oncentrated firepower and situational awareness that those new battlefield technologies provided was a significant force multiplier for the ground units of GNA-AF, which slowly degraded the HAF operational capability. The latter’s units were neither trained nor motivated to defend against the effective use of this new technology and usually retreated in disarray. Once in retreat, they were subject to continual harassment from the unmanned combat aerial vehicles and lethal autonomous weapons systems, which were proving to be a highly effective combination in defeating the United Arab Emirates-delivered PantsirS-1 surface-to-air missile systems. These suffered significant casualties, even when used in a passive electro-optical role to avoid GNA-AF jamming. With the PantsirS-1 threat negated, HAF units had no real protection from remote air attacks

Chadian and Sudanese armed groups remain active in Libya and have taken part in the conflict. Many Sudanese fighters were deployed to the frontlines of the Tripoli campaign of HAF to fill defensive and security tasks. A significant presence of Syrian fighters on both sides is further exacerbating insecurity within Libya

“No,” McChrystal agreed. Then he asked, “What do you mean?”“These guys just aren’t—” McChrystal thought he was about to say “heroes” but had stopped himself. “They’re not like we were.”“What are you talking about?” McChrystal replied. “These guys are doing a hundred times more than we ever dreamed of doing, and doing it better.”His friend seemed disappointed by the response, so McChrystal explained further: “It’s not just a few, you know, burly men anymore. Shit, this is a machine now. You and I don’t even know how to run it.”

SOCOM, whose genealogy can be traced to a small hostage-rescue team in 1979, has grown to fully inhabit the in-between space. Made up of elite soldiers pulled from each of the main military branches—Navy SEALs, the Army’s Delta Force and Green Berets, Air Force Combat Controllers, Marine Raiders—it is active in more than 80 countries and has swelled to a force of 75,000, including civilian contractors. It conducts raids like the one in Syria in 2019 that killed the Islamic State leader Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi, and carries out drone strikes like the one in Iraq in 2020 that killed Iranian Major General Qassem Soleimani. It works to locate hidden nuclear-missile sites in North Korea.

Anthropology did seem at the end of the 20th century to be in the throes of an existential crisis. A hundred years earlier, by contrast, it had been quite assured of its place and function. Marrying grandiose claims to disinterested scientific status with practical pursuits, in France and Britain especially it was closely associated with the administration of the colonies. However intellectually rarefied it may have been, ethnology – as it was usually known – often amounted to an exercise in gathering information about the empire’s subjects. Who was ruled? How did they live? What did they think? What languages did they speak? It didn’t help that the discipline as a whole was dependent on colonial infrastructure for access. The networks of imperial power granted fieldworkers safe passage among remote peoples and – after a hard day’s work interviewing people about what they ate for dinner or whose cousin was whose – a gin and tonic on the local district officer’s veranda. The anthropologists took up their posts in universities, the lexicons and lists of customs filtered back into colonial administration, and the masks and statues were delivered to the museums. The G&Ts were left out of the monographs, though not out of L’Afrique fantôme (1934), Michel Leiris’s riveting diary – and exposé – of an ethnological collecting mission led by Marcel Griaule across what was mostly French colonial Africa.

The Patriotic Party can have no such influence on the left, but it does provide Erdoğanism with an anti-imperialist discourse and with bridges to the ‘deep’ state apparatus of China.

Vast new infrastructural projects were initiated, largely funded from the Gulf.

the UK’s MoD remained enthusiastic, the review said, not least because “the annual cost of the programme (i.e. non-kinetic targeting) represents extraordinary value for money given current policy restraints”.

Consider two candidates: one who attains the top of their field after being trained and supported by the best of the best, and the other who trails them by a step or two – but never had their advantages. Which one has the most potential?

According to the GWU article, ‘Olena Semenyaka is the female figurehead of the Azov movement’. A former disciple of Alexander Dugin, she broke ties with him following the Maidan revolution and joined the Right Sector before switching to Azov. She has since become a prominent proponent of the Intermarium – a sort of Eastern European Union stretching from the Baltic to the Black Sea, rather along the lines of the old Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth. To this end, she has established links with far right groups across Europe.

In the late 1990s and early 2000s, the structures of silence began to collapse. The retired general Paul Aussaresses brazenly recounted his role in murdering FLN leaders during the Battle of Algiers and framing their deaths to look like suicides. Louisette Ighilariz, a former FLN militant, gave a harrowing interview to Le Monde about her torture and rape, and her search for the French doctor who had rescued her from her interrogators. These testimonies, along with the publication of new books by Branche and other young historians, prompted many long silent veterans to share their stories of the war. It was, as the son of one veteran joked, a kind of ‘coming out’. But it was also an attempt to understand their experiences. Renaud Beaufils, who refused to speak to Branche when she was writing her first book, contacted her because he wanted to know more about a clash in which a dozen of his fellow soldiers were killed. ‘I no longer know if I lived that period,’ he told her. Berthelémy admitted to Branche that after his failed attempts to speak about his killing of the young boy, he all but suppressed his own memory of it. Later he was reminded of it in a dream in which he was judged and condemned for the crime. Berthelémy, a long-time activist in an anti-war veterans’ group, urged his fellow soldiers to speak to Branche, and many of them did.

