Pakistani protesters shout anti-US slogans at a rally against US drone attacks. Photograph: Getty Images
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Drones and the "bugsplats" they cause

Drone attacks are anything but impersonal for the Pakistani civilians on the ground.

What do you think about when you hear the word “drone”? President Obama in the White House, authorising the “kill list”. American soldiers pressing buttons. Bearded Taliban militants in faraway, dusty villages, being swiftly, sharply zapped out of existence.

The impersonal language used to describe drones – “targeted”, “accurate”, “enemy combatant” – compounds these impressions. Yet, as ever, the reality of this computer game warfare is significantly messier.

Pakistan’s tribal area has been home to the most sustained drone campaign of anywhere in the world. The attacks started in 2004 and have been stepped up under President Obama. The main defence of drone war is that it results in less “collateral damage” than airstrikes – another impersonal euphemism, this time for civilian deaths. But investigations and anecdotal evidence show that this is not the case. Collating exact figures is difficult, but local activists say that of around 3,000 casualties in Waziristan, just 185 were named al-Qaeda operatives. The Brookings Institution estimates that ten civilians die for every militant killed.

“The problem we have with Obama is this notion that if they have a beard and they are the right age then they are presumed to be terrorists,” says Clive Stafford Smith, head of the legal aid charity Reprieve. “I would estimate that the majority of people being killed are not the people who should be killed under anyone's definition.”

Shahzad Akbar is a Pakistani lawyer, representing 80 cases from Waziristan, the majority of whom have lost relatives to drone attacks. In a landmark case, he is attempting to prove firstly that these people can press charges for murder, and secondly, that their cases can come under the jurisdiction of the Islamabad courts. This is important because the Pakistan’s ungovernable tribal areas are federally administered and operate outside the normal bounds of law and order.

When we speak on the phone, he lists the cases: houses that were targeted while people were sleeping. People who died while attending funerals. Others killed while at jirgas, or meetings of tribal elders. Children asleep in targeted houses. Children playing and killed by shrapnel. Pharmacists. Local policemen. Schoolteachers. “These are Pakistanis employed by the state,” he says. “That is about as civilian as you can get.” And, as with any war, death is not the only outcome. Hundreds of people maimed, blinded, and disabled by the attacks, left with few prospects in an area beset by poverty.

The 800,000 people in Waziristan live under constant threat of death. Strikes frequently take place in the middle of the night, so they are not even safe sleeping in their homes. As standard, four or five drones circle the air, giving a sense of imminent danger and paranoia. The buzzing sound is a relentless presence; people refer to drones as “bees”.  In a chilling echo of this colloquialism, US operators refer to victims as “bugsplats”.
Local doctors report an “exponential” increase in the number of people requiring prescriptions for anti-anxiety drugs or anti-depressants. “Living under constant threat of death – that’s about as stressful as it gets,” says Stafford Smith.

Akbar says that at a meeting in Peshawar last month with people from the tribal areas, nearly everyone carried tranquilisers. “Everyone is constantly thinking about drones. They would take calls from home and their children tell them how many drones they have spotted. Women are possibly most worried. They aren’t allowed to go outside because of local traditions. They don’t know where their husbands, brothers, or sons go, and live in fear that they might not see those people again.”

A few years ago, public opinion in Pakistan was divided, with many liberals supporting drone strikes as a legitimate attack against the terrorists who threaten their way of life. But that was before the extent of civilian casualties was revealed, and now feeling is such that parliament has passed three resolutions condemning drones since 2011. A recent Pew poll found that 97 per cent of people viewed the attacks negatively, and it is set to be a key election issue. Seen as yet another assault on Pakistan’s sovereignty, it has cemented intense anti-US feeling in the country.

The population of Pakistan’s tribal areas operate under their own rules of rough justice and revenge. They are largely uneducated and live by traditions which Akbar describes as “centuries behind”. This compounds their disempowerment: they feel that they are outsiders, not part of the system, and that no-one cares what happens to them.  As the 80 families in Waziristan await the verdict on whether they will be able to press charges for the deaths of their relatives, Akbar explains that an important part of the process is trying to empower the local population, caught up in a remote-controlled war in which they are entirely defenceless. “If you protest, if you come out, if you contact the courts, you can actually do a lot. This is what we are trying to make them understand.”

Samira Shackle is a freelance journalist, who tweets @samirashackle. She was formerly a staff writer for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 18 June 2012 issue of the New Statesman, Drones: video game warfare

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An army with lead boots

Last Friday morning, within a few hours of the street massacre in Nice, I arrived in Paris.

Last Friday morning, within a few hours of the street massacre in Nice, I arrived in Paris to report on the way France was responding to the attack. Even before my report went out on that night’s BBC News at Ten, reports of the attempted coup in Turkey were coming in. By Saturday morning, I gave up asking senior French politicians for interviews because British interest in Nice was fading. By Sunday three policemen were dead in Baton Rouge. The next day an Afghan attacked railway passengers in southern Germany and was shot dead. New events crowd in on us constantly, overlaying and obliterating whatever happened yesterday, or this morning, or tonight.

