Tag Archive for: Afghanistan

Policy, Guns and Money: Afghanistan in crisis, disinformation for hire and far-right extremism

Following the collapse of Afghanistan’s military and the Taliban’s takeover of Kabul, the US and its allies are accelerating efforts to evacuate their citizens and Afghan refugees. Brendan Nicholson speaks to Peter Jennings about how the security situation deteriorated so rapidly, the short- and long-term security risks for the country, as well as how China might look to engage with the Taliban.

Governments across the globe are grappling with how to deal with disinformation-for-hire operations and cyber-enabled foreign interference. The challenges posed by disinformation are explored in a new ASPI report, Influence for hire: the Asia–Pacific’s online shadow economy. Jake Wallis, Ariel Bogle and Albert Zhang discuss the dangers of a manipulated information environment in the region and how policymakers should respond.

Teagan Westendorf speaks to Ariel Bogle about her new report, Buying and selling extremism: new funding opportunities in the right-wing extremist online ecosystem. They discuss the de-platforming of extremists and the different ways the far right is raising money.

Australia’s strategic posture after Afghanistan

Canberra, we have a problem. The collapse of the Afghan government and security forces; the victory of the Taliban; the abandonment of Afghans, particularly women; the unruly scramble to evacuate; and the apparently limited consultation have left allies, already sceptical of America’s reliability and intent, shaken.

President Joe Biden’s argument that his hands were tied by the ceasefire his predecessor Donald Trump negotiated with the Taliban doesn’t excuse the failure of execution. Greater weight should have been placed on an orderly withdrawal precisely because of Trump’s failings, and especially his earlier abandonment of the Kurds.

The consequences are deeper than uncertainty about whether the United States was willing to stay the course. It is a question less of persistence—after all, the US and its allies persisted in Afghanistan for 20 years—and more of competence and capacity. The US and allies were insufficiently clear on the objectives and misunderstood the complexity and effort required, especially on the neglected civilian side of governance, society and economy.

A case could certainly be made that America’s prolonged engagement in Central Asia was a distraction from the greater strategic threat of China and Russia. In this line of thinking, the US withdrawal staunches the bleeding of capability, resources and goodwill in a relatively inconsequential part of the world and in the face of a pandemic and a rising peer competitor.

That argument assumes that the US withdrawal will lead to greater engagement in the Indo-Pacific, and on fronts countering Russia and China. True, the administration is in its first year. But while Biden’s March 2021 Interim national security strategic guidance talks a good game, there’s little evidence yet of any reorientation. As ASPI’s Peter Jennings has argued, we need to see a rebuilding of an American military geared to but outlasted by years of insurgent warfare.

More, we need to see a step up in terms of rebuilding the US as a power—economically, technologically and politically. There’s a considerable amount of work of to be done to rebuild America’s strategic centre after the storming of the Capitol on 6 January.

Indeed, worryingly, the fear is that this will be only the first of several extrications for the US while it focuses on its own internal problems. Isolation would leave the world a much darker, more dangerous place not only for allies like Australia, but for the US as well.

If this proves true, allies will take the message that they can’t rely on American assistance or persistence. Already, several commentators—and former prime ministers—have echoed the need for Australia to become less dependent on the US and more self-reliant. But there have been few willing to address what that would mean, in terms of Australia’s strategic posture, the ANZUS alliance, Australia’s role and its relationships in the region, plus capability and cost.

Australia’s strategic posture is heavily bound up with the US alliance. From that arrangement—particularly its intelligence capabilities and military armament—stem much of Australia’s confidence and own capacity. In turn, Australia offers a reputable partner, some intelligence insight, and a southern anchor to the US presence in the broader Asia–Pacific. And yes, there is much to be said for shared values and a common desire for a liberal, democratic, free-market, rules-based order.

A more self-reliant Australia could offer greater value to the United States, were Australia able and willing to exert its power in the region to mutual ends.

Practicalities, however, intrude. Australia has only a small military, if one capable in niche areas and one that can usefully support larger US efforts, as in Iraq and Afghanistan. Major Australian bases are distant from key locations, whether key trade routes through the Southeast Asian archipelago, facilities such as Subic Bay, Guam or Singapore, and flashpoints such as the Taiwan Strait. Its own supply lines are highly vulnerable, both geographically and as a net importer of technology and manufactured products.

Over time, Australia has lost some defence capabilities—such as the F-111 fighter bombers—that could help it exert a more strategic presence. Nowadays, major capability relies, perhaps too heavily, on our submarines.

A more self-reliant Australia would mean a significant technology transfer program and much faster growth of independent long-range strike capabilities. And even then, the capacity of the Australian economy to contribute to and support such a program is questionable. Australia has not positioned itself for success or built the flexibility and fecundity needed to support a technologically self-reliant defence posture.

Australia has little by way of a high-technology industry or manufacturing capability, including of the sort that helps build a pipeline of engineering talent.

The shipbuilding program is emblematic of the inherent issues. Local talent is one deep in critical areas, risking burnout of key people. Engineering and manufacturing equipment and expertise are imported. The ‘smarts’—intellectual property, technical knowhow and key data—are generated and often retained overseas or beamed back via internet-connected machinery to head offices. Major contractors are foreign primes, with local companies bidding for subsidiary work. Spillovers into the broader economy, government business, and even the research sector are limited, as the project is kept tightly within national security bounds.

Over the years, Australia’s economy has narrowed rather than broadened, and the economic complexity that creates knowledge and technology is diminishing. Government policies continue to neglect rather than nurture intellectual effort, including in science, technology, engineering and maths.

So, not only is the US unlikely to transfer the technologies needed for Australia to increase its self-reliance, but Australia itself lacks the base to build, maintain and grow such capability. In that Australia has not changed—and arguably has gone backwards—over the past 50 years.

Australia’s neighbours are likely to look askance at a more self-reliant posture, which in the past has been closely tied to a defence-of-Australia doctrine. And without a clear exposition of interest and values, and the capability and competency to back it, such a stance is likely to invite further pressure from China.

That discussion has become harder with Australia’s posture in the Covid-19 pandemic—a hermit kingdom, shut away from the world, prone to a comfortable stagnation. In short, a more self-reliant path is both desirable and inevitable. But getting there successfully, while maintaining Australia’s liberal, democratic values and its security, will require us to accept that decades of free riding are over.