acques Inrep​ was among the first psychologists in France to recognise the long-term effects of the war on combatants. While working as a psychiatric nurse in the late 1960s, he realised that many of his patients were appelés, though he didn’t initially ‘make the link with the war’. Many were violent, often towards their wives. One patient remembered his use of the gégène (electric shock torture) in the Aurès Mountains, and of pornographic images to intimidate women. This provoked Inrep’s own memories: he, too, had served in the Aurès, where he had witnessed rape and torture. After his patient committed suicide, Inrep went into clinical psychology, keen to understand the ‘mental destructuration’ that occurs in ‘limit situations’. In the 1980s, he found a professional ally in a left-wing psychiatrist, Bernard Sigg, who had deserted in 1960 after treating veterans in a military hospital in Casablanca. Sigg had become persuaded that they suffered acutely from shame at having fought ‘under the sign of transgression’, that is, by carrying out crimes against the laws of the Republic in whose name the war had allegedly been fought. It is thanks to researchers such as Inrep and Sigg that the war’s psychological toll has been widely, if belatedly, acknowledged, including by the French state. Since 1992, three decades after the ceasefire, soldiers suffering from psychological issues related to the war have been entitled to compensation.

It took another twelve years and a long battle by appelés’ associations for soldiers in Algeria to be recognised as combattants and so become entitled to the rewards of service. Because Algeria hadn’t been a war, demobilisation was ‘dislocated from any collective experience’, without the processions or parades that traditionally followed wars.

The vast majority of appelés had left school young, often to work under their fathers.

the French government had banned corporal punishment in the home in 1928

Raphaëlle Branche, who in 2001 published a doctoral thesis, La Torture et l’armée pendant la guerre d’Algérie, based partly on interviews with former appelés

“President Duque and Álvaro Uribe, they promised us three things, in exchange for one: First of all, they promised a runway, so we can land planes; and a place to train, a camp; and the freedom to cross the border between Venezuela and Colombia,” Álvarez explained. She added, “In exchange, we would fight against the ELN” – a reference to a Colombian socialist guerrilla group. “I know this because I am the translator between Jordan Goudreau and Cliver Alcalá,” Álvarez said in the video testimony, referring to a former Venezuelan general who fled to Colombia in 2018 and has been involved in numerous coup attempts against Venezuela’s leftist government.

Historians can be paparazzi late to the scene.

It was masterminded by Fouad Ali Saleh, who was of Tunisian origin and claimed to be acting in the name of God as well as in support of political detainees in Arab states: the second claim was even more disingenuous than the first. Saleh was a member of Hizbullah and a staunch supporter of Ayatollah Khomeini. During the Iran-Iraq War, France had fallen in behind Saddam Hussein, providing Exocets and fighter aircraft to Baghdad; French companies may even have supplied the regime with precursor elements for chemical weapons. Saleh had all the hallmarks of an undercover operator in the service of a foreign power, taking the fight to its enemies.

until the mid-1980s, when a bombing campaign in and around Paris left thirteen dead and hundreds wounded. It was masterminded by Fouad Ali Saleh, who was of Tunisian origin and claimed to be acting in the name of God as well as in support of political detainees in Arab states: the second claim was even more disingenuous than the first. Saleh was a member of Hizbullah and a staunch supporter of Ayatollah Khomeini. During the Iran-Iraq War, France had fallen in behind Saddam Hussein, providing Exocets and fighter aircraft to Baghdad; French companies may even have supplied the regime with precursor elements for chemical weapons. Saleh had all the hallmarks of an undercover operator in the service of a foreign power, taking the fight to its enemies.

In his demagogic 1850 speech on the Don Pacifico affair, he had said that ‘as the Roman, in days of old, held himself free from indignity, when he could say Civis Romanus sum; so also a British subject, in whatever land he may be, shall feel confident that the watchful eye and the strong arm of England will protect him from injustice and wrong.’ By the time of the war, Palmerston had turned that into a rhetoric of universal justice.

He was a division commander by 1933 and a corps commander by 1938. There were some bad moments during the Great Purges of 1937-38, in which so many high-ranking military officers perished, but Zhukov was still a step below them, and emerged an (involuntary) beneficiary.

Arms and the man hardly constitutes a novel theme in either literature or politics. But martial concerns have rarely been fashionable on the Left, except as a target of derision or anger. It was by no means to Healey’s advantage within the Labour Party, therefore, that he displayed a lasting preoccupation with an inescapable military dimension to the geopolitical conflicts that divided the postwar world.

Although – a trifle immodestly – he claims in his Introduction that his material was considered by Denis Brogan in London to be ‘the Ariadne’s thread through the labyrinths of American politics’, it is hard to see Berlin as Theseus in these reports, which veer from matters of local American concern (labour troubles etc) to generalities so general one can only yawn one’s way through. The burning issues of America’s entry into the war, the loss of the Philippines, the disastrous first eight months of 1942, the whole question of the Second Front, the great conferences at Yalta and Tehran, the agonising questions of post-war Europe, of Palestine and – still so agonising today – of Poland, are dealt with summarily, drily, in no way memorably. Why should this gifted man have failed to deliver something more rewarding? The answer is, of course, censorship. Not imposed – though that, too, possibly – so much as self-imposed. The FO in London – Berlin does not say so, but it can be inferred – knew that the Americans were reading the British Embassy signals: it therefore wanted nothing that burned, nothing contentious or embarrassing – above all, nothing personal. So, effectively restrained, Berlin penned his weekly school letter and gave it to the headmaster to read, revise and encypher. Professor Nicholas, the editor, fawns and bows, proclaims those despatches written in Berlin’s absence to be ‘school of Berlin’: but he cannot get away from the fact that, deprived of the right to portray personalities, express opinions, or be funny, Theseus puts up a pretty disappointing display against the American Minotaur.

