the Orient’ into the fast-growing global imagination, made it imaginatively reachable (he doesn’t mention the establishment of the first Cook’s tours to Egypt at around the time of the canal’s opening, the 1860s). At the same time made it more of an annex and dependency.

4. Crisis

He repeats one his basic ideas which is that Orientalism amounted to the transformation of messy reality into tidied-up texts.

It seems a common human failing to prefer the schematic authority of a text to the disorientations of direct encounters with the human. (p.93)

He calls this the textual attitude. Travel books are an epitome of this attitude, assuring readers of a kind of Platonic ideal of a place which all-too-often fails to live up to the book’s idealised portrait.

Suddenly he’s giving a page-long quote from Egyptian social scientist Anwar Abdel Malek (1924 to 2012), from his 1963 essay ‘Orientalism in crisis’.

This is a not particularly relevant preliminary to ‘a history of Orientalism’. Said says all the pioneering Orientalists were philologists. Almost all the great discoveries in philology of the nineteenth century were based on study of texts brought back from the Orient. The central idea was that European languages were descended from two great families of Oriental languages, Indo-European and Semitic. Said gives a political interpretation of this, saying it proves 1) the linguistic importance of the Orient (its languages and scripts) to the achievements of Western research/knowledge, and 2) the Western tendency to divide and categorise Oriental materials to suit its own interests.

Orientalism is inextricably bound up with the study of language and texts; and therefore had a huge tendency to look far back into the past, to a golden age when Orientals lived the idealised lives depicted in the Upanishads or the Koran. In other words, a field of study entirely based on romantic images of an ideal past was always going to regard the messy realities of modern life in India or the Middle East as ‘degraded’ and fallen. Orientalists travelled to the East with their heads full of Romantic ideals and were horrified by the poverty and backwardness of what they saw, leading to a universal agreement that inhabitants of the modern Orient were degraded, debased and vulgarised – ‘an upsetting demystification of images culled from texts’ (p.101).

He’s barely told us he’s going to do a history of Orientalism before he tells us he’s not, and instead going to rattle off lists of eminent Orientalists ‘to mention a few famous names almost at random’ (p.99). Scholars, philosophers, imaginative writers, novelists, poets, travel writers, and explorers and archaeologists, they all contributed to the vast hegemony of Orientalism.

Suddenly it’s 1955, the year of the Bandung Conference, by which date all the nations of the former Orient were independent, presenting Orientalists with conceptual problems. This undermined (destroyed) one whole trope about Oriental peoples, of them being passive and fatalistic.

(This itself is obviously a gross simplification since movements for independence began to stir as early as the 1880s [the Indian National Congress was founded in 1885)], were loud and powerful enough to worry Kipling in the 1890s, and gained new momentum after the Great War. I.e. it’s plain wrong to say the trope of passive Orientals was overthrown by 1955, the contrary evidence was highly visible 50 years earlier.)

Suddenly Said is quoting from the first of a series of lectures given by the ‘great’ Oriental scholar H.A.R. Gibb in 1945, ‘Modern Trends in Islam’, a passage which beautifully illustrates the kind of tropes Said is on about, in that Gibb pontificates about ‘the Arab mind’ being utterly different from the Western mind, specifically in its inability to generalise from individual instances out to general laws and so their inability to have the rationalist thought and utilitarian practices which characterise the West.

This slips somehow into critiquing modern-day Orientalists such as Bernard Lewis (1916 to 2018) who set themselves up as experts on ‘Islam’, ‘the Arab mind’ and so on but just repeat the same old slanders about the Orient’s ineradicable backwardness but also – and suddenly the political Said steps forward into the limelight – uses all these tropes and prejudices to defend Israeli policy in Palestine.

And this turns quickly into polemic as he accuses Orientalists of ignoring ‘the revolutionary turmoil’ gripping the Islamic Orient, the ‘anticolonialism’ sweeping the Orient, as the world faces various disasters (nuclear, environmental) Said accuses politicians of ‘exploiting popular caricatures’ of the Orient.

These contemporary Orientalist attitudes flood the press and the popular mind. (p.108)

And his anger at white people:

A white middle-class Westerner believes it is his human prerogative not only to manage the nonwhite world but also to own it. (p,108)

Who’s making sweeping generalisations now? Who’s invoking racial stereotypes now?

You can’t help thinking that the tiger of passionate political polemic is constantly straining at the leash just below the surface of Said’s text, ready at any moment to break free and unleash a torrent of righteous indignation, genuine anger not only at Western Orientalists but the greedy white societies which host them. Pages 105 to 110 display his real anger at the way academic, cultural and political Orientalists deploy a whole armoury of demeaning tropes and stereotypes to maintain the lie of the Oriental as a passive, backward degenerate, even up to the time of writing (1976 to 1977).

It might also explain why the book is so poor as scholarly exposition, why he promises some kind of history of Orientalism on page 96 but a few pages later apologises for giving us only a very superficial sketch, skipping over names and dates, citing essays and speeches almost at random. It’s because what is really motivating him is to get to the Polemical Outburst.

(I got to the end of this section without really understanding why it was titled ‘crisis’.)

Chapter 2. Orientalist Structures and Restructures

[Chapter 2] attempts to trace the development of modern Orientalism by a broadly chronological description, and also by the description of a set of devices common to the work of important poets, artists and scholars.

In this chapter my concern is to show how in the nineteenth century a modern professional terminology and practice were created whose existence dominated discourse about the Orient, whether by Orientalists or non-Orientalists. (p.156)

1. Redrawn Frontiers, Redefined Issues, Secularised Religion

Like the literary critic he started out as, Said opens with a 2-page summary of the plot of Flaubert’s last novel, Bouvard and Pecuchet, two clerks who come into an inheritance, resign, buy a house in the country and proceed to systematically study every subject then known to modern man, with a view to mastering all the arts and crafts. Inevitably, the turn out to bodge every single one. Said’s quoting the novel because in Flaubert’s notes for the ending (he died before completing it) the pair talk about the future and hope for a great regeneration of the West by the East.

Said takes this as his theme and shows how it derived from the Enlightenment achievement of rejecting Christianity but incorporating many of its mental structures, such as a millennial transformation of society, and how, in a central thread of the Romantic tradition, this transformation and redemption was expected to come from the East, or from the reintegration of Eastern and Western thought.

Modern Orientalism derives from secularising elements in eighteenth century European culture (p.120)

This triggers a rash of name-dropping – Schlegel, Novalis, Wordsworth, Chateaubriand, Comte, Schopenhauer.

Said is, of course, sharply critical of this whole way of thinking, saying it’s yet another example of Western intellectuals thinking they own the world and that ‘Asia’ or ‘the Orient’ will be happy to play this redemptive role for the benefit of the West.

During the eighteenth century the way for modern Orientalist structures was laid down in four major developments:

  1. Expansion The East was opened up far beyond the Islamic lands, by a range of explorers he lists
  2. Historical confrontation History benefited from an anthropology which conceived of cultures as self-contained systems and began to think more sympathetically about them e.g. George Sales’s translation of the Koran which also translated Muslim commentators
  3. Sympathy Leading to ‘sympathetic identification’ by which some writers, artists, and Mozart (his opera, ‘The Abduction from the Seraglio’) imaginatively identified with the East, he briefly sketches the rise of the Gothic and exotic in writers like Beckford, Byron, Thomas Moore et al
  4. Classification The Western impulse to categorise everything into types, Linnaeus, Buffon, Kant, Diderot, Johnson, Montesqieu, Blumenbach, Soemmerring, Vico, Rousseau, it’s difficult to make out the scanty ideas through the blizzard of impressive names

In this chapter:

My thesis is that the essential aspects of modern Orientalist theory and praxis (from which present-day Orientalism derives) can be understood, not as a sudden access of objective knowledge about the Orient, but as a set of structures inherited from the past, secularised, redisposed, and reformed by such disciplines as philology, which in turn were naturalised, modernised and laicised substitutes for (or versions of) Christian supernaturalism. (p.122)

2. Silvestre de Sacy and Ernest Renan: Rational Anthropology and Philological Laboratory

An extended discussion of the lives and works of these two founding Orientalists or, as he puts it, Orientalism’s:

inaugural heroes, builders of the field, creators of a tradition, progenitors of the orientalist brotherhood (p.122)

In Said’s usual manner this starts out reasonably clearly but soon gets bogged down in his characteristically elliptical, digressive, list-heavy and oddly expressed style. It is a struggle to read. Sacy was interested in fragments of texts and knowledge (a mindset very typical of the Romantic generation).

Renan is tougher-minded. Said’s passage on Renan brings out the importance of philology, considered as a leading discipline. He brings in Nietzsche, who was also a philologist, to describe how the discipline means bringing to light the meanings latent in words and language. Renan wrote in 1848: ‘the founders of the modern mind are philologists.’ The ‘new’ philology of the start of the nineteenth century was to score major successes:

  • the creation of comparative grammar
  • the reclassification of languages into families
  • the final rejection of the divine origins of language

Prior to this scholars thought that God gave Adam the first language in the Garden of Eden. The systematic discoveries of philologists in Semitic then Sanskrit languages, along with the texts newly discovered and translated from India, was to make the story of one divine origin for language untenable, and also to call into question the previously accepted timelines of the Book of Genesis.

Thus it was his philological studies which led Renan to lose his Christian faith and then to go on to write the secular Life of Jesus, published in 1863, the first account to portray Jesus as a purely human figure, which had a dramatic impact on intellectual life all across Europe.

In my opinion, Said misses a big point here, a massive point, which is that European Christendom (and latterly American Christian churches) have a weird, strange, distorted interest in the Middle East because that is where their religion comes from.

Islam has a kind of geographical integrity, because the key locations of the religion are in the ongoing heartlands of Islamic territory i.e. Saudi Arabia and to a lesser extent Jerusalem. By contrast the faith and ideology on which ‘the West’ based itself until very recently, along with all its holy texts, derive from a geographical location outside itself, completely detached from itself by the Muslim conquests of the 7th and 8th centuries.

This accident of history and geography explains why ‘the West’ has had such an intrusive, interfering interest in the Middle East, from the Crusades to Russia claiming control of the Holy Places which triggered the Crimean War, the mandates over Palestine and Syria between the wars – and always will have, for the region is the ground zero of its religious and ideological underpinnings.

The Orientalists Said describes were so obsessed with the Middle East because they sought, through their philological enquiries, to get closer to the heart of and seek out deeper secrets, of their faith and religion. Hence the recovery of all the texts they could get their hands on, the immense effort put into the archaeology of the region, setting up umpteen Institutes and learned societies.

Said mentions the minuscule number of ‘Orientals’ who came to Europe during the nineteenth century compared to the tidal wave of Europeans who went to the Orient and this is a major reason. Not many Arabs or Indians are interested in visiting, for example, Stonehenge, which has a purely tourist interest for them. But potentially every Christian had a profound vested interest in the stream of archaeological and philological discoveries which poured out the Middle East and Egypt throughout the nineteenth and on into the early twentieth century (for example, the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamen) because each new discovery shed light on their faith, and the sum total of the discoveries tended to undermine Christian faith altogether, as it did in the high profile case of Renan.

Said brings out how Renan came to prefer the Sanskrit family of languages origin of the idea of an Indo-European language i.e. ancestors of European languages, over the Semitic family, which is the parent of Hebrew and Arabic. His dislike of the latter hardened into an antisemitic attitude which he expressed with growing virulence and became part of the anti-Arab, anti-Islamic discourse of Orientalism.

Said very briefly refers to the post-Prussian haste among the imperial powers to draw up maps, to mark boundaries of power and control over the colonial possessions. Hence (he doesn’t say this) the notorious Berlin Conference of 1885, called to allow all the European powers to peacefully agree who controlled which parts of Africa, through to the post-Great War division of the Middle East between Britain and France and the equally notorious maps of new states drawn up by Mark Sykes and Georges Picot.

The aim of all this map making activity was never the interest of the native inhabitants, but solely the need to avert conflict arising between the powers, above all between France and Britain.

3. Oriental Residence and Scholarship: The Requirements of Lexicography and Imagination

The profession of Orientalist is based on multiple inequalities, of wealth and power and intellectual control (of the West over the East).

This section carries on from the previous section, dwelling on Renan’s contempt for Semitic languages and peoples and asserting that philology, by reducing a language to its roots, has a similar reductive effect on views about its speakers and peoples. He comments on the tendency of Orientalists of the Romantic generation to project grand romantic feelings onto the Orient, then experience an adverse reaction when they learned more about the reality of the actual contemporary Orient, accusing it of being ‘backward’ and ‘barbaric’.

So many Orientalists ended up hating their subject, not just Renan but William Muir, Reinhart Dozy, Alfred Lyall, Caussin de Perceval. Each of these pieced together and constructed versions of ‘the Orient’ from fragments, creating imaginary models for other Orientalists to debate.

Popular stereotypes about the Orient were perpetrated by mainstream authors such as Thomas Carlyle and Lord Macaulay. Orientalist tropes were used by eminent men in unrelated fields as diverse as Cardinal Newman or French naturalist and zoologist Georges Cuvier.

Marx and abstraction

Even Karl Marx, usually friend of the poor and downtrodden, gives in to Orientalist tropes in his 1850s writings about India, where he says that although British rule is harsh and stupid, it may be historically necessary to waken India from its backward, barbaric stupor.

Said quotes a bit of Marx on India where the latter himself quotes Goethe, and this, for Said, shows the origins of Marx’s Orientalism in classic Romantic worldview, wherein peoples and races need redemption from suffering through pain.

The idea of regenerating a fundamentally lifeless Asia is a piece of pure Romantic Orientalism. (p.154)

Said says these are all examples of Western knowledge’s tendency to group everything into high-level categories and groups and ignore the multiplicity, diversity and specificity of individual lives on the ground. He makes the fairly crude accusation that:

Orientalists are neither interested in nor capable of discussing individuals. (p.154)

 I have a big problem with this whole angle of Said’s attack, because the tendency to categorise and group entities under abstract terms is, of course, fundamental to the management of all knowledge and of all modern societies. The field of medicine I work in is only possible by virtue of general categories, starting with the notion of ‘patients’ or ‘cases’. Take epidemiology, ‘the study of the determinants, occurrence, and distribution of health and disease in a defined population’, which played a central role in the management of COVID-19 around the world – this is only possible by converting individual cases into numbers and groups and categories.

Accusing just the one academic discipline of Orientalism of doing this – turning the specificity of individual people into abstract categories and numbers – seems to me 1) factually incorrect; almost all academic or professional specialisms do just this; and 2) this approach is the basis of our entire civilisation, the entirety of Western science, medicine, public health provision and so on rests on this approach.

I take the point that, in his opinion, the conversion of teeming cities full of all kinds of races, religious groups, ethnicities, sexualities and so on into one big dumb category, the Orient, is a kind of abuse of the procedure, and was designed to justify imperial conquest and rule. Yes yes. But to attack the intellectual approach of gathering large numbers of people together under particular headings or categories as somehow inherently wicked and abusive seems to me plain wrong.

Anyway Said spends a page guessing that what happened is Marx’s initial sympathy for suffering individuals in the East met, in his mind, the censorship and ‘the lexicographical police action of Orientalist science’, of the accumulated playbook of orientalist metaphors prevalent in his Romantic sources, and shut down his human sympathies in favour of Orientalist stereotypes.

What Said’s devoting a couple of pages to Marx really indicates is how important Marx still was to his audience in the academy back in 1978, that he has to perform such mental gymnastics to reconcile what he wrote about India with what he takes for granted was ‘Marx’s humanity, his sympathy for the misery of people’ (p.154).

As so often Said is blinkered or partial because the whole point of Marx is that he was a kind of acme of converting individual people into vast historical abstractions; his whole deal was about mentally converting the teeming masses of capitalist countries into vast abstracts named the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. In doing so he notoriously dismissed vast numbers of people who would be trodden on and be victims of the historical process, namely the industrial bourgeoisie which would have to be eliminated in a violent revolution. And all of this needed to be carried out in the cause of the biggest Romantic redemptive project every conceived i.e. the creation of the utopian classless society.

But Said ignores the fact that Marx’s central procedure was to apply huge dehumanising categories to all Western societies, and instead somehow wants imply that he only did it to India; that this was somehow unique to his thought, a uniquely dehumanising and uniquely Orientalising manoeuvre to make, whereas, as I’ve just shown, the very same procedure was of course fundamental to Marx’s entire approach.

Travelling to the Orient

Moving on, Said says you can draw a distinction between Orientalists who stayed in Europe and worked from texts, and those who actually went to the Orient, some of them settling and living there. Here they had the exciting experience of living like kings, the life of the privileged imperial conqueror, waited on hand and foot, free to travel anywhere.

