Book Review- Calder Walton- Empire of Secrets

‘If we are going to sin’ wrote Eric Griffiths-Jones, Attorney General of the British administration in Kenya during the Mau Mau rebellion, ‘we must sin quietly’. In truth, however, there was little understated about a counter-insurgency that saw 20 000 rebels killed, 78 000 detained and over a million forcibly resettled. Yet, while the British may have displayed little subtlety when fighting the rebellion, they proved extremely adept at covering their tracks once hostilities ceased. Indeed, the full extent of the abuses perpetrated by the British against the Mau Mau- abuses which included torture and widespread mistreatment- began to emerge only in 2011, after the Foreign Office ‘rediscovered’ 1 500 previously classified files. 

In Empire of Secrets, the debut book by Cambridge historian Calder Walton, the story of Britain’s intelligence services during the era of decolonisation is told for the first time. In Kenya, as with elsewhere, the picture was mixed. Rogue elements within the security forces, able to take the law into their own hands, engaged in quite terrible abuses. Conversely, the influential and measured reports of MI5 downplayed fears that anti-colonial leaders, such as Kwame Nkrumah and Joseph Kenyatta, were stooges of the USSR, facilitating transfers of power in the process. 

Somewhat more surprisingly, most newly independent governments asked MI5 to carry on in their former capacity. The rationale behind this remarkable alliance was threefold: their knowledge would come in handy when forging indigenous security services, it made sense to keep lines of communication open to the major powers and intelligence information could be used to stymie or target internal political opponents. 

Such arrangements also had advantages for London. Most importantly, they facilitated the UKUSA agreement covering signals intelligence (SIGNIT). Under this plan, GCHQ would be responsible for monitoring the many former outposts of Empire on behalf of London and Washington. In the pre-satellite era, during the high point of the Cold War, this understanding bolstered Anglo-American relations just at the point that Britain’s hard power was on the wane. 

One of the more exceptional nuggets unearthed by Walton concerns the British wartime 

programme of ‘extraordinary rendition’. Hereby persons of interest were detained, taken to a British colony and transported to the mainland for interrogation at Camp 020. Although physical torture was prohibited (not on humanitarian grounds, it should be noted, but because it promised only ‘unreliable evidence’), the scheme was extremely secret and of questionable legality. 

Throughout this passage, Guantanamo Bay lurks in the background and, at one point, it is referenced outright. This theme: linking practices of the past to contemporary events reoccurs at various intervals but is almost always unconvincing. This is not because the comparisons are completely erroneous but because they add little in the way of insight. For, in truth, despite the obvious similarities, there is little in common between Camp 020 and policies of the latter day Bush administration. 

Moreover, Walton’s broader point (which happens to justify his book) – that to avoid the mistakes of the past you must first have knowledge of them – fails to stand up to scrutiny. For while an understanding of previous errors can certainly aid the decision making process, all events take on their own momentum regardless of those which have occurred previously. 

This can be shown by making reference to one of the comparisons in Empire of Secrets. When discussing Suez, Walton draws a link between the ‘intelligence’ provided by the Czechoslovak source ‘Lucky Break’ and the infamously ‘sexed-up’ dossier that strengthened Tony Blair’s case for war with Iraq. Of course in the run up to the 2003 invasion Blair and his cabinet could have studied Suez in some depth- perhaps some did- but in all honesty does anyone sincerely believe this would have made any difference? This is not to argue that the past is irrelevant, but it is to state that events are best understood on their own terms, especially as analogy has the potential to hinder the decision making process as much as it can help.

Putting this discussion to one side, and while Empire of Secrets is an entertaining read it lacks a certain structure. Walton’s exhortations to learn from past mistakes can, in this regard, be seen as an attempt to cover for this. Though to be fair, given the subject material, perhaps an overarching argument was a task too much, but without one (chapters are sometimes organised on geographical grounds and sometimes over time periods) passages can run out of steam.

Book Review: The Coup- Ervand Abrahamian

In August 1953, the CIA, in concert with its British allies, orchestrated the downfall of Iranian Prime Minister Muhammad Mossadeq. Mossadeq, an ardent and popular nationalist, was instrumental to the movement against the Anglo Iranian Oil Company (AIOC); a movement which demanded that control of Iran’s natural resources was returned to native hands. 

In this concise and revealing history, Ervand Abrahamian, prominent Iranian scholar and Professor of History at City University of New York, argues that the events of 1953 must be viewed in their proper context. For too long, he contends, two myths about the coup have passed unchallenged: that Mossadeq- stubborn and fanatical- refused to compromise, and that the Cold War impacted heavily upon Anglo-American calculations. 