Labour was consistently well behind in the opinion polls. Its appeal to the electorate in 1970 would perforce be based not on any achievements in restructuring British institutions or the economy but on the ‘sound’ management which produced, in 1969, a huge balance-of-payments surplus of £440 million. That year saw two truly spectacular political disasters.

The reserve-currency role of sterling gave Britain illusory economic status at a time when it was slipping further and further behind West Germany and France.

The centre-right gained most votes; its candidate was the fixer Jean-Claude Juncker. After some tergiversation, Merkel prevailed on the Council to accept him and Juncker became president of the Commission on the strength of about 10 per cent of the European electorate. Had she not done so, Habermas told the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, it would have been ‘a bullet to the heart of the European project’.

In writing of social provision, Barnett unconsciously applies a double standard. Increases in public expenditure are singled out for attack. The housing programme and the National Health Service are presented as greedy predators, guzzling up resources. But the alternatives, private expenditure on health and housing, also divert resources away from industrial investment. Much of the cost of health care in the 1930s was met by fees or donations, so it is by no means certain that the establishment of the National Health Service led to an increase in the share of the national income devoted to health.

Mann’s coup was so poorly organised, and leaked information so freely, that it was discussed in the course of a Chatham House seminar before it took place. The plotters had a penchant for meeting in loud groups at fashionable restaurants – in one instance in Malabo itself, with 35 drunken Afrikaners roaring away to anyone who cared to listen. Mann assumed that almost everyone would be pleased to see the back of the odious Obiang, and that by noising his plans abroad he was allowing Britain, the US, Spain and South Africa to know what was happening: if they didn’t react he would take it that he had their tacit consent. The plotters actually told Bulelani Ngcuka, the head of South Africa’s prosecution authority and a Mbeki intimate, what they were planning and again assumed that the lack of official response meant they had Mbeki’s implicit permission to go ahead. In fact, there is strong reason to believe that the coup did enjoy US and Spanish support, and London certainly did nothing to stop it.

When Churchill took over they all got junior government jobs. Lyttelton muscled in, successfully insisting that his British Metal Corporation take control of the entire supply of non-ferrous metals for the war effort.

At the moment, we are told, we have almost an embarras de richesse, with a budget surplus of £14 billion.

‘The Huns are always the same,’ Britain’s first semi-European leader declared to the company assembled on HMS Britannia. ‘When they are down they crawl under your feet, and when they are up they use their feet to stamp on your face.’

They really were traitors. Swedish colonels, West German bureaucrats who betray secrets to the East, are not in their league. They usually do it for money, or because they are under pressure or because they have some personal grievance. Nor are their fellow citizens as fascinated by their treachery as the British public are by the tale of the upper-crust spies. Philby, Burgess, Maclean and Blunt were doing something more fundamental: they betrayed what their country was doing but by the same act destroyed the way their country did things. After them, the delicate muscle-tissue of the executive, uncritical trust moving in sheaths of class loyalty and schoolmate confidence, never worked so well again. This isn’t to say that state servants do not still use it. They do, but with misgivings and with much greater difficulty. The damage done by the spies here was irreparable in the long run, but if one considers that the old-boy system was overdue for replacement, one could argue that the Cambridge spies betrayed their friends, in this instance, but not necessarily their country.

But Brandt’s achievement was not so much a matter of personality as of the lessons he learned from experience – lessons drawn from the Norwegian and Swedish models of democratic socialism, which were simply not available to party members who stayed in Germany throughout the Nazi period.

Isaiah Berlin said that ‘he doesn’t have any human perceptions; he’s all glass and rubber.

Britain’s hugely profitable arms trade is an enduring by-product of that state, and here Hamilton-Paterson contributes an unsettling thought. ‘It is the arms industry perhaps more than any other that best preserves the inventive standards and traditions of British engineering, research and technical expertise.’

After 1945, Edgerton’s ‘new British nation’ set out to be self-sufficient, but not just economically. He gives many pages to the ‘warfare state’ which arose under the Labour government, its enormous and largely concealed expense condemning Britain to years of rationing and austerity and robbing the welfare state of resources. ‘After the Second World War, Britons built not only a new Jerusalem but a new Sparta.’ In the 1950s, during the early Cold War, defence spending at 10 per cent of GDP was far higher than it had ever been in peacetime – much higher than in 1913 or 1938. Less evident is the extent to which rearmament affected the whole balance of power in government and even in the universities, where the sudden demand for male scientific, engineering and mathematical graduates actually reduced the proportion of female science students below its prewar level. Edgerton sees that as highly significant: ‘The profound militarisation of the 1950s went along with a new masculinisation of the public sphere, the other side of the much noted promotion of feminine domesticity.’

Back in London, right-wing advisers were selling the war cabinet a different plan. The Allies should seize the Russian ports of Murmansk, Archangel and Vladivostok, and use them as bases to cross Russia and – with the help of anti-Bolshevik forces – re-establish the Eastern Front.

Europe has made a huge effort to give the population a say in decision-making.’ That the adjective is risible hardly matters; it is the indefinite article and feeble monosyllable of the penultimate phrase, to which van Middelaar reduces Athenian democracy, that delivers the message of his Greek conclusion. The Assembly where all important political issues were directly debated and determined by citizens, which was most famously what Athens actually invented, is never so much as mentioned. Instead, what Athens gave the world was the chorus in Greek drama. That it observes and comments on, but plays no role in the action, is a detail that undermines his attempt to collapse voter into spectator as the higher truth of the polis. The title of his chapter is franker: ‘The Greek Strategy: Seducing the Chorus’. For a European public to come into being, what’s needed is not a democracy determined by citizens, but a drama that entrances – ‘thrills’ – them. Politics at its best, Ankersmit had argued, is an exercise in aesthetics.

