Mali: now for the hard part

As David Cameron visits Algeria, it seems that Downing Street is only now realising just how long-term a project defeating the Islamist rebels in North Africa will be.

David Cameron’s visit to Algeria is the first since that country won its independence from France 51 years ago. No former British leader thought it worth the time or effort. The decision comes after the penny finally dropped in Downing Street: forget Afghanistan or Pakistan; the threat from al-Qaeda is on Europe’s doorstep.
 
The area of operation for al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and its affiliates, offshoots and allies stretches from Mauritania to Chad. Some reports suggest that Nigerian militants of Boko Haram received training in Somalia, which would mean that the al-Qaeda arc can be traced from the Atlantic to the Red Sea.
 
The French intervention in Mali is just the latest instalment in this much wider conflict. With hardly a shot fired, and to the cheers of local people, French paratroops retook the ancient desert city of Timbuktu. “Operation Serval”, as the French term their offensive, has gone at least as well as anyone in Paris could have wished.

The only setback came when allegations emerged that Malian soldiers had butchered ethnic Tuaregs and Arabs. The International Federation of Human Rights Leagues said at least 31 people were executed in the central town of Sevare, and their bodies dumped in wells.

International concern has focused on the priceless manuscripts dating back to the thirteenth century, stored at the Ahmed Baba institute. It now appears as if suggestions that all 30,000 manuscripts were lost may have been exaggerated, since many were smuggled away for safekeeping.

The question now is how the French-led operation will proceed. Paris has been keen to replace its 2,900 troops with an African army, and pledges of support from West Africa have been coming in. Some 1,750 African troops have already arrived – from Togo, Niger, Nigeria, Burkina Faso, Benin and Senegal. Almost 8,000 African troops are expected, although the deployment has been slow.

France is keen to involve its international partners. Britain, at first, insisted that it would only help with the logistics. Now up to 350 troops are being despatched, ostensibly just to assist with the badly-needed retraining of the Malian army.

The real beneficiary of the Malian crisis looks like the United States. The African Union, led by South Africa, had strenuously resisted attempts by the US Africa Command (Africom) to establish a base on the continent’s soil. It is now reported that the Pentagon will get its way, after signing an agreement with Mali’s neighbour, Niger, that clears the way for an increased American military presence. The agreement is designed "to counter shared threats in the region," a US defence official told the Wall Street Journal.

The New York Times reports that this will allow drones – vital for the surveillance of the vast deserts of Mali – to be flown from Niger. This programme is still in the planning stage, but it would not be the first such operation in Africa. Africom already has a base on the Red Sea in Djibouti – Camp Lemonnier. The United States is said to fly drones from a re-furbished airfield in Ethiopia, as part of its war against the Islamist fighters of al-Shabab in Somalia. Gradually, the US is establishing a military presence on the African continent.

Rebuilding the Malian army will be no easy task. The United States has attempted to train the Malian army for years. American support for Mali’s military was part of a counter-terrorism programme costing more than $500m to train and equip armies across the Sahara to combat militants. “Operation Flintlock” brought troops across the Sahara to be given specialists training.

Less than two years ago Mali’s Assistant Chief of Defence, Colonel Béguélé Sioro, described this training as an “exemplary partnership” offering an “opportunity to evolve alongside seasoned troops, accumulate experience in the fight against criminal organisations and increase our operational effectiveness.”

Yet when the Islamist fighters launch an offensive, pushing out the Malian army from the central town of Konna on 10 January, the Malian armed forces all but collapsed. Mali's interim president Dioncounda Traore had no choice but to turn to Paris for help.

George Joffe, North African specialist at Cambridge University, says the weakness of the Malian army was exacerbated after American aid was cut, following the Malian coup of March 2012. He believes the rebellion will to a tough nut to crack.

Europe’s head of counter-terrorism, Gilles de Kerchove, told the French News Agency, AFP, that intelligence reports indicated that the Islamists have around 3,000 fighters. American sources, speaking to the New Statesman off the record, suggested that the Islamists began melting away into the community as the French advanced. Some villagers were forced to leave their homes as fighters moved in to pass themselves off as local people.

In the longer run, says Joffe, the rebels may retreat to their desert fastness of Taoudenni. These salt-mines are on the ancient trade routes that ran from Morocco to the Gold Coast, or present-day Ghana. “They are riddled with deep mines and passages,” he says. “For a decade the Islamists were there, undisturbed, and they could retreat to this sanctuary if forced out of central Mali.”

Crushing the Islamist rebels is likely to be a long-term project. Their fighters have yet to be defeated and African forces nowhere near ready to take over from the French. The mostly likely outcome of the conflict is that Paris will have to carry the burden for years to come. France launched Operation Epervier to save Chadian president Hissene Habre in February 1986. They are still there today.

Malian soldiers arrest a man suspected of being an Islamist in Timbuktu. Photograph: Getty Images

Martin Plaut is a fellow at the Institute of Commonwealth Studies, University of London. With Paul Holden, he is the author of Who Rules South Africa?

Getty Images
Show Hide image

Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war