Goes on to say that an interesting process can be observed, which is they start off writing about specific experiences but sooner or later come up against Orientalist tropes, rather like the buffers in a railway station. Some Western writing became official while other texts remained personal, such as tourist and travel writing (Flaubert, Kinglake, Mark Twain). He attempts a little categorisation of motives for travelling to the Orient at this period (mid-nineteenth century):

  1. The writer aiming to gather information for scientific purposes
  2. The writer intending to gain evidence but happy to mix this with personal observation and style – e.g. Richard Burton’s Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al-Madinah and Mecca (1857)
  3. The writer who travels to fulfil a personal (often literary) project – e.g. Gérard de Nerval’s Voyage en Orient (1851)

He calls the intentions of the different writers, their ‘author-function’ (p.159). I looked this up and a) it’s a term coined by Foucault who, as we’ve seen, Said is very indebted to throughout; and b) Foucault uses the term author-function as: ‘a concept that replaces the idea of the author as a person, and instead refers to the ‘discourse’ that surrounds an author or body of work’ (Open University)

He cashes this out with an extended discussion of the career of Orientalist Edward Lane (1801 to 1876), showing how the quirky personal asides he included in his monumental 1836 work, ‘Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians’, were expunged in his subsequent works – an entirely functional Arabic-English Lexicon and an ‘uninspired’ translation of the Arabian Nights (p.164).

4. Pilgrims and Pilgrimages, British and French

Pursuing the same line, Said categorises the many writers who went on journeys to the Orient as ‘pilgrims’.

(In my opinion the chapter title and concept just highlight the huge holes in his account, which include a proper discussion of actual Christian pilgrimage, a proper consideration of medieval literature, which would include a proper account of the Crusades and, indeed the vast and generally unread libraries of devotional Christian literature. Seen in this wider perspective, Said’s account pretty much solely focuses on the nineteenth century, taking its start from writers he would have taught in his comparative literature course, such as Victor Hugo, Gérard de Nerval, Flaubert and going a bit beyond them into the actual literature of Orientalists such as Sacy, Renan, Burton, Lane and so on. But of the vast hinterland of medieval and Christian accounts of the Orient, almost nothing [excepting the passage about Dante]. Not his specialism, not his area.)

He compares and contrasts British and French visitors to the region and makes the simple point that the British had strong or defining presence on the ground and the French didn’t: the British beat the French to seize India during the eighteenth century and slowly ramped up their presence in the Middle East till they established an unofficial protectorate over Egypt in 1882.

The Mediterranean echoed with the sounds of French defeats, from the Crusades to Napoleon. What was to become known as ‘la mission civilisatrice’ began in the nineteenth century as a political second-best to Britain’s presence. (p.169)

The (partly) explains why (some) British writing feels practical and administrative while some much French writing is more imaginative, projective, wistful, dwelling in ruins and lost hopes etc.

He spends some time summarising François-René, vicomte de Chateaubriand’s ‘Itinerary from Paris to Jerusalem of 1811’. Said shows how, besides Chateaubriand’s obsessive narcissism the book reeks of Orientalist tropes, despising Islam, regarding the Arab as degraded, saying the whole region needs to be redeemed by the West. Said talks about his ‘Christian vindictiveness’ (p.174).

He moves on to discuss Alphonse de Lamartine’s ‘Voyage en Orient’ of a generation later, 1835. He, too, ends up disliking the reality of the terrain and people (thinking it was painted better by Poussin, p.178) and saying it is ripe for conquest and development by the West.

Then on to Nerval (visited 1842-3) and Flaubert (1849-50). Nerval writes of an eerily empty Orient, disappointing the Romantic fantasies he had learned from (earlier Orientalist) books. He copies large blocs from Edward Lane’s account and passes them off as his own.

Flaubert, much the greater writer, vividly describes what he sees before him in notes and his wonderful letters. The Orient was to bulk large in two of his six novels, Salammbô (1862) and The Temptation of Saint Anthony (1874). Said takes an excerpt from Flaubert’s notes on visiting a hospital to highlight the way morality and revulsion are completely excise; all that matters is the correct rendering of exact detail (p.186).

The most famous episode in Flaubert’s journey to the Orient was the time he spent with Kuchuk Hanem, an Egyptian sex worker. This is a peg for Said to talk a little about the sexual stereotypes of the East and to make the fairly obvious point that not only for nineteenth century writers but for many readers ‘the Orient’ became associated with sensuality, guilt free and available sex, much more available than back in Victorian strictly regimented Europe.

But the main impact this had on me was to realise how little he talks about sex, desire, gender, feminism, themes which massively saturate modern academic studies. In fact he raises the issue, why the Orient then (and now) suggests ‘not only fecundity but sexual promise (and threat), untiring sensuality, unlimited desire, deep generative energies’, before going on to say (in his typically not quite correct English) ‘it is not the province of my analysis here.’ A little later (p.208) he refers to the use of Orientalist stereotypes of ‘exotic’ sex in semi-pornographic novels but, by and large, it’s not his thing, his aim, his subject.

Then he returns to his main theme, ‘the sense of layer upon layer of interests, official learning, institutional pressure, that covered the Orient as a subject matter and as a territory during the second half of the nineteenth century’ (p.192).

British visitors and writers had a harder more realistic sense of what pilgrimages to the Orient entailed. The French didn’t own any territory and so were, in a sense, more imaginatively free. The British were always anchored in the reality by the vast responsibility of India, later on of Egypt, both of which meant that tough questions about administration and Realpolitik lurked behind even the most carefree travelogue. In a word, they are less imaginative. He has harsh words for Alexander Kinglake (1809 to 1891, Eton and Cambridge), English travel writer and historian, whose ‘Eothen’ or Traces of travel brought home from the East’ (1844) was wildly popular. Kinglake didn’t let his ignorance of any Oriental language and poor grasp of its culture stop him from making sweeping xenophobic, antisemitic and racist generalisations about the culture, mentality and society of ‘the Orient’.

This contrasts with the splendid achievements of Richard Burton, always an imperialist at heart, but a rebel against the establishment who took great delight in pointing out to the Orientalists that he knew more languages, had travelled more, seen more and understood more of the Arab mind than they ever would. Of all the writers of the classic Orientalist period Burton is the one who knew most about the actual specificities of Arab and Muslim life which Said values. He is maybe the last compromised of all these writers. And yet throughout his work is the assumption that the Orient is there to be taken, to be ruled by the West, by Britain, leading Said to another restatement of his core theme, that in Burton’s writings:

Orientalism, which is the system of European or Western knowledge about the Orient, thus becomes synonymous with European domination of the Orient… (p.199)

Chapter 3. Orientalism Now

Begins where its predecessor left off at around 1870. This is the period of greatest colonial expansion into the Orient…the very last section characterises the shift from British and French to American hegemony. I attempt to sketch the present intellectual and social realities of Orientalism in the United States.

1. Latent and Manifest Orientalism

The phrase is obviously derived from Freud’s notion, first expressed in The Interpretation of Dreams, that dreams have both a manifest or obvious content, and then a latent or secret meaning (also latent in the sense that it required work by patient and therapist to bring it out). Said applies Freud’s metaphor to his topic of study.

The idea is simple: the details or surface or manifest Orientalism have changed and varied over the past 250 years but the latent or bedrock attitudes behind it remain as fixed as ever, namely that the Orient is backward, poor, lazy, undisciplined and passive, in need of endless help (p.206).

Actually his argument is not helped by the way that he continually shuffles the attributes he claims that Orientalism attributes to the Orient. In the space of a few pages he says there are the Orient’s:

  • sensuality, tendency to despotism, aberrant mentality, habits of inaccuracy, backwardness (p.205)
  • eccentricity, backwardness, silent indifference, female penetrability, supine malleability (p.206)
  • backward, degenerate, uncivilised, retarded (p.207)

I take the point that each list shuffles from a pack of negative stereotypes, but, like his repeated attempts to give a precise definition of Orientalism, none of which really nail it, there’s a constant sense of blurriness and slippage.

Helplessness

I read his criticism of this idea of Oriental ‘helplessness’ on a day (23 September 2023) when, on the radio, I heard that Morocco needs Western help because of the massive earthquake which just struck it, that Libya needs Western help because of the unprecedented floods which have devastated it, that Lebanon still needs help rebuilding itself three years on from the devastating explosion of 4 August 2020, and saw a charity appeal to help the victims of the civil war in Yemen.

It’s all very well to read Said’s repeated claim that seeing the Orient as helplessly needing Western intervention is an Orientalist trope, a demeaning stereotype entirely created by the institutions he describes, and yet…it also appears to be a real-world fact.

SOAS

Anyway, Said continues to describe (yet again) the process whereby a set of intellectual interests and disciplines based in study of the Biblical languages slowly transformed into a series of postulates which justified and enabled the colonial occupation of ‘the Orient’. He quotes Lord Cromer’s paternalistic speeches, specifically the one calling for the establishment of an institute to study the region, which was a trigger point for the establishment of the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies.

The importance of geography

If the section about Renan dwelled on the importance of the discipline of philology, this section dwells on the academic discipline of geography for the colonial enterprise. As Said puts it in his foggy, unclear prose:

Geography was essentially the material underpinning for knowledge about the Orient. All the latent and unchanging characteristics of the Orient stood upon, were rooted in, its geography. (p.216)

France bounced back from its humiliating defeat in the Franco-Prussian War (1870 to 71) with a renewed determination to expand its empire and this led, among other things, to ‘a tremendous efflorescence of geographical societies’ (p.217). There was even a thing called the geographical movement.

Scientific geography gave rise to commercial geography and an explosion of utopian schemes to interfere and alter geography. The opening of the Suez Canal had changed the world of commerce and profoundly affected geopolitics. Dreamers dreamed of similar huge projects, including flooding the Sahara to make the desert bloom, and tying together France’s scattered African colonies by ambitious railway networks.

Some French commentators blamed their defeat by Prussia on lack of imperial ambition; falling behind British imperial aggrandisement was blamed for France’s economic woes. The solution to every problem was to more aggressively conquer and control. This lay behind France’s drive to conquer the territories of what became French Indochina (Laos, Cambodia, Vietnam), clinched in a series of battles in 1885.

But the French throughout the period continually lamented coming second best to the British who had secured all the plum territories (India, Egypt). French envy and resentment knew no bounds. Said ties this to the way the British produced remarkable characters who flourished in the Oriental purview, such as Gertrude Bell and TE Lawrence.

2. Style, Expertise, Vision: Orientalism’s Wordliness

Starts with a discussion of the concept of The White Man, the controller at the centre of Orientalism who defined unwhites, blacks, coloureds and Orientals as ‘others’, lacking the attributes of whiteness, who therefore had to be schooled and trained up to ‘our’ standard. To demonstrate he gives (more) quotes from Gertrude Bell and T.E. Lawrence.

In the late nineteenth century bastardised theories of evolution, the survival of the fittest and race theories lent malevolent force to pre-existing Orientalist discourse.

Said introduces us to William Robertson Smith (1846 to 1894) a Scottish orientalist, Old Testament scholar and minister of the Free Church of Scotland, best known for his book ‘Religion of the Semites’ which became a foundational text in the comparative study of religion.

Said moves on to his most extended consideration of T.E. Lawrence who he sees following a recognisable career arc, from Romantic adventurer, to imperial agent (in the Arab Uprising), to disillusioned failure. He quotes passages from the Seven Pillars of Wisdom to show how Lawrence not only identified himself totally with the Arab Uprising but, more typically, identified the Arab Uprising with himself, another white man assuming the natives couldn’t have done it on their own.

I like his idea (maybe pretty obvious) that the mid and late nineteenth century figure of the adventurer-eccentric was replaced around the time of the Great War by the Orientalist-imperial agent, citing Lawrence, Gertrude Bell, St John Philby (a small checklist which he refers to countless times). This marked a shift from an academic to an instrumentalist mode.

Between the wars

Between the wars imperial rule throughout the Orient became problematic for the simple reason that the natives formed more and more strident nationalist movements, flanked by increasing acts of violence, while a growing minority in Western countries began to question or turn against colonialism and in favour of home independence.

Said quotes French Orientalists (Sylvain Lévi) who (like all academics) insist the answer is more study, more research, better understanding etc. He quotes the poet Paul Valéry whose contribution amounts (with comic French intellectualism) to analysing the problem away (p.250). And goes on to cite Valentine Chirol, Elie Faure, Fernand Baldensperger, all of whom reiterated the now crystallised Orientalist lines: ‘they’ are unlike us, lack the ability for rational knowledge, are economically and culturally backward, Islam is an imprisoning limiting religion, all the usual slurs.

At the end of this section he gives yet another summary of what he’s trying to do, to investigate:

the metamorphosis of a relatively innocuous philological subspeciality into a capacity for managing political movements, administering colonies, and making apocalyptic statements about the White Man’s difficult civilising mission (p.254)

3. Modern Anglo-French Orientalism in Fullest Flower

During the 1930s and 40s Orientalism had hardened into an extensive field of knowledge in which, like a spider’s web, reference to the most trivial fact tended to jangle the entire system and immediately invoke a whole gang of presuppositions, biases and bigotries.

There’s a long passage on the development, between the wars, of ‘types’ in the social sciences, which I think he contrasts with the cosmopolitan pluralism of the philological (in the wide sense) approach taken by one of his heroes, Auerbach. Narrowing versus widening.

So this section invokes the profound collapse of European economy and political consensus and in an obscure, round the back kind of way, describes how this impacted on national Orientalisms. For example, Snouck Hutgonje, Dutch scholar of Oriental cultures and languages and advisor on native affairs to the colonial government of the Dutch East Indies.

Then 20 pages contrasting the work of the most eminent Orientalists of their generations in France and Britain, Louis Massignon (1883 to 1962), French Catholic scholar of Islam and a pioneer of Catholic-Muslim mutual understanding, and Sir Hamilton Gibb (1895 to 1971), Scottish historian and Orientalist.

Massignon is depicted as an outsider of great genius and insight who devoted a lot of time to the biography of a Muslim Sufi saint, al-Hallaj. Gibb was the opposite, an insider, an institution man.

Inevitably Said depicts both of them, in subtle and sometimes impenetrable style, while citing Foucault and Barthes, as nonetheless continuers and purveyors of fundamental Orientalist stereotypes. His detailed look at the careers, professional subjects and styles of these two giants takes us from after the Great War up to the early 1960s.

4. The Latest Phase

To date the book has amounted to a brief consideration of the origin of Orientalist tropes and prejudices among the ancient Greeks, a brief sketch of the Middle Ages in the form of Dante, skipping past the Renaissance altogether and then settling down to a detailed examination of Orientalism from the late eighteenth and through the long nineteenth century.

In this last section he finally brings all his findings on home to the colossus which dominated the post-war settlement, culturally, economically and militarily, the US of A. It is completely unlike the rest of the book in that it is clear, accessible, magazine style rage against the unchecked proliferation of anti-Arab and Islamophobic caricatures across American culture.

The traditional Orientalism he has chronicled was broken up in 1960s America into a proliferation of academic subspecies. The European focus on philology, itself deriving from study of the Biblical languages, disappeared and was replaced by an American focus on the social sciences. American academics didn’t study the languages of the Middle East, they studied their ‘societies’ and on this basis set themselves up as experts and advisers.

Part of this was the abandonment of the study of literature. The long philological and literary approach he’s been praising and enjoying came to a grinding halt. In American hands it was all about preparing oil executives for their stints in the Arab world and advising the State Department.

He categorises ways in which ‘the Arab’ or ‘the Arab Muslim’ appear in ‘modern’ (i.e. 1960s and 70s) culture:

  1. Popular images and social science representations
  2. Cultural relations policy
  3. Merely Islam
  4. Orientals Orientals Orientals

Said becomes more and more angry, outraged at the barrage of anti-Arab and Islamophobic imagery to be found all across American culture. Images of humiliatingly defeated Arabs after the 1967 war. Images of hook-nosed Arab sheikhs at petrol pumps after the 1973 war and the oil price hike. These latter have all the Nazi antisemitic stereotypes born again.

He is appalled at the new tone of American Orientalism. He mounts a sustained attack on the 1970 Cambridge History of Islam, spotting stereotypes everywhere and accusing it of being bereft of ‘ideas and methodological intelligence’ (p.302).

He quotes from magazine articles, from Commentary magazine, from scholarly papers, interviews in which academics, politicians, commentators, repeat ad nauseam the same anti-Arab tropes he has enumerated throughout the book, the backwardness of Arabs, the stupidity of Arabs, the bombastic nature of Arabic which prevents Arabs from having rational thought, and so on.

He attacks 3 or 4 essays before alighting on a 1972 volume called ‘Revolution in the Middle East and other case studies’. He attacks the introductory essay by the volume’s editor P.J. Vatikiotis, before making a sustained attack on the essay by notable modern Orientalist, Bernard Lewis, giving numerous quotations in a vitriolic attack on what he takes to be Lewis at the same time setting himself up as an oracle on all things Arab while at the same time comprehensively despising and belittling his subject matter. Sounds weird, sounds counter-intuitive, unless you’ve read Said’s book in which he identifies it as a recurring characteristic of all Orientalists.