The way he tells it, his time in the 10th Special Forces Group put him in some of the most contentious, and pivotal, moments of the post-9/11 Middle East. Publicly available Army records are sparse, but they don’t contradict him. His job was to kill people deemed “high-value targets” by Army command, he says. As a member of the elite Delta Force squad, he says, he was deployed to Sadr City in 2006, the site of some of the most prolonged violence during the Iraq War, just as Saddam Hussein was executed and the “surge” began. (He declined to watch Hussein hang, even though he was invited to attend, he says.) He also claims he was deployed to Libya in the wake of Ambassador Christopher Stevens’ death at the raid on the U.S. Embassy compound in Benghazi on September 11th, 2012.

In this respect it is fair to acknowledge that, at least so far as the Inquiry has been able toascertain, thiswas far more so in the case of SASR than of the Commando Regiments. The evidencedoes not reveal a consistent pattern of misbehaviour in 2 Cdo Regtor any of its sub-units, as it doesin SASR and at least two of its squadrons, namely Squadron and Squadron. It cannot be excludedthat that may be attributable to the Inquiry having less success in breaching the code of silence in 2Cdo Regtthan in SASR, buton the available evidence the Inquiry would attribute it to the closerresemblance of 2 Cdo Regt to a conventional unit -in particular that its officers were not sidelinedand disempowered, but very much remained in practical command of operations

As to the mission, the circumstances and co-incidence of the name of the EKIA andthat of , and the contemporaneous intelligence report of an execution,were so striking asto call for further inquiry.

a whole-of-ISAF document, not an SOTG-generated targeting list;b.a ‘living’ document, in that it was subject to constant updating and review as new intelligenceand priorities emerged

Counter-nexus operations (Operation MAKHA NIWEL). Operation M AKHA N IWEL was anenduring CONOPS for SOTG counter-nexus operations, targeting the drug industry due to itsassociation with funding the insurgency, conducted by FE-

Disruption operations (Operation SARA T OFAN). Operation SARA TOFAN was an enduringCONOPS for SOTG disruption operations, to disrupt insurgent networks, conducted by FE (and itspartner force

FE-B – Force Element Bravo, a Commando Company from 2nd Commando Regiment (2 CdoRegt)

Body count competitions and the use of the Joint Priority Effects List (JPEL).Dr Crompvoetssaid that she was given the impression that there had beena ‘large number of illegal killings’that had been ‘reverse engineered’using the JPEL. Shedescribed thisas a ‘sanctionedkilllist’—a reference to a prioritised list of validated targets that may be prosecuted to achievelethal or non-lethal effects. Theimplication was thatnames of people killed were added tothe JPELafter they were killed

The following table (Table 1.09.1),

There is also the observation that appropriate scrutiny from higher up may have been avoidedin part, due to the SFofficers who have proliferated throughout the ADF.156This may havecontributed to a lack of institutional appetite to look into things earlier, either because it soundedlike the continuation of behaviours that were ‘ok in my day’and perceived troublemakers making amountain out of a molehill.On the other hand, it is notable that the present Inquiry was instigatedby and continued under two Chiefs of Army, both withSF backgrounds.

Some Joint Operations Command lawyers above the SF Task Group started to try and assert some control over what they increasingly believed were ‘sanctioned massacres’. The ROE were tightened up, but there was scepticism about whether this had any actual effect as ‘SF just got more creative in how they wrote up incidents’.145 As the lawyers started to become more ‘troublesome’, the SF unit started to rely more on their own lawyers, ‘with the promise of being inside their ‘elite tent’, doing cool stuff in return for legally polishing their version of events and the truth in a way that created enough doubt as to exonerate them.

Many people spoke of how widespread the knowledge of wrongdoing was, making it very difficult to believe that the lack of oversight can be put down to simple disinterest: What was really concerning was everyone knew which SF units, Squadrons and patrols, and under which commanders, most of the killings were perpetrated. The same names would pop up with remarkable frequency. A reasonable person would think, now that’s odd, that name has popped up at a few incidents, the circumstances and witness accounts are very similar, hmm there is a pattern here. That didn’t happen,

If they didn’t do it, they saw it. If they didn’t see it, they knew about it. If they knew about it, they probably were involved in covering it up and not letting it get back to Canberra. And to make it even harder, if they didn’t know about it, the question will be: why didn’t you, because you should have.