In order to counter the former, Abrahamian depicts Mossadeq as a rational and experienced political operator who recognised and successfully side stepped all attempts to sign Iran up to ‘pseudo-nationalisation’. 

Yet, while there is evidence to support his argument- the British position was to pay ‘lip service to the nation’ whilst ‘keeping effective power in our hands’- Mossadeq, it is fair to say, did have a belligerent streak. For instance, when, in 1952, the Shah failed to agree to greater civilian control of the armed forces Mossadeq resigned as Prime Minister, provoking a constitutional crisis. 

That said, Abrahamian is probably correct when he claims that it has long suited historians to portray Mossadeq as the architect of his own downfall. Indeed, he both challenges such interpretations and ridicules the many prejudiced news reports which surfaced at the time. Yet, although contemptuous of their content, Abrahamian contends that such stories, and the cultural notions they propagated, played no significant part in the coup. 

In the main, this was because the dispute was a rather simple one: it was about control over Iran’s natural resources. Consequentially, The Coup dismisses all notions that Anglo and (in particular) American interest stemmed from Cold War concerns. The coup, Abrahamian argues, was not about checking the communist Tudeh party or limiting Moscow’s reach, it was about oil and preserving the status of the AIOC. 

In order to prove this, the author details the negotiations which followed the Oil Nationalisation Act of 1951. Although this produces no bombshells, Abrahamian does show that when the State Department did produce a plan broadly acceptable to Mossadeq (the Iranians would control the exploration, production and transportation of crude but would sell the crucial Abadan refinery to a foreign- but not British- company, pay the fees of this transaction to the AIOC in ‘compensation’ and agree to sell a large amount of oil annually to the AIOC in the medium term), it was dismissed out of hand by London who declared that ‘oil production in Persia must be subject to British control and distribution’. 

Ultimately, the Brits got what they wished. Although the coup was a bumpy affair- the military’s first attempt to take control failed- the resultant oil deal saw BP control 40% of the consortium and Shell another 15% (although Dutch, Shell was widely viewed as British aligned company). 

Of course, such an outcome runs contrary to the accepted notion that immediately after the Second World War Britain, and her Empire, fell into a state of steady and deep decline. It is for this reason, Abrahamian speculates, that historians have tended to prioritise Mossadeq’s decision making and the involvement of the CIA. 

At this point, instead of allowing his history of the coup to stand alone, Abrahamian broadens his focus and lists what he considers the three legacies of 1953 : it made secular rule appear weak, it discredited the monarchy and it gave rise to a culture of suspicion and paranoia that continues to this day. 

While I feel he may be pushing slightly too far (I don’t accept the contention that the West has only itself to blame for having to deal with the likes of Ahmadinejad and not another Mossadeq), there can be no doubt that 1953 had a profound effect on Iranian political life. Moreover, Abrahamian’s depiction of Western and British success may explain the belligerent line taken against Nasser in 1956. 

More broadly, by boiling down a much analysed event to its bare bones, The Coup performs an important- and often neglected- historical function. Increasingly major events are subject to countless interpretations each of which emphasises how a seemingly small or relatively insignificant aspect actually determined the course of events. Without care, this can complicate matters to such an extent that root causes become obscured, or at least conflated with less meaningful concerns. 

By rejecting the Cold War framework and revising the conduct of Mossadeq, Abrahamian is able to focus on what truly counts: the battle over Iranian natural resources. While this means The Coup is not a complicated (or lengthy) book, it is certainly both entertaining and revealing. It is a useful volume for experienced Iran watchers and novices alike.

Book Review: Anne Applebaum- Iron Curtain

Conscious that the Western powers were watching Polish politics carefully, in the spring of 1945 Stalin allowed the non-communist politician Stanislaw Mikolajczyk to return to his homeland. Before the war Mikolajczyk had been president of the Polish Peasants Party (PSL) and served as Prime Minister in exile after General Sikorski perished in a plane crash in 1943. Although he was under no illusion about the prospects of establishing genuine democracy in post war Poland, Mikolajczyk thought it possible that Stalin might tolerate pluralistic politics so long as Warsaw remained under Moscow’s yoke. 
 

Upon his return, crowds gathered to greet Mikolajczyk. Indeed, in Krakow excitable supporters carried his car through the streets. The Polish communists, however, were not so impressed. PSL members were soon subject to harassment, arrest and worse. 

Unbowed, Mikolajczyk led a campaign to retain the Polish Senate. Although largely symbolic, the issue of whether or not to abolish the Senate was one of three put to the Polish people in a referendum of 1946. By advocating a No vote, the PSL defied the communists whose slogan ‘Three Times Yes!’ was disseminated on over 84 million posters, leaflets and brochures. 

