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John Pilger: Let’s learn from Blair’s crimes, so we don’t repeat them in Syria

The warmongering and human rights abuses of the New Labour years seem forgotten by all but the likes of Gareth Peirce. Yet Blair’s legacy lingers on in Afghanistan and Iraq and is re-emerging in Syria and Iran.

In the kabuki theatre of British parliamentary politics, great crimes do not happen and criminals go free. It is theatre, after all; the pirouettes matter, not actions taken at remove in distance and culture from their consequences. It is a secure arrangement guarded by cast and critics alike. The farewell speech of one of the most artful, Tony Blair, had "a sense of moral conviction running through it", effused the television presenter Jon Snow, as if Blair's appeal to kabuki devotees was mystical. That he was a war criminal was irrelevant.

The suppression of Blair's criminality and that of his administrations is described in Gareth Peirce's Dispatches from the Dark Side: on Torture and the Death of Justice, published in paperback this month by Verso. Peirce is Britain's most distinguished human rights lawyer; her pursuit of miscarriages of justice and justice for victims of state crimes, such as torture and rendition, is unsurpassed. What is unusual about this accounting of what she calls the "moral and legal pandemonium" following the 9/11 attacks is that, in drawing on the memoirs of Blair and Alastair Campbell, cabinet minutes and MI6 files, she applies the rule of law to them.

Advocates such as Peirce, Phil Shiner and Clive Stafford-Smith have ensured the indictment of dominant powers is no longer taboo. Israel, America's hitman, is now widely recognised as the world's most lawless state. The likes of Donald Rumsfeld now avoid countries where the law reaches beyond borders, as do George W Bush and Blair.

Jackdaw travels

Deploying sinecures of "peacemaking" and "development" that allow him to replenish the fortune he accumulated since leaving Downing Street, Blair's jackdaw travels are concentrated on the Gulf sheikhdoms, the US, Israel and safe havens such as the small African nation of Rwanda. Since 2007, Blair has made seven visits to Rwanda, where he has access to a private jet supplied by President Paul Kagame. Kagame's regime, whose opponents have been silenced brutally on trumped-up charges, is "innovative" and a "leader" in Africa, says Blair.

Peirce's book achieves the impossible on Blair: it shocks. Tracing the "unjustifiable theses, unrestrained belligerence, falsification and wilful illegality" that led to the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, she identifies Blair's assault on Muslims as criminal and racist. "Human beings presumed to hold [Islamist] views were to be disabled by any means possible, and permanently . . . in Blair's language a 'virus' to be 'eliminated' and requiring 'a myriad of interventions [sic] deep into the affairs of other nations'." Whole societies were reduced to "splashes of colour" on a canvas upon which Labour's Napoleon would "reorder the world".

The very notion of war was wrenched from its dictionary meaning and became "our values versus theirs". The perpetrators of the 9/11 attacks, mostly Saudis who trained to fly in America, were all but forgotten. Instead, the "splashes of colour" were made blood-red - first in Afghanistan, land of the poorest of the poor. No Afghans were members of al-Qaeda; on the contrary, there was mutual resentment. No matter. Once the bombing began on 7 October 2001, tens of thousands of Afghans were punished with starvation as the World Food Programme withdrew aid on the cusp of winter. In one stricken village, Bibi Mahru, I witnessed the aftermath of a single Mk 82 "precision" bomb's obliteration of two families, including eight children. "TB," Campbell wrote, "said they had to know that we would hurt them if they don't yield up OBL."

The cartoon figure of Campbell was already at work on concocting another threat in Iraq. This "yielded up", according to the MIT Centre for International Studies, between 800,000 and 1.3 million deaths - a figure that exceeds the Fordham University estimate of deaths in the Rwandan genocide.

And yet, Peirce wrote, "the threads of emails [and] internal government communiqués reveal no dissent". Interrogation that included torture was on "the express instructions . . . of government ministers". On 10 January 2002, Foreign Secretary Jack Straw emailed his colleagues to agree that sending British citizens to Guantan­amo Bay was "the best way to meet our counterterrorism objective". He rejected "the only alternative" of repatriation to the United Kingdom. On 6 February 2002, Home Secretary David Blunkett noted that he was in "no hurry to see any individuals returned to the UK [from Guantanamo]". Three days later, the Foreign Office minister Ben Bradshaw wrote: "We need to do all that we can to avoid the detainees being repatriated to the UK." Not one of the people to whom they referred had been charged with anything; most had been sold as bounty by Afghan warlords to the Americans.

Death by misadventure

Immersed in its misadventure and lies, listening only to their leader's crooned "sincerity", the Labour government consulted no one who spoke the truth. Peirce cites one of the most reliable sources, the Conflicts Forum, run by the former intelligence officer Alastair Crooke, who argues that, to "isolate and demonise [Islamic] groups that have support on the ground, the perception is reinforced that the west only understands the language of military strength". In wilfully denying this truth, Blair, Campbell and their echoes planted the roots of the 7/7 attacks in London.