For example, when a Troop Commander wouldn’t let the troopers engage spotters, he wasapparently branded ‘’and unworkable.119There was a perception that this Troop Commanderreceived no support from above

While officers were not so sure to confirm this, this ,suggests that, to at least some extent, there was an attempt to keep junior officers out of the loopby soldiers and NCOs:98.99For example,while the practice appears to have been widespread, there was an attempt not to draw attentionto the use of throwdowns. .100However, the questionsweren’t asked, partly because 10144., .102This had the effect of empowering theNCOs, with Patrol Commanders basically doing the Troop Commander’s job. For example, in acompound clearance operation, the modus operandiwould be for the Troop Commander to be inan overwatch position until the area was secured. ,103but it also had the effect of removing officers from effective control in many situations,and as such, afforded an opportunity for Patrol Commanders and soldiers to act without oversight.45.In some cases, as their role became inmany ways superfluous, the traditional relationshipbetween junior officers and NCOs changed as well:It may be the case that the guidance and nurturing normally provided by NCOs to their junior officers was replaced by a more domineering or controlling approach.10446.That this is perhaps an understatement is supported by multiple accounts, .105The TroopCommanders effectively became figureheads

to take it from 18 to 20 appears linked to the deaths of two prisoners who were shot following an explosive entry into a compound that didn’t result in the expected outcome

For some rotations, a new team member freshinto theatre who hadn’t yet shot someone would be required to shoot a prisoner, ‘to pop hischerry...to prove that he was up to it’.80That appeared to be the price of entry into the in group.While healthy competition is obviously a good thing, when competition is measured by bad orinappropriate metrics internally as well as externally, it can become highly corrosive. For example,adopting a body count metric, formally or informally, is likely to skew the way operations areconceived and executed.81There is clear evidence that someelementsdid keep score of the numberof kills. While not in itself a breach of the Law of Armed Conflict, ‘in terms of establishing an ethicalframework for your troops as a Patrol Commander, it’s a clear fail’.

Running became a death sentence, even for women and children, with the deadperson’s actions being recorded as ‘tactically manoeuvring’ to a firing position or suspectedweapons cache in the subsequent report onceit had been ‘legally massaged’:75‘It got to the pointwherethe end justified the means’

If the systemis looking for and expecting enemy killed in action, it would be naïve not to expect that this is whatpeople are going to try and achieve, by whatever means were available. The narrative that emergesis not one of a limited number of exceptional events, but rather, widespread and systematicbehaviours:69‘I think there was that thirst to get out there and chase. You know, chase, chase, chase.Keep going, sometimes beyond reason’.

his coincided with the way theAustralian force began to align themselves towards a ‘Warriormentality’culturally at odds with the mission that was still supposed to be based on a ‘hearts andminds’approach, and withtheADF as a whole

the mission profile changed, and the type of activity became less‘special’and more routine, while still maintaining a high tempo, there was sense that they weretrying to create activity to justify their presence in the scale that they were deployed as SpecialOperations unit.

We were out there fighting on a daily basis. If we didn’t go out that day, I’d just about guarantee it wouldn’t make a pinch of shit of difference...we were playing with people’s lives, both ours and theirs

Contributing to this gradual decline in standards was fatigue and a general sense of loss of purpose. Fatigue is an issue that is going to be a factor on any deployment and was mentioned by multiple interviewees

in the base – the Fat Lady’s Arms – ‘somewhere there where we can do certain stuff but we’re not going to get caught and it’s not going to be regarded as misconduct because that’s who we are and that’s what we do’.42 Although unauthorised, the pub managed to get resupplied through the system. A Sergeant with 10 operational tours said, ‘I have seen alcohol consumed on every operation since 1999 by every rank on every operation since 1999, by every rank and including JTF and unit commanders’.43 While alcohol on deployments was linked to ‘risky or unacceptable behaviours’, it is ‘difficult to conclude that almost everyone in the SOCOMD chain of command was not aware of this’. 44 Alcohol was widely justified as a coping mechanism for stress, grief and high tempo operations and the unit was basically given a pass because it was ‘special’, reinforcing a perception of entitlement, with the ‘logic of exceptionalism warranting the application of different rules and behaviours to those that applied to other ADF members’.

This is not limited to a SOCOMD chain-of-command issue, of course, but reflects a wider failure of policy to provide appropriate guidance to those on the ground.36 This led to an attitude where it was preferred if the target that was supposed to be apprehended fired shots, as it justified a lethal response and removed the known problem of the person being briefly interrogated and possibly released straight back into the field

These appear to have had a corrosive effecton behaviour. First among these was the policy of ‘catch and release’as it is repeatedly referred to,which came to signify an out of touch chain of command, helping to create a ‘them and us’situationbetween them andhigher command. This involved releasing detainees if there was no clearevidence of serious criminal misconduct or if they were not considered to be important enough interms of leadership. From a policy position, one can see the logic. Unlawful or unfair detention leadsto ill feeling that ultimately can fuel an insurgency, but the rapid release of ‘known’ insurgents waspossibly ‘the single most important factor in the population’s lack of confidence in the governmentin Uruzgan Province’.25

There was some admiration for US practice, especially when it came to maintaining the ‘shockof capture’on detaineeswhere their disorientation contributes to them sharing time-sensitive anduseful information. The maintenance of this pressure was deemed essential for the successfulextraction of actionable intelligence within the narrow window of opportunity following theapprehension of a target. The desire to maintain that pressure, unsurprisingly, led to some tension.

research in the British Army demonstrates thatwhile officers were generally well aligned with the army’s stated values, this was most prominentfor cadets, declined for lieutenants and captains and only partially recovered as majors, suggestingthat whatever ethics training British junior army officers received, it was insufficient to counter theirlived experience when it came to maintaining army values

8.T

There may well have been a sense, at least at Squadron level, not least because of the numbers of EKIA, and the number of them who were found to be unarmed, or armed with only a pistol,grenade or ICOM, but to have been ‘manoeuvring tactically against the FE’, that the ROE were beingexploited, and lethal force was being used when perhaps it was not always necessary

he presence of intelligence, surveillance, andreconnaissance (ISR)assets, particularly in the air, would provide ongoing observation and imageryof events ontarget, the ISR was typically pushed ‘off target’once the FE was there. Variouslegitimate reasons were given for why this was so. One –and perhaps the least persuasive –was sothat others with access to the ISR would not be able to observe tactics, techniques and procedures.Others, which are entirely reasonable, were that once the FE was on target it was a better use ofthe ISR to monitor escape routes for potential ‘squirters’, and approaches for potential threats.However, the result was that the ISR did not provide visibility of what happened on target. TheInquiry has confirmed this in its review of many hours of Heron UAV [Unmanned Aerial Vehicle]imagery.