It’s in the Lewis passage that Said finally opens up about the Zionist movement and the foundation of the state of Israel, pointing out that Lewis nowhere (apparently) mentions Zionism or the Jewish appropriation of Palestinian land and, at last you feel, the cat is out of the bag. it feels as if the previous 300 pages have been a long, slow, laboursome foreplay leading up to this, the money shot.

What particularly gets his is Lewis’s pride in being an objective historian when Said claims to have shown he is in fact a ludicrously biased, anti-Arab, anti-Islamic bigot.

This is the culmination of Orientalism as a dogma that not only degrades its subject matter but also blinds its practitioners. (p.319)

The final pages describe the way Orientalism has infected the Orient in the sense that students and lecturers from the region come to the United States to train, are inculcated with Orientalism biases against their own people and culture and return to propagate these biases. There were, at the time of writing, hardly any institutes of higher education devoted to studying the Orient in the Orient. Academically, it is backward.

Worse, America has made the entire Middle East, economically, into a client region. America consumes a select number of products from it (mostly oil) but in return exports a huge number of goods, from blue jeans to Coca Cola. And TV and Hollywood movies, which often feature Arabs as the bad guys.

The modern Orient, in short, participates in its own Orientalising. (p.325)

Finally he hopes that his work has made a small contribution to encouraging scholars to critically scrutinise the premises of their disciplines, to be attentive to the realities on the ground and try to avoid the artificial and cramping conventions which constrict so many fields of study in the humanities. And, writing at a time of increasing nationalism in the developing world, he hopes it will help those peoples and movements get free of the mind-forg’d manacles (a quote from William Blake) which their oppressors created to judge, demean and control them.

Critique

Mind opening

Books like this are mostly for students because, if you hadn’t yet come across the notion that academic disciplines are not the clean objective collections of facts you were led to believe at school, then Said’s full frontal demolition of an entire area of academic study, and his association of it with one of modern woke ideology’s great bogeymen, Western imperialism, is liable to have a dynamite impact, opening your mind to whole new ways of thinking about scholarship, the academy, the humanities, history, geography, languages, religion, all of it.

And, given the extent to which Said ties his history of nineteenth century Orientalism directly to the perennial hot button issue of the Arab-Israeli conflict, the impressionable student is likely to have not only their intellectual interests, but their sense of justice fired up. When I used to visit my son at Bristol University I was struck by the number of posters around the town burning with indignation for the cause of oppressed Palestine.

But, unfortunately, it’s nearly 40 years since I read Orientalism, so none of this is new to me although rereading it made me realise I’d forgotten almost all the detail.

Repetitive

And forgotten how bad it is. It really doesn’t read very well. Reread in the cold light of day it feels extremely repetitive and confused. Too often Said asserts his case rather than proving it, in particular repeating the fundamental ideas like the created nature of Orientalist discourse, the premise of an unchangingly inferior Orient and so on, scores and scores of times till I felt like screaming.

Weak definitions

A surprisingly central problem is his failure to really define what his central term i.e. the Orient, actually means. When I began to explain the book to a friend she expected it to be about the Far East, China and Japan, which are the places she associates with the word ‘Orient’. She was very surprised when I told her it focuses almost entirely on the Middle East and Egypt, with some digressions about India. China and Japan are mentioned once or twice in passing, but not part of his hard core message. Here’s one of his not particularly useful definitions of the great subject, Orientalism:

What I shall be calling Orientalism, a way of coming to terms with the Orient that is based on the Orient’s special place in European Western experience. (p.1)

Or:

Orientalism is the habit for dealing with questions, objects, qualities, and regions deemed Oriental. (p.72)

You can see the air of tautology hanging over a sentence like this, as there are so many of his other formulations.

The Orient that appears in Orientalism is a system of representations framed by a whole set of forces that brought the Orient into Western learning, Western consciousness and, later, Western empire. (p.203)

Or this one, that Orientalism:

is an attempt to describe a whole region of the world as an accompaniment to that region’s colonial conquest. (p.343)

It’s peculiar that every time he mentions the concept, he feels the need to redefine it, and every time it comes out slightly different. This adds to the general difficulty of reading the book.

Relation to the contemporary world

The second point is one I made in part 1, which is that so much has happened in the world since it was published – chiefly the collapse of communism, the end of the Cold War, the rise of Islamic terrorism, the Western invasions of Middle Eastern countries, the Arab Spring and its failures – that, to anyone keeping up with events, the book doesn’t feel like a guide to the modern world but a dated dead end.

No doubt Western academics, commentators, ‘experts’ and journalists continue to use Orientalising stereotypes, and for much the same motives Said describes, to define, control and contain the complex realities of this troubled part of the world, to assert Western superiority over ‘barbaric’ Arabs. But this is, in the end, a very easy concept to understand and what would be useful would be a guide to the contemporary forms of Orientalising stereotyping which we in the West, no doubt, still labour under.

Ending the binary

Quite a few times Said says he laments the simplistic binary opposition between East and West which he says is at the heart of Orientalism. Does he? No. In my opinion he reinforces the binary on every page of the book, in fact he deepens and entrenches it by repeating its binary terms – the Orient and the West – on every page.

By not including a single Oriental, Arab or Muslim voice, while featuring scores and scores of European writers, I thought the book has the effect of making ‘the Orient’ even more invisible, disappearing it, while filling the mind to overflowing with Western European ideas. He angrily rejects those ideas. but those are the ideas I’ve just spent a week reading a 350-page book about, and so those are the ideas I remember.

Epistemology

Said’s thesis is based on the idea that knowledge is power, and that the way ‘knowledge’ about ‘the Orient’ was created and curated was always biased, bigoted, negative, critical and disempowering. Fine. But what this boils down to is an argument about epistemology, which is defined as ‘the theory of knowledge, especially with regard to its methods, validity, and scope, and the distinction between justified belief and opinion.’ This is the heart of his book and his thesis. It is an argument about the production of knowledge. And yet Said nowhere explains his own theory of epistemology. Just as he is slippery about what ‘the orient’ actually means, and gives ten or so differing definitions of ‘Orientalism’, in the same way he never gives an adequate definition of the central concept he’s arguing about.

In my opinion it’s this lack of really deep, thought-through clarity and consistency about his key concepts which explains why, instead, he lumps lots of disparate topics together, rarely explores them in any depth, and continually resorts to asserting his thesis instead of proving it.

Fake urgency

Said writes that, when Orientalists codified their knowledge into encyclopedias under alphabetical entries, they modelled and shaped knowledge, created constraints so that readers could only approach this knowledge of the Orient via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the Orientalist, and this is made to sound like some wicked conspiracy. And yet the same is true of any other subject whatsoever. Take woodwork. You want to learn a bit about woodwork so you Google or buy a book on the subject, written by experts.

But in Said’s eyes, this knowledge about woodwork has been modelled and shaped knowledge by so-called ‘woodwork experts’ who have created constraints so that readers can only approach this knowledge of woodwork via ‘the learned grids and codes’ provided by the woodwork expert! Scary, eh? Or utterly banal.

Reading these kinds of scare tactics on every single page gets boring. Again and again and again he makes the same simple point which is a critique of the way knowledge is produced and curated by academics with, he claims, an anti-Eastern, anti-Arab, anti-Muslim prejudice – all so that he can lead the reader, in the Introduction and then in the third section, right back to the modern world and to the iniquity of US policy in the Middle East.

It’s this, Said’s obsession with the Arab-Israeli policy, which really gives the book its energy. The rise of ‘Orientalism’ as an academic discipline would be of solely academic interest, a very niche concern, if it weren’t for the fact that the same kind of anti-Eastern, anti-Arab and anti-Muslim tropes are at work, in the world, today, guiding American’s slavishly pro-Israeli and ruinously anti-Arab policy.

Last word

When we were students a friend of mine, who went on to become a professor of poetry, described it as ‘a bad book in a good cause’.

Practical criticism

See if you can identify the kind of essentialising Orientalist stereotypes about the Middle East, Arabs and Islam which Said describes, in Western (British) coverage of the recent Hamas attack on Israel (I’m just giving the BBC as a starting point):


Credit

Orientalism by Edward Said was first published by Routledge and Kegan Paul in 1978. References are to the 2003 Penguin paperback edition (with new Afterword and Preface).

Related reviews

The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror by Michael Ignatieff (2004)

How should democracies respond to terrorist attacks? In particular, How much violence, secrecy and violations of human rights should a Western government deploy in order to safeguard a democratic state which, ironically, claims to deplore violence, secrecy and loudly promotes human rights?

How far can a democracy resort to these means without undermining and to some extent damaging the very values it claims to be defending?

How far can it go to deploy the lesser evil of abrogating some people’s human rights in order to ensure the greater good of ensuring the security and safety of the majority? These are the questions Ignatieff sets out to address in this book.

The book is based on a series of six lectures Ignatieff gave at the University of Edinburgh in 2003. Obviously the context for the lectures and their starting point was the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on America.

Historical context – the War on Terror

It’s difficult now to recreate the mood of hysteria which gripped so much public discourse in the aftermath of the 9/11 attacks. US President George W. Bush declared a War on Terror (18 September 2001) which justified major military attacks on Afghanistan (Operation Enduring Freedom starting 7 October 2001), then Iraq (Operation Iraqi Freedom starting 20 March 2003), alongside combat operations in a number of other Muslim countries (the Philippines, Sudan et al). The US Congress passed a law allowing the President to declare war on anyone he thought was a threat. In his State of the Union speech, 29 January 2002, Bush singled out three likely contenders as the so-called ‘Axis of Evil’, being Iran, Iraq and North Korea.

Apart from the mismanagement of the two major wars, in Afghanistan and Iraq, the most contentious aspect of the so-called War on Terror became what many perceived to be the egregious breaches of human rights which a newly bullish America began to practice. Critics claimed the so-called war was in reality an excuse for creating a hi-tech surveillance state, for reducing civil liberties and infringing human rights.

Within a month of the 9/11 attacks the US government passed the Patriot Act which included three main provisions:

  • expanded surveillance abilities of law enforcement, including by tapping domestic and international phones
  • easier inter-agency communication to allow federal agencies to more effectively use all available resources in counter-terrorism efforts
  • increased penalties for terrorism crimes and an expanded list of activities which would qualify for terrorism charges

The law upset human rights groups on various grounds, for example, the powers given law enforcement agencies to search property and records without a warrant, consent, or even knowledge of the targets. But the single most contentious provision was its authorisation of indefinite detention without trial, which became associated with the notorious detention centre at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba,

Ignatieff’s approach

The lectures were given at the heart of this period (2003), 18 months into the War on Terror, as the Patriot Act was still being rolled out, just after the US government launched its invasion of Iraq (March 2003).

In his introduction Ignatieff makes the point that already, by 2003, there was a well-developed legalistic literature on all these issues. He is not going to add to that (he isn’t a lawyer). He wants to take a broader moral point of view, bringing in philosophical and even literary writers from the whole Western tradition, to try and set the present moment in a much broader cultural context.

My purpose is…to articulate what values we are trying to save from attack. (p.xvii)

It’s worth noting that at the time he wrote and delivered these lectures, Ignatieff was the director of the Carr Center for Human Rights at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. I.e. he didn’t have an amateur, journalistic interest in these issues, but was a senior academic expert in them.

Contents

The text is full of Ignatieff’s trademark complex, subtle and often agonised moral reflections, mixing reportage on contemporary politics with references to writers of the past, continually teasing out subtle and often very illuminating insights. At the same time, as I worked my way through the rather laborious networks of arguments, I began to have less and less confidence in his arguments. Fine words butter no parsnips and seminars on moral philosophy can go on forever. What were his practical conclusions and recommendations?

Chapter 1. Democracy and the Lesser Evil

Democracies have often deployed coercive measures, seeing them as the lesser evil deployed to avert the greater evil of terrorism, civil conflict and so on. But it requires that the measures can be justified publicly, subject to judicial review, and have sunset clauses i.e. fixed lengths so they don’t become permanent features of the society.

Government infringement of its citizens’ rights must be tested under adversarial review. This idea recurs again and again in the text. The defining feature of democracies is intricate sets of checks and balances. If some rights have to be abrogated during emergencies, these suspensions can still be independently tested, by judges, by independent advisers, and they will eventually have to be revealed to the citizens for ultimate approval.

There is a spectrum of opinions on suspending civil liberties. At one end, pure civil libertarians maintain that no violations of rights can ever be justified. At the other end, pragmatists eschew moral principles and judge restrictive legislation purely on practical outcomes. Ignatieff is somewhere in the middle, confident that actions which breach ‘foundational commitments to justice and dignity – torture, illegal detention, unlawful assassination’ – should be beyond the pale. But defining precisely what constitutes torture, which detentions are or are not legal, where killing is or is not justified, that’s the problem area.

If lawyers and politicians and intellectuals are going to bicker about these issues forever i.e. there will never be fixed and agreed definitions, the one thing all good democrats can rally round is ‘to strengthen the process of adversarial review‘ i.e. to put in place independent review of government measures.

Chapter 2. The Ethics of Emergency

If laws can be abridged and liberties suspended during an ’emergency’, what remains of their legitimacy in times of peace? If laws are rules, and emergencies make exceptions to theses rules, how can their authority survive once exceptions are made? (p.25)

Chapter 2 examines the impact the emergency suspensions of civil liberties has on the rule of law and civil rights. Does the emergency derogation of normal rights strengthen or weaken the rule of law which we pride ourselves on in the Western democracies?

Ignatieff takes the middle ground that suspension of rights does not destroy them or undermine the normal practice of them, indeed helps to preserve them – provided they are ‘temporary, publicly justified, and deployed only as a last resort.’

Chapter 3. The Weakness of the Strong

Why do liberal democracies to habitually over-react to terrorist threats? Why do we seem so quick to barter away our liberties? One way to explain it is that majorities (i.e. most of us) are happy to deprive small and relatively powerless minorities (in the War against Terror, Muslims and immigrants) of their rights in order to achieve ‘security’.

But our opponents have rights, too. Just as in the debate over freedom of speech, any fool can approve free speech which they agree with, it’s harder to fight for the right of people to say things you dislike or actively think are wrong. But that is the essence of free speech, that is its crucial test – allowing the expression of opinions and views you violently disagree with, believe are wrong and immoral. It is precisely these kinds of views we should make every effort to allow free expression. ‘I may not agree with what you have to say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it,’ as Voltaire famously put it.

It’s easy and uncontroversial to defend the human rights of poets and activists who protested against apartheid or communist oppression. Much harder to insist that detainees being grabbed in Iraq or Syria or anywhere else in the Arab world and flown half way round the world and who might well be members of al Qaeda or ISIL, are provided just the same level of legal representation and rights as you and me. But that is exactly the test of our commitment to human rights: whether we extend them to our bitterest enemies.

Same goes for the other elements in the system of checks and balances, namely the other wings of government, the courts and the media. The temptation and the tendency is for everybody to ‘rally round the flag’ but this is exactly the opposite of what ought to happen. The American constitution vests power in the Presidency to take extraordinary steps in times of crisis or war but that is precisely the moment when the other elements in the division of power should increase their oversight of executive actions.

In his searing indictment of America’s mismanagement of the war in Iraq, Thomas E Ricks makes just this point. The build-up to the war involved questionable evidence (about weapons of mass destruction), wrong assumptions (about the response of the Iraqi population to foreign invasion), criminal mismanagement and the complete absence of a plan for the aftermath. While describing all this in forensic detail, Ricks points out that this is precisely the point when the administration’s plans should have been subjected to intense and critical scrutiny, something which might have saved tens of thousands of lives, billions of money, untold materiel. Instead, in the atmosphere of hysterical patriotism which gripped America, Congress rolled over and approved the plans with little serious examination and the press turned into bombastic cheerleaders. Both miserably failed to live up to the roles assigned to them in a free democratic society.

In fact most of this chapter is taken up with a useful and informative history of terrorism as a political tactic, starting with the Nihilists in nineteenth century Russia, then onto the two great loci of political violence, in revolutionary Russia and Weimar Germany, before turning to post-war terrorism in Latin America (Chile, Colombia, Peru), in Sri Lanka, in Israel, before cycling back to Europe and the 1970s terrorism of the Baader-Meinhof Gang and the Red Brigades, before a brief consideration of the separatist/nationalist terrorism faced by Britain in Northern Ireland and Spain in the Basque Country.