Why is Australia talking about going back to Afghanistan when we only just left?

Last week, with little fanfare, Australia’s last six soldiers departed Kabul on a RAAF aircraft. Australia shut up its intelligence and diplomatic presence in Afghanistan. Incredibly, it’s now been reported that Foreign Affairs Minister Marise Payne is inclined to stage a careful return of diplomatic and intelligence officers to Afghanistan.

The minister’s spokesperson went further by stating the withdrawal was ‘always expected to be temporary, with the intention of resuming a permanent presence once circumstances permit’.

If our commitment to the two-decade war in Afghanistan was about preventing the country from becoming a terrorist base, then the re-establishment of a diplomatic and intelligence post in Kabul is all but inevitable. But how did we end up in this situation so soon?

Americans had become increasingly unhappy with the expenditure of US blood and treasure in Afghanistan. Osama bin Laden was no more, and al-Qaeda had quietly slipped from the media and the front of mind of Americans and Australians alike. For the broader American population, the painful memory of the 9/11 attacks had been obscured behind the fresher memory of what operations in Afghanistan have cost them.

For years, the thread connecting Afghanistan with the global threat of terrorism has been increasingly difficult to maintain.

President Joe Biden’s July announcement that US military operations would cease was hardly a surprise. However, the 31 August deadline was probably a bolt from the blue requiring rapid decisions by US allies, Australia included.

Biden justified the speedy drawdown by arguing ‘the United States did what we went to do in Afghanistan’. That was to destroy the 9/11 terrorists, leadership and supporting networks, and to ‘degrade the terrorist threat’ so Afghanistan wouldn’t be a base from which attacks on the US could be organised.

Not to ‘nation-build’.

But he also said there’d be no ‘mission accomplished’ celebration. That belies the truth that nation-building in Afghanistan is fundamental to reducing the conditions in this profoundly broken country that terrorists have historically exploited to organise, train and mobilise their ranks.

Fifty years of experience suggests that a return to these conditions will see Afghanistan again hosting groups such as the Islamic State in the north, which are reportedly growing and which threaten to destabilise the region.

China and Russia may seek to use Afghanistan to further their geostrategic interests. All of this will ensure that Afghanistan remains broken.

So, how could the factors encouraging terrorism be removed if nation-building wasn’t central to the US and allies’ mission? With Biden’s decision, Australia faced a tough decision. Could we protect our diplomats and intelligence officers as the US departed and the Taliban advanced? Clearly, no.

What a difference a week can make.

That 650 US troops remain in Kabul to protect their embassy may have contributed to Australia’s change of heart.

We are unlikely ever to know the full reason Australia is planning to return as fast as it left, but the clear thing that has changed in the past week has been the Chinese Communist Party’s commitment to be involved in Afghanistan. China’s foreign affairs minister, Wang Yi, said as much at a press conference on 13 July and in a Ministry of Foreign Affairs story posted online that day, when he pledged China’s support for all parties in Afghanistan.

China has shown interest in filling some of the economic and diplomatic void left by the US departure. The CCP has an interest in developing diplomatic ties with Afghanistan to lessen the likelihood of the Taliban supporting Muslim Uyghurs in Xinjiang. It would also be keen to ensure that a resurgent Taliban doesn’t disrupt its Belt and Road initiatives in Pakistan.

These economic and security concerns will both be served if a Taliban-led government is able to suppress the growing Islamic State elements in the nation’s north. Russian officials say Islamic State is focused on destabilising central Asia rather than agitating for domestic change. If it gathers strength, it could spell trouble for a new Taliban administration trying to secure the state.

The CCP is also eager to increase Chinese economic investment in Afghanistan, especially if it can secure access to its unexploited reserves of copper, coal, iron, gas, cobalt, mercury, gold, lithium and thorium.

With Australia’s increased focus on the Indo-Pacific, neither the intelligence nor diplomatic community can afford to have a blind spot in Afghanistan that crosses both geopolitical and terrorist threats.

Technical intelligence collection, including signals intelligence, will likely remain valuable. However, nothing beats having boots on the ground, especially in a country where little makes sense from afar.

Australian Army profoundly changed by two decades of war in Afghanistan

The war in Afghanistan has profoundly changed the Australian Army and had a significant impact on the whole defence force.

Around 30,000 ADF personnel served in Afghanistan and 41 died there. The vast majority of them fought and worked with great courage and decency, many living in small, isolated patrol bases in remote valleys with the Afghan soldiers they mentored.

They did not just teach the Afghans to shoot and then send them on their way; they fought, and some of them died, with those Afghan soldiers.

Even when trust was broken with ‘insider’ killings of Australian and other allied soldiers by Afghan personnel who were traitors or disaffected, the Diggers persevered.

Soldiers who ran technical training programs teaching Afghans were immensely proud of the tradesmen they turned out.

Those who built schools and clinics took the same pride in introducing visitors to young Afghan doctors who worked there, tending long lines of sick and injured.

I’ll never forget an ill-judged comment I made to one doctor when I noted that while there was so much physical injury around, his clinic had a mental health room.

The doctor looked at me sadly and said: ‘We’ve been at war for decades. Nearly everyone has lost someone. Everyone is traumatised.’ Sometimes, in quiet moments, his words, and his face, come back to me and I wonder if he has survived thus far, if he’s still working, and whether his devotion to his patients will keep him there if the Taliban take over, or if they’ll simply murder him.

Diggers who built or repaired schools were proud that local kids, especially girls, were being educated there.

There were hope-filled periods when the region around Kabul was calm enough for journalists and other visitors to go to local markets, to roam through shops full of stunning carpets, shawls and cloaks without an armed escort. That was an echo of Afghanistan of the days before the Russian invasion when it was a fascinating, romantic and historical, and surprisingly secular, sojourn on the global hippy trail.

But at the same time, there was another war going on in the mountains and valleys a helicopter ride away, where Australian and allied special forces battled through one dangerous operation after another in a conflict fought in darkness and out of sight of the media and the world at large.

A small minority of them got out of control.

This became a true corporal’s war in which junior NCOs had the authority of kings.