Australia requires a more surgical and refined national Special Forcescapability than thatrequired for the more or less conventional operations into which SOTG operations in Afghanistanevolved. The sustained use of Special Forcesto conduct what were in truth largely conventionaloperations meant that the limited pool of Special Forcespersonnel were required to deploy onmultiplerotations, with little respite between deployments. It also denied conventional forces anopportunity to deploy and learn from the experience of operations for which they were trained andsuited.While Government may have had an understandablepreference for using Special Forces,because of their proved success in the past and the lowerrisk profile, it was the ADF’s responsibilitynot simply to accede to that preference, but to provide fearless and firm advice that the protracteduse of Special Forces to conduct what were not in truth ‘special operations’, but missions that couldhave been conducted by appropriately trained and enabled conventional forces, was imprudent,unwise, and potentially jeopardising the welfare of Special Forcespersonnel.

the manner in which events were reported. It was seen asmore important to report in terms that met the expectation of higher command (such as,in theperiod 2012-2013, the practically universal description of operations as ‘ and the attribution of outcomes to the Wakunish partner force, when in reality theywere not involved in planning, were not included in orders, were not told about the objective ordestination in advance, there was a limited level of trust of them, those who inserted on the firstturn operated in effect as a patrol under the command of their Australian mentor, and most insertedon the second turn, also under the effective command of an Australian mentor)

All that said, it was at the patrol commander levelthat the criminal behaviour was conceived,committed, continued, and concealed. But for a small number of patrol commanders, and theirprotégées, it would not have been thought of, it would not have begun, it would not have continued,and, in any event,it would have been discovered. It is overwhelmingly at that level thatresponsibility resides

Those who did try to wrestle back some control were ostracised, and oftendid not receive thesupport of superior officers. Indeed, this was not confined to troop level: a squadron commanderwho insisted on proper standards (and during whose command of FE-no relevant impropriety hasemerged) was permitted to be nominated by NCOs as ‘Cock of the Year’. This attitude fostered theempowerment of the patrol commanders and, thus, thedisempowerment of those who mightcontrol and restrainthem, and the ‘warrior culture’ that some, though by no means all, of the patrolcommanders embraced. A substantial indirect responsibility falls upon those in SASR who embracedor fostered the ‘warrior culture’and the clique of NCOs who propagated it. That responsibility is tosome extent shared by those who, in misconceived loyalty to their Regiment, or their mates, havenot been prepared to ‘call out’ criminal conduct or, even to this day, decline to accept that itoccurred in the face of incontrovertible evidence, or seek to offer obscureand unconvincingjustificationsand mitigations for it

82.The position

The combined effect of many of these factors is again powerfully illustrated by the SOTGresponse to being asked by HQ JTF 633 for clarification of the QA in respect of theincident at .35There is no suggestion that the staff officers and commanders who contributed to that indignant response . But the continuation of such behaviour was enabled by their truculent attitude to being questioned

command accepted with little question that complaints by local elders of civiliancasualty incidents were an insurgent tactic, in which the elders were either complicit or coerced,and/or motivated by compensation; yet there is little evidence to support this: to the contrary, manyof the complaintsnow appear to have been legitimate

those who were ‘behind the wire’being reluctant to questionthose who were on the ground,but in turn protective of their FE by being resistant to obtaining full and accurate accounts forprovision to higher headquarters, and embellishing operational reporting to demonstrate thelegitimacy of engagements

by at leastearly 2012, there was a consistent presumption on the part of the chain of command and a numberof inquiry personnel that complaints by local elders were part of an insurgent strategy, and that theelders had either been coerced or were a willing party to supporting insurgent messaging; or weredriven by compensation. This was reflected in the manner in which the three complaintsinvestigated by the IOI were handled at multiple levels, and also in the CommandingOfficer’s comments on the . The evidentiary basis for that presumption now appears tobe slight, but that does not deny that it was prevalent at the time

also supported by theevidence of , who when asked how far up the chain of command he thought knowledgeextended tha

Inconnection with the incident, ,then a patrol second-in-command, was questioning what had happened to the prisoners. There islittle doubt that his persistence in this respect contributed to his sidelining from the patrol andtransfer to mentoring responsibilities.

The criminal behaviour described in this Reportwas conceived, committed, continued, andconcealedat patrol commander level, and it is overwhelmingly at that level that responsibilityresides

The Inquiry has found no evidence that there was knowledge of, or reckless indifference to, the commission of war crimes, on the part of commanders at troop/platoon, squadron/company or Task Group Headquarters level, let alone at higher levels such as Commander Joint Task Force (CJTF) 633, Joint Operations Command, or Australian Defence Headquarters.