Ignatieff’s summary from this brief conspectus is that terrorism never works, it never achieves its political aims. The Russian and Weimar regimes weren’t undone by political violence but by the cataclysm of World War One and the Great Depression, respectively. Marxist terrorism in 1970s Germany and Italy aimed to create media spectaculars and psychological tipping points whereby the population would be woken from their slumber, rise up and overthrow the repressive bourgeois state etc. Complete failure with the terrorists either committing suicide or publicly recanting.

In Latin America political terrorism either produced the exact opposite of what was intended, for example in Argentina, where it helped a repressive military junta into power. Or, as in Sri Lanka and some extent Israel, it became a stalemate that extended over such a long period of time that it became the social reality of the country, giving rise to a society characterised by random atrocities, intimidation of local populations by the terrorists, and repressive state apparatuses. The host society wasn’t liberated and transformed but permanently degraded.

Ignatieff then considers how the British, on the whole, managed the Northern Ireland situation successfully by abrogating various civil rights but under the aegis of government and judicial review.

But part of the reason his review of traditional terrorism is so enjoyable is because it’s so familiar from decades of print and TV journalism – but this itself highlights, I think, a weakness of the whole book: which is that the campaign of al Qaeda and related groups was not to achieve political change (like the Marxist terrorist groups of the 1970s) or to achieve constitutional change / nationalist independence (as with the Basques or, at the other end of the Europe, the Kurdish terrorist groups in Turkey). Those aims could both be handled in Ignatieff’s model i.e. carefully incorporated into the existing political structures.

By contrast Al Qaeda wanted to destroy the West not only as a goal in itself but as part of an even grander aim which was to undermine the contemporary world order of nation-states and re-create the historical umma, the worldwide community of Muslims that was once held together under the caliphate of the prophet Mohammed. Osama bin Laden identified America as the chief bulwark of the existing world order, especially in the Arab world, where it subsidised and underpinned repressive states. So as a first step to remodelling the world, bin Laden ordered his followers to attack Western targets anywhere, at any time.

Ignatieff was writing in 2003. We had yet to have the 2004 Madrid train bombings (193 dead), the 7/7 2005 attacks in London (56 dead), the Boston Marathon bombing on 15 April 2013 (3 dead), the 18 March 2015 attack on a beach in Tunisia (21 dead), the 13 November 2015 attack at the Bataclan theatre in Paris (90 dead), the Manchester Arena bombing on 22 May 2017 (23 dead), plus numerous other Islamist atrocities in countries further afield.

If the central aim of al Qaeda and its affiliates is to kill and maim as many Westerners as possible, it’s difficult to see how this can be incorporated into any kind of political process. And in the next chapter Ignatieff indeed concludes that the organisation itself can only be defeated militarily.

Chapter 4. The Strength of the Weak

An examination of terrorism itself.

In this chapter I want to distinguish among forms of terrorism, identify the political claims terrorists use to justify violence against civilians, and propose political strategies to defeat them (p.82)

Ignatieff considers terrorism the resort of groups who are suppressed and oppressed, who have no voice and no say in the power structures which rule over them. He gives a handy categorisation of six types of terrorism:

  1. insurrectionary terrorism aimed at the revolutionary overthrow of a state
  2. loner or issue terrorism, aimed at promoting a single cause
  3. liberation terrorism, aimed at the overthrow of a colonial regime
  4. separatist terrorism, aiming at independence for a subordinate ethnic or religious group within a state
  5. occupation terrorism, aimed at driving an occupying force from territory acquired through war or conquest
  6. global terrorism, aimed not at the liberation of a particular group, but at inflicting damage and humiliation on a global power

With the last one sounding like it’s been made up to describe al Qaeda-style hatred of America.

Terrorism presents a classic challenge for liberals, who have traditionally been on the side of the underdog and oppressed minorities, from the early trade unions to blacks under apartheid, and so often have an instinctive sympathy for the social or political or economic causes of terrorism but who, obviously, want to stop short of supporting actual acts of violence. Where do you draw the line?

Ignatieff says the only practical solution is to ensure that the oppressed always have peaceful political means to address their grievances. Purely military means cannot solve terrorism. It requires political solutions, above all bringing the voiceless into peaceful political processes. He doesn’t mention it but I think of how the warring factions in Northern Ireland were cajoled into joining a political ‘peace process’ which promised to take seriously the concerns of all sides and parties, to listen to all grievances and try to resolve them in a peaceful, political way.

Mrs Thatcher said ‘we do not talk to terrorists’ but, rather as with free speech, it is precisely the terrorists that you should be talking to, to figure out how their grievances can be addressed and the violence be brought to an end.

Thus even if al Qaeda’s values come from completely outside the modern framework of human rights, even if they base themselves on Islamic traditions of jihad and unrelenting war against the infidel, even if they cannot be reasoned with but only crushed militarily, this doesn’t prevent Ignatieff making the obvious point that we in the West can still bring pressure to bear on many authoritarian Arab regimes to try and remove the causes of grievance which drive young men into these causes. These would include overt American imperialism; repressive police policies which enact brutal violence and deny human rights; lack of pluralistic political systems i.e. which allow subaltern voices a say and some influence. And so on (pages 99 to 101).

The weak and oppressed must be given a peaceful political alternative that enables them to rise up against the violence exercised in their name. (p.106)

The Arab future

Trouble is, a lot of this kind of hopeful rhetoric was claimed for the movements of the so-called Arab Spring of 2011, when authoritarian regimes were overthrown in Libya, Egypt and nearly in Syria. Just a few years later it was clear that the ‘spring’ comprehensively failed: an even more authoritarian regime was in place in Egypt, Libya had split into warlord-run areas and a ruinous civil war had bedded down in Syria which would pave the way for the rise of ISIS.

Personally, I think the countries in that part of the world which aren’t lucky enough to be sitting on vast reserves of oil will be condemned to perpetual poverty and conflict, because of:

  • the lack of traditions of individual civic responsibility and the complex matrix of civil society organisations which make the Western countries stable as politically stable as they are;
  • as the main offshoot of the above – universal corruption
  • the entrenched political tradition of strong rulers invoking ethnic nationalism or Islamic models of rule or both (Nasser, Gaddafi, Saddam)
  • what Ignatieff calls ‘the corruption and decay of the Arab and Islamic political order’ (p.152)
  • the economic backwardness of most Arab countries i.e. preponderance of subsistence agriculture
  • widespread lack of education
  • marginalisation / lack of education or political rights for women
  • the extraordinary population explosion (when I first visited Egypt in 1981 it had a population of 45 million; now it’s 110 million) which ensures widespread poverty
  • and now, the speedy degradation of the environment by climate change (loss of water and agricultural land)

One or two of these would be tricky challenges enough. All of them together will ensure that most countries in the Arab world will remain breeding grounds for angry, aggrieved and unemployed young men who can be persuaded to carry out atrocities and terrorist acts against domestic or Western targets, for the foreseeable future.

Chapter 5. The Temptations of Nihilism

This chapter addresses the way that, in the absence of peaceful talks, terrorist campaigns tend to degenerate into destruction and killing for their own sake, as does the behaviour of the authorities and security services set to combat them. Tit-for-tat killing becomes an end in itself. Violence begets violence in a downward spiral.

This is the most serious ethical trap lying in wait in the long war on terror that stretches before us. (p.115)

Ignatieff realises that this well-observed tendency can be used by opponents of his notion of ‘the lesser evil’ i.e. the moderate and constantly scrutinised, temporary abrogation of human rights. Their argument goes that what begins as a high-minded, carefully defined and temporary ‘abrogation’ of human rights law has so often in the past degenerated into abuse, which then becomes standard practice, becomes institutionalised, and then causes permanent damage to the democracies which implemented it.

As you’d expect, Ignatieff meets this claim by breaking the threat down into categories, and then analysing them and the moral problems and issues they throw up.

First, though, he starts the chapter with some low-pressure, enjoyably colourful discussion of Dostoyevsky’s novel, The Possessed – which describes a terrorist group which takes over a remote Russian town – and then of Joseph Conrad’s novel, The Secret Agent, which features a nihilistic character named the Professor, who walks round London with an early version of a suicide vest.

Part of the chapter addresses the practical, administrative problem of preventing anti-terrorist campaigns from descending into violence. But, as mention of the novels suggest, he also explores (as far as anyone can) the psychology of the nihilistic terrorist i.e. people who just want to destroy, for no purpose, with no political aim, for destruction’s sake.

It can be an individual who wants to make a name for themselves through a spectacular, for example Timothy McVeigh who carried out the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing that killed 168 people and injured 680. Lone actors like this are always going to be very difficult to detect or deter.

Then he discusses the Japanese doomsday cult known as Aum Shinrikyo which carried out the deadly Tokyo subway sarin attack in 1995, killing 13 commuters, seriously injuring 54 and affecting 980 more. Terrorists who (claim to) represent an ethnic or nationalist cause can, in principle, be negotiated with for at least two reasons: one is that negotiations may hold out the hope that some at least of their goals may be achieved; the other, is that, insofar as they represent an ethnic group, a population, this population can be worked on to reject the group or moderate its behaviour.

With single actors or death cults, levers of negotiation and bargaining are obviously absent. Having established the key characteristics of these kinds of actors, Ignatieff moves on to a detailed consideration of al Qaeda. In his view it has twisted Islamic teachings so completely as to become a death cult. The 9/11 bombers didn’t leave demands or any way to negotiate – they just wanted to strike a blow at the West, specifically America, and that meant killing as many Americans as possible.

His analysis is on the brief side (there are, obviously, hundreds of books about bin Laden and al Qaeda) but, as usual, throws up fascinating insights and ideas. a) It is impossible to negotiate with a suicide bomber because being negotiated out of detonating is, by definition, a failure of the mission they’ve taken on.

b) More subtly, an organisation that sets out to use suicide bombing as a strategy cannot fail because it has no defined, workable political goals or aims. Bin Laden’s aim of clearing Westerners out of Arab lands, overthrowing the existing Arab states, recreating the 7th century caliphate and implementing Sharia law in full, is not a practical programme, it is a utopian millennarian vision. It is so impractical, it is such a long-term and enormous goal, that true believers can’t, in a sense, be demoralised.

c) And this is where the promise of immortality comes in. Once true believers are promised direct entry into heaven, they have ceased to be political actors and, in this narrow sense, Ignatieff defines them as fanatics.

He adds a distinct and fascinating idea which is that all death cults, and most terrorist groups, have to have a theory which discredits the idea of civilian innocence. Obviously blowing up a load of people going to work in their offices is murder. So, just as obviously, terrorists who do it have been re-educated or indoctrinated not to see it that way. The most basic route is for their ideological leaders to persuade them that nobody is innocent; that so-called ‘civilians’ are as guilty as the acts of repression or infidelity or murder as the armies or forces of their countries.

The Algerian National Liberation Front used this defence to justify blowing up cafes full of civilians as part of their ‘war’. Scores of other terrorist groups use the same justification, erasing the difference between the soldier (a figure defined and attributed specific rights and responsibilities under international convention going back at least as far as the Geneva Conventions) and the civilian (who, under human rights law, is not responsible in warfare and should not be a target).

But this works both ways. For when terrorists are embedded in local populations, emerging to ambush soldiers then disappearing back into the crowd, a tendency develops for those soldiers to come to hate the civilian population and take out their anger and frustration on them. Happened in Vietnam (My Lai etc), happened in Iraq (Haditha etc). And of course all such breakdowns of military discipline it play into the terrorists’ hands by getting the population to move over to support them. That’s why terrorists work hard to trigger them.

So, blurring the difference between soldier and civilian can be practiced by both terrorist and security forces and always heads in the same direction, towards ever-growing atrocity and massacre. Eventually both sides are murdering unarmed civilians, as happened in Bosnia and Kosovo.

Something which distinguishes us from the terrorists is that liberal democracies put huge value on human life, and this particularly applies to civilian human life. Therefore the kinds of massacres which US troops carried out in Vietnam and Iraq sully the reputation and undermine the meaning of liberal democracy itself. I.e. they drag us closer to the indiscriminate violence of our enemies.

These pictures of fanatical death cults are by way of preparing the way for the second half of the chapter which moves on to try and define precisely when two anti-human rights tactics may be used, namely selective assassination and torture. Ignatieff is not an absolutist or civil libertarian i.e. he reluctantly admits that, in addressing the kind of nihilistic fanatics he has described, assassination may be the only way to eliminate people you can’t bargain with, and that extremely ‘coercive’ interrogation may be necessary to extract information from fanatics which may save lives.

This is a detailed discussion of contentious issues, but the bottom line is Ignatieff things they may be permitted, but so long as his basic criteria are fulfilled, namely that they are a) approaches of last resort, after all else has been tried b) and that some kind of independent judicial review or oversight is in place. It is when these kind of policies turn into secret death squads that a rules-based liberal democracy starts to be in trouble.

Ignatieff repeats some familiar objections to torture, namely that it simply doesn’t work, that it produces intense hatred which can motivate those who survive and are released into going on to carry out atrocities, and it degrades those tasked with carrying it out. There’s evidence of post-traumatic stress disorder suffered by American operatives tasked with torturing during the War on Terror.

Typically, Ignatieff adds another point I’d never considered which is that there is a slippery slope from torture to plain murder. This may be for two reasons: the tortured may be converted by the process into such inveterate enemies of the state that their interrogators realise they will never be rehabilitated; and, more sinisterly, the torturers realise they can never release their victims because they themselves, will eventually be implicated i.e. the truth will out. Therefore it’s easier all round just to bump them off. Hence the ‘disappeared’ in South American dictatorships, all those detainees who, after extensive torture, were taken out in helicopters and thrown into the sea. Torture doesn’t just not work, create new enemies and degrade the torturers – it creates a problem of what to do with the tortured? A downward spiral all the way.

Chapter 6. Liberty and Armageddon

The book ends with a bleak discussion of what may happen as and when terrorists acquire weapons of mass destruction i.e. terror attacks on a devastating scale. Are our democracies strong enough to withstand such attacks? How can we strengthen our institutions to ensure that they are?

Ignatieff has a number of suggestions about how to prevent the proliferation of terrifying WMDs. But he comes back to his fundamental position which is that the way to defend and strengthen liberal democracies in the face of increased terrorist threats is to make them more liberal and democratic, not less.

Other thoughts

1. Internecine killing

The text is continually spinning off insights and ideas which I found distracted me from the main flow. For example, the notion that every terror campaign, sooner or later, with complete inevitability, ends up terrorising and killing people on their own side – moderates and ‘sell-outs’ and anybody in their ethnic group or repressed minority who threatens to engage in political discussion with the oppressors. In a sense, moderates are more threatening to a terrorist group than their overt enemy, the repressive state, which is why so many terrorist groups end up killing so many people on their own side (p.104).

2. The threshold of repugnance

The savagery of the Algerian fighters for independence in the 1950s left a permanent scar on the national psyche of all concerned so that when, 30 years after independence (1962) in 1992, the ruling elite disallowed an election which would have given power to the new radical Islamist party, the country very quickly descended into a savage civil war, with Islamic terrorists and government security forces both murdering unarmed civilians they considered guilty of aiding their opponents.

Both sides, with generational memories of the super-violence of the struggle for independence, invoked it and copied it in the new struggle. There was little or no threshold of repugnance to deter them (p.105). Violent civil wars set new lows of behaviour with after-comers can then invoke. The whole process ratchets ever downwards.

3. The world is watching

There’s plenty of evidence that if a movement judges that it needs the help of the outside world (of the ‘international community’ which Ignatieff is so sceptical about in his previous books) then it will tailor its behaviour accordingly. It will, in other words, try to restrain violence.

The African National Congress knew it had strong support across the Western world and put its faith in international pressure eventually bringing a settlement, so that its political leaders (and its defenders in the West) chose to play down the violence of the movement’s activist wings (which, as per rule 1, above, were mostly directed against their own i.e. the black community, witness the invention and widespread use of ‘necklacing).

In other words, the international community counts. It can exert pressure. It can use its leverage to turn liberation movements away from terrorist methods. Up to a point. As long as the movement is well organised, as the ANC was and is. At the other extreme is the Revolutionary United Front (RUF), little more than a rag-tag band of psychopaths, who led an 11-year ‘civil war’, little more than a campaign of terror against their own populations (as described in stomach-churning detail in Anthony Loyd’s book, ‘Another Bloody Love Letter’). They had nothing whatsoever to gain from outside influence except being shut down. So with nothing to lose, they continued their killing sprees for 11 long years (1991 to 2002).

At the other end of the organisational scale, Russia was able to carry out atrocities and conduct a war of total destruction in Chechnya because they know no-one was looking (it was almost impossible for foreign journalists to get in) and nobody cared (it wasn’t a location of strategic significance, no oil, none of the racial discrimination the West gets so worked up about) so mass murder proceeded with barely a ripple in the Western press.

These examples prove a general rule which is that the ‘international community’ can have some moderating influence on some insurgences, terrorist campaigns and wars (p.98).