On top of that, some officers were treated with contempt by a small number of NCOs who’d spent endless nights on dangerous operations and who undoubtedly did know more about fighting and surviving than those sent to command them.

There was also a view by many in the regular army that they’d largely been marginalised through a determination to minimise casualties by using the special forces for just about everything.

When concerns were raised about possible unlawful killings, the army ordered its own investigations. What they uncovered was profoundly disturbing. Something had gone badly wrong on the Afghanistan missions—a deep-seated and distorted warrior ethos permeated parts of the SAS and an entrenched culture of impunity had taken hold there.

There were ‘catastrophic cultural and professional shortfalls’ within Special Operations Command (SOCOMD) and ‘corrosive’ friction between the major special forces units, the SAS Regiment and the commandos. Under the pressure of 20 intense rotations in Afghanistan over 11 years, the special forces had become isolated from the rest of the army.

Any examination of how operations in Afghanistan have changed the ADF has to include a reality check on Justice Paul Brereton’s report on alleged ADF actions in Afghanistan. He found a range of atrocities which, had they occurred in Australia, and if they are proven in court, would make the perpetrators some of the nation’s worst serial killers.

The word ‘woke’ has emerged, fairly abruptly, in the Australian language for such events and it’s fired around with abandon by those who disagree with any action taken by anyone trying to do the right thing.

It is ‘woke’, apparently, for senior military officers to be shocked to learn that there’s strong evidence that some Australian soldiers, a small minority, committed war crimes that included killing unarmed Afghan prisoners. And it’s ‘woke’ to object to Australian soldiers wearing the death’s head symbols once favoured by Hitler’s elite killers.

ADF commanders say the decline has been reversed and a restructured SOCOMD is now positioned to implement the Afghanistan inquiry’s findings and to rebuild the trust of government, the defence organisation and the public.

Of all the wars in which Australia has been involved, the Afghanistan conflict was the longest, its intensity and its largely hidden cost reflected in the significant number of veterans who have killed themselves since coming home.

On the positive side, the war taught the army a lot about the necessity for the war fighter and intelligence to be tightly integrated. It led to major technological advances by Australian soldiers and engineers to deal with weapons such as the ingenious improvised bombs, mostly made from diesel and fertiliser, that proliferated there. Those innovations will save lives in wars and peacekeeping missions all over the world.

Editors’ picks for 2020: ‘Investigation uncovers firm evidence of Australian war crimes in Afghanistan’

Originally published 19 November 2020.

After a four-year-long investigation into allegation that members of Australian special forces committed war crimes in Afghanistan, 25 soldiers stand accused of murdering 39 unarmed Afghan civilians or prisoners and cruelly treating two others.

Some of the soldiers are still serving in the Australian Defence Force.

The inquiry led by New South Wales Supreme Court judge Paul Brereton, a major general in the Army Reserve, found credible information about 23 incidents in which one or more non-combatants or prisoners were unlawfully killed by or at the direction of Australian soldiers in circumstances which, if accepted by a jury, would be the war crime of murder.

Some of these incidents involved a single victim, and some multiple victims.

The report, released by the chief of the ADF, General Angus Campbell, said a total of 25 current or former Australian Defence Force personnel were perpetrators, either as principals or accessories, some of them on a single occasion and a few on multiple occasions.

None of these incidents occurred under pressure in the heat of battle, the report said.

Campbell said the ADF was rightly held to account for allegations of grave misconduct by some members of its special forces community during operations in Afghanistan and the report detailed credible information regarding deeply disturbing allegations of unlawful killings by some.

‘To the people of Afghanistan, on behalf of the Australian Defence Force, I sincerely and unreservedly apologise for any wrongdoing by Australian soldiers. I have spoken directly to my Afghan counterpart, General Zia, to convey this message.’

Brereton’s report said that overwhelmingly, the special forces soldiers performed skilfully, effectively and courageously. Because of their role, they formed a disproportionately high percentage of ADF members killed or wounded in action in Afghanistan, and there is a long tail of consequential mental health issues which continue to emerge.

But in 2014, a number of issues emerged in Special Operations Command, including rumours that war crimes had been committed by some members of the Special Operations Task Group (SOTG).

In March 2016, Campbell, then chief of the army, asked the inspector-general of the ADF to inquire into ‘“unsubstantiated stories” of possible crimes (illegal killings and inhumane and unlawful treatment of detainees) over a lengthy period of time in the course of the Special Operations Task Group deployments in Afghanistan; the cultural normalisation of deviance from professional standards within Special Operations Command, including intentional inaccuracy in operational reporting related to possible crimes; a culture of silence within Special Operations Command; the deliberate undermining, isolation and removal from Special Operations Command units of some individuals who tried to address this rumoured conduct and culture; and a systemic failure, including of commanders and legal officers at multiple levels within the command, to report or investigate the stories as required by Defence policies’.

These issues were raised with Campbell by the then chief of Special Operations Command, Major General Jeff Sengelman, and civilian sociologist Dr Samantha Crompvoets.

This investigation was not a criminal trial and it could not find guilt in any individual case. But Brereton said in his report that if what the inquiry has found was taken collectively, the answer to the question of whether there was substance to rumours of war crimes by some special forces soldiers ‘must sadly be yes, there is’.

In a report that will be deeply troubling to the ADF, the army and the nation, some sections are profoundly chilling.

The inquiry found credible information that some patrol commanders ‘blooded’ junior soldiers by ordering them to achieve their first kill by shooting a prisoner.

This would happen after a target compound had been secured, and local people were ‘under control’. ‘Typically, the patrol commander would take a person under control and the junior member, who would then be directed to kill the person under control’, the report said.

That was combined with a practice adopted by some soldiers of carrying ‘throwdowns’—easily concealable foreign weapons or equipment such as pistols, small handheld radios, weapon magazines and grenades—which would be placed with the body when the person killed was found to be unarmed.

Then a cover story was created for operational reporting and to deflect scrutiny. ‘This was reinforced with a code of silence’, the report said. That meant the dead person could be identified as an ‘enemy killed in action’ and therefore a legitimate target.

In some cases, that practice also served to enable a unit to outscore other patrols in numbers of ‘enemy’ killed in action. The report says it ‘probably originated for the less egregious though still dishonest purpose of avoiding scrutiny where a person who was legitimately engaged turned out not to be armed. But it evolved to be used for the purpose of concealing deliberate unlawful killings.’