But not, understandably, in France. Nicolas Sarkozy says that France is now at war. So does Le Figaro, which was calling on Saturday for a “pitiless response”. “Merah, Charlie, Bataclan, Magnanville and now Nice . . . How many savage murders and blind massacres before our leaders admit that Islamic fanaticism is engaged in a struggle to the death against our country and our civilisation?”

As Le Figaro’s editorial director whipped himself up into a frenzy of imprecision in his editorial, I was reminded of a television interview I once did with Margaret Thatcher at the height of the IRA’s terror campaign. I was never an admirer of hers but on this occasion I thought she was magnificent. “War?” she said as the camera turned over. “War? This isn’t a war. These are criminals, murdering and injuring decent people. We’ll find them and the courts will put them in prison, and there’s an end to it.”

It worked. A lot of other things had to be done, including addressing the serious grievances of the nationalist community in Northern Ireland and changing the whole basis of life and society there. Yet after its appalling early mistakes the British government stopped declaring war and demanding pitiless responses. On the contrary: life went on as close to normal as possible throughout the IRA’s bombing campaign. There’s no doubt that some shameful things happened in secret, but the basic principle – that a civilised society should remain true to its values even when it’s under attack, and perhaps especially when it’s under attack – was maintained; and the IRA was eventually beaten.

There are dangerous characters in any country and they require monitoring and infiltrating. The Bataclan attackers in Paris last November were a disciplined group with a clear plan. But some of the worst incidents in Europe have been the work of deranged loners. Le Figaro called Mohamed Lahouaiej-Bouhlel, the mass murderer of the Promenade des Anglais, “a soldier of the caliphate”. Bulls**t: he was just a sad, nasty little character with a propensity for violence against women, who had stopped taking his medication and wanted to validate his craziness. No doubt the Afghan teenager who was shot dead on the German train after going berserk with an axe was deranged, too, but that didn’t make him a soldier in anyone’s army. Attacking people in the street is a horrible, vicious fashion, just like storming on to a university campus in America and shooting people with an ­assault rifle, or stabbing children to death in Chinese schools. You have to take proper precautions and eventually, with luck, the fashion fades away.

However, the security authorities have to get their act together. This is where the French system has fallen down. According to the right-wing president of the Nice regional council, there were only 45 policemen on duty at the 14 July celebrations. No significant roadblocks had been set up, and it was pathetically easy for Lahouaiej-Bouhlel to steer his lorry round the concrete barriers and get on to the boulevard.

The previous week a government commission under a centre-right politician, Georges Fenech, reported that France simply wasn’t very good at defending itself against terrorism. The commission recommended the establishment of a single national counterterrorism agency, in place of the six competing and, by all accounts, mutually hostile intelligence organisations. Fenech said France’s inadequacy was like equipping an army with lead boots. Yet directly after his report came out, the interior minister, Bernard Cazeneuve, rejected the notion of overhauling the intelligence services.

As many as 230 people have been killed in terrorist attacks in France since the start of last year. “Something bad seems to happen every six months,” said a woman I filmed outside the Bataclan, “and we don’t know how to stop it.” France feels itself uniquely targeted. Yet the British example shows that Fenech was right and that it is possible to stop terrorism. After the 7 July 2005 bombs in London, an inquiry showed – in terms remarkably similar to Fenech’s – that intelligence about the culprits hadn’t been shared properly. Regional counterterrorist units were set up across Britain and the Security Service, MI5, opened up to the other agencies to a remarkable extent. The long rivalry between MI5 and the Secret Intelligence Service, MI6, was defused.

Now, once a week, MI5 and MI6 hold a meeting with GCHQ and the police at MI5’s headquarters, at which they share intelligence and agree what action to take on it. Extremist groups have been infiltrated with great success. As a result, Britain hasn’t suffered a mass-casualty terrorist attack since 2005, though 40 plots have been foiled in that time – including seven in the past 18 months. Sometimes, of course, we’ve just been lucky: a car bomb was planted outside a London nightclub in 2007 but it was so poorly assembled that it didn’t go off.

Mohamed Lahouaiej-Bouhlel, who despite his last-minute radicalisation would certainly have been picked up under the British system, rented his white lorry, drove it past the inadequate police check-points, and murdered 84 people who were just out to enjoy themselves. Forget about pitiless responses and declaring war on abstract nouns: what is required is proper, joined-up policing. That’s how a civilised society protects itself best.

John Simpson is the BBC’s world affairs editor. He tweets @JohnSimpsonNews

John Simpson is World Affairs Editor of BBC News, having worked for the corporation since the beginning of his career in 1970. He has reported from more than 120 countries, including 30 war zones, and interviewed many world leaders.

This article first appeared in the 21 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The English Revolt