Notes and thoughts

This is a complex and sophisticated book. The language of human rights often segues into discussion of particular conventions and international declarations in such a way that to really follow the discussion you have to be pretty familiar with these documents and laws and rules.

I also found some of the political concepts which Ignatieff routinely throws around quite obscure and unfamiliar – communitarianism, the conservative principle, adversarial justification, the decision cycle and so on.

I got along with his first political book, ‘Blood and Belonging’, very well. Ignatieff began his discussions with detailed descriptions of the political situations in half a dozen countries, giving plenty of colour and a good feel for the place, its history and issues and people, before getting on to the philosophical discussion, and only applied a handful of relatively simple ideas in order to shed light on the nationalist conflict he was covering.

This book is the opposite. It is sustained at a high academic level, continually introducing new concepts and making fine distinctions and drawing subtle conclusions, with only passing reference to real world examples. It sustains a level of abstraction which I eventually found exhausting. I wasn’t clever enough, or educated enough in the concepts which Ignatieff routinely throws around, to really make the most of it. Probably the best way to read it is one chapter at a time, going back and working through the logic of his argument, chewing over the tumble of clever conclusions. It’s certainly the most demanding of Ignatieff’s half dozen politics books.

Seven days later

Having pondered and revisited the book for a week, maybe I can offer a better description of how the text works. The best bits of ‘Blood and Belonging’ were where Ignatieff shed light on the psychology of different types of nationalism (especially the crude sort of ethnic nationalism which so quickly degenerates into violence).

The same is true here, as well. The best bit about, say, the chapter on nihilism, is Ignatieff’s categorisation of different types of terrorist psychology, and then his exploration of what each psychology is, how it comes about and works in practice. This is fascinating and hugely increases the reader’s understanding, especially when he applies the categories to real historical examples.

What I found harder going, where I think the book comes adrift, is when he moves on to discuss how ‘we’ in liberal democracies ought to deal with the new post-9/11 terrorism threat. It’s at this point, throughout the book, that he keeps using his concept of ‘the lesser evil’ i.e. we should, temporarily, and with supervision by some kind of objective person like a judge, abrogate some of our treasured human rights in some circumstances, where it’s absolutely necessary – it’s these passages, and the entire concept of ‘the lesser evil’, which I sometimes struggled to understand and never found completely clear or convincing.

Ignatieff’s categorisations and definitions of types of society or politics or terrorism, and his descriptions of the psychologies behind them, I found thrilling because they’re so incisive and instantly clarified my own thinking; whereas his discussions of the ‘morality’ of the political response to terrorism, I found confusing and unsatisfactory.


Credit

The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror by Michael Ignatieff was published by Vintage in 2004. All references are to the 2005 Edinburgh University Press paperback edition.

New world disorder reviews

Empire Lite: Nation-Building in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan by Michael Ignatieff (2003)

Nobody likes empires but there are some problems for which there are only imperial solutions.
(Empire Lite, page 11)

Nations sometimes fail, and when they do only outside help – imperial help – can get them back on their feet. (p.106)

A bit of biography

In the 1990s Ignatieff managed to combine being a tenured academic, a journalist making extensive foreign trips, and a TV presenter. Without planning it, Ignatieff fell into a rhythm of publishing every 2 or 3 years short books chronicling the unfolding of the failed states he visited, and the chaos which engulfed some countries after the end of the Cold War.

These short but engaging studies build up into a series of snapshots of the new world disorder unfolding through the 1990s and into the post 9/11 era, mixed with profound meditations on the morality of international affairs and of humanitarian intervention:

  • Blood and Belonging: Journeys Into the New Nationalism (1994)
  • Warrior’s Honour: Ethnic War and the Modern Conscience (1997)
  • Virtual War: Kosovo and Beyond (2000)
  • Empire Lite: Nation-Building in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan (2003)
  • The Lesser Evil: Political Ethics in an Age of Terror (2004)
  • The Ordinary Virtues: Moral Order in a Divided World (2017)

Ignatieff’s disappearance from British TV and radio around 2000 is explained by the fact that he moved from London to America to take up a post at Harvard. The gap in the sequence of books listed above is explained by the fact that in 2005 he was persuaded to stand as an MP in the Canadian parliament, that in 2006 was made deputy leader of the Canadian Liberal Party and in 2009 became Liberal Party leader. Under his leadership the Liberals lost badly in the election of 2011 and Ignatieff quit as party leader. He went back to teaching at university, in between-times undertaking extended trips to eight non-Western nations which form the basis of his most recent book, The Ordinary Virtues published in 2017.

Empire Lite: Introduction

Three of the four chapters in this book started out as magazine articles published in 2002, so very soon after the seismic shock of 9/11. The premise of the book as a whole is that America is an empire which refuses to acknowledge the fact.

The Americans have had an empire since Teddy Roosevelt, yet persist in believing they do not. (p.1)

But America is not like any previous empire, it doesn’t have direct control of colonies, it is an ’empire lite’, which Ignatieff defines as:

hegemony without colonies, a global sphere of influence without the burden of direct administration and the risk of daily policing. (p.2)

Nonetheless, America is the only global superpower, spends a fortune on an awesome array of military weapons and resources, and uses these ‘to permanently order the world of states and markets according to its national interests’ (p.2) which is what he considers to be imperial activities.

In this book Ignatieff sets out to look at the power, reach and, in particular, the limits of America’s informal empire by looking at three locations he knows well and has covered in previous books, Bosnia and Kosovo in former Yugoslavia, and Afghanistan. In his previous books he has covered states which were collapsing into anarchy and attempts to bring peace to them. Now he is moving on. This book:

deals with the imperial struggle to impose order once intervention has taken place. (p.vii)

It focuses on the problem that, although many states in the modern world have failed or are failing and although some kind of humanitarian intervention is emphatically called for, yet intervention is dogged with problems. Two of the biggest are:

  • the practical limitations of what can be achieved
  • the tension between what the intervening power (almost always America) wants to achieve, and the wishes of the local population

After 9/11

The chapters of this book were written during the 18 months following the 9/11 terrorist attacks on America, after George Bush had declared a ‘War on Terror’ in a speech 2 weeks later (20 September 2001), and just as America was limbering up to invade Iraq and overthrow Saddam Hussein on the controversial pretext of confiscating his weapons of mass destruction. The book was completed and sent to the publishers in January 2003 and the invasion of Iraq began on 20 March 2003.

In other words it was conceived and written in a very different climate of opinion than his pre-9/11 works and 9/11 dominates its thinking. Ignatieff says ‘the barbarians’ have attacked the imperial capital and now they are being punished.

And yet he warns that the ‘War on Terror’ may turn into a campaign without end. He quotes Edward Gibbon who, in his history of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, attributes the fall of Rome to what is nowadays called ‘imperial overstretch’, to the effort of trying to extend imperial control to regions beyond the empire’s natural borders. The Americans cannot control outcomes everywhere. This book sets out to examine the ragged edges where American hegemony reaches its limits.

Ignatieff says the terrorists who attacked on 9/11 co-opted grievances and the rhetoric of Islam into an unabashed act of violence. Violence first, cause later. What is worrying is the huge wave of support they garnered in parts of the Islamic world which feels it has been oppressed and humiliated for generations. It’s not just the obvious example of the Palestinians, oppressed by America’s client state Israel (Ignatieff mentions the pitiful inadequacy of the 1990 ‘peace treaty’ which set up the Palestinian Authority) but of dissident voices all across the Arab world.

9/11 highlighted the limitations of American influence in Islamic states. America has poured billions of dollars into Saudi Arabia and Pakistan and yet Osama bin Laden was a Saudi citizen and the Pakistanis founded, trained and supervised the Taliban which was giving Al Qaeda hospitality at the time of the attacks. And, as we have seen just a month ago (August 2021), the Taliban were to prove impossible to extirpate and have just retaken Afghanistan after 20 years of supposed ‘nation building’. So:

America may have unrivalled power but it has not been able to build stability wherever it wants on its own terms. (p.10)

Problems of empire

Ignatieff bubbles over with ideas and insights, too many to summarise. I was struck by his notion that the central problem of empires is deciding which of the many demands made on them that the imperial authorities should respond to. This is a fascinating insight to apply to the history of the British Empire, which never had enough resources to properly deal with the endless flare-ups and problems in the numerous countries it claimed to manage. Eventually it became too expensive and too complicated for a country brought to its knees by two world wars, and we just walked away. The mystery is how we managed to hang on for so long.

And now the Americans face the same problem. Ignatieff interprets the crisis in Afghanistan as a result of the way the Americans spent ten years lavishly funding and supporting the anti-Soviet resistance (in reality, a congeries of regional tribal groupings to which we gave the blanket name ‘the mujihadeen’). Then, when the Soviets withdrew in 1989, so did the Americans; walking away and letting the highly-armed tribal groups collapse into prolonged civil war, out of which emerged the extremist Taliban who were to give shelter and succour to al-Qaeda ten years later.

Another way of putting this is that America hoped, with the end of the Cold War, to benefit from a ‘peace dividend’: to reduce its armed forces, to withdraw from various strategic parts of the world, job done. On the contrary, as Ignatieff’s previous books have shown, imperial withdrawal from countries around the world did not lead to an outburst of peace, love and understanding but to the complete or partial collapse of many states and the emergence of new kinds of conflict, of ethnic wars, ‘ragged wars’, chaotic wars, and widespread destabilisation.

In these zones of chaos (Afghanistan, Iraq, Sudan, Somalia) the enemies of the West, and of America in particular, have flourished and now, in 2002, as Ignatieff was writing these pieces, American rulers had to make some very difficult decisions about where to intervene and how much to intervene, and for how long.

Chapter 1. The Bridge Builder

The bridge in question is the bridge over the River Neretva in the centre of the town of Mostar in southern Bosnia. The town actually takes its name from the bridge, which is called the Stari Most (Old Bridge) in Serbo-Croat, and from the bridge-keepers, known as mostari, who guarded it.

The Stari Most was built by the Ottomans in the 16th century, was one of Bosnia and Herzegovina’s most visited landmarks, and was considered an exemplary piece of Islamic architecture. It was erected in 1566 on the orders of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent and designed by the Ottoman architect Mimar Hayruddin.

During the Yugoslav civil wars Mostar suffered two distinct conflicts: after Bosnia-Herzogovina declared independence in April 1992 the (mostly Serb) Yugoslav Army went in to try and crush its independence. They were opposed by an army quickly assembled from both the Croat and Bosnian Muslim (or Bosniak) population (which both made up about a third of the city’s population). In June 1992 the Croat-Bosniak forces successfully attacked the besieging Yugoslav Army and forced them to withdraw from Mostar. Lots of shelling and shooting resulted in the town’s historic buildings getting badly knocked about, but not the bridge.

The bridge was destroyed as part of the second conflict, for after jointly seeing off the Serbs, tension then grew between the former allies, the Croats and Bosniaks. In October Croats declared the independence of a small enclave which they called ‘the Croatian Republic of Herzeg-Bosnia’, supported by the government of neighbouring Croatia and this triggered the Croat–Bosniak War which lasted from 18 October 1992 to 23 February 1994.

The Old Bridge was destroyed by Croatian forces on November 9, 1993 during a stand-off between opposing forces on each side of the river. It’s said that more than 60 shells hit the bridge before it collapsed. The collapse of the bridge consolidated the complete ethnic division of the city into Croat west bank and Muslim east bank.

What’s amazing is the enmity that lingered on after the ‘end’ of this small war. The town actually had six bridges and some of the others survived but adult men were forbidden from crossing over to the ‘enemy’ side. Ignatieff tells the story of a Muslim lad who drove over one of the surviving bridges to visit a Croatian girl he’d known before the division. On the way back he was shot in the back of the head by the Croat checkpoint guards and his car slowed to a halt half way across the bridge as he died (p.33). To understand the Yugoslav catastrophe you have to get inside the minds of the soldiers who did that.

While UN peacekeepers eventually moved in to supervise the fragile peace, the European Union considered how to repair the devastated infrastructure all across the former Yugoslav states. Ignatieff meets the man charged with rebuilding the famous Mostar bridge, a French architect named Gille Pequeux. Ignatieff spends time with him, learning how the Frenchman is doggedly studying whatever architects’ plans still survive from the original bridge, analysing the ancient techniques the Ottomans used to cut the stone and carve runnels along the inward-facing sides of it, which were then filled with molten lead to tie them together. In every way Pequeux is trying to make the reconstruction as authentic as possible.

Ignatieff drolly points out that the president of Turkey offered to fund the rebuilding the bridge as a symbol of Turkey’s long-term presence/contribution/imperial occupation of this part of Europe. The EU politely turned down the offer and insisted it was done by one of their own. So it is drily ironic that the much-lauded rebirth of this ‘symbol of multiculturalism’ entailed a diplomatic rebuff of an actual gesture of multiculturalism (p.36).

But rebuilding bridges and houses and hospitals and mosques is easy. Reconciling the people who live and work in them is much harder. Ignatieff is blunt. The EU and America have spent over $6 billion ‘reconstructing’ Bosnia but it is still ruled by the crooks who rose to power during the wars and a big part of the aid money, like aid money everywhere, is routinely creamed off by corrupt leaders and gangsters.

Now the leaders of the rival communities never meet and rarely talk. They only get together for the photo opportunities required to make a show of unity for the press and EU officials to ensure the all-important foreign aid cash keeps flowing. As soon as the lights are turned off they turn away from each other.

For our part, the West is disillusioned. Real reconciliation has not taken place. Corruption is endemic. Some of the refugees have returned to their homes but for many, ethnic cleansing achieved its goals. They will never return. And many of the locals still hate each other.

And so Ignatieff points out that rebuilding the bridge is as important for the morale of the interventionist West as for the locals. We need it to prop up our delusions that opposite sides in a civil war can be reconciled. That our costly interventions are worthwhile.

This lovely essay rises to a poetic peroration:

The Western need for noble victims and happy endings suggests that we are more interested in ourselves than we are in the places, like Bosnia, that we take up as causes. This may be the imperial kernel at the heart of the humanitarian enterprise. For what is empire but the desire to imprint our values, civilisation and achievements on the souls, bodies and institutions of another people? Imperialism is a narcissistic enterprise, and narcissism is doomed to disillusion. Whatever other people want to be, they do not want to be forced to be us. It is an imperial mistake to suppose that we can change their hearts and minds. It is their memory, their trauma, not ours, and our intervention is not therapy. We can help them to rebuild the bridge. Whether they actually use it to heal their city is up to them. (p.43)

Beautiful rhythm to it, isn’t there? Lovely cadences. The flow of the prose beautifully embodies the flow of the thought, which is both clear and logical but also emotive and compelling. Ignatieff writes like this everywhere: he is lucid and logical, but also stylish and evocative. He’s the complete package.

Chapter 2. The Humanitarian as Imperialist

This essay opens in 2000 with Ignatieff attending a press photo shoot given by the UN representative in Kosovo, Bernard Kouchner, and a Spanish general, who have persuaded two local Kosovar politicians, one of them a former commander of the Kosovo Liberation Army nicknamed ‘the snake’, to accompany them to the site of an atrocity. In the night someone laid a landmine. This morning a van driving between two Serb villages ran over it, it detonated, killing two outright and blowing the legs off the one survivor. The two Kosovar politicians say the required words about the need to change hearts and minds. Kouchner delivers his patter. The photographers snap, the new crews record, then it is over and everyone jumps into their cars and speeds off.

Ignatieff accompanies Kouchner to a Serbian monastery. Father Sava, the head of the monastery, has been chosen as a ‘moderate’ leader of the minority Serbian community left in Kosovo when the war ended in 1999. Attacks on Serbs are continuing on a daily basis. Kouchner and the Spanish general assure Father Sava that they are doing everything they can to protect his community. It doesn’t much matter since the simmering Serb community doesn’t believe either Sava or the UN. Not when members of their families are getting blown up or shot every day.

The international community is having to rebuild Kosovo from the ground up, rebuilding its entire infrastructure, economy, everything, making it ‘the most ambitious project the UN has ever undertaken’ (p.51).

Once again Ignatieff repeats that the West wants ‘noble victims’ and doesn’t know how to cope when the victims (the Kosovo Albanians) turn on their former oppressors (the Serbs).

Bernard Kouchner

All this is by way of introduction to a long profile of Bernard Kouchner. Being Ignatieff, he sees Kouchner not so much as a person but as a walking embodiment of an idea, in this case the way the entire doctrine of ‘humanitarian intervention’ has changed and evolved over the past thirty years.