Subordinates complied for a number of reasons. To a junior SAS trooper, the patrol commander is a ‘demigod’, who can make or break their career. The trooper is trained to obey and to implement their commander’s intent. ‘To such a trooper, who has invested a great deal in gaining entry into the SASR, the prospect of being characterised as a “lemon” and not doing what was expected of them was a terrible one, which could jeopardise everything for which they had worked.’

Further, the report said, these men were in a foreign environment, far from the influence of the norms of ordinary Australian society, where the incident could be compartmentalised as something that happened outside the wire to stay outside the wire.

‘In that context, some individuals who would have believed themselves incapable of such behaviour were influenced to commit egregious crimes. It is clear to the Inquiry that at least some of them have regretted it, and have been struggling with the concomitant moral injury, ever since.’

On the issue of who knew about these atrocities, the report says: ‘There is no credible information that troop, squadron and task group commanders either knew or suspected that these things were happening, and that they did not fail to take reasonable steps which could have prevented or discovered them. However, what is described in this chapter is possibly the most disgraceful episode in Australia’s military history, and the commanders at troop, squadron and task group level bear moral command responsibility for what happened under their command, regardless of personal fault.’

The report said it was in soldiers’ parent units and subunits that the cultures and attitudes that enabled misconduct were bred, ‘and it is with the commanders of the domestic units who enabled that, rather than with the SOTG commanders, that greater responsibility rests’.

Of all the armed conflicts in which Australia has been involved, the war in Afghanistan was the longest.

The report said the position of the SASR troop commanders called for some sympathy as it was a difficult one.

‘Invariably, they were on their first SOTG deployment. They were in an environment in which the non-commissioned officers had achieved ascendancy, just as they had from their role as gatekeepers to SAS selection, and their extended role when new officers were “under training” and thus regularly subordinate to them. They were not well-mentored, but were rather left to swim or sink. Those who did try to wrestle back some control were ostracised, and often did not receive the support of superior officers.’

The report says a substantial indirect responsibility falls upon those in the SAS who embraced or fostered a ‘warrior culture’ and the clique of non-commissioned officers who propagated it.

‘Some domestic commanders of SASR bear significant responsibility for contributing to the environment in which war crimes were committed, most notably those who embraced or fostered the warrior culture and empowered, or did not restrain, the clique of non-commissioned officers who propagated it.

‘That responsibility is to some extent shared by those who, in misconceived loyalty to their Regiment, or their mates, have not been prepared to “call out” criminal conduct or, even to this day, decline to accept that it occurred in the face of incontrovertible evidence, or seek to offer obscure and unconvincing justifications and mitigations for it.’

Brereton has recommended that a significant number of cases be referred to the Australian Federal Police for formal investigation.

That has been accepted by General Campbell.

Noise around Afghanistan inquiry risks distracting from need to prevent future war crimes

To our national detriment, much of the public discussion on war crimes alleged to have been committed by Australian soldiers in Afghanistan is focusing on secondary, peripheral or irrelevant issues.

Some public confusion has resulted from inaccurate media coverage.

Straw-man arguments have also been peddled by those with other agendas, including a wish to obscure the key fact that premeditated and systemic war crimes were committed, and that they were inexcusable.

Alleged perpetrators remain entitled to the presumption of innocence and a fair trial in a civil court before a jury of their peers. And they will get those things.

But whether anyone will eventually be convicted, or not, also remains a separate practical and moral issue to the broad fact that such shocking crimes did happen, and that major decisions need to be made about it.

Australia, and not just the Australian Defence Force, needs to ensure they never happen again.

Justice Paul Brereton’s independent, four-year inquiry has explored the extent of the war crimes, why they occurred and what reforms are now necessary. Conclusions and recommendations cover four categories of subsequent action. Each has twin objectives in differing proportions.

First are the referrals for criminal investigations by the Australian Federal Police (and now also a special investigator). These predominantly involve a focus on legal and moral accountability individually, but will also have collective deterrent value for the future.

Second are actions under administrative law, such as discharges and resignations from the ADF and the voluntary surrender or revocation of honours and awards. These involve a mix of individual accountability and collective culture-change measures to deter and prevent future war crimes.

Third are disciplinary-law actions against individuals under the Defence Force Discipline Act 1982 involving both accountability and deterrence. The more serious charges—say, for duty failure or negligence—involve trial by courts martial.

Fourth, there are structural and cultural reforms instituted under the statutory command authority held by the chief of the defence force under the Defence Act 1903. These involve both objectives but lean more towards deterring and preventing future war crimes.

Many people, however, appear to wrongly assume that only the criminal-law actions are being undertaken. That’s led to the unfounded belief that Brereton only drew conclusions and recommended action involving lower-ranked personnel.

Such misapprehensions are being exploited in various political quarters and among media controversialists, encouraged by those pushing unrelated bandwagons or promoting diversions from, or acting as apologists for, perpetrators.

As few critics seem to have read the Brereton report, or grasped its actual legal, military professionalism and national and international accountability contexts, four risks have arisen.

First is a loss of focus that this is a serious national problem, both practically and morally, and not just a matter for the defence force, the law or the government.

Second, many seem to forget that Brereton’s judgements and recommendations deal with measures that are necessary before criminal and disciplinary actions can be completed. That is particularly true of those concerning the prevention of systemic war crimes in future.

Third, as Brereton notes, those still in denial regarding war crimes do not belong in our defence force. Consequently, immediate and deep organisational and cultural change is required to reinforce or reintroduce military professionalism in the units concerned.

That must include active and symbolic steps to cure the sick unit cultures that enabled and concealed the alleged premeditated and systemic murders of prisoners. These are not matters that can be reasonably judged to have resulted from heat-of-battle incidents or battlefield accidents.

Some cases continue to involve campaigns to intimidate and discredit digger whistleblowers and peddle straw-man excuses for what occurred.

Finally, passions need to cool so objectivity can be applied to a national discussion of the ADF reforms that are needed.

ADF chief Angus Campbell was a new chief of army when he asked the statutorily independent inspector-general of the ADF to institute an inquiry into suspected war crimes. There has been no ‘high-level cover-up’. The reason the inquiry took so long is due to the size and complexity of the problem and its numerous lines of investigation.