The role of the patrol commanders in target development marginalised theprofessional intelligence advisers.The imperative of using air assets when they were available,coupled with an implied KPI based on EKIA achieved, caused SOTG personnel, particularly FE, topressure intelligence staff for target information, even when it was not actionable.Control ofintelligence reporting meant that command was denied an alternative perspective.Someintelligence staff developed suspicions, but were not in a position to challenge the accounts givenbythose who were ‘on the ground’

was asked about his relationship with intelligence staff working within the SOCC. ’sreply (italics for emphasis) was:Q123.... A.I don’t think they were well regarded or relied upon because thetargeting at thatpoint had been really delegated for particular targets to patrol commanders.And the patrol commanders really became the subject matter expert, if you like.It’s certainly what they wanted to be called about a particular target.So really, it undercut the int staff’s ability -the int staff’sability within the SOCC to do their job beyond the collation of different intelligence sources, the reporting that we were doing and orders of, you know,if we were about to do a targetingpackage we would get them to give a general outline.I think in terms of specific targets they were really just facilitating the patrol commanders to do the analysis and also to follow leads.

As the SOTG S2, was at a level on the Headquartersabove the FE intelligence staff;however,FE intelligence staff workeddirectly to the operations staff and the OC,and onlyhad a measure of indirect technical control over them

he devolution of operational command to the extent thatthe national command has no real oversight of the conduct of SF operations not only has thepotential to result in the national interest and mission being overlooked or subordinated, butdeprives national command of oversight of those operations

commanders were protective of their subordinates, including in respect of investigationsand inquiries. Again, that is an inherent responsibility of command. However, the desireto protect subordinates from what was seen as over-enthusiastic scrutiny fuelled a ‘waragainst higher command’, in which reporting was manipulated so that incidents wouldnot attract the interest or scrutiny of higher command.The staff officers did not knowthat they were concealing unlawful conduct, but they did proactively take steps toportray events in a way which would minimise the likelihood of attracting appropriatecommand scrutiny. This became so routine that operational reporting had a ‘boilerplate’flavour, and was routinely embellished, and sometimes outright fabricated, although theauthors of the reports didnot necessarily know that to be so,

It is evident that fear of the consequences of reporting misconduct to the chain of commandhas deterred some from doing so.In most cases this is fear for career prospects, although in somethere has been fear of physical reprisals.In any event, experience shows that where a complaint orreport is adverse to a member’s chain of command, there are powerful practical constraints onmaking it.To enable members to feel safe and secure in reporting concerns about their chain ofcommand, units need to have an alternative reporting line.Traditionally, this has been providedinformally by the Chaplain and the Regimental Medical Officer, but a more clearly authorised formaland confidential system, to which members can report concerns without fear of retribution, isrequired to overcome the inherent constraints on reporting about the chain of command throughthe chain of command. This needs to be embedded at unit level, so that it is not remote andunfamiliar from those who may wish to resort to it, and so that doing so is not perceived as ‘goingoutside the unit’.As a suggestion only, it might be based on the XO network

Theintroduction of a second officer into a troop as Executive Officer (XO) would reinforce theofficer influence, provide a sounding board, and enable oneofficer to be ‘on the ground’’withanother in an overwatch position.The troop sergeant, with equivalent rank to the patrolcommanders, has limited authority over them.The Inquiry has been attracted by the BritishSpecialBoat Service model, in which the troop sergeant equivalent has the rank of Colour Sergeant –superior to the sergeant patrol commanders, while still inferior to theSquadron Sergeant Major(SSM, Warrant Officer Class Two). While the requirement is less obvious in the CommandoRegiments, a similar approach could be adopted there

Junior officersin SASR, at troop command level,were not well-served by mentoring andsupport, and were able to be sidelined by the dominant patrol commander clique.Operationalfactors contributed to this, enabling the troop commander to be dislocated for plausible reasons inan overwatch position.The empower of junior officers requires the support -previously lackingbecause of the ‘rite of passage’ and ‘sink or swim philosophy’ –of Commanding Officers andSquadron Officers Commanding, and of Warrant Officers

were routinely embellished, often using boilerplate language, in order to proactively demonstrate apparent compliance with ROE, and to minimise the risk of attracting the interest of higher headquarters. This had upstream and downstream effects: upstream, higher headquarters received a misleading impression of operations, and downstream, operators and patrol commanders knew how to describe an incident in order to satisfy the perceived reporting requirements.

42.Professor Whetham has observed, in his Recommendation 1 (Deliver education to all SOCOMDpersonnel on the causes of war crimes), that educating military personnel about the causes of warcrimes so that they understand how such crimes can come to be seen as almost required andtherefore justified,is vital, but not easy.He suggests that military ethics training should employ casestudies drawn from military personnel ‘from the same services and country as themselves’,so thatthey understand that they too could become torturers or murderers –thatthe ‘good guys’ can alsodo bad things. He recommends that every member of SOCOMD should receive education on thecauses of war crimes, tobe delivered by SOCOMD soldiers themselves and reviewed by appropriateexternal (ie, non-SOCOMD) reviewers who can act as critical friends; and that members of theSOCMD community should be recorded talking candidly, and on the record, about the ethical driftthat took place over a period of time, how hard itwas to resist the prevailing organisational cultureand the missed opportunities that could and should have been taken to address the failures that somany people appeared to recognise at the time,but felt powerless to change.The Inquiry adoptsthese recommendations.43.In particular, the Inquiry believes that in high stress situations, soldiers will default to theirpractical training experience, rather thanto theory learnt in a classroom. They will respond as theyhave practised responding in exercises.This can be addressed by embedding in continuationtraining, as well as in the selection process, practical ethical decision-making scenarios, based onthe types of incidents described in Part 2, in which trainees are under pressure to make unethicaldecisions