Ignatieff says Kouchner came of age during the heady revolutionary days of Paris 1968. In a change-the-world spirit he volunteered to go serve as a doctor with the Red Cross in Biafra. However, he drastically disagreed with the Red Cross ideology of neutrality, non-intervention and non-reporting, removed his Red Cross armband and was among the founder members of the French organisation Médecins Sans Frontières or Doctors Without Borders. These guys are more prepared to call out the aggressors and killers in the war zones where they operate. Ignatieff considers the pros and cons of the two positions, the Red Cross’s studied neutrality, Médecins’ political engagement.

Ignatieff claims Kouchner also pioneered the involvement of the media in humanitarian aid, realising that people need to be shocked out of their complacency by images of horror and starving children on their TVs. He has been involved in various publicity stunts which drew down a world of mockery from liberal commentators but do, in fact, help to publicise his causes.

It is Kouchner, more than anyone else, who created the modern European relationship between civic compassion, humanitarian action and the media. (p.61)

Kouchner parted from Médecins when the latter won the Nobel Prize in 1999. This is because Kouchner had moved on from thinking aid organisations should speak out about evil, murder, massacre, human-engineered famine and so on, and had progressed to a more assertive position – that humanitarian organisations needed to get involved in political attempts to combat evil.

Aid organisations talk about ‘civil society’ and the ‘humanitarian space’ but Ignatieff says Kouchner thought this was an illusion. Aid agencies are supported and enabled by nation states. More than that, some crises aren’t humanitarian crises at all, they are crimes. Thus Saddam Hussein attacking his Kurdish population, trying to exterminate it and driving it up into the mountains to starve to death wasn’t a ‘humanitarian crisis’, it was a crime against humanity. Situations like this don’t call for the discreet, neutral aid providing of the Red Cross; they must be opposed by force.

This led Kouchner to become deeply involved in French and then UN politics. In 1988 he became Secrétaire d’état for Humanitarian Action in 1988 in the Michel Rocard cabinet, then Minister of Health during Mitterrand’s presidency. He served in the European Parliament 1994 to 1997, chairing the Committee on Development and Cooperation. He became French Minister of Health 1997 to 1999 in Lionel Jospin’s government, and then served as Minister of Health for a third time, 2001 to 2002.

Ignatieff says Kouchner’s positions, then, aren’t just interesting conversation pieces, but have directly influenced French government action. Thus his position influenced the French decision to back the UN resolution to send a peace-keeping force into Bosnia, part of which was meant to protect Sarajevo and Srebrenica. This failed miserably, with the Serbs bombing Sarajevo for years, and rounding up and exterminating 8,000 Muslim boys and men in Srebrenica under the noses of the 300-strong UN peacekeeping force.

The logic of this sequence of events is that only force can work against evil aggressors, and it was this thinking which finally led the Americans to intervene, when they ordered air strikes against Serbian positions in defence of a Croat advance; and then onto the sustained bombing of Belgrade from March to June 1999 to persuade the government of Slobodan Milošević to stop the massacring of Albanian Kosovars.

So the appointment of Kouchner as UN Representative to Kosovo in 1999 was full of historical ironies and meanings. This was the man who had led humanitarian intervention away from the studied neutrality of the 1960s, through active calling-out of the bad guys, towards evermore aggressive intervention against the wrongdoers. So it is the evolution of Kouchner’s theoretical positions which interests Ignatieff.

In this chapter he reiterates what are, by now, becoming familiar points. One is that modern-day ‘humanitarian’ intervention is ‘imperial’ in a number of ways. First and foremost, imperialism means powerful states compelling populations in weaker ones to behave how the powerful ones want them to. But all this talk about reconciliation is far from disinterested altruism: the European nations want to sort out the Balkan issue and impose peace and reconciliation so as to remove a source of political instability which could (in an admittedly remote scenario) draw in either Russia or Turkey. More immediately, restoring some kind of peace is designed to cut off the influx of the Balkans’ most successful exports to Europe, which Ignatieff drily lists as organised crime, drugs and sex slaves (p.60).

Secondly, as in his concluding essay about Bosnia and Afghanistan and in The Warrior’s Honour, Ignatieff is very, very sceptical about the chances of anything like genuine reconciliation. The same ethnic groups are now at daggers’ drawn and will do everything they can to harm or kill members of the opposing groups. He claims that Kouchner was taken aback by the ferocity of the tribal hatred he encountered when he first arrived (p.63), and depicts Kouchner, when he’s not performing for the cameras, as an exhausted and disillusioned man.

As in the essay on Mostar, Ignatieff asks why the victims should be obliged to conform to the Western stereotype of the noble-minded victim? In reality, the second they had the chance, the ‘victims’ have turned the tables and are carrying out a campaign of revenge killings and terrorist atrocities against the Serbs still stuck in north Kosovo who haven’t been able to flee to the safety of Serbia, every bit as brutal as the violence which eventually prompted NATO to start bombing Belgrade.

Ignatieff sees Kouchner as an imperial viceroy who has been parachuted in to try and rebuild the country and prepare it for ‘autonomy’. He calls Kouchner’s power a ‘protectorate’ with a pretence of local autonomy but where rule actually stops with the imperial viceroy, as in the Raj, as in the British and French mandates in the Middle East between the wars. If that was ‘imperialism’, surely this is, too.

Once again, Ignatieff makes the point that maybe what Kosovo needs is not a moderately independent-minded Kouchner, but an utterly independent-minded General MacArthur, the American general who was given a free hand to rule Japan as he saw fit for six whole years after the Second World War. Maybe what the Balkans need is not less imperialism, but a more naked, out-and-out, assertive imperialism. Do this, or else.

(In the event Kosovo declared independence from Serbia on 17 February 2008. As of 4 September 2020, 112 UN states recognised its independence, with the notable exceptions of Russia and China.)

Chapter 3. Nation-building Lite

Max Weber said a state is an institution which exerts a monopoly of the legitimate use of violence over a given territory. Generally, this monopoly is channeled via the institutions of a professional police service and an army. In a Western nation the police are subject to elected politicians and their work feeds into an independent judiciary, while the army is trained and led by professionals.

In a failed state, weapons are everywhere and the use of violence is widely dispersed. Usually, after a period of anarchy, warlords emerge who control the application of violence, at least in their territories, but often only up to a point, and sometimes cannot control permanently embedded, low-level street violence.

The essence of nation-building is to get weapons out of circulation – out of the hands of warlords, paramilitaries, criminal gangs and punks on the street – and restore that monopoly of violence which is one definition of a functioning state; and in so doing to create a space in which non-violent politics – negotiation, discussion and compromise – can be encouraged. It may still be a violent and corrupt state but it is, at least, a starting point.

Ignatieff pointed out in The Warrior’s Honour that, in quite a few failed states round the world, this is now harder to do than ever before, because modern weapons are so cheap and easily available. Some societies have become so soaked in guns that it’s hard to see a way back to unarmed civility.

Afghanistan

And so on to the specific country in question, Afghanistan. Ignatieff recapitulates the modern history of Afghanistan, the Soviet invasion of 1979, the West’s backing of the mujahideen who, once the Soviets left and the West walked away in the early 1990s, degenerated into a civil war of regional warlords. But Ignatieff’s interest in the story is, as always, in the principles and theory behind it.

Reconstruction

He repeats one of his central ideas which is that nation-building takes a long, long time, and then gives a striking example. America’s own nation-building, starting with the Reconstruction Period after the civil war, arguably took an entire century, right up until the civil rights legislation of 1964 finally abolished discrimination against Afro-Americans (p.85).

Reconstruction in Germany and Japan took about a decade, but in both countries the nation-builders were starting off with states with well-defined borders, established (albeit corrupted) institutions, and ethnic homogeneity. The populations of both countries wanted to be reconstructed.

Don’t say when you’ll leave

Igantieff makes the point that one of the secrets of success for an empire is the illusion of permanence, of longevity. As soon as you announce that you’re leaving at some fixed moment in the future, all the vested interests rise up and jockey for power. This is vividly demonstrated by the absolute chaos triggered when the Belgian imperial authorities abruptly withdrew from the Congo at independence, as provinces seceded and new parties jockeyed for power using extra-political means i.e. guns and coups. Same thing happened in Angola where the abrupt announcement of the imperial power, Portugal, that it would completely withdraw its forces in a matter of months led to civil war between the various independence paramilitaries, a civil war which dragged on for 27 years and wrecked the country.

Ignatieff says the Americans have a poor track record on this matter, and a bad reputation for walking away from chaotic states as soon as it suits them. This means local warlords realise they just have to mind their manners and bide their time.

The American withdrawal from Afghanistan, 2021

What Ignatieff didn’t know in 2002 was that the Americans would stay for an epic 20 years nor that the same rule of permanence was to apply: that as soon as Joe Biden announced the US were leaving, people all across the country realised the Taliban would swarm back into power and began making arrangements accordingly, i.e. Afghan police, army and local governors defected to the Taliban within days o fthe last Yanks leaving, so that the entire Afghan security apparatus melted away and the Taliban were in Kabul within a week.

Not so easy, running an empire, is it? Maybe the thousands of American academics who loftily criticise Britain’s chaotic withdrawal from Palestine or India will reflect on the cracking job their boys did in Afghanistan. With 70 more years of academic theorising and practical experience than the Brits, the Yanks still made a complete shambles of it.

Europe and America: division of roles

Ignatieff makes another snappy point: how can American Republican administrations, who are fanatically opposed to Big Government, find themselves spending tens of billions of dollars creating huge administrations in foreign countries? Easy. They get the Europeans to do it. The Americans are good at fighting (Ignatieff says that, in a sense, America is the last truly warlike nation in the West) so they handle the bombs and drones and special forces. Then the Europeans then move in with the peacekeeping police forces and the droves of humanitarian aid agencies, building schools, hospitals etc. Yin and yang.

Chapter 4. Conclusion: Empire and its Nemesis

Ignatieff describes modern Western nation-building as ‘imperial’ because:

  • its main purpose is to create stability in border zones essential to the security of the great powers
  • the entire project rests on the superior armed might of the West
  •  no matter how much ‘autonomy’ is given to local rulers, real power always remains in Washington

In addition, he repeats the point that all empires have to ration their interventions. You have limited resources: which of the world’s endless trouble spots can you afford to address? Ignatieff points out the basic hypocrisy of ‘humanitarian intervention’ which is that it is only carried out in places which are convenient or important to the West. The West is never going to intervene in Chechnya or Crimea or Xinjiang because they are the preserves of other empires.

And the new imperialism is not only lite it is impatient. The British gave themselves generations to prepare the populations of India for independence. The UN gives places like Kosovo or Afghanistan 3 years before they have to hold their first elections. Hurry up! This is costing us money!

No imperialists have ever been so impatient for quicker results. (p.115)

Why? Partly the short attention span of the modern media, always hurrying on to the next story. (It took, by my calculation, about ten days from the American departure from Afghanistan being the biggest story in the whole world to being completely ignored and forgotten about.)

And then the short election cycles in democracies. Whatever plans you put in place now, at the next election in a few years’ time the leader of the opposition party will be promising to bring our boys home and save everyone a shedload of money. Western democracies, by their very nature, struggle to make long-term commitments to anything.

This concluding essay takes its title from a reflection on the enduring force of nationalism which empires find so difficult to counter. In the end, the European empires were defeated by the indomitable resilience of their colonies’ nationalist movements. This was the lesson the Americans should have learned from Vietnam. It wasn’t their weapons which won the Viet Cong victory, it was their nationalist convictions. Nationalism always trumps empire.

Nationalism will always prove to be the nemesis of any imperial nation-building project. (p.117)

Ignatieff didn’t know this when he wrote these lines, but they were to apply to the American invasion of Iraq which commenced just as his book was being published. The Americans overthrew a dictator and promised to bring peace and plenty but were utterly unprepared for the violence of the forces that then attacked them from all sides.

Thoughts

1. So Ignatieff’s message is that if liberal humanitarians really want to do good, they should really intervene: go in hard, defeat the bad guys, disarm them, force parties to the negotiating table, and run things themselves, setting up strong national institutions and teaching squabbling factions what democracy looks like in practice. And they have to do this for years, decades maybe, until the institutions and mindsets of civic society have been thoroughly inculcated. And only leave when everything is completely in place for the transition. In other words – imperialism. Not the kind of imperialism which exploits the native populations and rips off their raw materials. An altruistic imperialism, a humanitarian imperialism. But imperialism all the same.

2. When Ignatieff devotes a chapter of The Warrior’s Honour to the West’s growing sense of weariness and disillusion with humanitarian intervention, I suspected he was mainly talking about himself. This book shows a further deterioration in his attitude. I simply mean he has become markedly more cynical.

Across-the-board hopes have been crushed, ideals have been compromised, ambitions have been stymied. Much of this may reflect the appalling history of the 1990s, but I also think some of it may be a projection of Ignatieff’s own growing disillusion.

You feel this downward trajectory when he says that Bernard Kouchner arrived in Kosovo in July ‘talking about European values, tolerance and multiculturalism’ but by Christmas this had been revised down to hopes for ‘coexistence’ (p.63). Kouchner simply hadn’t anticipated the hatred and the intransigence which he found in Kosovo. So many aid workers and proponents of humanitarian intervention don’t. In Blood and Belonging Ignatieff refers fairly respectfully to ‘the international community’. Eight years later he refers to it as:

what is laughingly referred to as the ‘international community’. (p.97)

His journey his taught him that the international institutes he used to respect are, in fact, a sham.

He is particularly disillusioned with the international aid industry, which he sees as almost a scam, a locust swarm of very well-paid white Western graduates, who fly in, can’t speak the language, pay over the odds for everything thus pricing the locals out of accommodation and food, stay hunkered down in their armoured enclaves, drive everywhere in arrogant white 4-by-4s, and cook up huge impractical ‘aid’ projects without consulting any of the locals. All the Afghans he talks to complain to Ignatieff about the NGOs’ arrogance and condescension. It is the old colonialist attitude but now with emails and shades. During the course of this book he takes to referring to the aid organisation community dismissively as ‘the internationals’, by contrast with the poor, often ignored ‘locals’, the people who actually live there.

In this book Ignatieff is as clever and incisive and thought-provoking as ever. But sometimes he sounds really tired.


Credit

Empire Lite: Nation-Building in Bosnia, Kosovo and Afghanistan by Michael Ignatieff was published by Vintage in 2003. All references are to the 2003 Vintage paperback edition.

New world disorder reviews

In The Footsteps of Mr Kurz by Michela Wrong (2000)

Comparing Michela Wrong and David van Reybrouck

David van Reybrouck’s account of Congo’s modern history is basically an orthodox chronological account and political analysis interspersed with interviews with the many veterans and eye witnesses he has tracked down and spoken with at length.

Wrong’s account feels completely different, less chronological or, indeed, logical, more thematic. Instead of historical analysis, she brilliantly conveys what it felt like to live in Zaire under Mobutu as she sets about systematically exploring and describing different aspects of Zaire society and culture. Her vividness of approach is demonstrated by the way the book opens with the fall of Mobutu in 1997, going light on political analysis and strong on vivid descriptions of what it felt like to live in a crumbling, corrupt third world country.

Chapter one dwells on the role played in so many African states by key international hotels in their capitals, in Rwanda the Mille Collines, in Zimbabwe the Meikles, in Ethiopia the Hilton, in Uganda the Nile, hotels where presidents mingle with mercenaries, dodgy diamond deals are struck between smartly dressed middlemen, security goons lurked in the background muttering into their lapel mics, and the corridors were cruised by the most expensive hookers in town. And how it felt to be one among the pack of foreign correspondents living in Kinshasa’s Intercontinental Hotel as rumours swirled, troop carriers arrived, the president’s son turned up with a pack of soldiers furiously trying to track down the men who betrayed his father. And then suddenly, overnight, all the military figures switched to wearing tracksuits and casual wear in anticipation of the arrival of the rebel troops.

That’s the kind of picture painting and atmosphere Wrong is ace and conjuring up. How a country’s decline can be measured by the way the expensive carpeting in its hotels starts to smell of mildew, the lifts stop working, the blue paint on the bottom of pools comes off on the swimmers’ feet. Van Reybrouck takes an essentially academic approach spiced with extensive interviews. He is a historian whereas Wrong is a journalist, with a telling eye for detail and snappy one-line quotes.

Obviously, in this 314-page book she tells us an awful lot about the origins, rise and fall of the Mobutu dictatorship which lasted from 1965 to 1997, but it is the fantastically evocative way she conveys what it felt like that makes this book such a classic.

Van Reybrouck gives a detailed explanation of the ethnic tensions in eastern Congo which were exacerbated by the Rwandan genocide and then the constellation of political forces which led the Rwandan and Ugandan presidents to decide to invade eastern Congo and create a military coalition (the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire, the AFDL) and select as its leader the long-time Maoist guerrilla leader Laurent-Désiré Kabila. This is to the good. His account is worth reading and rereading.