Defence Minister Linda Reynolds has rightly backed Campbell and not interfered with his professional duties and command prerogatives as set out in the Defence Act. Doing so, as some have demanded, would be deeply improper.

The minister has also not hesitated to consider and explain the war crimes and their consequences accurately.

Those in the parliamentary opposition responsible for defence and foreign policy issues have also rightly backed Campbell. Grandstanding has been mostly confined to the fringes in politics and in the community generally.

Despite inflamed passions, several issues still need to be resolved.

As Brereton notes, various medals for conspicuous or distinguished service cannot ‘in good conscience be retained’ by individuals bearing a moral responsibility for command and other failures. Where his hint that they should be surrendered voluntarily is ignored, some revocations will be necessary.

A meritorious unit citation, however, is neither an individual award nor a ‘medal’. It’s a badge worn, on the opposite breast to a medal, to signify acclaim that a unit won collectively.

Revoking such a citation if the collective actions concerned are subsequently found to be unmeritorious or worse is not a legal, protocol or personal matter. It helps signify Australia’s moral responsibility, the integrity of national repentance and our will to prevent future war crimes.

As in any teamwork-based organisation, when all share the acclaim of such a badge, all share some responsibility when its award is no longer justified. Especially in circumstances such as systemic war crimes and their concealment.

Perhaps the citation could be reissued to the subunits of uninvolved parent units, especially as it probably should not have been awarded to a temporary formation—the special operations task group that served in Afghanistan—in the first place.

Afghanistan inquiry about more than ‘outside the wire’ killings by a few

How could 39 alleged unlawful killings of Afghan people by members of Australia’s special forces have occurred over years while no officer in command of those soldiers knew about or had reasonable grounds to suspect the crimes?

The Afghanistan inquiry conducted by Major General Paul Brereton gives us four main answers. There’s the one we heard this week from Chief of Army Rick Burr on 60 Minutes: soldiers in the small teams operating ‘outside the wire’ concealed the crimes from everyone else. It’s this narrative that has caught the popular imagination, even as we sense that it is insufficient to explain what happened and why.

The Brereton report sets out three other big reasons why the crimes went undiscovered, with plenty of supporting material even in the redacted version. All three go well beyond the culpable soldiers and take us away from simply blaming the behaviour and acts of a few.

All three have consequences for how our military, the broader defence organisation, and the system of engagement with the members of our parliament operate.

Obviously, these events must be put in the context of a brutal conflict that only those who fought it can really appreciate. But that doesn’t excuse the rest of us from working to make future operations less likely to leave the same legacy.

The first factor is that operational reporting by the special operations task group in Uruzgan was not accurate. Tactical reports of raids on villagers and the events that involved killing of Afghans—combatants, non-combatants and prisoners—were sanitised and falsified to conform with the rules of engagement (ROE). Descriptions were added by legal officers that put key words and phrases into the mouths of those reporting the events to satisfy the ROE. The Brereton report says: ‘This became so routine that operational reporting had a “boilerplate” flavour, and was routinely embellished, and sometimes outright fabricated, although the authors of the reports did not necessarily know that to be so, because they were provided with false input.’

The authors did know what boilerplate language to use, though. As Brereton says, ‘It is apparent that legal officers have contributed to the embellishment of operational reporting so that it plainly demonstrated apparent compliance with the ROE.’

Sanitising operational reporting so that no inquiries would be ordered from above let the deployed personnel—including the soldiers raiding villages—know that it was okay, and even normal practice, to distort reporting to avoid scrutiny. That corrosive message enabled greater misconduct.

The second, perhaps bigger, issue is that the special forces command and legal officers frustrated and interfered with most—if not all—of Defence’s internal investigations, whether through the Australian Defence Force Investigative Service, inquiry officer inquiries or quick assessments. Brereton puts this politely in the report, observing, ‘A balance needs to be struck between the lawful rights of defence members and the support of the investigation of criminal and disciplinary offences.’ That balance was not struck within the command.

Part of this was the tendency to invoke secrecy requirements as preventing disclosure, even though they don’t extend to concealing potentially criminal conduct. The larger problem was that the report found a pattern when internal investigations were underway. Of one case Brereton says, ‘[T]here is little doubt that the [higher ADF] command intention to have an investigation was, if not frustrated, at least inhibited.’ More broadly, he observes that investigators’ ‘attempts were frustrated by outright deceit by those who knew the truth, and, not infrequently, misguided resistance to inquiries and investigations by their superiors’.

Frustrating the investigations led to the numerous inquiries and assessments responding to allegations by Afghan villagers, Afghan government officials and human rights groups not being substantiated. That’s not surprising, as the investigators were unable to gather and assess evidence that would do anything else. And the inconclusive outcomes of these frustrated inquiries were then used as a shield to deny problems in the command.

The Brereton report also shows the corroded standards widespread in the special forces task forces, captured in the word ‘throwdowns’. The term appears in the redacted report 60 times, which tells us a lot. It might well be the start of the trail of concealment that allowed misconduct culminating in murders. Perhaps it’s because the Brereton team was immersed in its work for four and a half years years that the term is used so unremarkably.

‘Throwdowns’ included pistols, assault rifles, grenades and radios of the types used by the Taliban that special forces soldiers carried to plant at the scenes of their operations as fabricated evidence to support false reporting. That allowed them to do things that the ROE did not permit.

Brereton says that the practice seems to have begun because deployed personnel thought the rules were unworkable, so instead of seeking changes they worked around them. On ‘throwdowns’, he observes that ‘interviews taken over a number of years build up a picture of their use gradually becoming an acceptable practice to solve this real problem on the ground’. The practice was fundamental to concealing unlawful killings, because photos and reports could include the (false) fact that a dead Afghan was armed or had a radio used to communicate with the Taliban. Placing ‘throwdowns’ was allowed to continue for years and was ‘widespread’.

So, these three factors—planting false evidence, sanitisation and fabrication of reporting, and frustration of and interference with inquiries by special forces command and its legal officers— explain why it has taken until now to get a body of evidence that will result in criminal charges against individuals.