Yet, in spite of the propaganda (or perhaps because of it) only a quarter of Poles voted as the communists had designed. This prompted the release a falsified set of results and a brief period of introspection. Once over, the communists concluded that the PSL could not be tolerated.

In the parliamentary elections of January 1947, for instance, its candidates were prevented from contesting in ten out of the fifty-two districts. Worse, in the six months between the referendum and the parliamentary ballot, all of PSL’s Krakow leadership was arrested. Soon, fearing for his safety, Mikolajczyk fled the country, leaving the politics of his homeland to Stalinist cronies like Boleslaw Bierut.  

The death of political pluralism in Poland is just one of many depressing tales from this period in Eastern Europe. In her gripping book, Anne Applebaum makes a good fist of recounting most of them as she documents the imposition of Soviet control in Warsaw, Budapest and East Berlin. 

The systematic deconstruction of Polish, Hungarian and German society was aided by the newly established secret police forces, modelled on the Soviet NKVD, which transmitted an anti-democratic mind-set to Eastern Europe. Suddenly, to be classed an ‘enemy’, one needed not to oppose anything; freedom of thought and individual expression were all that was required to attract the attention of the authorities. 

Consequently, in order to preserve their- and their family’s security- individuals compromised with the regime. Whether they believed the propaganda or not, men, women and children bowed their heads and got on with life. For a period truth was replaced by power. 

It is this process, the implementation of totalitarianism, which is so vividly described by the book. Applebaum documents how one set of institutions, already damaged by the Second World War, were deconstructed and replaced by the almighty State. But it was not just the armed forces, the secret police and the media that fell into communist hands, all manner of groupings from the Scouts to jazz clubs were snuffed out because they promoted free association and thinking.  

Ultimately, once Stalin had died and his cult of personality been dented, people began to express themselves once again. The young in particular, who resisted the attempts to create homo sovietics, eventually helped to facilitate the 1956 revolution in Hungary.

In terms of structure and focus, one of the key strengths of the book lies in Applebaum’s ability to synthesise a vast amount of research into various different issues- from art to industrial policy- and presents this in an engaging fashion. And while there is a political purpose to the book- Applebaum seeks to prove that the Soviet takeover was not a by product of American early cold war hostility, and discredit the resulting communist regimes- it does not distract from the scholarship. 

Although a minor detail, it is worth pointing out that this focus- on Poland, Hungary and East Germany- means that strictly speaking the subtitle: ‘The crushing of Eastern Europe’ is slightly misleading, for while Czechoslovakia, Romania and other nations are touched upon, Iron Curtain is essentially a transnational history of three states. 

And, it must be said, a very good one at that. In the first part of the book Applebaum documents how the public sphere fell into communist control. Her argument is that while the Soviets initially used soft power in an attempt to win hearts and minds, when this failed the communists resorted to harsher, more brutal techniques. This led them eventually to target the private lives of all citizens. It is this over-reach that forms the basis of the second half. Applebaum shows how by equating all free thinking with dissent the Soviets sowed the seeds of rebellion; suddenly every joke was in itself a tiny revolution. 

But while the Soviet system was certainly flawed, for those who experienced it this did not always seem the case. Some benefited from communist rule, and many dared not challenge it. Combined this meant a previous way of life was overwhelmed by an aggressive, suffocating force. Iron Curtain shows how precarious norms and institutions really are. It is a lesson we should never forget.

Book Review- A View from the Foothills- The Diaries of Chris Mullin

When trudging away during one of his brief stints in government, Chris Mullin is asked by his Private Secretary ‘Why don’t you make more suggestions on the policy documents?’. Mullin, who somewhat surprisingly given his profession, lacks personal ambition, replies that he is entirely reconciled to his current obscurity: ‘When I die...no one will ever remember that I was an under-secretary of state at the Department of Environment’.

A touch unkind perhaps, but you get the point: although Mullin thrice received a title, he did not covet them; indeed during his first ministerial incarnation as an underling for John Prescott (penance for what, he does not say), he came to the conclusion that he preferred life as a pugnacious and influential back-bencher to the world of red boxes and ministerial cars.

It is this rather weary attitude that does so much to endear Mullin to his audience. Indeed, one forgets that Mullin was once a firebrand: a campaigning journalist and member of the Bennite left. Instead, the reader comes to think of Mullin principally as reasonable, caring and straightforward member of Tony Blair’s Labour Party. And while Mullin has no truck with the focus groups and phraseology of New Labour, he is loyal to his leader- ‘The Man’.