But Wrong tells you what it felt like to be in Kinshasa as the rebel army drew ever closer. The panic among Mobutu’s cronies, the so-called mouvanciers up in their gated mansions in the smart Binza district, the rush by the city’s moneyed classes to get visas for foreign destinations, the way the various western embassies practised evacuating their staff across the river Congo to Brazzaville, capital of the once-French colony the Republic of Congo which was unaffected by Mobutu’s fall.

Van Reybrouck gives you high-level analysis, Wrong gives you the sweat and the fear, the paranoia. She tells us everyone knew the game was up when the grizzled old piano player who’d been playing cocktail jazz in the bar of the Intercontinental for as long as anyone could remember one day disappeared.

She describes how the shopkeepers and population prepared for the mass looting which always accompanies regime change, and passes on the advice of an old hand that it’s best to select in advance one and only one item you want to loot and, once the anarchy begins, focus on getting that and only that. Wrong selects a $1,000 leather jacket for when the great pillaging begins.

She describes the way rumours are spread by ‘Radio Trottoir’, Pavement Radio i.e. word on the street. She conveys the mad, feverish atmosphere of a city about to be taken by rebel forces (p.27).

Another difference is that van Reybrouck sees the history of Congo as a tragedy, or series of tragedies, and he affects the reader with his sense of high seriousness. Wrong, on the other hand, has a lively sense of humour and an eye for the absurd detail. She finds almost everything about Zaire farcical, but then she appears to find all of Africa farcical and hopeless.

As for rebuilding the impression given by the scaffolding and myriad work sites dotted around Kinshasa is misleading. The work has never been completed, the scaffolding will probably never be removed. Like the defunct street lamps lining Nairobi’s roads, the tower blocks of Freetown, the faded boardings across Africa which advertise trips to destinations no travel company today services, it recalls another era, when a continent believed its natural trajectory pointed up instead of down. (p.20)

As this quote indicates, another difference is that whereas van Reybrouck’s account is focused with laser-like precision on the history of just the Congo, Wrong’s anecdotes and comparisons freely reference the many other African countries she’s visited and worked in as a foreign correspondent. There’s a lot more international comparison and perspective. Wrong visits places around Congo but also Brussels to interview historians, to visit the Congolese quarter, and Switzerland to track down some of Mobutu’s luxury properties.

And whereas van Reybrouck is optimistic, on the side of Congo’s bloodied but resilient people, Wrong is both more humorous and more pessimistic. According to her, the story is the same all across Africa, one of unstoppable decline and fall.

Talking to the melancholic Colonel, I was suddenly overwhelmed by the sense of tragic waste, of crippled potential that so often sweeps over one in Africa. (p.178)

In Ronan Bennett’s novel The Catastrophist the Belgian colonials who describe the Congolese as ‘children’ who need order, discipline and control and will make a horlicks of their country if granted independence are condemned as racist bigots – so you must never say anything like that. However, Wrong’s book freely refers to African politics as farcical, its politicians as clowns, and that, apparently, wins prizes.

At times, too many times, politics on Congo resembled one of those hysterical farces in which policemen with floppy truncheons and red noses bounce from one outraged prima donna to another. ‘I’m the head of state. Arrest that man!’ ‘No, I’M the head of state. That man is an imposter. Arrrest him!’ (p.66)

So it’s OK to mock Africans as long as you use the correct phraseology and attitude. Calling them children is a no-no; calling their countries farcical, absurd, ludicrous, surreal, Alice in Wonderland – that’s fine.

And perfectly acceptable to be tired and bored of the absurdity of Africa’s rulers, the comical proliferation of rebels and freedom fighters and guerrilla movements, the bleak iteration of yet another massacre or round of ethnic cleansing somewhere on this blighted continent, like the western media’s news producers and sub-editors ‘shaking their heads over yet another unfathomable African crisis’ (p.7). Africa is for Wrong, ‘a disturbing continent’, ‘Africa, a continent that has never disappointed in its capacity to disappoint’, whose countries brim with ‘anarchy and absurdity’ (p.10).

When the AFDL’s representatives started calling the BBC office in Nairobi in late 1996, claiming they would march all the way to Kinshasa, journalists dismissed them with a weary shrug as yet another unknown guerrilla movement, the length of its constituent acronyms only rivalled by its obscurity, making wild plans and farcical claims. Africa is full of them: they surface, splinter into factions – yet more acronyms – only to disappear with equal suddenness. (p.245)

Several times she mentions Liberia’s drugged freedom fighter who wore wedding dressed and pink lipstick as they mowed down innocent civilians and gang-raped the women. She describes the teenage  FAZ recruits preparing to defend Kinshasa who were so drunk they could barely lift their grenade launchers. When the AFDL rebel soldiers arrive they turn out to be mostly teenagers wearing flip-flops or no shoes at all. Kabila promised to relinquish power once he’d overthrown Mobutu but of course does nothing of the sort. In turn Kabila was himself assassinated (in 2001), replaced by a family member even more corrupt and the whole of East Congo engulfed in a huge, often incomprehensible and seemingly endless war. Farce and tragedy.

The Latin Quarter hit, ‘I’m hearing only bad news from Radio Africa‘ seems as true when Wrong was writing in 2000 or now, in 2021, as when it was released in 1984.

Chapter by chapter

Introduction

Wrong arrived in Zaire as a foreign correspondent in 1994, found her way around, did features on Mobutu and his corrupt circle, the prostration of the economy (‘a country reverting to the Iron Age’, p.31) the uselessness of the army, the universal vibe of fear and poverty. Less than three years later, in autumn 1996, the AFDL seized eastern Congo and began its systematic assault on the country, seizing the mining centre of Lubumbashi in the south while other forces marched on the capital Kinshasa in the west. Wrong is perfectly placed to report on the paranoia of the last days, to fly out to the hot spots, to interview soldiers, shopkeepers, street traders, as well as army officers and government spokesmen.

So the introduction gives us tasters, snapshots: Wrong flying to the pretty lakeside town of Goma which was pillaged by its own inhabitants when the occupying army left. Wrong wandering through the rooms of Mobutu’s legendary palace at Gbadolite, now ruined and looted, the five black Mercedes, the Ming vases.

And she explains the title which is a quote from Joseph Conrad’s classic novella Heart of Darkness about the madness and barbarism he, personally, encountered, in the Congo Free State in 1890, epitomised by the fictional character of Mr Kurz, the high-minded exponent of civilisation who is sent to man an ivory station up the Congo, far from civilisation, and decays and degrades to become an epitome of barbarism and nihilism. Wrong sees herself literally following in Kurz’s footsteps as she explores all aspects of the absurd rule of Mobutu in the mid-90s, then watches his regime collapse in ruins.

Chapter 1

Plunges us into the endgame with a wonderfully evocative description of the atmosphere in Kinshasa and the Intercontinental Hotel where all the foreign correspondents stayed, during the last few days in 1997 October 1997 before Laurent Kabila’s AFDL took the city and Mobutu and his cronies were forced to flee. Snapshots of a city under siege, with brief explanations of Mobutu’s rule, the character of the AFDL and its leader Kabila, their determination to clean up the pigsty and abolish corruption.

Chapter 2

Gives a brisk but effective summary of Stanley’s exploration of the Congo (with backstory about Stanley’s biography) and King Leopold’s disgustingly barbaric regime of cruelty and exploitation, which he called the Congo Free State, 1885 to 1908 (with backstory explaining why Belgium was a relatively new country – founded in 1830 – and its king wanted a colony so as to be taken seriously by the big boys.)

In Brussels she visits the Belgian scholar Jules Marchal, once a whip-wielding colon himself, who has devoted his life to editing and publishing definitive records of the Congo Free State. She visits the Royal Museum for Central Africa and is shocked by the complete absence of references to the atrocities the Belgians carried out there, and to learn that Belgian colonial history is not taught in Belgian schools (p.55).

She takes a tour of buildings by the noted Art Nouveau architect Victor Horta, before pointing out that all the raw materials crafted into these beautiful buildings – the hardwood, onyx, marble, and copper – all came directly from the forced labour of Congolese blacks. Horta was rewarded for his services to Belgian architecture with a barony.

She describes how many of the Free State’s exploitative practices continued after the colony was handed over to Belgian government rule in 1908, including forced labour and use of the dreaded chicotte, the whip made of dried hippopotamus hide. It was only after the Second World War that Congo became less brutally exploitative and a tiny black middle class began to emerge, but if anything the colour bar or informal apartheid against this new breed of évolués or ‘evolved’ blacks grew worse.

Which moves into a description of the appearance, sights and sounds and mentality of the Congolese quarter in Brussels. She ends by making a strong case that Leopold’s atrocities, many of which continued under Belgian colonial rule, acculturated an entire region for 85 long years to abject humiliation, subservience, black market, illegal operations and corruption. Prepared the way, in other words, for just such a dictator as Mobutu.

No malevolent witch doctor could have devised a better preparation for the coming of a second Great Dictator. (p.57)

Chapter 3

Interview with Larry Devlin, the long-retired former CIA station chief in Kinshasa, who emphasises that Wrong only saw the regime at its bitter, pitiful end. She never knew the young, vibrant, charismatic Mobutu or knew the situation of anarchy between elected politicians which his 1965 coup rescued the country from (p.61).

She makes clearer than van Reybrouck or Bennett that Lumumba had actively invited the Soviets to give arms and advisers to crush the secessions. Devlin thinks Lumumba was never a communist, but he was naive. He thought he could invite in thousands of communist advisers at no cost. Devlin says he’d seen that happen in Eastern Europe after the war: your country falls to a communist coup and then Moscow is in charge. So Mobutu’s first coup of September 1960 was not just to bring political peace but to keep the Congo out of Soviet hands – and it worked. Soviet bloc personnel were given 48 hours to leave the country (p.67).

His account emphasises not just that, when the UN and US were slow to respond, Lumumba turned to the Soviets to supply him with arms and strategic advice to put down the secession of two major provinces – but that people of Devlin’s generation had seen this happen before. This was how the Soviets effected their coups in Poland and Czechoslovakia. This is how they established their tyrannies, by taking control of the army and placing personnel in key administrative and political positions. It had never been done in Africa before, but the Americans weren’t about to sit back and watch the Soviets make the experiment. So that’s why the Americans, backed by his political enemies within the country, decided he had to be eliminated. President Eisenhower personally approved CIA plans to assassinate Lumumba (p.77).

Then she backs up to give us the hasty run-up to independence from Belgium in June 1960, the army mutinying for better pay and promotion within days, triggering a mass exodus of the Belgian administrators and technicians who kept the country running, the political rivalry between ‘lethargic’ President Kasavubu (p.66) and passionate Prime Minister Patrice Lumumba and how the deadlock between them was broken by young Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, previously Lumumba’s personal secretary, who Lumumba himself had put in charge of the army and who, very bravely, faced down the army mutiny and restored order. Mobutu was encouraged then and ever afterwards by America.

A detailed look at the boyhood and young manhood of Joseph Mobutu from the Ngbani tribe, one of the smaller of Congo’s 250 ethnic groups, emphasising his brightness, reasonableness and extraordinary charisma; educated by Belgian priests, expelled for being a trouble-maker, a few years in the Force Publique rising to rank of sergeant, then contributing (anonymous) articles to new magazines set up for the Congolese, before he committed to becoming a journalist and then came to the attention of Lumumba who was looking for a secretary (pages 68 to 76). Devlin, the CIA man explains how Mobutu was really the best man available when he staged his 1965 coup.

Soon after the 1965 coup Devlin was posted to Vietnam. When he returned to Zaire in 1974 he found a drastically changed man and country. Surrounded by yes men, drinking pink champagne in his palaces, Mobutu was ‘already round the bend’ (p.82).

Chapter 4 Economics

In the immediate aftermath of the coup there were hangings, a new secret police was set up and so on. But the fundamental fact about Mobutu’s regime was he was an economic illiterate. Therefore his sole economic policy was to loot and plunder his country’s natural resources (when the going was good in the late 60s and early 70s) and then creaming the top off huge loans from the World bank and aid agencies. In other words, he didn’t know how to create or run a modern economy. He built a few high-profle white elephants, like the Inga dam, but when the builders left Zaire had no technicians to run it and there was never any coherent plan to create the infrastructure to distribute the electricity to where it was needed. Thus Congo has the greatest hydro-electric potential in the world in the shape of its huge and mighty river – and yet is a country whose cities suffer continual power cuts and outages.

He took up the creed of Pan-Africanism pioneered by Kwame Nkrumah, first Prime Minister of Ghana (who made himself president for life in 1964 and was overthrown by a military coup in 1966 supported by the CIA).

Mobutu promulgated his policies of authenticité, forcing everyone in the country to drop their European Christian names and adopt African names, renaming the state Zaire, renaming Leopoldville Kinshasa and Elizabethville Lubumbashi. He forced everyone to stop wearing European suits and mini skirts and adopt traditional African dress (p.90). He persuaded promoters to hold Miss World and the Ali-Foreman boxing match in Zaire (described in detail in van Reybrouck’s book).

In other words, he demonstrated how facile it is to address ‘cultural’ issues, fuss over ‘identity’ and language and culture. Meanwhile, in the absence of an economic or development plan, the economy tanked and the infrastructure rotted. The first years of his rule were bolstered by the high prices for Zaire’s raw materials created by the Vietnam war, but the end of the war in 1974 combined with the oil crisis to plunge Zaire into an economic hole it never crawled beck out of (p.94).

In 1973 he launched ‘Zaireanisation’ i.e. all foreign held businesses were confiscated by the state with a view to handing them over to ‘the people’ (p.92). The only problem was that ‘the people’ turned out, as when Robert Mugabe did the same thing 20 years later in Zimbabwe, to consist entirely of cronies and clients of Mobutu, who needed to be paid off or kept onside. None of them had a clue how to manage anything and ran businesses large and small into the ground, selling off the assets, living high off the proceeds, then needing further bribes or corruption money when they ran dry. $1 billion of assets were confiscated then squandered. It was gangster economics, ‘Alice in Wonderland finances’ (p.124).

And run on a massive system of cronyism. Mobutu needed so much money because he had to distribute gifts to all his important stakeholders in the manner of a traditional chieftain. Mobutu bought properties for himself around Europe, but he encouraged a system where hundreds of thousands of people scrabbled into the state administration, into the army or civil service, and then used their positions to embezzle, steal, demand bribes and generally be as corrupt as possible. By the mid-1990s Zaire had 600,000 people on the state payroll, doing jobs the World Bank calculated could be done by 50,000 (p.97).

The ambassador to Japan, Cleophas Kamitatu, simply sold the Zairian embassy and pocketed the proceeds. France sold Zaire a fleet of Mirage jets and ten years later, Defence Ministry officials simply sold them and kept the money (p.256). Ministers allotted themselves huge monthly salaries, lavish per diems, and insisted on having two of the very latest Mercedes, and their example was copied all the way down through their ministries, in state-run businesses and onto the street. Everyone stole everything they could, all the time. That’s what a kleptocracy is.

Chapter 5 Congo’s ruined mineral industries

Wrong flies to Katanga to report how nationalisation, corruption and utter mismanagement ran Congo’s mineral industries into the ground, beginning with astonishing stats about the country’s mineral huge wealth, then on to how Mobutu nationalised the Belgian mining corporation, Union Minière, consolidating it into the state-run company Gécamines. Sounds good, doesn’t it, one in the eye for the old imperial power, claiming the nation’s resources for the nation.

Except the nation never saw any of the profits. By 1978 the central bank had ordered Gécamines to transfer its entire annual profit of $500 million directly into a presidential bank account. By 1980 American researchers discovered that company officials were stealing $240 million  a year from Gécamines. Not only stole but smuggled, with huge amounts of diamonds, gold and other precious metals never reaching the books because they were stolen and smuggled abroad. In such an environment, nobody at any level gave a damn about investing in the company, in its stock and infrastructure, and so everything the Belgians had bequeathed the Congolese slowly rotted, decayed, was stolen, till the entire plants were rusting skeletons.

Wrong tours these sites giving us eerie descriptions of entire towns full of abandoned workings, derelict factories, rusting railways. That’s what she means when she described the entire country as slipping back into the Iron Age.

Wrong testifies to the decrepitude of the Shituri plant, describes the white elephant of Inga dam project built solely so Kinshasa kept control over Katanga. Pays an extended visit to the diamond town of Mbuji Mayi in the neighbouring province of Kasai, and interviews traders who explain the deep-seated corruption at every level of the diamond trade and ‘controlled’ by the Societe Miniere de Bakwanga (MIBA). She interviews its long-standing government representative, Jonas Mukamba (p.118) who paid Mobutu a hefty slice of the profits and in exchange was allowed to run Mbuji Mayi as he liked.

Eventually the infrastructure of Mbuji Mayi crumbled and collapsed, as had the mining infrastructure of Katanga. World mineral prices slumped but also, what was being produced was now being almost entirely smuggled. The rake-off from official trade collapsed because official trade collapsed. As the 90s progressed Mobutu lost his power of patronage.