It’s no doubt true that, as Andrew Hastie says, along with the small group of soldiers who committed crimes a parallel, more positive warrior culture persisted in the special forces, ‘it just wasn’t the prevailing one at the time’. It’s also no doubt true that ‘there were acts of command moral courage during the period investigated by the Brereton inquiry’. And, Hastie notes, ‘History won’t record these good deeds the way it will the battlefield criminality of a few, but there were junior leaders … who made hard decisions to uphold the sacred trust reposed in them by the Australian people.’

We can recognise this and yet we still need to understand what happened, not just in the villages and fields of Afghanistan, but ‘inside the wire’ and in the reporting chain, if we are to learn from the crimes and make future ones less likely.

Whether the motives of those involved in distorting reports and in frustrating internal investigations was anything more than protecting people they were intensely loyal to and trusted absolutely is important, but in a way, it doesn’t matter. The effect was to create cover for unlawful killings and other crimes for years.

That wider operational and command environment is the subject of recommendations by Brereton; however, it’s hard to see these as sufficient. They may even be counterproductive. The recommendation to create a parallel reporting structure for soldiers with allegations sounds smart given the experience in Afghanistan. But that proposal accepts that reporting through the chain of command will be false and so a parallel channel is required. It also seems to accept that complicating  and frustrating investigations out of loyalty to colleagues and those you command is almost in the nature of the command chain and reporting process. Both assumptions, if true, cut to the heart of how command can be exercised in any meaningful way.

So, Lieutenant General Burr was right to say that tightly knit small groups concealed their unlawful acts. As Brereton says, ‘[T]he criminal behaviour of a few was commenced, committed, continued and concealed at the patrol commander level’. It’s also true that the reporting and the command that wrapped around them helped this go on for so long by protecting and enabling these acts.

Transparency in reporting is not a hindrance. As Hastie says, that can help deal with the nasty reality that people will do bad things when left unaccountable. Another lesson is that local workarounds to unworkable policies from on high can reach well beyond the original problem they seem to solve.

That’s a sobering message to many of us who have scratched our heads about head office directives in many fields of human endeavour. It’s a challenge to how higher-level instructions are formed, implemented and open to change through the experience of those doing the implementation.

Last, no command or even hierarchical relationships can work effectively without trust, but leadership requires more than blind trust in the team. Some dose of Reaganism—‘trust but verify’— is healthy both for the leaders and for those whom they trust and direct.

Brereton’s work goes well beyond the small group of soldiers who will face charges. It’s expecting too much of the report for it to not just do the forensic investigative work but to also come up with all the right solutions.

We have a shared responsibility to rethink the design of strategy, policy and operations and to bake in transparency and accountability in new ways that work to the benefit of those who bear the enormous responsibilities of serving our country in conflict.

It’s worth reading beyond the horrific descriptions, even in the redacted report, and looking for the deeper reasons that drove us to this point.

Use of special forces for conventional operations in Afghanistan ‘imprudent’ and ‘unwise’

Over decades, successive Australian governments have found it politically convenient to call on special forces units when they needed to send troops into harm’s way.

The rationale has been that highly trained members of the Special Air Service Regiment and the commandos are less likely to suffer casualties than regular soldiers­, so the government will not have to deal with an outcry over losses, triggering calls to bring the troops home.

In his report on allegations that Australian troops committed war crimes, judge Paul Brereton notes that governments may have had an understandable preference for using special forces because of their proved success in the past and the lower risk profile.

He says it was the Australian Defence Force’s responsibility not simply to accede to that preference, but to provide fearless and firm advice that the protracted use of special forces to conduct what were not in truth ‘special operations’, but missions that could have been conducted by appropriately trained and enabled conventional forces, was ‘imprudent, unwise, and potentially jeopardising the welfare’ of special forces personnel.

The sustained use of special forces to conduct what were largely conventional operations meant the limited pool of special forces personnel was required to deploy on multiple rotations, with little respite between deployments.

It was ADF policy that there should be a ‘dwell time’ of at least 12 months between deployments for any individual member, although waivers could be obtained.

This was supported by psycholog­ical research. In the high intensity of deployments from 2004 to 2014, and not only in the special forces, waivers were frequently granted.

In retrospect, says Brereton, this was unwise, at least for high-intensity operations, and reduced the opportunity for the moral compass to reset.

Brereton said Australia needed a more surgical and refined national­ special forces capability than that required for the more or less conventional operations into which special operations task group operations in Afghanistan evolved.

The reality was that many of these soldiers wanted to return to operations and the tight camaraderie of their units. Some ‘gamed’ commanders and psychologists to cover up the extent to which they were stressed or burnt out by ­previous deployments.

Indeed, Defence Force Chief General Angus Campbell said the reporting on deployments was positive and soldiers and field commanders alike showed genuine enthusiasm for the campaign and their continuing participation in it.

Nevertheless, Campbell said, higher command should have recognised sooner that special operations units were unable to sustain all of the demands placed upon them.

Brereton’s report recommends that special forces not be treated as the default ‘force of first choice’ for expeditionary deployments, except for irregular and unconventional operations. It also recommends that a professional review of appropriat­e dwell times between operational deployments be undert­aken. Pending that review, the 12-month policy should be adhered to and the authority to provide waivers that might allow at-risk troops to redeploy should be escalated to a higher lever.

The pressures of too much combat may explain in part why a limited number of soldiers are alleged to have committed dreadful atrocities, but there has to be much more to it than that. Being shot at over a sustained period should not drive well-trained soldiers to dash off and cut the throats of children.

If that were a believable cause and effect, there would not have been a child left alive in France when World War I ended in 1918 after four years of intense and bitter conflict.

Investigation uncovers firm evidence of Australian war crimes in Afghanistan

After a four-year-long investigation into allegation that members of Australian special forces committed war crimes in Afghanistan, 25 soldiers stand accused of murdering 39 unarmed Afghan civilians or prisoners and cruelly treating two others.

Some of the soldiers are still serving in the Australian Defence Force.

The inquiry led by New South Wales Supreme Court judge Paul Brereton, a major general in the Army Reserve, found credible information about 23 incidents in which one or more non-combatants or prisoners were unlawfully killed by or at the direction of Australian soldiers in circumstances which, if accepted by a jury, would be the war crime of murder.

Some of these incidents involved a single victim, and some multiple victims.