Today, another Afghanistan and Iraq beckon in Syria and Iran, perhaps even a world war. Once again, voices such as Crooke's attempt to explain to a media salivating for "intervention" in Syria that the civil war in that country requires skilled and patient negotiation, not the provocations of the British SAS and the familiar bought-and-paid-for exiles who ride in Anglo-America's Trojan horse.

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 20 February 2012 issue of the New Statesman, How do we stop Iran getting the bomb?

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Let's sing the praises of the Greeks

Greeks bearing gifts? Go into a Corfiot restaurant today and your meal will invariably be rounded off with a pudding or a liqueur, on the house.

Let’s sing the praises of the Greeks. Not the ancient Greeks. That’s an open-door argument: look what they did for democracy, philosophy, literature, and so on. No, I mean modern Greeks, the ones who live in Greece today.

I’ve been out here since February with my wife and baby son, Nika. Even in this year of severe economic and political crises – the latter eased slightly by the victory of the ruling party, Syriza, in a snap election on 20 September – the warmth and generosity of the welcome we have had, particularly Nika, has been extraordinary.

Forget the idea that Italians love bambini. They may say they do but, in comparison, they’re not all that interested. The Greeks genuinely love children, infants above all. Everywhere we go, I feel as if I’m the minder of a miniature celebrity. They want to touch him, talk to him, give him gifts. It is possible that some magical power throbs through my one-year-old’s fontanelle. But the more likely explanation is that the Greeks are just really into babies.

It goes deeper. They believe in the principle of philoxenia, which means “the love of strangers”. Its ancient equivalent was called simply xenia and it was particularly embraced by the inhabitants of Corfu, which is where we have been mooching about.

According to Homer, Corfu was where Odysseus received the warmest welcome on his journey home from Troy, a masterclass in how to treat strangers: first, you give them food, drink, a bath and fresh clothes. Only later do you ask who they are and where they are heading. Then you speed them on, weighed down with gifts.

This giving and receiving of gifts was central to xenia. In an essay in 1925, the French socio-anthropologist Marcel Mauss argued that, wherever you are, whatever the situation, there is no such thing as a free gift. The recipient is agreeing to a “gift debt”, which must be repaid at some point in the future. Mauss may have had a point when he wrote that, in ancient Greece, gift-giving wove a complex network of social dependencies. At the same time, surely, a gift could also just be a gift. And it still can be.

Go into a Corfiot restaurant today and your meal will invariably be rounded off with a pudding or a liqueur, on the house. Often, you’re sent away with a bottle of wine, or some local speciality. “Presumably this is in the hope that you’ll return to the restaurant?” I asked my Greek friend Yorgos. “No,” he corrected me. “It’s only for the pleasure of giving.”

Again and again, over the past six months, we have been recipients of unexpected gifts. Often, it’s produce: a bowl of black cherries or bag of delicate-shelled eggs. Or some fresh fish (surprisingly expensive on this island). One time, it was an outfit for Nika.

Where do they come from, these Greek traits, this baby love, this gift-giving, this philoxenia? About the last, I can only speculate. Greece is an isolated, fractured country of peninsulas and 6,000 islands, separated from visitors by sea. In the north, access is obstructed by mountains. Indeed, the whole country is craggy: “good for goats”, to use the Homeric phrase. In a landscape where it wasn’t easy to get around, the arrival of a traveller was cause for applause. The geography gave rise to a maritime nation, at ease in the world, one whose splintered shape in its corner of Europe oddly mirrors that of another maritime nation in the opposite corner: ours. In Britain, we are pretty tolerant of strangers, consequent on our history as a nation of sailors, travellers and, once, like the Greeks, colonists. But we can’t match Greeks for warmth.

There has been some sneering about the reluctance of southern Europeans to pay their taxes. Most of us northerners willingly pay ours: a commendable virtue, if not, perhaps, a lovable one. It’s a good thing we do, because the money buys the scaffolding of the welfare state, patching the façade of a society in which individuals can no longer rely on material support from their extended family. That is not the case in Greece and other Mediterranean tax-truant nations, which are famed for the strength of familial bonds.

Am I getting carried away? Perhaps. It’s just that I’m ensconced in our apartment among the amber-glowing backstreets of Corfu Town, sucking on the stone of the last black cherry. My wife will shortly prepare some donated fish, or an omelette made from those fragile eggs. Nika prances in his brand-new togs. Have I been seduced by some carefully orchestrated campaign of philoxenia? Was Marcel Mauss right, after all?

Thomas W Hodgkinson is the co-author of the forthcoming book “How to Sound Cultured” (Icon)

This article first appeared in the 24 September 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Revenge of the Left