She visits the central bank and the alleyway behind it jokingly referred to as Wall Street because it’s lined with unofficial street money changers. As Mobutu borrowed more and more from abroad and printed more money inflation soared and the currency collapsed. Wheelbarrows full of notes. A 500,000 zaire (the currency) note was printed to general resignation. Printing money led to mind-boggling inflation 9,800% and printing of the 500,000 zaire note. Mobutu had presided over the utter ruination of the economy.

Chapter 6

The collapse in Kinshasa epitomised by 1960s high-rise ministries without functioning lifts. The collapse of public phone system which was replaced by mobile networks, Telecel, for the wealthy. The collapse of the health system exemplified by Mama Yemo hospital which employs guards to prevent patients leaving without paying their bills.

Wrong pays a visit to Kinshasa’s small nuclear reactor, built on sandy soil liable to landslips, hit by a rocket during Kabila’s takeover of power, which had no security at all on the day she visited, and where one or two nuclear rods have recently gone missing.

Chapter 7

An explanation of ‘Article 15’, which is, apparently, the much-quoted ironic dictum by which most Congolese live their lives.

When the province of Kasai seceded soon after independence, it published a 14-article constitution. So many ethnic Luba people returned to the region expecting to become rich that the exasperated secessionist ruler made a speech in which he referred to a fictional, hypothetical 15th article of the constitution, which basically said, in French, ‘Débrouillez-vous!’ meaning ‘get on with it’, ‘figure it out yourself’, ‘deal with it’ or ‘improvise’. Since 1960 has become a universal expression throughout the country to explain ‘the surreal alternative systems invented by ordinary Zaireans to cope with the anarchy’ (p.11) they find themselves living in.

And so Wrong gives an overview of the hundred and one street professions of a people struggling to live in an economy with no jobs and no wages. Wrong gives an extended description of the Mutual Benefit Society run by the disabled street people of Ngobila Beach and the tiny loopholes in the law they exploit to smuggle and sell items.

She meets a fervent Kimbanguist, the religion described by van Reybrouck. Van Reybrouck’s account of Kimbanguism is much more thorough, lucid and logical, but Wrong’s is an in-your-face explanation via one particular believer, Charles, a Zairian who combines high moral principles (‘we are never naked’) with the profession of ‘protocol’ or fixer of bribes at Kinshasa’s notorious N’Djili International Airport.

Chapter 8

Le Sape, Congo’s equivalent of Mods, snappily dressed proles. The origin and purpose of the Society of Ambiencers and Persons of Elegance (SAPE), as explained to Wrong by self-styled ‘Colonel’ Jagger (p.176) as a protest against poverty and the drabness of the constricting African authenticité style demanded by Mobutu.

Then she gives a portrait of the ex-pat community of European idealists and chancers and romantics who came out in the 1950s or 60s and stayed on past independence and into the Mobutu years. This focuses on the example of Daniel Thomas a French construction worker who has repeatedly tried to start small farming businesses only to be repeatedly looted and ruined by his neighbours, and now all of his money is tied up in a farm he can’t sell and who has lost all hope. His wife is exhausted and disillusioned and wants to leave this sick land but they are stuck.

Chapter 9

Wrong details the vast sums loaned or given to Zaire over the years by international banks and especially the World Bank and International Monetary Fund. She interviews insiders who explain that during the 1960s, 70s and 80s very few conditions were attached to vast loans which, predictably, disappeared straight into the bank accounts of Mobutu and cronies.

Chapter 10

Details of the vast palace Mobutu had built for himself at Gbadolite in the jungle in the north of the country, right on the border with Central African Republic. It’s said to have cost $100 million, with an airstrip big enough for Concorde to land on. Musical fountains, ornamental lakes, model farm, gilt, marble. This is what a lot of Western aid paid for. Eventually it came to seem too big and imposing so… he had another one built a few miles away at Kwale, with an olympic size swimming pool,

The story of Pierre Janssen who married Mobutu’s daughter, Yaki, on 4 July 1992, and so became the only white person in Mobutu’s inner circle and a few years later revealed all in a kiss-and-tell memoir. The Moules flown in from Belgium, huge bouquets of flowers flown in from Amsterdam, cakes flown in from Paris along couturiers and barbers.

The weirdness that after his first wife, Marie Antoinette, generally reckoned to be a restraining influence on him, died in 1977, he married his mistress Bobi Ladawa, and took as a new mistress…her twin sister, Kossia. They socialised together, were seen together. Wrong speculates that there might have been a voodoo, animistic belief that the twins would ward of the nagging spirit of his first wife, for twins are regarded in Africa as having totemic powers (p.223).

Chapter 11

A brisk account of the Rwandan genocide which is in a hurry to explain the longer and more significant consequence, which was the creation of vast camps for Hutu refugees just across the borders in Zaire and how these camps, supported by huge amounts of foreign aid, were reorganised by the thuggish Hutu genocidaires who set about planning their revenge attack on Rwanda. By 1995 there were some 82,000 thriving enterprises in the camps which had become mini-towns (p.239), no surprise when you consider that the UNHCR and aid organisations had pumped at least $336 million into them, more than the Kinshasa government’s total annual operating budget.

In early 1996 the Hutu leadership undertook a mission to ethnically cleanse the North Kivu region of its ethnic Tutsis, massacring those it could find, forcing the rest to flee. In late 1996 it was south Kivu’s turn to be cleansed. The local Tutsis, known as the Banyamulenge had watched the Hutus slowly take control of the region, launch revenge raids into Rwanda, and had called on the UN and Kinshasa to neutralise the Hutu genocidaires but the UN did nothing and Mobutu gave them tacit support.

Which is why in October 1996 four rebel groups, with the backing of the Rwandan and Ugandan governments formed the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (AFDL) and took the fight to the Hutus, forcing the genocidal Interahamwe to flee west and majority of the refugees to traipse back into Rwanda.

Chapter 12

The main thing about the so-called First Congo War is there was hardly any fighting. The Zairian army, the Forces Armées Zairoises, the FAZ, was a joke and ran away at the first threat of conflict. The only violence came from the FAZ as they looted, burned and raped their way through the villages en route back to Kinshasa. There were a few set-piece battles but for most of the AFDL forces the war consisted of a very long march through jungle, sometimes using Zaire’s decaying roads, mostly using the jungle paths which have replaced tarmacked roads in many areas.

Wrong interviews Honoré Ngbanda Nzambo Ko Arumba, for five years the feared head of Zaire’s security service who explains why the FAZ was so useless. It all stems from Mobutu’s basic management technique which was to keep the army divided between different factions, to create a series if confusingly titled security and military units, to have a multitude of generals and security ministers and to keep them all guessing. To set them in deliberate rivalry, to give them contradictory orders, to create permanent confusion, suspicion and paranoia. Why? Simples: to prevent any single person or unit from becoming a centre of real power and so a threat to his rule.

Also, most of these units were kept down in Bas Congo, close to Kinshasa. Zaire had almost no border guards or forces. Why? Because the army was not designed to fight other countries or protect the country’s security; it was an internal security machine whose sole raison d’etre was protecting the president.

Another reason was simple corruption. The many generals and senior ranks Mobutu created, solely with a view to placating the numerous tribes and/or keeping prominent figures onside, to a man practiced various forms of corruption and graft, the simplest of which was to take the soldiers’ pay for themselves. Which explains why soldiers went without any pay at all for months on end, sometimes half a year. Which was the central reason why they mutinied and not only mutinied but went on great rampages of looting; they were claiming their back pay, taking what they though society owed them. That was the root cause of the two great Pillagings of 1991 and 1993.

And then there was greed raised to the level of comic farce. Most officers or army administrators had been selling off stock for cash for years. Thus the FAZ had out of date East European guns, the wrong ammo for their guns. Initially army commanders in Kivu sold the best of their munitions to the AFDL for a quick profit, arms and ammo the AFDL then turned back on the FAZ, who turned and ran.

Lastly, the neighbouring countries turned against Mobutu. Rwanda and Uganda were the AFDL’s main backers, but the Angolan government had for decades resented Mobutu’s support for the UNITA rebels and took the opportunity to send forces into Zaire to crush their base camps. Zambia co-operated by letting the AFDL cross its land to reach the south. Zimbabwe and Eritrea sent the rebels modern arms and Tanzania turned a blind eye to rebel bases on its territory.

By March 1997 the AFDL had taken Kisangani, next came Mbuji Mayi, then Lubumbashi, capital of the mining region in the south. It took just seven months from the launch of their campaign till the first AFDL troops arrived outside Kinshasa prompting the atmosphere of paranoid panic Wrong describes in the first chapter of this book.

Chapter 13

As so often happens with tyrants, Mobutu’s overthrow coincided with his final fatal illness. It’s as if their imminent fall from power triggers a collapse in their bodies. King Leopold II lasted barely a year after he handed the Congo Free State over to the Belgian government (February 1908) and in an eerily parallel way, the AFDL’s seven-month advance on Kinshasa coincided with 66-year-old Mobutu’s diagnosis with prostate cancer.

As the rebel forces relentlessly advanced westwards, Mobutu was in and out of the most expensive private clinics in the world in Switzerland. Thus his personal intervention and decision making was almost entirely absent during the crucial months. When he returned to his capital in March 1997, he could barely walk and had to be supported from the plane.

On 16 May 1997, following failed peace talks chaired by President of South Africa Nelson Mandela, Mobutu fled into exile and Kabila’s forces proclaimed victory. Mobutu died in exile in Morocco 3 and a half months later, 7 September 1997.

This is where Wrong places a fascinating interview with Mobutu’s son by his second wife Bobi Ladawa, Nzanga Mobutu. He mourns his father and insists he loved his family and loved his country. Wrong gives her account of the very last few days, especially negotiation with the Americans who tried to broker a deal with Kabila, partly through Nzanga’s eyes, partly through the account of US ambassador Daniel Simpson who took part in the actual discussions, and Bill Richardson, the troubleshooter US President Bill Clinton handed the tricky task of persuading Mobutu to relinquish power and tell his troops not to fight the AFDL as it entered Kinshasa, a confrontation which would have led to a bloodbath, anarchy and another Great Pillaging (p.271).

What comes over is the absolute centrality of the Americans as power brokers in the situation, but the refusal of a very sick Mobutu to formally abdicate and of Kabila to make any concessions. Right at the last his generals abandoned him. The knackered Russian Ilyushin jet Mobutu and his close family flew out of Kinshasa to Gbadolite in was peppered with machine gun fire by his very pissed-off personal guard, the Division Spéciale Présidentielle (DSP) who he was abandoning to their fates (p.279).

Chapter 14 Ill-gotten gains

A few months after Kabila took power, he set up the quaintly named Office of Ill Gotten Gains (OBMA) to identify Mobutu’s looted assets, including his multiple properties abroad (p.286). Wrong meets the first director of OBMA, former nightclub owner turned rebel soldier Jean-Baptise Mulemba lists and visits some. Three years after his fall, Wrong visits his large Swiss mansion at Les Miguettes, now falling into neglect.

Epilogue

The epilogue reminds us that this book was published in 2000, when Congo was still in the toils of what became known as the Second Congo War and Kabila was still president. She was not to know Kabila would be assassinated in 2001 and the war drag on for years.

Wrong shows us the dispiriting process whereby the initial high hopes about him and his crusade to undo corruption soon faded, as he found himself having to resort to all Mobutu’s old techniques for trying to hold his wartorn country together, namely creaming money off foreign loans, the mining companies, and even introducing tougher taxes on ordinary Congolese, in order to keep the regional governors and all manner of fractious stakeholders onboard.

Anyway, as Wrong’s book went to press in 2000 it ends with a survey of the many depressing tokens which indicated that Kabila was falling into Mobutu’s old ways, only without the dictator’s charisma or shrewdness. Blunter. Cruder. She calls Kabila a ‘thug’ (p.300).

And she ends with an assessment of whether Mobutu’s missing billions will ever be recovered. The short answer is No, for the simple reason that they don’t exist. All the evidence is that millions went through his hands but en route to the key stakeholders, political rivals, regional warlords, he needed to pay to follow him.

At a deep structural level, the corruption and gangster economy run by Mobutu and then Kabila may be the only way to keep such a huge country, divided into starkly different regions, populated by some 250 different ethnic groups, together.

God, what a thought. The population of Congo in the 1920s when the first estimates about how many died during Leopold’s rule, was said to be 10 million. By the date of independence 1960 described in Ronan Bennett’s novel The Catastrophist it had only risen to 15 million or so. When Wrong’s book went to press in 2000 she gives Congo’s population as 45 million. And now, in 2021? It is 90 million! Good grief. What future for a ruined country overrun by its own exploding population?

France

The French come out of this account, as usual, as scumbags. France was ‘Mobutu’s most faithful Western friend’ (p.287), ‘always the most loyal’ of his Western supporters (p.258). From the 1960s Zaire came to be regarded by the French government as part of its ‘chasse gardée’:

that ‘private hunting ground’ of African allies whose existence allowed France to punch above its weight in the international arena. (p.196)

The French believed they understood the African psyche better than the Anglo-Saxon British or Americans. They clung on to belief in their mission civilisatrice despite their not-too-impressive record in Vietnam and Algeria. Since the 1960s the French government has promoted la francophonie “the global community of French-speaking peoples, comprising a network of private and public organizations promoting equal ties among countries where French people or France played a significant historical role, culturally, militarily, or politically.” (Wikipedia)

The practical upshot of this high-sounding policy was that the French government promised Mobutu their undying support, no matter how corrupt and evil he became. The French government funded schools and media – so long as they promoted the French language. Valéry Giscard d’Estaing, French president from 1974 to 1981, was a great friend of African dictators and secured them many loans which just happened to coincide with a building firm run by Valery’s cousin winning quite a few contracts to build Zairean ministries and bank buildings and so on (p.131). Very handy.

It meant military aid, too. When rebels invaded Shaba from Angola, France parachuted legionnaires in to fight them. During the First Pillaging of 1991 France flew in troops to police the streets.

After his downfall, when the OBMA set out to track down the billions of dollars Mobutu had sequestered abroad, the lack of co-operation from the French government stood out.

Confronted with the AFDL’s legal and moral crusade, the silence from France, Mobutu’s most faithful Western friend, was deafening. (p.287)

But France’s standout achievement in the region was to protect the Hutu instigators of the great genocide of Rwanda. This is a hugely controversial subject, which I’ll cover in reviews of specifically about the Rwanda genocide, but in brief: the French government supported the Hutu government. The French president was personal friends with the Hutu president Juvenal Habyarimana, so when his plane was shot down and the Hutu government went into panic mode, the French government’s first response was to support them and to carry on supporting them even as they carried out the 100-day genocide. When the Tutsi Rwandan Patriotic Front invaded Rwanda to put an end to the genocide, France continued to support the Hutus and helped the genocidaires escape, along with millions of other Hutu refugees into eastern Congo, where they continued to support them, even after the evidence was long in the public domain that they had just carried out the worst genocide since the Holocaust.

Because for the French government, all that matters is the glory of France, the prestige of France, the strength of the Francophonie. Morality, justice, human rights, all come a poor second to France’s unwavering commitment to its own magnificence.

Hence France’s unwavering support for the evil kleptocratic dictator Mobutu right up till his last days; hence France’s support of the Hutu government, even after it became clear they were carrying out a genocide. A guilt France has taken a long time to face up to, has finally admitted, albeit hedged with reservations and caveats.

Repeated stories

Stories, gossip and educational facts are learned through repetition. Wrong repeats the description of big statue of Henry Morton Stanley, long ago torn down and lying rusting outside a warehouse in Kinshasa. Several times she refers to the two great Pillagings of 1991 and 1993.

She repeats the story about the Congo’s store of uranium dug from the mines of Shinkolobwe being sent by a foresightful colonial administrator to New York where it was discovered by scientists from the Manhattan Project and refined to become the core of the atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima (p.140).

Her chapter about King Leopold’s rape of Congo under hypocritical claims of freeing it from slavery and barbarism repeats much of the material I’ve read in Hochschild and van Reybrouck. She repeats Hochschild’s mentions of Congolese historian Isidore Ndaywel e Nziem’s estimate that 13 million died or fled the region during Leopold’s rule.

Van Reybrouck thought the tragic story of Lumumba betrayed by his secretary and friend Mobutu was like a Shakespearian tragedy. Wrong thinks it is Biblical like Cain and Abel, two beloved brothers who end up betraying each other. It certainly haunts the imagination of novelists and historians and commentators in a way the later, long rule of Mobutu rarely did, and the rule of Laurent Kabila not at all.

Credit

In The Footsteps of Mr Kurz by Michela Wrong was published by Fourth Estate in 2000. All references are to the 2001 paperback edition.


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