The report, released by the chief of the ADF, General Angus Campbell, said a total of 25 current or former Australian Defence Force personnel were perpetrators, either as principals or accessories, some of them on a single occasion and a few on multiple occasions.

None of these incidents occurred under pressure in the heat of battle, the report said.

Campbell said the ADF was rightly held to account for allegations of grave misconduct by some members of its special forces community during operations in Afghanistan and the report detailed credible information regarding deeply disturbing allegations of unlawful killings by some.

‘To the people of Afghanistan, on behalf of the Australian Defence Force, I sincerely and unreservedly apologise for any wrongdoing by Australian soldiers. I have spoken directly to my Afghan counterpart, General Zia, to convey this message.’

Brereton’s report said that overwhelmingly, the special forces soldiers performed skilfully, effectively and courageously. Because of their role, they formed a disproportionately high percentage of ADF members killed or wounded in action in Afghanistan, and there is a long tail of consequential mental health issues which continue to emerge.

But in 2014, a number of issues emerged in Special Operations Command, including rumours that war crimes had been committed by some members of the Special Operations Task Group (SOTG).

In March 2016, Campbell, then chief of the army, asked the inspector-general of the ADF to inquire into ‘“unsubstantiated stories” of possible crimes (illegal killings and inhumane and unlawful treatment of detainees) over a lengthy period of time in the course of the Special Operations Task Group deployments in Afghanistan; the cultural normalisation of deviance from professional standards within Special Operations Command, including intentional inaccuracy in operational reporting related to possible crimes; a culture of silence within Special Operations Command; the deliberate undermining, isolation and removal from Special Operations Command units of some individuals who tried to address this rumoured conduct and culture; and a systemic failure, including of commanders and legal officers at multiple levels within the command, to report or investigate the stories as required by Defence policies’.

These issues were raised with Campbell by the then chief of Special Operations Command, Major General Jeff Sengelman, and civilian sociologist Dr Samantha Crompvoets.

This investigation was not a criminal trial and it could not find guilt in any individual case. But Brereton said in his report that if what the inquiry has found was taken collectively, the answer to the question of whether there was substance to rumours of war crimes by some special forces soldiers ‘must sadly be yes, there is’.

In a report that will be deeply troubling to the ADF, the army and the nation, some sections are profoundly chilling.

The inquiry found credible information that some patrol commanders ‘blooded’ junior soldiers by ordering them to achieve their first kill by shooting a prisoner.

This would happen after a target compound had been secured, and local people were ‘under control’. ‘Typically, the patrol commander would take a person under control and the junior member, who would then be directed to kill the person under control’, the report said.

That was combined with a practice adopted by some soldiers of carrying ‘throwdowns’—easily concealable foreign weapons or equipment such as pistols, small handheld radios, weapon magazines and grenades—which would be placed with the body when the person killed was found to be unarmed.

Then a cover story was created for operational reporting and to deflect scrutiny. ‘This was reinforced with a code of silence’, the report said. That meant the dead person could be identified as an ‘enemy killed in action’ and therefore a legitimate target.

In some cases, that practice also served to enable a unit to outscore other patrols in numbers of ‘enemy’ killed in action. The report says it ‘probably originated for the less egregious though still dishonest purpose of avoiding scrutiny where a person who was legitimately engaged turned out not to be armed. But it evolved to be used for the purpose of concealing deliberate unlawful killings.’

Subordinates complied for a number of reasons. To a junior SAS trooper, the patrol commander is a ‘demigod’, who can make or break their career. The trooper is trained to obey and to implement their commander’s intent. ‘To such a trooper, who has invested a great deal in gaining entry into the SASR, the prospect of being characterised as a “lemon” and not doing what was expected of them was a terrible one, which could jeopardise everything for which they had worked.’

Further, the report said, these men were in a foreign environment, far from the influence of the norms of ordinary Australian society, where the incident could be compartmentalised as something that happened outside the wire to stay outside the wire.

‘In that context, some individuals who would have believed themselves incapable of such behaviour were influenced to commit egregious crimes. It is clear to the Inquiry that at least some of them have regretted it, and have been struggling with the concomitant moral injury, ever since.’

On the issue of who knew about these atrocities, the report says: ‘There is no credible information that troop, squadron and task group commanders either knew or suspected that these things were happening, and that they did not fail to take reasonable steps which could have prevented or discovered them. However, what is described in this chapter is possibly the most disgraceful episode in Australia’s military history, and the commanders at troop, squadron and task group level bear moral command responsibility for what happened under their command, regardless of personal fault.’

The report said it was in soldiers’ parent units and subunits that the cultures and attitudes that enabled misconduct were bred, ‘and it is with the commanders of the domestic units who enabled that, rather than with the SOTG commanders, that greater responsibility rests’.

Of all the armed conflicts in which Australia has been involved, the war in Afghanistan was the longest.

The report said the position of the SASR troop commanders called for some sympathy as it was a difficult one.

‘Invariably, they were on their first SOTG deployment. They were in an environment in which the non-commissioned officers had achieved ascendancy, just as they had from their role as gatekeepers to SAS selection, and their extended role when new officers were “under training” and thus regularly subordinate to them. They were not well-mentored, but were rather left to swim or sink. Those who did try to wrestle back some control were ostracised, and often did not receive the support of superior officers.’

The report says a substantial indirect responsibility falls upon those in the SAS who embraced or fostered a ‘warrior culture’ and the clique of non-commissioned officers who propagated it.

‘Some domestic commanders of SASR bear significant responsibility for contributing to the environment in which war crimes were committed, most notably those who embraced or fostered the warrior culture and empowered, or did not restrain, the clique of non-commissioned officers who propagated it.

‘That responsibility is to some extent shared by those who, in misconceived loyalty to their Regiment, or their mates, have not been prepared to “call out” criminal conduct or, even to this day, decline to accept that it occurred in the face of incontrovertible evidence, or seek to offer obscure and unconvincing justifications and mitigations for it.’

Brereton has recommended that a significant number of cases be referred to the Australian Federal Police for formal investigation.

That has been accepted by General Campbell.

Atrocities in Afghanistan, and a grim echo from the Lindt Café siege

Justice Paul Brereton’s investigation of war crimes allegedly committed by Australian special forces soldiers in Afghanistan will confirm within days that atrocities were committed which will deeply shock the nation.