The Iraq war is a notable exception. Mullin settles on the position that his support is predicated upon a second UN resolution, and when this doesn’t arrive- despite the pressure- Mullin sticks to his guns, and is better for it.  

Especially as this ‘transgression’ doesn’t cost Mullin his career. His final ministerial stint, covering Africa within the Foreign Office, is both the most harrowing and rewarding of his various assignments. Unfortunately, just as he was settling into the role the 2005 election brought things to a juddering halt: ‘I’m sorry Chris’ telephones ‘The Man’, ‘but I am going to have to let you go’. Nothing personal of course, just new faces required.

New Labour’s constant need for rejuvenation is just one of several irritable quirks exposed by our man in Westminster. The deference to almighty Middle England is duly noted, as is the often vacuous language that emanates from pollsters, civil servants and Number 10 alike. 

Then there is the issue of money. Mullin, who abhors both waste and materialism, attempts (with some difficulty) to extract himself from the ministerial car pool. Contrast this outlook with that of the Prime Minister’s wife, who upon learning of Mullin’s first demotion remarks, ‘you’re free- and poorer’. 

Beyond all that, Mullin is a friendly, warm companion who leads the reader through the zenith of New Labour with gentle humour and just the right mixture of idealism and cynicism. Yet the real strength of these diaries lies in Mullin’s writing style. Not only is he crisp and to-the-point but he has a fine ear for what truly counts. This, in conjunction with an acute awareness of his status and function, means that we are spared waffle and self-aggrandisement throughout. Hear, hear to that.

A New Direction For The UN?

Something interesting is happening at the United Nations. No, really. In March the Security Council passed resolution 2098 which substantially altered the nature of MONUSCO- the body’s largest and most expensive peacekeeping force. 

 Up until now, MONUSCO has been concerned primarily with protecting the civilian population of the Democratic Republic of the Congo from bands of rebel forces, but soon three infantry battalions, an artillery battalion and a special force and reconnaissance company will aim to neutralise the insurgents- principally the marauding M23 group.

Two factors precipitated the shift. First, the M23 has been gaining ground. The UN has talked about ‘waves of conflict’ sweeping East, further decreasing the Government’s control. Second, these forays have made MONUSCO look ineffective. Last winter, without firing a shot, the blue helmets ceded the city of Goma to the rebels. Unfortunately, this was not the mission’s first set back: in the past they have been accused of failing to protect civilians from atrocities. Thus, the beefed up mandate can be interpreted as an attempt to rescue MONUSCO’s reputation. 

Will it work? Well, there have already been teething problems. Although a quarter of the offensive troops are in place, bureaucratic wrangling and logistical issues have held up the rest. Announced in March, it is now estimated that it will be autumn before the ‘intervention brigade’ becomes fully operational. 

The delay gives M23 more time to prepare. Speaking to The Guardian last month, rebel Colonel Vianney Kazarama sounded bullish: ‘They will not know the terrain, our tactics, not even the local languages. It will take them weeks to organise. If they attack we will respond very quickly and with full force."

Yet, while it is clear that the UN has a job to, there is reason to be optimistic. Well armed and properly trained troops- the force will be composed of men primarily from Tanzania, Malawi, India, Uruguay and South Africa- should be able to take the fight to the M23. More, the presence of African forces increases the pressure on Rwanda to keep its nose clean. Last winter a UN report suggested that Kigali’s defence minister, General James Kabarebe, is in ultimate control of the M23. President Paul Kagame has called such accusations ‘ridiculous’, but he perhaps protests too much. 

The other consideration is the internal state of the rebels. In March, former M23 leader General Bosco Ntaganda surprisingly turned up at the US embassy in Rwanda and handed himself in. Now on trial at the international criminal court, General Ntaganda- known widely as The Terminator- raises some interesting questions: foremost among them what (or rather who) caused him to flee?

Fractures within the rebel group would boost the MONUSCO’s cause, even if the situation within the Congo remains grim. The Goma debacle of late last year no doubt triggered the tactical change—but no one expects the MONUSCO forces to have it easy.

How, for instance, would the UN respond if M23 targeted not the new, shiny ‘intervention brigade’, but the pre-existing peacekeeping forces? Would they close down the humanitarian mission, arm those troops or redouble efforts elsewhere? Things could get very complicated, very quickly. 

More broadly, the mission represents something of a litmus test for the UN. Previously, as with the overthrow of Gaddafi last spring, even when the Security Council has approved action the fighting has been outsourced to others. This time things are different. If the mission proves successful (it must be said that what constitutes success in such a war torn country remains unclear) then perhaps similar ventures will follow in its wake. On the other hand, failure would invite further questions regarding the purpose and effectiveness of the modern UN. 