As operations in Afghanistan evolved, SOTG were, at least to a substantial degree, notconducting ‘special operations’, but missions that could have been conducted by properly-enabledand supported conventional forces. In particular, FE was predominantly involvedin kill/capture and disruption type missions, which were a form of cordon and search; whileForceElement (FE)was predominantly engaged in company-strength attacks and clearances

, the devolution of operational command to the extent that thenational command has no real oversight of the conduct of Special Forcesoperations not only hasthe potential to result in the national interest and mission being overlooked or subordinated, butdeprives national command of oversight of those operations.What is ‘special’ about Special Forcesis the operations they conduct. If anything, the secretive nature of their operations makes effectiveoversight by National command all the more important. That they conduct ‘special’ operations doesnot mean that they should be excepted from ordinary command and oversight arrangements

Moreover, ISAF SOF, under the operational command of which the SOTG sat, were stronglyinfluenced by a predominantly ISAF SOF attitude and strategy which was focussedon killing or capturing insurgent leaders and disrupting insurgent lines of communications

When soldiers are exposed to that environment repeatedly, over a decade, without lengthydwell times between deployments, it is unsurprising that the moral compass of some may shift.It isno coincidence that it was in the later years of Operation (OP) SLIPPER – in particular –thatthe problems reached their nadir

All this occurred in a foreign and different environment, isolated from the norms of Australiansociety, and out of sight of those whose supervisionor presence would ordinarily impose restraintson behaviour.Those are conditions which are fertile for a ‘Lord of the Flies’ syndrome to prosper,and there are strong signs of that afoot on Rotation , Rotation and Rotation

Catch and release,and the kill count

Typically, the troop commanders were ontheir first SOTG deployment. Their patrol commanders were vastly more experienced.Of itselfthat is not unusual.However, in a carry-over from domestic counter-terrorism tactics,techniques, and procedures, the patrol commanders became the lead planners for operations.The operational control and influence of troop commanders was diminished, if notmarginalised.

Those who did try to wrestle back some controlwere ostracised, and often did not receive the support of superior officers. Indeed, this wasnot confined to troop level: a squadron commander who insisted on proper standards (andduring whose command of Force Element [FE]no relevant impropriety has emerged)was permitted to be nominated by NCOs as ‘Cock of the Year’.

The officers who might have counter-balanced this were disempowered. This commencedfrom selection, where non-commissioned officers (NCOs) were effectively the gatekeepers.There is a perception in many quarters that officers were selected on the basis that they wouldbe compliant.Junior officers were poorly supported. They were not well-mentored, but wererather left to swim or sink.

rom 2010, rotary wing assets became increasingly available to support SOTG operations, anda pattern developed by which there would be alternating four day windows during which rotarywing assets would be available. As a result, a cycle was established of four days planning and targetdevelopment (during which the Force Element remained positioned to conduct vehicle-mountedoperations if necessary), followed by a four day ‘rotary wing period’ (during which operations wereconducted).

FE-A – Force Element Alpha , based on a SASR troop, or troop plus

Composition

The deployment pattern was structured around the Afghan fighting season, whichtraditionally begins in April as snow melts in the mountains and slows in November as winter setsin. Generally, there was a rotation from February to July, a rotation from July to November, and awinter rotation from November to February

For East Timor it is about 20 per cent; for Afghanistan it is higher than that at about 40 per cent. These are volunteers and, in most cases, very enthusiastic volunteers. For those who are on a second tour in a specific theatre— and I am still talking about Special Operations Command—about 20 per cent are on a second tour of East Timor, and because Afghanistan is more topical, about 30 per cent are on their second tour. For Special Operations Command, because they do tend to be more specialised and because they are not so great in number, we are inside the respite period for a number of them

Special Operations Task Group Rotations

Commandos are very well equipped. They have very heavy firepower

May 2006 - October 2008 (four rotations)

May 2007 - December 2013 (17 rotations)

August/September 2005 - September 2006 (three rotations)

October 2001-November 2002 (three rotations)

Operationally, the SAS works in patrols of four to six men and there’s rarely an officer among them. This is different from the rest of the army, where an officer is almost always within 100 metres of a soldier or helicopter or truck. An SAS patrol can be isolated for weeks, save occasional radio situation reports. This is where sinister events occurred.

Before the war, on a tactical level the Armenian army was superior: it had better officers, more motivated soldiers, and a more agile leadership. In all previous wars with Azerbaijan, this proved to be decisive. But Azerbaijan found a way to work around it. This is where the drones came in: they allowed the Azeris to reconnoitre first the Armenian position and then the placement of reserves. Armenian positions then could be extensively shelled with conventional artillery, weakening their defences. Drones then guided the onslaught towards the Armenian reserves, bringing in artillery, multiple-rocket systems with cluster munitions, their own missiles, or using Israeli-made LORA ballistic missiles to destroy bridges or roads linking the reserves with the front. Once the Armenian side was incapable of sending reserves into battle, the Azeri army could move in any number it wished to overwhelm the isolated Armenian positions. This procedure was repeated day after day, chipping one Armenian position away each day and resupplying artillery during the night. This tactic also worked well in mountainous territory the Armenians thought would be easy to defend. In the mountains, there is only one road connecting the front to the rear, which made it even easier for drones to spot targets. When the battle over Shusha demonstrated that the Armenians would not stand a chance even in this territory, the Armenian army started to disintegrate and Yerevan had no choice than to agree a ceasefire on adverse terms.