That investigation, and others carried out by the Australian Defence Force in parallel with it, have also identified disastrous failures in the structure and leadership of Special Operations Command that have developed over decades.

It won’t bring back Afghans allegedly murdered by some of those sent to protect them, but if there’s a degree of redemption for the army in the shocking scenario now emerging, it’s in the fact that the investigation was launched by the ADF and that it has relied heavily on the testimony of soldiers appalled by what they saw, and in some cases by what they did.

Brereton, a major general in the Army Reserve, has spent four years investigating claims that members of the Special Operations Task Group breached the laws of armed conflict while on operations in Afghanistan between 2005 and 2016.

Along with criminal killings and torture, the Brereton inquiry also examined the possibility that aspects of the organisational, operational and cultural environment in SOCOMD enabled war crimes to occur.

ADF commanders have been working to rectify what they’ve described as ‘catastrophic cultural and professional shortfalls’ within SOCOMD and ‘corrosive’ friction between the major special forces units, the Special Air Service Regiment and the commandos. Under the pressure of 20 intense rotations in Afghanistan over 11 years, the special forces had become isolated from the rest of the army, they say.

It’s not surprising that the Brereton inquiry took four years to complete. It was carried out in an atmosphere of deep operational secrecy that cloaked the activities of special forces units.

Much of the evidence against perpetrators has come from special forces soldiers, serving and past, who were appalled by what they’d witnessed. In many cases it took years for them to develop sufficient confidence in the inquiry and in the genuineness of Defence senior leadership’s determination to get to the bottom of persistent allegations to speak up.

In December 2014, Major General Jeff Sengelman became Special Operations Commander Australia as the nation absorbed the news of the Sydney Lindt Café siege, the deaths of two hostages and the claims that the army should have been brought in to deal with this act of terrorism rather than the police.

It fell to Sengelman to assess whether SOCOMD could have done a better job.

Sengelman engaged sociologist Samantha Crompvoets to discuss with a range of agencies, including the Australian Security Intelligence Service which operates overseas, and police forces what the potential future role of SOCOMD was in relation to domestic counterterrorism.

Unexpectedly, Crompvoets was told stories that questioned the reputation and capability of special forces even in their current role.

She raised those allegations with special forces officers and was met with a mix of confirmation and hostility.

Concerned about the claims, Crompvoets wrote up her report on agency views of military involvement in ‘civil’ events such as sieges and she added an appendix covering the concerns raised about activities of the special forces in Afghanistan. That warned that there appeared to be serious problems with the behaviour of some members of the Special Operations Task Group in Afghanistan that may have extended to unsanctioned and illegal violence.

As this was happening and within days of starting his job, Sengelman too had heard stories about atrocities. He asked special forces soldiers to contact him if they were willing to talk about them.

He received around 200 responses, many in hand-written notes.

Sengelman took his concerns and those raised by Crompvoets to Army Commander Lieutenant General Angus Campbell, who called in the inspector-general of the ADF. Brereton was then appointed to examine what at that stage were regarded as unconfirmed but worrying rumours.

As Brereton’s investigation progressed, the reality turned out to be much worse than anyone imagined. By early 2020, the inquiry was examining 55 different episodes, predominantly unlawful killings of unarmed civilians or prisoners of war. It’s not clear how many of those will ultimately result in prosecutions.

In 2018, army commander Lieutenant General Rick Burr asked David Irvine, a former head of the Australian Security Intelligence Organisation, to review SOCOMD.

Irvine found that after a decade of constant combat in Afghanistan and the Middle East, coupled with its other responsibilities, the command was ‘worn out and run down’. He warned that in an elite unit, esprit de corps could quickly turn into arrogance. In a closely knit, inward-looking unit, ‘can do’ could become ‘only we can do’. Australia’s special forces had to be well grounded and humble, he said.

Irvine stressed the importance of a ‘redemption initiative’ introduced by Sengelman which provided soldiers with the opportunity to confess to transgressions and hold themselves to account. That enabled personnel who had conducted themselves in ways inconsistent with army values to be ‘managed out’.

Irvine noted that the culture among some soldiers was such that they did not report serious crimes to senior officers, ‘sometimes for fear of ostracisation—or worse—within the unit’.

Others did take the risk and spoke up, enabling the IGADF to investigate.

Identifying what went wrong on the Afghanistan missions, understanding how deep a distorted warrior ethos went within the SAS, straightening out that mindset and ensuring that what appears to have been an entrenched culture of impunity in key parts of the special forces doesn’t emerge again, is a priority for the army.

Burr, who commanded the SAS in 2003 and 2004, says that the since the army became aware of the allegations it has focused strongly on changing elements of the culture in the special forces and introduced strong ethics training with the help of outside specialists.

The army commander insists that the special forces are again ready and deployable. He says they are a critical capability and there are many challenges on the horizon that Australia will need them for.

Over the past five years, SOCOMD has been integrated within the broader army structure and the command has embraced significant organisational, cultural and capability reforms.

Along with comprehensive reforms, the natural flow of new personnel through the ADF means that 80% of those serving in the SAS now did not deploy to Afghanistan in a special operations task group. Burr says that reflects how quickly the army can refresh and regenerate capability. That, he says, ‘gives us a strong platform to make sure we are embracing and inculcating these new initiatives and making sure that we are living these expectations every day’.

While detailed allegations will only emerge in the coming week when Brereton’s report is released, questions have already been asked about whether Australia’s special forces units might be disbanded. Asked if the fact that they operated in small groups outside the immediate view of commanders played a role in what has happened and meant that the model was no longer sustainable, Burr says that the model does work and must be sustained.

‘It has delivered us enormous success over many years and it’s a model that is used in many armies and, in particular, in special forces.

‘The Australian Army relies on small teams. They have to be well led and they can make a big difference on the ground, whether that is supporting bushfire or counter-Covid operations, or warfighting. That is our command and control philosophy. In special forces it is an imperative.

‘They need to be able to act with autonomy, to take advantage of a local situation to achieve their mission’, Burr says.

But for this operating model to continue, trust in junior leaders is critical. ‘We must continue to invest in leadership, accountability and culture.’