The stakes, therefore, are high. Not only for the people of the Congo but for the Security Council as well. It will be interesting to see how the situation plays out.

Greece Experiences Its Annual Political Crisis, But Who Is Really Endangering Democracy?

Last week Greece experienced another political crisis. This year’s predicament — which for various reasons received much less international attention than the previous few — centred on the state broadcaster ERT. Just over a week ago, Prime Minister Antonis Samaras announced that it, and its three channels, would close down with immediate effect. ERT, which receives annual funding of €328 million (collected unusually via electricity bills), was a source of “incredible waste” and had to be drastically reformed. 

Thus, the government announced that 2,500 employees would lose their jobs (a figure which, after the involvement of the unions, rose to 2,700) and that a pared down state broadcaster would be introduced at a later, unspecified date. Cue howls of anguish: “A blow to democracy” fumed ERT newsreader Antonis Alafogiorgos; an “institutional coup” claimed leftwing opposition leader Alexis Tsipras. 

Certainly, the shutdown occurred at breakneck speed: ERT’s channels went black at 11pm on the day of announcement (an anchor, it was reported, was cut off mid-sentence).  Understandably, this inflamed both Greece’s journalists and its opposition politicians. Indeed, ERT staff were so irate they pledged to continue broadcasting come what may.

Intriguingly, their white knight arrived in the form of the European Broadcasting Union (the folks behind the Eurovision song contest). The EBU immediately expressed its “profound dismay” at Samaras’ decision and moved a satellite truck into the ERT’s car park in order to facilitate continued, online broadcasting. More, the EBU wrote to the European Commission and also organised a letter of protest signed by the great and good of European public service broadcasting, including the Director-General of the BBC.

By Thursday the pressure on Samaras had steadily ratcheted. It was beginning to look like he had overplayed his hand. So outraged were the other political parties — including PASOK and Democratic left, his coalitions partners — that it seemed as if fresh elections might prove necessary.

This spooked both the Germans and the market. Although Samaras only moved to close the broadcaster in order to satisfy the demands of the Troika (which has called for the Greek public sector to shed a further 2,000 workers), the alacrity with which the ERT was taken off the air, combined with the lack of consultation, prompted a political crisis. 

By Friday the Prime Minister had begun to row back. He signalled his intent to form a committee which would entrust a small number of ERT employees to resume news broadcasts. But for his opponents, rather predictably, the comprise measure did not go far enough. 

Over the weekend, Samaras attacked the ERT as “sinful” and corrupt. He claimed that he was trying to modernise a country that resembled “Jurassic Park”. But his justifications fell on deaf ears. On Monday Greece’s highest administrative court, the Council of State, suspended the order to closedown ERT. However, it did add that the state broadcaster sorely required reform. 

Although this caveat allowed all sides to claim victory, in reality there can be no doubt that the Prime Minister’s authority has been weakened. Indeed, Samaras has already pledged to update the coalition agreement, to consult with his partners more frequently and to engage in a Cabinet reshuffle. 

What to make of all this? Some have claimed the victor was Greek democracy, but I’m not so sure. While the government clearly acted with undue haste, the scope of the ERT must be put in perspective: its audience share, for instance, has been on the decline for years and currently stands at 13%. Furthermore, Samaras was attempting (albeit clumsily) to satisfy the demands of the Troika, not hobble the Greek media.

And then there is the role played by the EBU. Whether or not Samaras acted wisely (and I think we can all agree he didn’t), his decision to close the ERT was undermined by an unaccountable trade union. Not only did the EBU facilitate the aforementioned satellite truck, but it actually enabled the ERT’s news channel, NET, to return to television screens by rerouting its signal. 

Quite rightly, the Greek government has threatened the EBU with legal action (it has also been in contact with Israel to protest the fact that a firm from that nation co-opted with the EBU). Although it may have disagreed with the Greek government’s decision, the lengths which it went to circumvent it are astonishing.

In essence, the decision to close the ERT can be interpreted as a clumsy attempt to satisfy the Trokia— the IMF, the ECB and European Commission. In other words, the Greek government was bowing to its creditors demands. It is also true that the decision was roundly attacked as an affront to democracy, and that the policy was vehemently opposed by the EBU. In other words, the will of the Greek government was undermined by pan-European organisation accountable to no one. 

So I ask, is Antonis Samaras the real threat to Greek democracy? I can’t help but feel that the past week proves he isn’t.